#but an already strained relationship crumbled once more by something completely out of your control

[dawnthefluffyduck]

[animatedrapture]

RINTOBER: [Greet Me With Goodbye]

suna rintarō x reader

word count: 2k

tags: bandmember!suna, angst, implied cheating, toxic relationship, post-breakup, smoking

song: 505 - arctic monkeys

a/n: PLEASE READ THE FIC WHILE LISTENING TO THIS. thank you mous for beta-reading this for me <3

The lights were near blinding as you stood behind the large crowd, having opted to stay where you can only see enough and be barely seen from the front of the stage where he stood.

 The start of the song is what causes goosebumps against your skin—like it wants to take your breath away, and if you weren’t having trouble breathing before, you definitely were when you heard his voice again—booming and deep as he sang the first verse of the song. Your heart aches when you remember the first time you heard it, nowhere near finished then.

 “I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck?” You read the lyrics out, intrigued, and you look back up to him. His gaze holds yours with unparalleled tenderness behind the gloss of his eyes. You cock an eyebrow at him with an amused smile.

 “Reminded me a lot about you when we first started trying to figure the lyrics out,” Suna answered with nonchalance, nodding at the paper held between your fingertips as if to tell you to continue reading through it.

 “You’re not wrong,” you commented, humming in thought. “I’d still adore you with your hands around my neck, Rintarou.”

 Suna grins, a glint in his eyes evident. Maybe because he knew, even without you telling him. He knew you adored him to a sinful extent.

 The cheers and audience singing along to the sound of his voice were loud, but the thunderous beating of your heart was louder. So much louder. That’s when you think that maybe you shouldn’t have come here, you shouldn’t have let your friends convince you to stand directly in front of him yet stand so far away as if you were hiding. Well, perhaps you really were hiding; you could definitely step forward, see his face with a thin sheen of sweat, strumming along the guitar that hung around his torso—God, his torso—and his hair slightly covering the pair of eyes you’ve loved so deeply for a long time. His pretty face looked ethereal from where you stood, the beaming lights surrounding the stage accentuating everything that made him who he was, Suna Rintarou.

 Suna’s thumb grazes your lower lip, swiping lightly with his intense gaze locked with yours. It’s hypnotizing like always. Suna’s green eyes—heavily lidded that it made him all the more pretty, all the more breathtaking—set on you as you sat on his lap, the blunt tucked in between the fingers of his other hand emitting smoke that invaded your lungs like he invaded the entirety of your mind.

 You can’t look away, not even when he takes a drag of it directly in front of you—it’s frustrating how oddly seducing it was to watch him, your eyes following the way he inhaled the smoke that was toxic to his lungs like he was toxic to your own heart, poison to your own mind, venom in your bloodstream.

 His lips find yours immediately, his hand that was on your face moving to the inside of your thighs and it’s enough to make you gasp—your lips parting against his as he blows out the smoke to your mouth and you inhale.

 You inhale because it was more like taking him in your system than the smoke that was toxic for your lungs, poison to your mind, venom in your bloodstream.

 You inhale and take him in your system. Yet you never would’ve thought he’d vanish like the same smoke going up in the air until you see it no more.

 “Not shy of a spark, the knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark,” You wish you were imagining it, the heavy drip of pain and contempt laced in his voice as he sang the words out. He sings like it’s flashing all in his head, every fight you both had—because it’s coming back to you too like a ton of bricks.

 Or maybe the sensation of it all coming back to you is more like what the lyrics he sang suggests already, a knife to the chest so deep that there’s simply no way you’d survive from it—no way a relationship could survive from it. The knife to your chest is dug deep enough; how do you live when it’s twisted and turned so sadistically?

 “You’re late again,” you mutter, sighing in exhaustion as you looked back at Suna who sat across from you from the table of the restaurant. It was your date night, scheduled already weeks before—yet he came in late—an hour late to be exact. An hour you spent giving tight lipped smiles to everyone’s gazes who fell on you near the middle of the restaurant as you waited, an hour spent smiling politely as you answered waiters who came near you asking if you’re ready to order.

 An hour spent wondering why this isn’t the first nor second time he left you waiting on nights that should’ve been about the both of you.

 “Look, I’m sorry, yeah?” He quipped, not bothering to even spare you a glance.

 He eyes the menu while your eyes begin to sting as you hold back your tears. You want to burst, to say something—anything. Anything that would take his attention, anything that would finally tell him you can’t keep doing this.

 “You don’t seem sorry, Rin,” you reply silently, gaze steady on his figure still looking through the menu. He finally looks up at you, exasperation fully evident in his features.

 “What’d ya want me to say? I just ran a lil late, alright?” He snapped, the menu falling harshly down the table from his grip.

 “You’ve been running a little late for months now—I’m tired of it,” your voice sounds weak, defeated. This is something you didn’t know was like knife twisted into Suna Rintarou’s heart.

 “If you’re tired, then leave,” his voice was cold to a scalding degree.

 Maybe the mistake was that you didn’t leave that night. That you continued something that you both should’ve tried to end that night—or at least attempted to. You didn’t know this either, but had you attempted to leave, Suna was bound to chase after you and engulf you in his arms.

 But you didn’t.

“I'm going back to 505, if it's a seven-hour flight or a forty-five-minute drive. In my imagination, you're waiting lying on your side, with your hands between your thighs.”

Every beat of the song felt like a kick with the kind of ache you felt against your chest that seemed so constricting. It’s like you’re inhaling the same smoke from his lungs again, choking you with it.

 You’re not sure how it happens, nor does it register in time when bright lights fall just where you stood—not in a dramatic sense like those god-forsaken clichéd romance novels—but simply out of coincidence. Come to think of it, had you stepped forward, you wouldn’t have been there, completely visible in his line of sight when his narrowed eyes zero on you in the crowd so easily as if you were magnet to his gaze, still.

 That could’ve been the case before. But not anymore.

 Not anymore, you ponder. If you hadn’t walked away and pulled from his embrace that day, would things have been different? He’s standing on a bigger stage now; oddly enough, you also heard he’s had more control of his schedule since. It’s been so long since the last time he’s seen you, been so long since he woke up to an empty bed—your warmth gone and your lingering scent on the sheets faint as if you were barely there to begin with.

 Just like that, he wished he could take it all back.

 The sound of Suna’s phone felt nagging and relentless. The more days passed, the more it was louder, the more his eyes remained trained on his phone.

 His fidelity remained unquestioned even as your relationship with him turned disastrously strained from all the hours you’ve spent waiting, all the days you’ve spent without him, all the replies you never received—all your messages left on read like you’re looking at Suna Rintarou, your own boyfriend, through a static screen.

 He continued to fall short and break your heart little by little but knowing he loved you beyond his actions was something you wholeheartedly believed; because his eyes staring back at you remained both tender and fiery like golden balance of true love.

 Yet maybe you were wrong.

 The final straw is the way your eyes follow the string of messages between Suna and another girl you’ve forced yourself to forget the name of. Your gaze lingers and wallow at the provocative pictures of the woman, enough to make you wonder where you lacked—where you came short.

 You wished it was only that which set you apart piece by piece like a puzzle being undone and someone else stealing the pieces of yourself you thought you gave to the man you can trust those pieces with to safe-keep.

 But the blue bubble saying, “Meet me in a few minutes,” on one of the nights he came late—bright blue and blinding enough to make you want to gauge your eyes out—and the following, “I’m here, where are you?” burns in the back of your head like his lit up cigarettes against your skin so fervently.

 That day, little by little, you packed your things in the most discreet of ways; sure, it should’ve probably taken a lot before Suna would have noticed when he’s barely home with you—but you remained scared that he would notice and you wouldn’t say no if he asked you to stay, because that’s how much Suna had you—line, hook, and sinker.

 You take one tentative step back, but your legs feel restrained and paralyzed underneath you when Suna’s eyes lock with yours, meters apart, but you would be lying if you said it’s an illusion when his eyes glimmer the same way—tender and fiery.

 “But I crumble completely when you cry, it seems like once again you’d have to greet me with goodbye,” his voice sounds so much louder, so much heavier—especially with his eyes trained on you as he sang the lyrics out without waver.

 Your heart swells and you think, it’s unfair. It’s unfair that his eyes looked as if he was pleading for you not to go the same way you knew he would’ve had he only known you were leaving him that day.

 Suna was worn-out. Tired beyond effable means or description of words; and he thinks he couldn’t be more exhausted when he rattles on the doorknob of the home you shared with him, the place he came home to with you—only to find it locked. He’s too exhausted to notice the way the house felt emptier, seemed emptier like something—someone was missing when he pushes the key in and enters the place.

 Suna was too exhausted to think you’d be gone forever; too drained to ever consider that it’ll take a year since that day before he sees you again.

 Suna was too exhausted to notice the letter you left on the bedside table; too exhausted to notice you’ve been gone for a week until he comes home again for a break, only for his heart to break at the sight of the empty house. Empty; defined as: without you

 You don’t notice the tears cascading down your cheeks until you see the way Suna’s eyebrows furrowed together from the stage he stood on as he continued to sing, never once taking his eyes off of you, like he’s hurting from the way he watches you cry.

“I'm always just about to go and spoil a surprise, take my hands off of your eyes too soon.” The ring placed as a pendant on the necklace around Suna’s neck glistened under the strobe lights dancing around suddenly felt heavier—so much heavier, as if it’s you who has your hands around his neck.

Maybe you do.

Maybe you do; because Suna runs off of the stage the moment the last beat of his lyrics come as he sees you finally looking away. Your figure slowly dimming away as the lights calm down to the beat of the song slowly dwindling away like you did—but never like the fire that burned in your chest at the sight of him.

You wish you could run but every step you took felt like you had boulders weighing down on your feet; as if no part of you wanted to go—and maybe that’s the miracle that Suna will forever thank whatever deity is out there for, because without it, he wouldn’t be able to find his way back to you as you attempted to drag your body and walk away, trying not to look back.

📞 violet is calling… all content featured belongs to ©️ animatedrapture. do not plagiarize, repost, or modify.

[lilevixen]

heyyy, idk if u write bertholdt or are even taking requests, but if u are can i request giving bertholdt an orgasm denial from a f!reader and it’s been like 3 hours that he’s had to hold it? thanks if u can :)

sweet boy

Characters: sub!Bertholdt Hoover x dom!female bodied reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 1.9k

Description: Reader teaches Bertholdt a lesson after he gets a bit too touchy with them in front of their friends

•WARNING- 18+ CONTENT: orgasm denial, no-contact orgasm, descriptions of oral sex (male receiving), dacryphilia(ish?)•

“Baby, please, I said I was s-sorry!” Bertholdt whined from across the room for what felt like the millionth time that evening. You casted a look of faux boredom over your shoulder from your small wooden desk, trying your best to remain blasé at the mouth-watering sight of your boyfriend still sat criss-cross applesauce completely bare on the bed. He was so good for you, so obedient; his arms never once left from behind his back for entirety of the time you had him there. How long did you have him there? After you two got back from the dining hall, minutes easily spilled into hours in the smudgy haze of repressed lust you had established. The only indicator of how long Berthodlt had been sitting there for, cock upright and twitching for attention, was how absolutely worn out he looked. Every inch of his deep, tan skin was glittering with sweat, cords of muscle in his thighs and abdomen strained beneath his flesh so severely they looked like they could snap any second, his chest heaved erratically as if he had just run a marathon- this was absolute torture for him, you could tell. You would’ve felt bad, if he hadn’t disobeyed you in the first place.

“Huh? I was reading, sweetie. I didn’t hear you,” a bald-faced lie on your part. Your eyes kept tracking over the same paragraph over and over again without absorbing any of the information in your brain, the sweet pleas of your boyfriend claiming all the space in your mind instead. His lip quivered at your persistence in feigning ignorance of his situation and tears quickly filled his dark eyes.

“P-Please! Can you please t-touch me? I need you so bad I think I might e-explode,” he stammered out, his voice meek but desperate, shameless, so needy and you felt it throb between your legs, adding to the arousal already collecting along your inner thighs. Despite how incredibly turned on you were, you let out a slow sigh hiss past your lips as if you were getting irritated.

“Well, you got to touch me plenty, sweets. In front of everyone, just like I asked you not to,” excitement overtook your annoyance some time ago, but what you brought up was a genuine point of contention. From the very beginning you made it clear you wanted your relationship to be private. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of him or anything, you just hated all the unnecessary attention couples garnered, all the mindless gossip and speculation of who plays what role, the whispers, the stares. And once Bertholdt had gotten comfortable with you, always seeking your touch like a love sick little puppy, you knew this was something that needed to be discussed. He agreed at the time, ‘if it means I get to be with you, I guess it’s okay,’ he said, but as things progressed he would give away your relationship in little ways. At first it was just the way he would look at you (which was only natural given your feeling for each other, you supposed), staring at your lips for a little too long when you spoke, a little twinkle of fondness in his warm eyes. You let this slide, because it was minimal and no one seemed to notice. But slowly, he started doing more and more things that you had to call him out on, resting his head on your shoulder, using his thumb to tenderly swipe crumbs of food off your face, nearly calling you baby- until finally, tonight in the dining hall while having supper with your friends, he practically announced you two were together by kissing your hand when you burnt it on a scalding bowl of soup. Porco was too involved with his food to notice, but you could feel Reiner and Annie’s eyes hovering over you as if you were an alien. Too embarrassed to handle their reactions, you excused yourself to your room and quickly left before they even had a chance to say anything, Bertholdt obviously right on your heels. He tried to embrace you and kiss you and apologize to make it all better, but his penchant for physical affection was what got you in this situation in the first place. So that’s when you decided to give him a little time-out. Even though, your edge was starting to wear down after hearing him whine out for you for so long.

“I know! I-I just don’t like seeing you get hurt! I didn’t think they were looking at us, I’m sorry Y/N!” he choked out, squirming against the air as if that would provide some sort of relief. “I’m s-so hard for you it feels like ‘m gonna pass out.”

“Oh really? And what do you want me to do about that?” You asked in a snarky tone to mask the unadulterated lust pulsing through you, going back to fake-reading your text book.

“I want you to touch me! I want to feel you, any part of you, until I cum over and over…” you could hear the thought in his voice as he got lost in what he was describing, and you didn’t need to turn around to know he was biting his lip with his head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut and brows knitted. Another hot rush of arousal swirled in deep in your stomach.

“You know I can’t do that, baby,” you said against your own body’s command.

“Y-Yes you can! I promise I’ll be good from now on, I w-won’t hold your hand or kiss you or hug you in front of anyone again! Just please, I need you Y/N,” maybe it was your own excitement, or how fucking good he sounded begging for you like a pitiful little boy, but this finally broke your resolve. It would be cruel to let him stay there like that all night, anyway. You pushed yourself out of your seat and made your way to Berthdolt’s trembling form on the bed. Even you just getting closer to him caused his heavy breathing to pick up pace.

“How do you want me, my sweet boy?” you purred, laying down flat on your stomach before his lanky body so that his dick towered above you like a skyscraper.

“A-Any way,” he looked down at you beneath his dark, fluttering lashes, swiveling his hips in anticipation of your touch. You let out a soft scoff.

“Be specific or I can’t help you~,” you said with a sweet lilt in your voice, harsh words laced with honey. His eyes blew open wide at your threat to leave him a writhing, unfulfilled mess for even longer than you already had.

“Can you take me in your mouth? Please?” A new wave of blush spread across his cheeks as he said this, and you couldn’t help but smile at how cute he was.

“There you go, baby,” you giggled. You guided your featherlight fingertips along the slick muscle of his thighs, causing him to tense up immediately, and you could actually see the thrum of his heartbeat racing beneath his skin in faint flits. He was so sensitive by now you didn’t doubt he would explode just like he said before. Your fingers playfully walked along the slope of his legs, working their way inwards, and you teased them to a gradual stop mere inches from where he needed you most. He was panting like a dog at this point, chest rising and falling violently as he looked down at you, jaw slack and eyes cloudy with frustrated tears.

“You’ve been waiting for this, huh?” You dragged your tongue along your lower lip and leaned in close to his pulsating cock so that your breath fanned across his shaft, digging your fingers into the tendons of his inner thigh. He gasped, the shock of you finally gracing him with some sort of stimulation overwhelming his worked-up body, and a throb of pleasure shot through his dick with such alarming intensity that you could see it expand in his veins and swell at the tip. You blinked up at him, a bit startled yourself. He was so close already and you barely even touched him… Maybe you didn’t even need to touch him.

“U-Uhuh!” He nodded frantically, tears now spilling down his flushed face and drool dribbling down his chin; the sight would’ve been sad if it wasn’t so fucking hot. You massaged your fingertips into the thin, sweat-slicked skin on either side of his balls and slowly moved your lips upwards so that they were ghosting the hot, leaking head of his penis. His whole body shuddered underneath you, hips eagerly twitching to meet your lips, but only mildly, timidly, making it clear he was still completely under your control.

“I bet you’ve been imagining this for so long, my lips around your cock, feeling me squeeze you in my throat,” you hummed, your lips just barely brushing his dickhead as you spoke, and to him the vibration of your voice and the warm flutters of your breath against him felt just as sensational as the euphoric grip of your walls after hours of waiting for any kind of attention. This was exactly what you suspected, what you were hoping. He was such a desperate mess that he could get off to just your words and proximity. “Can you feel it? My pretty little mouth drooling around you?”

“A-Ah! Yes!” He cried out, and his stiff cock slapped against his belly eagerly as if he was truly feeling every bit of what you were describing, hell, even you were starting to feel it from his reactions alone, the ache between your legs growing almost painful.

“Does my sweet boy want to cum down my throat?” You kept steady eye contact with him, savoring every bit of watching him crumble before you, intentionally letting your breath pour past your lips in heavy pants, and he bucked into the air with each puff, his abdomen flexed tight and his thighs shuddering.

“Ahaha y-yes please!” He whimpered, the rhythm of his hips gently rising to meet your breath becoming twitchy and unstable, a clear sign that he was on the brink of long-awaited release. A coy smile played at the ends of your lips as you batted your lashed up at him.

“Then cum for me,” and on command, his whole body convulsed under the weight of sweet, sweet climax, at long last, the hugest load you’d ever seen erupting out of him in thick, hot torrents that sprayed right in his face. You were so proud of him, your poor baby, putting up with your little act for hours on end despite yearning for you so immensely that you didn’t even need to touch his cock for him to bust. He just loved you that much and why exactly? You quite honestly didn’t know. You almost felt the need to apologize for treating him so cruelly, but at the end of the day you were trying to teach him a lesson, and based on how he was looking at you, right eye squeezed shut to prevent cum from getting in his eye, body rattling with exhaustion, it was safe to say he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. The least you could do was help him clean up. You got up on your knees and took his clammy face in your hands, gliding your tongue along his salty skin to get rid of all the cum, saliva, tears- whatever fluids were coating his face. When you were done, you pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I love you, my sweet boy.”

||

A/N:

HEYYY LOVELIESSS💓💓 here’s my first official completed request (woohoo)!!! Bertholdt is not usually a character I would accept writing but this request kinda had me GRRRR ya know (thank you for that anon, I truly hope you’ll enjoy this! This was my first time writing orgasm denial too so idk if i did it right NAKWKA)? BUTTT yeah here ya go, bloop ilyyyy

~Bunny

[legoshi-plz]

Dude if it’s horny hour can we do one with Louis. Like maybe his s/o went into heat for the first time with him. Maybe she’s a carnivore and this is his first time dealing with a carnivore in heat

Okay hold up I absolutely LOVE THIS wtf why didn’t I get to this sooner!?!?! Also this started off as headcanons and somehow just naturally morphed into a fic??? I liked both haves so I just kept it!

Warning: Smut (N/SFW 18+)

//////////////

- Louis is an Alpha in this scenario but the catch is he’s a Herbivore Alpha!Male which is pretty Apex (idk if I’m using that word right??) amongst Herbivores but still nowhere near Carnivore Alphas if you catch my drift.

- So his significant other is a Carnivore Omega! And so far in the relationship, you’ve been on suppressives to deal with your heat. Which is what most Omegas do because it’s just easier that way.

- Well things have been a little hectic in your life lately. You’d recently moved in with Louis since you were practically over there constantly anyway and somewhere during the move you’d misplaced your suppressants. At the time you didn’t think it was a big deal since your heat was still a couple of weeks away.

- You went to your doctor, hoping to just get a refill be on your way but of course doctors never believe Omegas and denied your request, saying you had to fill out a Lost Claim form, and wait for it to be approved and whatnot, a process that would take weeks. You filled out the form you knew deep down it wasn’t going to go through in time.

- So you began mentally preparing yourself. You knew you couldn’t involve Louis in this. You loved him with all of your heart but he was still a Herbivore. You couldn’t control yourself during your heats, it was dangerous for him to even be in the same vicinity as you, let alone try to help you with it.

- You also knew asking one of your Carnivore Alpha friends to help you out was a no go. Louis was still an Alpha in his own right and like most Alphas, he wore his pride on his sleeve. That in combination with his Shishigumi position, he’d have any animal that tried to assist you killed. No, you would definitely just have to handle this on your own.

- Your old apartment, though pretty barren except for the furniture that came with it, was where you’d have to tough this out. Thankfully, your lease wasn’t up until the end of the month so it was the perfect place to isolate yourself.

- The day your heat was due to start, you waited until Louis left for work then you skipped out with a duffle bag full of everything you’d need to survive the next couple of days. You knew you should texted Louis to let him know you were okay but you didn’t trust him not to double back so you left an old school handwritten note on his pillow that read “Be back in a few days.”

- Needless to say when Louis came home to find that, along with some of your things missing, he automatically assumed the worst. Were you leaving him? What had he done so awful that you needed physical space and time away from him? Were you in trouble? Were you... cheating on him? The last thought threw him into an utter rage and he immediately began blowing up your phone only for it to go straight to an automated messaging system.

- Louis began to panic, he called in a few connections and eventually discovered you’d been seen entering your old apartment earlier this week. Without a second thought, Louis grabbed his car keys and was at your place in no time flat.

- The second he opened the door, he was overwhelmed with your scent. This was far more intense than any heat he’d ever experienced with a Herbivore and almost instantly triggered his rut.

- He found you curled up in your old bedroom in a flimsy, barely thrown together nest, clutching your abdomen in pain. He immediately picked you up and carried you down to his car.

- “There’s no way I’m letting you ride out your heat in that pathetic excuse of a nest.” Louis grumbled, buckling you into the front seat. As he himself climbed into the drivers seat and drove off, he thought the pain of your situation would keep you preoccupied until the two of you arrived home. He was mistaken.

- The entire drive home, you were pawing him through his clothes, trying to convince him to take you right then and there. Getting you inside wasn’t any easier as you kept trying to rip his clothes off of him. By the time he threw you on the bed, you were full on begging him to ruin you.

- Louis wanted you so badly but he was hesitant. There was a reason you’d gone through such essesive lengths to avoid having him help you through your heat. You’d lied to him, holed yourself up in your old empty place, even endured this physical pain alone just to avoid asking him for help. A small part of him felt hurt. Perhaps you didn’t want him to breed you after all...

- Louis pushed his own feelings to the side. You were in agony and you needed relief, and he was the only one who could provide that for you now. So without further to do, he stripped you of your clothes, your feverent hands rushing to help him.

- The second you spread your legs for him, Louis could feel his resolve crumbling as the scent of your hormones flooded his senses. It was a beautiful smell, so sweet and mouthwatering it made him physically groan in hunger.

- He brought two fingers to your lips, shoving them in your mouth roughly. “Suck.” You followed his orders immediately, whining when he removed them. He made up for it immensely though, when he slid them inside your aching entrance one at a time.

- He fingerfucked you into a sobbing mess, begging him for more, meanwhile he was fighting the onslaught of his own rut tooth and nail. Despite his best efforts, it still kicked in with brute force, his entire body igniting in passion.

- He wanted to take the noble route, he really really wanted to take the noble route but him jerking himself within an inch of his life while pumping you with his fingers just wasnt cutting it. He needed to be inside you and he needed it now.

- He pulled you on top of him so that you could dictate the pace and at least have some semblance of control. That was his downfall.

- You sank right onto him, riding him like mad while clawing at the fur of his chest. Louis tried getting you to slow down by steadying your hips but it was a fruitless effort. You were consuming him completely, your soft walls sucking him in greedily. You were so tight, Louis knew he didn’t stand a chance at lasting with you and he was right. Louis came immediately, his knot locking into place within you.

- You shuddered on top of him, the tightness of his knot stretching your core finally slowing you down. Louis sat up some, adjusting himself so that he could suckle you, taking your oversensitive, engorged nipples into his mouth.

“Feeling better?” He asked switching to the other neglected nipple. Your eyes seemed to finally lose the clouded haze they possessed earlier and you looked like you could actually concentrate with his knot locked deep inside you. Louis knew he didn’t have long before the swell went down and the two of you were back at it again, slaves to your own hormones.

“Louis, baby, I’m so sorr-“

“Save it Y/N. Just... just tell me why you ran,” Louis asked so you explained the entire situation to him and how you didn’t want to hurt him in case you lost control. Louis listened intently, not saying a word the entire time. Once you finished, he simply hummed in acknowledgment that he’d heard you before sliding you off of him. You hadn’t even noticed that his knot had ceased its swelling enough for you two to separate.

“We’re going to have a serious conversation about this once we’re in our right minds.” Louis said digging in the closet for something, then returning with a silk tie the two of you had implemented in the bedroom previously on more than one occasion. “But for now, I’m about to show you just how much you could never hurt me.”

“However, before we do this, you have to tell me how you want it. Rut or not, I have enough self control to back off if you tell me to,” Louis said sincerely yet you could tell by the way his dick was already standing at full attention this was harder for him than he let on. “If you don’t want me, or if you think I won’t be.... enough, then I-”

“Louis that’s not the case at all! Of course I want you! In any capacity! But not if there’s a chance that I’ll.... th-that I could....”

“Y/N, look at me,” you did and it was as beautiful a sight as always. Despite his herbivore status he was far from fragile, his frame filling out in adulthood to showcase the power and authority male deer held in the animal kingdom.

“Being devoured is far from being a fear of mine.” He glanced down at his prosthetic, “and besides, you couldn’t hurt me even if you tried. You’re too weak and small, I could easily overpower you.”

As if for emphasis, Louis grabbed you by the ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed so that his straining member was pressed against your exposed entrance. Your legs went to instinctively wrap around his waist but he halted the action, opting instead to throw them over his shoulder. He had to bend forward since your legs were too short otherwise for the position, which brought him face to face with you.

“Now I’m only going to ask this one more time. How. Do. You. Want it?” His breath fanned over you as he slid himself inside you, a snug fit made easier by how wet you were for him already.

You were mewling beneath him and Louis couldn’t deny the sense of power that washed over him. He felt his Alpha instincts kicking into high gear and before you could even answer, he had begun his own pace.

He was pounding into you like his life depended on it, the sounds you were making only adding fuel to his fire. You were begging him to claim you, mark you up, make you his. The bond mark on your neck where he had long since mated you called to him. But he resisted. The two of you had all night, there was no need to rush. Besides, if he sank his teeth into you every time your scent glands called to him, he’d end up tearing your throat open.

“Fuck Louis, I’m about to explode. Please let me cum, I need your knot to cum,” you cried, slapping his forearm in a weak attempt to tap out. But your disheveled state alone was enough to drive him over the edge, your automatic submission to him making his Alpha practically preen in satisfaction.

He came for the second time that night, the familiar feeling of his knot expanding and filling you to the brink becoming addictive to him. He kissed your ankle before letting your trembling legs fall from his shoulders to take purchase on his waist. He ran his fingers through the soft fur of your thighs as a way to soothe you as you came down from the high of your own orgasm.

The two of you sat there, taking in each other’s forms until you finally broke the silence, “You forgot to tie me up.”

Louis glanced over at the long forgot silk tie on the bed. Though he’d suspected this might be the case, he knew for sure now he’d never need the garment. With the excess strength and power his rut gave him along with your natural submission to him as an Alpha, all thoughts of you hurting him were quickly negated.

“I have a feeling we won’t be needing that,” he growled, leaning down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck.

[your-world-with-nct]

𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 — 𝐳𝐜𝐥

➵ pairing: chenle x gender-neutral reader

➵ genre: angst, fluff, crack, one-shot

➵ warnings: cursing, negative mentions of body image 

➵ word count: 2.5k

➵ summary: there was no other way to describe your relationship with zhong chenle than “twisted”. you were in love with him but all you could ever show him was anger and disgust, and it seemed to be the same case for him too. but when his words come out more twisted than they’ve ever been, you begin to question, could you ever untangle the mess you two were in?

➵ a/n: happy (late) birthday lele !! this was meant to be a short drabble requested by @yangerscheeks​ but i ended up falling in love with the plot idea and turning it into a one-shot for you guys hehe enjoy

game nights with the dreamies were the sole thing you looked forward to after a long week of work; it was the only thing keeping you going. chaos-filled evenings packed with competition, laughter, betrayal, teamwork, snacks, victories and losses, with your favourite seven boys - yes, the dreamies insisted on inviting your older brother, mark, to join you all every saturday night, when he wasn’t too busy - was the ideal way to spend time with your best friends and de-stress from the past week’s workload. from classic board games and party games, to the newest video games, you always enjoyed messing around with them and playing whatever the game of choice was that week. you loved everything about game night - except something, or rather... someone. 

chenle was the only member of nct dream that never seemed to click with you, even from your first meeting 3 years ago; he either completely ignored you and acted cold around you, or irritated you every waking second of the day, teasing you in ways that crossed the line, and sometimes just blatantly insulted you (not that you didn’t respond in a similar manner to him though). you hated it, and you hated him.

you despised his illuminating smile, and his perfect facial features; you loathed his contagious, cute giggles; you disliked how talented he was and how angelic his vocals were; you detested his enticing nature on stage; you were disgusted by his family-oriented attitude and his close-knit relationship with his fellow hyungs; and you absolutely hated how he made your heart pound out of your chest whenever he was around you. you hated that you loved chenle.

tonight’s game was twister, and, unfortunately, mark couldn’t join you since he was abroad promoting with SuperM, which also meant that game night was a frenzy without a somewhat sane adult watching over you all.

“left foot green, ha! there’s no space left between haechan hyung and jaemin hyung, y’all are gonna fall soon,” jisung cackled from the couch, being assigned as the spinner for this round as he lost the last one.

the remaining players, including you, shifted to claim a green spot, whilst trying not to laugh at jaemin’s behind planted right in front of haechan’s face, “personal space won’t hold me back from winning, bitch!” 

without a doubt, the room erupted into laughter, causing haechan’s stomach to tense up so much that he toppled over, “AHA! HYUNG YOU’RE OUT, YOU LOOOOSE!” jisung yelled from his comfortable spot, not feeling as embarrassed about not snatching a win the previous round, as his spluttering hyung stumbled onto the sofa with him, small wheezes of “minnie why” in between each of his heaving howls.

the euphoric feeling that surrounded the seven of you during moments like this was something you treasured, and you couldn’t hold back a chuckle yourself, grinning at the sore loser gripping his abdomen and cursing out jaemin for getting him out of the game.

“don’t worry, there’ll be another round, hyung. okay, now right hand red,” jisung announced, watching as you all struggled to get to the opposite side of the mat.

assessing the situation, you realised that the only way you could put your hand on a red spot was by extending your arm across chenle’s leg, and reaching over it. it was a risky move as you would be dangerously close to him, but, as much as you wanted him to fall, you knew that boy was extremely ticklish and would jerk his entire leg, which would probably end up with you joining him in being eliminated from that round. however, you took the chance anyway, hovering your arm over chenle and ensuring that you made no contact with him whatsoever.

you thought you could last until jisung called out the next one, until you felt jeno move his elbow underneath your gut, causing all the breath in your chest to flow out of you, and your whole body to fall to the floor, bringing chenle down with you too.

strained huffs left your mouth as jeno, jaemin, and renjun shouted in triumph having taken out two players at once. despite their loud whoops, you couldn’t ignore the annoyed grunts coming from next to you, and the snarky comment that came after it.

“my god, y/n, you’re so heavy, you knocked the wind out of me, and i think you broke my rib too while you were at it,” chenle mumbled out of exasperation, loud enough for you and the rest of the dreamies to hear it too.

usually, his remarks wouldn’t bother you at all, you’d brush them off, or make a casual retort, but, this time he had dug at a deep insecurity of yours, your self-image and your body. “aww, no, i’m out!” you announced, faking disappointment, and dragging yourself up from the carpet, “i’m just, i’m just gonna go, uhhh, go get a, ummm… a drink. yeah, i’ll be back in a sec, guys.”

you tried not to let the emotion show through your voice, but these boys knew you too well, they could already see by the forlorn look on you face just how hurt you were by what chenle said. turning towards the bathroom, you knew that there was nowhere else you could hide to let your new set of tears flow.

“wait, y/n, that’s not the kitchen-” was the last thing you heard from renjun, before you slammed the door behind you, sliding down against it and breaking down in your arms, as the spiteful words your own crush had said to you reverberated in your damaged thoughts.

“chenle, why... why would you say that to them? you know how sensitive y/n can be, you dumbass,” renjun let out an exasperated sigh at the younger boy, who was currently curled up on the floor, his face buried in his knees as he internally kicked himself for saying such a malicious thing to you. 

running his hands through his chestnut locks, remorse evident in the action, chenle groaned as the other members contributed to renjun’s statement, which simply added to his already immense amount of guilt, “okay, okay! i get it. alright? you guys can shut the fuck up now, i know what i did. you don’t have to make it worse than it already is.”

chenle’s harsh tone shocked his hyungs, and so did the way he stormed out of the room, running off in the direction you went in before. meanwhile, even the said boy was surprised by what he said. what was wrong with him today? why was he acting like this? the only thing he could think of that was affecting him this much was you. you and your melodic laugh, your cute remarks, your enchanting presence - he was so caught up in admiring you that he could barely control himself. 

‘no, chenle, that’s a stupid excuse,’ he mumbled to himself, as he came to a halt when he reached the door to the bathroom you were in, which he deducted from the choked sobs he could hear coming from the other side. the pain-stricken cries were a heart-wrenching sound to chenle, and, at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and tell you how much he treasured you.

but, he couldn’t, because he was your enemy, because he made himself your enemy, because you would never love someone you hated. it was times like these that made chenle despise himself for freezing up around you and being selfish, for turning his irrepressible feelings for you into ignorance and hatred, for disregarding how he felt because it was too much for him.

chenle couldn’t keep doing this to you, and to himself; it was torture just watching the sparkle in your eyes dim every time he opened his mouth to say something to you, to hurt someone so precious to him. maybe, it was time to let you know how he really, truly felt about you, just, maybe, his words wouldn’t come out so twisted.

you didn’t know if it was your vivid imagination, but you swore you heard footsteps approaching, and you couldn’t stand knowing that one of the boys could hear you crying, with only a door to separate you. specifically if it was chenle, oh, you didn’t know what you would do if your crush, and nemesis, was outside, listening to you and your already low self-esteem crumble as you stared down at your shaking body, his cruel words resonating through your head. 

it’s not as if you were unaware that you didn’t have the perfect figure, but it wasn’t something you liked to be reminded of, especially not in such a hateful manner. the fact that chenle’s physique was so flattering made you feel like you weren’t worthy of him, why would someone like him be attracted to someone like you? 

hesitating slightly, chenle took a few moments to calm himself before his knuckles tapped against the bathroom door. you jumped at the distinctive rat-tat-tat sound, identifying the knocker as chenle; cursing under your breath, you swiped at your blotchy, tear-stained face with the sleeve of your sweater and tried to regulate your uneven breathing. with a few sniffles and a quick inspection of yourself in the mirror, you unlocked the door and stepped out into the hallway, the very person you dreaded to see stood right in front of you, his puffy eyes mirroring yours.

“y/n, i-i’m so so sorry, i just- i can’t even explain- i’m sorry,” chenle could barely speak, his words coming out in incoherent stutters. you had never seen him like this before, so vulnerable, so distressed, so genuine - it sparked something in you. you don’t know what made you do it, but you felt yourself enveloping the boy in your arms, letting yourself sob into his shoulder as you both held onto each other like your lives depended on it.

despite his confusion, chenle relaxed in your embrace, wrapping his arms around your waist and caressing you so gently as you both cried into one another. a strange, unfamiliar warmth crept into the two of you the longer you stayed entangled with each other, a blissful silence filling the air as you two rocked back and forth, trying to regain your composure so you could actually talk things out.

just as you were about to say something, you looked into chenle’s glossy eyes, which was enough for your mind to go absolutely feral with deprecating, doubtful thoughts. what if you had read the situation wrong? what if he was taking advantage of you? what if this was all just a stupid ploy, to mess with you? as you avoided eye contact with your crush, he cupped your chin in one hand, wiping the newest teardrops with his thumb, “shhh, don’t cry anymore, sweetheart, it makes me sad seeing you like this.”

those words confirmed the complete opposite of what you were thinking, and your jaw dropped as you finally connected with his chocolate brown orbs again, seeing pure concern and worry swirled into those beautiful eyes of his. “why, how come- why are you being like this, chenle? you’re never usually this nice,” you managed to say through a few snivels.

“because this is the first time that i haven’t been nervous enough to approach you and speak to you like a decent human being,” he pulled away from the hug slightly to look at you directly while he said this, to emphasise his sincerity.

“wait, nervous? what- why-”

“can i tell you something, y/n?” chenle asked, a subconscious pout forming on his lips as he waited for your answer so that he could continue. once you gave him a small nod, he intertwined his fingers in yours, clutching your entwined hands to his chest.

“i get so, so scared whenever you walk into the room, just seeing you makes my heart flutter at immeasurable speeds. when we first met, i just had no idea how to even talk to you, i was that lovestruck, that the first thing that came out of my mouth was an insult. and i guess that was my way of coping? with my feelings? mark hyung told me that i go all ‘panicked tsundere’ around you - and he’s not wrong.

“i like you, so much, that i can barely act normal around you. and i know that’s no excuse for what i said before, and for everything i’ve ever done to you, but i want you to know that you’re an incredible person and i’m so in awe of you that i literally can no longer function. 

“i’m sorry and i know that you won’t forgive me right now, but i was just scared that i-i would lose you. i don’t know, i thought that if you knew i liked you, i would’ve scared you away and you would never talk to me again. i guess that you hating me was better than you not being in my life at all.”

every moment you had ever spent with chenle made more sense now, how his entire expression would change whenever he saw you, but his façade would fade as soon as your back was turned - he wasn’t trying to push you away,

he was trying to keep you in his orbit, without pulling you too close to him. you had always thought that you just had a twisted relationship, but it turns out that you were both too scared to say anything to untangle the mess that was the two of you.

“oh, lele, you haven’t lost me,” your use of chenle’s nickname brought a fuschia tinge to his cheeks, which caused the corners of your mouth to curve upwards by the slightest bit, “you never would have lost me, because i was holding on to you too, by that singular thread of rivalry we had. if you haven’t figured out by now, i like you too, dumbass. and yes, while i am quite hurt by what you said to me earlier, i can’t just pretend that i haven’t treated you in the same shitty way. i forgive you, and i wanna start again with you, chenle. and this time, you won’t lose me, i’ve got you.”

closing the distance between you two, you pressed your lips against chenle’s own plump ones, revelling in the euphoria rushing through your body as you finally kissed the boy you had been in love with for three years. it wasn’t exactly a fairytale kiss, it was a mixture of salty tears, clashing teeth, and a desperate grip on one another - but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

eventually, chenle disconnected his lips from yours, his forehead still leaning on yours and his mouth practically ghosting over your cheek as he refused to separate himself from you, “i’ve got you too, y/n, never doubt that. and, by the way, you’re not ‘heavy’ or ‘fat’, or anything like that. even if you were, i wouldn’t care, because you are the most beautiful person i’ve ever met. i-i think i love you.”

“i love you too, chenle,” you mumbled before crashing your lips against his again. at last, you had unravelled your twisted relationship with zhong chenle, and you were hoping to keep it that way.

[vannahfanfics]

For the Alphabet I would like Usopp please. ❤️✨ thank you dearie 💕

Thank you again for your monetary support, honey! It is so very appreciated. Here’s my thank-you!:

Fluff Alphabet: Usopp 

A-   Activities: How do they spend their time with their s/o?

One of Usopp’s favorite pastimes is fishing, and he’ll be ecstatic if his s/o enjoys it, too! There’s nothing better to him than an afternoon perched on the balustrade of the ship with lines in the water, enjoying the tranquility of the open sea. If his s/o is more of the competitive sort, there will always be some kind of bet involved- who can catch the most, who can catch the biggest, who can catch the prettiest. It’s never a dull moment!

Additionally, Usopp is very artistic, as we all know. He’s gonna jump at the opportunity to use his s/o as a model for all sorts of projects, if they don’t mind, of course. Usopp’s a joker so of course he’s gonna keep the mood light even as he’s concentrating, and he doesn’t mind if his muse has to take a few moments to collect themselves because they’re cracking up!

On top of that, Usopp is going to be very attuned to his s/o’s interests and will want to take part in them as well!... As long as it isn’t too scary, that is.

B-    Body: What does this character appreciate about their s/o? What part of their body are they most proud of, and in reverse, what body part are they ashamed of and how do they respond to their s/o gushing over it?

Usopp is gonna love his s/o from bottom to top, but I feel like in particular he’ll love their face. It’s an art aesthetic thing. He’s gonna know every detail about his partner’s face, from the way the highlights strike in their irises to the exact shine pattern of their lips to any little freckle or mole they have. He loves squishing his partner’s cheeks, nose kisses, eskimo kisses, or even just shoving his hand in their face while laughing. He loves to stare into his partner’s face while their sleeping, analyzing the way the moonlight falls over it. Such tendencies will lead to many a night where his s/o awakens in confusion with Usopp hard at work on an inspired art project…

I feel like Usopp is self-conscious about his nose. It’s a unique trait, and even though the Grand Line is full of weirdness, it bothers him! Poor thing can’t kiss properly without fear of poking his s/o in the eye! There’s nothing he can do about it, of course, and he’ll just laugh it off because Usopp is not one to openly admit his insecurities without prying. The best thing his s/o can do is shower him in nose kisses! This boy will get so flustered and happy so fast.

C-    Cuddles: Is this character a cuddler? What is their favorite way to cuddle?

This boy loves to cuddle period, but he loves, loves, loves spooning! There is no better feeling to him than having his big arms wrapped around his s/o holding them tight, back flush to his chest and his face tucked into the crook of their neck or his chin resting atop the crown of their head. It makes him feel like a strong protector. But even if it isn’t spooning, Usopp loves all the ways to cuddle. He’s a snuggle bunny and he is not afraid to hide that!

D-   Dreams: How do they picture their future with their s/o?

One day Usopp would like to return to Syrup Village and settle down with his s/o once he’s had his fill of his adventures. Usopp already knows he wants to have children, because he wants to regale them with his tales of the sea (true and exaggerated and complete lies alike). Once he’s finished sailing, he wants to open an art gallery or shipwright business on the island, because next to sailing, crafting in every form is his passion. Usopp definitely fantasizes about the future a lot and his s/o is a very prominent figure in his future. He very much values their support and encouragement.

E-    Equivalence: Is this character the dominant force in the relationship, are they passive, or is the relationship more or less even?

Usopp isn’t terribly stubborn or domineering when it comes to relationships. He’s actually a bit insecure, given his scaredy-cat nature, and initially his s/o will definitely play the leading role in guiding him through the ropes. As his confidence builds and he fears less about messing up, it definitely becomes more of an even split. He would never want to be controlling of his partner, and more than that, he loves an independent and strong soul.

F-    Fights: How does this character respond to arguments with their s/o? What would they fight about, and who would cave and apologize first?

Poor Usopp! Fights make him so sad! This poor thing will be so pitiful trying to figure out where he went wrong and how to make it right. Most often he apologizes first because he just can’t stand the idea of his beloved being angry with him, and he will present a new work of art or hand-carved trinket of sorts as a placating present.

Usopp is a liar; he grew up with that habit and it’s hard to break, and he unfortunately can’t keep the habit out of his love life. Most of them are harmless white lies, but this can be grating on many people and I feel like this would be the root of the problem with his s/o, especially if he lies about something big. Usopp will really need to be trained out of this compulsive lying because truth and honesty are the foundation of a relationship. Usopp’s partners will have to be in it for the long haul and willing to work for it, because this aspect of him will make it rocky in the beginning. But Usopp can learn and he will stop the harmful lies for his s/o’s sake, because he loves them to death and hates that his bad habit is a strain. Once they are over this hump, Usopp and his s/o will never fight (except maybe over his occasional cowardice, depending on their personality).

G-   Gratitude: How does this character show their s/o that they are grateful?

Usopp isn’t afraid of showing how grateful he is, and he’ll come right out and say it. Hugs, smooches, sweet words of gratitude whispered in his s/o’s ear- this boy is a whole ass sweetie. If he’s feeling extra gratuitous he’ll prepare a gift for his s/o. He’ll have Sanji whip up a nice dinner for the two of them, plan a fun little date, or whip up a cute little present. Usopp has many ways of showing his gratitude and he does it a lot, because he’s very thankful someone is willing to stand by him.

H-   Honeymoon: If this character had a honeymoon with their s/o, where would they go?

Usopp doesn’t want to stress on his honeymoon, and so his ideal vacation would be a trip to an architectural/cultural landmark. He’s an artistic soul and would adore to study cultural art with his s/o. Holding hands while taking walks through ancient ruins or art museums, attending festivals and trying local cuisine, spending lazy nights by a hotel pool drinking cocktails and sketching his beautiful s/o… That’s the dream for Usopp. Of course he will make concessions to include anything and everything his s/o wants to do and see, because it isn’t just about him. He’ll even compromise and do some adventurous stuff, even if his knees are knocking together the whole time! That’s how much he loves and cherishes his s/o!

I-      Insecurity: What is this character insecure about? How do they deal with their insecurities with their s/o?

As I previously mentioned, Usopp is not one to openly deal with his insecurities. He’s gonna try to talk big and hide them. Even though he has grown stronger, Usopp still is bitter about his weakness and tendency to cower. He fears his s/o is going to be swooned by a bigger, beefier, braver man, and this gets to him, a lot. When his s/o approaches him about it, he’ll laugh it off and act tough, but poke at him enough and that wall will crumble- and this poor boy is gonna be a blubbering mess. He’s so sensitive. It will take a lot of comfort from his s/o to convince him they love him they way he is and don’t need a big strong man because they already have him! Kiss his forehead and tell him he’s tough, and this man will follow you to the ends of the Earth.

J-      Jealousy: Is this character the jealous type? How do they deal with being jealous?

Because of his insecurities, Usopp has a jealous streak, for sure. He knows that his own crewmates will never make a move on you, but other pirates are another matter. Usopp will be glued to his s/o’s side during supply runs or any other instant another person can make passes at his s/o. So many bad scenarios run through his hand, making him a jittery, nervous wreck. This can sometimes lead to him popping off and coming to his s/o’s defense when it is totally unnecessary. If the opponent looks like one he can’t take, this boy isn’t gonna make much of a show of himself because he’ll be sweating and shaking- but he’ll still do it. He’ll swallow his fear and proclaim that he is your man and no one is gonna take you from him! It’s sweet, really. Most of the time his s/o has to calm him down and tell him that the situation doesn’t call for it, which makes him immensely relieved. But if his s/o actually is being hit on, they’ll need to save him because this boy is probably going to get his ass beat.

K-   Kiss: What does the character want their first kiss to be like with their s/o? How does it end up happening?

Usopp is going to obsess over the first kiss. He wants it to go perfectly, and he’s going to plan opportunities in excruciating detail. However, he’ll never be able to muster up the courage and the chances will slip right through his sweaty fingers. Most likely, his s/o will have to initiate the first kiss. He’ll be in his head real good so they’ll definitely catch him off guard; he’ll freeze up, eyes blown wide and crossed down his nose as he feels their lips on his, fingers twitching because he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Once his s/o pulls back he’ll start huffing and puffing nervously, saying he wants to try again because he should have done better. It’ll be simple and boyish, but undoubtedly a cute first-second kiss.

L-    Love Confession: How does this character first profess their love to their s/o?

Like the first kiss, Usopp is gonna obsess over this moment and have so many plans that don’t pan out. However, he’ll have a bit of confidence at this point, and so finally he’ll be able to muster up the courage. He’ll plan a romantic date under the starlight, whether it’s dinner or fishing or a walk on an island. He’ll take his s/o’s hands and look straight in their eyes, face beet-red as he tells them he loves them and would become a strong warrior of the sea that will protect them always. When his s/o returned the sentiment though he’ll start crying because he’s so overwhelmed. Usopp feels some strong feelings.

M-  Marriage: How does this character view marriage? What is their ideal wedding like?

Usopp definitely wants to get married! This man dates to get married, no casual flings for him. Usopp has an eye for the aesthetic so the wedding is going to be beautiful and perfect; the best decorations and flowers and food and everything. He doesn’t want a huge wedding, but he would like to get married with all his friends in attendance. He actually fantasizes about getting married on the island of Elbaf, as this is the epitome of his dream and symbolizes everything he is. If that isn’t possible, though, he’ll want to marry at Kaya’s mansion in his home village, because it’s an absolutely gorgeous venue and he wants his three stooges to be his ring bearers!

N-   Nicknames: What does this character like to call their s/o?

Usopp is an absolute sweetheart and this reflects in his nicknames. “Honey,” “gorgeous,” “sweetie,” and “cupcake” are go-tos, but if he’s hard in his feels, he’ll say “my love” or “love of my life” too.

O-   On Cloud Nine: What is this character like when they’re in love? Is it obvious to others, or are they good at hiding it?

Usopp is the absolute cutest when he’s in love. He becomes a total airhead because his mind will be on his s/o 24/7. This makes him kinda clumsy, leading to several falls from the netting or tripping over railings to fall down to the lower deck. He’ll also have this dreamy, faraway look on his face, just sitting there fantasizing. It became a game seeing how many things the crew could stack on his head before he noticed. The record is ten. As such, it is totally obvious that Usopp is in love because he just can’t hide it. Even after they are together, he’s always doing things and saying things that it’s just painfully obvious even to total strangers. What can I say; my boy isn’t shy to be in love!

P-    PDA: Does this character like PDA? If so, what kinds of things do they do in public to show off their s/o?

Yes! This boy loves to display his affection! Whether he is on the giving end or the receiving end, this boy is ecstatic. Hand-holding, little kisses, sweet nothings, he loves it all. He’ll be so touchy that it will get annoying to the more grumpy members of the crew, but Usopp will just be more obvious about it in retaliation. There is nothing wrong in showing how much he loves his s/o! Real men aren’t afraid to show their affections loud and proud!

Q-   Quirks: What random traits or quirks does this character have that positively affect the relationship?

Usopp’s got meticulous attention to detail and so he will pick up quick on his s/o’s habits, likes, and dislikes. This makes tailoring his gifts to them quite an art, because they’re just so unique to his s/o! It also makes surprises very easy. He’ll pay close attention to what his s/o eyes in a store or speaks about, and lo and behold, it’ll show up wrapped on their bed not too long after. Usopp’s a boatload of fun, too, so it makes the relationship really bubbly and happy. His easygoing atmosphere is infectious, and one can’t help but feel at ease around him. He also tells the best jokes, ever.

R-    Romance: Is this character a hopeless romantic, or a bit on the low-key side? Are they cliché when it comes to romantic gestures, or can they get a little bit creative?

Usopp is a total romantic. This boy will swoon and swoon hard, and he is gonna do everything for the sun for his s/o and everyone is gonna know about it. Because of his artistic talents, his gifts and gestures are very creative. There will be many a time his s/o is breathtaken by his inventive gestures. Usopp isn’t afraid of the old tried-and-true, though! He always manages to put some personal flair into the gesture, though, such as giving his s/o a bouquet of papercraft flowers instead of store-bought ones.

S-    Secrets: Are there any secrets they hide from their s/o? If so, how do they deal with it when those secrets finally come out?

Usopp may blend the lines of fact and fiction, but he doesn’t have anything he really wants to hide, necessarily. Once the relationship is deep and strong, Usopp won’t want to hide anything from his s/o. He is gonna tell them everything, good and bad, so they can work through it together.

T-    Thrill: Does this character prefer routine in their relationship, or do they like to shake things up every once in a while?

Routine bores Usopp! To him, every day in the relationship is the chance to try something new or learn something new! He is definitely not one to settle into routine, so a relationship with Usopp is a wild ride for sure. It’s so hella fun that one won’t mind, though.

U-   Understanding: Is this character level-headed and empathetic toward their partner, or do they sometimes have trouble figuring them out, which leads to some butting heads?

Usopp knows his s/o better than they know themselves. He is very perceptive and observant, and he will know every minute detail about them. This makes it very easy to sort through problems and bumps in the road. He’s not a very argumentative guy, either, so there’s almost no butting heads aside from his lying problem (and again, that’s only a temporary problem). Usopp is a great listener and will help his s/o work through their own things too. Honestly, this guy is so empathetic and sweet it’ll kill you.

V-   Value: How does this character value their relationship with their s/o? How does it hold in comparison to their goals, ambitions, etc.?

Usopp values his relationship extremely highly. He holds his s/o and his dream of being a great warrior of the sea in tandem, because to him, he can’t be a good boyfriend if he doesn’t achieve his dream. Advancing his relationship and working toward his goal go hand-in-hand, and he selfishly is unwilling to sacrifice either for the other’s sake. This mans is gonna find a way to have both, so help him God!

W-  Wild Card: Any random fluff headcanon that does not fall within the other categories!

Love notes. He hides love notes everywhere. Sticking them in his s/o’s books, hiding them in their sock drawer or slipping them into their pockets, sticking them to the mirror while they’re in the shower, laying them on their pillow before they go to sleep- so many love notes. They’re most often corny love puns and they never fail to make his s/o smile.

X-   XOXO: How does this character show affection?

Usopp is into all five love languages, okay. Usopp shows his love in every and any way possible. This man would pull the moon outta the sky if you asked for it. However, I feel like physical touch is his greatest way of showing affection. He just loves to hug and hold and kiss his partner all day, every day. There will be no question that Usopp loves you, ever.

Y-   Yearning: How does this character deal with time apart with their s/o?

Oh, this boy. Hims gets so sad. It’s a bad time for the crew because he will loudly and annoyingly mope. Sighing, groaning, lamenting aloud- Usopp just can’t deal with not having his partner around. He even has to invest in a body pillow so he can hug it and hold it at night because he just can’t stand to not have his s/o by his side at night! (Luffy and Chopper play a prank by printing his s/o’s face to it and he gets even sadder, which really backfires for the crew. Nami beats them up and makes them buy Usopp another blank one).

Z-    Zeal: Is this character willing to great lengths for their relationship? If so, how far, and how long does it take to get to this point?

Usopp will follow his s/o anywhere. His s/o is one of the most important things in the world to him, and he is going to do anything and everything possible to preserve it. Usopp falls fast and hard, so he gets to this point pretty early on. My boy loves stronger than the force of ten sun, with every fiber of his being. If his s/o is in deep trouble, it’ll spur him into action no matter how scared he is, and he’ll fight like a lion for them. Someone may have to back him up, but he’s gonna try, dammit!

[theashofwkm]

How about post break up kiss with dark and reader that dark initiates because he messes up big time and doesn't want them to fully leave him?

Overestimation

Summary: In which Dark can’t let go, not yet.

There’s actually plot to this. It’s basically an entire fic. I got inspired, I guess. Still going to treat this as a prompt, but it is quite a big one.

Thank you for the request!!

—

Dark’s room is half empty. Half of his bed remains unmade, a mess of sheets and blanket and a soft imprint on a pillow, that side is cold, uninhabited but still carrying the ghost that it is. Half of his closet holds only empty air, not soft fabrics of clothes.

Half of Dark is gone.

You had left him, finally. Decided that enough was enough and that his honey words and silver tongue didn’t make up for his faults.

He’s sitting in his room. Refusing to move his things over in the closet or to fix your side of the bed. If it remains messy, then it kind of feels like you’re still here. If he leaves his room as you left it when you packed all of your things, then it feels like you’ll return. Like you just packed for a trip, not for forever.

You’re still in the Manor. You’d moved to a free guest room by the Googles, asking them to alert you if Dark tried to visit. Because you didn’t want him near you anymore.

Enough was enough.

He’s a fool, despite being one of the smarter egos. Despite all of his claims of not being one. He had overestimated you, what you were willing to accept, what you would let slide.

He had gone too far.

He’d seen the lines you’d placed, shaky and shallow in your unsureness because of who Dark was. You were already bending lines, being with him, and he was no normal human, not average in any sense of the word.

Dark was an enigma. You’d liked that, at the start, and you’d let his bloodlust for the man who ruined him slide because Mark had taken everything from him. Maybe you had let too much slide, just to justify your relationship.

You shouldn’t have had to justify anything.

It’s Dark’s fault that you felt like you had to. It’s Dark’s fault that you left and his fault that he’s alone.

He stands shakily, lacking his usual controlled grace. He needs to see you again. Just once, a proper goodbye before you’re truly gone. He’s heard that you’re looking to move out of the manor. There’s nothing keeping you here now.

There’s no reason for you to live here instead of visit. He knows you’ll visit, eventually, but it won’t be for him. In your relationship with him, you had bonded with the other egos. You’ll return to see them, will keep those friendships alive as you ignore the grave of your relationship with him.

He should have known better, in hindsight.

You were a human. Simple and untouched by Mark’s corruption. Of course you wouldn’t understand him, everything he was leads back to events that you can’t fully believe without seeing, without experiencing.

Rules and reality were different with him. Despite trying, you just couldn’t understand and accept it when he crossed a forbidden line for you that was an average walk in the park for him.

You were too different. Dark was foolish to ever think that something could work out, with anyone. With you. There isn’t a world where things work out with you.

He strides out of his room, determination steeling the shake in his bones. You owe him a proper goodbye.

One of the Googles steps out, as he turns into the corridor you’re staying in. His eyes are lit up, an indicator that he’s communicating with his brothers, probably.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Dark looks down on him, knowing that he should be kind since the Googles were more emotion and less robot after their split and that Yellow (he couldn’t care to remember which names they chose for themselves) was anxious.

He pulls in a deep breath. “Please,” he says, not asking because he will force his way through if he needs to. “I just want a moment with them.”

His eyelids stutter, shuddering between open and closed in a show of processing. Dark could push through now, sneak by while he’s lost in his technical side, but he doesn’t. You always told him that he needed to be kinder, that politeness wasn’t kindness.

Maybe it says something, that he’s still trying. Maybe it’s just become a habit that he’ll break soon enough.

“Alright,” the yellow google says, eyes and lens adjusting to focus on his face. “But you have to leave if they ask.”

Dark blinks, fighting the rising disgust that they think he’s capable of that. He might be cunning and manipulative and evil, but he’s always been polite. It stirs something uncomfortable that people, even the egos, his fellow brethren and comrades, always see that first.

“Of course,” he replies smoothly, posture and composure in place besides a tick of his jaw and a jump in his aura, red pulsing thicker for a moment before it settles. Dark’s not a fan of how his emotions are put on display so blatantly — he can never feign calmness he doesn’t feel, no matter how good an actor he may be.

Not that he’s planning to lie to you, but it is irritating that holding his composure in a moment of strain isn’t a possibility.

He steps past the google and makes stoic eye contact with the one standing outside your door. Red — the one still getting a grasp for emotions. He tips his head as a silent hello and the bot only narrows his eyes in response, displeased but allowing him through.

Meaning that you had been the one to allow him access. Not that the Googles wouldn’t ask you, but— you are letting him in.

He’s hesitant, as he steps in. Fighting his need for you to be close and his need for you to be happy. He had fallen too hard, crashing and crumbling at the bottom of the cliff. You had tamed him better than he would ever admit.

“Hello,” he greets, noting the harsh stance of your posture, the tension laying thick over your skin. You don’t want him here. It’s what he expected, but it stings still.

(He’s not foolish enough to hope that you would forgive him.)

“Hi.”

He winces at your flat tone, the lack of any interest or emotion. You’re treating this like a job or a homework assignment — something that you detest but need to get done. He hopes that you know that you had a choice, that you could have turned him away.

He would have listened, despite the itch to see you.

You blow out a breath and Dark gives you the courtesy of pretending he doesn’t see the nerves behind it, the fear. You’re scared, now, and the only monster in the room is him.

“What do you want?”

He pulls in his own breath, teeth clenched and bared. He moves his arms as he speaks, a nervous habit that everyone contributes to his manipulative nature. “We left things unpleasantly the last time we spoke,” he says, tone smooth and charismatic like it always is, like he likes it to be. “I thought that a proper, softer goodbye would be beneficial for us.”

You had been crying, the last time he saw you. Overcome with emotion and hurt. You were hurt, because of him. Crying, because of him. That’s something he never wanted.

Red still cuts through your eyes now, but softer, almost a pink. You’re still hurt, but already beginning the process of moving on, it seems.

That hurts.

“I’m not going to forgive you.” You’re blunt, squinting at him suspiciously, thinking that he has an ulterior motive behind his sweet words. To be fair, he usually does and maybe he does this time, but it’s not his priority.

You are. Too late, you are his priority. Twisted, he’s here for you to benefit himself. To ease his mind. To reassure himself later that the last time you spoke wasn’t when you left, when you were hurt and fuming.

He softens some, at your accusation. He’s never been able to decide if he liked that you could see through him. He drops the rigidness, anyway. Being blunt would be better, more direct. He could get out of your hair sooner.

“Alright,” he concedes. “I wanted to talk to you before you left. That’s all. I promise.”

It’s rare that Dark makes a promise outright. He’s usually more coy with his words and a promise is blunt and binding in a way he usually avoids. He drops that now, for you, so maybe you’ll trust him a little.

“Fine. What about?”

Nervous, he shifts his feet. He needs you, but he doesn’t want to seem weak. Those interests conflict now.

“Us. I’m not pleased with the way we left things.”

His aura crackles around him, red and blue fighting for dominance.

“Oh.” It’s your turn to soften now. Because Dark is showing weakness now, whether he likes it or not. And, together or not, it still warms you some that he’s doing so for you.

He sees the gentleness in your features, the soft edges you’re capping over your previous sharp ones. His jaw clenches briefly. He doesn’t need to be babied.

You sit, dropping all pretenses of being angry and foreboding, instead settling more into a friend role. Ready to listen and talk. He follows your lead, taking a seat near you on the bed, the only place to sit.

He stares at his hands, not wanting to see any pity or sympathy on your face. He doesn’t need it. He needs you. Swallowing thickly, he begins.

“I should say that I’m sorry. I had no intentions of pushing you away as I did.” He’s being honest, soul bearingly, openly so. It’s hard, being vulnerable, but he knows that being this honest is the only way he won’t completely lose you. “I’m aware that I had a tendency to take you for granted, to... overestimate how much of my foolishness you would take.”

Your hand brushes against his, him flinches away from your comfort. “You weren’t foolish.” You’re frowning, at this new Dark, at this vulnerable weakness he’s showing you.

He shakes his head. “I was. I’m sorry for that, if I could go back,” he remembers the start of your relationship, when you had been nothing but warm and happy and uncumbered by all of his darkness, “I’d go about things differently.”

He’d done things wrong. He’d known so at the time, that he should cherish you if he wanted to keep you, but he had overestimated you and underestimated himself. He had thought that he could handle losing you, that he could continue on unaffected, but he can’t.

He can’t.

You had been far more important than he realized. Your loss — your leaving — had cut him more deeply than he thought it could. You always surprised him.

You place your hand on his shoulder, now, refusing to leave when it slumps under you. Blue is heavy in his aura, overlining the red and you know that he’s being sincere.

Part of you wishes he wasn’t. It would be easier to move on without this memory of his apology and his soft vulnerability — something that is so rare for him to show, so hard for him to bring out. It ruins his image as the powerful leader of the egos, cunning, smart, cold and always in control. It’s so rare that he sheds that.

“Dark...”

“But what’s done is done.” He seems to have steeled himself, rising from his slumped position, face neutral and cold. Not soft and sad and warm as it just was.

There’s something else in his expression, something that you can’t recognize, that you can’t place. It’s dark, a shadow lurking behind the cold exterior.

He half closes his eyes before turning to face you, your hand falling to your lap. He seems to have come to a conclusion, that shadow now sitting still instead of flying across his face, aura now still and blue. He’s determined, but still sad.

You don’t expect it when he leans forwards and slots his mouth against yours. It’s harsh, a connection that neither of you expected but one that speaks volumes.

I miss you, it screams. I love you, please stay.

It’s heartbreaking, is what it is. A final, grand show that slips through careful control.

You can taste his desperation in the messiness of his kiss, in the quick pace and the way he’s trying to pull you into him, reel you back in with nothing but his mouth. It doesn’t work, it won’t, but it cracks at your heart all the same.

It’s enough for you to return it, at least. Or maybe it’s just so surprising that your body shut down into autopilot. You’re not sure.

Either way, he kisses you and you can feel the begging question in it, the fact that his reputation and pride are keeping him from actually dropping to his knees to ask.

He wants you to stay.

If he thought that a kiss, suddenly sprung on you when he said he was just here to apologize, could change that, then he was wrong.

You’re the one to pull away, wide-eyed and gaping.

He’s looking at you, red aura shifting, shell cracking, face soft.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, seeming to settle back into himself as he fixes his composure, brow knitting as he taps at his mouth, the pout of his lower lip. “I... I swear I didn’t come with the intention of kissing you.”

“I hope not,” you say, feeling the need to be harsh and blunt. “We’re not together anymore.” His face shifts at your words, expression turning rigid and eyes chilling. “You don’t get to kiss me like that anymore.”

Not that he ever did. He wasn’t spontaneous like that. He never kissed you out of the blue. He didn’t kiss you much at all, actually, preferring other ways of showing his affections. You had been fine with it. That wasn’t why you called it off.

“I know.” His jaw bites down at the words, some kind of anger rising up in him that you recognize as being self-directed. It really was a slip in his control, of his judgement.

You try to ignore the implications of that. If Dark kissed you while out of control, than that means that he needed it. You’ve never known Dark to need anything like that.

“It’s... nice of you, to come apologize and try to give us a better ending, but it’s best if we leave it here.” You see the hurt masked in his gaze, and you have to refrain yourself from touching him in a form of comfort. “Clean slate and everything. Goodbye. Don’t come here again.”

He stands, taking a few steps away from your harsh tone, your harsh eyes, your harsh self. He’s unsettled, feeling out of his skin and foreign, like a zoo animal behind glass getting judged by greasy-handed children.

“Alright.”

He leaves, words boiling within him, lapping against his organs, sending smoke up his throat. They’re pleading words, words of desperation and weakness and regret.

They’re true, but not words that Dark will say.

He’s not man enough to bare himself like that.

—

Whoops. Made it angsty. But it fits cause of the post break up thing? Yeah, I’ll roll with that. I also like this prompt too much. Like, it just fits well. I feel bad for Dark.

I was debating on assembling it like an actual fic (with warnings and tags and adding it to my Masterlist) but idk. I didn’t. This anon has blessed you all with this.

[samwhambam]

Damaged

Hi hello. It’s me. Your neighborhood slacker who decides to do nothing pertaining the fandom for weeks and then writes a long fic in order to avoid doing homework. 

Please enjoy this fic that I wrote and briefly proofread! I wanted to get something out before the show came back on. It’s kinda angsty, kinda flirty, kinda sexy and over 2,000 words. What’s not to love?

Can it be Thursday already?

They were sitting on the floor, their backs against the end of the couch with their feet stretched towards the kitchen. Connor picked at a loose thread on the blanket strewn over the lower halves of their naked bodies. He turned to face Oliver in response to the other man’s sigh and movements as he rearranged himself, slouching down so he was more comfortable. He reached behind himself and grabbed Oliver a pillow, motioning him to lean forward before tucking the pillow behind him.

“Thanks.”

And then Oliver’s arm was lifting itself as Connor simultaneously shifted closer and they were intertwined again. The silence between them was heavy, but comfortable. After a hellish week, they were finally together. In the week after Wes’ death, they had all been wandering about, each person trying to figure out what it meant for them. Their group of friends had been destroyed. Each night had seen them all together in Oliver’s apartment, passing around a differing bottle of alcohol. Just enough so that they could fill the void but not enough that they couldn’t go on with their day in the morning. The days were filled with class and hospital visits and Oliver following Bonnie around, trying to help her organize files and evidence for Annalise’s trial, even though he knew nothing about law. His breaks were filled with intense googling sessions, trying to read laws and ordinances that could pertain to the trial.

In the hours that he could slip away, he would join Laurel at the hospital. At first, he mostly just sat there, not knowing what to say. All he could provide her with was company. It wasn’t until he witnessed the blow out with her and her father that he was fully able to break the tension between them about how hard it was to live up to a parent’s standards when you lived in two different worlds. They were friends, but how do you connect with someone who just lost her boyfriend and gained a child that the doctors weren’t sure would survive after the smoke inhalation that dirtied Laurel’s blood. Laurel had broken down, crying to Oliver, saying she didn’t know if she wanted the baby to survive or not. Oliver left that evening with heavy shoulders and carrying a cross that wasn’t his.

That had always been one of his weaker points. He felt too much, carried the pain of others and pushed down his own emotions. It caused him to never take care of himself. That same night, as he lay in bed, he pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to push the tears back in. He was full of regret. He had been in the dark once, not a part of the drama. He had lived a simple life. Now, his life was more exciting. But at what cost? He had been skirting on the outside for so long and then he dove head first into the thick of it.

The ringing of his phone had snapped him out of his daze that night and he only answered it because it was Connor. And then Connor had come over and laid with him, holding him. There was no “I told you so” or similar remarks. He just held Oliver as Oliver spit out why he was crying. How now he was rethinking his life and what he wanted. He used to want a family but then after seeing Laurel break down, he didn’t know if he could live a life where he was always worried about his children. What if he changed his mind and didn’t want the child? Laurel already loved her child more than anything but she didn’t think she could raise it knowing that the father, the man she so quickly fell in love with was gone. How could she have his child but not him? All of her emotions terrified him and he couldn’t handle the fear.

Connor had rubbed a hand along his back, whispering about how it had changed him. He never wanted kids, being an uncle was enough. But now, with Laurel expecting, he had realized that he was closer to the age of when he would want to start building his family, if he were to have one. When he first found out, he thought she was too young to have a child, but she was the oldest out of their group, besides Oliver. She could have children and be completely fine. Finishing law school would be hard, but she still had her undergrad degree to fall back on. He could have a child in two years and it would be completely normal. He could have a kid with Oliver, a life, marriage, a house and he would be more than okay with it. 

And them laying there, in his bed made Oliver realize that it was worth it. There was no longer the wall between the two of them. All the secrets were out in the open and they were slowly repairing their relationship. It was going to work this time. Oliver could feel it in his bones.

That had been Wednesday night.

Now it was Friday night and they were together in Oliver’s living room. The silence was comfortable and Oliver was tempted to not break it, but he had to.

“Are you going to tell me what happened to your eye?” Oliver held Connor tighter when he felt him tense up.

“I fucked up. Said something insensitive and Asher punched me. In Laurel’s hospital room. Which, is a plus because they gave me a fancy band aid pretty soon after it happened,” Connor pressed a kiss to Oliver’s shoulder, hoping that it would soothe the fall of the words onto Oliver’s ears. Like he could kiss away any bad reaction that Oliver would have.

“What did you say?” Oliver’s voice was gentle. He ran a hand along the arm Connor had swung over his chest.

“I honestly don’t remember. It was mean though. Unwarranted,” Connor’s voice was strained. He was on the edge. So close to falling over and losing it. But he could fall back instead of falling forward, falling on to the concrete. He could pull himself together, shrug off the bad feelings and pretend like everything was okay. But they had come too far for him to do that.

“When I found out that Wes was dead, I was horrified. It was a punch to the gut. But then, I felt relieved because I thought that it all was over. All the running, the lying. I was free. Wes had caused all of our issues. I felt okay and at ease for a while, but then I remembered that no matter what, I was an accomplice and nothing will change that,” Connor sighed, burying his face into Oliver’s chest, screwing his eyes shut. Oliver still felt the tears.

 “I’ve been so frustrated this entire week and I said something stupid about how at least some of our issues are now resolved and it was quiet and then before I knew it, Asher was taking a swing at me and I couldn’t dodge it in time and then I was on the floor. I was being an ass, per usual,” Connor pressed another kiss, this one wet, against Oliver before detangling himself, pushing himself up off of the floor. “Want some water?”

“I’m good,” Oliver just wanted Connor back against him.

Oliver closed his eyes as Connor began to move around in the kitchen, only opening them once he heard the soft clink of the glass in the sink. Connor sat down on the floor, moving a stool out of his way so he could sit against the kitchen island, his legs extended to run alongside Oliver’s.

“Do you really think I’m fucked up? Damaged?” Connor asked. They hadn’t had a serious talk about it yet. Connor had wanted to push it out of his mind, forget about it. But their relationship meant too much to him for him to do that. His time without Oliver had nearly ruined him and he couldn’t go through it again.

Oliver stared at Connor and he could see the gears shifting behind Oliver’s eyes. He was trying to find the words. Connor was terrified.

“I don’t know,” Oliver sighed.

“I thought you might’ve been. But now, I just think you’re scared. You put on this façade and now it’s crumbling because everything is starting to catch up to you. It was too big of a secret for you to keep by yourself. You had your life planned out, figured out and then the Sam Keating ordeal happened and everything changed. Everything you worked for was slipping out of your fingers and you began to doubt it. You were trying to handle your PTSD by yourself and that’s impossible. I wish I could’ve given you my support. Reassurance. Been there to help catch you,” Oliver sighed.

“I don’t think you’re damaged. You’re just always worried and scared. That changes people.”

“I think I’m damaged,” Connor was crying again. He didn’t try to cover it up. “I’ve lost control of myself. I don’t care anymore. I feel so fucked up. I don’t run anymore. I gained weight. I don’t style my hair anymore. I only trim my beard when I can actually twirl it around my finger. Started doing that as a nervous habit. I used to shave every body hair. And the thing is, is that I don’t care that I stopped doing those things. I can’t care. There’s nothing left inside of me. I don’t care about my well-being. I’ve been trying to get my shit together school wise. Figured if I got that in order, everything might start falling into place.”

“Connor,” Oliver whispered as he bumped his foot into Connor’s leg. “I’m so proud of you for all the studying you’re doing. You may have lost control of all of those things, but you’re moving in the right direction. I can see you slowly loving law again. That case you worked on, you were amazing. So passionate. Maybe you shouldn’t be so occupied with trying to be who you were. Grow. Be who you’re destined to be now. People change. Life moves on. Roll with it.”

“That’s so fucking cheesy. Oh my God,” Connor was laughing through his tears. It was a pathetic sound but he didn’t care.  

“It wasn’t that cheesy!” Oliver was laughing too.

“It kind of was.”

And it was silent again. They were just sitting there, in the moonlight, looking at each other. 

“I don’t care what you look like. Don’t feel like you need to hold yourself to any beauty standard you may not want to,” Oliver leaned forward, wrapping a hand around Connor’s ankle.

“I know. I’m kind of digging the longer hair. But, should probably get it trimmed. And start trimming my beard again. And I need to shave my chest. It kind of weirds me out that it pokes out when I wear V-necks,” Connor looked down at his chest, scratching at the hair.

“You know; you could leave the chest hair. It’s something to play with after sex,” Oliver raised his eyebrows suggestively before holding his hands out. When Connor took them, Oliver pulled him up and closer, moving Connor so he was straddling his lap.

Oliver leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Connor’s chest. The little hairs tickled Oliver’s nose but he didn’t care. He liked it.

“I’ll leave the chest hair if you tell me what work out regime you used to get this fit because holy hell. You got even buffer since we broke up and I didn’t think that could happen.” 

Oliver laughed as Connor ran his hands along his arms. Connor was staring at him in awe, running his hands over the defining lines of Oliver’s muscles. Oliver was blushing a beet red when Connor finally leaned forward, kissing him again.

“It’s Friday night,” Connor said in-between kisses. “Let’s have sex all night. Make me ridiculously sore tomorrow. Then you can bring me snacks and water tomorrow while I’m studying.”

Connor kissed him again, long and deep before pulling away.

“Then we can pretend you’re my teacher and I’m the naughty school boy who won’t pay attention in class,” Connor whispered against Oliver’s ear. He placed a kiss underneath it before kissing his way down Oliver’s neck.

“And then fuck all Saturday night. But it has to be in front of a mirror. So I can watch all your muscles,” Connor groaned at the image he himself had painted in his mind. “That’ll be so hot.”

“Connor,” Oliver was breathless, the name shaky as he felt Connor harden against him.

“And then Sunday morning, you can teach me how to play tennis. Like you’ve always wanted to. You can tell me what to do on the court, then fuck me however you want once we get home. You’re in charge. Your wish is my command,” Connor was already panting.

Oliver moaned as Connor began grinding against him.

“I’ll call you daddy, too,” Connor let out without thinking. His mind went blank for a second once he realized what he said.

“What?” Oliver had paused as well, staring at Connor. They had never discussed that before.

“Nothing,” Connor was quick to continue grinding against Oliver’s cock. The moan of pleasure Oliver released erased the moment from his mind.

“I’m still prepped, if you’re ready, I’m ready,” Connor searched Oliver’s eyes for a confirmation.

“Get some more lube,” Oliver said as his hands ran up Connor’s back.

“I’m fine. It’s fine if it hurts a bit. I’ll get used to it,” Connor reached back, grabbing for Oliver’s dick so he could lower himself onto it.

“No. Get the lube. It’s on the couch,” Oliver ordered.

Connor sighed as he sat up, kneeling on the floor as he reached behind Oliver’s head to search for the lube. Oliver’s hands slipped down Connor’s back as he did that, sliding down to grip Connor’s ass. He slapped it lightly with his right hand before making a split second decision to slip a finger into him.

Connor moaned loudly before gripping the couch with both hands.

“More,” he whimpered. Moaning even louder when Oliver slipped another finger into him. 

He gasped when Oliver slipped a third one in. He was thrusting them in and out slowly, watching Connor shake above him every time he hit his prostate.

“Fuck it. Oliver. Fuck me. That lube you got takes forever to fully dry. We’re still fine. Fuck me,” With one hand on the couch above Oliver’s head, Connor reached back with the other and grabbed Oliver’s cock. A loud moan escaped him before Connor guided himself back onto it.

They moaned together as their bodies met. Connor was fully seated and he didn’t know if it had ever felt this good. He was about to move when Oliver interrupted.

“Did you say you want to call me ‘daddy?’” He was staring at Connor, an eyebrow raised.

Connor stared back, not saying a word. Oliver began to open his mouth but before he could say anything, Connor began to move.

“Oh, fuck you,” But it was said in a laugh and a moan as their bodies began to move together.

[tobyrichardson]

I’m Not Lucky, You’re Just an Idiot

“I wish I could do what you’re doing. Just leave everything behind and start travelling”

“Yeah? Well why can’t you?” And yet, I think I’ll never hear a reasonable answer to that question simply because, the people who try to answer it are lying to themselves.

Litmus test: If you find yourself getting annoyed by what I have just said and can already think of reasons why I’m wrong, you just might be who I’m talking about.

In fact, my favourite statement to hate is probably: “Wow Toby, you’re so lucky that you’re able to go travelling indefinitely across the world and quit your job.”

You could, perhaps at first, be forgiven for thinking it, but by the time such a saying makes it to an individual’s mouth, they would have had more than enough time to realise that it is a complete load of garbage. Yes I am very lucky but probably no more than the rest of you. I have had to uproot everything, sell all my favourite and meaningful belongings, put a strain on my relationship and sink the only money I have, into getting to England where I will have to start working on day 1 to save enough to see the rest of Europe while still maintaining my financial commitments in Australia. Fortunate and easy indeed.

I wouldn’t want to be offensive to those who have genuine reasons for not being able to travel even though they want to, but the fact is that out of all who think they fall into that category, probably 98% of them are restricted only by self-imposed limitations.

The bulk of us have the same ability to do whatever we want and while there’s a very small few of us who can’t, there’s also plenty of people in a better position than me, from which they can set off travelling.

Perhaps they have less debt than me. Perhaps they were fortunate enough to learn better saving/spending habits while they were growing up. Perhaps they just live closer to where they want to go. Regardless of your circumstances, if you’ve ever said to someone how fortunate they are to be able to do X, Y, or Z but you can’t because of whatever reason, this post is directed at you. I don’t want to seem like a blunt asshole – then again, I’m not overly concerned if I do –I just want to make at least one person realise that the only person holding themselves back from whatever it is they’re chasing, is themselves.

I was working on commission just before I pulled the pin to go travelling and it was the first time that I was starting to earn a decent, regular income. At last, I was looking at a future with good financial security. I would have been crazy to throw it away, but I did.

Over 51% of the population want to quit their job and travel long term and a completely underwhelming 2% actually do. Extrapolating to assume that most people’s dreams and not just travel, has the same percentage of action takers, then why is it that only 4% of the population does what they want? Could it be that society as we know it would crumble if too many people left their Jobs? I doubt it. Although, having so many of you being conditioned to do what other people want does do a mighty fine job of keeping the system going.

Yes I have been guilty of thinking “you lucky bastard” towards other people who have done things that I thought I really wanted to do but hadn’t prioritised and achieved. I’ve felt the burning resentment as the green eyed monster rears it’s ugly head. I suppose we all have but if we continue to do it, we will continue to be stuck focusing completely on someone else instead of finding ways of achieving it ourselves.

I feel angry right now, even angrier that I’m letting dickheads on the internet annoy me, but angry just the same. In an effort to find some statistics about what I’m writing in this post right now, I have just come across people using the exact language that will perpetuate them being a fuckwit forever. This is what I have just seen: “Does anybody get really jealous of people who get to travel?”, “I get jealous of people who get to travel”, “I get really jealous of people who get to travel and post photos on Facebook” and a hundred iterations of the same garbage. There’s even articles on how to travel and not make your friends jealous. Fuck your friends, jealousy might be the only thing that makes them do something with their lives.

Just in case you thought I might have been getting angry about people using the word “jealous”, that’s not the case. It’s much worse than that. There are thousands of quotes that use one of the most debilitating two-word combinations: “Get to”. No they don’t get to travel, they choose to travel. How much more external could your locus of control be? If it’s not internal, you will amount to nothing but blame everyone else.

I’m a lot better than I once was at controlling my emotions. I’m fairly practiced at consciously monitoring how I feel and even road rage is a thing of the past, but I can’t get over the fuckwittery of these colossal dickheads that speak almost as if they blame the person who is travelling, for them not being able to. Fuck you and go back to resenting other people’s success instead of finding a solution for your own lack of it.

I’ve given up on finding any more statistics for this post, you’ll have to go without.

If you think what I’m saying is complete bollocks or whether you agree, I’d love to see your comments. Bugger it, while you’re at it, you as may as well just join my mailing list so you can be drip fed with enraging posts and slander.