#especially when they first get back together

[abbotjack]

can u pls write a fic where the reader absolutely adores going down on abbot because she gets to have him at his most vulnerable and feral, all because of her own undoing

you know what… yeah. there's something about the way jack falls apart when your mouth is on him—quiet at first, trying to hold it together, and then suddenly he's gone. voice rough, hips twitching, all restraint out the window. and the best part? it's not because he's asking for it. it's because you wanted to. because he let you in, and now he can't hide from it. anyway. here you go!

content/warning : explicit oral sex (m receiving), praise kink, military past mentions, emotional vulnerability, established relationship intimacy, Jack is feral and in love. 18+ MDNI!!!!!

words : 1,755

Jack’s hard to catch off guard.

He’s trained for chaos. Built for pressure. Keeps himself wired tight because it’s the only way he’s ever known how to survive—by staying ten seconds ahead of the worst-case scenario, especially if that scenario has anything to do with losing you.

But sometimes, without even trying, you manage to catch him unprepared.

And tonight, he doesn’t see it coming.

It’s past ten. The rain’s steady against the windows, casting shadows that shift across the floor. You’re curled up on the living room couch, half-buried under a fleece blanket, flipping through a worn medical journal you’ve read twice already. You’re not even pretending to be interested—just waiting. Watching.

Jack’s in the kitchen, sleeves shoved to his elbows, scrubbing a pan like it’s got something personal against him. His movements are steady, practiced. Rooted in a rhythm he’s long since made his own.

He hums under his breath, soft and shapeless. Not a song, not really—just a low, quiet pattern that lives somewhere deep in his chest. The kind he slips into when he’s too tired to realize he’s doing it.

He’s already showered. Hair still damp, curling at the ends. A black t-shirt clings to his shoulders, worn soft with time. Grey sweats sit low on his hips, the waistband knotted like an afterthought. One sock. The prosthetic stays on—seamless, familiar, just another part of how he moves through the quiet of the evening.

And something in you pulls tight.

Because no one else sees him like this.

Not the hospital, where he’s all orders and intensity. Not his old unit. Not even his family, who still talk around things like they’re too fragile to touch.

But you do. You get this version of him—the quiet one. The one who moves like the day hasn’t touched him yet. The one who doesn’t have to perform toughness or control.

And you watch him, not for the first time, and think—without warning, without fanfare—God, I love you.

Not in the loud way. Not in the kind you say out loud just to hear it back. Just in the way that settles in your chest and stays there. Heavy. Certain.

He rinses the pan. Dries his hands. Looks up just as you shift your weight on the couch.

And that’s when it catches up to you—quiet, all at once. How much you want him.

Not just the sex. Not just the weight of him on your tongue or the sound he makes when he loses control.

But this. The unraveling.

The chance to take him apart, slowly, just because he lets you. Because he trusts you to.

“Jack?”

He turns, still toweling off a spot on his wrist. “Yeah?”

You slip off the blanket. Pad across the hardwood barefoot.

He watches your approach with that look—careful, measured. The one he wears when he's trying to read you before you speak.

When you reach him, you slide your hands under his shirt, palms smoothing over warm skin. He’s still damp near the collarbone. Still smells like unscented soap and the body wash he only buys because you like it.

You press your mouth to the corner of his lips, soft and slow.

He leans into it before he can stop himself.

“What’s that for?” he asks, voice low.

You shrug. “Just felt like it.”

He doesn’t speak, just studies you—like he’s trying to figure out what changed, what storm might be coming.

You tilt your chin up, fingers still tracing lazy circles on his ribs.

“I want you.”

His brow ticks up. “You have me.”

You shake your head. “Not like that.”

And then, quieter: “Let me take care of you.”

He stiffens—just barely. You feel it before you see it. That split second where instinct kicks in, where he almost says no, almost laughs it off, almost makes it about you instead. Because that’s who he is.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he nods.

And you drop to your knees.

The tile is cool against your shins. Jack shifts his weight—one foot grounding, the other adjusting with practiced ease. You place your hands on his thighs and look up at him, steady under your touch.

He’s already breathing harder.

“Let me have you like this,” you whisper.

He exhales—tight, measured. “Fuck. You sure?”

You smile, pressing a kiss to the base of his stomach. “I’m already on the floor, Jack.”

That gets a low huff of laughter. But his hand settles on the back of your head anyway, fingers threading through your hair.

He watches as you undo the knot in his waistband, tug his sweats down just enough, and take him in your hand.

Already half-hard. Heavy. Familiar.

You lean in and press your lips to the head of him—soft, reverent.

And then you open your mouth.

The groan that breaks from him isn’t polished. It’s not restrained.

It’s raw.

Like it catches him off guard. Like he thought he could stand there and stay composed while you took him apart piece by piece.

But the second you suck him down, his composure splinters.

His thighs twitch. His hips jerk just slightly, then freeze like he’s trying not to move, not to hurt you, not to fuck your mouth the way he clearly wants to.

Your hands move instinctively—one braced on his stomach, steadying him, the other wrapping around the base of his cock as you work him deeper.

Jack’s head falls forward, mouth parted.

“Christ,” he breathes, voice shaking. “You—baby, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you murmur against him. “I love this.”

You swirl your tongue and take him deep again, and his knees almost buckle.

He adjusts—shifts his weight again, subtly, stepping back, his hand now braced on the counter for balance. You glance up. The way he looks at you—lips parted, eyes heavy, jaw clenched like he’s trying not to beg—you could cry from it.

And then, when you moan around him, low and slow, he loses it.

His hand fists tighter in your hair.

His abs twitch beneath your palm.

“You’re gonna fucking ruin me,” he groans.

You hum, dragging your mouth off him long enough to grin. “That’s the idea.”

You take him back in—deeper—until he hits the back of your throat, and when your nose brushes his stomach, he gasps. Like he can’t believe how good it feels. Like it hurts. Like he doesn’t know how to survive this kind of love.

His balance wavers again, and you feel it when he compensates—hip shifting forward, muscles flexing, the barest tremble in his thigh as he tries to keep still.

“Sweetheart—” he chokes out, “—I’m gonna—fuck—I’m close—”

You just keep going.

Let him have it. Let him feel it.

Every pulse. Every vibration of your mouth. Every second of you choosing to take him like he’s something sacred. Something you need like air.

And when he comes—it’s not quiet.

He groans, guttural and broken, hips stuttering forward, hand tightening in your hair, and your name spills from his lips like a confession.

You swallow. Gently. Like it’s a gift.

And then, slowly, you rise.

He’s still leaning hard on the counter, chest heaving. You just step into him. Rest your hands on his hips.

He pulls you in, eyes blown wide.

You kiss the corner of his mouth—soft, grounding.

“You okay?”

He exhales, a low breath that’s more laugh than anything else, but it breaks halfway out of his chest. “You’re gonna fucking destroy me.”

“You said that already.”

“Still true,” he mutters, tugging you in by the waist until you’re flush against him.

You lean in, forehead bumping his, nose brushing his cheek. His skin’s still warm from the shower. You press your lips to his jaw—gentle, reassuring—and whisper, “Come sit with me?”

He nods, but doesn’t move right away. Just stands there, arms wrapped around you like he’s trying to get his breath back.

Then, finally: “Yeah. Okay.”

You slide your hand down his back and tug lightly at the hem of his shirt as you pull away. He follows without hesitation.

When you reach the couch, you’re the first to sit—curling into the cushion with your knees tucked up, leaving space for him without saying a word. Jack lowers himself beside you, slow and steady, one hand bracing the armrest as he shifts his weight and sinks into the cushion.

He leans toward you, hand sliding to your hip. “C’mere,” he murmurs.

You go easily, letting him guide you as you swing a leg over his and settle into his lap. Your knees bracket his thighs. Your arms loop around his neck, and his hands find their place—one at the curve of your spine, the other curling into the fabric of your sweats at your thigh like he needs you close enough to breathe.

He doesn’t speak for a moment. Just breathes. Forehead pressed to yours.

“You always do that to me,” he says eventually, voice low and rough.

“Do what?”

“Take the fucking ground out from under me.”

You laugh softly. “You’re dramatic.”

“I’m serious,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are still heavy, a little dazed, but there’s no edge in his voice. Just something raw. Open. “It’s not just the sex. It’s the fact that I—” He shakes his head, exhales sharply. “I never used to let anyone see me like that. I didn’t know I could.”

You rest your hands on either side of his face. “You don’t have to let go for me, Jack. You just do.”

His jaw tenses for a second, then softens as your thumbs brush his cheekbones.

“I love you,” he says.

You blink. Not because you didn’t know—but because it sounds different this time. Like it came from somewhere deeper.

“I know,” you say. Then you smile. “But say it again.”

His eyes flick between yours. “I love you.”

You kiss him. Slow, unhurried, like there’s nowhere else to be. And when you pull back, he leans in and kisses your cheek. Then your temple. Then just stays there, arms around you, face pressed into the curve of your neck.

You stay like that for a long time.

Quiet. Still.

Wrapped around each other in the soft hum of your home. His heartbeat under your hand. His presence so familiar it aches in the best way.

[prythianpages]

Protect Me From What I Want | Eris x Reader

Eris x Reader ft Azriel | After finding out you're carrying his child, Eris makes a sudden & unexpected visit to Day Court.

a/n: This is pt.7 to my recent Eris series, approx 4K.

warnings: angst (your turn breaking eris's heart), reader is pregnant/ hidden pregnancy trope

Eris did his best to focus.

Someone was speaking. Arguing, most likely. Their voices barely registered in his ears. He was nearly glad Azriel had lunged at him earlier. At least it gave him an excuse for the erratic and uneven rhythm of his pulse. 

He didn’t flinch when Feyre’s fire magic accidentally seared through his sleeve and marked his skin. He said his piece when he needed to, managed to string together words that sounded intelligent, diplomatic even.

But there was a war playing out on his face, different to the current war with Hybern and far more personal.

She carries a child.

The words were a hammer against his ribs.

A child you’ll never meet.

They echoed. Louder each time.

She carries a child.

A child, a child, a child…

His mouth tasted like ash and his lungs felt tight. His body was here but his mind was not. It had fled to you the moment he heard those words. The female he had condemned to heartbreak. The female who now bore his child.

He snuck a glance at Azriel, finding reserved emotions on his face. His shadows were the only expressive thing about him as they fluttered about. Azriel met his gaze, a silent storm still raging in the shadowsinger’s eyes. The tension between the two was sharp, the two of them sharing a mutual thought. You.  

Neither of them moved until Feyre placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. She steered his attention toward a conversation with her and Rhysand, sneaking a wary look at Eris herself. The moment Azriel looked away, Eris didn’t hesitate. He seized the sliver of opportunity, ignoring the stares from his father and brothers that were burning into his back. 

With a sharp breath, he winnowed and headed straight for Day Court.

This was pure desperation. 

There was no strategy, no carefully laid plan...and Eris Vanserra never moved without a plan.

He shouldn’t be here. He should be heading back to Autumn, facing the fallout of the meeting, weathering his father’s fury. He was sure there would be consequences to pay for Azriel’s attack as Beron would see it as humiliating. 

You’d be returning to Autumn soon anyway, given the recall of the emissaries. Had the soldiers he dispatched to escort you and your brother back already arrived here? Should he have found them first, disguised himself among them?

Time was slipping. He wasn’t sure if Helion would return tonight or worse, if Azriel would somehow get to you first. Eris needed to see you now, to confirm the truth for himself.

Helion’s palace was just as grand and ostentatious as the male himself. Gleaming marble floors, sweeping archways, gold glittering into every surface. It was open, and despite it being night, it was painfully bright. Fae lights sparkled along every corridor, making it difficult to blend in and hide. He had been here a couple of times before, which gave him some advantage. At least he knew where Helion typically housed his guests.

He slipped past another archway and that’s when the scent caught him. He’d always been fine tuned to your scent. He followed it with a pounding heart, hope and fear tangling in his throat. 

The trail led him to a door. This had to be your room. Your scent clung to the air, heavier than before. He stood there for a moment, hand raised, suddenly unsure. Were you inside? If he knocked, would you even answer, especially if you knew it was him on the other side? He wouldn’t blame you if you locked him out.

Still, he needed to see you. So taking a deep breath, his hand reached for the door and he decided to open it without knocking.

You weren’t inside. 

The breath he’d been holding for hours released in a hiss. His eyes swept the space, and panic clawed up his throat. What if you weren’t in Day Court anymore? What if Azriel had already taken you? No. That wasn’t possible. Azriel had been preoccupied with Feyre and Rhysand. And your brother—surely even he wouldn’t be foolish enough to let you travel back to Autumn unguarded, not in the middle of a war.

Eris decided to wait, even though his anxiety was gnawing at him like a restless beast. Perhaps you’d gone for an evening walk or were finishing supper. You’d have to return eventually. You lived here now, after all.

With more calm, he looked around the room, curious about the place you’ve been living in for the past weeks. Besides your scent, there was little about you in here. It was so different from your room back in Autumn, which was filled with knick knacks, tapestries and books.

He walked toward the bed, not surprised to find it neatly made. The scent on the sheets reached him and he inhaled deeply. He’d always found your scent sweet and soft and extremely soothing. There was something else woven into it now. A note he couldn’t quite place. It struck something deep in his chest. Had your scent already begun to change…?

He walked to the vanity beside your bed next. His fingers brushed against the silk night robe draped over the chair. He knew he shouldn’t be snooping. Cauldron, he shouldn’t even be here. But his restraint was unraveling fast, tugged loose by weeks of distance and guilt.

A flash of emerald green caught his eye—your jewelry box. You always had a love for pretty, shiny things. Gems had been your armor against the darkness of courtly life. Or at least that’s what you’d say with a grin every time you showed up with a new piece of jewelry. He had gifted you some pieces himself but his favorite on you was one of his rings. You often played with the golden band while holding his hand, twisting it around his finger until, one day, he slipped it off and slid it onto your thumb—the only finger it wouldn’t slip right off. He let you keep it. It looked better on you, anyway. He wondered if you still had it.

He opened the jewelry box…only to find it empty. 

No rings, no necklaces, no earrings. Strange. Just some bundles of herbs and–his heart stopped. He recognized the tiny vials of elixirs, having supplied them for his mother during her pregnancies. His hand trembled as he reached for one of the bottles, reading the label, and the confirmation pierced into his chest like a blade. 

There was no room for denial now. You were pregnant. With his child.

Before he could spiral too far, folded parchment caught his eye, tucked nearly beneath the vials. He reached for one of them, finding the shadowsinger’s signature glaring at him from the bottom of the page.

The paper crumpled in his fist, flames licking up the corners. He tried to smother the rage, but it sizzled in his blood. How long has he known? And why–why was it Azriel comforting when it should’ve been him?

His magic flared, barely reined in as he tossed the smoldering letter aside and reached for the other letter. The parchment was not as creased as the first and when he unfolded it, he recognized it to be your handwriting. His eyebrows furrowed, skimming over the top. It was addressed to your brother.

Dear Varek,

If you are reading this, this means I am no longer here in Day and perhaps, you’re looking for me…

His stomach dropped. You were planning to leave, to run away. His knees buckled and he collapsed onto the chair beside the vanity, Azriel’s earlier blow still throbbing in his ribs. That ache was nothing compared to the one swelling inside his chest. Where were you planning to run to? And with who? With Azriel? The only consolation was that the letter was not finished, meaning you definitely were still here.

The sound of footsteps approaching from the other side of the door had Eris abruptly sitting up. He folded the parchment back up, placing it back into your jewelry box and snapping it closed. He didn’t bother with the letter he found from Azriel. It was already reduced to the smallest pile of ashes on the floor. 

He heard your voice, bidding someone goodnight. Most likely your brother. He didn’t know why–maybe, it was a habit– but he spared a glance at the mirror. What he saw made him wince. Disheveled hair, bruised skin. He looked terrible. 

The door began to open and he began to panic as he was reminded he had no plan. What would he even say to you? Would the words “I’m sorry” ever be enough?

The door clicked behind you and the world stilled.

He turned.

You stood, only a few feet away, frozen. Your eyes locked on his, widening with disbelief and panic. Though the sun shined brightest in this court, you looked so pale and so tired. You looked fragile in a way that twisted his insides.

He had dreaded the idea of you moving on, of finding peace in someone else. But this? This was worse. You hadn’t moved on like he thought you had. Or was it the pregnancy weighing heavy on you? Either way, it was all his fault. He did this to you.

“Y/n—” he rose, moving toward you without thought.

But you flinched.

You flinched from him.

The step you took back felt like a thousand arrows to his back. You maintained as much distance as you could, pressed yourself into the wall as if it were the only thing keeping you from collapsing. He froze mid-step, his hands lowering.

His gaze then dropped instinctively to your middle.

The dress you were wearing flowed loosely over your frame. If there was a bump, it was easily hidden beneath the fabric. You wrapped your arms around yourself anyway, around your stomach, like a shield. As if to protect the baby from him.

And it broke him.

A ragged breath tore from his lungs as he met your gaze again. You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to. The way he looked at you. The way you held yourself. There was no denying it now. You knew he knew.

“Y/n—”

“No.” You shook your head, eyes shining. He knew you so well that he could see the war within you. The love that hadn’t quite died but also the pain that was beginning to take its place.

His own eyes burned, the emotion swelling too big for his chest. He tried again, one more step. 

“That’s enough,” you said, your voice trembling. “Don’t come closer.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He said but stopped, palms raised. 

Eris was here.

And you forgot how to breathe.

The same flame-colored hair, the same broad frame… but he looked different. Paler. Worn. His usually pristine coat hung unevenly on his shoulders, the right sleeve singed and torn as if he had walked through hell to get here.

And maybe he had.

You had thought about this moment for days, for weeks. Dreamed of it even in the quiet hours of the night, clutching your pillow as if it were him. The moment Eris would come running back to you, eyes full of regret, voice trembling as he begged you to come back with him. If he had come sooner, when your heart still ached with fresh longing, perhaps you might’ve said yes without hesitation.

But now, all you felt was sick, the dinner you just finished threatening to rise back up. Your mind felt dizzy, torn by both relief and something akin to dread. Too much time had passed. Too many nights spent grieving a version of him that no longer existed. Too many mornings convincing yourself you were better off without him. 

Your gaze remained locked, lips parted but useless, caught in the conflicting chaos of your own mind. You caught the exact moment his gaze dropped to your midsection, his amber eyes clouded with many emotions. Wonder, guilt and regret. So much regret.

He knew. You didn’t know how, didn’t know when or who–the only person you had told was Azriel…but he couldn’t have told him? Or could he? While you hadn’t explicitly asked him to keep it a secret, you thought he understood the weight of it. 

Oh, it didn’t matter.

Because now Eris knew.

And gods, the way he was looking at you…

Your arms folded tightly around yourself instinctively. Not to hide the baby, but to protect it. From him. From the pain, from the man who once said you were a mistake. A part of you was scared to hear what he had to say. The baby may have come unexpectedly but you refused to see it as something to regret.

Eris didn’t come any closer, respecting your wishes. “I just needed to see you,” he said quietly, voice fraying at the edges.

Your heart stuttered. Mother above, how many nights had you dreamt of hearing his voice again? And how many more had you begged the Cauldron to silence it from your mind forever so it would no longer haunt you?

“For what?” you managed, blinking rapidly to keep your tears from falling. You would not let him see how ruined you were. Drawing in a trembling breath, you summoned whatever strength remained, and lifted your chin. “So you could laugh at me again?”

He drew back like you’d struck him and your gaze drifted to his neck, catching sight of bruises littering his neck. They looked painful. Was he hurt? Who had done that to him? Your fingers twitched at your side, instinctively wanting to reach out. You pulled them into fists instead. 

No, you stopped yourself. Don’t do that.

“I wouldn’t…” Eris said, his voice hoarse as he struggled with himself. You’d never seen him at a loss for words.  “I wouldn’t have laughed. I–you left Autumn so suddenly, with…” His gaze dropped again to your stomach. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“Now you care?” You hissed at him, the heartbreak in your chest morphing into anger. “You tossed me aside like I was nothing. Told me we were nothing. And now you show up—bruised and broken like that’s supposed to mean something. Did someone finally knock the arrogance out of you?” 

Your chest heaved with the fury you had tried so hard to bury. And then something inside you snapped, something deep beneath your ribcage. You didn’t know what it was, but suddenly, a flood of emotions surged through you, stirring your own. You felt so overwhelmed that you faltered back, your lips trembling.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” you said, steadying yourself even as the world threatened to tilt.  “You’re too late. You don’t get to care now.”

A tear spilled down your cheek that Eris so desperately wanted to wipe away for you. You wiped it away yourself, roughly, and the glare you sent his way was devastating. Yet he deserved it and much more, if he was being honest.

“Yes–yes, I do. That is my baby too,” Eris replied, voice bordering on pleading. He didn’t even know where to begin. There were so many tangled threads, so many reasons why he did what he did.  "Listen, Y/n, I am so sorry. There’s so much you don’t know—things I didn’t know how to tell you—"

The door slammed open.

Both your heads snapped toward the sound, and there he was.

Azriel.

And Eris’s blood boiled, heat pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

The shadowsinger rushed toward you and you didn’t flinch. You didn’t pull away. You let him near. For once, Azriel showed some emotion, guilt written clearly across his face as he looked at you.

“I came as soon as I—” Azriel started, voice low and apologetic. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he didn’t... I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew.”

Oh.

Eris hated everything about this, his stomach twisting further. He saw it, the flash of betrayal in your eyes as the truth clicked into place. Your gaze shifted between them both, as if trying to decide who had hurt you more. You looked like you might collapse from the weight of it all, your stance faltering.

Azriel caught you immediately, one arm instantly curling around your waist, his shadows coiling protectively around your arms.

And once again, you let him touch you, as if silently accepting his apology. That was the moment something inside Eris snapped. A sound low and primal rumbled from deep within Eris’s chest. You froze, body tensing at the sound.

Azriel stepped forward, placing himself between you and Eris, widening his stance as if preparing for a fight.

 “Get away from my mate,” Eris snarled, the words dragged from his throat like fire.

The room went silent, even Eris’s breath stilled. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Not like this. Not with you seeking comfort into someone else’s arms, not with another male standing between you. But the word had ripped free before he could stop it.

Mate.

He watched, with bated breath, as you turned back to him slowly like it physically hurt to do so. Your gaze met his and he saw it in your eyes before he felt it in his chest. 

A sudden warmth bloomed in his chest, sinking into his bones, threading into his veins. There you were. Your end of the bond. Bright and trembling and real. 

Eris staggered where he stood, his hand twitching at his side, wanting to reach out to you. The bond had been a thread inside him for longer than he could admit. It had been quiet and dormant, one he’d felt the shape of but never dared pull on in fear that it was all his imagination.

But now—now—your side flared to life. It was full of pain, of anger, and underneath it all, humming so faintly, he nearly wept. Love. You still loved him. At least, a part of you did. 

His chest clenched so tightly it hurt. He opened his mouth, the words on the edge of his tongue, trembling and desperate—Do you feel it now? Do you finally see what we are?—but the hope that flared in him was fragile, and it dwindled when your lips parted and your expression crumbled into something far more devastating.

“You knew,” you breathed in disbelief, voice breaking with betrayal. “You knew all this time…”

Eris swallowed hard. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” you repeated, the same words from earlier. They were sharper now, cutting into him.

“It does matter,” Eris said, stepping toward you, desperation leaking into every syllable. “You’re my mate and you’re carrying my child. That changes everything.”

His words made your expression darken. The grief in your eyes shifted, hardening into something colder, something angrier. “Don’t be ridiculous, Eris. Don’t make this into something it isn’t.”

Eris winced, recognizing those words instantly. The same words he had that night he broke your heart. The anguish flaring inside manifested onto his face, no longer having control over his emotions. He was growing more desperate by the minute. “Please,” he rasped but you turned your head.  “You have it all wrong. Let me explain—”

“You didn’t want me then,” you cut him off, eyes still fixed anywhere but on him.  “A bond changes nothing. A child changes nothing.”

“Just—please.” He took another step, but froze when you recoiled, when your hand clenched around Azriel’s forearm like a lifeline.

Azriel unsheathed his dagger with his free hand in one smooth, warning motion. “Don’t come any closer.” 

The fire in Eris’s veins was searing, flames licking at his fingertips. He turned back to you, eyes pleading urgently with you to look back at him. “Please, y/n. Just come back home with me. I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

“She’s not going back with you,” Azriel said, his tone sharp and final.

And Eris nearly lost it.

His vision tunneled, the edges of the room blurring beneath the heat of his rage. His jaw clenched so hard it became painful. 

Azriel had no right—no right—to keep you from him. No right to touch you. No right to be the one you leaned on. Not when the bond between you and Eris had finally revealed itself. Not when he was your mate. Not when it was supposed to be him holding you through the storm of your pain.

The very air around him rippled with heat as his magic surged. The flames at his fingertips pulsed with his fury, flickering with the kind of heat that could burn down villages. Across from him, Azriel’s shadows began to shift, writhing in a dance of opposition.

But Eris didn’t strike.

He couldn’t. You were too close to Azriel.

So he turned that rage into words, venom lacing every syllable. “Stay out of this, shadowsinger. Or better yet—be a good pet and crawl back to whatever dark corner Rhysand houses you in.”

Azriel didn’t flinch. He stood firm, unbothered by the power crackling around him. “I’m not leaving her.”

Eris’s voice was a growl. “She’s my mate.”

“Funny thing, Eris… ,” Azriel let out a dark chuckle. “I don’t care about bonds. The Cauldron doesn’t always get it right. Just ask your brother.”

Eris’s flames sputtered, then surged violently. His entire body shook with restraint, because all he wanted was to rip Azriel away from you, to gather you into his arms and never let go.

You’re mine, he wanted to scream. You’re mine and you always have been.

But he couldn’t say it. Not when you were looking at him like he was the enemy. Not when you clung to Azriel like he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

Eris had never felt anything like this. This twisting, unbearable ache in his chest. The fury. The helplessness. The regret. Gods, he thought he was protecting you. Thought pushing you away would spare you the pain of being tied to him. He could’ve lived with your hatred—if it meant you were safe. He should’ve burned the whole damn world down before turning his back on you, no matter how scared he was back then.

Now, it was too late. And the cost of his grave mistake stared him in the face, trembling and wrapped in the arms of another male. The flames at his hands flickered and then died. He took a tentative step forward and when you didn’t shrink away, he took another, ignoring the warning glare Azriel sent his way. 

One hand reached toward you, shaking.

“Y/n,” he breathed your name like a prayer. “Please. Come back home with me.”

“I thought I said she’s not going back with you.”

“You don’t get to decide for her.” Eris seethed.

“Fine,” Azriel said with an infuriating calm, turning to you. “What do you want?”

Again, that silence stretched, long and suffocating. And again, you looked between them, between the male who had broken your heart and the one who now stood like your shield, his shadows curling protectively at your feet.

The bond thrummed painfully in Eris’s chest like a tether straining, pulling tight with every heartbeat. Then your eyes finally met his once more and he let everything fall away. His carefully constructed mask. His pride. His fury. All of it.

Eris dropped to his knees before you. “Please.”

His voice cracked on the word. It was a plea for forgiveness. It was hope in its most fragile form. The last thing he had left.

You stared at his outstretched hand, eyes brimming with unshed tears. When your fingers twitched at your side, just the slightest movement, his breath hitched. For a heartbeat, he believed. He believed that you might reach for him, might have it in you to hear him out and perhaps, even forgive him.

Eris held perfectly still, burning from the inside out, as if even a breath might scare you away.

But then—your gaze dropped. Your shoulders sagged, your head turning away and looking back at Azriel. “I want to leave,” you whispered, your voice soft and trembling, yet it shattered him all the same. 

“Far from here. Far from Autumn.”

The air punched from his lungs. You no longer trusted him. The bond raged like a wildfire, wild, desperate and screaming for you and your unborn child. He could only watch as shadows–Azriel’s shadows– wrapped around you and began to take what was once his.

And now, Eris finally understood what it meant to be completely and utterly shattered, torn apart from the inside by the one you loved the most.

a/n: I think this may be the angstiest piece I've written to date? Anyway, I think after this part, this series will consists drabbles/small scenes. I don't know which one to write first so please help me by voting here.

series taglist: @kodafics , @shinyghosteclipse, @marrass, @posierosie, @solanaaaaaaa

@tele86, @bubybubsters, @k-homosapien, @mariaxliliana, @kathren1sky-blog

@anainkandpaper, @icey--stars, @moonlovefairy, @hellohauntedturnstudent, @lucia-valentinaa,

@wrenisrad, @smol-grandpa, @sleepylunarwolf, @63angel, @anuttellaa

@anon1227 @paleidiot @thatacotargirl, @queenoffeysand , @slut4acotar @awkardnerd

@blueroseava , @lovetia , @historygeekqueen , @idk1027 ,@naturakaashi

@blightyblinders , @wolvesnravens , @galaxystern08 , @faeofthemoonandstars , @antisocial-architect

@webvics

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits15, @lorosette

@alwayshave-faith, @xadenswhore, @kodafics

if you asked to be on the tag list & don't see your name here or on my general one, pls let me know! I'll keep track of them here.

[eanfee]

42 personal questions ask game

how many followers do you have? 46, yay!

when’s the last time you went on a date? I've never been on a date

how many posts have you made? 1452!

What type of shoes do you wear? Sandals!

what colour are the walls of your room White

where are you right now? (not exact location. ex: at a park) In my room

would you consider yourself good at art? Meh

who was your first kiss? I have never kissed

do you still sleep with stuffed animals? Sometimes

what’s your favourite piece of clothing you own? Dresses!

do you live in an urban, suburban, or rural area? Rural, we still have cows and carts around here

what’s your favourite store to shop at? (online or irl) Shopee

if you had to choose one POSITIVE word to describe yourself, what would it be? Creative?

do you collect anything? I wouldn't call it a collection, but I have some dolls

what’s the last thing you ate? Bread

if you go to therapy, do you like your therapist? I don't go to therapy

what’s one thing you want to buy, but don’t have the money or resources to get? Dolls and a Nintendo Switch

Who’s the first person you can think of? My grandma

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? I never believed in Santa Claus

If you could revive one tv show that has been cancelled, what show would it be? The Dark Crystal, Age of Resistence!!!!!

do you consider yourself a part of any alternative subculture? if so, which one(s)? No, but I would like to be a part of it

who was your childhood favourite music artist? Xuxa

CDs or record players? CDs

Do you believe in any conspiracy theories? Yes, in theory we already have the cure for cancer in our hands, but the pharmaceutical industry doesn't want us to know.

would you get back together with an ex if given the opportunity? I don't have an ex

favourite kid’s show character? Princess Luna

is the person you call your best friend actually your best friend? I don't have friends

when you’re sad, do you prefer to listen to music to match your mood, or listen to happy music? Happy Music, I need something to combat my sadness, otherwise I will drown in it

what’s the last outfit you wore? A printed short-skirt and a short t-shirt

do you have any online friends? I have mutuals

least favourite clothing style that is currently popular Standard clothes, my God people all look the same! (and the clothes aren't even nice, but you're forced to wear them so as not to be socially excluded, especially in a small town)

how often do you do your laundry? Once a week

do you prefer silver or gold jewelry? Gold

what’s your book/movie/tv guilty pleasure? I didn't understand the question =D

if you could change your hair however you want, how would you change it? My hair is a dark blonde shade, so you can't call it blonde, but you can't call it brunette either, so I would like it to be a little lighter.

do you paint your nails? Yes

what’s an uncommon/specific /obscure topic you’re interested in? Dark Crystal

what’s the name of your first pet/what would you name your first pet if you had one? Pretinha

what’s one feature you would change on tumblr? Be able to leave likes on comments

what’s the most interesting item you own? I have nothing interesting

would you rather go on a date at a museum or a concert? Museum

what’s one regret you have? Of not having lived my childhood

42 personal questions ask game

how many followers do you have?

when’s the last time you went on a date

how many posts have you made?

What type of shoes do you wear?

what colour are the walls of your room

where are you right now? (not exact location. ex: at a park)

would you consider yourself good at art?

who was your first kiss?

do you still sleep with stuffed animals?

what’s your favourite piece of clothing you own?

do you live in an urban, suburban, or rural area?

what’s your favourite store to shop at? (online or irl)

if you had to choose one POSITIVE word to describe yourself, what would it be?

do you collect anything?

what’s the last thing you ate?

if you go to therapy, do you like your therapist?

what’s one thing you want to buy, but don’t have the money or resources to get?

Who’s the first person you can think of?

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?

If you could revive one tv show that has been cancelled, what show would it be?

do you consider yourself a part of any alternative subculture? if so, which one(s)?

who was your childhood favourite music artist?

CDs or record players?

Do you believe in any conspiracy theories?

would you get back together with an ex if given the opportunity?

favourite kid’s show character?

is the person you call your best friend actually your best friend?

when you’re sad, do you prefer to listen to music to match your mood, or listen to happy music?

what’s the last outfit you wore?

do you have any online friends?

least favourite clothing style that is currently popular

how often do you do your laundry?

do you prefer silver or gold jewelry?

what’s your book/movie/tv guilty pleasure?

if you could change your hair however you want, how would you change it?

do you paint your nails?

what’s an uncommon/specific /obscure topic you’re interested in?

what’s the name of your first pet/what would you name your first pet if you had one?

what’s one feature you would change on tumblr?

what’s the most interesting item you own?

would you rather go on a date at a museum or a concert?

what’s one regret you have?

[littlelovelunette]

Gentle On The Soul

Sevika x Traumatised!Reader,

Contains reader who has trauma, angsty slightly, comfort, not proofread.

When you and Sevika first started out with dating, you were already sure things would go south the moment you witnessed her facing an actual anger issues episode. Given your last with those kind of things... Sevika was aware too.

So, she tried to distance herself from you whenever things got too hard but sometimes it just wasn't enough especially given the fact, due to the way Zaun was, Sevika wouldn't ever really know that you're safe. So she asked you to move in with her. And now, her feelings, habits and behaviour is always on full display because you live with her. After Silco's death, Sevika was facing some hard times as expected of her as Silco's right hand.

When the door slammed shut behind her, it was as if your entire being froze for minutes. You stood there where you were in the kitchen, halfway into cooking something for her.

"You're home." You said in a more timid voice than the usual which usually would've caused Sevika to raise brow. But she didn't today. She was tired. Too tired of everything.

"Lunch isn't ready yet?" Sevika asked in a more stern tone than she intended, taking her poncho off with a rough shove.

You flinched visibly, hands shaking as you placed the knife down against the chopping board, "No, I was just getting started actually."

Sevika gave you a look, a silent empty look before she left to go to the bedroom. You heaved a sigh. Yup, you'd successfully upset your girlfriend on one of her worst days. Tears threatened to blur your vision but you didn't let them, instead you tried to focus on the task at hand; getting lunch ready as fast as you could.

You were shaky all throughout cooking. You dropped the spoon when you were serving Sevika food as well and Sevika took notice of that. But the grief, the smoking, the alcohol— everything clung to her like a second skin and she felt so heavy that she didn't have the strength to question your jumpy behaviour. Instead, Sevika tried to divert her attention back to the plate you made for her.

Sevika got up without a word. Usually, she'd compliment your cooking, give you a hug and kiss and then you both did the dishes together but today there was none of that. You knew Sevika was in pain after the loss of Silco but you didn't want to be treated the way she was treating you anymore. It all felt so selfish to even ask for a bit of comfort or reassurance taking into factor everything and everyone she'd lost across the way.

So you didn't.

You would let the sorrows swallow you whole but you didn't want not even a little bit of your trauma issues touch a hair on Sevika's head. You did the dishes silently, your tears streaming down your skin and mixing with the water in the sink as you silently clattered through the pile of dirty dishes.

"Baby," you heard Sevika call out and you were sure, she was gonna ask you for a breakup now.

You didn't turn to face her because you were already crying as it was so you tried your best to wipe your face in the collar of your shirt before glancing at her, "Mhm?"

"I'm sorry." Sevika wrapped her arms around you from behind and let her face rest against the crook of your neck, "I'm sorry I've been ignoring you all day." You peeled off your dish washing gloves and turned to hug her after turning the water off.

You cried against her chest, "I thought you'd leave me." You sobbed, clutching Sevika's shirt as if she'd disappear if you let go. Your body trembled with the intensity of your crying, Sevika's soothing hand on your back barely doing much to keep you from sobbing harder.

"I won't ever." Sevika whispered again your hair, kissing the top of your head and holding you closer to her heart. "Won't ever leave." She repeated.

It had been a few days since that incident and Sevika had promised you that she'd be communicative ever since that. But somehow that communication turned into a mindless argument one evening and all you could say were gurgled words because of the sobs that threatened to burst from your chest.

But you held back. You didn't want to appear weak in front of Sevika. "You always do this!" Sevika yelled out without thinking, her voice booming over yours. "I don't understand why you—" and that was it.

The moment her voice heightened in volume, your hands clasped over your ears and you flinched. You took a step back. An instinctive step back. Sevika's heart broke. People flinched at her all the time and it never effected her. Hell, she didn't even care if someone pissed themselves out of fear towards her. But you... Flinching at the volume of her voice even. That broke her heart.

Before you knew it, big strong arms are wrapping around you and bringing you into a tight bear hug. "I'm so sorry, my love." She whispered as she pressed you tightly against her chest.

You breathed a little heavily compared to before but listening to her heartbeat calmed you down. You tried to match your breathing with hers. "You're okay, I gotchu."

[mintyys-blog]

Hi am a really big fan of ur work and just read ur red lantern!reader and wanted to request a star sapphire!reader for main mark , full mask mark and viltrumite mark . like their reaction to her gaining her ring from her pure love for him .

HEADCANON | mainstream! mark, viltrumite mark, and full mask! mark x star sapphire! reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST

Main Mark Grayson

• When Reader is chosen by the Star Sapphire ring, Mark is shocked, but in awe. He didn’t realize how deeply she felt for him—it humbles him.

• He’s immediately supportive, even if slightly intimidated at first by how powerful the ring makes her.

• He teases her with lines like, “So…you love me enough to become a space warrior now?”

• The constructs her ring creates often include moments they’ve shared—like their first kiss, inside jokes, or even an idealized image of their future together. Mark finds it adorable and tear-inducing.

• He’s fiercely protective of her when others try to manipulate or weaponize her love. He knows how dangerous it is to have her heart used against her.

Scenario:

You’re mid-battle, shielding Mark from a deadly blast when the ring appears. It chooses you, your love for him burning so strongly it warps reality around you. Your body glows violet, and Mark calls your name in awe.

“By the stars… That’s because of me?”

“Because I love you, Mark. I always have.”

He kisses you right then, despite the chaos around you. Later, he holds your glowing hand in his, whispering, “We’re a hell of a team now.”

Full Mask Mark

• The ring choosing you throws him completely off. His emotions are buried beneath layers of violence and obsession, but you loving him so deeply? That breaks through.

• He becomes obsessed with the idea that you belong to him even more now. The ring is proof to him. You are his tether to something beautiful, something pure.

• He gets possessive. “If the ring chose you for loving me… then you’re mine. You always were.”

• He admires the ring’s power but is paranoid someone might try to steal you—especially the ring. He doesn’t like you using it to protect others.

• He might demand you show him your constructs. If they’re not all centered around him, he gets weirdly quiet and suspicious.

Scenario:

The first time you float down to him in violet light, surrounded by star-like blossoms made from your love, he freezes. His fists clenched, his mask staring straight at you.

“You… that’s because of me?”

“Yes. You—through everything—I still love you.”

“Then prove it.”

He steps into your space, hands gripping your waist. You manifest a memory—the first time he protected you, even in his most violent state. He breathes heavily, leaning in, whispering: “Don’t ever stop loving me. I won’t let you.”

Viltrumite Mark

• He’s speechless—absolutely stunned the ring would choose you for him. He doesn’t show it outwardly, but inside he’s shaking. That kind of love terrifies and excites him.

• He starts questioning everything—how could someone like you love him that much? It stirs guilt, but also gives him this twisted sense of purpose.

• Your love becomes a justification for some of his actions. “You knew what I am, and you still love me. You can’t take that back now.”

• He wants to see what you’ll do for that love. Will you stay with him, even if he conquers worlds? Will your ring let you fight against your own kind?

• He watches your constructs with awe and suspicion. Love is not a Viltrumite value—but yours? He starts to believe it’s the strongest power of all.

Scenario:

You arrive on Viltrum, shining bright, surrounded by flowing tendrils of violet that shield you from the coldness of their empire. Viltrumite Mark flies up, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

“A love ring?” He looked confused beyond measure.

“It chose me because of what I feel for you.”

“You shouldn’t. Not after what I’ve done. But… if the universe acknowledges it…” he trailed off.

“My love doesn’t erase your crimes. But it is real.”

He floats closer, the mask of the warrior cracking for a moment as he brushes his hand along the glow of your ring. “Then stay. Rule with me. Love me—make me stronger.”

[cameronsbabydoll]

do the kids have a good relationship with rafe once they’ve grown up and moved out? like i’m sure they have a good one with their mom for sure but what about after rafe retires? did he do too much damage or is he slowly getting their trust back now that he’s calmed down some?

first off this is such a good question anon!! — because the answer is messy, the way it would be in real life.

the kids all love their mom. that’s never been in question. she was their warmth, their softness, their home. she was patient even when things got loud, comforting even when she was clearly hurting. and they love her for that — but also because they saw her. saw how she was treated. saw what she gave up, how often she swallowed her own emotions just to keep peace.

and for years, even if they couldn’t articulate it, they resented their dad for it.

so no — they don’t leave for college and instantly become besties with rafe. not even close. the eldest is probably the coldest; he remembers the most. he remembers the way their mom never spoke up. remembers the fights, the heavy silences, the way she used to shrink when Rafe walked in the room.

but over time, once rafe retires, they see bits of change. subtle things, at first:

he’s around more.

he asks about their lives — not in a performative way, but genuinely.

he’s... softer with their mom. not just touchy or flirty, but tender. carrying bags, rubbing her back, letting her talk without interrupting.

he laughs more. smiles more. actually tries.

and while it doesn’t erase the past, it does start to crack the wall.

the youngest son is the first to fold — because he was always rafe’s “baby boy,” and he wants to believe his dad has changed. he starts inviting him to things again, even lets him meet a girlfriend or two. he teases his dad, calls him “old man,” but you can tell the love is real.

the daughter is cautious — fiercely loyal to her mom, but softhearted. she doesn’t forget, but she wants to forgive. especially once she sees how much their mom smiles when they’re all together. she’s the one who starts organizing little family dinners, testing the waters.

[crooked-hourglass]

Recap of my mangled thoughts after my first Ritual in Manchester!

Spoilers under the read more

Forgive me for spelling mistakes - its late and emotions are high! We were so close to the stage. We were in the first block and in the second row and we were level with the stage so we could see them so well. We were practically next to Swiss, and Cirrus was behind him on the keyboards. There was a raised track all the way around the stage and Phantom interacted with us so much and his little dances were adorable. Rain, Dew and Papa also came to interact with us so many times. Dew tried to throw a pick over the gap but it didnt quite make it. Most of the Ghouls were wearing platform Doc Martens and Phantom and Rain looked particularly good in them. Rain, Swiss, and rhe Ghoulettes were wearing habits, and at one point Rain headbanged too hard and the habit flipped over his face 🙃.

The setlist was immaculate, and the staging was so impressive. They started with the usual big black curtain that dropped to show the stage in the usual Ghost setup but with the additional raised section around the sides and back. Everytime Dew came to our side he'd take the lonf way back all the way round the back of the stage. And I got to witness a Dew Cirrus fist bump as he was doing his rounds around the stage. And phantom and Dew played together at the back but i couldnt tell if you could see that from the front. I couldnt see Aurora or the new Ghoulette, but the verdict is in, Cirrus is still hot. And Aurora had the wings from the music video! Also I can't believe I finally saw a mummy dust keytar solo live! There was another curtain covering the back wall of the stage, that dropped after a few songs to reveal the usual windows, but the projections on to them were amazing! Especially when they shattered to reveal a night sky that change to a sunrise when they played 'He Is'. Those windows then fell to reveal an entire wall of screens that had amazing visual effects. And let me say it was so refreshing to not see AI generated effects on screen at a concert. There was pyro, fireworks, the lighting was gorgeous and of course there is new Mummy Dust! Which I'm hoping to get on Sunday 🤞

There was a moment where it was just Phantom on the stage, interacting with the crowd and encouraging cheers etc, and it was so nice to watch him have his moment, and Dew had a bit of a moment too. Plus the top hat looked so good on Phantom - and on Dew! Oh! And the gave Swiss a cowbell! Cowbell ghoul lives on! What I will say about the costumes is that they were VERY tight and I think it was a bit of an issue with the boys if you catch my drift.

Now onto Papa V - he was the perfect balance of sweet and playful, and a bit darker than Copia. His outfits were incredible. For 'Majesty' he was on a pedestal behind Mountain and was wearing these long ornate robes with a huge collar. The pedestal rose up, alonf with the giant grucifix that was made of lights that hung above the stage. His robes for 'Ritual' I loved! They were black with a chrome spine and hip bones and what looked like a tail that went to the end of his robes. The back of the ghouls sleevless tail coats also had fabric that was rouched to look like ribs. The new costumes were all fantastic. And Papa still had his sparkly jackets still! A silver one during the main set and a purple/pink one during the encore. He also had a black jacket that had glitter diamonte detailed like spider webs across. The amount of sparkle on this tour is exquisite. Papa sounded so clear and so so good, and the ghoulette and Swiss backing vocals were incredible. The new songs sound great and I'm so excited for the new album.

On the no phones thing, I only slightly freaked out because I couldn't find one of the people I went with at one point. But overall, I loved the energy of an arena filled with people interacting and focused on the show. I just wish there was more communication beforehand to how the tickets worked and if you needed to print them. But now you can see half of Papa's face, you can tell he was so happy with the show.

Overall, I couldn't have asked for a better first ritual with better seats. Because standing at shows takes it out of me for days after so to get such a view and get so close and still be able to walk after is amazing.

[eden031]

First meetings

Pairing: Jack Abbot x female! intern! reader

Warnings: cursing, sexual content is described (not explicit), one night stand, medical inaccuracies, Jack Abbot being soft (I guess), mentions of vomiting (I promise no one is pregnant)

!MDNI 18+ content!

Summary: Meeting Jack Abbot twice for the first time was not on her bucket list, especially not after how their unoffical first meeting ended.

A/N: Heyy so, this was something else I wanted to write for Abbot. I am currently thinking about writing a second part for this, but I am not sure yet. I think it would be interesting, depending on how this is recieved I might write a second part :) Also the first part of this fic is more like looking back at the events that took place, again Jack might be a bit ooc, so please forgive me

She had met Jack Abbot in a bar for the very first time. It was one of those dimly lit, smelling like beer and wood, kind of bar, the kind of bar that served cheap drinks and was frequented by people that wanted to get drunk and have a good time. Just having finished med school, still waiting until her residency program would start. Her friends had wanted to celebrate, she had wanted to as well, there was a reason to after all. It had taken some convincing, especially since her friends had been rather insistent on an outfit she would never have chosen for herself.

Spotting the older man from across the bar had almost been like a moment of total clearness, like someone had flipped a switch in her mind. The wavy, salt and pepper hair, the beautiful features, the man had caught her attention without even trying. He had been staring into his glass, like he was miles away in a completely different plane of reality, maybe that was what had drawn her to him, or maybe it was that this man looked like he had stepped straight out of a painting.

Putting on her best smile she had sauntered over to him, trying to appear as confident as possible. As she did that she internally thanked her friends for the beautiful outfit she was now in. She bought him a drink before she even introduced herself, that had earned her a raised brow at first, then a slight smile. He had told her his name, his first name only back then. The first thing he had asked her then was how old she was. She had told him the truth, twenty six, he had been uncertain, but the moment she started chattering about the beauty of devotion to one‘s beliefs he seemed to have leaned back and given her a chance. Talking for hours with him she felt like something clicked between them, something was extremely right when they talked. At some point his hand had found her thigh, they began facing each other and their conversation flowed on. She felt guilty about having abandoned her friends, but the moment she glanced back towards where they were sitting one of them gave her a thumbs up. All of them looked in her direction and the thumbs up and happy smiles only grew more and more in the group.

The talking for almost four hours had landed her at his place, a hot mouth on hers before the door was even closed properly. None of the surfaces of his apartment had been left unused, except for the kitchen counter, though she had gotten that more than she probably should. At the end of the night her legs were shaking violently and the warm blanket wrapped around her, the warmth of him more comforting than it probably should be. For a man his age, she had joked while they laid in bed together after many rounds of very good sex, he had an impressive stamina. After that comment he had snorted and eaten her out like a man starved. Laying there with him she had looked at him, his face looked more relaxed then, his eyes on her face as she gently brushed his cheek with her knuckles.

“I wish I could freeze this moment in time,” she had whispered and he had smiled at that, simply kissing her, though he had never returned the sentiment verbally, but she had felt it through the kiss.

The next morning they had eaten breakfast together, it was nothing fancy, just some toast and cheese, but it had felt just right as they drank from his old beaten up coffee mugs, while chatting about this and that. She had given him her number and left around noon that day, the tension between them still crackling like it had the night before. Not sure if she should expect a call or not and if she should just move on with her life as she arrived at her own apartment.

——————————-

The dark blue scrubs hung loosely on her body, the elastic in the pants keeping them from falling, the only things that were keeping her from going insane over the fabric were the compression socks and the thermo undershift she was wearing. A stethoscope wrapped around her neck she stepped into the ED of the PTMC. It was busy, people running around, the voices of patients filling the room with a mixture of low groans and moans, but also light giggles from medication, staff was standing together, chattering away as she moved across the room.

This was her first day of residency, well her official first day of residency would have been last week, but she had been throwing up the entire weekend, as well as in the entirety of the day of her official first day, so she had called the admin staff and called in sick. The worst thing about that being that that day had been the day of the Pitt Fest shooting, she had felt guilty, but then decided that feeling guilty would not get her anywhere and her having to vomit constantly wouldn‘t have been helpful in any case.

As she walked towards the nurses‘ desk she saw an older man standing in front of a computer, hunched over slightly, black framed glasses resting on his nose, a dark hoodie thrown over his scrubs, he looked weirdly familiar, but she couldn‘t place his face. His dark hair was styled upwards and the beard had some white hairs in it, though the wrinkles around his eyes were deep, he looked about six or so years older than Jack, she shook her head, she had to stop thinking about him, it had almost been a month since she had seen him.

„Excuse me?“ she asked carefully, stepping towards him, not wanting to startle the man. He looked up from the desktop, his dark eyes glimmering in the white light of the ED. “Dr. Robinavitch?” she tilted her head to the side.

“Yes, that is me,” he laughed slightly as he smiled at her. Quickly she gave him her name and his face lit up.

“Ah, yes! It is good to see you back on your feet.” he looked over at the nurse in the nurses’ station, blonde hair and she could see she had a black eye.

“Thank you,” she laughed nervously.

“So this is our charge nurse, Dana, the most important person you are going to meet today,” he looked around, seeing a group of three women and one man coming their way, he waved them towards them. Quickly she introduced herself to them. She learned that the young woman with the dark hair and clear eyes was Trinity Santos, an intern. Melissa or rather Mel King, an R2, with the most adorable smile and charming optimism. Victoria Javadi, who seemed to suffer from imposter syndrome more than anything else and such an inviting personality that it almost made her want to cry, she was an MS3. Dennis Whitaker, who looked like he wanted to sink into the floor and seemed to be a bit awkward, though it was rather endearing, an MS4.

Dr. Robinavitch or rather Dr. Robby, how he was also called, sent you along with Dr. Heather Collins for most of the day. She was a nice woman with whom she got along rather well. Since she was an R1 she still needed guidance in certain areas and was mostly supervised by someone, not all the time thought.

The day turned out to be rather eventful and gruelling in its own way, she had been spit on, shouted at, a patient had smeared poop in her hair, a worried parent had accidentally elbowed her in the stomach, the hit and run victim she had helped treat had died, a toddler that had somehow gotten the child safety cover off the outlet had put a fork in it and shocked himself was in a coma, a patient had slapped her ass as she was trying to treat his head injury, she had nearly peed her pants because she did not get the chance to go to the bathroom, Santos was incredibly annoying, another patient had asked her if she would suck him off if he paid her the right amount and the list only went on the later it was, another patient died from internal bleeding from multiple stab wounds, no chance for lunch or a drink in between cases. Glancing at her watch she saw that it was already past eight, meaning that theoretically her shift was over, but apparently things kept coming her way and all hands were needed.

From what Santos had told her, the senior attending from night shift was already there, but she had yet to see the man. Trinity had told her that he was an incredible teacher, someone that was worth working with. Since the night shift was already there she also met Dr. Ellis and Dr. Shen and their charge nurse Brigit.

As she made her way towards the nurses’ station she felt herself beginning to sway, the fact that she had not had a single sip of water since she had eaten breakfast that morning or the fact that she had not eaten anything in over twelve hours explained the dizziness. She also hadn’t sat down in the same amount of time. Stumbling slightly she felt herself loose her footing on the floor of the ED she reached out for something to hold onto while she prepared to hit the ground. She felt two strong hands on her arm and hip pulling her upright before she was able to fall, the feeling of hitting a strong chest made her breath in sharply.

Turning her head to face her saviour she practically let out a screech as she saw Jack holding her tightly.

“Holy shit!” she practically shouted. It was not because of his great reflexes nor was it because she was glad she hadn’t fallen, no that was because she was face to face with Jack again. Some faces turned their way as he supported her to get her to sit down somewhere and she did, taking a seat on one of the chairs she stared at him, with her mouth slightly agape as he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She heard Princess and Perlah mutter something between them in Tagalog, knowing that it was probably the gossip mill already beginning to move. Before Jack could ask her anything Mel was already hurrying to the nurses’ station.

“Are you alright? I saw you almost falling!” Mel came over to her, looking extremely worried.

“Yeah, everything alright,” she continued staring at Jack, her mind going through all kinds of emotions going through her mind at this moment. “Just a bit dizzy,” she snapped her gaze away from Jack who let out a huff.

“Dr. King, get her something to eat and drink, if you don’t mind, then go home, your shift ended over an hour ago,” Jack spoke softly to Mel, who nodded and headed off. He looked at her for a long moment and shook his head. She could hear the discussion between Princess and Perlah intensifying, though she did not understand what they were saying.

“Dr. Jack Abbot,” he held out his hand to her, just like he had done in the bar a month ago, a shiver ran down her spine as she took it, shaking it carefully introducing herself with her full name this time as well. Suddenly it was like whiplash hit her and she knew where she had seen Dr. Robby before, she had seen him in one of the photos in Jack’s apartment.

Mel reappeared with two granola bars and a cup of water in her hand, setting it down.

“Thanks, Mel,” she smiled at the woman. “See you tomorrow,” Mel told her goodbye as well and disappeared, she knew that she still needed to pick up her sister.

“Eat, drink, go home, you need to be here at seven tomorrow,” his voice was firm, but not unkind. She snorted, defiant and angry at him, hell he could have at least told her that the one night stand was supposed to stay exactly that. She wanted to tell him to go fuck off.

“Thanks, but I will be fine,” as she got up from the chair her dizziness came back knocking the wind out of her and she swayed again, sitting back down she grumbled while opening the granola bar, practically inhaling the two bars and drinking the cup of water in one gulp.

“There happy,” she sounded more snappy than she intended and she heard one of the night shift nurses gasp slightly, that would definitely be thrown into the gossip mill.

“Yes,” Jack gave her a pointed look, the kind of look that said ‘if you do that one more time you are going to be in big trouble’. “Now, go home,”

Not letting him tell her that twice she shot out of the chair and made her way towards the lockers, the dizziness wasn’t gone completely, but the bars and the water had helped. She saw Perlah and Princess in the hallway, both of them giving her suspicious looks. This was going to be interesting.

[kenzdolls]

explosive hearts: a bday surprise ꣑ৎ

𖤐 synopsis: the explosive hero-in-training reluctantly endures a surprise birthday party organized by his classmates, but finds genuine joy in the thoughtful gift and quiet moments shared with you.

𖤐 trigger warnings: fluff

𖤐 pairing: katsuki bakugou x gender neutral! reader (post-relationship)

the hallways of ua were surprisingly quiet as you made your way toward the heights alliance dormitory, clutching a small package wrapped in black paper with tiny orange explosion patterns. your heart hammered in your chest, almost rivaling the explosive quirk of the boy whose birthday it was today.

katsuki bakugou. april 20th.

you'd been planning this for weeks—the perfect gift, the right moment to give it to him, and most importantly, how to survive the encounter without becoming a victim of his infamous temper. dating bakugou for the past few months had been an adventure, to say the least. beneath that prickly exterior was someone fiercely loyal and determined, someone who pushed you to be better every day.

but that didn't make his birthday any less intimidating.

---

the morning had started with a flood of texts from your classmates, all coordinating for bakugou's "surprise" party—a surprise he'd undoubtedly see coming from a mile away.

"remember, 5 pm sharp!" mina had texted, followed by a string of explosion emojis. "and don't tell him!"

you'd spent your free period between classes frantically wrapping his gift, your mind replaying memories of how your relationship with the explosive hero-in-training had evolved.

it had begun during joint training sessions three months ago. you'd been paired together for combat practice, and unlike others who hesitated around his fiery temper, you stood your ground.

"you're not going to beat a villain by holding back, so don't hold back with me!" you'd challenged him.

he'd looked shocked for a moment before that trademark smirk spread across his face. "fine by me. don't cry when you lose!"

to everyone's surprise (especially his), you'd managed to hold your own. not win—bakugou was too skilled for that—but you'd impressed him. and impressing bakugou katsuki was no small feat.

after training, he'd cornered you in the hallway.

"you. train with me tomorrow," he'd demanded, more than asked.

and so began your regular training sessions, which gradually transformed from strictly professional to something more personal. you noticed how he'd adjust his techniques to help you improve, how his criticism, while blunt, was always constructive. the way his eyes lingered on you when he thought you weren't looking.

your first kiss had been after a particularly grueling session. both of you, sweaty and exhausted, had collapsed against the gym wall. you'd turned to say something, only to find his face inches from yours, those intense crimson eyes studying your face with an unfamiliar softness.

"you're not half bad," he'd mumbled, and then his lips were on yours, rough and demanding yet surprisingly gentle.

since then, your relationship had been as explosive and intense as the boy himself—full of heated arguments, passionate make-up sessions, and quiet moments of understanding that no one else got to see.

and now, his birthday was here, and you wanted it to be special.

---

according to kirishima, bakugou hated celebrations focused on him. "too much damn attention," he'd growl. yet you knew he secretly appreciated the acknowledgment—just not the fuss.

as you approached his door, voices from inside made you pause.

"deku, get that stupid banner out of my face!"

"but kacchan, it's your special day! everyone pitched in to—"

"i don't care! i didn't ask for this!"

"come on, man!" kirishima's cheerful voice. "it's just a small party! even all might sent you a card!"

you winced. so much for your plan to have a quiet moment with him. class 1-a had apparently beaten you to the punch with a surprise party. for a moment, you considered turning back, waiting until later when the chaos had died down.

"where's [y/n]?" bakugou's gruff question made you freeze. "if you extras dragged everyone here but didn't tell [y/n], i'm blowing this whole damn dorm up."

your heart fluttered. he was looking for you?

taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. the room fell silent instantly.

the door flew open to reveal bakugou himself, hair wild as always, crimson eyes narrowing when he saw you. behind him, the entire class froze in various stages of party preparation. midoriya was hanging a crooked "happy birthday" banner, kirishima and sero had armfuls of snacks, and ashido was attempting to set up a small music system. kaminari was in the corner, tangled in what appeared to be extension cords, while todoroki stood awkwardly by the window, holding a small wrapped gift.

"there you are," bakugou grumbled, something like relief crossing his features before his scowl returned. "these idiots decided to invade my room."

"happy birthday, katsuki," you said softly, holding out the small package. "i was hoping to catch you alone, but..."

his eyes darted to the gift, then back to your face. without warning, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the hallway, slamming the door behind him.

"hey!" came the muffled protests from inside.

"kacchan! we spent hours decorating!"

"bakugou, that's rude!" you chided, but couldn't help smiling. this was so like him.

"they can wait," he said, crossing his arms. "i've been dealing with their birthday crap all day. first, round face and deku ambushed me at breakfast with some homemade card that looked like a five-year-old made it. then glasses gave me some lecture about 'the importance of commemorating one's date of birth with proper reflection.' as if i give a crap."

you laughed, imagining iida's serious expression as he delivered what was probably a well-intentioned speech.

"then all might sent me a card with some american superhero on it," bakugou continued, rolling his eyes, though you noticed he didn't sound quite as annoyed about that one. "and now they've taken over my room like it's their right. i haven't had five minutes to myself all day."

"want me to come back later?" you asked, though you were disappointed at the thought.

"no," he said quickly, almost too quickly. his cheeks colored slightly as he realized his eagerness. "i mean, you're already here, so whatever."

"smooth recovery," you teased.

"shut up," he growled, but there was no real heat behind it.

"here," you said again, pushing the package toward him. "it's not much, but i thought you might like it."

he took it with surprisingly gentle hands, turning it over once before carefully tearing the wrapping paper. inside was a custom-made training journal, bound in leather with his hero name embossed on the cover in orange lettering. when he opened it, the first page had a handwritten note from you.

"to become the number one hero, you need to keep track of what works. no one works harder than you, katsuki. happy birthday. - [y/n]"

the rest of the pages were specially formatted for training regimens, with sections for technique improvements, quirk developments, and combat strategies. you'd also included some analysis of his recent fights from the training exercises, with your own observations on what made his moves effective.

in the very back, hidden between the last page and the cover, was a photo you'd secretly taken during one of your training sessions. bakugou was mid-explosion, his face lit by the orange glow of his quirk, a fierce grin of pure joy on his face. it captured everything you loved about him—his power, his passion, his absolute certainty in his own abilities.

bakugou was silent for so long that you started to worry.

"if you don't like it, i can get something—"

"shut up," he interrupted, but his voice lacked its usual bite. he was still staring at the journal, running his thumb over the embossed letters. his eyes had found the hidden photo, and you saw his expression soften in a way that made your heart race. "this is... good. really good."

coming from bakugou, that was equivalent to anyone else's effusive praise.

"you actually put thought into this," he continued, glancing up at you. "not just some random crap like the extras in there."

"well, i know how serious you are about becoming the best," you replied. "and you deserve tools that match your ambition."

something changed in bakugou's expression then—a softening around the eyes, a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth. before you could react, he'd stepped forward, one hand coming up to cup the back of your neck.

"you get me," he said quietly, almost wonderingly. "everyone else just sees the explosions."

"i see all of you, katsuki. the good, the bad, and the explosive."

he laughed then—a rare, genuine sound that made your heart soar. "damn right you do."

his kiss caught you by surprise, fierce and passionate like everything he did, yet with an underlying tenderness that he showed to no one else. you melted into it, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you closer, his free hand sliding to the small of your back.

the door suddenly flew open, and you both sprang apart to find kirishima grinning at you.

"sorry to interrupt, lovebirds, but we've got cake melting in here. very unmanly to waste good food."

bakugou's face flushed red—from embarrassment or anger, you couldn't tell. "hair-for-brains! ever heard of privacy?"

kirishima just laughed. "come on, birthday boy. everyone's waiting."

"don't call me that," bakugou growled, but he didn't protest further. instead, he tucked the journal carefully into his pocket and took your hand, his palm warm against yours. "those idiots in there probably got a cake or something. might as well not let it go to waste."

it was as close to "thank you for the party" as bakugou would ever get.

"lead the way, birthday boy," you teased.

he growled at the nickname but didn't let go of your hand as he pushed the door open, facing his classmates with what could almost be described as tolerance. "alright, you extras! let's get this over with!"

---

the party was actually fun, even by bakugou's standards, though he'd never admit it out loud. the cake was spicy chocolate—someone had done their research—and even the gifts showed that his classmates knew him better than he gave them credit for.

kirishima had gotten him a set of premium hand weights. "for when you can't get to the gym, bro!"

todoroki, surprisingly, had gifted him a high-end knife set. "you mentioned wanting to improve your cooking skills," he'd said simply, ignoring bakugou's suspicious glare.

midoriya's gift—a limited edition all might collectible that bakugou had been eyeing for months—almost caused another explosion, but you saw how carefully he set it aside rather than throwing it away.

but as the celebration continued, you noticed how he kept the journal close, occasionally touching his pocket as if to make sure it was still there. and throughout the evening, his eyes would find yours across the room, that rare smile appearing just for you.

at one point, kaminari suggested party games, which led to an intense round of "truth or dare."

when it was bakugou's turn, ashido grinned mischievously. "truth! when did you realize you liked [y/n]?"

the room fell silent, everyone waiting for the inevitable explosion. but bakugou just scoffed, his eyes finding yours.

"when they didn't back down during training," he said bluntly. "most people either fear me or try to 'fix' me. [y/n] just told me to bring it on." he paused, then added with a smirk, "plus, they called deku an annoying fanboy once, and that's when i knew it was meant to be."

"hey!" midoriya protested as everyone else burst into laughter.

you remembered that moment—it had been after midoriya had spent fifteen minutes analyzing bakugou's fighting style in excruciating detail, stars in his eyes the entire time.

"he's brilliant, but doesn't he ever turn it off?" you'd whispered to bakugou, who had looked at you with newfound respect.

the game continued, and by the time it circled back to you, most of the class had either embarrassed themselves or revealed surprising secrets. sero had admitted to using his tape to cheat on a middle school test. todoroki confessed he secretly enjoyed romantic comedies. uraraka had been dared to float iida around the room like a balloon.

"[y/n], truth or dare?" kirishima asked.

"truth," you decided, not trusting the gleam in his eye.

"what's your favorite thing about our explosive friend here?" he gestured to bakugou, who looked like he was considering murder.

you thought for a moment, aware of bakugou's eyes on you. "his determination," you finally said. "when katsuki decides to do something, nothing stops him. it's inspiring." you met his gaze across the circle. "and he pushes me to be better too."

something flashed in those crimson eyes—surprise, pleasure, and something deeper that made your pulse quicken.

"damn right i do," he said, but his voice was softer than usual.

---

the party started winding down around midnight. aizawa had stopped by briefly—"just making sure you're not destroying the building"—and seemed satisfied that the celebration was relatively controlled, at least by class 1-a standards.

as people began to leave, you started helping clean up, gathering paper plates and cups.

"leave it," bakugou said, coming up behind you. "they made the mess, they can clean it."

"that's not very heroic," you teased.

"neither is trashing someone's room for a party they didn't ask for," he retorted, but there was no real anger in his voice. in fact, he seemed almost... content? it was a strange look on bakugou's usually scowling face.

most of the class said their goodbyes, until only kirishima, midoriya, and a few others remained to finish cleaning.

"we'll handle the rest," kirishima said with a knowing grin, nudging midoriya who was obliviously gathering balloons. "you two probably want some time alone."

"mind your own business, shitty hair!" bakugou barked, but he didn't disagree.

taking your hand, he led you out of the dorm and onto the balcony at the end of the hallway. the night was clear, stars visible above the ua campus, a gentle spring breeze carrying the scent of cherry blossoms.

"thanks," he said abruptly, leaning against the railing. "for the journal. it's... exactly what i needed."

"you're welcome," you replied, standing beside him, your shoulders almost touching. "i'm glad you like it."

"and for not making a big deal about today," he added, turning to face you. "everyone else acts like i should be dancing around because i managed not to die for another year."

you laughed. "that's one way to look at birthdays."

"the only way that makes sense," he insisted. "but... i guess it's not terrible having people acknowledge it. even if they're annoying about it."

coming from bakugou, this was practically a heartfelt speech of gratitude.

"next year," he said in a low voice, moving closer so that his arm pressed against yours, "just you and me. no extras."

your heart skipped. next year. he was already thinking about spending his next birthday with you.

"it's a date," you promised, feeling the warmth of his presence beside you.

he turned to face you then, expression serious. "you know i'm not good at this... feelings crap."

"you don't say," you teased gently.

he glared, but there was no real heat behind it. "i'm trying to say something here."

"sorry," you said, fighting a smile. "go on."

he took a deep breath, as if preparing for battle. "you're important to me. more than... well, more than anyone. and i'm going to be the number one hero someday, which means i need people i can trust at my side. people who push me. people who understand me." his eyes locked with yours. "that's you."

coming from bakugou, this was equivalent to a passionate declaration of love.

"katsuki..." you began, emotion thick in your voice.

"don't get all sappy on me," he warned, but his hand found yours, fingers intertwining. "just... be there. keep training with me. keep challenging me."

"always," you promised. "as long as you do the same for me."

a genuine smile spread across his face—not his battle-hungry grin or his triumphant smirk, but something softer and more rare. "deal."

then he was kissing you again, one hand cupping your face, the other at your waist pulling you closer. you wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling the solid warmth of him against you, the subtle scent of nitroglycerin and something uniquely bakugou enveloping you.

when you broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, those crimson eyes unusually gentle.

"best birthday," he admitted grudgingly.

"just wait until next year," you promised with a smile.

he grinned, that familiar confidence lighting his features. "it better be even more explosive."

"with you, katsuki, how could it be anything else?"

as the stars shone overhead and the distant sounds of your classmates echoed from inside, you stood in comfortable silence with the boy who had captured your heart with his explosive determination and hidden tenderness.

loving katsuki bakugou wasn't easy—it was challenging, frustrating, and sometimes downright infuriating. but as he stood beside you, his hand warm in yours, you wouldn't have it any other way. because beneath all the explosions and anger was a heart that beat just for you, and a promise of many more birthdays to come.

taglist: [open] mutuals: @https-bakugo @haikyuubby @va-3 @lotusstarr @tulippanes @n3r0-5352 @gh0st-g1rll

© property of kenzdolls

[rosy-hollow]

On the outside, your boyfriend Katsuki might’ve seemed like he hated trying new things—and that might’ve been true, if it weren’t for you.

Especially today, considering it was your culture's New Year .

Back home, it had always been a big celebration. Your family would invite too many friends over than you could fit in your house, a small gathering turning full blown party. Women gathered in corners to gossip, men sprawled across sofas with plates piled high, and children racing through the halls with squeals and laughter.

Now, it was just you.

To be fair, that part of your culture wasn’t the center of your life anymore. Not since you moved to Japan. For the last few years, you could at least visit home. But this year, with your schedule packed and your workload overwhelming, traveling wasn’t even a remote possibility.

And so you sat alone on your couch, homesick in a way that crept up slow and heavy—grief for a moment that was still happening, just without you.

Today was supposed to be full of celebration. But instead, you were alone.

That is, until three sharp knocks pulled you out of your haze.

Dragging yourself to the door, you opened it—and blinked in surprise.

Katsuki?

Your boyfriend stood there, looking his usual amount of annoyed, but there was something softer in his eyes. He held out a large food container, his ears tinged red as he looked anywhere but at you.

“Happy New Year… or whatever, idiot,” he muttered. “Figured you’d be cryin’ on your ass eventually, so I made you somethin’.”

He brushed past you into your apartment like it wasn’t the most intimate thing anyone’s done for you in a long while.

You opened the lid. The smell hit first—familiar, spicy, home. It took you a second to even recognize the dish, one you hadn’t tasted since last year’s visit. And even longer to realize you were crying.

Katsuki didn’t say anything. He just stepped close and wiped your tears with both hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks before resting there, warm and steady.

“Oi. None of that shit,” he grumbled, soft and gruff. “I came here to celebrate with you, not make you cry.”

You laughed—just a little. A short breath of sound. But your chest felt lighter already.

You set the container down and leaned up to kiss him, a gentle press of gratitude and affection. He kissed you back like it was instinct, wrapping his arms around your waist, drawing you in close, his hands rubbing soft, grounding circles into your hips.

When you pulled back, his expression had softened completely. That usual scowl had melted into something tender.

“Thank you, Katsuki. Really, I mean it, I—” But he silenced you with a another searing kiss.

“No need to thank me,” he murmured, lips brushing yours. “Figured I’d learn how t’make your food anyways… good opportunity.”

You laughed again, a little louder this time, heart swelling.

The rest of the night was spent curled together on the couch, sharing the food he brought, watching one of your favorite movies from back home—this time with Japanese subtitles.

For the first time in years, your apartment didn’t feel empty. It felt like home.

The smell of familiar spices filled the air. You danced with Katsuki in your living room to songs only you knew, his grumbles drowned out by your laughter.

It wasn’t a big party. There were no screaming kids, no gossipy relatives asking when you were getting married, no loud countdowns.

But you weren’t alone this time.

And that made all the difference.

A/N: in honor of tamil new year today!! happy new year to those who celebrate hehe

[ordinary-barbie]

rafechella.

summary: Rafe makes sure your first Coachella is one to remember. A collection of headcanons.

tags: fem!reader, established relationship, language, some suggestive content, guys being creepy (not rafe + friends), mentions of anxiety, lovesick rafey

note: I've had this idea in my brain since Saturday lol but @kittykatinc's recent Coachella request fill did inspire me a lil!

First of all, there's no way in hell Rafe Cameron is camping. He's 100% renting out a place in Palm Springs.

Rafe's crew: you, of course, but also Topper, Kelce, and Sarah.

Y'all would always hang out by the pool before the festival officially started each day. Rafe won't admit it because he gets clowned on enough for being "whipped," but his favorite parts of the day are the times when he gets to chill with you alone, catching a quick poolside nap while everyone else gets up to other shenanigans.

Before y'all started dating, Rafe was not a pop music guy. At all. But after you'd wormed your way into his heart, he found himself checking out some of the artists you loved—and actually enjoying them. He's especially obsessed with Charli, and might have been even more hype for her set than you were.

(He nearly teared up when she brought out Lorde for the girl, so confusing remix but he'll deny it when asked.)

You and Sarah managed to convince the guys to go to Gaga's headlining set and they actually had the time of their lives. Rafe lost his shit when Gaga performed Bad Romance at the end.

You want to take a zillion pictures to commemorate your first ever music festival, and Rafe is your dutiful Instagram boyfriend. He knows all the right angles to make you look your best.

When you beg Rafe to take some couples' shots with you, Rafe is always barking orders at whoever in the group is snapping your photo. Only the best shots of his girl—and don't even think of capturing her with her eyes closed accidentally.

You balk at the food prices, but Rafe casually slides the vendors his card without a worry in the world. On the last day of the festival, you and Rafe separate from the group for lunch and try the famed paella bowls, enjoying each other's company and cuddling together once your bellies are satisfied.

It's definitely harder for you and Rafe to be...intimate with his sister and best friends constantly around, but you find your moments. While the rest of the group checked out the midnight doLab set on Saturday night, you and Rafe, not much for electronic music, went back to the house. (You were self-conscious about being loud but Rafe didn't give one single fuck about what the neighbors thought.)

A drunken man wobbles into you Friday night, spilling his beer down the front of your top. Instead of apologizing, he leers at you and asks you to take your top off.

Rafe sees red. But he's trying to listen to you and get into fewer altercations, so he settles for towering menacingly over the creepy drunk bro, his eyes blazing with rage.

"Apologize to her," Rafe demanded. "Now."

If looks could kill, there would be a dead drunk guy on the premises. The guy stammers his way through an apology and scurries away.

Topper, Kelce, and Sarah just stand there, shocked but impressed. They knew Rafe adored you—it was painfully obvious—but moments like this really showed how much he cared.

If you want to go to a set nobody else is interested in, Rafe is going with you. He refuses to let you wander the festival grounds by yourself. That's how he finds himself at Clairo on Saturday night. Her music isn't 100% his vibe, but seeing you happy is totally worth it.

Whenever the crowds start to make you anxious, Rafe is there to ground you, whether it be rubbing circles on the back of your hand or telling you dumb jokes to get you to laugh. He knows you can get overwhelmed sometimes and always wants to be an anchor for you when you're out and about.

Rafe falls in love with you all over again throughout the weekend. Whether it's Gaga, Charli, Green Day, or Megan thee Stallion, his heart squeezes in his chest seeing your eyes light up and your body sway to the music. You're so happy and entirely in your element listening to live performances, and Rafe finds it utterly endearing.

Before you know it, the festivities are over, and you're all flying back to North Carolina. You nap during the flight home, but Rafe spends the majority of the time just gazing at you, feeling so happy and light inside. He still can't believe how lucky he is that you want to walk through this life with him.

[fadeintosatoru]

Sick Megumi

‧₊˚ cw┊fluff, this is my first megumi post (>﹏<)

───────────୨ৎ───────────

sick megumi who refuses to get pampered when he's sick. He'd rather go out in silence, than ask anyone for help especially you.

no one would even know he's sick, he'd go about his day until he physically couldnt get out of bed. His body aches, his body feels like its on fire, and he fights the urge to puke every 20 minutes.

he's sitting in the bathroom floor, clutching his aching belly, sweat making his bangs stick to his forehead. He doesnt even notice when you come into his apartment and find him curled up on the bathroom floor.

you cant help but look at him in awe, seeing your sick megs has your heart aching, wishing he had told you sooner rather than hearing it from Ozawa (Yujis girlfriend).

you feel Megumi shift against your hand, his lashes fluttering open as his tired eyes meet yours.

“hi, baby,” you whisper, your voice soft and full of worry.

he blinks slowly, eyes glassy. “how’d you get in?” he asks, his voice low and hoarse, like it hurts just to speak. He tries to push himself upright, but his arms are shaky.

“You gave me a spare key, silly,” you say, a gentle smile tugging at your lips as you ease him back against the cool bathroom tile. “You’re burning up.”

"im fine." he mutters, barely audible, his brows knitting together in stubbornness

you let out a quiet sigh, brushing his sweat-damp bangs away from his forehead. “megumi,” you say softly, “you’re literally curled up on the bathroom floor, feverish and shaking. Just let me help you, okay?”

he doesn’t respond, just leans his forehead against your shoulder, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. the weight of him—usually so steady and solid—feels fragile, like he could break apart if you let go.

“c’mon,” you whisper, keeping your arm firm around his back. “let’s get you to bed.”

he mutters something under his breath—maybe another attempt at resistance—but he’s too weak to follow through. slowly, you help him stand, his body swaying heavily into yours. every few steps, his legs nearly give out, and your heart squeezes each time he winces in pain but doesn’t make a sound.

by the time you reach the bed, he’s barely conscious. you lower him gently onto the mattress, pulling the blankets over him as he sinks into the warmth with a shaky exhale.

you sit beside him, brushing the hair from his damp forehead again, and for a moment, he just stares at the ceiling—like he’s trying to piece himself together enough to speak.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he finally murmurs, voice small and broken in a way you rarely hear. “you already deal with so much... I didn’t want to be another thing you had to take care of.”

your chest aches.

you lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “you’re not a burden, megumi. you never could be. Let me love you—all of you. Even the sick, stubborn, sweaty parts.”

he lets out the smallest laugh—more like a breath through his nose—and his eyes flutter closed.

“okay,” he whispers. “just for tonight.”

───────────୨ৎ───────────

[immortalmrwavell]

A Worthy Replacement - Part 1

(Original story posted December 14th 2022) This story has been significantly Updated!

Written for @bodyswappingandshit/@bodyswappingandshit-1

Glad to finally have the first part of this story back up! It’s one I know lots of you enjoyed back in the day. I thought about uploading all three parts of this story together in one post like I’ve been doing with other multi part stories from the past but honestly this story is just too massive. Especially now that I’m updating and extending it. So for that reason I’m keeping it separated into three parts. I’m even considering adding on a bonus epilogue that wasn’t part of the original! But with all that said, enjoy the story! ❤️

Part 2 & Part 3 returning soon!

~~~

“No… fucking… way…” Was all Martin could say or think when he recognised the man who’d been working out across from him at the gym.

Recently Martin, a youthful 27 year old, had really been trying to get himself into shape. He’d been working out at home for some time now but after moving to a new town he decided it was finally time to get serious and sign up to one of the local gyms. The one he picked in the end was rather expensive but from what he could tell it was held in very high regard and had everything you’d ever need. More machines and equipment than Martin even knew existed, an amazing sauna, a large indoor swimming pool and more! That in mind he supposed spending the extra money on it would encourage him to go and make the most of it all.

Upon stepping into the gym on his first day as a member, Martin was of course greeted by the sight of hunks, jocks, meatheads and bodybuilders all getting deep into their routines. The aroma of manly sweat mixed with deodorant flooded his senses in a way that had him struggling to keep his dick under control. Getting a front row seat to all these men pumping their juicy muscles as big as humanly possible certainly didn’t help either. He was already having fantasies about worshipping some of these men. Kissing their biceps and massaging their thighs. Imagining how amazing it would feel to press his face between their meaty glutes. The thought alone was enough to make him drool.

Of course Martin tried to stay respectful and not stare, as difficult as that was, while instead opting to get on with his own routine. After all, if he wanted to be like all the hunks he adored, he needed to put in the work. With that things were going smoothly. He pushed through his exercises and was able to build up a good sweat in the process. However there was something that kept distracting him. Across the gym he couldn’t help but notice how a bunch of people had stopped to watch one particular dude as he worked out. Some were even going up and asking for pictures as he was resting while others had politely asked about workout and eating tips. He couldn’t see the man properly from where he was but he could tell the dude was big. Very big. Martin thought that perhaps he was an influencer or something.

Eventually his curiosity ended up getting the better of him. He finished his last set on the machine he was using before wandering his way over towards the man. If the guy was well known online, Martin wondered if it would be someone he recognised. That could be pretty exciting. He’d gotten there just as the man was doing some heavy bench pressing. He wasn’t able to get a good look at first but when the man put the barbell back and sat up, Martin’s eyes went wide with disbelief. No wonder people had been watching him this whole time. It was the Mr Olympia of classic physique! Chris fucking Bumstead!

From that point onwards Martin found it exceptionally hard to focus on his own workout. Always finding himself peeking over his shoulder to sneak glances at the renowned bodybuilding champion. He had to actively stop himself from trying to scan every inch of that titanic body as he watched beads of sweat drip down Chris’ massive frame, dampening the clothes he was wearing. Thoughts of running his tongue along Chris’ glistening muscles after a long session danced through Martin’s mind. Suddenly no other man in the gym existed. All he cared about was that pure adonis of a man. Suddenly Martin was thrown back to all the times he’d found himself laid in bed scrolling through Chris Bumstead’s Instagram while jerking his dick furiously. Now all those lustful feelings were bubbling to the surface ten fold! Martin had to try desperately to hide his painfully hard erection after that living sculpture of a man walked past him at one point, his scent wafting faintly through the air while invading Martin’s nostrils. A perfect blend of woodsy deodorant and fresh musk. Good god. Martin still couldn’t believe that perfect specimen of a man was only 2 years older than him!

Shortly after pulling off his tee to show off the sweat stained tank top underneath, Chris finished up his routine and headed off towards the locker room to change. Noticing this, Martin couldn’t help but stare from behind. Watching that wide muscled back barely contained by that tank. Eyes practically glued to the huge rounded muscle ass stretching the back of those shorts as Chris exited the main gym floor. Almost every part of Martin’s being was telling him to follow the bodybuilder in the hopes that he might get a glance at that glorious physique without a top on in person.

He didn’t wanna seem weird though like he was stalking the guy so he decided it’d be best to finish up another set of exercises first. Admittedly he sort of botched the form due to his excitement but thankfully nobody seemed to notice. With that however Martin swiped up his towel and water bottle before hurrying off the gym’s locker room as inconspicuously as possible.

Before long he found himself casually glancing down each of the aisles to see if he could find the one and only Mr Olympia he’d been drooling over. Unfortunately after checking most of the aisles, he started to believe that perhaps Chris had already finished getting changed and was long gone as there didn’t seem to be any sign of him. He must’ve slipped out somehow when Martin wasn’t looking. Just when he was about to give up, Martin noticed a pile of gym clothes sitting on one of the empty benches. He wasn’t sure why but for some he found himself oddly intrigued by the discarded clothes. Almost like it they were… calling to him? There was no way to explain the feeling. All he knew was that he had to get a closer look at those clothes.

He made his way down the aisle and towards the bench. It was only when he got closer though that he realised who they belonged to. That huge tank top, those massive shorts and the unmistakable giant sneakers next to them with gym socks stuffed inside. He couldn’t believe it! These were the very same gym clothes Chris has just been wearing! The gym bag next to them with the hunks name on it only confirmed what he already knew. Martin couldn’t believe it!

Did he go and take a shower? Or maybe for a swim in the gym’s pool? God just the thought of sneaking a peek at Chris’ naked body under a steaming shower or doing laps in the pool was enough to make Martin want to cream on the spot. But then something odd crossed his mind… Why would Chris leave his clothes out here in the open where anyone could grab them instead of putting them away safely in his locker??

———

A few minutes earlier…

Chris found himself stepping into a rather empty locker room with only a small handful of men getting changed or sitting around. Upon reaching his locker, he found the aisle it was located on was completely desolate. Or so he thought anyway.

He slotted the key in and twisted it before opening the locker and pulling out his hefty gym bag. He turned to place it down on the bench behind when he jumped in shock at the sight of a man who’d seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “Whoa!… Uhh sorry man I didn’t hear ya.” He said politely with a chuckle and that recognisable lisp of his. The strange man didn’t immediately say anything however, just staring and smiling as he ran his eyes up and down Chris’ body. “Ummm can I help you?… if you want a photo or an autograph or something I’d be happy to give you one…” As weirded out as he was now, the bodybuilder remained kind and polite as he shoved his t-shirt into the gym bag.

“Mr Olympia huh?… Incredible. You really are something. ” The man finally spoke in an almost unsettling yet buttery smooth tone. “And as a matter of fact you can help me.”

The more Chris examined him, the more this odd man didn’t look as though he belonged. He was a lean middle aged guy with perfectly styled salt and pepper hair. His face was framed by a well groomed beard that was a chestnut brown flecked with silver besides the hair on his chin that was a snowy white. The man was dressed in a gorgeous navy blue suit that seemed tailored to his body. The flawless jacket hugged a crisp pink shirt underneath that was decorated by a striped blue and indigo tie. A bracelet that matched his suit and shining silver watch adorned his left wrist. A pair of sunglasses hid a pair of dazzling eyes that no doubt matched the rest of his devilishly handsome visage. He was in good shape underneath that suit from what Chris could tell so he must've kept fit but… something about him was just off. You wouldn’t dress this immaculate just to get a workout.

By this point Chris was starting to get a bit creeped out by the whole situation but he kept his cool and played along. After all he was both a body builder and an influencer which meant he always had to put on his best face for the sake of reputation. “Okay? And how is that?” He responded carefully.

Just then the strange man beamed with a large grin. “Well I’m glad you asked! First things first, my name is Mr Wavell and I’ll be your friendly neighbour hood Warlock this fine day.” He claimed as he outstretched a hand towards the hunk in a respectable manner.

Chris was hesitant but he leant a hand to meet Wavell’s, a look of confusion plastered across his face. “Warlock?” He questioned while clasping the other man’s hand and giving it a firm shake. Part of his subconscious was telling him to just brush this guy off and get on with the day. He was clearly a bit of a nutter. Unfortunately he’d had the displeasure of dealing with his fair share of weirdos since becoming rather famous in the body building sphere. But like usual Chris’ kind hearted nature forced him to stay and hear what this strange Mr Wavell dude had to say.

“Oh don’t worry. You’ll understand soon enough big guy.” Wavell replied somewhat ominously as he let Chris’ hand go. “Honestly it’s not often that I experiment on men such as yourself.” He admitted, shamelessly gazing up and down Chris’ godly physique. “Famous men I mean. I play around with jocks, meatheads and bodybuilder’s all the time but never someone as prominent and well known as you. I can see why too. Your body is a true work of art. The very kind that should be carved into stone and worshiped for generations to come. And to have obtained such a physique without the use of any kind of magic is truly magnificent. I’ll have to be sure that whoever owns it next will keep it in peak condition.”

Chris narrowed his eyes in uncertainty. “W-what? What the hell are you talking about? Experiments? Owners? Magic? Look I’m sorry man I don’t know what this is about but it’s all starting to sound really freaking weird.” He chuckled awkwardly while taking a step back from the suited stranger. “I appreciate the… compliments? But I’ve got other things to do today so again if you want a picture or something we can do that but whatever you’re trying to buy or sell, I’m really not interested.” He’d finally reached his limit with all the strange stuff that Wavell was spewing.

Wavell sighed, a deep purple aura surrounding his body as he waved a hand towards the bodybuilder. “Oh you poor thing. Your compliance isn’t really a factor.”

Suddenly the mighty Chris Bumstead found that same purple energy coiling around his body in the blink of an eye and binding him in place like a muscular statue.Understandably Chris was freaking the fuck out. He tried with all his might to move even a single muscle but nothing responded. He was completely frozen in place.

“If it’s any consultation, I actually feel a little bad about this. I took a peek inside your mind and you’re actually a really sweet guy even when you’re not on camera. Most of the time I wouldn’t go out of my way to take from a guy as genuine and kind as you but…” Wavell reached out and placed his firmly against Chris’ enormous sculpted pecs and began to massage the thick muscle. “Mmmm… you’re just too damn gorgeous to resist. Don’t worry though. I’m sure you’ll grow to love what comes next in time. Everyone does eventually.”

Chris wanted to protest with all his might but not even his mouth was permitted to move by the strange energy binding him. It was impossible to scream for help, not that doing so would’ve made a difference. The only things he was able to move were his eyes that were darting around in a frantic manner.

“Well! Time for step two.” Wavell clasped his hands together with a smile. “But which piece will I store you in? Your tank top? Your socks maybe?” Wavell suggested as he inspected the gym wear Chris was wearing.

The body building champion had absolutely no clue what the hell this insane man was talking about and at this point he didn’t wanna know either. All he knew was that he needed to escape somehow. With that Chris scrunched his eyes shut and tried with every ounce of his strength to move one of his arms. A strained grunt rumbled from inside his throat as he fought against the purple energy but the most he could do was a slight bend in his elbow and a twitch of his fingers before he gave out. Despite how minimal the movement was though, Wavell seemed quite surprised.

“Impressive. That’s quite some willpower you’ve got there big man! Then again I suppose you’ve gotta have some serious mental and spiritual strength to maintain a body like that. I commend you but you might as well save your energy. You’re not going anywhere.” The warlock leaned in and kissed Chris on the cheek in an almost mocking fashion before whispering softly into his ear. “Besides, I’ve just figured out exactly what I’m gonna do with you.”

Without another second to spare Wavell crouched down only to grab the waist of Chris’ shorts and yank them down to his ankles, revealing the tight black boxer briefs underneath. “Ohhh wow…” Wavell muttered as he cupped the bodybuilder’s exceptional bulge. “It’s always the quiet and humble ones that are packing the most huh?” He teased while squeezing Chris’ package playfully. “Well I know for a fact that whoever ends up with this is gonna be a happy man.” With that Wavell stood up once again and looked the powerless man in the eyes. He could tell by the way Chris’ eyes were darting from side to side that he was trying his utmost to beg. Unfortunately for him no amount of begging was going to stop what was about to come next.

“Now. Are you ready?” The warlock asked with a growing smirk, one hand still firmly grasping the hunk’s hefty bulge. “I’ll take your silence as a yes.” And with that he sent a shock of magic that filled the fabric of Chris’ underwear, causing it to glow brightly. This in turn caused a rather intense wave of pleasure to ripple through Chris’ body originating from his boxers. His eyes couldn’t help but roll back as the wave of pleasure flowed over his entire frame before moving back towards his underwear again. And then it ripped out again. And again. It was like an ocean tide pulling back and forth. Flowing out across his body and then pulling back towards his now enchanted boxer briefs again. It was only after about 3 or so of these pulses that Chris began to feel himself getting… smaller? Almost as it was with each wave of magic that spread and pulled back into his underwear, part of his own body mass got pulled with it?!?!

The glorious muscular body of Chris Bumstead continued to shrink smaller and smaller as more of his being was converted into pure magical essence that became infused with his boxer briefs. It wasn’t long before he was even smaller than Wavell, a man he’d been towering over mere moments ago. He would’ve been terrified had it not been for the insurmountable euphoria that he was forcibly experiencing through it all. A euphoria so great in fact that he reached multiple orgasms! Jetting hefty load after load of cum that splattered and stained his underwear. It was so intense that he eventually faded from consciousness.

The very second Chris passed out there was a bright light that consumed what was left of his shrinking body and when it dissipated, the renowned body builder was nowhere to be seen. All that was left was his workout gear that fell to the floor in a sweaty heap, including the pair of freshly enchanted boxer briefs that now housed the sleeping soul of Chris Bumstead himself.

Mr Wavell leant down and scooped up the pile of clothes along with the socks and sneakers before placing them all on the nearby bench. Now there was just one final touch that had to be made. He waved a hand over the pile of clothes, placing another perception filter over the, that would make anyone who Wavell deemed unworthy of this gift unable to see or perceive the clothes. For example if by chance a roided out asshole happened upon them first, he would barely take any notice of them. Only those who were worthy of taking up the mantle of the kind and humble Mr Olympia would be able to see them. But with that Wavell decided his work here was done, turning himself invisible once again so he may sit back and simply enjoy the show. Opting to float up and sit atop the lockers and watch until someone received the present he’d left.

———

As Martin inched closer to the pile of sweaty gym clothes he’d stumbled across, that very same aroma he’d smelt back in the gym wafted over his nose. Yup those were Chris’ clothes alright. No doubt about it. He made sure to look left and right down the aisle to check that nobody was watching before sitting down on the bench beside the seemingly discarded clothes. It already felt as though his heart could explode with the anticipation alone. He just wanted to grab the tank top and press it flat against his face. But what if someone saw him? It was only his first day at this place and he didn’t wanna be labelled the gym weirdo who went around sniffing other dude’s clothes. But that smell… It was just so damn tempting. He checked around one last time before giving into his urges and swiping up the body builder’s tank top.

The next thing he knew Martin had a raging boner straining against his shorts as he held the damp tank top to his face. Unable to stop himself from deeply huffing and inhaling the strong musky scent of an alpha such as Chris Bumstead. Allowing it to overpower all of his senses and sink so deep that everything else faded away. Only him and the sweaty tank pressed against his nose existed in that moment. If there was a heaven, this is how he imagined it.

Slam!

The sound of a nearby locker closing tore Martin’s mind away from the haze with a sudden jolt. Luckily it seemed to have come from a different aisle. His face still went red however, praying that nobody had walked past and seen him. With a sigh he was about to set the tank top back down when something caught his eye. Inside the shorts was a pair of underwear that Chris must’ve been wearing. Already Martin’s mind was going a mile a minute imagining what the pouch of that gorgeous man’s underwear smelt like after a good workout. He just had to know! But he couldn’t risk anyone seeing him. A tank top was one thing but if he was caught sniffing another guy’s underwear in the locker room he’d be seen as a total perv and kicked out for sure.

Part of him thought of doing the right thing and leaving the clothes where they were but the urges of a horny gay man were a powerful thing which in this case Martin just couldn’t bring himself to ignore. So instead he settled on a plan. He scooped up Chris’ gear along with huge socks and sneakers the hunk had been wearing before dashing around the corner and locking himself in a private changing cubicle.

He knew what he was doing was wrong but he just couldn’t help himself! Before long the young and very horny gay man had stripped off his own clothes and begun jerking himself off furiously while digging his nose into the tank top once again. The smell was still so fresh. New sweat that’d only just poured from that Adonis’ body and absorbed into the fabric. It smelt fucking delicious and Martin wished he could savour it forever.

Soon after that his eyes settled on the huge size 13 sneakers. He grabbed one and yanked the white gym sock out from inside before burying his nose in it. It was incredibly damp with sweat and had an even stronger scent than the tank. But that only made it more intoxicating. After a good few minutes, Martin was only able to pull himself away from the sweaty sock to stuff his nose inside the massive sneaker it came from. And somehow that smell was even more pungent! No wonder. It was a heady mix of old sweat from previous workout mixed with the new fresher scent of today, forming an aroma so mind numbingly powerful that Martin could barely control himself. He had to let go of his cock for a moment just so he didn’t cum on the spot.

From there he must’ve spent god knows how long edging himself in that cubicle, trying not to cum or make too much noise. He switched feverishly between deeply inhaling the sneakers and rubbing the socks all over his face. Chris’ scent was so damn addictive. He found himself fantasising about Chris standing in the cubicle with him, imagining that it was actually the dreamy hunk himself who was holding the massive sneakers up to his face and forcing him to sniff it. The mere thought was enough to have him leaking a constant stream of precum.

It took a good long while but eventually Martin decided he’d had his fill of the sweaty socks and sneakers, for now anyway, and decided to get onto the main attraction he’d been saving until last. He glanced over at the shorts with a lustful grin. Without hesitation he dove his hand inside them and fished out the pair of black boxer briefs that were hidden inside. His pervy mind was already racing at the idea of sniffing both the front and back of them. But just as he was about to dig in he noticed something odd.

The pouch. It seemed damp. At first he thought it was just Chris’ ball sweat but it was more than that. It was… sticky? Curiously Martin checked the inside of the boxers and his eyes went wide. There was no way. That couldn’t be what he thought it was right? Pooled inside the pouch and partially absorbed into the fabric was an unmistakable sticky white substance. With his heart now beating out of his chest, Martin dipped a finger inside and scooped some up before sticking it in his mouth. There was no doubt about it.

It was cum.

Martin had just tasted Chris Bumstead’s cum! And it was delicious!!!

A million questions were racing through his mind right now. The biggest ones being: why the hell had that hunk of a man shot a load while at the gym? And even more importantly, why had he left his cum-filled underwear out for just anyone to find?! It didn’t make sense at all. When would Chris have even had time to do that? Not to mention Chris didn’t at all seem like the type to do something like that. Deep down a part of Martin’s brain was telling him this was fishy. Unfortunately that part of his brain was completely drowned out by the rest of his mind that horny beyond imagination right now.

“Oh well… If he’s that careless then I’m sure he won’t mind if I clean up his mess.” Martin muttered to himself while licking his lips.

He gently raised the boxers up to his face, grinning down at the soaked pouch before him. He was already starting to salivate at the sight. Martin always wanted to taste a bodybuilder's load and now he had the best of the best. Top of the line alpha male seed. And so, without another second of hesitation, Martin dove his tongue into the pool of fresh man milk and started licking away. He immediately found himself shivering with delight at the immaculate taste. Sure he’d tasted cum before but it was nothing like this! He could drink gallons of this stuff! Before long he was lapping it up like a feral animal! He had to make sure that he got every last drop of delicious stud cum. And just when you’d think it couldn’t get any better, the flavour was even further enhanced by the taste of Chris’ sweaty balls mixed in.

By the time he’d finished lapping it all up, Martin was a hot mess. He found himself sitting with the underwear draped over his face, sniffing and tasting the delicious groin sweat from it idly. With a belly full of Mr Olympia grade cum, all he could think to do now was wrapping Chris’ damp tank top around his ridiculously hard cock and jacking it until he burst. And that’s exactly what he did, pumping away as he lost himself completely in all the smells and sensations. Edging as much as humanly possible while trying to savour the moment as much as he could. It didn’t even feel real. He thought that at any moment he was gonna wake up back home in his bed after having the best wet dream of his life. And yet he didn’t. This was reality.

Martin was just about ready to shoot his load and glaze Chris’ tank top with it when he was stopped by the perfect idea that suddenly popped to mind.

Next thing you know he’s jumping up off the seat and smiling giddily as he glances at the cubicle mirror. There was just one last thing he had to try before he stuffed these clothes into his gym bag to take home and treasure forever. He had to wear them.

He didn’t waste any time. He began by snatching up the boxer briefs again before stepping into them and pulling them up over his ass. Admittedly they looked more like baggy boxers on him than fitted boxer briefs. They were mainly being held up by the waist band and the tent his dick was making in the front. The feeling of which sent shivers up his spine as the tip of his cock brushed against the dampness where Chris’ load had been. Then after taking a second to appreciate how amazing it felt to wear Chris Bumstead’s underwear, Martin swiftly moved on by grabbing the shorts next. He slid his legs inside and pulled them up before securing them in place by tying the drawstrings tightly. Once again something that would’ve been ordinary gym shorts for a hunk like Chris looked more like huge basketball shorts on Martin. That didn’t make it any less hot though. This was then followed by him slipping the tank top over his head in one smooth motion. It slipped off his shoulders once or twice but he eventually got it to stay in place. At last he was able to bask his upper body in the warm musky aroma of the tank top in the hopes that it would stick to him. After that, all that was left was footwear Chris had left behind.

The huge damp white socks were first. After giving them each one last quick sniff, Martin reached and pulled on each over-sized sock, drenching his feet in Chris Bumstead’s sweat. He couldn’t help rolling his eyes a little in ecstasy at the mere feeling. Once he’d had a chance to enjoy wiggling his toes inside the sweat stained socks, it was time at last for the sneakers. Getting to slip his average sized feet inside those enormous things felt like an orgasm in of itself. He tried his absolute best not to bust as he felt his socked feet suddenly being wrapped in the hot sweaty musk that was trapped inside those pungent sneakers.

And with that his naughty little cosplay was complete.

After all that Martin could only grin cheekily as he looked at himself in the full length mirror. Sure the size difference might’ve made him look like a kid swamped in his dad’s clothes, but he couldn’t deny that it was still hot as fuck. Especially knowing that he was wearing the exact same clothes Chris himself had been wearing less than an hour ago. The adrenaline pumping through his system right now had Martin on cloud nine as he committed every detail of this to memory.

“What’s up? My name’s Chris Bumstead.” He snickered at his reflection while trying his best to imitate Chris’ voice.. “I bet you’re wondering what my secret to looking like a muscle god is. Truth is I just get really horny while working out and bust a nut after my session. Totally helps the gains.” Martin continued half mockingly as he flexed one of his arms, imagining it was Chris showing his mouthwatering biceps. He continued to mutter all sorts of pervy things and imagine it was the real Chris saying them all the while listening to make sure nobody outside the cubicle overheard him. Little did he know that one person in particular had seen and heard everything.

Wavell had watched idly as Martin had crept over to the pile of clothes earlier and swept them up. It’d been a treat getting to see this horny young man goon for around half an hour over the famous bodybuilder’s scent. Honestly Wavell couldn’t blame him one bit. After all he’d given Chris’ clothes a quick sniff as well before leaving them to be claimed and that scent was divine. “Now that he’s wearing them it should start any second now…” Mr Wavell mumbled to himself as he watched Martin curiously. And as if on cue, the black boxer briefs began to emit a soft purple glow. “Yuuup… here we go.”

Martin didn’t seem to take any notice of the glow at first as it was concealed underneath the shorts. He only noticed something strange was going on when the magic glow became bright enough that its light began to seep out of his stolen shorts. “H-hey what!? What the h-hell?!” He was about to pull off the shorts in a panic to see what was going on down there but before he had the chance there was a shooting sensation that flooded his body like a lightning bolt, causing him to seize up a little. “Uuuuuoooaaahhh… What the… fuuuuuuuuck…” Martin groaned without much control. He felt an indescribable mix of pain and pleasure that sparked through every nerve and muscle in his being. His brain struggled to keep up with the sudden overstimulation and couldn’t decide whether it loved or hated the feeling.

He would’ve been more worried about this had it not been for the rising heat in his chest. He could barely comprehend the feeling. It was like… something was building itself up? Martin only realised what was truly happening when he glanced down at himself to see that his once unimpressive chest was now surging forwards with muscle in pulsing waves of growth. He could hardly believe his eyes as he watched himself grow a hefty pair of pecs that began to slowly fill out the front of the stolen tank top. As they expanded he could feel his torso stretching and broadening slightly to accompany his growing chest until they reached the size of massive watermelons! The shock of it all caused Martin to stumble a little before falling onto his hands and knees with the weight of his new meaty muscle tits weighing him down. They looked bizarrely out of place on his small frame but not for much longer…

“What t-the fuck… Is h-happening… to meeeee?!” He just about managed to grunt out while attempting to pull himself back up but to no avail. Not when his back suddenly decided to follow the same example as his chest. After his pecs, the rest of his growing torso upper body kicked into full gear with its fantastical growth. Ridges and contours of hard earned definition began etching themselves onto Martin’s back as it grew huge and wide with newfound muscle! His arms were forced to spread apart some more as his lats flared out like the wings of a true bodybuilder. Before Martin could even comprehend that however, his shoulders ballooned into monstrous cannonballs that only served to widen his upper body further. Even his traps bulged and expanded before his neck thickened into. Suddenly the sweaty tank top wasn’t hanging off him so loosely anymore…

His confused moans echoed not only through his little cubicle but across the entire locker room. And yet nobody seemed to take any notice. Not even as he let out a roar when his arms and hands started to grow. He watched as his fingers stretched longer, each digit thickening as callous’ began to form along his expanding palms. Marks to symbolise years of long hard dedication to the gym. Even more eye-catching however was the sight of Martin’s once average looking arms beginning to hulk out as veins snaked up his inflating forearms while his biceps and triceps swelled to sizes bigger than he ever could have dreamed of. Soon enough his biceps and triceps had bulked up to monstrous sizes with his forearms following suit. Even his hands weren’t safe as they thickened up.

Martin gritted his teeth as he felt what little fat he’d once had around his belly evaporate to make way for a thick and powerful set of abs that cobbled themselves onto his stomach, Martin was given a few seconds of momentary relief to catch his breath. “M-my body!? H-H-How!? I don’t… I…” He stumbled through his words in a panic, not knowing how the hell to even begin articulating his feelings right now. Especially as he glanced up into the mirror, still kneeling on all fours. His build looked like that of a human gorilla with the comical size difference between his gigantic upper body and relatively small lower body in comparison. In fact he doubted he could even stand properly as he was!

It didn’t take long for the transformative heat to return in full force. For as freaked out as he was right now, Martin didn’t know if he should be worried or relieved. Regardless, the intense sensation began to focus itself on his lower half. More specifically his ass first which didn’t waste any time blowing itself up with newfound mass. What was once a fairly average backside ballooned into a massive bubble butt carved from thick muscle that could harden into buns of steel with a single flex. He even let out a long and pleasurable moan as his asshole found itself tightening significantly. Suddenly the stolen shorts and briefs he was wearing looked far less baggy than before, now stretching over his thick bubble ass rather nicely.

Just then his eyes went wide with both fear and a little bit of underlying excitement after feeling where the warm sensation had shifted to next. “Oooh god oooh fuuuck…” he groaned nervously as it focused on none other than his cock and balls. Thankfully, just like the rest of his body, even they started to expand rapidly. His balls grew into a pair of huge cum-filled alpha male that only churned the most premium cum imaginable. Meanwhile his already hard cock engorged into a girthy ten inch anaconda, that didn’t just fill but stretched out the pouch of his stolen underwear perfectly! Feeling this Martin couldn’t help but allow a dumb grin to spread across his face. “Ughhhhfff… I’m huge huhuhuhuh…” He chuckled as the now much larger and obscene tent in his shorts bucked excitedly.

He’d become so distracted by the size of his new manhood and crown jewels that Martin almost didn’t notice his legs starting to get absolutely juiced. It started slow at first with his thighs and calves pulsing with a tiny bit of extra size and definition. It wasn’t long however before a strained growl escaped his clenched mouth as both legs began stretching out longer, bumping him up to a staggering 6’1. Something he’d soon find out when he was eventually able to stand up. But as soon as his legs finished elongating, his quads and hamstrings erupted with an explosion of bulging muscle mass causing another roar to escape his lips. In mere moments he’d been granted the thighs of the century but it wasn’t done there. Moments later Martin found himself cooing in pleasurable discomfort as his calves pumped up to the size of footballs while looking hard as diamond. Finally Martin’s body was starting to look proportionate again but there was one last part of his lower body that needed changing.

Finally his toes started to curl and wriggle inside the hot sneakers. Right now they still felt like clown shoes on him but not for much longer. Martin was just about able to stifle another moan as his feet started expanding, growing longer and meatier by the second. The free space inside Chris’ sneakers swiftly began to fill as even the sweaty white socks started to fit better around his enlarging feet. Growing upwards from size 9 to size 10 then 11 and even 12!? Only stopping when his feet finally fit snugly inside the enormous pungent size 13 sneakers! At last Martin had the exact kind of huge manly feet he’d secretly dreamt of either having or worshipping.

By this point Martin simply looked like a hulking bodybuilder version of himself but that would soon change. All of the distinct features across his body that made Martin unique began to fade only to be replaced with unique qualities of another man. Whether those features be blemishes, body hair, tattoos or even the tone of his skin! The only semblance of his old self left now was his head. Though, judging by the way his face was starting to heat up, that likely wouldn’t be the case for much longer.

It began with his neck bulging a little, his adam’s apple changing and altering his voice in a way that made it drop a couple octaves. That was the least concerning of the right now though as his facial features started to shift. His jaw began to widen as Martin’s once soft chin squared off with a sharp masculinity. His cheekbones rose up slightly, forming an angular structure in tandem with his jaw that was taut and defined. His brows thickened while his eyes took on a newfound mix of softness and intensity. The eyes of a kind beast. His nose broadened slightly as it tapered into a strong bridge. All the while his changing features made sure to reposition themselves as even his head reshaped slightly. As soon as they were all in place, thick stubble broke out across his larger jaw which swiftly grew into well groomed facial hair that framed his new handsome mug perfectly. Even his hair restyled in process while lightening in colour from black to a rich brown.

After all that his mind was spinning like crazy but the good news was that whatever had been spreading through him and changing his body had finally dissipated, leaving him on the floor sweaty and exhausted. He gave himself a moment to gather his strength before pulling himself up off the ground.

He was disoriented to say the least. His new body trembled slightly as he pushed himself up onto his massive new feet that filled out Chris’ large sneakers perfectly now. He stumbled for a moment as he found his balance with all this unfamiliar weight before looking down at his enormous hands. Needless to say he was still in shock over it all. Looking down at himself, Martin no longer saw the lean average build he was used to seeing everyday. Instead stared down in awe at the huge hulking form of a professional bodybuilder. Huge hefty pecs, colossal biceps, hulking thighs. All of which allowed him to perfectly fill out these massive gym clothes. The real shock came however when he finally glanced up to look in the mirror once more…

“Holy fuck!” He shouted with a stunned look on his face. Only it wasn’t his face anymore. Staring back at him was none other than the three time classic Mr Olympia himself! The very man Martin had countless saved pictures of for jerking over. The hunk who’d starred in more than one of his wet dreams over the last few years. There was no mistaking it. His hands shot up towards his new face, inspecting his features to be sure they were real before running his hands through his hair and beard. This sculpted body… This gorgeous face…

“I-I’m… I’m Chris fucking Bumstead!!” He announced, almost not believing his own words as they spilled out in a new unfamiliar voice.

Mr Wavell had witnessed the entire thing go down, invisible as usual. “Mmm… now that was hot.” He hummed to himself as he watched as the new hunk admired his reflection with glee and disbelief. “Maybe I should stick around for a while and see how this plays out.” He shrugged. It was always fun to watch how his subjects adjusted to their new lives and bodies.

[igotanidea]

Bumpy road: Jason Todd x reader

Aka: the one with the first fight.

***

They were warning her.

*They* as in pretty much everyone – family, friends, even strangers on the street.

They were warning her that every relationship hits a rough path sooner or later. That the honeymoon phase cannot last forever. That arguments, fights, misunderstandings and other rocks on the yellow road of Oz are about to happen.

Like she was a kid, not knowing that already.

Of course she was aware of all that! Hell – her parents had enough of a clash of characters and silent days to somehow immunize her against it.

She thought herself ready for the stormy days, making a bucket list of things she wouldn’t do with Jason.

Like *not going to bed angry* or *talking through things* or other silly and completely immature naïve things.

Well – having a plan and putting it into action turned out to be two completely different things.

***

The shy sun on the sky, gentle wind and little white fluffy clouds were nothing of a sign of an impending torment.

Y/N was walking back home from work, having taken a few hours for a personal leave with a set date of working it off. Though if it meant spending 10 hours in the office on Thursday to have some more time with Jay on Friday, so be it. 

Absolutely worth it.

Not even fighting the happy smile forming on her face, thinking about the little surprise she had planned for him, she rode along the streets humming the songs coming from the car radio.

Even their shabby apartment in the shitty district of Gotham seemed more vibrant for no reason.

“Jay? Jay, I’m home!” her bag landed on the rack, shoes on the shelf, coat in the wardrobe. “babe? You’re here? Oh – oh, Jay, what happened?”

Jason was sitting on the couch, staring blankly into the space, fidgeting with his phone, but not paying any attention to whatever might have flashed on the screen. Anyone else might have been fooled, after all Jason always seemed a little detached and immersed in his own thoughts, especially when he was alone. Y/N was not one of those people, seeing through him almost instantly.

“Hey?” The soft sound of bare feet on the floor approaching him from the side finally threw him off and back into reality. 

“Hey.” No smile, no sparkles in the eyes, no sign of acknowledgment. Only a slight flinch as if he was trying to pull back and away from her.

Y/N frowned.

“Jace-“

“I’m busy.” His gaze immediately fell back onto the screen, scrolling mindlessly, finding himself a substitute occupation.

“With what?”

“God, why are you being so nosy?” Jason rolled his eyes, not stopping whatever was so interesting.

“Nosy?”

“Yes, nosy. I’m browsing, ok? How do you think I get the fucking intel for patrolling?”

“Through a Facebook page?” she tried to crack the joke.

“Yeah. That too. Do you want to go through my texts now? Is this what this is about?”

“What? No, of course no. What’s with the hostility?”

“I’m not fucking hostile.”

“Right… Not at all.”

“I just need some freaking silence, is that too hard to understand?”

“No, no, it’s fine.” It was shockingly difficult to say those words, considering the fact she made quite different plans for the afternoon, but apparently the relationship also required compromising. Even if the meaning of the word was forgetting about oneself all together, all for the benefit of the other half of the duet.  “I’ll go get us some snacks, hm? And maybe I could help you with – “

“Whatever.”

Oh, okay. He wasn’t hostile, he was indifferent.

Or maybe just busy.

Right, right, of course, just busy, it was okay. First time for everything, even ignoring her.

She could understand it, obviously, being understanding and giving him necessary space like any considerate girlfriend would.

***

Shit broke free three days later.

Any target group asked would unanimously agree that Monday mornings were absolutely the worst, and external circumstances had nothing to do with it. The loads of easy work from Friday that could be left and handled on Monday suddenly became increasingly difficult and seemed to multiply.

99% of people liked that.

Y/N was no exception.

Good humor? Gone.

Optimistic attitude? Lost.

Exhaustion? Skyrocketing.

Sudden thirst for blood and unparalleled rage? Present.

Incoming storm in her relationship….?

Yeah… Inevitable.

***

It was like the entertainment replay.

Jason was sitting on the couch, staring blankly into space, fidgeting with his phone… yadda, yadda, yadda.

Only this time she had zero patience and zero strength to handle it, heading straight to the bathroom, wiping her makeup, cleaning her face.

Standing in front of the mirror, removing the mascara, the foundation, putting her hair in a messy bun, slowly transforming back into her domestic version.

Just. Wanting. Some. Rest.

Meeting with an angered, almost reproachful look on her boyfriend’s face.

Once again, trying to be sympathetic.

“Hi.”

Jason grunted.

“What’s going on?” she tried again.

He rolled his eyes.

“Oh for crying out loud!”

“Stop being a bitch.”

“a – a bitch? I’m sorry, what the-“

“Yes, bitch. You heard me right. You’ve barely been giving me attention lately!”

“Attention!? What the hell, Jason!? You’ve been AWOL!”

“I’ve been here all the time!”

“In body! But sure as hell not in mind! You spend eight hours in front of the phone and computer on Saturday!”

“Did you go through my PC?” he took a step back, fury in his eyes taking her by surprise.

“What? No! What is this about!?”

“Did you go through-“

“Jason!”

“Did you!?” he half-yelled and all her resolutions about being an understanding, caring partner, showing respect and love for the other one went through the window. 

“Are you accusing me of spying on you!?”

“Maybe I am! Answer the fucking question!”

“You’re paranoid!” she yelled. “Yes!” though it wasn’t true at all. “Yes, I did. Happy now!?” she hissed with a vindictive smirk, suddenly wanting to enrage him further for no reason in particular. Maybe for the sheer satisfaction of giving him the same shit he was giving her.

“Brat!”

“Asshole!”

“Idiot!”

“Jerk!”

“I hate you!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t; have gotten into a relationship with me in the first place!”

“You know what?” he hissed, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t have because-“

“Because you’re an asshole-!”

“Because you’re completely immature!”

“Oh, I’m immature!” Y/N cried out, throwing her hands in the air “hypocrite! You’re always go about work and job  and crime rate and vigilantism and crime lords and-“

“You fucking knew it! You fucking knew who I was when we started – “

“You have changed!” her words came without any thinking and Jason felt like it was a slap. For a moment eerie silence, electrified with tension fell between them.

The only sounds being the heavy beating of their hearts, ragged breaths and unbearable weight of both spoken and unspoken words.

“Maybe I did.” He said coldly.

“Yeah, maybe you did. But maybe it’s my fault.”

“Maybe I fucked up your life.”

“Maybe.”

“And maybe you fucked up mine.”

“Right.”

The screaming match turned into an exchange of icy cold gazes and sharp as knives words.

First fight and they were already pulling out the arguments that their relationship might have been a mistake.

Y/N flinched internally realizing she was acting exactly like her parents after 15 years of marriage.

Though clearly the generational trauma poured on her, resulted in an accelerated speed and she was becoming a hag after 15 months.

Fucking great. If anyone was a hypocrite, she just scored a gold star in the category.

Not that she was going to admit it, since he started it.

Besides he was a man, and she was a woman so it was his responsibility to resolve –

God! She was having every little hated characteristic of her mother.

“Do we break up?” he asked and her eyes grew wider.

So easily?

Giving up without fighting or trying to fix things?

Seriously?!

Did he even love her at all or was it all just a game?

“Y/N?”

“What?”

“Do we break up?”

“You know what, let’s finish this. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“You didn’t answer the –“

“Just leave me alone!”

So much for *not going to bed angry*.

***

In the back of his head, Jason turned into a little kid.

It wasn’t like he enjoyed this stupid fight and the amount of harsh words and malignancy terrified him.

Truly.

Just like back in the days when he had to stand up for his mother when she was fighting with another pathetic counterfeit of a man.

It was hard to grow up without any male role model, but even if he didn’t know who he wanted to be as a partner, he had a clear idea of who he didn’t want to be.

He hated the concept, the sheer possibility of becoming suspicious, violent, aggressive in words, crude and rude. The exact image of what he had just displayed towards her.

The woman he loved.

The woman he wanted to be protective and  supportive of.

“Great fucking job, Jason.” He hissed to himself and even though his body was aching to rush to the bedroom, wrap arms around her and silently apologize with hugs and warmth stupid pride prevented him.

She started this after all.

And in the back of his mind he was a five year old, starving for affection and validation, feeling like there was no one who loved him.

Like maybe he was doomed and destined to be alone.

Thinking depressing thoughts to the sound of Y/N’s breaking heart behind the thin wall.  

[uravitypng]

𝐛𝐞𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞

pairing: hanta sero x (chubby) reader

summary: your best friend has very recently become your boyfriend and he misses you sleeping in his bed.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i wrote this today but it turned longer and longer until it was over 1k when it was only meant to be like 500 words so whoops, hope you all like it though! everyone is in ua longer because let's be honest... REALISTICALLY they'd all be held back a couple years or retake the years with all the stuff they had to deal with, the league and the war and aftermath / WE ALL KNOW THIS MAN IS A COMPLETE TEASE!! mdni / 18+

a light flashes on the bedside table from a notification from your phone, it jolts you awake just as you start to fall asleep. you groan as you reluctantly check your phone, you didn't expect it to be your boyfriend. ' princesa, i miss you :( come to my room x '

two weeks ago you thought your pining helplessly was just that- helpless. helpless and hopeless. that was until one night, two weeks ago, when you went to fetch your charger after forgetting it in his room.

he was a little stoned and it wasn't the first time you've seen him stoned. but adding your stoned best friend to him seeing you getting rather close to to kirishima recently he's been a bit on edge. on the occasion hanta gets jealous he distances himself away from you for a bit, normally for a few days, so he doesn't say anything rash or anything that could accidentally upset you.

two weeks ago though as you went to fetch your charger he became unusually clingy, normally you're the one that people call clingy but that night it would be considered him.

normally you're the one jumping on him when he comes back from patrol and ramble about the plans you have for the two of you that night. normally you're the one holding onto him while drunk telling him how he's your 'favourite person in the world.' normally it's you who puts a blanket over the two of you and snuggles close to him leaning on his shoulder while watching star wars. normally it's you who link your arm on his while walking together. normally it's you who asks if you can share his drink, drinking from his straw, because the one you brought doesn't taste good and his drink looks nice.

not this time though. it's the other way around.

"hanta... what's wrong?" his arms are wrapped tightly around you and it seems he has no intention of letting you go.

"don't leave me for kirishima," is all he says, he mumbles it and you don't see his face. he lifts his head up to look at you and a look of realisation crosses on his face after a second like he just heard what he said out loud. for someone who was so clingy only thirty seconds ago he quickly makes himself scarce running out his own room. you don't have time to process what he means and the implications, let alone reply.

the following morning a smirk creeps on your face as he enters the room. hanta has always been fairly confident but he remembers what he said and he doesn't really remember what you said afterwards, he never thought he would be nervous around you but he is, he can't help it. your pretty face smirking at him so beautifully. there's other people in the room but you don't take notice as you walk over to him and kiss his cheek shocking him and everyone else around, "i'm not leaving you for anyone hanta."

after that you begin dating. every night since, you've been spending it in his room, it's only a few months until you leave the dorms and you thought you should at least spend a few nights in your room before you leave and start packing everything away.

it's the first night you're not sleeping in his bed and he feels like he's your best friend pining all over again, only this time it's amplified. it's not like he's never had any problems with falling asleep, he does, but it's always been manageable especially now that you started sleeping next to him.

and now with you gone... he has nothing to hold. and he's not even guilty to admit that it's anything but innocent.

he misses the feeling of his hand under your pyjama shirt, groping your breasts and holding onto your supple stomach. he misses the little noises you would make every time he would graze your nipple. he misses trailing the waistband of your pyjama bottoms with his fingertips to tease you, the little whimper and buck of your hips towards his touch is so adorable to him. he misses how your breath would hitch when his hand wraps around your neck, he wouldn't even apply any pressure just leave it there but you would still whine.

now that you're gone he can't hold onto your love handles tightly as he ruts behind, his hard cock rubbing behind you, skin-on-skin. groaning deeply and cumming on you, enjoying the look of his cum on the small of your back or on your ass, knowing that you're going to sleep all night with it on you before washing it off in the morning- it's a dirty realisation that he's discovered.

it's been three hours since you've seen each other and his bed feels so cold without you.

when you hear the ding of your phone, you crawl out of bed and leave to see hanta. quietly tiptoeing out of your room and into his room.

he grins wide when you walk into his room. you smile back sleepily, rubbing your eyes, feeling like you could fall asleep at any moment. "you look as gorgeous as you did a couple hours ago princesa."

you pout, "i was nearly asleep han."

"i'm sorry gorgeous i'll make it up to you tomorrow, i promise, but sleeping together is so much better than sleeping alone."

you hum and shuffle towards him and make your way into the bed. his arm goes to your waist and he moulds himself behind you, pressing his body against you and smiling blissfully. his other large palm roam all over your body, starting to get hard as he feels your plush figure in his hands. his hand goes down to your shorts and almost tickles you, the sensation makes you feel tingly. "hanta." you say, almost like a warning.

"yes, dear?" you can practically hear the cheeky grin on his face.

"don't tease. don't be mean."

"anything you say." he suddenly stops his movement and drapes that arm over your middle too, so both arms are.

your eyebrow furrow. "w-what are you doing?"

"you said not to tease so i'm going to bed."

you whip your head around to look at him, your heads nearly pressing together. "what! no way! you ca- can't just do that. i can't go to sleep now hanta!"

"oh?" he asks, the smug smirk on his face is incredibly attractive.

"of course i can't!"

"why's that princesa?" he asks. his eyes gleam almost like a predator watching their prey.

"because- 'cause you! i can't go to bed after you teasing me like that!"

"i barely touched you though." his arms haven't left their position of draping over your middle and with his finger he starts making circular motions on your skin.

"you know that doesn't matter though. we both know that doesn't matter." you say quietly and your voice turns bashful as you continue speaking, "anything and everything you do makes me feel like this. it's unfair."

"feel like what?" his voice gets lower and you pout at each question knowing that he's teasing you.

"it's not fair that you can make me so needy after touching me for only a matter of seconds! i- i mean it's unfair! i actually am dating the man i love after meeting him at fifteen, it's been years, six years! and- and we're together! of course i'm going to feel like this."

yeah?"

"yes!"

"you told me not to though. and it's getting late, i'm tired y'know." his cock is getting harder and harder with each sentence you speak, sounding needier by the second.

"what?! b-but! i can't go to sleep!"

hanta hums for a second, "alright then. beg for me."

"huh?" your eyes widen.

"beg for me to touch you princesa. beg for me to make you cum." his grin is wide and teasing, it's almost sadist and sends a shiver down your spine and heat rise to your cheeks.

"please hanta." you say softly, it's almost inaudible.

"i think you can do better than that gorgeous."

"i-i- please make me cum hanta. please touch me." your voice is soft still but this time a little louder.

his grin seems to get impossibly wider, "good girl princesa," he kisses your forehead chastely and his hand travels lower down back to your shorts this time slipping under them. as soon as he makes contact with your thighs, you buck your hips slightly, his featherlight touch making you shudder.

at this point you know you're not going to sleep any time soon.

[itoshiabi]

RED or Green Flag? (ft. Bllk boys)

Pt.1- Isagi, Bachira, Sae

Isagi Yoichi (Certified green flag boyfriend)-

Green Flag tendencies:

Emotionally mature: Isagi's one of the most grounded guys in Blue Lock. He thinks things through, communicates clearly, and doesn't act on impulse—basically the dream in a world full of emotionally constipated strikers.

Supportive as hell: He's the kind of guy who'd hype you up on your worst days and celebrate your smallest wins like they're championships.

Loyal to the core: Once you have his heart, it's yours. No games, no sketchy behavior—just honest, steady love.

Empathetic king: He actually cares about people, even his rivals. He'd care deeply about you, your feelings, and your dreams.

Hardworking & humble: Isagi never lets success go to his head. He's all about teamwork, growth, and being better together—whether on the field or in love.

Rare red flag tendencies:

Slight obsession with evolving: When he's locked in "ego mode," he might disappear into his own world for a bit. But he'd always come back to you after the match, probably sweaty, glowing, and ready to collapse in your arms.

!Final verdict!

95% green flag, 5% "I'm-in-my-zone" red.

Isagi is that rare mix of emotionally intelligent, passionate, loyal, and down-to-earth. He's the kind of boyfriend you could talk to for hours and trust with your heart. So yeah— a huge green flag boyfriend material.

Bachira Meguru, (a walking green flag):

Green flag tendencies:

Emotionally open & expressive: Bachira feels things and isn't afraid to show it. He'd tell you he loves you in the most creative, heartfelt way—and probably draw a weird but adorable picture of you too.

Funny and adventurous: Every day with him would feel like a spontaneous road trip or a cute fever dream. He's the kind of partner who dances with you in the kitchen at 2 AM.

Supportive and non-judgmental: He loves weirdness—especially yours. He'd never try to change you and would actually fall harder the more authentic you are.

Communicative: He wouldn't ghost or play games. If something's wrong, he'll just say it (probably while clinging to your back like a koala).

Slight Red flag tendencies:

Lives in his own world: Sometimes it might feel like he's more emotionally connected to his "inner monster" than to reality. You might have to remind him to actually text back or to remember important dates.

Impulse-driven: Bachira follows his heart in the moment, which is romantic… until he spontaneously buys a llama plushie instead of groceries.

Might avoid serious convos: He's all about joy and expression, but when it comes to deep emotional pain or trauma? He might try to distract you instead of confronting it head-on.

!Final verdict!

70% green flag, 30% whimsical chaos.

Bachira would love you fiercely, playfully, and freely—but you'd need to be okay with a little unpredictability and a whole lot of weird. If you're into creative, emotionally open, affectionate partners who might kiss you in public while talking about bugs… he's your guy.

Sae Itoshi (A walking red flag):

Red flag tendencies:

Emotionally unavailable: Sae's cold, blunt, and doesn't sugarcoat anything. If you're looking for affectionate texts and heart emojis, forget it.

Career first, everything else second: His entire life revolves around soccer. You'd probably play second fiddle to his ambition, and he wouldn't even feel bad about it.

Blunt to the point of pain: He's not trying to hurt you, but he will say something that stings just because it's the truth.

High standards: He doesn't settle—for anything. If you don't match his intensity or intellect, he'll probably get bored or annoyed.

Possible green flag tendencies:

Secret softie: If (and that's a big one) you manage to break through his icy exterior, you'd get loyalty, honesty, and someone who'd believe in you as hard as he believes in himself.

No lies, no games: Sae doesn't play mind games or beat around the bush. If he likes you, it's real—and rare.

!Final verdict!

90% red flag, 10% green

The green's a rare emerald. If you're into emotionally distant geniuses with god-tier ambition and hidden softness? Sae Itoshi is your heartbreak waiting to happen… or your once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. Depends how strong your emotional armor is.