#even though he wasn’t fully there in the moment

[misswynters]

getting into an slight argument with ekko while heavily pregnant

featuring. ekko x pregnant! reader

use of she/her

a/n. you cannot tell me that ekko wouldn’t be the most protective person in the world for you if you were expecting

Warm lamplight filled the room as you settled into a worn armchair in Ekko’s little hideout in the Undercity. You absentmindedly rested a hand on your swollen belly, your fingers tracing small circles over the fabric of your tunic.

Ekko paced in front of you, his bat slung over his shoulder, his brow furrowed with frustration. “You should’ve waited for me,” he muttered, glancing back at you.

“I just went to get some fresh air,” you replied gently, trying to keep the calm in your tone. “It’s not like I went running through Zaun or something.”

He stopped pacing, turning to face you fully. His eyes softened for a moment before worry took over again. “You’re almost due, Firefly.”

“You worry too much,” you cut him off with a small smile, though your own patience was wearing thin. “I am perfectly fine by myself, Ekko. You know that.”

“I know,” he said quickly, running a hand over his hair. “I know you’re strong and could perfectly handle anything. But—”

“But what?” you asked, your voice sharpening just a little. The tension of carrying a whole human being inside you, and the constant fussing that came with it, was starting to run your patience thin. “You’re treating me like I’m fragile glass, plus the baby’s fine.”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging as he dropped his bat to the ground. “I’m just worry, okay?” His voice was quieter now, almost vulnerable. “I can’t help it.”

Your heart softened at his words, the frustration melting away. But before you could say anything, he stepped closer, dropping to his knees in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his hands reaching for yours. “I didn’t mean to come off like that. I just…” His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, his head hanging for a moment. “I love you so much, and i’m really terrified of losing you both.”

“Ekko…” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

He looked up at you then, his wide brown eyes filled with guilt and love all at once. “I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have gotten worked up. You know what you’re doing, Firefly. I know that.”

Without waiting for a response, he leaned forward and started pressing soft kisses to your hands.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured between pecks, each kiss trailing higher up your arm. “Sorry for being overbearing. Sorry for stressing you out.” His lips moved to your shoulder, then your cheek. “Sorry for being a total fool.”

A small laugh escaped you, despite yourself. “Ok y’know—”

But he wasn’t done. His hands cradled your face as he peppered kisses across your forehead, your temples, your nose. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he whispered with every press of his lips, his smile growing as your laughter did.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” you giggled, swatting at him playfully.

He grinned, his eyes finally lighting up again as he rested his forehead against yours. “You forgive me?”

“Of course i do,” you said softly, brushing your thumb across his cheek.

His hand dropped to your belly, his touch gentle as his fingers splayed across the curve. “And you,” he said, directing his voice toward your stomach, “you’ve got the coolest mom in the entire world. But don’t pick up her stubbornness, okay?”

You gasped in mock offense, swatting him again. “Hey!”

He chuckled, leaning in to kiss you, properly this time. It was soft and sweet, lingering just long enough to remind you of all the love he carried for you. When he pulled back, his face was glowing with affection.

“I’ll do better,” he promised, his voice firm. “No more hovering. Well… maybe a little hovering. But I’ll chill out. For you.”

You smiled, cupping his cheek. “You don’t have to change. I love you just the way you are—even when you’re being overprotective.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment before peeking back at you. “I love you more than anything else. Both of you.”

As he moved to kiss your belly, your baby gave a small kick against his palm. His face lit up, and he looked up at you with wide eyes. “Did you feel that?”

You nodded, laughing. “They’re saying hi to you.”

Ekko beamed, pressing another kiss to your belly. “Hey, little one. I can’t wait to meet you. But try not to stress your mom out too much before then, okay?”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t stop the warmth that spread through your chest. As Ekko leaned back into you, resting his head on your lap, you combed your fingers through his hair, both of you settling into the quiet comfort of the moment.

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights

banner @anitalenia

[satellite-evans]

sea view

Pairing: Harry Styles x wife!reader

Summary: Harry and his pregnant wife spending a day at the beach <3

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The golden sun hung lazily on the horizon, stretching its warm fingers across the beach. Each wave that lapped at the shore seemed to echo the steady rhythm of your heart, entwined with his. Harry’s hand slid down to yours, lacing your fingers together as you walked along the edge of the tide, the cool water occasionally licking at your toes. His thumb traced idle patterns against your skin, the gesture almost absentminded but deeply affectionate. The closeness of him made your chest feel full, as if the love you shared could hardly be contained in such a quiet moment.

Harry stopped suddenly, letting out a content sigh and stretching his arms out wide as if to embrace the entire ocean. “Do you ever stop to think about how mad all this is?” he asked, his voice tinged with wonder. He looked back at you, his eyes softening as they landed on your growing bump. “Me, you, this little bean in here.”

His free hand grazed your belly, his fingertips trailing delicately over the fabric of your sundress. The tenderness of the gesture sent a wave of warmth through you, a shiver of excitement and love.

“Mad is one way to describe it,” you replied, a smile curling on your lips. “Miraculous is another.”

“Miraculous,” Harry repeated, the word rolling off his tongue as if savoring it. He stopped walking entirely, tugging your hand gently to pull you closer. The sight of him then—bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun, his features soft with awe—took your breath away.

“I don’t think there’s a single word that could do justice to this,” he said, his voice quieter now. His hand splayed fully over your belly, his fingers flexing slightly as if memorizing the curve of your form. “Or to you.”

You felt your cheeks flush under his gaze, and you ducked your head instinctively, embarrassed by the intensity of his admiration. Harry wasn’t having it, though. His fingers tilted your chin up with a gentle insistence, and his smile—equal parts cheeky and adoring—melted your heart.

“Don’t you dare look away,” he teased, his voice low and playful. “I want to see that glow.”

“Harry, you’re ridiculous,” you mumbled, though you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

“Ridiculously in love with my wife,” he corrected, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against yours. “And ridiculously lucky that she agreed to carry my baby, even if I did forget to take the bins out last night.”

“Oh, don’t think I’ve forgotten that,” you quipped, poking him lightly in the chest. “But maybe I’ll forgive you… if you’re good.”

“Define ‘good,’” he murmured, his voice dropping into that lower, teasing tone that always turned your knees to jelly.

Before you could answer, he kissed you. It was slow and deep, like the tide itself had paused just to give you this moment. His lips moved against yours with a kind of reverence that made your heart race, and when he finally pulled back, you were breathless, leaning into him for support.

“Good enough?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You laughed, pushing lightly at his chest. “Barely. But you’re getting there.”

By the time you reached the blanket he’d set up on the sand, Harry had already shrugged off his shoes and set down the picnic basket he’d carried. The blanket was oversized and ridiculously plush, covered in cushions that looked far too fancy for a beach day. You arched a brow at him as you lowered yourself carefully onto it.

“This is very… elaborate,” you teased, smoothing a hand over the soft fabric.

“Only the best for my girl,” Harry said, dropping to his knees beside you and immediately pulling a container of strawberries from the basket.

“For the lady,” he said with a theatrical flourish, holding one up to your lips. The grin on his face was pure mischief, but it softened when you took the strawberry, your teeth sinking into the juicy fruit. He watched you like you were performing magic, his gaze warm and unblinking.

“You’re spoiling me,” you said, leaning back against the cushions with a smirk.

“You deserve to be spoiled,” he replied, his voice turning serious. He shifted to lie on his side next to you, propping himself up on one elbow. His free hand found its natural place on your bump, his fingers spreading wide as though he wanted to feel every inch of the connection between you and the baby. “Can I spoil you a little more?”

“What are you up to, Styles?” you asked suspiciously, narrowing your eyes.

“I was thinking,” he said, a mischievous glint sparking in his gaze, “that the sea looks awfully inviting. Fancy a swim?”

You hesitated, glancing out at the gentle waves. “I don’t know. I feel like a beached whale these days.”

Harry let out a laugh, his eyes crinkling in that way that made your heart flutter. “Don’t even joke about that. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And I mean it. Come on, love. Let me hold you in the water. It'll feel good.”

The water was cooler than you’d expected, but not unpleasant. True to his word, Harry’s arms were around you the moment you waded in, holding you close as if you might drift away.

“See? This isn’t so bad, is it?” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke. The closeness made your heart flutter, and you wrapped your arms around his neck for balance.

“No, not bad,” you admitted, leaning into him. The sensation of the water buoying your weight was freeing, and you found yourself relaxing completely against his chest.

Harry’s hands roamed gently—one resting against the curve of your lower back, the other slipping under the water to cradle your belly. His thumb rubbed soft circles, and his touch felt reverent, almost worshipful.

“You’re carrying a part of me,” he said, his voice quiet, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Our baby. How do you do it? How are you this strong?”

Your throat tightened at his words, but you managed a small laugh. “I think you’ve got a romanticized view of it. There’s a lot of complaining and ice cream involved.”

“And I’ll listen to every complaint and buy every pint of ice cream for the rest of our lives,” he vowed, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder. “You’re everything to me, you know that?”

You nodded, suddenly overcome with emotion. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

Harry kissed you then, his lips capturing yours with a tenderness that made you feel as though the entire world had disappeared.

When you returned to the blanket, the sun was dipping below the horizon, leaving the sky painted in hues of pink and orange. Harry handed you a towel and then promptly decided it was a better idea to dry your legs himself, taking far longer than necessary and sneaking cheeky kisses every time he bent closer.

“You know what I think?” he said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?”

“I think our baby is going to be just like you—kind, strong, stubborn as hell,” he teased, earning a light elbow to the ribs. He winced dramatically. “Oi, I’m fragile, you know!”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” you replied, trying to sound annoyed, though your smile betrayed you.

“Insufferably handsome,” he corrected, puffing his chest out a little. “And insufferably mad about you.”

“Oh, here we go,” you groaned playfully, covering your face with your hands. “Should I prepare myself for another Shakespearean sonnet about my ‘radiant glow’?”

“Not just a glow—your divine luminescence,” he countered with a grin, rolling onto his back and pretending to gaze at the sky. “It rivals the sun, the moon, the stars—”

“Alright, enough!” you said, laughing as you reached for a pillow from the blanket and swung it at him. Harry caught it with a laugh, holding it above his head like a trophy.

“Violence against a man praising his wife!” he exclaimed, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “What will the baby think?”

“They’ll think you’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love,” he shot back, leaning over to kiss you despite the pillow still clutched in his hand. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you pushed him back onto the blanket. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Harry grinned, tossing the pillow aside and pulling you closer until your head rested on his chest again. “I really am,” he said quietly, the humor giving way to genuine affection in his tone. After a beat, he added, “But if the baby gets my sense of humor, you’re in trouble.”

“Oh, God,” you groaned, shaking your head. “Then I really will be outnumbered.”

Harry let out a loud laugh, the sound blending with the waves as the sky deepened into twilight. The two of you stayed there, bickering playfully and exchanging kisses until the stars began to appear, painting the start of your next chapter in a perfect blend of love and laughter.

[oimitocat]

ENHYPEN REACTION TO….

….reader having a big dick (established relationship)

ᡴꪫ JUNGWON…. was too damn focused on your tent to pay attention to anything. it was the obvious fact you were big and he wasn’t even mentally prepared for anything. all his confidence wavered when his eyes glanced down the moment he was flipped to be on top.

you immediately knew why he staggered but you checked to make sure he was okay with going further. he was, he just got nervous. hence, you easily work on easing him up. he just loves you so much.

ᡴꪫ HEESUNG…. knew what he was getting into. you may look like you have not much to give but he knew better. he knew you had something up your sleeve- well, he knew you had something big to offer. you just gave him that sort of energy.

so to your bashful surprise, he was GIDDY. his smile was so wide you just had to shove your dick in his mouth. he gave you the best head of your life. literally he was in for a ride and he came more than prepared for it. also loves it when you fuck his thighs- mmph. just use him.

ᡴꪫ JAY…. didn’t really think much of it. he wasn’t really worried of your size, he was worried of whether his lack of experience would disappoint you. still, he was confident and enjoyed your foreplay. he was already touching the skies with your teasing.

in the end, he got excited. he made sure he was fully prepped before riding you, his ache growing more the longer he felt you twitch against his thigh while the two of your made out. another ride of your life.

ᡴꪫ JAKE…. was tense. he was already panicking with the naughty kisses, heart oozing down his chest. his hands were curious, gliding all over your body while kissing. he wasn’t hesitant with running them over your chest, down your arms- but you felt his hesitation to go lower.

you’ve always loved messing with him, so you had grabbed a hand and placed it over your tent- his wet gasp excited you and when you twitched under his hand he chokes. again- curious hands- you get a good hand job before breaking him in half into your bed.

ᡴꪫ SUNGHOON….’s mouth watered the second he saw your tent. he wanted you in his mouth immediately and all shyness went out the window when his hand mindlessly groped your tent. you were extremely hesitant but he voiced out how needy he was. he needed you inside him, one way or another.

he definitely mouthed at your tent, arousing you tenfold. once you spring free, he takes you in without hesitation. absolutely always going to go down on your dick with his mouth before taking you in- it’s nice.

ᡴꪫ SUNWOO…. he wasn’t sure what expectations you had but you blew him away- literally though. he hadn’t taken notice of your size, too occupied enjoying your kisses and then the way your mouth sucked out his soul. in the end, he was too caught up in his haze to realize you were extremely big.

he ends up FEELING IT. the way you go past what he thought was your limit inside him. his wet gasps as you basically fill him up is your favorite memory. he gets whiney and loses his mind over you. definitely makes sure he doesn’t let your good size go to waste. lots of rounds.

ᡴꪫ NI-KI…. absolutely made it clear he was panicking. not with words, but with small whimpers and gasp. he’s already overwhelmed with how hot his body is- nerves making him overheat and it’s embarrassing because he wants to enjoy you. it feels vaguely impossible when he comes to realize your size.

you would never push him beyond his comfort. still, he doesn’t back down and takes his first, delicious breath when you fuck his thighs. it just felt so good to see you spill over his thighs. it excites him and it makes him eager to take you elsewhere for however long you can go. definitely breaks your stamina.

[marauder-misprint]

People watching

Part 1 Part 2

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

1.3k words

cw: fluff

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, allowing the sun to warm the grounds of Hogwarts. As if it were written in scripture, students were opting to lounge around outside rather than spend any amount of time inside. You had prepared a few snacks to bring with you while you attempted to study. You made it maybe fifteen minutes before deciding it was too beautiful of a day to be studying, even if you were outside. You wanted to enjoy it fully so now you were eating some of the snacks and people watching. 

You are fairly well entertained when you notice some movement near you. There’s a squirrel, twitchy nose and bushy tail, looking at you. Or, more accurately, the sandwich in your hand. The squirrel moves closer to you, approaching with caution. It was clearly ready to sprint away in a split second if it sensed danger. You pick off a bit of crust and toss it to the side of the creature. You didn’t want to hit it. That would give it the wrong impression. You smile as the squirrel quickly grabs the crust and immediately begins to nibble on it. You swear it looks back at you with hopeful eyes. You laugh and toss a piece further away. The squirrel goes to retrieve the new crust, eats it and comes back, the same hopeful look in its eyes. You repeat your actions, tossing the small crumbs of bread greater distances. You can’t help yourself; it’s just like playing fetch with a dog. 

From their usual spot near the Black Lake, the Marauders are also enjoying the weather. Unlike you, they didn’t bother to bring homework or snacks. James, Remus and Peter were discussing plans and details for their next prank. Sirius wasn’t listening. He had spotted you when they walked out and he hadn’t been able to look away. He was confused at what you were doing, periodically tossing something and laughing. He was too far away to see the squirrel. 

“Oi, Earth to Padfoot!” Peter all but yells, waving his hand in front of Sirius’ face.

“Huh? What?”

“Prongs wants your opinion on dungbombs or enchanted stink pellets.”

“But now I want to know what you find so interesting,” James says, trying to see what he had been looking at. 

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“It’s Dorcas’ friend,” Remus says, a smile creeping up his face. “The dog person, remember?”

James’ face lights up. “Still intrigued, are you?”

“Shut up.”

“Definitely still intrigued,” Peter confirms. “I’m not sure Padfoot heard most of our conversation.”

“I did so,” Sirius tries to defend. “I was listening.”

“And staring at her,” Remus adds.

“Have you considered, oh, I don’t know, talking to her?” Peter asks. “Or go balls deep and ask her out.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, turning his full attention back to the group.

“There was a moment at the last party. She was leaving and I basically asked her to stay and she didn’t.”

“Maybe parties aren’t her thing,” James offers, trying to be helpful.

“She did leave the other one right after she talked to you,” Remus says.

“Maybe it’s talking to you she doesn’t like. That’d be a first for a girl,” Peter snorts.

“We talk just fine!”

“Maybe you’re draining?”

“Wormtail, not helping,” Remus scolds him. 

“I’m again suggesting that maybe she doesn’t like parties. Or maybe it’s the Gryffindor Common Room.”

Sirius looks at James, a small smile forming on his face.

“It could be the common room. She was leaving the party and I convinced her to come to the Astronomy Tower with me. It wasn’t until I tried to get her back into the common room that she actually left.”

Peter laughs, “You took her to the Astronomy Tower? And you didn't snog her? It’s that your spot?”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “It’s a spot. Can’t say I own it.”

“You’ve taken a fair amount of girls up there though,” Remus adds.

“I went up for air.” The boys give him disbelieving looks. “Okay, and I followed her out because I didn’t want her leaving so soon. As you so kindly confirmed, I am still intrigued by her. Happy?”

James crosses his arms and nods. “Yes. Quite.”

Sirius looks back at you and his smile slowly turns down into a tight lipped frown. Some time during his friends’ interrogation, his brother had made himself at home next to you. Even as far away as you are, you’re obviously comfortable and happy in his presence. An unnerving feeling erupts in Sirius’ stomach. 

---

“Slug Club is having a cocktail party in a few weeks. Old Sluggy seems adamant that everyone brings a date,” Regulus complains, disgust dripping from the last word.

You chuckle, tossing the squirrel another crumb of food. 

“Salazar, Reg, you act like bringing a friend is the end of the world.”

“A friend, no. A date, yes,” he corrects you. 

“Same difference. Pretty sure Horace wants to make sure all his favorites are making the connections he wants them to. No one too sketchy and ill-fitting for him.”

Regulus groans and rests his forehead on your shoulder. You ruffle his hair affectionately.

“Does Slug like you?” Regulus mumbles into your arm.

“Enough, I guess. Not skilled enough in Potions or necessarily connected to anyone to earn myself a spot in the club.” You pause. “As you should know.”

“But if I brought you, he’d approve?”

You look down at Regulus. “You’re desperate for his approval?”

He lifts his head up just to nod it vigorously. His eyes are begging you to agree to his unasked invitation. You give him an amused half smile, your eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“You’re going to make me actually ask, aren’t you?”

You nod, not looking away. 

“Darling, will you go to the Slug Club party with me? If I have to suffer through it, I’d like company I can stand.”

“Oh, Regulus, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special,” you say with feigned sweetness, placing your hand over your heart. Then in your normal tone, “Yes, I’ll go with you. Please tell me I don’t have to dress too fancy, do I?”

“Uh, he didn’t say. I’ll ask.”

You nod and look bad to the squirrel. It’s been inching closer to you and your food. Regulus eyes the creature warily.

“Did you befriend that or something?”

“He’s just a little hungry.” The look of mischief in your eyes brightens. “Do you think I can get him to eat out of my hand? I’ve just been tossing him small bits but now that he’s closer…”

Your voice trails off as you break off a small chunk of bread and place it in the center of your palm. You flatten your hand completely and hold it out in front of you, close to the ground so the squirrel would be able to reach it.

“Ugh, please don’t,” Regulus groans, looking away from what he assumes will be some sort of disaster.

To his surprise, he hears you giggle and tentatively looks back. Your hand is empty. The squirrel is sitting back on its haunches, bread chunk in his tiny hands being nibbled on. You slowly lean forward and run a gentle finger down the animal’s back. It doesn’t seem to mind, but Regulus is fairly certain it’s because the squirrel is too preoccupied with the food you had provided it. 

“One of these days you’re going to get bitten,” he warns, making you laugh. 

“From my experience and from what I've heard, I’m more likely to get a bite from a classmate.”

Regulus’ eyes go wide. “Who is going to bite you?”

“Junior fully threatened to before he got together with Evan.”

Regulus makes a face and then you both start laughing. 

“I don’t think that will stop him if he decides he wants to. Evan might bite you too.”

“And maybe a hungry Gryffindor if I get between them and breakfast?”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “As long as it’s not my brother. You might get rabies.”

“Are we sure that Junior doesn’t have that?”

“No.”

You start laughing harder than before. Somehow during your entire time outside, you never looked in Sirius’ direction and never saw him watching you.

tags: @2dloveshp, @yearninglustfully, @made-for-oliverwood, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @hisparentsgallerryy, @itsseaberri, @corawithfanfiction, @devilslittlehelper, @jllyunn

[blaire-apricity]

Hello I just wanted to say your a wonderful writer and I really like your fics and I just wanted to request for all the boys if you could some headcanons on how they'd react to a widow reader/MC like it'd interesting to think about a reader that actually was previously in love deeply with someone else and they got married to this person but due to some tragic circumstances this person ended up dying you can choose the cause of death whether it be an accident or sickness or something else entirely like how do you think they'd react to knowing that the reader loved someone else before them ? Like what if the reader is still in grief over there dead partner like they want to start a new relationship but they feel guilty how would they comfort them and such ?

Love Beyond Loss

ʟᴀᴅs ʙᴏʏs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ synopsis┆ : How would the LADS boys react to you still in grief over your previous partner?

ᯓ❅ ┆ tags┆ : head canons, slight angst, comfort & possible OOC

──────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫

Xavier didn’t mind that you’d loved someone before him; what mattered to him was that you were with him now.

What did trouble him, however, was seeing you still consumed by grief for your previous partner.

Each time he caught you gazing off with that same half-lidded, guilty look, his heart ached.

He longed to lift your spirits, to see you smile fully again, radiating like the stars he admired.

During your breakdowns or moments of doubt about your relationship, he was always there, steady and present.

“I’m here for you,” he’d remind you softly, pulling you into his arms. His face would nuzzle into your hair as he breathed in your familiar scent, offering you the comfort you needed.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

Being a widow didn’t bother Zayne; your past love was a part of you, and that only deepened his understanding of you.

As a doctor, he’d seen the weight of grief many times and knew how overwhelming the process could be.

He never forced physical closeness, respecting your boundaries unless you sought it or he sensed you desperately needed it.

Despite wanting to hold you close, he understood the importance of giving you space to process your emotions.

“Take your time,” he’d murmur gently, his voice soothing as his hand stroked the side of your head with quiet affection.

Zayne never rushed your healing; instead, he patiently offered the time and space you needed to move forward.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

It was selfish of him, but Rafayel couldn’t help feeling a pang of sadness knowing someone else had held your heart before him.

He had waited years—decades—for you, and though he wanted your love entirely, he knew better than to let those feelings cloud his actions.

At first, he struggled with seeing you lost in thought, your gaze far away in a place he couldn’t reach. But when he saw your grief—the tears streaming down your face—it shattered him.

His own selfish desires seemed trivial compared to your pain; he just wanted to ease the sorrow that weighed so heavily on you.

Though you were slowly moving forward, he knew it wasn’t easy. He admired your strength and vowed to support you through it all.

“I’m never leaving you,” he reassured you in a quiet, steady voice. “You’ll always have me.” His words carried the weight of someone who deeply understood the pain of loss.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬

Despite his arrogance, Sylus was surprisingly perceptive and emotionally attuned—especially when it came to you.

You couldn’t hide anything from him: the faint strain in your voice, the forced curve of your smile. He saw through it all, and that’s why you finally opened up to him.

Loving him felt natural, but guilt lingered, knowing a part of your heart still mourned your previous partner’s absence.

Before you even said a word, Sylus already seemed to sense your turmoil. When you poured out your feelings, his response was a soft, knowing chuckle.

“Why are you worried? You’re here with me now, aren’t you?” His words felt dismissive at first, but you soon realized it wasn’t indifference—it was certainty.

──────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

╰｡ Author's Note: This took me a while to fulfill- Aaaahhh. I've been spending time with my friends during my free time that I couldn't find much time (and motivation) to write. ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) Also thank you for the compliment! I also found out that you've taken a hiatus, I hope everything goes well over there! (૭ ｡•̀ ᵕ •́｡ )૭

To anyone that's interested, here's the link to mentioning list. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

╰｡ Tagging: . ݁˖ . ݁ slitheringwaves . ݁˖ . ݁ @clairestella

[daisymbin]

6. "your hands are freezing—here, take mine."

shy soonyoung initiating physical affection with the reader. maybe even also offers his jacket and scarf :’) he’s so loving

ahh!!! I love this!!@!!

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // soonyoung's m.list

fluff prompt #6: "your hands are freezing—here, take mine."

the night air was crisp, with a light dusting of snow falling from the sky. it wasn’t too cold, but the wind had a biting chill to it, the kind that sneaks under your coat and makes your skin tingle. soonyoung had suggested a walk to clear his head, and of course, you agreed—partly because you loved spending time with him and partly because it was a quiet, peaceful evening.

the two of you walked side by side, the world around you blanketed in white. the streetlights cast a soft glow on the snow-covered ground, making everything feel almost magical, like you were in your own little bubble away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

as you strolled along, the sound of your boots crunching in the snow was the only noise that filled the silence. soonyoung was babbling away about something, his usual energetic self, but your mind wandered to the beauty of the moment. the way his voice seemed to fill the quiet air, how the snowflakes dusted his hair, the way he smiled that smile you always loved.

and then, one snowflake drifted down and landed gently on his cheek. you couldn’t help but laugh, reaching out to brush it away before he noticed.

“hey, a snowflake just landed on your cheek,” you said, your fingers lightly brushing against his skin as you wiped it away. the warmth of his skin against the cold of your hands made your heart flutter unexpectedly. something about this is just so... intimate.

soonyoung blinked in surprise at your touch, a slight flush appearing on his face. “thanks,” he said softly, his smile turning shy. “you’re always looking out for me, huh?”

“it’s nothing,” you replied with a teasing grin, though you were secretly happy at the way his smile seemed to grow even brighter. “just thought you’d want to stay snowflake-free.”

“hey,” he said suddenly, his voice a little softer than usual. he glanced over at you, his expression gentle. “your hands are freezing.”

you laughed awkwardly, trying to shake the cold off. “it’s fine,” you said, trying to downplay it. “just a little cold. nothing to worry about.”

but soonyoung didn’t seem convinced. he stopped walking and turned to face you, his brows furrowed in concern. “no, it’s not fine,” he insisted. “you’re really cold.”

before you could protest, he reached out and gently took your hand in his, wrapping his fingers around yours, his warmth quickly enveloping you. you felt your heart skip a beat at the touch, your breath catching in your throat.

“soonyoung—” you started, but he cut you off, his voice serious yet soft.

“your hands are freezing,” he repeated, his grip tightening just slightly. “here, take mine.”

you looked up at him, his face inches from yours, the warmth from his hand spreading through you. his eyes were soft, filled with a quiet affection that made your heart flutter. you hadn’t expected him to be this caring—this gentle—but you were grateful, more than you could put into words.

“are you sure?” you asked, still a little hesitant.

“yeah,” he said with a small, confident grin, though there was a softness in his eyes. “i don’t mind.”

you hesitated for a moment longer before letting your fingers curl around his, allowing him to hold your hand fully. the contrast between his warmth and your cold skin made everything feel different.

as you walked side by side, hand in hand, a comfortable silence settled over the two of you. the snowflakes fell gently around you, and the city seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this small, quiet world.

soonyoung’s voice broke the silence, soft but earnest. “you always do this, don’t you? act like nothing’s wrong when it’s obvious you’re freezing.”

you shrugged, a little sheepish. “i don’t want to bother anyone,” you said quietly. “it’s not a big deal.”

“it is,” he insisted. “it’s always a big deal when you’re not taking care of yourself. and when you don’t let anyone else take care of you.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words, something about the way he said them made you feel like he was talking about more than just the cold. you stole a glance at him, his eyes focused ahead, but his fingers were still wrapped around yours, holding you close.

“you’re really kind,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

soonyoung chuckled softly, glancing at you. “only because it’s you,” he said with a playful grin. “i mean, who else would i do this for? you’re my favorite person.”

your heart melted at his words, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with his hand. you couldn’t help but smile back, your fingers squeezing his gently.

“you’re my favorite person, too,” you murmured, feeling the honesty in your words.

soonyoung’s smile softened, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. “good,” he said quietly. “because you’re mine. i hope you know that.”

you looked up at him, your heart racing a little faster at the sincerity in his voice. the moment felt like it stretched on forever, just the two of you, wrapped up in each other’s company, in the warmth of his touch and the quiet snow falling around you.

“soonyoung…” you began, I love you, you want to say, but he cut you off with a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“i know,” he said softly. “i know.” he knows.

[austinbutlerslovers]

Behind the Scenes

Label Mature 18+

Summary You’ve never been able to contain your jealousy when it comes to Austin. So when he shoots an intimate scene as Feyd Rautha with his female co-star, your jealousy simmers just beneath the surface, before burning behind the scenes.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 jealous passion • make it better • oral on fem • claiming • P in V • sex against a mirror •orgasms• cream pie 🔗Master List

📖 Proofreader @purejasmine 💭Plot inspired by @psycheetamore 💕

Behind the Scenes

You had never doubted Austin’s love for you—not really. But being in a relationship with someone so effortlessly magnetic, so achingly handsome and charming, came with its own share of insecurities. His fame was undeniable; his talent, unmatched. But what haunted you the most was how he managed to flirt without even trying. 

The way he held eye contact just a second too long, his easy smile, and the way his voice dipped into a tone that made every word sound like a secret—it wasn’t deliberate, you knew, but it still drove you crazy.

Especially when it came to other women.

Especially when those women were stunning celebrities who practically melted under his gaze.

Lea Seydoux is no exception. You’ve seen her work, admired her elegance and wit from afar, but now, watching her with him on set is unbearable. You can’t help but feel like an outsider—like you’re watching two people who fit better together than you and Austin ever could.

The scene between them is intense. Austin, fully transformed into Feyd Rautha, stands behind her—Lady Fenring—his knife pressed against her throat as he whispers into her ear. His menace is undeniable, his brooding presence intoxicating, and you can’t deny how convincing Austin is in the role. But when she leads him to the next room to continue the scene, something inside you twists.

He follows her through the doors as she sits on the bed, the scene unfolding like a deadly dance. She perches on the edge of the futuristic bed, her movements precise, calculating, the perfect Bene Gesserit.

“Kneel,” Lea commands, her voice laced with quiet authority, and Austin obeys without hesitation. He sinks gracefully to his knees, his sharp, predatory energy tempered into dangerous submission.

Your eyes narrow as they lean toward each other, their faces inches apart. The tension between them is unbearable, the kind of chemistry that makes your envy uncontrollable. You can’t tear your eyes away. It looks like they are about to kiss—a slow, inevitable collision—until Lea breaks the moment with her next line.

“Put your hand in the box,” she says, her voice low, her French accent only adding to the sensual edge of the scene.

In her lap is cradled the prop of the “Jom Gabbar,” the iconic Bene Gesserit pain box. In her other hand, she holds a needle poised near his neck. The camera zooms in, capturing the dangerous intimacy between them, the way Feyd’s defiance melts into reluctant obedience as he extends his hand.

“Cut!” the director finally calls, breaking the spell. But the tension between them is too real, too raw, and even though the cameras aren’t rolling, it doesn’t stop.

Lea laughs at something Austin says, her fingers lightly brushing his chest. He grins with his blackout smile, the inky darkness of his teeth making the gesture both unnerving and magnetic, as he leans closer to her. The ease between them lights a fire in your stomach. The kind of fire that burns and sears and leaves nothing but jealous ash in its wake.

By the time the filming for the day ends, you are brimming with resentment. You sit with Austin in his trailer, your thoughts racing, your chest tight with the weight of everything you’ve seen.

He emerges from the shower, his hair damp and slicked back. A towel hangs low around his hips, exposing the sharp lines of his torso, every muscle carved and glistening. The pale body paint of Feyd has been rinsed clean, but the intense persona lingers.

“You’re mad,” he says, tilting his head as he studies your expression. His voice is low and commanding. “Let me guess. Lea?”

“Don’t say her name like that,” you snap, crossing your arms. “I saw the way she was touching you, Austin. The way you were looking at her.”

He smirks, leaning casually against the doorframe, every bit the picture of arrogance. “I was acting, but perhaps my talent is something you can’t discern yet,” he says, his tone dripping with mockery, the smirk on his lips daring you to argue.

“You weren’t acting when the cameras were off,” you shoot back, your voice laced with frustration and something sharper—hurt.

His smirk deepens, infuriatingly slow. “You’re jealous,” he says, the words rolling off his tongue like a quiet taunt.

“Of course I’m jealous!” you blurt, stepping closer. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, watching everyone throw themselves at you? And you—you just… let them.”

His eyes flicker, cool and unreadable, and for a moment, he says nothing. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he gestures toward the chair beside you. “Sit.”

You bristle at his tone, crossing your arms. “No.”

“Sit,” he repeats, his voice sharper now, and it isn’t a request, Austin is being uncharacteristically insistent.

Instead of obeying, you turn your back on him, shaking your head. “I’m not doing this,” you say, your voice laced with frustration and defiance.

Before you can walk away, you feel him move behind you, his presence looming, suffocating. His hands come to your shoulders, firmly stopping you in your tracks. Slowly, his fingers slide down your arms, sensually grazing your skin in a way that makes your breath catch.

His voice is low and commanding as it brushes against your ear. “Don’t walk away from me,” he whispers, the edge in his tone unmistakable. “Not when you’re unsettled like this.”

You try to shrug him off, but his grip tightens as he steps closer, his chest brushing your back. His hand slides up, tilting your chin so you’re forced to look at the full-length mirror in front of you.

“Look at yourself,” he says, his reflection towering over yours, his eyes locking onto yours in the glass. His hand stays on your chin, keeping you in place. “Do you see what I see?”

You swallow hard, your heart racing as his words settle over you. The intensity in his eyes, the dominance in his stance—it’s Feyd, unmistakably. But somewhere beneath the surface, there’s still Austin, the man who always seems to unravel you with a single glance.

“Do you think I would let anyone ruin what is mine?” he asks, his voice a low rasp that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand moves from your chin to your waist, pulling you back against him. “Answer me.”

Your breath catches, your reflection betraying every crack in your composure. The line between Austin and Feyd blurs, their edges indistinguishable in his gaze. “Austin, stop it. You’re not—”

“Not what?” he interrupts smoothly, his lips brushing your ear, his voice low, almost dangerous, sending a shiver racing down your spine.

He trails a finger down your throat, slow and deliberate, the weight of his touch making you swallow hard. It’s as if he’s still lost in the scene, his intensity blurring the line between acting and reality. Instead of a knife, his hand moves lower, settling over your chest, his palm cupping your breast, his fingers kneading it gently.

“Is this what you want?” he rasps in your ear, his words dripping with wicked intent. His eyes lock onto yours in the mirror, his piercing gaze daring you to look away.

His mouth presses against your neck, and when his tongue flicks out, you catch it in the mirror—his slow, deliberate lick up the column of your throat.

He makes sure you see it, makes sure you feel every inch of his dominance as his tongue drags along your skin in a way that leaves you trembling.

Your breath comes out in a shallow gasp as he presses closer, his body aligning with yours, the hardness of his need for you unmistakable.

“Tell me,” he whispers against your ear, his voice like a dark secret, “tell me that you want me to kneel for you,” he rasps, smooth and tantalizing.

His lips brush the shell of your ear as he lingers, letting his words settle deep in your chest.

“Austin—” you manage, but his name comes out more like a gasp, stunned and unsteady. Your mind spins, caught between disbelief and the undeniable heat coursing through you.

Austin steps around to face you, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes dark with intent. His hands slide up your sides, grazing the curves of your breasts before lifting your shirt up and over your head.

Your breath hitches as his tongue darts out, licking a slow stripe along the valley between your breasts before his hands slide up to cupping them. His lips close around one nipple, sucking gently but firmly. The heat of his mouth sending a jolt through you, your body responding instantly.

His eyes flick up, catching yours, watching every shift in your expression as he works, his tongue teasing one sensitive peak before moving to the other, the intensity in his gaze holding you captive.

Then slowly, deliberately, he sinks to his knees before you, his movements fluid and commanding. Your eyelids flutter as you feel him hook his fingers into the waistband of your leggings.

With practiced ease, he slides them down along with your panties, the cool air of the trailer brushing against your heated skin as you step out of the fabric.

Without hesitation, his hands cup the back of your thighs, pulling you flush against his mouth. Your knees nearly buckle as his tongue meets you, hot and insistent. All you can do is watch in the mirror, your reflection a blur of flushed skin and trembling limbs as he devours you hungrily. The obscene, wet sounds of his movements fill the room, his mouth working you over with a precision that makes your head spin.

Your hand finds its way to his hair, gripping tightly as your mouth falls open in a silent cry. He flicks his tongue against your clit mercilessly, the rhythm relentless until the pressure inside you builds into something you can’t contain. His hands slide up your thighs, gripping your waist as he looks up at you. The sight of him, his face buried between your legs too much to bear.

Your voice chokes off, your body shuddering as the wave of your orgasm crashes over you. He stays with you through it, his mouth slowing but never stopping until the last moan from your lips fades. Then, with maddening calmness, he wipes his face along your thigh, his teeth grazing the soft flesh there as he nips at you, leaving a faint mark.

Standing slowly, he towers over you, his presence consuming as he turns you, pressing you face-first against the full-length mirror. The cool glass against your heated skin makes you shiver, but his body is there behind you, warm and solid.

His hand slides down, loosening the front of his towel before letting it drop to the floor. You barely have time to process the sight of him before you feel the insistent head of his cock slipping against your wetness, poised to enter you.

“Now,” he says, his voice low and raspy, the hunger in his tone unmistakable as your eyes meet in the mirror. “Let me show you exactly who I belong to.”

His hands grip your waist firmly as he thrusts into you, hard and powerful, the force of it stealing the air from your lungs. You moan, your palms pressing against the cool glass for balance as he sets a relentless pace in you. It is overwhelming and intoxicating—there’s something darker, more commanding in his movements, and you savor every second of it.

“Tell me how much you like it” he rasps his hips snapping harder with each deep driving thrust, his body unyielding as he pushes you further into the mirror.

“Yes, F—Austin,” you moan, your voice breathless, trembling under the pressure. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”

His abs flex with each thrust, his body relentless as his thighs clap against the back of yours the sound echoing in the space.

His hand tangles in your hair, tugging with just enough force to pull your head back. “Look at yourself,” he demands, his voice rough with exertion. “Watch what I do to you.”

Your eyes flick to the mirror, the sight of him behind you—his body moving with raw power—sending a new wave of pleasure crashing over you. The intensity is too much, the rhythm of his hips, the pull of his hand, the way his cock hits that perfect spot inside you again and again.

Your body trembles as you close your eyes, giving in to the overwhelming sensations as you cry out, your release washing over you in waves. He doesn’t slow, his movements coaxing every last contraction from you as his grip on your waist tightens, lingering as you orgasm completely.

His pace falters slightly as his control slips, his breaths turning into deep, guttural grunts thrusting harder and faster chasing his release until you feel the unmistakable twitch of his cock inside you.

A groan rips from his chest, low and primal, his hips pressing flush against yours as his release spills, filling you completely. His fingers dig into your waist, anchoring himself in the intensity of the moment as the warmth of him come spreads between you. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, his features softening in pleasure before his piercing gaze finds yours in the mirror again.

He slows his movements, pulling back to slip his satisfied cock from you, and his hands slide to your hips, steadying you as he turns you around to face him. His breaths are uneven, ghosting against your lips as his piercing gaze roams over your face. He takes in every detail—the flush of your cheeks, the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, and your eyes filled with pleasure.

His thumb brushes along your jawline, the roughness of his touch grounding you further as a grin tugs at the corners of his lips.

“You’re even jealous of your own reflection,” he teases, his voice still rough from exertion.

You laugh, the sound soft and breathless as your hand rests gently against his jaw, your thumb brushing over his skin.

“I can’t help it,” you murmur, your voice filled with honesty. “You’re so special to me, Austin. Sometimes, it scares me.”

His grin softens into something warmer, more vulnerable, as his hands slide up to cup your face. “And you’re special to me,” he says, his voice quieter now, the rasp fading into sincerity. “More than you’ll ever know. No one else could ever make me feel the way you do.”

You lean into him, your cheek resting against his chest as his strong arms wrap around you, holding you close. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothes you as you let his words sink in, grounding you in the connection that only the two of you share. In his embrace, everything else melts away, leaving only the undeniable bond between you.

⚔️ End 🎬

🔗 Master List

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[oopsiedaisiesbaby]

All I need in my life is a little ficlet about the boys playfully wrestling and then halfway through the wrestling turns slightly homoerotic and then fully erotic and afterwards they both realize that maybe they aren't as straight as they thought they were

Ahhh what a fun prompt 😍 Hope this fits what you were looking for! I tried to reign myself in but we still ended up at about 1K����

“Oh really?” John huffed disbelievingly, pushing at Gale’s shoulder forcing him to catch himself on the ground.

Gale scoffed, straightening up before shoving John hard enough to knock him over onto his side in the grass.

“Really, really,” Gale responded smugly.

Squawking, John scrambled onto his knees and used both hands to shove Gale onto his back. What he hadn’t planned for was Gale grabbing him by the lapels and dragging him with him.

They both let out shocked exhales as John fell on top of Gale, knocking the breath out of both of them. Before John could even think, Gale was elbowing him in the side and using the surprise to roll them over.

He looked way too proud of himself sat astride John’s hips. John pinched his thigh, taking the momentum of Gale’s flinch to grab him by the hips and roll them over so that John was hovering over him, cradled between his thighs.

Gale laughed, loud and bright, into the night air and John couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face at the uninhibited sound. He frantically tried to grab Gale’s wrists but Gale slipped him and tweaked his nipple hard enough to have him grunting in pain. John suddenly found himself on his back again, Gale huffing triumphantly as he pinned John’s wrists in each of his hands.

“Oh, it’s like that?” John asked, going breathless as Gale grinned down at him.

“Yes,” Gale breathed, his self-satisfied smile still in place.

“Oh it’s on,” John laughed, pulling at the grip Gale had on his wrists testingly, noting how his hold tightened marginally.

John relaxed for a couple of beats before yanking out of Gale’s grip, surging forward and tumbling Gale onto his back. Gale gasped, squirming and fighting back just as hard.

They laughed until they ran out of breath, rolling each other over and pinning one another in turns. John was grateful for the secluded empty field Gale had found when they had first gotten to base. If a superior officer saw them wrestling like a couple of kids they like this they would get latrine duty for a month.

When they couldn’t laugh anymore, sides too sore, their breaths turning panting from the effort, John tried to stop it once and for all, pinning both of Gale’s wrist with one hand and flattening himself out on top of him. Gale squirmed viciously and it happened to line them up in a way that was significantly more suggestive that John had been prepared for.

Between that and the way Gale crunched up to bite at his shoulder, John almost lost his advantage.

“It’s like that?” John grunted, chest heaving with the effort of keeping Gale pinned.

“Yes,” Gale exhaled breathily, twisting until he was halfway on his side and trying to get his leg around John’s waist.

John eased up just enough for Gale to get a leg free before using his free hand to grab Gale’s hips and flip him onto his front. Gale groaned at the handling, wriggling for all he was worth, nearly breaking free again.

Bracing his knees on either side of Gale’s thighs, John allowed himself to drop back down on top of him, slim wrists still encased in his firm grip. Gale’s squirming eventually canted his ass right up against John’s cock.

It wasn’t until that moment that John realized he was achingly hard, too caught up in roughhousing with Gale before. They both froze, holding their breaths as they seemed to run through the different scenarios. He still had time to play it all off, like he had something in his pocket.

John had never been a coward though.

“Like that?” John asked, voice thick in his throat.

“Yes,” Gale whispered, gritty voice rumbling against John’s chest where he was pressed fully against him.

In answer, John rocked his hips down, cock nudging up against the firm press of Gale’s ass. They both let out shaky exhales, but John didn’t hear a single protest.

He gave a few testing thrusts of his hips, Gale flexing and pushing back against him until they seemed to find a rhythm. John buried a groan into the crook of Gale’s neck, fucking against his ass with rough, desperate jerks as Gale’s quiet moans drowned out every other noise.

Tightening his grip around Gale’s wrists, John started to thrust even harder, fire burning low in his belly as his cock rubbed against the rough fabric of his army issued skivvies and slacks.

“You like that?” John asked, hips snapping frantically against Gale’s, burning at the way his elegant wrist bones twisted in his grasp.

“Yes! John, yes!” Gale groaned quietly, tugging at John’s hold, rolling his hips back against him desperately.

John released Gale’s wrists, tangling the fingers of their hands together as Gale shoved the other between himself and the dirt. Moaning raggedly, John squeezed Gale’s hip before biting into the smooth skin of his neck.

The whimper Gale let out was muffled and quiet, unnecessary as they were the only ones around for miles, but it sent the wildfire in John’s belly roaring until it consumed him. He felt himself spill in his pants, a needy whine tearing out of his throat as his hips stuttered against Gale’s ass.

He felt Gale tense beneath him, before they both collapsed together and John hurriedly rolled off of him to avoid hurting him. They lay there, side by side, panting viciously, hands still intertwined. John looked over at Gale worriedly, only to see him looking right back at John, every single fear reflected back at him in the furrow of his brow.

John knew it was wrong to do that, feel that, for another man. Sure, he had known Gale was pretty the moment he met him, but he had never thought of him like that. Except now that John had had it once, he didn’t know if he could ever stop.

The thought terrified him more than the prospect of flying into war

[suroweczka]

Would you still love me if I were an ant? Zoro x reader

Wtf did i write idk

Warnings: Other than being an ant (horrible disease, sending prayers to all affected) and reader being ridiculous and annoying, none, pure fluff😘😘

— The moonlight spilled through the window, casting a soft glow over the room as you and Zoro lay in bed. His breathing was steady, his body relaxed, and you could tell he was teetering on the edge of sleep. But you couldn’t let go of the random thought that had wormed its way into your mind.

“Zoro,” you whispered, nudging him lightly.

He grunted, barely cracking an eye open. “What?”

“Do you find me attractive?”

His eye opened a bit more, and he frowned, confused. “What kind of question is that? You know I do.”

You smiled softly but couldn’t stop yourself from pushing further. “Okay, but... what if I wasn’t me? Like, what if I got turned into... an ant?”

His brow furrowed deeply, and he tilted his head to look at you fully, his confusion now complete. “An ant?” he repeated, his voice a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

“Yeah,” you said seriously. “If I somehow got turned into an ant, would you still love me?”

Zoro stared at you for a long moment, then closed his eye and groaned, rolling onto his back. “What the hell kind of question is that? No, I wouldn’t love an ant.”

Your heart sank at his blunt response, and you sat up slightly, glaring down at him. “So you’d just leave me? Break up with me? Just because I turned into an ant?”

His eye shot open again, glaring at you. “How am I supposed to love an ant? You’d be... an ant! I can’t talk to an ant, can’t train with an ant, can’t even drink sake with an ant!”

“But it would still be me!” you argued, crossing your arms. “I’d just be... smaller. And maybe a little squirmy.”

He sighed heavily, rubbing his temple. “This is ridiculous. I’m trying to sleep, and you’re asking me if I’d date a bug.”

You huffed, lying back down beside him with your arms crossed. “Well, it’s good to know that if something terrible happened to me, you’d just leave me.”

Zoro groaned again, clearly trying to keep his patience. He turned to you, propping himself up on one elbow. “Alright, listen. If you turned into an ant after we’d already been together, I’d... I’d deal with it, okay? I wouldn’t leave you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “But if I was an ant from the beginning, you wouldn’t even give me a chance?”

He stared at you for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. “How the hell would I even meet you if you were an ant? I’m not walking around staring at the ground looking for bugs to date.”

You pouted, turning your back to him. “That’s not the point, Zoro.”

He sighed, sitting up and leaning over you. His tone softened, though there was still a hint of exasperation. “Look. I don’t care what happens to you—human, ant, whatever. I love you. I’ve never given a crap about anyone else like I do about you. You’re the only one who’s ever mattered, and you’re the only one I want to be with. But I swear, if you keep me up with more dumb questions, I’m tying you to the mast tomorrow.”

You turned back to look at him, a small smile tugging at your lips despite your grumpiness. “You really mean that?”

He rolled his eye, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, I mean it. Now go to sleep.”

You finally relaxed, snuggling into his chest as you felt his arm wrap around you. “Goodnight, Zoro.”

“’Night,” he muttered, his voice already heavy with sleep.

As you drifted off, content in his arms, Zoro sighed quietly to himself. “miraculously dodged a bullet,” he muttered under his breath before finally succumbing to sleep.

[majesty0h]

The virgin whore, the Imperfect God, Satoru Gojo. A character study.

From birth, Gojo was never allowed to be simply a person. Born into the esteemed Gojo clan as the first in generations to inherit both the Limitless Cursed Technique and the Six Eyes, he was not raised so much as he was cultivated. The clan's expectations—and indeed, the expectations of the entire sorcery world—shaped him into a weapon. He was trained to embody perfection, the Honored One who would bring balance to the world of jujutsu sorcery, both protector and executioner.

The Gojo clan's elders saw him not as a child but as a tool, a force of nature to wield against their enemies and a symbol of their dominance. Gojo’s identity was never his own; it was defined by those who sought to control him, though they could only do so at a distance. His upbringing denied him the vulnerability and connections that form the core of humanity. This isolation created a paradox: he was destined to stand apart, yet his immense power was meant to serve the collective.

Gojo’s unparalleled strength isolates him further with every loss, and his tragedies compound the burden of his existence. The deaths of Riko Amanai and Suguru Geto, his closest friend, left profound scars. Riko’s death, in particular, was a formative moment—his failure to protect her highlighted the limits of his strength at a time when he still believed he could protect everyone.

Geto’s fall from grace, however, shattered Gojo in a different way. Their bond was one of equals, the rare connection where Gojo felt understood. Geto’s defection and eventual death represented not only the loss of a friend but the loss of someone who could truly see and comprehend him as a person, not a deity. For someone who views the world from a vantage point far above it, the departure of his equal was akin to the severing of a lifeline.

Even the trauma of almost being killed by Toji Fushiguro—the first and perhaps only time Gojo tasted true vulnerability—left an indelible mark. It wasn’t just the physical threat but the shattering realization that even a god can bleed. Yet, Gojo emerged stronger, the experience reinforcing his belief that he could not afford weakness. He had to become untouchable, both physically and emotionally, to prevent such a near-death experience from ever happening again.

Gojo’s playful, irreverent demeanor is a carefully constructed mask. It allows him to navigate a world where people either revere or fear him while concealing the depth of his loneliness and internal struggle. His cockiness and penchant for flaunting his power are less about arrogance and more about finding fleeting joy in a life that offers little else. He chases highs—be it in battle, rebellion against authority, or pushing boundaries—not out of recklessness but as a way to feel something in a world where most experiences are dull compared to his overwhelming strength.

Gojo’s power places him on a plane of existence where interpersonal relationships are inherently imbalanced. He can sympathize and even empathize with others, but true connection eludes him. How can he relate to people when his perception of reality—amplified by the Six Eyes—operates on a different level entirely? His relationships, even with those closest to him, are tinged with an underlying distance.

This distance mirrors the plight of Dr. Manhattan from Watchmen, another being too powerful and too detached to fully engage with humanity. Like Manhattan, Gojo is everything and nothing: a god capable of infinite destruction or salvation, yet fundamentally alone in his existence. Both are slaves to their identities, unable to escape the expectations and responsibilities their power entails.

Gojo’s capacity for love is limited by the very nature of his power. Love requires vulnerability, an exchange between equals, and Gojo has neither. He can care deeply for his students, protect them, and guide them, but it’s a one-sided relationship. He sees their potential and acts as a shepherd, yet he cannot allow himself to rely on them or show weakness in return. This dynamic reflects his mentorship of Megumi Fushiguro. While Gojo trains Megumi to be strong enough to surpass him—perhaps even to end him one day—it’s unclear whether this stems from genuine belief in Megumi’s potential or a subconscious desire to escape the loneliness of his existence through his own destruction.

Do I think he loved Geto? Maybe. Do I think they were intimate? Maybe. As nothing more than a pantomime. He would give that to Suguru to make him happy, not for himself. That's what humans do, isn't it? They fuck, they whisper sweet promises under the moon. But it's just acting. Think again to Janie and Dr. Manhattan.

In romantic or deeply personal relationships, the imbalance is even more pronounced. How can a god love an ant? And how can an ant love a god? While Gojo possesses empathy and the ability to care, he struggles to bridge the gap between his divine existence and the human emotions of those around him. This inability to connect fully leaves him stranded, yearning for something he cannot quite grasp.

Despite his freedom to defy the higher-ups of the jujutsu world, Gojo is ultimately a slave to his role as the strongest. He cannot afford to mourn, to hesitate, or to show weakness. The world demands that he remain invincible, and he complies, suppressing his grief and humanity in the process. He cannot even die on his own terms, as his existence is too intertwined with the survival of the sorcery world.

This paradox defines Gojo’s life: he is a protector who cannot be protected, a god who cannot transcend his humanity. His strength is both his salvation and his curse, ensuring that he will remain alone until the end. In a world that demands his divinity, he is denied the freedom to be human.

[dunya11]

you hate this weather. its stuffy, humid. you toss and turn, unable to sleep. the mixed feeling of the heat and the stickiness overwhelms you. you couldn’t sleep like this, muddy heat engulfing you. especially when you’re the type to who has to snuggle onto something in order to have a genuine good nights sleep.

you rose up, rubbing your eyes as your feet dangled off your bed. you sat there for a bit, staring at your feet and your bedroom floor that was messily decorated with clothes. quickly, your moments of silence was disrupted by a loud thud coming from the inside of your apartment. the thud shaking you fully awake. you stayed sat for a bit, processing and wondering what might of happened only to nail it down to an intruder. you got to your feet, kneeling under you bed to grab that metal bat you have stored for safety measures just like these.

you poked your head out your bedroom door on the lookout. scanning the area around you before sliding out your door as quietly as you could. once you made your way to your living room something wet lingers on your feet. the moonlight that casted through your large apartment windows confirming your worst nightmare, it was blood. before panic took you into insanity you look up only to notice a somewhat familiar figure sprawled out on your floor.

a toned male body with long limbs and hair, you only know one man like that. your ex boyfriend: suguru geto

thoughts and questions overwhelmed your brain as you stood there, staring at his body limp on your floor and making a mess out of his own blood. he was wearing a black shirt and his usual black baggy tracksuit, both clothing drenched in blood.

this is not the man you last remember seeing. the last time you saw your ex was when he told you about his dream. a dream of a world of only sorcerers. when he first told you his plan you couldn’t help but crack a smile, assuming what he just said was some sort of sick joke. but he wasn’t joking. his face was still, his eyes scanning the muscles on your face as you slowly realised this isn’t some funny silly joke. it’s wasn’t like him either way to joke. to be honest, you hate yourself for not seeing the signs before, it was so clear. the man you once love twisted into this new man. a stranger. even though that was years ago, it’s no surprise that a figure you recognise so much, looks somewhat morphed. morphed into something corrupted.

you walked up to him, still holding onto your metal bat, ready to possibly strike at any given moment. you finally have a clearer look of his now matured face. his face structured and chiseled with his own unique dark touches. blood was dried up on his forehead, that seemingly coming from his head. his prefect silky hair you used to happily clean for him now clumped up with scabs of blood. you slightly kick his body, wanting to wake him up yet still cautions, the metal bat still in its position. his eyes open and you wish they didn’t. you wish he somehow got his eyes gouged out so you could forget the way they swirled in the dark, wishing you could forget how the violet hues left your heart in a trance.

you stayed firm all though, not allowing that smile you used to kill to see get to you. he’s a dangerous man, you remind yourself, you need to report this to the higher ups. come on, fight him, do something! yet you can’t, your body frozen. he watches the way you react to him, he studies your face. the confusion and distraught making his smile depend. that prick.

‘hey.’ your brows knitted together, his voice broke when he spoke. your glad it did, not being able to hear his full on voice because if you did you might of smashed his head with the bat. your grip tightened on your bat which immediately caught his eye, making that stupid smirk you always use to love deepen.

“why are you here?’ you raise the bat higher, as if threatening him to answer. a chuckle left his mouth, suffocating your brain further before he spoke. ‘what happened to hello, princess? i’m hope you don’t welcome all your guests with a bat in their face.’

‘you’re not a guest. tell me why your here before i smash your head.’ he jokingly rolled his eyes, his brain cooking up a reply that you already know it’s something to purposely piss the hell out of you.

‘i just wanna know how you’re doing sweetie. is catching up with an old friend illegal all the sudden?’ you don’t budge, not giving him the satisfaction of pissing you off. he finally speaks up again after a moment of shared silence.

‘so i uh.. got into a little… fight. look i know you probably hate me an everything but is it too much to ask if you could help me? like back then when you used to always heal me. forget about all this stupid sorcery politics… i missed you.’

you cannot believe the nerve this guy has. sneaking into your apartment, getting your floor and carpet soaked by his own blood, trying to to charm his way back to you and then ask for a free healing? it sounds like he wants his last kiss to be your bat. he’s lying, you know he’s lying. he’s only here to use you he doesn’t care about you. war erupts in your brain, his words entering your ears with swords, slicing any rational thought you have, but not all.

‘no you don’t. suguru don’t do this to me. your lying to me aren’t you? tell me the truth.’

his violet eyes examine your face, an expression you couldn’t read on his face as he looks down, lifting his shirt to expose a large wound scraped across his stomach and chest. it was huge, the blood still not dried, only bubbling and gushing out. you lower your bat, squatting beside his body as you watched the cursed energy swirl and twist his insides.

‘look i know you don’t trust me but… can you just help me? you’re the only person i know who can help me. just… maybe make it stop… bubbling?’

you look at his face, that smirk and cocky expression switched to now worried, scared even, his eyes bulging out like a loss puppy. you don’t know when the last time you saw him like this or if you ever have seen him like this. to be honest, it scares you. he props himself to his elbows and you put your hand on his chest, pushing him back to remain lying down.

‘just this once.’

——————————————————————————

a/n: every time i come here and write it’s when im suffering the consequences of going overboard on leg day

[aventurineswife]

Hello!! I saw your requests were open and was wondering if I could requests how the brothers would react to and treat an MC with chronic illnesses that cause them to need mobility aids like a cane, rollator and wheelchair to get around depending on how they feel (I mostly have to use a rollator and it's a pretty pink) but it also causes them to have dizzy spells really easily so they may have to randomly sit while out and about, leaves them with very little energy most days but they push through cause that's life but there's some days where the chronic fatigue and chronic pain keeps them bed ridden (and thus unable to attend RAD). I've been struggling for a year myself and I just really am turning to my boys for comfort. Even if you can't get to this or don't feel you can write for this I really appreciate just reading it! I'm excited to read more from you truly! Hope you have a good day!

“Rest Easy, Love, We've Got You”

Tags: Obey Me Brothers x Reader [Lucifer. x Reader, Mammon x Reader, Leviathan x Reader, Satan x Reader, Asmodeus x Reader, Beelzebub x Reader, Belphegor x Reader], Chronic Illness Representation, Disability Awareness, Mobility Aids, Fluff & Comfort, Slice of Life, Caregiving Dynamics, Emotional Support, Empathy.

Warnings: Contains themes of chronic illness, fatigue, and pain, Depictions of caring/supportive relationships, Mentions of mobility aids, Focus on emotional comfort and well-being.

A/N: First of all, thank you so much for your request! I really hope this piece brings you some comfort and makes you feel supported. I know that living with chronic illness can be really tough, but please remember that you’re strong, and you deserve all the care, love, and support in the world. I’m sending you so much warmth, and I truly hope you get well soon and take care of yourself! 🫂💖✨ Thank you again for sharing your request, and I’m wishing you nothing but health and happiness! 💖

Lucifer was never one to show his emotions easily, but seeing you struggle with something so beyond your control weighed heavily on him. His stoic demeanor often concealed the concern that lurked beneath.

When he first noticed you using a rollator, he didn't flinch. But the moment he saw the one you picked out, he couldn’t help but offer a small smile—a rare sight for the others, as if approving your choice.

"Let me know if you need assistance, MC." he'd offer, his voice calm and gentle. "You shouldn't feel the need to push yourself too hard." His eyes softened when you mentioned feeling dizzy or fatigued, a far cry from his usual commanding tone. He'd always make sure to walk beside you when you were out, offering his arm for support or using his influence to make sure no one bumped into you.

If you had to miss RAD for the day, he'd send you a tray of your favorite food, made with care. He'd also stop by with paperwork, though the way he would look at you was soft with understanding, as if telling you that his pride in you never wavered, even if you couldn't be there today.

"I don’t mind handling things here. Rest as you need."

Mammon, while initially unsure how to react to your condition, soon became your most fervent protector. He had a big heart, even if it was wrapped up in layers of greed and bravado. When you first mentioned you had a mobility aid, he was quick to say, "Oi, if anyone tries to mess with ya, you tell 'em I’ll handle it!"

He wasn’t always the most graceful about it, but his intentions were always pure. If he saw you sitting down because you were too dizzy, he'd immediately rush to your side, wrapping an arm around you to steady you.

"Ya don’t need to push yerself, ya know? Ye’re gonna hurt yourself!" he’d say, not fully understanding what it meant to push through chronic pain, but he’d do everything in his power to help.

He would try to pamper you on days you had to stay in bed, coming in with snacks, blankets, and random trinkets that he thought might cheer you up. "Ya deserve all the best stuff, so don’t feel bad about it!" he’d grumble, sitting by your side, even if he wasn’t the most delicate at times.

Leviathan was the type to do a lot of thinking and worrying in silence, so it took him some time to come to terms with how to best support you. His first instinct was to ask you if you needed help, but his anxiety often made him second-guess himself. He was nervous about saying the wrong thing, so he focused on actions rather than words.

One day, you were struggling to get from one place to another, and before you could even say a word, Levi appeared with your rollator, offering it to you with a shy but earnest smile. "I-I saw you needed this... I thought maybe this would make it easier...?" he’d say, voice awkward but full of sincerity. "Y-you don’t need to go anywhere by yourself! I can help... I can even carry your stuff if you want!"

His heart would ache every time you mentioned a day when the fatigue hit you hardest, and when you stayed in bed, he’d be there with games, movies, and all the comfort items he could think of. He'd worry about you endlessly, but it came from a place of deep care.

"Please, MC, take it easy... You don't have to do everything." he’d say, hoping you knew you could rely on him for anything you needed.

Satan was one of the few who could immediately grasp the depth of what you were going through. With his intelligence and empathy, he had no trouble understanding chronic pain and illness, as he had dealt with his own inner turmoil for years. When you talked about your mobility aids and dizziness, he listened intently and asked all the right questions to understand how he could be of help.

"Your well-being comes first." he’d remind you, offering his support without hesitation. If you were feeling fatigued, he wouldn’t insist on anything. Instead, he’d suggest the most calming ways to spend the day together, whether it was reading or simply relaxing by your side.

If you had to miss RAD, he'd make sure to bring something comforting—be it a book, tea, or a quiet space to rest. He was always gentle in his approach, never pushing you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with.

"I don’t mind handling things in your stead. Take care of yourself, MC." he’d say softly, his gaze full of respect.

Asmodeus was quick to fall into a protective role when it came to you. He absolutely adored your pink rollator, often calling it "fabulously cute" and making sure it was always in the best condition. He had a tendency to fuss over you, but it came from a place of deep love and care.

"Sweetie, you must be more careful! I can’t have you looking so tired all the time, can I?" He would go overboard on pampering you with lavish gifts, massages, and all the luxury his power could provide. His eyes would soften every time you told him how much energy it took just to get through the day, and his heart would ache for you on the days you were bedridden.

"You deserve nothing but the best, darling." he'd say, fluffing your pillows and pampering you with as much comfort as possible. He’d always remind you that he was there to help with anything—whether you needed someone to talk to, someone to hang out with, or just someone to make you smile.

Beelzebub’s approach was simple: he just wanted you to feel as comfortable as possible. He was incredibly perceptive when it came to your needs, and if he noticed you were struggling, he'd make sure to do whatever it took to help. He was quiet, but there was a deep tenderness to his actions.

If you needed to sit down because of dizziness, Beel would sit beside you without a word, making sure you had a safe space. He'd always keep an eye on your health, ensuring you had everything you needed, whether it was food, comfort, or just some time to rest.

He was also the type to sneak in with snacks or meals when you were bedridden, always making sure you were well-fed and comfortable. If you couldn’t attend RAD, he wouldn’t push you, simply reassuring you that he’d handle things and give you all the space you needed.

"Don’t worry about anything. Just rest." he’d say quietly, always the gentle giant, putting your needs above his own.

Belphegor, ever the laid-back one, wasn’t always the first to jump into action, but he was incredibly in tune with your emotions. He knew what it was like to struggle with energy, and while he’d never outwardly admit it, he had a quiet, empathetic understanding of your chronic fatigue.

On days when you couldn’t get out of bed, he’d quietly slip in, laying beside you, offering his warmth and presence as a comfort. If you needed a cane or rollator, he’d be there to grab it without question, lazily moving about the house to ensure you weren’t uncomfortable.

"Don’t worry. Take a nap," he’d whisper with a sleepy grin. "I’ll make sure the others don’t bother you."

Belphegor might not have been as vocal about his concern as some of the others, but his gentle actions showed his love and dedication. He’d take care of everything else while you rested, making sure you had one less thing to worry about.

[elizabeth-holland24]

The Beast Within - Chapter 5

Days in the sun when my life has barely begun. Not until my whole life is done will I ever leave you. Will I tremble again, to my dear one's gorgeous refrain. Will you now forever remain. Out of reach of my arms. Oh, those days in the sun. What I’d give to just relive one. Undo what's done. And bring back the light. Oh, I could sing, of the pain these dark days bring. The spell we are under. Still is the wonder of us I sing of tonight. How, in the midst of all this sorrow, can so much hope and love, endure. I was innocent and certain, now I'm wise but unsure. Days in the past, I can't go back into my childhood. Oh, those precious days couldn't last. One that my father made secure. I can feel a change in me. Oh, hold me closer. I'm stronger now, but still not free. Days in the sun, will return. We must believe as others do. That days in the sun. Will come shinning through.

Flashback

The woods always felt alive, even in their stillness. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves, casting golden patterns on the forest floor. A young Mausi skipped over roots and around trees, her worn shoes crunching against the earthy path. This was her sanctuary, a place where rules didn’t matter, where she could dream endlessly and imagine a world beyond her small village.

As she wandered deeper, a muffled sound stopped her in her tracks. A soft, hiccupping sniffle.

Curiosity, tinged with concern, bubbled inside her. Who could be crying here, in her woods? The sound pulled her forward, her little feet quiet now, as if afraid to disturb the sadness lingering in the air.

And there he was—a boy, crouched by the base of an ancient oak tree, his head buried in his knees, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly. His clothes, though finer than hers, were dirtied from the forest floor. He looked about her age, maybe a little older, but it was hard to tell. His form was curled in on itself, as if he wanted to disappear, to fold himself into the shadows of the woods and never come out.

Mausi’s heart clenched. She didn’t know why, but seeing him like that hurt her in a way she couldn’t name. She wasn’t the kind of girl to ignore someone in pain—especially not when that someone seemed so lost.

She took a cautious step forward, her small voice breaking the silence. “Why are you crying?”

The boy stiffened but didn’t look up. “Go away,” he muttered, his voice raw and shaky.

Mausi frowned but didn’t leave. Instead, she plopped herself down beside him, tucking her knees under her chin. She wasn’t the type to be scared off easily, not by a little grumpiness.

“I’m Mausi,” she said cheerfully, though her voice was softer than usual, as if she knew not to push too hard.

Silence.

“My dad calls me that. It means ‘little mouse.’” She paused, glancing at him. “What’s your name?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled.

“Well, I’ll just call you ‘grumpy boy’ then,” Mausi said, crossing her arms with mock indignation.

At that, he finally looked up, his tear-streaked face partially hidden by unruly blonde hair. His green eyes, red-rimmed from crying, locked onto hers. For a fleeting moment, something unspoken passed between them—a connection neither could fully understand.

“I don’t need friends,” he said, his tone defensive but weak.

“That’s fine. I don’t need another friend either,” Mausi replied, shrugging. “But I’m not going anywhere. You look like you need someone.”

The boy stared at her, as if trying to decide whether she was a nuisance or a lifeline. Eventually, his shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and he let out a sigh.

They sat there in silence, two small figures against the vastness of the woods. The weight in the air began to lift, little by little, as the boy’s sniffles faded into the rustling of leaves.

From that day on, the two became an unlikely pair, their connection forged in the quiet corners of the forest where the rest of the world couldn’t reach them. The boy never told Mausi his name, and though curiosity burned within her, she never pushed him to share it. Somehow, she understood that names held power, and his reluctance was less about hiding and more about protecting something fragile within himself.

Instead, they created a world of their own, one where names didn’t matter, and labels were irrelevant. They met in the same secluded spot beneath the ancient oak tree, the one whose roots snaked into the earth like veins carrying the lifeblood of the forest. It was their sanctuary—a place where laughter, exploration, and quiet companionship thrived, untainted by the weight of expectations.

The boy was guarded, his words often clipped and his demeanour prickly. He had a way of snapping when he felt too exposed, a defence mechanism Mausi came to recognize as fear rather than anger. But she had a gift for disarming him. Her chatter filled the silences he carried like armour, and though he’d roll his eyes or let out exaggerated sighs, Mausi noticed the corners of his mouth twitching upward when he thought she wasn’t looking.

She talked about anything and everything:how her father was always building something; how she didn't have a mother, how she loves adventures and reading, hoping one day she'll get an adventure of her own, how in her village they made fun of her for being different. Her words painted vibrant pictures, filling their little world with light and warmth.

At first, the boy didn’t respond much beyond a grunt or a sarcastic comment, but slowly, the cracks in his shield began to show. In stolen moments of vulnerability, he shared pieces of himself—little glimpses into the life he kept hidden.

As the weeks turned into months, the boy’s edges softened further. He taught Mausi how to skip stones across the surface of the creek, laughing when her first attempts sent the rocks plunging straight to the bottom. In return, she showed him how to whistle using a blade of grass, their giggles echoing through the forest as they competed to see who could make the loudest sound.

Yet, no matter how much they shared, there was always a heaviness in the boy’s eyes, a weight Mausi couldn’t quite name. 

One day, as they sat side by side on the bank of the creek, Mausi noticed a scar running along the inside of his wrist. It was faint, almost hidden by the dirt smudging his skin, but unmistakable. She reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing against it before she realized what she was doing.

The boy jerked his arm away, his expression darkening. “Don’t,” he said sharply, his voice colder than she’d ever heard it.

“I’m sorry,” Mausi stammered, pulling her hand back. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s nothing,” he interrupted, his tone firm. But the way he turned away from her, his shoulders tense and his hands clenched into fists, told a different story.

Mausi didn’t say anything else, afraid that if she pushed too hard, he might disappear again. But the scar stayed with her, a silent reminder that the boy she called her friend carried more pain than she could see.

Even in their happiest moments, the shadow lingered. It was in the way he sometimes stared off into the distance, his brow furrowed, as if he were reliving something he couldn’t escape. It was in the way he flinched at sudden noises, his head snapping around as though expecting danger.

Mausi wished she could take that shadow from him, to make him laugh so hard it disappeared forever. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple. Some hurts ran too deep to be erased by kind words or shared laughter.

Still, she stayed. Because even if she couldn’t heal him, she could be there—to listen, to laugh, to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

And in return, the boy gave her something she didn’t even know she needed. For all his guardedness and sharp edges, he made her feel seen in a way no one else ever had. When he looked at her, it was as though she mattered—not as the village’s ‘little mouse’ but as Mausi, a girl who could climb trees and weave daisy chains and bring light into the darkest corners of the forest.

Together, they carved out a space where the weight of the world didn’t exist. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t without its complications, but it was theirs. And for a while, that was enough.

The rain came suddenly, drenching the forest in a matter of moments. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sky hung low and gray, casting the woods in a shadowy gloom.

Mausi clutched a bundle of wildflowers in her hands as she raced toward their spot, her heart pounding with a strange urgency she couldn’t explain. The rain soaked through her clothes, chilling her to the bone, but she didn’t care. Something felt wrong—terribly wrong.

When she reached the clearing, she saw him.

He was curled up at the base of their tree, just as he’d been the first day they met. But this time, his sobs were not muffled. They tore through the air, raw and gut-wrenching, the kind of sound that made the world feel heavier.

Mausi dropped the flowers and ran to him, falling to her knees beside him. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Are you hurt?”

He didn’t answer. He just shook his head, his hands clutching at the damp fabric of his shirt as if trying to hold himself together.

Mausi hesitated, unsure of what to do. Finally, she did the only thing that felt right—she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, even though she didn’t know if it was. “You’re not alone.”

For a moment, he stiffened in her embrace, as though the kindness was too much to bear. But then he broke, his sobs growing louder as he buried his face in her shoulder.

“I can’t—” he choked out between gasps. “It’s gone. They’re gone. Everything’s gone.”

Mausi didn’t understand what he meant, but she didn’t need to. She just held him tighter, her own tears mixing with the rain as she tried to absorb some of his pain.

For weeks, he didn’t come back.

Mausi visited their spot every day, her heart sinking a little more each time she found it empty. She left little gifts for him—wildflowers, pebbles, even a tiny carved mouse she’d made from a piece of wood. But they remained untouched.

She began to wonder if he was ever coming back.

When he finally did, he wasn’t alone.

Mausi’s face lit up when she saw him, but the joy was short-lived. The boy she knew was gone, replaced by someone colder, harder. He stood with a group of older boys, their laughter sharp and cruel.

“You’re here!” she said, her voice filled with relief. “I was so worried. Are you okay?”

He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “What, are you some kind of puppy?” he sneered. “I don’t need you following me around.”

The words stung, but Mausi refused to let him see. “That’s all you have to say?” she asked, her voice trembling. “After disappearing for so long?”

“I don’t owe you anything,” he snapped. “I’m not your friend. We’re not even on the same level.”

The boys around him laughed, their jeers echoing in the clearing.

Mausi blinked back tears, her heartbreaking in a way she didn’t think was possible. “Fine,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry I cared.”

She turned and walked away, leaving the flowers she’d brought for him lying on the ground.

The boy watched her go, his fists clenched at his sides. Every instinct screamed at him to call her back, to apologize, to tell her the truth. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“She’s better off without me,” he told himself. “Everything I care about gets taken away. It’s better this way.”

But as her figure disappeared into the shadows of the woods, he felt the weight of his words crushing him. For the first time in his young life, he wondered if pushing someone away hurt more than losing them.

A/N: Hey guys, sorry it took me so long to publish this chapter. Thank you so much for the love and support this story has gained. We got a flashback, wonder who that boy is. Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter, thank you so much for the love and support on this story again. Don't forget to comment, like and reblog, so I know if you are enjoying it. I think that's all. Thanks for reading <3

[darcytaylor]

I just saw the clip of the entrapment line Colin said to Pen again and it hurts. I hate that he said that to her so much, especially considering that Colin ruined her engagement and chased her carriage. She did not try to entrap him, and then we later have him taking about Pen ruining Miss Thompson, who is literally the one who tried to entrap him. Add in the brothel scenes and I am so disappointed with Colin in S3 😭. I know they gave him the lines at the end of the season but honestly that did not redeem him for me.

I totally understand why the entrapment line stings, but I don’t think it's as bad as it might seem. Colin had just learned about Penelope being Lady Whistledown, and he was clearly reeling, trying to process something he wasn’t prepared to handle. Do I think he truly meant what he said? Not at all. It was a knee-jerk reaction - an attempt to organize his thoughts while grappling with overwhelming emotions. All the while, he was just coming to the realization that he LOVES Penelope, so he was actually going through it. Was it fair to Penelope? Nope. But do I understand it? Yes.

I think it stings more because we know Colin doesn’t truly mean those things. He’s trying to hurt her because he’s feeling hurt. Is that mature? No. But it is human. In relationships, people sometimes say things they don’t fully mean or that come out harsher than intended. What’s important is how those moments are handled afterward. Does it reflect a toxic relationship? It could, but only if those moments happen repeatedly and there’s no communication or growth afterward. Colin came to terms with why he was feeling the way he was, and what brought him to say those things. Relationships aren’t perfect 100% of the time, and conflicts will arise. What matters is how those conflicts are addressed, and whether they lead to growth and understanding.

Colin was taking his frustration out on Penelope - not the best decision, for sure, and he could’ve handled it better. But that’s part of what I appreciate about Bridgerton. It doesn’t present perfect, flawless relationships. No relationship is perfect or flawless. Instead, it shows characters learning, making mistakes, and growing together. A relationship where everyone always says the perfect thing, always acts the ideal way, and is always the best version of themselves just isn’t real. I think that imperfection is part of what makes Bridgerton resonate with so many people. Even though it is a romance show and you want it to be perfect.

I will be doing a blog post in the near future about my thoughts on the brothel scenes!

[flowerwiththemachinegun]

So for starters, Sapphire is not my oc and I have nothing to do with the entire story except for fanning tf out. She and the story belongs to @sapphirothcrescent.

I super suggest giving Left Behind a read if you haven't. I enjoy the fuck out of it. Also reading it would make certain parts of this make more sense as I tried to incorporate the story, thus far, into it. (Mind you I'm at More than Partners {chapter 16}) also here are the links to chapters 1 and 16 in case you're the same kind of murderer as me.

The specific lines from that chapter that inspired this cute little smut thing was

Sapphire: "...Whatever we are."

Sephiroth: “Whatever we are? You are unsure?”

Let’s see if I can get this in one fluid go? Later the night Sephiroth couldn’t shake the thought of Sapphire’s uncertainty of their involvement with one another.

This wasn’t the same timid Sephiroth that was displayed to her the first time. The confidence he exhibited was breathtaking, Sapphire wanted to beg him to stop, Sephiroth’s relentless onslaught of pleasure overstimulating her senses. She knew he was strong, but hell, she hadn’t expected Sephiroth to toss her around so easily. Changing positions to anything he found fit, at times he just wanted to hear the different sounds Sapphire produced upon the sudden change of angle. 

Sephiroth was already a lot for her to take in and he seemed intent on finding new ways to drive himself deeper. One moment Sapphire thought he couldn’t go to any further depths, only to be proven wrong with his name leaving her lips in a jumbled mess. 

‘What has gotten into him?’ Sapphire’s thoughts run rampant, unable to vocalize any of them as her breath is taken away as she’s suddenly flipped over. 

The feeling of his arousal prodding at her entrance forced a whine from Sapphire, earning a satisfied groan from Sephiroth as he allowed himself to drown in her warmth, sinking into her completely. The feeling of her clenching around his length forcing Sephiroth to take heavy, shaky breaths. 

He wanted to ask if she was okay. Needed to make sure he wasn’t breaking Sapphire too badly, but the way she sounds, how she now reacts to every little touch as though she’s going to fall apart under his fingers. He loves it and Sephiroth’s been in a greedy mood all night. Is it wrong to indulge himself as much as he can?

“Aphelion?” Her last name rolling off of his tongue in such a teasing manner. 

That caught her attention, apparently Sephiroth had been speaking. That was certainly news to her. Pressing his chest against her back, whispering soothingly in Sapphire’s ear. “Are you still uncertain?” 

‘Huh?’ Did he really expect her to understand that? There’s no way he’s oblivious to the state he’s put her in. Fuck, he isn’t even stopping to let her speak. 

Sapphire’s only response was a needy whine as he slowed his pace, making an attempt to rock herself onto his cock to make up for the loss. 

It was an instant reaction to such a small motion, watching how needy Sapphire was for him still. The way her hips rolled back into his made him gasp. “You are mine.” The way he said it was akin to a moan, a coming of realization. Though he already was becoming more aware of his feelings. No, he was stating a fact.

Sapphire would surely have a stroke if she could fully see him. Lips parted, pupils completely blown in a way she had yet to see, face tinted red, and his chest heaving. She was almost too much for him to take. 

Now, that, she heard loud and clear. Realizing he was referring to her uncertainties on where their relationship lay. “Yes.” Though Sephiroth didn’t quite ask, nor did he forcibly claim. It was something that should’ve been obvious. They were lifelong partners. It was a factual statement. 

A simple reply, but Sephiroth picked up the raw emotion in her voice. Though pleasure was the number one feeling overriding Sapphire’s soul, there was no denying the love she’s developed for Sephiroth, he could sense the unspoken passion in her voice. 

“I can’t hear you.”

Oh he’s playing mean. He knew what was said, the way he moaned as she agreed to his claim over her let her know this. “I need to hear you. Say it again.” He was practically cooing into her ear. Swapping positions once again, pressing Sapphire on her back. 

Sephiroth is nerve-rackingly quick, the speed in which he was back on top of Sapphire, working himself into her with ease and changing his pace to one he was certain would make Sapphire far louder than she had been. Sapphire’s legs wrapping around him only encouraged his actions. So did the scratches she left along his back. “Please.”

Now he was the one whining, a hint of begging in his voice as he asked Sapphire for reassurance. And god did she want to give it to him, but she couldn’t even breath with how hungry Sephiroth’s actions were. 

Through pure determination Sapphire was able to choke out a few words, hands seeking out for something to ground her back to Gaia. Seeking refuge in Sephiroth’s hair, giving it a rather rough tug. “Yes!” It came out as a chant, like a small prayer, repetitively making it clear that she belonged to him fully as she reached another orgasm. 

Pulling out wasn’t too much of an option, not that Sephiroth even moved to do so. Reaching his climax and finishing inside of Sapphire shortly after. He didn’t think he’d want her to move anyways, as tight as she was holding on to him, maybe he had underestimated how strong his little one could be. 

Laying on top of Sapphire with no intentions to move just yet, crushing her with his weight once again. Sephiroth didn’t say very much, practically purring with his head against her chest as she played in his hair. 

The way Sapphire’s fiery personality sparked back as they laid there got a chuckle out of Sephiroth. “You know, you belong to me. You are the pussycat here.” 

That was fine with Sephiroth, either way it meant he was with Sapphire.

[fujoshi-yappings]

Ivan felt hands caressing his skin, soft but firm. It’s an unsettling contrast—the touch is gentle, almost caring, as if they’re trying to soothe him and make him feel safe.

Ivan knew better. He knew what’s happening to him. He knew who’s doing this to him.

It’s them—the kidnapper.

Their touch is unmistakable, yet Ivan can’t bring myself to push it away. There’s a warmth, an odd tenderness in the way they handle him, cleaning him, feeding him.

Ivan tried to resist the humiliation rising in in chest, but it’s hard. His body reacted instinctively even though his mind kept screaming at him to stay distant, to fight.

The sensation of their fingers brushing against his skin, of being fed and cared for like some helpless thing—it’s humiliating.

Ivan is fully aware of his degradation, but still, he can’t deny the strange craving that twists inside him. The craving for human touch, even if it’s from the very person who has trapped him here. Even if it's from the one who is driving him insane.

It’s maddening. Ivan should be disgusted, repulsed by every interaction, but instead, his body responds.

A simple touch, a tender motion—it stirs something deep within, even though he knew the intent behind it is sinister. The boundaries between what is kindness and what is manipulation blur, and Ivan hates himself for feeling this way, for needing it, for responding to it. Especially when he knows that this is manipulation.

But sometimes when Ivan felt more rebellious than usual, when he tried to crawl away from his kidnapper, there’s the sudden sharp sting—leather gloves slapping against his cheek and if the kidnapper was feeling playful, on his ass like Ivan's some sort of child that needed to be spanked. The sting burns anyways, and Ivan could only gasp, the pain forcing him back into his reality. Escape on his own is impossible.

He can't hear what his kidnapper is saying but Ivan imagined that they keep telling him that he should be a good boy and never try escaping or fighting their every touch.

Ivan assumes that his kidnapper is a man because he felt their cock on his ass everytime they assist him with his needs. There was something teasing in their touch whenever they help Ivan relieve himself. That's why Ivan is so certain he was not here for ransom nor because his parents made wrong enemies.

Ivan could feel the scars and calluses on their hands touching them gently, touching them reverently, touching them obsessively. It could not assure Ivan. Not when it's the hands of someone who fights and kills. He could still smell iron on their shirt whenever they had the idea to embrace Ivan and made him sit on their lap as their twisted way of comfort.

A needle pierced his skin, cold and clinical. Ivan thought that the syringe are like the ones used in the psychiatric hospital—something to calm the mind, to dull the senses. Ivan knew what it does, and he hated it.

Hated how his body betrays himself, how he wanted to slip into that fog, to escape the awareness of what’s happening. It’s a defense, a way to numb himself, but he also knew it’s conditioning, training his mind to fall in line with whatever they want.

Ivan struggled to stay alert, to keep his senses sharp, but each injection, each touch—it erodes his resistance. His mind fights, screams against the helplessness, but his body sought the need for comfort, for connection.

It was suffocating. Ivan felt that he was being molded into something he wasn’t before. His mind knew it’s wrong, but he can’t help but respond.

Ivan doesn't know how much longer he can hold onto who he was before. He doesn't know how much longer he can fight against the sensations that have started to feel almost… familiar and comforting.

It’s conditioning, Ivan knew. He read that once from a book. But he can’t escape how it feels. His body felt weak and vulnerable. He craves the touches, even though his mind fights against every moment.

A traumatized and kinda insane Till after r6 transmigrates into the modern world into a body of an heir to the criminal underworld. He sees normal student Ivan and kidnaps him.