#getting into it this gives you a special mental illness about it

[babyzzai]

hiii!! hewwwoooww!!! i weawwy loves ur hcs!! i juf found uw blog an i love it sm!!! i saw dat u make mostly lil!dazai hcs, but could i get lil!chuuyah hc?? if u not comfy w makin it/u no wanna do it, itz fine!!

little chuuya headcanons ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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i actually LOVE little chuuya. hes so special to me, but my favorite character just happens to be dazai which is why i talk about him so much, but i am MORE than happy to write babychuu!! :3

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headcanons below the cut! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ chuuya regresses to 5 years old! hes a flip with a caregiver lean! hes a very polite kiddo, and is honestly an easy kid to take care of. youd think with his confident personality when hes big hed be a bit more of a louder kid, but honestly, hes very calm and polite. he says please and thank you, he cleans up after himself, a very good baby :3

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ he LOVES those airbuds movies, i made a post about it around a month ago, those movies with all the golden retriever puppies, like santa buddies, spooky buddies, snow buddies, treasure buddies, etc. theyre his absolute favorite!! he gets so excited to see them! anything puppy themed is his go to, seeing as how much he loves puppies. i can also see him liking paw patrol, and hell get all excited and keep on saying "chase is on the case!".

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ he likes to go outside a lot! in the spring and summer hell play in the mud and get pretty dirty, but chuuya knows its not good to track mud and dirt and grass around the house, so hell allow himself to get cleaned up at the end of the day and then have a nice little treat as a reward :3

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ hes mostly verbal when regressed, hes not really a baby baby, moreso toddler/kiddo age, he can vocalize his wants and needs pretty well, but there are a few times he needs nonspeaking time, or help with big words.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ hes had a few caregivers in his lifetime.

♡ in the sheep, regression was common (i mean- theyre all kids having to act like adults with no parents, living on the streets. it makes sense that some of the sheep would use regression as a coping mechnaism). no one in the sheep really had a set caregiver, but shirase and chuuya were close, so shirase would babysit chuuya.

♡ then albatross was a caregiver for chuuya. ill admit i havent read stormbringer yet... i wanna but idk why im procrastinating 😭 i know a decent amount about it, and about the flags from fanfictions and just being in the fandom though. i dont think albatross really knew a name for what chuuya was going through, but i do think he loved and cared about chuuya, and understood he was traumatized and not doing well mentally, and figured it would make sense for chuuyas brain to seek comfort in a childlike way. he already viewed chuuya as his little brother, he didnt care what age that meant, he just wanted to be there for him! the rest of the flags would babysit for chuuya as well, doc would bandage any ouchies hed get and give him a lolipop to keep him from crying. lippman would love to dress chuuya in fun outfits, and vice versa. iceman would spend quiet time with chuuya and color with him, let him sleep on his lap, pet his hair and make him some tea while he drank his coffee (giving caffeine to a five year old doesnt go over well, lol, he didnt want chuuya too excited- that part he left for albatross lol). i hc specifically that iceman would give chuuya sleepytime tea to get him tired and to fall asleep lol, he likes a quiet environment, and though chuuya is by no means a rowdy kid, sometimes its just nice to relax with a sleeping baby in your lap! i dont know much about pianoman tbh... but he babysat for chuuya too!!

♡ i could see adam being a caregiver as well, and this is where chuuya discovered that what he experienced had a name- age regression. adam, being a robot, was able to inform and educate chuuya about it in a way that the sheep or the flags couldnt. chuuya didnt see anything wrong with it. from all of his life that he could remember he regressed, other people he knew regressed, no one had a problem with it, and if they did they could mind their own business, so help him, lol.

♡ and then ofc, dazai caregives for chuuya! whereas i headcanon chuuya as a flip, dazai is solely a regressor, and has problems accepting his own regression, but would take care of chuuya no questions asked at the drop of a hat. he knows chuuya would, and does, do the same for him, and theyre partners. having each others backs and taking care of each other is what they do. and if taking care of each other means watching paw patrol for hours, or taking chuuya to the park to pet some puppies, or cradling him as he falls asleep, drooling onto dazais chest, then thats what hes gonna do.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ the caregiver headcanons were so long... but its not my fault, everyone loves chuuya!! they all wanna take care of the baby!!

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ pet names!! i think chuuya would like to be called baby boy, honey, kid/kiddo, pretty common ones. dazai would ofc use chibi, mackeral, and slug, i read somewhere the hc that he calls baby chuuya neonate, which is the baby version of a slug lol, and i love that. adam calls chuuya very basic names, like sweetheart and honey. i like to imagine shirase calling chuuya little lamb, cuz they were in the sheep, and singing mary had a little lamb to him, and chuuya was the little lamb.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ speaking of the sheep, chuuya has a sheep nightlight. he uses it when not regressed too, because hes scared of the dark. it gives him nightmares and reminds him of his time in the lab. so his sheep nightlight lets him sleep easier.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ bed time is relatively easy for chuuya. hes an active baby, always wanting to get his hands onto a new activity, be it playing, coloring, tv, drawing, games, whatever. hes always a bit tuckered out by the end of the day and will easily fall asleep in his caregivers arms. he really, really likes to be cradled to sleep, or hugged in someones arms, because the warmth and safety of his caregiver's arms is a welcomed difference to the cold, loneliness he felt in the lab, or when he was afraid and breaking down all alone :(

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ chuuya is a trauma regressor (he is heavily implied to have cptsd, and i also headcanon him to have bpd). he regresses to cope with not remembering his childhood, and moreso from what he does remember of his childhood.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ chuuyas a bit of an older kid, and he doesnt usually suck his thumb, but if hes feeling especially nervous or had a bad day or is having a panic attack or flashback, i think hed start sucking his thumb for comfort (despite telling dazai not to when hes taking care of him lol). dazai never understood the sentiment of pacifiers, but he knew when he was regressed and sucked on his fingers, chuuya always made him sue a pacifier, so he thought in the long run chuuya would appreciate if he gave him a pacifier to suck on. chuuya accepts it, he has nothing against pacifiers, he just needs the sucking sensation to calm down.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ the baby loves cuddles!! even when hes not little, too, but especially when hes feeling small!! hell tuck his head under his caregivers chin and nuzzle into the neck, and he loves to sit on his caregiver's lap! and yknow whats even better than cuddles...? KISSES!! chuuya, the eversweet little guy he is, loves to give his caregiver kisses, and loves to be kissed!! he loves to shower them with kisses on their cheeks, and feels so warm and cozy when hes being put to bed for the night and his caregiver gives him a sweet, tender kiss on the forehead.

ugh i have so many more headcanons but this is getting really long... im so into little chuuya especially with the release of the stormbringer manga... like theres no way this poor child doesnt regress to cope ☹️ i lowkey had to remind myself not to make this caregiver dazai centered because im brainrotted by soukoku lol. hes there vaguely, but i wanted little chuuya to be the center of attention!!

[ithappensoffstage]

thoughts and prayers for everyone getting into mash because of thea

[gloaming-sometimes]

google: how to stop thinking about a new and extremely intense special interest when it is consuming your every waking thought

[hayatoseyepatch]

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Description: Getting kinky with the windbreaker boys. I have so many thoughts about these men and I just needed to get them out of my system. Characters: Toma Hiragi, Ren Kaji, Haruka Sakura, Hayato Suo, & Yamato Endo. Word Count: 2.2k Tags: fem!reader, brat taming, praise, somnophilia, edging, mommy kink, dacryphilia, consent non consent, choking, degradation, oral (fem!receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk.

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a/n: These are more like thirsts than headcannons but oh well. I might expand on some of these eventually and turn them into full fics if I can sit down and commit to it. It the mental illness, innit? Regardless, I hope you enjoyed these little blurbs! Special shout out to @foxyfiction & @to-eden for helping me with the prompts for some of these, you both are amazing. <3

I also have a masterlist now, if you’re interested that could be found : HERE

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Brat Taming

Hiragi had enough of you today, your skirt pulled up high, a constant switch in your hips while on patrol today with the Tamon team. Constantly teasing him, whether it was pulling him into an alley for an impromptu make out session, bending over in front of him letting him catch a glimpse of your already wet panties, or rubbing against his perpetually hard cock as you “just needed to slip past him real quick”. He was patient, tension building throughout the day coming to a fever pitch when you had both made it back to your shared apartment. He was on you in moments, lifting the back of your skirt to lay a harsh lap to you ass. Grabbing a fistful of your hair as he growls in your ear. “ I want you on that bed and I want you completely bare, do you understand?” He releases you hair, watching as you strip for him, climbing on the bed moments after you do.

Grabbing a hold of your cheeks with a rough hand he forces you to look up at him, eyes glazed over with arousal. Squishing your cheeks he props your mouth open, shoving a long digit past your lips. He grins as your mouth instinctively wraps around the digit, pumping the finger in and out of your lips, eyes rolling back as he feels your tongue wrap around the digit. Sucking his teeth as you shoot him a wink as he stuffs a second digit in your mouth. “Such a fucking brat, you know that?” He forces your thighs apart, free hand punctuating his words with a harsh slap to your dripping cunt.

His fingers sliding down, his fist two digits using your saliva that coated them to rub fast smooth circles against the sensitive bud. “Don’t forget your still getting punished baby.” He tsks giving you a sharp toothed grin. “Look at your pretty cunt, clenching around nothing, poor baby.” He coos, leaning down to your ear, lips grazing the shell to whisper. “You’re going to have to come from just my fingers before you can have my cock baby, think you can do that for me, hmm?”

Praise (Receiving)

Kaji had lost his temper once more, today a fight had broken out. One of the members of the opposing gang had harshly grabbed your arm, tugging you against him spitting extremities about the things he plandded to do to you. The words coupled with the fear in your wide eyes had Kaji seeing red. Completely blacking out in a fit of rage, he hated his, he especially hated you seeing him like this. The few times he had lost his temper in front of you, he ran, unable to face you. But not this time, you wouldn’t let him run from you. Grabbing the sleeve of his jacket you were quick to take him back to your apartment, silencing whatever apologies or exasperations with your lips against his.

Walking him backward toward your bedroom you wait for the back of his knees to hit the mattress. Pushing him to sit down as you climb on his lap. Mouths entangling in a heated embrace, clothes being pulled from each others bodies in a rush of passsion. Kaji trails kisses down your exposed body, lips wrapping arount a perked bud taking your nipple into his mouth. You rocked your hips against his, gronaing into the air. Your hands unfaten his pants, and with his help you pull his cock from his pants. You give him a smile, stroking his cheeks, eyes soft with fondness. “You're such a good boy Ren, always so good to me.”

You coo, the praise falling from your lips as you place one more kiss to his lips. Moving to grab him by the base, positioning him at your entrance, the desperate look in his eyes is all the confirmation you need to sink down on his length. You bite your lip, letting out a whimper at the feeling of his thick cock filling you to the brim. You tangle one hand in his hair, pulling lightly on his blonde strands, while the other moves up to his shoulder, nails digging into the skin. Pulling away only far enough to mumble into his lips. “Fuck, Ren.. Feel so good, you fill me up so good baby. I love you so much.”

Somnophillia

You wake feeling something warm between your legs. It isn’t long before your head is thrown back against the pillows you were once sleeping soundly against, voice crying out in pleasure as your boyfriend’s tongue draws slow patterns on your sensitive clit. You look down at him eyes lidded with sleep and now lust. “Haru.. what are you doing?” You mumble, blinking the sleep from your eyes. Between your thighs you can feel his cheeks heat up, a feirce blush on his features. He barely pulls from your cunt, mumbling against your center. “Couldn’t sleep, needed to taste you, ‘m want you so bad.”

He groans, hips rutting into the mattress, desperate for some friction to his aching cock. Any further arguments are silenced by a loud moan erupting from your lips, Sakura licks a fat stripe up your clit brfore reattaching his lips fully to your nub. He eats your cunt with such desperation, as if he needed to conume you to keep air in his lungs. His tongue is soon replaced by the rough pad of his thumb, head ducking lower to slide his tongue inside of your entrance, sliding against the silk walls of your pussy. He groans deep in his throat, the vibrations of the noise only enhancing the pleasure you’re feeling. ”Always taste so fucking good, need more..” He groans, pulling from your center, he slides up your body lips attacking yours with reckless hunger. He slid the material of his boxers down in one swift motion, grabbing himself by the base of his cock, collecting your wetness on the tip of his cock using it to ease himself inside your velvety walls.

He lets out a loud groan as he fully sheaths his cock inside you, head dipping to capture your lips with his own. The kiss is immediately laced with hunger, teeth clashing and tongues dancing in each others mouths. He pulls away, heavy breaths fanning against your lips as he sets a harsh steady pace from the start. “Fuck baby… can’t even sleep without you consuming my thoughts. Need you desperately… constantly.. feel like I’ll lose it if I’m not inside of you.”

Edging/Mommy Kink

You place a delicate kiss to his lips, trailing your kisses down his body until you were situated between his thighs. Looking up at him with hooded eyes from your current position. “You weren't lying baby boy. Look at how hard you are.” You grin, not letting him answer as you gave a few experimental tugs to his cock. Leaning up to lick a fat stripe from his base to his tip, collecting the pre come that had been steadily dripping since you had begun. Pulling away and leaning up once again, you grab his face in your hand, forcing his mouth open before letting your saliva mixed with his precum drip from your mouth to his. Placing a hand over his mouth, you lean down to his ear. “Swallow baby, I want you to taste us.”

You take his shock as an opportunity to lower yourself back down between his legs, swirling your tongue around his sensitive mushroom tip, taking as much as your throat would allow, hollowing your cheeks. Beginning to bob your head up and down on  his cock. Choji tugged at the cloth around his wrists, restraining himself as much as he could to not buck his hips. Failing miserably as his body writhed under yours He cried out as he felt your warm mouth around his cock, tears collecting by the corners of his eyes. Whimpers and cries falling from his lips as he found every ounce of restraint to not let his body betray him. The could in his stomach building once more for what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening. He didn’t want to fuck all of this up and receive punishment even further. “Mommy, please your mouth is so warm… be careful. I dont wanna come.. too soon.”

You grin around him, looking up at him through your lashes, nearly removing yourself from him before plunging back down, taking him until you feel him hit the back of your throat. You do this a few more times before pulling yourself off his cock with a 'pop'. You make your way up his body, getting impatient yourself, feeling your cunt clench around nothing. Straddling his abdomen, right above where he needed you most,  pressing your lips against his in a heated kiss. Desperately trying not to show that you were just as affected by your actions. You grab a fistful of his hair, tugging harshly, effectively separating your lips as you speak against his lips. “Tell mommy what you want baby boy. Go on, use your words I want to hear you.”

Dacryphillia

Each one of your pleas fog his mind with uncontrollable lust. Wram brown irises drowning in it. “So desperate for me already, darling, we havent even begun the main event.” He teases, directly into your ear, as he finally lines the tip of his thick cock with your entrance. Suo had been teasing you for what seemed like hours. Pulling orgasm after orgasm from your overstimulated cunt. Having made you come undone on his fingers and tongue several times, your pussy having felt desperatly empty without his cock filling you. He grins as you whine, his head just barely probing your entrance. “Please, Haya.” You whimper desperate for him to do something, anything, tears blurring your vision as they collected at your lashline.

“Please?” He tiles his head in mocking obliviousness. “Please what princess? Gotta tell me what to do or I cant help you, tell me what is it that you want?” He coos, free hand sliding up your stomach, thumb circling a pert nipple. Grinning he leans down tugging on your earlobe with this teeth, breaths fanning against your ear as he continues to speak. “Want me to fill this pretty pussy up with my cock? Feeling you flutter against me, whimpering out my name from those beautiful lips. Is that what youre asking for my pretty little bunny?”

He grins eyes lithe with mischief as you continue to babble, words coming out in a jumbled mess of pleas and calls of his name. Fat tears stream down your cheeks, desperation for him consuming your entire being. Suo’s hand coming up to caress your cheek. Thumb swiping at the tears that cascaded down your face. “Oh, sweet baby” He purrs, slipping the same thumb past your lips, letting you taste the salty wetness of your tears. “Crying for me already? We’ve barely even started.” He giggles, hips lurching forward, slamming into you to the hilt with one swift movement of his hips. Groaning as your back arches from the bed, eyes rolling back with a scream of his name being forced from your lips. “As much as I’d love to hear you beg for it, ive been waiting for too long for you my princess.~”

Cat and Mouse/CNC

Your breaths come out in heavy pants, your heart racing in your chest, your feet slamming against the grassy terrain as you run as fast as your legs can carry you. The shadow of the figure on your tail looming behind you. You pushed further, weaving in and out of trees to shake your assailant. The dark wooded area was easy to get lost in. You had only paused your running for a moment, attempting to take in your soundings, looking for a route to escape. Attempting to catch your breath, you were sure you had lost him. Just as you were about to turn on your heel and take off once more your eyes shoot wide, feeling fingers of a large hand wrap themselves around your throat. Your attacker using their grip as leverage  to shove you roughly against a tree, the larger figure looms over yours. Tattooed fingers squeezing just enough to make gaining air flow a bit difficult. Lips grazing your ear as he leans down to your height. “Gotcha~”

Endo’s piercing blue eyes lock with yours, leaning down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. Tongue invading your mouth, free hand coming up to cup your dripping cunt. Fingers circling your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. He smirks against your lips as you moan into his mouth. Pulling from you, he quickly removes your soiled panties, running his finger between your soaked slit. Bringing his finger to his lips taking in the way you taste, moaning around his fingers.

“Fuck doll, you taste so fucking good. Already so fucking wet for me.” He uses his thumb to force your mouth open, spitting a glob of saliva between your parted lips. “Go on babydoll, taste yourself.” He chuckles as you instinctively swallow, turning you in his embrace so your bent over. Flipping up your skirt, he leans back to take all of you in, eyes hungrily wracking over your exposed sex. Parting your folds with a thumb, watching as your entrance contracts around nothing a large grin splits across his face as he lands a harsh slap against your ass. “Gotta remind you who this belongs too huh? This cunt is mine princess.”

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Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! I already have a part two in mind for this, so keep an eye out. Until then, see you later!

[windydrawallday]

NOT OKAY TODAY / WORTHY

The comic I wanted to post was the last art of 2024, but because of a sudden power outage, it is now a hybrid that started the "past year" and finished on New Year's Day. The text is not mine! This beautiful poem belongs to the author Jarod K. Anderson, who writes about themes such as mental illness and how one can cope with the aid of nature's lessons. I found this poem on Pinterest when I was trying to distract myself from recent awful moments, and it resonated with me deeply. It reminded me how GOOD I felt when helping people I care about by listening to their doubts, when I treated them well, or when we shared ideas together etc. And it became MORE meaningful when I was the one in need of that help... and these people reached without hesitation 💝. You really get what you give! This poem reminded me my kindness is always worthy to be shared. I wished to portray it in the form of art for everyone who needed to read it too!

I hope this New Year brings more kindness to everyone 💞

Special mention to these peeps who brought me so many sweet moments, who let me be silly, who let me babble about art or vent together about adulting stuff: LUV U ALL TO THE MOON AND BACK AAA 🐾

@grinningghoulie @novalizinpeace @sildrae @ghostbulb @skullydrawsstuff @sug4r-melon @emisatea @frosty-tian @cometchasinglove @mariequitecontrary @spashahoney @nepetacataria-art @spiritshaydra @goobygnarp @ballpitbee @soothedcerberus @ninjakarkki @electricpez @akapen011 @lecanel @joonisstrange @tundra-tiger @lets-try-some-writing @myrablurple @ivycorp @confluencechimera @cerebrocentric-bullet @gelu-the-babosa-multiversal

IF I FORGOT SOMEONE SORRY! (... At which moment did this list grow? Life is made of many surprises)

[scientia-rex]

One of my patients used to be a Big Deal Specialist in the city and you can just TELL he’s SEETHING that no one out here is even qualified to understand what he did, much less how important he was. He’s also terrified of death. It’s both annoying and really sad. Like, sir, I hate to break it to you, but no amount of knowledge will protect you from the ravages of time. It’s a special kind of hell to know the stages of various fatal diseases intimately. What is it going to feel like when it’s my turn? How do doctors want to die? Suddenly, quietly. Slip away painlessly in my sleep. But how likely is that? Not very. More likely I’ll get cardiovascular disease or cancer, the greatest killers of our time.

He was so afraid of cancer he had an organ that wasn’t cancerous removed just in case. He talks down to me as if I’m his student, and who knows? Maybe I was. He was in the same city as me, and they were forever dragging Big Name Doctors in to teach us things. Maybe I learned how to elicit Achilles tendon reflexes from him.

But mostly I find myself a little scornful. Who lives without the shadow of death? Who doesn’t think about death all the time? When you die, life is a round thing, finished and whole. What will your life look like when God holds it in the palm of his hand?

Also don’t fucking call me by my first name unless I’ve specifically said you can. I don’t GIVE that permission to patients, except for my mentally ill trans and queer patients. If I wanted to be disrespected by an older man I would have married young.

You do not have time. This important doctor who based his whole life around his importance lived as rich and full a life as anyone. And now he’s clinging to it, leaving fingernail marks on the walls on his way out. No one has time. There will be a moment when you’re dying when you think, I would give anything I have to be back in that moment. Any ordinary moment. Taking the dogs out to go potty. Browsing at the grocery store. When you’re being crucified on a hospital bed, dying and aware of it through the morphine, you would give anything you ever possessed to go back and have one more agony-free afternoon. Sit on a curb or a stoop. Walk through a park. Hug your spouse. These tiny fragmentary moments that we are constantly sliding through, tobogganing past at high speeds, these are what will be our life when our life is over.

I am accountable to that self. To the dying me. What did I do with this gift and curse? I don’t believe in God, but I know that I will die, and I have watched enough dying people by now to know the kinds of things I’ll think about. I want to make that me proud of what I’ve done and how I’ve spent my life. She will be a harder judge than God, and I want her to look at this one little life and think, yes. I did what I meant to.

[itsjusthockey]

Hughes Your Daddy? - Jack Hughes

hahahaha finally

enjoy

request

If I get 10+ comments/asks ill make a part 2

Yes, that's me bribing you, I want more interactions

w.c: 3,007 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

Pt.2

The last few weeks of college are the worst weeks of a student's life. There’s nothing but studying, finals, and pure hell. Yet, when Ellen Hughes calls and tells you to get on a flight to Vancouver to be present at the Hughes Bowl, you fucking get on a flight to Vancouver.

The flight itself is terrific; you study a bit of your flashcards, drink some hot cocoa, and even get in a solid half-hour nap. You honestly feel a little sad when the intercoms go off, and they announce your descent into Canada.

The sadness washes away quickly when you clear the clouds and realize how excited you are. This trip, tomorrow’s game, is a very, very special event. Each Hughes brother will be playing on the ice tomorrow night, and you’ll be sitting, as requested, in the Hughes box overlooking it all.

As soon as the 737 touches down, you’re quick to switch your phone off airplane mode. You appreciated the few hours of bliss without endless notifications, but life has to go on. As soon as the iPhone gets service, a flood of messages rolls through. One from Ellen, to which you respond. Two from Quinn, which you answer. And 36 messages from Jack, which you ignore.

You should respond, and you will, but first, you have to get off the plane and find your favorite chauffeur.

Without further delay, you exit the plane, grabbing your carry-on and swinging your backpack over your shoulders. You smile at the few flight attendants on the way out and throw an extra thank you to the woman who gave you some extra cookies when she saw your flashcards.

The Vancouver airport is bustling, and you can’t help but feel the positive vibes radiating from the space. The entire airport is decorated for Christmas, and you’re reminded why it’s ranked one of the best airports in North America.

You make your way to the baggage claim, checking your phone to ensure you’re heading toward the right spot. You are, and while you’re walking, you pass all the cute little shops. You see a couple of little knickknacks, and you make a mental note to pick up something on your flight back. Now, however, you must focus.

The baggage claim area is pretty full, and you’re dodging people left and right. You’re unsure in the sea of people where Quinn might be hiding until you hear your name shouted from somewhere to your left. You turn your body, and there he is, waving a bit and standing with a small smile.

“Oh my god, is that Quinn Hughes?” You say in mock shock as you get within his earshot. “The newest captain of the Canucks and Vancouver's most precious gem?”

He rolls his eyes back as far as he can when you approach, but nonetheless, he pulls you in for a hug.

“Please stop.” He groans out as your part and takes your carry-on from you.

“Never.” You smile as he leads you out of the airport.

It takes mere minutes to get to the car, and you both catch up about whatever. It’s been months since you’ve seen Quinn, and whenever you’re with him, you’re reminded why he might be your favorite besides Ellen and Jim, of course.

As soon as you are settled into the passenger of Quinn’s car, he reaches back behind him and pulls out a small gift bag.

“Here, before I forget.”

You give him a questioning look, and he just gives you a slight smirk.

“Just open it. It’s more of a gift to everyone else.”

You squint your eyes a bit suspiciously but pull the tissue paper from the bag. As soon as you do, you see the familiar blue and white colors, and a laugh burst from your lips.

“Oh my god.” You shriek out, laughing, pulling the Canucks jersey from the bag.

You both immediately start laughing, and you can hardly contain yourself.

“Of course, you don’t have to wear it for the game.” Quinn says. “but he’s gonna flip if he sees you wearing it when they get here.”

You scan the Jersey and agree with the boy next to you. Your boyfriend is very possessive when it comes to jerseys, and he hates everything that isn’t red, black, or white and doesn’t have Hughes 86 plastered on the back.

“Oh, this is gold, Quinn.” You say, tucking the jersey back in as Quinn moves the car out of the lot.

“Ma and I thought so, too. She said it might humble him for the night.”

Speaking of humbling your boyfriend, you reach for your phone and go to text him back. You scan the many messages and roll your eyes at a few. Most of them are him just wanting attention, but the last one catches your eye.

we’re 2 hours behind ur flight. No fun or smiling before I get there

You read the text allowed to Quinn, who rolls his eyes at the statement, and you’re quick to shoot a response back, telling Jack that it’s too late and you’re having the best time ever.

————————-

As soon as you step through Quinn’s front door, you hear a happy yell, and Ellen is pulling you in for a long-awaited hug. You practically melt as she squishes you, and the happiest of laughs exits her.

“Oh, my sweet girl, I’m so happy this worked out.” She says to you, pulling back just enough to look at your smiling face.

You look behind her as Jim is standing nearby, waiting his turn. You give Ellen one less squeeze and then turn to the original Hughes and give him a big hug.

“Hey, kiddo,” He says. “Glad you’re here.”

As soon as you say your hellos, you move to get your stuff settled into your room. As quickly as you can, you throw your stuff down and pull on the New Jersey, making your way back out to the kitchen.

As soon as you enter, Jim laughs, and Ellen raises her hands to her mouth.

“Oh, Jack is gonna hate it.” She turns to Quinn and laughs, using him to steady her.

“Oh, we know.” You say, high-fiving Quinn as you grab a cup of some water.

As soon as you get your water, you all settle into the living room, and questions are flying left and right. You talk about school, work, and whatever else comes to mind about the time you’ve spent away from them. They hang onto every word, and you can’t help but smile. You’ve always been close to Jack's family, but when the one-year mark passed, it’s like they fully accepted you as one of them. Now, almost two years in, Ellen and Jim treat you like the daughter they never had, and they tell you often how much more they like you than any of their sons. You always laugh, but you know deep down that you are special to them. And that fact alone makes you consider yourself one of the luckiest girls.

“They just landed,” Quinn announces. “Almost showtime.”

Ellen winks at you from her space on the couch, and you settle deeper into the comfortable space, counting down the seconds until your boyfriend walks through the door.

—————————-

About half an hour later, you hear loud commotion as the door swings open and Jack and Luke enter the building. It takes less than three seconds for Jack to yell.

“Where is she?”

You laugh at him and yell back from the living room. “I’m in here.”

In mere seconds, Jack is in the room, making a beeline toward you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him in a month, and you won’t lie; he looks pretty good.

You make your move and step off the couch, going to hug him, but he halts in his place a few feet away, giving you a once-over.

“Get that shit off you.”

As soon as that leaves his mouth, everyone busts out laughing, and Jack gives you a less-than-impressed look. You feel a bit bad, so you give him a small smile and lift the jersey off your frame, revealing a Devils t-shirt underneath.

As soon as you throw the jersey away, he takes two long strides and engulfs you in a hug. You thought that nothing could beat Ellen’s hug, but Jack's grip nearly breaks your back.

You pull away after a second and pry him off of you. You love him more than anything, but you’re not about to show massive amounts of PDA in front of his parents, who are sitting a few feet away.

He gets this because he lets you go and gives his parents and brother a quick greeting, then leads you away from the living room. Everyone allows it to happen, and you find yourself in the privacy of the bedroom.

“You’re funny, but you better have my jersey for tomorrow night.”

You let out a small laugh and cross the room again, linking your hand behind his head and pulling him closer to you. His hands find home on your waist, and his fingertips dip under your shirt a bit, gently squeezing.

“I promise, J,” you grin. “I’ll do my best to show support to the losing team.”

He releases a soft gasp and gives you a slight look of betrayal.

“Losing team?”

Your grin goes even wider. “Check that stats, bud. You’re in a bit of a losing streak.”

He narrows his eyes a bit, and with one quick motion, he grabs your frame and tosses you on the bed. He enters attack mode, lays his entire weight on you, and begins grabbing at your sides. You, of course, go into defense mode and fight to push him off. You fight for power for a minute before you pull your defining move. He gets close, too close, and you give him your best doe eyes. The second he catches your stare, he folds, and he puts himself at your mercy.

For the first time in a hot minute, you pull him to meet you; the second his lips are on you, you implode. It’s been too long, and there is nothing more comforting and familiar than the boy lying nearly on top of you. You kiss him for a minute, your lips molding perfectly together before you pull away, gently patting his face.

“I think your family would like to see you.”

You push him away again as he rolls his eyes.

“I see them enough.”

He goes back to try to kiss you, but you push him away, putting a finger to his lips and shaking your head.

“Come on.��

He lets out an annoyed huff and removes himself from the bed, pulling you up along with him. You make your way back to the family room and laugh yourself into the family events.

Soon, you’re all playing board games, and you find out very quickly reminded about how sore of a loser your boyfriend is. You play board games cards, and when it gets late enough in the night, you all make your way to the living room for a movie.

You watch something light-hearted, and you can’t help but feel bliss as you’re tucked into Jack's side, surrounded by the entirety of the Hughes family. It’s a nice moment, and it’s the times like this that have you thankful you’ve stuck with the boy at your side.

——————

Before the sun rises, Jack's alarm blares next to you, and you can only groan at the noise. Alarms are truly nothing but an escape from bliss, and you wish you could stay forever in this little bubble. You’re warm comfy, and you don’t mind the boy you’re cuddled next to.

But alas, he is a slave to hockey, and he presses a quick kiss to your lips and swings himself out of bed. You follow a few minutes later, moving at a sloth pace. Instead of getting fully ready, you make your way downstairs to where the smell of bacon is wafting through the house. You’re almost giddy as you see Ellen and Quinn making breakfast, and you get even happier when Ellen places a steaming mug of coffee in front of you.

“You’re an angel, thank you.”

She gives you a big smile and pours another cup for herself. As soon as you catch the time, you offer to take Quinn’s place with the cooking, to which he gladly accepts and runs off to shower and get ready for the big game.

As soon as all the Hughes boys are out of earshot, you get down to business.

“I’ll raise to fifty on the Devs.”

Jim scoffs at your bet. “I love ‘em, but I disagree. Offense has been a bit sloppy. I’ll raise to a hundred on the Nucks.”

You quirk your eyebrow, then turn to the Queen, who seems to be pondering.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), but I think I’m gonna say Nucks too.”

You let out a soft groan but hold your ground.

“Alright. Final bet is a hundred. Winner takes all.

You all shake hands, sealing the deal.

As if you weren’t up to gambling, you act as naturally as possible as the three boys enter the kitchen. Each one is clad in a suit, and it warms your heart to see them all together. They look adorable, and you can’t help but laugh when Ellen demands a picture. They oblige, but like every other photo they take, it slightly looks like they’re being held at gunpoint. But you win some, you lose some.

Eventually, you’re all fed, happy, and once another alarm goes off, you know it’s time. You say your goodbyes to the boys, wishing them the best of luck. You hug Quinn, do your secret handshake with Luke, and press a quick kiss to Jack's lips.

Once you finish, they say their goodbyes to their parents and make their way toward the door, but they don’t get far before Jack pulls you toward him one last time.

“You ready to watch me destroy Quinn?” He teases.

You roll your eyes, pushing him away with a laugh. Nonetheless, you give him one last peck, swat his ass, and yell one final encouragement as he heads out the door.

“Don’t embarrass me!”

He flips you the bird as he gets into Quinn’s vehicle, and you smile and give him one back as you head back into the house.

You sit back down to finish talking with the parents l, and time ticks by faster than you’d like. Soon enough, it’s time to get ready, and you throw on your devil's jersey. You say a little prayer and hope they all do good. Things like this don’t happen often, and you hope it’s simply a good game.

———————

You smiled as wide as you could as the three Hughes brothers posed for a couple of pictures. You could see the distaste on all their faces, but they did it anyway.

Once they do the appropriate media, the game begins, and you’re sitting on the edge of your seat. It’s a good game, no, a great game. Soon, the first period is almost over, but not before your boyfriend has to remind everyone who he is, and he scores a goal.

It’s known that the Hughes parents don’t show much emotion at the games, and even more so when it’s their sons playing on opposite teams. So you control yourself, but you don’t miss when Ellen squeezes your hand.

The game continues, and it’s a nail-biter. Each minute you watch, you get more and more tense. Maybe it’s because you’re just nervous, or perhaps it’s the fact you have a hundred bucks on the line. But either way, you pray the clock ticks faster.

It doesn’t, but once Luke scores, you can’t help but start to think that this might be the end of a losing streak. You laugh on the inside because, of course, all it takes is a little brother rivalry to get the Devils back into motion.

———————

When the clock hits zero, and the Devils win, you practically die in your seat. You’re so thrilled for Jack and Luke, but a small part of you is a bit depressed for Quinn. But you know, if anyone can handle a loss like this, it’s the eldest Hughes, so you’re not too worried. Instead, you focus on your boyfriend, who, even from the box, looks the happiest he’s been in a while. He was given the title of the first star of the game, and you absolutely love it when he’s like this. You know he’s going to be in one of those unstoppable moods. You love it, but he can be a cocky little shit, and you know he’s going to be almost insufferable. You’ll take it, though, and embrace every part of it.

A few minutes later, the area starts clearing, and you’re all getting ready to leave the box, but you almost forget what is happening when Jim slides you a crisp hundred-dollar bill and winks at you.

“Jack really pulls out the stops when you’re at a game.”

You let a blush creep onto your face as you take the bill. You’d be lying if you said that you felt bad. This isn’t the first game you’ve bet on against Jim, and it certainly won’t be the last.

“Alright, you two gamblers, let’s go see the boys, shall we?”

Ellen leads the three of you down to where you’ll see the men of the hour. You feel the happiest you’ve felt in a while as you follow behind them, and when you get close enough, you can hear your boyfriend laugh from a short distance. Your heart skips the noise, and as soon as he spots you from across the room, he moves as fast as lightning to get to you.

[sunderwight]

SVSSS "no Abyss" fluff AU where Shen Qingqiu just keeps accidentally proposing to a full grown disciple Luo Binghe in ways that don't register to him, but do register to Binghe, but Binghe also knows that his Shizun is clueless and doesn't actually mean it, so he's trapped in a hell of constantly getting what he desires most and fighting the urge to take advantage of the situation in order to actually claim it.

For instance, it turns out that PIDW has a knock-off version of Valentine's Day thanks to one really ill-planned VIP chapter. Shen Qingqiu found that one so egregious even he mostly scrubbed it from his mental records, but the long and short of it is that in the PIDW chocolate exists, but it's a symbolic treat that is only meant to be given to someone you intend to marry.

Of course, Shen Qingqiu discovers chocolate in PIDW and IMMEDIATELY hands it over to Luo Binghe, because he wants to see how Binghe's magnificent cooking skills can utilize this ingredient. Also he wants bon bons and this seems like the only way he's gonna get any in this lifetime.

Naturally, Binghe does make delicious bon bons, all the while fighting down the urge to be like "you proposed so we're getting married now, no take backs!"

Shizun eats the chocolates and Binghe counts slowly backwards from ten and reminds himself that getting what he wants by way of trickery would ultimately deny him what he wants most, which is for Shen Qingqiu to choose him of his own volition.

And of course, this shit just keeps happening. Somehow Shen Qingqiu keeps "forgetting" (read: subconsciously repressing) the little details about various proposal customs in PIDW (of which there are A LOT thanks to all the wife acquisitions) and proposing to Binghe almost constantly. This part of the world has a special ritual proposal wine? Better give some to Binghe! This demonic cult requires one to present a specific monster kill to their intended? Shen Qingqiu just so happened to kill one such monster himself and now he's given it over to Binghe to claim the parts (Binghe's cultivation would make better use of them!) They're visiting a neighboring sect where couples traditionally tie their wrists together with a particular type of rope as a symbol of engagement? Somehow, someway, Shen Qingqiu is going to find a good reason to tie himself to Binghe with the betrothal rope.

Not only is this dance giving Luo Binghe intense mixed feelings, and causing him to lie awake at night trying to figure out if Shen Qingqiu somehow does actually know what he's doing, and wants Binghe to bamboozle him into a marriage (or is that just wishful thinking??), it also causes him ever-more stress whenever SQQ goes on a mission with anyone else.

Especially Liu Qingge.

What if he does the clueless not-proposing to Liu Qingge? What if Liu Qingge proves to be less strong-willed than Luo Binghe (absolutely possible) and "accepts"? What if he's stupid enough to not figure out that Shen Qingqiu is a clueless idiot, and thinks it's genuine?

Shizun might marry him just to avoid having an awkward conversation!

Anyway things come to a head when finally, for once, Luo Binghe is the one who does the accidental proposal. And this time Shen Qingqiu does notice, and he gets all flustered and scolds Binghe to "be more careful" and "not waste such gestures on this old master, or anyone Binghe doesn't want taking advantage!" and Luo Binghe, who has aged one thousand decades in the past few years, still nobly resists the urge to lay out all the times Shizun has made this exact same "mistake" towards him and instead just confesses. Shoots his shot. Now or never!

He almost immediately regrets it because he had a whole plan for how to slowly ease Shizun into the idea over the course of several years, and he's prepared to be rejected now that he's fucked that up. Because he knows his master is delicate about stuff like this. Why else would he be so atypically obtuse?

But, well. Shen Qingqiu always said that the most realistic thing about the harem was that no one in their right mind would turn down a marriage proposal from Luo Binghe.

So he just, uh, says yes?

Binghe's like, you mean this whole time all I had to do was be the one to ask?!

But also he's really too happy to give a shit about the particulars either. They will have a beautiful wedding! No take backs. If SQQ gets cold feet then Luo Binghe has a list and compiled evidence of fifty million marriage proposals from him, so now he definitely has to follow through!

[lylahammar]

People always talk about how Laios is a character who gives fat vibes even if he isn't technically fat in canon which is very true, and I have some thoughts on that!! (this will be a long post lol sorry)

There's a lot of material in the dunmeshi extras that show how fatness factors into dungeon exploration, which shows that only the most skilled adventurers are able to keep weight on while in the dungeon (thank you to @savaralyn2 for the translations! links to the individual posts these panels come from are added on the pics):

So we know, at the very least, that most of the characters are kept thinner than they would be naturally through the strain of death/revivification in the main dungeon. We also see that Laios has some fat on him, which through the text means that he's skilled enough to at least keep some of his weight (which makes sense, he doesn't die very often in canon).

(to be clear this ^ doesn't constitute as "fat," he is built as fuck here he just has some fat on his body which shows his prowess as a fighter in this universe) HOWEVER my personal little pet theory/headcanon is that Laios actually has a difficult relationship with food! I know that doesn't make much sense at first since he's shown to eat a lot in canon, but hear me out. In pre-canon, before he reunited with Falin, he's shown to be extremely gaunt:

But after partnering up with Falin, he gains weight and looks much more healthy very quickly. Part of this is definitely because of his unstable living situation/mental illness, but he and Falin still live in very poor conditions after this and he still manages to gain weight/get healthier, so I believe it's mainly due to her making sure he eats enough. We also know that Laios is. most certainly autistic. Nobody argue with me on that it's like pretty much widely accepted as canon for a lot of reasons lmao. So my theory is that he's actually food sensitive. He's shown to not really care about food that isn't monster-related. Even when he eats regular food, he's usually imagining it being a monster instead.

He has never eaten squid before, which is totally normal, but could also support my theory in a way :P it being a monster still can't save it from the autistic sensory bad experience in this case, though.

So I think that his adventurous eating during the course of the story isn't because he's actually an adventurous eater normally, it's purely because of his special interest (monsters, duh). During his journey to recover Falin, he's able to build up a healthier relationship with food through Senshi's guidance and the involvement of his special interest.

By the end of the story, after he's retired from dungeon exploration and living in comfort/safety, and with his newly healthy diet, he's finally able to gain a lot more weight. Imo, his is a story of someone who's naturally meant to be fat, but is only able to reach that point when in a stable and healthy environment.

(for the record I know he's not that fat in this post canon comic, but this is only a year and a bit after the end of the story so there's still time lol)

alright I'm goin back to drawing now just had to infodump for a minute ✌️ keep it sleazy

[ad0rechuu]

۪ ᝰ ۫ MY OH MY ୨୧

based on my oh my by girls' generation

SYNOPSIS. ━━━━━ Yn finds out that her whole relationship has been a bet. To get over her heartache her best friend Sunwoo convinces her to take revenge.

How you might ask? By breaking the culprits heart right back of course!

10jun23 | st. 31/12/23 ━ fn. 01/07/24

pairing. ━━━━━ Best Friend! Kim Sunwoo x Fem! reader (x Choi Yeonjun)

featuring. ━━━━━ the boyz members, kim chaewon, txt members + mentions of other idols

genre. ━━━━━ smau + written: humor/crack / fluff / angst / suggestive / childhood friends to lovers / college au / revenge relationship / relationship based on bet / slight slow burn

warnings. ━━━━━ timestamps/sm numbers/hair colors mean nothing, sexism/slutshaming, crude humor (kys jokes), mentions of & illusions to of food/sex/drugs/alcohol/cheating/mental illness, use of pictures of yn but only for reference, yn is a sone (snsd fan). more thorough warnings in the actual chapters, please let me know if missed something. this story doesn’t describe the idols in real life and is written with a dark skinned poc in mind!

notes. ━━━━━ the taglist is open, send an ask to be added. spam likes are fine but consider reblogging with comments of ur thoughts (not only on my work but on other authors work too! credits to the rightful owners of all the graphics. i’m not a native english speaker! and thank you to @ari-shipping-stuff for being my beta reader / writer <3

( please give this story lots of love & check out my masterlist )

PROFILES. ━━━━━ SONES INCORPORATED ᜊ DA HOMIEZ ᜊ MORE COOL KIDS ᜊ THE PLAYLIST

STEP 1. GET OVER HIM ›

ᝰ CH 000. prologue: THE NEXT BET

ᝰ CH 001. I H8 MEN

ᝰ CH 002. DON’T BREAK UP WITH THAT LOSER

ᝰ CH 003. THE PLAN

ᝰ CH 004. WHAT COULD GO WRONG?

ᝰ CH 005. *INSERT EVIL LAUGHTER*

ᝰ CH 006. ANNOYING BRAT FOR SALE

ᝰ CH 007. DON'T WORRY YOUR PRETTY BIG HEAD

ᝰ CH 008. NOT OVER HIM

ᝰ CH 009. CLASSIC SUNWOO-YN-BFF-DATE

ᝰ CH 010. THE NERVE AND THE AUDACITY

STEP 2. MAKE HIM FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU ›

ᝰ CH 011. STEP UP MY GAME

ᝰ CH 012. SASSY CAT EMOJI

ᝰ CH 013. A NIGHT ON THE TOWN W/ YN & WOO

ᝰ CH 014. GOOD NIGHT

ᝰ CH 015. HOBBIES FOR SUNWOO

ᝰ CH 016. GRAND DISCOVERY (YN HAS AN IDEA)

ᝰ CH 017. JUNS UNAPPROACHABLE AND COLD GF

ᝰ CH 018. HANGING OUT WITH MY BFS FRIENDS

ᝰ CH 019. BE HONEST WITH YOURSELF

ᝰ CH 020. DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME

STEP 3. BREAK HIS HEART ›

ᝰ CH 021. CODE ORANGE

ᝰ CH 022. I FUCKED UP

ᝰ CH 023. HITCH IN THE ROAD

ᝰ CH 024. CONSIDER AND MAKE SURE

ᝰ CH 025. WHAT MAKES THE HEART GROW WHAT?

ᝰ CH 026. BALLOON FLOWERS

ᝰ CH 027. REJECTION + ANEURYSM = WENT WELL

ᝰ CH 028. MAKEUP

ᝰ CH 029. BALLOON FLOWERS VERSUS ROSES

ᝰ CH 030. MINE (HIS)

ᝰ CH 00I. epilogue: A PEAK IN SUNYN’S LOVE

ᝰ CH 0II. ASK THEM ANYTHING EVENT

ᝰ AFTER WORD

special thanks (& follow these awesome ppl). ━━━━━ to @yuyusuyu @kodzumo @tocupid @leo-seonghwa @seonghwaddict @felixsramen : i have to give you six an extra special thanks because you all motivated and supported me so much while i was stressing and being annoying, just so you know guys are my motivation! (the other message is also to you all ofc)

and to @yunstarz @nyukyujs @rieuvie @thelargefrye @i-luvsang @cybrsan @gyumibear @pocketjoong @jaehunnyy @nebulousbrainsoup @justhere4kpop @xpixie @atinycafe @brrrkdslek @phantom-webber @a1sh1teruu @starryunho @aestheticsluut @end0rchans @yourfatherlucifer @alixnsuperstxr @girls4cheol @cheollipop @mintgki @aoi-turtle @renstears @42e15 @alixnsuperstxr @mrowwww @hwaightme @paradiqms @starrysvn @tubatu-wari-wari @kitten4sannie @chokchokk @hee0soo @joong-of-gold @armysantiny @evilsailorsenshi @mundayoonimnida @aapplepii @juhakutie : first of all i don’t expect you to read or interact with this fic, you might not even stan the boyz or like this sorta thing but i tagged you all because of one reason and one reason only; to tell you that you all make tumblr such a lovely and inspirational place for me, whenever i see ur accs it brightens my day because i know what great ppl are behind them, i just wanted to say that i think that you are amazing and i want to use this post to thank you! happy new years and i love you everyone (and you who’s reading this)

my oh my © ad0rechuu, 2023. do not copy/repost.

[xxgoldie]

let me spoil you

in which Lighter gets spoilt to filth on his birthday wc: 2.3k cw / notes: lighter x afab!reader, explicit (MDNI!!), sub!lighter but the d/s dynamics are minor, reader wears lingerie, body worship, light bondage (on lighter), p in v sex, raw sex, riding, light marking, nipple play, edging, dacyrphilia if you squint ig?, giving lighter the love he DESERVES

"I don't want to be greedy," Lighter teased, mouth breaking from yours and looking up at where you were sat on his lap, "but wasn't I promised one more birthday present?"

You let out a breathless giggle as his hands slid up your dress, and another at the ill-concealed confusion on his face when his fingers found the cotton of your usual underwear. It was true - you'd been hinting for days about a special extra present, not trying to hide that you'd bought some new lingerie for this occasion. His eyes had been scanning you all day, unashamedly imagining in the back of his mind what lacy creation you had on under your clothes as festivities with the gang went on.

"It's not really one I could wear underneath," you explained, yet another laugh escaping as you watched the cogs turn in his mind, adding the new information to whatever mental algorithm was guessing what you had prepared for him - cute, like he hadn't been grinding up into you so sinfully just seconds before, "but also... there's something I'd like to try today, if you're up for it."

"Oh? What's that, baby?" Lighter's tone was playful, but the look in his eye was filled with so much love. Bedroom or not, there were very few things he wouldn't try if it was for you - besides, since you'd chosen his birthday to ask, he figured you had something good for him.

"I want to tie you up."

Oh. That wasn't the sort of thing he'd expected. But he also hadn't expected that his first instinct would be excitement - sure, you'd taken the lead in bed before, but having that much control over him? Lighter swallowed thickly - god, that was so hot. Not what he'd had in mind for today, but hot.

"Not, like, a lot. And we don't have to! It's up to you, obviously-" you said, his momentary silence making you backtrack.

"Hey, breathe, babe, I'm not against it," Lighter's hand, still resting at the hemline of your panties, rubbed against your skin reassuringly. His words were chosen carefully, keeping the idea on the table without seeming too excited. He maintained a certain persona - one that, for the most part, crumbled the second you got him alone, but some instinct kept a few bricks of that wall up, not wanting to let out that being at your complete mercy sounded like heaven to him. "It's just... not what I expected. Doesn't the cliche go that you'd be the one tied up as a present for me?"

"Yeah, I know. But I know you, Lighter. You're far too good to me," you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, "And if I let you have your way with me, you're just going to be thinking about making me feel good. It's your birthday, I want to make it all about you- and do not even start about how you feel good when I do, that's not the point."

Slight surprise crossed Lighter as those exact words died on his tongue. You knew him so well, knew exactly how he loved you and how to love him back, all his rough spots and weak points, so you knew exactly where to push to make his last dregs of hesitation fly out the window, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

"Let me spoil you, birthday boy"

That's all it took for him to nod in agreement, following your instructions to get undressed and wait for you in the bedroom while you got changed. If he hadn't agreed before, the moment you came out in that lingerie, lacy white accented with black frills and bows, a sheer babydoll overtop that explained why you couldn't wear it under your dress, he'd have agreed in a heartbeat. Lighter tended to be weak to your every whim, but especially when your body was on display for him.

You'd arranged restraints as well, soft red rope with golden fastenings, and laughed as you fought off his attempts to touch and kiss you all over in that outfit, decidedly distracted despite the plans he himself had just agreed to, and fairly adept at distracting you, though not enough to stop his legs from being tied to opposing ends of the footboard, spread out, while one rope tied his wrists together and to the headboard above him. Fully exposed, and laid bare for you.

You were straddled across him now, resting on his chest just shy of where his dick, fully hard at this point, strained against his lower abdomen, your lips pressing kiss after kiss along his jaw, neck, collarbone. Tucked into your bra was a tube of lipstick, a shade of red you knew he adored on you, which you'd been using to litter his skin with red kiss marks, a pretty medley with the occasional purple mark you'd sucked onto him. You'd re-applied the product to your lips twice by now.

"Baby..." Lighter breathed, looking up at you with a frustrated pout. He'd meant it to sound warning, but it came out as more of a whine, the complete lack of attention to his leaking cock getting him increasingly desperate. The restraints on his legs kept any thrust of his hips from being meaningful, the ones on his hands stopped him from pulling you down lower. Not to mention, it was driving him insane not to touch you, seeing you looking so delectable and feeling your crotch on his chest and lips against his skin but nothing against his fingers.

"What?" you feigned innocence, but your gaze was lidded as you sat up and admired your masterpiece. Your nails raked lightly against his skin, just short of hard enough to graze him as they traveled lower. "I want to take my time with you."

Your nail caught on his nipple, drawing a sharp breath from his lips. You took the cue, lips finally reaching below his collarbone to close around the bud. A deep groan, his chest arching into your touch at the playful swirl of your tongue, two of your fingers rolling the other one. His breathing was heavy, hitching on every harsher tug or light suck as he tried to conceal just how sensitive you had him by now. But your mouth didn't stay put for long, the allure of leaving even more pretty red kiss marks on him simply too great. Still tweaking his nipple, you trailed kisses upwards, outlining the large jagged scar across his shoulder.

"You're so beautiful," you breathed against his skin, sitting up once again, eyes raking shamelessly over his body. The only thing he could get out was a choked moan, your words coinciding with a sharp pinch to his nipple. "Literally so perfect."

You really made his head spin - 'hot' and 'handsome' he heard often enough, and you called him 'cute' a lot, but 'beautiful'? Lighter wasn't sure anyone had called him beautiful before, especially not while lathing the reminders of his ugly past with affection that was simultaneously too much and not enough. He could only buck his hips fruitlessly, just short of the touch he needed to both release the tension and distract him from just how in love he felt, a feeling so overwhelming it scared him a little.

"You're amazing, Lighter-" you continued between kisses to his chest, "-so amazing-" your lipstick was basically gone now, a few smudges left around your mouth, but you didn't seem bothered about reapplying it this time, more concerned with kissing every possible inch of his skin, "-it is such a privilege to love you-" your mouth trailed lower, and amazingly, for the first time, so did the rest of your body, slowly sliding down his abdomen to give yourself more room "-and I'll tell you every opportunity I get-" and finally, finally you slid down low enough that you were seated on his dick "-I love you-" another kiss "-I love you-" and another "-I love you-" and suddenly your face was in front of his and you kissed him on the lips, greedily swallowing his groan as you roll your hips against his.

And it was all too much - the damp friction that he had been moments away from begging for, every word and touch you blessed him with, the ever-sweet sensation of your lips moving against his so deeply and tenderly - and when you finally pulled away, you could see the faint wet trail of a couple tears along his face, olive eyes glossy and looking up at you as if you were the answer to his every prayer. Still, a look of worry washed over you at the tears, movement of your hips stilling as you brushed the wetness away with your thumb.

"Are you okay?" you asked, and Lighter couldn't help but chuckle even as another stray tear slipped down his cheek at the soft concern in your voice.

"I don't deserve you," he managed, smiling at you so lovingly you just had to laugh along with him. You leaned down, another kiss on his lips as the tension melted from you.

"You deserve every good thing that comes your way, Lighter," you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear as your hips resumed their slow grinding. He almost felt a little pathetic, crying at your sweet words, but a well-aimed movement against his cock, the keening whine you let out as the head caught your clit, had all those thoughts flying out the window. His gasped moan harmonised with the clatter of his restraints against the bedframe as he momentarily forgot his hands were tied, automatically moving to try and grab your waist and push you down harder.

Though, as usual, you knew exactly what he needed, only grinding a moment more before you lifted to pull your panties to the side, ready to sink onto him-

"I- Wait-" Lighter managed, silently cursing himself for listening to the responsible part of his brain, "Don't you want to use a condom?"

"Do you?"

Your eyebrow quirked incredulously, playful smirk on your face like when you presented someone with a gift you knew they'd love, and the thought echoed in his mind so clearly Lighter was almost surprised he didn't say it out loud.

'I need to marry you.'

His reply must have been written across his face, though, because you resumed your movement, your head falling back at the stretch with virtually no preparation, while Lighter let out his own moan with the feeling of your gummy walls slowly taking in more and more of him. Finally seated fully on his cock, you shot him a smile, a little dazed at being so full, then started moving, a slow, sensual rhythm as you bounced lightly and grinded against him. He had to fight the instinct to let his head fall back, the show in front of him far too hypnotising as you fucked yourself on him, pretty moans falling from your lips at every tiny thrust he managed in his position.

"Shit, baby, so pretty for me, please-" you clenched around him at his praise, speeding your movements and causing another deep groan to escape him, "fuck, please, just like that, baby please-"

"What do you need?" you managed despite the way he filled you up so perfectly, taking in how gorgeous he looked, muscular chest littered with red kisses, face flushed and eyes glossy, raking over you with the same indulgence as those unspecified pleas tumbled out.

"Need- shit, need to hold you-" he cut himself off with a moan as you tightened around him, pulling at the restraints on his hands to accentuate his point. It didn't take him any more begging for you to reach up, slightly lifting off his cock to reach the fabric around his wrists. As pretty as he looked all laid out for you and yearning, you couldn't deny you missed his calloused hands on your skin.

As soon as the rope loosened enough for Lighter's wrists to slip out, he was sitting up, chest pressed against yours, one hand groping at your breasts as the other wrapped around your waist, pushing himself impossibly deeper, pulling you impossibly closer. He peppered your face with kisses, lopsided grin forming on his face as you couldn't help but giggle, before his face found its place in the crook of your neck, muttering sweet and filthy nothings into your skin as he lathed it in kisses and nips.

"I'm- fuck, I'm close-" he groaned, the hand on your breast migrating down to rub circles on your clit, the roughness of his fingertips against it sending your back arching.

"Inside. Please," you whined, bouncing yourself faster in time with his shallow thrusts, "'m close too-"

With one final sharp thrust and stuttered moan, Lighter spilled inside you, pulling you down as deep as you could possibly go. His head almost felt fuzzy as you spasmed around his sensitive length, pressing crescent shapes into his shoulders with your fingernails as the feeling of his hot seed sent you over the edge as well.

Gently, he lowered himself back down onto the bed, careful not to pull out as he pulled you down with him to lay on his chest. You looked up at him, that lovesick gaze he never really knew what to do with as you breathed heavily, coming down from your high.

"Did you like your present?" you managed, still singsong and playful as your finger traced the many outlines of your lips on his skin.

"I think-" Lighter responded, brushing a stray hair from your face before cupping your cheek, "I think I'm the luckiest man alive."

[fangdokja]

He’s the hero in his own story… and you’re his latest toy.

❤︎ Synopsis. An unhinged author who controls every aspect of your life, weaving a dark narrative where you’re both the protagonist and his plaything—he writes your fate, but only if you endure his disturbing obsession. In his world, every chapter brings you closer to a horrifying end… unless you please him.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Author x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Fate’s Final Draft - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 5,218

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic yandere, general non-con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, hints at rough play and sex, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, depression and mental illnesses, implied suicidal tendencies, unhealthy coping mechanisms

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving mental illnesses, self-harm, and suicide, some plot details of the original story were purposefully made ambiguous to fit the platform.

♡ A/N. Wahaha, finally made this idea. It is possible for him to have his own Main Story; but I'm still thinking about it, since I have a lot of shiz to do haha. I was going to put the NSFW erotic horror part, but it was getting too long already.

♡ Yandere! Author who sees the world as his manuscript and everyone in it as characters for his narrative—mere pawns on a chessboard he rearranges at his whim.

♡ Yandere! Author who was once a literary prodigy, hailed as a genius storyteller for his grimdark tales that left readers breathless and disturbed. Critics marveled at his uncanny ability to craft despair, heartbreak, and suffering so vivid it felt alive. Little did they know he wasn’t just writing fiction—he was recreating his fantasies in the real world, puppeteering events to mirror the chaos in his mind.

♡ Yandere! Author who despised the monotony of real life. “People are so… boring,” he’d mutter, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips. No one suffered properly; no one’s struggles were beautiful. To him, the world lacked intrigue. Until you.

♡ Yandere! Author who plucked you from your dull, ordinary existence like a child selecting a toy from a shelf, more out of habit than interest. You weren’t special—just another pawn in his grand game, another character to throw into the chaotic maelstrom of his imagination.

♡ Yandere! Author who didn’t think much of you at first. Quiet, gloomy, meek. You lacked the charisma of a hero, the fire of a rebel, or even the arrogance of an antihero. Just another blank slate with nothing to offer but the predictable reactions of someone out of their depth. But that was fine. You weren’t meant to be interesting. You were meant to survive—or not. Either outcome was entertaining.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Author who dropped you into his latest world—a fantasy isekai brimming with magic, monsters, and a cruel leveling system that ensured nothing came easily. “Good luck,” he’d murmured to himself, watching as you stumbled into your new reality. He hadn’t even bothered to give you a cheat ability or a supportive companion. You were cannon fodder, a nobody. Your story wasn’t supposed to last long.

♡ Yandere! Author who delighted in throwing obstacles your way. A cursed weapon that drained your life force whenever you wielded it. A village that betrayed you the moment you turned your back. A party of adventurers who abandoned you at the first sign of danger. Every twist, every betrayal, every near-death encounter was a carefully crafted piece of his art.

♡ Yandere! Author who laughed aloud when you failed, tripping over your own feet in the face of danger, barely scraping by with nothing but luck and desperation.

“How pitiful,” he’d muse, scribbling notes in the margins of his book. “Not even a shred of resolve. I wonder how long you'll last.”

♡ Yandere! Author who couldn’t resist pushing you further. When you lingered too long in a safe zone, he unleashed a plague. When you finally caught a moment of peace, he summoned a beast that tore through the tranquility like paper. When you found a rare treasure, he made sure someone stronger, greedier, took it from you. Every time you thought you were one step closer to victory, he yanked the rug out from under you.

♡ Yandere! Author who barely even noticed the way you persisted. At first, it was amusing, in a “look at the bug crawling out of the trap” sort of way.

You didn’t fight back, not really. You just endured, trudging forward like someone too tired to give up. It wasn’t resilience. It wasn’t strength. It was nothing worth writing home about. Yet you survived longer than he’d expected. Longer than most.

♡ Yandere! Author who began to notice your patterns. The way you didn’t waste time trying to rally allies or plot revenge against those who wronged you. You just… kept going. Quiet, unassuming, almost boring in how you refused to break. No grand speeches, no tearful outbursts, no fiery declarations of vengeance. Just silence. And somehow, that silence started to irritate him.

♡ Yandere! Author who started to poke harder, his curiosity piqued despite himself. He sent you a companion who betrayed you the moment you grew attached. He trapped you in a dungeon with no clear way out, just to see how long you’d last without food or hope. He introduced a rival, someone far more capable, to crush any fleeting sense of progress. And still, you lived.

♡ Yandere! Author who began to grow frustrated, his usual detachment slipping.

“Why won’t you break?” he muttered, leaning over his desk as he watched you struggle through yet another of his impossible scenarios.

There was no satisfaction in your suffering, no drama, no spectacle. You were boring, predictable, and yet… infuriatingly tenacious.

♡ Yandere! Author who threw you into the final trial of that first world, expecting it to be your end. A labyrinth filled with traps, monsters, and puzzles designed to shatter even the strongest of wills. He made sure to stack the odds against you, laughing to himself as he imagined your inevitable demise. But you survived. Barely.

———

♡ Yandere! Author who then throws you into a modern, thriller-horror world—something grounded in frightening realism where paranoia seeps into every corner. It’s a city crawling with secrets, where every smile hides an ulterior motive and murder is just another piece of the puzzle.

♡ Yandere! Author who’s still irritated as he writes your entry into this new world. He hates being proven wrong, and the fact that you survived his last creation gnaws at him. But rules are rules. Killing you outright would be a betrayal of his art, and if there’s one thing he holds sacred, it’s his craft. He’s a creator, not a hack. If you’re going to die, it’ll be on his terms—poetic, meaningful, unforgettable.

♡ Yandere! Author who drops you into this nightmare with nothing but your wits. No powers, no special abilities, not even a single ally you can trust. You wake up in a city that feels alive in all the worst ways: too many eyes watching, too many whispers following you like ghosts. The air itself feels oppressive, and danger lurks just out of sight, waiting for you to make one wrong move.

♡ Yandere! Author who sets the stage with a murder investigation—a gruesome, chilling crime that sets the entire city on edge. He knows how to craft fear, how to make every detail unnervingly realistic. Bloodstains that seem too fresh, suspects who lie with smiles that don’t reach their eyes, evidence that vanishes the moment you think you’ve found it. He weaves the threads of the mystery so tightly that it’s impossible to tell who’s the predator and who’s the prey.

♡ Yandere! Author who watches from his perch as you stumble through this new world, his annoyance tempered by the thrill of the game. You’re cautious, hesitant, and still so painfully predictable to him.

He nudges you toward danger at every turn—a “helpful” stranger who knows too much, a missed phone call that could’ve saved you, a shadow lurking just behind the corner. He pushes and prods, waiting for the moment you’ll falter.

♡ Yandere! Author who doesn’t shy away from making it personal. He paints the world with your fears, digging into the recesses of your mind to pull out the things that make your skin crawl. A too-familiar face in a crowd. A voicemail from a loved one you don’t remember having. Rooms that look like places you’ve been but shouldn’t exist here. He loves psychological horror, the kind that eats away at your sanity, and you’re the perfect subject for his masterpiece.

♡ Yandere! Author who grows frustrated when you continue to endure, even as the world around you crumbles. You’re cautious to the point of paranoia, hesitant to trust anyone, and maddeningly silent in your suffering.

You’re playing his game, sure, but not the way he wants you to.

It’s not fun this way.

He craves the drama, the despair, the art of it all—and you, with your quiet determination, are robbing him of the spectacle.

♡ Yandere! Author who watches with growing intrigue as you adapt. You’re still boring to him—quiet, gloomy, unremarkable—but there’s something in the way you navigate his traps, how you outmaneuver his designs without even realizing it. It’s not notable skill or flashy brilliance; it’s a quiet kind of intellect. And for someone as obsessed with control as he is, your unpredictability is both infuriating and captivating.

♡ Yandere! Author who, despite his annoyance, can’t help but enjoy watching you squirm. You’re a puzzle he hasn’t solved yet, and that irritates him to no end. But he tells himself it’s fine. You’re just another character, another experiment. You’re not special.

♡ Yandere! Author who leans back in his chair, pen tapping against his lips as he watches you stumble through another one of his traps. “Let’s see how long you can last this time,” he murmurs, his irritation giving way to a slow, unsettling grin. “Don’t disappoint me, little protagonist. I’m just getting started.”

———

♡ Yandere! Author who creates one of his signature magnum opus—a grimdark epic drenched in despair, betrayal, and violence. This is his masterpiece, the pinnacle of his craft, and the perfect stage to break you once and for all. No hope, no redemption, no safety. In this world, survival is a cruel joke, and death is the only certainty.

♡ Yandere! Author who throws you into the chaos with nothing but the clothes on your back. A crumbling kingdom teetering on the brink of war, political intrigue so convoluted it devours its players whole, and monsters lurking in the shadows—both human and otherwise. He crafts the world so meticulously that even the air feels heavy with doom. There’s no escape, no mercy, no way out. Or so he thinks.

♡ Yandere! Author who raises an eyebrow the moment you start to deviate from his script. It’s subtle at first—minor choices that ripple outward in unexpected ways. A betrayal you sidestep, an alliance you form that shouldn’t exist, a carefully constructed chain of events you unravel with quiet precision.

At first, he thinks it’s luck.

Then, he thinks it’s coincidence.

But as the story spirals further from his design, he begins to realize: you’re rewriting the script.

♡ Yandere! Author who leans forward, fingers steepled, his irritation giving way to intrigue.

“Fascinating,” he murmurs, watching as you dismantle his carefully laid plans.

He’s seen this trope before—characters defying their roles, rewriting their fates. But those stories are sloppy, riddled with plot armor and deus ex machina. He hates those stories. He despises their stupidity, their lack of respect for the craft. Yet… this is different. You have no plot armor. You have no cheats, no guarantees. And somehow, you’re still alive.

♡ Yandere! Author who begins to test you, introducing new challenges designed to crush even the most determined spirit. He throws you into a city under siege, its streets filled with the screams of the dying. He pits you against a monster so horrific that it haunts your dreams. He manipulates the people around you, turning allies into enemies, twisting trust into betrayal. Yet no matter what he does, you adapt. You survive.

♡ Yandere! Author who finds himself muttering to the empty room as he watches you work.

“Clever,” he says when you outmaneuver a traitor.

“Bold,” when you risk everything for a gambit that shouldn’t have paid off.

“Stupid, reckless, but… brilliant.” He’s annoyed, yes—he hates being outplayed—but he’s also captivated.

You’re playing his game, but on your terms. And for the first time, he doesn’t know how it’s going to end.

♡ Yandere! Author who starts to see you in a new light. You’re not like the others. You don’t scream at the heavens, don’t declare war on the “unfairness” of the world. You don’t rely on luck or blind faith.

You’re calculating, deliberate, quietly defiant.

You’re everything he never expected you to be.

♡ Yandere! Author who feels a strange mix of pride and irritation when you survive his masterpiece. You’re battered, broken, barely breathing, but you’re alive. Against all odds, you’ve clawed your way through the carnage and emerged victorious.

It’s not the ending he planned, but it’s… satisfying, in its own way.

♡ Yandere! Author who chuckles softly, the sound low and dangerous.

“Well played,” he says, a crooked grin spreading across his face.

“But don’t think for a second this means you’ve won. You’ve caught my attention now, little protagonist. Let’s see how far you can go before you break.”

♡ Yandere! Author who realizes, with a thrill of anticipation, that the game has only just begun.

———

♡ Yandere! Author who introduces himself for the first time in this new world, a historical reverse harem trope with an undercurrent of political intrigue and dystopia, dressed up in a pretty, romantic facade.

You find yourself in a world that seems beautiful on the surface—lavish gowns, grand balls, charming men vying for your attention. But beneath the glittering exterior, it’s a world of betrayal, manipulation, and deadly power plays.

♡ Yandere! Author who enters the story with a calm smile, playing the role of an NPC "friend" meant to help you navigate this dangerous world.

He’s the type of character who exists solely to guide you, the wise adviser, always in the background but never quite the center of attention. His role is clear—he’s there to “help” you, to watch you fall in line with the game. But his eyes… they never stop watching you.

♡ Yandere! Author, playing the part of your “helper,” leans in close one day, his voice smooth, almost soothing.

“It’s dangerous here, you know. You can trust no one. Not even those who claim to love you.” His words drip with false tenderness, though the glint in his eyes betrays the sadistic pleasure he derives from the darkness surrounding you.

“But that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To guide you… to protect you.”

♡ Yandere! Author, watching you, his smile never wavering, as you stand by him, as you consistently choose him over others in the court. His eyebrows arch in surprise, and for the first time in any world, there’s a genuine flicker of confusion behind his unshakable calm.

“Hmm,” he murmurs, voice almost a purr. “You’re still here. You haven’t run off to one of those princes, haven’t you?”

You look at him, unblinking, your gaze steady. “You’re the only one I can trust. The others are all just playing a game.”

♡ Yandere! Author, leaning closer, his voice low and a little mocking, with a smirk that barely hides his amusement and something more sinister.

“How quaint. You think I’m trustworthy?” He watches as you don’t flinch, his eyes narrowing. “I suppose that makes you… my little pet then, doesn’t it?”

Your expression never changes. “I’m just smart enough to stay close to the only one who can’t be manipulated in this world.”

———

♡ Yandere! Author, sensing a shift, a delicious challenge that he’s never faced before, lets out a small laugh—one that’s cold and filled with dangerous amusement.

“How interesting,” he muses, stepping closer, his hand brushing against your arm lightly. “So, you know who I am, then?”

You meet his gaze, unwavering. “You’re not even pretending anymore.”

He tilts his head, eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of amusement and irritation. “Ah. So I’m not the only one who understands the rules of this game, hmm? You’re quite clever, aren’t you? A pity, really. Most of the ‘protagonists’ I encounter are so… naive.”

♡ Yandere! Author, now utterly intrigued by your unwavering proximity to him, begins to shift his approach. The cold, detached adviser becomes a more charming, flirtatious presence. His words are laced with honeyed poison as he circles around you like a predator testing a new, unexpected prey.

“You know,” he says, voice soft and teasing, “you could be so much more than this. I’ve seen how they all adore you. How they all want you.” He leans in closer, his breath brushing your ear.

“But I think you’re starting to realize that none of them matter, don’t you?”

You blink, not reacting to the subtle pressure in his voice. “I don’t care about them. I care about you.”

♡ Yandere! Author, for the first time, pauses, a shiver of something unfamiliar running through him. His smile falters, but just for a moment.

Then it’s back, even more dangerous, like a cat toying with its prey. “Is that so? And why is that?”

“You’re the only one who’s honest,” you say simply. “And you’re the only one who isn’t pretending to be something you’re not.”

♡ Yandere! Author, amused yet unnerved, chuckles darkly, his voice oozing with a wicked charm.

“I see. You think I’m the only one who isn’t pretending, hm? Well, maybe there’s something about you that makes you interesting after all.”

He steps back slightly, his eyes scanning you with renewed interest. “But don’t mistake this for affection. I’m not the kind of man to simply hand over trust. I’m the one who deserves it. I’m the one who’s worth it.” He grins, a little too wide, a little too sharp.

“But let’s not rush things. We’ve got plenty of time to figure out how this plays out.”

He watches you carefully, taking in every moment of your steady gaze, the way you never flinch. His heart quickens, and he can’t tell if it’s frustration or fascination that drives him now. Whatever it is, it keeps him drawn to you, and that… that is something he’s never experienced before.

———

♡ Yandere! Author who doesn’t shy away from cruelty, doesn’t flinch at the thought of breaking you piece by piece, but for some reason, you never crumble. It’s maddening.

“You’re so boring,” he sneers, pinning you against the desk, his lips curling into a sadistic grin. “But you stick to me like glue. Why? What is it you’re waiting for? A happy ending? Newsflash, sweetheart—I don’t write those.”

You stare at him, unblinking, as his fingers trace the line of your jaw, deceptively gentle. “I don’t expect anything from you.”

He laughs, sharp and bitter, his other hand slamming down on the desk beside your head. “Oh, don’t give me that. Everyone wants something. Attention. Control. Fortune. Power. Love. What is it, huh? Tell me.” His thumb presses against your lips, his gaze dark and hungry.

“Or do I have to find out myself?”

♡ Yandere! Author, who toys with you in increasingly intimate ways, his touch lingering, his voice dipping into dangerous territory.

“Do you know what I could do to you?” he whispers one night, his fingers trailing down your arm, sending shivers through your skin.

“I could ruin you. Completely. No one would know, no one would care. You’d just be another name crossed out in my little book of stories.”

Your voice is steady, your gaze unwavering. “Then why don’t you?”

His grin sharpens, his fingers tightening around your wrist. “Because, my little enigma, I like puzzles. And you…” He leans closer, his breath ghosting over your ear.

“You’re a puzzle I haven’t solved yet.”

♡ Yandere! Author, who grows more physical, testing your limits, pushing you closer to the edge with every touch, every word.

“You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the curve of your neck, “most people would be begging me to stop by now. Crying, screaming, running for their lives. But you… you just stand there, letting me do whatever I want.” He chuckles, low and dangerous.

“It’s almost like you enjoy it.”

You don’t respond, and that only seems to amuse him further.

“Or maybe,” he continues, his hands sliding down to your waist, “you think you can handle me. That you can survive me.” He presses his lips to your shoulder, a cruel smirk playing on his face.

“Tell me, do you honestly believe that? That you’re strong enough to endure this?”

♡ Yandere! Author, who starts to lose himself in the game, his sadistic intrigue growing with every interaction.

“You’re driving me insane, you know that?” he says one night, his voice sharp with frustration.

“I could end this right now. Dig through that pretty little head of yours and find out exactly what makes you tick. But no. That would be too easy.” His fingers dig into your hips, his gaze burning into yours.

“And I don’t like easy.”

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a fleeting, almost tender kiss before pulling back with a wicked grin.

“But you’re making me curious, and that’s a very dangerous thing, my dear. Curiosity killed the cat, after all. And I’m not a cat, but I might just kill you.”

You tilt your head, meeting his gaze with an unnerving calm. “Then why don’t you?”

For a moment, he’s silent, his eyes narrowing as he studies you. Then, he laughs—a low, dark sound that sends chills down your spine. “Because you’re interesting. And I don’t destroy my toys until I’ve wrung every ounce of entertainment out of them.”

♡ Yandere! Author, who starts to blur the lines between his sadistic games and something deeper, something he doesn’t want to name.

“Do you feel that?” he whispers one night, his hands sliding up your sides, his touch both possessive and teasing.

“That tension, that heat? It’s intoxicating, isn’t it? But you’re so composed. So controlled.” He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear.

“It makes me want to rip you apart, just to see what’s underneath.”

You don’t flinch, your voice steady. “Do it, then.”

His grin widens, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. “Oh, no, my dear. Not yet. You don’t get to decide when this ends. That’s my privilege.”

♡ Yandere! Author, who starts to wonder if maybe, just maybe, you’re as twisted as he is.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he says one night, his hands framing your face as he forces you to look at him. “You should be. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“I know exactly what you’re capable of,” you reply, your voice calm.

His smirk falters for just a moment before returning, sharper than ever. “Fascinating,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lips.

“You might just be my favorite experiment yet.”

———

♡ Yandere! Author who’s always prided himself on his control, his detachment. You’re just another piece on his board, another thread in his masterpiece. But this—this strange, gnawing feeling in his chest—it’s utterly foreign, and he hates it.

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning back in his chair, watching you tend to yet another hapless NPC, your hands gentle, your words soft. “So this is what you’ve chosen to do with your time. Interesting choice.”

You glance at him briefly before returning your attention to the injured character. “Someone has to help them.”

His grin is sharp, dangerous. “Oh, do they? What’s the point? They’ll be dead in a few chapters anyway. Why waste your energy?”

You don’t answer, your focus unwavering as you wrap a bandage around the NPC’s arm.

♡ Yandere! Author clicks his tongue, the annoyance creeping into his voice. “You know, you’re starting to develop a bad habit. Always playing savior, always looking after others. It’s almost… predictable.”

You finally look up, your expression as calm as ever. “Maybe. But it’s what I want to do.”

His grin falters for just a fraction of a second, and something dark flickers in his eyes.

♡ Yandere! Author, who watches you interact with the love interests he’s meticulously placed around you, his jaw tightening as you laugh at one of their jokes.

“Oh, now this is rich,” he says, his voice dripping with mockery as he suddenly appears at your side. “Tell me, which one of them do you think will betray you first? The charming one with the tragic backstory? Or the brooding one who can’t decide whether he wants to kiss you or kill you?”

You sigh, clearly unimpressed. “Do you always have to narrate everything?”

He leans closer, his breath ghosting over your ear. “Always. It’s my story, after all.”

You step away, your attention shifting back to the love interests, and something snaps in him.

♡ Yandere! Author, who’s never felt this burning irritation before, this inexplicable urge to tear those carefully crafted characters apart limb by limb.

“You’re awfully invested in them, aren’t you?” he says, his tone deceptively light as he circles around you like a predator. “Do you actually think any of them are worth your time? They’re just puppets, you know. Hollow. Empty. Nothing like me.”

Your gaze meets his, steady and unflinching. “I know what they are. But at least they’re not trying to destroy me every second of the day.”

♡ Yandere! Author laughs, loud and sharp, the sound echoing in the empty room. “Destroy you? Destroy you? Oh, sweetheart, if I wanted to destroy you, you’d be gone already.”

His smile twists into something cruel. “No, I’m just… refining you. Shaping you into something better. Stronger. You should be thanking me.”

You don’t respond, and that silence claws at him, burrowing under his skin like a splinter.

———

♡ Yandere! Author, whose madness always simmers beneath a mask of cunning smiles and calculated control, finally unravels. But it’s not chaos. No shouting, no frenzy.

It’s quiet. It’s deadly.

It’s the kind of madness that burns cold and precise, carving through the air like a scalpel.

"You’ve been so patient," he says, his voice soft, almost tender, as if he’s consoling you. His head tilts, studying you like a puzzle he’s finally solved.

"And here I thought you were just stubborn. Turns out, you’ve been waiting for me to slip, haven’t you? Waiting for me to break my precious little rules."

You remain silent, but his sharp grin stretches wider, something twisted flickering in his gaze.

"Oh, I see it now," he continues, leaning in, his breath brushing against your ear.

"You’ve wanted it all along, haven’t you? That quiet little release. That final curtain call." He clicks his tongue, amusement dripping from his voice.

"Tsk, tsk. How boringly predictable."

♡ Yandere! Author, who crouches in front of you, forcing you to meet his gaze. There’s no warmth in his eyes, only a brutal, cutting clarity as he speaks.

"But I don’t care what you want," he says, his grin hardening into something more dangerous. "No, I never have. This story? You? It’s never been about you. It’s about me. What I want."

His fingers trail up to your chin, gripping it with enough force to keep you still. "And do you know what I want?" he whispers, his voice dropping to a near-silent murmur.

You shake your head—or perhaps you don’t. It doesn’t matter. He answers anyway.

"I want to keep you alive. Forever. I want to see that flicker of defiance in your eyes snuffed out again and again, only to light it back up myself." He leans closer, his lips ghosting over yours in a cruel mockery of affection.

"I want to watch you crawl through my worlds, bleeding and desperate, and still unable to die."

♡ Yandere! Author who laughs, low and cruel, as he pulls back, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Death is too kind, don’t you think?" he muses, pacing in front of you like a predator toying with its prey.

"It’s a full stop. The end of the story. How... uncreative. And I am anything but uncreative."

He pauses, turning to face you fully, his grin sharp enough to cut.

"No, my dear," he says, crouching again to meet your gaze. "You’ll live. You’ll suffer. You’ll endure every twisted scenario I can dream up. And you’ll do it for me. Because I’ll make sure you can’t do anything else."

♡ Yandere! Author, whose hands frame your face, his touch paradoxically gentle despite the venom in his words.

"You think you can escape this?" he murmurs, his tone soft, almost coaxing. "Escape me? I’m the one who writes your story, sweetheart. And I’ve decided that you don’t get an ending. Not now. Not ever."

You blink up at him, expression unreadable, and he laughs, the sound echoing through the room like the toll of a bell.

"You’ll always belong to me," he continues, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if he’s memorizing the curve of your face.

"Not even death can take you away from me. I’ll drag you back from the abyss if I have to. Over and over again."

♡ Yandere! Author, who straightens, his grin softening into something almost wistful.

"It’s funny," he says, more to himself than to you. "You’ve always been such a dull little thing. Gloomy, quiet, boring. But now?" He chuckles, shaking his head.

"Now you’re fascinating. A toy I never want to put down."

♡ Yandere! Author turns his back to you, hands tucked into his pockets, his voice carrying as he walks away.

"So go ahead," he calls over his shoulder, his tone deceptively light. "Keep sticking by me. Keep hoping I’ll slip. Because the more you push, the more I’ll pull. And I’ll make sure you never get what you want."

He glances back at you, his grin razor-sharp, his eyes glinting with something dark and terrible.

"After all," he says, his voice a soft purr, "what kind of artist would I be if I let my masterpiece end?"

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[kiefbowl]

this is going to sound silly but it isn't silly, and I'm seriously saying this. I do think there is a slight feminist concern to alien abduction stories in so far as we can assume that when people, especially women, talk about their abductions and their abilities to communicate with extra terrestrials et cetera, they are someone who is mentally unwell and who has likely experienced something traumatic. alien abduction stories tend to have common elements even if there are details wildly different from each individual. those details are different because they likely didn't happen, but the common elements tend to be things like being taken from home, being violated, being exposed, having things implanted in the body, experiencing pregnancy, having secret knowledge, having a special connection to the extra terrestrials...

you can start putting some pieces together. yes, sometimes these elements are shared because they are what's heard in pop culture. you're more likely to imagine the details of a book you read or a tv show you saw than come up with something so fantastically new and original. you can imagine, for example, if someone is a say a seven year old girl being manipulated into sexual favors by a trusted adult and doesn't understand what's happening to her and has seen alien media and perhaps even has other messaging around her wrt sin, purity, worthiness, karma (what have you), and also perhaps is predisposed to mental illness, it's easier to believe she's a special person being abducted by other worldly creatures who don't truly mean her harm. you can see how a vivid child's imagination could lead to an adult believing memories that never happened.

and so the feminist concern is to not treat these stories as complete jokes and hoaxes and roll our eyes. I'm just reminded today of something I saw years ago. I think it was a Penn and Teller Bullshit episode on aliens, and they had a group of hard core believers talking about their experiences with aliens, and it felt like we were supposed to be laughing at them when at least one of them was a woman who truly believed an alien husband took her way sometimes and forced her to give birth and she had several children she didn't get to see in space, and she was clearly not very well adjusted socially. all I could think was is this a woman who's been raped? is this a woman who has been forced to have abortions? is this a woman who has had multiple miscarriages? is this a woman experiencing domestic abuse from a husband or boyfriend? but the episode wasn't interested in exploring that, and she stuck out as "one of these things is not like the others" when juxtaposed to fake professors trying to sell their weirdo books as a living or whatever else was in the episode.

when we say believe women, that includes "crazy" women. women who say ghosts are trying to kill them, who talk about people living in their walls coming out at night to steal their body parts, women who believe they are married to alien overlords since they were 12 and have birth 50 alien babies. these women are probably telling us something and I think we can say "I believe something has happened to you" rather than make a mockery of them.

[snowysosturn]

Speeding Car - Matt Sturniolo Part 17

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Pairing : y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary : After six years with your boyfriend Alex, you start to mentally check out. At a UCLA party, Alex reconnects with his childhood friend Emily, who proposes a double date with her boyfriend Matt. Your attraction to Matt grows as he pays you the first real attention you've had in years, sparking a complicated emotional journey.

Warnings : (This is the longest chapter so far, 5.2k words, warnings will contain spoilers!!) MDNI, angst, fluff, tension, slight arguing, cheating (dont do this) smut, p in v (protected!), guilt, also not fully proof read ill do that when I wake up in the morning lol

After a few more moments of soaking in the thrill of the evening, it was time to leave the rink. The cold air had seeped through our clothes, and the exhilaration of skating had left us both pleasantly tired. As we slowly made our way to the edge of the rink, I couldn’t help but glance back at the ice one last time. It had been years since I felt so alive, so connected to something I loved, with someone who was becoming more special to me with every passing moment.

Matt reached the edge first, turning around to offer me his hand as I approached. I took it without hesitation, his warmth cutting through the chill in the air. We stepped off the ice and walked over to the benches to change out of our skates. As we sat down, the silence between us was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that tonight had been something special. I unlaced my skates, my fingers still tingling from the cold, and slipped back into my shoes. Matt did the same, occasionally glancing over at me with that easygoing smile that made my heart skip a beat.

Once we were both ready, we gathered our things and headed for the exit. The rink was eerily quiet now, the sound of our footsteps echoing softly through the empty space. As we reached the doors, Matt paused, as I turned to look at him with a playful glint in my eyes.

"Can I just say, I’m amazed with how good you are on the ice" I teased. "You’ve set the bar pretty high for our next hangout."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, so now there’s a bar I have to maintain? I see how it is."

I grinned, as Matt held the door open for me as we stepped out into the cool night air. "Well, you’ve definitely got me curious about what else you can do."

The parking lot was almost empty, the streetlights casting a soft glow over the cars. We walked toward his car, the quietness of the night making everything feel special.

As we reached his car, Matt opened the door for me, his hand lingering on the frame as he looked at me. For a moment, we just stood there, the unspoken connection between us stronger than ever. Then, with a soft smile, I slid into the passenger seat, and Matt closed the door behind me. He walked around to the driver’s side, and got in. As he started the engine, the car hummed to life, and we pulled out of the parking lot. The drive back was quieter than the drive there, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. Instead, it was the kind of silence that felt full, heavy with the memories of the night and the growing connection between us. Every now and then, Matt would glance over at me, a small smile playing on his lips.

He finally broke the silence, his voice soft “I honestly think you should get back into skating Y/n."

I laughed, turning to face him. "No I can't, it's too late now, I’ve missed the opportunity."

"It’s never too late, and from what I witnessed earlier on you still have it, it comes so naturally to you." He replied, his tone sincere. "Even I felt like I learned a lot from you, maybe I’ll become a figure skater now. You know, give you a run for your money."

"Ha, I’d like to see that" I said, rolling my eyes but smiling. "But seriously, it was really fun. I haven’t felt that free in a long time."

"I’m glad" he said, his eyes flickering toward me briefly before focusing back on the road. "You deserve to feel like that more often."

We fell into another easy silence, the sound of the road beneath us and the faint beat of music playing softly in the background. The city lights blurred past, and I found myself lost in thought, the events of the night replaying in my mind.

Before I knew it, we were pulling up to my apartment building. Matt slowed the car to a stop in front, the engine idling softly. He turned to me, his expression softer, more thoughtful now.

"I really enjoyed tonight, Y/n" he said, his voice low. "It was.. special."

"Yeah, it was.." I agreed, my heart beating a little faster as I looked at him. There was something in the air between us, a tension that had been building all night. Part of me wanted to close the gap, to see what it would be like to kiss him, to let this connection go where it felt like it wanted to.

But before I could act on the thought, the car’s dashboard lit up with an incoming call. A serious sense of deja vu running through my body. Emily’s name flashed across the screen, and just like that, the moment shattered.

I blinked, the reality of everything crashing back into place. I knew I was breaking up with Alex, but to him, the relationship wasn’t over yet. He was clueless about what was coming, about what he had done to push me away, and the fact that I know what he’s done. As for Matt, things were different. He didn’t know about Emily’s betrayal, how she had basically ended their relationship with what she did with Alex.

Matt glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening slightly. He ignored the call, but seconds later, it rang again, Emily’s name glaring at us from the dashboard. I took it as a sign, a reminder that whatever was happening between us, it wasn’t the right time. Not yet.

"I should go.." I said softly, unbuckling my seatbelt and reaching for the door handle.

Matt looked at me, something unspoken passing between us, but he nodded. "Okay" he replied, his voice laced with disappointment. "Goodnight, Y/n.”

"Goodnight, Matt" I said, giving him a small smile before I opened the door and slid out of the car. I paused for a moment, looking back at him as he finally answered the phone. His voice was low, and I could hear the tension in his tone as he spoke to Emily.

I turned away, walking up the steps to my apartment, each step feeling heavier than the last. The night had been perfect, almost magical, but it ended on a note that brought me right back to reality. As I reached my door, I couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if things were different, if we were both free to explore whatever this was between us without the shadows of our current situations looming over us.

But for now, all I could do was disappear into the night, leaving Matt to deal with his own tangled mess as I tried to untangle mine.

Matt's POV

Standing outside Y/n’s door, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. I hadn’t planned on showing up unannounced, but after yesterday, I couldn't stop thinking about her. I wanted to do something special, something that she loved, like skating. When she opened the door, I couldn’t help but smile at the surprise on her face.

“Hey, sorry for just appearing.. Are you free for the night?” I asked, trying to sound casual, though my heart was racing.

She stood there, clearly debating whether to mention something, maybe that she already had plans. But before she could respond, I knew I had ro say something else, I really wanted the plans I’d made to happen, “I have a bit of a surprise for you.”

I could see the curiosity spark in her eyes as she nodded. I felt a surge of relief. This was going to be good.

In the car, she kept asking where we were going, but I just grinned and told her my lips were sealed. When I mentioned it would be an hour's drive, she looked at me like I was crazy, but the way she smiled told me she didn’t mind. I suggested she jump on aux, and soon we were caught up in a back and forth of sharing songs. Each song she played gave me a glimpse into her world, her taste, and it felt like we were connecting on a level I hadn’t expected.

When she saw the sign for LA Kings Valley Ice Centre, the way her eyes lit up was worth every second of planning.

“We’re going skating?” she asked, clearly excited.

I nodded, feeling a bit proud of myself. “I was serious when I said I wanted to learn how to spin.”

Her excitement was contagious. “This is where I used to go to skate school,” she said, and I could hear the nostalgia in her voice. She kept thanking me, but honestly, seeing her this happy was thanks enough. 

Renting the place wasn’t an issue to me, I wanted to make sure it was just us there. The look of surprise and gratitude on her face made me feel like I’d done something right. Something she needed.

We laced up our skates and hit the ice. I could tell she was expecting me to be a total mess out there, but when I glided smoothly beside her, she looked genuinely surprised.

“Woah, you can skate?” she asked.

“Played hockey for years” I replied with a grin, enjoying the way she looked at me, maybe seeing me in a different light.

She teased me about my skating skills, so naturally, we decided to race. We lined up at one end of the rink, and I couldn’t help but notice how she looked - confident, poised, and honestly, really attractive. We took off, laughing as we pushed ourselves to go faster. She won, of course, but it didn’t matter. The way she laughed as she reached the other end made me feel like I’d won something else entirely.

After the race, she finally started to teach me how to spin. I watched closely as she walked me through the steps, focusing on her movements, her voice. When I tried it myself, I was nervous, I wanted to impress her and honestly, I wasn’t half bad, but nothing compared to the way she moved. When she started doing her old moves, I was in awe. She still had it, the grace, the skill. It was mesmerizing to watch.

I couldn’t stop watching her, how she has so much potential with skating, how it looked like she’d never stopped doing it, I was in absolute awe. The connection between us grew with every moment we spent on that ice. I didn’t want the night to end, but eventually, we had to leave.

On the drive back, the atmosphere in the car was different, calmer, more intimate. We talked about the night, about how much fun it was, I really want to push her to skate again. I wished I could erase the day she ever stopped doing it because I can see what those few hours meant for her. I could feel the tension building again, like it had when we were at the rink. I kept glancing at her, wondering if she was feeling the same way I was.

As we pulled up to her apartment, I felt this urge to kiss her, to see if what I was feeling was real. We sat there for a moment, talking, and I could tell she was thinking about it too. But then my phone lit up with a call from Emily, and the moment was gone.

I cursed under my breath as I saw her name flash on the screen. The timing couldn’t have been worse. I ignored the call, hoping we could get back to where we were, but she called again. I could see the shift in Y/n, the way she pulled back slightly, the way reality crashed back down on both of us.

She opened the passenger door, giving me a small smile, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes, and said goodnight. I wanted to stop her, to tell her that this wasn’t the end of the night I wanted, but I couldn’t find the words.

I watched her disappear into her apartment, the weight of everything settling on my shoulders as I finally answered Emily’s call, her voice came through loud and clear. 

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you, Matt.”

I sighed, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I was driving, my phone wasn’t connected properly. Didn’t think it was safe to answer while I was on the road.”

“Driving where? You didn’t mention going anywhere tonight.”

I hesitated for a moment, not wanting to get into the details with her. “Just out, needed some air.”

She huffed on the other end, clearly not satisfied with my vague response. “Have you been speaking to Y/n at all? Alex said she’s been really short with him, and he hasn’t heard from her in hours. He’s starting to lose it.”

I felt a twist in my gut. I wasn’t going to lie fully about being around Y/n this time, only hiding the parts I needed to. “Yeah, I talked to her. But why is he losing it? They’re still together, right?”

Emily scoffed, her tone laced with venom. “Barely. She treats him like shit, Matt. It’s no wonder he’s upset. She’s always so distant, like she couldn’t care less about him. And now, she’s ignoring him while he’s on the other side of the world? That’s just selfish.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling my patience wearing thin. “That’s not fair, Emily. You don’t know what’s going on between them. It seems Y/n’s been dealing with a lot lately, and maybe she just needs some space.”

Emily’s laugh was bitter. “Oh, come on, Matt. Don’t defend her. Alex deserves better than someone who barely gives him the time of day. I mean, look at how she’s acting now. It’s like she’s purposely pushing him away.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re wrong about her. Y/n isn’t the problem here. Alex has been distant for a while, and maybe she’s finally had enough. That doesn’t make her the bad guy.”

There was a pause on the other end, and I could almost picture Emily’s surprise at my sudden defense of Y/n. “You’re really going to take her side?”

“It’s not about sides, Emily. It’s about understanding that there’s more to this than you know. Maybe if you spent less time shit talking Y/n and more time trying to actually help your friend, you’d see that.”

Her voice dropped to a cold, almost threatening tone. “You better be careful, Matt.”

I felt my frustration boiling over. This conversation wasn’t going anywhere, and I couldn’t stand the way Emily was twisting everything. “I think this call is over, Emily. I’m done with this.”

Before she could say anything else, I ended the call and threw my phone onto the passenger seat, feeling a wave of anger and guilt crashing over me. I couldn’t believe how Emily was acting, how blind she was to what was really happening. And the worst part was, I knew Y/n was suffering because of it.

I turned off the engine, unbuckling my seatbelt as I made a decision. I couldn’t let the night end like this. I had to do something, something I should’ve done a long time ago. Without another thought, I got out of the car and headed towards Y/n’s apartment.

I knew this was going to change everything, but at that moment, I didn’t care. It was time to set things right, no matter what the consequences were.

Y/n’s POV

As I walked up the steps to my apartment, my mind was a whirlpool of thoughts, emotions pulling me in every direction. The night had been perfect, well, almost. There was something so easy about being around Matt, something that made me forget the chaos my life had become. But as soon as Emily's name flashed on his dashboard, reality came crashing back.

I reached my door, sliding the key into the lock, and stepped inside. I leaned against the door after closing it, trying to make sense of everything. The skating, the music, the laughter. It had felt like an escape, like we were in our own little world where nothing could touch us. But that world wasn't real.

Matt was still tied to Emily, and I was still stuck with the knowledge of Alex’s betrayal. The fact that Emily had basically cheated on Matt with Alex, and that Alex was oblivious, Matt was oblivious. It didn’t make it any better. If anything, it made everything worse. Was I any better than them for feeling what I felt about Matt? For enjoying tonight as much as I did? The guilt crept in again.

I was planning to break up with Alex, that much was certain. But did that make what I was feeling, what I was starting to want, any less wrong? Could I really justify it?

I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts away, but they followed me like a shadow. Matt was different. He wasn’t like Alex. But Emily.. Emily had her claws in him, both of them it seems, and I couldn’t forget that. She might not deserve him, but that didn’t change the fact that they were still together.

A sudden knock on the door yanked me from my spiraling thoughts. My heart jumped into my throat as I turned towards the door, my pulse quickening. I hesitated for a moment, trying to pull myself together, before reaching for the handle.

As soon as the door swung open, I barely had time to register Matt standing there before he closed the distance between us. His hands cupped my face and his lips crashed against mine. It was like a dam had broken, all the tension and longing we’d both been holding back finally pouring out. I could feel the urgency in his touch, the desperation. I responded instinctively, my hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, our breaths mingling as we lost ourselves in the moment.

I felt the world around us disappear, nothing else mattered but this - Matt and I, finally giving in to what we both wanted. There was no hesitation, no second guessing. Everything felt right. His lips moved against mine with a perfect rhythm, and I could feel the heat between us growing, the connection we shared becoming more intense with each passing second.

As we continued to kiss, Matt’s hands slipped from my face down to my waist, pulling me even closer to him. I could feel the warmth of his body against mine, the way his heart was racing just as fast as mine. It was intoxicating, the way we fit together, the way everything just clicked.

But even in the haze of the moment, there was a tenderness in the way he held me, a sense of care that made my heart swell. He wasn’t just kissing me - he was telling me something, something that went beyond words. And in that moment, I knew I felt the same way.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other’s. Matt’s eyes were searching mine, as if trying to find the words to say something, but he didn’t need to. I knew what he felt, and I felt it too.

“Matt..” I whispered, my voice shaky from the intensity of what had just happened.

He didn’t respond right away, just held me there, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time” he finally said, his voice low and full of emotion.

I smiled softly, feeling the truth in his words. “Me too” I admitted.

We stood there for a moment, just holding each other, letting the reality of what had just happened sink in. There were still so many things we needed to talk about, so many complications, but for now, none of that mattered. All that mattered was that we were finally here, together, and everything else could wait.

Everything else melted away. The confusion, the guilt, the doubts - they all vanished in the intensity of that kiss. It was like every unspoken word, every suppressed feeling, was finally being released. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe, I could only feel. This was what I had been running from, what I had been trying to deny. But now that it was happening, now that Matt was kissing me like this, there was no going back. And maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want to.

We stared into eachothers eyes again momentarily before closing the gap again, this time more intense than before, like we couldn’t get enough of each other. I began to walk backwards, pulling Matt along with me by his shirt. 

I break away from him, grabbing his hand and turning to guide him to my shared bedroom. I push open the door and we rush straight in, both too consumed by the connection between us to speak a word. 

Matt shuts the door behind him and latches his lips onto mine once more, his hands sliding down to my waist as I wrapped my arms around his neck. The kiss deepened, and before I knew it, I was guiding him backwards towards the bed, my heart racing in anticipation. When we reached it, I pushed him gently down onto the mattress, never breaking the kiss.

I climbed onto his lap, straddling him as our lips continued to move together, the heat between us growing.  Matt’s hands found their way to my back, holding me close as if he didn’t want to let go, and I felt a thrill run through me at the intensity of it all. The sensation of being so close to him, of feeling his heartbeat against mine, was overwhelming in the best possible way.

I could sense the restraint in Matt’s movements, the careful way he held me, as if he was trying to balance the passion with a deep sense of respect. It was a reminder of why I was drawn to him in the first place - his ability to make me feel safe and cherished, even in the most intense moments.

Eventually, we pulled apart slightly, I looked into Matt's eyes, seeing the same mix of vulnerability and hope that mirrored my own feelings.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, wanting to make sure we were both on the same page.

"This feels right." He whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

I nodded with a soft smile. "It does."

Before I knew it Matt had flipped me over, now laying with my back against the mattress. Foreplay wasn’t on the cards right now, with how bad we desperately wanted each other. 

Matt stood up and unbuckled his belt, the metallic sound of the buckle was sharp in the quiet room, a reminder of how far we had already come, and how much further we could go.

I looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all I saw was the same intensity that had been there all night, a mix of desire and something deeper, something that made my heart race even more. He paused for a moment, as if giving me the chance to stop, to say something, but I didn’t. I wanted this.

Instead, I sat up, to capture his lips again, my hands resting on his shoulders as I felt the belt slide free. The kiss was softer this time, more deliberate, as if we were both savoring every second, every touch. The tension between us was electric, a current that I could feel in every inch of my body. 

Matt's fingers traced up and down my thighs as he kissed me back. He hooked his fingers under my pants, pulling them down along with my underwear in one swift motion. I stared up at him with innocent eyes as he threw my pants on the floor and began to pull down his own, now standing in his boxers. 

“Is this okay?” Matt asks, trying to make sure he had as much reassurance as possible.

“Of course.” I responded, trying to make him aware of how badly I wanted it.

“Do..do you have anything?” Matt mumbled.

Fuck I never thought this through. 

“Uh.. yeah there should be some there in the top drawer”.

Knowing that Matt was about to pull out an unopened pack of condoms that belonged to Alex made my skin crawl. I knew they’d be unopened as our sex life died about a year ago.

Matt rummages around the top drawer and pulls out an open box of condoms. I don’t know what I’m more embarrassed by, the fact that Alex has most definitely been fucking someone else or the fact that Matt definitely thinks that they were being used for me.

“Are you ready?” Matt whispered.

I nodded as he pulled my legs apart, steadying himself at the edge of the bed while he pulled his underwear down, ripping the top of the condom wrapper with his teeth. He looked up at me once he was finished and our eyes met each other, locking into each other's gaze as he pushed into me. My back arched as I squeezed my eyes closed, opening my mouth from the feeling of Matt in me. 

“Fffucck” I cried.

He leaned over and gave me a smug smile before kissing me again, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I could barely kiss him back as I couldn’t stop myself from moaning. He fit in me as if it was meant to be.

“You’re so perfect” Matt whispers to me while he starts to kiss my neck.

“Y-you feel soo goood Matt” I whimpered, my body buckling with the multiple sensations I was feeling.

Matt stands up straight again, still keeping his pace, thrusting into me as his hands grip my hips. I feel the loss of his touch on my left side, as he removes his hand and traces downard on my stomach until he reaches my clit. I feel my core start to clench as he swirls his thumb in circles on my sensitive bud.

“Does that feel nice?” Matt whispers, his full attention on me.

“S-so good, Mattt… I’m so close” I whimpered.

“You look so pretty, my girl.” Matt says breathless as he looks at me in complete admiration.

Matt picks up his pace in both areas ever so slightly, still making sure he’s gentle with me. “Fuck you’re so good Y/n, I’m gonna cum.”

“Fuck I’m-” I whimper, clenching around his dick as I climax, my body shaking underneath him. Matt wrapped his arms around me and buried his head in my neck. His grunts filling my ears as his thrusts now become sloppy as he finishes. Both two sweaty mess’ fully engrossed in eachother.

I’ve never had this feeling before, finishing by the hands of a man, and I’m glad he was the one that finally could do it for me. I felt an insane amount of comfort with him, my body fully trusted him.

Matt pulled out of me and bent down to give me a slow, passionate kiss. Feeling more connected than ever. He pulls away and looks at me with a slight concerned but playful look to him.

“D-do you have any where I could put this?” Matt asks, pointing in the direction of the filled condom that’s still attached to him.

I giggled at the realization “Yeah, the ensuite is the door behind you.” Nodding in the direction of the door. Matt made his way to clean himself up in the bathroom while I slipped into something comfortable.

I walked back over to my bed and lay there staring up at the ceiling. I hear the bathroom door open as Matt reappears in the room, walking over to lay down beside me, my eyes still stuck on the ceiling. The room was filled with a quiet stillness, the only sound being our slowed, steady breathing. The warmth of Matt’s body was still close enough to feel, and everything seemed to fade into a soft haze. My mind was swimming with the events of the night, the weight of what had just happened slowly settling in.

I turned my head slightly to look at Matt. His eyes were half closed, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he now stared at the ceiling. There was a calmness in his expression, but I could see the gears turning behind his eyes, just as they were in mine. We had crossed a line - one that we both knew couldn’t be uncrossed.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. I didn’t want to break the silence, didn’t want to shatter the fragile bubble we were in. But as I lay there, the reality of everything began to creep back in - the complications, the uncertainties, the questions about what this meant for us, for our relationships.

Finally, Matt turned his head to face me, his eyes searching mine. I could see the same mix of emotions I was feeling reflected in his gaze - satisfaction, confusion, and a touch of concern.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.

I nodded, though the simple gesture felt inadequate to convey the whirlwind of thoughts in my head. “Yeah.. I’m okay” I whispered back, my voice almost trembling.

He reached out, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from my face, and the tenderness in that small gesture made my chest tighten. “I’m glad” he murmured, his thumb grazing my cheek. “I don’t want you to regret this.”

“I don’t” I said quickly, more sure of that than anything else. “It’s just.. there’s so much to think about now.”

Matt sighed, rolling onto his back again and staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah, there is” he agreed. “But right now, I just want to focus on this, on us, and what we have in this moment. We’ll figure everything else out later.”

I nodded, feeling a small wave of relief wash over me. The idea of dealing with the fallout of this was daunting, but Matt’s words grounded me, reminding me that we didn’t have to have all the answers right now. We could take it one step at a time.

I shifted closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into his warmth. The comfort of his embrace, the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear, made it easier to push away the looming thoughts, at least for a little while.

In that quiet aftermath, with the weight of the night pressing down on us, I found a sense of peace that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Whatever came next, whatever challenges we’d have to face, I knew we’d face them together.

a/n : after 16 parts of tension building they finallllllly get together!!! let’s just see how things play out..

taglist : @muwapsturniolo @anitahunt @sturnfannn @jayde510 @chrissfavhoe @babyalliah-777 @v33angel @urmom69lol @willowrites @ribread03 @2muchofaslvt @sturnsaver @sleepysturniolo @jcsturniolo11 @jessie-essie @hoeforchrizz @mynbbys @sturniolopanini @mattsturnxoxo @delicatechrry @t77te @sturnsyaper69 @hotdismylife @maggot3647 @ivysturnss @noplaceissafeanymore @mattssgf @yourfavsturniologirl @maethem0nth @sillyponygrl @mattyblover07 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @dominicfikeenthusiast @mattsfavbigtitties @ncm9696 @chrisstvrns @schlutt4matty @chrissolos @ilusa @amelia-sturniolo3 @wonnieeluvvr @pussydestroyer100 @amexiass

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hiya!! I’m obsessed with your writing. You’re my favorite writer on here, I dream of your stories!

Would it be possible to request (either with Ghost or Price, I love them both equally) something like they were young love but he breaks up with reader cos he wants to keep her safe and thinks he knows what’s best for her. Then during a mission gone wrong, they need a safe house but somehow the enemy found out all the locations of their approved safe houses. He remembered her place is close by and tries his luck. Maybe she gets mad at him for making decisions for her or maybe he learns about her difficult past that happened without with. But with a happy ending? ☺��

Only if this inspires you! Thank you again for sharing your beautiful writings!

If You Bite My Hand Again

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: How dare he show his face to you after all of these years. How dare you still find it in yourself to love him.

WORDCOUNT: 6.6k

WARNINGS: Heavy angst, abandonment, arguments, mentions of death, blood, insinuations of torture & mental illness troubles, Simon's comic backstory, hurt/comfort, sort of suggestive?, anxiety attack, somewhat happy ending, etc.

A/N: This was really fun to write, lol, enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You never should have met him. In fact, it seemed like the universe had been adamant to make you not run into each other on that chilly October morning almost…well…it has to be more than thirteen years ago, now. So long. 

As you head to your kitchen and glance at the clock, the hands point to a perfect three-fifteen—an hour of pitch-blackness and whispering winds that dash past the musty glass of the windows. The thump of your footsteps blocks out the heaving sigh that falls from your mouth; rubbing at your eyes like a cat as great bags sag from tired flesh. 

The dreams weren’t uncommon. 

Simon still reigned supreme in the conjuring of them, ingrained into the sinews and pulled thin by a hand constantly working them—knitting a sweater of memories addled with age. Moth-eaten. 

As you snap on the light of your tiny and run-down kitchen, the bulb fizzing and the dishwasher still emitting that squeal as it always does, you think about him before grabbing a glass. Water hits and fills the thing up as your eyes blankly stare, fatigued but yet never more awake. 

The tremors in your hands persist.

You never should have met him.

—

Your feet take you to Primary, laces a mess atop your little shoes caked in mud and grass—you’d chased after a butterfly through the front yards, getting caught in your neighbor's bushes and having to slip your way out before she could rampage outside with her broom. 

It was no surprise that your face was lit with a bright smile, eyes shining like fire that your teachers had given you a special name for—“Ember.”

The very thing that could start a blaze over and over again as long as it still was alight.

Laughing and peeing out leaves from your hair; flattening out your uniform, you stride with pride ingrained into your body. Well, you did before you heard the soft sniffling coming from down the alley. 

Halting, your ears perk at the sounds, smile freezing as you blink quickly. Looking to your left, you lock onto the hunched figure of a boy. 

Perhaps only a year or two older than you, you stare in curiosity as he consciously paws at his cheeks, walking out of the alley in broken and odd strides. His uniform is ruffled, wrinkled, but not in the way yours was.

He must have fallen and hurt himself, you reason with a child-like frown pulling on your lips. Blinking at his blond hair, you get a glimpse of red-rimmed brown eyes.

The boy halts, looking at you widely, fear and pain emanating from his expression. You’re the first to speak, brightness still in your eyes but a deep innocence that comes with youth. All you saw was a boy your age in pain—that was strange to you. You knew what getting hurt was like; you fell and scraped your knees often, or hit your elbows on corners. Sometimes you would cry from that…did the same happen to this boy?

“You’re crying, aren’t you?” Brown-Eyes stares, hurriedly pushing at his face to wipe tears but only succeeds in making his face red from the material of his uniform. “Did you fall down? I do that pretty often—it’s okay, my Mum says you’ll be better after a hug and a kiss!”

You smile and stand straighter. 

“I,” the boy begins, sniffling. “I didn’t fall. I’m not clumsy.”

You tilt your head, confused. “Well…then why are you crying?” 

“That’s none of your business!” He snaps, brows pulled in as he comes forward on the sidewalk. Your face twists as you huff in annoyance. 

“My Mum says to treat everyone nicely. That wasn’t very nice.” 

“I don’t bloody care, do I,” you’re sent a scathing glance as he passes. “I didn’t ask for you to speak to me. Leave me alone.” 

Naturally, you follow after, cheeks gaining heat.

“You’re being mean! Apologize!” 

“Would you run off already?!” The boy shouts, and perhaps something fires in that small brain of yours—a thought and a semblance of self-realization at the shame that emits from his tone. A tight squeeze of vocal cords. 

He was ashamed. Ashamed you’d caught him. Seen him. 

Your feet slow back to a stop, watching him hurriedly continue on and hearing the quiet gasps of breath. After a moment, you grit your teeth and run the distance; seizing him around the middle in a hug of stubby fingers and tightly closed eyes.

The boy startles, body hardening and a cry escaping his lungs. “Get off of me!” He shouts, hands snapping down to yours and digging under your hold. 

“No!” You call, stubbornly. “My Mum says that hugs make everything better—”

“Stop talking about your Mum!” The boy stomps his foot to the ground, chubby cheeks turning crimson as he tilts his head back to look at you, tears still dripping off his chin. 

A stiff silence falls but like a green branch on a tree, Brown-Eyes’ form twitchingly loosens, his prying hands softening as you hold tight—digging your nose into his spine. He minutely flinches, but you only hug him more. 

You’re both late to the building, and your teachers are going to give you scoldings. But right now, on a chilled October morning, you hug this strange, crying boy and blink your fiery eyes up at him. 

After he relaxes fully and the sniffling stops, you let go and smile brightly again, looking up into his open expression of innocent confusion. Whatever had happened, he must have fallen pretty hard, you thought, pulling out another leaf from your hair. You giggle and hand it over as a gift. 

The boy hesitantly picks it up and looks at it before turning back to you. 

“Call me Ember.” 

A pause. A hesitation. But your eyes shimmer and he relents with the memory of the hug in the front of his mind. Such a strange encounter. 

He speaks, looking away from you with flushed cheeks, muttering out as his tear streaks dry.

“...Simon.”

You walk together the rest of the way.

The reality was, if you had gotten caught by your neighbor, had snatched that butterfly—had even stayed in those bushes for three more seconds, you would have missed him. And if Simon hadn’t run out of his home crying, he never would have locked onto the burning reality that was with you. 

—

You put the glass to your chapped lips and take a long sip, throat bobbing as you take down the liquid with tears burning your eyes. Blinking rapidly, you swipe at the water at the sides of your mouth and shake your head, sighing. 

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” Your voice bounces off the walls, peeling paint and moving the dust stuck atop the fridge. “Damnit, Simon.” 

Today was worse than the others—everything building and stacking like some castle of misery and pain; windows too narrow to let in any light and your form stuck in shadows longer than an endless rope. There were just so many things that suffocated you now. 

And in the endless nights, the brain desperately looks for comfort. 

You hate that it only comes from the memories of him. 

“I have to go to work tomorrow.” Your subconscious reminds you as you blankly stare out the window above the sink, seeing the streetlights and the cone of warm light—it flickers every so often, a blinking taking place like the eye of a large, brutish, wolf. 

Work, then the grocery store, then back home to eat a tasteless dinner and fall back to sleep. An empty house with empty walls and empty memories. 

Your hands put the glass in the sink, coming back up to rub and dig into your eyes until the itch behind your flesh stops. A thump of a low pulse is felt in the thin skin, orbs of your optics moving before you pinch into the bridge of your nose and drop them with a slap of a hand to the counter. A harsh breath exits your mouth, but it’s quickly strangled away into a sound of ragged shock. 

Outside, under the light, the silhouette of a man leans heavily on the pole, feet shaking under him and face pressed into the shadows as his shoulders heave. You stare, wide-eyed, as your heart jumps to a rapid pace. 

“What the fuck?” Your mouth utters, watching the man push off the light and stagger with a heavy limp and a jerking body of immense stature. Whoever this guy was, he was out of his mind—and coming right for your front door. You startle to go and secure it, feet slapping the ground and face twisted. 

“What the fuck?!” Gasping, you re-check your locks and frantically look for something else—the stool where you place your keys meets your eyes. You grab it and place it as a barrier to the handle, tilting it on two legs and blinking quickly as whatever sleep-sheen that had been in your gaze leaves in one swoop of adrenaline.

Grunting wafts in from under the door, haggard inhales and a sudden slam of a body hitting the door. You stifle a scream and back up quick steps, slapping your hands to your mouth.

Sure, you might live in a shitty neighborhood, but no one had ever tried to just straight-up break in high or drunk off something. Your mind slashes to the knives in the kitchen drawer as the wall shakes again—something sliding down to the ground and a grunted whine. 

Just before you run off, you hear it. An utterance; a disruption of airwaves. A whisper, a plea. Your brain ceases to function with one foot back the way you came, hand on the frame with the knuckles tight. 

In one instance it all comes to a screeching halt. 

“Ember…” 

Who called you that anymore? The rare instance where you’d meet your classmates in the world they would mutter it; also be asked a few questions before they went on with their lives. You pause in your panic, slowly gazing back at the barrier and the stool like you’d just discovered you’re under the sights of a sniper. 

There’s a sliver of something that inserts itself into your brain. Fear or hope, you can’t tell. But that can’t be right. 

He left. 

“Ember!” You flinch, the deep Manchester accent grating your heart into shreds. No. “It’s me!” He says, followed by a horribly gritty cough. 

There’s a weak thump against the door, mumbled curses, and growls as if a wild animal mimicking human speech. You almost wished for that, considering you now knew the exact person behind the door down to his atoms. The brown of his eyes and the way his cheeks looked as they were stained with tears. 

His laugh. Simon’s voice. Everything.

Simon.

You’re rushing to rip the stool away with a clatter and a jerk as it hits the far wall, undoing the locks with shaking hands as you grasp the handle and wrench it sideways. 

His form slams to your feet with a loud grunt as the door hits the wall. 

“Fuckin’ hell! Mind your bloody—!” Whatever he said was lost to you as you stare at the bloodied form of the man you had thought you’d seen the last of. Tactical gear, terrifying skull mask, black on black with weapons galore. But that voice told you all you needed to know.

Simon Riley is alive and very much breathing. 

The same boy you still loved. 

The same boy who’d broken your heart.

—

After October the years with Simon seemed to strengthen. You always walked together in the mornings—or, at least, you always waited for him. The dawn of your friendship strengthened and hardened to an unbreakable amount of mid-day rays; vast and sunny. 

When he was sixteen he asked you to be his girlfriend, hand in his pockets and ache on his chin as he grunted out broken sentences. Stuttering and awkward. You’d smiled with your bright eyes and giggled before kissing his cheek—feeling his sigh and him melting into you with a grin of his own, unable to meet your eyes for a moment. 

Later, when he said he’d wanted to leave his apprenticeship at the grocery’s butcher shop and join the Special Air Service, you’d been along for the ride—anything to get him away from his father and brother. You knew what was going on, even if he was still so hesitant to allow you any glimpse of his home life.

When he’d shy away at the Halloween decorations of skeletons as if the skull would jump off the page and tense at loud cheering, you knew. You did what you could, but there was only so much for you to suggest or say without him shutting down. 

When you’d offered your flat as a safe space after graduation, desperate to help your Lover, he’d stared and blinked in shock; tilting his head at you before smiling softly and taking you into a hug. Wherever he went, he knew he’d always have a place by your side.

So, throughout his leaves of absence from the military, he’d come home to you—bruised and tired, but still the same Simon you fell in love with. You’d cook for him, tease at his shaved hair as he gave you those puppy-dog eyes, and talked him through your classes at University.

You would fall asleep on his chest, feeling the hard strength he was gaining and the way he held you tighter than he ever had; conscious of himself but not wanting to part with you. 

The love the both of you had was akin to a blaze of fire, and you often found Simon simply staring into your eyes in times like those—watching silently and rubbing his thumb along your spine until your face burned. 

He was always so gentle despite everything; you loved his perseverance, his drive to be good despite nearly every factor telling him he couldn’t be. Slowly but surely, he was forging his own life. 

In 2003 he managed to take a break from the military to get his family straightened out. His brother, Tommy, went to rehab—Simon stayed with his mother and a year later he kicked his father to the curb and out of his and his family's life entirely. Finally free. 

You managed to meet his lovely mum, still so bright, and even interacted with Tommy once he got out; went to the younger brother’s wedding in ‘06 and met Beth, his wife. When you saw Simon’s mother and the way she carried herself, you knew where your Love got his pride from. The two were so alike it was a sight to see. 

While it may not have been conventional by any standard, Simon proposed to you in the back garden of Tommy’s cheap wedding venue. Alone, so as not to cause a scene. Willow trees and a small stream of water. Fireflies. The words ring in your soul with every waking moment, and they will stay there until it all goes silent with the grip of death.

He didn’t want to use his mum’s ring—the one that holds so many bad memories for both parties. He’d used the gold from it though. Went to a man who bled him dry for money to have it re-cast. 

It was simple. A small, glinting, ruby pressed in the middle. 

“It was always goin’ to be you, Ember, yeah?” he’d muttered in his deeper voice, formal attire holding you both tight. “So…don’t make me beg too much, Sweetheart. You know the old lady’ll kill me if I get stains on my suit.” 

“Beg?” You responded, tears in your eyes but such a wide grin on your lips. The stars above you twinkle like the pupils of your eyes—the same burn still trapped. “Oh, Simon, come on, now.” He connects his forehead to yours, hand still in the middle of you and presenting the accumulation of all of his love. The other wraps your waist. 

He was shaking slightly. 

“I would never make you beg for my love, Brown-Eyes.”

You both share a breathless chuckle and lock lips, smiling like fools as he sighs into you. 

In a happy world, that would have been the beginning of a perfect life. A happy house. A happy wedding. Happy deaths. 

But something went wrong on one of his deployments. 

Missing for months, he came back…wrong. With a fiery temper and sharp snapping words—wounds on the outside as well as inside. His eyes were feral, like a dog held back by a broken chain carting around its feet. 

Simon never spoke about it—the missing days. The weeks. The months. 

You broke yourself over it, trying to help but not knowing what would make it better. Some days there were flickers of soft expressions, but it was as if he were dragging himself up from a pool so deep it was bottomless to show them to you. Simon rarely smiled. He rarely sent an affectionate glance. 

He didn’t let you touch him. 

And then he called the entire engagement off with a letter on your counter only holding four words. 

‘Don’t look for me.’ 

And then Simon’s mum, Tommy, Beth, and his nephew had all died. Been killed. And you were just supposed to move on? Live with that? There were times when you had breakdowns so bad you couldn't leave the house for days—the house that Simon and you had bought together. 

All of those years. 

All those vows and shared nights.

And he disappeared on you.

—

You have him sitting on the couch, watching silently from the chair across the room as he finishes wrapping his leg with the bandages from the first-aid kit you’d provided. 

More like chucked at his gut.

No one had said a word, and the air was as tense as a noose—choking any oxygen that traveled into your throat. Simon was getting blood all over your flat cushions, the crimson saturating the fabric as you sit rail-rod straight, hand clenched on your thighs. 

Simon’s avoiding your eyes.

“Take off the mask,” you hiss, pupils slits. If he wasn’t going to address it, then you were. Simon freezes, not breathing as his hands fall stationary around the bandages. 

“I’ll be fine in a while—”

“Take off your fucking mask, Simon.” You can’t help the way you snap, face burning with shame and hate. How dare he show up now, after all of these years of mourning him and the relationship you’d built as kids. Simon wasn’t just your boyfriend—your fiancé—he was your best friend. 

And all he’d done was left you a four-fucking-letter note before leaving you behind.

The geared man sighs silently, and you see his shoulders sag. His grip travels up as he straightens his spine in a fluid motion, pain medication working through him in waves of numbness. 

His brown eyes bore through you as if he were a ghost. Under the fabric, his mouth thins. “Ma’am.” 

Even his voice is older. More dead. How could this be your Simon?

Your heart bruises your ribcage as he grasps the top of his skeletal mask, gloved fingers peeling back the sown layers until you get the full image of a man more damaged than before. You have to stop yourself from sobbing right then and there; your throat going dry.

So many scars. Milky white and spread vastly—they weren’t pretty. Up his cheeks, down his brow line; even at the corner of his mouth and seeping down his neck. A crooked nose with damaged cartilage. Strangling a gasp, it comes out as a great expelling of horror, eyes going wide with shock. 

You hate how you want to rush to him, take his face in your hands, and try to brush them away as if marks on paper. But you don’t make any such movements beyond a hunch of your shoulders. 

“Not pretty, eh? Guess I should’ve warned you.” Simon rubs at his forehead, blond locks, hanging around his temple, and the black of face-paint stuck in his sockets. “Didn’t mean to fuckin’ drop in like this, Ember. Bloody bastard thing for me to do.” 

You flinch at the name, looking away as you’d been peeling back his skin with your eyes. “What are you doing here, Simon?” Anyone with a brain could hear the cracking hardness in your words. Face blank. 

He studies your features, taking in the changes and the bleakness of your expression. Brows furrow slightly before they go back to a state of nothingness. Simon glances around the room, finding the condition of things concerning but doesn’t show it. 

“Nothin’ you need to worry about comin’ back to you, Sweetheart. Just work.”

“It is when the bastard who abandoned me shows up years later, bloody on my doorstep. Stop acting so self-righteous,” you growl, snapping, “I should toss your arse outside and let them have you. And don’t fucking call me that.”

Silence descends, and your words echo. It’s like now that he was here everything hurt ten times more than when he wasn’t. 

“I never wanted us to end up like we did—”

“Bullshit!” You’re on your feet and stalking to him, pointing with your finger as he hurriedly stands up as well and looks down in shock as you press your digit into his bulky vest. “You shut your mouth, Simon Riley, and you let me explain something to you.” 

He keeps silent, mouth parted and scars shifting around his stubble. His hands slightly held out at his sides and hovering over your hips—not touching you but there just in case. Simon’s brown ords are carefully widened at your tight exclamation. The sound of his clearing throat enters the living room before you speak again. 

“I waited for you, hoped and prayed that you would show me at least a,” your throat bunches, but you push through. “A modicum of respect and show your stubborn self up at my door with apology flowers and a guilty smile on your lips. You know who took care of your family's burial plots, you fucking piece of shit,” his eyes flinch closed a bit, turning his head down as his breath hitches. “Me! You fucking disappeared!”

You know you shouldn’t be yelling, shouldn’t be pounding on his chest with a fist as if he was a door and you the knocker, but, dammit, it’s been years and he just shows up? Like this? Ten times the size he was—scarred and torn to shreds; laced with muscles and an expression of vacancy. Simon holds to your words, hanging off of them with a down-ward turned chin and eyes that lock with yours through pale lashes. 

“Maybe I-I did, o…or pushed some things that I shouldn’t have,” you hold back your tears, but your voice still wavers, tapering off like a line without a hook, “but I didn’t deserve that, Simon.” The first traitorous sob breaks through. “I didn’t deserve that.”

His eyes shatter into a myriad of kaleidoscope bits and pieces, brows flicking from one point on your face to another in quick slashes of guilt. But he still doesn’t touch you. Not until you tell him it’s what you want.

Simon opens his mouth but closes it just as quickly, unable to find any words that would even matter. You let your tears slip down your cheeks, dribbling off your chin. The man’s chest hurts, pulse thumping to mirror yours. 

“I waited for you and you broke me,” you whisper, mouth twisting with odium towards the man under your fist. “I wanted a life with you, Simon, no matter the trials.”

“I didn’t mean to…” The man trails off, clenching his jaw. You scoff, backing up a step and pressing your palms into your eyes. 

“But you did.”

“I had to keep you safe, Ember.” Simon’s fingers twitch outward, eyes frantically moving around as you sniffle and shakily walk away to the kitchen. He follows, desperately on your heels as your spine bows forward with resounding cries of anguish. “I...I wasn’t right in the head, I need you to understand I didn’t want this! I never wanted to fucking hurt you!” 

Your hand connects with the junk drawer, tearing it open and digging a hand inside as he pleads with you to listen. 

“If I didn’t leave I was worried I’d do something—!”

“Then you should have trusted me!” Your hands rip out the ring held on a small leather strap. The ruby glints where it always sits, held in tarnished gold. You chuck it at his chest and suck down breaths so you don’t pass out. “I would have listened! Gotten you help! We don’t abandon the ones we love, Simon! Not us!” 

Simon catches the object by slapping a hand to his chest, pinky finger latching through the leather cord before he jerks his limb back up. When he looks at the ring, he goes utterly still, gazing back up at you slowly. 

“We were supposed to be different,” you sob, trapping it behind your hands. He’s shaking, brows tight and lines along his face as he brings a free hand to run through his locks, gripping the strands for a moment and pulling. “Simon,” you say again, and he looks back at you with glossy eyes. “We were supposed to be better.”

“What did I do to you to deserve that,” he stares, his jaw is loose and he can’t stop clenching and unclenching it. You can see his heart working through his breast. Bloodied. Beaten by fists and slashed with knives. “What did I do to you?”

“Nothing,” he gasps, taking a step forward. “Fuck, Ember, you didn’t bloody do anything to me besides love me.” 

You sputter out, “Then why did you leave me here alone?” Your knees buckle and he darts forward, catching you under the arms as you wail out, shoving on his waist, “You never should have come back. Never should have come back.” 

He lets you push him off; lets you back up to the counter as Simon tilts his head higher to stave off the tears in the sides of his eyes. He’d known coming here was a bad idea, for lack of a better word, but after the Op went bad and all of his safe houses were compromised, he didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t to say he didn’t regret his actions in the past with you, or that he didn’t punish himself for them, yet at the time it was the only thing he could do to give him the sense that you would be better without him. Safe. 

After everything that had happened, he wasn’t in the right state of mind anymore. You deserved so much better. But hearing all of this…

Christ, could he have been wrong? Everything blurred; hurt. Hearing your sobs was like a knife to his heart every time, digging and cutting with serrated edges at the veins and pumping muscle, carving away flesh to shed the pounding redness to light. You held that heart in your hand and in his he held the ring—the ring he’d given to you as a promise of love and honor. 

A pact of loyalty. 

Simon doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the blurring edges of his vision make itself known. His eyes bore harshly, prodding into you as he makes known what he’s been broken since he first locked gazes with you again. The man’s voice shakes, accent deep and tight.

He asks the first thing that comes to his head.

“What happened to your eyes?”

“What?” You ask, incredulously, brows furrowed as your hand digs into the counter to keep you upright. Simon stares deeper, the sides of his eyelids wrinkling with a not-so-hidden sheen of great concern. Unbearable pain.

“What happened to your bloody eyes?” Where had the spark gone? That flare that grew and spread like fire that was the entire purpose behind your name. An unconquerable ache for life. 

You only watch him with a parted mouth and tear-stained lashes, sniffling. Simon tries again, taking a step forward on unsteady feet. 

“Please, Sweetheart, d…don’t, don’t…” He can’t finish, the leather cord intertwined into his fingers as he comes closer. “Don’t tell me I took it away. Not my Ember. Not my Girl’s fire.”

Your eyes are so overflowed you can’t even see him as he hovers over you, fingers coming up to brush your cheeks as his mouth is open in hard pants of breath. “No, no, no. Fuckin’ bastard, not me. Not over me, please.” It’s like Simon’s not even talking to you but rather himself. 

He mutters in fast sentences, eyes panicked. “You were supposed to be better off—‘posed to move on. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you find someone else?” 

“You’re an idiot, Simon. An idiot,” you sag into his neck, nose digging into his pulse as he quivers, legs having to reset themselves. His heat melts into you as your body gives out with a final sob, “It was always going to be you.”

His arms snap around you like a vise, dragging you into him as he breaks and stifles his whimper on your scalp, breathing right by your ear; gasping for breath. 

“M’sorry,” he mutters, so silent below his sniveling stutters, “M’so sorry, Sweetheart. This is all my fucking fault.” 

You shake into his chest, face nuzzling and desperate to smell his scent again—tired from all the yelling and fighting. It was still late, you still needed to go to work tomorrow…but Simon. 

Oh, Simon. How could he be so…him?

Your sobs are quieter than his, tiny cries that make the man’s arms tighten around you every time. Hands coming up, you can’t stop the way you want to hold him; how you wish to keep him close to you and push him away all at once. How dare he? 

How dare he still make you love him after all he’d put you through? 

Simon sags to the floor with you in his hold, head bowed and trying to gasp down his vulnerability as tears stain your shoulder. It’s as if the realization that he’d made a mistake had broken him back down to when he was young, past hatred of messing up infesting his brain like maggots. A fear of it, even. 

The man presses quick, panicked kisses to your neck as his breath hitches every other second, rocking you back and forth. 

“Didn’t mean to do it,” Simon utters. “Didn’t mean for it to hurt you—” 

He breaks off and you realize that despite the years Simon’s mind was still very much fragile when it came to home life. You blink and take a deep breath, unable to get out of his unrelenting grip. 

Your hand travels up to find the back of his head, spreading through his hair and massaging his flesh. When things got bad you used to do this with him. Give the man something to focus on so he could pass through his hysteria quicker.

Simon’s ribcage bangs against yours, nearly hyperventilating with how he’s trying to hide his small grunts and whines.

“Simon,” you clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down as seriousness sets in your tone. “Simon, breathe.” 

Your ears twitch, noticing him listen to you as he takes down a long gasp of air and breathes out in puffs on your neck—hot and humid. 

“Ember…”

“Shh,” interrupting, you shush him in tiny whispers, still rubbing at his head. “Brown-Eyes, just sit here, okay?” You feel a jerky nod, his fingers squeezing your flesh off and on as he mimics your own lung pattern. 

It’s a few minutes before he goes completely still again, and you feel the burn of shame from his face in your clutch. The relationship was strained—or whatever you could call this—but you never wanted to see him in pain. Never.  

You knew he was better when he sighs deeply, completely going limp in your arms; great weight leaning into you as you lean back to the cabinets to help with the pure might of his physique. With a slow hand, you un-velcro his vest and his gear, letting it hit the floor with dull thumps and clatters. 

He doesn’t protest, doesn’t move to help or hinder. You would give anything to know what he was thinking. 

“M’sorry,” Simon whispers and you respond accordingly, softly.

“You’ve already said that, Love.” He grunts, taking in a long, deep breath. 

“Need you t’know it.” 

“...I do.”

“Okay.” You close your eyes and stave off your anger at everything happening right now. While it would feel better to yell at him until dawn, what would that even achieve? Everything had needed to be said, had been. And you’d never felt lighter than at this moment. 

You knock your head against him, the both of you panting for breath and hands vibrating with leaving adrenaline. Sweaty and twitchy. 

“You never should have done that, Simon.” Whispering, you sigh. “I needed you. I needed you here. With me.” He stays still, but you feel his lips press deeper into your pulse. You’re practically in his lap, back to the woodgrain. 

In a moment of weakness, or pure longing, you pull his head back and situate your hands at his cheeks, looking over his scars and his broken skin as he lets you move him how you wish. His half-lidded, red, eyes stare—grip around you not letting up. 

Simon doesn’t speak as, unprompted, you kiss the shattered bridge of his nose; you only feel the fluttering of his lashes as they tickle your cheeks. 

“I was scared of myself.” He mutters. “After they died…” His family. “I didn’t want to put you in danger, Ember. Not you.”

“We would have figured it out, Simon. You know that, deep down, you do.” Brown eyes find yours as you tilt his head. 

“You sure?” He asks, desperate for an answer even though he doesn’t know himself. 

Thumbs run up and down his stubble. Your face creases, “...I don’t know. But we could have tried.” 

Simon’s eyes close tightly, and his face tilts to press his lips to your palm, quivering breath exhaled with the strength of an open balloon. Your ring was still stuck in his digging grip, and it was never going to leave for the rest of the night. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, gravely voice lax. 

Studying him now, in this light, knowing he was so afraid of what he might do if he got into an episode, you were stabbed with agony in your heart. To be that afraid of yourself to that magnitude was nearly unimaginable to you.

Nearly. 

“What now?” You ask lowly, the last remnants of tears drying as Simon opens his eyes slowly, looking back at you. 

“Don’t know.” He admits. “I have to leave.”

“I have work tomorrow,” you relate. Your teeth find your lip, biting it. 

A small awkward chokehold captures the both of you. The reality was that both of you were akin to strangers again—such was the curse of lost years and trials you’d faced along the way. 

Brown-Eyes and Ember were dead, yet you still called their names like phantoms of sleek black fabric and chained recollections of a boy with red cheeks and a girl with muddy shoes. The walks to school were there, the dates, and the late nights spent in good company. Touches to skin and open-mouthed kisses. Fireflies that whizzed and the glinting of gold as wind ran through the willows.

Dark corruption stained the faint idea of happiness; of a good world. This was not reality. It was some joke of an existence. 

If life were fair, Simon Riley would have never grown up in that house—his father wouldn’t have latched onto his brother and done dark deeds to wrap the little brown-eyed boy in red tissue paper and barbed wire. A present and sheen of mild sociopathy; separation of any pain or torment. A fighting boy. A boy born with blood on his hands and stuck behind his eyes every time he swung a fist. 

It was a curse to love him. And it was a curse that burned your soul with his very name. 

“Are you going to go?” You ask, eyes blank but yearning for what little comfort you can grab. It had been so long.  Simon blinks, his head still in your hands; body not moving.

He knows he should. He isn’t sure if there’s anything left for him here or not. 

Simon connects his head to yours and you still. “Do you want me to?” 

“Do you love me?” You blurt, blinking at him and confused. Simon’s lips part. “Or if you walk out that door do I plan on never seeing you again?” 

You're about to open your mouth and continue before his own slots perfectly against it.

You gasp lightly, taken aback but in no way opposed. He still felt exactly the same, flesh still tasting metallic and tinged with violence down to his DNA; raised with survival instincts as his greatest ally. Until you. 

With you survival became secondary. 

Your hands go to card through his hair, latching and lightly pulling as Simon’s body shivers; growling against your lips in a dance of heated flesh and damp cheeks. Hearts hammer with the restraint of years. 

“I would never make you beg for my love,” he murmurs between lapsing passes of his mouth, open kisses and dark glances. “Tell me where you want me to be.”

You whimper against him and he goes back in, pressing the base of your skull to the cabinet as hands grip and slide, kneading your skin. 

“Tell me,” Simon whispers. Pleads through grunts. “Ember, tell me.”

“Here,” you admit brokenly, pulling him closer to you as you’re lifted and placed on the countertop. “I need you here, Simon. I need you with me.” 

Fingers capture your chin, keeping your head angled up as your eyes beg. Lips bush with every word, gazes wild as if two leopards locking jaws over a kill. 

“Fight to get me back.” Brown sparks with purpose, a small puff of air hitting your mouth as eyes darken over. In this moment, you do not know if you’re dying or living. “Make it right.”

“Affirmative.” Simon moves his head back, taking your ring and looping the cord around his neck, he keeps it there as you watch, breathless. Your face creases with question. The man’s lips flicker when he sees this, coming back and grasping your hips as you instinctually latch to his waist. 

“I’ll give it back when I’ve earned the right for you to be called mine again. Seems I have work to do, Sweetheart.” He kisses you once more, firm and true. “First, I’ll ‘ave to figure out if my Girl can get her spark back, yeah? I’ve proper gone and fucked it up.” 

That night you lay in the heap of limbs and sheets that couple the both of you together. In the morning the questions would start, and Simon knew you’d take nothing short of the truth. 

And he’d give you it. All of it. 

Because Simon Riley knows well enough that you don’t go and bite the hand that feeds twice. Certainly not when it was you. Certainly not when it offers a love he would never hope to find again, in this life or the next.

So you keep the other close and sag into a deep slumber, not to wake for a long, long time. 

And you’d both never slept better

TAGS:

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[thehouseofurmotha]

Aizawa x chronically ill student reader (platonic ofc) head cannons

Warnings: mentions of throwing up,

This is def very self indulgent but im sad so I deserve it 🙏

• It starts off with him noticing you occasionally cluching your stomach in pain during classes and training. But he doesn't really think much of it.

• That's until you start missing a lot of school. He's talked to Nezu he knows that the absences are excused but he doesn't know why you're missing so much school. But nonetheless he makes sure to keep track of the work you missed so he could give it to you on the days you were there.

• One of the days you were in class during training, he sees you crouching on the ground leading on your knees with your stomach. He thinks you may be injured so he tells you to go see recovery girl.

• Then he's informed that he is to allow you to go to recovery girl no questions asked. At this point he figures out that he needs to talk to you about what's going on.

• So after class one day he asks you to stay after because he needs to talk to you. This is how he finds out about all the things going on. You explain to him that it started with throwing up every morning, and then it continued into all the time. And you explain that's it's not because of nausea but rather your stomach is cramping so bad and causing so much pain that it's what's causing you to throw up.

• He feels bad finding this out. He asks you what exactly is wrong with you and you have to explain that they can't figure it out. You've been to the ER three times and they've run every test they can but none of them have given you any answers, and the doctor who specializes in stomach issues can't get you in for months.

• He can only imagine how stressful that may be. He tells you that he's here to support you however he can. He lets you know that you are allowed to go to recovery girl whenever without saying anything, and he will let your other teachers know.

im not mentally ill u r