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ultravioletreyswrites · 3 days ago

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𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐏, robert reynolds!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“His touches are as soft as he can possibly make them. In a way it’s almost devout, like how you would take care of an ancient marble statue that deserves to be loved for hundreds of years after its creation."

Summary — Alphabet of headcanons based on being with Robert Reynolds. | SFW + NSFW.

CW/Tags — Fluff & Smut, Light Angst, Tenderness (as always), Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Mentions of Child Abuse + Past Drug Addiction, Rated explicit due to sexual situations and descriptions (ie. Mentions of Light Choking + Hair Pulling), Gender-Neutral Reader, No Use of Y/N.

A/N — I come back to this app bearing more bullet pointed gifts for your consideration.

5.5k words | ao3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

SFW ↴

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

✷ Incredibly affectionate, both physically and emotionally. Though the latter takes a bit of reinforcement.

Physically, Bob loves being close to you in any way you’ll let him. Hands around your waist while at the counter, head to your chest while laying down, fingers sweeping to adjust your hair while sitting. Bob was touched starved for a very long time and having someone to finally allow himself to be soft with is a gift.

Emotionally, Bob tries to be as verbally reassuring as possible. He tries to take the time to compliment you, to communicate when something is wrong, to show adoration not just through actions but words too. He had to let go of the notion that talking just gets people hurt. What he says is powerful, he wants to choose them right.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

✷ Meeting would be on accident truthfully. Two people colliding by complete chance.

You call it luck, Bob calls it a blessing.

It’s a slow integration of letting himself be comfortable and his soul be known. The rhythm of knowing one another eventually gets to a point where neither of you can quite figure out where one of you ends and the other begins. A bit terrifying but wholeheartedly mutual.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

✷ Bob is a cuddle bug point blank.

Laying down against the bed or the couch with you curled against him is his idea of heaven. Having your weight on him helps to soothe whatever storm is brewing in the confounds of his mind. It’s an addiction that won’t kill him.

There are some days where it’s his body pressed on top of yours. Usually when his thoughts get bad and he needs someplace to hide away. He’s figured out that sinking into your arms and chest are his best form of escape.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

✷ Bob considers himself to be shit at cooking but it’s mostly just because he never took the time to care in the past. He basically lived off of boiled ramen and pizza rolls during his early adult years. It was easier. Minimal effort. When it came to cleaning he was even worse at sustaining himself. Drugs clouded everything in his life.

But now he has someone to take care of: you, his teammates, or—god forbid—himself. He’s taken to focusing his efforts on things he never seemed to before. Because now there’s time, a clear and non-hazy purpose to his actions.

A lot of it goes without being asked. Bob considers providing a redemption. He gives to you to forgive himself.

He’ll do the laundry and use that particular detergent that he knows you love the smell of. He’ll wash the dishes and make sure to clean your favorite mug extra carefully by hand. He’ll make comfort food on stressful days and warm meals when the weather turns cold. He’ll organize your media and make sure that specific novel or film disc that you love so much is always at the forefront.

At the end of the day, it’s all another act of love on his part.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

✷ Quietly. With a lot of guilt.

If Bob is to ever break it off it’s because his mental health is finally getting the best of him. The last thing he wants to do is drag you down.

He does it in a calm space with just the two of you. No distractions, no prying eyes, just two heartbroken people. He holds your hands in the soft way he always has. He apologizes profusely through tears and presses kisses to your temples as you cry.

“It’s better for both of us… for now at least. I’m sorry.”

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

✷ Marriage isn’t exactly something crucial to Bob, mostly due to the fact that he always assumed it was out of the cards for him. So he never dwelled on it. But when it comes to you the idea feels warm, comfortable. The notion starts as a fantasy a few months into your relationship and eventually evolves into a possible reality.

You’re the one who brings it up out of the blue during a lazy Sunday afternoon. You and Bob are relaxing on the balcony, you snuggled against his chest as he reads. The question pops out of your mouth in a whisper before you can stop yourself.

Bob goes still for a moment before closing his book and setting it to the side. He finds the frame of your face, lifting you gently to look you right in the eye. A soft laugh falls from your mouth as his knuckles trace your cheek. He’s gone speechless.

“It doesn’t have to be now,” You tell him. “Just a suggestion for the future.”

He doesn’t want to move too fast, doesn’t want to admit that this is something that has been circling his mind for a while. Bob just simply nods and pecks your lips, “Might have to take you up on that some day.”

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

✷ Bob is so tender that it hurts.

He tries to quell any and all effects of the Sentry Serum when it comes to you. His touches are as soft as he can possibly make them. In a way it’s almost devout, like how you would take care of an ancient marble statue that deserves to be loved for hundreds of years after its creation.

He doesn’t want to treat you like you’re fragile, by all means he knows you are not the equivalent of glass. You’re one of the strongest people he’s ever known. He believes in himself because of you. But for a long time, he was used to handling things roughly. Bob was in and out of substances without a bother in the world about what happened to him. Now that he’s able to be gentle he can’t help it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

✷ His hugs are snug and engulfing. No matter if his arms end up bound around your waist or your neck his embrace is tight. It’s warm. Like he says, he runs hot.

It’s a matter of not just wanting you to feel assured in his hold, but him too. Bob appreciates it when he can feel the steady pounding of your heart, the soft breathing from your lungs. It anchors him to what’s real.

Oftentimes his hugs are long and sweet. Usually there’s not a reason for them at all, he just wants to feel close. He relishes the feel of you each time.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

✷ It’s him who says it and it’s completely on accident.

You’re both doing something simple. Maybe it’s going over the tower’s much needed grocery list or cleaning up training equipment. Or perhaps you're just occupying the same space as him. Bob simply watches as you tend to the things around you and his heart squeezes.

The ‘I love you’ is quiet, an unfiltered thought that manages to jump from his brain before he’s able to catch it. When he hears the words tumble he falters. And when you look at him his eyes go wide like a deer caught in headlights.

He very nearly apologizes—for ruining something precious, for interrupting the moment. But when you confirm the words back any and all fear goes out the window.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

✷ When Bob gets jealous of someone else it’s always expressed internally. It’s a tightness that he can feel crawling across his chest, it bubbles beneath the surface of his skin like wildfire.

He prefers to avoid confrontation head on. Afterwards, if you don’t say anything then he will. When you take the time to reassure him and kiss his head it all melts away.

Now there have been a few occurrences when someone gets touchy and he simply has to step in. Like if you’re at an event for the team and a stranger takes it upon themself to become a little too friendly with you. Bob observes it with sharp eyes until the breaking point hits.

His hand slips down your side, the action not stemming from possessiveness but rather protectiveness. He passes a snarky comment and glares until the hint is taken. When the stranger wanders away, you lean into Bob and thank him. He sighs, nuzzling close to try and squelch the adrenaline rushing through him.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

✷ Bob kisses are always reverent, each movement filled with meaning. He’ll take any place he can get. Any exposed piece of skin you’ll let him attend to.

Most of the time he's slow and languid. But in the occurrence where he’s eager he’ll press his lips to yours like he can’t get enough. Over and over again, the need to breathe be damned. Those are the kind of kisses that make you feel like you're floating.

When it’s you initiating he swears nothing else matters. He’s trying to learn to appreciate everything and it begins with the taste of you.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

✷ Bob is very hesitant around children. Mostly due to his upbringing. He fears saying or doing something wrong to a little kid, even if it’s subtle. Kids are smarter than most adults would give them credit for.

His childhood plays on repeat in his head sometimes. The things he was told that he embodied, the abuse that he endured that still affects him even now. He understands what it’s like to be young and impressionable and vulnerable to everything around you.

He was an only child and spent so much of his teenage years isolated that he never really got the chance to be around little ones. But if there’s ever a chance now he’s as kind and overthinking as possible. Bob deviates to listening to them talk. It’s to let them know that they’re heard. No one did that for him when he was young.

Bob gets nervous with the idea of holding them. Babies especially. Even though he knows he would never hurt them he still doubts himself. But he tries his best.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

✷ The best word to describe mornings with Bob is unhurried.

It’s almost always the same routine of waking up to the press of limbs up against sides. Whoever is conscious first cozies up until the other is shaken from sleep. It’s a mutually relaxed state, all whispers against skin and tracing fingers until one of you decides to get up.

Bob’s good at making coffee, tea, or whatever you prefer in the morning. He’ll spend the early hours with you at the dining table or the couch. Your voice is enough to pull him out of the haze of slumber. That and the smell of breakfast.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

✷ Now nights are much more unpredictable.

The dark is much more intimate and vastly more quiet than the sunshine in the day. It’s in the dead of night where Bob begins to dissect the worst of himself. He’s taken to spending his time with you to keep those musings at bay.

Unwinding before bed with you is easy because you’re together. Whether that be watching a movie, taking a shower, or just talking. Being in your vicinity is calming and Bob always ends up falling asleep right beside you.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

✷ A big part of Bob’s connection to you is the emotional aspect.

In the beginning it takes a while for him to open up, especially about the wounds that haven’t particularly healed yet. You never push and he is forever grateful for that—for being given the time.

Eventually gets to a point where he feels like he can confess anything. You hold his deepest secrets, his darkest fears, his worst moments and still love him despite it all. That’s proof enough that he means something.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

✷ Bob is incredibly patient with you because he’s trying to be patient to himself.

Being angry at you is the last thing he wants to do. He’s seen what rage has done to people, what it’s done to himself in the past. He refuses to ever raise his voice even if something frustrates him to a high degree. He’ll simply back away to cool down.

Bob talks it out. Genuinely. Calmly. He’s found that with you communication is the best navigation tool and tries his best to honor that.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

✷ Oh, if Bob could draw a map of your mind he would.

Recalling the small things about you is something that he internally prides himself on. He loves listening to you, taking inventory of the little things that you are drawn to whether it’s said specifically or merely in passing.

You mention your favorite flower? They appear on your windowsill a day later without a word. You talk about a book you really love? Bob reads through it so he can understand your rants. He catalogs it all. He figures it’s the least he can do.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

✷ His favorite moment is when you first got together. Officially.

It’s post-kiss. One of several. Despite being hazy-brained and a little shaken, Bob finds the means to speak. The question comes in slightly broken increments, “Can we be together?” The silence nearly kills him. Until you confirm with a smile and another series of kisses.

Bob swears the lights flickering slightly is from him, but as the force of your mouth meets the exposed skin of his jaw and neck he decides it doesn’t matter.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

✷ When Bob cares about someone he makes sure that he’s looking out for them. This is more apparent when it comes to you.

It’s subtle: defending your name if it’s ever brought up in a place it doesn’t belong, gently guiding you out of the way of small dangers.

If it comes to a bigger matter, like you getting injured post-mission, he cleans you up with assurances and softened exasperation. Bob moves about your marks and bruises, telling you between placed bandages about how protecting yourself is just as important as protecting others. And even though he’s well aware you can handle your work, he can’t help but look out for you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

✷ Bob’s not a very flashy or lavish person, he prefers more quieter excursions. Most dates or gifts would be homely.

A night of talking on the couch or watching a movie sounds much more appealing than a chaotic city. You take little handmade gifts much more to heart than something expensive.

The effort is still high, just a little quieter.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

✷ There are still times where Bob gets bad, when what he thought was a consistent high suddenly dips into another low. It feels like a betrayal. He was supposed to be doing better. Now he’s drowning again, slipping into a void.

The bad habit comes in terms of hiding away. It’s one he has possessed since he was a kid. Bottling his emotions up and acting like everything is okay is an old trick but it still works. Just maybe not as well. There’s a support system now, a team who cares, but that still doesn’t make it particularly easy.

When Bob starts becoming withdrawn you notice. And when he swears he’s fine the first couple of times you call his bluff. The depressive episode is never linear but then again neither is healing. It takes time. You have that.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

✷ Bob never cared what his outward appearance looked like, mostly because he didn’t care about himself in general.

Now that he’s in a better place, mentally and psychically, he tries to be better about it. He makes sure to eat the proper amount, drink water, and take his medication. There’s always encouragement of course.

Some days are harder than others. Sometimes the upkeep feels just a little bit too much. The weight of his mind still seems to weigh heavy after all this time.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

✷ Oh absolutely. A part of him is secretly fearful of it.

Bob is afraid to get dependent or develop into a burden. There’s a line he feels he has to constantly keep himself on, like a tightrope walker. It’s become less of a balance act with time, with reassurance but he can’t help it.

It really is an aspect of completion. As cheesy as it sounds, a part of him that felt to be lost for a long time suddenly has essence. The blame is on you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

✷ He doesn’t quite realize it, but animals quite like him.

Bob has always had a mentality of being alone, of never being enough, being much too heavy of a cargo to be around anything that deserved attention. Those negative notions still stick around and it makes him slightly blindsided to his affect.

So you’ve taken up the habit of pointing it out when it happens—stray cats rubbing against his legs on the street or a dog stopping to sniff him. He’s the only one in the tower who will take bugs outside instead of killing them. Even those litter critters seem to be rather tranquil when being handled by Bob.

He denies it of course, says that animals do that to everyone. But you know otherwise. It’s the atmosphere that surrounds him, that glint of safety in his eye.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

✷ Assholes without a cause.

This applies to people who have a demeanor much like Walker when Bob initially met him. Those who use insults thrown like gags and teases used as a weapon. Those kinds of individuals don’t seem to understand the gravity of what they're saying, or maybe they do and they just couldn’t give a shit.

No matter what, it always gets under Bob’s skin. He swears he can feel his whole body clench involuntarily. It’s a response from the past, yes, but also from the knowledge of being a decent human being.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

✷ Bob doesn’t sleep well. Never has. Night terrors and constant episodes made sure of that. Sleep became sort of a chore, something he knew he had to do at some point to keep living.

He stays up late even now. Especially when things get bad. He fears what his mind will conjure up, what images the deepest part of his brain will make him see. There are times when he doesn’t even realize it’s morning until the sun peaks through his blinds.

When he’s with you it’s better. It took him a while to get used to the feeling of falling asleep with his arms tucked around you or vice versa, but now that he has it he hasn’t found anything more comforting. It makes for better sleep.

NSFW ↴

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex?)

✷ It is completely unavoidable. Bob considers aftercare to be another act of love that follows the one that just took place. Just as important, if not more.

There will always be a few minutes to let the storm wind down. Usually it simply involves resting skin-to-skin, mumbling small words of affirmation and confessions. His body temperature always seems to somehow rise even more during moments like these. Combined with you, everything is warm and soft and dazing.

Sometimes a shower is in order, sometimes it’s agreed upon to just simply talk and eventually fall asleep. No matter what ends up occurring, it’s tender and very much needed.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s.)

✷ Bob doesn’t consider himself to have a physical attribute that he would consider his favorite. Call it self-deprecation or self-abnegation, but it’s the truth.

But when it comes to you, he considers every part to be beautiful. Call it biased but it’s the absolute truth. He’s never met someone who mesmerizes him as much as you do.

If you were to ask him to get specific he would say your eyes. Bob notes them as being his greatest point of connection. And as someone who spent so much of his time avoiding eye contact with people, being able to look comfortably into yours is a gift.

C = Cum (Anything to do with it, basically.)

✷ Ha. Wrap it before you tap it, kids.

D = Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

hear me out okay

✷ There is a moment where Bob’s hand slips from cupping your jaw to resting around your neck. It isn’t on purpose, just a slight adjustment of his hand as he gets a little caught up. He doesn’t fully notice the weight until he feels your breath hitch.

He pulls back with rushed apologies, stomach sinking slightly. When it came to utilizing his abilities under the guise of the Sentry or Void his hands were what caused harm. Placing them on you like this while in such a vulnerable position makes him worried, even if it is an accident.

But you just laugh softly. Saying, “It’s okay. I trust you” before dragging his palm back to your neck. He doesn’t press against you in the slightest, terrified of even attempting to in case it might hurt you in any way. Bob can’t bring himself to. You don’t urge.

There is an internal part of him that desperately wants to let go of the worries. The idea of you entrusting him—his hands—enough to have them cradle the very air that moved through your lungs is electrifying.

He secretly swears to himself that if he ever garnered the confidence it would be light, almost gentle. Just enough to feel the air beneath his skin. He refuses to ever do anything that would seriously injure you and that’s a fact.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

✷ Bob’s had sex before but it’s not a thing that he can really recall. It happened in blurs, little flashes between drugs and bad decisions. There were no emotions attached to it, no real feelings to hold on to.

So when you both finally reach that point, he considers it to be his actual first time. Because he’s actually here. His mind is awake and his body is moving with rhythms he didn’t know he possessed.

He’s not completely perfect but that’s okay because you’re not searching for it. Anything unfamiliar is worked through together and that’s enough.

F = Favorite position (This goes without saying.)

✷ Ladies and gentlemen and the rest of the jury, it’s mainly missionary or cowgirl/cowboy because Bob is an eye contact warrior.

As said previously, Bob loves your eyes. Loves the silent interconnection that it holds. It feels a whole lot more intimate and pleasurable for him to watch your emotions unfurl across your face, whether it be below or above him.

Just saying this man feels your hips roll against him while gazing right at him and he’s so gone it’s not even funny.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

✷ Only when there is something needed to break a moment or you say something humorous first.

Bob is pretty serious about moments like these because he’s incredibly serious about you. But there will always be little occurrences where something is said. Maybe it’s to relieve the tension or show that he loves you. Not common but still very much welcomed.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

✷ As previously said, Bob is working on taking care of himself in all aspects. That includes making sure he’s keeping himself untangled.

When it comes to his hair, he’s rather sensitive. Run your nails across his scalp and he has to suppress a sigh. Genuinely he melts into you like nothing else matters.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

✷ Bob is very intimate, especially during sex.

He’ll take the time to litter kisses across your collarbone and run his hands up your bare waist. Anything to let you know that what you're sharing is more than purely physical or lust.

He’ll murmur whispers on the freckles of your skin, sweet nothings and flushed compliments. Little things that make your heart flutter as your mind slowly slinks away.

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon.)

✷ Honestly? He doesn’t find the need to do it as much. Mostly because now there’s you and it’s more than enough.

When finally Bob gets on medication it also gets a bit wonky. One of the side effects makes his sex drive much lower at times. The solo urge doesn’t seem to be there as much.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks.)

✷ Going back to Bob being sensitive—hair pulling. Full stop.

You tug him closer towards you by grabbing the back of his head, fingers weaving through strands of his hair and he’s enthralled. You drag him up to meet your lips and when he feels that little painful pull at the base of his skull he can’t help but groan into your mouth.

It’s like a live wire, something that keeps him tethered to what he has in his grasp.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do.)

✷ Considering how much of a sacred act he considers it to be, Bob doesn’t really prefer doing it anywhere outside of the bedroom when it can be helped.

It doesn’t matter if it’s yours or his, it’s a space of solace. It’s familiar to both of you and therefore tender. There’s no fear of interruption or outside forces. Just the two of you in your own little bubble of the tower.

Though if the team is away Bob doesn’t exactly mind the couch.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going?)

✷ Showing genuine interest in whatever he is saying or doing coupled with affection is a lethal combination for him.

Like Bob is talking about a passage in the book he’s reading and you decide to kiss up his neck while humming melodies of acknowledgement. He’ll genuinely feel the words faltering, brain racing to try and pick up the pieces of what he was saying.

And when you pull back and ask him to continue speaking his heart rate spikes.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs.)

✷ Anything that has a possibility of hurting you.

Even if it’s something that has a spur of encouragement his mind is too busy overthinking about all the ways to be careful that he can’t actually properly focus. He can’t imagine being psychically rough with you.

Degradation is even worse. Committing to an action is one thing but actually saying it aloud? Not something he can find enjoyment in.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

✷ Oh. A giver by all means.

The first time it happens he’s a little bit unsure of his abilities. But fuck it, Bob just knows that before anything else he wants to make you feel good. When he figures out what makes you shudder and gasp it’s all he can zero in on.

He takes his time. There’s never any rush. Drawing you out is captivating—firm weight keeping your thighs parted, mouth moving slowly against the place you crave the most.

Bonus points if your hands find his hair. You urge him closer to you by a desperate yank of his scalp and he becomes lost in you.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

✷ Bob prefers it steady and undemanding.

Your sounds, your movement, your words—it’s something that he needs to have a moment to relish in.

That’s not to say that if you were to ever ask him to change his rhythm he wouldn’t. Anything you ask of him he’ll certainly try to do. If it brings you gratification that’s reason enough.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often? etc.)

✷ It’s only happens a few times. Little stolen instances between you two during a busy day.

Bob never takes it for granted, any time he is allowed to feel you is an honor. It just leaves him wanting the space to do so much more.

All his preferences are sensual and devoting. He never felt that he had the privilege in his life of ever drinking things in. It was always chaotic. Now he knows that it doesn’t have to be.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

✷ Absolutely but he has his boundaries and is painfully aware of yours.

He’ll always listen, always absorb what you inquire of him. Ask him to do something new and Bob will do it with a hint of hesitancy. Just to gauge your reaction, to see how your body responds. He just wants to know that you’re alright.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

✷ First of all, Sentry Serum™. Second of all, it’s actually obnoxious how quickly he can recover.

It really depends on what you desire afterwards. You ask him for more and he has the bearings to do it. You find that you’re exhausted and he possesses the energy to take care of you.

Would like to add that the longer it goes on for, the more overwhelming it gets. Overstimulation has made a few cracks in your headboard and broken lightbulbs from super powered abilities alone. Just saying.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

✷ Not his go to but if it’s something that you favor, than hell yeah.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease?)

✷ The longer you’re together the comfortable he becomes with being taunting. It’s never mean, just enough to keep you going.

You complain about him barely grazing the spot you require and it fills Bob with satisfaction. He’s mastered the art of agonizingly winding you up. He finds the fact that he is able to have such an effect on you is incredible.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc?)

✷ Bob attempts to be quiet.

You live in a tower amongst other people and the sound of his voice is something that he is still trying to get used to after all this time.

If necessary, he’ll opt to bury his face in your neck to be noisy. You can feel the vibrations on your pulse point as a needy groan slips past his lips.

W = Wild card (A random headcanon for the character.)

✷ Have said it once and will say it again, Bob is a whimperer.

It comes from him trying to hold back, a high pitch that seems to barely make it out of his chest. Sometimes it happens unconsciously. He tries to keep his mouth shut and it just tumbles out. It’s a guttural, needy sound.

You take it as a sign that you’re doing right.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes.)

✷ This one is being left up to interpretation. You already know.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

✷ Depending on medication or Bob’s mental state, it can sometimes fluctuate. But really once you get going it can make it a little easier to fall.

He’s a yearner to his core, not just speaking sexually. Being with you is a longing that he can never seem to squander. It’s intoxicating.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards.)

✷ Bob already has issues with sleep but drifting off after a night together isn’t so bad. Though it takes him a while to wind down.

Talking to you helps, it restores ease to his mind. That and having you wrapped up in his arms, drawing absentminded lines across his skin, lulls him into unconsciousness.

Secretly he will always try and wait for you to sleep first. It’s just so he can let himself know that you're safe before he finally lets himself go.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

thank you for reading! requests are open. ♡

#⋆˙⟡ ultravioletreyswrites collection #── ☀️ r. renyolds #⋆˚🧸｡#⋆˚🌹｡#robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x you #robert reynolds fanfic #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #bob reynolds fluff #robert reynolds fluff #sentry x reader #bob reynolds fanfic #ao3

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0m-nom-obeyme · 2 days ago

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Cuddling Up Pt. 3

Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, Simeon Pt. 1, Pt. 2, masterlist

Diavolo can’t cuddle you as much as he wants. He can’t be seen hanging off of you in public, or else the nobility would have an absolute fit. He absolutely will sneak away to hold you close, though. No one is going to stop him, either.

He loooooves holding you against his chest. He likes the way your head feels when it’s cradled against him. The same goes for having your head on his shoulder. He’s so strong, but you can feel how gentle and tender he is with you at all times.

You better believe he’s lying down with his head on your stomach at any given opportunity. He loves how comfortable it is, and he loves the fact that you can play with his hair in that position. Also, the little noises your belly makes as it digests food make him laugh.

Barbatos is a lot like Satan in that his go-to method of showing affection isn’t physical. He likes touching you, yes, and he does enjoy a certain amount of cuddling. He’s more of an acts of service guy overall, though.

That being said, he likes being the little spoon, surprisingly enough. He likes the weight of your arms around his waist and your warmth against his back. He’s also a bit of a sucker for belly rubs once you’ve got him all snuggled up.

Like Levi, he likes to wrap his tail around you. This is usually done in lieu of outright cuddling, though. You’ll be standing or lying next to him, and then you’ll suddenly feel the pressure of his tail coiling around your thigh or wrist. It’s both a subtle declaration of love and protection.

Solomon, surprisingly enough, is very clingy and very touchy. He’s just more subtle about it than Mammon. He’s always got a hand on you in some form or another. He’s always ruffling your hair or booping your nose or holding your hand. He can’t help himself!

Solomon is the kind of guy to walk up behind you when you’re talking to someone and hug you from behind. He’ll glance at the person politely and be soo nonchalant about the whole thing that you can’t even complain. He’ll rock you from side to side or whisper jokes in your e ar about what the person’s saying. He can’t help the fact that he wants everyone to know the two of you are together.

He’s very playful when it comes to cuddling. He’ll blow raspberries on your skin, he’ll tickle you, he’ll complain about dead arms, and he’ll be dramatic about getting your hair in his face. It’s all out of love for you and his desperate need to see you smile.

Simeon’s respectful with his cuddles. He always asks if you want to cuddle before snuggling up to you. He’s not picky about how you cuddle, either, as long as he gets to be close to you.

That being said, he really likes it when he’s on his back, you’re on your side, and you have your head on his chest. It makes him feel domestic and loved. He also likes kissing your forehead and the top of your head when you lie on him like that.

He’s always warm, and he’s got a very soothing aura to him. He’s the perfect person to end up snuggled up to at the end of a long day, and he’s always happy to have you so close.

#obey me x reader #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo #barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos #solomon x reader #obey me solomon #simeon x reader #obey me simeon #venus writes

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h-dw · 20 hours ago

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Shut me Out

pairing: seungmin x gn!reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, HAPPY ENDING

warnings: cursing, crying, yelling at each other

wc: 0.8k

synopsis: You hide your panic behind practiced smiles, but Seungmin notices the silence you won’t explain. His words are sharp, not from anger but from hurt, pushing you to see what you’ve ignored: that shutting him out cuts deeper than showing him your fear ever would.

a.n.: yall i think i lowkey ate with this synopsis more than the story itself😆. Anyways i hope you enjoy this one i was kinda tired of writing fluff so here we are.

You've been acting fine all week, smiling when you needed to, brushing off those ugly thoughts like they were not weighing you down. You pretended it was fine, that you'll eventually get better.

Seungmin didn't need to know, you told yourself. He had so much on his plate anyways. Telling him will just add to it.

That is, until he found out —from Felix, of all people— that you had a whole ass panic attack 2 nights ago and did not think to tell anyone, least of all Seungmin.

Which is why he is now at your apartment, pacing the length of your room, with an expression on his face you had never seen before. His features were tight, while he took deep breaths as he clenched and unclenched his hands, as if he was trying to control himself from exploding.

"What the fuck were you thinking when you decided to not tell me about this?" he asks, his voice stern.

"Tell you what?"

"That you had a full blown panic attack, that you were struggling to breathe while lying on the bathroom floor and asked no one for help? And you told Felix before me? Actually— you didn't even tell him. He found out because he heard you."

Your stomach twisted, and guilt took over. "I didn't want to bother you Seung, you were already so busy, especially after the comeback. There was so much on you plate and I didn't want to be another burden weighing you—"

"Do you hear yourself right now, y/n?" he speaks, interrupting you mid-sentence. "You had a panic attack. You really think it's not a big deal?"

You look down at the floor, shame curling in your chest. "I just...I didn't want to seem weak," you reply, you voice small, barely above a whisper.

Seungmin goes quiet, takes a step towards you. His voice is lower now, but the edge hasn't left. "What am I even here for then? If you think there is no need to tell me about this, about anything that is eating away at you, I don't really think there's any point if I stay, huh?"

"It's not like that—"

"Then what is it like? You really believe that i only want to see the good side? The pretty smiles and the sweet talk?"

You don't reply.

There's a sigh. Then a deep breath. You feel two fingers underneath your chin, and soon you're looking at him, directly into his eyes. You see disappointment, a flicker of anger, but most of all hurt in his eyes.

Seungmin's expression softens, and so does his voice. "When will you understand? I want to be there for you. I want to see the good side, but the bad one too. I don't want only smiles, I want the pain, the sadness, and the tears too. I need you to know that I will always be there. That you can lean on me. No matter how busy I am. Because nothing— absolutely NOTHING— in this world is more important to me than you. But the fact that you don't trust me enough to let me in is what hurts the most."

The silence after is heavy. The air is full of tension, while the words hang in the air, raw and unflinching.

Your chest aches, the lump in your throat making it near impossible to speak. You hate how right he is, how his words were laced with the bitter truth you did not want to face.

Finally, you choke out, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you. I did not want you to look at me differently."

He sighs again. "I already look at you differently, y/n. Have been since the first time I saw you. You're the most special person in my life and I think about you all the time, worry that something might happen even when I know you're safe, that I can't live without you. And that means being there when you need me the most. Because I love you."

That is when it happens. Your eyes sting, and tears start streaming down your face. A broken sob escapes your throat, and Seungmin instantly pulls you into his chest, his arms engulfing you into the warmest embrace of your life.

His fingers find your hair, while the other rests on your back, moving back and forth in a comforting rhythm. He gently sways side-to-side, just being there— like he said he would be— until the sobs quieten, and your breathing becomes slower.

"Thank you," you say, voice muffled into his chest.

"You don't need to thank me. Just let me be there next time." You nod, biting your lip, as you try not to cry again.

And despite the heaviness of the night, you cling to him further, finally allowing yourself to believe that he's the person you can always rely on.

#skz #stray kids #seungmin #kim seungmin #seungmin x reader #gn reader #seungmin angst #seungmin one shot #kim seungmin angst to fluff #happy ending #seungmin fluff #bf!seungmin #bf seungmin oneshot #straykids #skz fanfic #straykids fanfic #stray kids x reader #seungmin scenarios #seungmin fanfic

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bad-holmes-impression · 2 days ago

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Thoughts on Varian and Eugene’s relationship/what they think of one another individually? The finale especially with them felt like it was supposed to be wholesome but something just felt off idk if it’s just me.

anon, you are so incredibly right.

we first see eugene and varian interacting by eugene threatening his life. which is valid, because it looked as though varian was trying to kill rapunzel.

but it doesn’t… get better, throughout s1.

eugene greets varian with “[we haven’t seen you] since your last invention almost killed us! so glad you’re here. with what looks like another invention.” he thinks varian is annoying and irresponsible, and he can’t be bothered to change his opinion of him.

and, genuinely? i don’t mind that. yes, it’s weird that mr. “i used to read stories to the other orphans” instantly dislikes this kid, but i would have adored a slow arc to them becoming team awesome.

but instead, we get:

-eugene faced with a wrecked lab with no sign of varian, and commenting that this simply must be because varian is messy.

-eugene seeing quirin’s form frozen in amber, with no signs of life, and comforting rapunzel without any clear thoughts for the now-orphan.

-eugene jumping to the conclusion that varian was the man in the bush, jumping to the conclusion that rapunzel was in trouble, and telling the guards to “get him!”

-eugene glaring at varian as he’s put in a prison cart (in the same kingdom that almost hanged eugene for theft), and not bringing him up for the entire year of traveling that followed.

-eugene being nonchalant about varian essentially saying that he wants the kingdom to remember that they turned their backs on quirin, with eugene included in that. no remorse, no wide-eyed “oh, maybe if we’d helped him, he wouldn’t have turned out this way” expression, no nothing.

-there’s such a weird line with eugene immediately saying “feels good to trust that little guy again”, as if he ever trusted him.

now, to be fair, it does make partial sense for eugene to treat varian so badly when varian is an enemy of the kingdom. but it would have been so much more in-character for eugene to at least try to reach out to this orphan kid, or show that he’s worried for his safety. this blind dislike/hatred removes any complexity from their relationship at first.

i get that eugene is loyal to rapunzel, and i get that maybe he has a black-and-white mentality toward anything that’s a threat to her. but, if that’s the case, he should have given up on cassandra right away, and permanently, or said something along the lines of “varian was still in there, and no one tried to pull him to the light. we have to take this second chance and help cass.” it’s just hypocritical writing and mischaracterization.

and then we’re at cassandra’s revenge, and now we get the team awesome crumbs. eugene’s rooting through varian’s supplies like he’s been in his lab before. he calls him “goggles” in a borderline affectionate way. we have the “stay close, kid” moment as they hold hands, and eugene calls varian’s name when he goes flying off the tower.

we didn’t see any buildup to this. we saw animosity, we saw mistrust, we saw trust being “restored” through scenes eugene was not present for, and now we’re in “flynnposter” and “once a handmaiden…” where varian and eugene can tease each other and spent time together building things.

it feels so unearned. with all of season 3’s filler episodes (and, heck, the whole show’s filler episodes), they absolutely had time for one of varian and eugene learning to trust each other.

eugene’s comment in the finale, about varian’s villainy, feels like a slap in the face! this man has not been helpful to varian whatsoever, and he’s acting like they’re chummy enough to laugh over that one time varian did things he’ll regret for the rest of his life.

i’m glad that eugene helped out with warning varian about quirin’s mind control, and i guess it’s sweet that he suggested getting him more comfortable, but it’s just… not enough. the entire arc of team awesome doesn’t measure up to what it tells us it is.

don’t get me wrong: varian should absolutely be held accountable for what he’s done. he has hurt people and made rapunzel and eugene relive a lot of trauma. he absolutely deserves the mistrust he is treated with, at least before he saves corona all those times.

but varian’s tragedy is not one of those non-preventable, “it could only ever have happened like this” type of stories. he went insane because he was left alone with— for all intents and purposes— a corpse, for over ninety days, hounded by the king’s guards. it’s the sort of situation i’d expect to see in a rated r movie, not this show!

varian was a formidable villain with weapons, but he was also a child, and it pains me that the writers didn’t let eugene see him as a child. it could have been so incredible to dive into why eugene didn’t help him, or, at the very least, show that eugene has trust to earn back, too. varian should not have to constantly be shouldering the emotional burdens around adults.

fanon team awesome is wonderful. canon team awesome makes me sad.

to answer the other part of your ask: i have a hard time thinking about their opinions of each other, because eugene’s mischaracterization turns the whole relationship so unhealthy. on eugene’s end, he’s either faced with the fact that this kid has always been good and he should have been there for him… or he’s viewing varian as someone who “earned” his way into the group. on varian’s side of things, he either has some lingering resentment toward eugene, or— and i think this is so much worse— he agrees that he finally earned the right to be in team awesome.

#answered #tangled the series #rapunzel’s tangled adventure #tts varian #tts eugene #team awesome #tts team awesome #again #fanon them is wonderful #but #show them is Not It

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apparently-artless · 2 years ago

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youtube

Atarashii Joushi wa Do Tennen WEB Radio Episode feat the entire main casts

#atarashii joushi wa do tennen #my new boss is goofy #shirosaki yuusei #momose kentarou #hakutou #aoyama mitsuo #kinjou aigo #umehara yuuichirou #nishiyama koutarou #shimono hiro #sugita tomokazu #fukuyama jun #IT'S ACTUALLY AMAZING THAT ALL OF THEM ARE IN ONE EPISODE #AND ALSO HEARING SHIMONO HIRO STILL ADDING NYA AT THE END IS JUST SO DAMN ADORABLE XP #they are a noisy bunch but in a good way #goes to show they are all comfortable with one another #Youtube

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rasoyas · 1 month ago

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just bestie things: casually theorizing where your alien baby hails from . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 🛸

#ts4 #piper petellier #fl-ux cap 713 #pgranite #pgen1 #🏷️#i could only resist the rachel alxandergoth text sparkles for so long y’all she’s a genius pls i’m only human #these 2 make me feel so sparkly 🥺🫶#piper & flux: we’re just best friends!#piper & flux: lay together like this #no god ok i could give SERMONS on how important non-romantic intense physical affection/expression is to me #my friends and i in youth were always the ones sittin on each other’s laps or #laying in a big pile on the bed on our phones #hugging on each other like its VERY… base human connection that i find fascinating #in a pack animal type way (i told u i’m weird)#i’m very physically affectionate in general but i also just #i think it shows a level of comfort and bonding that goes beyond words sometimes #and piper & flux have been together for like… 8 years now? (in terms of piper having found him #even if he woke up at the end of her senior year lol)#so their level of comfortability and comfort in eachother #even BEYOND the crushes they have on one another #just TO ME 🤲 speaks to the safe place they are for each other and i’m fcking obsessed #its my own damn creative choices and i’m like Y’ALL BUT IN 👏 THIS 👏 SCENE 👏 like i’m just an observer w no influence #but yeah yeah uhh yada yada loved each other before they fell in love smthn smthn #anyway all this to say that the shot of their hands is my favorite so far hgrmrngnf 🥺🫶

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agent-troi · 2 months ago

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thinking about this in the context of nikola having been pining over helen since oxford😭

#this is just another part of his Mask of Cynicism and Irreverence he presents to the rest of the world #he pretends not to care at all as a very poor disguise for the fact that he simply Cares Too Much #honestly i love how he goes from this at the start of season 2 #to the end of chimera when he pretty obviously and shamelessly asks helen if he’s important to her without actually using those words #early season nikola wouldn’t have dared to show even that much vulnerability #it’s just another marker of how much more comfortable they’ve gotten with one another #sanctuary #end of nights #nikola tesla #will zimmerman #helen magnus #helen x nikola #teslen

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villainsidestep · 1 year ago

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got sad abt fawn’s little motel room again 😞

#gideon shut the hell up challenge #we were thinking abt it in canon but then thought abt it in v3/v3au so. now we have to talk abt those #themmy who gets to be the first to get invited over. it takes a bit to build up to it and then even after they all think they’re ready #it takes another few days to actually Work Up To It. themmy gets first pick bc they’re the least intrusive of the group #the ortegas are close to the group ofc but they are nosy and pushy but this is The Becker’s space. so they get told no when they ask #if they can tag along. (they ofc get approval later after a few times of themmy getting to visit #bc 1. they won’t stop asking but 2. they’re more comfortable w the permitted intrusion that they get a test run)#honestly I feel like one of the ortegas would offhandedly ask Whose room it is (bc they expect them each to have their own)#and the siblings are like no it’s Ours. plural. and then the topic gets dropped bc they’re skittish enough already they won’t push more rn #ohhh the besties giving them little house warming gifts to help spruce the place up but next time they go over it still looks just as plain #except u ask ‘hey what happened to [xyz]?’ and they retrieve it from wherever it’s squirreled away #solo!survivor au…. imagine having to go back to the motel room alone for the first time #you know where the traces of your siblings are hidden. but they aren’t in immediate sight so it feels so Empty.#digging out all of their belongings just to have them closer to you even if it goes against everything you’ve all done this whole time #maybe you don’t stay alone. maybe you invite an ortega over. maybe you invite both.#maybe they show up with a bottle of wine each and none of you say anything bc you don’t know what you even would #maybe they help you pack up everything to move apartments. maybe you don’t let them touch anything. maybe them just being there is enough

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tonycries · 8 months ago

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Bed Chem - T.F.

Synopsis. No, you’ve never gone through a heat. No, your big bad neighbor, Toji Fushiguro, hasn’t had a rút in years. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive when all that changes with your…bed chem.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! Toji, OMÉGAVERSE AU, slight enemies-to-Iovers, rúts, breéding, MARATHONS, cúmplay, búlges, Toji is BIG, heats, face-sítting, 69, spítting, praise, oraI (f + m), knottíng, he goes FÉRAL, DÚMBIFICATION, one use of “ma’am”, fated mates, matíng bites, p talking, breaking furniture, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 9.9k (whoops)

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

“-oh! And, darling, my friend recently showed me this new serum that could-”

“-help with my…condition, huh?” You’re finishing off, teeth grit almost as hard as your fingers were around your glaring phone. “Mom- I’ve already told you that I want nothing to do with those sketchy inducers. I’d rather stay dormant like this forever.”

There’s slight static crackling from the other end of the line, “I’m just so worried for you, especially with that massive alpha-”

“Who? Wait- Toji?” You’re braving out a chuckle, gut clenching at the memory of your utterly hot new neighbor and his muscles upon drool-worthy muscles. “Y’know, the doctor has already determined that it’s impossible for me to go into my first heat now.”

And despite it all, you can’t help but drink in a deep inhale the moment you step foot into your cozy local convenience store. Only for your senses to be met with…nope. Nothing, again.

“Besides-” Fingers hovering over that angry red End button, you’re speed-walking your way as inconspicuously as possible towards the Heats and Ruts aisle. “-Toji doesn’t have ruts.”

Well…

Nobody ever said that you weren’t a hypocrite - but, hey, you were desperate at this point.

Even if you had to consider another one of your mom’s attempts to artificially induce your inner omega into finally putting in the work.

With your goodbyes hastily muttered, and your phone stowed deeply away into one of your pockets, you find yourself slowing down near that one particular section of the Omega shelves. Gulping at the somewhat-shady inducer portion that you found yourself familiar with ever since you’d reached late puberty without a single heat.

It was ridiculous, but it wasn’t impossible.

Mandatory school bloodwork revealed you to be an omega - yet, you felt like anything but that. Anything but what you supposedly were as you watched more and more of your fellow omega classmates miss out on a week or two of school to deal with their heats.

Consoling you with pitying glances and half-hearted complaints that alpha scents were annoying anyway. But you didn’t care if the pheromones were obnoxious, and the cycles even more so.

Your months just came and went by without any of it.

You’d visited many fertility and growth doctors over the years, and not a single one had been able to pinpoint exactly what was blocking you from accessing the pheromones and biology that everyone else could. That you wanted to.

Hell, even betas were said to have at least a faint ability to smell wafting clouds of musky perfumes.

Most professionals claimed that everything was as it should be, that you might just be dormant - a late-bloomer, if you will. A very, very late bloomer.

A majority presented at the start of puberty, or perhaps - in only very rare, alleged cases you found on barren forums - after meeting their fated mate. Two souls bound to fill in each other’s missing pieces.

The theory was something you let yourself indulge in guilty sips, the sort of fantasy that flashed through your mind right before you wound up with yet another heartbreak.

But after graduating college without a mere half-sign of anything to do with your second gender, you vehemently called bullshit on that one.

Some suggested that you might merely be a beta in disguise. It was almost comforting to think that it might have all been one big mix-up, yet, every medical test after medical test you’d done always came out the same.

An omega.

“Damn second genders.” You’re grumbling, traitorously curious fingerpads skimming over the sterile boxes of medicines with official-sounding names. You’d tried out a few with the least amount of side-effects before, and it always ended up being a waste of your time (and your paycheck.) “Damn- damn inducers-”

CLACK!

In your reveried haste a few unstable boxes of products found themselves plonking onto the ground. Wincing at the withering glare of the manager unhelpfully peeking in from a few aisles down, you urgently dropped to your knees to put them back-

“Damn, what did those scented lotions do to you? Remind me not to get on your bad side, doll.”

You see him before you hear him - strong, engulfing hands motioning into your field of vision to dexterously grab at the mess you’d created.

And then once you hear him it isn’t any better, because you could recognize that richly rumbling baritone anywhere.

“Wha-” Cutting your own self off with a strangled mess of a yelp the moment your furrowed gaze looks with viridescent eyes. “-oh.”

Oh? Oh?

Toji Fushiguro quirks up one brow in a way that is unfairly attractive, sultry scar engraved onto one side of his sleazy grin tilting up ever-so-slightly. And was that- a dimple? “Heh- n’ the pretty girl says oh. Cat got your tongue, sugar?”

It’s only then that you’re realizing that this was the first time you’d ever been so…close with the man himself.

Usually settling for grumbling conversations from your doorstep and incoherent text conversations from his toddling, cherub-faced son stealing Toji’s phone.

So ah, there was one thing you’d forgotten to mention to your mother. Sure, you might have let it slip that Toji was…ruggedly handsome - all Herculean physique, a glossy black Harley Davidson bike, and long legs that carried him well over six feet - but you’d always omitted one thing.

He was just so cocky.

And you can already feel your blood curdling strangely in your veins, scoffing out a heated puff of breath. “Nah, more like the alpha in the Omega section is.” Darting your eyes anywhere but at the strain of Toji’s sinful compression shirt sneaking winking at you underneath his leather jacket, practically painted onto the ridges of his washboard abs. “Thinkin’ of a secondary gender change, Toji?”

“Ah, yeah yeah-” He’s rolling those hooded eyes, leaning in so pointedly close that you can practically feel his slow, seeping look up and down. “-got tired of havin’ cute lil’ omegas falling all over f’me.”

You scramble to finally stand, “You wish.”

The bout of husky snickers that escape from him make your thighs squeeze together, and Toji’s promptly following you to place back all those fallen lotions. “‘Course I do. That n’ the brat is out on a trip with his lil’ pink-haired friend, m’just killing time.” Tilting his head at you, “You? Thinking of going for alpha? Or…” Crossing his big, beefy forearms, and he must know the effect that has on you and your greedily ogling eyes. “-an alph-”

“Just this.” You’re cutting him off before Toji could fray at your sanity even more, holding up that heat-inducing serum your mother had mentioned.

But, oh.

Oh.

That wasn’t the expression you’d expected on the handsome face of Toji Fushiguro. Maybe something more smug, perhaps even amused as he realized your little predicament- but never this.

Eyes stony, sharp jaw clenching with a jumpy little tick. And Toji’s fingers are so thick when they pluck the box cleanly off your hands, the split-second graze of his burning skin making you feel almost feverish.

“This trash? Yer takin-” He’s glaring down at the serum as if it had offended him personally five times over. Something about the utter look of discontent makes your chest burn, “-this trash?”

You find yourself defensive, “N-no. At least, not yet. What about it-”

“Because s’gonna ruin your inner workings that’s what.” And for all the world, you never expected to be getting lectured by Toji Fushiguro of all people on your health - though, one look at his sculptured body should have told you all you need to know about just how seriously he takes it. “Don’t even know why s’on the market. S’not good for ya, mama.”

And you knew that. Probably. But ah, the things you do when you’re at your ropes end. “And? I’ve never had a single heat my whole life, y’know?”

“And I should know, bratty doll.” Toji murmurs, throwing that oh-so-famed miracle serum haphazardly back onto the shelf and flipping off the manager who glares at him. “Haven’t had a single rut in years, not since Megumi’s- anyways, all these inducers here are full of shit.”

“Oh.”

Wrapping a staggering arm around your waist to guide you, your body practically burns. Weird. “Tch- silly girl.”

Two peas in a pod.

Before you know it, you’re being dragged by a disgruntled Toji away from the treacherous clutches of the Heats and Ruts aisle and past the cashier - who only smiles as you so-very-subtly sneak in a long whiff of the air.

Again. Nothing.

With the stinging pang of disappointment, you sigh as you step outside. Only for Toji to rub your back with a hum, “S’alright. You’ll be alright, sugar- you’re my strong girl, huh?” Eyes widening at just how…sweet Toji was being. That is, before he opens his mouth once more- “Besides. Who needs inducers when you’ve got such a big strong alpha-”

“Pass.”

“Don’ act like ya don’t like it, little miss neighbor. I see how ya look at me.”

“I- I don’t-” You did. And you do. And you will - in fact, you were looking at him that way right now as Toji swings over one thick thigh to straddle the padded leather seat of his prized Harley Davidson. Looking like he’d just stepped out from your wettest of dreams and it makes you almost simper out a sigh.

He’s jutting his head back at the tempting extra space behind him, and you could already hear the suggestion oozing into his next words. “Mhm— whatever ya say, girl. Now stop just standing there looking pretty n’ get over here, I’m a busy man.”

It’s almost as if on auto-pilot when you do.

Toji Fushiguro’s motorbike was big, and just as intimidating as he was. And it’s only on shaky legs that you manage to press yourself only mere precarious inches away from his hulking form. “Heh, ‘er name’s Harley. Fitting for a bike, huh?”

“If- if you crash I’ll kill you.” You’re puffing out a few thickly muffled words through the sleek matching black helmet he was deftly putting on you. Wondering just what led you to be…here of all places.

“Yes ma’am, I’ll help ya hide the body.”

“M’serious- no funny business.”

“Uh huh, anything else, mistress?”

“And I’ve seen you run red lights so no-”

SMACK!

Your heart stutters with a loud ba-dump! as Toji’s rounded, calloused fingertips leave a good smack against the side of your thigh to get your yammering mouth to halt. And he’s letting off a titter at the shocked expression of your face even through the tinted helmet before turning to rest his hands on the handlebars.

“Hold on tight.”

It’s all the warning you get - and, honestly speaking, you don’t think any sort of warning could’ve prepared you for the way that Toji rides.

Something about it is so attractive.

Maybe it was the creaking stretch of leather as his biceps strained against it from underneath, maybe the way your ears ring with his words even louder than the growl of the bike, maybe it was the way that you were holding him.

Arms stretching to connect over Toji’s broad front, your skin mushes against the curvaceous mounds of his toned pecs. Firm and warm. So, so warm that you can’t help the way that your eager self was mindlessly inching ever-so-slightly closer-

“Phew.” Startling - but not moving away - at the low whistle that Toji blows out, eyes still trained weaving through traffic. “Dangerous game yer playin’, omega.”

Sidling even closer, the defined angles of his back muscles only flexed at the innocent smooch of your tits. “What?”

“S’fucking close.” And not just to him, but to his scent glands. So sensitive and prickling the shaggy black hair at the base of Toji’s neck just from your heated proximity. Huh, strange. “S’a damn good thing I ah- don’t get my ruts, huh?”

And, suddenly, you’re despising what these helmets hide from you. “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t get my heats, huh?”

The exact same words playing over and over in your minds once Toji’s braking to a stop at his designated spot right outside your apartment building. And part of you almost feels upset that this little ride with him was over.

Letting him do as he pleases when he’s seating around gruffly to take off both your helmets himself, you couldn’t help but notice that something about the air seemed…thick. Like it had just been dipped in candy and right now you were gladly suffocating in the sugary sweetness.

Your eyes catch onto a lock of deep black that’d curled behind Toji’s ear - and you knew right then and there that something was wrong, you knew that you weren’t thinking. That you weren’t listening to your common sense.

Because before you can stop yourself - before you can even register it - you’re swiping away the stray tuft, sensory curves of your fingertips just catching onto the skin above where Toji’s smooth glands should be.

“Fuh-fuck-” He’s hissing, willowy eyes curtaining behind a scrunch of his lids, and it’s almost as if on instinct that his thick digits fly upwards to trap your hands right there. “Hold on- just a little, mama-” Pressing down even tighter, and the way that Toji’s letting his head tumble back makes your mouth lacquer with a syrupy wave of drool. “-s-so you said you haven’t had a heat in years-”

“Ever.”

“-ever, huh?” Dewy whirlpools of his eyes examine you, and suddenly you feel like running away. But Toji only grins, “Say, why don’tcha scent me?”

Your maw falls slack with a hot shudder, and you’re not sure if it’s in shock or if it’s from how much you wanted it. To have an alpha offering himself on a silver platter - let alone Toji. Letting out an eloquent, “Wh-what?”

You’re being reeled in even closer with a tug of Toji’s strengthened hands, plummeting onto his chest with a cushioned oof–! He only repeats, breathing bated like he didn’t want to know anything himself until you did. “Scent me, pretty girl.”

“I-I don’t know why-” Your fingers unlatch, and you swear it makes Toji’s chest rumble with a low whimper. Steadily planting them onto the collar of his overpriced jacket to pull. “But if this is your idea of a- oh.”

Shit.

And something…is different. There.

Was- was this how he smelled? This heady concoction of jasmine and something so undeniably…Toji?

Something snaking and boiling bubbles up throughout your body, you all but slump yourself into his eagerly awaiting arms. You can’t even register what you’re doing, nuzzling into his tender throat. Can’t even recognize the look on your face when you’re gasping in greedy heavals of what was obviously his scent.

That you could smell.

With a gasp, you’re pulling away, eyes diverting to him and- oh, it was much the same for him.

There was no other explanation for the lecherous look of devastation on Toji’s pretty features right about now.

Scarred lips parting in awe, weighty lids drooping down until those heart-eyes him were almost invisible, face veiled with a delicate flush. His palms find their way to rest on the dip of your hips and stay there.

You’re croaking out, “T-Toji-”

It happens so fast - too fast.

It’s as if your mere voice was enough to send a zillion volts of electricity shattering down Toji’s spine, jolting him with something darkly visceral. Enough to snap up one tannish forearm and bite-

“Ngh-” Toji’s pearly canines coat with a slight tinge of red, eyes shuttering open - and you notice that they seem slightly less glassy now. Slightly. “-fuck ya really are dangerous, doll. Was almost g’na have me take you right here right now.” The slight dip of his strawberry-pink tongue as Toji pulls away makes you gulp, “N’ I don’ wanna spend my first rut in years here.”

Toji couldn’t think - he couldn’t breathe. And if he was any lesser man he’d have fallen to his knees with only one whiff of your candyland smell.

Addictive.

Fingers clutched tightly underneath the plush of your thighs to carry you all the way in through your cozy apartment. Never faltering. Never slowing. You could almost roll your eyes at the blatant reminder of strength if you didn’t feel so feverish.

Toji’s steely eyes light up at the way your trembly fingers clutch the silken hem of your skirt, lips wobbling with every spilling word. “T-Tooooji, feels so hot.”

“S’that so?” He’s swiping the regal button of his nose down where the sides of your neck were swollen, breathing in the hot, sugary waves emanating from your skin. “Feel anything else?”

And the slight hitch of your breath is all that he needs as an answer, well, that and the goopy wetness that was formulating between your thighs. Shit, he never thinks he’s kicked down a door off its hinges harder than he has to your poor bedroom door.

Draping you gently onto the plethora of silken sheets, you whine at the slight recoiling bounce.

Barely even given the time to gather your wits before Toji’s sliding his jacket and his t-shirt teasingly off, all thick, muscled limbs stalking towards you like a predator that’d just cornered his favorite prey. And you eye his rippling back, his rumbling tone speaking over your mattress’ creaks.

“Ya better know…” he’s hurling out, mouth just only centimeters away from yours. Hot. “-m’not here ta fuckin’ play around jus’ cause you’re in heat, sugar.”

Ah, that’s what it was - heat. You were in heat. Fuck.

Your fingers leave neatly indented semi-circles on his flesh when Toji’s grasping your throat tightly, padded ends of his fingers pressurizing right onto the treasure trove of your scent glands. “If I fuck you now, you will be mine. You and…” Before one largely crowned kneecap of his sidles into the snug cove of your pussymound. Weighing down- “...her.”

It’s the only thing you could do to bat your lashes up at him in a way that makes Toji’s achy cockhead twitch. “I want you…wan’ you to touch me, Toji–”

And that’s all that he ever wanted.

Roughened hands shove you meanly back onto the cushy bed, and Toji’s sliding his palms languidly down, down, down every curve and dip on your body. As if he was trying to worship you with them.

“Oh? Only wan’ me to touch ya?” Toji’s humming, Adam’s apple bobbing with wads of salivation once his fingers slink down to curl at your bra strap and snap! “Not to take this off or-” You gasp, the sting almost making you forget those minute rips! echoing from where he was grasping your t-shirt. “-this? Guess I can do whatever I please then, right?”

Before you can say a word of shrill protest, those useless pieces of fabric are tattered off. Ending up not-so-nicely in a pile right beside your bed with Toji’s intact clothes.

“H-hey!” You whine, “Those were ah- limited edition-”

“Ah, I’ll buy ya five more of those.” Toji rolls his eyes when your lips part open, “What? Thought I wasn’t filthy rich or somethin’- Oh, girl, you are about to be spoiled. But first, a kiss-” Innocent and sweet onto your lips, “-here. And…”

Toji huffs out a few cocky sniggers at his own little joke, because of course he does. Leaving you off with a gentle swat! to the perfect curve of your hip and your heartbeat throbbing at your drooling cunt.

He’s shuffling onto his very knees at the bottom of the bed, tutting at how unfairly far you were from his greedy mouth - well, that had to be fixed. You almost get whiplash from how swiftly you’re being dragged to let your jittery legs be thrown right near his tightly coiled deltoids. “-here.”

Head bobbing in an urgent yes yes yes when Toji rids you of your flimsy skirt and slowly slides down your drenched panties. All bunched up and leaving a glimmering coating of slick down your skin.

Stuffing it into his pants pocket, “This is a lil’ reward f’me.”

“Filthy.”

“Oh, well helloooo there, pretty girl.” He’s drawling, eyes flashing with such darkness at the heavenly mess of a banquet all laid out in front of him. “You’re so in heat- so fuckin’ in heat. See? Who needs fuckin’ inducers when ya have me.”

Toji’s pupils were swallowing up his verdant orbs. Needy. And he’s unashamed in taking a long deep inhale of your saturated pheromones. His favorite perfume now. “Lookin’ real happy ta see me. Happy s’your hah- first heat, hm?”

You’re squirming, fingers tangling into his silken tresses in an attempt to try and shove his face closer. “Are- are you talking to-”

“Hush now, doll.” Toji leaves a wet pap! of his fingers thwacking against the treacly slit of your pussy, watery with your flooding slick and greedy. “Lemme talk to ‘er- lemme talk this cute cunt through her first heat. M’honored, y’know?”

And honored just doesn’t begin to cover it.

Toji was devoted.

It’s like your wafting clouds of heady scent made his mind dizzy, until the only thing he could do was to let his slutty tongue loll out and sliiide at the splatters of translucent sap soiling your inner thighs.

“Oh- fuck-” You’re squirming your hips in a wild buck upwards, only to have him pin you down with the heavy-handed weight of his forearm. “-feels so- so…”

“Yeah? Good? Ya always get this wet or s’that jus’ f’me?”

Truly, you could only jumble out a few nonsensical syllables. Because Toji didn’t want to waste a single ounce of your precious juices, slurring out a few open-mouthed kisses across every inch of skin you’d exposed to him. And the moment that rosy peak of his tongue touches upon your teary pussy- oh.

He thinks he might just be the one about to cry.

Because you didn’t just smell like his favorite candied lollipops - you tasted like it, too. And, fuck, he can’t help but go in for seconds. Thirds.

Guffawing out breathily with disbelief, he’s drawling his tongue to mush open the gummy folds of your pussy. Swirling out a lazy flick of his sopping muscle to stretch out the tight ring of your wide agape-

“Just look at ‘er all hngh- overflowing.” You watch with bated breath when Toji’s prying your quivering entrance with a bullying few inches of a singular thick index - only one, but Toji was so incredibly towering with his size and strength that you find yourself keening. Coral pink lips puckering up to give your hooded clit a squelching kiss. “Heh…like a damn waterpark, aren’t ya?”

Filthy words only making you filthier. Making your omega inside blink up and yearn.

Your gushing wads of juices bawling from between your legs in torrent. And you yelp at the lecherous sounds that echo out - the waterlogged squelches and slurring that only makes Toji grin. Wild and sly. “Mhm, real talkative.”

Arching your back into the perfect slutty curvature off of the prespired sheets, “Tojiii- s-stop teasing n’ give me- ngh- more.”

More.

And just then you feel him fuck his softened digits into you slow and thorough. Curling up to swipe down the mushy soft spots of your walls - Toji was burning up. But you were burning up even more, and shit.

Shit. shit shit shit-

You don’t know if it’s because of your heat, or if it’s because Toji is just that good with that rude mouth of his - but you’re cumming faster than the thought could even flash across your melty mind. “Wait- m’close ngh- Toji- I’m gonna-”

It’s like a tidal wave of bliss peaked up further and further with every slashing motion of Toji’s gyrating make out with your cunt. You’re so very extra sensitive right now and he makes use of it - bumping up that rounded angle of his nose to press your fleshy clit just right.

It’s so intoxicating. So heady that he finds himself pushing back those sweat-dampened bangs of his to lower down loooong breath. And then finally another passionate French kiss onto your bulging pussy.

“Fuck- I-” Pearlescent droplets of tears welling up at the scrunched corners of your eyes. “M’so- sensitive–”

God, his wolfish canines were sharp nipping teasingly into the fat pucker of your pussy lips. Parting your slick-gleaming mound to squeeze his tongue into your tight hole, the stretch is incredible. It’s staggering. And Toji can only sully your insides with a gentle brush of his lengthy tongue along your gooey insides before pulling back with a huff.

And then again- to let out a throat groan when your elastic walls push with resistance. And again. And again and again-

“Now m’offended.” Toji’s letting out a surly swat! where you’re trickling down viscous fluids of sickly sweet slick that coat his mountainous knuckles, his wrist, the raised trailways of his veins. “Wanted more but tha’s all ya can take- tch.”

Oh, by the time your white-hot tingles of pleasure were bating you should’ve known better than to think that Toji Fushiguro was done manhandling you with his superhuman strength to every whim and want of his.

That he would give you even a second of a warning before hovering over your frame and flipping you into such a pliable position over him.

His back hitting the puff of the pillows, strands of hair making a dark halo underneath him. Toji looks so fucking handsome that you can feel your pussymound slobber a few streaky puddles of slick onto his heaving abs.

Hands positioned on either side of his leering head, you mewl. “Give me a warning first, you animal-”

“Hell yeah.” He’s snarking up at you, but there’s not a single speck of heat behind his words other than towards you. Towards what he wanted to do to you. Planting a heavy smack! on your ass, “Tha’s right you’ve got me in a rut after years like a fuckin’- animal. Heh, so jus’ lemme throw my pretty omega ‘round a lil’, I can feel how wet that gets ya.”

“N-noo- it doesn’t-” But that was a fucking lie and both of you knew it, knew it from the syrupy pool of sap laminating his heated skin.

“See? She’s on my side. Doesn’t talk back.” The curvaceous pads of his fingers twiddle and tease your plumpened clit, so dirtily that it only makes your dripping cunt drool even further. Leaving a gauzy cobweb of treacly slick with every swat! swat! swat! he gifts. “Has anyone ever had her seated on a mouth, sugar? Made you feel good that way?”

Your head shakes before the thought has even contorted itself into an understandable shape. “No- no one has- ngh- before.”

It’s a confession, it’s a line plucked right from Toji’s filthiest thoughts on those late, late nights.

And he couldn’t look happier when molding you to the exact shape and angle that he wants you in. Turning you right around to bare your sodden pussy from the back, your unbalanced thighs curling on either side of his ravenous head.

Not even a single command, yet your head is swimming with honey at just how much you were like putty underneath his hands.

Your head cranes over the plane of your shoulder to give him a pretty plea. “Toji?”

“Mhmmm, Toji’s right here, pretty girl.” He’s awestruck - stunned with the gumdropping droplets of sap plopping down onto his tongue and sliding right down his throat. Making him groan, “Filthy fuckin’ pussy, can feel ya ngh- dripping allll down my tongue.”

And he’s drunk. He’s babbling, he’s heaving and heaving to inch his intoxicated maw to connect with your saturatedly glossy pussy lips. “Lower her down so I can give her lil’ smooch.”

Your hands nimble down along the tufted black happy trail brushing from between his navel and going down, down, down. “L-like this?”

“Nah, more. Can’t believe all those pathetic boys never had ya hah- sitting on their faces. Spread those pretty legs n’ lemme show you-” You can’t even begin to think about merely hovering your entire deadweight above him, because Toji was ready. And he was hauling you to rest every single mass of your flesh onto him, “-how a real man fucks.”

Thickly viscous helpings of your generous slick flood his mouth the second that Toji’s lengthy tongue is burrowing between your folds and driving you mad.

Sliding all the way up and down up and down up and down with a welcoming flit at your buttoned clit and then pumping you overwhelmingly full. Fucking you with the overheated scratch of his tastebuds exactly the way that he wanted to with his achy cock right now.

“Can still taste m’self on ya- haaah- good.”

Toji wasn’t holding back.

“O-oh my god, m’so sensitive.” Your moans come out mangled. Wanton. Spilling from between your parted lips right along with rivulets upon rivulets of waterfalling saliva every single time that Toji’s bumping the curvaceous search of his tongue into your earliest sweet spots. “Slow down, Toji–”

Your fists maze through the velveteen blankets and clench, hips jerking up-

“Nuh uh, doll, no runnin’ away from your Toji.” Sliding up one slick-glazed hand to snake the small of your back, he’s using his face to nudge your legs even further. Drowning your sobbing cunt with a fat wad of spittle, Toji’s licking down the stray speckles that gravitate back onto his own mouth. So dirty that it makes him delirious, nose crinkling, bottom lip bitten. “Yeahhh, crack ‘em open even wider. She’s eager.”

Eager you were.

Jostling your hips against his mouth until through your clouded mind you were wondering whether he would suffocate. But little did you know that this might just be Toji’s ideal death - buried right there between your pretty legs.

You’re being bounced so hard that you can feel your legs aching with the strain, hollowing out shuddered breaths and whines of Toji, Toji—

“Say my name.” He’s huffing, easing in a thick few inches of his fat digits that fill up the snug geysering orifices. Each n’ every single volume of space that’s inside you, and those puckered pecks leave screeching squelches that have you halfway through sobbing. “Say my name- say my name heh, g-gonna have a looot of ngh- noise complaints after this.”

Even though he’s saying this, he doesn’t do anything to deter you. Why the hell would he?

Pumping you full of one finger, two, three until your gummy ring of muscle was being molded to the plump circumference of his lengths. Multi-tasking.

All the way until he was slathering the patterned bumps of his knuckles with a sticky second skin of slick, Toji curls those rounded tips down the tenderized walls of your channel and drags. Feeling for that one special target of his-

“G’na make ya feel s-so good.” He’s whispering, breathing like it was the truest of true words. And shit- he hasn’t felt like this for ages now - years. Secondary gender growling from his inner depths with guttural need to give you more more more. “Gonna find- ah- found it.”

And Toji knows he found it with the way you squeal. Wafting scent intensifying, lashes fluttering with a clinging swash of tears once he jerks a good push into that bulging bullseye that makes you see stars.

“Right there- Toji– right there-”

“S’fucking loud.” He’s rolling his eyes for what seems like the nth time today, but it was impossible not to when you were just so cute being teased like this. Bubbling out a few sloshes of slick and spit when your fingers dip right underneath his trousers and push. “O-oh? Trynna keep yer mouth full, huh? Let’s see ya try then.”

Your low lip juts out into a pathetic sort of pout that Toji finds adorable, that only makes his clothed cock pool out a darkening patch of precum onto his boxers.

“Wan’ taste you- make you feel good.” Your words are warbly and broken, tone hitching upwards with every tiny slip of his sticky underwear downwards. It’s like you were teasing him - teasing yourself. And your inner omega was oh-so-very impatient. “Wanna make you feel…oh.”

“Heh, cat really got yer tongue now, huh?”

And you couldn’t even retort, you couldn’t even snap back as you usually might have because you were stunned.

Maw falling slack at the generous girth that was throbbing fatly between your fingers, honestly from this lecherous angle it seemed like a struggle to even close your fist around him. Because Toji was…big - and even saying that was an understatement.

Just about nine throbbing inches with hefty breeder balls that your bleary gaze could make out, flushed a candied pink on the rounded curve of his mushroom tip. Graduating down, down, down into a pale baby rose - you didn’t know whether it was the heat talking but right now he just looked like your favorite sort of lolly.

“L-look so pretty, Toji.” You babble away, words getting breathier and breathier as sloppy as his kisses get. Your puckered lips are almost stinging with just how thorough he was. “Wanna taste…”

Oh, and you didn’t realize that one perk of having your secondary gender presented was realizing the shift in his pheromones.

You didn’t know how you knew but there was a tinge of utter adoration in Toji’s jasmine-infused scent as you plop down a wet mass of slippery saliva right onto his strawberry divot. Lathering the split, plummy globe before planting your mouth down and kissing.

Your mushy tastebuds looping little motions over the creamy butter-topped cap of his splurging cock, he tastes so heady. Rich pre melting on your tongue and it was so musky, so…him.

“Oh, girl-” he’s breathing out through a rasping sigh. Darkened brows marrying together at just how warm your mouth was sheathing around his painfully hard shaft, “That’s it- thaaaat’s it. Suck on my cock like a good girl, mama—”

“Ngh-” Your jaw aches, throat jumping at the squeezing sensation of his lustrously crowned tip tunneling right down. Craning your head so that he could count every bounce, “S-sho bwigh.”

You were so heavenly, alternating to leave shy little snogs over and under his sensitive slit - and Toji was one competitive man. It was in his nature, of course.

Tumbling your hips to rest even greater onto his mouth, he didn’t need to breathe. Didn’t even want to even dream of it when he had the circles of his fingerpads latched on your jiggling ass so hard it was sure to leave battered bruises for the next week and weeks and weeks.

“Damn, she’s good, huh?” Toji’s whispering at the sopping wet purse of your lips, “But I can’t have myself c-cum before- fuuuck- my girl.”

Your eyes were sprinting all the way to the back of your heavy lids with ever swaying lash of his mean mouth. And it didn’t matter just how vulgarly you were sliding your starved tongue down the heated ridges and veins of his swollen cock - Toji was doing ten times worse.

Every deepening inch you swallowed up into your cavernous mouth only made him plug you fuller. Every stray swipe of the thick, ivory beads of his pre made Toji douse out lumping masses of saliva lewdly. And every twitch that made you sure Toji was right on course to tumbling over the edge was urging him to push you headfirst into your orgasm with a final teasing pinch at your clit.

And your mouth opens with an accusing gasp - did he just…pinch your clit? But all thoughts of his audacity and the fact that Toji was chuckling out right after washed away as soon as your high was flooding you.

Moans being muffled around his generously fat shaft, the only thing that you get is just a single wispy wire of condensed cum being lacquered onto your tongue. Just one. Right before Toji’s free hand splays out onto your scalp and pulls you free with a wet pwah!

“Tha’s it-” You hear him mutter in the blinding cloud of your orgasm, it felt so blissful that some darkly primal part of you said that you were never letting him go after this. He was yours. Your mate. “-louder. Louder– good fuckin’ girl cummin’ all over my mouth.”

Toji didn’t know how the hell was multitasking with your pussy kindly spraying him with a sheeny covering of all your remnant juices. But for you? Anything.

Anything anything anything and he was whispering the very same mantra into the quavering, slick-flooded entrance of yours. Letting your hips drag sloppy grinds to ride out every edge of your peak - to use him in a way that no other alpha might just.

Toji’s strokes up into your tightly-clasped fist were deep, and he doesn’t stop even when your eyesight stops tinging with black. Not even when your back arches with oversensitivity, waterfalls of tears producing from your ducts. Sobbing, “I-I’m- ngh- Toooji- I can’t anymore-”

“Sure, ya can–” Looking you right into your thoroughly half-lidded eyes as he nods along with the slurring symphony that he was orchestrating from between your overworked legs. “-she says ya- ngh- can.”

Toji wanted to taste you again. Needed it.

“But-” And, yet, he finds his ear perking up at the wobbly sound of your voice, blushing bludgeoning tip creaming out another thick mess of white. “-but I wan’ my next- ah- next orgasm around your cock, Toji–”

And, well, how could he say no to that?

Toji thinks he could never say no to anything you ask ever again with the way you were positioned precariously on top of him and still begging.

He’s saying goodbye to your pretty pussy with a slow peck as a lover would. Breathing in heavily - oh, how he loved the smell of you. “M’gonna see ya later, m’kay? Don’t miss me too much.”

And another gifted spank! to your tenderized ass makes you jerk a few inches off of his sugary mouth. Sweet, sweet praises being pecked up the bending arch of your spine when he sits you down all cutely on his lap.

You’re heaving out a huff, scent glands throbbing with a spike of something slightly salty. Jealousy. “M’startin’ ta think you’re playing ngh- favorites.”

“Well, duh.” He’s fluttering his long, bestowed lashes with an eyeroll, barely even flinching before cupping your slobbering pussy with one large palm. Teasing, “I’ve got yeeears ta make up for.”

Years of desperation and need pouring and pouring out when Toji folds you easily onto all fours.

And that’s when you’re getting a thorough striking of exactly three times that Toji’s sappy crownhead jolts upwards with a few gummy kisses hello up and down the crying middle of your pussy lips. Smooching. Gently. Before he’s snuggling right beside your hole-

With you bent over and arched right how he wanted you - oh, he was so enjoying the view. Saturated bursts of cloudy pheromones hitting your feverish body and only making the fountains of translucent slick increase tenfold.

Shit, you were so wet that Toji has to force himself to let one greedy hand go from its favorite job trapping you underneath him.

Guiding a few dexterous digits to wrap around the bulkily bloated cylinder of his base, he takes his time slipping and sliding.

“Might wanna hold yer breath, mama, h-heh…” You’re squirming your hips deeper into those pronounced hip bones of his despite the fact that simply breathing won’t help you take on his monstrous size. But you wanted to. You needed to. “Gotta c-count- ngh- eeeevery inch like a good girl now, m’kay?”

And that’s exactly what he made you do.

“Oh!” Saltily flavored globules of your tears had your lips wetted, blubbering unconsciously when Toji anchors the hills of his palm onto the ends of your spine and pushes. “Shit- Toooji, why the hell are you s-so big-”

“Now that doesn’t sound like a ngh- ‘one’ ta me…” But of course, who was Toji if it wasn’t for a little bit of teasing. Just enough to get your lips pouting cutely and your gluey walls clinging around him as if afraid he would pull away. Adorable. “Now now, c’mon- don’t tell me the biiig stretch has made ya forget how to ah- count, mama.”

So easy to rile up, to get you shaking your head so fervently that you swear you could feel your melty mind tumbling about like a bobble head. “N-no. I can count.”

“Then, say it w’me-” And oh, you knew that tone. That feral tone of his that would never ever bode well for you or your needily dripping pussy. Toji’s inching his hips back mere sinful inches, drawling out all the while. “-oooone.”

He doesn’t even ease you in.

Hitting your spraying cunt with the full force of his mushroom-topped head pushing past the adhesive-like resistance of your flooding entrance. Pushing and pushing and pushing- “One.”

Toji’s hands are clammy - depraved - when they pry your bouncing ass ever-so-slightly to really take in the sight of your gobbling pussy. Because he had no shame. He had no fucking shyness letting out a proud puff of pheromones that make your boneless knees weak.

“There there.” He’s patting that curve of your hip he loved so much - birthing hips, the thought strikes him. Shocked at just how much deeper that drowns him into his heady rut. “My good omega. Now…two.”

“T-two-” You’re sobbing out.

“Hmmm, nah- no stutterin’.”

Oh?

And, honestly, Toji half-expected your omega in heat to snarl at him a little, to let your hugging channel scoop up a hefty few dollops of milky pre right before he’s reeling the familiar pathway forwards again.

But, oh shit, he didn’t expect for you to bare your teeth like a fucking threat. For one hand of yours to dart behind with surprising accuracy and curl around his shaggy haircut, dragging Toji to pump you full. And it wasn’t just one inch. Not two. Not even three - you were damn near yearningly jackhammered with about halfway down his fuming red shaft before he finally got his cottony brain together. “Two.”

“Damn, greedy girl–” Toji praises, though it comes out as more of a rasping growl that sends voltaged shivers down your spine. “Comin’ back for more, already? Knew my dick was hah- heat- alright then-” And the bed rings out with a few symphonied creaks when he shuffles his muscular thighs wider. Steadier. “-but ya better still fuckin’ count.”

Four. five. Six.

More and more - seven and eight.

Up until Toji’s puffy head smudges a wet wipe at the canvas of your cervix. You were so soft there that he obviously has to greet the melty depths of your pussy with a good spurting of ribbony pre, swabbing around those drenched springs with a lazy circle of his hips.

“Eight.” Your jaw spills a surging slew of profanities at the feeling of him spearheading you so open, face pushing into the soft mattress when you perk your hips up and push. Only to gasp at there being- more? “Wait- I want-”

“Down, girl.” Toji’s sweat-shimmered biceps flex when he shoves your too-eager body back. “Gotta get you to at least cum on m’cock again before I give ya my- fuuuuck- knot.”

And Toji fucks you like he’d going to make you remember.

He knows he’s going to make you remember - it’s why he has that big, dopey smirk smearing wider and wider across his face with every fat thud! into the rubbery bounds of your pussy. You’re taking him like you’re made for it, and that only makes his heart stutter even louder than your protesting wooden bedframe.

“Doll, m’gonna ahh- break this damn bed.” He’s uttering out, never ever sounding prouder of himself than right now. “And you.”

“Cocky.”

“Whatever, girl- talk t’me when ya haven’t gotten- hah-” Managing out through blissful hiccups of his breath, “-heart-eyes after bein’ hngh- fucked dumb by me, ‘kay?”

You’re not sure if you’ve heard that correctly - but luckily for you, Toji Fushiguro is allll about keeping his girl in the loop.

All about prancing his rough hands to entrap your wrists and pull you with barely even a wisp of his true strength. Beaded dewdrops of sweat perspiring up and down the heavily toned muscles of his back like their very own personal rollercoaster.

With you right along for the ride with the way that his rightly angled rotund tip romantically scours and scours for your magical g-spot. Jerking you up in midair to snap his slender hips with a particularly vicious pap!

The sensation of skin-on-skin makes your head dizzy, and your core overpour with another sudden downpour of treacling juices. But what was even blasphemously worse was the way that precious geyser embedded into the treasure trove of your walls were pummelled.

Over and over.

“There- right there–” you’re sounding out as if you were a broken record. Every resonating moan of yours accompanied hand-in-hand with the loudest splish-splosh of sputtering juices. Secondary gender working overtime now to make Toji cum. To make him give you his knot- “-wan’ you to c-cum right there.”

“Where?” Toji’s deepening his angle to bump a heavy-handed slam pounded into your cervix. “Here?” At your vehement shakes - honestly, he wondered if you even knew he was taunting you at this point. “Then…” Only to give your peaked clit a mushy squeeze, “-here?”

You’re almost crying at this point, bursts of heat fluctuating between your goopy depths and your swollen scent glands. Full and ready. And it’s a sight so pretty that Toji can feel his stomach twisting already. “N-noooo.”

He almost loses it once your shakier, smaller hands take the lead to guide one of his own all across your thighs where he loved. Your cunt, where he loved just a bit more. And to about halfway along your pretty tummy to press- “Wan’ you to f-fill me up riiight here.”

And Toji only growls, “Riiight there, huh?”

Pinpointing his puffed-up divot to smudgeon repeated heavy collisions into the latched wall of your womb. Once. Twice. Before thrashing your permeated walls with hosing flushes of his cum. Of such thick ribbony wads - and it’s so fucking dense that you feel your hips weigh down.

Or perhaps that was because of your own orgasm the- third of the night?

Just about all you can manage out, syllables falling from your lips slower than you’re being hammered through the faintish spurts of your high. “C-umming–”

Before you know it, you have one of his muscular forearms around your throat in headlock, bulging Toji’s rounded biceps hard and possessively at the bumpy area of your glands.

“Cummin’ again?” Toji snarls against your ear, nails clawing at your hip to keep them under his control. “Yeah- yeahhh tha’s right. Milk your dear Toji, t-take this fucking cock. Take my…”

And Toji was about to overstuff your awaiting hole with the fat circular ring that’d swollen around his base, to finally give you his knot the way he’d been dreaming of ever since you waved at him on the day he moved into this fucking building.

But just one sneaking glance at the ivory lipstain your puffy pussy was wearing, the way the ends of your sopping slit drown with a swamping drip drip drip of his lustrous cum makes Toji go a little…crazy.

Makes the bulgingly tender crook of your neck look so, so tempting.

His glassed-over eyes lock downwards, breath hitching at the way he slowly sinks back out and in has your pussymound mewling out such a cute glomp! His second-favorite girl - after you, of course - was speaking back to him. Lathers of splashing cum painting his bulky heft with a ring of frosted seed.

Oh.

Toji would never get tired of this. How the fuck hadn’t he had a rut in years again?

And he says only one word, “More.”

“M-more?” Your fingers experimentally nudge at the tautly coiled pressure at your stomach and find yourself slobbering - from both drizzling lips. Even with the dredges of pouring cum, you were still so full you felt that you could burst. “Can it even fit?”

Right now he thinks the hazy fog covering his brain would never stop - and he doesn’t want it to. Waves of pheromones wafting off of him in such high concentrations that you find your mouth flooding with saliva all over again.

Cobwebs of it overspilling down onto the veined muscles of his forearm - only increasing in saturation when he tilts your head up in the perfect 90 degree curvature to face his boring gaze. And his mean mouth.

Spitting right onto the tainted bullseye of your tongue, streamy rivers flowing back into your mouth when he firmly nudges it shut. “If yer droolin’ n’ can still t-take ngh– that,” Branding the thorough push of his circled circumference into your cervix like he was branding the swollen indentation there permanently. “-then ya can take allll of haaah- this, okay, mama?”

Shit, was Toji glad that both your concoctions of pheromones kept him still hard. And he’d heard of ruts that lasted a week - two, uncommonly. The longest ever recorded was twenty days and by god was he going to gain the title of world champion.

Even if it meant he had to lift you cleanly off of the now-broken bed, the exact same one that you were only now noticing. Just barely so.

You’re gasping, fingers digging into Toji’s smooth skin when two arms wrap around your middle and jostle you over a few coiling bedsprings that’d started to stick out from one sagging end of the mattress. Being pushed to bend over in such a complaint position at the end of your cool mahogany desk.

You’re dipped deep, but his battering rams were impossibly deeper.

And the zig-zagging probe of his veins were massaging you just right, thrusts determined and practiced now that Toji had every scouring inch of your pretty pussy drilled into his mind.

“Th-three’s the ah-” Toji’s chest rumbles with a sensitized shiver once he hikes up a strong leg, caging you with him and his ruthless cock and him. Letting you gape at the documents rustling and flying about, “-charm. Or was it four? Ngh- f-five? Six?”

Just how long did he intend to mess up your insides?

Though, you really, really aren’t complaining at the way that every merciless dab of Toji’s sharp hips into your fleshy mounds fuck you stupid. Entire body burning up - all the way from his lolling, sweat-stucken head in the crook of your neck, to the splurging torrents of streamy sap coating you.

And then there was that stinging plap! of his tightened knot behind you-

“C-can I have your knot now, Toji—?”

Shit, his hips stutter their sloppy staccato, did you even know what you were asking for?

You never knew that heats came with such a side of begging, but right now you couldn’t really bring yourself to care. Or to complain. Because Toji liked it, earning your pillowy walls with extra thorough hits.

“Impatient girl.” He’s raising a hand to give two messy spanks on your bulging pussymound, deep snickers hitting your ear in condensed pants at the way it only makes you filthier. “Real diiiirty, too. mmm, wonder if she’d ngh- m-make an even bigger ngh- mess if I…”

And at this point, you were hanging onto every word falling from his kiss-bitten lips. A side-effect of just how good he was fucking you into the digging edges of your clattering desk right now. “What- ngh- what? P-please-”

“Ohhh, know yer m-manners, huh?” Full body wracking at the oodles of slicked sheens frothing down the plump curve of his globed balls and making them clench. Dangerously so. “S-since ya asked so fuckin’ nicely, I’ll let you ngh- know, sugar.”

Nothing could have prepared you for the way that Toji moistens his parched mouth with a few sultry licks of his lips as if preparing to share his deepest, darkest secret.

Nothing could have prepared you for the notched up burst of his jasmine perfume that makes your legs resemble weak jelly, and Toji’s support yours until they were hovering almost midair.

Because he was craning his head down to nip at your scent glands, with a sudden snicker. Crazed. A few octaves higher. Like he doesn’t even realize it’s tumbling out before sighing, “-wonder if she’d make an even bigger mess once I get ya…pregnant, mama.”

And oh you think you’re cumming - hot spurts of bliss tackling you by surprise. Fuck, and if you thought that the last orgasm had taken a lot out of your Toji then you’re sluttily glad to find out that that was not the case.

The complete opposite, in fact.

You’re sure that Toji cums even more this time, sunken divot into the elastic material of your walls welling up with the creamy helpings of his bloated cock. So much seed spilling out of him that you wondered whether this was the rut or just him.

Just his urge to fuck you full until you were pathetically overspiling, until had had you in a hold so tight that you think you could almost feel Toji’s delicious crownhead fuck his cum into you until it reached your lungs.

For what feels like rounds upon rounds until your saliva had amassed in a forevermore pool underneath you. You didn’t know what time it was. How long it had been-

Only feeling the firm glissade of Toji’s washboard abs against your back. The way his thighs shivered and jerked at every one of your gripping clenches. And despite being so fucked, you were already drooling at the heavenly cushy push and pull of his Adonis-like pecs heaving in throaty gasps.

So unfairly sexy that it made your primal instincts preen. Mate.

And, apparently, Toji was thinking much the same.

“F-fuuuck-” He’s letting his mouth nuzzle the side of your throat with all the tenderness that he wasn’t bestowing upon your sappy cunt. “Think about i-it- you all ngh- round and glowing n’- rooound–“ Rambling and rambling at the wet splashes inside you of his stuffing, “You’d make the prettiest momma.”

As if to prove his point, a gentle hand greets the inflationary outline that was slowly forming its way at your tummy. Made by yours truly - Toji.

“I…” And he looks at you like you’ve hung the stars. And his sanity right along with it somewhere up there. “-want that. Oh, I- hngh! want that-”

Words barely out of your mouth before Toji’s hand slams down - he had to keep himself together. He needed to. But that grating desk clearly wasn’t the place, because you flinch when one straining leg snaps!

And Toji’s alpha instincts are flaring up in an instant, wrestling you to the ground right - pulling out for only a nanosecond to flip you onto your prespired back, pretty legs strewn sloppily over his shoulder, even prettier face gazing up at him - beside the wreckage. One that you’d only find it in yourself to worry about much, much later.

Definitely not when he’s patting the curve of your pussy with a softened thwack! Murmuring, “Then..g-gonna hafta- hngh- take it.”

And if you didn’t know any better, then you’d have sworn that the smug Toji Fushiguro’s voice cracked as soon as he was settling for drawing a languid heart pattern around the velvety perimeter of your entrance. Before thumbing his way inside-

“Hck!” Your lip wobbles with oversensitivity, nails clawing red, red lines of raw need across the faintly bubblegum pink flush of his body. “S-Soooo much–”

And, yet, you couldn’t get enough.

You watch with a bitten lip with a fat goblet of sweat drips from Toji’s angular jaw and slithers between his pecs to disappear down below. More - you wanted to fucking ruin him.

The desperation of your heat plummeting in heady wavelengths all around you and making the room smell like a candy heaven.

One that you were very much lost in with the unforgiving stretch of Toji pawing his way to working your sprinkling cunt doubly open. Fingers pumping in quick, methodical half-fucks in the same way that his persistant hips were doing.

Every single recoil against your fleshy cervix causes you both to keen at the wet slosh of his mounds of seed piling up inside you from all the endless rounds before.

Again. And again. And again and again until it feels like countless hours upon hours.

“Ohhhh- w-ait-” Toji stammers out, attractively sharp jaw falling and wrenching shut a few repeated times. And then his hips slow down. “Think s’gonna- ngh- ohhhh yeah, gotta take this kn-knot okay? Like my goood girl, okay?”

You’re filled with countless inches of a staggering girth that you didn’t even know was possible. Because while alphas were big…Toji was extra big.

Extra rounded in his sizable knot, rested upon thickly globular balls that still held such voluminous amounts of cum. Pounding open your eager cunt further and- further-

“I-is it in?” You’re shrilling out, syllables slurring and stumbling together with the incredible stretch being made evident from down below. Fuck, your nails create more painted patterns. You didn’t even want to look - you couldn’t afford to cum again just from the sight.

“J-just ngh- one more inch. Scratch me, ruin me- anythin’. But m’gonna make it f-fit.”

And Toji only hooks in another one of his thumbs, this time swiping the fat pad of a few stray fingers down your buxom clit. “Count w’me, doll-” For his sanity more than anything. Neck straining with a few popping vessels of blood that swell, face reddening with such a maidenly fucking blush as he looks downwards. “-ooone more-”

“-inch.” You finish off, not expecting that exact moment to be when Toji snaps. His patience. You, full of that achingly hot knot that’d been just begging for you to take him the very moment you waltzed up to him with that sweetened saccharine scent.

His favorite now.

Gulping in cavernous quotas of it the moment Toji’s inflated knot pops and he sinks his sharpened canines into your scent glands with a whimper-

Hard enough to taste your honey-glazed pheromones, to draw blood. To be permanent - just as he’d needed it.

Hard enough to make him cum all over again at the feeling of your own teeth making their pretty mark on him. Shit, he didn’t even know if it was fucking possible for his overworked cock anymore. But he sure wasn’t fucking complaining at the delicate splat splat splat of milky cum hitting the back of your pussy.

Already filled to the brim and spilling with every loving grind that Toji was boring down upon you. The only thing that he could manage when you two were connected so…tightly this way.

“Cute.” Toji manages to run his fingers over the proprietorial set of indentations set in his flesh, eyes still laminated dewily with an euphoric sort of stunned awe. “F-fated mates really have some good ngh- bed chem, huh?”

Fated mates. You could only smile and scent that overwhelmingly addictive jasmine scent of his. Taking in a long, deep breath as he held you. Tight.

Yeah, jasmine.

But jasmine was Toji Fushiguro’s.

And you’d be damned if Toji Fushiguro ever let you off that easily.

The smile you’re given is feral, predatory teeth glimmering in the dim lighting and making the neat circle of marks at your neck throb. And something about that told you this was far, far from over.

You could only hope that your floor didn’t suffer the same fate as your bed, and your desk…and your fluttering cunt.

After all, you both did have years to make up for.

“Now the only haaah- way to really test our bed chem is to see whether we can make Megs a big brother.”

A/N. Thinking about making an omegaverse installment for every JJK man- what do you think babygirls?

Plagiarism not authorized.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fic #toji #toji fushiguro #tonywrites

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batsandbirdbrains · 2 months ago

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Interactions Bruce has had with an 8 year old Dick Grayson based on things I’ve said to my cat

***

Bruce, watching Dick scurry by with a guilty look on his face: Hey Dickie, what have you got there?

Dick, who has just shoved his hands in his pockets: Nothing

Bruce: show me your hands

Dick, who very clearly has something wiggling in his pockets but now has his hands shoved up in Bruce’s face: nothing! See?

Bruce: what’s in your pockets?

Bruce, now chasing Dick: WHAT IS IN YOUR POCKETS

Bruce, who just saw a lizard head poke out of Dick’s left pocket: DICK COME BACK HERE AND GIVE ME THE LIZARDS

***

Bruce, sleeping peacefully:

Dick, who is awake at the crack of dawn, now crawling over Bruce’s chest: BRUCE!

Bruce, who has just had the wind knocked out of him and now has all of Dick’s weight on his chest with one of Dick’s hands pressed to his windpipe: stop

Dick: BRUUUUCE!

Bruce: ITS NOT BREAKFAST TIME YET GO BACK TO BED

Dick, now hitting Bruce’s face: BRUUUUUUUCE!

Bruce, now wrapping his arms around Dick and rolling over so he’s smothered under the pillows: shhhhh bedtime

Dick, who’s voice is now very muffled under the comforter with his face smooshed in Bruce’s chest: bruuuuce

Bruce, moving one hand to the back of Dick’s head: ssshhh I can’t hear you until my alarm goes off

Dick, pathetically: bruce

Bruce, huffing and puffing and kicking the blankets off as he carries Dick out of bed: ugh FUCK fine I’m up IM UP we’ll go have a snack

Dick, looking quite pleased with himself: :)

***

Bruce, walking up behind where Dick is staring at something on the floor: whatcha looking at

Dick: bug

Bruce: oh, what’s it doing?

Dick: bug stuff

Bruce: oh, okay. Cool.

Dick, laying on his stomach and kicking his feet in the air:

Bruce: don’t eat it

Bruce, now sitting on the other side of the room, trying to actually get some work done: I mean it, Dick

Dick, still kicking his feet:

Bruce: don’t eat the bug Dick.

Bruce: make good choices

Dick, who is now poking at the bug, still kicking his feet:

Dick, who is now scampering out of the room:

Bruce, chasing after him: DICK

Bruce: SPIT IT OUT, DICK!

Bruce: THIS IS NOT A GOOD CHOICE, DICK

Bruce, who has now caught Dick around the middle: SPIT IT OUT

Dick, who is no longer having ANY fun, but spits it out into Bruce’s hand: :p

Bruce, who’s gagging at the wet bug in his palm: that was not a good choice, Dick. That was very very gross. Very yucky.

Dick, now scampering away into another room to probably do more stupid shit: :)

***

Bruce, walking by where Dick is sprawled out on a couch, sleeping in the most uncomfortable looking position: aww

Bruce: an angel

Dick, cracking one eye open: I’ll bite you if you move me

Bruce, still smiling: a sweet little baby

#dick grayson #bruce wayne

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yasministration · 5 months ago

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concussions and interruptions au m.list

ˋ°•*⁀➷ navigation, ꩜ smut, ❀ fluff, 𖤓 angsty/angry, 𖤐 funny

synopsis: when you accidentally meet harry's parents for the first time, they quickly learn that you're a very sweet girl, but you have a very complicated family. slytherin!reader

meet concussions and interruptions reader

✩ concussions and interruptions - You aren’t expecting to meet Harry’s parents for the first time while you share an intimate moment in the hospital wing after he sustains another quidditch injury (❀𖤐)

✩ after curfew - you and harry seem to forget his godfather is doing rounds when you sneak out after curfew (❀𖤐)

✩ who is she - your friends watch how affectionate you are with harry from across the courtyard, and briefly wonder if they've ever seen you so comfortable with a boyfriend before. (❀)

✩ it's a date - when harry and his parents see you in diagon alley, they are surprised to see the sudden change in behaviour you have at your parents' presence. but that won't stop harry from getting his kiss. (❀𖤓)

✩ heavy dresses, tight corsets - in the guise of having a sleepover with daphne, you go over to harry's house, where you can finally take this stupid dress off. (❀)

✩ the giant squid - harry and his friends find out you're afraid of the giant squid (❀𖤐)

✩ the glass room - you bring harry and his friends to meet your friend group in the glass room, hidden in the depths of the slytherin common room. (❀𖤐)

✩ people are watching - it seems that you begin to care less and less who gets to see the true side of your parents. and apparently, so do they. (❀𖤓)

✩ the talk - when james potter catches you and his son making out in his bedroom, he excitedly goes to tell his wife. but he isn't expecting her to call you both down for a talk no one can take seriously. (❀𖤐)

✩ in his arms - harry had been right when he told you not to go back home after graduation. but how could you not when your entire history laid there? (❀𖤓)

✩ my girl - after you failed to show up to dinner with the notts, your parents give a poor excuse as to why you aren’t there. but theo spreads the message to your friends, and they all become a little suspicious of what may have truly happened. (❀)

✩ hands full - sex with harry potter makes you lose your ability to think, even when his mother is speaking to him on the other side of the locked door. (❀꩜)

✩ pass the wrench - when james enters his living room and can't find harry to help him fix something, he decides you're fit to help with the job. after all, you're practically already his daughter in law. (❀𖤐)

✩ be my baby - another night at the potter household reveals that you love one of harry's least favourite songs, a.k.a his dad's all time favourite. (❀)

✩ baby fever - there are too many cute babies in diagon alley, and their innocent smiles and babbling voices make it difficult for you to focus on Lily Potter's story (❀)

✩ after noon - sirius and james are left at the potter household while lily, remus and harry are at hogsmeade. when you wake up from your peaceful slumber, they suggest a fun way to spend the day, but there’s one flaw to their plan: you can’t ride a bike. (❀)

other:

✩ introducing the friend groups

✩ how the friend groups react to the relationship

#harry potter #alternate universe #harry potter headcanon #harry potter angst #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter smut #harry potter oneshot #harry potter x reader #concussions and interruptions au #yasministration fics #divider by cursed carmine #yasministration masterlists

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mephisto-reporting · 9 months ago

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Hearbreak Anniversary with Rafayel

Summary: It was your anniversary with Rafayel. One year of togetherness. But what if he does not show up when you expect him to? What if he was spending it with MC? Pairing: Non MC! Reader x Rafayel Note: MC in this fic goes by the name Lina (my name... so if you are angry, you can be angry at me :3). This oneshot was based on this request. I will write this for the other LADS men too. Content Warning: Fear of abandonment, self worth issues, angst, hurt and slight comfort, Rafayel grovelling, Rafayel POV

Rafayel version | Zayne version | Sylus version | Caleb Version

The soft glow of the sunset filtered through the gauzy curtains of Rafayel’s studio, painting the space in warm hues of gold and orange. The place smelled faintly of him—a mix of turpentine, salt, and the faint trace of his cologne. You had spent hours here today, your hands busy arranging the decorations you’d so carefully prepared for this special occasion. Sea shells, shimmering like iridescent pearls, lined the edges of the room, their opalescent beauty a nod to the ocean he once called home. Candles flickered softly on every surface, their flames dancing to an unseen rhythm. You’d even managed to find strands of silken seaweed and glass ornaments, hoping to evoke the beauty of his heritage, the beauty of him.

Every corner of his art studio had been dusted, tidied, and then transformed with touches of magic, warmth, and care. You even placed the tiny trinkets and mementos you had kept from your shared moments—little souvenirs from your adventures together, knickknacks that held meaning between the two of you. You wanted him to feel at home, to feel the same sense of belonging that you had with him. You even wore your best clothes, the ones he had once complimented.

Today was your first anniversary. The thought alone sent your heart fluttering, and you’d poured all that love into this space, into this moment.

A few months ago he had told you this was just another day for him. A god’s sense of time was different, fleeting, perhaps even insignificant. But to you, it meant everything. It was a celebration of love that had somehow defied the odds—of a mortal heart tangled with one belonging to something far greater. So you ignored the whispering doubts that crept into the back of your mind, choosing instead to focus on trust. Rafayel had chosen you, not her. No matter how many stories tied them together, no matter the whispered inevitability of their connection, he had assured you. It was you he loved now.

But as the hours passed, that fragile trust began to tremble.

You sat in the chair by the window, smoothing down the dress you’d picked especially for today. Time crawled. The soft golden light of day gave way to a dark, yawning sky, and still, Rafayel didn’t come home. The anniversary dinner, meticulously prepared and carefully plated, sat untouched on the table. Each tick of the clock became a cruel reminder of his absence.

Worry gnawed at you. What if something had happened to him? Perhaps the art sale ran late, or he was caught up with his patrons. But he always came back home, right?

Your heart twisted as you reached for your phone, dialing a number you didn’t want to use but needed to.

“Thomas?” you asked hesitantly, your voice trembling.

“Oh, hey,” Rafayel’s manager greeted casually. “Everything okay?”

“Is Rafayel still at the sale?” You tried to keep the panic from seeping into your tone, but the silence on the other end was damning.

“Uh… no, he left hours ago. Said he was going to grab dinner. Lina was with him.”

Your grip tightened on the phone, your knuckles turning white.

Lina.

The name struck like a knife.

“Thanks, Thomas,” you whispered, hanging up before he could ask anything more.

You sat there, staring at the flickering candles, their light casting long shadows across the studio walls. He was with Lina. On your anniversary. You had trusted him, convinced yourself that you were enough despite the insecurities that had clawed at your heart since the day you met him.

But now, they came roaring to life.

You had known, of course, who Lina was. She was the one linked to the sea god, his past, his history—his heart. You tried not to let it affect you, tried to bury the insecurities that rose whenever she came up in conversation. Rafayel always assured you there was nothing between them. But then why was he with her, of all people, on your anniversary?

Tears blurred your vision as your chest tightened painfully. Lina.

She was everything you were not. Strong, beautiful, a part of Rafayel’s past, his first love. How could you compete with that? How could you compete with someone who had shared so much more with him, someone whose bond with him was carved in the very fabric of his existence? She was a part of him, woven into the his story, while you were… just someone who had stumbled into his life, someone insignificant in comparison.

Lina... The woman who was forever tied to his past. The sea god's bride. The one he’d loved for so long, the one who had always been there, time after time. You had told yourself, time and time again, that it was nothing. That Rafayel was different with you. He had assured you that there was nothing between them anymore.

But if it’s nothing, why is he with her now? On our day.

Your fingers trembled as you held the phone to your ear, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to ask any more questions. The answers were irrelevant now. His absence, her presence, they were all you needed to know.

Tears pooled at the edges of your vision before spilling over, streaking your face like tiny rivers tracing paths through dusted cheeks. It wasn’t fair. Nothing felt fair. He had promised you. He had promised. But promises were like ocean tides, weren’t they? Sweeping away whatever they could, leaving only bits of broken shells behind.

Lina was everything you could never be. She was strong, beautiful, powerful—everything that Rafayel deserved. She had the sea god’s heart, had always had it, and here you were, just a fleeting ripple on the surface, barely a mark to him. She was woven into the fabric of his past, his future. What are you to him? What have you ever been?

The memories of your relationship, the quiet moments of closeness, the laughter shared under the soft, flickering light of his candles, all those moments seemed so... fragile now. Fragile and fleeting. You were nobody. Just a distraction, a place holder. Nothing more.

You stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor like the scratch of claws on stone. The studio, his studio, filled with remnants of him, was suffocating. His scent lingered in the air, the faint trace of his cologne mixing with the oils and paints scattered everywhere. His taste still clung to your lips from the last time you’d kissed him, the memories of his touch branded into your skin. It was all too much. Too much. The studio, so full of him, was now a suffocating reminder of what you had lost. You didn’t want to stay. You couldn’t.

You tried to hold the tears back, but it was useless. Every doubt, every fear you’d bottled up over the months came crashing down, drowning you in their suffocating weight.

This wasn’t love. This was a cruel game, one you couldn’t win.

You couldn’t breathe. You had to get out.

Your legs moved before your mind could catch up, carrying you toward the door. The wind hit your face the moment you stepped outside, cool and biting, but it wasn’t enough to quell the storm raging inside you.

You ran.

The streets blurred into one indistinct smear of light and shadow as you ran aimlessly, your feet pounding against the pavement, carrying you farther and farther from that studio. From him.

Eventually, the pavement gave way to sand, and the sharp tang of the ocean filled the air. The moon hung high above, casting a silver glow over the beach. Your chest heaved, your lungs burning as you collapsed onto the sand, letting the waves crash against the shore in a soothing rhythm that mocked your turmoil. You kept running, further and further away from whitesand bay, along the beach.

You stumbled, falling to your knees in the sand, clutching your arms around yourself. Your chest heaved as the tears fell freely, the sound of the ocean mixing with your sobs. Lina. You could picture them together, her hand in his, the same way they had been for so many years before you. The seagulls cried above you, indifferent to your pain. And in that moment, you realized that the world didn’t stop for you. It never had. You stared out at the endless sea, the dark horizon stretching in front of you.

How could I have been so blind?

The waves crashed against the shore, each one louder than the last. You are nothing to him. The thought echoed in your mind over and over, relentless, until you could barely breathe under the weight of it.

And just when you thought the world couldn’t get any colder, the tears started again. They fell freely now, salt mixing with the salt of the sea.

You had wanted to be enough. But maybe that was a joke after all. But even as your body trembled with the weight of the heartbreak, you knew one thing: You could never go back. Not to him, not to that studio, not to any of it. You were just a wave, crashing onto the shore, and he was the sea god.

The night wrapped itself around you like a suffocating blanket. The cold air bit into your skin, but it wasn’t enough to numb the ache clawing at your chest. Each crashing wave seemed to echo the bitter truth you couldn’t escape: you were never going to be enough for him. You curled tighter into yourself, trembling as the tears continued to flow. The sand clung to your dress, to your damp hands, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The world had narrowed to the storm raging inside you—a tempest of betrayal, doubt, and misery.

The sharp chill of the ocean breeze whipped your hair against your tear-streaked face, but it was nothing compared to the icy grip of despair coiling around your heart. Every promise he’d made, every word of reassurance, felt like shards of glass now, cutting into the fragile hope you’d built. The waves surged closer, the cold spray dotting your skin. Your sobs mixed with the crashing tide, swallowed up by the vast, indifferent sea.

You hugged yourself tightly, your body shaking as the cold seeped deeper into your bones. Yet, you stayed there, rooted to the spot, as if the ocean could somehow wash away the ache inside you. But no wave could reach that far, no tide could touch the place where your heart ached. You wanted to scream, to shout at the world for the injustice of it all, but the air in your lungs wouldn’t let you. You were too small for this world, too insignificant for him. You would never be the sea. You were just a small wave, lost in the expanse of the tide.

Rafayel’s POV

The door to the studio swung open, and Rafayel stepped inside, laughter trailing after him. “You should’ve seen the look on that shopkeeper’s face when I said we’d take both cakes,” he said, his voice warm and light. He turned to Lina, who chuckled softly as she followed him, holding one of the carefully boxed pastries. “He probably thought we were insane.”

Rafayel kicked the door shut behind him, balancing his own box of confections, his grin still in place. “I can’t wait to see my cutie’s face when she tries these. She’s going to love them.”

But the moment his gaze swept across the room, his laughter faltered and then stopped entirely.

The studio was transformed. Soft candlelight flickered, casting golden hues across the walls. Seashells glimmered like scattered pearls, carefully arranged along the edges of the space. Strands of delicate seaweed draped like garlands, their green silkiness catching the light. Trinkets, small but unmistakably meaningful, dotted the surfaces—each one an ode to moments he had shared with you. The table was set with plates of untouched food, lovingly prepared, and the air held a faint, tantalizing aroma that now felt unbearably heavy.

He froze, the pastry box slipping slightly in his grip. His throat tightened as his eyes roved over every detail, taking in the love and care you had poured into the space. The decorations, the mementos, the effort—it was overwhelming.

“Rafayel?” Lina’s voice broke through the silence. She stepped forward, her brows knitting in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” His voice cracked, and he set the box down on the nearest surface with trembling hands. “I fucked up,” he whispered, barely audible. His fingers grazed one of the seashells, its surface smooth and cool. He trailed his hand over a string of seaweed, the soft texture almost mocking him. “I fucked up bad.”

Lina’s concern deepened. “What are you talking about?”

Rafayel turned toward her, his expression stricken. “The anniversary. Our anniversary. It slipped my mind.” His voice was a low, shaky whisper as he glanced back at the table, the untouched plates, the flickering candles. “She did all of this… for me. For us.”

He called out your name, his voice echoing through the space. “Are you here? Cutie?” His steps quickened as he moved through the studio, searching. The bathroom. The bedroom. The small corner where you sometimes curled up to read. “Are you asleep?” he called, though he knew better. Each empty room was another blow to his gut.

Panic clawed at him as he returned to the main room, his gaze darting to the table again, the small trinkets, the soft glow of candles still burning. The room felt haunted, filled with the ghost of your hope and effort.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair, gripping it tightly. He grabbed his phone and immediately dialed Thomas.

“Thomas, did she—did she say anything to you? Did she mention where she might go?” Rafayel’s voice was taut with desperation.

Thomas hesitated. “She called me earlier. She asked if you were still at the sale. That’s all she said.”

The weight of Thomas’s words slammed into Rafayel like a wave. You’d called, searching for him, only to learn the truth he had tried to ignore. It had slipped his mind completely. He didn’t know you were setting all of this up. For him. For the both of you.

“Thanks,” Rafayel muttered, ending the call and immediately dialing your number. He paced the studio, his heart racing as the line rang once… twice… three times—

And then he heard it. The faint buzz of your phone, abandoned on the sofa near the window.

“Shit!” Rafayel cursed, grabbing the device and staring at the darkened screen as if it could offer him answers. “Shit, shit, shit!”

He collapsed onto the chair you had once sat in, his head in his hands. Where were you? His gaze drifted to the table again, the untouched dinner, the carefully arranged decorations.

How could he have been so blind? So careless? You had given him everything, and he… he had been too wrapped up in himself, too foolish to see what truly mattered.

Lina hesitated before taking a few careful steps toward Rafayel, watching his every move with growing concern. She’d never seen him like this before. His usual confident, almost cocky demeanor had vanished, leaving only raw distress in its place. He sat slumped in the chair, his phone clutched tightly in his hands, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath.

"Rafayel..." she began softly, her voice gentle but concerned. "What’s going on? What happened?"

Her hand brushed against his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, but the instant her fingers made contact with his skin, he flinched as though struck. His body jerked back, his eyes flashing with something wild—something dangerous. His eyes, usually a mischievous swirl of pink and blue, flared into a startling, unearthly bright blue before he clenched them shut, his jaw tightening.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice hoarse as he pulled away, his fists curling. “Lina, I—sorry. I didn’t mean to—” He forced himself to inhale deeply, reigning in his emotions as the scales receded and his eyes returned to their usual hue. “I’m fine,” he lied, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “I just... I need to find her.”

Lina’s hand hovered uncertainly before falling back to her side. “Rafayel,” she began gently, “her phone’s here. Her purse. Even her car keys. Where could she have gone?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped, the sharpness in his voice born of self-directed frustration. “And that’s what’s driving me insane.” He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots as if the pain could ground him. “She’s out there somewhere, without her coat, without her phone... and it’s freezing tonight.”

Lina straightened, crossing her arms. “Then let me help—”

“No.” His interruption was immediate, his tone brooking no argument. He turned to her, his expression pained but resolute. “This is my fault. I need to fix this myself.”

“But—”

“Please, Lina,” he cut in, softer this time. “If she’s out there, you’ll hear from me. Just… if you see her, let me know. But I have to do this alone.”

After a long, hesitant pause, Lina relented, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine. But don’t do anything reckless. I’ll keep my eyes open and let you know if I find anything.”

Rafayel nodded, murmuring his thanks before grabbing his coat and storming out into the night.

The cold air bit at his face as he ran through the streets, his breath forming short puffs in the frigid night. He clutched his phone tightly, the screen glowing as he swiped to a recent photo of you, showing it to every passerby he stopped.

“Have you seen her?” he asked a bewildered man on the corner. “This woman? Please—it’s urgent.”

The man shook his head, muttering an apology before hurrying off. Rafayel grit his teeth, suppressing the wave of panic threatening to consume him. Where are you?

The thought repeated like a drumbeat as he made his way to the beach. The icy wind off the water made him shiver, but he pressed forward, searching desperately. He called your neighbor, pacing along the shoreline as he waited for an answer.

The voice on the other end was soft, a little worried. “No... the lights are off. The door’s locked. I haven’t seen her since this afternoon.”

His heart skipped a beat, the silence that followed pressing like a weight on his chest. Where were you? Where could you have gone? You were working so hard fore him, for the both of you since the afternoon and he wasn’t even there to experience it with you together. He could imagine it, the smile on your face as you placed those shells, the excitement in your movements as you cooked his favorite food. His eyes darted to the horizon, a dark line of water stretching out before him, and his legs moved faster, pushing him toward the shore, toward the place where you sometimes went to escape.

The beach was empty when he arrived, the wind biting at his skin, the waves crashing softly against the sand. He scanned the shoreline, dread filling him as he searched. There was no sign of you, but his heart refused to let go of the hope that you might be here.

He walked for what felt like hours, the weight of the cold creeping into his bones as the night deepened. The autumn air turned chillier, the first hints of winter brushing against his skin. You hadn’t taken your coat. You hadn’t taken anything. What was he thinking? You’d never leave without saying something. So why was he—

His breath hitched as his gaze landed on something ahead. A small lump on the sand.

His heart stopped, the world narrowing down to that single, fragile form crumpled against the cold ground.

“No!” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. He ran towards you, his legs moving faster than they ever had before, fear propelling him forward. His feet barely touching the ground as he pushed forward, his every step frantic. He reached you within seconds, his pulse hammering in his ears. He knelt beside you, his hands trembling as he gently touched your shoulder.

“Cutie?” he called, his voice cracking. His knees hit the sand as he reached you, and his heart twisted painfully at the sight. You were curled in on yourself, your arms hugging your knees, your face hidden. Tear tracks glistened on your cheeks, even in the dim moonlight, and your body trembled from the cold.

“Shit,” Rafayel hissed, his voice barely a whisper as panic surged again. You were cold, so cold. Damp from the wet sand, your skin pale as if the very life had been drained from you. He pulled off his jacket, draping it around you as gently as he could, his hands still shaking.

Why didn’t I see it? Why didn’t I see how badly she needed me?

He slid his arms around you, his heart aching as he pulled you into his lap, cradling you as though you might break into a thousand pieces. He brushed the strands of hair from your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as he whispered your name over and over, praying that you would wake up. That you would hear him. “Fuck,” he breathed, feeling a wave of guilt crash over him. “What did I do? What the hell did I do…”

But he couldn’t. Not now. Now, all he could do was hold you, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he rocked gently, trying to warm you, trying to make everything okay.

“I’m here, okay? I’m here. I’m so sorry, cutie.” he whispered, his voice breaking. His mind raced, but nothing could erase the hollow ache in his chest. The thought of losing you, of failing you—he couldn’t bear it. He wouldn’t. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, the words tumbling from him like a confession he had never intended to make. “I’m so sorry. I fucked up. I messed this up, I—I’m here now.”

He clutched you tighter, trembling with the weight of his regret. The wind cut through the beach, but he barely noticed, too consumed by the sight of you—so still, so fragile, in his arms. His mind raced, scrambling for something, anything, to fix this

Your eyes fluttered open weakly, barely meeting his. You were too exhausted to respond, your body utterly spent.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice unsteady as he gently tucked his coat tighter around you. “I’ve got you. I’m so sorry.” His thumb brushed the tear-streaked curve of your cheek, his chest aching at the evidence of your heartbreak. “You shouldn’t be out here. It’s too cold...not like this. Not alone,” Rafayel murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His hands trembled as he tried to warm you, his arms sheltering you from the relentless chill of the wind. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve—” He broke off, his throat tightening painfully. Words felt so useless now, but he couldn’t stop them. He needed you to know. “I’m the biggest idiot in the world. I forgot something so important, something that should’ve been at the center of my mind.” His arms slipped beneath you, lifting you effortlessly despite your protests—if there were any.

Your lips moved faintly, but the sound was lost in the cold wind. He leaned closer, his ear near your mouth. “What is it? I’m here. Please... say something.”

“I thought... maybe you'd care,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. The words struck him harder than any physical blow ever could. He felt the sting in his chest, his breath hitching as guilt twisted the knife deeper.

“I do care!” he exclaimed, his voice desperate. “More than anything. I was just... I was so caught up in everything else, and I—I didn’t realize how much you needed me. How much you’ve always been there for me. I messed up, cutie. I know I did.”

You shivered against him, and he shifted to shield you better from the biting wind. “Let me take you home,” he pleaded, his voice softer now. “We’ll fix this. I’ll fix this. I’ll make it right, I swear.”

For a long moment, you didn’t respond, and his heart hammered in his chest. Finally, you gave the faintest of nods, your head resting against his chest. You shivered in his arms, your eyes fluttering shut again, too drained to muster a response. Panic surged in Rafayel as he felt how cold your skin was against his. He shifted, standing with you carefully cradled in his arms, his coat wrapped tightly around you.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” he pleaded, his voice urgent but soft. “I need you to hold on, okay? Just a little longer. Let’s get you somewhere warm.” He pressed his cheek to your temple for a moment, as though the simple touch might reassure you—and himself—that you were still here with him.

Rafayel didn’t waste a second. He scooped you up gently, careful not to jostle you. The warmth of his jacket wrapped around your frame and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat seemed to soothe some of the tension in your body. He murmured quiet reassurances as he carried you, his voice a constant presence in the cold, empty night. His normally cocky demeanor had shattered into shards of raw vulnerability, replaced by a frantic urgency to get you home—his home. Your breathing was shallow, your limbs slack in his hold, and every uneven step he took felt like walking a tightrope with everything he valued most precariously balanced in his grasp. He adjusted his hold, cradling you tighter against his chest. “Look, I know I’m an idiot sometimes. Fine, most of the time,” he admitted, his words a jumble of nervous energy and shaky humor. “But this isn’t the time to prove me wrong, alright? Just hang on a little longer. I’m taking you home.”

By the time you reached the studio, the candlelight had dimmed, but the room still held the warmth of the love you had poured into it. Rafayel carried you inside. By the time he reached the threshold of his room, his shirt clung to him, drenched from sweat and your tears. He nudged the door open with his shoulder, careful not to jostle you, and hurried inside.

The room was cold and dimly lit, the heater long dormant. He set you down on the bed, fumbling with the blankets to cocoon you in their warmth. Your body trembled, and his chest constricted as he watched you stir faintly before slipping deeper into unconsciousness.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely audible at first, as if the walls themselves might condemn him. Then louder, more desperate, his voice cracking. “I’m so damn sorry. I was stupid—so, so stupid. I should’ve seen this coming. Should’ve kept you safe. Should’ve—” He stopped himself, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek to stifle the sob building in his throat. His eyes flickered between his usual hues and that unearthly blue every now and then.

His hands hovered over your face, fingers trembling as he brushed damp strands of hair from your skin. “You’re too good for me, you know that? Too good for someone who screws up as much as I do. But I promise—” His voice broke, the words spilling out in a frenzied rush. “I promise I’ll make it up to you. Il love you, cutie. I love you so much.” And then, because even in his rawest moments he couldn’t help himself, he added with a weak, self-deprecating chuckle, “I am lucky I’m this charming, or I don’t think you’d ever put up with me.”

He turned on the heater, pacing back and forth as he muttered under his breath, berating himself in every way he could think of, his brattiness peeking through as he cursed the broken world that had led to this moment. He glanced at you repeatedly, as if reassuring himself you hadn’t vanished, that you hadn’t slipped through his fingers.

When you stirred, your eyelids fluttering open, he froze mid-step. His usual confident smirk was gone, replaced by wide, guilt-stricken eyes. “You’re awake,” he blurted, his voice filled with relief but tinged with apprehension. “I know I screwed up,” he admitted quietly, his lips brushing against your temple. “But—seriously, who let you do this to yourself, huh? Oh wait, that’s me. Fantastic job, Rafayel. Bravo.” He huffed out a shaky laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, sitting at your bedside. The words spilled out before he could stop them, over and over again. “I’m so, so sorry. This—this isn’t how it was supposed to go. You’re supposed to be mad at me, not like this. Not…” His voice cracked, and he scrubbed a hand down his face, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Then, almost instinctively, the mask of bravado slipped back into place. “But, hey, look at you, stealing my bed like it’s your right. I mean, sure, I offered, but still.” His smirk faltered, his voice softening. “You better not make a habit of this, you know? Making me worry this much.”

You shifted, your eyelids fluttering completely open, and the sight of your weary gaze meeting his nearly unraveled him.

“Raf?” Your voice was weak, barely audible, but it was enough to snap him upright.

“Hey, you’re awake!” He forced a grin, though it couldn’t hide the guilt pooling in his eyes. “Good, because I was just about to start serenading you with an apology song. Don’t ask for a refund… the lyrics are terrible.”

You tried to sit up, but he was on you in an instant, gently pressing you back down. “Whoa, whoa, no sudden moves, alright? Just... stay put for once. Let me handle it for a change.”

"Handle what?" you asked, your voice edged with exhaustion and confusion.

His grin wavered, giving way to something more honest, more afraid. “Everything. All of it. I... I screwed up, okay? I’m the idiot who let you get like this, who didn’t see—who didn’t stop—” His words tangled, and he exhaled sharply. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry, and I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. Or, you know, until you tell me to shut up. Whichever comes first.”

Your lashes fluttered weakly again, and a barely audible sound escaped your lips. “...Rafayel...?”

His heart soared and broke all at once at the sound of your voice. “I’m here,” he said quickly, leaning closer so you could hear him clearly. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Tears welled in his eyes as you looked up at him, your gaze heavy with exhaustion and something he couldn’t quite name—hurt, maybe, or disappointment. It cut him deeper than any blade ever could.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice a choked whisper. “I know that doesn’t fix this, but I swear, I’ll spend every moment making it up to you if you let me.”

For a moment, silence hung between you, broken only by the hum of the heater and the soft whistle of the wind outside. Finally, you whispered, your voice trembling, “I waited...”

“I know,” he whispered, his tears falling freely now. “You shouldn’t have had to. You deserve better than that, better than me—but I’m begging you, please give me another chance. Don’t give up on me yet.”

Finally, your voice, though weak, broke the quiet. “You forgot... something that meant so much to me.”

Rafayel’s throat tightened, but he nodded, accepting your words. “I know. And I’ll spend as long as it takes to make it up to you. I’ll show you how much you mean to me. I love you,” he whispered against your skin, the words soft but raw with sincerity. “More than anything. More than I can even say. I don’t deserve you, but… please, let me try. Let me make it up to you.”

“Don’t leave me,” he repeated, his voice a breathless whisper, “Not like this.” His voice cracked on the last word, and for a moment, you could see the mask slip—just for a second. Rafayel was scared. Scared of losing you. Scared of failing you. It was the one thing he had never let you see, the one thing he kept locked away in the deep recesses of his heart, but now, it was clear as day.

As you looked at him, something shifted between the two of you—an understanding, perhaps. You could see his desperation, the way he clung to the edges of his composure, trying to hide the vulnerability he never allowed anyone to witness.

I thought... I thought this was everything I could give. Everything I could be..." your own voice cracking.

He shook his head again, his grip never loosening. “You’re so much more than all of this. I’ve been blind, cutie. And now I can see it—see you.” He gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if to erase every doubt that had taken root there. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for making you feel invisible.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, the tears still staining your face, but the weight of his words was a strange kind of relief. He was here. He saw you now. The storm of emotions inside you hadn’t dissipated, but his presence, the raw sincerity in his voice, made you feel something close to safety.

Rafayel kissed your forehead softly, the gentle pressure of his lips a tender promise. “I’m here, cutie. And I’ll do everything I can to make this right. You won’t feel invisible again.”

You nodded slowly, the tears still flowing, but there was a flicker of hope, however faint. "Just... don't forget again," you whispered.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice firm, but his eyes were full of vulnerability. "I won’t. Never again."

You didn’t respond immediately, your eyes closing as if you were too weary to respond. But when Rafayel reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, a faint squeeze answered him. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but it was enough—a thread of hope that he clung to with everything he had. For now, you didn’t pull away, and that was a start.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Rafayel version | Zayne version | Sylus version | Caleb Version

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