#he gets trapped instead of genuine concern

[tastethesetears]

IS IT OVER NOW?

[radiance1]

A silly idea based off of this post of mine and one made by @puppetmaster13u

Danny gets summoned, which is something he rather much hates yet as the new Prince of All Ghosts he is incapable of ignoring a summons unless he is actually stopped from doing so in a way that is unavoidable.

Like how the Ghost King was trapped in forever sleep.

Danny doesn't want to experience forever sleep just to avoid summoning, however.

It doesn't exactly help that, in the process of being transferred, the Infinite Realms dresses him up in clothes that, yes, befit his station of royalty (that he didn't ask for) and no he is not going to question how the infinite managed to get said clothes.

At least they're comfortable and he doesn't have to have the embarrassment of showing up in his pjs.

And it was at, said summons, that Danny had rather unintentionally fallen in love with someone who looked to be a age. A sacrifice for (which Danny was still new why in the infinite do they think he wants sacrifices???) the ritual to summon the Ghost Prince in exchange for a favor of some sort.

Danny, obviously, did not do that.

The Infinite Realms, of course, having tagged along knew exactly what Danny was feeling. Their little blorbo had developed a crush! A crush!

So of course, as any good higher being that favors one their special little guys, they try to make more chances for them to meet by interrupting various other summons because yea it can just do that now that it was given the incentive to do so.

Danny is both mortified, annoyed, and the teeniest tiniest bit thankful.

Also why is this kid always being captured by cults????

---

Meanwhile, with Billy.

He thinks an interdimensional Ghost or some sort of Godling-? Has fallen in love with him, so much so that he interrupts any of the times that Billy has been used for a sacrifice.

Which has been getting increasingly more often, as of late, and he's vaguely concerned on why that is.

If only the Gods in his head would stop chanting for him to be more proactive instead of a Damsel in Distress when he's caught the interest of the High Prince of the Infinite.

(I genuinely can't remember or just don't know if he can only hear it as Shazam, so if that is indeed the case then just imagine they keep bugging him when he's Shazam-ed)

No he is not going to try and kidnap him-!

[kisseobie]

more thoughts on the size training PLEASE

p1harmony and size training

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: nsfw (mdni), slight dacryphilia, tummy bulge

a/n: vivienne bff ilysm and i have seen u so many times in my inbox and coincedentally haven’t gotten to any of them except this one yet .. i promise i will answer those i’m not ignoring u i just take a while to get to everything 😭 anyways here u are 🤭

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ keeho

lovesss working out just to send you “progress photos”, which are actually just thirst traps of him that he knows rile you up every time without fail. you’ve never been quiet about how much you love when kyo shows off his muscles and just how big he is compared to you. when the two of you are intimate, he can never fit himself inside you without prepping you an hour beforehand with his fingers and tongue. the sight of kyo, hunched over and pumping three fingers into your heat to get you ready for him is certainly a pretty one. his favorite part of size training his girl is how you dig your fingernails into his bicep when he’s first sliding his length in, leaving bruised crescent moons on his skin as you try to breathe and take his entire girth, inch by inch. praises you for being such a good girl, for fitting his big cock into your tiny cunny, it comes off so condescending though that you can’t help but tear up in humiliation :(

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ theo

is aware that he’s much taller than you, but doesn’t full process how that’ll affect your dynamic in the bedroom until you’re actually naked in front of him, looking a bit overwhelmed by the size of the head of his dick alone. size training with yangie is so sweet and gentle, he’s reassuring you each and every time that he doesn’t have to fuck you if you aren’t comfortable, that he can pleasure you in other ways, but you’re always determined to take him in entirely. definitely eats you out a few times before he even attempts to thrust into you, gets you relaxed and dumbs you out with his tongue so you’ll take him easier. is obsessed with teasing you, rubs his cockhead up and down your folds without putting it in, and only gives in when you’re pleading for it with fat tears and loud whines. despite his teasing, he’s the most gentle, always sets a pretty pillow underneath your hips to keep you comfy <3

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ jiung

gets such an ego boost when you tell him it won’t fit. lovessss fingering you relentlessly while reassuring you, “see? don’t worry angel, it’ll fit” as you start to melt into his fingers. he manhandles you with ease, lets you lay across your sheets like the perfect pillow princess you are as he works his tip into your heat. fucks you with just the tip for a while, wanting to hear you beg for him to go all the way in. when you get impatient, he shuts you up by filling you all the way up, cocky smile adorning his face as he pumps into you. doesn’t verbally praise, but he holds your hand and kisses your cheeks as he continues his pace, loving the little hitches in your breaths as a result. i think ji is also very adamant on using safe words, especially when he knows it’s a bit difficult to fit himself in your heat. just wants his girl to be comfortable, cares a lot more about your pleasure than his at the end of the day :P

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ intak

has a big dick and doesn’t know it! doesn’t even really get it when he’s pouncing on you for the first time, wants to slam home as soon as he possibly can but then you gently remind him that he has to prep you first, and of course he’s giving you those puppy eyes and allowing you to guide him in doing so. fingers you so carefully, is afraid you’ll shatter like a porcelain doll hitting concrete. always has this cute focused expression on his face, almost as if you’re training him instead. once you give him the green light to fuck you, he’s constantly asking you “s this okay?”, and his genuine concern makes you swoon. once he finally sheathes his cock inside your gummy walls, he’s trembling with pleasure, but holds back until you give him the signal that he can start to move his hips. just so careful each and every time :(

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ soul

god i just know shota has the prettiest dick, so thick and veiny that it makes you salivate each time you see it. every time the pair of you fuck, you’re always left sore in the morning.. something your boyfriend makes up for with sweet kisses and hushed praises. size training with sho would be heavenly. he’s magic with his fingers, always knows when to add another digit, how quick to pump, when to circle your clit. soul would be very thorough in terms of foreplay, mostly because he loves to see you fall apart just with his hands. eventually, your boyfriend manages to fit his cock into your cunny, thrusting just slightly enough to stimulate you both, but not enough to pain you. just like intak, you would have to be the one to convince him to move, to which soul eagerly complies.

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ jongseob

ugh i can’t stop thinking about the recent photobook shoot with nerdy seob and his glasses :( can you imagine your boyfriend jongseob trying to work up the courage to ask you, his pretty girlfriend, to have sex with him? he’d even lamely tell you he did his research, read a lot of articles written by women on how to properly pleasure a girl. you’d tease him for it, sure, but when he’d drop his pants you’d be rendered speechless, shamefully ogling his dick, oozing with precum and standing tall at your attention. jongseob would be so selfless too, would ignore his painful hard on to prod at your hole with his tongue, eating you out for what seems like hours on end, proving that his “research” was in fact, very successful. when he finally starts to ease himself into you, your eyes are rolling back to your skull at the welcomed stretch, and it definitely inflates his ego a bit. fucks into you so deeply that you can see the bulge of his length pressing against your tummy :(

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @sunnyyangie @asianpenguin04 @lunepoesie @haku-s0ultrain

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ

[thebibliosphere]

Wait, is Jason in Gotham Knights body horror? Because it doesn't feel like his body even tho he's controlling it? (He died, he came back, it's not the same and never will be)

Or is it more analogous to puberty and feeling like you don't know anything about your body anymore?

Just having thoughts about that boy again

I think Jason in Gotham Knights is very much connected with his physical body. It's his biggest weapon, possibly more so than his guns, given his lasting connection to the Lazarus Pit and the power it gives him.

His backstory talks about building himself up to peak physical condition into the absolute unit he is now, and you can either see that as someone trying to reconnect with their physical self or someone vowing never to be small or weak again.

I tend to think of it as both. It's a reclamation of his physical form but also a transformation into something bigger and stronger that ensures he's the scariest, meanest-looking mother fucker in the room. Basically someone you can't underestimate as a threat.

(Try not to think too hard about the fact that he now largely resembles Bruce in stature, that he is now the group's heavy hitter, the most menacing and the most likely to strike fear into the heart of his opponents, and that Jason molded himself into the person he needed to be rescued by as a child. Don't do it. Do not. I am normal about this.)

But he obviously struggles with feeling present mentally sometimes.

You'll see him zoning out occasionally, touching the J-shaped scar on his face before violently shaking himself back into the present.

He has panic attacks while playing a dance video game with a coffin in it—a coffin his character becomes trapped in because he's not moving fast enough. (hello, trauma)

He's angry all the time and so relieved when Barbra expresses her own rage at something because, yes, finally, someone else is letting their emotions out instead of bottling it up (Dick).

His emails are littered with orders for self-help books, emails from his therapist moving his sessions around, and concerned messages from his friends (Roy comes to mind) saying if he needs to get out of Gotham, they'll make it happen.

Alfred holding him while he sobs over losing Bruce still breaks me every time. I have to pause the game and walk around my house until I feel normal again.

And then there's the cut scene where Dick asks, "Hey, remember that time we all [insert funny thing here]," and Jason admits, somewhat angrily, that no, he doesn't because Lazarus took entire swaths of memories from him and he hates how he can't connect with people the way he used to and he hates the way they all look at him (the way Dick is looking at him now) when he admits he doesn't remember something they clearly loved about the old him: the version of him who didn't have volatile mood swings or made people flinch when he did something as mundane as handle a kitchen knife -- the undead monster he came back as*.

The fact that Dick then contrives to recreate this memory so Jason can be included in a newer version of it -- while also giving him what is arguably a weapon -- fucks me up every time. Dick just yeets a kitchen knife at him, trusting that Jason will catch it, and then just steamrolls over Jason's rightful 'what the fuck' expression with "Hey, we're making food. Get dicing."

And Jason knows what they're all doing. He's aware of it, and he gets the teeniest, tiniest smile before smothering it out. Except he can't quite. He's still smiling as he chops the vegetables. And yes, they're all hopeless at cooking compared to him, and he knows he's going to end up taking over, but that's okay. Because this is for him. He gets to control it.

And that's how Jason gets to make a new memory, one where he is handed a weapon and gets to turn it into a genuine expression of nurturing and care.

Because he does care about them. He wouldn't conspire with Dick to bake Barbara's favorite childhood cookies if he didn't. He wouldn't try so hard to be gentle with Tim triggering the shit out of him while he's struggling with his grief. He just doesn't always know how to express it because he doesn't always know what he's feeling.

Is his anger valid? Or is this Lazarus Pit Rage? Is he being overly sensitive because of his trauma, or is everyone else underreacting because of their trauma? (Should he sign them all up for therapy, quite probably, yes.)

So, you could perhaps argue that Jason experiences body horror in the sense that he doesn't remember all the pieces of who he used to be. (Speaking as someone with severe memory loss from medical trauma, it's certainly a type of horror.) But I don't think it's because he's detached from it physically or doesn't feel in control of his body. I think it's his mind that worries him.

His body he can control. It's his mind that still sparks green sometimes.

---

*Re the scene with Tim when Tim calls the Talons monsters. "What about me? Do you think I'm a monster?"

No, they don't.

But Jason does. And it scares him shitless.

[urdepressedslut]

Tickle Fights

♡ Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Bucky discovers you’re ticklish, leading to a tickle fight which shifts into something not so innocent.

♡ Warnings: fluff, SMUT unprotected sex, (p in v), boob worship, riding, cockwarming, language

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+ CONTENT

The room was dark besides the glow of the TV, shining on you and Bucky. You were cuddled together, engrossed in the crime documentary that was playing. It had been a calming day, running into the night. Day spent eating out, going to multiple parks, flower collecting— your favorite. Lastly, you ended the night with some entertainment, mostly taking advantage of the down time to melt into each others embrace.

You never wanted the days to end where it was just you and Bucky, wishing that everyday could end up like this one.

You let out a small yawn, Bucky’s warmth too comfortable. His body shook with a light chuckle.

“Tired already? It’s only nine.” He teased, pulling you tighter against him.

“I can’t help it, you’re so comfy.” You mumbled, snuggling deeper into him.

He chuckled again, lowering his arm from your shoulders to your side, gently grabbing the flesh to pull you closer. His fingers digging into your sides had you letting out a gasp, tensing in his hold. Bucky noticed and furrowed his brows, eyes wide in concern.

“You okay baby? What was that?” He asked with genuine worry.

You relaxed back into his hold, trying to steer the conversation away. You waved him off.

“Nothing, just getting comfortable.” You tried to convince him.

Bucky stared at you for a couple more moments, until a grin started to form on his face. He repeated his previous action, softly gripping your side— his theory being confirmed when you gasped and tensed again.

“Doll… are you ticklish?” He asked, grinning at crimson flushing your cheeks.

You scoffed, shaking your head in ridiculousness.

“No— I was just getting comfortable.” You argued.

“Then why’d you jump?” He pushed, loving the way you were getting all flustered.

“You caught me off guard that’s all.” You tried to convince him, but knew it was a pathetic try.

He hummed in agreement, letting you think for just a second that he believed you. You huffed out in small celebration, relaxing back into his arms. The room went back to a comfy silence, almost ready to drift off— until you felt his hand grip your side again.

You yelped, jumping in his hold. You whipped your face to his, not surprised to find a mischievous grin.

“Bucky…” You warned.

He chuckled again, keeping a firm grip of you, trapping you in his hold.

“I didn’t know you were ticklish.” He observed, watching you squirm under his stare.

“Yeah well, this is why I didn’t want you to know.” You tried to sound annoyed, but your chest was warm with joy.

“You make it sound like I’m gonna torture you.” He says sarcastically.

You attempt to escape his arms, blushing profusely under his stare. To no avail, he is much stronger than you, and if he wanted to keep you held in his arms. There was no way to escape it— not that you really wanted to.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal.” You tried to brush off nonchalantly.

You weren’t sure what came over you, but the thought passed through you. Before you knew it— you were poking Bucky’s side. Your eyes widened, a huge grin forming on your face when you witnessed him jump.

His eyes darkened, his jaw tensing in challenge. Before you could process what was happening— Bucky dug his hands into your sides, wiggling his fingers into your flesh.

You gasped, laughing uncontrollably at his attack. You tried to pry and push his hands away, but your attempts were weak. Your whole body was buzzing, pleasure morphing into a dull agony.

“Bucky please! I can’t— Please I can’t!” You pleaded, breathing heavy from the laughter.

Bucky ignored your begging for him to stop, instead he slipped his flesh and metal hand under your shirt— and started to tickle your skin directly. You gasped, and whined at his deeper attack.

“Okay! You win, you win! Bucky please!” You whined.

He chuckled in triumph, maneuvering himself where he was falling backwards against the couch— lying down and pulling you on top of him. He quit his torture on your sides, wrapping his arms around you. You felt as if you were coming down from a high, breathing heavily on top his chest.

You could feel his heart beating in rhythm with yours, the thumping against each others chests. Calmed enough down, you glanced up into his eyes. His orbs sparkled with contentment, his gaze loving and warm.

The slight shift of your body had you realizing the position you were in— impossibly close. You circled your hips just barely over his crotch, the slightest friction pulling a gasp from him. His arms tightened around you.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish doll.” He warned.

You bit your lip, circling your hips again— this time harder against him. His hands fisted into the back of your shirt, his breath heavily fanning your face. You tilted your head, pouting innocently.

“What? I’m just trying to get comfortable.” You teasingly hinted from earlier.

Bucky’s eyes darkened at your teasing, licking his lips in hunger. His member beginning to strain between your bodies. Aching for more friction, he bucked his hips up, earning a gasp from you.

Your teasing demeanor disappeared, your throbbing core desperate for more. You sat up, stayed straddled on him— grinding down hard. The friction of his outlined member on your clothed clit was delicious.

He watched you whimper with shaky breaths, attempting to chase your release.

“Getting comfortable huh?” He breathed out.

You needed more, your hunger insatiable. His voice was dark, husky— sending shivers through your body. Your nipples aching, pushing through your shirt.

He bit his lip, sneaking his hands under the front hem of your shirt. Caressing your soft skin up until he got to your breasts. You grabbed both his wrist desperately, placing his hands on your mounds. He chuckled darkly at your neediness, rubbing his thumb over your swollen bud.

You instinctively leaned into his touch, whimpering at the sensation, the feeling shooting straight to your core.

“You like that baby?” He purred, circling his thumb around your nipple.

You nodded, leaning your head back, chest pushing into his hands. He flicked your bud, making you whine.

“Words baby.” He demanded lowly, swiping his thumb back over the raised flesh.

“Mhm yes… feels good.” You moaned out, hips instinctively grinding over his.

He removed his hands, quickly removing your shirt, leaving your chest bare to him. He leaned up, his metal arm keeping you on his lap. He licked his lips, lowering himself to your chest. He captured your nipple with his lips, his tongue circling around before swiping across the flushed tip. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, nearly falling apart from just the feeling of his mouth of your chest.

“Oh Buck— feels s’good.” You keened.

He switched to the other one, giving your nipple an open mouthed kiss, swirling his tongue around— before he gently grazed his teeth over the bud. You whined loudly, pushing your chest further into his face.

You cradled the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his thick locks. Occasionally you’d give a slight tug of his hair, the sensation of his mouth sometimes too much to handle. Plus, you knew how much he loved having his hair pulled.

You started grinding harder, faster against him. The sensation of his mouth on your tits added with the friction of his clothed member to your clit had you dizzy. Your whimpers were growing needier.

“Fuck doll,” He moaned out, his straining member aching for more, “Hold on.”

He slid you off his lap, quickly removing his pants and boxers. He sat back into position, his cock painfully hard— springing up to his stomach. Your mouth watered at the sight of his flushed tip, his slit leaking precum.

“C’mere baby.” He patted his lap.

You held his gaze, shimming your shorts and panties off and climbing back on his lap— straddling him. He reached out and grabbed your hips, pulling you down onto him. You both sighed at the feeling of each other, completely bare and warm.

He snuck his metal arm in between your bodies, running his fingers through your wet folds. You whined from the coolness meeting with your hot flesh.

“You’re so wet… All from just getting comfortable?” He teased, grazing his metal digits over your clit— making you jump and gasp.

You tried to respond but couldn’t voice the words, instead letting out a breathy moan— grinding yourself on his fingers.

He gathered some wetness and brought it to your clit, rubbing slow circles around the bud.

“Let me take care of you baby.” He breathed out, his breath fanning your neck.

“I’m all yours James.” You moaned out, looping your arms around his neck— faces close and your noses touching.

Hearing you say his real name had him groaning, the way it sounded rolling off your tongue— needy. He instinctively bucked his hips up into his hand— into you.

He removed his metal hand from you, causing you to whine in starvation. He chuckled and kissed the tip of your nose.

“I know baby,” He cooed, bucking his hips up again, letting the tip of his member bump through your folds, “You’re so whiny.”

You rubbed yourself against him, covering his cock with your juices. You were just finding a comfortable rhythm before you were lifted up slightly by him. He ran the head of his cock through your folds a couple times before lining up with your entrance. You were buzzing with desire, immediately sinking down on his cock, letting him fill you to the brim.

“Fuck James.” You moaned out, fingernails digging into his shoulders— only making him groan with desire.

This certainly wasn’t the first time you and Bucky were having sex, but he never failed to make you feel so full. He was able to hit spots that you didn’t even know existed.

“You feel s’good baby.” He breathed out, staying still despite the difficulty, letting you adjust.

You started to lift yourself, until his tip was almost out— then you were lowering yourself down again. You started repeating the motion, hands gripping his shoulders harshly.

He practically growled at the feeling of your walls squeezing his cock. The slight pain of your nails digging into his flesh only adding to the pleasure. He bucked his hips up into you, matching your rhythm. A particular hard thrust from him had your vision spotty, his tip grazing your sensitive spot.

You slowed your hips, body jolting from the sensation. He was watching your face scrunch with pleasure, his heavy breathing hitting your cheeks. He thrusted again into the same spot, his tip meeting the bumpy flesh. You whimpered as your back arched, pulling him tight to your chest.

“Oh James… R- right there.” You barely whined out, breathless from the feeling, your vision hazy.

He smirked, pulling you flush against him as he thrusted up into you at a rough pace. You were thankful that he had a firm grip on you because the sensation was becoming too much for you to stay upright.

The familiar coil tightening in your lower stomach had you snapping from the haze, your breaths heavier as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge.

He heard your breathing change, and quickly lowered himself to your chest again. Licking and sucking on your bud while his cock was hitting your spot repeatedly.

The feeling had your eyes rolling back, your arms going slack around his neck— the only thing keeping you upright was his strong arms holding you tight to his chest.

“C’mon baby, let go.” He purred out, before latching hip lips back around your bud.

You whimpered from the stimulation. He grazed his teeth lightly over your nipple and with a final deep thrust into you, the coil snapped.

You cried out, vision going black as your body twitched. Bucky moaned, his own eyes rolling back at the feeling of your fluttering walls massaging his member— milking him to his own release. He held onto you tight, letting his forehead rest against yours, your breaths mixing as you both came down from your highs.

You were coming back down to earth, your hearing and vision coming back gradually. You let out a breathy moan, the feeling of his twitching member inside you wondrous.

Cracking your eyes open, you found Bucky gazing at you with hooded eyes— his orbs sparkling with tenderness. You smiled with flushed cheeks, giving him a weak and lazy kiss. You felt his arms tighten around your lower back, the two of you just molding together.

“I love you so much baby.” He whispered against your lips.

“I love you James.” You gave his lips one last peck.

You snuggled up into him, burying your face into his neck as your eyes started drooping shut from exhaustion. He smiled to himself, leaning back into a comfortable position on the couch, gently rubbing your back.

The forgotten show played as a soft ambience in the background as the two of you fell asleep in each others embrace. All while his member was still buried deep inside you.

A/N: i don’t write smut that often so pls tell me what you think 🥴

thanks bestie for helping me with ideas @foreverrandomwritings <333

[ghosts-bandwagon]

Hi, your last post about reader not knowing that it was sa, I saw that and I wanted to request something. What if reader knows that she have been through it but she mentions this as a joke, she says it and just keep going like she said something silly. How would the boys (141 + konig) react?

(I do this sometimes and I don’t like it, but it feels like some kind of copying mechanism)

I’m sorry if this was too much, do not feel that u need to write this.

Anyway, thank u so much and take care

Honestly I make out of pocket jokes about my own trauma all the time, so I feel this

tw: mentions of trauma, brief mentions of sexual assault- nothing graphic or descriptive, humor as a coping mechanism, comfort

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

Whiplashed so hard his neck is broken

“You bein’ serious?”

You explain what happened but you’re a little too blasé about it, he understands humor as a coping mechanism but this is a little serious

And by ‘a little’ I mean very

“Love, you can’t just drop a bomb like that.” He tries to soften his tone but his rage at what you’ve just told him is starting to seep through

He doesn’t realize he’s being a little hypocritical, we’ve all heard his “army humor” so he really doesn’t have a lot of room to talk. But the fact that it happened to you has blinded him to that fact. It’s not that you can’t make jokes, it’s that you shouldn’t have to because it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

He doesn’t even let you apologize before he’s pulling you into his arms, hands shaking, doing his best not to imagine what kind of sick fuck would do that to you

“Simon, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” His tone is firm and he’s refusing to let you go, so instead of arguing, you opted to melt into his embrace. Hands running up and down his back and as he’s kissing the crown of your head he’s wondering how worthwhile it’d be to give the fucker a visit. Maybe teach him a lesson or two.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

Laughing with your joke at first but then it hits him like a ton of bricks

“Beg your pardon?”

You explain the joke and the context with a dismissive laugh before going back to what you were doing and he’s just frozen in place

Someone… hurt you… in one of the most awful ways imaginable, and you’re laughing it off?

He’s not sure if he should be in awe at your resilience or concerned at your choice of coping mechanism, so he takes a gentle approach

“Bonnie, you know you can talk to me, aye?”

“I know, I just… don’t want to burden you with it. I mean, it’s not like it’s your fault it happened.” He’s holding your hands in his, gently massaging the space between your thumb and your index finger,

“Aye that’s true, but it’s you. And I love you, good and bad included.” He gently held the back of your head and kissed your forehead,

“Anytime you feel like talkin’ I’m here. Copy?”

He doesn’t usually bring work jargon home but he knows it gets a laugh from you, and sure enough your little giggle proved him right

“Copy.”

John Price:

The whiplash also broke his neck

“Sorry, what?”

His heart broke when you explained yourself and whined that the explanation ruined the punchline

“Sweetheart, that’s no laughin’ matter.” His tone was gentle as he approached you, hands hesitantly coming to rest on your hips, suddenly unsure of himself

“Honey, I’m fine. It’s how I cope.”

“I know, and there’s nothin’ wrong with that. Just, maybe, talk to me about it instead, yeah?” One of his hands came up to cup your cheek and you closed your eyes and leaned into the warmth of his palm, trapping it between your cheek and your shoulder

“I don’t wanna be a downer, John.”

“Never. I’m more concerned for your well-being than bloody mood. Am I clear?” As you looked in his eyes, you saw nothing but honesty and genuine concern, so you nodded

You closed your eyes and kissed his palm before he pulled you in to a tight embrace.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

He heard you say it and weakly laughs before stopping as he chews on the words a little more

“Wait, what was that?”

And when you’re passively explaining it to him in the same way you’d talk about the weather he is in shock

He’s not sure if you’re trying to put on a brave face if you’re as nonchalant as you seem. He’s inclined to believe it’s the former.

“Babe that’s no joke. That’s kind of serious.”

“Don’t sweat it, Kyle. It’s how I’ve dealt with it. I’ve got it.”

He’s unsure but at the same time if it’s really worked for you so far then there’s no harm in letting it continue right? Wrong. He’s a little uncomfortable but it’s more so because it happened to you, someone he loves so deeply and he can’t fathom the idea

“Well yeah, I get that. But maybe we can talk about it when you feel like joking about it?” He shrugs, his words cautious and carefully chosen as he makes his suggestion

“I just want you to be alright. Ok?” His arms are rubbing yours before he’s pulling you into a hug, “I’ll always be here for you, babe.”

König:

Not a single chuckle from this man as he’s chewing over the words in his head

“Schatz, what’d you just say?”

When you explained what happened with a shrug and an all too casual tone, he’s tasting iron in his mouth from how hard he’s biting his cheek

He doesn’t want you to think he’s angry at you, never in a million years, but jesus christ schatz, surely there’s no way?

It’s not that he doesn’t believe you, he just can’t believe it happened to you, you’re the light of his life, his reason for existing, you’re the morning sun and the midnight moon, he’s truly in shock

“König?” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts and in two short steps he was in front of you, sinking to his knees and hugging your middle. He’s buried his face in your shoulder as your arms wrap around his shoulders and you run your fingers through his hair.

“Liebling, please don’t make those jokes anymore, ok?” His voice is so small and fragile, you almost felt like it was a child talking instead of the 6’ something behemoth at your feet, “I can’t stand to hear that you’ve been hurt like that.”

“König it’s ok, really. Humor is how I cope.” You kiss the crown of his head and your chin against it,

“I know, liebling, I know but I’d much rather you talk to me ok? Please? For me?”

[purinfelix]

oh my god academic rivals but with Franco?!?!? Plsplspls

ᯓ★

a/n: i will never pass an opportunity to write academic rivals BUT this is super super short just cus im trying to clear out my drafts - hope u enjoy anon!!

"You got question three wrong." Even though it comes from above you, you don't even have to look to know who it belongs to - you're fairly sure you'd recognise the annoying overconfidence in it anywhere.

"And how are you so sure about that Franco?" you huff, continuing to work on your assignment, refusing to entertain him.

"Because I handed mine in already, got full marks, and had a different answer to yours."

You pause, dropping your pen to turn and look him in the eye. He has one hand on the table beside you and the other on the back of your chair, effectively trapping you as he looks down at you with a mocking smirk.

"Want some help, sweetie?"

"Piss off, I'm fine," you spit, turning back around to your work trying your best to ignore how hot your face feels knowing he's so close.

"Well from the fact you also got questions five, nineteen and twenty-four wrong I'd beg to differ."

You're silent for just a moment, weighing up your options but before you realise it he's already pulling up the empty chair next to you, and scooting as close as physically possible.

As he begins to explain your mistakes and what formulas to use, you're surprised at the fact that he's shed his teasing tone and instead seems to genuinely want to help you. And maybe if you were less concerned with getting your assignment done you would've also caught a glimpse of the soft, almost endeared, gaze he watches you with.

taglist: @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk @presleycaudle

[fleshbride]

PRESENTING . . . HOUSE OF BALLOONS!

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ SITUATIONSHIP GETO SUGURU X F!READER

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ CW : extreme toxicity; possessiveness; stalking; relationship sabotage; obsession; suguru is CRAZY, bro is an actual mastermind; reader cheats on her bf w/ suguru; consensual recording; manipulation; reader is a bit dumb; pet names used are baby, dollface, minx, lovely, angel; smut; dry humping, throat fucking, throat bulging, fingering, ruined orgasms, breeding kink, baby trapping, a mix of degradation and praise, breath play, slight bondage, edging & overstimulation, dumbification, sado-madochism, pain play, branding (suguru puts a cigarette out on reader three times as a way of claiming), cervix fucking, sir kink, HINTS of somnophilia (brief description of suguru fucking reader while she’s asleep); dick drunk reader; suguru has a dick piercing; pregnancy.

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ wc : 8.3k

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ guys this is actually so nasty and feral, im so so so sorry. this is based off that jjk men loyalty post and suguru was placed in the middle because he would situationship the FUCK out of you. and worse? i’d probably fall for it and do it too. so then i wrote an entire fucking fic. and i’m so so sorry because this is actually pure filth. i don’t know what happened to me guys… suguru is just actually so nghh

A SITUATIONSHIP WITH SUGURU GETO is essentally the same as signing a contract giving away the rest of your life. because once you entered it, you were no longer able to get out. it started sweet, of course. suguru was good to you, despite not being your boyfriend. maybe that was what caused the sources of your problems.

you wanted to date suguru and the both of you knew it. despite the fact that you acted like a couple — kissing, going out together, having sex, even saying that dreaded l-word — you two didn’t have an official relationship. and it genuinely drove you insane. especially when suguru got a little too close with girls, knowing your attachment to him.

you told yourself that you couldn’t really be mad because you weren’t dating. so, you started doing the same thing, expanding your options.

and suguru didn’t like that very much.

you two often had explosive arguments that either went one of two ways; one of you blocking the other and severing communication or the desperate confessions of love to keep each other around.

and when he gets blocked, it doesn’t take suguru long to contact you somehow or someway. whether it be following you on a different account, or going as far as showing up to your home, he gets to you again.

it’s an endless cycle that constantly leaves you overwhelmed and emotionally drained. the intense love you have for suguru is undeniable. it’s undeniable in the way you let him back, the way you willingly go back.

every time you hit that unblock button, your friends look at you with concern and express their disappointment, warning you that he isn't good for you.

and deep down, you know they're right. of course, you're aware of the potential harm and negative consequences. but can't they understand the depth of your emotions? you’re in love with him. over time, your friends gradually stop shaking their heads in disapproval. instead, they simply roll their eyes when his name is brought up in conversation. it’s as if they've given up on trying to convince you otherwise.

however, suguru soon reaches his final chance, when you find out he’s been fucking one of your friends. this time, there’s no argument. you’re swift, blocking every one of his socials you know, deleting & blocking his number. that was it. you were free.

a year passes by, and you’re sure you’ve moved on. you got a new boyfriend, who’s sweet, and so dedicated to you. suguru hasn’t tried to contact you, even though he’d never be able to. you move from your college dorm, to live with your devoted boyfriend, you get a new job at a local cafe. you’ve never been happier, and everything is going so good for you.

almost too good.

suguru is a dedicated man, which you had seemed to forget. the entire time you thought he had left you alone, that he too had moved on; well, you were wrong.

moving didn’t hide you from him, even if you thought it did. he eventually found out from one of your friends, and you. you may have blocked some of his instagram accounts, but not all.

you often posted the scenery of your new area. and your boyfriend. it wasn’t hard to pinpoint you from there. you also posted about working at a cafe. so he searched up the cafes in the area — it couldn’t be too far, because he knew you weren’t a fan of driving long distances.

it gave him three options.

three different cafes. so here’s how he found you; it really wasn’t hard. he put on a mask over his nose and mouth, tucked his long dark hair into his hoodie. he went to the first cafe, and he asked a simple question. “is y/n on the clock today? she’s the only one who makes my order correctly.”

from the first two, he got a, “y/n? we don’t have an employee by that name.”

but the third one, god it must’ve been luck. because when he asked, he got the most blissful answer.

“y/n? oh, she works from 8am - 2pm on saturdays and sundays, but she works from 2pm to 8pm on mondays, tuesdays and thursdays.”

that was so much more than he bargained for, but god was he ecstatic. she told him your schedule? that coworker must’ve had it out for you, or something. but who was he to question her and her helpfulness?

what he had to do was obvious from there. he began to frequent your job on the days you worked, however only when you had just left.

he kept it this way, until that faithful day.

it was his usual routine. he had came to the cafe on sunday, at 2:30pm. you should’ve been long gone by now, so he thought. but there you were, working the register, with a sweet smile on your face and a bedazzled name tag on your breast.

you’re even more beautiful in person, he realizes. those eye bags you used to have faded away, and your smile is bright. you’re as perfect as he left you. only problem? you allowed yourself to be stained by another man. but it was okay, suguru assumed — he’d clean you up.

he doesn’t hesitate to get in the line to buy something, even though it’s so rare when he does. he comes to the counter with eyes and shaky breaths, acting like he’s just as surprised to see you.

your eyes are as wide as saucers when you finally set on him. you didn’t see him immediately come through the door, so you didn’t see him for a while… until there were only two people in front of him in the line.

you were internally panicking and screaming, your heart beating so fast you thought it may crack one of your ribs . how did he find you? what does he want? and beyond that, how handsome he looked — however, you shoved these thoughts down. you had a boyfriend now, and you were never engaging with suguru again. simple as that.

“what’re you doing here?” he breathes out as he reaches the counter. you’re beyond shocked, eyes widening as you blink at him. “no, what are you doing here? i work here. you don’t even drink coffee.” and it’s true; in all your time together, suguru never touched a cup of coffee. he swallows, hard, and you wonder just exactly he’s thinking as he stares at you from underneath his thick lashes.

“i have… lately,” his voice is gentle, sad almost, “i come here daily for coffee. speaking of… can i get a large of straight black dark roast? with a dash of cream and sugar.” you nod and hastily go to make it. when you come back, he shifts, rocking side to side. “i want to apologize to you. for everything. can… can we talk when you get off?”

and you should’ve known better. you really should have. but you’re stupid enough to say yes.

he waits several hours for you; you tell him you’re working a double, and you’ll be closing the store. he doesn’t mind, it seems, especially when he helps you mop and clean, helping stack up chairs. it reminds you of how gentle suguru was with you. when it’s time to go, he questions, “you walk home?” when you nod, he scowls, obviously still slightly protective over you. it warms your heart, but you force it to freeze back over.

however, it remelts when he pushes you to the inside of the sidewalk, standing on the side closest to the street. “my boyfriend and i live around the block, so i just walk here and back. i never really get any trouble.” suguru hums; you’re setting that boundary early on.

i’ve moved on from you, you’re telling him subliminally, i’m with someone new. it’s funny that you think suguru cares.

the two of you are silent as you walk, and you find yourself questioning whether or not he’s going to apologize; or is he just using this opportunity to get close to you again? you get your answer when a few minutes later, he stops and turns to you.

“y/n,” his voice is husky and it’s cold enough that his exhalation of your name leaves a white mist, “i’m sorry, for everything. i was wrong to put you through those things. you’re such a sweet girl; you didn’t deserve it.” and a part of him means it, truly. he would’ve done things differently if he knew you were going to leave. “can we be friends? please?”

you feel the cold tears prick your eyes, and you nod, once, then twice. you sniff and whimper out a sweet, “yeah, suguru. we can be friends again.”

that’s your biggest mistake.

because now that you’ve allowed suguru in your life again, you’ve just given him the green light to do what he does best. spiral things into his control. he starts out with small things, starting with planting a seed of insecurity.

you had let him meet your boyfriend, at your boyfriend’s insistence, to prevent insecurity. his boyfriend knew all about suguru, so to say that he was a bit hostile was a bit of an understatement. suguru was the epitome of calm, all kind smiles towards your boyfriend. it was almost… embarrassing for you. your boyfriend was almost childish; when you cooked for the three, and your boyfriend set the table, he refused to get a plate for suguru. suguru took it in stride, however, only laughing it off. this was damn near perfect for suguru; he was going to lie, but your boyfriend was so fucking stupid, he basically laid out the soil for suguru’s seeds.

what’s worse was the fact that suguru is both taller and more muscular than your boyfriend; and whenever suguru stood and looked down at him, your boyfriend would jeer. later, your beloved expressed his slight inferiority. you did your best to reassure him, but anytime you mentioned suguru, he seemed to bristle. ‘it isn’t like that,’ you’d plead to him, with hands out, ‘we’re just becoming friends again, i swear!’

of course, you’d eventually go to tell suguru that you had to distance, in order to preserve your relationship.

he was understanding, yes, but not without a, “why doesn’t he trust you enough to let us be friends?” and maybe that stuck with you a bit. a week later, suguru drops off two plates of your favorite food. he says he was making it, and thought you’d enjoy the meal. he even brought a plate for your boyfriend. you’re ecstatic — as the meal isn’t one you often find in stores, and when you do, it isn’t cook to the fullest. however, while the two of you were … engaging, suguru learned to make it perfectly.

you’re all smiles and cheers, while your boyfriend is livid. suguru doesn’t overstay his welcome and departs with a smile and a nice goodbye for you both.

the argument ensues from there.

“i thought you cut him off?” your boyfriend asks you, his voice snappy and filled with anger. you raise your eyebrows, still holding the two plates in your hands as you move to the kitchen. you reply,”you didn’t ask me to. you told me to distance, and i did. me and suguru haven’t talked much at all since then.”

“then why is he dropping off food for you?” your boyfriend shoots back, almost immediately. you place the food on the counter and turn to him, feeling your irritation simply growing and growing. “for us, you mean,” you correct sassily, furrowing your eyebrows, “it would be different if the food was only for me. but there’s some for you too. he was being thoughtful.”

“why can’t you so obviously see that he’s a manipulative asshole?” your boyfriend yells as he throws his hands up, pacing around the couch. “how dim are you? he did it while you two were fucking around, and he’s doing it now! i don’t want you to be friends with him anymore.”

you’re bubbling over. so he’s calling you stupid now? you feel your irritation shift into anger instead. ���you don’t get to tell me who i can and can’t be friends with because of your own fucking insecurities. you don’t get to do that shit, you don’t get to make something out of nothing. and most of all, you don’t get to throw my past experiences that i trusted you with into my fucking face.” you’re grabbing your food, and your coat simultaneously.

“wait, where are you going?” your boyfriend asks, his voice suddenly dropping from a yell to a concerned croon. your shoving your arm into a coat sleeve as you huff, “somewhere to cool off. you’ve pissed me off and now i don’t even want to be in this fucking house.”

your boyfriend wants to protest, but he doesn’t. he purses his lips, and he nods, before mumbling out a, “be safe. keep your location on, please?”

begrudgingly, you nod, before leaving.

of course, you end up at geto’s. you’re venting your frustrations as you eat the meal he prepared. it hadn’t even been an hour since he dropped off the food, and here you were. it’s how he knew that his plans were working, and god was he ecstatic. of course, he couldn’t seduce you right here and now, no. it’s much too early. he has to keep throwing the rock at the window, over and over. until it finally breaks.

this throw is only a crack in your window.

those arguments begin to happen more frequently, suguru’s large crack gives way to more and more little cracks, until you’re at your wits end. you’re not gonna break up with your boyfriend yet, but you’re starting to get aggravated. suguru figures it’s time for him to implement his plan.

you’re laying on his couch after an explosive argument between you and your boyfriend about geto seemingly “flirting” with you: suguru had bought tickets for the ballet for all three of you; your boyfriend refused to go, falling right into suguru’s trap. you were aggravated with him — he denied every opportunity to actually make sure no flirting would happen and denied. then got mad at you for enjoying yourself. but you wouldn’t allow that, tonight. you went to see the ballet with suguru, and honestly the two of you had a wonderful time.

but then, your dress had ripped so suguru held it together until the two of you got into the car. you had walked into the house, suguru shuffling behind you and your boyfriend went ballistic, claiming that suguru ripped it himself.

now, suguru didn’t even plan this one — but your boyfriend was just so good at being a little helper. while suguru watched the argument awkwardly, trying his best to ‘deescalate’ the argument, while intentionally making it worse. you ended up leaving with suguru, ripped dress and all.

now here you are, sitting on his couch, with tears streaming down your beautiful made-up face. suguru’s cooing to you through your distress, giving your back gentle rubs. “he’s such a dick, y/n,” suguru murmurs as you blubber out your frustrations, “i can’t believe he got so worked up… it’s starting to piss me off, too. i even bought a ticket for him to come with us.”

you let out a cry of agreement, going, “which was so nice of you! he complains about us being alone but never come when he’s invited! it’s so… so…!”

“hypocritical,” he finishes for you, pulling you to lean on his shoulder. you comply, even when his hand slides to rub at your hips. “i wasn’t the greatest, but… god, even i didn’t do you like that. didn’t he call you stupid or something a week ago? i actually don’t think i’ve ever done that.” he laughs it off like a joke, but watches your reaction carefully.

the words have you thinking back. no, suguru hadn’t ever called you stupid. when he started getting jealous, he never put you in situations to be jealous over. he was never childish like your boyfriend… your brows furrow and you pout, hesitantly nodding. suguru smiles; it’s working. he takes this a sign to keep talking.

“and i noticed that like… he barely posts you. like you have a highlight for him on insta, and he doesn’t have one for you,” he begins, continuing to caress your skin, before pulling a pack of his favorite cigarettes out of his pocket. “and i don’t mean to infringe on your relationship, y/n.. it’s just weird to me. considering that i had a highlight for you even when we weren’t dating.”

you pause, lightly leaning into suguru’s touch. he’s not wrong… in fact, he’s very right. your boyfriend always told you that he didn’t post you a lot because he didn’t want people in your relationship business. you had accepted it at the time, but now suguru’s words had you questioning.

“am i overstepping?” suguru asks gently, his hand still rubbing your hip, pulling you into him as he exhales cigarette smoke. his dark violet eyes focus on you, and you examine his features, like you used to do before.

his long hair is pulled into his trademark half-up half-down style. slim eyes looking down at you with an all too familiar glaze. his angular, perfect features that had to been crafted by god. he’s… he’s so much prettier… you curse yourself for even thinking it, but he’s so much prettier than your boyfriend. he licks his lips as he watches you watch him. his head tilts slightly.

“maybe your boyfriend wasn’t wrong, though,” he says, voice husky — it sends unwanted shivers down your spine. “maybe i haven’t been exactly appropriate to you. maybe i do want you back.”

you swallow hard, slight shock flooding you. you expected it but didn’t at the same time. even though all those times you vented and brought up how your boyfriend was convinced suguru wanted you, suguru never confirmed or denied. only soothed you.

you don’t know what to say, or how you feel but you know it’s wrong. “n-no, suguru,” you force yourself to say, “it’s wrong. a-and you already had a chance. so many chances.” your scooting away, but suguru is pulling you back to him.

his lips press against your ear as he whispers, “c’mon, baby… please? i learned my lesson. i can’t bare to see another man treat you like this, when i know… we both know… i have my problems, but i can treat you so much better.” you’re trying to pull away, but your body and your heart is too familiar with suguru. you ache, despite knowing that it’s wrong. it’s cheating.

“suguru, i-i can’t cheat..!” you whimper pathetically, and suddenly, he’s pushing you down onto the couch, sliding on top of you. you moan, as you feel him press against you, cursing yourself.

“there it is,” suguru hisses, lifting his cigarette to his wet lips again, “moaning just based off that? he hasn’t been fucking my girl right, now has he?”

“not your girl..!” you gasp as he presses hot, open mouth kisses onto your neck. you protest out of guilt, but god, you don’t stop him.

because just like he said, you both know. your boyfriend couldn’t, in no way, compared to suguru geto.

“not my girl?” suguru whispers as he kisses up your jawline, “you sure? because you’re gasping and whining out like you are. you’ve always been mine, y/n. you know you have. let me take care of you, baby. come back home.”

there’s an ache in your pussy, and you’re sure that it’s your sexual organ talking when you whine, “okay, suguru, j-just please… please fuck me.” the need you feel overwhelms the guilt as suguru presses his clothed dick against you.

you can feel him, pressing against you through your panties, and the squeal you let out makes suguru laugh. he’s sliding you up with one hand and into his lap. he hikes your dress up to your hips and you think he’s going to take you right then and there; but no. instead he presses you down against his crotch, forcing you to get off on the feeling of his covered dick simply pressing against you.

“s-suguru! c’mon, give me more, please!” you mewl as you grip his broad shoulders desperately. you watch as he lifts his cigarette to his lips. “nuh uh,” he says as he exhales, “you’re going to pay for leaving me for some bitch who can’t even fuck you right. ride me jus’ like this, y/n. and don’t stop until i say so.”

and unfortunately, you’re obedient and desperate for any shred of stimulation you can get. you began grinding your hips down against suguru through his slacks, his hardened dick rubbing against your pussy through your panties. you’re so wet that you begin to gush through the thin cotton of your panties, dripping onto suguru’s slacks in a puddle.

you don’t say anything however, yearning for the intense pleasure that suguru always gave you. that year away from suguru must’ve made you forget; nobody will ever fuck you as good as he does.

he watches as you clutch onto him, pathetically grinding and shaking your hips down onto your lap, whining as your panties rub against your clit just right. in a few minutes or so, you’re even ready to cum. suguru has your habits memorized when you were close, and that hasn’t changed.

you still tremble, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. your eyes cross a little and your back arches. suguru grins. oh, you’re so close, aren’t you?

“stop.”

he chuckles darkly, and when you don’t listen the first time, he pulls you off of him. you let out a mix of a sob and a moan, your face twisting into something pitiful. “suguru!” you wail, fat tears spilling over. “i was so fucking close! why would you do that?”

suguru gracefully puts you on the floor between his legs, laughing at your plight. “oh, i never said you’d cum, dollface. i just told you to do it. but it’s okay, my dumb girl. ‘m gonna reward you a different way.” he begins unbuttoning the slacks as you perch between his legs. he’s rolling the black pants down his thighs, along with his boxers and there it is.

his dick bounces free. it’s long, and has a nasty curve upwards. he’s thick too — scarily so. his tip is fat and a perfect round shape. it’s a dark tan, a few shades darker than his skin. and it’s decorated with a silver reverse prince albert piercing. precum slides out, a silky white color. you feel drool collect in your mouth as his dick hovers above you.

“you know what to do,” suguru tells you with an expectant look, his cigarette perched perfectly between his lips, “open your mouth and let me use you. uh huh, just like that lovely, stick out that tongue…” you do as he tells you, hands on his knees as you lean up; tongue out, eyes locked with suguru’s.

he slaps his dick on your tongue a few times, before he slides his length into your mouth. immediately, your lips enclose around him. his hand laces into your hair, using it as leverage to pull your head down his length. you gag fiercely around him, hands moving from his knees to his thighs, digging into his skin.

suguru smokes his cigarette with hazy eyes as he pushes your head down his dick, and back up. the noise your throat makes when his tip hits your uvula is wet and messy, and god does he love it.

your slobbing down his length, your spit trickling down his balls; your eyes are filled with tears, a few even spilling over. however, your plump lips stay wrapped around him. you suck your cheeks in and gaze up at him, submission coating your every movement. your tongue slides against the glands on his dick, making him let out a soft groan.

“take this dick down your throat just like that, whore, fuck,” he rasps to you, his movements becoming a little more aggressive, “did you suck on him like this? lookin’ up at me all pretty. bet you didn’t suck his dick like you needed it; didn’t show him how much of a fucking whore you are, hm?” he puts his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table, and then he slides his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “i think we should. is that okay?” as best as you can, you nod, still swallowing up his dick.

suguru is on his phone for a few seconds, before laughing out, “ha! he texted me. he wants me to bring you fuckin’ home. too bad; you’re already home, right, baby?” of course, you don’t answer. your mouth is too stuffed full of his dick. suguru gets rougher then. his original languid pace is discarded, and he begins to push and pull himself out of your mouth. his tip rams against your uvula, before sliding into your throat. you’re choking for air, sputtering. he’s fucking your throat so cruelly, there’s a bulge in your throat every time he sheaths himself in your mouth.

you try to pull in air through your nose, but it’s too hard to focus when suguru is pressing your face into his pelvis, his heady scent filling you and making you dizzy. or was that just the lack of oxygen? you realize that he’s recording your pathetic display. you’re a fucking mess, pussy drooling as he ruins you.

“shiiit, angel,” he curses, head thrown back, and his locks messy around his shoulders. his bottom lip between his teeth, “gonna cum. gonna cum in your mouth, and you’re gonna swallow every fuckin’ drop, understand?”

you swirl your tongue around him, letting him know you’re ready. his thrusts become reckless, before he spills his load inside of your mouth. his cum tastes nice, as always — it has a slightly bitter tang to it, but you take it in stride. as he slides his softened dick out of your mouth, you open your mouth, letting your tongue loll out; showing him his cum coating your mouth.

his phone captures it all.

“is this your girlfriend?” he taunts the camera, grabbing your cheeks and bringing your mouth closer to the phone as cum dribbles down your chin. “look at her. that’s my cum. this is my girl.” you swallow his cum then, and suguru lets out a coo of, “good slut.” before he’s ending the video and sending it.

as soon as he releases your face, you’re sucking in big breaths of air, coughing and sputtering and wiping your eyes from the tears. he rubs your head while you do so, letting out soft coos of reasurance.

he sits back for a second, sliding his dick back into his slacks, before telling you, “go to my room and get undressed. i’ll be there in a minute.” he watches you nod and scamper up, going up the stairs to his room, your hips swaying.

suguru picks up his put out cigarette as he watches your boyfriend trip out about the video, both of your phones dinging with notifications. he lets out a laugh.

suguru always gets what he wants eventually, especially you.

he’s getting up to follow behind you then, pulling off his tie in the process. suguru can feel his own desperation and need for you setting in. it had been a year and a few months; in that time, he didn’t engage much in sex and romantic relationships. none of them were you.

and even now, when he gets to his room and you’re sat on his bed, eyes soft and legs slightly spread as you wait for him, he knows.

none of them will ever be you.

suguru stares at you, almost unnervingly as he walks into the room, leaning against the wall. it makes you self-conscious, curling into yourself as you press your hands against your body to shield yourself.

“don’t.” suguru says, and he walks to you, grabbing your arms. “i need to see all of you.” before you could even respond, he’s wrapping his tie around your wrists.

“suguru?” you question gently as the black fabric wraps around your hands, keeping you bound. suguru shushes you, before picking you up and moving you to the top of the bed. “shh, lovely. i gotta fuck those thoughts of your ‘boyfriend’ out of you. so you’re gonna be a good whore and you’re gonna take it. understood?”

“yes sir,” you whisper as he lays you down, before his hands are spreading your thighs, to reveal your pretty pussy; soaked with your self-lubrication. you move your bound hands to cover yourself, but suguru knocks them away. “put your hands away, what’re you covering yourself for? i know your body like the back of my hand.”

and he’s right, so you try your best to relax. your tensity is immediately forgotten when he puts a finger on your clit, rubbing slow circles against it. you shiver and let out a dulcet moan, a lovely sing of, “suguru— mnngh, fuck..” he takes so much pride in the way he makes you feel, the way he makes you cry out and arch your back just due to his finger rubbing against your clit.

“shh, dollface,” suguru says as he sits between your legs, spreading them more. his large hand wraps around your calf to put your leg up. his finger trails from your clit to your sopping hole, before sliding two fingers inside.

the stretch from just two of suguru’s fingers had you letting out mellifluous moans, squirming in his hold. he held you still while he pushed his fingers inside of you until they were knuckle deep, thumb pressing against your clit.

suguru was slow and methodical with the way he fingered you; sliding his fingers out slowly just to thrust them back in a fast pace, fingertips curling against your warm, gummy walls. your slick was dripping down onto his palm as he rocked his finger into you.

you were his mess, letting out whines as his long, thick fingers scissored inside of you, pressing against your g-spot. “he couldn’t get you like this, now could he?” suguru asked as he pressed his fingers against your g-spot again, making you squeal. you didn’t answer at first, but when he added a third finger inside of you, hissing out, “fucking answer me.” you were quick to babble out, “no, sugu! no, no, no, he could never get me like this… only you, only you!”

suguru chuckles in satisfaction as he watches you struggle to hold on to the sheets with your bound wrists. “fuckin’ slut,” he muses, “cheating on your boyfriend like some fucking whore who can’t keep her legs closed.” he tuts, and shame floods through you; however, it’s eradicated by the way he curls his fingers against your g-spot, his quick but precise thrusting hitting it every time. your juices are all over his hand, sloppy noises echoing through the room. the way suguru looks at you has your heart beating in your fucking ovaries.

you’re close, euphoria is spreading through your body and your stomach is tightening. your pussy is contracting around suguru’s fingers as you whimper, “i’m sorry…! sorry for bein’ a slut, sir.”

“i forgive you,” he laughs a little bit, as your eyes roll back. “you’re my slut, of course. you’ll always belong to me; always be mine, no matter where you go.” right as your pussy begins to spasm around him, and your body begins to twitch, eyes rolling back again — he slides his fingers out of you.

the sob you let out is tremendous, bordering on a scream. suguru only watches as you sob, fat tears rolling down your already ruined face as you sob out different variations of ‘why?’ and ‘i wanted to cum!’ through your tears as you glare up at him. suguru only watches your pathetic, desperate display as he begins to fully undress. his eyebrow raised as he watches you, slightly smirking. you’re so cute, so desperate for him. he loves when you get like this.

by the time he’s fully naked, you’re facedown into the blankets, still whimpering, your sobs slowing. suguru wants to laugh, but he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. he crawls on the bed towards you, grabbing you and turning you over onto your back. you look up at him with teary eyes as he hovers above you. your bound hands reaches up, and you mange to press the back of your hand to his cheek. oh, how you missed this sight.

your hands sneak to his hair, and you pull out his ponytail. his hair falls around his shoulders, and he smiles at you; a genuine smile, and you can tell by the way his eyes crinkle. he leans down, sliding his lips against yours as his hand wraps around your throat loosely. suguru tastes like sweet cigarettes, like a mix of nicotine and love and sex. you don’t know how else to describe it.

“missed you,” he whispers against your lips, kissing you feverishly. you try your best to keep up with his insistent lips, as his tongue curls against the roof of your mouth.

“m-missed you more,” you rasped back against his lips.

you guys are pulling away occasionally to gaze at each other sweetly at his other hand trails down your body, caressing you wherever he can. he’s devouring your lips, hand slightly tightening on your neck. “love you, y/n,” he whispers, before continuing on like it was never said.

your heart pumps, and before you realize it, your lips are moving to say, “love you more, suguru,” you feel him grin into the kiss, and it becomes more desperate. it’s messy, the way he kisses you — the way he laps at your mouth and begs for more of you, all of you.

you can’t help but give.

his tip rubs against your hole, his piercing cold against your heat. on instinct, you let out a slight hiss at the feeling. he shushes you gently, as he pushes his hips forward slowly. the stretch of him has your head falling back, and your eyes rolling. your mouth falls open in an o, but you’re unable to make a noise, as if he’s snatched it out of you.

pain mixes with pure pleasure as he feeds your greedy cunt inch after inch of him. your body is trembling as you feel his piercing scratch your g-spot, making you gasp out, before said piercing is nudging your cervix. his curved dick has you going insane, hitting spots you forgot you had. above you, suguru is as much of a mess as you are.

he’s panting, irises so dilated that it’s just black with a ring of dark violet. one hand is gripping your hips, the other squeezing your throat as he spears you on his dick, soft moans escaping his lips. “fuck, angel,” he groaned as he threw his head back, “missed this pussy s’much. you’re taking me so well, look…” you manage to look down, watching as suguru pulls out of you before snapping his hips into yours.

the single, experimental thrust has you seeing stars. your tied hands are pushed above your head by suguru and he holds your hands, keeping them there. he pulls your legs to rest on his shoulders, and you blank. because now, the angle is different, and he’s pulling out and—

the rough thrust he blesses you with has you whimpering out his name, and that’s just the beginning. it doesn’t stop from there, no. he releases your hands, going to grip your throat again as he begins to stuff you full, slamming into you over and over.

that hand on your throat tightens just how you like it, until your noises are gasped and raspy, and there’s black spots swimming in your vision. this, paired with the way suguru pushes his hips into yours, bullying your pussy, has you teetering on the edge.

suguru knows this. he knows your body far too well, much more than you’d like. he knows that when he trails a hand down to your breasts, to pull and twist at your nipples like he does right now, it only shoves you closer to the edge. “don’t cum,” he whispers to you, “i didn’t even really get started, doll. don’t tell me you’re gonna cum just from a few strokes like this?” he smirks down at you, as his thrusts pause. the hand around your throat sliding up to rub his thumb on your bottom lip. the slight relief has you sucking in deep breaths, trying to regain your voice.

suguru decides to help you. he resumes his fierce thrusts, ripping a croaked cry of, “suguru—!” out of you. he picks up speed, jackhammering into you, and your nails dig into the palm of your hand as you’re forced to grip your own hands. he’s fucking you like this, and you’re supposed to not cum? his thrusts snatch the barely regained air out of your lungs, forcing more tears into your eyes.

your clit throbs painfully, your stomach tight as you try to hold on to the orgasm that is so close, too close to washing over you. “can’t control yourself?” suguru taunts from above you with a slight laugh, “fuck, baby, you’re a mess. got your fucking juices drippin’ down my balls,” he let out another chuckle, “pussy just clenched around me too. you like when i make fun of you, don’t you? masochistic cumwhore.” he grips your face, watching your tits bounce fiercely with every thrust.

“it huuuurts, sugu,” you whimper in an agonizingly sweet voice, “please let me cum, please, please, i can’t take it..! please, sir, it hurts…!”

“you love it when it hurts, though,” he tuts at you, his hair hanging in his face, and above you as he keeps up his thrusts. you let out a desperate, pained whine and he softens. just a little. but he doesn’t let you cum yet. instead, he leans down, lips pressed to your ear, “say you won’t leave me, ever again. say you won’t go anywhere.”

you know it’s a trap, but you fall into it anyways. “i won’t! i won’t leave you again, i promise, p-please just let me cum. i won’t go anywhere, i won’t ever have anyone else! j-just please…”

“cum.” suguru says one word, and immediately, you do. your eyes roll back, your body seizes, and your pussy clenches so impossibly tight around him that he can’t even pull out.

“shit—!” he hisses, hands gripping your hips. your clenching sends him over the edge too, his cum pumping into you. he didn’t mean to cum inside of you, no. but now it’s given him an idea. “fuckin’ minx, pussy clamped so hard on me, it had me cum in you,” he rasped as he pressed his lips to your sweaty skin.

you want to care, you really do. you want to panic and make a scene, but god, you don’t fucking care. the feeling of having his cum inside of you feels too good. you didn’t even let your boyfriend cum inside of you. should you be ashamed of yourself? you don’t know. actually, scratch that. once again, you don’t fucking care. all you can murmur is, “just… don’t do it again.”

you don’t care because your mind is foggy, the best kind of foggy. the orgasmic haze you’re in has you blissed out as you’re splayed across suguru’s bed.

suguru is marking you, biting, licking, sucking at your neck, collarbone and chest until they’re littered with reddish-purple hickeys, along with the hand print from him choking. if he’s going to bring you home to your boyfriend, he’s going to bring you back with a message. he grabs his cigarette and his lighter. he lights it, and takes a puff, before looking down at you. “this is gonna hurt,” he tells you, and you connect the dots immediately. you shake your head at him, but he shushes you. “be a good slut, and let me do this. don’t move, or it’s gonna hurt more.”

you go completely still, biting your lip as tears appear on your lash line. he softens when he sees you like this, scared. his hand presses against your face, trying to soothe you. even as he presses his cigarette against your collarbone. in order to distract you, he begins to thrust again. the pain and pleasure fight for dominance over your body, and you focus on the pleasure; even though the smell of your burning flesh fills the room. he puts out his cigarette two more times on your skin, before pressing kisses to the scars.

“i have to make sure that you, and everyone else, know that you belong to someone.” he whispers to you, still pressing kisses to the spot. you barely understand him though, because you feel like you’re fading. drowning in a sea of pleasure that he’s created.

his eyes lock on your bound hands, and the red mark around your wrists. he unties your hands, and you let out a garbled noise of relief. you watch as he presses kisses to your wrists, while still pumping his thick dick through your walls. you’re on the edge again, and suguru flicks at your clit, making you cum another time, your body twitching and your hands grabbing at his skin.

suguru’s close, too, and he knows what he has to do now.

suguru’s ideas are dangerous, but he finds it in him that he doesn’t care. he can’t trust your word that you’ll never leave. he can’t rely on just marking you. he’ll have to make sure that you’re unable to go anywhere, he’ll have to make sure that you need him.

he’ll have to knock you up.

it’s as simple as that. the simple idea of you swelled with his child has him reeling. suguru knows it’ll work. you don’t use birth control, because you don’t like the way it makes you gain weight, and you often forget to take the pill. and, he saw condoms and plan b’s at your house. it’s almost comical. suguru’s sure that you’d take his baby; but not your boyfriend’s.

the idea excites him even more and he grips your thighs, using his weight to push you into a mating press.

everything’s a blurry mess from there.

he’s slamming his hips into you with a regained fever, over and over and over. your heightened sensitivity is unable to take it, and you’re a squealing, whining mess with every move that he makes. your grasping at anything in your reach, mainly him and the bedsheets.

suguru folds you in half as he feels his own orgasm coming. “you’re gonna take every drop i give you, understand? don’t waste my cum, slut.” you want to tell him to wait, to cum on your stomach. but you don’t. you can barely think at all. instead, you lose control of your body as you cum right with him, as he shoots his load of thick cum straight to your womb.

you think he’s done, but no; instead he flips you over onto your hands and knees. he grips your throat from behind with both hands as he slams into you one more time. pumping and filling you, breeding you like some animal. you can barely moan anymore, animalistic whimpers and grunts escaping you instead as he slams his hips against the plush of your ass. suguru lets go of your neck to grip your hair, pushing your face into his pillows as you drool mindlessly, brain fucked away.

“helloooo…” he asks, teasing you purposely, “anyone in there?” when you don’t answer, he barks out a laugh. “look at you. gone stupid on my dick. i expected you to last longer. but no; you’re nothin’ but a dick hungry cumslut.” your body twitches and you make out some noise, resembling a ‘nooo…’, but suguru can’t tell.

“like it when i use you like this, hm? like it when i treat you like my fuckin’ cocksleeve, don’t you, y/n?” this time you manage to answer with a sweet ‘yes!’ and suguru smiles. you’re cumming again, sinking into the blankets with rasped moans. your throat is probably shredded from all the screaming you’ve been doing, but it’s okay.

it’s not long before suguru’s shooting his third load into you — or is it his fourth? you don’t remember, and neither does he.

you think it’s over, and maybe it is for approximately five to ten minutes. he gives both of you a break, and he presses kisses into your spine.

however, when he maneuvers you into a different position, you almost pass out. suguru isn’t done with you yet. the night continues like that, until the rosy fingers of dusk trickle into the room. he fucks you all fucking night, with a few breaks. he fucks you to sleep, and when you wake up, he’s still fucking you. a mix of your fluids soaks his bed, as he fucks load after load after load into you.

because suguru’s on a mission.

so when morning comes and he’s finally done using and abusing your body, he knows he’s succeeded. he scoops his cum off your thighs and stuffs it back into you, and right after he slides your panties back on, making sure it stays there.

soon after, when you wake again, he carries you to the bathroom, and he washes you up, still making sure that not too much of his cum slides out. he’s gentle with you, carrying you on his back around the house, driving you to get dunkin’ donuts for breakfast. the two of you completely ignore your phones, and the messages your boyfriend — well, ex-boyfriend left you two.

in fact, suguru does him one better. he arrives at the house with his arm around your waist and you nestled into his side. your ex-boyfriend is more than livid, more than furious, but he pales in comparison to suguru.

he screams at you, only once; because suguru is there to utter out a, “you yell at my girlfriend like that again, and i will fucking kill you.” and both you and your boyfriend are shocked. but suguru only nods to you, smiling gently as you hurry to collect everything you need. feminine products, clothes, jewelry. important things. anything you miss, suguru says you’ll get later. your boyfriend doesn’t utter a word after that single scream.

of course he texts you, ranging from angry to filled with despair. from “cheating fucking bitch” to “i’m sorry, i’ll do better, just please come home”. he’s soon blocked.

and when you miss your period the next month, you’re telling suguru. when the pregnancy test comes up positive and you’re looking up at him with a mix of shock, fear and excitement, he scoops you up into a kiss, murmuring about how he’s so happy.

because now you’re his forever.

[lokilaufeysonslove]

𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐦!𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

// Summary // when Peter saves you from a dangerous situation, your adrenaline-fueled emotions lead to both, sad and a passionate moment.

// Warnings // kidnapping, trapping, kissing?

// Author’s Note // divider by the amazing @saradika-graphics / gif by @buckypascal

MASTERLIST

You were in trouble. The kind of trouble that makes your heart race and your palms sweat. It was a dangerous situation that you never thought you'd find yourself in.

You were trapped, your heart racing as you struggled against the ropes that bound your hands and feet. The masked man stood before you, a sadistic smile on his face as he taunted you.

"Looks like your superhero boyfriend isn't coming to save you this time," he sneered, his voice dripping with malice.

But just as you were about to give up hope, the door burst open and in came Peter, dressed in his Spiderman suit.

"Let her go," he growled, his fists clenched in anger.

The masked man laughed, pulling out a knife and pressing it against your throat. "I don't think so, spidey. I've been waiting for this moment. The moment I finally get to kill someone close to you."

Peter's eyes widened in fear, but he didn't back down. "Let her go and take me instead."

The masked man hesitated, considering Peter's offer. But before he could make a move, Peter shot out a web and knocked the knife out of his hand and punched him hard in the face. You took the opportunity to break free from your restraints and run towards Peter, wrapping your arms around him in relief. The man stumbled back, not realizing that he was standing on the edge of the building. When he realized, it was already late. He couldn’t catch himself and fell down.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" Peter's worried voice filled your ears as he set you down and checked you over for any injuries.

"I-I'm fine." you stammered, still in shock from the whole ordeal.

"Good. I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you," Peter said, looking at you with genuine concern in his eyes. "Come on, let's get you home," he said, scooping you up in his arms and swinging away, landing both of you on the ground.

The adrenaline slowly started to wear off and you began to feel the full weight of what had just happened. You couldn't stop shaking.

Peter noticed and stopped, turning to face you. "Hey, it's okay," he said, his voice soft and comforting. "You're safe now."

You couldn't hold back anymore and you wrapped your arms around Peter, burying your face in his chest as you sobbed. He held you tightly, rubbing your back in soothing circles.

"It's over now," he whispered, his words like a balm to your frazzled nerves.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you whispered, tears streaming down your face.

Peter tightened his grip on you, his heart still racing. You were standing like that for a solid five minutes. You had stopped crying a while ago, but you didn’t want to let go of him yet.

When you finally pulled away, you both looked into each other's eyes and in that moment, you both knew what you wanted.

Without a word, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, pouring all your pent-up emotions into the kiss. Peter responded eagerly, his hands roaming over your body as you deepened the kiss.

When you pulled away, panting for air, Peter looked at you “I'll always come to save you, no matter what," he said softly, kissing your temple.

[amara-scott]

Could you maybe do fluff Mattheo X sick Ravenclaw reader and he pampers her and will carry and hold her?

Ooohhh sweeet, yes ☺️🙏🏼

A Warm Embrace

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Raveclaw!Reader Fandom: Harry Potter: Slytherin Boys

The moment I opened my eyes, I knew something was wrong. My head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, my throat was raw, and every inch of my body ached as if I’d been hit by a Bludger. The soft, early morning light filtering through the tall windows of my Ravenclaw room felt too bright, too harsh, and I groaned, turning away from it. My bed, usually a haven of warmth and comfort, now felt like a trap I couldn’t escape.

I tried to sit up, but the room spun, and I collapsed back onto my pillows with a whimper. I was supposed to meet Mattheo Riddle in the library this morning. We’d been studying together for weeks now, and despite his Slytherin reputation, I found myself looking forward to our time together more than I cared to admit. But today, even the thought of dragging myself out of bed was unbearable. It all started yesterday during class, but now- on a beautiful autumn saturday- I felt even worse.

Just as I was contemplating how to get to the hospital wing without collapsing, there was a soft knock on my door. I frowned, trying to gather the strength to respond, but before I could, the door creaked open.

“Y/N?”

Mattheo’s voice was soft, filled with concern as he stepped into the room. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d rushed to get here, and his sharp eyes scanned the room until they landed on me.

“Mattheo?” I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

He moved swiftly to my bedside, setting down a tray with tea and what looked like a bowl of soup. “Theo mentioned you weren’t feeling well,” he explained, his gaze not leaving mine. Theo? Oh, yeah. Theodore Nott was partnered up with me yesterday in Transfiguration. He must have realized my state before I liked to admit it. “When you didn’t show up to the library, I thought I’d check on you.”

I tried to sit up again, but the effort was too much. Mattheo frowned, gently placing a hand on my shoulder to keep me from straining. “You’re burning up,” he muttered, his brow furrowing as he brushed a strand of hair away from my face. “You should be in the hospital wing.”

“I didn’t want to make a fuss,” I mumbled, feeling embarrassed by how weak I sounded. “I thought I could sleep it off.”

Mattheo sighed, his expression softening. “You’re not a bother, Y/N. And you’re certainly not going to get better lying here alone.” He paused, his gaze searching my face. “Let me take you to the hospital wing.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could, Mattheo was already moving, carefully sliding an arm under my knees and another behind my back.

“Wait, Mattheo—” I started, but the words died in my throat as he effortlessly lifted me into his arms.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he cradled me against his chest. “I’ve got you.”

Despite the fever clouding my mind, I felt a flush creep up my cheeks. I wasn’t used to being taken care of, especially not by Mattheo, whose usual demeanor was cool and collected. But as he held me, his grip firm yet gentle, I couldn’t help but lean into him, the warmth of his body easing some of the chills that racked mine.

Mattheo carried me through the empty corridors of the castle with ease, his long strides steady and confident. As we passed through another hallway, I caught a glimpse of Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, both of whom raised their eyebrows in surprise.

“Is she alright?” Theo asked, stepping forward, his usual carefree expression replaced with genuine concern.

“She’s burning up,” Mattheo replied, not slowing his pace. “I’m taking her to the hospital wing.”

Blaise exchanged a glance with Theo, but neither of them questioned Mattheo’s actions. Instead, they fell in step behind him, ready to offer their help if needed. Theo sent me a look and wink. A bright smirk on his face. I burried my face into Mattheo's shoulder, trying to hide my red face.

When we finally reached the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey took one look at me and immediately bustled over, shooing the boys away as she began to examine me. Mattheo, however, refused to leave my side, his hand never letting go of mine.

“She’s dehydrated and exhausted,” Madam Pomfrey said, her tone brisk as she prepared a potion. “She’ll need to stay here for the night.”

“Can I stay with her?” Mattheo asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Madam Pomfrey hesitated, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. “Only if you promise not to disturb her rest,” she finally relented, her tone softening. “She needs quiet and care.”

Mattheo nodded, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. “I promise.”

Once Madam Pomfrey had administered the potion and made sure I was comfortable, she left us alone, muttering about fetching more supplies. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of the curtains and the faint sounds of the castle settling for the night.

Mattheo sat beside me on the edge of the bed, his hand still holding mine. He looked down at me, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, I wondered if he regretted staying.

“You didn’t have to stay,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“I wanted to,” he replied simply, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand. “You’ve been there for me more times than I can count, Y/N. Let me take care of you this time.”

I felt a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the fever. “Thank you,” I murmured, my eyes fluttering closed.

Mattheo shifted slightly, and I felt the bed dip as he lay down beside me. “Get some rest,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me close. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I sighed softly, nestling against him, the steady beat of his heart soothing me. For the first time that day, I felt truly safe, the weight of my illness lifting slightly as I drifted off to sleep in his arms.

———

When I woke again, it was dark outside, the only light in the room coming from the soft glow of a candle on the bedside table. The fever had lessened, though I still felt weak and tired. But the ache in my body was no longer unbearable, and I realized with a start that I was still wrapped in Mattheo’s arms.

He awakened, his dark eyes watching me with a mixture of concern and something else—something softer, more vulnerable.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Better,” I replied, my throat still scratchy but not as painful as before. “Thanks to you.”

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re the one who fought off the fever, Y/N. I just... helped a little.”

“A little?” I teased, my voice still weak but laced with affection. “You carried me through half the castle, Mattheo. I think that’s more than a little.”

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down my spine. “Alright, maybe more than a little.” His expression grew serious again, his gaze locking with mine. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

I reached up, my hand trembling slightly, and cupped his cheek. “I’m more than alright,” I whispered, my heart swelling with gratitude and something deeper, something I hadn’t quite allowed myself to acknowledge until now.

He leaned into my touch, his eyes closing briefly as if savoring the moment. When he opened them again, there was a warmth in his gaze that made my breath catch.

“I care about you, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice tinged with a vulnerability I hadn’t heard from him before. “More than I think you realize.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I felt a rush of emotion so intense it almost overwhelmed me. “I care about you too, Mattheo,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of the words.

For a moment, we just lay there, the unspoken feelings between us finally brought to light, filling the space with a warmth that was both comforting and exhilarating. Then, slowly, Mattheo leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.

“Go back to sleep, it's the middle of the night,” he murmured against my skin, his lips brushing lightly over my temple. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

With that, I closed my eyes, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me back to sleep, secure in the knowledge that I was in the arms of someone who truly cared.

———

The next morning, when I woke again, the first thing I felt was the warmth of Mattheo’s embrace. The fever had finally broken, and though I was still weak, I felt a thousand times better than I had the day before.

Mattheo was already awake, his hand gently stroking my hair as he watched me with a soft, contented expression. “Good morning,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing.

“Good morning,” I replied, my voice still a little rough but much stronger than before. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“Of course,” he said, his eyes full of warmth as he brushed a strand of hair from my face. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.”

And as I lay there, wrapped in his arms, I knew that this—more than any potion or spell—was the best medicine I could have ever asked for.

———

I hope you enjoyed it <3

[sirenalpha]

I'm seeing so much commentary on people reacting to the live action atla toning down Sokka's misogyny

and I'm over here like this is a total non-issue because in my own rewrite of the show I already did that exact thing, it makes complete sense to do it and they should do it because it's a weaker aspect of the original show

Sokka's early misogyny is utterly cartoonish in comparison to the set up of the rest of the SWT, it doesn't feel realistic for the only teenaged boy in a dying culture surrounded by adult women with a grandmother who left a more out and out misogynist society to act the way he does

how Sokka "resolves" his misogyny is equally cartoonish, I never liked how in The Warriors of Kyoshi literally episode 4 of the show makes a teen girl compromise her own culture with a female only fighting tradition teach a boy who is supremely rude and disrespectful to her and then still be attracted to him afterwards, it's more misogyny to fix misogyny and is very obviously men writing about how to fix misogyny especially as they have Aang make a joke about Sokka wearing a dress after going through how meaningful the fighting costume is and how a lot of Asian clothing with hanfu influences like atla borrows from would have men in what to western eyes would be dresses, Aang has already seen multiple male authority figures in robes, the joke makes no sense

I also wouldn't consider Sokka's misogyny genuinely resolved after this, consider how the show deals with his romantic relationships with both Yue and Suki and how both can be seen as extensions of how Kataang is treated in the show, rewards for the hero, especially with how Sokka interacts aggressively with Hahn instead of respecting Yue's wishes whatever her reasons for them, I think an argument can be made that Yue's death is a fridging for Sokka's storyline rather than or in combination with being a consequence of Aang's failure as an avatar or the culmination of her own storyline where she fulfills her duties as a leader to protect her own people

Beyond his romantic relationships, while Sokka drops a lot of his more misogynistic language with Katara, he doesn't support her when she faces off with the NWT leaders to learn waterbending, and he still leaves the caretaking and food preparation and grocery shopping to her which is more common than him going out to hunt or gather in order to provide for the group while he takes a leadership role like determining their travel schedule and routes, it is not an even division of labor and falls along traditional sex stereotypes

In addition to his typical duties to the group, Sokka also remains invested in the trappings of masculinity after ep4, he's concerned about what's manly and how he compares to Jet for example, there's no investigation or interrogation in his interest in meat and hunting and how they relate to masculinity and his misogyny, in the episode with Piando, his insecurity as a non-bender is resolved by giving him a new male mentor and a new martial skill, sword fighting, which is masculine in both western and Asian cultures rather than assuaging his self esteem issues in any less stereotypically masculine ways, I also think it was done so he could compare more favorably to Zuko, another male character, and even his interest in engineering and mechanics comes with a male mentor and is a traditionally masculine pursuit

the show's poor handling of misogyny also extends beyond Sokka, with the NWT, the show acts as if Pakku is the only reason the tribe is misogynistic and the only consequences to that misogyny is that women can't waterbend and there are arranged marriages, and that both the NWT and Pakku's misogyny is resolved by allowing only Katara to learn to waterbend which she doesn't even earn on her own merits, she gets the opportunity because Pakku likes her grandmother

none of this is realistic, misogyny is not because of one bad apple, Pakku doesn't make Yue's arranged marriage, Chief Arnook does, he picked Hahn for her, and the show acts as if Arnook has no authority to compel Pakku to teach Katara or any ability to persuade him in order to reduce his culpability in the NWT's misogyny as its leader to make him a more respectable character so it's not uncomfortable when Aang and Sokka follow his orders in the battle later on, but women not being able to bend and forced into arranged marriages is still status quo when the gaang leaves, Yue's just dead

I'm not even convinced the show runners understand what's wrong with arranged marriage, the issue is not Yue can't be with Sokka who she likes and at most has a slight crush on cuz she's only known him for like two days, it's that she's being treated as male property, a broodmare, and a vehicle to ensure Hahn receives the throne because her father has no male heir and picked some guy to succeed him instead, like it's not explicit in the show but that is the implication based on the historical reality of princesses in arranged marriages, and the show has her get out of it only through death idc that she ascends to being a spirit, it's still a teen girl that dies

There's also no discussion by the show of the Earth Kingdom's misogyny when it has the exact same shit going on, Toph is the only female earthbender in the show not including avatars, there might have been a female earthbender in the background when Katara broke them out of prison, but I'm not really counting that, the entire army and Dai Li are all made up of men, the EK might even be worse because the show doesn't demonstrate that women and girls even have the capacity to earthbend aside from Toph and avatars and Toph doesn't even learn from a human, she has to learn from animals, the show treats this as commentary on her disability but the show has no compelling reason why it can't also be commentary on her sex, Toph was also originally supposed to be a boy so this could have ended up so much worse there literally would have been no female earthbenders aside from avatars at all, I'm not counting Oma as she might just be a mythological figure not a real person that once lived

The Fire Nation kinda barely avoids the same issue, Azula is the only named female firebender aside from avatars in the show but she has two female sidekicks who despite being non-benders show martial skill and there are clearly female soldiers and guards in the FN military so there are much stronger implications of female firebenders existing and being completely allowed to train their abilities and that Azula isn't exceptional in that respect like Toph is, only for being a prodigy with blue fire

Azula was also originally supposed to have an arranged marriage in s3 and they dropped it in favor of showing that royal and noble girls could casually date in the FN which has wild implications for women's empowerment in the country more so than but especially in combination with the fact women can train and join the military (which is why I say the FN is not fascist it's literally the least misogynistic country aside from Kyoshi and by like a country mile so it's literally not misogynistic enough) not that the show does anything more than minor teen drama with it

again, the vast majority of this misogyny is completely unremarked upon by the show especially after s1 when they leave the NWT, it is clearly a fictional world made by men with no true understanding of misogyny just a vague awareness that misogyny is bad and what the really obvious and outdated examples of it are, this is a narrative inconsistency in the show to have the examples and commentary on misogyny be so cartoonish in the beginning and then disappear after s1

your options to resolve this inconsistency is to either go all in with more realistic misogyny and provide commentary on all of it but this takes effort and will be divisive, or take the easier route and ease off the cartoonish-ness of it and comment less on it to avoid drawing attention to all instances of misogyny in the show

obviously Netflix was gonna do the latter

(not me tho, I'm making it less cartoony and dealing with it in my rewrite)

[throneofsapphics]

Can i ask for something similar to it only takes three azriel x reader but like where reader struggles with an ed and suicidal thoughts and it gets really bad

If not thats ok I understand that can be triggering i loved how you wrote for it inly takes three it was good I really enjoy your writhing your very talented 🤍

from the shadows 

Summary: “It would’ve been nice, you supposed, if he’d cared before you were already balancing on the edge.”

Warnings: toxic parents/friendships, ed, suicidal ideation, drinking, depression 

Word Count: ~2.7k 

A/N: ahh you’re so kind, thank you for the request!

Did you want someone to notice? Not really. These battles were supposed to be your own to fight. Every time you’d brought it up to your parents, they told you it means you need to be stronger, that your mind is weak. 

You stared at the food in front of you, waging a mental war with it. Each time you tried to touch food, words and memories would slide into your mind. 

The half-finished plate is pulled away from you. “Don’t eat too much, dear,” your mother tutted.

Closing your eyes, you let out a long breath. 

“Are you going to eat that?” Cassian asked. 

“All yours,” you pushed it towards him. He shot you a grateful grin, and slid your food onto his plate. You could’ve sworn you saw a muscle in Azriel’s jaw flex, but he didn’t say a word. 

You registered everything, but none of it held any meaning. Nothing mattered, you were trapped in this endless void. Haze clouded your world. Muted colors, dimmed voices, even the air surrounding you felt lifeless. Each smile a facade, each action and response carefully measured, everything designed to make it seem fine. To make you seem fine. 

There wasn’t any other option. Anything else felt like failure to you. Weak, weak, weak. Each time you’d reached out before - every time to your parents or old friends, your hand was slapped away with a scathing gaze and cutting remark. 

‘Just deal with it.’ 

‘You’re being dramatic.’ 

‘Stop looking for attention.’ 

So you did. Everything stayed inside - under firm lock and key. Your conscience argued against itself, you had different friends now. Friends that gave the appearance of caring, that seemed genuine -

“Hey,” a voice called, a hand waving in front of your face. Blinking, you brought your consciousness back into the present. Mor. “Where did you go?” 

Was that concern or worry in her tone? Maybe. 

“Just a memory,” you forced a smile you hoped was reassuring. She didn’t look convinced. From your peripheral, you spotted narrowed hazel eyes watching you, a shadow swirling around the bearer's ear. “What do you have planned for today?” You deflected. 

Mor, face still lined with a tinge of worry, took the bait. 

-

Laying on the bedroom floor, studying the dips and whirls of the ceiling, the hard wood surface dug into your back. Today was the day you’d decided to say something. To build up the courage to ask for help. Azriel, who you’d always gone to. It was getting bad enough you knew something needed to change, and you were the only one who could start it. ‘Asking for help makes me strong,’ you reminded yourself. 

The door creaked open, and you knew who it was before he saw you. Maybe you should be embarrassed, getting caught like this. But … you’ve already hit the bottom, and it didn’t matter anymore if others saw it.  

A scarred hand loomed in front of you, coming from an amused looking Azriel. You took it, and his fingers closed around you, warm and comforting. He yanked you to your feet - hard enough you stumbled forward a few steps, catching yourself with a hand on his chest. 

“You’re lighter than I remember,” he commented, scanning over your body. Your shoulders lifted and fell. Azriel frowned, but dropped your hand - leading you out of the room instead. 

“Where are we going?” Your voice was rough. When was the last time you’d spoken to someone? Working in the library, doing research, didn’t require it, and people were rarely around the townhouse. 

“Meeting,” he answered - his voice a bit short. Like he was annoyed you had to ask. You dropped his hand.

A meeting nobody had told you about. 

“I didn’t know.” 

He cast a sidelong glance at you, studying you briefly, deciding if you were lying or not. When had he started questioning that? Throughout all of these years, you’d provided him with nothing but honesty. Azriel, your close friend and on and off lover. 

Maybe he read the confusion on your face. 

“You’ve been hiding something.” 

That made you pause in your tracks. “Excuse me?”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” 

“What do you mean?” Fury rose in you, heart pounding, chest tightening, face blazing. 

Azriel stood there, watching you with that cool quiet. Long enough you realized it was a tactic, waiting for you to offer up information. Like you were one of the prisoners he interrogated. Gods, your anger only grew and grew. 

“Ask me,” your fists clenched. “Ask me what’s wrong.” 

His mouth tightened at the corners, a sign you were testing his patience. 

A clock ticked in your head, counting each second, both of you staring at each other - seeing who would speak first. Thirty. That was it for you. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, turning on your heel. If he didn’t have the decency to ask, you wouldn’t tell him a damn thing. 

Azriel expected you to offer everything up on a silver platter. To come to him for everything, like you had in the past. 

You were about to, and now you felt like a fool for even thinking of it. 

For all this time, you thought you’d kept it hidden well enough that nobody noticed. Now it’s clear - he’d seen something, and chosen to ignore it, watching from his shadows and not doing a damn thing. If the person you trusted the most saw you struggling and didn’t bother, what does that mean? 

It meant you weren’t going to crawl all the way to someone who wouldn’t move an inch for you. 

You prayed you’d somehow find the strength to deal with this on your own. 

Feet and instinct guiding, you found yourself down by the Sidra - a secluded area. You fell, gravel digging into your knees and palms, hands pulling at your hair. A shield wrapped around you, cloaking you from sight and sound. Nobody could hear your screams, and right now - that’s the way you wanted it. 

Distantly, you heard the rain clattering on your shield, the sound normally would bring comfort - but now it felt like some kind of beating drum, like a haunting melody. Light flashed in your vision, streaking across the sky before striking the ocean. Maybe it would hit you too. 

Screaming. It could have been hours or minutes you sat there, tears flooding from your eyes and throat burning. It was supposed to make you feel better, but if anything it got worse. Numbness overtook you, drowning out every other sensation. You could fall off a cliff and feel nothing, maybe until your broken body hit the rocks below. 

Weak. Weak. Weak. 

Was it that? Or did it make you strong enough to end your own suffering? 

Different images flooded your mind. Fighting back a laugh at one of Mor’s presents, offering your thanks instead. Watching live music in the rainbow. Azriel taking you flying for the first time. 

Like cold rain, the thought of him pulled you out of your mind. What would he say if he saw you like this? Probably nothing, but he’d think you’re pathetic. 

Good thing you didn’t give a damn what he thought anymore. You stood, brushing the gravel from your knees and palms, frowning at the small indents left behind on your palms, and let the shield disappear. 

This was where the Sidra tumbled out into the ocean. The rocky cliff, seldom frequented, where you could truly be alone. 

You didn’t really want to die … but you took another step towards the edge, peering closer. This way wouldn’t be quick, your body would break but you’d lie on the rocks below for hours, maybe trapped between them - slowly drowning under the waves. 

“Y/n,” someone called - and you startled, body starting to launch over -

Shadows curled around you, dragging you back several feet, Azriel’s arms wrapped around your waist - holding you tight. “I’ve been looking for you,” he murmured, still holding tight. 

At least your shield had done its job. Still, he was the last person you wanted to see right now. Catching him by surprise, you stomped on his insole and wiggled out of his grip - just like he’d taught you. Taking a few steps, not daring to turn your eyes away from him, you watched something like fear cross over his features. 

He held his hands up, palms facing you. “Stop, please.” 

Water sprayed against your calves. You’d gotten close to the edge again, without noticing. Looking over your shoulder, it would only take a few more steps. 

Do it,  the demon in your head screamed at you. He’d be relieved. 

Turning your gaze back to him, worry shone there. It would’ve been nice, you supposed, if he’d cared before you were already balancing on the edge. There was no doubt his shadows would interfere if you got any closer, but for now he was giving you a choice. Letting you choose to walk away from the edge. Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand turned - reaching out to you instead. Teeth tugging into your bottom lip, you realized there was a decision to make.

It really wasn’t much of a decision at all, you ignored his hand, and brushed past him - making for the Townhouse. 

-

Like an annoying guard dog, Azriel trailed you the rest of the way home. You didn’t see him, but you could feel his presence - moving through the shadows. You’d walked away, hadn’t you? He could leave you the fuck alone now. 

Stopping for a bottle of wine, you made your way back to your bedroom. Meeting forgotten. Leaning your back against the door, a bit of magic popped the cork out. Funny, wine was one of the few things you could tolerate now. Maybe because of the release it brought. 

You scented him, then heard a knock. You ignored it. 

A sigh, and the sound of someone sliding against wood. 

-

Azriel wouldn’t leave you, not like this. His shadows peered inside to tell him what you were doing. Sitting against the door, drinking right from the bottle. He could feel your warmth through the wood, a barrier separating the two of you. He mirrored your position. 

If you didn’t want him inside, that was fair enough, he still wouldn’t leave. Not when you were just standing on the edge of a fucking cliff. Two hours spent searching for you when he noticed a small disturbance in the rain - droplets displaced before they struck the ground, and decided to wait a few minutes. Just in time for you to appear. 

You’d always come to him in the past, and it was wrong for him to expect you to again. He’d already cast a thought out to Rhys and told him to clear everything for the next week. 

Azriel had just nodded off, when he heard movement. He barely had time to stand before the door swung open, spotting you - half empty bottle of wine on the floor, bracing your hand on the wall next to the door. 

“You can leave.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

The door slammed shut again. Fine, he could wait. 

-

“Talk to me,” Azriel pleaded and grabbed both of your hands, squeezing, his thumbs running over your knuckles. You ripped them away from him, shooting him a scathing look and storming past into the dining room. Inviting him in had been a mistake. The intent was to prove you were fine, and tell him he could stop hovering on your doorstep, but if anything he seemed more worried at the end. 

You couldn’t hear anyone else in the house. Good. You didn’t want to deal with anyone. Sitting at the dining table, a plate appeared in front of you - a single muffin. One of your favorites. Swallowing harshly, you reached one shaking hand out for it. 

Inches away, your hand fell to the table. Fuck. 

Just one bite, you told yourself. 

Steeling yourself, you reached again. Trembling fingers peeled back the paper, and you brought it to your lips. The scent of blueberries filled you, and the feeling of crusted sugar brushed against your lips. 

One bite.

“Hey,” you heard Mor. The spell broke, and you dropped the muffin back on the plate. “Don’t let me stop you,” she winked, pulling out the seat across from you. Her own muffin appeared, and she took a bite herself - moaning at the taste. 

Somehow, that helped, and you took one of your own. 

-

You hadn’t noticed him, thankfully, but Azriel watched from the shadows and felt like an idiot. Somehow, Mor’s presence for a few minutes brought more light to your eyes than he’d seen in months. Or maybe it was that you managed to eat some of that muffin. 

Those hours he sat outside of your door … had they been worthless? 

Maybe, maybe not, but at least he’d proven he was there for you - even if it was a bit too late. 

If you didn’t want him physically in your proximity, he could wait in the shadows. 

Waiting didn’t help before.

He’d read the expression on your face - on that cliff, and understood your anger. 

Azriel was waiting for you to come to him, when he should’ve been the one reaching out. 

Walking out of hearing range, his palm slammed against the wall, forehead resting on the cool wood. If he couldn’t do this one damned thing right, what did that say about him? 

-

For a while, Azriel really did think you were getting better. You smiled more, ate more, and had a spark of life in you. But, as the weeks went on, he saw you draw further into yourself. Plate half full, eyes dull. This time, he’d actually do something about it - even if you shoved the door in his face. 

Your door was already open, so he pushed a bit further, knocking. 

Bleary eyed, you lifted your head from your desk and sighed, but jerked your head. He surveyed your room, taking in the books piled everywhere, empty bottles, clothes strewn over chairs haphazardly. A mess. 

“What do you want?” The words weren’t sharp or cutting - although he’d prefer that to the emptiness in your voice. The bleakness of your expression, even though he could only see your profile - eyes unfocused on the book in front of you. 

“You’re struggling. Again.” Not the most eloquent, but he got right to the point. 

“What’s it to you?” Narrowed eyes finally looked up at him. Cautious. Wary. Even months ago, you’d never looked at him like that before. 

“I care about you.” Maybe he expected your eyes to soften - to show some kind of understanding, but if anything they only hardened further. You didn’t believe him. He tried a different tactic. “Is it that hard to admit you need help?” 

“Yes,” your voice rose, but he didn’t take a step back or flinch. He could deal with your anger, anything’s better than the distance, and that veritable wall you put up between them.  

“Why?” 

“It means i’m weak,” the first tears lined your eyes as you shifted in your chair to face him. He could see all of the sharp angles of your face, even more defined now - and not in a good way. There was no shine to your hair or eyes, none of that normal glow to your skin. 

“You don’t believe that.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I know you.” 

A sigh, and your hand ran down your face. “Why are you here, Az?” 

“I don’t like seeing you … hurting.” 

“You didn’t bother before,” you countered. 

“And I regret that,” cautiously, he reached out and grabbed your hand. You didn’t protest or fight him, and he took that as a good sign, letting his other hand brush away one of your tears, the droplet catching on his thumb. Even with the tear gone, he brushed his thumb across your cheek again, savoring the smooth feeling of your skin. Ever so slightly, you leaned into him. Catching yourself, you jerked back, but didn’t let go of his hand - if anything you seemed to grip onto him tighter. As if he might disappear and leave you by yourself again. That wouldn’t happen. 

“I don’t know how you can help.” 

His thumb brushed back and forth over your knuckles. “We can figure that out.” 

The slightest smile appeared on your face, and lingered. 

azriel taglist: @acourtofinkandpapyrus if anyone wants to be added please let me know!

[nhlclover]

𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘. | 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: while struggling with your mental health, quinn refuses to leave your side despite your attempts to push him away.

warnings: descriptions of mental illness, behavior and sentiments that resemble depression (although it's kind of vague), crying

word count: 1.26k

It had been a while since you were okay.

Life, recently, had felt like it was trying to suffocate you. The days blended together in a haze of obligations, stress, and an overwhelming sense of inertia. Each morning, the alarm clock was an unwelcome intruder, dragging you from restless sleep into a world that seemed to demand more from you than you could give.

It had been a while since you’d felt this way. And you couldn’t place what had given you this feeling. It was as if the vibrant colors of your world had faded to a dull gray, leaving you trapped in a monochrome existence. The laughter that once came easily now felt forced, a mere echo of genuine joy. Friends and family noticed the change, but their concerned inquiries only added to your burden, making you feel guilty for not being able to snap out of it. So deeper into the hole you fell.

You’d called out of work again, telling your boss you’d come down with the flu which gave you another couple of days to be alone. You’d pulled the covers back over you earlier that morning and found yourself in the same spot nearly fourteen hours later.

The hours stretched and warped in the dim light of your room, a cocoon of silence punctured only by the occasional hum of the refrigerator or the distant murmur of traffic outside. You felt like a ghost haunting your own life, present but not truly living. The motivation to move, to eat, to even turn on a light seemed beyond you. Instead, you lay there, paralyzed by a weight that pressed down on you, making even the smallest tasks feel insurmountable.

When Quinn knocked on the front door of your apartment, at a quarter to midnight, part of him wasn’t surprised to get no answer. It was possible you were asleep after all. However, Quinn knew you and he knew that you didn’t typically fall asleep until well after midnight. He pulled the set of keys you’d given to him for emergencies out of the pocket of his dress pants. He didn’t feel like he was violating your ‘emergencies only’ policy right now.

He knew that you weren’t doing well recently. He’d tried to give you some space, assuming that was what you wanted. But nothing changed. If anything it got worse. He tried to plan dates, but you let them fall through. He showed up at your apartment, but the ghost of you that seemingly replaced you pushed him away.

You then stopped showing up to his games. In two years of dating, you’d only missed a select few home games. And now, you hadn’t been to one in over two weeks. When Quinn heard that you didn’t show yet again, his worry hit a high. He left right after media was over to come check on you.

Quinn shoved the keys in the lock, pushing the door open and stepping inside. It was eerily quiet in your apartment, not even the sound of the television playing broke through. The glow of the city lights filtered through the half-drawn curtains, casting long shadows across the room. Quinn’s heart pounded in his chest as he called out your name softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the oppressive silence. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, searching for any sign of movement, but the apartment seemed deserted.

He took a tentative step through the hall, his dress shoes squeaking against the wooden floor. “Hey,” he called out a bit louder, his voice tinged with concern. He made his way toward your bedroom, the door slightly ajar. Pushing it open, he found you buried under blankets, your unruly hair scattered on your pillows.

“Y/n?” Quinn asked, approaching your bed tentatively.

When he caught sight of your sunken face, his heart ached. The bags under your eyes were dark and heavy, accentuated by your pale skin. You were asleep and Quinn felt bad about waking you, but he wasn’t sure you had ate, let alone left your bed today.

He reached out, gently touching your shoulder. You stirred slightly but didn’t fully wake up. “Y/N, it’s me. It’s Quinn.” His voice was soft and soothing, trying to coax you back to the present. Your eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused, taking a moment to recognize him.

“Quinn?” Your voice was hoarse, barely more than a croak. You blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog from your mind. Seeing him standing there, his face etched with worry, brought a rush of emotions that you’d been trying to suppress.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I’m here. I was worried about you.”

You scrambled to sit upright, rubbing your eyes with the backs of your hands. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I just… I…”

“Hey, hey.” Quinn said softly. “There’s no need to apologize. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay… Which you’re clearly not.”

You shook your head, avoiding Quinn’s gaze. “No, I’m fine, really.”

Your eyes filled with tears, and you quickly turned your head, not wanting Quinn to see you cry. But he did see, and it broke his heart. He reached out, gently cupping your face and turning it back to him. “You don’t have to pretend. Not with me. Not ever.”

A familiar frustration bubbled up inside you. You didn’t want him to see you like this. You were a shell of yourself, the exact opposite of the person you were when he fell in love with you. Tears began to spill over despite your efforts to hold them back. The vulnerability you felt in Quinn's presence was both a comfort and a curse. You wanted to be strong, to show him that you could handle everything, but the truth was you felt like you were drowning, and you didn't know how to reach for help. It was just easier to keep him at arm's length while you sorted shit out.

“Quinn… please…I’m fine.” you said softly, pushing his hand away from your face. “So just… go.”

Quinn shook his head, knowing you were going to push back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Quinn, please, I just need to be alone,” you say.

“No,” he said firmly. “You don’t need to be alone, you just think you do.”

You quickly wiped away the tears that dripped down your cheeks, hating how vulnerable you felt. “You don’t understand,” you replied, voice tinged with bitterness. “It’s just easier this way.”

“Easier for who?” Quinn asked gently. “Not for you. You're hurting yourself more by pushing everyone away.”

He reached out and took your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

The floodgates opened, and you began to cry, the pent-up emotions spilling out in a torrent of sobs. Quinn pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his heart breaking at the sound of your pain. He didn’t say anything, just held you, letting you cry until the sobs subsided into quiet sniffles.

When you finally pulled yourself from Quinn’s arms, your eyes were red and puffy. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Quinn brushed a strand of hair out of your face, his touch tender. “You’re going through a tough time. It happens to everyone, and it’s okay to not be okay. But you don’t have to do this alone. We’ll get through this together.”

[bambooswordwielder]

Dying in pain because I was re-reading the SVSSS extras and I came upon this (note this is part 1 due to tumblr allowing only 10 images per post – will release part 2 when I am physically ready to read SVSSS extras again)

One of the saddest things about Shen Jiu's backstory is the fact he doesn't immediately assume Yue Qingyuan abandoned him. It would've been sad enough if he just accepted that Yue Qingyuan would leave him at the first opportunity that arises, but instead Shen Jiu has faith in him. Faith that Yue Qingyuan would never abandon him. He thinks of different reasons why Yue Qingyuan hadn't yet returned. 'Maybe he's injured, maybe he's been trapped, or maybe he's dead even!'

Shen Jiu even resigns himself to finding Yue Qingyuan's 'dead' body and burying him himself, regardless of the fact that he might be getting into more danger. It's only after Shen Jiu had long since escaped the Qiu Household and was under the control of the Wu Yanzi, the demonic Cultivator who taught him, and they meet Yue Qingyuan at the Immortal Alliance Conference did Shen Jiu realise that Yue Qingyuan 'abandoned' him.

We see this in the dialogue that leads up to Shen Jiu accepting that Yue Qingyuan is 'Qi-Ge's' new name.

Before this scene, all the dialogue had listed Yue Qingyuan as 'Qi-Ge' or as 'Yue Qi'. (Qi-Ge when they were on the streets and Yue Qi also when they were on the steets and in the examples shown below)

The scene from earlier where Shen jiu accepts that his 'Yue Qi' is gone makes this all the more heartbreaking.

He asks Yue Qingyuan why he never returned. Simple and straightforward — the most straightforward, dare I say understanding, that Shen Jiu has been to anyone at this point. He simply asks him why he didn't come back, why he went missing for so long, why he's now dressed up as if he were a noble young master and the current Qiong Ding Head Disciple. He's willing to wait for an answer, willing to hear and try and understand. Would he have understood and accepted any excuses, no one truly knows, but Shen Jiu was willing to at least try.

When Yue Qingyuan opens his mouth and only a empty apology in the form of 'I let you down...' comes out, not even a reason or an excuse, Shen Jiu realises something.

He is talking to Yue Qingyuan.

He no longer considers Yue Qingyuan his Qi-Ge. To him, Yue Qingyuan is just like the other spoiled young masters that used to belittle him on the streets, the same stuck up fool born with a golden spoon in his mouth that was born too lucky to understand his pains.

After this scene and after Shen Jiu joins Cang Qiong, I can't find any scene where Yue Qingyuan is referred to as Yue Qi by Shen Jiu ever again.

Shen Jiu realises that he would have preferred Yue Qi, his Qi-Ge, was dead.

Shen Jiu genuinely cared and trusted Yue Qingyuan (or Yue Qi to be more accurate). In the scene where the other street kids where being attacked by Qiu Jianluo, Shen Jiu is laughing and states that they deserved it, clearly taking joy in their misfortune, but the moment Yue Qi gets involved, Shen Jiu becomes concerned.

He chases after Yue Qi, chases after him as the other goes to save another boy who Shen Jiu only moments ago had been laughing at for 'getting what he deserved'. This was also the very same boy who Shen Jiu had been fighting with for his begging spot.

Shen Jiu clearly does not show any level of care for the other street kids, yet he shows an exception foe Yue Qi. He willingly chases Yue Qi when the boy goes to save a boy Shen Jiu hates. He willingly waits for Yue Qi to return despite being tortured for so long with no hope in sight. He willingly gives Yue Qi the opportunity to give him an excuse for why he never came back and seemingly abandoned him so he could join the 'elites' on Cang Qiong and become its future Sect Leader.

People say that Yue Qingyuan shows favouritism to Shen Jiu, but I dare say that Shen Jiu shows an equal amount of favouritism to Yue Qi.

If anyone else dared to do something similar to Shen Jiu, Shen Jiu absolutely would've murdered them at first sight. Yet Shen Jiu has allowed Yue Qi all of this.

Shen Jiu doesn't accept any of Yue Qingyuan's attempts at an empty apology, because he's tired of getting hurt. Hurt from giving Yue Qi chances and giving him time, and recieving nothing but empty guilt filled apologies.

Apologies that feel more like lies to help sooth some guilt that Yue Qingyuan has for his past than actual remorse for betraying Shen Jiu. Yue Qingyuan believes that his actual reason would only be insulting to Shen Jiu, but if he had just broken for a mere moment and told Shen Jiu even a glimpse of the truth, then I guarantee you that Shen Jiu's intelligence would lead to him figuring everything out in one hour most.

However, Yue Qingyuan does not break his formal mask of distance politeness, does not cry and tell Shen Jiu he was quite literally unable to leave and save him, does not tell him about how Yue Qingyuan thought the other had died.

Shen Jiu simply wishes the corpse of his dead friend would stop apologising for something he never explains and would simply leave him alone.

Yet, Yue Qingyuan (Yue Qi) is a wound that will never stop bleeding.

He wants Yue Qingyuan to leave him behind again — this time he demands it of Yue Qingyuan.

However, Yue Qingyuan promised himself he would never abandon Shen jiu again.

The Two Soulmates Who Fate Itself Separated.

[sagethegaywitch]

Yandere Octavinelle Headcanons

GN reader

TW: yandere behavior, killing mentioned, stalking, threatening mentioned

Genre: yandere

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Azul Ashengrotto: 🐙

Known around school for striking deals, Azul’s first thoughts with his love for you was to get you to sign a contract that tied you to him forever.  He didn’t pursue this route only because he wanted you to actually love him back.

Instead of forcing you into a relationship, he will use his unique magic to get you closer to him.  Maybe if you’re desperate for something he’ll make the contract so that you have to work at the Mostro Lounge, just so he can see your beautiful face and keep an eye on you.

Will employ the Leech brothers to watch you when he can’t.  If he’s busy making deals in the backroom, the twins will ensure that you’re not getting too cozy with the customers or trying to leave.

Outside of the Mostro Lounge, Azul will have one of the twins follow you around the whole day while he keeps up the appearance of the benevolent housewarden.

Once you two eventually get close and you actually start to enjoy your time working for him, Azul will start to open up to you a bit.

Will probably start with inviting you to lunch to discuss customer satisfaction to asking if you want to study with him for upcoming assessments.

These little meetups will stray from professional to casual hangouts between friends, and Azul hopes that it can continue even more to romantic dates with you.

Because he’s self conscious about his physical appearance, he won’t often take food that you gift him.  If you manage to convince him, he’ll place it on his desk and stare at it for a while before attempting to do some work.  Eventually he’ll cave because he doesn’t want to waste the food you made him.

He genuinely enjoys the food you make him and tries to savor them for as long as possible.  For example, if you gave him a bag of cookies, he’d reserve himself to only one a day to make it last longer.

He doesn’t have time to be jealous because he has his school work to do, his restaurant to run, and contracts to keep track of distracting him from you sometimes.  Also, because you have signed a contract that forces you to work at the Mostro Lounge at certain hours, he isn’t too concerned about you running away from him because you’ll always end up in his grasp sometime during the day.

When there is more trust in the relationship, he might even fulfill your contract and let you come to him willingly.

But, if you’re persistent about getting away, he always has the ability to change the contract or get you to sign a new one that forces you into a loving relationship with him.

If you somehow manage to stay away from him for an extended period of time, he’d probably ask the Leech brothers to bring you back peacefully or forcefully depending on how you react.

If you ever go swimming with him, only you can get him to transform into his octopus form.  He’d let you touch his tentacles too and show you a few tricks, like juggling, that he’s picked up along the years.

If he’s feeling generous, he’d take you on dives to check out some sunken ships, but he always has a tentacle around your waist so you don't stray too far.

Overall, only you can get him to come out of his shell, but you have to work first to earn his trust.  He can be very loving, showering you in treasures from the Coral Sea, but only if you return his affection too.  He has a Danger Level of 4/10, and the worst he’d probably do to others is ban rivals from the Mostro Lounge and maybe send the twins to scare them a bit. The worst he’d ever do to you is trap you with a contract so you can never escape.  In the end, pleasing him with hard work and fondness will definitely have him overwhelming you with praise and treats.

Jade Leech: 🍄

It's his duty to find personal information and maybe some blackmail on all incoming Octavinelle students, which is where his interest in you probably started..  He was intrigued by your whole incident with the Dark Mirror on the first day, and he wanted to learn more about you.

When he couldn’t find anything about your life with his typical methods, he resorted to befriending you.

While he may seem like the more civilized twin, he’s actually equally as unhinged as Floyd.  He would befriend you at first, luring you with either snacks from the Mostro Lounge or offering you homework help before trapping you in a relationship with him.

You might be suspicious of his kind behavior, but he just assures you he’s just doing his job of taking care of his younger classmates.  The smile he gives you is just too trustful, how could you ever doubt him?

Would definitely offer you a job at Mostro Lounge so he can keep a closer eye on you.

He would be the one to teach you the ropes and would use it as an excuse to stay close to you.  No matter how long you work there or how good you’ve gotten, he’d still stick by your side saying he needs to supervise you.

He is definitely a stalker, watching you from across the hallway and you can only ever see him from the corner of your eye.  When you turn, he’s always gone and you brush it off as your imagination.

You’d have your normal freedoms as long as you work your shifts at Mostro Lounge, but what you don’t know is that he’s always watching you from a distance.

Will show you his mushroom collection and will be thrilled if you take an interest in fungi as well.  He will gift you small terrariums and will teach you how to cultivate magical mushrooms.

His gifts are often more practical items like writing utensils, free meal passes at the Mostro Lounge, and definitely mushrooms that you can use in class or for cooking.

Not easily jealous, mostly because he knows he’s a better match for you than anyone else.

If you’re spending too much time with someone, though, he’d probably stand menacingly behind you with a restrained smile and closed eyes, a dark aura surrounding him.  But the moment you turn around, he’s giving you a more genuine smile and acting more innocent.

He’s not one to get violent easily.  He prefers to use his blackmail skills to make his victims terrified of what he can do and how he can ruin their lives.

If really pushed to it, he’d probably invite Floyd to help beat the shit out of the rival before carefully disposing of the evidence.  He’s very good at cleaning up crime scenes without leaving any traces, and he’s also a very good liar, maybe even putting the blame on another rival.

If he wanted a more discreet method of murder, he’d probably use a toxic mushroom from his collection to poison the poor guy.

Overall, his infatuation with you started with his curiosity, and soon developed into a suffocating relationship.  He’d have a Danger Level of 7/10 because he’s only dangerous when provoked.  Similar to his brother, he can get violent really quickly, but he just prefers playing with his prey through blackmail first.  As long as you don’t stray too far from his loving grasp, you’re sure to meet his standards and he’ll keep you close forever.

Floyd Leech: 🦐

Similar to Jade, Floyd was very interested in you because of the whole Dark Mirror incident.  He was mostly excited by the fire that Grim caused, but you also managed to catch his eye.

When he’s interested in something, he’s going to put all his time and energy into it until he gets bored.  But how could he ever get bored of you?

One of the more unstable yanderes at Night Raven College, and will use his mood swings to get away with a lot of stuff, like intimidating you and his enemies.

He’d probably force you to act like his shadow, either threatening you with a bone crushing hug or a menacing smile until you relent.

He likes it when you follow him around, it makes him feel powerful and lets you see how cool he can be.

Will always say “Did you see that!” after he either saw something interesting or did something awesome.

If you say “no”, depending on his mood he might get grumpy or might just do it again.  If you say “yes” he’ll give you one of his signature hugs and continue to drag you away to do something else.

He might forget you’re there sometimes, which would be the best moment to escape, but if he notices you again, he gets all excited and will pull you in a hug and describe everything you missed (even though you’ve been there the entire time).

He’s not really accustomed to the land culture, so most of his gifts will be customs from the Coral Sea.

They might be shiny rocks he found that reminded him of you or trinkets from sunken ships. If you don’t keep every single treasure he gives you, he’d probably throw a fit or think that you want something more and will go all out with his next gift.

Because of his unpredictable attitude, when he sees you spending less time with him and talking to someone else, he’d probably either walk away, plotting murder, or approach you and swing an arm around you shoulder with his lazy grin, showing off his sharp teeth, before asking who you’re talking to.

Is not afraid to resort to murder. It's actually usually his first idea for dealing with unwanted obstacles.  He’d probably kill in a very violent method, maybe chasing his prey around to tire them out before jumping out of nowhere and bashing their head in.

If he really dislikes the person, he might even lure them to the sea so he’d have the physical advantage in his eel form.

Employs Jade to help him clean up the bloody mess, but he’s careless, so if you look closely, he might have some mysterious red stains on his shirt.

Overall, you may not be accustomed to the ways he shows his love, but he means well in general.  His Danger Level is a 10/10 because of his unpredictable mood swings and his quickness to choose violence as the answer.  If you follow him around and stay attentive to his changes in mood, you have a chance at staying on his good side and surviving his daily adventures.

[zepskies]

Love Actually - Part 1

Paring: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system.  

AN: Here’s my last entry for the TGWRC: Christmas in July event! It’s set in the same world as “Break Me Down,” and set before “Checkerboard.” But this can be read as a stand-alone! Hope you enjoy…

Theme: Christmas movies Prompt: “That’s a poor excuse for a tree.” 

Word Count: 3,100 Tags/Warnings: SB being himself, wee bit of angst, potential fluff overload! 

Part 1: "Humbug"

He was late. 

It was Christmas Eve, and your boyfriend was late. 

With a large bowl of popcorn in your lap, you sank further into your favorite corner of the couch, drumming your nails on its arm. 

Your favorite Christmas movie played on the ridiculously large flatscreen Ben had insisted on when you two moved into this apartment. But you couldn’t get into the story like you normally would.

It was the first Christmas you and Ben were spending together since he’d started working with, instead of against Supe Affairs and the CIA. In fact, he was on an extended mission—hunting down a rogue supe in Idaho, of all places.

Freakin’ Idaho. Goddamn potatoes, you thought irrationally, shoving another handful of popcorn into your mouth.  

While he’d been gone, you went all out in decorating the apartment: red and white candles, stockings, various ornaments, multicolored string lights, and poinsettias. You’d even found a nice little tree that fit in the only free corner of the living room.

Well, you’d had to rearrange some furniture to make that happen, but in the end you’d succeeded. It felt like you were living at the bottom of a snow globe.

You hadn’t heard from Ben at all in over two weeks. The day he left you outside your office in the Surveillance department replayed often in your mind.

Two weeks ago…

“Don’t give me that face, baby doll.” 

Ben quirked a smile at your concerned frown, and he propped a gentle fist under your chin. You crossed your arms.  

You knew he had to go. Butcher and the rest of the guys were waiting outside the S.A. office. And you were proud of him for what he was doing, genuinely trying to put in the work on this “hero” thing. But you didn’t have to like the timing. It was only two weeks until Christmas.

“Fine,” you agreed. “Just get this guy quick. I don’t want to hear my aunt’s shady-ass sniping. Every time I show up to a family gathering by myself, she starts plotting my arranged marriage to her fucking pediatrist, her divorce attorney—mind the irony there—or even the guy who packages meat at the grocery store—” 

“All right, Christ. I’ll be back in fucking time,” said Ben. He grabbed your arms to stop your verbal flapping. Then with a grin, his hands moved to the curve of your waist, down to get a healthy grip of your ass. 

“’Sides, I’m the only one flingin’ meat around here,” he said with a deepening smirk. 

You rolled your eyes, but a smile threatened to take over your frown as he pulled you flush against him, trapping your hands against his broad chest. You found purchase on the hard fabric of his uniform. 

“You’re so gross,” you said. But you pulled him down for a searing kiss. If you weren’t going to see his handsome face for a while, then you were going to make the most of this moment. 

And it seemed your boyfriend felt the same way; his arms wrapped around your frame like steel bands. Your fingers swept through his hair as your tongue slipped into his mouth, making his grip on you tighten with a pleased hum. 

“Oi! Sid and fuckin’ Nancy,” Butcher called from down the hall. “Got a fucking job to do. Today, if you don’t mind.”

Ben broke away from you, just enough to frown in irritation over your head. 

“Calm your fucking tits, Churchill. I’ll leave when I’m good and damn ready.”

You couldn’t help but giggle into his chest.

Now, it was quite literally hours away from Christmas Day. 

You would be seeing your family tomorrow, regardless. You and Ben were supposed to go to your mother’s house for dinner. But you were starting to think that he might not make it tonight, let alone tomorrow. 

And if you had to deal with your aunt nosing into your personal business again, your hand might just “slip” while pouring yourself a rum-filled eggnog, so you wouldn’t be held liable for your actions when you inevitably snapped on the bitch.

Sighing, you continued munching on some popcorn while you focused on one of your favorite parts of Love Actually. Hugh Grant was shaking his ass to “Jump In” by the Pointer Sisters.

The music was infectious, and you found yourself doing a little shimmy yourself on the couch in time with one of your favorite rom-com Brits. 

With the TV volume as loud as it was, not even the door of your apartment unlocking could stop your mini-jam session. 

And the door soon opened, revealing a dusty, soot-covered Benjamin, still in his supe suit and tactical gear. He took a small step back when the gaudy Christmas décor assaulted his eyes, but he blinked through it as he turned his head. 

His lips curved at the familiar sight of you—bundled up in your pajamas and a fuzzy blanket on the couch, bopping to the beat of some shitty ‘80s song he actually recognized. You were alternatively mouthing the words and eating fistfuls of popcorn. 

Shaking his head, Ben stepped into the apartment and shut the door with some force. You finally perked up at the sound, your smile alight with happiness when you realized he was home. That alone made him soften a bit. 

“Ben!” You paused your movie and bounded over to greet him with a warm hug and a deep kiss.  

He brushed your hair back and allowed himself to revel in the familiarity of you in his arms. 

“Aren’t you a fucking sight,” he murmured.

Ben was still getting used to having someone to come home to, but it was grounding. This place was his home now, mostly because you were in it.  

“You okay? How did it go?” you asked, wiping off some soot from his cheek. 

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Ben offered you a cocky smile. “We smoked that pyro bitch.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You what?”

“Relax, the supe’s alive,” he said, rolling his eyes, as if it grated him to admit it. He wouldn’t tell you that the supe had two broken arms and probably a crack in his skull. “Being shipped off to prison as we speak.”

You nodded with a smile. “Good. I’m proud of you.” 

His lips pulled at a grin. But then you took his face between your hands with a hard slap (though it didn’t even sting, the point was made in your annoyed frown). 

“You’re late,” you said. Ben raised a brow. 

“Excuse me?” he said. 

“You heard me. You’re fucking late,” you repeated. “Go take a shower. I already started the first movie without you.” 

You tugged him by the hand and all but pushed him into the hall that led to your shared bedroom. 

Ben wasn’t one to be manhandled though. He dug his heels in obstinately. 

“Christ, I just got home. All I want to do is sleep…unless you want to give me a proper fucking welcome.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder with a more than suggestive smirk. He turned around and pulled you into his firm chest. His hands smoothed down your back and squeezed your hips, with his thumbs dragging under the hem of your pajama top.

While your lips threatened a smile, you had to wonder how he had enough energy for reunion sex, but not enough to watch a simple movie. 

Still, his offer was all-too tempting, making heat prickle along your skin wherever he touched. Nonetheless, you managed to remain stubborn and pushed gently against his chest.

“Down, boy,” you said. “If I let you get your hands on me now, I’ll never get through my list.”

First it was Love Actually, then Christmas Vacation, followed swiftly by Home Alone and its sequel, Lost In New York. 

Ben frowned at you. “So? Watch ‘em tomorrow.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, it’s Christmas Eve.”

You gestured to all your hard work in the form of the decorated apartment.

“Tomorrow, we have dinner at my mom’s house. So tonight, you’re gonna go shower," you said, pointing at him. "I’m going to make some more hot chocolate, and we’re watching all manner of cheesy, romantic, and downright silly Christmas movies until your Grinch-ass gets some holiday spirit.”

Ben released a tired sigh and dropped his hands away from you.

“I haven’t slept in three fucking days," he said. "I’m not staying up all night again for some corny bullshit.”

You frowned in disappointment. 

“Ben, come on. Please?” you tried, but he just waved a dismissive hand and continued his way to the bedroom.

For a moment, you watched him go in disbelief. Was he really going to be like that? 

With a flash of hot annoyance, you huffed and decided that you weren’t going to let him ruin the night for you. 

So you went into the kitchen and whipped up some hot cocoa, breaking out the actual Godiva chocolate bars you bought just for this moment. You poured out one mug initially. But you listened to the old water pipes working, knowing that Ben must’ve been taking a shower. 

You knew he wasn’t just tired. He didn’t seem to be looking forward to tomorrow either, and  was going along with it for your sake. Which, to be fair, could just mean he still wasn’t totally comfortable around your family. (Your sister Luisa still hadn’t totally warmed up to him.)

You also had a feeling that he just wasn’t into Christmas.

The question was why… 

But you poured a mug for him anyway, adding some mini marshmallows into each one. You brought both mugs with you back to the living room and set them down on the coffee table. 

Getting comfortable on the couch again, complete with your blanket, mug, and the popcorn bowl, you pressed “play” and continued watching the movie…even though you felt just a bit lonelier. 

But then, a weight dropped on the other end of the couch. You flinched and looked over at your now clean and pajama-clad boyfriend, who eyed you begrudgingly with his arms crossed over a soft plain shirt. 

You smiled at him warmly. “Hey, baby.”

His grouchy face was the very picture of “humbug.” Biting your lip, you set down the popcorn on the coffee table and handed him the spare cup of hot chocolate. 

“I made some for you,” you said. He gave you a brief nod and took a dutiful sip. But not even rich, chocolatey goodness could curb his sour mood as he stared blandly at the screen. 

You knew that face. That was his, I’ll do this for you, but I’m not gonna fucking like it—face. 

When he stifled a yawn, you knew that he hadn’t been lying. He really was tired. Sometimes you forgot that while Ben was all but indestructible, even he had his limits. Chasing that rogue supe across the country must’ve taken it out of him, even if he wouldn’t admit it. 

So you reached over and plucked the mug out of his hand. His brows knit together as he watched you set it down on the coffee table with yours. Then you grabbed his hand. 

“Come ‘ere,” you said, tugging him toward you. 

“What now?” he groused. 

“Just come on. Don’t bitch,” you teased. You guided him to lay across the couch, with his head pillowed in your lap. You grabbed an extra throw blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over him, making sure that it covered him up to his chest. 

“What am I, a damn kid?” he said. But you knew his griping had no real weight. Already he was humming deep with pleasure as your fingers carded through his soft brown hair. You let your nails drag lightly over his scalp, massaging his head. Your free hand stroked his cheek. 

Ben closed his eyes for a moment and let out a sigh through his nose. The movie continued to play, but you were no longer paying much attention. This was more important. 

When he opened his eyes again, they were drawn to the small, four-foot Christmas tree in the corner of the room, next to the TV. 

“That’s a poor fucking excuse for a tree,” he said. 

You frowned and followed his gaze. 

“I think it’s adorable,” you replied. And it was the only one you thought would fit in this cozy, but very narrow apartment. 

Ben’s arms crossed over his blanket.

“I’ll go tomorrow, find us a real fucking tree,” he said. 

Your frown deepened a little. “But I already decorated this one. All by myself, I might add.”

He eyed you then, a bit softer.

“All right, we’ll get a second one for the dining room,” he grumbled. “Getting the tree up is a man’s job anyway.”

You rolled your eyes at that. But you tried to see if there was anything deeper to read in his words. Not for the first time, you wondered how he’d spent his holidays in the past. No doubt with a lot of fanfare and celebrity parties during his hay day as Soldier Boy. You were more interested in his life before that.   

“I remember, my mom would run the show at Christmas,” Ben said.

You blinked down at him in surprise. Without knowing, he’d opened up on your exact curiosity. 

Or maybe he just knew you better than you thought.

“She’d have all the help in a damn tear around the house. Cooking, decorating, the whole nine yards. It was a perfect scene, like something out of a catalogue,” said Ben. “But getting the tree was always my dad’s job. His only job, really.”

You smiled and continued to listen with rapt attention. Your thumb continued to stroke along his neck. 

“One year, he got this massive one. Must’ve been…I don’t know, twenty feet. I don’t even know how he got it through the door, but he was mighty fucking proud of himself,” Ben said.

His gaze trailed beyond you, lost in faded memories. They played in his mind like a reel, wordless, but bright and warm. 

“Who decorated it?” you asked. Your voice drew his attention back. 

“Me and him,” Ben admitted, surprising you yet again. “Meanwhile, Mom baked up a storm for the Christmas party they threw every year…”

It was a rare moment where Ben recalled what seemed to be a nice memory of his father. But soon enough, the nostalgia dimmed from his eyes.

He cleared his throat and swiped a hand over his mouth, as if that could erase his moment of vulnerability. 

Then he turned to face the TV screen. 

“So what’s even happening here? Seems like there’s four goddamn movies playing at once.”

You cracked a smile and continued brushing your fingers through his hair. You also rewinded the movie so he could actually follow the story.

“Yeah, that’s what makes this movie so classic. See, there’s Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman. They’re married, kids, the perfect life, right? But he’s actually cheating on her with a younger, sluttier woman.”

“…And this is a fucking Christmas movie?”

“Yeah, you’ll see. Then there’s Liam Neeson.”

Ben perked up at that. “The Taken guy?” 

You nodded. “Yep! He’s a widower, but he has a stepson who’s got a sweet little crush. So he’s gonna try and help the kid impress the girl by helping him learn the drums.”

Your boyfriend nodded. 

“Musicians get plenty of pussy, that’s for damn sure,” he said. And with a knowing grin, “Actors get more though.”

You snorted and pointed to Hugh Grant next. “He’s my favorite. He’s playing the Prime Minister, who falls in love with his assistant, Natalie. That’s her right there.”

Ben raised a brow at your choice of “favorite.” If nothing else, he noted your type for older men. 

But he smirked when Natalie kept verbally fumbling in Hugh’s presence, then stared along with the Prime Minister at the woman’s ass when she walked away at the end of the scene.  

“Hmm, I’ll admit. She’s got a juicy peach,” Ben remarked. You laughed and hit his shoulder playfully. It worked an amused smile onto his face. 

He took your hand from his shoulder and pressed the back of it to his lips. You blinked down at him, and you warmed with a smile at seeing his more relaxed face. 

He kept your hand on his chest, his thumb drawing back and forth over your wrist. 

So you proceeded to explain the various angles of the movie until he was all caught up. 

You two watched the rest of it together. Like always, you cried when Colin Firth poured his heart out to his housekeeper, Aurélia, half in his mangled Portuguese and half in English. You cried again when Emma’s character finally confronted her cheating bastard husband. 

And you held your breath when Hugh and Natalie kissed as the stage curtain fell down, revealing their relationship to the world. 

By the time the credits rolled, you were an emotional mess. You were happy though. Typically you’d watch this movie with your sister, but it was nice to share the holidays with someone… 

Someone who loved you enough to curb his Grinch attitude about cheesy romantic things, like tree decorating and watching rom-coms with hot cocoa. 

You glanced down, and sure enough, Ben was asleep. He had turned onto his stomach. His head still rested in your lap, his cheek pillowed by your thigh, and he had a hand curled around your leg. Your big, growling bear of a man had a gooey center that sometimes surprised even you. 

For one mischievous moment, you considered sticking a piece of popcorn up his nose. 

He looked so damn peaceful that you didn’t want to ruin it…yet now you couldn’t get up either. 

Shit, you thought, but your grin was soft. Oh, whatever. Sleep is overrated.

You queued up Chevy Chase’s Christmas Vacation next in your movie marathon and settled in. You laid a gentle hand on Ben’s back, between his broad shoulders. 

And his story about his parents returned to the forefront of your mind.

Maybe he didn’t hate Christmas. Maybe it was just difficult for him to remember the genuinely good ones. Maybe he missed his parents; both of them, despite how contentious it had been between him and his father. 

You could certainly understand that. But now, you would make sure he would remember this one for the “good” column.

You only startled a little when your cell phone chimed on the coffee table. The screen read 12:00 a.m. It was officially December 25th. 

You then felt Ben’s warm hand squeeze your leg. His eyes were still shut though, his breathing deep and even in sleep. 

With a smile, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

And you whispered in his ear, “Merry Christmas, Ben.”

AN: Yay! I hope you liked this fluffy one for SB. 🎄❤️

Did you like Ben's little day trip down memory lane? Let me know in the comments! 😘

**Note: There will be two more parts to this due to popular request!

Keep Reading: PART 2

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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