#hes such a fucking asshole i need more of him

[gojosprettyprincess]

₊˚ෆ HOW TOJI DEALS WITH OTHER MEN LIKING YOU <3

Tw- breeding, mentions of violence (not towards you), video recording. Not proofread

“Nuh uh don't hide this fucking pussy, show him how much you're creamin’ on my cock, don’t go all shy on me darling”. Toji laughed mockingly, his large hand effortlessly clasping both of your wandering wrists above your head to prevent any escape while using your phone to zoom in on the icky view of the mess between your mellowed thighs.

A streak of milky wetness glistened all over his massive cock, cascading down to his aching balls that were being captured in the filthy mess anyways because of how it's continuously slamming against your asshole that was coated with the cream that seeped out your gooey cunt.

"Fuck yeah, ya see that? See how this cute little pussy is wetting my dick? She sure as hell must be fucking loving it to be making this hell of a mess," he declared proudly. His deep, husky laugh resonated throughout the room, leaving no doubt that Toji was most likely losing his mind over the situation.

A few minutes earlier you told him about the guy from your class who confessed his feelings to you and you’re very uncertain about how to respond so you asked your boyfriend for some advice and well he decided to matters into his own hands.

“Tojii.. l-let go!” You cried out, attempting to dig your nails into his wrists as if that would make any difference, considering how fucking strong he is that it made your efforts almost laughably worthless.

“Nah don't think I want to darling, this fucker needs to know who the hell you belong to” he gritted his teeth at the thought of the guy even having the audacity to think you'd date him. You're all his and he would go to extreme lengths to ensure it remains that way.

The two of you were undeniably meant for each other and there was no fucking way in hell Toji would let some random fucker take you away from him.

“You wish this was you huh? Too fucking bad it's all mine to stuff and fuck, she belongs to me. Keep texting her and I’ll find you and bash your stupid fucking head in. Ya hear me?”. His brutal words cut through the air with a sharp edge, conveying possessiveness and veiled threats. It reverberated loudly, ensuring every detail was captured in the recording that the guy will be listening to soon after this.

His voice was deeper and harsher than normal, making your little cunt flutter even more around his stiffened shaft.

Which he obviously picked up on. “Ohhh you're such a slutty fucking whore baby, who am I kidding.” his grip on your bruised hands tightened. Threatening to leave more red, angry marks as he buckled his hips harshly into your ruined pussy. The force of his hips as he pushed into you aggressively showed literally no mercy.

“You’ll never fucking leave me, you're too fucking obsessed that your little cunt is twitching around me to the thought of me killing another man for you huh?”.

“N-no—” you stammered, turning your head away to look the other direction which made his grin widen even more as he playfully licked the faded scar on his lips because it had always been an indication of you lying whenever you looked away from him like that.

“Aww, that's fine doll," he murmured softly, his gaze unwavering as he directed the phone towards your fucked out face. His body sank deeper, inching downwards until his face hovered mere inches from your own. "you know what I'm thinking?”.

You peered your eyes at him and held contact in sheer curiosity.

“I’ll just breed this pretty fucking pussy and fuck a baby into you, how's that sound? Huh? You'll be such a good Mommy to our kid” his breath is now fanning against your face. Your body quivered at the thought, a deep longing stirring within you.

The thought of his suggestion made you moan, not just a normal moan. There's no particular way to describe it but the thought of that made your mind blurry and hazed. You and Toji always talked about having children in a few years but there's no harm in one now.

His possessiveness drove you crazy. Sure you knew Toji wasn’t a saint or an angel because at the end of the day, he murdered people for a living and because of that alone— he knew about the lonesome dangers of the world so he’s extremely overprotective and you’d loved every bit of it.

The thought of Toji even thinking you’d leave him for anyone else was an insult towards you because both of you were perfect for each other in every way possible.

“Y-yes! yes please, wanna carry your baby!” you babbled over and over, nodding your head like some stupid bitch as he proudly smirked at your reaction in amusement. “Yeah? Want me to make you a mommy? Get you pregnant so you'll be all full and swollen? Then everyone is gonna fucking know who you belong to”. The glint in Toji’s eyes was so dark, that it almost had you scared for a moment.

“Yesyesyes, please, m’so desperate Toji, fill me up–” you whimpered, tears glistening in your eyes as you pleaded fervently.

“Yeah fuck that, y’know what—” he mumbled to himself with a brief pause to stop the recording on his phone and swiftly hitting the "send" button to the guy that’s currently and patientlyyy waiting for your response in the chat. He casually tossed the device to the side and embraced you tightly, his strong arms enveloping you and wrapped around your neck to hug you before vigorously slamming his hips into you in an intense pace.

Unfortunately, the poor guy never had the chance to witness the adorable blessing you and Toji shared several months later because your boyfriend assassinated him on his way home the very next afternoon because he tried to speak to you again in person.

[jimmy-buffet-babe]

{....well not to sound like a bitch, but i /did/ die. I've died a few times actually. Ten...oh this one would be....twenty...yeah! Twenty. Times. And this is the first time that anyone besides death is here to bring me back, and they're just here because technically they're the only one who CAN retrieve me due to legal reasons! So sorry if I'm a little shocked to see people actually show up for me instead of the other way around, Sorry if I'm concerned when I see one of my best friends upset who usually stands as far from me as possible and just gave me a big hug, sorry if i want you to be honest with your feelings instead of holding them all in and killing you faster!

And you know something? LUNA? there is a difference between being emotionless and being an asshole. You tread that line very thinly, my love. And yet, I forgive you still. But if you're gonna chew me out and you're gonna ride my ass every. Single. God. Damn. Time. That you have an emotional breakthrough. Well first off, I'm happy for you, glad to see you grow emotionally. Second off, atleast buy me a fucking dinner afterwards- I've done jackasses that do more for me for less!

And I'll tell you something else! You and your brother need to sit down, preferably with someone with therapy experience, and talk about this shit. Damn the fucking cosmic dickwads that make the stupid rules for everything and say you can't, they won't be able to shit if the FUCKING SUN AND MOON EXPLODE! Hell! I'll stop regenerating all together and turn to space dust! Last of my kind and nobody gives a fuck! Why should they?

I keep it a secret from everyone because I'm so fucking scared they'll take advantage of it and kill me just like they did with my family, and my baby! And yet! And yet here I am killing myself trying to make other people happy! To keep them safe! Because all I want is to have someone to be close to and to care for even if they don't give a shit about me. Even if they'd be better off draining the blood from my body and mounting my head on a wall. FUCK! I'm dating a contractor and so far he's the nicest guy I've been with in ages! And i don't care what every body else thinks of him because /i/ love him.......and i love you too. More than you know}

☆they look around at everyone, shaking now☆

" .....Sublime, I think that's enough- "

{Oh is it? Is it Elliot? Mr i don't give a fuck about what others have to say? Anyone ever wonder why you always work so closely with Lucifer???}

" sublime, i don't think- "

{ Think what, feldroy?? I didn't think you still /could/ think since you shipped yourself off to heaven}

" sublime- "

{ You're. Not. An. Angel. You are a beautiful, wonderful, eldritch being that happened to be born into one of the oldest and shittiest families among the olds ones-}

" Sublime that's enough, Feldroy /is/ an angel- "

{ But he's not! You are! You were! Only difference is you tried to make an honest suggestion to the big guy upstairs and got your ass kicked all the way down to Dantes curb!

I'm sick and tired of lying, and everyone else lying, and having to lie for everyone else. You want to be around me? You want to be a part of my life? Quit the fucking lying, be honest about your damn feels, and if you care about me FOR FUCK SAKE! JUST TELL ME!!! IM GOOD AT GIVING HUGS AND ADVICE, IM NOT A GOD DAMN MIND-READER PEOPLE!!!}

☆they broke off into sobs, shaking like a leaf as they fell to their knees, their scars glowing a sickly green.☆

The sound of an approaching train can be heard. Grab your tickets, hold em tight. It's gonna be one hell of a ride!~

Mr time

Mrs Earth

Ms judgement

Mr Hyde

Ms Octayve

Hm....guess they lost theirs

Ah!

And Mr Gecko.

ALL ABOARD!

[dixonsdarkelf]

Not An Invitation: Daryl Dixon & Fem!Reader

Full title: This is not an invitation (fuck you mean you need it?)

Summary: Shane never knew when he wasn't welcome in someone's space, and he was often invading yours. After one time too many, a certain archer comes to your defense. Inspired by the song 'Invitation' by Ashnikko.

Era: Season 2, Greene Farm

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: No use of y/n, swearing, Shane being a major-league creep

“I told you to leave me alone,” you protested. The anger you’d been able to keep at bay thus far threatened to bubble over, simmering just below boiling point under the surface. You were usually the more relaxed one in the group—calm, level-headed, and rational. You hated confrontation and aimed to avoid it at all costs. But you’d had enough.

Shane took a liking to you from the moment you arrived at the farm. He’d often find ways to get close to you, even if what he was supposed to be doing was nowhere near where you were. You’d told him to scram on more than one occasion, usually under the guise of needing to scamper off to do your chores.

One thing about Shane, however, was that he didn’t know how to take no for an answer.

“All I said was you’re lookin’ good today,” he repeated. With an eye roll heavy enough to nearly roll your head back with it, you rose from your spot on the porch and started walking away, knowing the asshole deputy was close behind.

“That isn’t all you said, and you know that,” you snapped, not so much as turning your head back to look at him as you kept walking. He’d said far more than just that, as he often did. His other commentary made your stomach churn, and it was enough for you to not ever think of repeating it.

“C’mon, it’s just a little harmless fun,” he sighed, picking up his pace to catch up to you. You swallowed hard and kept your eyes on the field in front of you. The only one having fun in this situation was him.

“Hardly call it harmless,” you scoffed. You heard him catch up to you, but before he could get close enough to reach for your arm, he was, as he would have put it, “rudely interrupted.”

Your saving grace approached from your peripheral, slipping past you without a word to confront the man on your heels. He stood between you, not quite completely shielding you from Shane’s prying eyes, but close. You couldn’t see, but you pictured his beautiful, piercing baby blues searing through Shane. It brought a hint of a smile to your face to know that, of all people who could’ve come to your defense, the handsome archer was the one.

Daryl Dixon was the quietest one of the group, often keeping to himself in his tent on the outskirts of your makeshift campsite. You’d heard him equated to a feral dog, minus the possible rabies. He was more than just a little rough around the edges, but you saw right through it. You knew there was more to the man behind the crossbow.

Shane had taken a liking to you, but you had taken a liking to Daryl.

“Think she said to back off,” Daryl cut in. You looked up at him. eyes traveling from his chestnut locks to his broad shoulders and up to the beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck. Some would say it was from the heat. Others might say it was from anger.

“Don’t think I was talkin’ to you, Dixon.” Having been a cop in the old world, Shane was used to bossing people around without any back talk. His voice was rigid, sharp enough to slice through anyone who got in his way. Except for Daryl.

“Dun’ think she was wantin’ to talk to ya,” he repeated, more stern this time. He held his crossbow firmly in his hands, 

You’d never seen him use it on anyone in the group

When Daryl didn’t so much as flinch, Shane took one last look at you before walking off, his tail between his legs. You hadn’t realized that every muscle in your body tensed up, but the moment Shane was out of sight, you relaxed, quickly steadying yourself. Once you did, you went to turn to Daryl, but during your moment of unsteadiness, he’d pondered off. You would just have to thank him later.

Later that afternoon, after all your work had been completed, you wandered over to Daryl’s tent, half-expecting him to not be there. Yet there he was, carving a stick into a bolt for the thousandth time. You ran a hand through your hair to brush it out of your eyes before gathering the courage to get close enough to talk to him. Once you were only a few feet away, he looked up at you, those gorgeous pools of blue making your heart stop.

This was the closest in proximity you two had ever been while alone.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you,” you said, your voice timid in comparison to your usual confidence. You had no evidence that you’d spooked him, but you were nervous, and not knowing what else to say to start the conversation, that’s what came out.

“Dun’ get spooked,” he replied, focusing his attention back on the stick in his hands. The movements of his knife were fluid, easy, like he’d done it so many times, he could do it in his sleep. It was simultaneously attractive and terrifying.

“I, umm…” your voice trailed off, the whole monologue you’d prepared in your head being dwindled down to two simple words as your nerves took over, “thanks, Daryl.”

He looked back up at you again. “For what?”

“For earlier,” you explained, “for what happened with Shane.” You lowered yourself slowly, hesitantly, as if you were still deciding whether or not to sit down despite doing so. You made sure to keep your distance as to respect his personal space.

“Wasn’t nothin’,” he assured, pausing his handiwork, “asshole’s bein’ a creep. Someone had to put ‘em in his place.”

A small smile graced your lips. “Well, if meant a lot to me.” He simply nodded and continued what he was doing, but you weren’t finished. “He said a lot worse, y’know? You just weren’t around for that.”

Daryl’s gaze scanned over you, like he was trying to read between the empty spaces of your words, eager for more details but not pressing. He’d known Shane for far longer than you had, and he was well-aware of the kind of shit he’d said to women in the past. The thought of him saying such vile things to you made him sick, but he kept his expression stoic, same as always.

You echoed your earlier words, your voice thick with emotion. “So…thank you.”

“Dun’ mention it,” he reassured. For a brief moment, you thought you’d caught a glimpse, a tiny hint, of a smile from the archer. However, it was so quick, almost like a glitch, and you couldn’t be sure.

“Do you mind if I stay here for a while? I don’t exactly feel like going back to the others yet,” you confessed. 

“Long as ya promise to be quiet,” he teased, “had enough yappin’ from Sheriff Shithead already.”

You chuckled softly and dropped your gaze for a moment before meeting his again. For a brief moment, his heart stopped, taking in the stunning sight and sound in front of him. Your laugh was like music to his ears. “I can do that.”

The silence between you was soft, comfortable, the only sounds around you being the birds in the trees and his knife scraping across yet another stick. And you sat just like that for hours, not bothered that barely a word was exchanged.

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie @holdmytesseract @dixons-sunshine

GIF and copyright below by me, sparkle dividers by @anitalenia

[lovecoree]

༄ SAD GIRL H. HYUNJIN !

PAIRING✰ — husband!hyunjin x blackwife!reader ft. Chan

synopsis: arguing with your husband and soon to be father of your child was not something you like to do, especially when your water breaks at the worst time.

genre: angst

warning: arguing, foul language, hyunjin is mean in the beginning :(, fluff ending!

this is an anonymous request <3! first angst post hope you like it !

“Fuck, you’re unbelievable right now.” Hyunjin shook his head feeling frustrated by the minute. He watched you with a heavy glare as you accused him of cheating. All because you seen his ex girlfriend constantly calling him and sending a bunch of text messages, every chance she gets. It angered you how Hyunjin wasn’t taking you seriously and made it seem like you’re the problem in this situation. “Are you serious right now? Why are you ok with your ex texting and calling you?!” Your voice grew louder as each word tumbled out of your mouth, remembering the exact moment you saw her name pop up ten minutes ago before the argument.

“Jesus y/n— she’s going through a hard time—”

“And I’m not?”

Your voice was starting to shake while tears welled up in your eyes at his excuse. Hyunjin words died down as he glanced down at your stomach, a little bit of it peeking out from the bottom of your white cozy sweater you wore. His eyes darting back up to you, your mind racing as you didn’t expect him to roll his eyes while running a hand through his dark long hair, a habit of his that he’ll never get rid of. “Y/n I get that you are pregnant, but the world is still spinning it doesn’t stop for you.” Hyunjin spoke with an irritated tone, words already spewing out and too late to regret what he had said. The first tear drop graced your face as you looked at him with disgust.

The husband you loved was defending the actions of his ex girlfriend and could care less about you, his pregnant wife.

“You’re an asshole, you know that? Are you seriously justifying her actions right now! Fuck, I know the world doesn’t stop spinning for me, but at least have a fucking brain to know that your ex shouldn’t be texting and calling you in the first place!” You cried out letting tears stream down your face, all the pent up anger and sadness spilling out all at once, the aching pain from your heart as you felt so many emotions at once. “I’m your wife and you’re belittling my feelings.” You sniffed, eyes filled with tears.

Hyunjin sighed heavily, feet moving towards the couch to grab his phone and keys. Looking at him with confusion, you watched him pass you without even a glance your way and heading straight to the door. “W-Where are you going?” Your voice broke down even more as Hyunjin looked your way. “I need some air, that’s all.” He said, but you knew he was basically telling you he had enough which only made you frustrated. Before you could even say something or stop him, he was already out the door. The sound of the front door slammed shut made you flinch.

You couldn’t help but cry even more, mind going crazy from overthinking. You and Hyunjin would have disagreements from time to time, but they were never serious and easily forgotten. This was the first argument that put you in the situation where you felt alone and seem crazy. Hyunjin made you feel like you were the problem and it slowly started getting to your head? Am I over reacting? Should I say sorry?

You are so stressed about the situation, your body started to tense up and your contractions started to kick in, but even more painful. “Shit!” You glanced down at your sweatpants seeing a wet spot forming. Your water broke and you didn’t know what to do but cry in pain. Your mind went back to Hyunjin, wishing y’all never argued and wanting him helping you through this painful situation. You slowly made your way to your bedroom, each step painful as you made your way to the nightstand to grab your phone. You quickly pressed Hyunjin’s number.

“Hyunjin please.”

You cried painfully holding on to your stomach feeling the baby kicking. The call went straight to voicemail for the third time, having no choice you called your best friend Chan who answered after the third ring. “Hey y/n—” “Chan I need your help!” Your screams made Chan worried as he frantically asked what’s going on. “It’s a long s-story— fuck! Please my water broke and Hyunjin’s not answering his phone, fuck Chan it hurts.” You cried into the phone as you crouched next to the bed still holding your stomach. “Ok ok y/n ima need you to breathe in and out for me, I’m on my way as fast as I can.” Chan was quick to leave the house and drive over to your place.

He arrived in less than ten minutes, he has a key to y’all apartment since you and Hyunjin trust only him that much. You hear footsteps approaching your room, you glanced up to see the door open and a panic Chan looking at you worried. He came closer to see you clutching your stomach, body glistening with a thin layer of sweat and you breathing how Chan told you to. “Hey, im here now let’s get you to a hospital.” Chan noticed your sweatpants were damped and was quick to cover your body with his jacket to properly shield you once he helped you up. He helped you along the way to his car and to the hospital.

Hyunjin arrived to the hospital once he received an angry call from Chan. He was out of breath as a ran towards the room the receptionist told him you were in. “Hyung…” Hyunjin breathed out, seeing Chan sitting outside your room. Chan eyes locked with Hyunjin and his face went cold. Chan was quick to stand up as Hyunjin cautiously approached the angry man. “Chan—” “The fuck is wrong with you, leaving her alone like that, especially when you’re in the wrong.” Hyunjin’s face dropped, feeling the guilt and shame while Chan shook his head, disappointed in his actions.

“I didn’t— fuck, I wasn’t—” Hyunjin stuttered feeling the first tear drop, feeling worse as he sobbed in the quiet hospital hallway. Chan sighed as a patted his friend’s back before bringing him into a tight hug. Chan was still mad at Hyunjin, but seeing him cry lets him know that he regretted what happened. “Stop crying and go apologize to your wife and see your child.” Chan said softly, backing away while Hyunjin wiped his tears before slowly opening the door.

The sight of you holding your new born child made hyunjin’s heart swell, wishing he was close to you during a difficult and precious time. You noticed him once he shut the door, your gaze going back to your baby not wanting to ruin such a precious moment for you. “Baby—”

“If you’re here to argue, I don’t want to hear it.” You mumbled softly not wanting to wake up your baby. Hyunjin frowned as he stepped closer, “No baby, I want to apologize.” Hyunjin voice came out soft and genuine, you looked him in the eyes to confirm that he was in fact sorry. Hyunjin sat down in the chair next to your bed, his eyes gazing at his baby, smile gracing his face.

“I want to apologize for my behavior, I shouldn’t have made you feel little in the situation that I was clearly wrong in. My ex means nothing to me I swear and I would never leave you or my child for her. I should have never even indulged into any sort of conversations with her, I made sure to block and delete her number. You mean so much to me and you’ve been through so much and I’m proud to have a beautiful strong wife like you.” Hyunjin’s words brought tears to not only his, but your eyes.

“Dammit Hyunjin, I’m supposed to be mad at you.” You smiled watching him laugh before coming close to place a soft kiss to your lips. “Thank you for apologizing, I’m just a little sad you wasn’t here to hear your baby’s first cry.” You pouted causing Hyunjin to frown a little. “I know..I know, I’m here now and I’m not leaving.” He promised glancing down at his baby.

“Can..can I hold…” His words died down looking at you. “Her..and of course you can hold her.” You chuckled lightly, lifting her up slowly towards him. He gently held his daughter in his arms, heart beaming with joy at the feeling. A smile gracing his face as he took in her facial features. “Gosh, she is beautiful just like her mother.” He complimented placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before doing the same to you, smiling as you grew shy at his affection.

“I love you both dearly.”

[godmadeaterribleerror]

If You Only Knew Pt. 2

Main Masterlist

Read on A03! - Part 1

Tags: Soldier Boy/Female Reader, tooth rotting fluff, pining, emotions (oh no), smut (fingering, oral f!receiving, p in v)

Title from I Can See You by Taylor Swift.

Summary/Warnings: Request from an anon! Ben is experiencing feelings. Real feelings. For a woman. But his reputation his proceeds him, so trying to win her over is taking a while. Once he gets a chance, he simply fucking refuses to blow it.

Author's Note: Nothing better than making a man be down bad.

Word Count: 8.5k

He’d pulled out the fucking stops. Ben didn’t even know what the fucking stops were, but he’d pulled them out. He was going to make every goddamn romance in history look fucking pathetic. She was going to swoon and fall into his arms like a movie, and he’d kiss Her like the hero he was, and then he’d have Her forever.

Just Her. All for him. 

If Ben did this right—and he would, because he was a goddamn gentleman and not a fucking pussy asshole who would fail the first woman who’d managed to make his heart move—he’d get to have Her forever. He’d have one fucking person he didn’t need to prance around like a monkey for, who he could walk home to, smile at, and fucking mean it. One person he actually liked, who didn’t want to see him do a trick or say the right thing, who just wanted him. Who spoke to him without fear, but still with reverence, because Ben would make Her fall for him so fucking hard, she’d finally feel all these stupid goddamn emotions he’d been plagued with over the last year. 

Ben would do whatever the hell he needed to for Her feel this. This strange fucking pull to be near Her all the goddamn time, and serve her, and talk to her. He’d throw everything he had into showing Her that he felt it—more than he’d ever felt fucking anything—and that if She could feel it too, he’d never allow her to stop feeling it. He’d fucking worship Her. He’d be whatever She needed him to be. 

And She just seemed to want Ben to be Ben. 

Which made him fall harder. 

And made him all the more resolved to romance the fucking Christ out of Her. 

He was picking Her up. Standing outside Her apartment with a bouquet of flowers like some goddamn idiot. Shifting on his feet as he waited for Her, because her roommates said she was still getting ready, and Ben wasn’t allowed inside. 

Her roommates didn’t really seem to like him. Ben didn’t really fucking care what they thought. They weren’t Her, and she was the only one who fucking mattered right now. Maybe ever.

Christ on a cross, that would be nice. If She got to be the only thing that mattered to Ben. If Ben got to be the only thing that mattered to Her.

He should knock on the door again, because it could not take that fucking long to get ready for a date. Ben had done fucking everything—suit, shaving, shoes, cologne—and that had taken him five goddamn minutes. Maybe those fucking bitches were trying to talk Her out of this. Trying to tell Her that Ben wasn’t serious about her, and she shouldn’t waste Her time with him.

She needed to waste Her time with him. Ben was here to do fucking everything with Her, and that included wasting time. Together. If he had it his way, they’d waste time all fucking night, and then keep wasting it for another million years.

He needed to break that fucking door down. He’d fix it after, too, for Her. He’d do fucking anything for Her, and if she was having doubts, he needed to kill them-

The door swung open only a second before his fist went flying, and Ben felt like he’d gotten punched.

She was flawless. Fucking gorgeous, designed by goddamn heaven and sent to Earth like some star that never burned out. Ben had never seen anything like Her, in front of him and smiling. Perfectly colored lips and styled hair and sinful body, more beautiful every second because She was being beautiful for Ben. She always looked like a fucking incarnation of Ben’s fantasies and dreams—no matter what She wore or how she did her makeup—and he’d seen Her look like this a million times for charity galas, but it had never been for Ben.

She’d chosen that dress for him. She’d done Her hair because they were going out. She picked a lipstick she wanted Ben to see.

And if Ben did this fucking right—did this like She deserved—he could have that color staining his cock by the end of the night. 

“Hi.” She whispered, giving him a sweet smile, and Ben was going to fucking explode. “I’m sorry about my roommates. They’re protective.”

“Good.” He grunted, glaring over Her head. “You deserve to be protected. But they don’t have to fucking protect you from me!”

She raised Her brows, even as a faint, pretty flush crept over her face. “I don’t think that’s going to convince them, Ben.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” He muttered, moving his gaze back to Her. Christ, She was too goddamn beautiful. It was trapping him in a loop. “You look fucking hot.”

“Thank you. You, um, you too.” 

Her voice sounded breathy, and She was looking at Ben like she wanted to jump on him. He needed to keep that look on Her face for the rest of goddamn time.

The stops. Ben needed to pull out the fucking stops.

“These are for you.” He shoved the flowers into Her hands, scanning over Her pretty features to check that they had the intended effect. They seemed to. Her eyes widened, her mouth fell open, and Ben could hear her heart do a little stumble in Her chest, so he was pretty damn sure they’d worked.

“Ben-“

“There’s paper in my car, too.” Ben jumped in, because She needed to know about everything before She formed an opinion. “And a fuck ton of pencils.”

She blinked at him. “Why?”

“You said you needed more paper and pencils.”

“I said-“ She swallowed, Her body leaning a little closer to his. That seemed good. “I said I needed more paper and pencils, so you bought me more paper and pencils?”

Ben frowned. He was pretty he’d made that damn clear. “What the fuck else was I supposed to do.”

“Nothing.” She smiled at Ben. The soft smile. He’d fucking nailed it. “Thank you, Ben.”

He grunted, offering Her his arm. “Are you ready.”

She nodded, disappearing back into Her apartment for only a second to put the flowers in a vase before returning, fucking smiling at him again, and letting Ben lead Her out of her shitty apartment building to his car. She looked fucking right in his car. The seat molded perfectly around Her, she was beautiful at Ben’s side, and this was where She belonged. Where Ben could touch Her—his hand curled into a fist in an effort to not touch Her, not yet—and she could be comfortable. In luxury. 

She deserved luxury more than fucking pussy Ben knew. More than the assholes who already had it, more than the brown-nosing dick-riders who chased it at Vought. Ben could fucking give it Her. She didn’t even have to ask, and he’d move the world onto a platter at Her feet. Because She was real, and beautiful, and so fucking sweet Ben got a little fucking high on it when She spoke. When She told him about all her students in the car, and giggled at his jokes. When She smiled at him in the golden light of the road, took his hand out of the car with sparkling eyes, and leaned into his touch as he guided Her into the empty restaurant.

He could get used to this. To the look of wide, blatant awe on Her face as they were led to their table—it was a nice fucking restaurant, and Ben had picked it out specifically for Her, so that was another damn good sign—and the way that whenever their eyes met, she’d give him that soft smile again.

“Ben.” She whispered as they sat down. “Where are all the other people?”

He shrugged, giving the waiter a curt nod as he poured the water and left them alone. “Not fucking here, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, I know that. Why aren’t they here?”

“Probably because I rented the place.”

She sat a little taller, and Her expression open as her lips parted and brow furrowed. 

“What’s-“

“The whole restaurant?” Her voice was barely a breath, and Ben frowned. 

“Obviously,” He grunted, trying to work out why the fuck this was freaking Her out. “Do you not like it?”

“Not at all, it’s just-“ She pulled her lower lip between Her teeth, fingers fidgeting with her napkin. “You didn’t have to do that. For me.”

Ben scowled. “Of course I fucking had to-“

“Ben-“

“Sweetheart, if I didn’t, people would be gawking at us all damn night. Sticking their fucking noses in your business, crawling up your taint like they’re always up mine.” Ben leaned forward, holding Her wide gaze. She needed to know he was serious. That She was damn worth this, and Ben would keep Her safe. Keep Her at peace, away from the fucking vultures and monsters, at Vought and in the media. “This is for us, babygirl. I’m not going let any fucking pussy bother you, let anyone look at you who you don’t want to. And nobody,” he shot Her a wink. “Is going to crawl up your taint but me.”

She giggled, Her body relaxing, and Ben counted that as another fucking victory. “That’s gross, Ben.”

“It’s true.” He shrugged, bracing his forearms on the table. “Until you say the word, nobody’s going to know fucking shit about us.”

“The waiters will know.” She pointed out, even as the pretty flush returned. “About… us.”

Christ, the word us had never sounded so fucking good. Ben never wanted to hear anyone but Her say it again. He never wanted it to mean anyone but them. Her and Ben. Us. Something he could defend and protect and keep just for them, together.

He chuckled. “The waiters will keep their pussy fucking mouths shut, if they know what’s good for them.”

She rolled Her eyes, but her smile remained. “You’d murder a waiter for me?”

She was joking. Ben would murder a waiter for Her, if she asked—She never would, but if she did, she wouldn’t even have to say please—but She was joking, so he just laughed.

“For you, I’d kill the damn president.”

Another fucking giggle escaped her. Ben wanted to bottle that sound and shoot it into his blood like goddamn heroine. “That’s not very American of you, Soldier-“

“Don’t fucking say it.” He raised an accusing finger at Her, even as a smile tugged at his mouth. “It’s Ben to you, sweetheart.”

She hummed, raising Her brows slightly. “Is it Ben for all the other girls, too?” 

“Wouldn’t know.” He leaned forward with a smirk, lowering his voice to the rumble that always seemed to make that slack, wanting expression pop up. “There aren’t any other girls.”

“Oh.” She whispered, and there it was. Ben had Her. So fucking close. “No girls?”

“No girls,” Ben’s voice was firm as he said Her name, because he’d had countless other women in his bed but none of them had been his. None of them had been even fucking close to what She was, what Ben hoped she could be to him. “I was damn serious, sweetheart. I haven’t fucked another woman in a year.”

She swallowed. “For me?”

He nodded, watching Her carefully, and she gave him a soft, slightly nervous smile.

“No sex?” She raised Her brows. “You must have a lot a free time now, huh?”

Ben laughed. It was loud and rolling through his chest, breaking the static silence of the restaurant because Christ, he needed to have Her. 

“Smart fucking mouth, babygirl.” He smirked, leaning forward. “Not wrong, either. You’re going to get a fucking master.”

He winked, and there was a soft hitch in Her breath.

“I’m getting a master?”

“I haven’t be keeping it in my pants for fun,” Ben drawled Her name, and he could get addicted to that flush and small gasp. “We’re going to fill up that free time together.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

She was gaping at Ben—practically fucking drooling—and if he grabbed Her face, he could kiss her. Here. Now. Blow Her fucking mind and fill that free time right here on the damn table. Fill Her on the damn table-

“What have you been using the free time for?” She asked. “While you’ve been, um, keeping it in your pants.”

He shrugged. He’d waited a year. He could wait a few more hours to fuck Her stupid. “Watched TV. Smoked.” He tilted his head at Her. “What do you use your free time for.”

“I, um, I don’t really have free time,” She mumbled, and Ben frowned. He’d have to fix that.

“What would you do?” He pushed, ready to mentally mark whatever he’d need to keep around for Her, once she had that time. “If you had the time?”

“Maybe a hobby?” She pulled her lips between her teeth, and if She kept doing that, they wouldn’t make it to actual dinner. “I could make art. Or write. Or bake.” She tilted Her head. “I think I just like making things. Seeing that I did something, and it was me. I did it.”

Ben nodded. He could get paint. And more fucking paper and pencils. And whatever the hell people used to bake. He didn’t understand Her making something shit, but Christ, he liked Her for feeling it and saying it. She was so fucking caring and sweet, he was going to lose his damn mind. “That why you teach?”

“Yeah, actually. I think it is.” She gave him an odd look. “What about you? What would you do as a hobby?”

Ben opened his mouth, and She shook her head.

“Don’t say drugs. Or me.”

He scoffed, and fuck, She looked hot when she was smug. “Fuck off, Sweetheart-“

“Was I wrong?”

“No.” He grumbled. “But I don’t fucking do hobbies.”

She snorted. “Everyone does hobbies, Ben. You just haven’t found one you like.”

Ben rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning. He didn’t know how the fuck She did that to his face. “What, you think I’m going to start fucking knitting, like some damn pussy grandma-“

“You could collect something,” She offered, and Ben might fucking die if She kept sounding so sincere. Like She actually fucking cared that he found something to enjoy. “Or do a sport-“

He snorted. “I don’t fucking do sports. No one can keep up with me, it’s not fucking fun.”

“Oh. Yeah.” She swallowed, and Ben didn’t miss how She glanced at his arms, and chest, and hands. How that expression like She wanted to jump on him was back. “How about woodworking?”

Ben raised his brows. “Woodworking.”

She hummed, nodding with a small, teasing smile. “It’s a very masculine hobby, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s probably that, or coaching little league.”

Ben chuckled, but his brain started to spin into images of coaching little league for their kids. And he’d be more fucking thrown by that image if similar ones didn’t flash through his brain all the damn time. If he didn’t constantly fucking imagine a real life with Her. If he didn’t think about it all the goddamn time, because She was it. Ben wanted all of Her, and he’d be damned if he didn’t give Her his own all once he had her-

Right before Ben could damn it, throw himself over the table at Her, and prove to her that he was damn serious about his with his mouth and hands and cock—that he’d never fantasize about fucking Little League for any other woman—the waiter interrupted them to get their orders.

Ben ordered first, and She just took what he was having. She didn’t even glance at the damn menu.

“You know,” he drawled Her name, raising his brows. “I just fucking eat whatever the hell people put in front of me. That food might be fucking shit.”

She didn’t laugh like he’d expected. She just gave him an odd, unreadable look, and moved on. It wasn’t until the end of the night, when the food was gone and Ben felt fucking high on Her laugher and beauty, that it was mentioned again. When he asked if the food was worth the risk, and that look came back, this time with a question that threw Ben right off his goddamn axis. 

“What’s it like?”

He frowned. “What’s what-“

“Having your life be a brand? Designed by Vought?”

Ben’s blinked. If it wasn’t Her asking, he would’ve stormed off with a roar. But that wasn’t some fucking gotcha question, meant to make his head spin and test his temper. She just wanted to know, so she could know Ben. And if that was all She was asking for, fuck him if he wouldn’t give it to Her.

“My job is the brand.” He shrugged. “And Vought is full of fucking pussies, but they do their damn jobs, I do mine, and we all fucking go home. That’s all it is.”

The Vought assholes went home to families, and Ben went home to cold, empty riches, but that wasn’t the point. Ben did his job, and he was fucking good at it, and the brand—Soldier Boy—was the fucking job. Simple as that.

“Do you like it?” 

Her voice was still fucking soft. She was going to goddamn kill him, if She kept fucking caring. If She kept making Ben think about how he fucking loathed it. It was filled with gold and wealth and fucking nothing. All the light was just cameras flashing. All the warmth only stayed on his skin, never sinking into his muscles and organs. All his co-workers were fucking pussy idiots. And that had always been enough. It had always been all he wanted.

Until it wasn’t.

Ben leaned forward, holding Her wide, open gaze. “I like that it got me to you.” He muttered, and that was the goddamn truth. “And you’ve fucking got me, babygirl. I meant it, there wasn’t a damn lady before you. Not like this. And I’ll keep fucking saying that until you get it. Solider Boy might be the brand, might be the job, but I’ll keep it in my pants for another damn year and pick up fucking woodworking if I get you. Understood?”

There was a long moment of silence as She scanned over his face—looking for whatever She needed to find—and Ben felt an itch on his skin and a prickle over his heart. It might be fucking nerves.

He didn’t care for it.

“Understood.” She whispered, and the nerves vanished into some sort of euphoria as She smiled at him. “Do you, um, you want to go? Back to my place?”

Ben’s grin was unrestrained and probably looked a little feral, but thank fucking Christ. He had Her. He didn’t have to keep it in his pants, because he had Her.

And when he stood up, picking Her up into his arms with a squeal and carrying Her out of the restaurant, he made a silent vow.

He wouldn’t give Her a single goddamn reason to ever leave.

And he’d start proving why She should stay right fucking now.

—————————

Ben’s really strong. And you’d known that—it was the whole Soldier Boy brand—but that didn’t stop you from being shocked by how that strength feels wrapped around you. Pressed right up against your body, arms flexing and muscles shifting under his shirt, his chest and shoulders like a rock, but still somehow comfortable and warm.

You’d like to stay here, in Ben’s arms and against his body, for maybe the rest of your life. It feels safe, but not like a cage. Like a blanket or shield around you, promising that harm wouldn’t even dare to look at you, because only a fool would try to attack something that belongs to Ben.

Fuck.

You don’t belong to Ben. Not in the way you’d want to mean it, where it’s your heart out of your chest and into his hands, and you never have to worry about it again. Never have to worry about anything again. 

It doesn’t help that it feels like you could belong to him. Like if you asked, he would keep you here. Maybe he’d carry you everywhere. Maybe he’d offer his heart back.

He won’t. You can hear his heart pounding, when you turn your head and press your ear to his skin. It’s loud and powerful, and you’d really like for it to move in a rhythm with yours. But you don’t know if you could keep up, and you’re terrified to learn that he wouldn’t slow down.

But your lips graze his neck when you breathe, and you could swear he shudders. That his grip on you tightens, and a low grunt escapes his throat that has nothing to do with walking to the car.

You’re too far gone. This is exactly what you’d been trying to avoid, trying to dodge and weave around with giggles and eye rolls. Belonging to Ben. Making your dumb little heart really believe that he’d care about you in a way that he’d fight for. Falling into him until he’s less taking you, and more being offered to have you. However he’d like. 

And God, if he asks to have you tonight, you’ll say yes. All your previous rules will fly out the window. Rules about waiting a certain number of dates, kissing first before going right into more, or ensuring that—when the sun rises the next morning—you won’t be alone in bed. Rules that would be pointless, because this is Ben and you’ve been dreaming about touching him for a year. He can never know you’ve lost sleep to it. To feeling heat between your legs at just the thought of him, to covering your face with a pillow because just the idea of him was enough to make you scream and moan and wake your roommates up.

Shit. Your roommates. 

You’re going to have to figure out how to justify to them that you will be seeing Ben again, because you hadn’t stopped feeling dizzy and drunk on him for the whole night, and now you’re gone—the last piece of your resistance to his advances gone, your will to not fall in love completely dissolved—and you won’t be coming back until Ben breaks you in half.

That if Ben doesn’t break you—if he chooses to keep you, just you, because for reasons you don’t understand he seems to only want you—but holds you close and stretches tonight into sixty years, you’ll never even bother to try and return.

You don’t know if he’ll want to keep you. He’s placing you in the passenger’s seat with careful movements, but brushing hair from your face with an unreadable expression and restrained hands. He kisses your brow before drawing back up, and he glances at your lips, but he doesn’t touch them. He doesn’t say a word, only closing the door behind him and walking around the hood of the car.

When he drops in the driver’s seat, his hands rest on the wheel, and he stares ahead with a frown. He doesn’t grab the keys from his pocket. He doesn’t speak, or look at you, or move. 

There’s a long and horrible moment when you think he’s done with you. Where everything tastes like ash and dust, and you can feel your body deflating and crumbling. Of course he wouldn’t want you. You’re normal and boring and wouldn’t look right on his arm. You’d fit there—you know you would, because you’d slotted right into him all night like you were meant to be there, and now that will haunt you for the rest of your life—but you wouldn’t dazzle and sparkle and flash. You aren’t a good accessory. You’d cleaned up best you could for this, but your clothing was cheap, your lipstick cheaper, and your hair styled by your own hands. Hands with little bumps on the fingers from writing, that you did your best to keep soft but also ended up dry, because your apartment’s humidifier was broken, and it’s the middle of winter.

You’re nothing horrible. Nothing worse than anyone else. But also normal. So painfully average, just another face that walked on the street. 

Ben should be with someone bright. Someone blinding who wore lipstick that cost as much as that fancy dinner, and clothing that could probably out-sell this car. Someone who had their hair styled by a team, because they were American royalty like Ben was.

Girls like you don’t get to linger in divinity. They don’t get more than a night.

And you might not even get a night. Ben isn’t moving or talking or teasing about how he’s going to touch you, so he might not want to. He might have been trying you on, and now he’s ready to throw you out because he’d realized you didn’t look as good on him as he’d thought you would-

“We’re going to my place.” He grunts, and you blink at him.

“Your place?”

He nods, and finally looks at you. He’s so handsome. You’ve never seen anyone have a face like that. You’d been being dramatic and lovelorn before, thinking of him as divinity, but there couldn’t possibly be another reason for him looking like that.

Untouchable.

Reaching out to touch you.

Ben’s hand cups your face, keeping your gaze trapped on his, and his words are a low rumble that rip through your body like a wildfire. Your skin and heart are ablaze, and you’re completely ruined, and he’s only talking.

“I’m going to touch you, babygirl.” He mutters, and you think you whine. “Going to fucking ruin you.”

This isn’t fair. He looks like he’s about to ask you a question, and you’ll never be able to give an answer that isn’t a breathless plea.

“Ben-“

“But,” he pushes on, smirking as your breathing start to get ragged. “I’m going to have you screaming my name all fucking night, and I’m not interested in having an audience. I fucking love you, but your apartment is goddamn fucking. Dramatic roommates who won’t let me fuck you like you deserve, too goddamn small, and not nearly fucking good enough for you. So come back to my place.”

That’s probably supposed to be a question. Ben’s tone didn’t sound like he was asking—more like ordering, or telling you what was going to happen—but he’s also not starting to car or letting go of your face, so you think he’s waiting for an answer.

It takes a moment, because you’re trapped in his voice, still echoing in your head. 

I fucking love you.

You don’t know if he’s aware he said that. If he is, it doesn’t seem as if he’s about to elaborate.

But he did say it. And he’s not taking it back.

You’re kind of done with testing the waters. With holding yourself back from what you want for the sake of your sanity. 

Sanity that’s already long gone anyway. Razed and wrecked and shaped into the same sound of Ben saying I fucking love you, all while touch you and looking at you and speaking to you, and you alone.

“Okay,” you whisper, and you can’t really imagine saying anything else.

Ben nods, his hand moves to your thigh, and you can feel something changing inside of you. His touch is so measured—so carefully controlled with a big, rough hand that kneads mindlessly at your skin—and it’s igniting your whole body up in a way you’ve never felt. It’s like lighting in your blood and water on your skin, soothing and electric and so completely consuming. 

He really is consuming. You’ve never met anyone whose very presence devours your every thought and nerve until you’re glowing from inside. Even if you weren’t being branded by his touch on your body, weren’t drowning in his cologne, you’d still only be thinking about Ben. He’d said you looked hot, and under his cannon-like attention—loud and powerful and demanding—you’d really felt like you were. He’d said there were no other girls, and you believed him because you could feel the words over your bones. He’d said he’d kill the president for you, and it had oddly been the most romantic thing any had ever told you.

Ben’s life was Solider Boy. Soldier Boy’s brand was America. 

He didn’t want to be Solider Boy with you. He didn’t care about Soldier Boy for you. 

And you’d never tell him to kill the president, but if you do get to ask for anything—just one thing for Ben to give you, and only you, because you asked for it—it would be that he keeps doing that. Keeps being consuming. Keeps looking at you like you’re all the stars in the sky, when you’re the one getting lost.

Because you’re so lost. You’d promised yourself you’d be careful, but now you’re lost in Ben, and you’d never chose to be anywhere else. Not when his hand on your thigh is a promise of being a master and filling free time. You’d love to waste free time with him. You’d love to get more and more lost in this odd sense of given security—Ben is here, and he’s built like a tank that’s designed to keep you from horror—for the rest of your life.

And you’d think that was dramatic, if Ben didn’t keep looking at you like that. Like you’re a rare treasure he’d found buried underground, and he’s going to make you shine.

You’re already shining. Just that look—full of promises and stoic, firm care–makes you sit a little taller in your seat, warmth sparking and pooling in your gut like an oil meeting a match.

The explosion is going to wreck you. 

You’re more than ready for it.

Ben parks outside of a shocking normal apartment complex, helps you out of the car, and half covers your body with his—his face bent down and hidden, you barely a shadow below him—before moving you inside. 

This is a normal building. You’re awestruck, how average this place is. You’ve heard about Ben’s house, but it’s further upstate. You’ve been to one of his apartments for a Vought party—and ended up mostly curled near him, but not against him, on a couch—but that was across the city. And this place didn’t have the marble floors and doorman and oil paintings. It was all stained brown carpet and small mailboxes, walking up concrete stairs and passing worn welcome mats.

“Ben?” You lean back to look at him, and he seems vigilant. Watching every corner you turn and tensing at every creek of the building.

He grunts, his eyes falling to yours—something that’s always rough behind them not softening, but becoming honed, and aimed all at you—and you take it as a cue to continue. 

“Where are we?”

Ben lets out a long, heavy breath, stopping in front of another, boring, generic door. “My apartment.”

“Oh.” You look around the hall, then back to Ben. He’s started to fidget with the keys. You didn’t hear him wrong. 

You’re still incredibly confused, right up until Ben pushes the door open.

This is more what you expected. Plush sofas and polished chairs, a glass table and expensive looking art on the walls. It’s a little different that his other apartment—there seems to be more personal things scattered across the room, bits of Ben left out on the side table and shelves—but not at all in line with the rest of this building.

And Ben must see all your questions on your face, because he leans down to whisper in your ear, his arms wrapped around your stomach and light stubble brushing on your skin. 

“Bought this place off the books.” He starts to guide you further inside, his hands rubbing slow, mind-numbing circles on your hips. “Place for myself, when I don’t want anyone intruding or interfering with my shit.”

You swallow. “Does anyone else know-“

“Just me.” He mutters, starting to kiss a very distracting line up your throat. “Not one damn pussy at Vought knows this place exists. Landlord thinks I’m a reclusive artist or some shit. Like I said, sweetheart. My place.”

Ben’s place. Just his place. For his shit. That he doesn’t want intruded on. 

It takes you longer than you’d like to piece it all together. In your defense, you’re a little overwhelmed—in all your wildest fantasies about Ben looking at you and meaning it, you still hadn’t manage to imagine this—and Ben’s not really helping your thought process at all. One hand has moved down to pull and squeeze your upper thigh, the other is still keeping you pinned to his chest, and his mouth has started to wander. Grow bolder. Wet, sloppy kisses over your collarbone and along your jaw, sucking a small bruise behind your ear and making you a little dizzy. 

But you slot it all into place.

And there’s not a thing in the universe that could save you now. Fuck, if anyone tried, you’d probably punch them.

“You’re serious about me.” You mumble, and Ben hums, the sound echoing around your head like a fucked up, love drunk lullaby.

“About fucking time you got it.” He mutters, his hands sliding up to grip your throat. It’s a light touch, barely any pressure at all, but Ben doesn’t need to be firm. He tilts your head slightly back, and you go all the way. Leaning on his shoulder, holding his darkened gaze with your own, slightly dazed one, smiling at him like an idiot.

You can be an idiot for this. For Ben, you’ll be a fucking fool, because you can be. There’s nothing else to do here. Nothing to work for. He’s won. You’re his. 

All that’s left to do fall down. 

Ben smirks at you, that hand on your thigh starting to drift further and further between your legs, and you don’t think he’s going to make this easy on you.

“Do you know how much I’ve fucking dreamt about this?” Ben drawls, his lips brushing over the corner of your mouth. It’s light, and taunting, and in perfect time with his fingers. Playing with the hem of your panties, knuckles occasionally bumping on your clit and making your knees weak, all while he continues talking. “I’ve spent fucking months working out exactly how I want to fuck you, babygirl. Thought about how fucking good you’d feel, wrapped around my cock, how pretty you’d sound screaming my name, how fucking beautiful you’d look all fucked out and wrecked under me, or against me, or fucking riding me. But nothing,” Ben nips at your ear, and you think you squeak. “Could’ve gotten me ready for this. Look so fucking gorgeous just here. Hardly ever touched you yet and you look like a dream.”

You’re going to lose your fucking mind. Ben’s hand has moved to cup you over your underwear, and you can’t stop yourself from grinding shamelessly onto him.

“Christ, sweetheart, already fucking soaked just from dinner.” Ben looks awestruck, his lips parted and breath hot on your skin. It just makes you more desperate. “You like it when I talk dirty? Like it when I tell you how much I fucking want you? How much I need you?”

You moan, nodding like a bobble-head, and he chuckles.

“Tell me what you want,” Ben says your name, pressing his thumb over your clothed clit, and you definitely squeaked that time. 

“You, want you-“

“How do you want me. Get specific, babygirl, want to hear-“

“I want you with me,” you gasp, rolling your hips in search of any friction at all, whining when his grip on you tightens. “Want to have you Ben, fuck- Want all of you-“

You might have ascended. Ben cuts you off with a strangling, heavy, starved kiss, and if it wasn’t the most carnal thing you’d ever experienced you’d have thought it was holy. It’s invasive and rough—his tongue down your throat and his teeth nipping at your lower lip, swallowing your moan when he rips off you panties and shoves one, broad finger into your cunt—but there’s something softer behind it. His hand stays on your neck, but only to tip you further back and grant him more access, never tightening enough for you to really feel it. Your legs give out as he starts to finger-fuck you at a brutal, unforgiving pace, but he also keeps you upright and steady. 

Ben pulls you apart on just his hand—palm rolling on your clit, fingers taunting and teasing on the deepest, most sensitive place inside of you—and he never breaks the kiss. You reach behind your body, wrapping an arm around his neck and running your fingers through his hair, and when you tug it, he groans. The sound moves through your whole body, fueling every bit of your arousal, melting you further into Ben’s body as he picks up his speed. He keeps a rough pace and firm pattern, drags your right up to the edge until you’re writhing against him and scratching hopelessly at his arm in a slight plea for more. You need more, you’re already inhaling him and filled with him but it’s not enough. 

When he finally crooks his fingers inside of you, everything goes white. It’s only Ben sucking on your upper lip and pumping his fingers through your orgasm, only his pounding heartbeat near your ear and ragged breath over your face.

He’s hard. Pressing right up against your ass, and hard, and big. He’s fucking huge. 

You need him. You need him now. 

“Ben,” you tug on his hair again—your voice breathy and weak as your head spins—and he hums against your skin, that sinful fucking mouth sucking small marks along your jaw. “More. Need more, please-“

“Patience,” he mutters your name, and you moan, shaking your head. “I’ve been waiting too fucking long to take this slow. Got fucking months to make up for. You’re not going to be able to walk for a goddamn year when I’m done with you, babygirl, so calm the fuck down, and take what I give you. Got it?”

You nod a little stupidly, and Ben draws back from your neck with a smirk, teasing along your pussy with those same, sinful fingers before pulling them away and—before you can even whine from the loss of him—bringing them to his mouth. Licking your arousal off his skin, never breaking your gaze.

You can’t be patient. It’s an impossible thing to ask, when he’s toying with you like this. When he looks like that—so fucking satisfied from the taste of you and cocky when you moan from only the sight of him—and wraps his arm back around your waist, keeping you steady as he kisses you again. It should be illegal to be this good a kisser. It’s like a drug right into your bloodstream, making everything just pleasure and Ben. He tastes like wine and smoke and you. That’s you on his tongue.

You’re going to fly out of your skin. 

“Please.” You gasp, tugging on his hair again until that same groan from before rumbles in his chest. “Ben, please-“

Ben squeezes your throat once before dragging it away, prying your hand off his head and kissing your knuckles with a softness that might be worse than the animalistic lust. It’s just a small, tiny second of care—silent, real affection—but you’re still going to go mad from it.

“You want my cock, babygirl?” He asks the question with the most smug grin you’ve ever seen. Like he knows there’s not a world where you’ll say anything but yes. “Want me to fuck you nice and dumb, take good fucking care of my girl?”

His girl. You’ve put it together that he really somehow means that, but it doesn’t change how the words are electric in your body. Your legs almost give out just from the sound of Ben’s deep voice saying them.

He tightens his grip around you, grabbing your chin and tilting your head backward. “Not a mind-reader, sweetheart, give me some fucking words-“

“Yes-“

The answer is barely out of your mouth when Ben hauls you off the ground and starts to move, walking into the bedroom and dropping you onto his mattress. This is Ben’s mattress. He’s slept on it before, and the sheets smell like him and have touched his bare skin.

You’re going to touch his bare skin. He’s ripping clothing off like it’s paper as you crawl backwards, and you barely have time to remove your dress—let alone take him in—before he’s prowling over you, his eyes gleaming and sparkling in a way that makes you start to drool.

He’s completely naked. You want to see him, see all that impossible, powerful glory that’s about to wrap around you, but you don’t get the chance before Ben starts to leave wet, open-mouthed kisses up your legs and your vision blurs with pleasure. He’s so good at this, and you’re not at all surprised, but it still makes every fantasy and wet dream you’ve had feel like a crude, faded sketch. The real thing is a work of art. You’d been joking when you’d called this his hobby, but he’s playing you like an instrument and molding you like clay. He finds his way between your legs, and stays there just long enough to work you into a frenzy. Broad licks up your pussy and flicks of his tongue over your clit, sucking the already burning nerve bundle into his mouth and letting his teeth graze against it until you’re grinding up into his face.

Then he’s moving on, leaving you dangling right on the edge and kissing over your stomach. Up your body until he drags you into a long, heavy kiss, silencing your every needy, high plea for release. He won’t let you have release. He’s kissing you far too passionately and firmly for you to do anything but melt further into him, but God you’re burning up from the inside and he won’t even let you move. He had dropped his waist to pin you down to the mattress, and you can feel him poking again your inner thigh, and fuck-

Ben rises up with a grin, and there’s the awestruck look again. He can’t keep looking at you like that. It’s going to kill you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” He mutters your name, and you were wrong. That’s going to kill you. How sincere and blunt his words are, like they’re pure fact and not at all subjective. “Never seen a goddamn thing like it.” He rolls his hips against you, and you whine. “Look like a fucking angel.”

You want to tell him that he looks better, or at least thank him, but all you can remember how to do is moan, squirming a little beneath him as he chuckles. 

“You got something you need, sweetheart?”

He rolls his hips again, and your eyes almost roll back in your head as you nod. 

Ben clicks his tongue, leaning back down to speak against your lips. “Need you to fucking say it, baby.”

“Fuck me.” You gasp, because you’re past dignity and dancing around things. “Fuck me, Ben, please, fuck me-“

You yelp as he rolls you over, hauling you up onto his lap and impaling you on his cock in one movement. And when he starts to move—grabbing your hips and guiding them in a smooth rhythm with his thrusts—you know he’s not going to stop proving you wrong. He cares, and this is higher and better than any heaven you could’ve—and had—imagined. This is what’s going to kill you.

Because you’ve thought about this far too often, imagined this exact moment countless times, but it’s still more than you know how to comprehend. Ben’s splitting you open and bumping against all the right places inside of you, the angle pushing him so deep into your cunt there’s not a second where you aren’t on fire. He keeps alternating between wild, demanding bites—hickeys on your throat and shoulders—and gentle, hot kisses on your lips that swallow your every soft moan and whine. Your arms wrap around his neck as your try to drag him impossibly closer, and he smirks, his hold on your hips tightening as he starts to drill up into you.

It’s brutal and sudden and rough—his skin slapping on yours and his gaze burning right into your body—and if Ben wasn’t holding you up, you would’ve collapsed. You might be saying his name, might be begging for more, but you can’t hear it over a fogging haze of Ben, talking so dirty you’re surprised his voice alone isn’t bring you to release.

“Look so fucking hot, bouncing on my cock, such pretty fucking tits, fucking tight and warm, goddamn soaked for me-“

“Fuck,” you try to grind down onto him, but he’s too strong. All you can do is kiss on his jaw and pray he’ll give you more. “Feels good, so good, please-“

“Who’s fucking you good?” He demands, nipping on your lower lip and guiding you in a circle on his dick, smirking as you whimper from the sensation. “Fucking scream it, sweetheart, tell the whole goddamn world who’s fucking you-“

“Ben!“ You almost scream, and you’d be embarrassed if it didn’t immediately earn you another long kiss and groan of your name against your skin.

“There you go,” he mutters, snaking one hand around your body to rub at your clit. “Good girl, feel so fucking good squeezing my cock, so fucking needy-“

“Ben,” Your brow drops to his, and your nails scratching at his neck and shoulder blades. “Please, wanna cum, please-“

He cuts you off with a searing, almost violent kiss, growling down your throat. “Since you asked so fucking pretty,” he jerks his hips up in a rough, blinding movement, pinching your clit at the same time. “Cum for me, babygirl.”

This orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave. Springing in your gut and washing your body in a burning but comfortable heat, filling your vision with stars and wracking your body with a pleasure you didn’t know you were capable of feeling. This is better than heaven. This is Ben kissing you through your high and still dragging you higher, rubbing his thumb around your clit and palming at your breast as you scream into his mouth.

And you don’t come down. Ben doesn’t stop, and you’re not sure if this is just a million smaller orgasms exploding like fireworks in your body, or if he’s trapped you in an infinite state of bliss, but the orgasm doesn’t end.

And Ben’s not done with you. 

He’s getting rougher. He’s still hard inside of you, starting to throb and lose rhythm with his movements, and you barely have the mind to gasp or whimper when he rolls you back under him, pulls out of you for a brief second, and flips you around onto your stomach. There’s a brief, cold moment where he’s gone—still hard against your thighs but no longer caging you against him—and then he drags your ass into the air, pushes himself back into your dripping, oversensitive pussy, and starts to hammer into you with a pace you can only describe as feral. His balls slap on your clit as he hits somehow deeper inside of you, groaning behind you as you grind back into him, and you’re still cumming. You don’t now know how that’s possible. You didn’t know your body could do that. 

You don’t really know anything but Ben right now. Thrusts becoming short and uneven, draping himself back over you to kiss at your shoulder and throat and behind your ear, pinching and rolling a nipple between two rough fingers, and groaning right in your ear in a way that just keeps everything going. 

Ben grabs your chin right as his hips stutter, turning your head to roar your name against your mouth as he cums. It finally brings you down—when he’s spent inside of you and pinning you to the mattress in his warmth—and you like out a soft, happy sound of content when he kisses your swollen lips with a gentler, easier pressure. It seems like he’s kissing you just to kiss you. Touching you just to touch you.

Laying with you just to lay with you.

“Christ on a fucking cross,” he mutters in your ear, pressing another small kiss to your cheek. “You’re so fucking good, sweetheart. Never going to go a week without this pussy again, best thing I’ve ever fucking felt.”

You smile, craning your neck back to look at him, and you’ve barely started to move before Ben’s flipping you one last time, keeping you caged between his body and the mattress.

And he’s grinning at you. A powerful, wide grin that would look strange on his face if it didn’t feel so natural. You rarely see Ben really grin—all joy and teeth and something unbridled and almost pure—at all, his expression usually rough smirks and more taunting smiles, but this is just Ben, grinning at you. 

And he looks like a human. He’s sweaty, short hair sticking up at odd angles and eyes a little brighter from his own release, and you really think this could be it. That he could be a life you’d be happy to lead. 

Because Ben’s got you. Outside of how he’d just fucked you within an inch of paradise, he’s also pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, and a longer one to your lips, before moving away to grab a towel and clean the mess he left between your thighs. He’s bringing you water and tucking you right against his body, muttering that you should get some rest before round two, because there will be a round fucking two.

“Ben?” You mumble, and he grunts near your skin in a silent acknowledgment to continue. “What… um, I don’t know what you- what we-“

“We’re together.” He grunts, and you let out a long breath of relief. You hadn’t even had to say the stupid, embarrassing question aloud. “Nobody’s touch you but me, and not one single fucking lady is getting their hands on me but you.”

“Okay.” You hum, wiggling a little further into his hold. “Good.”

Ben chuckled. “Real fucking good, babygirl. You’re going to get spoiled fucking rotten.”

You smile, and you’ll fight that later. You don’t want to become only a doll on a shelf just because Ben’s got you. 

But you also think you have him. And that if you asked for the world he’d try and figure out a way to put it into your hands. That if you demanded he not be an asshole about you continuing to work, he’d grumble but relent.

And you can live with that. 

You can thrive with it.

End Note: Once again saying I really think Ben just needs a cool wife to obsesses over and be violent for and he'd chill out.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@sthefferrete @lyarr24 @deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n

@globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr @youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

@panicking-outside-the-disco @ambiguous-avery @elle14-blog1 @impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde

@heyimolive @alwaystiredandconfused @kamisobsessed @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007

@jackles010378 @ilovedeanwinchester4 @immastealurkneecaps @star-yawnznn @chi-raz

@lori19 @wynnthewynnderful @tiana-kh @woaheasytig3r

[incomplete-leclerc]

　𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗞𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗦.　franco colapinto · #43

　　　your boyfriend acts on impulse, leading him to get into fights, and you to worry about his safety.

genres : hurt/comfort ... established relationship ... franco x fem!reader.　 request : anon for franco + stitches on a cheekbone for the 100 event.　word count : 0.6k.　warnings : mild arguing ... mention of injuries (bruises, a cut, stitches) ... mention of franco punching someone ... profanity ... some spanish pentanes (i do not speak spanish but i think they're all translated correctly).　 note : tell me why there were no good pics of franco so i had to find a random gif instead LIKE i swear finding pics takes longer than writing the actual fics sometimes.　　　( masterlist )　( taglist )

“Franco? Where the fuck have you been?” you asked disgruntledly as the figure of your boyfriend stepped through the door. Wide eyes, clearly tired, but they softened at the sound of your voice, no matter how irritated your tone was. He dropped his tattered backpack on the floor and pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up tightly and nuzzling his face into your neck. 

“I’m so sorry, hermosa. I didn’t mean to leave you worried,” he whispered. You breathed, closing your eyes and reciprocating the hug. More than twenty-four hours with no word from him had you thinking of the worst possible scenarios to explain what had happened. Although you were still very much mad at him, you let him have the hug that you both needed in the moment. Breathing in his familiar scent, letting it calm your senses just slightly. He was safe, back in your arms. You could finally let your brain take a break from running in circles.

You felt him press a few kisses to your neck, soft and slow, travelling up to your cheek until you pulled away from the hug. 

“Where were you? Why didn’t you call?” you questioned, withdrawing to look at his face. 

“My phone died. And I got in a little fight— but, I’m really okay, Y/n. It was just a crazy night.”

Your face fell. “You’re so reckless all the time, amor. Don’t you ever stop to use your brain once?” 

You knew the words would do little to change anything. Franco was messy. Nothing could magically make him a clean person. Usually it didn’t bother you. It was something you loved about him. But when it got in the way of his safety, it scared you. Staring at the bruises starting to form on his left cheek, and the cut on his cheekbone closed up with a few stitches, you only wished he would listen to you for once. 

“How’d you start a fight this time?” you asked, leading Franco to sit down on the couch. Now that he was back home, it was time for you to take charge and take care of him. And if you were lucky, knock some sense into his brain. He was silent for a moment, thinking of how to phrase what had happened in the mildest way possible.

“Well… we were all drunk, and some guys said some things about you, so I just punched them in the face so they would shut up,” he said simply, trying to stop himself from grinning. You stared at him in shock. 

“Franco—”

“Y/n, you can’t possibly have expected me to just let them talk shit about you? I don’t think I overreacted,” he defended. In his mind, a few bruises to his face was more than worth it to shut up a few assholes talking about his girlfriend. And seeing them run off with much worse injuries than him was satisfying. 

“You didn’t have to fight them over it. Now you’re hurt, and I was left worrying about you for hours. It was unnecessary and completely avoidable,” you pleaded, hoping that he would understand where you were coming from. A few tears building in your eyes stopped Franco from arguing over it more.

“I’m sorry, hermosa,” he whispered, cupping your face and silencing you of any other critical words. You knew it was time to drop the issue. You didn’t want to press him more after he apologized. “I won’t do it again,” he said, noticing the doubt in your eyes. It eased up, and you relaxed slightly. 

“Promise?” 

“Swear on my life,” he assured, sincerity swimming in his pearly eyes. You knew he meant it this time.

taglist: @caffeinboi

[rorasjournal]

Comfort in shadows | Azriel

lil short azriel fluff to start off my journey on tumblr hehe

pairing: azriel x reader

synopsis: y/n is stressed out about her responsibilities, and there’s only one person who can soothe her anxiety

word count: 819

warnings: none really, maybe some light man handling

~

The balls of my knuckles turn white as my grip on the terrace rails tighten while I stare out at the night swept view of velaris laid out in the distance, anxiety plaguing my mind. I've been trying to distract myself from all the thoughts gushing around for the past hour, but nothing has been working.

There's just too much going on right now, too much that I feel the need to deal with all on my own, and I'm fucking tired.

Whispering shadows cling to my skin, dancing along my body before strong arms are wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against a familiar chest.

"It's cold out here," Azriel mutters, tucking his face into the crook of my neck and pressing a soft kiss there. Closing my eyes, I lean my head back against his shoulder.

"I know."

"So why are you out here?"

When I don't reply, Azriel spins me around, sandwiching me between the rail and his body and forcing our gazes to meet. "What is it?"

I don't want to talk about any of it, especially not to Azriel. He's always so calm and collected, dealing with his responsibilities with so much grace and without complaint. I don't know how to be like that. "Nothing."

He lowers his face to mine, our noses brushing together and pulling the air from my lungs as he whispers, "I thought we were done with the lies."

"I'm not lying," I insist, ultimately webbing myself up in more deception regardless of the fact that Azriel clearly sees straight through me. He doesn't even need to use his shadows to figure me out.

A breath passes through his nose before he scoops me up, dangling me over his shoulder and walking inside while I yell out in detest.

"Put me down, asshole!"

"Gladly," he says, flipping me so my back hits the mattress of our bed. He's on top of me in a flash, his mouth attached to my neck as he sucks on my sensitive skin. My breathe hitches in my throat, a hand instinctively reaching to his head and threading my fingers through his dark hair. "What's going on?" he asks again, mumbling the words against my neck as he continues his work.

So that's what he's doing. Azriel is turning my mind to mush so he can get an admission out of me. Slick bastard.

Smart bastard though.

"I just—" I'm not sure if I'm struggling to get the words out because I don't want to say it out loud, or because his tongue is running up the base of my neck. "I'm stressed out, I don't know. Rhys wants me dealing with the Autumn Court and Beron is just such an asshole, I don't know how to handle all of this at once."

Pulling away, Azriel looks at me with furrowed brows. "Why was that so difficult for you to tell me?"

I turn my cheek against the mattress to avert my gaze, but Azriel grips my jaw, forcing me back.

What is with him and male-handling me today?

"Can you not see how it would be embarrassing admitting that I'm overwhelmed to the spymaster, the shadow singer who always keeps his head level, who always knows what's going on and how to deal with it?"

With a sigh, Azriel sits up, grabbing one of my hands to urge me up as well.

"I think you of all people should know that I've lost my cool a few number of times.”

“Yeah, a few," I reply with a roll of my eyes. "That's a few hundred less than me."

The corner of his mouth ticks up. "Y/n."

"Azriel."

That just makes his smile grow. "You know it's okay to ask for help, right?" he whispers, tenderly tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear as I lean away. "Especially from me."

"But that's my point, I shouldn't need to ask for help. I should be able to deal with this on my own like everyone else does."

"There's not one person in this court that hasn't needed assistance from the others at one point or another, and I'm pretty damn sure you should know that considering it's usually you that's doing the assisting." He chuckles. "You don't even realise you're doing it, do you."

I sigh, leaning over and resting my forehead on his chest as he drapes an arm across my shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

"You're the strongest person I know, that's not going to change just because Beron is pulling your strings."

"I wish you didn't always sound so wise, it makes it hard for me to not listen to your advice."

His chest rumbles as he laughs quietly. He completely scoops me up into his arms, dragging me onto his lap as he whispers, "I will always be that reassuring voice in your ear."

[k0nanharv3y]

I WANT HIM TO BE MAD, I WANT HIM TO COLAPSE AND CRY HIS LUNGS OUT I WANT HIM TO SCREAM... I'm allergic to happiness :[ so then I should proceed

///

Tim knew how to be mean, rude and how to hurt people with his words, I mean, he was raised by Fucking Janet Drake. He knew what he was doing

And he was so done with Damian, and life, apparently

Damian who's being an asshole about his birth rights and how Drake would never be worth enough to have the Robin mantle: The only reason you're part of this family is because father couldn't let go you with what you know!

Tim, who already knows this fact and is running on half an hour of sleep and a liter of coffee only: Oh, really?! The only reason he took you in was because he had to, not because he loved you. We were a choice, you were just an obligation caused by a mistake

And then there was silence

Damian's face was red and there was a glimmer of tears in his eyes. Tim's chest rose and fell as if he had run a marathon

And a heavy folder fell to the floor of the cave, breaking the silence and about to break everything around it

Bruce, who's been listening to the discussion in silence, because he had no right to step into it because he's scared of feelings: Tim! You cannot say that! Apologize!

Tim, who is about to cry because he's so tired: Apologize?! What the hell Bruce!? He started this shit!

Damian stepped away from Tim, frowning, hurt and ready to start fighting if Tim decided to take more physical action against him

Bruce: He is a child!

Tim, feeling something inside him slowly burn: A child?!, That demon tried to kill me and that "child" is 15 years old, he can't not understand the consequences of his actions and his words, you can't-! You can't always defend him Bruce! He has to understand that-

Bruce, who has gotten too close to Tim, standing in front of him, using all his height to appear bigger than him: Of course I can!, He is my son

Tim: I am your son too!

And the silence came again, tears in Tim's eyes. A silent gasp from Bruce and the bats screeching from the screams they were both throwing at each other

Tim: This is unfair...

He muttered, taking steps away from Bruce, lowering his head, red with shame and tears

Tim: It's unfair that he... that you...! I'm your son too, why don't you love me like you love him?

Bruce: Tim, that's not-

Tim: Yes it is!, I understand-! I understood in the past that you weren't at your best, I understood that you didn't love me! I understood that, Bruce!, during my years as Robin I understood that! And I understand that you've changed, I understand that the Bruce that Damian has now is not the Bruce that I had, but it is...! It's unfair that you still don't defend me like you defend him! Not even as your son, but as your partner! It's unfair and-! Why can't you just-?! Why don't you love me, Bruce?!

The tears now had no qualms about falling like waterfalls, and the sobs made his voice sound younger than Tim was, younger than Bruce had ever heard

Bruce: I love you T-

Tim: It's not the same if I have to yell at you, Bruce! Damian gets pets, presents, TIME! And all I got for my birthday was trust issues and trauma, when I pulled you out of the timestream you didn't even-! You didn't even say anything to me! If you didn't love me, then you would have let me keep up with the uncle lie! At least then I'd know what I was getting from you and what you wanted from me!

Their ears registered the sounds of footsteps, the worried voices. But none of them gave a fuck

Tim: What you want from me now, Bruce?! Tell me! What you want from me?!

Bruce: I-

The words caught in the adult's throat, because, the kid in front of him (because Tim was a kid, because he could never grow up to be anything outside of what Bruce needed) looked so tired and nothing Bruce said was going to make up for years of feeling unloved and unwanted, just needed. And Bruce couldn't think of a time when he had ever made that thought questionable (Bruce had literally conditioned the kid to put others before himself)

Bruce: I'm sorry

And if Tim started to sob ugly and wet, that would be his problem. He was so tired to worry about it

///

Part 2 Jumpscare!!

///

[sparkly-sediment]

Tf2 Mercs Period flow headcanons

Free will strikes again 😈😈

Heavy

The Red terror

Very heavy flow that last 6-7 days. The longest she’s had is 9 days and it took bear meat to recover

The blood is usually dark brown and overall a bit of a delayed flow

Calls it her menstrual cycle only. Heavy isn’t big on midol or pain relief (Russian grit af)

Will always use a warm water bottle tho

Only used scraps of fabric until her 20s. Heavy doesn’t like pads because they feel like diapers and she doesn’t fuck with tampons until she has sex for the first time so she won’t “loose her virginity to stick”

We need more sex education

Ultra tampons for business, free bleed in the period draws for leisure

Sniper

Bush woman

Some hardcore feminist shit. Walk into the woods and menstruate on a stick indigo girls concert transparent

(if you get that i love you)

Sniper normally just free bleeds or like dries out her vagina during bathroom breaks. She smokes weed for cramps and gets bad period diarrhea

Very light, irregular periods. Completely skips some months due to stress and malnutrition (and she looses her appetite on her period!!(

Severe period exhaustion 😮‍💨

Flow is bright red or faint. Might be some blood on the briefs on the first/second morning but then not much happening outside of clots.

Would have fertility issues I feel

Sniper gets anemic on her period and resists taking the supplements Medic recommends. Finally he fights her into taking them and, shocker! She’s not passing out when she stands

Has tasted her period blood clots. Canon I fear

Says on the rag

Demo

MENACE

Demo has a moderate flow but pretty gnarly cramps. The sharp, pulsing kind. Hurts like a bitch!!

Flushes tampons and could give two fucks

She drinks more on her period and has wicked period shits. Possibly the worst asshole cramps in the group, and don’t even get me started on sore nipples

Thick dark red blood. Not hard blood clots but large bloody goops and liquid. Has to shower more often on her period 😔

Super and super plus tampons and the hospital grade pads. Completely unnecessary but Demo gets the biggest most crinkly padding pads of all time!!! Why!!!???!!!

PCOS queen. Thicker body hair, wild anger at times, and cysts!!! When one bursts she finally goes to Medic who immediately gives morphine and some weird blue sludge

Pain was gone but she did wake up with a third kidney

Scout

Type of bitch to get pregnant while pregnant

What a nightmare! PMS like a mother fucker! Scout becomes a snappy little bitch on her period. Terrorizes the base and just crashes out for no reason

If you eat her food so help you God

Really strong cravings and really intense ovulation. Yk how some women really go into heat when they ovulate? Like REALLY lock in? That’s Scout

Fertile and loves chocolate but aggressive

BAWLS ON HER PERIOD and period breakouts

Lighter/moderate flow. More than Sniper but less than Demo

Running really helps her cramps but they usually go to about 5/10 at worst

Her boobs always hurt worse than anything else and she’ll wear a sports bra instead of wrapping them for work

regular tampons and refuses go wear a pad

Medic

I will be using he/him pronouns because period!medic isn’t a gender bend. Medic wanted to feel even closer to his baboons and so he installed the necessary organs to build and birth them

Unwanted and unforeseen side effect 😔

Sturdy but average flow and a very consistent cycle. Bright red with brown spotting towards the end. He keeps a calendar and tracks ovulation

He would have period sex. No question. And, in a sick and wicked manner, would blow them after 😋

horrible to imagine. Anyway, Medic has rougher periods with heavy hormone fluctuations. Intense mood swings, fatigue, and some month deals with painful ovarian cysts

His periods don’t normally have too bad cramps!! He’s just sore in the southern skies and has some lightning sharp stabbing pains in his asshole

Medicates fully and all the way except in the beginning when he monitored the function more closely

Light period acne heavy metalic scent. Feels very tender and hungry

Soldier

Free bleeds and gets blood everywhere

Heavy flow and pretty intense cramps. And, rage. Period rage. Heightened by her pain and immense discomfort and all of her sheets have stains

Dark brown blood and irregular. Can bleed for days and has had 11-12 day periods that completely drain her

Her cramps will leave her bed ridden. If she has to go to battle, there will be NO indication of her pain. She might even be worse to over compensate. But Soldier will run a little slower and land from rocket jumps much more gently

Cries in the locker room and respawn when alone 😭😭😭😭 my shayla

Unless she’s gassed up for battle Soldier is much quieter on his period and sluggish

Eats so much omg decimates that kitchen. The team has to have a meeting because they’ve gone to the store three days in a row, and this is the forth morning everything is gobbled down in the night by a certain greedy little rat

Every time she starts her period she marches into the medbay to LOUDLY announce it. This is the only time she ever mentions the topic of menstruation in relation to herself

Will say fucked up shit tho. Tells Scout blood attracts bears and viciously growls after finding Scout’s tampons

Spy

Eats steak almost nightly when on her period

She refuses to discuss such things with the team and calls it tasteless conversation

INTERNALIZED MISOGYNY and does everything she can to hide her period. Will use kitty perfume to avoid blood smell, tampons only and she hides the wrappers before throwing them out

Heavier flow with low pain. She’ll feel the most discomfort in the cervix area but she doesn’t experience much cramping

Red/brown mix and very spotting days 1-3. Day 3/4-5 is heavy flow and then day six is usually the end

Midol in a Tylenol bottle 😭

She becomes a wicked bitch. Horrifically snappy and will bite your head off. Some period shits. Boobs hurt the week before

Engineer

Her periods are dandy.

Yk how people say periods last 3-5 days? And you’re like, who the fuck is having three day periods?

It’s this gal

Engineer has some mild cramping but it lasts ALL day. From the first flutter of her eyes to the final rest, her uterus is aching

Tight period cramps and a lighter flow. She wears regular and lite tampons for two days and then is good

Bright red and thin blood. Never has big clots and rarely has goopy blood

Her discharge is tinted pink or brown for about a week though so it does balance out

She will smell really strongly of blood like the ripe period embarrassing smell

Working in the workshop when she catches a whiff of the 🩸🐱 but she likes feeling primal and will work into the dank night

Engineer eats all chocolate in the based and will probably eat every cookie too

Period rage that rivals Soldier’s

Pyro

Free bleeds and doesn’t practice good hygiene. She won’t change her clothes- including underwear- any differently despite having blood all up in it

Pyro doesn’t have much liquid blood, but a lot of clotting and clumps of tissue

Because of this and a lack of good hygiene she has a worse smell, and it is noticeable to others. Pyro always smells burnt though so it isn’t exactly traceable

Heavier flow, WOULD use super plus tampons

Pyro has worn pads in the past but she dislikes the diaper feel and she never likes the sensory experience of period products

She’s much sleepier on her period and will curl up to nap. If not in her bed then wherever

[5targh0st]

NUMBER ONE GIRL

54. everybody wants you (written)

prev // m.list // next

Karaoke sounded like a good idea, but seeing all these strangers staring at the bunch of drunk assholes who just arrived makes you have second thoughts about it. Different from other karaoke places you've been to, this seems more like a club. There are private rooms but they're too small and where's the fun in that anyway.

"Let's sing 'ME!'!" Beomgyu rakes your hand and basically drags you across the room to get to the improvised stage.

Your brain is foggy and you know you're gonna regret all of this tomorrow, but right now you're having fun. Just for tonight, Beomgyu is your bestie and your friends get along. Moreover, Yeonjun and Minho are still having the time of their lives taking shots and laughing with each other. This is almost too good to be true.

Beomgyu's voice is surprisingly alluring, even when he's drunk. You're dancing and screaming and it's just so fun.

"And you can't spell awesome without me!" You hear your friends sing along while you're both jumping around.

You don't even notice Yeonjun's eyes following your every move and his dorky smile that makes his eyes almost disappear.

"Listen to me!" Minho screams at him and they go back to whatever argument they were having.

Drink after drink, and song after song, the fun seems to be never ending. Yeji is having the time of her life with Felix and even Karina is having a few drinks with Lia. You really hope they end up dating or something, Karina deserves to be happy.

Yeonjun is just being his clingy self and it's been an hour since he decided you need to be in his arms at all times. Not that you're complaining. It's actually nice being with him after spending so much time with your friends. You love your friends, but you also love just existing with Yeonjun.

It's almost 4:00 am and the place is even more crowded than when you first arrived. Some of your friends are nowhere to be seen and a bunch of them are taking shots at the bar.

"You're having fun?" Yeonjun is so tender and soft, caressing your cheek as if you're made of glass and dragging his words cause he's just so drunk.

"I think you're the one having fun," you laugh and he just whines.

Not too far from there, Minho is drunk as hell and just complaining about everything to Chan. He keeps staring at you and wishing he was the one making you laugh right now.

"He's an idiot!" He says for the eleventh time.

Chan just keeps rolling his eyes at him. "You said you were gonna step aside."

"But I don't want to, why does he get the girl? It's not fair." He's just being childish and maybe even a little selfish.

"And what are you gonna do about it?" Chan is so done with this conversation.

"Something remarkable!"

Out of everyone in here, Minho is the last person anyone would expect to walk up to the stage and type the name of some mystery song.

"Cam I have your attention, please?" He sounds drunk and some people cheer, they're as drunk as him. "So, it has come to my attention that some shit is just not fair. Like I don't get it. I was there first and sure I messed up but it wasn't so bad. This doesn't make sense, but whatever. Fuck you, Yeonjun."

Some people laugh, even Yeonjun does, but a lot of smiles falter when the song starts.

"Oh my fucking god!" Beomgyu is almost hyperventilating in the background.

"Gleaming, twinkling..." Even when drunk, Minho's voice is sweet and surprisingly soothing.

Yeonjun smiles and even sings along. You're also having fun until you make eye contact with Minho and he doesn't look away. He's been looking at you since he got on that stage, he's been looking at you the whole night and you're now uncomfortably aware of it.

You take another shot and look away from him. It doesn't make sense. He's your friend, he's not singing about you.

The song ends and before Minho gets to say anything, Chan snatches the mic and makes a joke about having to pay Minho. Of course, it was a bet, you relax at the thought and go back to having fun with your boyfriend.

However, someone on the sidelines doesn't seem so convinced.

"This is gonna be a fucking mess..."

notes:

I'm really really really sorry for making you wait so much for the update 😭 (stuff came up and I was super busy but I think everything is falling into place so you won't have to wait as much for the next part)

made a mistake and forgot to add something but it's all done now 😅

Minho is drunk af

Chan is a real one

and I'm so in love with yn and jun (I almost feel bad for what's gonna happen in the near future)

taglist: open! (24/50)

@estella-novella @poetryforthesad @lisaswifey @angelzforu @ihrtlix @gloriousqueenking @domfikeluva @circus-of-thoughts @conwunder @miniature-tragedy @jeonginplsholdmyhand @sh0dor1 @yourenzoo @tkshairband @realrintaro @castingjinx @amara-mars @hwangrfrnd @nujeskz @jisungs-iced-americano @zeizeisjy @va1entinaa @beomgyusluver @to-toad @akindaflora @hoefororeo

[damned-punk]

That’s Too Bad (Kidd Pirates x Reader)

@gratefulcheeses Kidd Pirate’s Month 2025

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Content Warning: language

Content Description: you and your crewmates purposefully bicker to liven up the quiet moments at sea ♡

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The last several days had been nothing short of chaos which wasn’t entirely unusual, but things had not slowed down at all. In fact, they’d only grown more hectic with the innumerable pranks that every member of the crew had been pulling on one another. It was like a downhill slope that only continued to get steeper, first starting with Dive attaching rhinestones to Wire’s cape throughout the day and escalating to House snatching Kidd’s goggles from his head and hiding out in the hull for hours. You weren’t sure you’d ever heard so many curse words be used consecutively before.

To add to the tomfoolery, she waited him out until he finally relented to his cabin and dressed the goggles with a bow before laying them on his workbench like a present. He was grumpy the next morning, but no one could deny her commitment to fucking with him relentlessly. Bubblegum felt like you needed to be brought into the fun and took it upon himself to turn nearly everything in your cabin upside down. The bed, your books, the pictures on the walls, your clothes, anything that he could flip or turn inside out without completely destroying was maneuvered out of its place.

“Alright, who did it?”, you asked dumbfoundedly as you entered the mess hall for dinner.

“Who did what?”, Dive asked first, initially causing you to place to the blame on her.

You approached her and leant down to meet her at eye level, her expression not quite faltering but she was known for having a decent poker face.

“It wasn’t enough to take the Captain’s goggles?”, you interrogated her.

“With peace and love, I honestly have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”, she replied while backing away, the sight causing the actual culprit to laugh a little too hard.

Your attention shifted to Bubblegum who seemed to be enjoying your frustration, he honestly thought he’d get away with it but resolved to relent when you approached him.

“C’mon, a little bit of change is good every now and then.”, he attempted to defend himself, which was admittedly funny but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“I’m going to sleep in your cabin tonight while you put everything back in its place.”, you smiled at him before giving him a swift flick between the eyes.

“Damn, you’re just gonna take that?”, Mosh pushed to get a reaction out of Bubblegum while several onlookers giggled at how unserious the situation was.

“I don’t know, she might beat his ass.”, Heat remarked in a further attempt to keep the rivalry alive.

“Might?”, you eyed the bluenette, “I can take him.”

“In a fight, right?”, Boogie bellowed out in laughter, your face heating up at his explicit comment.

“You know what, fuck it.”, you began trudging toward the door, not at all serious in your demeanor, “I’ve had enough of every single one of you.”

“It’s not like you to back down so easily.”, Killer added one last burn, “I guess it’s not a bad thing to know when to walk away.”

The entire crew began laughing at his remark, he wasn’t typically one to partake in everyone’s antics but it was always so much fun when he did. Killer could not only take a joke, but could give one right back with no hesitation. He balanced Kidd’s hotheadedness which was also so much fun to prod.

“I can handle Bubblegum being an asshole, but you? My heart’s in shambles.”, you feigned being upset and although you couldn’t see it, you could feel the sassy eye roll emanating from beneath his mask.

Just as you stepped out onto the main deck in hopes of getting some fresh air, you nearly walked directly into Kidd who was dangling a giggling Emma above his head by her ankle.

“What the fuck did you do this time?”, you couldn’t help but be amused by the sight.

“I might’ve snuck into Kidd’s workshop to hide under his bench in an attempt to scare him and it also might’ve worked.”, she attempted to stifle her laughter as Kidd’s angry face turned to meet your own.

“That’s too bad, I was gonna try that later.”, you replied, snorting a bit as Kidd huffed loudly.

You glanced up at the Captain and placed a hand over your mouth in a feeble attempt to hide your expression. He rolled his eyes and continued past you into the mess hall where yet another barrage of curses could be heard. You scurried back toward your cabin and away from the ever present chaos that was sure to surmount even further. Despite the minor inconveniences, you couldn’t complain. You loved these dorks, tempers and all.

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[whore4mattsturniolo]

Eat it - Dealer!Chris x Stoner!Reader

In which...Angel tries to get Chris to eat her out...tries to...

warnings: smutty, chris is kind of an asshole in this

a/n: somebody needs to set angel free man...

Chris had you pinned under him, his mouth attacking yours in a frenzy, his hands trailing up and down your soft skin. His lips moved your jawline, leaving sloppy, wet kisses down your neck as you moaned softly. He nibbled at the sensitive spot of your neck, making you gasp.

Chris was phenomenal in bed. He always made you see stars, always knew exactly what to do to make you cum in minutes, whether it was with his fingers or his cock. But never his mouth.

The more he denied you, the more you yearned for it. Each time he kissed you, every time his tongue delicately slipped into your mouth, you wondered what it would feel like against your clit. Feeling him lapping against your pussy, his beard scratching against your inner thighs as he pried your legs open.

As he left soft kisses along your stomach, you began to feel eager. You couldn't wait anymore. Gently and somewhat inconspicuously, you pushed his head down, hoping he'd get the hint, but he refused to move, his mouth latching onto one of your breasts instead, repressing the soft grumble from how annoying you were being.

You whine, growing more and more desperate for him. You try pushing his head down once again, but all this does is aggravate him more. He sits up, looking at you with frustration.

"Fuck are you doin'?" He asks, pissed off and confused.

You look at him with wide eyes, sitting up against the headboard. "Nothing," you say, trying to hide the growing anxiety in your voice. "Wasn't doing anything."

"Fuck you keep pushin' my head down for?" He spits. "Acting all needy and shit."

You shrug, "I was trying to get you to go down on me."

He makes a noise in between a scoff and a laugh, shaking his head at you, "Fuck no."

You raise your eyebrows. You had never had a guy tell you he doesn't eat pussy, and t fact that he was proud of it left you more confused. "What?"

"I don't do that shit," he chuckles dryly, removing the rest of his clothes, the cool air leaving goosebumps on his pale skin. "Not with you, not with anybody. Definitely not with you."

Definitely not with you. His words rung in your ears and tugged at your heart, reminding you that your situation was just that: a situation. But, despite his cruelness, you still wanted to find out why he refused to go down on you. "Why not?" You ask, cocking your head, trying to maintain the sweetness in your voice and hide the exasperation.

Chris sighs, growing more irritated with the conversation, throwing his clothes off the edge of the bed. "You gonna keep askin' me questions or y'gonna let me fuck you?" he says bluntly.

You start to pout, before nodding slowly. A grin spreads across his face as he pulls you towards him, moving in between your legs as he spreads them apart, admiring how pretty you looked under him. The way your skin glowed under the purple lighting, the way your eyes were glossy from joint you shared earlier.

Teasing you, he rubs his tip over your slick folds, your pussy leaking with need as a soft whine escapes your lips. Coating himself with your arousal, he finally pushes into you, a groan leaving his own lips at the feeling of you stretching around him.

"Theere you go," he coos darkly, watching you throw your head back as he presses his thumb to your clit, earning a smirk from his lips. He knew he was the only one that got to see you fucked out like this, and it made the experience all the more valuable. "This all you need from me, ain't it angel?"

You nod, your eyes rolling in the back of your head as his nails dig into your hips. He always managed to make your brain go fuzzy, no matter what he said or did, he always made you feel so amazing. Your jaw goes slack, all that escapes your mouth is loud, shaky moans.

"Beggin' me to eat your pussy," Chris mutters to himself, his thrusts getting faster, almost as if he was trying to take out his irritation from the prior conversation. "Like this dick ain't enough. Like m'your fuckin' boyfriend or some shit." He grits through his teeth, his voice rough and harsh.

You hear his words, but refuse to acknowledge them in the moment. You were blinded by the pleasure he was giving you, your senses being overun by the feeling of him in your guts. Whatever he was saying would be for you to obsess over in the morning. But right now, all you cared about, all you needed, was Chris.

a/n: lil smutty angsty piece for yall...sorry </3

tags: @yourmother29 @bowsandsturniolos @sweetshuga @sturns-mermaid @leah-sturniolo @spideylana @dykes4chris @sophsturns @mattsbunnyxx @slut4christopherr @trevorsgodmother @sosasturns @emely9274 @courta13 @mattsbrowser @oldermenwh0re @chrissweetheart @leoslaboratory @mattybsgroupie @conspiracy-ash @chriss-slutt @secretlocket @sagebutter11

[stopaskinf]

Summary: Namjoon wants to be closer to you.

Genre: mostly fluff, mild angst but it’s resolved by the end

A/N: This my ugly baby fr. I based this off If I was your girlfriend by Prince cause Namjoon deadass has this vibe.

If I was your girlfriend, would you remember

To tell me all the things you forgot when I was your man?

Namjoon feels deeply jealous of anyone who knew you before him.

He knows you love him; you married him. It still bothers him that he doesn’t know you fully.

You have secrets; ones that you can’t share with him. Ones that you can only share with those who have been there before him.

Would you let me dress you

I mean, help you pick out your clothes before you go out?

You went shopping with your sister, leaving a pouty Namjoon at home.

He could help dress you; he could make you feel gorgeous as you made him always feel.

Not that you’re helpless

He brings it up the next day. You stare at him, baffled.

“You saying I can’t dress?”

“No, I just want to help you with little things sometimes.”

“Like what?”

“Like, fuck, I don’t know. Your nails, helping you pick out clothes, finding a tv show, bathing—y’know that shit.

You give a hearty laugh.

“How ‘bout you help me with dinner then.”

But sometime, sometime those are the things that being in love’s about

He wants to be more intimate with you; to care for you in a way that only he knows he can.

If I was your one and only friend

Would you run to me if somebody hurt you even if that somebody was me

Namjoon has only seen you cry a few times. First, when Moni died; second, when you said your vows; lastly, when he bought your shared home.

He never saw you cry about anything small until now. It was a small argument; still, it made you feel small and insecure in a way you couldn’t describe. It was late and everyone you trusted had fallen asleep except for Namjoon.

You both lay in your bed as you sniffled into his shoulder. His head was turned to you giving you occasional soft kisses on your forehead.

“This is so silly to cry over.”

“It’s not. I had no idea I upset you this bad. I’m such an asshole.”

“Honestly, it’s not even about you, I’m just a mess.”

“You’re not. Even if you were, I still love you.”

You stayed silent as you slowly breathed into his soaked pjs.

“Come on, let’s wash up and go to sleep. You need it.”

“Ok.”

He releases you from his firm grasp to start the water.

“Baby?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

Sometimes, I trip on how happy we can be

That night, at 3 A.M., Namjoon felt closer to you; sitting in the bath, you back towards him as he gently washed your scalp while humming a soothing tune. Your tears long had dried to be replaced with a comfortable fatigue.

“Let’s spend the day together tomorrow. As an apology.”

“Ok.”

“Good. I’ll make us breakfast when we wake up.”

I want to be all the things you are to me

Surely, you can see.

[beevean]

Let's see why Trevor's important... hmmm... without him, Sypha would remain stone, Grant some goblin thing, and Alucard would still be catching Zzzs in his little coffin.

Belmonts are fucking important. Without Leon, there's no Trevor, and without Trevor, no Simon, no Juste, no Richter, literally the entire line is just BLEH, nonexistent, nada. Julius? Gone. Nonexistent. Nope. Not even a spec of sperm existing. Without them, Dracula would fuck shit up real bad. What, some random kid from the streets is going to pick up some magical item and be able to take down Dracula? No, the Belmonts had a reason to exist, and when Belmonts aren't around, you KNOW people are up in arms, terrified, "fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK we gotta arm up, train for life, we're fucking DEAD if a certain asshole shows up again, we're reaching 100 years."

Trevors's KIDS marry into Helsing and Morris. Pretty. Fucking. IMPORTANT.

Ecclesia exists because, "holy shit, a Belmont isn't present to protect us, we gotta fucking do all this shit cause we are FUCKED. We are SO COOKED if Dracula gets up to his shit again, it's been 100 years, any day now, we gotta do something to beat his ass because, my god, we DONT HAVE A BELMONT WHO COULD TAKE HIM ON."

Alucard shows up in SOTN because what? "Holy fucking shit, the only Belmont around is literally fucking corrupted as shit, and since he can't protect the innocents from daddy-o, I gotta step in for him because what the fuck."

Tell me again why we are pissing all over the Belmonts in the anime? You know they literally have to make SOME excuse for Alucard and Sypha to not be able to be there with Trevor when he has to fight death. And then we see Richter. Richter, honey, are you doing good there? Yeah? Having fun? Having fun being the fucking tailbone of the series? Tailbone? No, forgive me for overestimating your importance to the story, the TOENAIL of YOUR OWN FUCKING SHOW. You, Belmont, and yet... What have you done? Besides cry at a river because oh no, mommy dead. And it isn't brought up again second season. Fuck, I guess we aren't gonna be traumatized that the only other mother figure is. A. Fucking. VAMPIRE.

I died inside when I saw Alucard in the first season, showing up to sAvE thE dAY. Oh my fucking god. No, seriously, my god, can we NOT have any moment without you, Alucard? Can we not just... not have you for a little while? Can Richter just grow the fuck up, have his little character arc, get fucking corrupted, and THEN your dumbass comes back from Hawaii or wherever your dumbass has been for the past 300 years since your threesome fucking DIED? I honestly don't even care if they decided to have him do a world tour instead of going to sleep for 300 years, just. COME ON.

They shouldn't have named it Castlevania. It should be more like: Nocturne: Fuck you, Richter, the girls called for Alucard. Nocturne: The Chronicles of a Sidekick. Nocturne: My Mommy died.

"Nocturne: My Mommy Died" made me spit out a lung because yes! Richter literally bonds with people through dead moms! 😂

writing.jpg

(but he makes sure to specify that Annette had it worse, of course, which gives me lovely S1 flashbacks of Annette looking down on him and calling him a child who doesn't know much of the world)

Anyway, I could talk about how the first show wasted the very idea they had, which is that Trevor is important to the gang because he's the Night Creature expert and because of his heritage he has all the tools and knowledge necessary to take out any vampire (since Dracula goes down attacked by his own depression, and Alucard is a massive cunt to Trevor precisely due to his Belmont heritage that he needs), or that it is incredibly obvious that the only reason the story jumped to 1792 is only so that they could bring back Alucard the fandom blorbo and provider of fanservice, who cares about some rando like uhhhhhh Simon Belmont... but your rant is a work of art and I want to print it and frame it on the wall. Beautiful. I'm in tears. I have nothing else to add.

[agneslovestheinternet-blog]

FUCK YOU, don't leave me

Part Two: Three Weeks (Read Part One here)

Gally x Fem!Reader

3 weeks have passed since the incident that took your feud with Gally to fiery new heights. Apologies have been exchanged, wounds are healing, and you’re trying your very best to move on despite Gally’s recent bout of strange behavior. In the midst of his mounting distraction and your continued efforts to return to business-as-usual, you receive an order from Alby that has you questioning your enemy’s motives like never before.

Genre: enemies to lovers, spice (very briefly it’s mostly plot)

Word Count: 3K  Read Time: 12 Minutes

Warnings & Info: very light very brief sexual content, language, had to change the POV for this one it’s omniscient, movie!Gally, only Glader slang is shank, not the only girl in The Glade, nonessential OC’s added

Author’s Note: At first I thought this fic was gonna be a oneshot, then two parts, and now it’s honestly looking more like four. Hope y’all enjoy reading this one as much as I’m enjoying writing it; it really heats up in the next part (there’s smut lol);)

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

It’s been 3 weeks since the bonfire incident and every one of the days within them has been grueling for you. 3 weeks of apologies; to Alby, Newt, Elsie, Thomas, Ben, Lierale, Chuck and anyone else that had the misfortune of being near the bonfire that night. 3 weeks of waking up stiff from a night of sleeping in The Pit (Alby’s punishment). 3 weeks of evacuating the med-hut everytime Gally needed a check-up. 3 weeks of busy work and late shifts, trying to silently repay Clint and Jeff for their services that night by doing all the jobs they hate doing. 3 weeks of doing your own wound care. 3 weeks of staying out of everyone’s way and trying but failing to avoid the stares. And hardest of all, 3 weeks of having to come to terms with the fact that you’d finally gone too far. 

You had always prided yourself on only fighting Gally back in a defensive manner; only pushing back as much as he pulled you. But this stunt had thrown that streak out the window. Though it didn’t change the way you felt about him, you had to admit that scarring him permanently with an alcohol-fueled bonfire was hardly an appropriate punishment for slut-shaming and verbal harassment. 

For the first 3 days after the incident you were only let out of The Pit to go to the bathroom and shower. Alby had agreed to let you return to normal duties, if you continued to sleep in The Pit every night and didn’t socialize outside of work. But the main condition of your parole, (and the hardest one to fulfill), was an apology to Gally. It had taken place behind the Map Room, (a neutral location), and Alby had invited himself, Minho and Ben to keep the peace. Despite the countless apologies that had flowed from your lips like a never-ending tap, this one seemed to all but dry you up.

You had found it hard to meet Gally’s eyes at first, choosing to scan the bandages wrapped tightly around his strong arms, which were crossed in front of his chest. Your eyes finally settled on the prominent veins on the top of his left hand as you struggled to choke out the words.

“I’m sorry Gally,” you’d started, devoid of emotion. You lifted your head to meet his eyes. 

“You’re a dumb asshole…” Alby, Minho, and Ben moved in closer. “...but you didn’t deserve that,” you finished earnestly. 

“I am sorry that I hurt you. I hope it makes you feel better that I am also very hurt,” you continued with a dryer tone, motioning to the bandages wrapped around your chest and hands, a small smile tugging at your lips. Gally had returned it, against his better judgement. He looked to Alby, who gave him a reassuring nod.

“I’m sorry too, Y/N,” he said with a blank expression on his face.

“You’re the worst shank I’ve ever met…” Minho rolled his eyes. “...but I shouldn't have called you a slut. It’s not your fault all the guys around here only think with their dick,” he finished, using a softer tone that didn’t suit his defensive stance.

“And it does make me feel better, by the way,” he shrugged, nodding his head at the bandages poking out of your shirt.

“How about you shake on it?” Alby suggested cooly.

“No way,” you stated bluntly, your eyes narrowing as they never left Gally’s.

“Fuck no,” Gally scoffed, still staring at you. “The apology was painful enough,”

“Alright fine,” Alby conceded. “Get back to work. And if either of you come anywhere near each other, you’ll be living in The Pit until the next greenie comes up, am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Gally replied, finally turning his eyes to Alby’s face. You nodded slowly. Alby looked suspicious, but he waved his hand to dismiss you both. You both turned abruptly and took off walking in opposite directions, you towards the Med-hut and Gally towards his construction site. The three makeshift peacekeepers turned the corner to enter the Map Room.

“That was an apology?” Ben asked, scanning Minho’s expression for a hint of the same shock he was experiencing. 

“If I had nearly blown up The Glade, seriously burned someone and then tried to apologize to them like that, I think Alby would throw me to The Maze and lock the doors,” Minho just shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s the best we’re gonna get from those two. I’m just glad they didn’t try to kill each other on sight,” he countered, relieved it was over. After this apology, you and Gally had resumed your persistent yet unspoken agreement to never find yourselves near each other and any vague plots of revenge had died quickly, much to everybody’s relief. But it wasn’t exactly business as usual for Gally.

His 3 weeks have gone by a little differently than yours. 3 weeks of changing drainage-soaked bandages. 3 weeks of constant jokes about your outburst from his crew. 3 weeks of being watched like a hawk for any lingering retaliation plots. 3 weeks of being interrogated by his friends about his feelings on the matter. 3 weeks of daily check-ups in the med-hut by Clint & Jeff. 3 weeks of an extremely early curfew & a laundry list of extra chores set in place by Alby, who assured him that his role in the incident would not go unpunished. But he can deal with all of that.

The thing he’s having a harder time dealing with is how distracted he’s been. It’s so obvious that something’s bothering him that his crew has taken notice, his friends are concerned and even you can tell something’s not quite right. And that’s the thing that’s really been bothering him these last three weeks. The racing thoughts that are so out of character, Gally would rather fight a Griever barehanded than tell anyone about them.

The thoughts crept in slowly, like the beginning of a fever. He knew what he saw in the Med-hut that night and he knew his reaction. Arousal, obviously. He didn’t try to deny it to himself; that would have been pointless. But he did come up with a million justifications for it, each one weaker than the last.

I was drunk. 

He’d repeat to himself like a mantra. 

I was drunk and in pain and not in my right mind. 

He’d repeat with less confidence.  

I’m a repressed teenage boy who’s spent 3 years in a prison, most of that time with only other teenage boys. 

He’d continue, committing this list of contingencies to memory. 

That’s just a normal reaction for a boy to have when seeing a girl shirtless. It’s got nothing to do with feelings; it’s just human nature.

He’d think, coming up with some bullshit biological, animalistic, purely knee-jerk reason for the way his cheeks flushed while looking at you. The way he suddenly felt dizzy and not from the pain. The way his eyes widened and his thoughts immediately derailed into an X-rated movie.

I can’t fucking stand her. 

He’d always save this justification for last as it seemed to bring a finality to the matter. That just because he’s a warm-blooded male with the same instincts and needs as the rest of his species, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re the worst shank he’s ever met. So that was that. His mind had found an uneasy peace with it. Until the dreams started. 

They would come in flashes, just sensual tableaus that came right out of every abstract fantasy he’d ever come up with in the shower or late at night in his bed. Your lips on his neck, your hands gripping the coarse sheets of his bed, the feeling of plush skin beneath his hands, soft moans filling the warm air around him. He’d wake up breathless, all the warmth from his face draining to his boxers.

The fever was rising in pitch.

It was after these dreams that he’d thank the gods that his Keeper status got him a private hut so he could…take care of himself before heading off to work. But the thoughts would follow him throughout the day, spiking his body temperature each time they interrupted him.

“Watch it Gally!” a blonde-haired Builder hissed, ducking out of the way of the lumber he’d had slung over his shoulder that became a beheading hazard when he’d turned too fast. This was more than a week after the incident and Gally’s head had been preoccupied with the image of you on your knees, instead of his surroundings.

“Sorry sorry. My fault,” he’d mumbled back, trying to conceal the flush in his cheeks and cursing at himself under his breath.

“Gally the wall!” Newt had exclaimed five days later, pointing to the newly erected wooden structure that Gally had failed to notice while shoving his nose in the newest blueprints he’d drawn up. His head hit it with a hollow thump.

“Fuck,” he muttered, dropping his papers and massaging his forehead with his palm. Newt dropped his gardening hoe and jogged over.

“You alright mate?” he inquired lightly, trying to conceal the concern in his voice. If the ever-unflappable Gally had gotten to the point of literally running into walls, then there was definitely cause for concern.

“Yeah I’m fine,” Gally grumbled, shaking his head and trying to come to his senses. Unfortunately this accident had taken place in the middle of the day in one of the most trafficked areas of the Glade. And so the whispering had started. The strange glances his way during meal times, the ever growing mountain of well-meaning questions from coworkers and friends alike. The sentiment that Gally was for some reason, losing his mind, had even floated all the way into the med-hut, where you overheard it from Clint and Jeff.

“Yeah I don’t know, it's just weird. The shank’s a drill sergeant and now all the sudden he’s letting everybody off work an hour early?” Clint stated incredulously, wiping down a table that had been used to stitch up a nasty cut on a Builder’s arm a few minutes ago. The boy had come in an hour before sunset and Jeff had marveled in awe that he’d managed to convince Gally that a cut was enough of a reason to leave work early. The boy had responded, wide-eyed and with a hushed voice, that Gally let everyone out of work early, not just him.

“Maybe he’s sick. Maybe he’s been stung and this is the first phase of The Changing.” Jeff countered with a grin, emptying an armful of bloodied gauze into the fire.

“I hope not. Gally would make one hell of a Crank,” Clint scoffed and Jeff chuckled in response. You stopped pretending to go over the injury logs for the week behind the half wall that was obstructing your view of your coworkers, who you were shamelessly eavesdropping on. You rounded the corner quickly, intent on butting in.

“Gally let everyone out of work early?!” you asked dumbfounded. Clint and Jeff jumped slightly at your question and scanned your face for any trace of an outburst forming.

“Uh, yeah. It’s weird huh?,” Clint answered uneasily, still unsure of your motives. You weren’t exactly sure of your own motives so you gave a subtle nod of approval at his rhetorical question.

Why the hell would Gally let everyone out of work early? You’d seen him around the Glade with a dazed look in his eyes and you’d heard from Newt that he ran into a wall last week, but you couldn’t fathom what would be making him so distracted. You weren’t given much time to mull over the possibilities, as Alby suddenly appeared in the open door of the Med-hut, rapping curtly on the wooden door.

“Y/N, do you have a minute?” your leader asked calmly.

“Of course,” you responded quickly, trying to keep the panic flooding through your body at bay.

“Walk with me,” he motioned with his arm. You crossed the hut and followed him out the door, running through the list of everything you’ve done in the last several weeks, trying to find the discretion you were sure Alby was about to scold you for.

The sun was setting on The Glade, and it cast a distinctly romantic feeling into the air. You admired the orange and pink hues reflected onto the green grass and drank in the warm air that was punctuated by the excited chattering of your fellow Gladers in the distance, who were setting up for tonight’s bonfire. Your chest tightened at the thought. You knew you’d be the talk of the night and that everyone with a thirst for chaos would be hoping for a round 2 of your pyrotechnic prowess.

“So it’s bonfire night,” Alby broke the silence with a matter-of-fact tone.

“Yeah I know Alby. Don’t worry, I just need to clean up in the med-hut and I’ll be straight off to The Pit before it’s even dark,” You tried to get ahead of his warnings. But Alby was taken aback by this statement; he didn’t have any warnings to give. In fact quite the opposite.

“No Y/N, I want you to be there tonight,” You stopped dead in your tracks, your ears ringing slightly.

“What? Why?!” Alby tried not to be affected by your shock and continued with his well-rehearsed speech.

“I’ve spoken to Gally about this. If you two don’t go, the excitement about your incident from last month will only continue. It’s already all anyone will talk about. I know you’ve noticed that all eyes have been on you two,” he stated with a concerned look on his face that finally confirmed to you that he wasn’t joking.

“Of course I’ve noticed Alby, people call me “Firecracker” more often than my name. But if we go, it’ll be chaos,” you countered, your voice hissing slightly at the pronunciation of what was rapidly becoming your least favorite nickname. Honestly, you’d do anything to go back to your earliest days in The Glade, when a particularly cruel sect of boys started calling you “Suzy Swallows” after you’d eaten a banana at the breakfast table with a little too much gusto.

“If you both go and you both keep your temper in check,” Alby glared at you, “and you both stay sober,” he raised his voice slightly, punctuating the last word, “and everyone sees that nothing happens tonight then it will all blow over. If you don’t go, the gossip will only grow and we’ll just have to deal with it twofold next month. It’s better to rip the bandage off,” 

That last sentence was more to reassure himself than you. The Glade has to move on from this. It needs order to function and a female arsonist is the direct antithesis to that order. It’s bad enough he can’t seem to get a large sect of the boys to keep their hands off the very few girls; god forbid they all start thinking the best way to deal with that conflict is to set the place on fire.

“Is this an order, Alby?” You couldn’t think of any other protests at the moment. Alby did have a point; you and Gally not being there would almost certainly ensure that no one would be talking about anything else.

“Yes it is,” he retorted quickly. He quickly softened his tone. “Besides, you deserve a bit of a break, Y/N. You’ve been doing really good this past month. If everything goes well tonight, you can sleep in your own bed again and be free to do what you like after work,”

The sound of his praise elicited a sigh of relief that washed over your tense body like a wave of warm water. Alby knew you weren’t inherently stupid or destructive; just prone to bouts of occasional drunkenness and pigheadedness like the rest of the Gladers. He felt that your punishments had more than compensated for your crime and frankly he was starting to feel guilty every time he saw you timidly navigating your day to day activities with the demeanor of a kicked puppy.

“Ok. Let me finish up in the med-hut and get changed, and I’ll be there. Thank you, Alby,”

“You’re welcome,” he paused, a conflicted look on his face, as he pondered if he should mention one other detail of this arrangement. “You might want to thank Gally too. When I brought up this idea to him, he offered to stay in his hut and let you go tonight, but I refused. It seems despite your feud,” the corners of his mouth upturned in a slight smile, “he thinks you deserve a break, too,” Alby continued in the direction you’d both been walking in, still wondering if it had been wise to divulge that fact to you. He wasn’t sure if it would soften your anger towards Gally but he was confident it couldn’t make it any worse. You had remained frozen in place, bewilderment setting in rapidly.

What the fuck??

Gally had offered to do something…kind for you? He’d offered to sit out bonfire night, the one night a month in which he can let off steam by beating the shit out of greenies and getting his friends drunk, for you? You turned your head slightly, wondering if you were about to watch The Glade freeze over or The Maze come crumbling down, as the likelihood of those things happening seemed higher than the likelihood of what you’d just been told. You shook your head to clear the confusion and started half-running, half-walking to the Med-hut, finally letting the excitement of getting to do something fun for the first time in a month swell in your chest.

You never thought you would ever feel the sentiment that came to your mind next. It went against every instinct you had and all the history you’d established in your time in The Glade. But you couldn’t help it, the warm feeling of gratitude spread through your chest quickly and you found yourself muttering a very unusual string of words as you approached the Med-hut doors.

“Thank you Gally,”

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Tags: @katie-tibo @my-little-universes @vaille123

[insufferableprotagonistpoll]

Insufferable Protagonists Winners Round 1

Propaganda why Evan Hansen is insufferable:

"just. oh my god. i cant put it into words. hes horrible im sure the rest of the world can find better ways to explain it than me"

"he lies to a grieving family about having been their dead son’s best friend. he does a bunch of patently awful things to either keep up this lie or benefit from it. he is portrayed as the good guy oh poor little guy he just has anxiety THE ENTIRE TIME"

"Lying creep"

"Lies about having been friends with a suicide victim so he can get in the pants of said victim's sister. The narrative excuses it and gives Evan no consequences for his actions because he's uwu anxious sadboi. What more is there to say? Other than the fact Ben Platt looked far too old to play a teenage boy so the film version is downright disturbing."

"Oh my god he’s such a douche. He’s presented as a good guy while manipulating and lying to the family of a guy who just committed suicide. He decides to do this because he wants to fuck this dead kid’s sister. Ridiculous. I hate him"

Propaganda why Jimmy is insufferable:

"The most chillingly real depiction of one of those men that think the world owes them everything. He's a rapist, a misogynist, abelist, self-centered, abusive, terrible friend and person that gets everyone killed because he was big mad about being laid off. It shocks me that there are apparently people out there that play the game and like him. He's so evil, but never in a way that makes him cartoonish, and that makes him all the more terrible. The game lays it out itself: he won't take responsibility for anything. He is never the villain in his own eyes. Scumbag."

"Tbh he's not just insufferable. He's disgusting. I can't even list all the horrible things he did because they would need multiple trigger warnings. He thinks that he's so high and mighty to the point where he betrays his own captain so that he can take his place, and then blames his actions and the ship crashing on said captain, who was actually trying to save them. So all of the crew died in one way or another (because of Jimmy's actions) thinking that their captain betrayed them when really if was him. And a quick Google search can tell you all the really nasty shit that he did. So not only is he insufferable, he's also just a horrible human being."

"Listen, I'm not even in the fandom and I know what his ass did. Screw this guy"

"Bro never takes responsibility for anything he did. Assuming he even acknowledges it *vaguely motions at what he did to Anya*"

"SA, causing a ship to crash, murder and elongating his friend's suffering in a cryopod for 20 years"

"He's literally the worst. He's a rapist, he framed his friend for attempted murder-suicide after getting him mutilated, and he either directly or indirectly killed everyone else. He's such an unreliable narrator that it's difficult to tell how the others of the Tulpar crew actually are because he sees everyone as beneath him."

"rape, murder, just generally being an asshole"

"LITERALLY A RAPIST"