#is that for whatever reason I have a tendency to be way too open about myself and what I feel

[caguaydreams]

Hm... never trust how you feel about your life past 9pm or however that goes and stuff, but sometimes I do be pondering what I do on the regular and it gets to me, the silliest things

[anantaru]

ONE KISS IS ALL IT TAKES ... OR MORE? — SCARAMOUCHE

your boyfriend scaramouche can be so grumpy sometimes, but you know of a couple ways that will make him show his soft side, wc. 1.3k

・✶ ｡ warnings — heavily making out & tit play, fem! reader, fluff, established relationship, grumpy scaramouche

it's not difficult for you to discern whenever your boyfriend scaramouche was grumpy after a long day and you could already hear it from afar, not needing to see him— the familiar sounds of grumbling and frustrated sighs flowing from his lips to your ears even before you entered your shared apartment.

to be clear, you really don't mind your boyfriend being in one of his moods again, it was quite normal to you and in all honesty, there was nothing more inside of you than a burning impulse of wanting to help him as good as you could.

you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for what might've been the reason this particular night.

right as you walked into your bedroom, you found him lividly pacing back and forth, his brows furrowed and his lips set in a tight line of frustration, agitated to the point where he didn't even acknowledge your presence, too wrapped up in whatever was bothering him.

"hey, are you okay?" you ask him gently, stepping a bit closer before setting your jacket on the bed, not taking your gaze off him.

"hah, what? oh, yeah, totally fine, totally okay," he mutters back, awkwardly glancing at you before resuming his pacing, giving you a cold shoulder— and ah, he did this often, for scaramouche it was difficult to actually open up but also, the last thing he wanted was to somewhat drag you down with him.

"those people in the akademiya just, they're, ugh, aggravating, you know? they don't under- understand me, they don't listen, they don't leave me alone,"

"they also can't stop staring and muttering their little mouths to death."

you listen patiently, nodding contently as he vented out his frustrations while ever so often attempting to stop himself by biting into his lower lip— and well, scaramouche had a big tendency to get grumpy pretty easily, and it often took him a while to wind down but talking to you helped, even if it takes him a little to actually do it.

not to mention that you knew the secret to calming him down, always, achieving great relaxation in softening the expression on his face.

you take his hand, guiding him to the edge of the bed as he flinches he moment you touched him, "come over there," you motion towards the bed as he nods, pulling him down to sit beside you, "relax, okay? you're home now."

"i can't relax right now," he barks back, furrowing his brows although he can never resist your welcoming, more so warm embrace as you tugged him closer to your chest, "how can people be so stupid there? aren't they supposed to be geniuses or something?"

you couldn't suppress a laugh, chuckling as you tenderly run a hand through his tousled hair, "maybe you're just too smart, ever thought about that?" you add and listen to him as he exhales shakily through his mouth.

but the man grumbles and you could swear you saw a smile, a slight pucker of his lips when you called him smart, seeing it as a small victory in itself before you shift closer, your arms wrapped around his neck.

he reacts to your touch immediately, his body tense against yours as you just hugged him for a while, holding him gently and waiting until you felt him start to relax.

"breathe and— and just feel me, okay?" you utter.

he sighs but you know whenever he sighs just like that, when the tension in his soul and body eases a bit more, "you're too good to me, keeping up with this," he frowns, his voice losing some of it's earlier sharp edge as it attains a pillowy note.

"ah, i know," you tease, "—don't have to tell me that all the time," as you playfully roll your eyes, kissing his cheek, "kidding, i love all sides of you."

"feeling better already?" you ask him, "now that i'm here?" your voice barely above a whisper.

"maybe, only a little though," you're helping and he knows it, he's both in love and scared by how well you already knew him by now.

his gaze flickers to your lips and back to your eyes, "there's something that would make me feel better, great even,"

a curious expression dances over your cheekbones, a playful smile tugging at your precious lips, "oh, really now? what are you thinking about?"

and instead of answering you with words, he captures your lips in a kiss that was a cross between a need and a fleeting frustration, an eager want that quickly deepened the kiss between you. you tug at his hair, pushing him into your lips as he kissed you like a man starved of love and lust, his tongue moving over yours in a hunger well beyond desperation.

the intensity multiplied in seconds, in every touch and every swipe of tongue— scaramouche was eager, he made sure to kiss you even harder as his hands roamed freely over your chest, leaving you short of breath.

never in a million years was his touch not possessive, not almost desperate to the point where you immediately needed more— although it was easy to discern that there was an underlying reason as to why scaramouche kissed you that way, it's as if he was afraid you might slip away if he didn't hold you tight enough.

you broke the kiss only long enough to gasp for air, looking into his doughy eyes as your heart knocks and knocks against your chest, his facial expression drowsy and clouded, his lips swollen and glistening, "scara," you whine, your thighs pressing together.

"hmm?" he just hums an answer, not giving you a chance to say more before capturing your lips yet again, another kiss that was even more fervent than the last one he has given you.

he helps you get onto his lap before one hand slipped under your shirt to play with your tits, instantly targeting your erected nipples with a playful pinch and tug.

you shiver and moan his name, your body responding to his touch with a need that barely matched his own.

he shifts the both of you before pressing you into the bed, his body on top of yours and his lips searching for your neck as it elicits a hefty gasp from your throat.

scaramouche laughs with a deep groan as he continues to pinch your nipples and squeeze your pretty tits, his bangs sticking against his forehead and only showing the pace he was going for.

"scara, please— please," you whine, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you arch into his touch.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire, "please what, hmm?" he asks teasingly, like he doesn't know what he's doing to you— as if he's not fully aware on how to get you to this point.

his voice was now, consisting of a low growl that sent shivers down your spine before he grabs at his clothed cock to show you what you're doing to him, stroking the obvious bulge in his pants and hissing as he grinds his cock into his palm.

"please don't stop," you whisper and cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you before your voice trembles in need, "i need you, it feels so good,"

ah, what was the reason he was grumpy about again? because archons— scaramouche swears he forgot, he can forget just about anything when he hears you say that you need him.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[ryukatters]

it's your fault for loving me — y. okkotsu ⁺˚⋆｡°✩

⟡ pairing: yuuta okkotsu x fem!reader

⟡ cw: /DARK CONTENT, /yandere! yuuta, /dubcon, /NONCON, ex-bf!yuuta, stalking, he breaks into your apartment, he /manhandles you (he’s strong), /implied babytrapping, /possessiveness, MINORS DNI

⟡ wc: 2.9k (someone sedate me)

⟡ song inspo: language by brent faiyaz

⟡ summary: Your ex boyfriend breaks into your apartment. What do you mean he needs to leave? He’s staying right here.

The slow, muffled drag of your feet ricochet off the hallway walls as you trudge along to your apartment. You fumble with your keys for a little bit, but find no resistance as you insert it into the slot. 

“Huh, that’s odd…I could’ve sworn I locked it.”

You chalk it up to exhaustion. You're only practically ever home to sleep due to the way you've been throwing yourself onto mission after mission. Even now, sleep is a luxury you can barely afford. You kick off your shoes lazily, not bothering putting them in their rightful place on the shoe rack. 

Maybe before, you would have cared more about keeping the house tidy. Or maybe before, your loving boyfriend would pamper and coddle you the minute you opened the front door, so you never had to worry about the little details like putting your shoes in the right place.

You were exhausted. 

You wanted nothing more than to wash up and plop down onto your soft, soft bed. You don’t even make it to your bedroom door before you pause, anxiety prickling your nerves. 

You sense him before you see him. Yuuta’s cursed energy has always had a tendency to seep out whenever he was around you. Whether it’s a testament to how he’s able to fully relax in your presence or a display of raw power, you’re not sure. 

"You're home," a certain black-haired sorcerer chirps. "How was your mission?"

In the past, simply hearing Yuuta’s voice would be enough to melt away the pent up stress from a hard day of exorcizing curses. It’d soothe your aching muscles and tired soul as you let yourself be enveloped by the weight of his affection. But right now, it did everything except that. 

The shiver of excitement that used to run down your spine is replaced by trepidation caused by the only person who used to be able to comfort you. 

You know better than to ask how he knew you were on a mission, much less ask how he managed to break into your apartment. It seems he's been in here for a while, with the way he seems to have made himself at home on your bed, much like the way he used to before. 

"Why are you here?"

The question makes him sit up. 

“Because I missed you. Is that so bad?”

You want to laugh. The whole situation is all sorts of fucked up, and the two of you are talking about it the same way one would the weather.

“Yuuta, we broke up 2 months ago,” you press, vexation lacing your words. You could never imagine yourself using that tone on him. Yuuta’s always been so meticulous in loving you, in making sure you were happy.  He’s never given you a reason to be upset with him. But that was then, and this was now. 

You could say whatever you wanted to say. You were tired and definitely not in the mood to deal with a supposed burglar that happens to be in the form of your ex-boyfriend.

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” he says simply.

“You walked out on me!”

“Because I thought you needed some space. And now I’m back. But I never said we were breaking up.” 

Space was an extremely generous term for what Yuuta gave you. If you could consider watching your every move from a distance, keeping tabs on who you talk to, and making sure you stay out of trouble secretly, “space.” He would never let you know that though. It’s too much, too soon.

He couldn't help it, not when his precious baby could get hurt. He’d never forgive himself if that happened.

“Come and sit, my love. You look so tired.” He pats the space next to him. You will your heart not to flutter at the familiar nickname. 

Your body moves before your brain can catch up. It’s almost like listening to him was muscle memory. You pause in your step, cross your arms, and glare at him. 

“Leave, Yuuta. I don’t want to see you.” The words rise from the very depths of your soul and spill out of your mouth like bile, burning and spiteful. It hurts to speak to him like this, even after he’d abandoned you with no hopes of return. 

“Sit, love.” A little more demanding this time. “I’m not repeating myself again.” 

The tension in the air is palpable, so thick you can cut it with a knife.

You take a seat. Yuuta doesn’t miss a beat before he has his hands on you. 

“Missed you,” his hand reaches out to cup your jaw, thumb rubbing against the plushness of your cheek. 

You’ve always been so soft, it’s one of the things Yuuta loves the most about you. 

You flinch. Blame it on the adrenaline coursing through your body like wildfire. Your fight or flight response is shot. Yuuta’s touch seems to rewrite everything that’s been hardwired into your brain. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple, before moving down to kiss the tip of your nose, and both of your cheeks. Each press of his lips leaves feels like it’s being seared into your flesh, a metaphorical branding iron of sorts— to show that you’re Yuuta’s and Yuuta’s only. 

Your mind goes blank when he sucks a kiss into the side of your neck, whimpering pathetically as he grazes his teeth along the sensitive skin. 

“We can’t do this,” you assert, but the words get stuck in your throat, so it comes out more as a whiny sigh. Your body seems to have a tendency to betray you when it comes to him.

“But we can,” Yuuta coos, pushing you down until your back is flat against the mattress. He takes both of your hands in his, lifting them up until they’re above your head, effectively pinning you in place. “We’re doing it right now, aren’t we?” 

Yuuta can appear pretty unassuming to outsiders. He’s quiet, reserved, almost meek. If one were to take a closer look, however, they’d realize that beneath that unostentatious front was a more commanding aura, one that forces you to submit to his whims with his sweet tongue and sensuous touches. Perfectly calculated, perfectly executed. 

"I fucking hate you,” you spit, thrashing against his hold, but to no avail. 

"No you don't,” Yuuta shuts you down with conviction. Like it’s the absolute truth— the kind that can’t be twisted or broken. It almost feels like he’s chastising you for thinking otherwise. “Take that back right now.”

To be honest, hearing those words stung more than any physical blow you could have ever landed on him. Has he not shown you enough love? Or have you already forgotten? 

Isn’t what you have pure love? 

A hand wraps around your neck, lithe fingers inching up before they grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him.  “I said,” blunt fingernails digging into your skin, “take it back.”

You sputter out an apology with teary eyes, an odd mix of humiliation and regret seeping into your bones, stomach swirling with shame and to your horror, a tinge of anticipation. 

It’s pathetic, really, how easily you give in. 

“Now give me a kiss, sweetheart.” Yuuta bridges the gap between the two of you. He presses his already throbbing bulge against your clothed pussy, moaning into your mouth appreciatively.

You feel so dizzy you think you might explode. 

Yuuta makes quick work of the buttons on your uniform, releasing your wrists so he can throw the offending garment and all your underthings beneath it to some random corner of the room. 

Calloused hands roam your body, squeezing and groping, as if to map out the cartography of your flesh, committing each peak and valley to memory. He watches in fascination how your skin bristles with goosebumps in the wake of his touch. 

He ignores your pleading cries and attempts to push him off. Yuuta is being driven by pure instinct alone. That sick, twisted voice in his head that he’s always tried to suppress whispers. It goads him on to take what he wants, to make sure you remember that you’re his, and his alone. 

He knows that you haven’t been seeing anyone. You were always so loyal, even when you were upset with him. Anyone who did try was taken care of the minute they left your sight. 

It’s been far too long since he’s had you. His desire fills him with a sort of quiet rage, one that metamorphoses into something darker, more sinister and morose the longer he goes without you. Almost like a curse that’s gone far too long without feeding. 

Yuuta Okkotsu loves you to the point of madness.

He thinks he might literally implode in on himself any second longer without you.

It’s almost laughable how different the two of you are. An ethereal beauty too good for this world, yet here you were in between the legs of a cursed man with too much love than he knows what to do with. 

“Yuuta, please,” you cry out. You flail your legs in an attempt to kick Yuuta off. He catches both with ease, throwing them over his shoulder to slide your bottoms off, leaving you completely bare. 

He can’t suppress the groan that tumbles past his lips. You’re even more beautiful than he remembers. 

You’re dewy eyed and gasping, nails clawing at his forearms and beating at his chest in a last ditch effort to stand your ground. Nothing can deter him. 

Yuuta could easily heal himself if he wanted to. But the angry red welts and blossoming hues of purple on his pale skin are a badge of honor of the utmost prestige. It’s undeniable proof that you’re real, that his love for you isn’t just a fragment of his imagination, and that none of this was just some pipe dream. He could take a little pain if that meant you got to be his. 

He’s always been yours without any reservations. 

“You can cry if you want, if it helps,” he says genuinely, but the gleam in his eyes shifts into something predatory. “But you should know you’re really fucking wet.” As if to prove a point, he slowly fucks his middle finger into your weeping hole, then his index, then his ring. They curl up to rub against that spongy spot just the way you like. 

You let out a sharp gasp, spine arching off the mattress. 

You tried to ignore him—detach yourself from the whole situation, let him get his fill, and be done with this whole ordeal. But it’s Yuuta— the man has a grasp on both the corporal and spiritual parts of you that you can’t bring yourself to understand. It seems like he knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. And right now, he’s managed to make a home in all five of your senses. There’s no escape. He's made sure of that. 

He pulls out his fingers with a lewd squelch. A clear sheen of liquid coats every digit, stringy as he parts them to show you. He smiles knowingly.

“You keep fighting me, but it turns out you want it after all, sweetheart.” 

Your cheeks burn in humiliation. Whether it’s from the situation at hand or the truth behind his words, you’re not too sure. 

“Don’t you know?” Yuuta rasps, fingers going back to work their way inside you rhythmically, bringing you closer and closer to the precipice, paying special attention to how you try to mask how your face contorts in pleasure. 

He presses his forehead against yours, willing you to look at him wordlessly. “I know what’s best for you. I know what you want. And right now, this little pussy wants to be fucked. Isn’t that right, my love?” 

He’s met with a breathless moan. You’re so close. Tears threaten to fall as your chest heaves in exertion, trying not to teeter off the edge too soon. 

You look so pathetic it’s insane. Yuuta swears he can feel his mouth water in anticipation for what’s bound to come next. He thrusts his fingers with calculating speed and precision, the heel of his palm slapping against your neglected clit just right. 

He leans down right when you cum, lips catching yours as you moan into his mouth. Satisfaction swells in his chest as your slick drips down his wrist. 

“You’re ready.” 

Yuuta unbuttons his pants, pulling it down just enough for his cock to spring free, tip slapping his abdomen as it leaks with precum. He fists it, jerking his hand up and down his length. He slaps it against your clit once, twice, and a third time before he slips it inside your weeping hole. 

Your walls spasm around his cock to accommodate his sheer size and girth, struggling a bit more than usual. You feel so full. It’s been far too long since he’s fucked you. You claw at his lower abdomen, trying to make space between the two of you. It’s all too much, all at once. Yuuta won’t have it. He slips his hands under your sweaty thighs, pinning your ankles on either side of your head, effectively folding you in half. You cry out at the stretch.

“Always take me so well, angel.” 

He sets a steady pace, dragging his cock in, pulling out, and then back in with an absurd amount of force. The sound of skin on skin ricochets against your bedroom walls like a sort of cacophonous symphony. You don’t get the luxury of the sweet, slow thrusts he usually blesses you with, while he coos about how good you are for him. 

“Where’s all that attitude from earlier? Am I making you feel that good?” 

You glower, refusing to acknowledge the fact that your body betrays your mind— that Yuuta’s bringing you closer and closer to nirvana the further he drags you down into hell. 

He slides his hand down your tummy, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Yuuta—!” You clench around his length, hurtling towards your second orgasm quickly. 

“You’re so greedy. Cumming again already?” 

He’s met with silence. He’ll forgive your transgressions this time around. He’ll just have to teach you how to be his good girl again. 

A particularly rough thrust has you choking back a moan.

“Thought so. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

Your peak hits you like a crashing wave. Your body tenses, leaving you gasping for air as you clench around Yuuta’s cock. You cry out deliriously, falling apart as Yuuta continues to pound into you. It’s too much, but you can’t pull away even if you tried. You’re stuck.

“I’m the only one that can make you feel this way, understand?” He grits his teeth, staving off his release just a little longer. He fucks you through your orgasm thoroughly as he chases his own. 

He presses all of his body weight on top of you, your legs on either side of his head as he folds you into a mating press. He groans at the change in position, allowing him to fuck into you even deeper. 

Realization cuts through your cloudy judgment like a sword. 

“Yuuta— Yuuta, please. Pull out–!” 

Your pleas fall on deaf ears. He’s rambling now, intoxicated by all you have to offer, yet you’re the one paying the price. The effects of overstimulation are taking over now, your body twitching involuntarily with each thrust. 

“I’m not leaving you, ever. It’s just you and me.” 

You shake your head in objection, mind too hazy to voice out any resistance. Tears well up, threatening to spill from your lash line. 

Yuuta nods with a grin, canines glinting, just like a predator that’s caught its prey. “It’s true, sweetheart. I’ll make sure of it. Say I’m it for you. That I’m the only one.” 

“Say it.” 

“You’re it for me, Yu. The only one.” You babble, tears streaming freely now. 

You feel the moment he reaches his plateau— the way his dick twitches inside of you right before your walls are being painted white with splashes of Yuuta’s hot cum. 

Your fate’s been sealed. 

He fucks into you a few more times, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he rides out his orgasm. A white ring wraps around the base of his cock, the copious amounts of seed he’s poured into you threatening to leak out. 

Yuuta doesn’t bother pulling out. In a quick show of dexterity and freak strength, he manages to flip the both of you so that your positions are switched, with you lying on top of Yuuta’s chest. The steady beat of his heart fills your mind. 

Your entire body is on fire. You feel numb. You let yourself be carried away by the prospect of sleep, hoping that you’ll wake up to find that this was all just some wild fragment of your imagination.  

He presses a hand against your head, like he was afraid you’d pull away and ruin whatever fantasy he’s deluded himself into believing. 

The simple truth is– Yuuta Okkotsu loves you. And he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that no one else gets in the way of that. 

He runs his hand up and down your bare back lovingly, admiring your spent form. You’ve always been so soft. So pliant, so willing to give in to his desires. 

It’s the thing that Yuuta loves most about you. 

a/n: i had to reupload bc this hellsite sucks. hopefully this shows up in the tags now

tagging @princess-okkotsu again hehe

[demonpiratehuntress]

The Straw Hats (+Ace) with you being injury prone

Featuring: Zoro x Reader, Luffy x Reader, Sanji x Reader, Usopp x Reader, Ace x Reader

Summary - you get hurt very easily. waking up with random bruises, tripping over your own feet, walking into walls, etc. and your boyfriend is extremely concerned.

Warnings - like one swear word

A/N: im super clumsy and VERY injury prone, so i thought this might be fun to write. writing this with ice on a bump on my head :))))

ZORO

Zoro tends to get murderous when he spots an injury or even the smallest cut on you. He is immediately ready to tear up whatever caused it, or slice the person responsible into ribbons. So you try to hide it as best you can, especially since you are especially clumsy and getting hurt is your biggest skill. Got a cut or bruise? You're wearing long pants and long-sleeved shirts. Bump on your head? Beanie or hat.

Sometimes, though, your body forgets you're trying to conceal your clumsiness and it will blatantly expose you, such as right now.

"OW! DAMN IT!"

You had been trying to sneak up on Zoro, who was laying out on deck - you guessed it - taking another nap. One of his eyes opened at the sudden cry, landing on your figure nearby. You were hopping around on one foot, clutching your knee with both hands, your expression pained. The swordsman sat up.

"How did you hurt your knee?"

Indeed, there was nothing around for you to hit your knee on - a precaution taken by Nami and Chopper, the only two who knew about your unfortunate tendency to get hurt.

"I...I kicked it."

"How did you-" Zoro was absolutely stunned. He was an idiot, but even he knew there's no way you could kick your own knee. It was physically impossible. He got up to come an inspect it.

"I'm fine!" You promised, setting your foot down - unfortunately for you, it twisted and took you down with it. "OW!"

Zoro's jaw dropped. It took a hot minute for him to react, too shocked to fully comprehend what had just happened. When he got over it he carefully lifted you up, taking you back to his hammock so he could take care of you. He had turned his back for a second before he heard a loud thud.

You groaned.

"HOW DID YOU FALL OFF THE HAMMOCK?!"

He was immediately rushing over to pick you up again, keeping you in his arms this time. He was so worried, the poor guy, eyes grazing over your body in concern. You didn't look physically hurt, but he could tell you were in pain. Mostly from the impacts of your falls. From then on, he's your personal bodyguard, having to physically move some things so you wouldn't knock against them, or move you so you wouldn't hit anything. As for the hammock...he always made sure to get on first so he could hold you and keep you from rolling off.

Good luck convincing him to ever let you walk anywhere - or do anything - alone again.

LUFFY

Luffy is a menace. Far from being concerned about you when you would trip or bump your head, this damn idiot has the nerve to burst into loud, uncontrollable laughter.

"You're funny, (Name)!"

And he doesn't mean to hurt or upset you, it's just the way he is. He's seen you on the battlefield, mercilessly crushing whoever got in your way, so he doesn't think much of these little accidents. He thinks you're not hurt, that you're completely fine and doing it on purpose to - yes this is his reason - entertain him. After all, why else would such a ruthless fighter just flop and fall around for no reason?

"Luffy, I don't think she did that on purpose..." Usopp tried to tell the captain, who was trying to convince you to fall again.

You frowned, trying your best to not get upset with your dumbass boyfriend, and before you could stop yourself, your body already obliged. You turned and walked right into the mast - face smashing against the hard wood. You groaned and stumbled back, your nose hurting and eyes glossing over. You fell onto your butt, earning another round of obnoxious laughter from Luffy.

"DON'T JUST SIT THERE AND LAUGH!" Sanji knocked Luffy so hard on his head that the captain fell to the floor, hitting the deck face-first. Then the cook came to help you up.

"Thanks," you mumbled, feeling so embarrassed.

It was then that Luffy noticed your tears, and he sprung to his feet - completely unaffected by Sanji's attack. He came up to you and grabbed your arms, making you look at him.

"(Name), what's wrong?"

"I'm fine," you smiled, shaking off his concern. You made to walk away, but you once again turned and slammed into the mast.

"CAN WE MOVE THIS DAMN THING?!"

"But that's...that's always been there?" Usopp said-asked meekly.

You shot him a glare so withering that he screamed and cowered behind Luffy, who just laughed and wrapped his arms around you, extending them until he had you completely encased in a cocoon made by his arms.

"There, now you can't get hurt!"

SANJI

Sanji, like Zoro, tends to overreact when you get hurt. And by overreact, I mean he dropkicks everyone and everything that dared to cause you harm. So you try to hide your injuries from your overly concerned boyfriend, opting to cover them with layers. Sanji found this a bit odd, but otherwise didn't press. But slowly he started to notice things he hadn't before.

"My love, watch that-"

You bumped into the wall, sending your book crashing onto your face.

"-wall."

He rushed over to check if you were okay, laughing a little when you pulled the book away from your face to smile at him sheepishly.

"I'm fine."

Seconds after you said that disaster struck again, with you tripping over your own feet - with absolutely nothing being in the way - and falling over. Sanji's eyes widened and he quickly helped you back up.

"You are very clumsy, (Name)," he chuckled, not knowing that was exactly it.

"I am," you agreed, hiding your embarrassed blush behind your book.

Before he could say anything else, you took off and tried to quickly walk away before he could notice the growing bruise on your knee. That failed, as you hadn't taken three steps before you crashed into one of your oncoming crewmates, and fell backwards.

"Mosshead! Why did you push (Name)!" Sanji yelled, coming over looking ready to throw hands.

"As if I would do that!" The swordsman snapped back.

"Well she's on the floor isn't she?!"

"She bumped into me!"

"How dare you blame (Name) you big oaf!"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"

You quickly stood up and got in between them, averting the total destruction of the Going Merry.

"He's right, Sanji. I bumped into him. I told you I'm clumsy."

You didn't have to say more before you were suddenly scooped up into the cook's arms, hearts in his eyes with his next words.

"Well then I'll just carry you everywhere my love!"

USOPP

Generally speaking, Usopp is a lot more alert than most of the crew. So it's no surprise that he picked up on your clumsiness early on, but he didn't think it was anything to worry about since it was just small stuff. But the moment you walked in one day with a bag of ice on your head, unsuccessfully trying to conceal it under a hat, Usopp grew alarmed.

"(Name), is everything okay?" Your concerned boyfriend asked you, stopping you from lifting something up. "Your head-"

"Is fine," you finished with a smile, kissing his cheek. "But thanks babe."

You walked away before he could insist on you telling him what was going on. But unfortunately for you, your two left feet gave you away and you stumbled forward, dropping the box and then tumbling over it. Usopp cried out in alarm and ran to your side, helping you up.

"(Name)!" He fussed over you. "Okay that's it, what's going on?"

"Should have known I couldn't fool the brave Captain Usopp," you smiled, trying to divert his attention.

"Well, I-" He stopped laughing confidently when he realised what you were doing, "Hey! You can't do that! Tell me, I'm worried."

You sighed, "I'm just clumsy, that's all. And injury prone."

"That...explains a lot..."

You growled and smacked him, "Is that all you can say?!"

"S-sorry!" He apologised quickly, rubbing his head. He was about to take you to Chopper for nothing other than he was worried you were hurt internally, when you suddenly tripped and fell on top of him.

He groaned, "Clumsy is an understatement."

ACE

He notices right away. There was no way it was normal for someone to walk into a wall that they knew was there, or to trip on a flat surface, or bonk their head on a shelf that they knew was over their heads - multiple times. But somehow, you managed to do all of that and more, and poor Ace was sick with worry about your physical health.

"OW! FUCK!"

Ace's head shot up from the bed, "What happened?!"

"I hit my head again..."

"Same shelf?"

"...Same shelf."

He chuckled before getting up and going over to you, bringing you into his strong arms. He placed a kiss on your head, replacing your hand rubbing your sore spot with his hand.

Later on, you were trying to bring him something, when you stubbed your toe on the bedframe and tumbled onto the bed, startling the poor man out of his nap.

"(Name)!" He figured you must have tripped, but he was not prepared for your tears. "Where does it hurt?"

"My toe..." You pouted. "I hit my food on the bed."

He face-palmed. It takes a lot for Ace of all people to face-palm, so embarrassment creeped up on you. Before you could protest, he pulled you on top of him and made you lay on his chest.

"I swear, you're a walking safety hazard," he teased. "Looks like I can't let you leave the room now."

He meant it. And if you did leave, it was with him. He was just too worried about not being around when you hurt yourself, which was valid because he was always your source of comfort.

Later...

"What happened to your eye?"

"I...fell...out of the bed..."

"...."

You are on the verge of making Ace cry.

[nicxl333]

LUSTFUL TENDENCIES— WRIOTHESLEY X READER

bro…i just finished the 4.1 archon quest and omfg i’m going mad over wrio- fucking hell

characters: wriothesley, afab! reader

summary: you almost get caught giving wriothesley a blowjob so he punishes you in his office (not proof-read)

warnings: 18+ content, nsfw, semi-public smut, blowjob, handcuffs, spanking, established relationship, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, squirting, breeding, slight 4.1 spoilers

it wasn’t supposed to end up this way. hell, you had only made your way into the fortress of meropide to deliver an urgent message from neuvillete to none other than the duke himself, your boyfriend.

so how oh how did you end up with a mouth stuffed full of dick?

“fuck…that’s it beautiful, doing so— so well for me” wriothesley groaned, pushing his bangs back from his face.

you moaned around his dick in appreciation and gratitude at his praise, your cunt pulsing at the sheer sinfulness of the situation. you knew damn well that anyone could see what was going on should they venture even one step too far up the staircase leading to the open plan of his office. truth be told they wouldn’t even have to set foot on the stairs, for they would hear the sloppy sounds of your mouth long beforehand.

your eyes gazed into his, enjoying how he fell apart at the sight of your mouth engulfing every inch of him. the way his eyes clenched shut, scar just below his right eye compressing as it followed the movements of his eyes squeezing from the overwhelming pleasure.

he could feel the coil in his stomach tightening, his resolve unravelling as he tried to regain his composure and control, albeit failing to find any reason to given how you were taking care of him so fucking well.

alas, before his end could occur, the sound of his heavy door opening downstairs and footsteps audible caused both parties to freeze, the risk of your filthy secret threatening to be discovered.

proving his ability to act instantaneously under pressure he lifted you off his soaked cock, pushing you under his desk and reeling in his chair so his state of undress would not be identified should whoever was quickly approaching wander too close to his grand desk.

after a continuous rhythm of steps, a head poked through, the figure confirmed to be chef wolsey.

wriothesley briefly glanced down at you, his eyes sharp in a silent warning;

stay. silent.

you spared him a single smirk just before he lifted his head to look at the man who was now standing before him.

“how can i help you today wolsey? if it’s for time off you already know the drill, you need to give in credit coupons.”

above your head you could hear the chef speak.

“ah, your grace, it’s not about that. if you are lenient enough i would need your authorisation on a slight change to the ingredients of the welfare meals. i have discovered a correlation of stomach bugs occurring with numerous inmates possibly due to the type of milk used.”

really and truly, you couldn’t give a shit on the status of the inmates, as cruel as it sounded. you just wanted to be filled by wriothesley, and wolsey was currently cockblocking you. so you did the one thing that was advised against.

“i suppose that can be done, given that it’ll lessen my work load should i allow this matter to be resolved. just give me the required paperwork and i can give you clearan—”

he immediately tensed up, seizing in the middle of his sentence. why? because he felt your hand slowly stroking his girth. although taken by surprise, he did his best to not show it, opting to clear his throat in an attempt to save himself.

“umm, sir, are you alright?”

your hand tightened on wriothesley’s dick, twisting as you stroked, your smirk widening with your wicked intentions. you could see his thighs taut and fists clenched, trying so hard to not react. he couldn’t talk, he knew if he opened his mouth to speak he would either let out a groan or moan. whatever the outcome, both were highly unsavoury and would no doubt get you caught. after a few moments of silence wolsey pressed further.

“erm…your grace?”

you slightly loosened your grip and slowed down your movements to allow the man in front of you to save his dignity, if he even had any left.

he lifted a bandaged hand, waving it around in a dismissive motion. “yes yes, i’m quite alright. don’t you have ingredients to be chopping or something? best get to it.”

wolsey immediately nodded, turning towards the stairs and swiftly making his way down. only when wriothesley was certain he was gone did he push you off him and pushed his chair back, pulling you upwards and slamming you on his desk.

“oh you are so fucked baby. did you enjoy us almost getting caught?”

he leaned over you, caging you in while he started rubbing your clit through your panties, eliciting a moan from you.

“yeah i know you enjoyed that, you’re fucking soaked you dirty girl. want me to fuck you?”

he pressed harder on your clit, rendering you unable to speak. you arched your back and rolled your hips in time with wriothesley’s hand, maximising the pleasure. when he didn’t hear an answer however he took it upon himself to bring a hand down against your left cheek, the stinging sensation leaving you crying out at the pain mixed with pleasure.

“answer me y/n, do you want me to fuck you?”

“yes wrio please! it feels so good!” the strokes of his fingers increased in rapidness, the friction of the fabric against your clit quickly bringing you to the brink of orgasm.

“you gonna cum pretty girl?”

“shit— yes wrio!”

“well that’s too damn bad.” and he pulled away altogether, standing at full height and looking down at you.

you turned your head to look at him, eyes wide with the fear he would leave you like this, unsatisfied.

“wrio please! make me cum, i need you so bad baby!”

he stood, arms crossed and expression unwavering.

“oh you do now? maybe you should’ve thought about that before you pulled that little stunt of yours.”

you wiggled your ass at him hoping to break down his resolve.

“wrio i’m sorry, i’ll be good for you i swear.”

he said nothing, instead opting to move closer to stand right behind you, dick now pressing against your clit, making your breath hitch. you heard movements of metal behind you, wondering what he was doing until he leant closer over you, chest to your back which pressed his dick even further into you. you moaned out, too distracted to realise just what he was doing until he grabbed both your wrists, bringing them together and cuffing them with his handcuffs.

he stepped back to look at his handiwork, smirking as your arms flailed to the best of your ability, struggling to get free. he then bent down, kneeling while he pulled down your panties, looking at your cunt shining with arousal.

“wrio! what are you doing?!”

“you want to get fucked right? i’m just fulfilling your wish, with the exception of one thing of course: you can’t cum.”

you whined out, jolting when you felt extremely cold fingers against your entrance, tracing the seeping hole. it was apparent that he used the power from his cryo vision to lower the temperature of his palm.

“wrio! c’mon i said i was sorr-”

you cut yourself off when you felt two of his fingers breach your entrance, stuffing you to the hilt. his fingers were thick as it is, so you already felt extremely full. even worse when he curled them against that spongey spot in your cunt and started attacking it.

your thighs immediately tried to close, proving to be quite the useless action once his iron grip prevented you from doing so.

“aht, aht, if you know what’s good for you y/n you’ll comply like a good girl, you’re already in deep shit as it is.”

and so, you succumbed to the pleasure of the sensation you were feeling, moaning at wriothesley’s ministrations on your pussy. he leaned over you once more, this time feeling his bare dick directly on your bare clit. he licked the shell of your ear, whispering into it seconds later.

“yeah does that feel good y/n? go on, tell me how good i’m making you feel.”

“so fucking good wrio! i want more— want you to fuck me. don’t hold back, i can take it.”

he complied, removing his fingers and moving his dick down to your entrance, using your previous lubrication and current arousal to fully coat his angry red tip, before slowly pushing in.

your back arched hard into a ‘c’, your hands doing what they could to grip onto his desk despite being cuffed.

he laughed at your actions, continuing to sheath himself inside you until you were completely filled, resting for a moment before slowly pulling out again. he repeated this action multiple times, teasing you to see just how long it would be until you completely snapped.

“wrio! can you stop fucking around and jus— oh fuck!”

his change in pace was instantaneous, his thrusts pounding against your ass, having you moan out in ecstasy. he quickly pulled his tie from around his neck, putting it around yours and pulling so your head fell back, being able to see him above you and therefore his next words to you.

“be quiet baby, or i’ll stop.”

although his door downstairs was big and heavy, it wasn’t soundproof. and if you didn’t shut the fuck up someone was bound to hear.

you nodded your head, opting to let out whimpers of approval instead. he doubled his pace, something you didn’t even know was possible, almost as if he was challenging you to disobey him once more.

it was becoming increasingly difficult to not cum. his thrusts drove so deep inside you it felt like you couldn’t breathe in the short burst of intervals between thrusts. each push of his hips against yours had the veins on the underside of his dick rubbing up against your g-spot, something that quickly had you tumbling towards the edge. you knew wriothesley knew that, how could he not when all he could feel was your cunt gripping him so tightly?

it’s not like he was well off either, he was quickly losing himself inside you too. although you had been dating for a little over 7 months, he still could not find himself getting used to the way you clenched around him. it had him quickly unraveling the exact same way you did, and delving deep into the pits of no return.

“you gonna cum?” his voice was strained, composure tethering on a thin thread, threatening to collapse.

“n- no.” a lie. you both knew that. he decided to play along though.

“good. cause you can’t cum.”

“wrio!” you had no choice but to beg, for you were quite literally about to cum. his earlier actions had already brought you to the edge, but now you were delirious with pleasure, and had no way to stop yourself from cumming. you already did what you could. “please! let me cum, let me cum! i’m sorry baby i really am, i need you to make me cum! i’m begging you, just do something, anything!”

wriothesley had no other option but to allow you to, given that he was about to cum himself.

“go ahead y/n, make a mess for me.”

with his approval, you immediately felt the coil inside your stomach snap, causing you to gush around his cock. you moaned out his name as quiet as you could, which wasn’t very quiet at all. he never stopped thrusting, allowing your essence to go everywhere. on your thighs, on his, and dripping on the floor. your cunt was gripping wriothesley like a vice, and he fell victim to his own orgasm, hands on your hips tightening, groaning deeply while spilling every drop into your spent pussy. his thighs shook from the sheer intensity as he slowly came to a stop.

all was silent for a moment, as you both breathed heavily, hot and exhausted from what had just taken place. after a while, wriothesley was the first to move, slipping out of you and grabbing some tissues from the side of his desk, wiping delicately at your cunt before pulling up your panties and releasing your wrists from his cuffs with a key from his draw. he gave your temple a kiss before pulling away.

he then fixed himself up, tucking himself away back into his pants and taking his tie back from your neck, wiping the sweat from his forehead and sitting back in his chair, pulling you down with him and engulfing you in a hug.

“now then, would you like some tea before you go?”

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |8|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Eight: Old Temptations

Summary: After hiding yourself away for weeks, Anika and Henry get you to return to the living. While you're at the party they bring you to, you run into Tara before a third-party runs into your fists.

Warning(s): Swearing, fighting - whoop whoop!! that's the sound, social interactions, and drinking (underage)

Notes: I made at least ten drafts, combined them, adjusted, and here is the final product. This is more of an R focused chapter, so you'll start to see more of the internal struggles she goes through along with a special guest start. As always, I hope you enjoy

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

The incandescent lights of Henry's apartment building buzz overhead as you follow him and Anika up the concrete stairs. Your boots echo against each step, creating a hollow rhythm that matches your reluctant heartbeat. You've been dreading this party all week, but your friends had worn you down with their relentless enthusiasm and pointed comments about your "hermit tendencies."

"I still can't believe you actually agreed to come," Henry says over his shoulder, his keys jingling as he searches for the right one. "Usually getting you out after exams is like trying to coax a cat into taking a bath."

"Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf," you mutter, knowing full well it's a lie. The only reason you'd agreed was because they'd caught you in a moment of weakness—specifically, when you were coming down from a three-day study binge and your defenses were too low to properly deflect their persistent pestering.

Anika snorts, adjusting her glittering top that catches the harsh hallway light. "Right. And I'm going to start watching silent films with you."

"Charlie Chaplin’s a classic," you defend, following them into Henry's apartment. The familiar scent of his signature sandalwood candles hits you immediately. 

"Whatever you say, grandma," Henry teases, disappearing into his bedroom. You can hear him rummaging around, probably looking for whatever he plans to wear tonight.

You collapse onto his worn leather couch, the same one he'd rescued from a curb three years ago. Despite its questionable origins, it's the most comfortable piece of furniture you've ever encountered. Maybe if you sink deep enough into it, they'll forget you're here and leave without you.

Anika perches on the arm of the couch, already touching up her makeup in a compact mirror. "You know," she starts, and you recognize that tone—it's the one she uses when she's about to say something she thinks you won't like. "Tara might be there tonight."

Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip. "And why would I care about that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Anika draws out the words, applying another coat of mascara with practiced precision. "Maybe because you've been moping around ever since your little disappearing act?"

"I haven't been moping," you protest, but even you can hear how weak it sounds. "I've been studying. There's a difference."

"Right," she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. The past few weeks have been a blur of textbooks, coffee, and a blend of mathematical formulas and historical documentations. You'd thrown yourself into exam preparation with perhaps more vigor than strictly necessary, but that was just your way of dealing with stress. 

It definitely had nothing to do with how you'd ignored her texts afterward.

Dork (3:47 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) I can't make it tonight

Tara (3:48 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) oh. lemme knw when u can reschedule 

Dork (3:48 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) Tara, don't do that

Tara (3:49 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) dont wat????

Dork (3:49 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) I know what 'oh' means

Tara (3:50 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) well then eblighten me cuz idk what ur ymmaring abt

Dork (3:51 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) *Enlighten/*yammering, and never mind

Tara (3:51 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) 🤓 is u fr 

Dork (3:52 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) Excuse me? 

Tara (3: 52 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) i have to explain??? but i thougt u were all knowing!

Dork (3:53 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) *Thought. I know you know how to spell, you're just reckless with a keyboard

Tara (3:53 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) my question is when did i ask

Dork (3:54 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) That's an improvement

Tara (3:54 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) stfup.

Henry emerges from his bedroom, now wearing a fitted crop-top that every guy wore in the 80’s. "Are we talking about the Tara situation?"

"There is no 'Tara situation,'" you insist, making air quotes with your fingers. "Can we please just go to this party so I can suffer through it and get back to my peaceful, drama-free existence?"

"Drama-free?" Henry laughs, grabbing his keys. "Is that what we're calling your one-person production of 'Hamlet' these last eighteen years?"

You bite your thumb at him, but there's no real heat behind it. These are your best friends, after all, and you know their teasing comes from a place of love. Even if they're being particularly annoying about it tonight.

The drive to the party is a blur of street lights and the sound of Abbey Road. You're behind the wheel of your beloved '70 Ford Maverick, a car that Henry constantly ridicules. Anika claims the passenger seat, still fussing with her makeup, while Henry sprawls in the back, giving you directions that are more confusing than helpful.

"No, no, turn left at the next—wait, I meant right. My other left."

"Your other left?" you deadpan, making the turn anyway. "How many lefts do you have?"

"Don't sass the navigator," he replies primly. "Oh, there it is! The house with all the cars out front."

You pull up to the curb about half a block away, already feeling your anxiety spike at the sight of the crowded frat house. Music pulses from within, so loud you can feel it in your chest even from here. People mill about on the front lawn, red cups in hand, their laughter carrying through the night air.

"Remind me again why I agreed to this?" you ask, killing the engine but making no move to get out of the car.

Anika turns to you, her expression softening slightly. "Because Henry threatened to sing the entire soundtrack of 'Cats' outside your bedroom door if you didn't come."

"That was a low blow," you mutter, finally unbuckling your seatbelt. "You know how much I hate that musical."

"Desperate times," Henry says cheerfully, already out of the car and bouncing on his heels with excitement. "Come on, let's go find out what kinds of terrible decisions we can make tonight!"

You follow your friends up the walkway, trying to ignore the way your palms are already sweating. The last party you'd attended had been... well, it had been a week before your self-imposed exile. The night Tara had looked at you with those impossibly dark eyes and asked if you wanted to get some air, and you'd panicked and made up an excuse about needing to check on your nonexistent fish.

The front door is already open, music and voices spilling out into the night. As soon as you cross the threshold, you're hit with a wall of sensory input that makes your head spin. The air is thick with artificial fog from a machine hidden somewhere in the corner, mixed with the distinctive scent of cheap beer and various perfumes and colognes. Multi-colored lights pulse in time with the music, turning everything into a strobing dreamscape and your nightmare.

Henry guides you through the crowd with a gentle hand on your back, navigating the sea of bodies with practiced ease. You catch glimpses of familiar faces as you pass. They all blur together in the dim light, becoming a kaleidoscope of features that makes your head swim.

You end up at yet another worn leather couch that's seen better days, probably around the same era as your car. Henry gestures for you to sit, and you do, grateful for something solid beneath you. The cushions seem to want to swallow you whole, and for once, you don't fight it.

"I'll get us drinks!" Henry shouts over the music, already backing away into the crowd. "Don't move!"

Anika lingers for a moment, looking torn between staying with you and pursuing whatever—or whoever—has caught her attention across the room. You wave her off with a weak smile. "Go. I'll be fine right here, becoming one with the furniture."

She hesitates another second before grinning. "Try to have some fun, okay? And text me if you need an escape plan." Then she's gone, disappearing into the crowd with the grace of Mindy, someone who actually enjoys these sorts of gatherings.

Left alone, you let yourself sink deeper into the couch, watching the party unfold around you. A group of girls near the makeshift dance floor are attempting some sort of choreographed routine, though the alcohol in their systems is making it more comedic than coordinated. Two guys are engaged in what appears to be an intense debate about pizza toppings, their gestures becoming more animated with each passing second.

The bass line of whatever song is playing thrums through your body, making your bones vibrate in a way that's not entirely unpleasant. You find yourself timing your breathing to it, using it as an anchor in the chaos. This isn't so bad, you think. You can handle this. It's just a few hours, and then you can go home and binge-watch your comfort shows until the sun comes up.

"Y/L/N special!" Henry's voice breaks through your thoughts as he returns, thrusting a red solo cup into your hands. The liquid inside is an alarming shade of orange that definitely doesn't occur in nature.

You eye it suspiciously. "What exactly makes it a ‘Y/L/N special'?"

"The fact that it's specifically designed for the same people who despise candy unless it's 99% cacao," he explains, dropping onto the couch beside you with his own drink—something amber-colored that you assume is actually beer.

"That's... oddly thoughtful," you admit, taking a tentative sip. It tastes like water that’s had lemons and limes soak in it for months, the kick makes your tongue tingle. "And dangerous."

"Just pace yourself," he advises, watching as more people filter into the already crowded space. "Oh hey, isn't that Charlotte?"

You follow his gaze to see Charlotte, the person you ended things with through a text message. You try to hide behind the red plastic in your hand as you sip, but you nearly spill your bitter bread water all over yourself when she notices you. You can tell it caught her off guard; her eyes slightly widened and she took an uncomfortably long pause mid-sentence. This pause caused her friends to look over which only made things even more awkward—at least for you. After shooting daggers at you and one of them flipping you off, they linked elbows with Charlotte and took her to a different room.

You know you deserved it.

Henry sucked his teeth. “Ouch. Casanova strikes again,” he chuckled with amusement.

“Ugh,” you express in response to the name for you before downing the last of the liquid in your cup. “I’m out. I’m gonna get one more.”

One drink turns into two, two turns into three, and somewhere during your debate with Henry over which Ninja Turtle’s the best one, you’re interrupted by a pair of familiar dark brown eyes meeting yours. Your attention always seemed to gravitate towards Tara Carpenter. 

You momentarily pause your expression of admiration for Leonardo, peeking over Henry’s shoulder to give Tara a downwards smile paired with a finger wave. She rolls her eyes and returns your finger wave in a mocking gesture. After Henry realizes what’s grabbed your attention, he makes an excuse to walk away.

You're nursing your fifth orange drink when she materializes beside you, seemingly out of thin air. "Seriously?" The word drips with exasperation. "You're actually hiding behind Henry?"

"I'm not hiding," you protest, pulling yourself up to what you hope is a dignified height. "I'm strategically positioning myself for optimal social avoidance."

Tara snorts—an inelegant sound that somehow makes her more endearing. "Is that what we're calling it?" 

The space between you crackles with a tension that's part irritation, part something else entirely. 

"I could ask you the same thing," you counter with a crack in your voice. Tara notices this and slightly raises an eyebrow while giving you a once-over. "Pretty sure you've been standing in the exact same spot for the last twenty minutes."

Her eyes narrow. "I'm observing."

"Stalking," you correct automatically.

"Strategically positioning myself," she throws your earlier words back at you, and there's a glint in her eye that makes your breath catch.

For a moment, you felt uncharacteristically at ease in such a setting—when you catch a fragment of a conversation that makes your blood run cold. 

“—Carpenter's got a mouth on her that could—"

The words slice through your alcohol-induced haze like a knife. Your head whips around so fast you almost give yourself whiplash, searching for the source of the comment. Two guys are leaning against the wall near the stairs, one of them making crude gestures as he continues to make vile comments about Tara.

The pleasant warmth in your system transforms instantly into liquid fire. You recognize one of them—Marcus Wheeler from your Calculus class, the one who always makes inappropriate comments during lectures and thinks he's God's gift to mathematics. The other is unfamiliar, but the way he's laughing and encouraging Marcus makes your skin crawl.

Your muscles tense. Tara notices immediately. "Don't," she warns, a single word packed with more meaning than should be possible.

But you're already moving, your body acting before your brain can fully process the decision. 

Your fist connects with his jaw before you even realize you've thrown the punch. There's a satisfying crack that you feel more than hear, followed by a burst of pain across your knuckles that you're too angry to properly register. The pain sends a rush through you, pushes you, tempts you for more. 

Marcus staggers back, both surprised and hurt, but recovers quickly. He lunges for you, but your muscle memory kicks in. You sidestep, using his momentum against him, and somehow you end up on top of him, getting in another solid hit before strong hands pull you away.

The world comes rushing back all at once. The music has stopped, replaced by the murmur of shocked voices and the ringing in your ears. Everyone is staring at you, their faces a blur of surprise and judgment. Marcus is on the ground, blood trickling from his split lip, and presumably broken nose, looking at you with a mixture of rage, disbelief, and fear.

Your chest feels too tight, like someone's wrapped steel bands around your ribcage and is slowly tightening them. The weight of what you've just done crashes over you like a wave, threatening to pull you under. You need to get out—now.

You shoulder your way through the crowd, ignoring Henry calling your name, ignoring the whispers that follow in your wake. Someone tries to grab your arm, but you shake them off, focused solely on reaching the door. The cool night air hits your face like a slap when you finally burst outside, but you keep walking, your hands shaking as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

The crisp winter air hits you like a slap when you stumble outside, your breath forming small clouds in the freezing night.

“Wait!”

When did she get here?

"Let me see," Tara's voice cuts through your alcohol-induced haze, her hand reaching for yours with a familiarity that makes your head spin—or maybe you've had one too many of those orange drinks.

You thrust your hand toward her dramatically, wincing as the movement sends a spike of pain through your bruised knuckles.

"I totally got that incel good," you slur, a giggle bubbling up from somewhere deep and slightly unhinged. The ice beneath your feet seems to shimmer with your triumph.

Tara's fingers hover just above your hand, not quite touching but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from her skin. "You're going to need ice for that," she says, her tone caught between exasperation and something else—something softer.

"Ice, huh?" You look down at the ground, the irony not lost on you. 

With exaggerated precision, you bend down and scoop up a handful of snow, pressing it against your knuckles. The cold bites, but it's a welcome contrast to the burning anger and alcohol still coursing through your system.

"This works, right?" You look up at her, your eyes wide and slightly unfocused. The world tilts slightly, but Tara remains steady—an anchor in your spinning vision.

Something flickers in her eyes—amusement, maybe. "You're something else," she mutters, but there's no real bite to the words.

Emboldened by alcohol and adrenaline, you lean in closer. The words tumble out before you can stop them. "So… I never did get an answer to that proposal."

Tara goes very still. A smile begins to form, tentative and fragile as first light. 

She chuckles at your remark before shaking her head and scoffing to herself. "Sometimes I just don't get you," she says with a smile still etched on her face, but there's more complexity in those words than simple dismissal as she stares back into your eyes.

Confusion must show on your face because she looks away, the streetlight catching the curve of her cheek, the set of her jaw. You didn’t know what else to say so you just said the first thing that came to mind. 

“Merry birthday, Tar,” you said. 

She’s taken aback by this. She didn’t know what to say, yet still opened her mouth to respond. Maybe something would come to her, but before anything did—

"There you are!" Anika's voice cuts through the moment like a knife. Your car pulls up to the curb, engine running warm against the freezing air. "We need to get out of here before that guy calls the cops."

The moment dissolves. Tara takes a step back, creating distance that feels more emotional than physical. You're left standing there, snow melting between your fingers, the taste of unresolved everything burning at the back of your throat.

As you climb into the passenger seat, you catch one last glimpse of her in the side mirror—a silhouette, perfectly still and impossibly distant.

—

The drive home is mostly silent, broken only by the occasional sigh from Anika and the gentle humming of your car's engine. Your knuckles throb in time with your heartbeat, a steady reminder of your momentary loss of control. The adrenaline is wearing off now, replaced by a mixture of embarrassment and alcohol-induced wooziness that makes you slouch lower in your seat.

"You know," Anika finally says as she pulls into your shared apartment complex, "when I said you needed to be more social, starting another fight wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

You grunt in response, too busy focusing on the way the world is tilting slightly to form actual words. The drinks are hitting harder now that the excitement is over, making everything feel soft around the edges.

"Use your words," she chides, killing the engine. 

"Words are for people who don't punch assholes at parties," you mumble, fumbling with your seatbelt. The simple mechanism seems impossibly complex right now.

Anika reaches over to help you, her movements gentle despite her exasperated tone. "Come on, Rocky Balboa. Let's get you inside."

Getting up the stairs to your second-floor apartment proves to be an adventure. You insist you can do it yourself, but after the third time you miss a step, Anika wraps an arm around your waist and practically drags you up.

"I can walk," you protest, even as you lean heavily against her.

"Sure you can. Just like you can make rational decisions at parties, right?" 

You attempt to glare at her, but the effect is somewhat ruined when you stumble over your own feet. "He deserved it."

"Oh, I'm not arguing that point," Anika says, fishing her keys out of her purse while still supporting most of your weight. "Marcus Wheeler is definitely in the running for Biggest Douchebag of the Year. But maybe next time we could handle it without violence? You know, like adults?"

"Adulting is overrated," you declare as she manages to get the door open. "If I was a kid, I could just pull Tara's pigtails or something."

Anika steers you toward the kitchen, depositing you none too gently into one of the mismatched chairs around your small table. "Okay, first of all, that's not the approach to crushing on someone that you think it is. Second, stay put while I get the first aid kit."

You slump forward, resting your forehead against the cool surface of the table. "Not crushing," you mumble into the wood. "Just... emotionally compromised."

"Right," Anika calls from the bathroom, where you can hear her rummaging through cabinets. "And I'm just 'casually interested' in my hot girlfriend."

"That's different," you argue, lifting your head slightly. "You two are together. You’re attached to the hip—you don’t hide from each other."

"Ha! So you admit you were hiding!"

You let your head thunk back down onto the table. "I admit nothing. I was studying. Very intensely. In locations where certain people were statistically unlikely to appear."

Anika returns with the first aid kit and a bag of frozen peas, setting both on the table. "Sit up, you disaster. Let me see your hand."

You comply with a dramatic sigh, straightening in your chair and holding out your injured hand. Your knuckles are already starting to bruise, spots of purple blooming across the skin. There are a few small cuts, probably from where you caught Marcus's teeth.

"This might sting," Anika warns before dabbing at the cuts with an alcohol wipe. You hiss through your teeth but don't pull away. "So," she continues, her tone deceptively casual, "want to talk about what really happened back there?"

"Not particularly," you mutter, watching as she carefully cleans each cut. "Can we just chalk it up to temporary insanity and move on?"

"You punched a guy for talking shit about Tara." She applies antibiotic ointment with practiced efficiency. "That's not temporary insanity. That's feelings."

You try to pull your hand away, but she holds firm. "It's not— I just— He was being gross!"

"Mhmm." She wraps your knuckles in gauze with precise movements. "And the fact that it was about Tara specifically had nothing to do with your reaction?"

"I would have done the same for anyone," you insist, even though you both know it's a lie. "It's about basic human decency."

"Right. Basic human decency. That's why you've been moping around our apartment for two weeks, taking different routes, and muttering under your breath when you think I can't hear you."

Before you can form a suitably indignant response, your phone buzzes. Henry's face appears on the screen, caught mid-laugh at some long-ago hangout.

You put the call on speaker, feeling too exhausted to hold the phone. Henry's excited voice crackles through, bursting with energy.

"Holy shit! Are you okay? That was the most badass thing I've ever seen in my life!"

"I'm fine," you mutter, wincing as Anika presses a bag of frozen peas against your bruised knuckles. "Ow! Except for my so-called best friend trying to give me frostbite."

Anika's tone is no-nonsense. "Keep the ice on, or your hand will swell up like a balloon."

Henry can barely contain his excitement. "You should have seen Marcus's face after you left. He was completely shaken. I don't think anyone's ever stood up to him like that before."

You groan, tilting your head back. "Great. Now I'll be known as the crazy chick who starts fights at parties. That'll look amazing on my resume."

"Are you kidding? You're going to be a legend!" Henry starts, then suddenly there's a scuffle in the background.

"Am I on speaker?" you ask, suspicion rising in your voice.

"No!" Henry says simultaneously with another voice declaring, "Yes!"

You recognize the second voice immediately. "Henry James Martinez," you say, using his full name—knowing how much he hates it—"Are you and Tony back together?"

"No!" Henry protests. "His place flooded, and he needed a place to stay!"

"Sure thing, Hef," you chuckle, catching Anika's amused smile.

Tony's cheerful voice joins the conversation. "Hey, heard you knocked some douche on his ass for talking shit about your girlfriend. Nicely done."

"She's not my girlfriend," you respond quickly.

Henry can't resist. "Define girlfriend."

You're ready with a comeback. "Define sharing a living space with—"

"Uh oh, bad connection," Henry interrupts, and suddenly the line goes dead. Anika bursts into laughter.

“I’m gonna get you some aspirin,” Anika offered, patting your shoulder as she passed. “But just so you know that whole ‘emotionally compromised’ thing? Yeah, that’s basically the definition of crushing.”

You make an incoherent noise of protest into the table. 

"Oh, and by the way," Anika calls from the kitchen, "you're totally teaching me that right hook tomorrow. After your hangover wears off, of course."

You lift your head just enough to deadpan at her. 

"Love you too, champ. Now take your aspirin and go to bed before you fall asleep on the table. Again."

Not long after she went to her room, you stumble into the bathroom, hand throbbing and head spinning—the former a reminder of the night’s events. The light is harsh against your alcohol-fogged brain. The tile floor is cold beneath your bare feet as you stumble to the sink, turning on the water and splashing your face.

When you look up, he's there.

Your Uncle's bloody corpse stands behind you in the reflection, that familiar crooked smile that's always been more predatory than comforting. His appearance is exactly as you remember from old photographs—that slightly manic glint in his eye, the way he holds himself like violence is always just beneath the surface.

"Killer punch," he says, leaning against the bathroom wall. No greeting, no preamble. Just direct observation.

You don't jump but roll your eyes. "Go away," you mutter, gripping the sink's edge.

He chuckles—a sound that's more bark than laugh. "I saw myself in you tonight. That rage? That precise moment of calculated violence? Pure genetics that chose you."

"I'm nothing like you," you snap, turning to face him directly. The bathroom suddenly feels smaller.

He takes a step closer. "Oh, but you are. That moment when you heard those guys talking about your girl? That split second before the punch? That wasn't just anger. That was hunting instinct."

You close your eyes, trying to block him out. "I'm not a killer. I'm not you."

"Not yet," he says, and there's something almost proud in his voice. "But you've got the potential. I saw how you moved. How you calculated. How you knew exactly where to hit to cause maximum impact."

"My dad’s a professional pig," you counter. "It’s not like I attended murder school."

His laugh is sharp, brittle. "Call it what you want. But we both know there's something inside you. Something sharp. Something waiting."

The argument feels familiar—like every nightmare, every family gathering where his memory haunted the edges of conversation, their fear of the parallels you both held. You're tired of it. Tired of him.

"I'm going to bed," you declare, pushing past his spectral form.

He doesn't disappear immediately. Instead, his voice follows you. "We're not so different, you and me."

You pause at the doorway, not turning around, as your hand tightly grips the edges of the doorframe. "We're nothing alike." 

The silence that follows is answer enough.

As you crawl back into bed, the room feels normal again—just another night, just another internal argument with a ghost who refuses to stay buried.

But somewhere in the darkness, you can still feel him watching. Waiting.

-----------

A/N:

gobble, gobble

[showf4lls]

ɞ ― make a home in you; chuckle sandwich

cw + info! fluff, headcanons / no CWs

includes! ted nivison + charlie slimecicle + jschlatt

dedication! @ivyinnit

notes! i’m currently trying to get over a breakup and am kind of struggling w yearning atmo so this request (while old) was kind of perfect thank you for dropping into my askbox, ivy!! little update: it’s been so long since i’ve received this request, i know. it should’ve been easy to get it out quickly, but school absolutely melted me this semester. i know that ivy’s deactivated now, but in the case that she comes across it, i hope you enjoy beloved <3

TED

⎼ y’all schedule out laundry days together. it’s cute as fuck okok

⎼ forehead and cheek kisses while you’re on your way out the door

⎼ if he wakes up before you, he makes your morning drink of choice just the way you like it! though, he prefers to sleep in with you

⎼ if you don’t have any important plans for the day and you’ve set alarms just for the sake of waking up at a certain time, he turns them all off before you wake up. he wants to give you an opportunity to rest as much as you need to; your body will wake up when it’s ready

⎼ brunch dates! while you guys prefer to sleep in together, you alternate between sleeping in and waking up at a reasonable hour depending on your plans. ted really likes taking you out to brunch and just walking around window shopping with you after

⎼ if either of you are going somewhere important, the other will help them get ready and run through a mental checklist with them before they go in order to make sure the person leaving has absolutely everything they need

⎼ y’all are constantly doing bits. it’s kind of confusing for your friends, but neither of you care much because you’re just having a great time

⎼ ted is an absolute gentleman always, not just in the honeymoon phase. constantly opening doors for you, helping you put your sweater on when you’re leaving the house, opening the car door for you. stuff like that

⎼ he rubber ducks for you a lot. just sits down near you and listens, letting you work out your issues by talking it out without feeling awkward about it

⎼ he’s just overall a great listener and very in-tune with your needs. only gives advice and input when you ask for it, but he always makes an effort to validate your feelings. holds you when you need him to and steps back when he senses that you need space. also really good at problem solving and helping out when you get overwhelmed or have sensory overload

– when you have bad days, he has a tendency to go above and beyond. he cooks dinner for you, makes sure your comfy clothes are all washed and clean, and generally just makes sure you have to do as little as possible so that you have the proper space to calm down

CHARLIE

– you guys have rapid fire joke contests together, usually late at night when you’re sitting on kitchen counters, snacking. you go back and forth until either the two of you are laughing so hard that it would be physically impossible to keep going, or someone can’t come up with a joke fast enough

– you try to stay on the sleep cycle but you both tend to get a little out of whack every once in a while, so you have these phases of going to sleep at a decent hour and then going to sleep when the sun is about to come up

– as such, you guys have these phases of making spontaneous runs to the grocery store or gas station to get snacks, usually cereal for some reason. you get whatever you want and charlie never lets you pay for any of it. on the later nights, you guys sometimes experiment with new flavors of things or weird snack combinations

– he has a thing about always making sure you’re warm enough. you’re a little chilly? he’s pulling his sweater off and pulling it over your head. once you’re all comfy and settled, he’s on his way to turn on the heater. your feet are cold? he’s running to get you a pair of fuzzy socks and a blanket in case your legs are cold too. even when you’re about to leave the house -- it’s colder than 50 outside? he’s scrambling around the house, gathering gloves and scarves and beanies for you to take with you in case you get cold, even if they don’t match. no other options but you’re still cold? mans is wrapping himself around you, trying to use his body heat to warm you up himself. he hates when you’re chilly and uncomfortable :[

– brings you home little presents all the time. literally anything that remind him of you. you have a collection of buttons and keychains that he’s seen while walking through shops. he also steals cool props from videos and projects to give to you. you have a little collection going

– loves pda all the time, but not always cuddling (which can sound confusing, but let me explain). he likes casual pda with you around the house, whether it be you resting your feet in his lap while you both lounge across the couch, sitting on the floor and leaning back on his legs while you watch a movie, him putting a hand on the small of your back while he moves around/behind you, holding onto your hand until you’ve walked out of reach, gently pressing his knuckles into your back while you’re laying on the other side of the bed and facing away from him. likes to be touching you when he can be but in little ways that aren’t super overwhelming (mostly because i feel like you’d both be too fidgety to just cuddle)

– some of your most domestic moments are spent in the kitchen, usually cooking dinner together. it’s light and warm and it feels so much like home that you sometimes find yourself questioning if it’s all real. he’s right there to tell you it is. but back to dinner. he loves cooking for you, and you love cooking for him. it’s all laughter and winding down from work days and gentle hugs and swaying together as he hums for you

SCHLATT

– it’s a little hard to find domestic moments with schlatt off the top of your head, but they’re there when you look for them. they’re quiet, but they’re ever present

– he sleeps a lot, meaning that you usually wake up before him. if he’s sleeping light enough to hear you get up, he’ll roll over, half asleep, wrap his arms around your middle, and pull you back into his chest, mumbling a groggy “ten more minutes, babe. i’ll be up then, jus’ ten more minutes.” it’s never just ten more minutes

– he picks you up and carries you around a lot. not in the typical way. if he thinks you’re working yourself too hard, he’ll grab you from your desk and throw you over his shoulder, dropping you onto the couch and forcing you to watch a movie with him. or you’ll be sleepily making yourself a snack in the kitchen and he’ll grab you from behind, just wrapping his arms around your middle and picking you up. he carries you, complaining and squirming, the whole way to your room and tells you it’s nap time

– you guys have a lot of nap dates. it’s an easy, sweet block of time for you guys to spend together, hazy and together while napping on and off. if one of you wakes up, you get to fondly watch the other nap until you fall asleep again. watch the easy rise and fall of their chest, run a hand through their hair, trace gentle patterns on their skin, play with their fingers, listen to the beating of your heart

– you do the dishes together. you wash and schlatt dries. sometimes you get into towel fights or start flicking water at each other with your fingers

– schlatt follows you out of bed when you get up in the middle of the night. he’d never admit it, but he has a hard time sleeping without you. he hates waking up to a cold bed. so when the clock blinks 3:17 and he feels around to find nothing beside him, even if your side of the bed is still warm, he huffs and gets up. pads through the house with puffy, tired eyes until he finds you. wraps his arms around you from behind and rests his chin on your head. “what are you doin’ outta bed?” he never waits for your response, just starts ushering you back to your room

– really likes seeing you in his clothes, again, not that he would ever admit it. he’ll purposely “forget” to do your laundry so that you have to start wearing his hoodies, tee shirts, sweats, etc. it just gives him the warm fuzzies, seeing you be so comfortable and cozy in his clothes

– hangs on you a lot on days when there’s nothing to do. he’s pretty idle about it, too, kind of like a character accessory. sometimes you just have to go around the house doing your stuff with this big man hanging off of you because you don’t have the heart to tell him to leave you alone for an hour or two to get your work done

[loquarocoeur]

PLEASE make a list. For research purposes ofc🫶 (to further my obsession with yoursverse lestappen)

Sighs dreamily

Just off the top of my head this morning, I'll say some Max-isms that Charles finds cute are:

• Smacking/kicking/elbowing Charles every two minutes when Charles says something stupid, but it's so gentle it wouldn't hurt a fly

• Him saying 'Charles' at the end of every second sentence for no reason other than just to say it

• His lying voice

• His 'I'm so done with Charles' voice

• His embarrassed voice

• His voice in general

• The way he says his S's and T's and R's

• How much of a typical boy Max is

• Him being obsessed with video games

• Him checking out his own biceps in mirrors when he thinks Charles can't see him

• Him not knowing how to decorate/interior design to save his life

• Him not being able to put together a decent outfit that isn't red bull shirt and jeans to save his life

• Him not knowing what SPF is and not believing in skin care and hair routines even though he lets Charles do it for him and hasn't bought 2 in 1 again

• His wrinkly forehead when he's confused

• The crinkles at the corners of his eyes!!!

• His beauty spots, especially the top lip one

• His tendency to speak before he thinks, so even if his face wasn't expressive enough to be an open book Charles hardly ever has to wonder what he's feeling

• His tendency to hide his face in his hands when he's laughing

• Also his tendency to hide his face in whatever part of Charles he can reach when he's embarrassed

• Or how he sometimes just smacks his forehead into Charles' shoulder when he's done with Charles' antics, but he'll let them happen anyway

• Max's talent for finding things in life to be mad about

• How much Max laughs and smiles without even noticing

• How much Max is obsessed with kinder chocolates, tomato soup and carpaccio, like he will eat anything, but it's like his eyes are magnetically locked onto tomato soup and carpaccio on the menu at literally every restaurant, you can physically see when Max found it as an option and there's no hope of him eating anything else

• His love/need for forehead kisses

• The override button he has for being embarrassed to talk about his feelings whenever Charles is even the tiniest bit upset

• All the ways he tries to coax the cats into giving him attention when they just want to live their lives

• His insistence that Leo is Charles' dog and Charles' responsibility, but he keeps finding Max cuddling him where he thought Charles wouldn't catch him or teaching him new tricks which isn't working because Charles is feeding all the pets too many treats for them to still work as a reward system

• His panic response when Charles starts crying for literally any reason including sad movies, honestly even happy ending movies, any kind of tears just give him a panic oh god how do i fix it response

• Max always feeling the need to explain to Charles again that he does hate the crying, but he also doesn't want Charles not to cry because he's allowed to have all his feelings

• T-Rex typing

• His innocent look when he's trying to pretend he has no idea what Charles is talking about when he wants to start a conversation Max won't like

• The thin layer of fat Max never loses over his stomach. He likes it especially in the off season when Max gets to eat lots of chocolates and things

Idk, there are probably loads more, maybe I'll keep a list in my notes app

[extremely-judgemental]

Long Post

Feyre doesn't love anyone. This is a speculation and I don't have the strength to go through the books again. So, take this with a grain of salt.

Her mortal relationships. All her life, Feyre feels neglected by her family. She is estranged from her sisters, though they are close to her age, and her father. She has no friends before her family fell into poverty or after. The only one she gets close to is Isaac with whom she shares an intimate relationship but no emotional bond. She treats him as a distraction and a means to numb her pain. At this point, she’s so out of touch with her feelings that she can’t identify them—like the time Nesta brings up Isaac and Feyre vaguely feels something close to jealousy but nothing more, which is more likely her fear of losing her emotional outlet.

Tamlin. In Spring, Feyre unwittingly bonds with Lucien and Tamlin. But she never comes to fully trust them as she’s used to relying on only herself. She develops an attachment with Tamlin, in a grateful sort of way, once he becomes someone she needed all her life—someone who saw her, someone who cared for her, someone she expected her family to be. She risks her life for him, but it’s not just out of love. Feyre has the tendency to take every burden upon herself. It makes her feel invaluable and useful. Proof—she takes up hunting when she could have done anything else. It fulfils the promise she made to her mother. The higher the risks, the better. Even if she fails, she tried everything to take care of her loved ones and she can’t be blamed. This applies to saving Tamlin too.

Moreover, Feyre thrives in danger. When she’s first brought to Spring, the danger is Tamlin himself. But it fades as she starts to see him for who he is, so she seeks more—like going to Calanmai when she’s clearly warned to stay put and when she knows other fae are going to be present. Later, loving Tamlin becomes the ultimate danger for a mortal like her.

After Under the Mountain, Spring is not gratifying anymore. Feyre is bored. For the majority of her life, she’s played saviour for her family and then Tamlin. That sense of identity slips away the longer she is in Spring as Tamlin becomes her protector. She keeps chasing him into danger knowing Amarantha’s cronies and other creatures are on the prowl outside their mansion because she wants to be useful again, she wants a purpose.

Also, Feyre never admits she’s in love with Tamlin until she hears him say it. After learning of the mating bonds, she waits for it to happen between the two before she decides if she can love him. Her real feelings would have been proven if she had declared her love sooner breaking the curse.

Rhysand. This also corroborates why Feyre feels alive every time she leaves Tamlin because of the bargain. She’s still locked inside a castle atop a mountain day and night which no one enters or leaves besides Rhysand and Morrigan—same condition that suffocated her in Spring. She has no one to talk to or can do none of the things she fought for with Tamlin. But it satiates her urges since she is in enemy territory.

Feyre low-key wants to be in grave situations digging her way out and so, she’s open to her life with Rhysand. The foundation of their relationship is his willingness to thrust her into one adventure after the other in the name of saving lives. Also, sex and being reckless are Feyre’s coping mechanisms which she gets in abundance with Rhysand.

This could be a stretch but Feyre is quick to forgive Rhysand about keeping the complications of her pregnancy from her. For months, she’s safe in their safest mansion in their safest city, protected by a personal magic bubble. The pregnancy itself now poses the danger she craves and it’s easy to justify with whatever reason she’s fed because that’s the norm by now. Again with Rhysand, she never recognises her emotions other than her attraction. It’s after Suriel slips the truth to her, she decides she’s in love with Rhysand.

Nyx. Feyre’s reason for wanting a child is quite twisted. She doesn’t want one for the sake of having a child or nurturing a life, but she wants an extension of Rhysand. She’s afraid of losing her mate and wants to preserve a part of him in her life. That’s who Nyx will always be to her. This will be problematic when Nyx grows into his own person and deviates from being more than a reflection of Rhysand. Feyre may start controlling every aspect of his life until he fits the mould.

Inner Circle. Feyre’s friendship with the Inner Circle is circumstantial. They are the only ones she meets and bonds with in Velaris. They accept her long before they know her because of Rhysand. Morrigan is aware she is his mate while Azriel and Cassian suspect it. Moreover, they see her as the one who freed their friend and brought him back home. None of them love her for who she is and Feyre never sees them for who they are. This severely hinders her ability to decide if they are worthy of her friendship, yet she eventually accepts them because Rhysand regards him highly. (If this doesn’t make sense, Nesta and Feyre have similar personalities and attitudes but they both are treated very differently.)

Love = Control. Feyre confuses responsibility with love a lot. None of her treatment towards her sisters, however manipulative, is not out of love but she still lives by the promise. Her idea of taking care of someone is controlling their lives. She keeps Elain close and meddles with her relationship with Lucien or Azriel. She lets Inner Circle break Nesta down, ensuring she never defies them. She extends this to Lucien too after they leave Spring. The concept of love is so warped in her mind and she vilifies anyone who doesn’t let her dominate them—Tamlin, Lucien, Nesta.

Feyre’s obsession with life-threatening situations is similar to an abuse survivor’s need for abuse to keep their life thrilling and familiar. She rejects Tamlin (ignoring the domestic violence) and Tarquin for the same reason—they don’t offer her that excitement she seeks. With Inner Circle’s hero complex, Feyre lacks none of this entertainment. Her relationship with Rhysand is a series of her coping mechanisms—sex, war, sex on a loop. Feyre never heals. If she had, she would have a better grasp of her emotions and developed the ability to love others without conditions.

[shokosbunny]

CRAVE - chapter two

nav 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

masterlist 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ • previous 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

chapter warnings: use of profanity, age gap

the encounter with you at the club has yuta so fucked up.

seriously. who drops the ‘i have a man’ line just before kissing someone? if anything, that just means you’re being loyal out of obligation, because if you were really about loyalty, you would’ve told him you were taken before he started giving you bedroom eyes.

he simply takes this as a sign that you’re available, but reluctant to let go. but obviously, since he’s a good person, he decides the morning after to take it to his friends with varying levels of questionable morality, so they can validate his decision.

that revelation doesn't leave yuta’s mind for ages. nineteen and twenty-six? now, that was fucked up, considering that if he put things into perspective, your geriatric sugar daddy adjacent was legally drinking at clubs while you were just entering the double digits.

yikes.

but alas, it’s none of his business. you established a boundary, and it's his job to respect it until you explicitly indicate otherwise.

if he ever gets the chance to interact with you again, that is. megumi told him about your boyfriend’s jealous tendencies, and he would much prefer it if he wasn’t put in the hospital for something permanent at twenty years of age.

that night had you equally fucked up, for various reasons.

one being that you almost cheated on your boyfriend of a year. another being that you don't feel as bad about it as you probably should.

the worst reason of all being that the moment rewound and replayed itself in your dreams that night. except in your dreams, you actually get to feel his lips on yours.

blinking away the thought, you rummage your tangled duvet for your phone, opening your group chat immediately. nobara and maki probably went out to get coffee and left you to sleep, which you don't mind because it's too early and your head hurts way too much for third wheeling to even be fathomable right now,

you sigh and lie back down. you hate disappointing maki. it stings so much more. but deep down, you know she's right.

there's no reason to stay with this man. you don't live together, you aren't married, you don't have kids. if a close friend told you they were in your exact situation, you'd tell them to run for the hills in a heartbeat. so why can't you?

whatever, you sigh internally. you'll keep him blocked while you contemplate.

next 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

tags: @toniseweje @tsukuhoe @itsafairytalekay @ayla-1605 @moncher-ire @rikaroses @starrysho @blu3-l0v3r @number0netrash

[ferrstappen]

maxplaining 2.0 l Max Verstappen blurb

note: hello! i was working on another piece and a TikTok popped up of mini Max and mini Charles, and it was so cute watching mini Max maxplaining already, and I just had this idea, hope you like it! Also, this is taken from the two previous dad!Max I've posted, so we're back with the twins!

Remember to please show it some love, feedback and reblog are always very very appreciated, and tomorrow I'll be working on some requests and the Taylor Swift collection <3

pairing: dad!Max Verstappen x female reader

warnings: none

summary: Luca Verstappen's first press conference during his karting career. turns out, he even speaks like his dad.

It was a small press conference, really.

Still, local reporters were covering and asking questions, also interested on the fact that Max Verstappen's son was following the very big footsteps of his father.

Mila was constantly asking why she was forced to come to her twin's press conference, she has to listen to him at home and school, wasn't that enough? A lot of personality for a ten year old girl, but was easily convinced by a pair Gucci ballet flats, ignoring the questioning glare from his wife, who reminded him that she has to learn that not everything comes with a recompense, and a ten year old does not need that many pairs of designer shoes.

He didn't care, though. Whatever Mila wanted, whatever she got. What was the reason of having all that money if he couldn't spoil his loved ones?

People sometimes forgot about the karting race in front of them, instead watching as Max's deep blue eyes studied every move made by Luca on the track. At the same time, he managed to squeeze your hand and waist whenever you gasp at the speed or turns, not being a fan of your son following the motorsport path.

Of course Luca won, he was every bit as talented as his father. Max smiled and hugged his son with pride, giving him his best smile, highlighting every good thing he did, lovingly asking him if he was okay and trying to reassure him.

That's what he would've wanted to hear from his dad, or at least that's what you thought before kneeling in front of Luca and giving him a short congratulatory hug, knowing he was at the age where every bit of affection ended with Luca muttering "Mum", trying to hide his embarrassment.

The three of you stood on the back, not wanting to get in the way of Luca's moment after winning. She'd deny it, but Mila gave her twin a thumbs up while making eye contact with him.

Of course the first question was for Luca, asking him about his race overall.

The young Verstappen boy took a deep breath before he started talking. And then he couldn't stop...

"This is my first win, we were very fast and my opponent made a mistake so I could pass him first and then stay in the first position so I could win. We still have more races but we are happy with the results and hope we can keep winning, but we have too keep working hard, I know I will work and try to better myself so that I can give my best..."

"Mama, he's talking too much. It's embarrassing," Mila whispered on your ear, earning a glare from you.

When he finished answering the question, he instantly started talking to the boy next to him, explaining something about the track and brakes, even gesticulating to make his point.

Of course, Max was oblivious to the fact that Luca was almost the same person as him, never really being aware of his own tendencies to explain things on his own words.

Back home, after putting Mila and Luca to sleep and heading to the bedroom where Max was already waiting for you, carefully hitting your side of the bed, signaling that it was time to go to bed.

So needy.

As soon as your body touched the mattress, Max rolled over and draped his arm over your waist, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck. Meanwhile, you opened TikTok to slow down before going to sleep.

The first video was one of today, Luca animatedly talking and moving his hands. Then, it cut to one of a flushed Max doing the exact same thing.

"What are you laughing about?" Max lifted his head to check whatever was on your phone.

Lucaexplaining? Maxplaining 2.0? Versplaining? What's the best name?

"What are they talking about?" Max frowned while reading some comments.

Laughing at his cluelessness, you kissed the top of his head and put your phone down, noticing Max's breaths slowed down as you ran your hands through his hair.

You'd choose your talkative boys any day.

[tenjikufag]

HII this is my first request ever haha I’m a bit nervous but I saw you write ftm prompts and I was wondering if maybe you’d write ftm zoro and reader knowing but not ever bringing it up BUTTT zoro thinks he’s so slick and therefore is nervous for reader to find out!,, I hope this makes sense thank you for all you write!

Scars.

FTM!Zoro x Male Reader

-nervous Zoro, strawhat!reader, possibly ooc zoro, top surgery mentions, scars, sex trait mentions, loving reader- this is gonna be fluffy don’t worry haha.

-thank you for the request, this has been in my inbox for awhile now I’m sorry for how long it’s taken!

It’s never been a point for anyone to make mention of certain physical traits others had. Everyone just looked the way they looked, scars and all. That and most of you had met after the scars had settled and their stories concluded.

But, some scars gave away a lot more than one would think.. especially someone as airheaded and dense as Zoro. Your boyfriend.

Scars could be a life story. Not just an event.

It wasn’t until a few months in that you had actually noticed the faint scarring under his pecks- really only seen up close or seen when he moves just right while stretching. You knew what they were, and assumed what the reason was and never asked, it didn’t bother or even really matter to you. It would be Zoros job to bring it up, if he ever did- if he never did then that was fine.

Zoro was Zoro. Your boyfriend, life partner, other half, and love of your life.

The two of you hadn’t had any form of intimacy both due to the pure exhaustion from a busy day on the sea or on a new island, and you really didn’t mind. Sure you wished to be intimate but the opportunities were far and few to begin with.

Zoro felt the same, but he had wanted to take you away and have you all to himself ever since he became yours.

It was just the unsteadiness that settled in his stomach when he thought of the aspect of sex with you. Again, he’s dense and doesn’t think that much about it but something inside nags him.

‘He signed up for man with a dick!’

Sighing, he looked out at you speaking to Robin. You laughed at whatever she had said. With his staring, you felt his gaze on you and excused yourself to approach the male.

“Hey, did ya need something?”

Cupping his cheek with a smile, he squinted up at you and shook his head. The way he shifted under your gaze let you know that there was something on his mind and he was a man of few words so it would take time for him to speak on it. Kissing his forehead, you went off to do your own thing again.

Zoro leaned back, resting his head against the familiar strip of wood, drifting off to sleep and avoiding his worries for just a bit longer.

—

Where was Zoro?

That’s the age old question. Having the tendency to wander off paired with his permanently ‘out of order’ physical compass, it was all too common to lose sight of him when you landed yourselves on an island.

This island was small, basically a floating town and not even comparable to a city. Everything was a walking distance to each-other, having to walk maybe 60 paces to hit all the shops and such… how he’d managed to get lost was beyond you, still you’d search for him.

“I’m gonna go find moss-head, I’ll meet you back at the ship.”

Sanji only grumbled in response, his cigarette hanging loosely from his lip as he inspected a vegetable stand.

—

It obviously wasn’t that hard to find him, he was leaning against a tree just on the outskirts of the small town- it made you smile to see him look relaxed.

“Zoro~”

His head turned, a slight smile on his lips as he shifted to approach you. You opened your arms wide, letting him settle against your chest with his arms wrapping around you to your back. The two of you stood in an embrace for awhile, softly rocking back and forth with the breeze.

“Are you alright? You seemed to be bothered back on the ship.”

A deep sigh rumbled in his chest, pulling himself away and bringing you to the tree. The man sat down, waiting for you to follow suit. His rough, worked hand clasped onto yours- fingers intertwined, your thumb softly circling on his hand.

“I love ya.. you know that.”

Nodding, you kept silent. He wasn’t the best with words, much less when someone else was talking- he’d lose his train of thought far too easily.

“And I know we both wanna.. y’know-“

“Have sex?”

You couldn’t help yourself, as brash of a man that he is for some reason he could never bring himself to speak as vulgar as he did with everyone else when he was with you. He actually cared, at least a little bit, about what came out of his mouth.

His hand gripped yours tighter, groaning at you

“Yeah! Whatever! But I gotta tell ya somethin’ so ya better listen. I’m not sayin’ it twice!”

Chucking lightly, he continued. Again, it was clear he was having a hard time finding the words to his thoughts. Could he convey what he wanted properly without feeling overloaded, did he even have the right words in his vocabulary?

“I don’t have a dick. There, I said it!”

You hummed, not being able to keep the light laugh and smile off your face. Who says it like that?! It was just.. very him. Very Zoro to come out with it like that.

“Is that all?”

“Is that all?! All you got to say is “is that all”?!’

Red tinted his cheeks, he was flushed with annoyance and just a light twinge of anxiety. He expected more, or maybe he didn’t, he wasn’t sure! But he sure as hell didn’t expect a boring response like that!

“Bold of you to assume you’d even be using said dick on me.”

Purring into his ear, he shoved you away and took his own hand out of your grasp to cross his arms over his chest.

“Aw, c’mon Zoro! I’m bad at these~”

He huffed, looking away from you

“Okay. How ‘bout this.”

You pushed yourself to your knees and hugged over his shoulders,

“Thank you for telling me, uh, I appreciate the sentiment and I’m sure you feel a lot better. I’m proud of you.”

You pecked the top of his head, his fuzzy green hair definitely needing a trim with the way it tickled you.

Zoro relaxed under you, clearly your words made him feel better. He also knew you didn’t mind, or care for that matter. He was safe with you, his body wasn’t going to be a reason you left (not that he’d let you at this point)

It felt good. To know you loved him, scars and all, no matter what he looked like or what he had.

“Is that what was on your mind back on the ship?”

“Yeah..”

“Why?”

“I was horny okay. It gets frustratin’ knowin’ you’re right there and I couldn’t do nothing about it.”

His words made you laugh, was that really what made him say it?!

“Well.. we got some time left ‘fore we gotta get back to the ship..”

With his back tensing against you, you knew he would be into having some fun here.

“Show me what the almighty Zoro has to give me, I’ve been waitin’.”

[krewekreep]

2.6K Words. College AU, Study Partner to Lovers AU, GoldenRetriever!BF, Dumbo Hot Boy needs study help.

When he is the kid in school who just can’t keep up. And not for trying but the fact for whatever reason school just isn’t on his side. You end up being in the class he has the most struggle in. The professor now avoids him cause of all the after class conversation and visits to office hour. He’s more endearing than annoying but his persistance gets grating. He watched over time as you’d receive your results and praise yourself silently. Over time he became curious how well you actually had to be doing for the professor to always smile happily at your raised hand and responses. He began to sit behind you and almost laughed aloud in self contempt seeing your Canvas sitting with a huge 98% in the center. That meant every class you could’ve been signed up for you were practically ace-ing. He knew it best to seek further assistance and the bounce of your breasts at continually doing well made his dick harden the slightest. He mustered up the strength after class and fumbled his way into a conversation you were having with other classmates, shyly scratching the back of his head agreeing with the displeased about how hard it seemed to get higher scores.

He mentioned he just seemed to continually get stuck on three of the topics closest to mid-terms. The defeat in the fall of his head and his almost eerie stare at the ground made you pity him. “Hey, I know that’s stressful, I’ve been doing pretty well with those parts of the curriculum and I’m down to study with you if you wanted?” His entire demeanor switches. “Really!?” He’s a glowing bubbly awkward mess and a flush rises up your neck. You quickly turn into your phone pulling up your messaging app. “Here. Just give me your number and we’ll coordinate a time, okay?” When you look up to pass your phone his smile is ear to ear, eyes squinted, and his hair bouncing. Golden Retriever. Your stomach almost explodes. You shake away the growing feelings of a crush at first site. And lowkey thank whatever God made him this bad at the class work.

When you met up it was the Friday of the same week you both agreed to become study partners. Both of you a bit eager to become acquainted. When you arrived at the library he was leaned against the wall near the entrance asleep. You were able to absorb his physique more with his height extended and his arms crossed. His loose t-shirt flexed around his biceps and torso. You couldn’t say you ever paid much attention to him before but you kinda kicked yourself he had been sitting in class for so long, looking this good, struggling while your ace-ing, and only now you saw the opportune time to see what he was about. You walked up to him and he must’ve sensed you somehow because before you could say anything he slowly opened one eye and stretched groaning loudly as his shirt rose to show his hip bones, lower abs, and belly button. Oh wow.

You guys walked to the study room he reserved and for the first couple sessions you guys just got to know each other and where he had the most trouble. He began to get the hang of things and you realized he’s just the type who has to be more confident in his knowledge. You learned he was an athlete on scholarship and didn’t come from much. He really had had only himself especially for critical moments of development. Everything you learned of him made his frustrated chuckles, flurry of apologies, and tendency to glance over at you for approval all the more heart-melting.

He became your little student. Obedient and ever willing to make you as happy as you wanted. You were never the kind to indulge in that behavior, it seemed belittling and mean. Yet, a sliver of dominance would color your tone when you corrected him. When he’d get too many in a row wrong (more times than not simply his nervousness or psyching himself out) you would reprimand him with a soft hit of your pen against his hand. The little twitch of his fingers turned you on and he wouldn’t admit your commitment to his improvement made him want to prove himself to you more. You weren’t known for initiating much of anything but his willing and nervous energy was something of a turn on you unlocked the more you toyed with him. He got another answer wrong and you both know he knew it. Teasingly you said, “Now you know you know this,” reaching for his thigh and giving it a soft but assertive squeeze. He jumped and his leg began to shake uncontrollably. You laughed aloud at him and he flushed red. “I’m- im sorry.” You rubbed his thigh and his leg was over the moon. You leaned your head into your free hand pouting at him. “Now how are you supposed to pass if you keep doubting yourself?”

Although you were sending him sultry eyes you had to hold your gaze against his as it was no longer nervous or self-conscious. They were lidded and low, peering what seemed farther into you than you could ever do to him. Your stomach rattled and you wanted to falter but without a word he closed the distance with kiss. You gasped a bit before he met your lips and the gap was enough for him to solicit your tongue which you gave him eagerly. Both you wrestled in your seats fighting for dominance until he became frustrated with the conflict. He grabbed your legs firmly lifting them enough be on either of his sides. It caused you to need to support yourself so you wouldn’t fall back. With your hands busy, he pulled you flush to his lower abdomen. You were warm and slightly dazed. His grip on your lower thighs sent hot pulses to your pussy. He was as eager as you letting his grip move closer to your ass. You don’t know how far it would’ve gone had it not been for the attendant that loudly and profusely knocked on the glass showing the both of you to the rest of the lounge. You hid your head in his shoulder as he laughed sheepishly pulling the blinders down. Without a word you packed your things and left together. You weren’t ashamed just embarrassed (and kinda still in the mood). You got a few blocks away before he burst into laughter. You joined him. And as the air cleared he looked over at your disheveled clothes. “Hey,” his dick grew hard (never really went soft) when your doll eyes looked up at him all lusty. “Back to your place?”

After that every study session was had in your respective dorm rooms. Always ending in fucking each other brainless. He was loud and a bit clumsy but you’d come even harder once his thrusts knew how to hit your core bringing you to loud crescendos that made your roommates make last minute plans every time either of you walked through the door. Neither of you had much experience (and for him lowkey too many weird ones) so you ended up studying how to fuck too. His confidence grew immensely as you praised him for how good he fucked you. “Baby—Ah,” your hips rocked together seamlessly. He had a bad habit of staring right into your face wanting to soak in every bit of how gone he had you. “You feel so good. Please keep fucking me like this.” You threw your head back as your pussy began to tingle building towards an orgasm you wanted to achieve badly. “Oh my—please.” His moans grew louder but his gaze on you never wavered. “Tell me how good I feel beautiful.”

He slowed down to position his hips so his dick drove the farthest he had ever been. You yelped clawing into his upper back. “Too much?!” But before he could shift to anything softer you bounced against him. Different feeling than when he moved as your pussy felt sweet gliding up and down his cock. A shock of pleasure caused you to lightly convulse and his abs flexed inwardly so hard it seemed it hurt. “Relax baby.” You repositioned widening your legs, accepting the spread of his girth as your pussy muscled around him abundantly wet and barely able to keep him in. “I got you.” You took hold of his face bringing him into a kiss as you rocked up and down on him. He met your thrusts with his own and a sloppy sound filled the room as he became so undone his groaning and pleading almost drowned you out. “Baby doll I need to cum.” He sounded so innocent and ready. “I really need to cum—uh,” his pace almost stalled as his arms shook, his waist buckled, and he shot his load into you. Feeling his cum squirt all in you made you claw into his back. His cum was so warm it made you feel full and visceral. He went to pull out but you halted him “Baby, can we cuddle?” He beamed so hard at you. “You don’t want me to pull out?” He felt concerned about any roughness and the elephant in the room of him not using protection. “Eh,” you shrugged. “We already have been pretty irresponsible, and I like feeling you in me. Youre…still hard?” He and his entire face and neck went red. “It’s okay,” you laughed. “But I am a bit worn out.”

“Of course, I’m just—I really like this…thing we have going on.” He hid his face with his hair at the admission, turning away futilely. Neither of you mentioned labels out of a deep fear of rejection, only really stalling the inevitable. But in this moment you pulled him to your chest. He had to pull out a bit to readjust and upon inserting himself to the hilt both of you began to slowly rock back. You really did want him again but a sliver of pain pierced you. Your face contorted and he stopped again immediately. “I’m so sorry Y/N.” This time he did pull out, slowly. And pulled you into a cuddle where your head rested on his arm and you felt the fullness of his pillow-like muscle. You began to drift to sleep pretty soon after. Before finally succumbing to your exhaustion he whispered against your neck: “Thank you for everything.” His breath low indicating he also was soon about to fall asleep. “I’ll let you keep me warm another time.” He placed a kiss to the back of your neck sending a sensitive ripple of pleasure through you. You hummed in agreement then you both, bare and fulfilled didn’t awake until his early practice alarm went off.

Midterms came and went. There was no doubt in your mind both of you passed but he sat nerve wracked until the results came in. Not only did he pass he had actually scored higher than you. He felt guilty that you spent so much time worrying about him you didn’t focus on yourself because you obviously deserved the better grade. Upon telling you this you grabbed him by the wrist without a word and led him into a bathroom towards the end of the building. You knew that hey if it wasn’t occupied there’d only be one or two people and you didn’t quite care at all. You brought him into the empty bathroom (thankful something somewhere was okay with you getting your rocks off) and into the farthest, largest stall. He did nothing but submit the entire time and only yelped when you set him against the wall, untying his sweatpants. He grabbed your arm when he saw you beginning to kneel but you looked up at him with an intensity that scared him in the sluttiest way possible. He then assisted you pulling his attire down until his cock somewhat swung up hitting him against his lower sternum. His length was intimidating but you gleefully took him into your mouth.

Although your first time you asked your friends and watched videos. Practicing was a bit embarrassing but you ended up getting into it thinking how well you’d draw all of him into your mouth. You were so excited you had to remember to watch for your teeth but surprisingly he muttered “Mmm what the Fuck. Bite me baby.” You had to swallow a genuine laugh cause this man was really weird sometimes. But you flattened your tongue against the bottom of your mouth bobbing your head with an amateur but passionate pace. “Hey,” you looked up to him peering at you with lust consumed eyes. “Can I help you? Put your hands on my thighs.” You put your hands on either of his thighs, shifting your kneeling to a squat. “Smart girl.” He set his hand reassuringly against the back of your head, leaning his hips up from the wall so his dick was more comfortably set for you. Given he had an angle he knew better than you that continually hitting your cheek like that might become bad feeling. “Take your time, I can be quiet.” With one hand on the back of your head and the fingers on his other hand lovingly gripping either side of your chin he guided you with a knowing pace. He choked on his moans but never broke eye contact.

Something in you expanded as you felt bold enough to reach a hand under to cup his balls. “Waa-where did you learn that?!” You paid him no mind determined to bring him to climax. You’re awkward relationship developments seemed to always lead to public displays of affection. You were especially dismissive towards shame once your eyes soaked up enough of his image, it was almost compulsive how dire you had to get him between your fingers. You finally defeated him as his head fell back and his eyes shut. His Adam’s Apple bulging and flexing as his grip tightened in your hair. You knew he was about to cum. So you bobbed on him with more intensity, letting his tip meet the back of your mouth entering your throat the slightest bit. He became an undone mess of moans. “Y/N you feel so fucking good. So fucking—“ his breath hitched when a rougher mindless thrust had him slip down and gag you ever so slight. A sensation to gag was overcome as he soon came filling the bathroom with expletives and thank you’s.

When you released with a loud pop of your mouth, you looked up at eyes that declared you owned him now. He pulled you up surprisingly aggressive slipping his tongue into your mouth sharing his taste with you. “We need to get out here.” He says with a dark glint in his eye. He threw his hoodie over your head and walked out as if it was nothing. The girls in the bathroom could only snicker and blush, confused and jealous at the hot boy hiding you from exposing yourself. Once out of the bathroom and outside he tells you to keep his hoodie until he sees you again. He kisses you on the forehead. “Umm,” he says rubbing the back of his head. “So we are like? Dating now, right?”

Who: DENJI, NARUTO, Jean, Tamaki, YUUJI, CHOSO, ARMIN (I think him more nervous if anything ), ICHIGO + any other sweet idiots.

[ryker-others]

Ryker 👀👀👀👀👀

I saw requests are open, could I have something about Dan Heng and Sampo being clingy? They're so adorable 🥺🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️

Vi! My first request! I'm so hyped for this! I hope I do both Dan Heng and Sampo justice for this

Dan Heng:

it's rare for Dan Heng to be clingy

and when he is, he's very subtle about it

most of the time it starts with little touches like him linking your pinkies while standing together

which then turns into him holding your hand

and then slowly moving closer

it's his silent way of asking for more affection from you

but if you still don't get the hint and give him attention after that, he will pull you into his arms

he's less likely to do this if others are around, but if it's people he's comfortable with like those on the Astral Express, he has no problem with them seeing him being clingy

he will just pull you in for cuddles without a word

Dan Heng gets a little pouty when you have to leave him to do something

but he won't stop you

whenever you have to leave he has a moment of hesitation as he tries to figure out how to get you out of whatever you need to do so you can stay with him

if he can't figure anything out he will very hesitantly let you go

but he wants your affection and cuddles when you come back

how can you say no to his adorable face?

"It'll only be a couple hours at most."

Dan Heng didn't seem to fully accept your reasoning. He had his arms around you, gently holding you close to him with his head on your shoulder. Though his eyes were closed, he was listening closely to everything you said. He just didn't want you to have to leave his arms.

"It's a simple mission right? You can ask March to do it."

"March has her own things to do."

He hummed and you felt his arms tighten around you for a second. He had done this before, but he seemed to really be thinking this one through.

"I'm sure March has some spare time. You could always ask Welt or Himeko too."

"It's my mission. I promise it'll be quick."

"But I want you here with me."

Though his tone was very plain and matter-of-fact like, you could hear the faint pout in his voice. You couldn't help but laugh lightly at his clingy tendency.

"Alright then, how about you come with me on the mission?"

You could feel him lightly smile against your shoulder. It was a solution he certainly was happy with. He gets to spend more time with you while you get your mission done.

Slowly, he unwrapped his arms from around you and moved one hand down to hold your own. His teal eyes looked into your own with such warmth and love.

"Then let's go."

Sampo:

this man is clingy all the time

he just can't get enough of your attention and affection

can you blame him?

he just loves you so much!

he hates when you're gone for too long and becomes so needy for affection

as soon as you get back, expect Sampo to be attached to you

unlike Dan Heng, Sampo is so open and obvious about how clingy he is

he will say just about anything for your affection

"What? I do my best thinking when I'm in your arms!"

he gets so upset when you have to leave too

"But who's gonna cuddle me and give me kisses while you're away?"

"Sampo I'll only be gone for an hour."

"I'm going to freeze without your arms and kisses to warm me!"

this is a common occurrence

Sampo will even hold you tight against him until you absolutely have to go and you have to convince him to release you

what could you possibly need to do that's more important than cuddles with your dear boyfriend?

"Noooooooooooo."

"Sampo we're completely out of your juice. I need to go get some more."

Your boyfriend has you in quite the predicament. He was out of juice, and he needed that in the mornings or else he would be grumpy. He claims his day doesn't start right without it.

But he also didn't want you to leave him to go to the store. Sampo had his arms around you as he laid atop you. You could see the pout on his face from his resting spot on your chest. It was one of his favorite ways to cuddle you and he loves feeling your arms around him. So of course he didn't want you to leave!

"But darling! You know I can't go out there right now! The guards are still on high alert for the great Sampo Koski after his latest performance."

"You'll be upset in the morning if you don't have it though."

"I can manage as long as I have you my love!"

It was a serious debate in your mind. Stay and cuddle with Sampo only having to deal with how grumpy he may be in the morning? Or leave him and go the store? He would survive if you left him (despite what he says), but he looks so cute and loveable in your arms.

As you weighed your options, Sampo gave you a smile and placed a light kiss on the base of your neck. Taking one look at that adorable smile, your mind was made.

"Fine, I'll stay here."

"Yay! More love from my wonderful darling. I knew I'm a lucky man."

[ilypaigebuckets]

kate martin x competitive swimmer reader por favorrrrrrr

Someone Who Isn’t Me - K.M.

u cannot tell me i didn’t eat with the title right there it’s literally swim i feel like a genius. literally wrote half of this and went to finish it and i guess i forgot to save it bc it was all gone :(

pairing: reader x kate martin

plot: kate has a game the same day as your swim meet and can’t make it to watch you, which makes her feel like you need someone else who can make more time for you.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

you had woken up at 7 am sharp and had starting to get ready for your swim meet that afternoon. you were doing the 100 free and were pretty nervous for it. you tried to calm your nerves by playing some music and taking your time to get ready. you heard a ping on your phone and ignored it, trying to stay in the zone. you heard a second ping a while later and decided to see who was texting you. you looked down and smiled as you recognized the notification to be your girlfriend.

k ❤️

sent an image.

I’m so sad lovely 😔😭

you quickly typed in your password to see what the image was. turns out, it was an email from her coach to her team saying that her game’s start time would be postponed for 2 hours later.

y/n

awe :( i’ll miss you teddy bear

good luck at your game i love you!

you were going to miss kate and kate was going to miss you. it was hard when the two of you couldn’t make it to each others games and events. you knew it would be especially hard on kate, she had a tendency to overthink and think the worst of herself when she couldn’t show up for you.

on the court, kate was a mess. “kate!” her coach called to her, “whatever’s going on with you, i need it to stop. you need to focus on what’s on the court, you’re our glue.” kate nodded, absentmindedly and ran back to the court. in the end, iowa ended up losing 56-67. kate walked back to the locker room defeated. ‘great’ she thought ‘another reason this is the shittiest day ever.’

she got back to her apartment and saw you’d texted her again.

My love 💕

hi kate kat!! how was your game? do you wanna come over :)

kate smiled faintly at your message. you were so positive, even when plans didn’t turn out the way you two had expected.

Kate

i love you so much i’ll be over in 10 🤗🥰😘❤️

kate grabbed her backpack and packed some clothes and her toothbrush into it, she figured she’d spend the night at your place. you two had a tendency to have sleepovers a few times a week and she didn’t want to be alone tonight after this tough loss.

about 8 minutes later, you heard a knock at your door. you opened it and there you saw her. your beautiful girl standing there with a pout on her face. you grabbed her bag from her and stood on your toes so you could reach up to kiss her nose. you grabbed her hand and led her over to the couch.

“i missed you today baby!” you said to her as you sat down on the couch next to you. she groaned and pulled you onto her lap, wanting to be closer to you after a day apart.

“you aren’t close enough!!” kate whined as she hugged your body close to hers. “i was having such a hard day already and not seeing you just ruined it. i was starting to think that.. i don’t know maybe you need someone who can be there, who can show up for you. i feel terrible. god.” she buried her head into the crevice of your neck and inhaled your scent. “god y/n i was thinking maybe you need someone who isn’t me. but now i’m here and i can’t imagine not having you. we lost and i should be so upset about it, and i was, but it’s like now i’m with you and none of it matters anymore.”

you simply giggled and kissed kate soundly on her pink lips, tasting her chapstick as you did so. kate started to perk up and smiled too. her spirit seemed to brighten the more time she spent with you. she put her hands on your shoulders, shaking you, “how do you make me so happy, y/n? hm? how do you do that? tell me your secrets!”

in that moment you wanted to cry. you loved how you and kate could overcome seemingly anything, not letting a bad day come between you guys. “i hate seeing you upset, kate. you’re my person. i wish i could be around you all the time.”

[oldwritingm]

Creepypasta/MH - Walking With Them

Characters: Clockwork, Nina the Killer, Jeff the Killer, Eyeless Jack, Tim/Masky

Clockwork

She walks pretty slowly

She likes to take her time when walking

Not because she’s admiring her surroundings, no; those don’t really interest her

She’s actually lost in her own thoughts

She’ll be staring at the sky, one hand holding her other wrist behind her, walking languidly, smiling subtly when she thinks of something that pleases her

So if you like quiet, slow, scenic walks, she’s your gal

If you do try to make conversation, she’ll indulge you

She won’t pick up the pace though; now she’s walking slow to prolong the conversation

She likes to think through her answers, only voicing things that she’s chewed on thoroughly before speaking

I like to think that she’s a deep conversationalist like that

Of course, if you want to talk about something more lighthearted, she’s still game

But if you ask her to walk faster, that’s when she’ll shoot you a judging look

She’ll ask why, and if you have a good reason she will pick up the pace

Otherwise she’ll just be like “no” and proceed as if you’d never even asked

Nina the Killer

She is holding your hand. Or your arm. Or even just the hem of your shirt. Period.

Doesn’t matter if you’re just friends or dating, she likes to get touchy with people she likes

It’s just her way of feeling close to you

She’ll cling especially close if it’s cold out

She’ll probably chat idly as you guys walk, unless she’s listening to music

She always offers you an earbud when she does

You can expect 2000s pop, scene, and emo music

She’ll bob her head to the beat sometimes, and her smile will double if you join her

Whether you’re listening to music or not, she has a tendency to let her eyes wander while she walks

If she sees anything that catches her eye, she’ll point it out to you

Sometimes it’s someone’s haircut or outfit, sometimes it’s a squirrel, sometimes it’s a random pebble on the sidewalk… it could be anything

Plain old walking is so boring, she’s just trying to make it more interesting for herself

That being said, she doesn’t really try to walk quickly or anything

She’s usually able to entertain herself enough that she doesn’t feel the need to

But if you’re in a hurry she’ll keep up with whatever pace you set

Otherwise she prefers an average pace

Jeff the Killer

He’s either running or speed walking. No in between

He’s efficient like that; if he has somewhere to be, he’s not wasting time commuting

Murdering people has contributed to this habit

If you can’t keep up, he’ll grab your hand and drag you

Once you get too tired to run any more he just tells you how slow you are

Depending on the situation, he might just abandon you

He probably won’t if you’re close, but again, it really depends

If you ask him to stay with you he will, though he’ll grumble the whole time

Sometimes he does like a little scenic walk

This would be the only time that he deliberately walks “slow”

He’s naturally a fast walker, that’s why I’d say “slow” with heavy air quotes

This is also the only time that he won’t mind going a little slower for you

If you’re joining him on the walk, it’s because he wants you to, and he’s not going to leave you behind

You guys will probably link arms or hold hands, just to make sure you walk at the same speed, of course

Eyeless Jack

Another fast walker

He has long legs, plus he’s often in situations which he needs to get away quick

Unlike Jeff, if you can’t keep up, he’ll offer to give you a piggy back

He’s strong like that 💪 (despite his lanky frame)

Also unlike Jeff, he doesn’t really like scenic walks

He might go with you if you ask him, but he wouldn’t choose to go on his own

Being out in the open just feels risky to him, no matter how remote he is

He’d much rather stick to the indoors, or staying in one spot to hide

This ties back into his fast walking pace

If he needs to get somewhere, he’s getting there ASAP

And if he needs to carry you to keep you with him, so be it

He’s not abandoning you; he really prefers to know where you are

Especially when you’re supposed to be with him

Tim/Masky

Honestly pretty chill when it comes to walking

Unless you have somewhere to be, he’s fine matching your pace

He does have a tendency to get a little out of breath though, so he can’t keep up for very long if you’re running/jogging

Also, he doesn’t really like to be touching

Might talk, might not, depends on his mood

If he’s not feeling talkative, he’ll listen to you rant

He’ll give little signs that he’s listening, but won’t offer much in terms of lengthy responses

If neither of you want to talk, he’s also cool sharing music

He likes your playlist(s), and is weirdly cagey about his own

It’s not that he’s embarrassed about his music taste, he just doesn’t like to share

He also likes to walk in silence though

Especially if you’re somewhere nice and scenic

He’ll be looking around, a rare peaceful expression on his face

He might even try to grab your hand or lock your pinkies

As a walking enjoyer, this brought me great joy to compose :) hope y’all enjoyed it!! Take care honey bunches <33