#its being told i love you too when you say it first but never witnessing or feeling anything that indicates the meaning behind those words

[lightasthesun]

begging for footnotes in the story of your life but its about father-daughter relationships

[ateliersss]

Blooming Family Part 4 - He Shall Prevail

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: In your past life on earth, when someone would ask you how you managed your job as a nurse with the occasional death of a mother during birth, you told them that you never took it too personal because you would never find yourself in their position. Then why were you now so adamant on giving your life for your pup? Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 5,497 Part 1: here Part 2: here Part 3: here Masterlist

⇨ Hey, guys! I‘m back to writing. 6 months and 16 exams later, I finally found time to continue my now called “Blooming Family” series. You have no idea how much I missed it.

⇨ Though I have to say, this will probably be the end of this series. Probably. I got rid of every idea about our little family in those four parts and I don’t believe I can offer much more dramatic and exciting plot.

⇨ BUT! I already announced a Prequel on how Mi'ytiar and the Reader meet. I’m still working on it and the process is going smoothly for now. This means, this is definitely not the end of our story, so stay tuned!

⇨ Want to join the tag list?

 

The metallic smell of human blood that usually made him wallow in delight, now made him feel sick. The feeling of human blood on his skin which usually sent a rush of excitement down his spine, now made him want to cut off any part of his body that made contact with it. The sight of him tearing a human apart — hurting it, killing it — that usually sated his predatory nature, now made him want to gouge his eyes out.

Blood flowed as he cut you, his beloved one, open under Cahrein’s watchful eyes. The red fluid coated first his claws and fingertips, then his fingers completely, and before he knew it his whole hand when he started to reach into you.

Your small, beautiful body, which he had worshipped more times than he could count, had long grown numb, unmoving, lifeless. Your big, gorgeous eyes that had held so much love for him were closed, sparing him to witness the moment should the spark within them extinguish.

He wouldn’t let that happen, he was sure of it. He just needed time to close the long, precise cut and get the blood that was stashed somewhere here on the ship. He knew how to stitch you together, God knows how many times he had to do it when you were on your hunting trips together, though it was never this kind of wound.

But Mi'ytiar, your oh so loving and attentive mate, had done something quite unusual for his species.

With no profound knowledge of births, let alone human births, he witnessed the act of giving life for the very first time when you had been pregnant with Akail. Even without any previous experience, he just knew that Yautja births were quite different from human ones. Their Females wouldn’t have suffered that much from pain during labor and because of that, his already devoting stance towards you seemed to reach new heights when you fought like a warrior on your very own battlefield. He was impressed just as he was scared.

So, when Cahrein had confirmed your suspicions on being pregnant again, Mi'ytiar did what every father on earth would and should do when a baby was on its way: he prepared himself. Mostly Cahrein showed and taught him the necessities who had studied the human anatomy when you arrived on Yautja Prime for the first time — leader's orders. And because there had never been a human in their clan or anywhere near it, he had to travel some time to the nearest one whose location he knew.

That’s how Cahrein learned and that’s how he was able to brief his clan leader.

You didn’t know, but if you did, you once again would not fathom how lucky you were, because how many Yautja out there with a human by their side for whatever purpose would put that much effort into them? Would any of them sit down and listen to their healer drone about the function of the ovaries? Would any of them waste their time, instead of just finding a replacement? Would they be here when the chance of saving you was like catching mist with bare hands?

Mi'ytiar did, a leader nonetheless.

And when he felt it wasn’t enough, he did his very own research on earth. Stalking through hospitals, invisible of course, thanks to the Cloak camouflaging his massive form and hiding him from the human eye, he was taking everything in. He observed the humans dressed in white and dark blue clothes scurry around before he decided to follow one around.

At nighttime, it was much easier when the staff thinned out. This way he had a better chance to explore the hospital and find his way to the infant ward, discovering it by chance. Fourteen see-through cribs were standing in two rows inside the ward. Fourteen tiny human babies were lying inside, sound asleep.

So that’s what they looked like.

For a moment he thought about being human himself. Not for his own appearance, but for the possibility of having a pup who looked more like you, his love. You were such a beautiful creature, but sadly your genes were practically drowned out by his.

At daytime, he was lucky to watch five women deliver their babies. Four of them did it the natural way while the fifth woman decided willing to do a c-section. Obviously unaware of what would happen in a few years, he gained very useful knowledge that day.

That’s how Mi'ytiar learned and that’s how he located the pup in your womb so fast and pulled it out.

He tried not to let himself get lost in the sight of the newborn, squirming and screeching. As much as he wanted to admire the little boy, another paragon created by you, there was a more pressing matter at hand.

He gingerly placed the flailing pup down on the cold glass surface of the table and against your body, snuggled between your motionless arm and your side. With the greatest care, he angled his son’s head to rest against your shoulder and moved your arm so it would keep him in place.

Mi'ytiar wasted no time in turning the Medicomp upside down and finding the needed surgical tools much faster that way. Thankfully he hadn’t discovered anything wrong once the pup was free, no suspicious rupture or tear that needed stitching. He was deaf to Cahrein’s words as he fixed the cut with wound clamps and started to mix a gel that was able to close a wound of any kind, size or depth.

When he was sure the gel was painstakingly spread on the already healing cut, he grabbed the syringe with the purple-ish fluid and inserted its needle in the crook of your unoccupied arm. There was a 50-50 chance that it would work on you. Sxánxik would close all internal damage and increase blood cell production in case of severe blood loss, though he didn’t know if it would work on human blood. But there was still a chance since your DNA had evolved through years of infusions of Yautja blood.

“You should get her blood.” Cahrein’s voice finally found its way into his consciousness.

“Can’t leave.” Mi'ytiar growled, his eyes focused on the shallow movement of your chest, scared it would stop the second they would stray from you.

“You need to. There is no guarantee sxánxik works.” Cahrein pressed, growing restless at his leader’s tunnel vision.

He knew he didn't know what was going through Mi'ytiar’s mind, and if he said he knew how he was feeling at that moment, he would be lying. It was obvious to anyone that ever laid eyes on the Life-mated pair that there was a unique and special bond between the two. Yautja were caring despite common belief, but even the most affectionate and compassionate of their species would never come close to the emotions your human heart held for your Yautja. Adding the influence you had on Mi'ytiar, it seemed to be fated.

Soulmates, Cahrein believed you had called the both of you when you told him about certain fairytales your mother had read to you when you were a child. Though you had said it in a joking way, telling him it was something hopeless romantics believed in, he could see it in your eyes that there was some kind of hope there.

“Sometimes two people are destined for each other.”

Your human nonsense would always make him scoff in amusement, until there was living and breathing proof of you being meant for his leader. Two proofs now, to be exact. When you were able to give Mi'ytiar his long-denied offspring where their Females had failed, Cahrein started to be less derogatory about superstitions on earth.

“Fine.” Mi'ytiar snarled, hitting the glass surface of the holo-map table on each side of your thighs with closed fists, only hearing a splintering sound as he pushed himself away.

When he returned, the overwhelming sight of your body made him freeze in the doorway when the automatic doors opened. He tried to not tighten his grip around the blood bag in his hand, tried not to let his claws pierce holes into it and spill the red liquid.

You were lying there, paler than you had been moments ago. Where he had positioned your arm so your pup was safely tucked at your side, the other one was lying along the length of your body. Just as your spread legs were dangling down the table, your hand was loosely hanging down where it had previously been grasping the edge in pain.

“Mi'ytiar.”

Cahrein’s voice was once again pulling him out of his own head before he could drown in dark thoughts.

“I prepare your home for your return.” The healer told him when Mi'ytiar covered your naked lower body with one of your blankets that you always kept on the ship.

When Cahrein received no response from his leader, who was too busy getting the blood into your veins before filling syringes with his own to inject it into you, he made the usual farewell gesture and his holo-image dissolved.

As soon as Mi'ytiar could assess you as stable, he took his newborn — he was so tiny, Mi'ytiar was able to hold him with one hand as he fit so easily in his entire palm — and placed him in the crook of his arm, the upper body of his son pressed against his bicep. The typical instinct of a Yautja pup to hold on made his son immediately cling to him.

With a heavy heart at leaving you alone once again, he went through the ship to take the pup to its sleeping place in the sleeping quarters. Digging out more of the cushions and covers you had stashed away, he created a makeshift crib so his son wouldn’t move in a fatal position or roll out of the pod by accident. When he was sure he could leave him alone for a moment, he put the pup down and returned to you.

You were still in the same unconscious state he had left you. With a pained, sorrowful purr he lifted you up and into his arms, the almost empty blood bag held up by his hand. The sight of you like this was hurting him more than any wound he ever got from an enemy.

Back in the sleeping quarters, Mi'ytiar put you down in the pod where the two of you would usually rest. And where the little one was probably conceived, he thought with his eyes looking over at the pup.

Since the ship was not equipped with the necessary medical supplies and equipment, he had to make do with what was available to him. All he could do now was let you sleep and heal. Should the sxánxik not do its job, his blood would do.

To distract himself — because looking down at the device around his left arm, the journey back home would take another hour — he picked his newborn pup up and started to rock him softly. He remembered your reaction when you had seen him do it for the first time with Akail, scolding him for hurling the pup around. Your words.

Trying to not let his amusement show too much on his face, he had explained to you that Yautja babies, even when they were mere minutes old, were quite sturdy. They could endure more than you would think and you had learned that in the following five years. To put it simple, Akail had been a menace when he wasn’t a complete mama’s boy. He had wanted to explore; first your home, then the clan grounds, and then the whole planet.

Mi'ytiar let out a chuckle-like rumble at the memory of an eager Akail running around, dodging his mother’s arms that tried to keep him inside your home and from running around in the village. He had watched you both with mirth in his eyes, but regretted it the second a grumbling laugh left his mouth. If it had been possible, he would have dropped dead when you glared at him with a very nasty look. Wincing inwardly, he pulled his figurative tail between his legs and came to your aid, grabbing Akail by the nape and lifting him up. Then you had looked at your son with a I’m-very-disappointed-in-you expression on your face and this time it was the pup that winced (Mi'ytiar almost too, if he was being honest).

Like father, like son.

This one will be just as in love with his mother as his father and older brother were, he was sure of it.

Warm, soft and bright.

Those were the things you noticed first even with your eyes closed.

The next thing your brain registered was that you could move every part of your body, although a little sluggish, when you wiggled your toes, and clenched and unclenched your hands. You were relieved that whatever happened to you hadn’t paralyzed you.

Blinking, you opened your eyes and with a blurry vision, the very first thing you saw was a familiar, but somehow unfamiliar metal pole that looked like an IV stand.

But that couldn’t be. You should be the only human thing on Yautja Prime, so why…

“You awake.”

You slowly turned your head in the direction of the voice. You could only make out a dark, tall figure standing in the doorway, though not tall enough to be your mate.

“Cahrein?” You murmured.

“Mhm.”

Said Yaujta entered the room to inspect the stand, tapping the bag with a clear substance inside. He traced the tube attached to it with a sharp claw to the point where it was connected to the needle in your arm. 

“Fascinating I must say.”

“What is this? Why is it here?” You asked and tried to get up, hoping the fatigue would wear off faster in an upright position.

With a deep rumble and a clicking of his mandibles, Cahrein gently pushed you back down. “The great Mi’ytiar always made sure you had everything you need should medical emergency arise.”

“He did?”

Cahrein nodded with his head. “He traveled to ooman world to get whatever you need every time oomans developed their creations.”

You looked at the healer who now inspected the red bag filled with your blood.

When you started to be more involved in the life of the Yautja, the possibility of getting hurt grew. It wasn’t likely as your mate never let you do anything that could cause even a bruise. Well except, of course, mating with him. 

When your already drawn blood expired, you would go to Cahrein so he could take new one for emergencies while you sat in Mi'ytiar’s lap, his purring and his hands caressing you calming you down. Despite being a former nurse you hated needles.

“How...” You coughed, your voice hoarse from not being used. “How long was I… asleep?”

“Six days.”

“That long?” You whispered to yourself in disbelief.

You settled back into the soft cushions of your nest, watching the healer adjust the blood bag as if there was the perfect angle for it to hang. Ever the perfectionist. 

You carefully lifted the arm with the needle inside while you grabbed a black woolen blanket to pull it over your body, somehow feeling cold despite the fire burning. 

Doing so, you dragged your heavy-feeling arm over your stomach.

Your flat stomach.

You jumped up from your lying position, ignoring the stabbing headache. 

Cahrein turned around, only needing to take one big step to be by your side, and was ready to scold you for going against your doctor’s orders, but his words were dying on his tongue when you ripped the piece of clothing you were wearing open. Immediately he averted his eyes and turned his back to you. 

You may be his patient right now, but he had no death wish. Sure, he had seen parts of you in his role as the healer, but only with permission and in attendance of your mate. And said mate definitely didn’t need to be in the room to witness his human being exposed in front of someone who wasn’t him to install that deep-rooting respect (and maybe even slight fear) in Cahrein. 

You were oblivious to the internal battle of Cahrein who was fighting against the urge to make sure you weren’t overexerting yourself and the fact that he couldn’t do so without having to look at you. Instead, you were frantically tracing the faint scar across your stomach with shaky hands.

Baby…

Where was your baby?

Where was it?!

The maternal instincts were almost animalistic as they made you heave, your lungs starting to struggle to take in air.

It had been here, inside your belly, carried under your heart…

Why wasn’t it here?

It should be… it should be…

Cahrein was really tempted to turn around when he listened to your breath getting more and more irritated and uneven. When he heard suspicious rustling, he spun around and grabbed the nearest cover to put it on you — the blanket you had wanted to snuggle into. 

“Calm, (Y/N), calm.” He purred as he pushed you back onto the nest when you tried to crawl out of it. 

“My pup, my pup. Where is my pup?” You squeaked.

You were digging your nails into his skin, scratching it without leaving much damage. You weren't really a challenge to him. You were still weak from the blood loss and the week of bed rest. Had it been a female Yautja, Cahrein would have probably been dead by now. They were just as territorial and protective of their pups as you were right now.

“He is fine. He is with his father.” He soothed you and tried to push you onto your back and into the nest. "I will call for him."

Still shaking, you ceased your resistance a little, allowing Cahrein to let go of you. Despite everything screaming inside of you to fight your way to your pup, your body in its state wouldn't even make it out of the room. So you settled down but kept your nerves on edge.

You were taking deep breaths in and out as you strained every muscle to prop yourself up into a sitting position, your legs tangled and angled to the side.

Tugging on the soft fabric of the blanket draped over you, you looked around the room. It was just like you remembered — all four walls made of smooth obsidian-like stone, the large window from the floor up to the ceiling behind your nest giving you the perfect view of the jungle-like valley beneath you by the cliff where the village was located on, the build-in shelves that mostly displayed your mate's most valued trophies, but also some of your possessions from your old home on earth like your books and your favorite pot plant, the futuristic wardrobe Mi'ytiar had made for you when he kept gifting you fabrics, feathers, fur, leather and such so you could make yourself clothes with the help of the Females.

It was home.

As your eyes swept over the room from left to right, they stopped when they spotted the small, wooden crib next to the nest. It had been Akail‘s when he was a newborn pup. It was lovingly and thoughtfully crafted by Mi’ytiar, while you had carved accents, patterns, and little figures into it.

Sure, Yautja Females had their own, traditional way of taking care of their pups, but you were human and your baby was partly human, so you wanted at least a little human influence in raising it. It‘s the only way you knew and were able to do it. Mi’tyiar let you take the reins since he had no prior knowledge himself. He was a first-time father and would just follow your instructions when you needed assistance. 

That led to you unknowingly breaking a custom. Usually, at this age, the Female was raising the pup alone. The Male was barely involved during that time and would only take over when it was time for the pup to train as a Youngblood. 

Mi’ytiar, on the other hand, the ever-loving father, was there by your side for every of Akail’s wobbly steps, incoherent mumble and mandible click. If he was human, you fondly mused, he would be that kind of a parent who would take photos and videos of even the most random event and unnecessary thing their baby did.

He was such a fierce and strong leader, callous and ruthless when the situation required it, a brutish savage if he was challenged, but when it came to his little family he was so soft and gentle like any human father or husband.

While you were spacing out, resisting the urge to reach over to the crib and check if the bedding was still warm, signs of a little life sleeping in it, you didn’t notice the newcomers in your room.

“Yawne...” A voice sounded far away before you started blinking, refocusing yourself.

Your eyes snapped to the now much larger form standing in the entrance of the room holding a small, wiggling bundle in his arms, cradling it to his chest. His yellow eyes were solely on you, looking at you in disbelief as if he thought they were deceiving him. 

Mi'ytiar pushed the bundle in his arms into those of Cahrein, who you barely registered walking in behind your mate, and made his way over to you in a few quick strides. Your eyes were fixed onto the thing your whole being was screaming for the most, but when Mi'ytiar cupped your cheeks with both of his hands, your whole attention was on him — your mate, the love of your life, your sun and your moon.

“Tahní.” You breathed and put your hands on his, craving his warm skin closer to you.

He moved forward and gently put his forehead to yours, purring loudly into the otherwise silent room. 

“I thought I lose you. I thought you die. Again.” He grumbled, his eyes closed.

You lifted your head and placed a few kisses on the skin of his forehead. 

“I‘m a fighter. I thought you knew that by now.” You chuckled, your voice hoarse.

Mi'ytiar grumbled again, not appreciating you making jokes when you had been on the brink of life and death.

“What happened?” You asked and pulled away to finally look at him. 

Mi'ytiar — and you really had no nicer word to describe it — looked horrible. If Yautja were able to develop bags under their eyes, he definitely would have some. He looked beyond tired. There was a devastated, but also relieved look in his eyes, you had no problem deciphering the reason behind it. 

“I only remember how my water broke… how you carried me back to the ship… and the call with Cahrein.” You mumbled as you tried to recall any memory you had stored in the back of your mind.

It was all blurry and tangled and you had no idea what happened when. The only thing you remembered with conviction was the pain. When the contractions started in that forest, it was far more manageable than the pain at Akail‘s birth. But when the labor was taking longer than it was normal, it got almost unbearable.

“What happened? How did he…” You trailed off as you glanced past Mi'ytiar and to Cahrein who was rocking the whiny bundle in his arm to calm it down.

“Mi'ytiar, please.” You begged as you looked back at him, pleading with your eyes. “Please give him to me. I need to… I need to…”

The distress your body was emitting almost made him shrink away. 

“Cahrein.” Mi'ytiar grunted and reached out.

Cahrein, who was struggling a little with the fussing pup in his care, careful not to accidentally drop it, made his way over to his leader. He would be lying if said he didn’t feel at least some relief when the restless pup left his arms. The last thing he wanted to do was sending you further down a spiral of frantic worry about your baby. He had seen enough Females going rogue for lesser reasons and experience showed to never stand between a mother and their pup. It was the last mistake you would make.

Mi'ytiar purred softly at the bundle before he turned back to you and offered it for you to take it. You eagerly engulfed it in your arms and the second you had a hold on it, the fussing pup settled down.

“Leave.” Mi'ytiar ordered gruffly when you started to push down the only cover your body had, not taking his eyes off his son and his mate.

Cahrein bowed his head and quickly took his leave. He would talk about anything medical and the further necessary bed rest another time.

You didn’t notice him leaving, too busy freeing your newborn son of the baby blanket that was practically drowning him.

You had knitted it when you were six months pregnant with Akail. He had been obsessed with it as long as he was a tiny pup.

Back when you were a nurse, some mothers had excitedly told you about all the preparations they had done before the baby was due. One of them had brought wool, knitting needles, and a half-finished blanket to her appointments. She had explained to you how she learned knitting only for her baby, so she could make all this stuff for it.

It was a sweet memory.

Mi'ytiar, of course, went on a trip back to earth and got you anything and everything you wanted and needed, even more than you originally needed in hopes his offerings would please you. And you hadn’t even needed to use much persuasion. Looking up at him with those big eyes of yours while rubbing the prominent baby bump was enough to prepare a ship and fly to your home planet the next day.

Sweet, sweet memories.

You were humming as Mi'ytiar crawled on the nest behind you, setting the blanket you had shrugged off to the side, and pulled you on his lap. He wrapped his arms around you and watched over your shoulder as you cradled your pup against your bare chest. You sighed in contentment when you could feel your son’s skin against your own, like it’s the final thing you needed to reassure you that you were actually here, that he was real.

Without the baby blanket covering him, you finally got a good look at your son. And god, you didn’t know you could fall in love a third time in your life.

He was perfect.

Unlike his big brother, he was the carbon copy of his father. While Akail did look like his father, having the same color scheme as him, the patterns were of opposite colors. His younger brother, on the other hand, didn’t only have the same color pallet as his father, but the patterns of his skin were colored just the same as Mi'ytiar‘s. Otherwise, he didn’t look much different from Akail when he had been a newborn — the same numbs on his head where his dreads would grow, the same thin and undeveloped mandibles around his mouth, the same arms and legs.

He was about the size of a human baby. It was incredible to think how big in size and height he would grow in the coming years.

You inspected every aspect of his tiny body, your fingers gliding over his torso and limbs, admiring every centimeter of him.

“You were right.” Mi'ytiar suddenly said. “He was in abnormal position. He was stuck.”

You stilled for a moment before you continued to coo at your baby.

“You begged me to get him out and I did. I cut in you and you…” He trailed off and grunted at his wavering voice. “You stopped moving when I pulled pup out. You were gone.”

“No.” You interrupted him and turned your upper body to look at him. “If I was gone, I wouldn’t be here with you. With him.” You moved your arms with your turned torso, so his son was back in his sight. “I wouldn’t be here to tell you how happy I am, to tell you how glad I am that you handled it so well. You saved his life. And mine too.”

You shifted your pup into one arm to reach up and place your hand on his cheek. You didn’t even need to pull him in for him to move closer and put his forehead once again against yours, closing your eyes. Since his anatomy made it impossible to actually kiss him, you decided that forehead-against-forehead was an acceptable compensation. Although it wasn’t anything special, it felt so intimate with him that you didn’t really miss the ability to kiss your partner.

“I’m here. I’m alive. I’m not going anywhere, Mi'ytiar.” You told him softly, rubbing your skin against his like a cat. “Thanks to you I’m able to continue to breathe, to walk and talk. Thanks to you I’m able to continue to love you and live my life with you, my strong and handsome mate, and our pups.”

You had so many other things to say to him, but you started to choke on your words. Tears were dripping down your cheeks.

You opened your eyes when you felt something rough rub the skin under them and saw him wiping away the tears with his thumb. His other hand came up and its thumb did the same with the tears coming from your other eye. Mi'ytiar looked fondly down at you, his head cocked to the side.

“Thank you so much.” You mumbled, your voice a little shaky, and buried your face into his chest.

Mi'ytiar clicked his mandibles softly and carefully pulled you closer, making sure to not crush the pup between your bodies.

“Anything for you.” He purred.

He felt the wetness dripping from your eyes to your cheeks and down on his chest ease after a while. And when you lifted your head to look up at him, you gave him one of those dazzling, soft smiles he loved so much.

Mi'ytiar wanted to reach out again, wanted to pull you closer and snuggle his face into the crook of your neck to smell your sweet, familiar scent he missed so much. But sadly a certain someone demanded your attention more loudly.

The pup in your arms started to fuss again, causing you to use both arms again to hold him tight against you. Shushing him, you nestled him in the crook of your neck and stroked his back.

Mi'ytiar let out a displeased grunt before he could stop himself, glaring at his son being in a place where he wanted to be just a moment ago.

You, of course, didn’t miss your mate fixing the pup with a dismayed look and you immediately knew why. This wasn’t your first baby after all.

“Mi'ytiar, don’t tell me you’re jealous again.” You grinned up at him, not even trying to hide your amusement.

“‘M not.” He grunted.

“You are.”

“Not.”

“Mhm.” You hummed, unconvinced, raising an eyebrow. “Just as you were not jealous when Akail was occupying my boobs as a pillow for a year? Or when I tried breastfeeding with him? Or when he challenged you every time you came near me even though he just had learned to walk? Or when he-”

To silence you, he bit down into your throat and you immediately went slack. It was a somewhat trained reaction every time he would do that. Where a human would shut you up with a kiss, your mate bit you. A show of dominance, without a question, and you would lie if you said it didn’t turn you on. The moan that would have proofed it had almost slipped from your lips.

“Not jealous.” Mi'ytiar insisted gruffly and licked over the bite mark.

“Fine, fine.” You mumbled, still a little dazed from his little display of power.

The two of you stayed silent for a while. The only sound was the occasional chittering and cooing of your son, who was looking up at his parents with his big, pale yellow eyes. They would grow more intense in color in no time.

“Did you already name him?” You asked and giggled when your pup tried to snatch up your finger with which you were drawing patterns in the air, moving it around in front of his face.

You watched as your pup finally caught your pointer finger and inserted it into his mouth. You laughed when you felt his gums chew on it. His teeth would develop only in a few weeks.

“The name you chose.” Mi'ytiar grunted softly.

You hummed in understanding and snuggled your face into the side of your son‘s head.

“Hi, Toyah.”

Tag List

⇨ Hey guys, despite having only some requests to be tagged in this part, I wanted to tag any and everyone who ever left a comment on one or more parts of this series. I'm seriously so thankful, you have no idea. Thank you so much for showing interest and voicing it. Thank you so much for your kind words that kept me motivated to continue this story. But, as I said at the beginning, this is not the end of Mi'ytiar, so lets hope we see each other on more of my works in the future!

@lil-lilacwitch, @zaky-ller, @eternalmoonshineofahopelessfan, @haleypearce @montybooks,

@ailujsenutna, @rorrika, @h0n3y-l3m0n05, @mahirublue, @00justanolive00,

@mortuaconjuga, @victor-rose, @screechingenemy18, @thewitchesofart, @skibbiescoober,

@pyreemo, @han-sirentell, @dd122004dd, @milkzze, @wildaces,

@serendipitous-fernweh, @misspendragonsworld, @bunnymysteriously, @ladygrimmx, @thelrina,

@quaritcxswifewh0re, @imaginarydreams, @vintage-bumblebee, @blaxkmagix, @beelievit,

@blmcd57110, @mythirdlife235, @the-artistic-devotee, @jojooasis, @pipocfamily,

@bimboreader, @noname2246, @sawendel, @being-worthy, @xcol2sblog,

@panpandeep00, @maxismp1, @bastet222, @candyladycry, @crowleysthings

[therealcocoshady]

Somebody Save Me

A/N : Hey friends ! 🥰 My dear @shady-577 prompted me to write this little blurb, inspired by the vibe of the Somebody Save Me music video. I hope you enjoy it. It's a little angsty, but I'm making up for it with some comfort smut 😉.

Hi babe, you greeted Marshall when he walked in the house. How was the music video shoot ? 

Hey, he said. Went fine. M’exhausted. 

Yeah ? You asked. I can’t wait to see the result. When is it coming out ? 

Dunno yet, he hummed. 

Dinner’s almost ready, you announced. 

Great, he said emotionless. I’m gonna take a shower. 

Marshall left the room and went upstairs before you even had the time to say anything. He seemed off but, then again, he had spent two days on set for his upcoming music video. He hadn’t told you too much about it, though. From early on in your relationship, the two of you had set an agreement that work stayed at work. Your significant other was very much a workaholic and this allowed him to maintain a healthy work-life balance. Plus, since you’d been a fan of his long before actually meeting him, this meant you got to appreciate his work when it was ready to share with the world. Though he cared about your opinion, he never let you hear a track that wasn’t done. You weren’t really an expert when it comes to production anyway, much less a lyricist, and you certainly weren’t the one he would come to for advice. The only thing you knew about the music video he’d been shooting was that it was for Somebody Save Me, which was one of the most emotional songs on his latest album. It was one of your favorite and you couldn’t wait to see the result, most likely a few days before it was released for the world to see. Being Marshall’s girl had its perks after all. You finished making dinner and set the table. When Marshall emerged downstairs, his hair was still damp from the shower and he had changed into something comfortable. You could see the exhaustion on his face. Unsurprisingly so. He was often the first person on set and the last one to leave. During dinner, you did your best to make conversation but he wasn’t extremely talkative. 

Marsh… Are you ok ? You finally asked. 

Yeah. Sure, he shrugged. 

Do you want to talk to me about it ? You encouraged him. Tell me what it’s about. You haven’t even told me about the script ! 

I’ve had a long day, he said dryly. I don’t feel like talking about work when I woke up at 4 and just got home. 

Oh, you said. Sure. Sorry I asked. 

You ate in silence and he mumbled something about going to bed before getting up and pressing a quick and absentminded kiss to your temple, leaving you to clear the table. You stayed downstairs for a while after dinner, trying to distract yourself with some bad reality show. When you were tired enough, you went to your room and picked up Marshall’s tee-shirt, which he had only worn for dinner, from the hamper and put it on as a nightshirt. He was already asleep when you went to bed. You could only see his back, but you could hear his soft snores. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder before closing his eyes, hoping to find him in a better mood when you’d wake up. 

It was the middle of the night when you were woken up by a weird noise. Some sort of breathy grunt. You could hear Marshall’s laborious breathing, mixed with whines. You opened your eyes and turned to him. In the darkness of the room, only lit by the pale moonlight, you could see that his eyes were closed. You figured he was asleep and you almost went back to your slumber, until you heard another whine, almost a cry. He had told you before that, at some point in his life, he’d been prone to nightmares but you had never witnessed it. He had always been a rather peaceful sleeper. This was incredibly unusual for him. You heard him nearly choke and decided that you needed to wake him up. Whatever nightmare he was having needed to end. You gently cupped his cheek and called his name. 

Marshall, my love, wake up. 

He nearly jolted upon hearing you call him. You saw him open his eyes that were full of tears and stare into space, visibly stuck between dreams and reality, trying to figure out what was going on. 

I fell, he mumbled. 

No you didn’t, you said softly. You’re in bed. You’re alright. 

I was in the bathroom and I-I fell, he repeated. 

That’s when it clicked. On one occasion,  he had evoked the day he overdosed, recounting the events and how he fell in the bathroom, only to wake up in the hospital, days later. You guessed that shooting the music video for a song about his overdose triggered some bad memories. He had told you all about his past but your man wasn’t exactly one to show vulnerability too often. Seeing him like this was disturbing and it broke your heart. You could see the pain on his face and you wanted nothing but to take it away. 

You’re fine, you whispered. You are safe. 

You gently stroked his face and, after a couple of seconds, you could see him become more conscious. He closed his eyes, his chest heaving. You cupped his cheek and brushed his forehead, noticing how sweaty he was. The contact made him shiver a little, prompting you to remove your hand from his face. 

No, he pleaded. Come back. 

You placed your hand back on his cheek as tears started to roll on his face. You gently wiped them, shushing him, promising that he was alright, and so was everyone. 

I’m sorry, he sniffled. 

It’s fine, my love, you said reassuringly. It happens. 

It felt so real, he whispered. 

It was just a nightmare, you reminded him. 

Thank God. 

You pressed your forehead to his, silently praying that God would make his pain go away. Marshall pulled you closer to him, so that your chest was pressed against his. You could feel his heart being abnormally fast. 

What can I do ? You whispered. 

Just hold me, please. 

You hummed and nodded, shifting the position and allowing him to come in your arms. Your legs were intertwined and he buried his face in your neck. You ran your hands in his back, trying to soothe him, and he held you tight. You closed your eyes, expecting him to go back to sleep, but you felt him place a kiss in your neck, then another one. They went from soft pecks to open mouth kisses against your skin. 

His breathing intensified. It was heavy, needy. You could tell he was desperate for something to hold on to, to ground himself. And in that moment, that something was you. He tightened his embrace some more, his fingers digging in your soft skin through the teeshirt you were wearing. You ran your fingers through his hair, tracing circles, as he kept on mouthing at your neck. You tried to distract yourself from the fact that he was sending shivers down your spine. It felt wrong. You were not supposed to feel arousal when your man was hurting. But you couldn’t help it. Especially not when you could feel him hardening through his boxers. He started slowly grinding against you and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips. 

Marshall, you whispered. What-

Please, he begged in a hoarse voice. 

He stared at you in the obscurity with pleading eyes that said it all. It was the look of a man  that needed something, anything to quiet the voices in his head. You could see the sheer pain on his face, you could sense the urgency in his breath. You cupped his face and nodded, letting him know he could take anything he needed from you. He closed his eyes again and dug his fingers deeper in your skin, as if he wanted to make sure this was real. His face found his way back to your neck and his hands found their way under your teeshirt, eventually removing the piece of fabric that was keeping him from feeling your skin against his. His touch was everything but gentle. It was rough and feverish. Marshall’s whole body was tense and you knew he was in desperate need for some release. He resumed his grinding, rolling his hips against you. You hummed softly, tightening your embrace around him and moving in sync. He let out a groan and stopped for a moment, just long enough to take his boxers off and toss your panties somewhere in the bedroom. He stared in your eyes and held your gaze as he spread your legs and positioned himself at your entrance, before allowing himself to sink into you, earning a moan. He closed his eyes as he buried himself into you, his hands gripping you. In turn, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. His thrusts were slow and deep, making sure to fill you to the hilt. He nuzzled your neck, letting our hoarse whimpers while you felt his body relax as he bucked into you. It seemed like the more he melted into you, the less tense he was. Marshall was usually the most generous of lovers, seeking your pleasure before his but this time was different. It wasn’t even about pleasure. It was about chasing away the demons, holding onto something tangible. You felt his tears on your skin as his hips stilled and he twitched inside of you. You held him close as he caught his breath. After a couple of minutes, he looked at you. 

Are you alright ? You asked. 

Better now, he whispered. Thank you. 

Anytime, you said as you cupped his face. Back to sleep ? 

Yeah, he mumbled. 

He laid back in bed and captured you in his embrace. You let out a yawn and closed your eyes, ready to fall back to sleep, and he gently grabbed your hand, giving it a kiss before placing it over his beating heart. 

[the-californicationist]

he teaches you new tricks

John Price convinces you to try using a butt plug for the first time, letting you use his ass for practice. It has definitely awakened something in you, and you're ready for more…

Warning: butt stuff, obviously.

It started innocently at first, fumbling and awkward, in the dark. John came home from deployment one day, ravenous and hungry, fingering you through the open leg of your pajama shorts, aiming for your sweet cunt. But, with a gasp from you and a gasp from him, he realized that he missed and landed his digits in a different destination. Your body’s response had been instinctual, and completely out of your control. Certainly the ragged moan he coaxed from your mouth by his accidental caress was not planned. It excited him, that much was obvious, and you discovered, as your mind processed the feelings stirring in your body, it excited you, too.

After that, he’d find excuses to lick you lower and lower, abandoning your pussy in favor of the tight bridge between your holes, even daring to flick his long tongue into what was previously a forgotten or even forbidden territory. Where you would have moved your hips out of his reach before, now you remained pliantly still, waiting for him to push his luck. Egging him on with your submission. When he grabbed your ass, his fingers would pull the cheek away just to reveal your asshole to him, thumbing it gently as he fucked you from behind, and you could feel him looking at it with a novel interest. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d been asked to consider anal sex. Price was not your first lover, but he was the first one who stood any chance of gleaning a positive response to the age-old query. He tested the waters one night while he railed inside of you, taking himself to the brink of pleasure, impairing his own judgment in a fog of bliss, nearly begging,

“You wanna try it out, love? Hm? You like my finger in there, now, dontcha?”

Your anguished cries were not a no, but they were not enough of a yes.

Later, after the fireworks died down, you lay against him, sweaty and sated, and looked up at him, musing,

“You’re so big, though…”

“Hmm?”

“Might be too much.”

“What are you sayin’, love?”

“You wanted to try anal, you said,” your voice was barely above a whisper, resonating in the hollow against his chest.

There was a long pause, and then, a smiling response through pleased sighs,

“Only if you want to. I’m more than happy as it is, clearly.”

“Would it hurt?” You asked. 

“No,” he shook his head confidently, “Shouldn’t hurt. Feels different, though.”

“We could try it,” you pushed your offering out into the quiet between you. 

He sighed,

“Don’t be doin’ this for my benefit. I told you, love, I’m not -”

“No,” you sat firm in your choice, “I wanna try. I don’t know…well, I’ve never done anything like that.”

“Tha’s okay. I’ll show ya, and hey -” he lifted your chin to look at him, gazing down at you with full sincerity, “We can stop anytime. Say it.”

You smiled, recognizing his tone,

“We can stop anytime.”

John cuddled you closer to him, wrapping his body around yours and pulling up the sheet, growling approvingly in your ear,

“Good girl.”

“How much should I put?” You asked, staring at the back of the bottle of lube, reading the vague instructions. 

“Here,” he took it from you and showed you the little pearl of clear liquid on his fingers. 

You handed him the smooth, silicone plug he’d brought home. He showed you the different sizes, the smallest being smaller than his finger - which you rejected - and the medium, and then the large. None of them had been too terribly intimidating. Price had been very serious about informing you of the dangers of not having a “flared base”, extolling the virtues of the T-shaped base he’d selected, touting its comfort and security. 

He rubbed the largest plug with the lube before reaching around and rubbing himself between his cheeks. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, not entirely sure what you were witnessing. 

“Want you to practice putting it in, so…” he smirked, blushing a bit from his finger’s ministrations, “You can use me to see how it goes.”

“W-w-what? Are you serious? You would do that for me?” You were positively aghast at his lack of boundaries. 

You had never expected any man in your life to be so free from society's Puritanical norms that he would even allow you to witness his asshole, much less put a butt plug into it - and not just for pleasure, but to educate you? You froze like a deer trapped in headlights, unable to proceed. 

“You don’t have to. You should feel the pressure, though, and see it happening. Makes it less scary, I think,” he held his hands up, not wanting to make you do anything you weren’t on board with. 

You shook your head, snapping out of your surprise,

“No, it’s okay. I just didn’t expect you to be okay with that.”

“I’m asking you to do it, so I should be able to do it, right?” He chuckled, kissing your forehead, rubbing his naked body against yours, turning you on again. 

John lay down on the edge of the bed, flat on his back, and spread his legs for you, hanging his muscular ass off of the side, rubbing his cock a bit for comfort and because he was getting obviously excited. His expressions during this whole ordeal had been positively boyish, full of bright anticipation. The novelty of taking your anal virginity fueled his giddy joy. 

You knelt between his legs, aiming the tip of the plug at his shining asshole, watching him thrust his hand against his hardening length erotically. Carefully, and too slowly, you touched the plug to his dark hole, surrounded by his curly, thick hair, using your other hand to lift his heavy balls out of the way.

Right at the first whisper of a touch, he groaned deeply. Encouraged, you pressed forward, meeting some resistance. Scared of hurting him, you paused there, keeping the tension but too afraid to go forward. 

“Push it in, love. Bit harder than that… please - yeah, fuck!”

Then, just as you applied more pressure, his hole stretched further and the plug disappeared inside of him, like a cork into a bottle, flush. John let out a groan, long and low, full of heady satisfaction.

Well, that wasn’t so scary, you thought. Unable to contain your desire, you tugged gently at his balls again, licking up to the base of his growing dick. He cried out again, enjoying the abundance of sensations. 

“Careful, love. I’ll come easy like this.”

“That good, John?” You rubbed his legs and abdomen affectionately, staring down at his occupied asshole, wanting very badly to feel what he was feeling. 

“So good. You wanna try?” He rolled over, sliding to the floor carefully, his cheeks rosy and warm as he kneeled down beside you, “Stand up for me, love.”

You stood, suddenly nervous. Price could tell. Your hesitation rolled off of your body language like a siren. He started to finger your pussy, enjoying the wetness in you, admiring the way you were already swollen and pulsing for him. His warm mouth kissed and licked your folds, drawing out long, luxurious moans from your throat, bringing you closer and closer to your climax.

Just as you thought he might make you come, he grabbed the lube from the nightstand and smeared it over his fingers, painting it onto your asshole. The slick feeling was enough to make you jolt, and you held onto his shoulders for balance. 

“C’mere, baby. Lay down for me,” he commanded in a careful timbre, moving your body as his had been on the mattress.

Price lifted your legs, grabbing you behind the knees and spreading you open, unable to resist eating your pussy when he did so, bending his head to taste you fully. Your orgasm was coiled up in your like a snake, ready to strike at any moment.

Then, you felt it, the tip of the medium-sized plug made cold contact with your asshole, and it sent a shock through your core. You gasped, and Price took it back, saying, 

“You alright, love?”

You nodded,

“You can do it. I’m okay.”

He pressed it back against your hole more confidently, pushing it into you until you felt stretched and open. Then, just as you had felt it slot into him, you felt it as it popped delightfully into you, feeling strange and extremely sensitive.

Price immediately went to your clit, licking it and fingering you inside of your pussy, and you felt the coil wind up again, stronger and more furious than before, stoked by the stimulation of your ass. He made you come, groaning right along with you, his eyes transfixed to your slick core, watching you pulse and clench around his hand. Each clench made the plug shift inside of you, rubbing against your insides, creating sparks in a place where there had never been any before. 

“Talk to me. How are you doing?” Price asked, rubbing your belly and thighs, comforting you. 

“It’s…strange. But, it’s good. Really good, actually,” you admitted, smiling, playing with your breasts lazily, coming down from your high. 

“Want me to play with you?”

You nodded, 

“Please.”

John hooked his first two fingers into the T-bar of the flexible plug, and he began to pull it out. You felt it stretching you, and then you felt a terrible emptiness when he removed it. You whimpered, involuntarily, and then gasped when he pushed it back in again. He was thrusting it in and out of you achingly slowly, letting you feel every little movement, telegraphing his actions as explicitly as he could, making sure you could see as much of his arm as possible. You were eager to feel more of it, and you told him,

“John... Feels so good. Faster, please.”

He obliged, and you understood, finally, the appeal. It wasn’t just your asshole that was sending sensation information to your brain. It was your pussy as well. The wall between your two holes was incredibly sensitive, and you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter as he fucked you with your new toy. Suddenly, he stopped and crawled over you, angling his cock to press into your pussy, slipping in easily through your slick come. 

You screamed, then. It was so intense, and you could feel both him and the plug battling each other for space as he began to thrust into you. Your shout stopped him at once, and he held his weight off of you,

“You’re hurt?”

You felt him start to pull out, panicked. You grabbed his waist, stopping him,

“Don’t go, baby.”

His sigh was pure elation, and he fed himself back into you, picking up a thumping rhythm that made the plug dance to his steady beat, teasing you incessantly. You were going to come so quickly and so hard. You could feel the build up, and it was like a stampede. Trying to warn him, you fought to catch your breath,

“John, I’m com-”

“Me, too, love. Bloody hell,” he spoke to you through gritted teeth, his pupils blown and full of a dark possession. 

You came together, gasping and keening, feeling him rolling through his orgasm like a tidal wave, filling you up quickly. 

He slid out of you, trying to catch his breath, and he carefully removed the plug, leaving you feeling hollow, full of a sort of sexual grief, a part of you begging to be filled again right away, bereft and missing your lover and his tools. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered.

“Sorry, love. You alright? Sorry…it was - It was too much for me. Couldn’t last,” he was coming undone at the seams. 

“More than alright, I think. That was…something else,” you smiled, earning yourself a wide grin in return. 

You watched him carefully remove the plug from himself, laying them on the washcloth on the small table. John reached for the other two soft rags that he had set out, and he used one to clean you up. He was so diligent in making sure he didn’t put you at any risk of infection, and you could tell it was taking everything he had to concentrate on his work. 

It had been almost a week since you’d had your adventure in toyland with John, and you were snuggling into him on the sofa, playing with the waistband of his pants absentmindedly, watching Liverpool and Tottenham. You weren’t sure how to push the envelope, so you just came right out and asked him,

“Do you want to fuck my ass tonight?”

He was mid-sip on his ale, and he nearly choked to death. His whole body convulsed as he coughed, hacking through the invasive liquid, trying to breathe. You’d startled him, and while you were a little sorry, you were also a little not. 

“Wh-what, love?” He asked through coughs, his face red and full of wide surprise. 

“I thought we could try. You know, if you wanted to.”

“Fuuuuuckin’ hell,” he caught his breath, smiling at you, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead, fully ignoring the game, “Yeah, yeah, I would do. Yeah, now?”

You giggled, curling into him cozily, 

“You’ve got forty minutes left in this match, babe.”

John didn’t reply. He clicked the screen off with his remote and scooped you off the couch, carried you into the bedroom, and playfully tossed you onto the big mattress. You were laughing with nervous excitement, impressed by his reaction. His expression was still one of genuine surprise, but along the edges, you could see a tremendous needy desire. His tone was still bright and playful, but now it was heavy with lustful warning,

“Clothes off, love. You lit a fuckin’ match, you did.”

He raked his shirt off his torso and threw it away, shucking off his jeans and socks like he was in a race, slipping his boxers off to prowl over you, fully naked and hard as a stone, leaking as his cock rubbed along your thigh. You’d almost matched him, but you still had your panties on, and he peeled them from you unceremoniously, his lips finding yours and slanting against his bearded mouth. He slipped his tongue past your teeth, dragging it along yours, licking you with a delicate longing, making your body ready and willing to respond to his every whim. 

Price was right of course, you had lit a match. He had one thing on his mind, and he let you know it. His mouth kissed its way down your body until it found your asshole, which he began to lick and writhe his way inside, lapping along the edges and onto your cheeks, devouring you. His fingers joined his efforts, rimming around the edges, sending clear signals to your body as he did so, and then he began to carefully invade your hole, prepping you for his intrusion. 

The way he scissored his fingers in you was enough to send your mind soaring with pleasure, but when he reached for the bottle of lube, your nerves returned. Your body stilled, and your breathing became more shallow. He smeared the lube against you and slowed things way, way down. 

“You alright, love? I won’t hurt you, baby, you know that,” he bent to kiss your neck, “You want me to stop?”

“No,” you shook your head, “no, I’m just nervous.”

“Tha’s okay,” he smiled, “Brave girl. Being so good for me. Hungry for me, hm?”

“Yeah, I am,” you felt the waves of pleasure return at his praise-filled words. He knew what you wanted to hear, and he was happy to oblige. 

Once he was pleased with your flexibility, he positioned himself at your asshole, slippery with lube and his thick precome, his cock jerking with excitement, rigid and stretching for you. The smooth, fleshy head of his dick pressed against your muscles, willing them to relent. 

“Breathe for me, baby,” Price coached you. 

You tried to breathe deeply, feeling yourself relax. Then, his head popped into you, mimicking the feeling of the plug. You sighed deeply, reveling in the familiar feeling. However, unlike the plug, Price had plenty more ground to cover, and he pushed himself deeper in the slowest, gentlest way possible. He was groaning the entire time, whining darkly in an animalistic way, like a wolf snarling in a fight, tense and stressed.

Wanting him to feel pleasure with you, your hands went to his belly, celebrating his body, rubbing him lovingly, rewarding him for his careful treatment. 

He hit another boundary of some kind, stopping his progress. John meet your eyes, and it was so filthy, the way he looked at you, you felt yourself pulse around him. You watched (with no small level of pride) as his eyes rolled back into his head, showing you their fluttering whites like a vicious shark, ready to snap. He whispered to you, recovering a bit,

“Breathe deep for me. One, two, three…that’s it, love, good girl. Such a good girl for me. Yes-yes-yes… ohhh…”

The rest of him pressed its way into you, and you were truly filled. As he sheathed himself, he waited there, breathing with you, relaxing into you as you relaxed, his cock simply sitting inside of you, hard and warm. 

“You okay?” He asked, quiet and falsely calm.

You nodded, cupping his bearded cheek, 

“Yes, baby. I’m good. So fucking good.”

Reserved and heavily restrained, he began to thrust into you slow and easy, making the most delicious faces as he did so. It felt like a dream and time stretched out around you in all directions. He created waves and waves of pleasure for you. You were so full and warm, and your clit was tingling without being touched, excited by the sparkling sensation of Price fucking your ass. You reached down to touch yourself, hissing at the pleasure of your own touch, and Price was salaciously injured by it,

“Oh, bloody fuckin’ hell. Yes, baby. Just like that. Touch yourself… Shite! I’m not gonna last.” 

You fondled your clit until you began to buzz from it, feeling the chill of an orgasm creep up your spine. You wanted him to join you, so you pushed him, knowing he was vulnerable,

“That’s my big bear, making me feel so fucking full. Want you to come in my ass. Wanna feel it inside me,” you doused the fire you’d built in him with kerosene words, and you grinned as you watched the resulting blaze. 

“Fuuuuck, fuck, fuck!” 

His come was thick and hot as it spilled out into you, and you could feel it inside of your asshole, wet and soft, folding around his cockhead as he thrust up into his own fluids. Pure bliss was painted across his face, and you covered yourself in his joy like a heavy coat, surrounded by it, and proud of your work, glad he was such a willing teacher.

You loved learning new tricks.

[intynidad]

YES MAKE A PART 2 OF SHAPESHIFTER

they’ve been living in my head rent free since i read the fic and i’m gonna lose it

You guys really liked that fic huh

I tried my best at doing smut even though shapeshifter can change all o their body, hope you guys like it!

(I’m planning on making a new part that is more explicit??? But idk if you guys would like that)

Love has many forms pt 2

NSFW

warning: yandere tendencies?? (Not a lot but im gonna say it just in case), mention of female and male genitalia (not towards reader) minors DNI

Some people are like two perfect puzzle pieces, fitting together effortlessly and completing each other's picture. It's a beautiful connection that brings harmony and joy. However, your last relationship was different. You and your partner were more like two corner pieces of the same puzzle, belonging to the same game but unable to fit no matter how hard you tried.

In your current relationship, things were different. While you remained the same little puzzle piece, your partner was like water, flowing and fitting into every nook and cranny around you. Their ability to adapt to every situation and effortlessly surround you was one of the perks of dating a shapeshifter.

Their shapeshifting abilities added a thrilling element of excitement and adventure to your relationship. Witnessing their seamless transformations into different forms and their effortless blending into various environments was truly awe-inspiring. They made it clear since day 1 that they didn't mind changing all of themself to fit your likes. It sounds romantic or even a little comical but the way pure obsession dripped from their eyes made you believe them.

Their abilities were present even in the most intimate moments of your relationship

Sometimes their hands were small and delicate and sometimes where rough and full of scars, both of them made and excellent works on touching your body and having the knowledge that your partner could be anyone you ever dream of aroused you

At first you were shy about asking about using their powers in the bedroom, after all you told them you wanted to love them as they are, but they were their powers and they have told you that they didn't mind…

So the first time you ask them to change into a celebrity you had a crush on, you tried and tried to not moan the celebrity’s name but it slowly fell out of your lips, again they said that you could moan the name of whoever you wanted after all THEY were them in that moment

Then it was a supermodel you thought was hot, after that they even started to experiment with their different forms.

Sometimes they had a pussy dripping from arousement for you, sometimes they had a cock erect and hard ready for you to suck on

Sometimes they made themselves bigger while being inside you just to watch you squirm and your little please of “its too big” “i'm gonna break” just motive them to do it again

Sometimes they had small breast that you could fold with one hand and sometimes they had huge breaths that they loved to let you suck and squish

Your partner was very happy that you ask them about using their powers, after all the more they know about your body the better they can make you moan.

The fact that they just know that even if you break up with them, you will never have his pleasure with anyone else makes them smile, and even if you break up with them they just need to assume a new form for you to fall in love again and again and again.

Now that they know your preferences you won't be able to escape them, but since that wont happen they prefer to continue making you feel good.

The favorite moment was when the watch you ride them, since they started to add texture on their cocks you been cumming faster and faster, they think is adorable how you eager you are bouncing up and down on them, is so cute watching you bite the pillow of your shared home trying to stop yourself from moaning but they know exactly how to make you sing like a little bird for them

And believe me for them you sing like an angel

Their angel

And no one else

[astraystayyh]

Bittersweet

Pairing : Bang Chan x reader, exes to lovers.

Summary : You broke up with Chan because of an once in a lifetime work opportunity. Four years later, you are back home and everything has changed.

Warnings : Some cursing, reader has a big fear of thunder, allusion to sex in the end but no smut.

A.N: I wrote this as part two of Beginning of the End, but it can be read as a stand-alone. Still, i HIGHLY recommend reading part 1 first, it will just be more impactful!! Please let me know if you enjoyed reading, it means a lot to me <333

(Part 1)

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

Four years later, you were back to where it all started.

It felt weird to return home after all this time; to stroll down the alleys you once memorized, to meet up with the friends you once couldn’t live without. To witness firsthand how small your existence is, in the sense that you were so attached to your city, yet it had moved on perfectly despite your absence.

Still, you couldn’t really blame the world for moving on because you changed a lot too.

You had grown happier and more secure in yourself. Your work was recognized and praised, and you made some unforgettable memories that wouldn't have been possible had you not left. You felt as if everything you fought hard for finally paid off.

But throughout the years, one thing did remain the same; your love for Chan. You never tried to forget him or make your feelings go away. You figured that loving him was like the skin that clung to your bones, an inseparable part of your being.

Still, you were human after all, and as the months passed, you began to forget the sound of his voice and the warmth of his body against yours. His giggles became a distant memory in your mind, and so did the feel of his hands on your skin. Loving Chan became like a photograph that you safely tucked away; it chipped at the edges and its colors faded, but it still lived on, just like your love for him did.

And now that you were finally back with a bigger promotion, you couldn’t help but think about Chan even more. Everywhere you went, you saw snippets of your past with him.

You were so young, so foolish, you realized.

But so utterly in love.

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

It was 11 pm, and you were suddenly craving ice cream. You knew it was a bit ridiculous because it was -3 degrees, and you were already freezing, but you had one fundamental rule in life: never say no to your heart's desires.

This is why, despite the cold, you quickly leave your new apartment and skip toward the convenience store near you.

You head inside and grab your favorite ice cream before strolling around in case something else caught your attention. You just loved the calm inside and wanted to bask in it a bit more.

You round the milk aisle and suddenly bumped into someone’s chest. You were about to apologize when the words got stuck in your throat.

Chan.

"Yn…?" he calls out, and you feel yourself grow weak in the knees.

There was something about the way your name rolled off the tip of his tongue that made you feel as if no one, besides him, had ever done it justice.

He was even more beautiful than when you last saw him four years ago. His brown curly hair was tousled and his warm eyes reminded you of galaxies. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest because you couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe it was him.

Memories of your last time together came crashing down on you like a wave; how he hugged you and told you to pretend as if nothing was happening, how he wrote you the most heart-wrenching letter that you’ve since memorized by heart.

"How are you?" you ask, clearing your throat. It felt silly to ask such mundane questions. This wasn't what you wanted to know. You wanted to ask if he still hated the taste of alcohol, if he still cried during sad movies, if he still squealed when he laughed, if he still loved you as you loved him.

But you couldn't voice those thoughts, so you willed yourself to drown them in the storm that is your mind.

"I'm good, and you?" he replies, smiling a little. It doesn't reach his eyes.

"I'm great."

"You look like it," he says, and you meekly nod, "So do you."

"Are you... visiting?" he asks after a few silent beats, and you shake your head, "I'm back for good."

"That's great. It's nice seeing you again," he gives you a genuine smile this time, and you can't help but grin back. You missed him.

You both stare at each other for a while after that, taking each other in. Looking at him felt like looking at a mirror of your past self -you could clearly see yourself in him because he once was a part of you, just like you were a part of him.

"I'll... I'll get going," he points behind him, retracting back, and before you could think it through, you grab his wrist to stop him.

It wasn't butterflies you felt when you touched him, that would be an understatement, it was pure electricity shooting through you.

People had touched you while you were away - hugs, kisses, and intimate caresses - but none of them made you feel this way. You were like a prisoner who had just felt the sun's rays against their skin for the first time in years. And you were starving for that sunlight.

"Can we meet up? Catch up? If you want to, of course," you whisper. Your voice is quiet- a stark contrast to the chaos going on in your mind.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'd like that," he agrees, rubbing the spot where you had grabbed him. Did he feel the sparks too?

"Tomorrow, this time, in the park near our old apartment?" you suggest, and he nods, "Sure. I'll be there."

"Great. I'll wait for you."

----------

You are sitting on a swing, swaying back and forth gently. Your heart is beating erratically in your chest, and you bite your nails from how stressed you are. In the four years you were away, you had to give conferences in front of thousands and thousands of people, yet you weren't as nervous as you are now.

"You still do that?" a voice next to you reprimands and you turn around to find Chan.

"Old habits never die, I guess," you smile sheepishly, dropping your hand down, and he chuckles.

"How are you?" you ask again, and he shrugs, "I'm good."

"How are you, really?"

"I don't think you have the right to ask me that anymore." His words cut you deep, and you swallow forcefully. "I'm sorry, I didn't... I didn't mean to pry."

"I know, fuck, I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's okay," you reassure, looking up at the starry sky. He was right after all.

"Haven't been stargazing for a while," he whispers, and you smile sadly. That was one of your favorite activities together.

"Me too. But I love looking at the stars," you reply.

"I know. They remind you of how small you are in the grand scheme of things," he says nonchalantly as if he didn’t just knock the breath out of you. He remembered.

"Yeah, like how I've been away for four years, and everything moved on as if I've never been here."

"Your absence was felt, yn”, he pauses, “I used to miss you." Used to. Past tense.

"I still miss you." Your reply is instant; you don't feel the need to hide from him. You never did.

Chan holds your gaze for a while, and you wonder what he was thinking at that moment. You wanted to shout at him to tell you what was on his mind. To just say it. But you couldn't. You can no longer ask things from him; you knew that.

"I saw your name in news articles and TV shows. You had your big breakthrough," he suddenly smiles at you, changing the subject. You feel a blush creep up your neck; the fact that he kept up with you made you feel shy all of a sudden.

"I guess I did, I grew a lot. I... I think that I needed to get away and experience new things. It would have haunted me had I not," you smile, and he nods attentively. He still listened to you intently, as always.

"You were always destined for great things," he says seriously, and you feel your eyes well up with tears.

He spoke those words as if he wholeheartedly believed them, and nothing in the world could ever sway his mind.

"So are you. You've been doing amazing these past few years, getting all these awards and deals. I love your music," you gush, and he waves a hand in the air as if to dismiss your words.

"Don't do that," you chastise, "you should be proud of yourself. I know I am very proud of you."

"I suppose the years did us good," he sighs wistfully, and you hum in agreement. You are both quiet after that. You don’t dare to speak, afraid that your next words would break the bubble you are in. As selfish as it was, you didn’t want to face reality yet.

"Just say what’s on your mind," he suddenly speaks up, and you raise a brow at him inquisitively.

“You are scratching your throat as if to stop the words from coming out. Just tell me.” Chan, ever the perceptive.

You take in a deep breath, willing your voice to sound strong, "The only thing I regret is that... I had to lose you in the process. I know I'll never find someone as amazing as you."

Chan doesn’t reply and your words linger in the air, suffocating you. You hoped that a strong wind will come by and carry them away, somewhere they wouldn't hurt anymore.

"I did love you, yn." A pause, and you can feel a heartbreaking ‘but’ coming. "But I don't anymore. I found... I found someone else. They are good to me and I love them."

"Oh". You dreaded it, expected it even, you never wanted him to wait for you. Because you left, so he had every right to move on. Still, you were only human, an enamored human whose heart now broke in two.

You feel the bile rise in your throat and you shake your head as if to clear those stupid thoughts away. You left, for god’s sake, you weren’t allowed to feel this way. But still, it hurt, it hurt so bad all you wanted to do was to curl in a ball and weep.

"I hope that you are happy with them. That's all I ever wanted for you, happiness." Your voice wavers and he knows, Chan must know you are trying so hard not to break down. So he doesn’t comment, he only smiles at you, which makes your heart break even more, because he must smile at them like this all the time now.

"I will get going," you abruptly stand up, dusting your pants. "Let me walk you home," he offers and you shake your head no.

"It's nearly midnight, you are out of your mind if you think I'll let you walk alone."

"Okay," you simply reply. Truth is, you weren’t processing what he was saying anymore. 'I love them' kept repeating itself in your head like a broken mantra. He found someone else. He found someone else. He found someone else, and it isn’t you. 

"This is me", you clear your throat when you arrive in front of your apartment, and Chan stops in his tracks.

“Come here”, he says and it’s all it takes for you to bury yourself in him. Just like four years ago, he was leaving you with a goodbye hug. Only this time, there was no hope left. Only a sense of finality. He knows that you still love him, you couldn't hide that from him. But he doesn't love you anymore and he can't hide that from you.

The hug only lasted a mere ten seconds, but you tried your best to take it all in, to memorize how it felt for Chan to hug you again. You desperately needed to patch up the broken memories you had left of him.

You finally lean away, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your shirt. Chan’s brows furrow looking at you, and you smile reassuringly. "I'm okay really. This is just bittersweet to me."

"It is to me too," he whispers and you nod, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from breaking down.

"You stay safe for me, yeah?" he tells you softly and you nod again, "you too."

"Goodbye, yn."

"Goodbye, Chan," and with that you turn around, entering your apartment block.

You've never hated goodbyes more than in that instant.

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

it's been 3 months since your talk with Chan. Admittedly, you've gone back to that convenience store where you've met him, for a month straight, just in case he went back there. He didn't. And now you had a large stock of snacks you didn't know what to do with.

After that, you went to all the places where you've gone to on your dates. You don't know what you were expecting. You've lost Chan, but still, you always found yourself back to where you shared memories with him. But he wasn't there.

In the third month, you've started accepting that you lost him for good. The love mingled with the ache and you found comfort in its everlasting presence. It served as a reminder that you did love him, and he did love you back at some point.

Thankfully, your work was going really well, and tonight, you were out with your superior to celebrate a successful deal you chaperoned and discuss some upcoming projects.

You enter the restaurant, your boss hot on your tracks, when you abruptly stop. Sat on a table right across from you is Chan with a girl you did not recognize. You would have bolted out had it not been for your boss who looked at you with worried eyes. You shake your head mouthing an "I'm fine" to him.

While your boss placed your order, you couldn’t help but stare at Chan. He looked so... happy with her. She said something and he laughed, tipping his head back. You felt jealousy gnaw at your heart because you were the one who used to make him laugh like that.

You left, you remind yourself, you are the one who left.

Against your own will, you look up at Chan once again, only this time he was looking at you too. You hold his gaze as if under a spell, and when the girl next to him touches his hand softly to bring him to her, you almost sob right there and then.

"... our partners will come from France and you will have to hold a meeting with them tomorrow."

"Sure. I already prepared the slides and sent them over to your mail," you nod. Work, forget about Chan, work.

"I will check them out. You'll have Clara with you?"

"Yes, she's the only one who can speak French besides me. I have been overlooking her for this past month and she's really competent."

"Should I challenge her?"

"Yeah, I think she's up to the task", you smile and he nods, satisfied.

You try to eat your dinner after that, keeping up with your boss’s chatter. But it felt like a punishment- sitting there when the man you still loved was on a date right across from you.

And as if your night couldn’t get any worse, you hear thunder rumble loudly. You clench your glass so tightly in your hand- you are surprised it didn’t break.

You had a really really big fear of thunder. It stemmed from when you were a child, playing hide and seek when a thunderstorm happened. You ended up being stuck in the closet for an hour because your cousins forgot about you, and you fainted from how afraid you were.

You look up at your boss apologetically, you couldn't tell him you had to leave because of a childhood phobia, so you quickly try to muster up an excuse. "I'm sorry to cut it short but can I go? I have a- a dentist appointment and I need to wake up very early tomorrow."

"Sure. I'll see you at work?". You have never been more grateful for his understanding.

"Yeah, thank you for dinner".

You quickly grab your things, leaving the restaurant. You hop in your car but you are shaking so badly, you can't even start the engine. Another thunder resounds and you drop your keys, forcefully shutting your eyes. You try to drown out the sound with your hands clasped on your ears but it didn’t help. It was too much- the pain, the fear, the ache. You needed everything around you to stop.

You hear the door next to you suddenly open and you snap your eyes toward it, to find a disheveled Chan standing there. He pulls you out of your seat, instantly bringing you to his body.

He knows how scared you are of thunder.

"Shhh, it's okay, I'm here. You're safe," he pats your head gently and you hug him tighter to you; as if he was your only mean of survival.

He tries to peel away but you only hold him closer, to which he rubs soothing circles on your back, “I’m not going anywhere, let me drive you home, okay?”

You nod against his chest and he lets go of you, holding your hand instead. He opens the passenger door for you then he quickly hops into the driver’s seat. He starts off your car, blasting the music so loud you no longer hear the thunder booming.  

Your hand is still tightly clasped in his when you arrive home.

He silently opens the door for you once more, and you lead him to your apartment. You were mortified he had to leave the restaurant for you, but you were so grateful for him, because at the end of the day, he came to you.

Chan awkwardly stands in your living room and you figure the least you could do is apologize. "I’m sorry I cut your date short."

"You sound jealous", he points out.

"I am jealous, but mostly sorry."

"You shouldn't date someone who won't be with you in times like these," he dismisses your words, and you frown. Why did he sound angry all of the sudden?

"He didn't know."

"Still, he should have seen the signs. I was across the room but I saw you shaking for god's sake!” he almost shouts and you take a step toward him.

"Why do you care?"

"I don't," he is lying.

"Why does it bother you?” you insist. You needed to know.

"I said it doesn’t yn," he enunciates but you don’t back off.

“He’s my boss that’s why I was alone, but why? Why does it matter to you?"

"Because I fucking lied", he shouts, inching closer to you. "Because I lied yn, I never found someone else, it was you, it was always you."

"What... but the girl?".

"She's my coworker yn. I tried to forget you. I tried but you were always there. You were everywhere. And I had to carry on with the love I had for you but I didn't know where to put it anymore. Because you didn't tell me, you didn't tell me where the love was supposed to go now that you left!"

You stare at him unblinking, afraid that this was all just a figment of your imagination.

"And then... and then you came back and it was as if no time has gone by. It was as if you'd never left and I wanted to kiss you and hug you and I wanted you back. I needed you back", his hands are on your shoulders now, grasping you tightly as if to convince himself that you were here.

"But I couldn't, I couldn't allow you in because what if you left again? I wouldn't survive that, yn," his voice cracks at your name and it’s all it takes for you to bring his lips crashing down on yours.

You stagger back, your fingers grazing your lips in shock, "I'm so sorry, I didn't-", your words are cut off by his mouth on yours once again, "don't stop", he whispers and you kiss him, again and again. Your mouths moving in sync to the symphony that is your love.

When you finally pull away, he places his forehead on yours and you close your eyes. "Tell me this is real, that you're back to me."

"I'm here."

"You still feel like a dream."

"I'm here, I'm here", you reassure, your hand gently cradling his cheek, "I never stopped loving you Chan. I knew I was destined to love you, whether you loved me back or not."

"You are my soulmate", he leans back, kissing your forehead softly, "you and I are one."

"I've got a tattoo of your handwriting", you confess softly and his eyes snap open.

"What?"

"I tattooed a sentence from the letter you left me, with your handwriting, 'Our love will remain'."

"Where?"

"Here", you trace the outline of your breast and he chokes, "somewhere only I can see it."

"You are crazy", he chuckles, a bewildered smile on his face.

"In love, yes," you giggle and he blushes, hiding his head in your neck.

“Can I see you tomorrow? We have a lot to talk about," he asks, peppering the curve of your neck with kisses.

"Sure, I'm all yours after 5 pm."

"Works for me. I’ll see you tomorrow?", he smiles, and you beam at him, "I’ll see you."

Chan doesn't let you go and you laugh, kissing his cheek, "you are not leaving?"

"I'm not", he smiles cheekily.

"And why is that?"

"Because....", he drawls out, his lips brushing against your collarbone, "I need to see that tattoo."

----------

A lover’s body is like a land you discover over and over again. And tonight, as Chan made love to you, you drank it all in- the flexing of his muscles and the new sounds he made. But despite those changes, you found out that you never forgot the secret passages to his body, and the ways only you can make him unfold.

Still, it wasn’t when his naked body hovered over yours that you felt bare in front of him. It was when you both laid next to each other, talking in bed until the sun rose, that he undressed your mind.

It is there, behind those walls that you both built, that Chan and yn from four years ago lived on.

And you were still as in love.

[chai-berries]

i’m a little crybaby bitch & i just sobbed over a movie but all i could think about is being abby’s little crybaby gf & having her comfort me </3

sooo unfortunately/fortunately i am not a big crier when it comes to anything but one of my best friends is a happy/sad/bored crier and i’ve helped her calm down post cry a few times. she’s a true cancer <3 i’ll channel her into my thoughts.

im thinking of two scenarios, watching something sad without abby & watching it with her ⤵️

watching without abby:

she’d probably be working on something in another room when you decide to start a sad fucking movie. abby’s ears perk at the first sniffle, but she brushes it off cause it’s always allergy season. but when she hears you shakily breathe out “oh,,, my gOD” with your voice all broken and wet, she’s immediately sliding to a stop right outside the living room. you’re curled up with a huge blanket swallowing you, surrounded by snacks and your emotional support water bottle. she notes your wide, glossy eyes and coos “baby what’s wrong?” and you gesture at the tv, “she - she just loves her family so so much! and she couldn’t tell them before they died!” your voice is cracking around your words.

abby has absolutely no idea who “she” is but that doesn’t keep her from sitting down and pulling you into her side, rubbing her hand up and down your arm. “they’re just a - a great family” you stutter though tears. abby looks up at the tv and sighs. “baby, why did you chose the saddest movie on netflix?” you hesitate. “uh, i was up to the challenge?” “yeah? how’s it going?” she quirks a brow at you. you laugh wetly and abby mentally fist pumps. she presses a kiss to your temple. “okay, how about we watch something happy. ill refill your water.” abby gets up to go into the kitchen when she’s stopped by a tug on her back belt loop. you’re looking up at her, eyes less glossy but still not dry enough. “what?” she asks. “thanks for putting up with a crybaby for a girlfriend.” she picks up your hand from its place at her waist and brings it up to her lips. “anything for you sweet cheeks”

watching with abby:

“no, no, no, nah, not happening! abby, please tell me they’re not gonna do what i think they’re gonna do!” you pause the movie and shake abby’s shoulder, your face so serious in the light of the television. abby giggles and shrugs like a fucking twerp and nudges you to keep watching the movie. she tells you that “you’ll find out soon - keep watching” like she’s never, in all the time you’ve been together, been witness to the millions of times you deep dived imdb and wikipedia five minutes into a movie whenever it starts out with a sad scene.

you don’t do sad movies. and it’s for a good reason! you get all dehydrated and you look sick for hours afterwards!! it’s embarrassing and gross!! abby has witnessed it once and, like her father’s daughter, handed you a glass of water and pulled you gently into her arms, holding you until you got your breathing under control. and that was a week before you asked her out!! on your first date she told you that the crying thing made her want to “take care of you forever”… is it too obvious to point out that she soooooo got lucky that night?

however, in present time she might be sleeping on the couch for trying to get a depressing movie past you. she apologizes to you, tucking you under her arm. “i promise it’s gonna be worth your tears, okay?” she kisses your head. “and i always take care of my crybaby girlfriend, don’t i?” she kisses the same spot again. you relax into her side.

… sooo it’s safe to say you sobbed a whole lot at the end and completely soaked the front of abby’s shirt. you guys had shifted horizontal mid-movie, you laying on top of her. “i hate you” sounds a lot more honest when you’re not desperately clutching at the waist of the person you’re talking to. “but it was a good story, right?? aww i’m sooo sorry, baby,” abby rubs your back. she hands you your water bottle and chocolate before you even think to ask, like she always does. then, you begin the embarrassingly to you cute to abby process that involves sips of water, bites of chocolate, and your head following the rhythm of abby’s chest up and down as you match her breaths.

<\3

no but really we all know abby will always comfort you even if she has no context to what you’re crying about! ride or die babyyyy

[e-dubbc11]

HAPPY ALMOST BIRTHDAYYYYYY!!!! 🎉🎉🎉 And just for that, I have a special ask for you 😌

"it's almost over...i'm right here."

+

"say something, just fucking say something"

For this one:

Listen, idk why...but you always bring out the angst in me. Don't worry, I'll try to limit the angst since its your birth month~ 😂

Thank you for the birthday wishes, my darling friend! I know how much you love the angst and I hope I did justice to your ask. Thank you so much for your friendship, your support for my little blog and for reading my fics. You’ll never know how much I appreciate it ♥️♥️♥️😘😘😘

She Is My Life

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Angst, violence, guns, GSW, maybe a couple swear words, tears, smooches

Word Count: 2K-ish

Summary: A night out to dinner with your love turns dark and violent. Billy does his best to protect you from getting hurt and later, wrestles with the fact that he nearly got you killed.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

It was supposed to be a romantic night out.

It was the first time in a long time Billy hadn’t had to work around the clock, protecting a witness that was set to testify against the mob, and you’ve missed him terribly.

Looking into his dark brown eyes that looked like two wells of black ink and seeing his perfect smile after so long had you wanting nothing more than to melt into his embrace, squeeze him tight, and never ever let him go.

You loved him and no sooner did your wine glasses chime in unison as they gently tapped against each other that you heard the first bullet pop, shattering those glasses and dumping red wine all over the crisp white tablecloth.

Instinctively, you dropped the glass and dove under the table just as Billy yelled at you to get down. You felt like your heart had stopped, your breath was caught in your lungs, and the sounds of those bullets hit you like a slap across the face.

The scent of burning candles wafted through the air as you tried to remember how to breathe while remaining frozen in place, too petrified to move. The noise that echoed in your ears was overwhelming, almost shocking, and very different than being at the range where Billy taught you to shoot. The various pops and booms were expected at the range but not in an Italian restaurant where you were supposed to be enjoying your dinner.

Staying put wasn’t going to help Billy and he needed your help whether he wanted you to help or not. He desperately tried to protect you while trying to get rounds off. He threw himself between you and the hailstorm of bullets before pushing you behind the bar.

With your weapon in hand, you knew you were supposed to aim for center mass, that’s what he taught you to do but you couldn’t risk giving them a chance to aim for your center mass.

Shooting them in the Achilles was the best you could do. Peeking around the corner of the bar, the bullets tore through the back of their ankles, shredding any tendons in their path like Christmas ribbons.

“I TOLD YOU TO STAY BEHIND THAT BAR! DO IT NOW!” Yelled Billy over the gunfire.

The large window you were sitting behind was shattered and broken so you could hear the sirens outside getting closer and closer and fewer bullets being fired off toward you.

But then came the warmth and the throbbing but little pain from the impact of the bullet on the lower side of your stomach.

You knew something was wrong though from the intense heat that burned inside your body.

Over the dying gunfire, you called to him, “Billy! I need help!”

Suddenly, the bullets stopped and the sirens sounded like they were right outside. Your fingers were numb, there wasn’t any feeling in them as you tried to hold onto your handgun.

That’s when Billy took it from you, trying to reassure you it was going to be alright which is when he saw the hole in your abdomen, blood pouring out against your snow white dress shirt.

“It’s almost over…I’m right here. You’re gonna be alright, sweet girl. They’re coming.” He whispered against your forehead.

“It burns, Billy!” You cried out. “It hurts so much!”

The crystal chandeliers swung back and forth like pendulums, restaurant patrons that were caught in the crossfire lie dead on the floor covered in blood and glass, and you could see the flashing red lights coming from the street outside.

Blood stained Billy’s dress shirt, some of it was his from where a bullet grazed his arm but most of it was yours. He clung to you like a shadow, then was forced out of the way to let the paramedics do their job and take care of you on the way to the hospital.

Trying to stay conscious, you heard bits and pieces of conversations between Billy, the police and paramedics.

“Mr. Russo, can we take a look at your arm, please?” A voice said. “Yes, we’re taking her to the hospital…if you’re refusing medical care, you’ll have to drive over there yourself.”

“SHE IS MY LIFE! I’m riding with her! Get out of my way, NOW!” He yelled, pressing the barrel of his gun to the paramedic’s forehead.

Paralyzed with fear, all they could do was nod, and open the door for him so he could ride with you.

With the oxygen mask over your face, you tried to playfully scold him for yelling and threatening the paramedics but every time you tried to laugh, you writhed in pain because that made your stomach hurt…a lot.

Before you closed your eyes, you heard Billy tell you, “I’ll never let you out of my sight, I love you.”

You felt a gentle kiss on your forehead and then passed out.

**********

The distant voices you heard sounded like they were underwater, hard to understand except for certain words and phrases here and there. Some of the voices were unfamiliar saying things like “She needs surgery…internal bleeding…we have to take her now…Mr. Russo, please let us do our job.”

Other people’s voices were very familiar like Frank, Maria, Lisa and Junior. “What happened, Bill?...Will she be ok, Uncle Billy?...Have you slept at all, Billy?”

From what you could make out, Billy only left you to go shower and sleep a little but was never away from you for very long. And anytime he did leave, Frank stayed with you and Billy would put two members of his team outside your door. Frank would talk to you too. “You gotta wake up, kid…We miss you, Bill misses you…he’ll never forgive himself if you don’t wake up.”

But a lot of the time, it was only Billy’s voice in the room even if you could only understand pieces of what he was saying. As time passed, what was first just a bunch of muffled dialogue eventually became clearer, more concise, and the silvery tone to his voice was bringing you back to him. He kept saying things like “Wake up for me, sweet girl…Open your eyes.”

Sometimes he sounded scared and angry. “Say something, just fucking say something…yell at me, tell me I’m the reason you’re in this hospital bed right now…tell me you never wanna see me again, just let me hear your voice, baby…please.”

Very slowly, your eyes opened, and inside the room was dark except for the lights from the machines you were hooked up to. As the moonlight shined in from outside, it highlighted one side of his handsome face.

With one of his hands placed near his temple, you watched him gently inhale and exhale as his chest expanded and then relaxed. Looking him over, you noticed his beard had grown in a little more like he hadn’t trimmed it in a couple of days.

How long have you been asleep?

You tried to speak but no words came out just a little squeak followed by a slight groan because of the burning pain in your stomach.

Billy jerked awake when he heard you. “Oh my god y/n, you’re awake!” He said in a surprised tone, closing his hand over yours, and flicking on the bedside light.

You tried to sit up a little more but he stopped you.

“No, no, no…don’t move, sweet girl.” Said Billy, gently putting a hand on your shoulder and giving you a sip of water.

“Billy?” You finally managed to eke out something coherent.

“Yeah, I’m here baby. It’s ok.” He said, gently stroking your cheek. “You scared me, ya know.”

“I’m sorry.” You replied with a hitch in your voice.

Never breaking eye contact, he sat next to you and explained everything that happened. The mob wanted Billy dead for protecting their star witness that was going to testify against them.

They wanted him to pay but they obviously had no idea what kind of man Billy was. He was a marine, a combat veteran, and a survivor. He didn’t know the definition of giving up, he’d never surrender and he would die trying to protect you.

You knew that.

Billy also said that the bullet wound in your stomach needed to be repaired with surgery to stop the internal bleeding and that you lost a lot of blood and after explaining everything to you, his facial expression changed. It shifted from elation to the feeling of complete and utter guilt. He blamed himself, you could see it in his eyes as his lips curled back from his clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry, beautiful. I am so, so sorry. This is all my fault.” He said, clenching his fist. “I should have protected you better, I didn’t and I’m sorry!”

“Billy, look at me.” You said, calmly stroking his beard with your thumb. “I knew what being in a relationship with you would entail, I didn’t walk away when you told me what kind of work you do and the risks you take every single day. Knowing that I could end up tangled in that web too was terrifying but you were worth it to me.”

“I won’t let you die because of me!” He shouted.

Billy turned and started to walk away, out of your room and out of your life if you couldn’t stop him.

“SHE IS MY LIFE!” You shouted back, your voice cracking and fading as you did. “That’s what you said, right?! If that’s true then you do NOT get to walk out on me, Billy Russo!! If I am your life, then you are mine! I know who you are and I know you would never give up! No matter what, isn’t that right, soldier!!?”

He stopped and grabbed hold of the door frame, still facing away from you, his body was stiff with disappointment and as he hung his head, pieces of his raven colored hair tumbled into his eyes.

“You heard me say that?” Billy choked out.

Tears pricked your eyes as you replied, “Yes baby, I heard you. Even though I couldn’t respond, I heard you talking to me and I won’t let you give up on me like so many have given up on you. I love you, Billy Russo. You are…my life.”

The tears streaming down your face fell hard and fast as Billy turned around to face you. Fighting against the pain in your stomach, you pulled yourself up to a sitting position and his long legs took him right to your bedside to help you get more comfortable. He gently cupped your cheeks, closed his eyes and touched his forehead to yours then softly pressed his lips to yours.

After the gentle kisses came the firm and possessive kisses, delicately biting at your chin and along the side of your neck. But he slowed down when he remembered you were in a hospital bed, nursing a fresh gunshot wound.

“Shit, are you ok? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He asked. “I’m sorry. I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

Your lips were trembling as you replied,“I know you don’t, handsome. I know. You’ll only hurt me if you leave me. We can figure this out, you and me.”

You could hear his heart beating rapidly inside his chest as he squeezed you until you could barely breathe. Gently stroking your hair, he stayed silent for what seemed like hours, intensely pondering on what to say next and what to do. His tight grip on your body loosened and he delicately pressed his lips to your forehead before gazing down into your eyes.

“I know what I have to do, sweet girl.” He purred.

Billy gripped the sides of your face, his lips firmly pressed into a straight line with hell burning behind his dark eyes.

Nervously, you asked, “What are you going to do, Billy?”

His lips curled back to reveal clenched teeth and with acid in his tone, he growled one more thing before turning and leaving your room.

“I have to kill them…I have to kill them all.”

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @fakehappy27 @snowkestrel @music-indie-tv @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @fictional-hooman @nutmeg17 @k-marzolf @vaguekayla @rosaleenablack @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @aoi-targaryen @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @rachlovesactors @qu1etwolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @ittybxttykxttytxtty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @mrsbillyrusso @colereads

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[amostnobleyandere]

Yandere! Noble! Scaramouche x GN! Reader (Arranged Marriage)

A/N: hey look first post!!!! this blog is basically just a place to dump my thoughts on yanderes and situations w them// if you’re not comfortable w that, please leave!!! this is not the place for you

GN reader but!!! the word “bride” is used once so do w that what you will .

remember, this is a mature blog !!! don’t like don’t read!!!!!!!!

warning(s): male! yandere, toxic relationships, slightly narcissistic yandere, verbal abuse, child neglect, arranged marriage, toxic behavior, bad parenting skills, loneliness, obsession, yandere scaramouche, scaramouche is his own warningetc. etc.

Synopsis: there’s this specific scenario ive been thinking of lately : an enemies to lovers, but with a yandere that is particularly bitter and hasn’t really experienced an unconditional love before but then his initial hatred of you turns into an obsession. I thought scara was perfect for it :)

—————————

neither of you had wanted to get married; you, the child of the last bloodline of a falling noble family, and scaramouche, heir to one of the wealthiest and most prestigious names in the empire, would have never been pushed to marry under normal circumstances. it could only be assumed that fate had revealed its hand and placed its destiny upon you.

you had never even met the young man that society had branded as ruthlessly curt with a lash-like tongue. you had never expected to, considering how far apart you were, in different circles and in different worlds

he was the duchess’ nephew and only heir, and was untouchable in both stature and power. in contrast, your family name was declining rapidly. you knew why your mother and father had accepted the marriage proposal the day it came, and you knew why they decided not to tell you until the letter in reply had already been sent. you had no say in the matter

how your parents arranged a marriage between the two of you? well, you could certainly guess; noble ladies gossiped and gasped about the young man who was rich with a handsome face, but with an incredibly arrogant personality and a razor tongue that both reflected his wit and endless scorn. you thought that the rumors must have been over exaggerated, as they always were, but for the duchess to have to reach out to your family to find a spouse for her son? had all the other contestants being rejected, and now they were picking through the scraps that were left? or perhaps, had they rejected him?

now, you weren’t so sure

even then, some part of you had never thought they would agree to something like this; they had concluded that this was what was best for you, had even told you that you will live a much happier life if you were in a household that wasn’t always on the edge of crumbling and giving way to time; you could see that they did have the best of intentions. and still, you felt betrayed

unbeknownst to you, at the time, your fiancé had felt the same way toward his mother; the expression of his feelings on the matter, however, included a lot more yelling and rage in his questions as to why he was being dragged into this. he was used to being disappointed, but being so blatantly used?

unfortunately, scaramouche’s defiance was only met with a cold silence and a blank stare, and after he had vehemently denied to go along with the marriage, his mother had only said that nothing could be done. he had no choice in the matter.

and the gentle glint in her eyes, that had still remained their after all these years, that stayed as she firmly reprimanded him, only served to make him more furious.

and so, his resentment for you, the other victim in this situation, came naturally.

when he met you for the first time, his regularly crass and sarcastic attitude only got worse. you could see the embarrassment dawn on both your parents’ and his mother’s faces, cringing every time his voice got a little too loud or when he said something particularly blunt. he made snide comments on your upbringing, your title, even your clothing wasn’t spared the ruthless bite of his words. between his curt and cold attitude and your futile attempts at making conversation, you two didn’t exactly hit it off when you first met

and then, when you finally got sick of it and told him what exactly you thought of his words and his money and where he could shove them, his resentment turned into something much more personal: spite.

he reasoned that he had every right to hate you. to be overly rude and childish whenever you so much as got the idea to be five feet near him. he never asked for the marriage. he doesn’t care about how much it would benefit the two of you, and he’s long past trying to finally please his mother into loving him, so why should he have to act like the perfect husband for someone who is below him?

your parents seemed to love you plenty though. if their guilty eyes and shifty glances were anything to go by. even if they were shamelessly grabbing at the wealth and prestige of another family, he could tell that this marriage was meant for you and your future. even if you didn’t want it. even if you seemed to dread it. every time they brought you over for a scheduled date in the lonely garden at the back of the duchess’s estate, there seemed to be a subtle pain in their eyes.

perhaps, a paternal regret at having to make their child miserable so that they could eventually have the things they weren’t able to give them.

…well, it gave him more reason to torment you.

————————

there seemed to be no way out of the awkward meetings. your parents were hell bent on having scaramouche as your husband, and his mother was just as determined. so, when you did have to suffer through seeing each other, you kept trading thinly veiled insults, practically sulking every time you heard the others name, and bickering with the each other at every opportunity. it became a familiar routine for the two of you, to not get along and verbalize your frustrations through jabs and taunts

strangely enough, scaramouche grew fond of the bickering. you were practically the only person who would speak to him so casually. with so little respect and without fear of him blowing up. he thought it was refreshing. no one hardly ever talked to him anymore, and even a child that had everything and more could not curb his own loneliness by himself…he would never tell you that, though.

he thought that at least it was entertaining to tease you. actually, if you weren’t so annoying, he might have actually gone as far to say it’s pleasant having you in his company. It certainly beats the large, lonely house he had to wander every day.

plus, when was the last time he had talked this much? when someone had looked at him and acknowledged his existence without him having to work for it?

—————————

as the engagement progressed, you two ended up spending hours together every week, whether you wanted to or not, and while you were mentally and emotionally exhausted from the stress your parents were putting you through, he’s looking forward to your meetings like they’re the highlight of his week…it’s ridiculous, he thinks, and he thinks, and he thinks, and oh god now he can’t get you out of his head.

then suddenly, you’re calling it off. the whole engagement. miraculously, you guilted your parents into going back on what they had agreed to.

his mother is appalled and frustrated, a bit exasperated now that she has to find another suitable bride for her son.

scaramouche is beyond furious.

he goes quiet with rage. he’s more snappish now, towards the maids, towards everyone. his attitude is no longer his usual arrogance and crudeness. his usual bitterness rose into an explosive temper and ruthless training just to keep himself confined to a state of sanity. there is, once again, for the first time in many, many years, an unmistakable fear of abandonment that is raging in his head. he feels so wronged.

and it’s your fault.

and then, he goes silent. if they thought it was bad when he talked, see what they think when he’s quiet.

for his mother, it’s unnerving. to the servants, it’s downright terrifying.

no one realizes that he’s calculating. no one really expects it. everyone assumed this was one big temper tantrum after suffering a huge blow to his pride.

scaramouche was really only clutching his shattered heart after giving it to someone who threw it away.

—————————

what he wants at first is revenge.

that’s what he wants to think he wants. he wants to make things even between the two of you; make you suffer like you made him. force his way into your mind in the worst way possible, and keep himself there to get the message across.

for the first few agonizing days after the annulment, he thinks; maybe that he should tamper with your parents businesses and make you a pauper, someone who is reduced to having to take care of their parents after you fall from the graces of society. and then, after that, he’s hoping you’d come crawling back to him, and ask for his help and his hand. and he’d oh-so graciously accept you back into his life; not before making you beg for it, though.

then again, perhaps toying with whatever lover you have would be a good way to get back at you. he just assumes that you have one, because you must, for you to just abandon him like that.

you should have just stayed.

either way, he’s going to make you regret it.

—————————

it doesn’t take much for scaramouche to convince his mother to have a much needed talk with your parents.

and despite everything she’s done, ei does want to make her son happy. she wasn’t blind after all; he’s always seemed to be on edge, ever since the accident, but he had changed in the short amount of time he had know you. the boy she had failed to raise and care for, someone who was now so far out of her reach, seemed to be more calm and content when you were by his side. it had been a long time since she had seen her nephew look forward to something this much.

whether you want the engagement or not matters less to her.

—————————

and so, your resistance all comes apart so easily. Ei is one of the most powerful people in the empire, so it doesn’t take much effort before she’s luring your parents into throwing you back to them and into scaramouche’s waiting arms. It would be the least she could do as his mother

it’s only a matter of time before you’re resting in the palm of his hand once again; the engagement is back on, running smoothly towards your fast approaching wedding, like your little rebellious mishap never even happened

scaramouche is reveling in it. he feels as though he’s won. and in truth, he has. he imagines the look on your face, how you’ll have to greet him eventually, look him in the eyes after tossing him to the side and then losing, and thinks about how he’s going to make your reunion as painful as possible when you do meet again

his wishes are fulfilled when not even a month later are you pushed into the expansive garden by servants and abandoned by them even quicker, watching them scurry away with pale but oddly relieved faces. once again, you were meant to suffer through another lunch date after you thought you had finally escaped and left the gloomy estate behind forever.

the familiar stone pathway and expansive flora only served to bring back bad memories of your failed attempt to gain your freedom and reminded you of what you would have to look forward to for the rest of your life. it’s only the scuffle of boots against the ground that brought you back to reality.

you knew exactly who was standing behind you.

—————————

when scaramouche saw you standing there, muscles taught and shoulders tensed as you refused to look at him, he took his time observing you, savoring the moment and committing it to memory.

his slow and deliberate footsteps did little to calm your fraying nerves. You were both surrounded by tall hedges and the gentle sound of water coming from nearby fountains. no one else was around. You were completely isolated, with only your fiancé- no, your crazed future husband- keeping you company.

and as always, his presence was suffocating.

“you know, trying to run away from me was cute, but it got annoying after the joke was over. did you really think you could go against a duchy? don’t make me laugh.” his voice had a high and condescending lit to it that seemed to grate against your ears. your stony facade crumbled soon after, instantly revealing the confusion and panic that welled in your chest.

“…why did you do it?” your voice came out hoarse and low. you whirled around, finally looking into those violet eyes. scaramouche felt a shiver of excitement run up his spine as your watery gaze met his.

“you hated this engagement just as much as I did. why did you drag me back here? we both could’ve been free.” a bitter laugh escaped your throat that pathetically choked off into a sob.

he laughed lowly as his head titled down, shielding his eyes from you. the sight made you shudder involuntarily.

“‘drag you back?’ deary, you belong to me. you did the moment I decided I wanted you. what you want doesn’t matter anymore. You don’t know what’s good for yourself, clearly.”

when he lifted his head back up to meet your eyes, he was smiling. the soft turn of his lips wasn’t full of cruelty or malice, scorn or hatred, and somehow that made the uncharacteristically gentle look so, so much worse.

scaramouche picked up your limp hand, gently turning it over, and slipped a ring onto it. it was like putting a heavy shackle on a caged bird; it was needless and unnecessary, you were already trapped. the world did not need anything else but the duchess’s final word to let everyone know who you belonged to.

but, as you stood there staring blankly ahead, you noticed scaramouche seemed genuinely happy to see the band resting on your finger.

the smile he wore turned more playful, more mocking, as those piercing eyes looked at you as if you were pitiful and small, beneath him, something that needed guidance

and his purple eyes locked with yours as he slowly pulled you to him and brought you into a soft kiss.

—————————

“Give me your love. Give me your validation. Hand yourself over to me, body, mind, and soul.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“Darling, do you think you have a choice?”

[is-on-its-way]

The moment Mulder quits

A point in which Mulder was ready to quit the minute he saw Scully hold a baby in season 7 and its effects in season 8

*this is my headcanon, its not gospel obviously Firstly, two scenes that are very linked in my head

Season 7 Ep 22 Requiem and Season 8 Ep 16 Three Words

Look at that face. That dead serious, at all costs face.

Season 7

Requiem. The culmination of Scully and Mulder's secret yearish? long quest for a baby. They've tried for a baby with IVF already. Mulder has promised her he wont give up on a miracle for her and they're well... trying basically, throughout season 7. Perhaps I would call it "hoping" for a baby. Maybe Mulder is hoping and Scully is characteristically ambivalent? Fully not using any contraceptives and I know there's a fic in there somewhere, anyway

The first scene above is why Ive never watched past the season 8 finale. nothing past them agreeing to be a family makes any sense because of Mulders face here. People knock Duchovny for not showing out when acting, but I will always be a defender of subtle acting. The way he can say an entire monologue of dialogue with the minute expressions on his face is quite breathtaking here.

Hes goes from sorrow at Scully not being able to have a baby, sorrow at her loss, sorrow at not being able to give her that; to regret at what he thinks is all his fault, at dragging her into this life; to pure love and affection for her seeing this baby in her lap and how good she is with him; and then a smile peaks out. A smile of hope that could compete with the Mona Lisa. Hope for their future and the certainty with which he knows what he wants so clearly, maybe for the first time in his life. His own family.

Like for the first time hes really deciding the cost is too much and he chooses her over the mission. He chooses their future over everything. And he's hopeful and perhaps even happy about it. which for someone with his amount of family trauma is a seismic shift. For so long he's chased the past in hope of fixing it, completely discombobulated and reckless in his search for well, his family.

Though, from the beginning of that moment in the rainy graveyard, he has slowly unconsciously coming to regard Scully as his family. In small gestures, a hand on her cheek or voicing out loud how important she is to him; to big gestures, giving up who he believes is his actual sister to save her.

We are lucky here, to be able to witness the moment the sparks of unconscious thought bloom into the flame of certainty. He follows up as well. Tells her she has to stay, that the cost doesn't outweigh the price anymore. Sure he wants to finish out this case, but he doesn't work without her, thats been established. Him telling her to stop, is his resignation as well. (There's a fit there too, with Skinner and him on the plane probably Skinner already knowing he's done.)

Thomas Flight praises subtly in acting better than I could ever articulate here:

Season 8

Mulder was weird and the PTSD was implied, but I choose to see it everywhere. After the moment in three words where Mulder tries to let them go gently because he thinks he's too damaged to be a father (Thanks @randomfoggytiger for the meta on that) (there's a fic here obviously where Scully gives him the space to be broken and also hers) After this though, he's not the Mulder as we've seen, ever. He's not the Mulder who

cares about exposing the government so he can say I told you so

cares about saving the public from the invasion

cares about finding the ultimate truth that has driven him since he found the X files

cares about solving cases and one upping the FBI, trying to force them to admit the truth out loud.

Mulder is fighting the entire season for his family.

he cares about exposing the conspiracy so everyone including his child will be safe.

he cares about saving the earth for his child's future

he cares about his childs and his families safety

he has zero concern about the FBI and what they do anymore.

In the second scene above, he's about had it with the entire conspiracy and he's downright pissed. He wants it all to end he doesn't care how. He wants to protect his child above everything. Sure he's usually reckless but this isn't for him and his self involved cause anymore, it's for his family, his wellbeing be damned at some points along the way. He states his thesis in three words while breaking into FBI files in an astonishing show of recklessness

"Look, Scully, I need to make sense of what happened to me. So that I can stop it. Because if I can't stop it, it could happen to anyone. It could happen to you. And who's to say it's going to stop there?"

I always wondered why he was putting Scully through all that, without realising this was the reason. Poor guy. There's nothing else in his purview anymore besides that baby who's in danger, and his family, so much so, when he is ultimately fired from the FBI, he's positively giddy at his newfound freedom.

If he had then gone down a path temporarily where he murdered his way through the remnants of the syndicate to assure the safety of his family John Wick style, I would've absolutely believed it.

It would've been insanely intriguing look at an evolving dynamic between Scully and Mulder. Scully law abiding Mulder reckless as always but with a different motivation. Becoming what he's always feared, to protect the family he has never had. A family he feels like he's only grasping at, as they're slipping through his fingers due to the danger and his recent and past traumas.

There's a reason a lot of the fandom sees Mulder as a happy stay at home dad post wherever they decide to end watching. Thats what he's been searching for his entire life. A happy family with loving parents. When he let go of that dream for himself in Closure, he found he could want that for his future family whatever that looked like (adoption, a miracle, etc.) in Requiem. And I personally don't believe he ever would let that dream go once he realised, I mean we all saw the devotion he had to his sister right?

In other words these are my reasons season 9 onwards make zero sense and I regard them as AU

[sauvhffp]

★| should've just told me.

sypnosis: you and ushijima are fuck buddies. he comes to you to let off steam and vice versa. you suddenly confront him and tell him that you want to end things with him and he fucks that idea out of you.

𝅄 ༊࿐⠀ִ⠀ i am ashamed to say that this was inspired by a scenario with an ushijima bot i had in ca.i except i took the route that contained more angry sex

CONTENT WARNING ! — ushijima wakatoshi x m!reader (both are in 3rd yr of college) cockwarming, manhandling, aggressive/angry sex, semi-public sex, mirror sex, hair gripping, ooc, reader and ushi have a heart-to-heart session while ushi jr. is drowning in reader's ass. minors do not interact.

word count ; 2.2k

"Whha—hng!" You clench your teeth as his dick knocks on the entrance of your stomach, forcibly trying to pop its head in the tiny opening for him to be able to fill you up with his seed in the literal way. "Slow dow—ushi!"

You could do nothing but whine, ass swallowing his cock in its full glory. You can't even move an inch, even if you flinch. He's got you elevated in this position; strong arms hooked under your knees, hands gripping your head that's forcibly making you stare at the way his dick was undoubtedly pounding your poor ass, your legs just stupidly swinging up and down along with your still hard, bite-sized, penis.

He was manhandling you in a way he knows you love.

You were someone who loved a good dicking down every now and often. You loved the feeling of going dumb, body aching with pleasure and your brain a mess, unable to think of anything but just cock. Outside that, though, you were a smart, quick-witted guy who excelled in everything academic related.

So with all the stress piling up due to the upcoming finals, you found yourself in search of dick to cool your jets and to not overload your brain with pressure. Of course, you'd have never expected to find someone like him and be in this kind of relationship with the heart of this university's volleyball star; Ushijima Wakatoshi.

You guess it probably was the alcohol you downed three bottles of during that one senior party that influenced the slut in you to make a move on the famously stoic individual you've ever met. I mean, have you seen the guy? He was every woman's wet dream! Including yours, too. Though, you were never truly expecting anything to happen with all your drunkenly spew you called "flirting." You were wholeheartedly expecting a nonchalant response from him, not a body left with bruises and hickies paired with a gaping hole when you woke up in an extravagant motel room.

You've never left him alone since.

How you managed to convince him to use you as an outlet to release his own stress and basically become his personal cumdump was beyond you. It was a story to tell your nephews and aunties in the near future because fucking a hunk; a volleyball dude; was the first for your entire lineage. For now, you were getting fucked like you were nothing but a breathing fleshlight.

"Fffhuu—hgkk!" Ushijima purposely sent a particularly harsh thrust in your ass. His dick was pressed against your prostate, and by gods, did it feel so deliciously painful. Your hands fumbled about, scratching his firm muscle that was hooked beneath your knees from the mind-numbing pleasure. Your face, contorted in pleasure, reflected on the abandoned bathroom mirror of the uni building you both attend in. Your soft, pink tongue peeked out of your mouth, the upper half of it resting on your teeth as thick globs of tears dripped down your starry eyes. The tears contributed to the shine in them. "Uhg—Ushii—!"

"Plea—hngg" Gulping down the spit before you start choking from being unable to breathe, you throw your head back on his shoulder blades as he slowly grinds his cock against your spot. "S—Slow down for a moment—god... Why're you so suddenly—?"

Ushijima, this fucking dickwad (questionable), didn't even let you finish your complaint before continuing his pace. You can't even look at him through the mirror because your body feels so putty, and you're fighting the urge to roll your eyes at the back of your skull. You don't have the strength to raise your head nor grind back on his cock to tease him. The only thing you can do now is grip on his hand, keen, cry, and be used. In any other time, you would have loved this kind of sex, especially because Ushijima was a bit of a freak himself behind that picture of nonchalance.

But like—aren't you supposed to be breaking off this arrangement in the first place...?

"Angh!" You cried out as your dick spurted clear cum. Ushijima sank his teeth on the slope of your neck. He littered soft kisses all over it all the while destroying your insides. He sucked and nipped on the teeth marks he left, sighing when he felt you clench weakly around him. "Hhhng... Seriously..." Sobbing, you can feel him chuckle on your skin. He wasn't even sorry for you. This bastard...

"Wh—What is wrong with you...?" Taking all the remaining strength you have left, you raise your head to look at him through the mirror. "I already missed my 4th lesson because of you. Wh-What the hell is your deal...?!"

"..." Ushijima didn't say anything. Though, when he directly looked at you with a heavy gaze, you felt your heart jump (and ass clench).

"What? D-Don't look at me like that!" You scream in embarrassment, closing your eyes to save yourself from the shame of seeing Ushijima slut you out in the middle of lecture hours. You don't want to have to suck off your professor just to save you from his unfair grading of your marks again. You remember having to skip dinner from the appalling stink that left a bad taste of his unwashed, uncut, dick on your mouth. Ugh. "Are you upset that I said that I didn't want to have sex with you anymore?! Is my bussy that good?!"

Of course, you just had to crack such a hilarious joke when his dick is still perched snuggly inside your ass. You can't even be rewarded with the embarrassment from committing such an atrocious crime cause his dick was pulsing inside you. You can feel it throbbing, feel every length and ridge of its veins. No other dick can ever compare to this guy's, and it's the reality you've come to terms with.

While you were busy shaking—with your ass gobbling his cock like it was the last supper—you failed to notice the stare that Ushijima had been shooting you darkened even more. You could feel his fingertips scrape against your skull when he curled his fingers to grip your hair in his hands, tilting your head so that you could fully face the mirror in front of you.

"[Name]." The tone in his voice made you curl your toes, dick squirting pre. You came so much that it was beginning to sting. "... Open your eyes."

Well, shit. If he's asking like that, you might just sign off your freedom of choice to this guy. You slowly crack your eyes open, eyesight getting trippy from all the harsh movements of before and from clenching your eyes shut. Once you adjust, you look into the mirror. No, you look into Ushijima.

You cum.

In relflex, your legs buck themselves and try to close, but with Ushijima's firm arms locking them in place, spread eagle style, you don't get to save yourself from the shame of squirting from the intensity of his gaze bore into you. You weren't even allowed to look at your squirting dick when the strands of your hair were being gripped by the hands of someone who passionately spank balls. His amber eyes spoke more languages than humans could not fathom. Hell, you think that it might be speaking to you in ceasar cipher.

In short, he looked fucking annoyed. Frustraded, perchance. Moreover, he has this look on his face whenever his team was at a disadvantage or when he was playing a losing game.

Ushijima Wakatoshi is pissed.

"Hey..." You slowly start realizing the situation you're in. Realizing how much you've been overlooking when you refused to acknowledge your own festering feelings. "You're not actually mad about that, are you?"

Despite the serious atmosphere, the dude's dick was still hard. Talk about commitment.

"Hey... mngh- T-Talk to me, damn it..." You shudder as you feel him slow down, opting to just spread you open on his dick as he straightens his back into a more comfortable position for the both of you. It makes you wonder if his muscles were getting sore for carrying a heavy ass like you while thrusting so wildly into your heat. Christ, the thought itself does things to you that you can't put into words. "Stop moving for a bit- god, you animal-"

"No." Was all that he could say. You felt your stomach twist.

""No" what?" You clenched your teeth as you stared into his amber eyes refusing to look away from your own. "No to slowing down? Oh, c'mon, dude... Just- hng- gimme a break-"

"Why?" Oh my god, "why" what?! Is this bitch seriously asking why I want to take a quick break from this mind-numbing bathroom stall sex?!

"Listen, Ushi, do you really need to ask-"

"Do you want me to stop?"

Now he's asking coherent questions. Gosh, finally. "Well..." You close your eyes, actually pondering the answer. "Not really. It feels good, so no. Just give me a moment to catch myself." You answer with a sigh, grabbing onto his forearms as you relax in his hold (even though your thighs are literally spread in mid-air with your micro-dick exposed) "Seriously, though... The fuck's gotten into you?"

"..." Ushijima didn't answer. Instead, he let go of your head and thighs gently as he wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you up while he used his other hand to close the toilet lid. He then maneuvered your clueless ass to sit on his dick as he sat down on the toilet. This man... Is he... Seriously treating you as his cocksleeve to warm his still hard dick? While you both have a conversation? While you both miss both of your remaining lectures of the afternoon? Insane shit.

You both sat there in silence with you looking and feeling hella confused and Ushijima leaning to bury his face on the crook of your neck as he held you in his arms. He leaned back on the toilet and you both stayed like that for a while. Huh.

... What the fuck...?

"Oi. Will you just hurry up and tell me? You don't want to break the arrangement, don't you?" You grumble. "You coulda just told me straight up, y'know. And to not try to fuck the thought out of me. That's cliché as hell, and I didn't think you'd resort to bullshit like that."

"Sorry."

"You should be, asshole." You scoff. You lean against his lean build, stirring his junior inside of you but Ushiwaka jr. isn't important now. What's important is this big baby clutching onto you like you're going to sprint out of here any second now.

You reach out to scratch his scalp, adjusting your position on his lap while ultimately letting out little noises from grinding onto his shaft. Man, couldn't he just have pulled out, just for this moment? You can't help but scratch his head a little harsher from the thought. "Idiot. If you liked me so much, you really should have just told me. I like you too, for the record. And I was trying to break off our arrangements 'cause I thought you had a thing for the woman in the sports department. You and her seemed really close, y'know. I didn't want to hold you back for a girl like her."

"Hmf." Ushijima scoffed before raising his head, perching his chin on the blades of your shoulder. "Look who's talking. Who was it that said "You should have just told me" a while ago?"

"Touché. I got confirmation from your teammate, though. He told me that you went to date with her the other day." You huffed back, tugging on his hair as you snarled. "You can't really blame me, can you?"

"You still should've just asked." The thick pad of his thumb caressed your stomach through your shirt. He mumbled next to your ear in a low, mellow tone. "I did go on a date with her because she asked me out first. I figured I'd go and see where it leads, but..." A small smile made it's way to his lips as he held you closer. "I like you too much."

"Oh yeah? Is that really the reason? Or is my bussy just too good to let go?'"

"Mm. Whatever you say."

In the end, you both stuck around inside the bathroom stall until this period of the lecture ends. Of course, you both fucked until it was time to peel yourselves off of each other. Once you both did and fixed yourselves, you didn't just gave him a slap on the ass for the good fuck this time. Instead, you cupped his face and gave him the most passionate kiss you've ever given to another breathing person (not like you ever did that to a non-breathing person anyway) and gave him a slap on the ass after you muttered the words "Love you, Ushi." and practically skipped out of the bathroom with a face filled with glee.

You wouldn't admit it, but even if you didn't like Ushijima, you'd still bet that the fuck you have received in that bathroom would've definitely fucked the thought of breaking things off with ushijima out of your brain.

౨ৎ sauv speaks: chat how many months has it been? my bad if this is bad TT my ass gon b missing after ts cs i gots so much to do... i'm so cooked this year

[s-u-g-a-r-rush1997]

I told you I'd get revenge on Felix, for, uh...

Being taller than I assumed, I guess? Honestly, I'm not even sure. But I had a crush on this guy as a kid, and he's honestly adorable as hell.

I don't tend to ship Felix and Turbo, but I do like the dynamic. I feel like, if anything, they were at least familiar with each other. Felix was the first to recognize Turbo, after all.

And They Were Neighbors

Pairing: Felix x Turbo

Rating: Slightly suggestive

Warnings: None

It likely started out of courtesy. Polite small talk and a pie as a welcome to the arcade. It's something Felix might not have gotten when he was first plugged in.

My personal headcanon is that Fix-it Felix the arcade game was made in 1981, as it reminds me quite a lot of Donkey Kong, a game released in that year. Arcades were at their peak in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Felix might have been among the first to be plugged in, and as such, would have never gotten that warm welcome.

So it's significant to him. Especially if Turbo Time is either his first neighbor on that side, or possibly even a replacement for a game that had to get unplugged.

The Turbo Twins adore him. He's sweet, overall pleasant to talk to, and he brought them pie. They're just as loud and competitive as Turbo, just not nearly as aggressive about it, so I think they'd get along just fine.

Turbo, on the other hand, doesn't get along with Felix initially, at all.

Everything's a competition to him. It's baked into his code. So with Fix-it Felix Jr. being a particularly popular game, he can't help but see Felix as a rival.

Felix is a pretty passive man, though. I don't think he'd just sit there idly if Turbo decided to outright insult him, but he'd be the last person to pick a fight.

It pisses Turbo off. From his perspective, Felix isn't taking the whole rivalry thing seriously. In fact, he's actively brushing him aside.

The first time he curses in front of Felix, which likely wouldn't be too long into their first conversation, Felix scolds him for it. Tells him to watch his language.

Absolutely curses in front of Felix just to try and make him mad.

That's not to say Felix doesn't curse. I think he probably tries his hardest not too, but some of the Nicelanders - and Turbo of course - have some pretty foul mouths, and phrases and words tend to rub off on people if you hang around them long enough.

Turbo loses his shit laughing the first time Felix curses.

Teases Felix, of course. How could he not? Felix has likely censored and scolded him multiple times at this point for cursing.

This is likely the only time Turbo has actually managed to fluster the man so thoroughly.

Oh boy, once he learns Felix is susceptible to teasing, it's over.

Teasing turns to flirting real darn quick. Flirting turns to little touches. Red is very much Turbo's color, but he enjoys seeing it on Felix.

Felix will flirt back, once he gets a good enough hold on himself. It's probably something cheesy and sappy, but it's enough to take Turbo off guard.

The two of them kiss. Felix initiates, much to Turbo's - and his own - surprise.

Turbo absolutely bites during and/or after the kiss. He's absolutely a biter and I stand by that.

Regardless, this whirlwind romance - if you can even call it romance - likely doesn't last too long. It's 1982 when the two first meet, and 1987 at the time of the Roadblasters incident. It's only really five years that they have to get to know each other.

For video game characters who are essentially immortal barring any surprise power outages and unpluggings, who can spend years without any change in personality, doing the same thing every single day and still find joy in it, five years is pretty short.

Still, it hurts. He was starting to like Turbo.

To see him again after witnessing first hand what Turbo had done, to have believed him dead, would hurt like hell.

I think he'd be okay, though. He has Calhoun. She knows what its like to lose someone you love, and she knows how badly it hurts to have old wounds reopened.

[demontonic]

Ethan Landry - Perverted 2

I know it took me forever to finish this but its finally here! Read part 1 if have you havent already! This is it though i dont think ill be making a part three but heres my masterlist if you want more from me

word count: 3990

tw: blood, fighting, knife play, alcohol, dacryphilia, ethan is plowing through you idk what else to say

A month, one whole month and you had yet to tell anyone of what you saw. It was nearing halloween, more people started buying ghostface costumes unbeknownst- or rather in their own ignorance- the victims of woodsboro were amongst them. The uprising of the ghoulish mask had the group on edge, that being the original five as the others didn’t even flinch at the sight. Ethan had been getting closer and closer to you, going so far as sneaking into your room while you were awake, asleep, studying, showering. In a way you were flattered, amused by his boyish antics but there were times you had realizations that he was- no is a killer. At first the noise of your window sliding open followed by footsteps had you reaching for your knife, or any object you could defend yourself with. Now when you hear it, sometimes you don’t even acknowledge him until he speaks, questioning your behavior, lack of honesty, or even your mood.

At some point you convinced yourself he was trying to collect more information on you. Typically you could gather a lot from social media, or just being friends but you had avoided him so much, now was his time to get to know you. He told himself every time you crossed his mind it was purely for the end goal, but he knew you were twisted. He could tell by the way you never told anyone, or how you would react to him creeping through your window. There were times where he would leave, and wait on the fire escape until you fell asleep to go back in and just lay next to you, imagining a domestic life where he didn’t have a bloodlust. A life where he didn’t meet you the way he did, a sweet fairytale story to tell your future kids. He’d make sure he was a better father, never picking favorites and raising them right. You being his stay at home wife, going out everyday to provide for his family that he would love. Coming home at night and sleeping next to this beautiful being that he felt so normal around, but he would always have to leave and dream of waking up next to you.

Today was no different, you’d wake up, go to your classes, have lunch with the group, and then go home- or so you thought. Today had been slightly different, the entire university buzzing with comments about a halloween party. Like normal you had assumed you were going to stay home as you did for most parties and events. In your Literature course Ethan had decided to sit next to you, whispering a little too close to your ear about the party. He wanted you to go with him, and the group of course but he talked about you dressing as a princess as he would be a makeshift knight. Your face burned at the suggestion of corresponding outfits but you declined saying you most likely wouldn’t show. You noticed the immediate change in his demeanor, something that you had seen multiple times. He could be sweet, quiet, soft, well spoken, or he could be harsh, sharp tongued, quick witted, and stern. It was a real Jekyll and Hyde situation, at first it was frightening but now it was just a matter of knowing how to combat his remarks.

“You will look best in a burgundy dress, the color against your skin will be absolutely stunning” his breath fanned against your ear, voice dropping to the one you assumed he used when he made the calls. Ethan’s voice was as strong as the gaze he held, you felt it linger as the warmth of his body left yours. It almost made you shiver, almost refusing to meet his dark eyes knowing you’d be met with the void that accompanied this version of him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” you dropped your pen on the dark wooden desk before averting your eyes to his. First they held that dark void that came with the demeanor, but a few seconds after they went back to warm doe eyes you had first become infatuated with. The ones that stared at you from the floor of your room when you were half asleep finishing schoolwork. A sigh left his chest, almost unnoticeable if you hadn’t known his body language inside and out.

“It’s rude not to… please come to the party tonight it’s gonna be fun,” a crooked smile found its way onto his lips, his teeth peeking out slightly. You looked back towards the professor trying to fill the blanks from where you had stopped taking notes. “I’ll think about it Ethan, I wouldn’t even be able to get a dress such short notice- I don’t even like frat parties to begin with-“

“Stop whining and try to have fun, I don’t like crowds but it’s gonna be a one time thing,” he assured you as he stared at your hand scribble on the paper. Ethan always found himself tuning out to the sound of your pen writing on paper, the smell of your perfume, shampoo, chapstick. He even became accustomed to the tinge of weed under the coconut and vanilla body spray you favored, it was your scent, every product you used. The candles you lit, the oils you put in your diffuser, even your favorite drinks like vanilla frappuccino with coconut milk, or coconut water, vanilla milkshakes- he almost had a whole journal just for you.

“I said I’ll think abou-“

“Please”

Pleading? Asking? Begging? No, it was a demand disguised as a question to make it seem like you had a choice. Did you? Of course, you were a grown woman who could make her own decisions. No matter how he looked at you with those pretty brown eyes you stood your ground.

“I will think about it”. Alarms buzzed around the room signaling the end of this afternoon class, luckily it was your last class today. You quickly shoved your materials into your bag before weaving through the crowd of students, surely losing Ethan in the process. He was a stubborn little shit sometimes as you’ve come to notice, it made you feel special. With others he was a pushover, too scared to say no and always just doing what he was told. With you he felt comfortable voicing his opinions, speaking his mind, you were far past him whispering empty threats into your ear late at night. Now you talked about what he would be doing if he wasn’t doing the whole ghostface shitshow, if he hadn’t followed the ways of his father whom he’d yet to reveal. Some nights he asked about you, your childhood, aspirations, fantasies and then sometimes you would try to talk him out of following through. He’d always laugh and tease you about trying to be his savior, and falling in love with him but maybe it was he who’d fallen for you. Through the fog and the rain, you’d sparked a lantern within him, if he’d follow was still a decision he’d yet to make.

Arriving at your shared apartment the girls sat in the kitchen talking about the party. Sam had been long gone as she went to work, Quinn helped Tara figure out the pirate-esque outfit she was to wear. It was odd however, the redhead pulled a tight lipped smile with a slight tilt of the head before Tara fully turned to you. The smaller girl ran to capture your abdomen in a hug and then jumped in front of you excitedly.

“You didn’t tell us you and Ethan had gotten somewhere!” She practically vibrated in place, waiting for you to spill some details with eager eyes. Quinn had sat down, watching the exchange with her head resting in the palm of her hand.

“That dork actually had the balls to ask for some help,” she said in a gruff voice, you assumed she was tired from her classes although it felt entirely wrong. Jealousy couldn’t be it. She had plenty of guys basically at their knees for a chance with her. “Help? With what exactly I don’t under-“

“The par- Oh my gosh! Did he not ask you yet? Were we supposed to wait?”

“He asked me to the party Tara don’t worry, I just said I’d think about it- BESIDES I don’t have anything close to what he wants me to wear… Where are you going?” You placed a hand on your hip, eyes following the small brunette as she pulled a bag up from the couch.

“Oh no”

“Oh yes”

“No”

“Ohhh yes!”

It was 6pm, time had blurred together as Tara was busying herself with getting you ready. You both decided it would be the easier route to straighten your hair, and to go with a simple eyeliner and mascara than a full caked face. On the daily you made the effort to apply mascara and eyeliner but Tara suggested a pop of color to which you reluctantly agreed. You knew once you got there you’d be splurging in the variety of alcohol they undoubtedly had so opted for a matte red lipstick. Within that time you had discovered Ethan had been in cahoots with Tara and Quinn for the past two weeks in order to have your ‘costume’ ready. The whole thing made you feel wrong, like you were being pampered for him, after all this was his money you were wearing. A part of you however felt like a high school girl getting ready for her first date, maybe over time you had grown a deeper passion for him. You spent more time together than you had even stopped to realize before. Besides that you hadn’t minded him sneaking into your room almost every night like some forbidden love. It was forbidden in all reality, it was wrong, sick, insane, but the sweet boy had weaseled his way into your heart. So as you sat here sitting in front of your mirror, spraying some perfume and patting down your hair, a smile made its way onto your face.

You held open the door for Tara, Quinn opting to stay home with her latest catch, you two started walking to the frat house. The cool air against your body helped as your heart was beating so fast you thought you’d pass out. All dolled up for a man that was burdened with sins you didn’t even remember at this point because all you could think about was not making a fool of yourself. Walking into the party was a hard task, you were already irritated from the pushing and shoving you made a beeline for the hard liquor. Tara had gone for something lighter and assured you it was okay to split up since Mindy and Anika would be with her. Chad had texted you once Tara told him you had made it, so after you had a cup of malibu with a drop of pineapple juice you started to make your way to the boys. By the time you got there half your cup was empty, in all honesty without it you’d be a shaking mess. Chad had grabbed you before you could confront the bitch you had jabbed her heel onto your foot. He always knew you were hotheaded, never scared to scrap with a random chick for fucking with you so he had to be your voice of reason.

“You just got here, try not to get kicked out so soon,” he joked as he walked you over to the doorway they’d stationed at. “Besides, lover boy has been waiting so patiently for you,” he whispered in your ear, playing it off like he was looking behind you. Ethan stood there in his nerdy cardboard costume, a bucket shaped ‘helmet’ on his head paired with a crooked smile. His eyes however held something mischievous, you hadn’t noticed until Ethan put a hand firmly on your waist that Chad left you two alone.

“I was starting to worry that you stood me up, especially after I bought this for you. I hope you can forgive me for taking things into my own hands, I wanted to spend at least one normal night with you.” Ethan spoke next to your ear over the loud music, it was almost too intimidating for you. One hand was on your waist, and the other loosely holding your wrist like he was scared you’d leave him. You laughed nervously before downing what was left in your cup, setting it down on the nearest table.

“It would’ve been rude to reject your gifts, besides it wouldn’t hurt to go out every now and then.” You placed your hands on his forearms, trying to hold your composure as everything felt so overwhelming. His eyes were sharp, like he was trying to read your expressions as if they were hard to decipher. Both of you were still in each other's presence like you were basking in the meld of your auras. For a moment it felt comforting like there would be no consequences and maybe it was the full cup of alcohol or the scenery but you want nothing more than to feel his plump lips against your skin. It would’ve been sweet if it weren’t for a red headed bitch completely inserting herself into your short conversation.

“Oh my god Ethan Landry with the basket case, what a match made in hell. Two losers made for each other, how disgusting!” Audrey, you knew her name purely because she had been a lowlife that thought too highly of herself. She had tried to get Ethan to be her lap dog in a few classes, always batting her eyes trying to get him to do her essays. He never went for it, he wasn’t some stupid jerk off dying to hump her leg like most of the male population on campus. You had been itching to ring her by that orange hair of hers, especially now.

“Oh get over yourself, you’re just a ran through whore clinging to whoever you think you can push around. Honestly it’s a bit sad how all you have now is some fake tits your daddy bought and loose pussy.” To say you shocked yourself would be an overstatement, but you didn’t expect all of it to come out so easily. Hell even Ethan looked at you as you practically ended her college reputation. The surrounding people catching on slightly to the tension turned the music down so they could tune in.

“I think you’re just mad because you’re a sad pothead with no future.”

“I think you’re just mad because you couldn’t get Ethan to do your work because the fumes from your hair dye killed your brain cells.”

“I’m a natural redhead!”

“Okay fire crotch watch how you talk to me before I check your attitude.”

“You won’t do shit you suicidal bi-“

The whole room gasped, the air felt too hot for you, you almost didn’t feel the impact on your knuckles. Ethan tried to hold onto you but you tore away from his grasp too quickly and before he knew it you had punched Audrey. For a moment you thought you drew blood, but you quickly realized it was the fake blood from her half assed vampire costume. She tried to get back at you but she tripped over her hooker heels and practically fell onto you. Of course you shoved her back onto the floor, everyone laughed at her pathetic attempt at a comeback.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink, you should take a nap baby.” You laughed as you watched her slowly rise from the wood flooring. Tears streamed down her face as her head hung down, too embarrassed to face the crowd.

“You’ll pay for this you bitch.”

“Oh boo, you whore!” She walked out of the room, the music quickly returning to its eardrum shattering volume. Ethan was leaning against the door frame by the time you made your way back to him. He had his bottom lip in between his teeth as he watched you walk back, his hands quickly resting on your hips.

“I’m not saying you didn’t scare me a little but… that was kinda hot.” Thank the higher beings for the colorful lights, your face was so red from both the heat and Ethan. Your chest swelled with pride as the serial killer applauded you for taking a swing at that stuck up bitch.

“Someone had to do it eventually, so will you come downstairs with me for a drink?” You pulled on his ‘chest plate’ as he nodded, following closely behind you. After a few shots and strong drinks Ethan had convinced you it was time to leave before you ‘got into any more trouble’. You weren’t hammered but not sober either, so of course he walked you to your apartment.

“How fun I get to walk through your front door this time,” alluding to all the times he’d climb through your window.

“No one ever said you couldn’t, I think the girls would’ve actually gotten a kick out of it.” You smiled as you walked through the door, already going towards your room. However before you opened it you realized Ethan had stopped following you. Instead he leaned onto the wall before your door, looking at you expectantly.

“Don’t act shy now Eth, you’ve been here how many times?”

“I told you I wanted one normal night.”

“Well if you ask me I think I preferred you just coming in through my window, no invitation required.” Again, his demeanor changed as his tall frame straightened and walked towards you. A small tilt of his head and then suddenly he was kissing you, it was rough, demanding, dominant. One of his arms wrapped around your waist before he reached behind you and opened your door. You stumbled back as he slammed it shut, locking it too before resuming the sloppy kiss. He walked you backwards towards your bed, lifting you easily by the hips and tossing you down softly. The diadem on your head was pulled off and placed on your side table, his helmet had been long gone, laying somewhere on your floor. He quickly pulled his chest piece off and threw it somewhere, shocking you in the process as his abs peeked from under the long sleeved shirt he wore under it.

“So you like the psycho killer version of me better than an econ geek?” His question sounded breathless, both of your faces flushed as he knelt between your legs. You dress barely stopping at your upper thighs, his hair messy and tangled from your hands.

“If I say yes, are you going to kill me mister ghostface?” You asked just as breathless as he was, a smirk plastered on your lips as you watched his expression mirror yours. You almost miss it, his god-like features distracting you as he pulls out a knife, pressing the tip to your throat.

“Of course not baby, I’d never hurt you, I’m just trying to figure out what you’re into.”

“Well this is kinda doing it for me if that helps.” He smiled before trailing the blade all the way down between your thighs, severing the straps of your panties. He didn’t pull the fabric off, not yet anyways, instead pulled his shirt off before leaving dark hickeys all over your neck and collar bones. Your fingers tangled in the mess of curls as he made his way across your exposed skin. Quiet sighs leave your chest as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to your body. His hips began to grind against you, the rough feel of his jeans caused you to shiver under his herculean body.

You don’t know how much time had passed, but the rest of your clothing had been tossed to the floor. Ethan's face was settled between your thighs as you neared your third orgasm. He was fucking you with his tongue as his thumb stayed on your clit, harshly overstimulating you. Your thighs couldn’t even squeeze around his head at this point, they rested on his strong shoulders, shaking and trembling. Tears were welling up in your eyes as your back arched off the bed again, crying out his name as you came on his face. He sat up, crawling closer to you as you trembled underneath him. All he did was smile softly, his canines poking against his lower lip. Your eyeliner had run down your cheeks, your hair tangled and frizzy.

“You look so pretty crying, shaking, and begging. I should’ve been fucking you like this every night for the past month.” As he spoke he traced your face lightly with the tip of his knife, his cock slick with precum as he rubbed it against your clit. Your legs shook with every move he made, you were far beyond overstimulated; this was insanity. You weren’t even sure if you were forming proper words as he began to slide his thick cock into your sensitive cunt. Your nails scratched at his v-line, no doubt drawing blood from his pale skin as he bottomed out. He hissed as he quickly drug his blade across the top of one of your hands. It was a small thin slice barely even bleeding, you would’ve missed it if you hadn’t watched him do it. Anyone would’ve pulled their hand away but it just made you dig your nails deep into his hips. He tossed the knife onto the floor and grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them against your chest as he began to rock slowly in and out of you. Your head dropped back on your pillow as your mouth opened in a silent whine. His lips held a smirk as his pace sped up, head dipping down to your neck as quiet whimpers left his throat. You started crying as you felt another orgasm building from his rough pace, you bit down on his shoulder since your dry throat could barely let your moans out. He groaned at your action and seemingly went faster, you pleaded against his hot skin but he only kept on. Once his hands left your wrists to hold your thighs apart, your nails clawed down his back. The moans coming from him sounded so heavenly, almost pathetic despite him having full control.

He pulled back from you, fully sitting up but his brutal rhythm was unforgiving. He held your hips off the bed as he plowed into your throbbing cunt. Finally a stutter in his pace as he neared his orgasm. He groaned, his head falling back as his thrusts became sporadic causing your body to move upwards on the bed. Your hands braced against the wall as he lost himself in the build of his climax. You cried out into the dim room, your pussy clenching around him as you came. He fucked you until you were squirming under him again, he pulled out and came onto your stomach moaning your name lowly. Ethan stilled for a moment, until finally his hands dropped your thighs and he laid next to you. He pulled your leg onto his waist, pulling you against him as you both tried to catch your breath. Your hand rested on his waist and your head on his chest, it was finally calm again.

The next morning when both of you woke up, you walked into the living room to find the entire group. When they noticed you two together it was like they snapped out of a daze. They joked about how it took way too long for either of you to make the first move. It didn’t take long however for the dread to settle back in as the news reporter spoke of two college students being murdered last night.

@hana-1235

@i-do-be-vibinn

@meh-karma

@cumbermovels

@acornacreacure

@c0untryclub

[kairiscorner]

Helloo, can I request Miguel with an artist reader who draws him a lot? 👉👈 Like the reader has a secret crush on Miguel and he inspires them a lot, without even knowing it. And maybe there's a Gwen-and-Miles-like-situation where Miguel by accident discovers the drawings of him in their sketchbook?

AAAAAAAA ANON THIS IS SO CUTE !! tbh i wanted to finish the miggy fic i had for ate @binibinileonara bc i wanted to connect these two together, BUT I COULDN'T RESIST, I'LL MAKE IT SEPARATE BC WHY NOT !! thank you for the lovely idea btw (i also had an idea like this actually in my notes) THANKS FOR GIVING ME THE OOMPH TO DO IT !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

you always had this desire to capture all that interested you in its full beauty, in its unbridled greatness. that was, to you, the essence of all your art pieces; they always reflected how you saw the world, how you saw nature, how you saw people.

you never believed people had one or two faces to them, you believed people were multi-faceted, that every person was a kaleidoscope of beauty, skills, quirks, flaws, fears, hopes, and dreams. you loved capturing every bit of people who intrigued you the best you could, and you hoped that if you stood back and admired the big picture that was them, going over the details and fibers that made each person their own–from the good, bad, pretty and ugly details–you would finally see the whole, uncut image of the person you were illustrating; who you were painting in the colors you saw them in, the colors that stuck with you and filled the empty canvas of your mind with all sorts of shapes and splotches of hues and shades that formed the image of them when their name would come to mind.

and for some reason... that person to you right now was miguel o'hara. you had a lot of things to say about him, even words that many would argue don't exist. you felt a myriad of feelings when you were around miguel, and you knew there was more than just the dictating leader miguel that everyone was familiar with. like all people, miguel, too, was an explosion of different kinds of colors to you–colors that only you could see, because when he was around you... he was more than just the cool, calm, and collected boss everyone saw him as.

he was much more caring, much more funny around you. his smile when you told him a funny story illuminated a bright yellow and a warm orange to you–his eyes would twinkle and you'd see the hazelnut brown in his eyes, and a shade of what appeared to be coffee brown at the bottom of his irises. he exuded a commanding aura, a dark, cool blue–but when paired with you, and only you, he exuded a bright red; a color of fiery passion, intimacy, and most of all... attraction.

he was the subject of your affections, you, the soulful and emotional artist that admired him and all that he was from afar and up close. you admired the way he held your hand when you were scared on a few missions, you admired how gently he held you when you two were caught between a rock and a hard place; and how soft and loving his eyes were when they gazed at you. you knew he might have felt a platonic kind of love for you, what with being so comfortable around you and all, but you felt a different kind of love for him–and you hated denying your creative side the indulgence of capturing him in all his beauty.

hence, you began slowly filling the empty spaces of your sketchbooks and notebooks, or whatever other papers lay around when inspiration struck you, with images of him and only him. you caught his face in moments where he was nonchalant, disappointed, angry, grumpy, and... smiling.

when you witnessed his smile for the first time when you met him, that image was burned into your retinas, into your mind, into your heart. you saw that smile from the minute you went to bed to the minute you woke up, the only thing that saddened you was that you could never hold that man who smiled at you and made your heart beat a little faster–you could only watch him and be with him at a distance. but art was the bridge between you two that'd close that distance you wanted to cover so, so badly.

you did, at times, believe what you were doing was... a little creepy. you refused to let anyone see your sketchbooks even before you drew him, and that was out of embarrassment at your drawings. but now, it was a new kind of embarrassment, a feeling adjacent to guilt and disgust at how nobody but he could fill your mind and have you wanting to keep him in your mind by feeding yourself, indulging yourself in putting him on paper and coloring him in; to be with him at a closer perspective than how you two were in the real world.

you had to admit it–seeing him constantly in your mind, wanting to let thoughts of him out on paper as you wanted to be through with imagining him, but knew you couldn't the more and more you portrayed him–it meant you... wanted him. you really, really loved him.

you knew nobody should know, nobody had to know about this little crush you had on miguel. you'd rather die than have someone peek at your sketchbook that was filled with all kinds of drawings of him. but unfortunately, the man himself bore witness to your caricatures and illustrations of him when you left your sketchbook at his office.

you ran as quickly as you could, praying he hadn't opened it out of curiosity. he was always asking you what you were up to, and you'd immediately shut your sketchbook and laugh awkwardly, claim you were merely doodling. you always left out the part that you were constantly drawing him, and only ever him; and now, he'd find out.

as you entered his office, scouring with your eyes for your sketchbook, a figure emerged from the darkness behind you and gave a slight cough. "this is yours, isn't it?" that low, fluid voice was none other than miguel's. you turned around in fear of what he was going to look like–would any of the faces you drew seeing him as be one of the faces you'd see?

to your surprise... no. he had a different, completely new face that you had never drawn him in; a flustered state. he was blushing, his angled cheeks and high nose bridge were covered in a pink-red hue–and he was grinning. he handed you the sketchbook with a now sheepish smile. "i'm sorry, i wasn't sure if it was yours. i had to... look through for a name. and, um... it was very–" he wanted to continue, but then, he saw you were on the verge of tears.

"i'm... sorry..." you muttered, feeling incredibly ashamed of yours and busted for having indulged in drawing him without him knowing. guilt stirred in your stomach and elicited tears to well up in your eyes. miguel smiled, and as his eyebrows curved upwards together to form a look of reassurance, he placed both hands on your shoulders.

"listen, you have a wonderful talent. i'm sorry if you don't hear that enough, but that changes today. i'm so... wow, i'm so flattered you thought i was good enough to be drawn that way. it feels... amazing, to know an artist sees me fit to be their, what would you call it?" he asked as he wiped a tear rolling down your cheek away from you.

"a... muse." you whispered, wiping the rest of your tears away. miguel chuckled. "right, a muse." he said as he inched closer to you, with the sweetest smile on his face. "i might sound really crazy right now, but... i want to be your muse. i really, really want to be your muse." he said, with emphasis on 'your'.

your face lightened up as the tears that welled up gave your eyes a glassy look, and you saw the blush on his deepen as you became more and more flustered. you smiled and wrapped your arms around his chest, pulling him in for an embrace you needed to release. "and i want to be your artist. only yours." you whispered, to which miguel reciprocated your hug. and it was here that you witnessed him in a new color, a pinkish, reddish hue that made you feel all kinds of happiness and excitement.

a love meant to be captured and painted in with bursts of emotion and care for one another.

a/n: I'M SO SORRY IF IT DIDN'T COME OUT THAT WELL NGL I MADE THIS A LITTLE RUSHED 😭😭😭 BUT I LOVE MIGGY HERE PLSSS AND I HOPE Y'ALL LOVE HIM HERE, TOO <333

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck

[mpregandproud]

Isaac II (Part 1)

Twenty years ago my life took a 180 degree turn. After separating from my ex-wife Sandra, Isaac came into my life, and with him an adventure that if someone told you about it you would not believe. In just five years I went through five pregnancies and gave birth to seventeen children, no more and no less. With my husband I had eleven of them, and we adopted the daughter I had with my ex-wife, whom I got pregnant before our separation. And we decided to be surrogates for our friends Lucas, Ray and Tom, six more children. Oh yes, I forgot, I am a man, a man who got pregnant. I know, I'm kind of a weirdo. Although Isaac prefers to say it's a “gift given to me by nature”.

While Isaac and I adore our children and thoroughly enjoyed my pregnancies, we decided to stop making babies. With twelve boys and girls per household we had more than enough. We had dreamed of having a big, happy family, especially since neither of us had grown up in large families. The dream of our lives was more complete than ever. Or so we believe at the time.

After having the sextuplets we decided to leave the city and move to the town where I grew up. There we bought a big house in the country. Isaac and I could work from home, and being close to my parents and sister would help us raise little quintuplets Dylan, Nate, Philip, Edward and Cristina, sextuplets Bruce, Ken, Patrick, Charlotte, Ivana and Jason, and Sandra, the oldest of all our children.

This change allowed me to make a major change in my life. I started to take up sports again and regain a healthier way of life. With Lucas, Gary, Samuel and Frank, my former soccer teammates when I was young, we started participating in the veterans' league. Although I never regained the shape I had before I gave birth, I lost my belly and my muscles started to show after years of being hidden under fat. My ass, two large spheres, and my hips, wide as proof of having given birth to a full soccer team with its starting and substitute players included, were living witnesses that inside me the party of life had taken place.

Isaac and I have strengthened our relationship a lot over the years. He is my soul mate. If I ever had any doubts about our marriage, seeing him day in and day out taking care of our children made me fall in love with him like I did the first day I saw him on that soccer field. Now in his 50s, he is the sugar daddy I once dreamed of as a teenager, when I was still trying to convince myself that I liked women. His athletic body and the gray hair that has slightly whitened his hair is like a dream come true. When he comes home from working in the garden, sweaty and dirty, I have to hold back my desire for him to slam me against the wall and plant his potent seed inside me again.

This is not to say that Isaac and I have stopped fucking, in fact we do it more than ever. The years have made us wilder. And now that our older kids are in college and our younger ones are in high school, we have more time to live our passionate love intensely. Maybe we have too much time, and too much passion for no good.

Yes, as you can imagine, the inevitable happened again. Sixteen years after I had last been pregnant I felt morning sickness and a general feeling of discomfort in my body again. I didn't want to believe it at first. Remember that we had decided not to have any more babies, but Mother Nature had other plans. That's why a condom broke, there was a plan to get us pregnant again. Apparently twelve children was not enough, so a new litter was about to arrive. I was pregnant again.

For the first time in all these years I saw Isaac worried. In spite of having experience in the matter, this was going to be my sixth time pregnant, it was not the same to be pregnant when I was 30 than when I was 50. And I wasn't sure that my body would work the same way either.

“What are we going to do, Isaac, do you want to become a father again?”, I asked him the night after we confirmed the pregnancy.

“Daniel, I don't know. I really don't know, it was no longer in my plans to be a father again. I adore our children and I love you madly, but I have more doubts than ever”, he said cuddling up to me on the bed. “I remember when we found out you were pregnant twenty years ago it was you who had doubts, and me who reassured you. But look at me now, I don't recognize myself, I'm scared of what this pregnancy might mean for you, especially knowing that we tend to have many children at the same time”, he was shaking as he told me, so I grabbed his hand and shook it tightly to try to calm him down.

I gave him a little kiss on the crown of his head. “I didn't expect to find myself gestating a child again either at our age and after going through this so many times. I already felt complete with what we had. But today, when the doctor confirmed that we were pregnant, something changed in me. I have doubts, lots and lots of doubts, but also the desire to be a father again with you”, I told him without being able to look at him because I was so nervous. “I think it's clear to me that I want to have this child, or children. It may be our last chance to be parents again. Who knows. And, I'm not going to lie to you, I love how much the pregnancies brought us together before. So, yes, I want to be a father”. I looked down and saw him crying emotionally, as much as I was. Both with tears in our eyes.

Isaac sat up, grabbed my face and said in a breathy voice, “I love you so much. We're in this together, let's get to it”. We kissed passionately and sealed that night by fucking like animals again.

The following week we got our children together. Taking advantage of the fact that the older ones had returned from college that week for summer vacation, it was the ideal time to tell them all the good news. Isaac prepared a barbecue in the garden. We also invited Esther and her children Svetlana and Boris, the children she had with Yevgeni, who died last year in a helicopter accident.

Our best friends, Lucas and Adam, and their children Daniel and Isaac, the first ones I had as a surrogate, also came. They are also our family, our chosen family. For little Daniel and Isaac, our sons are their cousins, and we are their uncles. Lucas and Adam wanted us to be in their lives from day one. I will be eternally grateful to them, as it helped me cope better with the strange feeling of having given birth to children that were technically not mine. I still have a very close relationship with the other children I had as a surrogate, but they live farther away, so I see them less often. And also, Daniel and Isaac were my first, it's something special, hard to explain.

When they were a little older Lucas and Adam explained to the boys that I was the one who gestated them because they could not. Far from being scared, the children became even more fond of me. They say that I am their favorite uncle. When they tell me that in front of Isaac he gets jealous. I love to see him like that. He looks so sexy in those funny moments.

Before we got to desserts I sat for a while with my sister Esther and Lucas, my childhood friend. She has always been very perceptive, so it didn't catch me by surprise that she was the one who asked me the question, “You're pregnant again, aren't you?”. Lucas was silent and staring at me with wide eyes. “The first time you got pregnant you did something similar in Isaac's apartment in the city. You will have many children, but originality is not your strong point,” she said teasing me as only a sister knows how. I sipped my soda and nodded my head. “But don't tell anyone yet, we want to announce it to all of you today”, I winked.

Both Esther and Lucas were concerned about a pregnancy in my fifties. “Are you sure? You and Isaac have sky-high fertility, so knowing your backgrounds it's possible you're expecting a whole basketball team. Isn't that dangerous at your age?” said a very concerned Lucas. “Yes, we are aware of the complications that may be involved, but we want to give it a try. It could be our last chance to be parents again. It's not a planned pregnancy, but we agree that we want to try. We take all the risks”, I told them.

They both gave me a big hug in that very moment. They are the two people who understand me best. Apart from Isaac, I can talk to Esther and Lucas about anything. Their hug felt comforting, they were giving me their approval and support. I knew that in the face of any difficulty I could count on them in this adventure.

From across the garden Isaac was looking at us. I knew that without explaining anything to him, just by seeing the three of us hugging, he was aware that Lucas and Esther knew about the pregnancy and that they were giving me strength. His smile at the sight of us made me feel even more confident in the decision we had made. It would not be a planned pregnancy, but it would be a desired pregnancy.

After desserts we gathered everyone around the table and Isaac was in charge of telling everyone. “Thank you for coming to our house today. For us it is very important to have the family close to us in all our steps as a couple and as parents. We are about to start a journey with many doubts, but that will once again fill this house with love”. He then grabbed me with his left hand and put his right hand on my belly. In case anyone did not understand his gesture, he proceeded to clarify it by shouting it from the rooftops. “We are going to be parents again. We are pregnant!”, he announced with the same joy with which twenty years ago he told that we were pregnant for the first time.

Everyone started squealing with joy and celebrating. If there were any doubts, our family cleared them all. Our children hugged both of us, some of them crying with excitement as Isaac and I were. Sandra, our oldest, gave me a huge hug, then told me that “mommy would be as excited as I am right now. I can't wait to have new siblings". I think a lot about my ex-wife Sandra, and as my daughter said, I'm sure that on a day like this she would have liked to be with us celebrating. I miss her, I hope she is proud of the family we have given our daughter.

Be that as it may, come what children may, we are on this journey together, Isaac and I. Together about to become parents again. Living the best of our lives.

Go to Part 2

[miryum]

HI!!!! Good morning/afternoon/evening to youuu! First, I want to say I really enjoy your fics, it makes me feel like I'm on cloud 9. Too bad their just fiction. Anyways....

Idk if you write fics about benny watts, but ig it's worth a shot, I'm obsessed with play date by Melanie Martinez and that song really fit with benny. When benny was only with the reader to practice or play with her but they have a little thing that a couple does but without label. So the ready gets really tired and have a fight with him, and at the end benny told her his feelings.

Really hope you can make this. And advance thank you! <33

YES!!! My beloved Benny Watts!!!! I love him so much 😊 Thank you so much for your words, yet alas, mine are just fiction *sigh* (also, love your username)

Benny moved a rook across the chess board and your face scrunched up. You were nowhere near the level that the great Benny Watts was, but you liked the think you could predict his moves. You had known Benny since you were children, and therefore were able to practically able to read each other minds. That was an argument Benny used many times to rope you into playing chess with him. If you, the person who was able to prophesy his every move, wasn't able to beat him, then he was confident no one could.

You had tried multiple times to get out of playing chess with Benny (albeit thankful that it was a bit of steady income for the two of you, seeing as you were roommates), but he always managed to trick you into playing with him. Sometimes it was through bets, or he got you tipsy, or he simply looked up with you with puppy dog eyes and you melted.

It was hard though, being Benny's friend. You were constantly left alone at the apartment- if you could call it that- and sometimes had to pick up extra shifts because Benny was too engrossed in chess that he forgot to pick up a check. Your friends had urged you to move out, seeing how the stress could get to you, but you refused. You felt bad about the prospect of leaving Benny. He was your best friend, although you sometimes wondered if you were his. He clearly shared a special relationship with Arthur and Harry, simply because they were all the same sex.

And then there was Beth.

You were unsure of when the girl had first appeared in your life; she had just showed up at one point. And you saw how Benny reacted to her.

You were about to move a knight when a knock sounded on the door. Sharing a look with Benny, both silently agreeing to pause the game, you got up and opened the door. Sighing at the character who was waiting to come in, you moved back to the chess boar and plopped back down on the ground.

"Beth!" Benny smiled brightly. You hated him for it. Your feelings for Benny were probably a main factor in why you stayed by his side, even after he had pushed you into the friend-zone multiple times unknowingly.

"Are you guys playing?" Beth moved to sit by you.

You scooted away from her and towards Benny, gesturing to the board and saying, "Play for me, will you? I could never win against the prodigy."

"Hush," Benny took your hand in his. "You were doing wonderfully."

Without another word, you sat back and watched as the two young adults warred in a battle of the wits. No matter how many times you would watch it, you were always awed at the swift, defiant movements that they shared.

An unwanted pang of jealousy wormed its way into your stomach. Why couldn't you've been great at chess? Would Benny than pay more attention to you? And how could he be so blind? Who else had stood by his side for as long as you?

Throughout the match, Benny continued to hold you hand. When you went to pull away, reaching for a book or magazine to interest yourself in, he pulled you back and muttered something about 'his good luck charm'.

Rolling your eyes at his persistence, you shrugged him off. After a while, Benny was declared the winner, but by a slight margin. Even you were able to see how Benny narrowly avoided defeat. He had gotten lucky. Beth thanked you for letting her drop by, saying she had originally come for a book that Benny suggested. After she had left, you started to pack up the chess board. You had come to live with the fact that in your shared apartment with Benny, chess boards would outnumber anything else.

"You alright?" Benny stretched out on the floor, glancing over your figure.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Come on, Y/n." Benny shot you a hard look. "I've known you forever. I can see when something bugs you. Out with it."

"Are you blind?" You rounded on his suddenly, your odd question confusing the boy.

"What do you mean?"

"Can you see what's in front of your eyes?" you pressed again. "Because I don't think you can. Every time that Beth, a lovely girl, no doubt, but only a new, shiny toy to you, rounds the corner, you're transfixed and I can't understand why."

"Where is this coming from?" Benny exclaimed, feeling bombarded.

"Haven't I been enough?" You ignore him and continued on. "I've tried to be a great friend, but it's hard sometimes. It's especially hard when I've been crushing after you for the past few years and you can't realise that I like you!"

"You like me?" Benny stilled, blinking owlishly at you.

"Of course, you idiot!" You wanted to throw the chess board down but knew that a line you shouldn't cross. "We've had some pretty bad arguments in our lives and any other friends would've separated by now. Why do you think I always come back to you?"

Benny couldn't help but let a laugh escape. "You come back to me?" he clarified, shaking is head. "No, Y/n, I come back to you. God damn it, I like you too. Love you, in fact! Ever since I first set my eyes on you. You, may I remind you, had a school-girl crush on that one boy, Jack. So, I backed off. I've been harbouring feelings for you ever since."

You stared at him. "Pardon?" you asked finally.

"I guess I am blind." Benny flashed you a brilliant smile that made you melt. "Blinded by my love."