#life is a little bit in shambles

[saturnvs]

wanted to open my pride icon commissions this weekend but it'll have to wait because. sad

[blairamok]

i am absolutely returning to on thin ice stuff, just been going thru it. got a few more things to wrap up before i can continue working on my AU guilt free but i do have something commissioned in progress 👀 very excited for that

[sanguineselene666]

1000 posts!

Let’s all celebrate my unhealthy obsession!

[saintlesbian]

okay I know I hate Willow but. imma be a lil sad if she actually dies since I was hoping she’d be able to have some kind of relationship with Nina 😅 also nina will go completely insane if Willow dies um.

[yueebby]

indulge me? — gojo satoru

synopsis you and gojo go on an overnight mission and it goes wrong in every way

contents so. much. pining. (2.8k words of it!?), one bed trope, whipped!gojo, ooc gojo, completely self indulgent, a lot of cardiovascular talk, they’re first years in this!

notes first time i’ve written in AGES. sorry :3 ps this is a little snippet from a satosugu x reader series im thinking about starting. thoughts?

(edit: i wrote a part ii)

Gojo Satoru was born blessed. From birth and to death he will always be honored. It wasn't his fault that the Heavens delighted in him. So when Yaga had announced that he and you would be sharing an overnight mission to Kyushu, he nearly leapt in joy (lucky him)!

You, on the other hand, were less than thrilled to find out that you were going to be traveling alone with Gojo Satoru. For two whole days. It was a death sentence.

“Make sure to text me, so I know you're not dead.” Shoko looks between you and Gojo. Either your head will implode as a result of Gojo, or he is gonna be on the receiving end of your wrath. Shoko can’t wait to see which.

“Do take pictures, I heard the onsens there are incredible.” Suguru slyly adds. Satoru perks up at his comment. The two of them share a knowing look before Gojo speaks up.

“Wanna take a dip with me once we get there, [Name]?” He looks into your eyes, his lips are quirked upwards like he’s up to no good (which he is). “I promise I won’t take a peek!” He winks.

“Keep fantasizing, Gojo.”

“Oh I will.” He hums happily. The smile on his lips is kind of cute, you decide. Just a little.

— — — — — — — 

Kurokawa, you come to find out is a very small town in Kyushu. So when people start to go missing, the entire town falls into shambles. Before your trip, Yaga had made it known the enemy you’d be facing. 

“A common denominator of the missing persons is that they were all young women.” He had warned you and Gojo. “It’s an unidentified curse, but I trust that the two of you will be able to handle it.”

Three missing girls. All under the age of 25. Two of which were locals, one being a tourist. 

The moment you arrive on the island of Kyushu, your guard is higher than ever. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Gojo.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of some horny curse,” He looks down at you as the two of you make your way down a small street to your ryokan. Kurokawa was a traditional town, its pride resting on the old culture causing it to be untouched by modern architecture.

Unamused by his nonchalant attitude, you decide to ignore his vulgar comment, “What grade curse do you think we’re up against?”

He makes a noise to show that he’s thinking. “Does it really matter? It’ll be no match for me either way.”

You roll your eyes, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, we still have to figure out what happened to the victims.”

“I don’t see why that’s necessary, but okay.” Your snow haired peer dismisses. It makes you a bit envious that he doesn’t have to ever feel fear for his life. Must be nice.

The two of you arrived at your designated ryokan soon enough, it was a small town after all. Gojo leads the way with you following right after. You can’t discern any cursed energy in the building, but you still make a mental note to ask Gojo about it after you both are situated. 

An elderly lady in an orange kimono stood behind the desk, smiling at you and you returned it back happily.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen a young couple here.” She says. That’s right, with the recent disappearance of young girls, there would be a sudden decrease of tourism around this part of town. “You certainly are a beautiful match!”

You gratefully accept her compliment, “Thank you, but we’re not–”

“Thanks granny!” Gojo wraps a strong arm around your shoulder. “I don’t know how I even managed to win her over!” There’s a wide grin on his face that makes your eye twitch. Leave it to him to tell people the two of you were together. Not only that but he totally disrespected the old lady with his informal talk!

“Unhand me, you!” You forcefully whisper at him, while trying to unwrap yourself from his hold. His arm does not budge even as you try to push it off. What the hell is this boy eating? Gojo chuckles with the old lady while you struggle.

“My, the two of you remind me so much of my husband and I in the days of our youth,” She sighs dreamily. Her age must be interfering with her memory because there was nothing inherently romantic going on between you and Gojo. “How long will you be staying here?”

“Only one night,” Gojo decides that he has tormented you enough and lets you go. He slides her his card and she pulls out something from the old wooden counter she stands behind. 

A single key.

Your eyes bug out. Gojo’s eyebrows raise. You laugh nervously, face feeling warmer than it was thirty seconds ago.

“There must have been a misunderstanding. We need two rooms, ma’am.” You hold up two fingers to emphasize your point. 

The smile on the old woman’s face falls, “I’m afraid I cannot do that.” Your jaw drops.

“Huh? Why not?” You press on further. Surely they could not have been booked out of all of their rooms. Tourism is at an all time low after the strange disappearances.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the strange disappearances in the area. It’s a miracle the two of you have even decided to stay here, which I am very grateful for. That is why I must repay you back by ensuring your safety. Otherwise I must ask you to leave and stay in the next town because I will not allow you to endanger yourself so carelessly.” 

You blink. Neighboring town? That was hours away. The curse was here in Kurokawa. You can’t afford to jeopardize a mission just because of your own feelings.

Gojo’s hand is halfway to the key, but he waits for your approval. You sigh.

“It’s fine, we can do one. Thank you.” You bow your head. She smiled apologetically as she handed Gojo the key. Gojo, unbothered by the revelation, whistles happily as the lady leads the way to your suite.

— — — — — — — 

operation satoru x [name]!!!!

Gojosatowu added getosugu, shoko.ieiri

Gojosatowu You wont believe it!!! shoko.ieiri What the hell is this gc And what the hell is Operation satoru x [name]?  getosugu  how come [name] isn’t in this? Gojosatowu Ladies, ladies, one question at a time please getosugu  Expect a forehead flick for that comment shoko.ieiri  Stfu and just answer the questions Gojosatowu alright alright [name] and i are sharing a room in kyushu!! i may come out of this mission a changed man. shoko.ieiri  someone make sure [name] is still alive and well Gojosatowu I dont appreciate your lack of faith in me >:( shoko.ieiri  Keep a six feet distance from her at all times perv Gojosatowu I might have to for my own sanity. What do you think she wears to bed? shoko.ieiri  You disgust me sometimes getosugu  Only sometimes? shoko.ieiri  Let me correct myself. You disgust me. Gojosatowu Im feeling the love :(

“What are you giggling to yourself about?” You place a hand on your hips as you watch Gojo smile at his flip phone.

“Oh don’t you worry about it,” He closes it. Weird. “What’s the living situation?”

You sigh. “Despite its traditional arrangement, there is a bed.”

Gojo perks up. “Yeesh I’m glad! If I had to sleep on the floor my back would be all sore right on a mission. Y'know how annoying that is?”

You suck your teeth. “Allow me to rephrase myself. There is only one bed.” 

There is an awful silence in the room, save for your erratically beating heart. Of course the old woman decided to place you in a couple’s suite.  

“Heh.” Gojo chortles happily. “Wow, this must be a divine sign from God Himself. I mean, who are we to ignore this?”

“Don’t start,” You hold out an accusatory finger at him. “I’m gonna go request an extra futon.”

He pouts, “Don’t be like that, sharing a bed with me can’t be that bad.”

“I’m willing to bet otherwise.” You walk past him. The white haired boy watches you go like a sad puppy.

— — — — — — — 

You took your time getting an extra futon, using it as an excuse to get all of the nervousness out of your system of sharing the same room as Gojo Satoru. Sharing a room with a boy was already bad enough, but Gojo? Your heart skipped a beat (out of nervousness, you insist!).

By the time you make it back to the room, the lights are out. You assume that Gojo decided to go to sleep early. You don’t blame him. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day of hunting for the curse rampaging Kurokawa. 

The only light source in the room is coming from the bathroom. You sigh. The idiot must’ve forgotten to turn it off. Nonetheless, you were gonna go get unready either way so you make your way to the half open door.

On the sink is a complimentary toothbrush that you help yourself to. You apply some paste and–

There is a sound of something sliding shut from behind you. You look up at the mirror. Standing behind you was Gojo. Wet. And naked. 

“Oh my gosh!” You spit out your toothpaste and ran out of the room. How did you fail to see that Gojo was in the restroom? You blame it on the sliding doors separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom. Oh my gosh. Your face feels like it’s on fire. He has a six pack. And why does his stupid hair look like that when it's wet? Your heart was beating at an abnormal rate. This is so inappropriate.

Shortly after your freakout, Gojo steps out of the bathroom. There was no way you could face him now.

“Aw, don't be so shy now. It’s not like this will be the last time you’ll see me like this.” Gojo stands in the doorway. There is a towel wrapped around his waist, still leaving him indecent in your eyes.

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating Gojo! And lock the door when you’re in the restroom you creep!” You look anywhere but him.

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault, was it? You were taking so long I thought you left me here alone.” You can practically hear him pouting. “Either way, you were the one checking me out.”

Your eyes widen, “I was not checking you out! Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Don’t feel ashamed, this can all be yours,” He gestures down to his body.

“You freak.” you blanch.

He winks at you.

This was going to be a long night.

— — — — — — — 

It takes you about half an hour to calm down from the bathroom catastrophe. By now, you’re situated in your futon while Gojo is tucked on the bed. If you had to guess, it’d be nearing midnight around now. You just need to close your eyes and get some sleep before your mission tomorrow.

Except you can’t sleep.

Every time you close your eyes, your mind betrays you and an image of Gojo post shower illustrates itself in your mind. And it doesn’t help that he sleeps shirtless. You seriously need your mind cleansed.

That wasn’t your only issue. The room was sub zero. Who knew traditional ryokans had such advanced air conditioning systems? All you could hear was the air conditioning machine overworking itself. You could even argue that it was colder than Shoko’s morgue. And your sleep shirt and shorts were doing little to help insulate you. 

“Wanna come cuddle with me?” The last person you wanted to hear from breaks the silence. You pretend to be asleep. “I know you’re not asleep! My six eyes tell me that you’re shivering.” Busted.

“I am not cuddling with you.” You stare at the ceiling above you, arms crossed. How could he even propose such an idea? Has he no shame?

“Well I can’t face the old granny here if my girlfriend ends up dead by freezing!”

“I am not your girlfriend, Gojo. Nor will I die.”

“That’s not what she thinks. Plus we have a mission tomorrow, so I can’t have you getting sick on me now.”

“I’ll be fine, Gojo. Now go to sleep.”

“I run hot when I sleep, y’know. Let me be your personal heater.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning.

“I refuse.”

“Well I refuse your refusal.”

You blink.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Now c'mon,” He pats the spot next to him. “I’ll even make a wall in between us.”

You hear the bedsheets shuffle and you have to sit up to see that Gojo was stacking two pillows in the middle of the bed to prove his point. You’re nearly certain that the only thing you’ll be catching soon is a headache if you keep up with his antics. It was a tempting offer, one that you would surely accept if it wasn’t Gojo Satoru.

“Gojo, I—”

“...Please?” His voice is softer than you have ever heard it. It was unfair how Gojo was making it harder and harder to reject his offer.

A silent moment passes by.

“...Fine,” You reluctantly get up from your pathetic excuse of a futon. “But no funny business!” You warn him. 

You see Gojo perk up from the bed. He looks at you with expectant eyes, “You got it!” He gives you a thumbs up. 

Whatever. If Gojo knew what was best for him, he wouldn’t try anything. You take in a deep breath before turning to face the opposite direction of where Gojo laid. 

“Good night [Name],” You hear Gojo whisper. You sigh.

“Yeah, yeah, goodnight Gojo.”

Eyes closed, you pray a silent prayer that everything will be fine for the remainder of the mission.

— — — — — — — 

Ever since Gojo was young, his body has been used to getting little amounts of sleep. Unsurprisingly, that caused him to have a natural alarm. It was always annoying whenever he woke up at the crack of dawn on a day when he didn't need to, but luckily for him, today it proved to be a blessing. There was an unfamiliar warmth radiating onto his body. Satoru opens his eyes.

He thinks he feels all of his six eyes widen when he feels himself wrapped around another body.

There you were, in all your beauty, lying fast asleep. In his embrace. Soft snores were escaping your mouth and there were stray hairs in your face. Did he mention how beautiful you looked sleeping? He might have to ask Shoko about heart disease because of how fast his heart was beating.

Unfortunately for him, you also seemed to be drifting away from dreamland and back to reality. Your eyes flutter and your eyebrows furrow. Gojo takes this to his advantage and does the worst thing he can think of; pretend to be asleep.

When you wake up, your mind is still hazy from the good night’s rest you had gotten, but not hazy enough to realize that your body was tangled with another’s. And you’re pretty sure the pillow you had been laying on last night was not this hard. You try to delude yourself into believing that this is all a dream, but the effects of your sleep were fading.

It takes all the strength in you to summon the courage to open your eyes. To your horror, you were firmly wrapped in Gojo’s arms and your legs were intertwined.

“What the hell?” You pull yourself away from him. On the floor below the bed laid the two pillows that Gojo had set up as a makeshift wall. You stare at them utter shock.

“No, don’t go, I’ll freeze to death,” Gojo whines, miraculously waking up. You glare at him.

“Explain to me what just happened or I swear Gojo, I’m going to–” You try to threaten him, but you can’t seem to formulate anything.

Unlike you, Gojo looked unbothered by the sudden turn of events. He even looked pleased. There was a lopsided smile on his face as he sighed, “What can I say, I guess you subconsciously want me after all.” 

"I do not—"

“But if I had to guess, I’d say the room got too cold and we most likely cuddled for warmth unconsciously.” He shrugs it off like it was no big deal. You note that his hair is tousled from the night before.

You leave the warm bed you and Gojo had made. His theory was probably true, meaning it was neither of your faults. You purse your lips.

“I suppose that makes sense. I apologize for overreacting, I guess I was under the impression that we had done something lewd last night.” With that comment, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up both your mind and body.

You don’t end up seeing how red Gojo’s face got. It was foreign to feel all the blood rising to his cheeks. He takes one of his hands to slap it over his eyes before chuckling to himself. Yeah, he definitely knows why he likes you. 

All of a sudden Gojo feels like he’s on top of the world. For you, it was just a moment of weakness.

┊⋆｡˚. ੈ ┊

Extra notes:

gojo wished he and you got to go to the onsen together. 

gojo also regretted not taking a photo of you sleeping soundly in his arms. it would’ve been his new wallpaper. 

for the remainder of the trip, gojo was at an all time high, successfully locating and exorcising the curse in less than an hour.

[love-belle]

looked for stars and i found a supernova !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which it takes a random song drop and a feature from a university student for their relationship to come to light.

or

for when it became true, opposites do attract. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!sargeant!reader

warnings - language

author's note - i am SO sorry i have no explanation for not posting except for the fact that i am now unemployed (i finished hs and don't start college till like august) and i just do Nothing the entire day. i love u all thank u for sticking around <3

≡.;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, lilymhe and 729,816 others

yourusername boys are SO stupid and it's so endearing and frustrating like u r such a DUMBASS pls let me kiss u on the lips (i did ❤️)

8,628 comments

username hahahah!!! funny joke babe!!! kids and i and our goat miss u ❤️

username and like just that my bisexual ass cried tears (i never had a chance)

-> username she's for the girlies every man back OFFFFFF

username going insane over this

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-> yourusername he hasn't stopped calling me i had to block his number

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username do we ignore y/n violating her brother like that orrrrr

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-> logansargeant it's just that she's mean

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username why is charles in the likes he don't even follow her

-> username i have the most funniest and silliest theory and im afraid saying it out loud will send logan into early retirement

alex_albon evil laugh

-> yourusername i pay u ENOUGH. any more and i will have to involve my lawyer WHAT DO U WANT

-> alex_albon ferrari has exceptional pasta

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-> alex_albon oh! absolutely nothing!

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-> username "little clusterfuck of a twink" OH MY GOD

username crazy how everything she says is so real idk if that's the fan in me or i am just way too fucking down bad for her

*liked by charles_leclerc*

username love love LOVE see this rep bc my man is such an idiot but it's ok cus he's my princess

-> yourusername YOU GET IT !!!!! he's my princess <3

logansargeant what are you doing

-> yourusername tryna slut him out n then build a lego set w him

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logansargeant what happened to "if i ever talk to a man again i want you to be disappointed in me" ?

-> yourusername u were disappointed in me nonetheless fym

-> logansargeant i

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logansargeant what happened to BIOLOGY you were supposed to be STUDYING

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-> alex_albon logan just deleted this app i hope you're happy

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username the way i can feel logan's mortification through the screen 😭😭

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-> yourusername this might be my favourite comment ever i adore u

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username everyday i learn something new about y/n and everyday i praise the lord that i can exist at the same time as her

*liked by charles_leclerc*

≡.;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, maxverstappen1 and 2,629,916 others

charles_leclerc you're in her dms, i wrote a song for her in under a day when we weren't even dating. we are not the same.

12,628 comments

username CRYING WHAT THE FUCK

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username CRYING THE SONG IS TOO GOOD

username HIS VLOCE JIS VOICE HIS VLICE HIS VOICE

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-> username HE PULLS??? HE PULLED HER???

username this is life altering

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landonorris disgusting

-> charles_leclerc forgive me for not wanting to hide my love ☹️

-> username NAH WHO GOT HIM LIKE THIS

username "thinking bout her eyes every hour she's my wildflower" OH HE'S IN LOVEEEE LOVE

username his voice oh my god

-> username tears dripping down my thighs

-> username OHMYGOD

maxverstappen1 "we are not the same" thank god

-> charles_leclerc bubonic plague 🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠

-> username nurse he's out 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

-> username nah who got him being funny

-> username DID PEOPLE SERIOUSLY NOT LISTEN TO THE SONG

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-> username "okaaaaaaay" CRYINF I LOVE THEM

username my life has been divided into before this song and after this song and im so grateful for that

username i think the most important thing here is who out of all his friends owns a toyota in which the heat don't work

username crying bc wdym charles wrote a song for his gf when they weren't even dating

username in love with y/n's voice at the end WHY IS THAT SO CUTE

-> username screaming i need this song injected in my veins

yourusername craaaaaaaazy how u never told me that ⁉️

-> charles_leclerc details details

yourusername cool song

-> charles_leclerc thank you i wrote it for my girlfriend

yourusername AHSHDHDJJSJSJAJS IN LOVE THIS WAS SO GOOD UR VOICE IS INSANE I LOVE IT SO MUCH

-> charles_leclerc THANK YOU !! ❤️

-> username they make me SICK

-> username calm bf 🤝 hyperactive gf

username the most important question is did logan re download this app

-> yourusername he did but then he saw this post, heard the song and deleted it again

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-> logansargeant disowned

-> yourusername my grad pic on the mantle BEGS to differ !!!!!! u are on the piano u have no room to talk

-> logansargeant i'm pushing you out of this year's christmas card

≡.;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱

≡.;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, maxverstappen1 and 899,527 others

yourusername got him to say he would still love me if i was a worm n now we go on walks and i point at every worm and say sorry i can't be her

tagged charles_leclerc

12,628 comments

username NO WAY THIS JS REAL

username i just want a detailed description of how they met and who asked the other out ☝️😞

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username LET IT ONCE BE ME PLEASEEE

username blocked (im laying on the highway tonight)

username the way i know logan had to be sedated

-> username my man did nothing wrong why are they torturing him 😭

alex_albon we're down one driver at williams

-> yourusername is it a good time to tell u that i recently got my license

-> logansargeant YOU FAILED YOUR TEST 5 TIMES FUCK OFFFFFFF

-> yourusername big emotions

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username LMAOO THE LAST SLIDE 😭😭😭 I LOVE HER

username parents dare i say

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-> yourusername i received a very strongly worded message from him yesterday and the only thing i could make out was that he's a bitch for charles like. a BITCH.

-> maxverstappen1 blasphemy

-> logansargeant NO WAY you're buddies with MAX VERSTAPPEN before ME back OFFFFFF

-> yourusername nurse he is out again 🗣️🗣️🗣️

-> username what are they doing to my boy 😭

logansargeant y/n please. THINK.

-> yourusername i did

-> logansargeant AND ?

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-> logansargeant NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

-> yourusername god forbid a girl wants to date a questionable man

-> charles_leclerc ?

username crazy how this is the most random couple ever and we're instantly like PARENTS !!!!

-> username i for once love them like the cultural clashes we're gonna get heh

charles_leclerc my love please

-> yourusername my pronouns are she not her because i'll never be her 🪱

-> charles_leclerc stop

charles_leclerc and can you please tell your brother to hesitate before speaking? he just offered me candy and a dollar to break up with you

-> yourusername FUCK U I AM WORTH WAY MORE THAN CANDY AND A DOLLAR

-> charles_leclerc that is not the issue here

charles_leclerc pretty girl

-> logansargeant keep your thoughts to yourself you hormonal vulgarian

-> yourusername TIME OUT FOR U let my bf live

-> charles_leclerc this is how my life is going to be from now on?

-> yourusername are u complaining (threatening)

-> username i KNOW logan is shaking behind the screen he just called charles leclerc a hormonal vulgarian

-> username sibling rage takes people places they wouldn't go with a gun

username this is hilarious

username logan's likes on twt are mind blowing like what do u MEAN u wish the plague on ur sister 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

-> yourusername u should see what his texts look like

-> yourusername "you need an excoeciscism for the demon in u it might an issue idk" followed by quora links

-> username siblings ❤️

≡.;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, logansargeant, carlossainz55 and 2,729,915 others

charles_leclerc silently working on our own little crafts in the same room tonight, queen? ❤️

tagged yourusername

11,628 comments

username CRYINGGGGG I HATE HIS GUTS

username LET IT ONCE BE ME HOLY SHITTTTTT

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-> yourusername he has one in every colour with diff fonts :((((

-> username GOODBYE

username need me a man who will sit in my general vicinity while we work on our own silly little crafts together

-> username charles might've just set a standard idk NEVER SETTLE FOR LESS

username that text.............im violently ill

username the matching rings wow god really does have favourites

yourusername wait a sec i got 12000% error on my scale

-> landonorris how do you even manage to do that

-> yourusername if u think women don't belong in stem just say that

-> landonorris STOP IT MY PR TEAM IS HUNTING ME DOEN FOR SPROT TAKE JT BACK

-> charles_leclerc shame on you

-> landonorris WJAT DID I DO

-> username crying they're terrorizing people for fun 😭

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yourusername fighting demons (a degree that i chose to study) to be on my phone bc my BOYFRIEND posted

-> charles_leclerc don't give logan more reasons to send me vaguely veiled threats

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-> username 😭😭😭😭😭 he's so

yourusername MY BABY LEO 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

-> charles_leclerc i am right there

-> yourusername so is leo 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

yourusername are u mitosis bc i never metaphase as cute as urs

-> charles_leclerc i am too dumb to understand this but you are the prettiest

-> yourusername king i am so in love with u

-> logansargeant i judt tfeew up

-> yourusername leave me ALONE

username i hope all the happy couples break up (why couldn't it be me in a relationship)

username SCREAMING HE'S SO DOWN BAD

[grandline-fics]

hiiii! I really love your account and I'm so glad you're still taking requests, I was thinking of like Law, zoro and ace having a nightmare of reader getting married to another guy and how would they feel after waking up in the morning seeing reader next to them sleeping <3 take your time and I hope you have a great day or night!

DESCRIPTION: They have a nightmare that you marry someone else

WARNINGS: little bit of brief angst/insecurity but it's kept light for the most part

CHARACTERS: Law, Zoro, | Ace, Shanks, Mihawk, Kid, Katakuri

WORDS: 1,156

A/N: I absolutely loved this request and I hope you like what I came up with for it. Sadly I could only think of scenarios for just Law and Zoro.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

LAW 

Law finds himself having this dream often, of finally marrying you. Every blissful, happy detail is unchanging and one he never tires of seeing. After years of torturous, painful nightmares plagued by his past trauma to dream of a future he wishes to make a reality is a welcome one. Tonight however his subconscious felt something was off. It wasn’t his usual dream he was so accustomed to. Normally at the beginning of the dream he’d be standing at the front of the aisle, watching your beautiful form coming into view and approach him with an excited, loving smile gracing your face. 

This time however he was standing at the back of the room. He heard your laugh and he turned, his eyes widening in shock to see you already in place and holding hands with who you were marrying, Eustass Kid. Suddenly all sound fell away and he felt like as much as he tried to run towards you, he stayed firmly in place and forced to watch your lips shape the wedding vows. Over and over he tried to activate his powers, to shambles you away and out of the touch of his rival but even that failed him. His distress grow as he watch you and Kid lean in, lips parting to seal the wedding with a kiss. 

With a shout, Law lurched forward, breathing heavily and mind swimming with the disturbing images still fresh in his mind as he woke and took his time in getting his bearings. With slow breaths, he pushed the heel of his hand against his already tightly shut eyes, desperate to force the images away. Beside him he felt a movement and with a sigh he looked to see you waking. Blearily you forced your eyes open enough to see Law was sitting up in the bed. Still half asleep, you couldn’t find the energy to pull yourself up so you reached out, taking his hand into yours and tugged him to lie down with you. 

Relief flooded Law as the realisation that it really was a nightmare and you’d always reach out for him was the reality. Eagerly he lay down against, you settling his head on your chest, a satisfied smile curling his lips when you threaded your fingers into his hair, making sleepy movements against his scalp to comfort him. “Bad dream again?” You asked, voice thick with sleep but you refused to let yourself fall back over until you were sure he was okay. 

“Different one, but still bad.” Law admitted, curling his arms around your body to hold you close. “Dreamt you married Kid of all people.” There was a moment of silence and your fingers stilled in his hair making him think you’d fallen asleep. Finally you let out a sigh and tapped his head, making him turn his head just enough to look at your disapproving stare breaking through the tiredness.

“Law I have better taste than that.” You scowled before resuming your comforting motions in his hair. “Now go back to sleep and dream it right this time.” Law let out a sleepy chuckle and did as he was told. Although now he as he began to drift to sleep, he began to put a plan in motion to give you the real wedding you deserved.

ZORO

This couldn’t be happening. This was his worst thing he’d ever have to witness in his life. No matter how many times he shook his head and rubbed his eyes, the sight was the same. He was standing amongst the rest of the crew who were cheering happily as they all watched you exchange rings and a sealing kiss with Sanji. The horror of what he had to witness didn’t end there. He was rooted in place having to watch your first dance with him, lovingly pressed up against him as you both swayed together, staring at each other with an expression he once got to share with you. 

The image melted away to the familiarity of the dining room and he watched you lean up to kiss Sanji as he placed an extravagant meal in front of you, your hand cupping his face in sickening adoration, the gleaming band of gold on your finger all but blinding him from the repulsive display. His mind was racing as he tried to think how this happened. Weren’t you two happy? Hadn’t you both sworn that you’d always love one another? Didn’t you love him anymore? When did he lose you? What had he done that made you pick the stupid cook? Had he died and gone to Hell? That must have been it. 

“Zoro!” He jolted awake to see you standing by his bed, hand on his chest as you shook him awake. Concern etched your face. You’d just finished your watch and came back to your shared room to see Zoro tossing and turning in his sleep, clearly trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. Slowly Zoro sat up in the bed as his good eye sharpened. When he realised it was you and thinking on what he’d just seen, he acted instantly. His hand took yours desperately and he lifted it, inspecting your fingers with as much attention as he would when he cared for his swords. “No ring.” He finally said with a relieved sigh, pulling you onto the bed to settle against him. 

Keeping your hand in his grip, he used the other to hold you close against him. You blinked in confusion and sat up to tilt your head at him with a growing frown. While you never wanted to force your relationship with Zoro to go to the next step, you would have been lying to say you hadn’t hoped that a proposal would some day come up. Worry began to gnaw at you. Were you more invested in this than he was? “You’re…relieved I don’t have a ring on my finger? The thought of marrying me is so bad to make you toss and turn in a nightmare?”

“What? No! I’d love that.” Zoro protested, cursing himself for his clumsy words. “It’s only a nightmare when you’re married to that shithead cook!” 

“Oh…” Your eyes widened and you bit your lip, fighting a smile to hide your excitement that Zoro wanted to marry you. Quickly to ease the tension of a very real conversation that you both were probably too tired to have you decided to clear your throat and joke with him. “So how nice was the ring?” You let out a squeal when Zoro suddenly tossed you onto the bed beside him and rolled onto his side with a long yawn breaking from his lips. You pouted playfully to see his eyes were closed again, already falling asleep with his freakish talent. 

“It looked like shit, the one I give you will be one hundred times better. Now get to sleep.”

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

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa

[samkerrworshipper]

the lawn is dead. pt.2

hi! i wrote a part 2! i’m on a unofficial hiatus but had some inspiration the last few days and had to finish this. hope it provides a little bit more comfort then the last chapter .. sorry xo

warnings: suicidal themes, self harm themes, themes of depression, anxiety, dark thoughts. viewer discretion advised.

You can describe the carpet of this office better then most people can describe themselves.

It’s a rug, for the most part, except for the where it’s clear a person has chosen laziness in favour of lifting up the heavier furniture to place the rug down underneath it. Where the rug doesn’t cover, there is bleak grey carpet that feels more boring then the time you spend in this room.

Where the carpet lacks in literally everything, the rug makes up for it blindingly.

It’s a messy mixture of far too many colours, pinks, purples, blues, greens and neutrals. It doesn’t make any sense in your mind, why somebody would chose for the focal point of their room to be a rug that doesn’t match with any of the furniture. It’s another sign that the furniture came before the rug, all of the furniture is dark mahogany, beautiful pieces that look as if they’ve come from and English period piece, whereas the rug looks so modern it’s almost painful.

The rest of the furniture has been picked with similar taste.

The painting on the wall looks like what a child would vomit after going to a birthday party. Every time you’ve come here you’ve had a new analogy, but this week that is the one, it looks like stomach contents and you can’t get past it, to the point it’s made you physically nauseated.

From the painting moves onto the bookshelf, where there is a odd mix of medical textbooks, classics and selfawareness books, all stacked in such disarray that you have to keep your eyes away because it makes you uncomfortable.

Beyond the furniture is your psychologist, with her stupid fucking note pad, stupid glasses perched on the very tip of her nose and stupidly calm face that never really changed.

She was supposed to be a specialist, the best of the best, supposed to be the greatest and getting to the bottom of the most famous athletes problems and yet you found pride in alluding her.

One hour, every four days was what you were down to now, a couple of weeks ago it had been every other day and that had been fucking torture.

Sometimes all you wanted to do was rip her eyeballs out, or her brains, or something else. You swore she made your ears bleed and your will to live deteriorate with every second and it was already pretty low.

“You can’t avoid my question forever.”

It was also that annoying tone that sent you, the sort of tone that meant she knew that technically for the whole of the hour she could ask you whatever she pleased and you were technically supposed to answer her. Defiance on your end just ended up in you being suspended from something else that made your life just a tiny bit more liveable.

“No, I haven’t talked to Mapi yet.”

You’ve been avoiding it, there have bits and pieces of homework from your therapist, but this one is by far the hardest.

“How about Alexia, how does she feel about that.”

You don’t want to tell her that you and Alexia are in shambles as it is, add on the pressure of her best friend being psychologically destroyed because of you and just talking about any of it at all and it’s like dynamite.

“Supportive.”

Your therapist nods, but in the way that you know she doesn’t quite believe you.

“Have you started to reintegrate with the team? I know last time we talked you mentioned that before the incident you’d been feeling quite isolated because of your ankle injury. It’s important that you start to normalise your life again before you start to self isolate.”

You don’t call it self-isolation, you like to call it self protection. You protect yourself by pushing against the grain, by keeping to yourself. It’s a lot easier that way.

“I’ve been busy.”

It’s a lie and a blatant one, your days are filled with complete nothingness. You can’t play football, not until she clears you, and you know that it’s not going to happen anytime soon based on the trend of your current sessions. There has been the same amount of progress as there was two weeks ago when you started with her. You shut down at every attempt she makes to try and open you up, you talk when you have to. It’ll probably get you sent back to a ward. You don’t remember much from your transition from the hospital to home, but you do remember signing something that referred to you making significant process or else you would be sent back.

Progress for your therapist is getting more then two word responses from you. You’re aware she’s in kahoots with Alexia, that Alexia is probably providing her more information then you are.

“You’re giving me the look that means that you’re writing something down along the lines of ‘unncooperative’.”

She is also in kahoots with the staff at Barcelona, another thing you signed was that she would work in conjunction with the clubs doctors to get you back to where you were, or somewhere in the vicinity.

They know every time you have a bad session, you’re guaranteed a consolation call from one of the coaches or even sometimes a teammate check-in telling you how brave you are and how strong you are for doing this.

You don’t agree, you nearly took the cowards way out and you’re proud of it. You wish it had fucking worked, every single second, of every single day, you wish you’d succeeded, wished that this hadn’t all ended up how it did.

“That’s not what I wrote, I wrote a observation. Uncooperative would be you refusing to speak to me like you did for our first two sessions, even if you lie it’s still trying.”

You don’t want to be curious of her, you’ve tried to give her as little attention as possible.

You’ve adapted the act that you call, therapised you.

You do your best job of smiling here and there, or at least when you know that you’re supposed to. Therapised you extends to a few people, Alexia, coaches, physios, people on the street.

You believe you’ve become a seasoned liar.

The funniest part is that sometimes you start to believe your act, you start to believe that all the ash and embers in your chest is really alight with flames, like you’re truly alive.

But then, you would pause, sit down, lie down, dissasociate and you would be reminded that that wasn’t your body. Your body wasn’t a place of life and prosper, it was as dead as anywhere else.

“What was the observation?”

You try not to be curious over her, or curious in general, you keep everything to yourself.

“You’ve told me time and time again that you attempted because you believed that not a single person would care if you were gone. Yet you wrote a letter, you knew that somebody would care, somebody would miss you. Guilt is what kept you from doing it earlier and guilt was what kept you from vanishing without a trace. Your conscience was clean in your own words, but that’s not true, your conscience was anything but clean. So what pushed you over?”

You hate that therapists have a way of worming out weird bits of information that they can use against you to worm out more bits of information, like they know your brain inside to out.

“My conscience was clean.”

Your therapist pulls her glasses up from her nose and scribbles on her pad again.

“Why’d you write a note then, specifically why did you write a note to your ex girlfriend?”

There are so many things you could say to that, but you can’t quite find the words.

“Let me rephrase to make it easier. When you were in the hospital, and Alexia reacted so viscerally, you weren’t surprised. You expected her to feel something about what happened, you didn’t seem surprised at all by her words or actions. You knew that she was going to be hurt by what you did. So, how was your conscience truly clean?”

Thinking about Alexia in the hospital makes you feel as nauseous as the furniture does.

Your still mad at her, still mad at yourself for never changing her as your medical contact and medical proxy. It had all been a clusterfuck.

“I didn’t know Alexia was going to be there, I though that she’d washed her hands of me. I left her a note because I thought there had been things left unsaid between us and I didn’t want to leave that way.”

Your therapist nods, she doesn’t scribble this time and that makes the itchy feeling all over you die down a little bit.

“Alright, let’s move on. Your ankle injury, how’s that going?”

You look to the window, it’s a horrible day outside, just your luck when you’d chosen to walk to your therapists office on what was supposed to be a 20 degree day with sunny skies. It was the epitome of your life, high expectations, low realities.

“Well three weeks between a hospital and psychiatric facility are probably the best thing anybody can do for a injury.”

You let out a self-deprecating chuckle and your therapist does nothing but scribble.

“So you’ve been doing your rehab as advised then?”

Rehab, both kinds, is mind-bogglingly boring. You go to your therapist and she tells you all the ways you have to work to rehab your brain, she gives you medication after medication and exercise after exercise. The same happens every time you see your physio, test after test, exercise after exercise.

Your stuck in the same cycle of boredom, it makes you wonder how people ever expect you to get better when all you are doing is living in a constant state of suffering.

“The physios are happy with me, say that if I continue on the track that I am I should be back on the pitch in a few weeks, with psychological clearance.”

At the current therapeutic rate your going at, you don’t think you’ll see a psychological clearance until your 50th birthday, if you’re lucky.

“How does it feel coming back from that injury, especially considering how the decline in your physical health simulatenously resulted in the decrease in your mental health?”

You keep silent, because you know that if you talk then it’s doing to be something emotional. When you don’t know how to answer questions without exposing yourself you opt to keep quiet, it’s a obvious tell that you feel uncomfortable with the question. But giving away a tell is a whole lot better then starting an emotional downpour.

“Y/n?”

You look at your shoes. You only were allowed to start wearing one on your bad foot a week ago, and you’d forgotten how hard it was to coordinate shoes with your clothes. This morning you’d thought that they matched with your pants but now they look much darker then they truly are against the grey carpet. The mix of your navy adidas that you might have stolen from Mapi’s wardrobe a couple of months ago when she was complaining about the amount of shoes she’d been sent with your grey wide leg pants was a interesting choice but therapy wasn’t a fashion parade. The shoes don’t quite fit your feet, that’sc how you remembered they weren’t yours. When you’d taken them, it had been during some kind of team bonding night at Mapi and Ingrid’s apartment. Life had been so good, Alexia and you had been so good and for once you’d kind of felt like you were beginning to fit in.You’d never felt that way before that era of your life.

But like most things, it was now a far distant memory.

“The injury wasn’t what made me depressed.”

It’s a half truth, you suppose. Yes, the injury definitely contributed to the factors that trigger your depression, but it wasn’t a sole cause.

“I disagree.”

More scribbling on her note pad, in your opinion it must be some psychological form of torture. You’ll google it when you get home, check to make sure that this isn’t a form of manipulation to somehow convince you to say the things that she wants you to.

“If you disagree then tell me why you think that.”

It’s daring of you to say, there is nearly a 99.99 percent chance that whatever she says you are going to deny vehemently. Even if she hits it right on the nail.

“I think that you don’t give yourself enough grace for the challenges that you’ve gone through. You came to Barcelona because you were running from things, from your past. You’ve never stopped running, truly. Everytime somebody gets close enough to begin to try and worm their feet into your shoes to try and relive some of it with you, you shut them down and stop it. For most people, shoes are a means of getting to where they want, for you, you keep running because if you stop you feel like you’ll suffocate, like your feet will be wrapped up in barb wire and you’ll be stuck. For whatever reason, you don’t think anybody will ever be able to empathise with that. You think that if you ever let anybody in for long enough that they learn what you’ve been running from that they’ll try and stop you, that you’ll be faced with everything that you’ve ever struggled with. So, you keep running, and running, you’ve always been in a state of escape. With your relationship, you finally stopped running, you slowed to a jog. Then, you got injured. All of a sudden you felt like you were stuck and instead of letting yourself finally come to a stop and accepting help and complete love for once in your life, and being vulnerable. You chose to start running again, running from your friends, running from your team, running from every single good thing that you’d gotten in your life until you were so consumed with all the running that you just wanted it all to stop. But you didn’t know how to stop parts of your life without stopping other parts, so you chose to stop it all.”

You don’t know what to say for a few seconds. You’ve never had the feeling that you’ve been experiencing your whole life summed up, you don’t know how to feel about it.

You look at your psychologist, and somehow she looks back at you in a way that you somehow feel like she understands, you’ve never really felt that way about her.

It’s always felt like she’s judging you, like it’s her job to judge every single thing you say. Or at least that’s the way you’ve always seen it. It’s her job to make sure you don’t fall of the rails again, to make decisions about what you can and can’t do. It’s never been a possibility for you that maybe she’s here for a little bit more then just the business side of it all.

“Is that it? Did you come to a point where it felt like you had no other option but to just make it all stop?”

You bite your lip so hard you think it might just bleed, it’s a mission to try and stop the tears that have begun to cling to the back of your eyes at bay. You’ve never cried during a therapy session, and there is no reason why today should be different. The amount of people you’ve cried in front of is limited to a very, very short list of people and you don’t intend for your psychologist to be added.

“It would be okay if that was it. It’s okay to admit that for you at that time it felt like there was no other option but to make it all stop.”

You feel muzzled, like you can’t speak without admitting to something that you don’t want to.

“I thought it would make it all better.”

Your therapist puts down her notepad, and you feel a whole load of anxiety rush out of you.

“You thought it would make what better?”

You keep your tooth pinned to your lip, if it draws blood, it draws blood. The pain helps to take your focus off of the word vomit you can feel coming up.

“Everyone else’s lives.”

Your response is croaky, and when your therapist points to the glass of water you don’t shake your head like normal, you find yourself reaching for it and taking a few tentative sips.

“What about your life, what about making your own life better?”

You take a few more sips, because it stalls the conversation for long enough that you can think up an answer that doesn’t make it sound like you are completely insane.

“I was never really thinking about it like that.”

You look at her, eye to eye again, and there is this weird understanding between the two of you. You can feel it, whether or not it’s real, for the first time you feel like you aren’t crazy for thinking the way that you do. It’s a weird kind of safety that you’ve never had.

“For a minute, I want you to close your eyes and think about exactly what you want, whether it’s the future, it’s right now. Not football, not other people, nobody else. Just you.”

You humour her, and close your eyes.

For a few seconds, you can’t think of much. You’ve never been a future thinker, not beyond emergency plans and second options.

You think about death for a few seconds, a couple of weeks ago it was all you could think of. Permanent, irreversible disappearance. Even then though, it wasn’t what you were actually yearning for, not truly, it was just an easy solution to complex problems, problems that still haven’t been solved.

You think long and hard, and eventually you find a pleasantness.

You want to resolve things with Alexia, you know that for sure. It’s been impossible trying to navigate your relationship in your new reality. You want to get to a place where it’s less impossible. You want happiness with her, pure happiness. You also want some kind of return to football, you don’t know how. You’ve never really played football because it’s what you love, you’ve never loved your sport, it’s more been about having something that could take you places when inevitable wherever you had been was no longer an option because you’d somehow fucked it up.

You want a better relationship with yourself, you want to understand why you think the way you do and why you can’t think the same way and be the same way as everyone. You want to get past the fear you have that you will never be the same.

When you have nothing else to think about, you open your eyes, to your psychologist smiling at you.

“That’s our hour, I’m really happy to leave this here and circle back to some of it in a couple of days. The progress you’re making is definitely getting bigger and I’m happy to sign off on you getting some hours in the gym if your physios are happy with it. I’ll call the team tonight and we can work out a plan that works best.”

You’re in slight disbelief as she speaks.

“You’re sure?”

You stay seated for the sake of making sure that you haven’t somehow dreamt up what she’s just said.

“If you try and make some progress with your homework. I want you to try and talk to Mapi, a text message, coffee, something. I want you to talk to Alexia beyond her being a caregiver for you and I want you to make progress with your teammates, don’t avoid the gym if you know they are going to be there, don’t avoid team events, dip a toe in the water with them and I can guarantee you will have a very different outcome then what you think.”

Contingencies. One thing you’ve learnt about therapy is that there are always contingencies, it’s always a give and take, never one or the other.

You nod your head anyways, somehow, with her weird manipulation games you’ve managed to agree to something that the version of you from and hour ago never would have.

“I’ll try.”

Your therapist smiles and stands up, for whatever reason there is always a part of you that loves the end of your sessions but also never wants to leave.

Whether it seems like it or not, you actually do want to get better, you just don’t know what better looks like for you and that’s scary. You’ve never met the version of yourself that is ‘better’ or ‘normal’. You can’t say that you want to be your old self because there hasn’t ever been a version of yourself that feels better. You’ve always been in the slums, always been dragging yourself through the thickest mud to try and make it to the end of a day or month or year. You don’t actually want to survive like that, you want to live your life properly, or whatever non-sluggish life looks like for you.

Your still desperately trying to work that out.

Alexia is waiting in the carpark as usual, it’s always the same carpark, always the same consolation hot chocolate in her hands afterwards.

Once you’ve sat down in her passenger seat, put on your seatbelt and the takeaway cup is settled in your hands she broaches the topic of your session.

“How was it?”

There is always an awkwardness around your sessions, Alexia picks your up from every one, on the odd occasion she’ll join in if your therapist thinks it would be good. Otherwise, she spends the time sitting in her car and picking up hot drinks.

It’s infinitely awkward between the two of you, but Alexia in your opinion is mostly to blame for that.

She’d been the first person to put her hand up to be your carer, your glorified babysitter.

You know it’s a guilt thing, she feels guilty that part of your pain could have been because of her, even though you’ve insisted time and time again that it wasn’t.

“Fine.”

Therapy is a tough topic for you, mostly because you’ve never wanted to be there in the first place. You’d been tricked into going from the beginning, Alexia insisting that she was taking you to a appointment to check up on your scars when really it had been to your psychologists office. You’d yelled and screamed and insisted that she take you home, but at the end of the day if you ever wanted to play football again it was obvious you were going to have to suck it up.

You hadn’t talked to Alexia for days after that, which is funny because that was less then three weeks ago and now you’re here.

“Fine?”

You nod your head, it’s hard to find words after a normal session, but after this one it’s ever harder.

“I made some progress.”

Alexia nods, you know there are probably a hundred questions going through her head right now, but she won’t ask them. She’s too scared that if she asks them, she’ll get an answer that will terrify her. One that will restart all of the problems, even if that isn’t really how it works. Alexia doesn’t understand mental health, that’s become frighteningly obvious over the past few weeks. She doesn’t understand your struggles because she’s never experienced them. She’s never had self hatred or depression or overwhelming anxiety. It’s what makes you feel so alienated and so out of place amongst your peers. You feel like a shark amongst a sea of dolphins, like you look the same but when it comes down to it you are completely different.

“That’s good, no?”

You nod your head, disguising the grimace on your face by the mouth of the lid on your hot chocolate.

“She says I can start doing some hours in the gym.”

Alexia smiles, big and wide, like it’s her whose been given the good news.

“That’s good bebita, you’ll be on the pitch in no time.”

The pitch. It’s all Alexia cares about.

When you can be back, how she can get you to the point you can be back. Because when Alexia is injured, it’s all she cares about. What she can do to get herself back on the pitch, how she can make the rehab process faster, she thinks of every single logistic and possibility.

You want to make it back to the pitch, or you think you do. But it’s not your priority. It’s become abundantly clear that your main priority has to be yourself, figuring yourself out.

“Mhm.”

You focus your energy on counting how many bike riders pass Alexia’s car as she navigates through peak city traffic. You get to 38 before she interrupts your intense search for every person on two wheels.

“Vicky’s supposed to be coming over later, I promised I’d help her with a school project. I can go to her house instead if you’d prefer?”

Every time Alexia’s broached the topic of teammates you’ve immediately refused any contact, and your immediate reaction is to say no. but you think about what your therapist said.

“I might text Mapi and see if she wants to talk to me.”

You hear the sound of Alexia’s shock in the form of a choken sort of cough, she tries to cover it up by slapping her hand against the wheel of her car, but it doesn’t do much.

“I think that would be a really good idea, bebita, I think she would be really happy to see you.”

You don’t look at Alexia, you don’t want to see the look of perplexion or shock or whatever emotion she’s going through. You haven’t seen Mapi since the hospital, and as little as you remember from then, you remember Mapi very clearly.

She had been just as out of it as you’d been, refusing to leave your bedside but Ingrid having to do everything for her to keep her alive. Every time she visited you, she looked like she’d seen a ghost, or something worse. You weren’t sure what was worse, seeing somebody dead or seeing somebody who was hanging on the cliff of life and death and having to save their life, knowing that if action hadn’t of been taken they would be dead.

Definitely the latter.

“I’ll text her, see if she can come and pick you up before Vicky comes over?”

You nod your head, allowing yourself to focus back on counting your tally, except moving over to motorcycles this time.

You shower with the bathroom door halfway open. There are no sharps anywhere in your apartment, knives, razors, scissors, nail clippers, vegetable peelers, glasses, anything that could cause any kind of bodily harm. For now, you aren’t allowed to be left alone for longer then an hour. You sleep with your bedroom door open and Alexia sleeping in the guest room next door. You eat a set meal plan, you do two hours of rehab every single day, you live on a schedule that is so carefully planned that you have no time to yourself and yet every single moment feels lonely.

It’s a process, you’ve been told. It’s crucial to your recovery that there are measurements in place to assure your ‘success’.

Alexia knocks on your door every five minutes whilst you shower, you yell back every time.

It had become a rule after the first time you’d showered with the door open you’d made a joke about using the shower curtain to harm yourself, because what did they really expect you to be doing?

It hadn’t gone well, Alexia going silent for a few days and a very heated conversation with your psychologist about the inappropriateness of making jokes about suicide.

It was your trauma, it was your fucking story, and everyone was acting like it was their most sensitive issue.

Bathrooms are a bit of a touchy subject, you don’t shower in your ensuite bathroom anymore, you can’t. The room has permanently been blocked off, completely forgotten about.

The first thing you want to do once you’ve ‘recovered’ is leave this apartment, there are to many bad memories, it feels like you’ll never be able to recover if your stuck in the same place that you were in when it all went bad.

It’s a problem for when you can deal with the stress of packing up your whole life and moving it to somewhere.

When you shut the water off and step out of the warm stream you let yourself breathe, showers are the only real alone time you get. Everywhere else you are supervised, watched like a hawk to make sure that you don’t try anything else that could jeopardise your return to football. The reality is that Barca can’t afford to have you sit on the sideline for a whole season, they need you back, they can’t risk another slip up.

Alexia at least gives you the privacy of getting dressed in your own wardrobe, all of your wired bras have been removed, but for the most part it’s all normal.

You get dressed in another sweat suit, it’s become your new uniform over the last few weeks, no draw strings of course.

Your hair gets swept into a messy bun, it’s too much effort to deal with the brushing and braiding and tying that you would have normally gone through with a couple of weeks ago. You aren’t allowed to wear jewellery anymore so your accessories consist of pretty much nothing. You’re bare from the bones to your clothes, your soul feels as bare as the rest of your body.

You’re allowed to wear laced shoes, but you often opt not to, slip on birkenstocks or uggs are just easier. The Barcelona January chill has been getting to you recently, so you upt for your ugg boots.

Your outfit choice is the most choice you get in your day, so you try and put as little thinking into it as possible, it’s easier for you to just succumb to the reality that everything in your life is controlled by other people.

By the time you’ve finished, you’re towing very close to the time Mapi had told Alexia she’d come and meet you. You collect the things that you might need from your vanity and shove them in your pocket, before making your way out to your living room.

It’s unofficially become Alexia’s office, her laptop and books cover your dining table now. She lives out of your apartment, leaves only for training and barcelona commitments, so it’s fair to say that she’s made herself at home.

When you were living together before, it had bothered you more, having her things everywhere. Alexia is a organiser, of everything and everybody but herself. You’d spend hours telling her to pick up her shoes from random spots around the apartment floor or getting her to pick up random clothing items laying on top of pieces of furniture. This mess is different, it reflects how the situation is different. There is nothing comfortable about your predicament, it’s not the same kind of comfortable coexistence you had when you were dating Alexia.

There is a boundary between the two of you now and it makes it all so much more confusing.

Alexia isn’t just your friend or your teammate, she’s you caregiver, the person who holds you accountable, unofficially the person who is supposed to keep you from doing anything to yourself. It adds a whole layer of stress to the situation, you can’t relax around her the same way you used to.

Your relationship is never going to be the same, but parts of you wished that Alexia hadn’t taken over the burden of caring for you, because maybe the two of you could work on rebuilding yourselves as a couple instead of Alexia trying to rebuild you as a person, as if you are a broken lego set that needed to be put back together.

She spends most of her time in your living room, doesn’t push the boundary of your bedroom unless it’s needed.

She’s sat at the kitchen table, preparing herself to help with whatever project it is that Vicky needs help with.

“Shouldn’t Vicky have maybe asked one of the younger girls? You’re practically ancient now, they probably teach the kids these days history from when you were growing up.”

Whatever Alexia looks like she’s going to be helping with looks like something she’s definitely not qualified in, although Alexia’s never the person to say no.

“You’re acting like I’m a dinosaur, I’m only four years older then you.”

She rolls her eyes at you and it feels so normal, for a second you feel so much more normal. Life would be so much easier if everybody stopped treating you like a fine fucking piece of china. An eye roll here or there, a yell here or there, some kind of emotion beyond sympathy would be nice.

“I mean, in comparison to Vicky you’re pretty much from the stone ages.”

Alexia rolls her eyes again, she looks like she’s about to fight back against you but a knock at the door silences you both.

All of a sudden the little smile is gone and the air goes thick again, thick with the reminder that you can’t just exist in a bubble of nothingness were nobody else exists and you can just be free from everything.

Alexia gets up to open the door, and you let her, allowing yourself to loiter around the table and enjoy the moment for just a little bit longer. It’s that moment that might just get you through what is about to happen.

Alexia calls for you and you know it’s Mapi, you know it’s Mapi because Mapi won’t step foot in your apartment.

Ingrid had come to visit when you’d come home, along with a handful of other people, but Mapi hadn’t been one of them. Ingrid had explained that it had been to hard for her, that she’d made it to the door but couldn’t come in, and you couldn’t find it in you to blame her.

Mapi smiles at you when she sees you, it’s the first time you’ve seen her since the hospital and the both of you look very different since then.

She looks less dead, that’s the first thing you take notice of. She doesn’t look like she would blow away into a puff of smoke if a gust of wind came past. She looks good, she looks healed.

Mapi and you don’t talk, for whatever reason, you take the normal walk you would every sunday morning before it happened.

Down from your apartment, onto the main street, up to the mouth of the road, across the street and then onto the boardwalk.

It’s the main reason you chose your apartment, it’s right next to the beach. Perfect for post matchday swims and a morning walk on the beach. It used to be yours and Mapi’s pregame routine and it’s easy to fall into the rhythm of your feet moving down the sidewalk.

No words are spoken until the two of you are seated on the sand, a wordless agreement that you both come to when your toes hit the beach.

You’re both seated, your eyes looking over the horizon. Your too scared to break the silence, so you wait for Mapi.

“You look good, chica.”

You nod your head, you feel better, you must look better then how you did.

“I feel better.”

Mapi nods, when her hand reaches out to sit on top of your own on the sand, you don’t flinch away, it feels good to have a physical connection with a person who isn’t Alexia.

The silence falls over the two of you again, except this time it feels less uncomfortable. You let it linger for a little bit, before you feel in a place to speak.

“I need to say thank you. I know I said some things in the hospital, I meant it in the moment but I want to take it back now. You saved me, you did something so brave and amazing and the version of me now is so grateful that you did.”

Mapi stops your rant, before you can say something else.

“I would have done it for anybody else.”

The problem is you think, that you aren’t anybody else. It would be so much easier to give cpr to a random person on the street and never see them again, never have to be worried that you would see them again and there would be some kind of problem.

“But you did it for me. You saved me from myself, and I want you to know that I genuinely am so thankful for you. You didn’t choose the easy option and I put you in a extremely hard position. If anything had of happened to me, you would have blamed yourself and it wouldn’t have been your fault but you would have felt like it was.”

Mapi nods, and then you hear a sniffle and it makes you feel horrible.

Mapi’s crying, she’s crying and you don’t know what to do.

“You begged me to reverse it, in the hospital, you didn’t say some things. You begged me to stab you or do something. You told me it was my fault you were alive and that it was my responsibility to undo what I’d done.”

You take a deep breath, you didn’t remember it being that bad, but you remember Alexia telling you that some of the things you’d said had been unrepeatable.

“I can’t reverse what I said, in that moment I was in so much pain Maps. I actually can’t tell you how much pain i was in, all I wanted was to disappear. I’m working through not feeling that way and that starts by apologising. You did not deserve to experience what you did. You did not deserve to see what you did. You did not deserve to hear what I said to you. I am sorry. There is nothing I can say that will make any of it okay, I am sorry that for whatever reason god chose you to be the person burdened with this. I am so sorry.”

Mapi sniffles again. You knew that the possibility of no reconciliation was possible, that Mapi would reject any offer of apologies you had, you’d just really hoped it wouldn’t be like that.

“You’ve been like a little sister to me. I know you didn’t feel like we were that close, but I saw so much of me in you from when I was younger, and that was part of the reason I ended up at your apartment that night. Because I was worried, more then anybody else. I had this weird feeling, and I hated that I was right about it. You were like my little sister, and I watched as they strapped you onto a gurney and wheeled you off whilst telling me that they would try their hardest. I don’t blame you, there is no blame for something like this. But I need you to understand that I can’t just get over what I www, I’m working through it, I’m trying. My therapist has really been helping me, but it’s not going to disappear.”

You nod, Mapi and you have been through two mirroring experiences, and oddly you feel the same way about your own therapy. You’re working through it, you’re trying, but nothing that has happened is ever going to disappear, with yourself or with your peers.

“Maps, you’re allowed to experience however you want. If you never want to see me again I won’t hate you.”

Mapi shakes her head.

“I don’t know how I feel yet, I just need you to know that I understand that the you right now is different to the you from weeks ago, and you are entitled to separate yourself from that person. You don’t have to be that person if you don’t want to be. Let yourself live in the new version of you, the old version died back then.”

You bite your lip, there is beginning to become a permanent divet from your front teeth, you like it in a weird way.

“I’m trying, I’m really trying.”

Mapi nods, raising her arm from your hand, to your shoulders, bringing you into her side.

“We’ll try together then, huh? You try for me and I’ll try for you?”

You nod your head, and for the first time it doesn’t feel like you’re totally alone in the battle that you’re fighting. It’s still very much your battle, but it feels like you have somebody in your corner letting you know that you are going to be okay.

—————————————

well aware it’s not edited… if u have an issue with that such my dick xoxo

hope you enjoyed !!!! 🫶🫶🫶🫶

[bbokicidal]

First Times The Charm? | OT8 [SKZ]

Notes : This was a Drabble request someone sent in, so it's short, to the point, and simple. Hope you enjoy! Genre : Smut Warnings : 18+ Content Req : Giving SKZ head for the first time. <- But I altered it so it's not just 'you giving skz head for the first time' and rather, it's 'you giving skz their first head experience EVER.'

Chris :

He's so... so vocal. Constantly groaning, his voice low in his throat and gravely as if he'd just woken up. He's in Heaven, his head tipped back on the office chair he sat in. He's death gripping the poor arms of the chair, knuckles bright red from the flush that had covered his entire body. He, politely, refuses to touch you - partially because he's a little scared to and partially because he doesn't think he can move.

Minho :

In shambles. His body has a habit of trembling each time you take him in your throat and he swears he's never felt anything so good in his life. He's laid back in his bed, one arm draped over his eyes while the other sticks by his side, fingers splayed in your hair; gently pushing your head down each time he needs a little more. You learn very quickly he's a bit of a head pusher.

Changbin :

Stiff as a rock, but also a little tense and unsure. He's so shy seeing you between his fucking thick ass thighs already, his ears bright red and his cheeks warm with excitement. He loves it, he really does, he's just - He's got a bad habit of being a bit jumpy when people touch him. So when you go all the way down on his dick and deep throat him? His thighs snap shut around your head and he nearly suffocates you, not realizing it had happened until you have to slap his stomach and make him let you go. Not that it was that bad of an experience. You'd die happy there.

Hyunjin :

All vocals. Moaning, whining - even chuckling as you slurp on his cock. He's a bit arrogant when it comes to you giving him head. Even though it's his first time getting head from anyone, he's cocky about his size as it bulges in your throat and makes you choke. When he gets closer to release though, he's all breathy and sucking in air, biting his bottom lip as his hand rests atop your head.

Jisung :

So wiggly, so squirmy. Full of the jitter bugs as you go down on him. He's whiney. Very very vocal, very loud - so loud in fact that Minho has to tell him to shut up from the next room over. He gets all embarrassed, sliding his sweater sleeve over his hand and pressing it to his mouth to muffle his whimpers that escape. Also Lowkey fucking up into your mouth because he just can't keep still. Will ask you to eat his ass afterwards.

Felix :

Extremely laid back. The master of acting like he's had it before but you can tell by the blush dusting over his freckles that he's never had it done to him before. (He also told you that, but.) He's lounging back in his gaming chair and he's adoring the sight of you sucking on him like a lollipop. He loves the sounds you make, the soft moans and the wet noises from your tongue dragging on his cock. And he's a bit vocal too - all low moans and huffs of breath escaping his lips. He's very chill about it, but by the time he's coming down your throat his hands are on the back of your neck and he's humping your face.

Seungmin :

Refuses to touch you because he's shaking so much. He's near silent most of the time but he can tell that when you pause to look up at him for a reaction, he'll nod as quick as he can so you know it's perfect. He's falling apart under your touch, lying in his bed and subtly rocking his hips up into your mouth because of how much he loves it.

Jeongin :

Tou.chy. Touchy!! He's all over you, can't keep his hands to himself. At first he's cupping your face, but then he feels like he's in the way of your work so he's just resting them on your shoulders then. But then he feels like he's pushing you, so instead he busies himself with gathering your hair and pulling it back - and he's got big enough hands so it's easy for him. And when he blows, he places a hand around your throat to gently push you away so he can paint your pretty face with his cum.

Perm Taglist: @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

[itachiiwrites]

A situationship with Rockstar!Suguru was a poision and it's counteragent at the same time.

Every time your friends tell you that you should get out of your situationship which leaves you in shambles emotionally, everytime, you crawl back to him each time with equal reverence. The guy had an unbelievable chokehold on you despite the bread-crumming, the love-bombing and then eventual ghosting for a short periods of time which was long enough to make you believe that you were slowly bordering towards insanity.

Your friends don't really get the appeal, sure.. he's only 6'2, with a lethal face card, sexy eyes, with a manly built and a slutty waist, suave voice that gets millions screaming, not to mention those raven hair that cascade so beautifully over his shoulders and he was packing down there but— here was the catch. He was manipulative, cunning, they'd even go on the length to call him shrewd.

And it wasn't like you disagreed but...it was as if his dick had left an imprint not only in your cunt but also your brain so that, any rational thought of leaving him behind and moving on would simply go down the drain.

Rockstar!Suguru knew better and he never lets the thought of leaving him get to your head, even it does, he'd immediately distract you. Like now, having you sit on his face, your hands grip onto the headboard for its dear life, miserably trying to convince him that he's no good for you.

But he only hums louder, grazing his teeth against your clit before he pulled away with a loud smack of his lips from your cunt, the nectar dribbling down his chin.

"You were sayin' somethin', darling?"

"I..I don't think we should do this..anymore, I'm gonna start seriously dating people.." You explain, a tad bit breathlessly and he scoffs condescendingly before handling you casually, your body now braced onto his waist in a straddle.

"And you think anyone else will eat your pussy this good?" He speaks in his same signature soft, polite tone that has his fans swooning on him, little did they know what a crook he was, especially behind the doors.

Inspite of being your toxic situationship, Suguru insists you're special, I mean, Who wouldn't think you're special when he is serenading you in his concerts, buying you flowers, taking you on long drives in the wee hours of the night?

But then when you ask him what you two really were, he'd just shrug insouciantly reply that you both didn't need to put a label on it although you should keep in your pretty little head that you were special. Suguru was simply too emotionally constipated to actually commit.

After stating clearly how casual you two were, here you are in front of his vanity mirror, watching him split you apart from behind. His bangs hung onto his face, his dark eyeliner a little messy from the sheer sweat that formed on his face from the activity while he adores how the flesh of your ass recoils against his pelvis.

You could only marvel at how ethereal he looks with your teary eyes, and listen to the way those deep grunts left his throat after a particularly rough thrust, only making you clench around him in such a debauched manner— giving him the green signal to continue fucking you in his jealousy.

The kisses he'd plant onto the back of your neck were so gentle, in stark contrast to how he fucked you like he hated you because finding out that you went on a date wasn't pleasant in the first place, but finding out it was his bestfriend, the band's charismatic drummer only made him lose his shit.

"What are the tears for..? Didn't you want to be a slut? Take it. I'm treating you like one afterall.." He purrs with a wicked grin on his face. He's mean, watching your wither in his grasp, while he sensually moves his hips in a few hard pounds before filling you up with ropes and ropes of his cum.

You're out of breath with the entirety of your upper body laid on the table—so blissfully fucked out with a smile on your lips at how he had feelings deep enough to fuck you in envy. Your plan was a success.

You swivel your head around slightly, seeing the flash of his camera directed to your stuffed cunt with a foxy smile playing his lips. "What are you-"

"Just a good luck charm before the concert and..a little gift for Satoru."

[kpopscruggles]

just me being in shambles over this man and giving you some content you didn't ask for.

-------

Here are some random filthy thoughts I have about bf Anton, feel free to stay for the program. 

Anton is the type to... pick you up and bounce you on his cock (On an Anton muscle kick rn) I can see him scrolling on twitter and seeing this girl get destroyed while being bounced on someone's cock, he knew he had to try it. He is going to watch your face with each gasp from being dropped on his cock. 

Anton is the type to...Lay on your chest just to suck your nipples, Hes in love with your chest and sometimes you wonder if he loves it more than you in general. He gives them kisses, Leaves little hickeys, nibbles on your nipples and tugs at them.  

Anton is the type to...take videos to keep for later. This man will watch them when he is horny, for fun, just because he is bored. It does not matter where he is, hes going to hide his screen and put his air pods in so he can watch you take his cock and hear your moans that he always misses. 

Anton is the type to...Cuddle in your neck around public so he can secretly kiss it and give you hickeys. He will not admit it, but he hates when you cover his hickeys up, he will even whisper that too you while sucking new ones on your neck 

Anton is the type to...Grind into you while you two are spooning. You will hear his little grunt and whines while rubbing his cock against your ass, practically waiting for the moment you turn around to take care of him 

Anton is the type to...Tease you till you make the first move; He is not shy or nothing he just wants you to grow the courage to take care of him. He gets spoiled rotten by this as well and once you do it often it is set for life 

Anton is the type to...fuck you with his tongue, preferably if you can sit on his face that would be best but either way, he grows euphoric when he feels his tongue enter your hole and tasting every bit of cum you have. 

Anton is the type to...grow overwhelmed and pull your hair when giving him head. He will hold your hair anyway but when hes close to his release and you feel his cock twitch and small whimpers leave him he going to grip your hair and hold it so tight it tugs on it 

Anton is the type to...take you in doggy and hold your hands behind your back, he finds it so precious when you hold his hand so tight while hes fucking you, he thinks your back is such a sexy sight as well 

Anton is the type to...pay for your nails and toes to get done for the purpose of when you have your feet in his lap, he can massage them and admire how cute they’d look around his cock or when he feels your choking him while you ride, he can feel the acrylic nails run against his skin 

[chrisbesitos]

chris holding younger reader in his arms as she cry’s after reading more of her hate comments

“I j-just tried to post a video of my baking and I’m being hated on!” You say in shambles as Chris coos

she is beauty we are world class.

"Shhh, don't care about them." Chris whispered in her ear, Y/N was on his lap with her head on the crook of Chris' neck and the boy was caressing her back. Her tears wet the fabric of Chris' shirt, but he doesn't care.

"They hate me for no reason, Chris!" She said in the middle of her sobs, she sniffed and turned back to cry. Chris sighed, he tried to delete some comments, but she already had read them. He always tries to protect her from this.

He hates how people are mean to her for no reason, even more when it comes from people who watch his videos with his brothers. Y/N just posted a silly and cute video of her baking, Chris helped her with all the stuff, she was really excited, but the haters destroy everything.

"I want to delete the video, please."

"Why? It was so good, you did it so well, doll." Chris pulled her shoulder gently, he cleaned the tears on her cheeks with his thumbs. Even though she's upset, Y/N looked cute with her little button nose red. Chris kissed him. "I know the comments are bad, but you can't give up because of them, hm? None of them are true, not even a little bit."

"But why do they always say mean things about me?" She looked at him with her doe glassy eyes.

"Because they just want to put you down. They're not happy with their own life and need to get you upset to feel better with themselves." Chris said gently, he smiled at her and gave a kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry for this, I really do, doll."

"It's not your fault, baby." Y/N closed her eyes, feeling the boy lips against her forehead. "I'm just too sensitive."

"No, you're not." Chris embraced her shoulders with his arms, pulling her to his chest. Y/N rested her head there and the boy massaged her scalp. "Hate to see you cry about this fucking assholes."

Chris stayed with Y/N on his lap until she calmed down, he kept rocking her body and giving her kisses. Y/N gave up the idea of deleting the video and Chris deleted all the bad comments about her, blocking the accounts too. After all this, Chris and Y/N move towards the kitchen for baking brownies, because this would make Y/N feel better and Chris would do everything to make his girlfriend feel better.

i was fucking drowsy when i wrote this, i hope it's good

Tags: @lizzymacdonald06 @deliciousluminaryanchor @lushjunkie @sweetreliever @watercolorskyy @ivysturnss @brianna-grace12 @blahbel668

join my taglist!

[cloudcountry]

I just discovered your writing and I love how you write Idia! If requests are open, could you write Idia with an S/O that cooks for him? It's heavily implied that Idia has depression and is very thin do to his lack of self care and malnutrition, but since he started dating he gains some weight and gets a bit insecure about it but reader comforts him because they're just happy that's he's eating healthy

SUMMARY: idia is starting to eat healthier and put on weight, which spawns new insecurities. you help him through it.

COMMENTS: i'm so unhinged about this request please. PLEASE. do not look at me right now im in SHAMBLES. you've saved my life with his request. IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT FOREVER I WROTE THIS IN LIKE 45 MINUTES IM LOSING IT. THIS BAD BOY CAN FIT SO MUCH NON SEXUAL INTIMACY IN IT. CRYING.

In the beginning of your relationship, getting Idia to eat and drink was like pulling teeth. You didn’t want to force it—Idia knew how he felt far better than you, and making him do something he didn’t want to was just cruel. You knew from the start that if he didn’t want to eat, he wouldn’t, and even after consulting Ortho you didn’t notice any changes in his attitude towards eating. You reminded him to drink water constantly and brought him little snacks, but the water bottles remained mostly full and the snacks were unopened. While you managed to coax another few sips of water out of Idia, the snacks were still a no-go and his vitamin drinks won the day once again.

It took until the two of you were second years for him to consider eating more, and you were so delighted that you began to cook for him. Although he still gained most of his nutrients from those vitamin drinks he’d always drink in place of meals, you were so proud of him when he started eating the small portions you’d set out for him. Each container had four sections, one full of dried fruits, one with nuts, one with vegetables, and the last with meat. You always wrote him a note telling him how proud of him you were, encouraging him to eat the whole thing but letting him know he could stop eating whenever. It was more of a snack than anything, but he’d eaten it, the whole thing, and you felt so moved you’d almost cried.

Idia never thought it was that much a deal, even when you started gradually increasing his portion sizes into your third year at NRC, always replying to your praise with bashful mumbles and scoffs, twisting his beautiful hair into knots as a nervous habit. He would finish his snacks and bashfully ask for more, turning his pink cheeks away from you when you’d beam and tell him you’d be on it right away. Noodle dishes were popular, along with sweet chicken recipes, and anything with rice or pasta. You avoided using meats like pork or beef or anything that wasn’t light like poultry. Idia always favored things that went down easy, not hearty meals that left you feeling stuffed (and, of course, you never fed him sushi due to his dislike of raw fish.)

He was drinking more water as the years went on, too—by the time you came to collect his dishes and figure out if he wanted more food or not, you’d catch a glance of a half empty water bottle and feel your heart fluttering in your chest. It made you so happy to see him eating and drinking healthier. Even if he complained about needing to go pee more often (which took out of his gaming time, oh the dramatics) you could tell he felt better. It had been a journey of three years but you and him were making some serious progress together, and you couldn’t be more proud.

To celebrate just how proud of him you were, you’d gotten Idia a small chocolate cake to go with his lunch, and you were delivering it a bit early to surprise him.

Balancing all of the food on one hand, you bounce on the balls of your feet as you punch in the security code to his room (it changed every day and he always texted you the new one, reassuring you that your messages had been encrypted ten times over so nobody could even chip at the defenses, not that you were worried about someone hacking your phone in the first place.) The door opens with its usual mechanical woosh and shuts behind you the second you step inside, immediately locking again.

“Idia, I bought you a gift today!” you cheer, setting the containers down on his bed.

You turn around to face the rest of his room before stopping dead in your tracks, coming face to face with very wide eyed, shirtless Idia. He’s clutching his shirt to his chest, trying to hide as much of him as he possibly can, but the way the fat of his stomach pinches and rolls at his side could still be seen past the fabric. Your mouth forms a small o shape as you stare, taking him in.

“Stop staring!” he yells, and it's only then that you notice the tears in his eyes and the pink borderline red flickers in his flames, “Get out!”

He throws himself into the gamer chair, spinning it enough so that the back of it faces you. You can see him curling up into a little ball, struggling to get his shirt on in the state he’s in.

“Idia, wait!” you call out, stopping him in his tracks.

Soft sniffles fill the room, and it breaks your heart.

“Why are you here early?” he snaps, still not coming out from his hiding place.

“I bought you a miniature cake. You’ve been eating more lately and I’m proud of you for that.” you say softly, sitting down on his bed, “I’m not going to come over there, darling. Don’t worry. This is a safe space, you know? I would never judge you.”

Idia is silent for a few beats before he speaks again.

“Maybe...maybe I should stop eating.” he murmurs, and the pain that shoots through your heart makes you gasp.

“Idia, no.” you plead, gentle even though you’re panicking, “What’s making you feel this way? You’ve been doing so well, you’ve told me how good you’ve been feeling this past year because you’re eating healthier, what changed?”

“I look like this!” he spits out, and there’s so much self loathing in his tone it brings tears to your eyes as well.

“You look beautiful, darling, you always have. What about yourself do you not like?” you plead, hoping and praying he’ll open himself up to you.

“I’ve gained weight. I’m not as skinny anymore. I look gross.” he peeks out from behind his chair and your heart breaks at how bloodshot his eyes are, “I don’t...want you to see me like this and leave me.”

“My love...” you keep his gaze, leaning as close as you can to him without leaving the bed, “I love you no matter what you look like, you know that right? I love you as a person. You will always, always look lovely to me. I love you. I don’t love a perfect version of you I made up in my head. Every single insecurity you have, I love, because they aren’t flaws. They’re just you.”

You let him take your words in, listening to his heavy breaths before you stand up.

“Darling...can I see you?” you ask carefully, “I want to see you.”

He hesitates.

“Promise me you won’t be disappointed.” Idia’s voice cracks mournfully, like he’s already accepted a fate that will never befall him.

“Never.” you answer immediately.

Your breath catches in your throat when he shamefully moves away from his gaming chair, staring at the ground to avoid looking at you. Your heart hits the ceiling with how light it feels, your lungs contracting and your body growing warm. Oh, he’s ethereal.

You take in the parts that he hates—the creases of his neck and his soft pecs (his nipples are blue, you note, and honestly that doesn’t surprise you), the rolls of his stomach and the fiery trial of hair that leads to his pelvis. You take in the blue glow under his arms and the way the fat of his upper arm folds into his shoulder, and his way his stomach hangs a little over the waistband of his pants. You take it how his arms are bigger now, whether that be from growth or the added weight you don’t know, but what you do know is that all of this beauty was hiding under his hoodie for the past three years. Probably even longer.

“You’re beautiful.”

And your voice breaks as a single hand covers your mouth, hearts in your eyes as you finally, finally make eye contact with Idia, his hair sparking and popping like solar flares as the flames turn pink.

You love that pink.

“B...Beautiful!?” Idia jerks back, looking so scared and ashamed and confused, “What are you talking about!? Beautiful is for men in otomes with eight pack abs, I’m no ikemen but I’m not stupid and how could you ever call me something like that—!?”

“Idia Shroud, you’re beautiful!” you shout, your voice far louder than you intended and it cracks again because oh, you’re so emotional, how could this man think he’s anything but beautiful?

“...what?” he whispers, shirt still clenched in his hands like a lifeline, “You...you don’t want to leave me?”

What you want to do is ask why you ever thought he’d leave you in the first place.

What you do instead, is tell him no.

And you stay.

You don’t make an excuse to leave or try to let him down slowly. You stay in his room and you ask to hug him, you stay in his room and you embrace him so tenderly when he says yes, you stay in his room with him and you kiss his temple, holding all of the extra fat he didn’t come with when you fell in love with him in your arms, loving him all the same even though he’s changed.

He doubts you’ve ever called someone beautiful as many times as you’re calling him that right now.

So Idia shuts his eyes and buries his face in your shoulder, hiding his face and his body and his sobs from the rest of the world in the safety of your arms.

You really will love him no matter what.

He doesn’t know what to do.

[v7lgar]

@jegulus-microfic | may 26 - fine | tw: NSFW, spit swallowing, dirty talk, D/s undertones | words: 827 | @ecstarry @star4daisy

Regulus didn't know James had it in him. He had a gut feeling, yes, but the outcome was beyond his dreams.

James was on top of him, sucking his neck hard and fucking him deep. Every time he thrust, the sounds of their flesh made Regulus feel weak in the knees. It made him dizzy, he felt so heavy and needy. It was fine, it was James and he always knew how to take care of him.

His hands were at James’ back, nails digging in and his eyes were closed. All he could feel was him, James, filling his pussy and feeding him nicely.

“Fuck, James—” He moaned loudly, it was hard to open his eyes but he needed to look at him, so he did.

James bit the tender skin of his neck and slowly pulled away, mouth hanging open and his lips were red. Regulus touched his bottom lip and at that moment James shoved his cock deep into his cunt again and Regulus cried out.

“Shit— you are so good at this,” he told him as he tried to catch his breath, “I don't like that you are good at this.”

James licked his cheek slowly, it made him feel worse. And then he got closer to his ear, nibbling his earlobe.

“You like it when I fuck you this good though,” he spoke gradually and kissed the under of his ear, “I can feel your wetness, your pussy is hungry for my cock. It stretches nicely around me, swallowing every inch of my cock. Are you sure you don't like it?”

Regulus had to close his eyes shut, the lewd words did numbers on him and as if that wasn't enough, James’ raspy, low voice was driving him crazy. And he was right, every word coming out of his mouth was absolute truth.

“I fucking hate you,” Regulus said, he could feel the tears gathering in his eyes, “I can't stand you.”

James only smirked, he was so handsome without his glasses too. Regulus was made of love at that exact moment, every limb of his was loving James Potter, wanting him without an end.

“I guess your cunt is not on the same page with you,” He said, he pulled out until then tip of his cock was the only thing staying inside of Regulus, and while he was being watched by him, he spat onto his pussy and shoved his cock into forcefully in one push.

Regulus’ breath left his lungs abruptly, he couldn't move, he couldn't think.

But James continued, “Look at him, pretty little thing, wrapping itself around my cock so good. So tight, yet he can take it all,” His eyes met with Regulus, “Soaking wet for me, begging for me to fuck you harder. You need to be fucked the way you deserve it, baby. Let me take care of you.”

Regulus didn't know when he started crying, he was feeling so full and everything was so perfect that pleasure clouded his every sense.

James didn't wait for an answer, Regulus quietly crying was all he needed. He wrapped his hand around Regulus’ throat and fucked him faster while choking him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck— James, Jamie— Potter—”

James fucked him even harder, he was in shambles.

“Fuck me, fuck, fuck me— faster, yes, yes—”

Regulus didn't stop talking and neither did James. The more Regulus moaned and rambled, the dirtier James’ words became. He felt James’s fingers on his clit and everything in him screamed. He started rubbing it faster than the rhythm he was fucking him to.

“Fuck, your little cunt is feels so fucking good— Can’t get enough of this.”

He spat on his pussy again and spread the wetness by using his fingers. At the same time, Regulus was hanging on to his life as he scratched James’ back and he could feel the blood getting under his fingernails.

James moved his hand from his throat to his chin and opened Regulus’ mouth. He spit inside of his mouth and Regulus moaned as he swallowed. He could feel his wet folds getting more slicker with every thrust of James’ hips.

“James,” he groaned as James put his thumb into his mouth and he started sucking it while imagining it was James’ cock. He couldn't stop moaning, everything felt amazing. He was so close, painfully close and James’ fingers on his clit were making everything blurry.

He felt like an angel who was about to fall from heaven into the pits of hell.

“I’m close— I'm so close, James— oh fuck, yes, yes, yes—”

James rubbed it faster, every time he bottomed out his pussy became even more wet. He was there, and it was too much. Every feeling was heightened achingly and all he needed was him.

He bit James’ finger and pulled him into a kiss by the nape of his neck. It broke something in him and—

He started to fall.

[bitter-me]

My first time requesting but I need a part 2 of Kilmer where aventurine adopts the reader (somehow) or gets the reader away from that awful man 🤕 angst with comfort and a bit of fluff in the end if its possible, Thank you!! :) (P.S. I love your works!!)

Shama

Aventurine | Child M. Reader (Platonic)

Part One | Part Two (You're here)

----------

"It's an all-or-nothing surrender!"

----------

No matter how many days, weeks, months have passed. The sight of that serial number on the neck of a young child has sear itself into Aventurine's mind. Images of his own past flashes before his eyes. Those times, those things he went through.. the thought of someone else going through the same thing at such a young age. Sends a chill down his spine.

Every time he ever met the man for business, his gaze would linger on the child much longer than the man he was having business with. That blank expression, those expensive and luxurious clothing on him. Like a little trophy. Just for show. A way for his caretaker--no.. owner to say "Hey! Look at this shiny new toy I got! Isn't he pretty?" Put in a glass box, a collection, a doll being stored on a shelf.

Every time he has to meet up with the man, Aventurine makes sure that he brings gifts. He doesn't mind buying gifts for clients. It's nothing really. Anything to make [Name]'s life more bearable... but his main concern, his main target is the trophy, the doll, the child, [Name]. And evert time he gave [Name] a gift, it's always met by complete silence and subtle glances directed to his owner. As if asking permission to take it.

"See this? This is a limited type of confectionery that everyone in the galaxy simply adores. There are only sixteen slices sold every day. Here, why don't you have a taste?" Aventurine says, his hand gestures towards a plate of slice cake. A very popular, very delicious dessert. One that he hopes the child would take it. [Name] glances over to his master, as if he's silently asking if he could, which earned him a firm nod. "Go ahead, it's rude to not accept gifts."

After contemplating over it, [Name] took a seat next to Aventurine, his hand reaching out towards the dessert plate, with his other hand the child use the utensil to eat his dessert. It was simply divine. It's no wonder this cake is a favorite of the people in the galaxy. [Name] had never tried anything this wonderful before.

The subtle light in the child's dull eyes make Aventurine smile widens.

Anything to make [Name]'s life more bearable.

----------

But even so, these gifts could only do so much.. he needs a plan. A permanent one. But it seems... he doesn't need to think of that anymore...

The "lifeless doll" had taken care of it.

Aventurine merely stare with widen eyes as the boy stood there in front of all of them with handcuffs on his wrist, the usually clean and tidy suit he wore is now messy with wrinkles and splashes of fresh blood, his neat hair now in shambles as he look at them through his hair strands with dull eyes.

As if what he had done didn't face him one bit.

It was a banquet, a normal banquet, nothing special, another day, another business. The waiters and waitresses handing drinks and foods to every patron. A normal business event.

And yet..

It had end in a massacre.

The trial went on and on. the trial took way too long for comfort, for every evidence and every alibi... the child is proven innocent. It took what felt like an eternity to finally gathered enough proof for him to be proven guilty. And yet..

The IPC showed him mercy. Finding it to be such a shame to lose such an asset. The length this boy went through, not breaking character as he slowly make his plan come into fruition.

This "lifeless doll" isn't as lifeless as he make himself to be.

For someone as young as him.. to be able to make elaborate plans and following it through till the end.. and creating evidence and alibies to prove himself innocent, whether if it's fabricated or not...

He's a mastermind.

And the IPC can't simply let such a valuable asset to simply.. cease to exist.

.

.

.

But that smile soon disappears once he heard the sound of someone entering the room, a man that he's well familiar with. There's no mistaken those eyes. He then approached [Name] before kneeling down in front of him.

At a vacant room, [Name] sat on the edge of the bed looking blankly at the wall in front of him, his gaze sometimes shifted between the wall and his still blood stained hands, along with the handcuffs on his wrists. The sight of it could make anyone feel uneasy and squeamish. But to him.. it brought a sense of satisfaction as a ghost of a smile made it's way onto his face. For his plan had come to fruition.

Giving him a sense of comfort he never thought he could ever feel.

"The IPC has pardon your crimes, but of course that still didn't erase the fact you had slaughtered a whole banquet of people... I'm afraid you have to work hard in order to clear your name.."

A soft and warm smile adorn on his expression as he stretch out a hand towards the younger. "In the meantime, you'll be under my care.."

"...Malachite."

[r0-boat]

Whb Kings Do NNN Challenge

With a magic cock ring the Kings are (totally not forced) to do a 30-day challenge where they are forbidden from orgasming for the entire month of November let's see how they're faring!

If they win the challenge they get to have you for a week straight doing whatever they want to you.

Satan

Satan was extremely confident that he could do this challenge no problem. Human struggle to do this challenge and he's a king so obviously he would have a better chance.

After the first week he was whining and growling threatening you that as soon as this thing comes off He's going to fuck you and pump all his seed inside you. And you're not going to cum not even once as payback with the suffering you put him through.

Everything irritation because all he could feel is the throbbing between his legs tearing and ripping apart every stress ball in his hand as he tries so hard to stop him from knocking out anyone that mildly inconveniences him.

Mammon

He kind of likes the feeling of being pent up and needy for you. Mammon becomes more and more touchy as time goes on. He'll kiss you and touch you and before you know it he'll be spreading your legs to have more.

Just because he can't cum doesn't mean he can't fuck you, Don't let him do this! Because then he'll go on for hours and hours seemingly without end. Fucking you harder and harder, The sensation in his full balls burns so good.

He cannot wait for when this ring is off him and he gets to give you all of his cum.

Leviathan

Levi's lasts longer than you think, He has a high tolerance for pain like this so it looks like it's hardly affecting him.

In reality, He is in shambles. He can't think and it's driving him crazy He's even resorted to pumping his cock underneath his desk or anywhere where no one can see him. Moaning and gasping your name as tears and drool fall from his face.

He wants to cum, He needs to cum, but he doesn't want to lose this silly little challenge His pride depends on it.

Beelzebub

It's like he's being starved. Please please he's begging you he'll do anything! Let him cum.

He's made the grave mistake of fucking you and hopes he could perhaps try to convince you. But the pain just keeps getting worse and all he wants to do is finish inside you over and over.

He doesn't care about the challenge anymore He just wants to cum. When he pins you down he growls and moans like a feral animal rutting and bucking his hips to no avail. Muttering that he's starving and he needs to cum. The only thing to quench his hunger is feeling your core on his tongue.

Belphegor

How annoying... How very annoying... He thought he could just do this challenge get it over with and have you all to himself for a week as part of the deal. But it turns out he bit off more than he could chew. He thought he could just sleep through it and be done but no.

Wet dreams constantly wake him up and He wakes up with in all too familiar ache and stiffness. He wants to touch himself but he knows from experience it will just get worse.

He doesn't want to lose the challenge now because then it will make him seem weak. But he can't let this go unpunish. He might just give you to Beleth he'll know what to do to punish you.

Lucifer

Child's Play. He's done this his whole life it'll be easy for a month. In fact he's so confident that instead of a cock ring he goes a step further. A chastity belt.

That is what he initially thought, turns out since becomtemptations, it's a lot harder to resist such temptations. Now that he's accepted his pride is on the line and he will not lose.

Lucifer looks like he's unaffected; but believe me he wants you so bad And he will absolutely tell you how he's feeling if you ask. Perhaps he'll even try to convince you with his silver tongue to take off the belt so he could fuck you.

He kind of regrets the chastity belt now because all he wants to do is make you sit on his lap and grinding against you.

The demon of lust was never one to hold back. So when you put up a challenge he was vaguely familiar with he laughed and automatically refused but then you put up an offer he simply too tempting for him not to at least try... Having you for an entire week... Even if it's just for a week The fact that you'll be doing whatever he desires was what sealed the deal.

Asmodeus

He never thought being so pent up would feel so good. He hates it but at the same time the burn of not getting something he usually has a luxury too is addicting.

Only you turn him into a feral beast. And it gets worse This is mind betrays him showing him delicious images of flooding your insides with all that cum his balls is making. He can't help but taunt you and see the uneasiness and fear in your eyes as he's lasting longer than you expected.