#make him bleed and cry and throw up from stress

[bi-writes]

ok but soulmate au with ghost but it's the fucking opposite of rainbows and sunshine. (18+)

you share his trauma. his stress. his anxiety. you do not know who he is, and yet you know the pain of a thousand punches because it's the only feeling he has ever given you. you know the grueling ache of abandonment and the terrible neglect of abuse and the disgusting amalgamation of all your worst nightmares before you even turn 20. everything that he gives you feels aggressive, like it burns, and he only ever gives you reprieve for so long until you just feel it all over again.

it makes you tired. it makes you sick. at first, as a girl, all you wanted to do was comfort him. you wanted to know who he was so you could kiss the cigarette burns that you feel and soak up the blood you know he bleeds.

but as you age, you begin to hate him. you hate him because he does this to you, he hurts you, doesn't he know that he's hurting you? doesn't he know that everything he feels, you feel tenfold, doesn't he know that the terror and the horror of everything he witnesses weighs down your chest, makes you feel like you're drowning over and over and over again?

for a few years into your adulthood, everything is quiet. you feel little except the ache in his back he never tends to, the creak of his knee joints that he refuses to stretch out. you wish you knew him so you could scold him for it, but you curse at a ghost. sometimes you think about doing something to get back at him--you think about carving a FUCK YOU into your arm, about throwing yourself in front of a bus just so he can fucking understand that his entire life is one fucked-up cycle of pain and misery and horror, but you can't bring yourself to do it.

you can't hurt him. you just can't.

and then, the real pain begins. it brings you to your knees, this pain. you scream, you wail, because it feels like you're being carved from the inside-out. your face burns. your chest heaves. you feel like your ribs are breaking, you can't breathe, you claw at the invisible wounds that your soulmate must be wearing, and you beg him to stop, you beg him to let me go--just fucking die already--please, please, please--

those weeks haunt you. the torture he endures, it is branded to you. you wear no scars, and you never lost any blood, but the phantom flesh that you know is gone follows you in your sleep and never shuts up. it talks, it snarls, it eats at your insides. even when he heals, you are never the same. you wake up from nightmares that you know you share with him. you look over your shoulder for the predators you know he has encountered, and you cry yourself to sleep over the loss of something that you can't even decipher because you have no idea who he is or what he buried to feel this way inside.

he's sick. he's twisted. he's a walking corpse, he has no redeemable qualities, he is selfish and mean and cruel, and you hate him, and if it wasn't for the pain that you would feel, the first thing you would do when you saw him is drive something right through his heart to finally stop the undying infection he spreads to everything that he touches.

you know it is him when you finally meet him. you would know him anywhere; you’d know him just by the scars alone who he is because you remember what it felt like when he got them. when you eye the sleeve of tattoos along his left arm--the fucked, shitty, sunburnt art that made it impossible for you to finish your university exams. the faded, grey circles that line the other, ones you recognize being from the burning cigarettes that you would smell when you closed your eyes. and when he removes his mask briefly, you recognize the scar that cuts above his lip and strikes through his eye--that one left you reeling on the bathroom floor particularly loudly. you thought he might be blind if it wasn't for seeing the darkness of both of his eyes.

you start to cry. you start to cry because as soon as he realizes who you are, as soon as you see that flicker of knowing flash across his eyes, all of the hatred and the anger and the poison that plagued you for all this time vanishes. everything you fought so hard to feel, all the misery you wanted to bestow upon him for making your life a living hell, it's gone.

because the universe is cruel, the universe has done what it has done, and it has made this singular person just for you, and against everything you believe, you know that you love him, and you hate yourself for it, and you hate the universe, too.

you have endured. but maybe you endured so he didn't have to. maybe you endured so that he could have this, the feeling that he feels right now, that feeling of sudden relief.

he slides a large hand over his chest, flinching slightly. he blinks, understanding suddenly that he's feeling your joy, your elation. when you shuffle your way over to him, breaching the conversation the men around him are having, you ignore their confused stares as you fling yourself into his chest.

ghost forces you against him, trapping you to him. he practically chokes, tangling a gloved hand into your hair, and you sob into the warm skin of his neck as he hoists you into his arms, into his lap. you don't pay attention to the curious voices around you, you just bury yourself into him and cry. his body is the evidence of all that has happened to him, and you aren't angry anymore because you're relieved.

he's real. he's alive. he's here. he's okay.

when you pull back to look up at him, you blink away the tears that are falling fast down your face. he stares down equally as intensely, drinking in the sight of those big, wet eyes. when he smooths a big hand down your face, he grumbles when he realizes what you are, how you know him.

he never realized this was what he and his soulmate shared. you in your life had never felt pain like he had--he had no idea what he was doing to you. he had no idea what you were surviving at the same time.

he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours, and your lips tremble as you cup his cheeks and hold him close.

it feels wrong to feel this kind of comfort, but he does anyways. he thinks, maybe, that perhaps the only reason he survived was because of you.

because there was someone else, far away, that loved him enough to keep him breathing. even when he thought it was over.

[v00do-d0ll]

I just had a idea for a prompt for a Superbat fic. One of my favorite things I have a headcanon for in Batman stories is Bruce’s emotions being so much that he can’t help but have them show in a moment of panic.

And this is not really a trope you can find in Batman fics because Bruce is so trained to not panic in stressful situations.

But I was just thinking like what if there was a fic, where Bruce and Clark are dating in secret and nobody knows not even the kids; and there’s this huge fight that everybody is hands on deck for. The Justice League is there, the Teen Titans are there, and so are all of Bruce and Clark’s kids.

And something happens to Clark to where he’s down and he’s injured badly, and the sun is not helping him at that moment. (It could be because it’s cloudy, Something covering the sun, or he’s just so badly injured and there’s enough kryptonite around to keep him from healing)

And while Clark is down, they managed to defeat or subdue the villain. Afterwards everybody runs over to Clark who’s bleeding out. And Bruce is the first one there and he’s trying his hardest to help him. He’s putting pressure over a wound that’s bleeding profusely. And he’s frantically talking to Clark because he knows it’s bad this time.

And everybody’s surrounding them, and there are a few others also trying to help Clark. But something happens and Clark’s heart stops. For a moment nobody moves, nobody even breathes. Until Bruce absolutely loses it.

He’s screams so loud that it makes everybody jump, and it’s such a scream that you could hear the desperate plea in it. He’s frantically giving Clark CPR while crying, Screaming “No, no, no! Clark come on don’t leave me” “Please don’t leave me.” “I can’t do this without you.” “You promised me you’d stay.” “I CAN’T take another death! Please!”

And everybody’s watching in stunned silence over how badly Bruce is freaking out. Because Bruce never freaks out. He’s always calm and collected. He’s the first person people turn to in situations like this one. But he’s hyperventilating. Tears are coming out from underneath his mask. His voice is going horse from the scream he let out. And nobody knows what to do for him.

The kids are all crying or on the verge, and seeing their father or mentor break down scares them even more. Because if Bruce is this panicked they know it’s probably over, and they don’t know what to do with that information. Dick is holding Damien and Jason against him. Tim and Kon are holding onto each other. John is clutching Damiens hand. Cass, Steph and Duke are motionless. The last time Bruce was like this was when Jason died, but the only person that saw him in that state was Clark.

But after a minute; which felt like an eternity. Clark takes a breath and opens his eyes.(They didn’t notice that the clouds had uncovered the sun slightly and Clark had started to slowly heal), Bruce throws himself at him. Sobbing even harder than before. He pulls off the cowl and puts his ear down to Clark’s chest to make sure he can hear his heartbeat. When he looks up, Clark is already staring at him. And he can’t take it, that was the closest call they’d ever had. He throws himself at Kal and kisses him right there.

Everyone gasps. Bruce desperately holding onto Clark as he kisses him with so much love and desperation. It’s the type of kiss that says “I love you, please don’t ever scare me like that again.” When they pull apart, Clark is the first one to look at everyone around them. He’s looking at everyone’s shocked faces. From the Justice League to their children. He doesn’t know what to say, because Bruce is still holding onto him.

Bruce takes that moment to recompose himself. He turns his head towards everybody and assesses the damage. He pulls his cowl back on, and says “I’m taking Clark to the med bay.” He helps Clark up and they leave together. And if Bruce is holding onto Clark a little tighter than he needs to, that’s nobody’s business.

Once they’re gone, everybody turns towards each other with complete shock on their faces ,still overwhelmed by what just happened and the revelation about their teammates and fathers. Everyone looking at each other silently asking the question “Did anybody know?” From the looks on everyone’s faces, nobody did.

Dick looks around to his family “We… we should go check on them” he says softly still in shock. Dragging Damien, John and Jason over to the Bat-plane. The rest of the team following in complete silence, As it finally hits them that Bruce and Clark are much more than friends and it seems that they’ve been that way for a while.

[nataliebattery]

My bayverse ✨Raph✨ headcanons

-Once passed out from working for to long (cue stressed master splinter)

-used to let Mikey sleep in his bed when they

were little because Mikey had nightmares

-really insecure but would NEVER show it

-needs to lap for at least 30 a day

-really wants to spend one on one time with Leo

-stays up all night

-sleeps on his stomach

-now has his own room (loves Mikey but definitely needs his own space)

-has low patience

-actually really smart

-enjoys sneaking out on his own to clear his mind and just walk on rooftops and watch one the city and loves to feel the cold breeze on his face, it calms him

-had Donnie build him a tv for his room

-has a beautiful baritone singing voice

-don’t be fooled those big rough hands are amazing at sketching and he can draw the best orchids

-will and can fight find any reason to argue with Casey just to let Some steam

-one Casey punched his shell and Raph just so very lightly tapped him

-when he’s feeling emotional he will lock

Himself into his room and cry into his pillow until he falls asleep

-has bloodshotish eyes the next day

-has the most ✨NASTIEST ✨stank face anyone can ever give

-resting bitch face

-will get sassy with you

-loves to mock you in a high pitched voice

-will poke you and they say it wasn’t me

*poke* “Raphael stop!”

“It wasn’t me it was Mikey

“Hey!?”

-bites his fingernails and accidentally makes them bleed sometimes

-needs to sleep hugging something

-when walking down a tunnel and stomp really loud on purpose to be goofy

-has that laugh that’s like silent but his face is turning red from laughing so hard

-will laugh when you fall

-sometimes puts his foot out when some one walks past him and loves to do it to Mikey

-gets so mad when a Spotify ad comes on

-will tap you a little hard on the head and call it a buddy tap

-if you hate Vienna sausages he will put them up to your nose to make you gag from the smell and chase you around the lair with them and pour some of the juice out of them while your screaming bloody murder

-will throw a pillow at you HARD

-if you ever bring a little cousin or sibling around he will torment them by saying

“I’m yo daddy girl/boy!!!”

While your cousins screaming madly

“YOUR NOT MY DADDY”

[animelovelover123]

DMC Boys x Reader – Taking Your Virginity Headcanons

Pairings: Dante, Reboot Dante, Vergil, Reboot Vergil, Nero, V x Reader

Synopsis/Author's Note: Headcanons for how the Devil May Cry boys would treat you if you were to offer them your first time.

Disclaimer: Some of these stories have moments that should not be replicated. Not all of these guys handle the situation the best and, if applied to real life, it can result in some hurt feelings, anger, and/or sadness. You all be safe, use your wits and gut feelings out there when you have your first time/give someone their first time.

Science Fact I Learned For This: A girl's hymen is NOT some wall/barrier that is broken through. It is a tissue that naturally has a hole in it big enough to let menstrual blood through. The whole idea of it hurting and/or bleeding the first time a girl has penetrative sex is because it may not be used to being stretched that far and can tear, not because it is punctured/broken through. There are, of course, exceptions to this but this is the general idea. Some people may have known this but in case you didn’t, you just learned something today like me! ^^

Dante

His reaction and treatment will change a bit depending on his age (aka what game time you are in) but many things will be consistent.

He always understands how much trust and courage it takes to give someone your first time and it means a lot to him that you want to choose him.

Whether he is in his late teens and gives you a shocked expression then a giddy smile as he says “Wait, really? Thanks! I’ll be sure to give you the time of your life.” or in his early 40s where he pauses for a moment to process before giving you a patient and gentle smile, saying “Of course, I’d be honoured to.”, he appreciates the gesture and does not take it for granted. Although, the older he is the more touched he is that you wanted to do this with him of all people.

This is not to say he isn’t going to make jokes and be silly about it. He takes the moment with all due respect, but he can’t help cracking jokes as that is just who he is. Secretly though, he is also trying to get you to lighten up about the idea. He knows how stressful losing your virginity can be, hell he went through it himself, and he hoped that by making light of it he could offer some levity to what he knows is going to inevitably be an awkward and uncomfortable time. If you can laugh at the mishaps instead of curling up and dying a bit inside, then his jokes have done their job.

Though not all of his jokes will land and may seem a bit insensitive at times, know that he is never laughing at you or mocking you, just trying to make you smile and relax.

When the night comes, he does what he can to make you feel secure. He locks all the doors and unplugs the phone to avoid interruptions. He offers you food and a bath before you start, and takes a shower himself. He makes preparations, like getting water, condoms, and lube, and lays them out so that you can see them and feel secure by their presence. And he will have a conversation with you beforehand.

If you try to fight the conversation, he will dip into his hardly ever used mature-adult mode.

“Hey now, no hiding from this babe.” Dante chuckles lightly as he gently pulls the pillow away from your face. “I know it’s embarrassing but we gotta talk about this, at least this first time, okay?”

He needs to make some things clear, define boundaries, and try to explain what to expect. He continues to throw in jokes to lighten the mood or will otherwise smile at you sympathetically, inwardly finding your bashfulness endearing.

He takes things nice and slow, verbally asking for consent and telling you what he intends to do so as to not catch you off guard.

He also takes into account what makes you feel secure. For example, do you feel better being covered by his body, whether he kneels over you or partially lays on you? Does the pressure and closeness calm you? Then he will do that. Or, alternatively, would that freak you out and make you feel trapped? If so then he will stay sitting up or lying beside you to give you space and so you see that you can escape if you want, not that he was holding you there, but it is an unconscious thing.

If your hymen does end up tearing it is not quite as panic-inducing as it could be thanks to Dante warning you beforehand that you might feel pain and that he stays calm, acting as an anchor while you settle from the sting.

He will stop. Not pulling out or pushing forward, just sit inside you and coddle you until you are ready. And if you have any questions like “What happened?”, “Am I going to be okay?”, and “Why does it hurt so much?”, he will patiently answer them with little to no jokes as he knows this is probably the most emotionally and physically intense part of a woman losing her virginity.

If at any point you panic and tell him that you want to stop, he will stop but not retreat. He will hold his position for a moment, let you breathe, and then ask how you are feeling. Do you really want to stop, because he will, or are you just anxious? After dating you for a while, he has gotten really damn good at knowing when you are overwhelmed and just need a break.

If you do truly want to stop though, or are generally not enjoying yourself, he will stop. He won't be upset or take it personally. He knows losing your v-card is a lot to handle and sometimes, no matter how sexy and skilled your partner may be, you may just not be into it. He can relate. He will even tell you of some of his sexual misadventures if he thinks it will make you laugh.

Either way, he will want to push aside any negative emotions you are feeling as soon as possible and bring back your smile. And maybe tomorrow you two can talk about what you didn’t like and how to make things better for you in the future.

He finds you and your flustered reactions adorable. He has done this dance quite a few times and some of the sweet intimacy feelings have faded over the years, but seeing you get bashful or excited warms his heart.

And when, if everything goes well, you do cum, Dante just wants to watch you flex, twist, moan, and enjoy your first orgasm.

He isn’t picky about whether he finishes this first time around or not. He will try of course so you can feel the full extent of his desire for you. But if you are completely tuckered out, he can settle without, and maybe even make a joke about it.

As you drift down from your high Dante lays beside you with an at-peace smile, playing with your hair, basking in your happiness.

Once you are down on earth again though he is back to his talkative self. Mostly making jokes and asking if you’re hungry.

“How about we order pizza, turn on some trash TV, and cuddle the night away.”

He does not ask how he did as your clear pleasure was plenty enough for him to know he was treating you well. If you do take the time to praise or thank him though, you’ll get to see a softer version of his proud smile paired with a rare blush as he thanks you in return.

Reboot Dante

It depends if you are a random person he met at a club or his partner.

If you are random and you tell him you have never had sex before, he will want to back out. Not because he finds that gross or a turn-off, it’s more so that he himself regrets how he had his first time and doesn’t want someone else’s to be like this.

Dante probably had his first sexual experience far younger than he should have, like 13-14 yours old, with an older woman, out of a desire to act older than he actually was, his street kid lifestyle, and fuck-authority mindset. As an adult, and as he gains more stable and healthy relationships through Kat and Vergil, he is starting to realize how that negatively affects him.

He does not fully understand how it messed with him, he isn’t emotionally mature enough for that yet, but he does know that he doesn’t really want to ruin someone else’s first time if he can help it.

He can’t really articulate this though, still too attached to some toxic masculine pride traits and the aforementioned lack of emotional maturity, so he will say some things like “You sure? Don’t you want to pop your cherry with someone you love or some shit like that?”

If you are his partner, he will think the same thing but probably won’t say it out loud.

Either way, he is going to have a tough time. He knows he should be slower, gentler, and comforting but that’s not really his style, so he is out of his element.

If he has advance warning, as in you are his partner and told him at some point that you were a virgin, and the time grows close, he will awkwardly go to Kat for advice. And, if he really loved you (and he was a bit drunk), he may just work up the nerve to ask his brother how to be a gentleman for you.

No matter what though, he is kind of awkward about it.

He doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it because that is stupid, cheesy, and would put more pressure on you both to perform well. This helps in the beginning, making it so the lead-up of kisses, gropes, and rubbings are casual and playful.

As soon as you start to grow nervous and hesitant though, the switch is flipped and Dante is not the same. He will do his damnedest to keep up the cool and confident aura on the outside, but the nerves on the inside will leak out eventually.

He spends the whole time flipping between holding himself back, worrying about how he is doing, and agitation. He is so strung up that he honestly cannot really enjoy it, especially not in a sexually satisfying way. But he at least understands that this is not about him or his pleasure.

This first time, and probably the next handful of goes, it is about you. That does not stop him from jerking off later to get it out of his system and to make sure he doesn’t lose control on you.

He does, however, gain some satisfaction if you are able to enjoy yourself. Even if he is not able to be sexually gratified due to preferring rougher sex and not being able to have that with you this first time, to see you cum and be overall pleased by the end makes it worth all the struggle he went through.

On the other hand, if you are dissatisfied or request to stop in the middle, he is upset. He isn’t angry with you, he is angry at himself for fucking up so bad, though he can’t communicate this properly in the moment so it may come off badly.

If things go that wrong, he may just want to split up for the night.

If you are someone he just met that night at a club, he will send you home. He won’t be a total ass and just kick you out. He will at least walk you home or somewhere where you can make the rest of the trip yourself/with friends safely, but he can’t stand the awkwardness and emotions of having you stay the night after that.

If you are his partner, he will suggest that he just leave, even if you are at his place/in his room. You can convince him to stay, though he doesn’t have the heart to simply cuddle after he, as far as he is concerned, ruined things, so you would have to do something else like watch a movie to get your minds off of it.

If applicable, you can try to assure him all you want that he did nothing wrong and it was your own nerves/insecurities, and Dante may say he understands, but it is easy to tell that he 100% blames himself.

This guilt is even worse if your hymen ends up tearing because holly shit. He knows it can happen to some women, but he is not properly educated on this stuff and he has never seen it. To him, a bit of blood, even during sex, was not unheard of and never really bothered him. But if you start to cry, scream, and/or panic, he freaks out. He pulls out of you right away and starts asking what's wrong, even if somewhere in his racing mind he knows what is wrong. You can convince him to continue but he is rattled after that.

Post sex, assuming everything went well, he will be on edge. He is used to long nights of multiple rounds of foreplay and sex, sometimes with multiple people. So, going just one round, which possibly didn’t bring him to orgasm, at least not a fully satisfying one, left him with a lot of pent-up energy.

Depending on how wound up he is, he may try to gently encourage you to keep going by lavishing your neck in kisses, licks, and little bites, and grinding against you. But if you make it clear that you are done, he will back off.

He will cuddle you until you fall asleep, then probably slip off to a shower to finish himself. He will come back though and fall asleep wrapped around you, finding himself oddly satisfied. Not sexually satisfied, nor satisfied in the idea that he got to take a virgin. Instead, it was a satisfaction in making you happy for your first time, something he secretly wishes he was with his own, and you having chosen to share it with him.

Vergil

Vergil is maybe not be the best pick to have your first time with. He is proud, straightforward, and is also lacking in tact. This can make him come off as cold, unsympathetic, or even cruel.

He does care about you and does not want to hurt you, physically or emotionally, but he can’t communicate this well and his usual way of telling people there is no need to worry is by asserting that they are foolish and are wasting their breath on needless indecision.

This is first seen when you let slip that you are a virgin. He blatantly asks why you are telling him this.

“I care for you; you care for me. At some point we may consummate our bond through physical means. What does it matter how much experience either of us have in such things?”

If he were to articulate his thoughts and feelings better, he would further explain that he does not see sex as anything that special or as a requirement in a relationship. It is simply another, more primal and physically gratifying, way to express affection and trust. And to eventually create spawn but that comes further down the line.

He may need to have someone, whether it be you or his brother or even a mutual acquaintance like Lady, explain to him how emotionally taxing it can be for someone to have their first time. He will take note of it and be more conscious of your possibly complicated emotions on this, but his actions won’t really change.

He does not press you for it; he just waits until the moment feels right and then whisks you away to his bedroom.

If you show hesitation, he will push you to make up your mind. Again, he is not intending to make you feel pressured or like he does not care. He wants you to make a decision and follow through with it.

Do you want to stop here? Then say so clearly so you both do not waste time fanning the flames of passion just to snuff them out at their hottest moment and regret it after.

Do you want this now? Do you want him now? Then take him. Don’t concern yourself with the trivial restrictions of human societal limitation or personal doubt on how one of your gender, situation, or age should act. Grab hold of the moment by the reins, charge forward, and take what you both desire.

Vergil is not overly gentle with you, even if it is your first time. What point is there in treating you like you are made of glass when it will not properly prepare you for truly passionate lovemaking?

Besides, considering he has inhuman speed and power, can transform into a demon, and has an innate desire to breed, he is showing restraint.

If you start to panic and ask him to wait, that it’s too much, slow down, or something to that extent he will scoff. He’ll assert that you are fine and that there is no need to worry. Despite his verbal dismissal, he will stop or slow down as you requested and give you space to adjust.

If he does end up tearing your hymen, he is considerate enough to stop for a moment but will soon get back into it. In his mind, if you dwell on the pain it will only make it worse.

Besides, he believes you to be an intelligent woman so you should be well aware of what dangers lie in being penetrated for the first time. If you don’t, well you are more naïve than he thought.

Similarly to before though, despite what he says he will indeed halt his movements if you believe it would be better or you fall into distress. And while you come to terms with the pain, he reassures you of your strength in ways that may seem a bit harsh, but he means it to be motivating.

“This hurdle is nothing you can’t handle.”

“Do not falter at this small inconvenience.”

“This pain you feel is nothing in comparison to what you have conquered before.”

And when you do push past this, his lips quirk up into a proud smile. He does not praise you out loud though. Instead, he rewards you by lavishing attention on one of your multiple sensitive spots he has already identified and memorized for later use.

He will finish. It doesn’t matter if it is alongside you or if he has to keep pistoning into you while you tremble and whimper in overstimulation.

He claims that it is the price to pay when you have relations with someone. If either participant is left unsatisfied then it is a failure on both ends, the satisfied being a dishonourable thief and the unsatisfied being too weak to fight for what is owed to them.

Secretly though, Vergil was also quickly getting hooked on the sensation of you clinging to him, inside and out, and so he could not stop himself.

If he senses any dissatisfaction from you, he takes it as a personal insult. He will dive back in, no matter your flustered reaction or lack of energy. His ability to pleasure you shall not be questioned so if it takes an hour of pounding into you or burying his face into your core then so be it. Neither of you will rest until you are completely satisfied or your mind and body are numb from pleasure.

When all is said and done, he is quiet. It may seem like he is unhappy or uninterested, but in reality, his mind and body are still buzzing and he is struggling more than he ever has in his life to relax and focus.

Once he does find some clarity he gets up without a word and lifts you into his arms. He is able to hide how weak his legs are at the moment as he carries you to the bath so you may cleanse yourself and relax your muscles in the hot water.

He has no intention of joining you as he would rather address the inconvenient consequences of lovemaking. Condoms need to be thrown away or packed up. The bed sheets need to be removed and thrown in the wash, and then new ones dug out to replace them. Sleeping attire needed to be gathered.

He explains this to you matter-of-factly. But if you look up at him with those pleading, hopeful, beautiful eyes and ask him to stay, he can’t find it in himself to refuse you.

Reboot Vergil

When you first tell him you are a virgin as he briskly types away at his laptop, he initially responds with the same level of interest as if you just told him your favourite colour. Firstly, he is busy with work, as he always is. Secondly, being around Dante has desensitized Vergil so much that any mention of sex and its many facets would pass through his head like a gentle breeze while he keeps his focus on what he is doing.

It could take minutes, it could take hours, but eventually it will click. It hits Vergil like a truck when he realizes what you, his girlfriend, were trying to insinuate when you told him you were a virgin.

He feels stupid.

He feels excited.

And he feels a rush of pride and superiority at the implication that you want him to take your virginity. Out of all the people you have met before, or would ever meet, it was he who won your heart and would be gifted the treasure of taking your innocence.

He casually and calmly brings up the topic again the next time he sees you just to clarify. And when you do, his heart is sent racing while his mind starts formulating the perfect plan.

Thoughts of you quickly take over his mind. He can still focus on work when he needs to, but if he finds himself stuck with a particularly tedious or uninvolved task, such as watching security footage or waiting for his specially made virus to copy and send him all of the data in a company’s database, his mind wanders. And though his thoughts had occasionally drifted to you before, now that he knows what is to come in your relationship, you are all he can think about. This results in him planning a date for your first time together rather than letting it happen naturally.

He will make an event out of it. You two will spend the whole day together, or longer if he has the free time to whisk you away to a vacation, where he gives you his undivided attention and affection. And at the end of the day, he will take you to a luxury suit he booked both because he wanted to keep the dreamlike feeling of the day going and because he did not want to spoil your first time by having you somewhere dark, cold, and crawling with people demanding his attention like The Order headquarters.

He won't throw you down on the bed the moment you step through the door though, no. He will want to spend some time lounging in the suit with you, maybe drinking a bit, eating, talking, all with soft music playing from somewhere. And sprinkled throughout will be tantalizing touches and eye contact to build anticipation.

You two could be talking on the couch and his hand will slide onto your leg, hold still or give a couple of squeezes until he knows you have noticed, then run up and down your leg. Maybe he’ll pull you into a slow dance where you are either forced to look at one another, faces so close your warm breaths mingle together, or you are pressed together so close that you can feel each other's heartbeats. Or he will simply watch you lovingly, not saying a word, until you notice his lack of response and turn to him. He’ll hold your gaze for an agonizing few seconds, then his smile will twist into a grin, his tongue will peak out to lick at his lips as he looks down at yours, or he will bite his bottom lip while raking his eyes over your body. Then he’ll suddenly return to the conversation like nothing happened while secretly reveling in how frazzled he made you without speaking a word or touching you.

He will give you, through just trying to have a good time and directly offering, alcohol and medication beforehand. Nothing that could impair you, only enough to dull the possible pain. He will respect your decision if you decline, but he will have still bought numbing lubricant.

When it comes to actually doing it, he is more of a sensual lover so he is used to a slower and gentler experience.

He is intent on being in control, as he always wants to be, so he will insist that you don’t have to do anything but lay back and enjoy yourself while he takes care of everything.

For example, he will gracefully peel away your clothes and soon after strip himself for you so that you can both bear yourself to each other without any more barriers. This way he can: feel the trust you have in him, and he can show you that it is well placed; enjoy the slow, tantalizing reveal of your body; and get to feel the boost of pride at how you marvel at his body, which you have not yet seen due to his inclination to wear full pants and his coat or long sleeve shirts.

If you start to fuss for whatever reason he will hush and shush you in that gentle, soothing way. With a hand lightly caressing your face, an expression of mature reassurance, and voice in a soft whisper, he’ll say things like “shh, it's alright. I’ve got you; I won't let anything bad happen to you as long as you are here in my arms” and “hush darling, none of that self-doubt, you are doing perfectly”.

This is also his approach to if your hymen tears. The pain will be less severe due to one, or multiple, of the ways he has numbed you and that area, but he knows there is always a chance that the pain will be too great to fully abolish. So as you cry he will hold you, caress you, and assure you that you are fine. Nothing is wrong, this is natural, and that it will be well worth it. You just have to trust in him and his promise to take care of you.

If you demand to stop or are unsatisfied somehow, he will pointedly ask you what he did wrong. He will keep up a calm, patient, in-control demeanour as he fishes for information and reasons, but on the inside he is furious.

He had worked so hard, done so much research, meticulously guided the experience, and yet you are unhappy? Where did he go wrong? Why is he such a failure to the one woman he truly loves? Of all the ways he could have screwed up in his life, this was the most precious and delicate of moments and by ruining it he may have left a permanent scar in your relationship. It is a guilt and self-anger that will hang over him for years. Perhaps even to the end of his days.

Assuming everything goes perfectly, as he is sure it will, he has a plan for after everything is done. He will whisk you away to a bath, or the private hot tub he made sure came with the suit he booked, and feed you food and drinks to lavish you in luxury.

And he will still do that if you want. But when the moment finally comes and you are snuggled up against his heaving chest, hair tousled, clinging to him, eyes closed in exhaustion, and expression that of a gentle, pleased, and at peace smile… all of his plans and train of thought disappear. All he sees, and all he needs, in this moment is to hold you.

Nero

You being a virgin was both a good and bad thing.

On the positive side, Nero felt honoured that you are considering giving your virginity to him and it makes him more secure in telling you that he will be giving you the same.

The bad part is that neither of you knew what the hell you were doing or how to go about things. And in a town run by an old-fashioned religious group that implored their people to wear hoods and full-length clothes, you can bet that they are not about premarital sex so there were not exactly resources on teaching this sort of thing to people his age. Even Nero’s family (as far as he knew pre-DMC4) couldn’t really help since the only ones left were his brother and sister who had not done anything of the sort themselves.

Thank Sparda they were at least willing to help a little. They were both unsure about the idea, being super committed to their religion. Credo in particular would pull Nero aside and try to dissuade him, but he knew that his little brother was a spitfire who would not listen and did not follow the Order’s morals as closely as he wished he did.

Both Kyrie and Credo, knowing that this was going to happen eventually no matter what, did at least go out of their way to covertly gather materials like condoms, lubricant, and maybe some debaucherous books that had been confiscated by the Order as that was the closest to experience any of them could get.

Nero is impatient in getting to experience this with you. He was a healthy young man and he could not help his urges. He had the self-control to not push you into doing things you were not comfortable with, but that did not mean he didn’t push you a bit.

It wasn’t like he was trying to convince you or badger you into it, it was more so that he got ahead of himself sometimes. It’s just that when he would have you close, he couldn’t help but notice how pretty you were. You fit in his arms so perfectly. You were so warm, so soft, so squeezable.

Often, he wouldn’t even realize what he was doing.

“What? Oh, sorry. My bad.” He says with a flustered look as he yanks his hand back after you pull away from the kiss to tell him he was grabbing your butt in a public park.

These urges would not stop when you left. Though he would never tell you, out of embarrassment and a sense of guilt for doing it, but he masturbated to thoughts of you regularly. It began before you two even started dating and were in the bashful flirting stage. He didn’t even mean for it to happen the first few times. He tried to keep you out of his thoughts in those moments out of respect but when he was lost in the moment, his mind foggy and his mental filter was down, while searching his mind for thoughts that could energize him to chase that finish line you inevitable popped up, and that’s often what got him. And this habit only increased the closer you two got and the more he had to wait to have you.

When the moment finally came, you two got to have the house to yourselves for the night and you were giving those signs, Nero was almost too excited. His heart was beating faster than normal and his hands were a bit clammy the whole time in anticipation.

He does his best to act confident and in control, as is his usual MO, but you can occasionally catch slipups where he fumbles and curses a bit under his breath. His excitement also gets the better of him sometimes where he suddenly and unconsciously goes a bit faster or a bit rougher than maybe he should. He will stop and slow down if you ask, but it will definitely happen a few times. He can’t help it, he is just so happy, so excited, and you feel so damn good.

There is a good chance that he will tear your hymen in all of his excitement.

Nero is a bit lost in the sensation of finally feeling you surround him that he does not fully register you’re discomfort until you start telling him to stop.

“Fuck. What is it?” Nero grumbles as he feels you trying to push him away. His shallow thrusts stutter to a stop and he fights to hold his position, a primal part of him demanding that he keep grinding into you.

“It hurts.” The moment you say that Nero pops up onto outstretched arms.

“What?” When he sees the distress in your expression and pulls out enough to see blood coming from you, he starts to panic. “Holy shit, what happened? Are you okay? Fuck, shit, wait.”

His panicking causes you to panic which makes him more panicked and this spirals. He pulls out fully and tries to assure you that “I can fix this, just relax”, but that’s an impossibility at this point. He does not understand what is happening or how to deal with it. He races to grab you a towel and maybe pain medication? A hot water bottle? What does he do?

In the end, he calls Kyrie for help. She doesn’t really know much more than you two about sex but she is able to stay calm and relax you two enough to talk about things and maybe call a doctor. She will even take the bullet and call the doctor herself claiming she is the one who tried to have sex just to save you the embarrassment if you can’t bring yourself to do it.

In short, it is an absolute mess and makes things awkward between you two for a bit. He will avoid getting too touchy or intimate with you for a little bit out of guilt. You can even catch him mumbling apologies at seemingly random times because he thinks back to what he did and feels the need to.

When you two do finally have a proper, satisfying experience, whether it be after getting over the first mishap or if the first time went well because your hymen was already open enough for him, Nero feels a sense of giddiness.

He was not used to this post-coital bliss, instead often having post-nut clarity and maybe feeling a bit bad about it, so it kind of catches him off guard. He curls around you and nuzzles into your hair with a pleased smile. He peppers you with occasional kisses, tells you how good it felt, and asks you if you liked it too.

He is awash with renewed energy and can't seem to settle down. He will need something to calm down like a bath, food, music, or even a little game. And the whole time he can’t keep his hands off of you. Not so much for sexual reasons, though there was a tiny bit of that, but just out of the need to be close in this moment and show you affection.

And when you two do finally fall asleep, you are unable to escape his vine like embrace until the next morning.

V

V can, and will, play the long game with you. That is to say, he will spend weeks, possibly months, preparing you for the main course.

When you tell him you are a virgin and hint, through words or actions, that you are considering having your first time with him, his plan is set into motion.

He has no intention of simply waiting for the right time and then trying to take you all the way in one go. Instead, he builds up to it over multiple days.

He will start with kissing you a bit longer than the usual pecks or goodnight kisses you are used to. Once you get comfortable with that, will move to the next step.

He won't simply release you after a kiss, instead encouraging you to give him 1, 2, or however many you are willing to, more. As you pull away, he will chase your lips or gently pull you back to him by cupping your cheek or threading his fingers through your hair to hold your head. Once you are receptive to that he will proceed to the next step.

As you two kiss, or even just hold each other with the right mood set, V’s usually stationary hands start to wander. At first, he’ll avoid your more private areas and stick to rubbing your back, shoulders, and arms. Then he will start caressing them. Then he will move to more sensitive areas, like your legs, hips, and neck. Then, he will start gliding his hand over your rear, chest, and lower stomach just above the most sacred of areas. He may even try to hold his hand there if you will let him. He won't grope and grab, just hold and maybe caress those spots to let you grow comfortable with him touching you there. And once you are comfortable with that, he will take things further.

So on and so forth. And between every attempt and step, there is a break of hours, a day, or more.

He knows that committing to something like making love for the first time can be overwhelming with all of the new experiences, sensations, and emotions that come with it. So, instead of compressing all of it into an evening, he will separate these to make the ascension into full-blown passion as unjarring and natural as possible.

Even when you two do get into a bed and start touching under your clothes, V still takes things agonizingly slowly.

The first time you cum because of him had you sitting in his lap with your clothes still on and his hands down your pants. With one arm supporting your back to keep you in a semi-laying position while he held you up, and his face pressed into your hair, so you are not embarrassed by his staring and he can whisper into your ear, he pleasures you with just his hand, showering you with praise and offering reminders.

“You feel wonderful my dear.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“You are doing so well.”

“Please don’t hold your breath, let yourself breath and allow me the pleasure of listening to your sweet voice.”

“Move, flex, twitch, cry out, close your eyes, do whatever it is you desire. I will be here with you no matter what to take care of you. To guide you. To love you.”

“Focus on my fingers and how they glide betwixt your flower petals, how they spread your slick until it coats you completely, how they circle your bud, how they slide in easily as if they were made to bring you to ecstasy.”

He will get you to finish like this, held on his lap and in his arms, without pushing you to reveal your body to him. And this is where the sexual escapade will end for the night. V can see that you are tired out by this first sexual interaction, whether you see it as losing your virginity or not, and he simply wants to enjoy caring for you and soaking up the warmth radiating from you in your afterglow.

What’s that? You’ve noticed that V is still hard and did not actually cum? “Do not worry yourself over such things my songbird.” He assures you as he lays you down on the bed and begins stroking your hair. “Though I truly appreciate your attention to me despite you being the star of this moment, I must confess that not even reaching a physical climax can outmatch the pleasure I feel in seeing your ecstasy, so there is no need for you to overexert yourself on me when you have already satisfied my heart and soul.”

This also continues for a while, where he will bring you to completion through his hands, mouth, or some other means without asking for anything in return. Though, if you ask him if you can touch him, he will gladly welcome it. But your pleasure is paramount and whether he reaches his own orgasm or not is irrelevant.

It goes without saying that if, at any stage, you ask for things to slow down or stop, V will without hesitation. However, one slightly negative effect is that he tends to take even things like “slow down” and “wait” as hard stops, pulling away and ending the moment there. You may have to stop him from just giving up right away. He finds it unexpected but endearing and arousing when you ask him to continue.

When he does, finally, go all the way, things are just as slow, sensual, and focused on your experience as everything leading up to this.

Having your hymen torn by V is extremely unlikely considering how carefully he had trained and molded your body for this moment. But, hypothetically, if this were to happen he would be frustrated.

He does not blame it on you in the slightest, nor does he show any sort of negative emotion outwardly. He pulls out and showers you in affirmations and comfort in any way he can with a gentle, sympathetic smile. On the inside though he is fuming.

He had been so careful, worked so hard to avoid this, and done everything he could to prepare you. And yet now his precious songbird was in pain and there was nothing he could do except offer moral support and maybe offer pain medication or natural pain relief like a bath.

He will insist you stop here for today and will take a few steps back in his plan to ease you back into trying that again.

After the eventual successful try, V is in a state of bliss as he enjoys the fruit of his labor. To experience the most intimate of connections with the one he loves and have you lay in his arms feeling satisfied, safe, and secure after giving him something so precious was a joyous moment he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

[idrawweirdstuffnominors]

hi i loved your bill pregnancy and post partum fic!! Do you think you could write one for Josh just like how you did for bill?

( YES YIPPIE

Title: "It’s Not an Alien, Josh"

You hadn’t planned to tell him like this. In fact, you were going to wait until dinner, after he’d had time to decompress from work. But then you saw him — hunched over the couch, surrounded by open DVDs and a half-rebuilt model starship, mumbling about the continuity errors in Star Trek: Enterprise — and something in you just... burst.

“Josh,” you said, soft but certain. “I’m pregnant.”

He blinked. Slowly. Then again.

And then:

“...Is it mine?”

You stared at him. “What?”

“Wait—no—no, I mean—of course it’s mine, I just—wait—did you—did you double-check? Like, medically? Or are we talking like a ‘mystical-force-sensed-it’ kinda thing, because if this is some Padmé Amidala situation I need more context—”

You crossed the room and set the test in his palm. He stared at the little lines like they were glyphs on the Rosetta Stone.

Josh Levy, now well into his thirties, with his messy curls and stress lines, and a body that had gone from stocky to full-on dadbod without the “dad” part—just froze.

Then his eyes filled. Not just with panic. But with that weird, overloaded Josh emotion — like he couldn’t decide whether to pass out or hug you or throw up or start quoting Galaxy Quest.

“So...” he breathed. “We’re... having a child. Like, a baby. That grows. And then—talks. And poops. And—what if it hates me?”

You laughed. “Josh.”

“What if it’s a Star Wars kid and not a Trek kid? What if they want to play sports? Or—oh my God what if they’re cool?!”

You kissed his forehead gently. “Then they’ll have a cool, nerdy, deeply loving dad who will find a way to love sports.”

He blinked rapidly. Then exhaled. Then finally, finally, smiled. It was crooked and anxious and a little watery.

“I love you,” he said, voice thick. “And...I think I already love them, too. Even if they never watch Wrath of Khan.”

---

Title: "Gravity Shift"

(Part Two: The Pregnancy)

Josh isn’t great at handling change. You know that.

So when your pregnancy really starts — when the nausea comes with a vengeance, when smells make you cry, when your nipples get weird and painful and you sob over a paper towel commercial — he panics.

But he’s trying.

God, he’s trying.

He’ll rush in when you gag over the trash can with a towel like he’s defusing a bomb.

He’ll rub your feet while mumbling about how ridiculous it is that your feet are swelling but the fetus is like the size of a lemon right now.

He’ll yell at WebMD for “making everything sound like a damn X-Files episode.”

And the mood swings? He tries not to take them personally. Sometimes he fails.

“Okay, I get it, I’m loud and irritating and I left the cap off the juice again, and you hate me—"

“Josh, I literally just said the lights were too bright.”

“Oh.” He pauses. Rubs the back of his neck. “Okay. My bad. False alarm. Proceed.”

You get weird pregnancy symptoms — not the pretty “glow” people romanticize.

Your gums bleed. Your skin breaks out. Your body odor changes. You have intense, surreal nightmares that leave you sobbing into his chest.

One night, after a particularly vivid dream, you wake up shaking. You don’t say anything. You just cling to him.

Josh, half-asleep, still holds you like instinct — arms tight around your waist, rubbing your back. He whispers in your hair:

“You’re safe. You’re here. They’re still in there... Right?”

You nod.

He exhales.

“I’m not gonna be a good dad, am I?” he says one night, pressing a kiss to the stretch marks forming along your hips. “I get overwhelmed by, like, car insurance. I can’t even watch Interstellar without crying. And I have so much baggage, like I’m the goddamn Carousel of Emotional Damage—”

You grab his chin. You look him in the eyes.

“You’re going to be real,” you whisper. “And that’s already better than most.”

And somehow, that shuts him up. For once.

Sometimes he spirals. Borderline spirals, you call them. All-or-nothing thinking.

He’ll go from, “I’m building a crib and I’m gonna be a superdad,”

to, “They’ll grow up hating me because I’m a loudmouth burnout who still owns a signed Shatner headshot.”

But you keep anchoring him. And he keeps trying.

And when you cry over hemorrhoids or the fact that your feet don’t fit in your shoes anymore, he kisses your knee and says:

“Hey. I fell in love with you. Not your arches.”

He talks to the baby, too. Through your belly. Nerdy stuff. Rambling sci-fi nonsense.

“I’m just saying, little bean — the Vulcans had some valid points. Don’t let the Federation propaganda get to you.”

---

Title: "Gravity Shift"

(Part Three: The Fall Out & The Rise)

The day labor starts, Josh is a mess.

He's loud, flailing through the hospital bag, yelling at the nurse about wait times, white-knuckling the steering wheel like it personally insulted him. His panic makes you want to scream at him — and you do, at one point.

"Stop breathing so loud! You're making it worse!"

He flinches. Shuts up. But stays. He always stays.

The birth is not beautiful.

It’s not candlelight and gentle music and tears of joy. It’s screaming. It’s blood. It’s hours of pain and pressure and you sobbing that you can’t do this and him gripping your hand so tight your knuckles ache.

He doesn’t say anything poetic. He doesn’t whisper inspiration.

He just leans in, eyes wide with fear, and says:

"You're doin' it. You're doin' it, babe. Jesus christ— You're doin' it." Josh has to look away because he might passout.

When your baby finally cries, you do too.

Josh looks stunned. Quiet, for the first time in maybe ever. Like the world just broke open and remade itself in front of him.

And then the reality crashes down.

---

Postpartum is brutal.

You're bleeding. You're sore. You can’t sit right. You smell weird. You're leaking out of places you didn’t know could leak.

Josh tries to be everywhere at once — burping the baby, doing dishes, looking up every weird rash and googling “how to tell if a baby pooped or just looks like it did.”

But sometimes he shuts down. The crying wears on him. The sleep deprivation makes him snippy. He snaps at you once when you ask him to reheat your food — something stupid — and then instantly regrets it, pacing the hallway and whispering apologies until he spirals into guilt.

"I yelled. I f*ckin’ yelled. My mom used to yell. I didn’t wanna be like her. Shit, what if I mess her up already—"

"Josh," you interrupt, voice hoarse. "One bad moment doesn’t make you a bad dad."

He breaks down, right there. Crying quietly into your shoulder while the baby finally sleeps on your chest.

— his highs are high, and his lows can bottom out fast. He worries he’s not consistent enough. That his moodiness will affect the baby. That his insecurities will bleed into fatherhood.

But he’s also learning to name his feelings. To communicate.

He’ll pause mid-spiral and say:

“I feel out of control. I need ten minutes.”

And he’ll take them. Then come back, softer. Steadier. Still him, just learning to live with it.

---

You don’t have sex for a long time. Not because you don’t want to — but because your body is wrecked, and you’re afraid, and he’s afraid of hurting you.

He doesn’t pressure you. Even when he’s desperate for closeness, he redirects it into cuddling, into feeding you snacks in bed, into rubbing your back while you vent.

And when you're finally ready — it’s awkward. It’s clumsy. You're laughing, tearing up, stopping every few minutes.

He kisses your stretch marks. Traces them with reverence.

"These are so cool,” he says. “You’re like a goddamn warrior or something.”

You tell him he doesn’t have to flatter you.

“I’m not,” he shrugs. “You built a person. I just kept your juice stocked.”

---

The baby starts cooing. Smiling. Clutching his thumb.

Josh starts getting more confident. Not perfect — he still panics if the baby hiccups too hard — but there's less self-loathing behind his eyes.

He wears the baby in a carrier strapped across his vintage Star Trek shirt, one hand clutching coffee, the other flipping off some guy who side-eyed him for bottle-feeding in public.

“Yeah, dickhead, we share responsibilities in this household. Look it up.”

He’s still loud. Still crude. Still Josh.

But when the baby cries and he’s the one who calms her down — when she starts responding to his voice first — you see something new in him.

Not just love.

Healing.

---

[forthevillains]

Albert Wesker headcanons (pt.2)

!NSFW! (fem. reader)

~ Wesker is definitely dominant, especially when it comes to sex. He’s been like that ever since he lost virginity. Even then, when he was inexperienced, he knew for sure what he was doing and would insist on being on top

~ when you two started dating though, he already had perhaps too much experience… To say the least, he’s a very kinky man, often difficult to please, though it changed when he met you

~ considering how rough he can get, if he cared for you and planned on having a long term relationship, he’d offer you a safe word in case he gets carried away

~ he likes your voice, a lot. When you moan due to his actions, it turns him on even more than he already was and he craves your pleasure, maybe even more than you do yourself

~ he often makes you come on his fingers, loving how you cry out when that happens, begging him to stop, only for his movements to fasten, making your legs tremble and head dizzy, you have no other choice than to let him. He knows you like it and he wants to keep going until you physically can’t anymore;)

~ even though he’s trying to be gentle with you, he gets very rough in bed if you let him. He has no problem gripping your flesh tight enough to bruise, biting your skin as well. Sometimes he gets carried away and makes you bleed, but once he realizes he’ll shower the spot with gentle kisses as an apology (though he’s still gonna do it again)

~ if there’s one thing Wesker can’t resist it’s buying you expensive and erotically revealing lingerie. He prefers to fingerfuck you in it so that he can keep your soaked panties as a reward

~ as much as he loves receiving, he’s actually very good at giving too. He loves going down on you, even though he mostly does it when he’s too tired for anything else or when you’ve been very good to him. He adores the faces you make, how you throw your head back, how your shaky hands slide in his hair only to desperately pull him closer. He’d hold onto your hip with one hand while he’d have two fingers buried deep inside you as he pleasures you with his tongue. It’s also his favorite way to overstimulate you as he can always grip your thighs so that you can’t squirm away

~ quickies are a necessity. No matter how crazy he’s going from the fact that he doesn’t have enough time for you, he just has to release all the tension and stress and if you’re around and up for it - he won’t waste the opportunity. His office is the best place for them. He wouldn’t want anyone else seeing his precious little angel in such a state of bliss

~ you’ve been rarely given the opportunity to be on top, however when you have… Oh did he enjoy it. He might’ve let you be on top, but little did you know how much he’d put you through in return. If you’re shy, it’s even better for him. He’d keep his hands off of you, ordering you to ride him as he makes you look at him. If you dared dodge him in any way, he’d just forcefully turn your head to look back at him. He’d watch you, how your cheeks turned red from embarrassment and how you helplessly tried to bounce on his thick length, a moan slipping from your mouth every single time you did it, teary eyes from the overwhelming sensation. You felt ashamed of yourself, but it felt too good to stop… Of course he’d only torture you like that until he’s had enough. Then he’d grab your hips to keep you still and pound into you hard enough to make you see stars

~ he doesn’t own toys as he thinks they’re useless. He can make you feel all types of ways on his own. Though he does like to tie you up so that he can have his way with you and push your limits. He likes to see you try and get away, knowing he can do anything he wants to you

~ his favorite position would still be missionary. Call it old school, but it’s the best way for him to keep everything under control. He watches the slightest expressions of yours when he fucks you like that, holding you close to him, giving you the slightest of comfort while he abuses your tight hole to the point when you’re probably not gonna be able to walk for hours. If you’ve grown used to his size, he might just take one of your legs and push your knee to your chest to get even deeper. He’s not gonna let go until he’s satisfied

~ he’s a quick learner. He knows exactly what to do and where to touch you to make you melt, whether it is intimate or not

~ to be fair I feel like he’s a boobie guy. Doesn’t matter how big they are, he just loves them. He loves to kiss them, suck on them, hold them, even just look at them. He loves it and he definitely stares when you’re changing in front of him

~ definitely not a condom user. He either cums inside or on you. Though he surely prefers to release inside as he does have a breeding kink;)

~ he would love to watch his seed spill from your hole only to push it back in with his fingers every single time. He finds it very amusing

~ if you decide to blow him off on your own, he’ll absolutely melt. He might be the one in charge at all times, but the way you suck him off so good always catches him off guard. Maybe it’s not even your skill but you in general, yet he couldn’t care less. He loves how you look up at him when you do so, how you teasingly swirl your tongue around him. He can’t get enough and trust me when I say he could watch you like that forever

[lorre-verie]

heyyyy there, how are you? was just thinkinggg 😝🧟 ---

may I please request an enemies to lovers ao'nung x fem!metkayina!reader fic where reader ventures out beyond the reef with bestie tsireya in their rarely found free time in order to decompress from their stressful routines --- evident in readers duties of teaching the young many things like weaving and breathing, helping ronal collect medicinal resources, and tsireya being tsakarem. reader vents about ao'nung being a pain and how hard she's pining for him regardless and tsireya, being all knowing, tries to hint to reader about ao'nungs feelings. some more banter before reya rushes off to meet with lo'ak for their date. not long after tsireya leaves, readers gets attacked and badly injured in the leg by something (I can't think of anything 💀) and rushes back to awa'atlu riding an ilu, bleeding out, where ao'nung (previously training) takes notice of her limping out of the water barely conscious. ao'nung rushes to her, reader collapsing in his arms, ao'nung delivering a cutsie little panicked "don't worry, im not gonna let anything to happen to you, 'm gonna take care of you" just before readers loses consciousness 😝😝😝😝 perhaps some cutie fluffy tearful confessions after she wakes in ronals healing marui

“Living, breathing, nightmare.”

word count: 4.4k

pairings: aonung x fem!metkayina!reader 

author notes:  - the prompt IS enemies to lovers so i decided to make it a HEAAVY emphasis on the enemies part of that (😏), so this is gonna be a wild ass ride. love you for this request, thanks for bringing me back onto this platform, anon! - 2nd person (love it too much) - NO you are not short you’re a little taller than tsireya but aonung is just a tall mf

masterlist

“So, they hate each other?” Ewie asked curiously, her curiosity piqued as her gaze remained fixed on the two na’vi bickering aways from her and the tsakarem-to-be of her clan.

“...Not exactly,” Tsireya answered, grimacing.

She sighed, patting the little one’s back, who stood there confused and still staring, eyes wide as seashells. Tsireya knelt down on one knee atop the damp, warm sand, offering the little girl a reassuring smile as she reached out to place her hand to Ewie’s shoulder, encouraging her to meet Tsireya’s gaze. “Why don’t you go on and play with your friends now, Ewie? You can resume your lessons with [name] tomorrow,” she said softly, promptly turning her head to smile at Ewie’s friends who ran wildly across the coast, screaming and jumping joyously.

The little girl’s eyes brightened as she looked at her group of friends, one of the boys in particular waving her over to join. She let out a small excited squeal, her mind now totally torn away from the sight of you and aonung, running to join them. Tsireya smiled as she watched Ewie scamper away, leaving only the older girl and the ocean in her wake. For Tsireya, now was one of the calm moments that no one could take away from her. 

She inhaled, the ocean breeze carrying a freshness that was tinged with the ancient salt of countless tides. Its age-old whispers danced through the air, brushing against her skin with a coolness that– if she concentrated enough, she could almost hear….yes…Eyw-

“You are an ABSOLUTE NIGHTMARE!” Your voice pierced through her thoughts, her ears flattening as she winced.

She whipped her head around to look at you and aonung in what seemed to be a private, yet full-blown war between the two of you, Aonung laughing in your face as you gave him a piece of your mind.

She let out a breath to calm herself. Happy thoughts…happy thoughts…she repeated in her mind as to not kick both you and her older brother in the back of the knees. 

“Yet I still show up in your dreams every night, eh?” he smirked even wider at you (if that was even possible).

To that, you didn’t know whether you wanted to scream, cry, cringe, throw up, or shove a kick so far up his ass he would never be able to talk out of it again. 

So you just stared at him silently, your silent screams bouncing off the insides of your body.

He towered over you, seemingly amused by your lack of response. 

You hated that. Why did Eywa give the males the unfair advantage in vertical length? (the answer is cause they need it boo or else they’d cry themselves to sleep every night) If you wanted to meet his eyes you would have to give yourself a strained neck, compared to all the other boys your age.

“You…wish.” you said, internally groaning at the less-than-satisfactory response you gave him. 

Should’ve been something kickass like “yeah, the haunting presence of your mediocrity,” but of course you’d only think about something like that far later, when it was way too late.

Tsireya walked towards the two of you, making sure to sigh mentally instead of in real life, bracing herself for whatever outlandish thing you two were bickering about now.

“Ah, sister, how kind of you to join us!” aonung raised his eyebrows slightly, “Would you kindly tell your friend here that she would absolutely not hold up in a battle between her and an Akula?” 

Before Tsireya could even open her mouth, you scoffed. 

“That is not what I said!” you seethed, crossing your arms. He had this tactic of taking whatever you were saying and twisting it so that he’d seem in the right at all times.

“I only said that I’ve been training for it, and I think that I could handle it! And also, that wasn’t even your conversation to listen in on!” and you didn’t want to admit that you were just trying to make yourself seem the teeniest bit more impressive to one of the younger kids you were teaching. In moderation of course!

*record scratch* (for all my lovely readers who’ve no idea/don’t remember what an akula is, that's the scary 3 jawed monster that practically almost killed our boy lo’ak. but that hasn't happened yet in this story)

Tsireya contained her urge to pinch the bridge of her nose, instead resorting to pinching aonung’s wrist, earning a ‘hey!’ from the metkayina while you smirked, satisfied with her response which was clearly a ‘i-don't-want-to-get-into-detail-about-the-topic-of-conversation-but-my-brother-is-incredibly-annoying-and-i-know-that-so-i’ll-just-do-this’ stance, but hey, at least it humbled the gargantuan himbo in front of you, even if by the smallest bit.

“[Name], how about we just get going?” she said, her hand rested on your shoulder, looking at you with an awkward smile.

“Great idea,” you smiled at her, willing to do anything to get away from the disproportionate frog. 

Before you could even take a step away, he obviously had to get in his bit.

“Hey wait, where are you two going?” he looked at you both, confusedly.

This was strange for 1 reason.

Why the hell does he care??? He never cared before, so why does he care now???

You turned your head and gave him an annoyed look, while Reya, ever the peacekeeper, answered his question for you. 

“We’re going beyond the reef. We want to see if we can catch a glimpse of the nrr payoang migrating for the season.” she said.

And even though she was the one who answered, he kept his eyes fixated on you for a solid extra few seconds, before finally switching to her. What in the motherfu-

“It’s optimal timing. Plus, this is one of the rare occasions where me and [name] are both free at the same time.” she said, smiling brightly. “It must be Eywa clearing the path for us.”

Right then, he smirked. 

Oh no. 

He was going to say something else to keep your blood above a healthy pressure, wasn’t he?

He looked at you again, and you felt your muscles tense. His mouth opened– no– here it comes– mayday, mayday!

BRACE FOR IMPACT!!!

“I also happen to be free. Can I come along?” 

You felt yourself die.

“NO!” you said a little bit too suddenly. “Go find some other people to bother!” you turned on your heel and stomped away from the situation before he could burden your mind further, grumbling at the sheer audacity.

“He literally insulted my capability of surviving like any normal metkayina could, and then he wants to “cOmE AlOnG?” Forget it!” you pressed a wrist into your left eye, trying to rid it of the image of the colossal amphibian as you rode on the ilu with Tsireya by your side, who was dipping gracefully above and below the water on her own ilu.

She emerged from the cerulean blue waves, her hair carrying beads of water in them, before she turned to look at you, back straightening.

“I think he just wanted to spend more time with you, you know.” she suggested, trying her damndest to hint to you what everyone else except literally the two of you could see. 

“Ha! As if! The last time I tried to ask him something, he said “don’t talk to me, my people might think that we’re friends.” Like what? Who says that? WHY would he say that?” you started, your ramble being nothing new to your best friend, who only sighed as she dipped a hand into the water as her ilu moved her through it.

Together, you headed to the point where the glowing fish were most spotted, waiting above the water for any signs of movement as you continued on.

“And I do not like him at all, despite what that skxawng Neteyam might say. He’s annoying, loud, obnoxious, and the way he carries himself differently when I’m in the vicinity is dumb. Almost like he’s trying to make himself seem better than me! Who does he think he is, puffing his chest out like a-” hold on.

You went silent, backtracking. 

Everytime Aonung noticed you were near, he stood up straighter than usual.

Your mind thought back to all those little moments in flashes. During training, at your cousin's coming-of-age ceremony, the harvest celebration, and today.

He constantly looks at you even if there are others around, but if you look back at him (more like glare), he looks away immediately. 

He always initiates the conversation first, even if there’s nothing to talk about.

Okay hold on [name], none of this necessarily means that he likes you.

And then, your whole world came to a stop. You swear even the wind became silent, leaving only you and the sounds of the cool ocean water rippling against your body, the evening painting a blur of pinks and oranges in the sky.

As if she knew every bit of the revelation you just had, Tsireya, who was a little ways in front of you, turned her head, looking at the blank expression on your face.

Am I the one that likes him? you thought to yourself.

No. It couldn’t be. There was no way, no possible way, that this was happening.

“Reya?” you blurted out, your body (and your stupid mouth) acting on instinct.

I mean, she was your best friend. Obviously best friends have to tell each other about their crushes, right?

“I think I like-” you stopped yourself short as you looked at her face. 

Her face, which was trying to hold back a smirk.

“Yes, [name]? Do continue?” she said, her tone a lot more singsong than you’d like it to be.

Perhaps telling your best friend that you had a crush on her literal BROTHER wasn’t the best course of action.

Fuuuuuuuuu–

“You know, if you like him, it’s totally alright with me.” she said, shrugging as she turned her head back to the front, smiling as she knew exactly what you’d say next.

“WHAT??” you screamed, startling your ilu, to which you whispered rushed apologies, soothing the back of its neck. 

“I’m just happy you’ve finally realised it.” she said, still not turning back, acting as if this was the most normal conversation to have.

“Wha? Who???” you asked, suddenly getting the idea she was having the wrong idea.

“Neteyam.” she said, her tone sarcastic, but unfortunately you were too startled to catch on.

“Hah! You’re wrong, I do not like him.” you said, silently revelling in the relief that she didn’t catch on.

Oh [name]. Sweet, oblivious, [name].

“Yeah I know, that’s why you have a crush on my brother.” 

To that, you completely stopped in your tracks, jaw slack open. She’s done it. She’s broken you.

She finally turned around, guiding her ilu to the left so as to block your track. 

“He likes you too. And I think you know that already.” she smiled, narrowing her eyes mischievously.

‘For the love of all things good and beautiful, why was this happening to me?’ you screamed on the inside, not wanting to relent.

Okay, if you were denying it, then maybe you actually didn’t like him! Right??

Yeah. That was it. You were giving yourself the delusion of liking him, because he’s the one that liked you first and you felt bad for him, and that’s why you were only considering liking him back.

Wait, does he even like me? What??

“Okay, no, that’s not what I-” and just as you were starting to deny everything, because that was 100% the truth, Tsireya waved you off as she submerged her head in the water, already off her ilu. 

You quickly realised what you were here for in the first place, hopping off and following suit, taking a deep breath before you dipped your head below the cool waves.

Deep below the two of you on the surface, you could see hundreds of bioluminescent jellyfish wading in one path, weaving through the floating rocks and plants, the vividness of the glowing colours acting as if a kaleidoscope in your vision.

You had to pull your head out from the water to take another breath, using your hand to push away some of your hair that decided to stick itself onto your face. You were absolutely stunned at the beautiful sight. It took your breath away, literally.

Dipping your head below the surface of the water once more, you decided with Tsireya to take a closer look. You dove your body forwards into the water, Reya following closely behind. 

It was quickly becoming darker, night was falling and you knew it was time to turn back, but the jellyfish illuminated your surroundings almost mesmerizingly, as if pulling you into a beautiful vortex. 

You hid your body behind a set of rocks, watching the jellyfish swim in their little path, smiling as you watched a small one lag behind the others before a bigger one pushed it forward, practically propelling it through the water as it sputtered around before finding its place again.

Tsireya, who was a little bit above you in the water, turned and dipped her body downwards to touch your shoulder, to signal that it was time to return to the surface and go home before it got too dark.

Her hand was a mere millimetre away from you when a sudden jolt of agony rips through your leg. It's as if a thousand needles pierce your flesh all at once, and panic surges, rising through your veins like wildfire.

Instinctively, you kick and thrash, but the unseen assailant's grip tightens like a vise, dragging you mercilessly downward. Darkness engulfs your senses and you're plunged into a void, robbed of sight and hearing, your lungs screaming for air..

You can’t even see Tsireya anymore, nor the prismatic glow of the jellies.

Bubbles erupt from your lips in frantic bursts, mingling with the surrounding darkness, further obscuring your already impaired vision. Each gasp for air feels like a futile struggle against the inevitable, your chest burning with the agonising need for oxygen. What is this? What is this that’s grabbing you? What is happening? The questions flood your mind and sear the corners of your vision as you're dragged deeper, darkness enveloping you fully. 

With each passing second, your panic intensifies. You can't tell which way is up anymore. The ocean presses in around you, a suffocating weight. It’s still pulling you down.

Down…

..down…

and down…

In a last, thoughtless attempt, you reach out, fingers stretching toward the abyssal void, but there's nothing to grasp onto, nothing to anchor you in this sea of darkness. Panic tightens its grip around your throat, threatening to choke the life from your trembling body.

Desperation claws at your soul, pounding on your chest, as you realise the seconds are slipping away. Any moment now, and you’ll be dead. Any moment now, and everything you yourself have worked for, would be gone. You let yourself close your eyes. Maybe because of the weight of the void pushing onto your body, or maybe you’re tired from fighting this thing around your leg for Eywa knows how long. When you outstretched your hand you hoped that someone, anyone would pull you out of this..nothingness. You wanted it so badly you almost thought that he would. That he’d save you.

Your body jolts awake, only to find yourself in an unfamiliar place. 

The cool, steady flow of the breeze unnerves you. It’s the first thing you notice besides the wild racing of your heart in your chest, your head whipping around in this empty space, trying to ascertain where you are. Is this Eywa? The place feels like a void, but it’s far different from the blackened one that suffocated your being. It feels calm. Peaceful. You can see the dark purple sky above you, glittering with stars and moons that you’ve never even seen about it. But it looks… strange. 

Otherworldly. Like it is impossibly distant, yet so close to you at the same time. You kneel in an extraordinarily shallow pool of cool water, the surface reflecting the celestial display above you. Though it is rather shallow, like a puddle almost, it stretches endlessly into the horizon as far as your eyes can see it. As you look around, time seems to stand perfectly still. 

It’s unnerving. Realising that you can, in fact, move your desensitised limbs, you slowly get up, your feet creating small ripples in the water. “Hello?” you call out. 

Nothing except your own echo responds to you. Just then, you hear something in the distance. Like someone’s there, in the hazed distance. They’re close to you, then they’re unimaginably far away. What is that? “[Name]!” It’s calling out your name. How do you respond? A. Call out for help

B. Cry C. Curl up into a ball and give up D. Walk towards the source Just kidding, you don’t have a choice. As if your legs had minds of their own, you start walking towards the source. You can’t quite make out that voice. It changes every time you hear it, showing up in intervals of about 5-8 seconds of space in between. “[Name]?” Gosh, and the change in tone too. It’s filled with fear, then anger, then happiness, then…huh? “[Name]... I’m so sorry.” Sadness. The voice is filled with a type of sadness that almost stabs your chest. Regret. Guilt. So many emotions in this strangely familiar, choked-out voice. The voice continues sobbing, sniffling, but then it stops. Leaving you whipping around in the darkness, unsure of where to go. You turn around, then you slam face first into something really tough. “What the fuc-” your voice rings out, angered, in the void. Rubbing your nose, you look up. “What the fuck?” you whisper. It’s Aonung. 

How delightful. But seriously, how de-fucking-lightful? Finally, another person in this endless, pitch black space of darkness. You almost want to scream. Of horror or joy, you’re not exactly sure, but you contain yourself, mostly due to the fact that he’s looking at you.

And he’s crying. Tears stream down his cheeks as he looks at you— actually, not quite you. His eyes aren’t exactly focused on yours, but they’re focused on…you. If that makes any sense at all. “Please wake up…” he croaks out. 

And that voice! It was him. That depressing, bleak voice from before that was calling out your name. It was him. But why? And how? 

You’re about to do something but then your heart jolts in your chest because he’s lifting up his right hand and cupping your cheek softly. Gently. Like the real Aonung would never do. This is some sick hallucination isn’t it? Oh gosh you actually went to hell, didn’t you? Before you realise it, he uses his thumb to wipe away a tear that somehow appeared on your face. You’re not crying. So what is this? What’s going o– NO. He’s leaning in. WHY IS HE LEANING IN? Fuck all “[NAME], DO SOMETHING!! YOU STUPID-” you scream at yourself, fighting your inanimate body. WHY COULDN’T YOU FUCKING MO- *SLLAAAAAPPPPPP!!!*Now you’re scrambling to your feet on what you realise to be the sickbed of Ronal’s healing tent, your hand stinging after delivering the most horrible sounding slap you have ever slapped…

…to the side of Aonung’s, now incredibly shocked, and incredibly offended, face.

Ronal sighed, but the remnant of a smirk lingered still on her cheeks, avoiding both you and Aonung’s gaze. “There you go, [name]. Next time, you should be much more careful,” she said softly, her hands leaving the cooling bandage now wrapped around your still aching leg and extending to your ankle, a sore reminder of whatever the hell it was that you experienced the night before.

You sat on a woven hammock, propped up by the trees that supported the healing tent. Ronal stood in front of you, “I am grateful that Aonung was there to help,” she said, turning towards the discombobulated walking-disease she called her son, who had a big bandage over his cheek, glaring down at you. She grabbed Aonung’s ear, pulling his body over very clearly painfully, making him yelp in pain with incoherent pleas of ‘ma’ and ‘please’  coming from his lips.

“What in Eywa’s name were you thinking? Trying to kiss a girl while she’s injured and unable to say anything about it! You are lucky that she slapped you first, or else you would not live to see another day if I had anything to do with it! My son, you are many things, but you are not an idi–” she scolded, promptly dragging him out of the marui still by his ear to deliver his well-deserved punishment outside, an amused smile making its way onto your face. Sigh, justice.

But okay, the incredulity of the day, of course, has not worn down on you. 

Tsireya came rushing into the tent with a bowl of…whatever, her face the guiltiest it’s ever been. It kinda made your heart hurt. “[Name], I am so, so, so sorry!” she said, kneeling down by your hammock and taking your hand in between hers. “As soon as I heard you were awake I rushed over,” she quickly mumbled, grabbing a rag and dipping it into the bowl and pressing it over your forehead gently, “I am so sorry for yesterday, I never should have suggested going there, let alone–”

Oh, here we go… It’s the Tsireya cycle, you call it. Whenever something goes wrong, she infinitely feels bad as if it’s her fault that something nearly killed you. 

She kept on rambling, trying to explain herself, but all you did was squeeze her hand tighter. She stopped, looking at the small smile on your face. “Hey, no harm done Reya. I’m fine, you see?” you reassure her, the small beads of water gathering under her eyes slowly going away as she blinked rapidly, containing herself as best as she could. She couldn’t say anything, although words were at the tip of her tongue. You could see she was struggling to add something, but she finally relented, settling for a gentle hug. “I’m glad,” she smiled. 

Okay, now it was time to figure out what the hell happened. “So…who saved me?” you asked her, using your arms to prop you up a little bit higher on the hammock. “Well, it’s a long story. Aonung kind of…followed us to see the nrr payoang. He was planning to surprise us, he said.” 

what

“He said he saw us, and as he was swimming down he saw you get pulled down by the creature. He dove in immediately and saved you.” she offered a small smile, like anything she was saying was making sense at the moment.

The only thing that came into your mind was the blaring red siren that screamed “STALKER! STALKER! STALKER!” but unfortunately, the pufferfish on legs had just saved your life so you were probably going to have to shut up about that for a while.

Woah. He just saved your life, [Name], shouldn’t you be more grateful? Maybe hug him? Maybe-

NO! Inner thoughts, shut up. Nobody likes you.

Tsireya turned around in response to the sound of someone being pushed through the entrance to the healing tent. 

Aonung. 

Wait nonononono Tsireya please don’t get up please don’t leave me here with him he looks like he’s about to kill me please

Aaand she’s gone. 

He took a pained breath, as if what he was going to do next was going to bruise him for the next couple centuries or so, sitting cross legged beside your, now that you realise it, very lowly hung hammock.

You were positive the look on your face wasn’t very inviting. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally said.

You had half a mind to burst out laughing because you were the one that had to get saved in the middle of the deep dark ocean. But he did violate you so obviously you weren’t going to do that, it was well deserved. A non-consensual move is still a non-consensual move.

“For the record, I only wanted to….” he basically whispered the next word, “kiss” (you felt your whole body cringing and twisting and turning on the inside and screaming to be let go from this horrible situation) “the top of your head.”

Oh. 

‘kayyyy… that makes it the tiniest bit better. 

Still not forgiving though. 

“I’m sorry too.” you said to him, your eyes now avoiding his face. Damn, did you slap him good.

He let out a small smirk. Oh no, you slapped his smirking cheek. You could see him wince in pain a bit before he stopped his expression abruptly.

“For what? I mean besides the slap. I deserved that. Although, I have no idea how you knew-” his eyes widened, stopping mid-sentence.

“Were you pretending the whole time?” he asked, eyes scrutinising your face.

“Okay hold on! I know it sounds crazy, but I had this dream, and you were in my dream–” you started explaining, ignoring his smirk at those words, “and I saw you lean down to like, kiss me, or something, and then I slapped you in the dream but I slapped you in real life.”

“All I got from that was ‘I dreamed about you kissing me, Aonung, please kiss me now, Aonung, I love you, Aonung’ ” he joked, smiling down at you.

Gosh, those dimples. 

FUCK nononononnnonasonfiwbjberhblvhaqnerovnav

Okay but he was kinda attractive as hell right now.

The hair too.

You weighed your options for a bit, the tension in the air crisp.

“[Name]? Did I say something wro–” he started. 

Ughhhhh, just shut up already.

Before you knew it, you closed your eyes and pulled him in by his neck, pressing his lips onto yours, kissing him.

He sighed into the kiss, before smiling really widely, pulling away.

“So I was right after all–”

“Just shut up before I give you a matching bruise on the other cheek,” you threatened. But a super wide smile was evident on your face, and your hands still clasped together on the back of his neck.

“Yes ma’am,” he smiled, whispering softly, looking into your eyes and then your lips again.

“Thank you for saving my life, ‘Nung.” you say. 

You don’t know why the hell you’re doing this.

 But it just feels right.

 And isn’t that what we’re all looking for in the end?

“No problem. Would do it again,” he smirked, “Know how you can repay me?” 

You rolled your eyes before pulling him in once again.

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Omg screaming crying WOOO it’s over it’s done! I’m so so sorry if it didn’t turn out to be exactly what you asked for, anon. Harder than I thought it would be to complete a fic after a solid 10 months of not writing (and also unfortunate circumstances arising). I made sure it was longer than my usual so that it’s not too bad 😭

I hope you guys enjoyed the fic, I know I definitely enjoyed writing it lol. I tried a different style of narration this time so do let me know what you guys think! Hope it’s not total doodoo to future Lorre when she rereads this back again. 

As always, feedback is much much appreciated and any interaction with my posts helps a lot! In case anyone has more requests please feel free to leave them in the inbox, I will get to them eventually. Thinking of writing for a lot of characters and fandoms but this is getting way too long so I'll cut this short lmao.

see you later!

much love, lorre

[bouncybongfairy]

Sleepy

Simon (Ghost) Riley x Fem Reader

Summary: After going days without sleep, you start to experience the effects of sleep deprivation: anxiety, hallucinations, irritability and lack of appetite. Ghost helps calm you down and rest after an intense mission.

Word Count: 1.0k+

TW: Protective Ghost, Comfort fluff, Soft Ghost

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

As a new recruit, you were getting chewed up and spit out everyday. The days were slowly starting to blur together and you weren’t sleeping well. The tiniest of sounds scaring you awake at least twice a night. Or having recurring night terrors from more gruesome missions. Everyone on the task force was starting to get concerned, it was evident you were suffering from a lack of rest. The group, you included, were walking back from a mission. You were drenched in blood after going completely feral in combat. Even strangers, you were walking ahead of everyone. Making it clear that you didn’t want to converse with anyone. Walking past Soap to get to your room, his eyes widened and looked over at Ghost and Keegan. 

“What happened?” he asks. 

“I don’t know, she just went crazy,” Ghost sighed, the situation clearly stressing him out.

“Crazy is a nice way to put it,” Keegan scoffed, Ghost shot him a death glare but he continued anyway, “don’t look at me like that bro, you were there. You saw for yourself, she bit and I repeat: bit that guy’s finger off,” he defended himself. 

“y/n did that? You know she hasn't eaten since last night? And when she did it was only peanut butter and an apple,” Soap said, taken back by this report. Ghost gave both of them a dirty look before walking to your shared room. 

He walked in and saw you sitting on your bed. You haven't taken any of your gear off, just sitting in dark silence. Unlike others in your platoon, Ghost had a first hand look into why your behavior was so erratic. All he hears at night is you tossing and turning, not even mentioning your night terrors. He just pretends he doesn’t notice, he couldn’t ignore it anymore. Shedding his gear but leaving his cotton mask on before walking over to you. He rests his hand on your shoulder, making you jump up. Slightly disoriented from being broken out of a haze, you pull out your knife. Ghost grabbed your wrist, gripping it so tight the blade drops from your hand. Slowly starting to come back to reality, sinking to your knees and crying. He helps you to the ground, letting you rest your weight against him. 

“I’m sorry,” you kept mumbling weakly. Still having full combat gear on was making you sweat. He was slowly taking your stuff off, unloading your gun and tossing it onto his bed while coaxing you down. 

“It’s okay, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you,” he said, standing you up and walking you to the bathroom. 

Sleep deprivation was starting to kick in, you haven’t eaten anything in a day. After the burst of adrenaline on the mission, you could barely walk. Sitting on the bathroom floor, enjoying the cold tile against your hot and flushed skin. Ghost turned on the water, letting the tub fill up then turning his attention back to you. Resting his hand on your forehead and cringing when he felt how warm you were. He lifts you up bridal style, letting your feet dip into the water first. You jump and cling onto him so tight, it makes two of your fingernails start bleeding. 

“Holy fuck it’s freezing,” you gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I know but you have to break the fever, and you’ll throw up if you take any medication right now,” he said, trying to pry you off him. 

“Please,” you pleaded with him, death gripping his neck and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

After struggling trying to get you off, he was becoming overwhelmed. Your face was tucked into his neck and your cheek was resting on his shoulder. Breathing hard against his ear while unknowingly rubbing yourself against his erection. Once he came to the conclusion that he couldn’t get you off, he got into the water. Figuring he was killing two birds with one stone by killing his hard-on with the freezing water and getting you into the tub. You struggled underneath him for a while, until the small amount of strength you had was gone. Teeth chattering and sniffling as you cried quietly, keeping your grip around his neck. 

“I’ve gone fucking crazy,” you whispered, ghost looked down at you. 

“No love, you’ve just gone days without sleep,” he said, wetting his hands and whipping the blood off your face. Trying his best to untangle the strands that were caked to your skin. 

“Stop. You know, like my brain is fucked up. I’m fucked up,” you cried, working yourself up again. Hyperventilating and trying to get out of the tub. 

He changed your positions, sitting up and pressing his back against the tub. Pulling your back into his chest and changing the subject. Resting his chin on the top of your head while he talked, gripping your wrist so you couldn’t get out. 

“You know I used to have night terrors because my brother would scare me awake?” he said, using his thumb to stroke your hand. 

“Yeah?” you mumbled. 

“Mmhm, but I grew out of it, just like you will eventually,” he said. 

“I have blood on my hands,” you slurred, at first he thought you meant metaphorically. Until he saw you looking down at your palms, trying to wash the ‘blood’ off. Ghost isn’t a rookie and knows what sleep deprived hallucinations look like. In his experience, validation rather than conflict helps deescalate things.

“Let me wash it off, don’t worry about it,” he said, rubbing your hands under the water. 

After a few moments of this, you finally fell asleep against his chest. He got out of the water, changed the two of you into dry clothes before joining you to get some rest

[silv3rswirls]

Their s/o struggles with anxiety

Requests are open!

Note: So sorry this is late anon! I took a little break from requests. Thank you for requesting though! I hope you like it 💕

Anon asks: Hi lovely here to keep ya busy. How about a reaction with dearest Stray Kids in which they spot signs of anxiety on their s/o and help em out...

♡Chan♡

He’s observant, his eyes are always on you when out in public. He knows how hard social settings can be for you especially when they’re overcrowded and hectic as the one you were currently at was. He’s become so good at reading you, comforting you, knowing when you’ve reached your limit. He’ll slip away somewhere quiet with you; let you calm down, do breathing exercises, get you whatever you need, etc. He always knows what to say to make you feel even just a little better.

♡Minho♡

He always holds your hand whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed. He squeezes it and runs his thumb over your knuckles, telling you to just focus on breathing. He’ll pull you aside and give you a gentle pep talk if you’re feeling upset about it. He’s the kind of giving you security when your feeling like this, going along for the ride as you learn how to cope with your anxiety.

♡Changbin♡

You found going out in public to be overwhelming most of the time. It’s always easy for you to get overstimulated, and Changbin has grown to know when you are. He doesn’t mind if you need to put headphones on or something to help you get through things. He’s flexible, offering to go somewhere quieter or less crowded if he feels like the function will be too much. He helps you resettle and adjust when needed and is always by your side as long as you want him to be.

♡Hyunjin♡

When you turned to him and nervously admitted you felt like throwing up, Hyunjin nearly had a heart attack. He had no clue your anxiety over what was happening was that great, but got up with you immediately. He waits in the doorway worried and ready to comfort you when you step out to try and recollect yourself. He combs his fingers through your hair, gets you something for your stomach, and assures you it’s okay and it’s fine with taking you home to rest.

♡Jisung♡

When you’re feeling down and overwhelmed with emotions, Han doesn’t mind staying home to be with you. He’ll stay in bed with you all morning, letting you rest or cry or vent to him. He gets you whatever you want; warm drinks, comfort food, extra blankets, etc. He understands feeling this way and wants to take care of you like you do for him.

♡Felix♡

Chest and stomach pains were nothing new. You were always telling him in stressful or anxiety inducing situations how your chest would tighten and hurt, or your stomach would turn to the point of pain. He listens and pays great mind to your social cues, and doesn’t mind cutting anything short of you’re in discomfort. He holds your hand, draws shapes on your skin, and lets you curl up with him.

♡Seungmin♡

It took him a bit to notice how bad your nail biting and skin picking was, but when he does he offers to help you try to break the anxious habit. He tries all the usual tracks with you; lemon juice or bitter tasting nail polish, helping file your nails down short, bandaids, etc. it makes him sad when he notices you’ve picked around your nails until they’ve bleed. He helps take care of them and stop you when it happens. If you're insecure over how torn up they get, he assures you there’s nothing wrong with it.

♡Jeongin♡

When you can’t settle your mind down to go to sleep he’ll gladly stay up with you. He’ll lay there and do nothing, or get up and do something with you if you want. He could talk calmly with you or just sit in comfortable silence; whatever you need. He’ll listen to whatever worries are keeping you up and try to talk through them with you. He’ll try things like tea or exercising that are supposed to help you sleep. He’ll cuddle with you, let you vent, anything you wanted.

[annisassintchaska]

Seeing his ex-wife again was the last thing he expected today. Lewis had been busy the whole week going back and forth, getting work done as usual, when Toto called him to be introduced to someone.

Upon arrival, at first the female’s back was turned to his face so he didn’t really see her face. Sniffing the air, he realised that he knew the scent and couldn’t help but take a couple of steps back, not believing that it was her. It wasn’t until Toto tapped her on the shoulder and she spun around did their eyes meet and immediately she looked down at her shoe still in hurt and feeling inferior to the champion before her.

“Lewis, this is your new physiotherapist. Her name is Y/n and she transferred from Ferrari as she was working with Carlos.” Toto explained yet stood quietly as he waited for the ex-partners to interact. “Hi” Y/n said lowly as she shyly waved. Lewis smiled at her weakly as he understood that she never changed even after everything he had put her through.

“Well, the both of you will be walking around today as he does interviews, so I’ll leave you both to it.” Toto said walking away briskly. “Why did you transfer teams?” Lewis asked. “I didn’t really have a choice, they found a replacement so I would’ve basically been left without a job. I thought that they’d give me George but put me here” she explained as they walked.

Entering her office, she went over everything that was supposed to be done before the media day started and they came to an understanding within what each person was supposed to do. Leaving n’s heading off to the media pen, joined by his press agent. They went from one mic to another, Lewis answering the questions yet seemed unfocused every now and then as he looked off to the side to make sure that Y/n wasn’t too far away.

Truth be told, Lewis never meant to hurt Y/n the way he did. It was a misunderstanding that spiralled. What happened was that while he was away for the last part of the F1 season, Y/n was at home and she had went out with friends; got drunk and was sexually harassed.

At the time, Y/n had no idea that it was a crime and so she thought that he she had cheated on him. Crying out her eyes that same night, she called Lewis and apologised constantly as she explained that she “cheated” on him. In shock n’s disbelief, Lewis cursed at her over the phone before hanging up and blocking her.

Through the rest of the week, Y/n woke up everyday to tabloids of pictures and news of Lewis being caught with different women out and about. Crying her heart out, Y/n felt like she deserved it and so she wasn’t mad at him.

When Lewis returned home for the winter break, he tortured her with harsh words, throwing things to scare her and even went as far as bringing bimbos into the house that they share. At the time, when she found out that she was three months pregnant, Lewis cursed at her to say that he wasn’t sure it was his so she should go elsewhere to find the father of her bastard.

Due to all the stress, Y/n ended up going through a miscarriage. During that time, Lewis sat and watched as she rolled about the floor in pain, begging him to help her get to the hospital yet he refused; Miles being the saviour, anonymously stopping by was appalled by his best friend’s behaviour as he took the bleeding woman to the hospital.

While recovering, Lewis served the suffering woman with divorced papers and disappeared from her life after they were signed. It wasn’t until a year later when he bumped into one of her friends who was present that night, that the situation was explained- immediately the dread of his actions dawning in him. He reflected on how he never allowed her to explain herself and all the horrible things he did instead of comforting her.

Being taken out of his trance, the journalist asked “If you were to get married right now, do you have anyone in mind? If so what would you say about them?” She asked gloomily. Smiling softly he answered as he stared across at the woman chatting softly with his boss. “Yeah, I do. She’s an amazing woman who had always been there for me through a lot of hard and good times. I never treated her right at the ending, but hopefully she would be willing to give me a second chance to make things right.” By now the media and fans were going crazy trying to figure out who the mystery lady was.

Toto on the other hand knew that Y/n had heard what he said judging by the tears in her eyes threatening to fall and so he quickly swept her behind to shield her from the cameras as she soaked the back of his white shirt in tears. He was the only one on the team who knew that Lewis took things too far with how badly he had treated the now 26 years old woman who wanted so bad to scream out her pain.

Quickly excusing himself from the conversation with Guenther, he took her by the arm and led her to his office then closed the door for privacy. Immediately the door had shut, Y/n let out an ear piercing scream of a cry that shook the Mercedes building, everyone pausing on the outside who heard through the mic still attached to Toto’s shirt, as she started crying her heart out screaming into Toto’s chest “HE BROKE ME” continuously. Y/n’s head on Toto’s chested, he held her tightly rocking from side to side and she finally calmed down- falling asleep from exhaustion.

Lewis returned to the garage a couple of hours later with a knowing mind that the scream he heard was definitely from the woman he had demolished as he made a beeline for his boss’ office, just in time as Toto was exiting the room. “I just gave her something to eat, be gentle Lewis. I got her transferred here for a reason” Toto patted him on the shoulder before walking away.

Taking a deep breath to keep his emotions in control, he opened the door and slowly entered careful not to scare her. Taking a seat a few feet away from her, he took a minute to rationalise his thoughts before speaking. “I don’t know where to begin, but I just want to say that I’m deeply sorry. I should have allowed you to explain what happened before I went off doing whatever to hurt you. I was so inconsiderate due to the hurt I was feeling to the point that I denied my own child; May God above bless our would’ve been beautiful baby that is now in heaven… I pushed unnecessary anger towards you and it caused a lot of damage that I’m hoping that with time, you’ll reopen your heart piece by piece… and allow me to correct myself. We can date if you want to take it slow… or we could just get remarried and go to a marriage counsellor. We could try to conceive again as I really want a child of own.” Lewis said sadly as tears ran like a river down his trembling face.

“I’m very sorry. I hope that one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I should have been rationale but instead I let my anger from work take over and I caused so much harm.” He cried as she gave him a side hug. “I understand. I was naive and didn’t know what happened to me. We both should have been careful of what was said” Y/n spoke shakily.

The rest of the day at the paddock was spent speaking over how they were going about their rekindling marriage.

A YEARS LATER

Lewis smiled brightly with tears in his eyes as he looked down at the pretty bundle of joy in his arms. Lewis and Y/n had been through counselling after getting remarried-once again in secret, as they have just welcome a beautiful baby boy. Lewis shed tears not only of joy but also of rapid regret for his actions towards his first child that didn’t make it into the world.

Y/n smiled with exhaustion as she noticed his reaction. “Lew be gentle with yourself, it wasn’t your fault. We just have to focus on the now and not then or what could have been” she coaxed him softly as they payed to lay ether, a united and happy family at last.

[gamergirl-niffler]

Very very urgent emergency request! Just stumbled upon your blog after that fluffy Howl fic of yours; couldn't resist sticking around for more of your fantastic headcanons.

I recently experienced something truly awful a few days ago.. While enjoying a party with my friends, the atmosphere suddenly shifted, and I began feeling unwell. Since then, there's been a blank space in my memory. The following day, upon waking up in our shared apartment, I discovered that I must have experienced a sex*** abuse. I'm currently terrified, in pain, and enduring ongoing bleeding from my private area. Trust has become a challenge, and I'm overwhelmed, wishing I could just disappear. Unsure of what steps to take, I find myself reaching out for comfort of any, any kind.. May I humbly request comfort from Dabi, Bakugo, Enji, Todoroki, and Kaminari, along with their girlfriends, who have navigated similar challenges?

If this plea is too much, please feel free to disregard it. I deeply appreciate your writings, as they bring immense comfort to many.

Oh, my dear Anon...

I am so sorry to hear that something like this happened to you. I can only imagine what you feel right now.

Please, if you feel like you need to talk to someone, feel free to drop into my messages and let's chat a little!

I hope those headcanon will bring you at least a little bit of comfort.

Mha men & sexually abused s/o

Dabi

- Dabi is burning with anger. Of course he isn't mad at you, he is mad at the person who even dared to violate you this way.

- He should stay with you but he leaves. Of course he couldn't stay. Touya doesn't leave you because of the disgust or hate. No. He is going for a hunt! It doesn't matter if it's one or a few people... All police could find were few bodies burned beyond recognition.

- Touya returns to your shared apartment, sheds his coat and is all yours from now on. He doesn't speak a word about what happened unless you feel the need to talk about it. He won't press but will listen when you need to throw it all out. 

- He knows some doctors that aren't sketchy but at the same time they won't call the police or anything like this. 

- Even if you are scared, Touya pushes you to get checked. He of course stays with you to provide comfort and show you that you are safe with him. Touya knows you are suffering mentally but he doesn't want the physical suffering to continue if there is a way to stop/heal it.

- Back at home Touya stays near you. He wishes he could be glued to you but he understands you need some space.

- When you tell him you need any kind of closeness - he is there immediately, wrapping you in his embrace, holding you as close as possible.

- It takes you a bit of a time to open up to him. You tell him everything; and he listens to it without a word. 

When you start to cry he just squeezes you harder until you calm down. Once this happens, Touya starts to tell you, "I'm sorry, doll. I am sorry I wasn't there to protect you but from now on... I will always be near. No one will ever hurt you again. I love you and I'll make sure to help you however I can."

- And he really does it. Since that unfortunate day, Touya does everything to make you feel safe and to help you heal; both mentally and physically. 

He doesn't push your boundaries but helps you carefully move them as you heal and again open yourself up to him.

Touya never healed himself from his past so seeing you getting better even after such a scary situation makes this villain smile.

Bakugo 

- He is pissed but he won't show it openly. You went through enough stress already and his anger wouldn't help someone in your position so he stops himself from yelling.

- Bakugo doesn't immediately push you to talk. He is more concerned about your health so his first step is to convince you to visit a proper specialist. He doesn't want you to be in pain or to suffer.

When you finally agree to visit the doctor, you are going there with your blond guard dog because Katsuki isn't leaving your side. He will even fight the doctor if it means staying by your side through the visit.

- Back at home, Bakugo is completely different than normal. He is calm and quiet around you. 

- If he decides to give you a kiss, hug or simply get close to you he'll ask for your permission beforehand. Just to be sure you are comfortable with him and his touch.

- If you are on any medications he makes sure you take them, it's for your own good afterall. 

- Katsuki makes sure to provide comfort in every way possible. He cooks or orders your favorite comfort food so the two of you can enjoy some tasty food together. 

- When you feel comfortable enough to open up about what happened, Katsuki just pulls you into a tight hug. "It's okay now. You're safe and I'll make sure to get the bastard that hurt you. I'll make him pay."

- And he really does. Whenever you are asleep or busy with something, Bakugo is on his phone or computer, working his ass off to find the person that did it. He is going to make sure whoever did this will pay the appropriate price for hurting you.

- Whenever you need it, he is ready to hold you close while gently caressing your hair and back. He will talk even about the most silly thing just to see you smile just a little bit. Staying quiet is also something he is ready to do, spending time in silence isn't a problem for him.

Enji

- Enji isn't home very often so it's easy for you to hide it all and just choke yourself with this traumatizing experience.

- When he is actually back, he quickly notices the changes in your behavior. You were like a candle light; warm and happy and now? You resembled an extinguished candle... Cold and sad looking.

- It annoys him because he is really trying for you but suddenly you are all distanced for no reason! Not only in everyday life but also in bed.

- Enji finally confronts you, demanding answers from you! He is your lover, so how dare you ignore him?! Of course he is not gentle about it.

- As you reach your breaking point and admit to what happened at the party you went to, he is shocked that something like this happened to you. 

- He is not a master of comfort so at the beginning he isn't sure what to do but in the end Enji pulls you into a tight hug. "Forgive me for being so harsh on you. I'll do better."

- This is a promise he actually keeps up with! Enji is trying his best to understand your needs and boundaries now.

- He pays more attention to you, building up the trust again to show you that you can still trust him and nothing has changed between the two of you.

- Enji loves to hold you close and just comfort you when you feel bad. He enjoys cuddling your smaller frame, making sure that you feel protected.

- If you think he will leave it just like that and do nothing about it you are really wrong. He is a Number One hero and whoever dares to hurt you, now has to deal with him. Enji uses all of his contacts and influence to find that bastard. 

- He makes sure you are feeling safe and loved again.

Shoto

- Poor guy is deeply confused when one day you go completely quiet. He is worried if you made it home after the party.

-  After receiving no information from you, Shoto goes to your place to check on you. Just to be sure you are okay.

- The state he found you in was heartbreaking. His beautiful girlfriend, his little ray of sunshine suddenly being in distress and bad mental shape.

- He approaches you carefully, asking questions to find out what happened.

- When you reveal what happened the night before, he is shocked. How could someone even do this to another person?

- Of course Shoto doesn't judge you. It was beyond your control and he understands but he slowly talks you into going to the right authorities.

- Shoto goes with you everywhere to make you feel good and safe. He won't allow anyone to get too close to you.

- Back at home he is mostly quiet, letting you decide if you feel like talking or doing anything together.

- When you tell him yes, Shoto is all over you. He wants you close to show you all the love he has for you. 

- His favorite thing to do is to simply hold your hand. It gives him this feeling of intimacy and shows him you still trust him.

- Shoto's second favorite thing is holding you right before falling asleep. You look so cute and despite what happened, he is happy you are with him. "My love. I am so lucky to have you and I promise you that I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

- Like every hero he won't let it slide. Shoto will make sure that whoever did this pays for your pain.

Kaminari

- When he finds out, he is terrified and blames himself for this. He had to go with you but a sudden shift in schedulge made him go to work while you went to the party.

- He really doesn't know what to do BUT he quickly gathers himself. You need him and he is there to serve. 

- Just like others he accompanies you at the doctor and during the talk with authorities.

- Back at home Denki is really careful around you. Always asking if you need anything, making sure you are okay with stuff he does. He never leaves you alone unless you request him to do so.

- He buys your favorite snack and even tries to bake something you like. Even if he isn't the best at it, he'll try his best for you!

- You feel like watching some silly movie or show? He is there with you! 

- Or maybe you feel like just laying down and listening to some music? This dude made a playlist from all your favorite songs!

- Denki is ready to do everything to make you comfortable. Your smile is the most beautiful thing in the world and he is going to work hard for it to appear again upon your pretty lips.

- Even if he blames himself for your harm, he'll never tell you about this but instead he will do EVERYTHING he can to make you feel good again. "We'll make it work, yeah? I won't leave your side and we are going to work through it together." He always assures you with a big bright smile.

- Whoever dared to put hands on you can't sleep peacefully. Kaminari, with the help of his friends, will hunt this bastard down and bring him to justice.

[bigtreefest]

From Both Ends

Pairing: Curtis Everett x reader one-shot (Modern AU)

Summary: Work and physical stress are adding up, until they spill over. It’s a good thing your sweet, understanding boyfriend is there to help clean you up however he can

Word count: 1,804

Content/warnings: this is mostly fluff and comfort, slice of life?, bad language words, semi-graphic period and nosebleed descriptions (mostly nosebleed) (also blood and snot) (this is natural. We were all born somehow), crying, comfort, non-sexual nudity, reader is on the toilet for like half of this, but not really in gross way?, use of pet names (sweetheart, sweetie, love, darling), afab reader who has a period, no use of y/n, pronoun ‘she’ is used once

A/N: Happy International women’s day. Also, what period phase am in that I’m craving fluff rn???? Anyway, I just have it in my head that behind closed doors, Curtis is the biggest sweetheart to ever exist.

This is dedicated to all my girlies who throw their hearts into their work and don’t get enough in return. It’s also dedicated to all my girlies who love Curtis more than me (girlies is a gender-inclusive/neutral term in this case. I love you ALL).

I feel like I should also tell you guys that I’m doing a master’s in medical science while I’m applying to med school, so I think that really came out in this, if you’re fearing I mention all the types of bleeding a little too casually.

Comments, likes, reblogs, and asks are so appreciated. Thank you for reading!!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

Curtis was working on cooking dinner when he heard you at the the door to your shared apartment jingling keys against the lock. It was followed by a series of grumbles before you finally turned the key and passed the threshold, slamming the door, tossing your keys on the entry way table next to his beanie, and stomping toward the home office, slamming that door as well.

Once he turned off the stove after stirring one last time, Curtis washed his hands and removed his apron before he made his way down the hall. He knocked on the door tentatively. “Sweetheart? Everything okay?”

You must not have heard him, too zoned in on your work, because the next second he heard your booming voice, hardly muffled through the inch and a half of wood.

“Oh my ….. fucking…FUCK. HOP OFF MY BACK, ANABELLE. I’M NOT A FUCKING HORSE.”

He opened the door to see you in front of your open email screen, heels of your palms rubbing your eyes.

“Hey, Sweetie, you have some time for dinner?”

You had been working late all week and you were exhausted. When it came to you, Curtis paid attention to every detail and he knew how tired you were, going to bed way past your usual time and waking up early, which is why he made your favorite for dinner tonight. In the hopes he could make a hard week even just a little bit better and maybe help the pang in his chest he felt every time he saw you like this. He cautiously approached you in your office chair and ran his hand from your shoulder down around your back to the other and pulled your head close to his chest. You turned to press your forehead against his firm pecs, and he could feel your tears wetting the front of his shirt. He stroked your hair and pulled you closer, kissing the top of your head.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. At least we know you still have great comebacks at that bitch Anabelle, even when you’re frustrated…and she can’t hear you”

You laughed slightly at that joke, followed by a sniffle as you looked up into the ever-soft eyes of your boyfriend.

“There she is.” He looked down at you, giving a winsome smile. Sometimes just a glance was enough for you to feel like your worries were melting away. He crouched down so he could bring his forehead to yours, as your eyes fluttered shut and you let out a sigh at the taste of comfort after a long day.

“Why don’t you go ahead and wash up while I make us some plates. Meet you at the table?” You nodded and sniffled again before giving him a quick peck and heading to the bathroom.

Curtis had just finished setting the table when he faintly heard you call him from the toilet. He cracked open the bathroom door to see you had discarded all of your clothes and were aggressively blowing your nose from a fresh wave of snot and tears.

“Can you…um…get me a clean pair of underwear?” Your eyes were glued to the floor. “And some comfy clothes?”

You finally glanced up at him as he nodded and went to shut the door again “Of course, Love.”

Curtis went through his drawers, picking out your favorite sweatpants and oversized hoodie of his, as well as a comfy lounge bra and underwear for you. For good measure, he also got a pair of socks.

He returned to see you still sitting there on the toilet, eyes red and puffy and elbows perched on your knees in defeat. You reached out your hands, thanking him for the fresh clothes that smelled so comfortingly like him, but he didn’t hand them over, opting to set them on the edge of the sink instead.

He moved to take your discarded clothes and place them into the hamper, taking note of the blood in your underwear. He knew that was likely going to be the case due to your request. Plus, the crying over the past few days you’d chastised yourself for (not to mention the app he’d downloaded on his phone months ago, but chose not to mention it to you yet. It was just so he could be prepared with the comforts he believed you deserved) and the constant body aches and tiredness you had shown.

He sat down cross-legged on the plush bath mat at your feet, peeling your hands from your face where you had placed them to cover up again. “Let me help you?”

“No Curtis, it’s really not necessary, I ca-“

“Please?” He gently cut you off with a whisper. “I’d feel better if I could take some of the weight off your shoulders.” You cared so much about your work and those around you, he wanted to be the one to care for you.

You meekly nodded as he kissed your knee and slid the new pair of underwear partially up your legs, placing a pad and preparing the sweatpants to slide on next.

You choked back a sob as Curtis looked up at you with his brows pinched together, concern deepening the blue in his eyes and painting his features. You blew your nose again, overwhelmed with the emotion you felt at Curtis’s kind, soft, touch in this intimate moment. When you pulled away, you both saw the red that painted the tissue. More blood.

Fuck. You knew this was coming. You were so prone to nosebleeds and the fact that you were stressed beyond belief, plus the four coffees you had today had definitely made it worse. You tried to keep your sobs from deepening as you nearly wailed in frustration, pinching your nostrils closed and leaning forward to keep the blood from trickling down the back of your throat.

Curtis rushed to grab more tissues, folding and twisting them into cylinders for you to quickly stuff up your nose to clog the bleeding. He’d seen his fair share of blood and nosebleeds in his day, so this was nothing to him. “Hey, hey, shhh shhh shhhhh, it’s ok, sweetie, you’re alright.”

He ran his hand down the side of your face as he blew a cool stream of air towards you, helping to dry the tears and calm you down. You could still see the admiration in his gaze, which put you at a crossroads between wanting to cry harder and lose all worries. You briefly considered leaning into his touch and turning to kiss his palm before the protrusions from your nose stopped you.

Curtis thought to himself about how you’d been burning both ends, putting in extra time at work, but still making the effort to spend a couple hours with him every night. And now, forget burning both ends, you were bleeding from both ends. Good one, Curtis, he thought to himself, but he’d keep that joke for another day when your spirits were a little lighter. He kept his eyes on you, and it felt like he could see into the farthest corners of your soul with his penetrating, yet pacifying gaze.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You spoke with a nasally voice between mouth breaths, your nose officially out of commission.

“What ever could you mean, Darling?” He quipped, keeping his smile soft and small.

“You’re looking at me with love. How do you love this right now?” You gestured over your whole body before aggressively pointing towards your face. “I look like a fucking walrus with these tissue plugs hanging out of my nose.”

Curtis laughed and hung his head, shaking it before looking back up at you. “I love you for a lot of reasons, but currently, it’s because I’m thinking about how you’re the hardest worker I know. This is just a side effect of you pushing yourself a little too far. It’s okay, and I don’t mind helping you at all but I know you won’t ask for it. So I’m happy because you’re at least letting me help you right now.”

You really were grateful for the way Curtis treated you. To anyone else, he seemed like a gruff wall of muscle, which he was, but to you, he was so much more. He was the biggest softie with a bleeding heart and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have each other. He constantly spoke of how much he loved you, especially when you were at your worst, which felt like a lot recently. You felt like you were the lucky one to have him, despite the way he often said the opposite.

He returned to gliding the sweatpants over your feet, followed by your socks. He let you finish cleaning yourself up before you flushed the toilet and you both washed your hands, your sobs calming fully. He finally grabbed the sweatshirt and gently slid it over your head, careful to not knock the precariously stuffed tissues out of place.

Curtis stood behind you in the mirror, grabbing one of your hair ties off the sink and pulling your hair into a messy bun. You’d taught him how to do that a few weeks into your relationship and he’d become pretty good at it, practicing whenever you would let him. His large stature towered over you as he finished and tugged to adjust the large piece of sweatshirt fabric down over your hips, perfectly oversized from having to fit over his broad frame on most days. His hands snaked around your waist, turning you and pulling your stomachs together as you leaned back to look up at him.

“And for the record, you’re the cutest walrus I’ve ever seen.” Curtis was happy to see your eyes sparkling with something other than tears again, appreciation, and leaned in to give you a kiss on the lips, before realizing the tissue cylinders were blocking his path, opting for a forehead kiss instead with a small chuckle.

“Now let’s get some food in you. We can eat and then I’ll hold some ice packs to your face on the couch while you finish answering those last few emails. Sound good?”

You nodded and gave him the first bright, genuine smile he’d seen from you in days. Again, in your nasally voice, you responded. “Okay, but I have a few conditions. I get to sit in your lap while you hold your hand to my stomach like a heat pad and feed me chocolate for each email I finish.”

He scooped you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, your hands stroking the back of his soft, buzzed hair as he carried you over to the kitchen counter.

“Deal. Anything for my best girl.”

Bonus A/N: I would probably sell a kidney to have a Curtis like this.

Thank you for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are sooooo appreciated! Lmk if you’d like to be added to the tag lists for any of my fics!!

[sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy]

The Day Stiles Snapped

Masterlist | AO3

Twenty-five years of war and supernatural annoyances makes you pretty close to the people you have left. It also means the peaceful portion of Beacon Hill's the supernatural population has rules for living peacefully. The number one rule: don't hurt the pack, their humans are crazy and will not stand for it.

~3k

TW: gore, violence, death

This is actual crap but I'm too lazy and stressed to fix it

Blood and ash covered the ground. The newly rebuilt Hale house had been reduced to a smoldering pile of rubble once more. Stiles, sitting stuck at the base of a tree. He looked around at his friends, taking in the carnage before him.

Scott was bleeding out, slashed nine ways to hell, and he wasn’t healing. Isaac was trying to hell him but was badly hurt too. Isaac’s whole body was shaking, sucking in greedy breaths of air he’d been deprived of.

Jackson was holding Lydia, crying as she stared blankly up at him. He held her face, blood from his hands smearing on her perfect pale skin. For all Stiles knew, she was already gone.

Malia had been trapped in ropes laced with wolfsbane. Every time she moved, the cut deeper into her skin. Her wrists were raw and bleeding as she fought to help the others.

Liam was on the ground, finally managing to push his weight up on his hands and knees. He'd been thrown at least twenty feet before slamming into the foundation of what had been their home, the pack’s house. Stiles could see the defeat in his eyes. Eyes that had found Theo's body. The bloody, crumbled mess that used to be a person.

A shrill laughter echoed off the trees. It pulled Stiles from the horrifying view of his friends and brought his eyes to Derek. Derek who had yet to stop fighting. Their most recent big bad had been playing with him like a toy.

Stiles wanted to help. He moved slightly, a sharp and ripping pain ran through his body. His hand came to the source of the pain in his stomach and he whimpered. He could feel the broken ends of his own bat sticking out of him. His clothes were soaked with his own blood and possibly that of others.

"What are you doing little wolf," big bad evil guy laughed, kicking Derek when he was already on the ground.

Stiles couldn't remember what or who it was or the plan or if they had a plan. His brain wouldn't work.

"Do something! Show me the power of the Hale alpha!"

No. No, that was wrong. Derek wasn't an alpha. He isn't the alpha. Scott is. Scott… Scott was. But… weren’t there two? Who… Who else? Why couldn’t he think? Tears brimmed Stiles's eyes, pain and frustration mixing in what was no doubt a sour smell.

"Well well well. Aren't those eyes beautiful," he hummed, "but they aren't red," each word grew more bitter, punctuated with a blow to Derek’s limp form. "Where's the real alpha, Hale? Where is he, huh? Peter?" Stiles frowned. No. Not Peter. Peter was dead, really and truly dead. “Is it your bitch of a sister? Did she abandon her pack?” Cora did run. Derek told her to run. No, not Cora. “Or maybe it’s one of your precious housemates.”

Stiles watched Derek be picked up and dragged like a rag doll. Closer to the others. Closer to the others. No. No no no no no. Not now. Not like this.

Derek was unceremoniously dragged to each of their pack members. He was watching for a response. He paused longer in front of Malia and she growled and snapped at him. When he was brought to Stiles, there was something in his eyes. Something like an apology. He was sorry, sorry any of them had been brought into this mess.

“This one’s special, hah?” The words came out in a sick questioning laugh.

Stiles felt himself be lifted off the ground. His stomach lurched, contracted. He felt like throwing up. His head felt like it was spinning. The weight of the bat hanging from his body, ripping through him before it fell to the ground. His mouth went dry. Not good. Never good. He managed to focus his eyes enough to tell where they were going, toward the fire.

Big bad lifted Derek up and gave an evil smirk, holding Stiles out over the smoldering remains of the house. It was hot. Stiles’s blood dripped and sizzled. “Start talking or I drop him.”

The world was dulled from the blood loss. Sounds felt farther and farther away the longer he dangled. He could hear slurred words, Derek. Derek was talking. He didn’t know what he was saying. Stiles felt the world slipping from him.

A chorus of howls sang from the woods. It made Stiles’s ears ring but a strange peace settled within him. Two howls rang about the others, two alphas. One… their alpha? Who was…

“I knew there was a new Hale alpha,” the big bad laughed. “I have no need for you now.”

Stiles didn’t know who it was meant for. He learned quickly as his body dropped. He screamed with all that was left in him. Searing flames licked at his skin, he felt himself being burned. His body fell through the wood and ash of the main floor. His eyes opened.

For a second, he saw the sky clearly. Big, beautiful, and dark. Everything in his life had been one of those three since high school. He saw the sky and then it was gone.

He saw the underside of the floor. Heavy, flaming red beams fell after him. Ash surrounded him. He was wrapped in a suffocating blanket of heat.

Stiles hit hard concrete and all feeling seemed to go dark. He helplessly watched as burning wood and debris landed on top of him. He closed his eyes, willing his body to move but he couldn’t. He tried to move his fingers, to search for something, anything, to help him. He couldn’t move. Tears rolled down his face. That familiar sense of helplessness filled his stomach.

He opened his eyes, looking up and there it was again. The sky. Black with smoke as the fire above him grew with new life. This was it. After years of fighting. Twenty-five years of trying to save himself and his friends and this was the end. He closed his eyes.

“Stiles,” a voice screamed, ripping through the air.

Stiles took a shaky breath. He knew. He knew who the alpha was. The Hale alpha. He did all he could. He was dying. Blinking felt like a battle but he tried. Stiles tried to scream, tried to yell, but could hardly manage a squeak. He called up a weak noise that was hardly discernible as a word.

“Eli,” he croaked out.

Derek had ruffled his hair, a feat now that Eli was taller than him, and told him to go. He told him to have fun and they’d hold down the fort. He was only twenty, still learning who he was, and Derek didn’t want him sucked into all this mess. He told Eli to leave and not to look back until he knew who he was.

“Come on, dad! You know what I’m gonna do,” Eli said with a smirk. “I’m going to start the police academy in the fall, make a name for myself, and worm my way into the FBI academy.”

Derek smiled, looking down at his shoes. When he looked up, he sighed and gave Eli his best ‘what’s the plan’ look he’d given Stiles millions of times. “And how do you plan to worm your way into that?” Stiles snickered, sharing a smile with Eli.

“Worming is one of my skills,” Eli said.

Derek sighed. He had that coming. “Could you stop acting like Stiles and be serious for one second?”

Really, he should know better than to ask that kind of question. For his troubles, he was met by a chorus of Eli and Stiles talking over each other in what were distinctly Stiles quotes.

“Don’t Be Such A sour wolf,” Stiles scoffed.

“Positivity just isn’t in your vocabulary, is it,” Eli asked at the same time, giving Stiles a high five. “I’ll be fine, dad. And, if anything happens, I’ll call cousin Miguel... Juarez Cinqua Tiago.” Derek rolled his eyes and Eli laughed. “Alright. I need to go if I’m going to catch my bus.”

Eli gave Stiles a hug, not feeling him slip something into his pocket. He gave Derek a hug, being held tightly.

It would be the first time they’d really been apart in years. It would be the first time Eli would be away from the pack since becoming an alpha after Derek’s, like, fifth temporary death.

When Derek let Eli go, he muttered the obligatory “be safe, kid” which Stiles swore he got from Sheriff.

Stiles had nodded to Eli and looked down as he put his hand in his pocket. Eli gave him a confused puppy look and stuck a hand in the pocket of his flannel. He looked back at Stiles with big eyes, pulling keys out of his pocket. Stiles winked at him and looked at the jeep.

Eli left before Derek could object. Derek glared at Stiles, complicated feelings rising in him. He accused Stiles of sending Eli away in a death trap.

When Derek was sure Eli wouldn’t hear them anymore, his mood soured. He asked if Stiles had a plan.

Loud cracks and crunching sounded from the burning remains of the house before it all caved in. Screams filled the air. Stiles was in there. They all seemed to understand Stiles wasn’t there anymore, his body was.

A horde of werewolves attacked as one. Satomi’s pack took charge. She told Eli to go, to help his pack. He didn't know what to do first. The pain that tainted each of the pack bonds was pulling him in multiple directions. He’d only just become the alpha and he was losing his pack.

So he did what he always did.

Eli ran to his dad.

Derek was left laying on the stairs, sorrow and grief rolled off him in heavy waves. The mix of blood, ash, and loss in the air was sickening. It burnt Eli's nose but Derek knew it well.

"Dad," Eli cried, helping him sit up. He held his dad’s face in his hands. "Hey, it's me. It's Eli."

He looked into Derek’s eyes but he wouldn't look at Eli for more than a moment. He looked around at his pack and whined.

"Don't…," Eli stood up, "don't do anything stupid," he said, looking to see who needed him most.

"You’re just like him," Derek whispered, his voice as broken as his spirit. Eli looked at his dad, utterly confused. "That's a good thing."

“As much I love when you tell me about our family, this is not the time,” Eli huffed. “I need to help Scott. He’s in literal ribbons over there!”

“No, like… like Stiles.”

Eli paused. His mouth hung open. It was a compliment. It was meant to be praise. He’d never compared Eli to Stiles as a form of praise. It took more strength than he knew he had not to stay there. He had to help. He couldn’t let his pack die. Eli bit his tongue and ran to Scott.

He crouched next to Isaac, the sounds of him struggling to breathe cut worse than any knife. Eli gave him a sympathetic look. He looked down at Scott, hardly able to tell who he was. He swallowed the lump in his throat and took Scott’s hand. Eli focused. He dumped all of his power and energy into helping, into healing, Scott. He couldn’t let Scott die.

It felt like he was ripping himself apart. Black veins raced up his arms. Eli was giving his power to save Scott. It was painful and terrifying and exhilarating. It was life and it was death flowing through them. He was bargaining with fate. He was pulling Scott from Death’s door. And it very well could mean their pack would be left with no alpha.

Eli roared, looking up at the sky. He felt it happen, his eyes changing from crimson red to golden yellow. He sighed heavily, looking up at the sky. The sky… It was pitch black with smoke in the fading light.

An explosion boomed from the house. It was loud, almost deafening for the wolves. A mushroom cloud of fire and smoke burst up from the burnt-out basement. Eli threw his body over Scott. He had to protect their last hope. Burning debris rained down. It barely missed some of the pack, hitting the enemy just enough to make him falter.

“YOU SICK MOTHERFUCKER!” The scream came from the edge of the house. A

black, ash-covered form stalked forward from the remnants. Its body looked cracked as red heat showed through like lava.

“Parrish,” Eli whispered, burning heat washing over him as the form moved to attack.

Flames grew, surrounding the form’s body. “You set our home on fire! You threw me in the fucking fire,” it yelled, flames burning bigger and brighter.

“Stiles,” Derek said, his voice not much more than a whisper.

“You scared us into sending away the pups!”

Satomi took the sign to call her pack off, moving them out of the way.

“You insulted our alpha! And, worst of all, You hurt my family. My pack,” he spat, his eyes burned with the fires of Hell itself.

“And now what? You’ve come to fight me to the death yourself?”

“No. To the pain,” Stiles quoted. He had been waiting for this opportunity. “To the pain means the first thing you will lose will be your feet below the ankles. Then your hands at the wrists. Next your nose.”

“Are you… are you quoting the Princess Bride?”

“I wasn't finished. The next thing you will lose will be your left eye followed by your right. Your ears you keep and I'll tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, "Dear God! What is that thing," will echo in your perfect ears.” Stiles grinned an evil smirk. “Then I will kill you.”

“Fight, you coward! Or can you only talk,” he asked. “Fight me or I’ll finish what I started with your little ‘family’.”

The growl that ripped from Stiles's throat was a shock to everyone. It was sick and animalistic and angry. One fact has always held true about Stiles, one rule that was unanimously agreed upon: Don’t. Touch. His. Family.

It could have been quick, easy. A Hellhound fighting a psychotic darach lusting after werewolf alpha powers instead of making the normal sacrifices. It would have been if he hadn’t hurt what mattered most to Stiles.

It wasn’t quick, it wasn’t easy, and it sure as hell wasn’t painless. Stiles kept his promise. He ripped the darach limb from limb. The fire cauterized each of the wounds seconds after they were made. It was a sick smell– burning flesh and seared blood.

When the darach was reduced to nothing but a torso and head under Stiles’s foot, he asked “do you yield?”

“Never,” the darach said through gritted teeth.

Stiles's foot crushed his skull like it was made of chalk. A low growl still vibrated against his chest, glaring down at the lifeless body. Stiles closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

He relaxed. The fire faded slowly, leaving Stiles’s bare and tired body. He looked up at the sky and smiled.

The smoke had cleared enough to see the moon. The full moon that ruled their world. He sighed. The sky was still dark and tainted with smoke but it was clearing. Just like them, it had a long way to go before it was normal again but it was healing. The sky was returning to normal just like they would.

“Stiles!”

He didn’t know who reached him first. Satomi was quick to cover him with a shall. Eli was hugging him tightly. Lydia was grabbing onto him to stay standing. Scott was holding onto them.

“You’re okay,” Eli mumbled, the sorrow thick in his voice.

“Takes more than that to keep me down,” Stiles said, wrapping an arm around Eli. The bundle walked back toward the brick stairs of the Hale house. “Can someone call Corey or Ethan,” he asked, his voice hoarse from the ash and smoke he’d breathed in.

Stiles looked down at Derek, meeting his eyes. Stiles smirked.

“How… how did you control it,” Eli asked, looking Stiles over for any sign of the Hellhound.

Stiles shrugged, holding a hand out to help Derek stand. “Not the first time I’ve been possessed by a so-called neutral spirit that only exists for one purpose,” he joked. “Kinda nice that this one is trying to protect the world instead of sending it into chaos.”

Scott stared at the bloodbath Stiles had created, still holding Lydia up. “You killed him…”

“Man, nothing gets past those werewolf senses, huh Scott,” Stiles scoffed, earning a disturbed look from his friend. “Did you miss the part where the dude tried to kill all of you? And did kill me?”

“We don’t… Stiles, we can’t—”

“Scott, He literally burned me alive,” Stiles yelled. “By the way, team, ixnay on the burning people to death. That shit sucked. I might actually feel bad for Peter now…”

*Brief mention of the movie that could spoil something*

I so dearly wanted Stiles to say “I feel like an honorary Hale, now. Burnt to death because a psycho lost it going after Derek” to reference the original Hale fire, Peter’s first death, and the new movie.

[cupidsworstcrime]

40 things I think about Sevro au Barca

some x reader content

1. Goblin with a Heart

Sevro acts like he doesn’t care, but he remembers the smallest details about the people he loves—what they like to eat, their favorite color, who hurt them in third grade. He won’t say anything… until he’s using it as a weapon or a gift.

2. Ferocious Protector

He’d tear the world apart for his people. He might call you a “slagging gorydamn pissstain,” but if anyone else even looks at you wrong, they’re done for. Loyalty is sacred to him.

3. Awkward Softness:

He’s weirdly good with kids because they don’t expect him to be polished. He lets them climb on him like he’s a tree, tells them fart jokes, and teaches them how to throw knives (against everyone else's wishes).

4. Terrible at Flirting

Tries to flirt by roasting you into oblivion or telling you something horrifying like, “You smell like blood and honey—kinda like a battlefield dessert.” It’s terrible. And somehow… weirdly endearing?

5. Nightmares & Quiet Moments

He still wakes up gasping from memories of the Jackal’s dungeon. When that happens, he doesn’t like being touched, but he does appreciate someone just being there with him, grounding him.

6. Loves Virginia like a Sister:

He won’t say it out loud because it makes him emotional, but he respects and loves Mustang deeply. They’ve got a quiet, sharp rapport. She’s one of the few people who can rein him in.

7. Mad Genius Tinkerer

He takes apart and rebuilds gear when he’s stressed. He once jury-rigged a datapad to stream old Earth horror movies and made the Howlers watch “The Human Centipede.” It didn’t go well.

8. Lowkey Romantic

If he falls for someone, it’s hard. He’s ride-or-die. He’ll write you dirty limericks, steal you the moon, and make crude jokes just to see you laugh.

9. Sevro’s Playlist

Hardcore punk, old metal, and weird techno remixes of children’s nursery rhymes. You never know what you’re going to hear blasting from his room.

10. The Howler King:

Sevro doesn’t think he deserves to lead, but the Howlers would walk into hell for him. He earned their loyalty not through speeches, but by always being the first in and last out.

11. Rage-Cleaner

When he’s pissed off, he doesn’t only throw things—he cleans. Viciously. His room ends up sparkling while he mutters things like, “Slagging gory sons of bitches, leaving plates in the sink like savages…” Yes, it surprises everyone, and no, that doesn't mean he showers.

12. Hoarder of Weird Sentimental Stuff:

He keeps the dumbest things: a rock someone threw at him as a kid, a crumpled drawing Darrow’s son gave him, an old Howler patch he swears smells like home. He won’t admit why, but he’d be devastated to lose any of it.

13. Has a Whole Second Language of Insults

Half of what Sevro says isn’t even standard speech—it’s some bizarre hybrid of lowColor slang, Martian profanity, and stuff he made up. Most people can’t follow it. The Howlers can. Darrow pretends he can.

14. Shit-Stirrer Supreme

Sevro loves to stir the pot. He’ll casually mention someone’s embarrassing moment in a room full of Golds just to watch the tension rise. Then he leans back like it wasn’t his fault.

15. Secretly Writes:

Not books—letters. He writes letters to his dad. To Ragnar. To people he’s lost. He never sends them, but he keeps them in a hidden part of his gear case, folded into little squares like paper ghosts.

16. Tactile Comfort-Seeker:

He acts like he doesn’t need touch, but if someone he trusts offers a hand, a shoulder, or a bit of pressure, he leans into it fast. It helps when the world gets loud.

17. The Dog Whisperer:

Dogs love him. Even the mean ones. He once stared down a genetically modified war hound, and it rolled over for belly rubs.

18. Uses Humor to Hide Pain:

If he’s cracking too many jokes in a row, something’s wrong. That’s his shield. He doesn’t cry in front of people—he bleeds sarcasm instead.

19. Annoyingly Good at Sneaking Up on People:

No one is safe. Not even Darrow. Especially not Darrow. He once hid in a ceiling vent for three hours just to drop down mid-briefing and scream, “Boo!”

20. The One Everyone Misses When He’s Gone:

You don’t realize how much Sevro holds together until he’s not there. He’s the glue in the chaos. The soul of the Howlers. The one who can make the war-torn world feel just a little bit survivable.

21. All Bark, and All Bite:

Sevro talks like he’s all bark—but when it comes down to it, he’s rough, raw, and focused. He might tease like a brat, but he loves control. He watches you fall apart and grins like the animal he is.

22. Filthy Mouth:

The filthiest. He’ll say things in your ear that make you forget how to stand. Sometimes it’s crude, sometimes it’s oddly poetic in a “scars and blood and I want you shaking” kind of way.

23. Needs to Prove Himself

He’s small, scrappy, overlooked—and he uses that. He’s relentless, determined to leave you trembling. It's not just sex, it's war. He wants to win you. Over and over again.

24. Biting Kink:

Bites like a wild animal. Neck, hips, thighs—anywhere soft. Leaves marks like a signature. He gets possessive, not in a territorial way, but in a “you survived me” kind of way.

25. Dangerous After Missions

High off adrenaline and blood, he’s starving for touch after battle. He grabs, growls, digs fingers in like he’s anchoring himself back to Earth with you. It’s fast, messy, half-laughter and half desperation.

26. Praise and Degradation:

He’ll praise you while degrading you in the same breath. “Slagging beautiful, wrecked little thing, look at you. Bet no one’s ever made you feel this fucked-up before, huh?”

27. Obsessive Focus:

He’s surprisingly attentive. Sevro doesn’t casually fuck. If he’s into you, he studies you. He knows what sounds you make when you’re close, how you breathe when you want more. He’s in your head before you even realize.

28. Secret Soft Side:

When it’s just the two of you, after the storm—he gets soft. Like, “pull you into his lap and nose at your neck” soft. He might say something real low like, “Didn’t know I could feel like this anymore.” Then immediately follow it up with a crude joke so you don’t take him too seriously.

29. Exhibitionist Tendencies:

He lives for the idea of someone hearing. Or almost catching you. He’ll whisper something obscene in your ear mid-meeting and smirk when you shift in your seat.

30. Absolutely Ruined by Affection

The first time you kiss him gently afterward, run your fingers through his hair or touch his cheek like he’s something to be held, not just handled—he practically short circuits. No one’s ever treated him like something precious before. He might cry the first time, if you don’t look.

31. Predator Energy:

He stalks you when you’re being bratty. Slowly corners you like it’s sport. And when he finally has you, it’s all rough hands, mocking smirks, and low, gravelly murmurs like, “Thought you were cute teasing me, huh? Let’s see how smug you are now.”

32. Obsessive Aftercare

He talks a big game, but the moment you’re spent and a little shaky, he’s all hands—pressing kisses to your forehead, making bad jokes, tucking you under his arm. It’s disarming, how fast he flips from feral to tender.

33. Control Through Chaos

Sevro doesn’t always tie you down. Sometimes it’s verbal control—commands, threats, challenges. He’ll say “don’t move,” and you don’t, because disobeying means consequences. Sometimes you disobey—because you want them.

34. Push-and-Pull Is His Kink

Try to dominate him and he laughs in your face—until you get under his skin. Then it’s all teeth and tangled limbs and messy breath. He’ll fight you for control just to feel your strength against his.

35. Brat Who Bends (Eventually)

He’s a smart-mouth, makes everything a competition, calls you names while you’re trying to be serious—but he lives for the moment you get rough enough to pin him and make him listen. And gods help you when he moans like that.

36. Needs to Earn the Fall

If he gives in, truly surrenders, it means something. He doesn’t yield easily. But when he does—eyes glassy, voice low—it’s a gift. He gives you everything, all at once.

37. Doesn’t Know He’s Starved Until You Feed Him:

You kiss him slow, drag your hands over his scars like they matter, whisper that he’s wanted, and he just—breaks. He stares at you like you rewrote gravity.

38. Scars & Softness:

He lets you trace his body—every sharp line, every old wound. “You like this mess?” he asks, like he’s daring you to lie. And when you answer yes, he kisses you like a man drowning.

39. Rough Sex, Gentle Words:

He’s all hips and hands and filth during, but when he’s buried deep and you’re clinging to him, he says the sweetest things like it’s a secret. “Never thought I’d get this. Never thought anyone’d see me.”

40. Can’t Keep His Hands Off You

Even when it’s not sexual—he’s always touching. Tugging on your sleeve, draping himself over your back, hand on your thigh at dinner. He acts casual about it, but if you pull away? His whole mood shifts.

[strayheartless]

how do you think genesis handles meltdowns?

Simply put? He doesn’t. Not really anyway. He usually needs a lot of help to regulate himself from Angeal (don’t ask sephiroth to help him regulate it’s like asking a mole to lead a bat to the sun, neither of them know what their looking for.).

Genesis’ meltdowns are either uncontrollable rage that usually end up in him or someone else getting hurt, or crying so intensely he throws up. As a kid he used to throw himself backwards and scream himself horse. His nannies often had to restrain him in a towel and when that stopped working sometimes they just locked him in his room and hoped he stopped.

As an adult Genesis throws things at walls and hits. He’s prone to lashing out and trashing things. He’s also prone to digging his nails into his skin and making himself bleed. Angeal usually has to stand in the room and monitor what he’s throwing/ stop him from hurting himself. If he can manage to he’ll herd Genesis to the training room to minimise damage.

When he cries all Angeal can really do is rub his back and try to sooth him via touch. Genesis is a sensory question mark because he can’t stand the feeling of air on his skin (hence the coat and gloves) but he needs physical affection to function. Angeal spends a lot of time bear hugging him into coming down before he throws up.

The problem with Genesis is that his meltdowns have been historically extremely traumatic events for him. Regardless of what triggers them, Genesis does not have any self regulation techniques (on the moment) to bring himself down.

He has regulation processes to stave off meltdowns (these he either subconsciously built or learned with Angeal) but once he’s in it it takes hours for him to come down from the adrenaline.

After meltdowns however Genesis now has a full routine (thanks ‘Geal) dedicated to de stressing. Baths, not wearing PJ bottoms to bed (they make his legs feel choked) low lighting and not being alone are all key to his recovery. AngeL will cook for him, and sometimes he’ll call whoever he needs to to get Genesis out of something, but generally he just stays with him as Genesis finds his own way back.

If you ask Angeal Genesis’ desertion and the Banora bombing were all Genesis’ reaction to having a prolonged sensory meltdown caused by his illness.

[myjedimullet]

Fanfic Idea #34

In Age of Ultron, Hulk actually hurts Tony and that's what gets him to stop after being manipulated by Scarlet Witch

This is a bit stream of consciousness, so sorry about that!

During the fight, when Tony makes the comment about Hulk stabbing him in the back, Hulk uses the metal to wrench open the Hulkbuster armor and grabs Tony's leg, pulling him out of the larger suit and slightly crushing his leg through his suit. Tony cries out and Hulk realizes what he's doing and does the whole looking around and becoming sad thing, then shifts back to Bruce.

Clint gets an alert that Tony's armor has been breached after getting the others into the Quinjet and comms Tony asking what's going on. Tony says he's fine and he's on his way with Bruce. When he shows up it's with a damaged suit and a passed out Bruce. When he lands he stumbles but manages to regain his balance and keep a hold of Bruce.

In the fight, where Hulk stabbed the armor, he now stabs closer to the inside of the suit catching the side of Tony's actual suit and causing it to crumple and break and leaving a gash on Tony's side, then peels the suit back until he's able to grab Tony's leg and haul him out, causing Tony quite a bit of pain and causing him to cry out and pretty much just dangle unmoving from Hulk's hand and be generally Not Ok. This leads to Hulk realizing what he's doing and snapping out of it faster. Oh, I actually wrote this already, oh well.

Um, Clint has just gotten everyone back to the jet in varying states of mostly not-consciousness, and is getting ready to get them in the air. When Tony gets back, he asks if he's ok, but is mostly concentrating on getting out of there, eventually looks back and sees Tony out of the parts of the suit that aren't cutting into him and sees that Tony has created a small puddle from his wounds as he focuses on unbending the suit out of the gash on his side so he can get the rest of the suit off aside from the leg. Clint curses and is like, "Why didn't you say anything," and Tony's like, "I can deal with it. You get us out of here."

Voices are raised due to stress and the shouting wakes everybody. Thor and Steve convince Tony to let them help him while Nat helps get Bruce up because the leg of the suit is so crushed it's going to need to be manually removed and Bruce is the only one Tony wouldn't have to talk through the process.

Thor gets to work getting the remaining metal in the wound on Tony's side out, as Tony already got it to the point that all he has on is the lower leg of the suit, and Steve is working on getting the metal unbent and most of the shards out of his leg, which miraculously seems to be only a little broken and not irreparably damaged tissue-wise either. At some point Tony directs Steve to a shard he thinks isn't too big, but is causing irritation. Steve pulls it out and finds that it was in fact large and is now bleeding not unsubstantially. Steve gets upset about this and Tony is surprised because it really only itched a little bit. (May or may not be a Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows reference...)

At this point Steve is basically done and Thor finished a while ago. Nat and a very much upset Bruce come around and he sets to work, not looking Tony in the eye. Bruce is feeling guilty and Tony doesn't think it's his fault, doesn't think Hulk would ever do that if he were in control. Bruce gets angry, like, how could Tony possibly know that, Hulk is just a monster. Tony tells Bruce that he stopped once he realized Tony was being hurt and generally defends Hulk and kinda gives Bruce a little tough love. Not too tough though, cause we all love Bruce. Eventually someone asks Clint where the heck they're going anyway, and scene.

I had this idea and was very surprised there wasn't something like this already at the time! If that is no longer the case, let me know! It just seemed like a good way to make the damage a little less from Hulk and throw in some Tony hurt/comfort as a bit of a reprieve from all the chaos! It seemed like a moment where the team could've been there for each other more, and there's no better way to create a space for emotional vulnerability than physical vulnerability, am I right?