#one could say im trapped in a... spiral

[poorlemons]

i cant do anything normal anymore how do i keep bringing up michael in a conversation

[reidmania]

in the absence of you | s.reid

summary; to find out you're pregnant and then experience a miscarriage while spencer is in prison, is a lot, trying to figure out if you should tell him when he gets home is just as much.

warnings; fem reader, hurt x comfort, mainly hurt, a lot of angst, miscarriages, pregnancy, guilt, withholding information, post prison spencer, mentions cat, probably inaccurate medical information, messy timeline, relationship struggles, imma say 18+ because there is very strong mentions of sex, and bad sex experience, emotional deattachment, grief, guilt, reader strongly believes she did something wrong, spencer blames himself for her dettachment, insecurities, trust issues, established relationships, hopeful ending, (happy ending would be inaccurate bc theres nothing happy about this fic!) feeling alone, yeah man idk this is just sad.

an; um.. so this was suppose to be fic 5 but i wanted to post it sooner, and its BEARtober so i can actaully do whatever i want.. thank you, i know i posted fic one two hours ago.. but its technically day 2 bc its 12:30am.. im so sorry in advance. 4.7k... YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME!! if this will trigger you, please don’t read.

beartober masterlist

You remember the moment clearly: the world was grey, the air heavy with the scent of rain, when you stumbled upon the truth in a small, sterile bathroom. It had been two weeks since Spencer had been taken away, wrongfully convicted and trapped in a nightmare you couldn’t fathom. You had just returned from a visit, the echoes of his voice still dancing in your mind like a haunting melody. You stood there, staring at the little stick in your hand, the two pink lines appearing like a beacon of hope in the darkness that surrounded you. Your heart raced, a mixture of joy and fear spiralling within you. You were pregnant. Spencer’s child was growing inside you, a tiny miracle nestled in the shadows of despair.

In that moment, you could almost picture his face—the way his eyes would light up, a smile breaking across his face as he wrapped his arms around you. You imagined the joy of sharing this news, of planning a future together even in the midst of chaos. But as the excitement bubbled within you, a chill settled in your chest. Spencer was in prison, suffering through an ordeal that felt cruel and unjust. You couldn’t bring this news of a new life into the turmoil that enveloped you both. What would it mean for him to hear such news in a place where hope felt like a distant memory? No, you decided. You would wait. You would hold this secret close until he was home, until you could see the joy reflected in his eyes, not the shadows of despair.

Days turned into weeks, and each passing moment felt like a tightrope walk, balancing on the edge of your own joy and the weight of his suffering. You became adept at hiding your secret, slipping into a routine that felt increasingly fragile. You took prenatal vitamins in the morning, their presence a constant reminder of the life blossoming within you. You attended appointments alone, tracing your fingers over the growing bump that would soon signify so much.

But with every visit to Spencer, every moment shared behind that glass, you felt the joy dimming under the weight of your choice. You didn’t want to add to his pain; his world was already dark. You watched him struggle to hold onto hope, and you couldn’t bear the thought of placing another burden on his shoulders. You knew if you told him he would be happy, and then feel horrible because you were pregnant, and he wasn’t there, he deserved to hear it when he could process it. That was something else you worried about, the timing was horrible, not unwelcomed on your behalf but unfortunate. When Spencer got out he would need time to adjust, you would need time to adjust.

When you touched your belly, you whispered promises, vowing to keep this little one safe until he was free. But it wasn’t long before the joy turned to an ache, a sense of loneliness creeping in. You would lie in bed at night, tracing your fingers over your bump, feeling the small kicks and flutters, and wishing desperately that he could be there to experience it with you. The silence felt oppressive, filled with unspoken words and unshared dreams.

Then, just two weeks before Spencer came home, everything shattered. You found yourself crumpled on the bathroom floor, the world spinning around you as the pain hit like a tidal wave. You didn’t want to believe what was happening, didn’t want to accept that the life you had held onto so tightly was slipping away. The miscarriage was both a physical and emotional unravelling, a gut-wrenching reminder of how fragile hope can be.

You spent the following days in a fog, the echo of your loss drowning out everything else. Each moment felt surreal, like you were watching life unfold from behind a glass wall. You wanted to scream, to let the world know that you had lost something precious, but the fear of burdening Spencer kept you silent. You couldn’t tell anyone, nobody knew you were pregnant beforehand. You kept the joy away from the world until it could reach Spencer, and now it was gone. In the quiet of your apartment, you felt the walls closing in. The space that had once been filled with laughter and love now felt hollow, echoing only with your grief. You avoided places that reminded you of the joy you had once felt, the memories of what could have been cutting deep into your heart. You wandered through your days in a daze, wearing a mask of normalcy for the world to see. Friends reached out, concern etched on their faces as they noticed your distance. You offered polite smiles and reassurances, your heart aching at the thought of revealing your pain. They didn’t know what you had lost, and you didn’t want to pull them into your darkness.

At night, when the silence was deafening, you would curl up on the couch, clutching a pillow to your chest, tears streaming down your face. You replayed the moments you had spent with Spencer, the way his laughter would fill a room, how he would hold you close and make you feel safe. You missed him fiercely, but you also felt an overwhelming loneliness, the grief a reminder of everything you had kept hidden from him. You thought about telling him, about sharing the weight of your sorrow, but the thought made your chest tighten. 

Every time you looked at him when you visited, your heart twisted with guilt. He deserved to know, but you feared his reaction, the possibility of seeing that flicker of pain in his eyes. You wanted to protect him, but in doing so, you found yourself carrying this burden alone. You acted the best you could when you visited, but you knew he could tell you weren’t okay.

Two weeks have passed since Spencer’s release, but the warmth of his return hasn’t settled into your bones. Instead, it feels like a lingering chill, a shadow that stretches over your heart. How could you add to his pain when he had just returned to a world that felt foreign? He had faced horrors you could only imagine, and you didn’t want to push him deeper into the darkness. You stand in the kitchen, staring blankly at the dishes piled high in the sink, each one a reminder of how normalcy feels out of reach. The sunlight filters through the window, casting a golden hue across the room, but it does little to brighten the dark corners of your mind.

Spencer is home, yet he feels distant, a haunting echo of the man you once knew. You watch him move around the apartment, and while he wears a smile that is both familiar and foreign, his eyes reveal the weight of the trauma he carries. You want to comfort him, to wrap him in the warmth of your love, but the grief of your loss sits like a stone in your chest, making it hard to breathe. It’s been so easy to slip into the role of caretaker, to push your own feelings aside for the sake of his recovery and adjustment. The truth is suffocating.a secret you’ve kept locked away, tucked into the recesses of your heart. You want to scream it, to let the world know, but the fear of burdening him with your sorrow keeps your lips sealed.

Every time you meet his gaze, you feel the weight of your silence pressing down on you. Spencer is still adjusting, still fighting to find his place in a world that has changed around him. You can see the flickers of his old self—the gentle humour, the way his laughter dances in the air—but the shadows linger. You can’t shake the feeling that by holding back your truth, you’re pulling him deeper into the void. Spencer’s presence was a comfort, but the weight of your secret loomed like a dark cloud. You started to withdraw, spending long hours lost in thought, feeling like a ghost haunting your own life. In the two weeks Spencer had been home, you had sex once, a few nights after he got home– and honestly it was probably the worst sex you’ve ever had, not because of him, he did everything perfectly, you felt good, physically, he was gentle, and focused. Three months is a long time without sex, and physically it felt good, really good.

But the physical pleasure didn’t compare to the mental disturbance. You felt like the world was crushing you, there was so much guilt and disgust flowing through your veins because it felt so wrong. You kept it together and you didn’t blame him for not noticing, you kept your eyes closed throughout the entirety of it, too scared that if you let them open the tears would fall. He was focused on being gentle. It was messy, and fast, and you were almost thankful. You waited till Spencer fell asleep before you hid yourself away in the bathroom and spent hours crying. You didn’t wake him, you refused to. He deserved rest, good rest in the comfort of your shared bed. Anytime he tried to initiate more you tried, you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of his lips for a while but you couldn’t do it when the feeling bubbles in your chest again and you felt the struggle to breathe, not from the kiss but from the pure weight of your guilt.

You hardly slept, the one way to escape your burden taken away when your dreams of what your life could’ve been turned into nightmares of what you had lost. Most nights you’d lie still in Spencer’s arms, his body warm against yours, yet it provided no comfort, only reminding you of what you were keeping from him. You felt guilty, guilty that the ultrasound photos sat in the bottom of your handbag untouched since the day you lost the baby, you couldn’t look at them, it felt like torture. You felt like it was your fault, no matter how many times the doctor told you, it wasn’t, it was a thought you couldn’t shake. You felt like you were constantly battling the idea of telling Spencer, which would only put more on his shoulders, more that he didn’t need, but he deserved to know, you knew he would want to know.

You were pulling away, He noticed, of course, but he attributed it to his own struggles.

“Hey, you okay?” Spencer asks one evening, breaking the silence that has settled like a heavy fog between you. You look up from your coffee, the steam curling into the air like the thoughts you can’t articulate.

“Yeah, just tired,” you reply, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You wonder if he can see through it, if he senses the turmoil beneath the surface.

He nods, though uncertainty flashes across his face. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately. I know things have been rough, I- I know things are different- I’m different. I'm sorry, but I’m here..” The sincerity in his voice hits you hard. You want to believe that you can lean on him, that you can share the weight of your grief, but the thought of adding to his burden paralyses you. He’s already been through hell; how can you throw your pain into the mix? 

“It’s just… adjusting to everything,” you say, your voice wavering. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around all that’s happened.”

Spencer steps closer, the warmth of his body radiating into the space between you. “I know. We will be okay.. Are we okay?.”

Your heart aches at the earnestness in his gaze. You want to reach out, to let him pull you into the light, but the chasm of your grief feels insurmountable. It feels silly trying to act like everythings fine, it would be useless to lie, the colour drained from your face and the emptiness in your eyes spoke words louder than a lied ‘im fine’ ever could, so you gave in to his knowledge. You nodded, “ We’re okay– I- I just need time,” you whisper, looking down at your hands. “I’ll be okay.” You move away towards the couch, he follows, sitting next to you as you bury yourself in the sofa.

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with unspoken words and unacknowledged pain. Spencer nods slowly, his expression one of resignation mixed with concern. You can see the wheels turning in his mind, the thoughts he’s too afraid to voice. As the days pass, the emotional distance between you only grows. You drift through your routines, performing the motions of daily life—cooking meals, doing laundry, going to work, avoiding the deeper conversations that tug at your heart. You want to talk about it, want to tell him how devastated you are, but every time you think of opening your mouth, the words stick in your throat. Each time he reaches out, trying to connect, you feel a pang of guilt. He deserves to be wrapped in the comfort of your love, not burdened by your sorrow. You keep telling yourself it’s better this way, that it’s noble to protect him, but deep down, you know it’s a lie. 

“Let’s watch something together,” he suggests, his tone light but laced with worry. You nod absentmindedly, your mind elsewhere. The sound of laughter from the show fills the room, but it feels hollow. You can’t shake the heaviness that clings to your heart.

“Do you remember the last movie we watched together?” Spencer asks, attempting to lighten the mood. “The one with the ridiculous plot twist?” He offers, shuffling his body to face you a little more, you continue picking at your nails, keeping your gaze on the tv, honestly hardly hearing his words

You force a chuckle, but it doesn’t reach your heart. You don’t remember, not in the slightest, maybe if you thought about anything besides the weight in your chest you would be able to, but everything was distant, you were distant. “Yeah, that was… something.”

He turns to face you, and you can see the concern in his eyes. “You’re not really here, are you?”

His words cut deep, and the truth behind them wraps around your throat like a vice. “I’m trying,” you manage, feeling the tears threaten to spill over.

“Just… talk to me,” he pleads, and there’s a desperation in his voice that makes your heart ache. “Is it too much? Baby, tell me what you’re thinking.” He shuffles closer. You tense.

And yet, the silence persists. The weight of your loss feels too heavy to share, like a storm cloud hanging over both of you. You can’t bear the thought of seeing the flicker of pain in his eyes, the guilt that would inevitably follow. You feared saying it aloud would make it too real, telling him would make it too real. He didn’t deserve that, not after the months he spent being put through unimaginable things. He was trying here, to make this as easy for you as possible, showing empathy in the time he needed it most. That plagued you with guilt you couldn’t shake because no matter how hard you tried to be present, your heart remained in pieces on the bathroom floor. 

“It's not you.” It came out quiet and if your sense of self awareness didn’t feel thousands of miles away you would’ve cringed. It wasn’t him, he was trying his best and dealing with stuff and turmoil you couldn’t even begin to imagine, you expected a change in him, that wasn’t the issue. Your head dropped as your fingers moved a little rougher, now picking at the skin around your nails, a horrible habit Spencer had helped you stop when you first started dating, you subconsciously picked it up again when he went to prison. 

He moved closer, if you looked up you would’ve seen his brows knitted in concern and a frown on his face as he reached out to depart your hands from one another, taking one on his own to stop your assault. “Then what is it?” He was pleading for an insight into the mess in your head, that was terrifying because you knew there was a similar mess in his own, for a completely different reason. You were both silently fighting emotions impossible to articulate. Spencer was slowly adjusting, slowly. It took time for him to even begin to talk about what had happened in his time locked up, you never pushed. He was trying to let you in, and you were trying to push him out, but you could see it in his eyes, he knew there was something, and you could push him away and try to handle this alone, but you didn’t want to be alone. 

You looked up at him, tears lining your eyes. You chewed at your lip before you let out a harsh breath, “I got my period.” Your voice broke, then the tears followed as a sob left your lips. Then your hands were reaching to cover your face as the tears continued, falling as if you hadn’t been crying everyday for the last month. Waking up to your period was maybe the worst feeling you had ever experienced, the reality washing over you again, and the sight of blood filling you with a memory you didn’t think you could ever forget. It was painful, so painful.

His eyes widened when you started sobbing, each sound leaving your lips causing his heart to weigh heavier as he moved closer to wrap his arms around you. He knew you, he knew you on your period. Sure you were more emotional than normal but not this emotional. His hands threaded through your hair as you buried your face in his chest, still covered by your hands. He didn’t want to admit that this was the closest he had felt to you since his release. “Is that what's wrong, sweet girl? Are you in pain?” He asked, and you shook your head as sobs ripped from your throat followed by wet hiccups. You were sure there were probably wet stains on his shirt despite the fact your hands were in the way, your tears would not stop, you couldn’t stop them, you couldn’t carry this alone. Not anymore.

It was muffled by your hands and his t-shirt, hardly coherent through your sobs, “I was pregnant,” You felt him stiffen slightly and you knew he heard it, but once the truth was in the air, once the words left your lips, the others followed almost instantly. “I was pregnant and I lost it – I killed our baby.” It was all broken words, the ugliest side of your guilt travelling through in your words.

He was quiet. That was the worst part. You knew he wasn’t mad, actually you didn’t know that, deep down maybe, but right now you truly believed he could have any sort of reaction, even the most unlike him. Right now your brain was absent of any ability to process what you were doing. Your chest was so tight it hurt and you were genuinely struggling to breathe.

When he heard your slight hyperventilating against his chest he seemed to snap out of whatever state he was in, he pulled back to look at your face, his hands moving to cup your cheeks to pull you to look at him, the sight was heartbreaking. “Breathe, Please. Deep breaths” He guided, his voice gentle but you could see emotion in his eyes, something less gentle, not so much anger, maybe hurt, maybe confusion, maybe guilt. You couldn’t see well enough through your tears to figure it out.

You listened, the air you breathed in deeply was so cold it made your throat burn, it was just as cold when you breathed it back out, then again. “I’m sorry,” You whispered, the tears were still falling, you didn’t bother trying to stop them anymore. It was useless. 

“That’s a lot–” He shook his head, “--You were pregnant?” It was the same whisper as yours, as if he was trying to make sure he properly understood what had left your lips, as if this was a reality he didn’t want to be. He was confused, of course he was. 

You frowned as you looked up at him, you knew he would want to know everything, and as much as you knew he deserved that, explaining and reliving it felt like a punishment, as if you needed more of that. “Spencer” it was pleading. You were pleading with him not to dig, not to ask, selfishly so, because you knew he deserved everything, that he needed to hear it just as much as you needed to not talk about it.

He frowned, his thumb reaching to brush tears away from your cheeks, the movement useless because the tears kept falling, “I know it hurts. Can you tell me when?” he asked, he was being so gentle, it only made the guilt in your chest burn more, his kindness was cruel because you didn’t deserve it, not in your eyes.

You hiccuped as you looked down, he lifted your face a little more, encouraging you to look back at him, you did. You “Um– A month after- you uh” You trailed off, a month after his life was ruined and he was wrongfully convicted, he knew what you meant, you could see it in the way his eyebrows furrowed further. He was quiet, the silence thick with so many questions and needed explanations, he needed to know what happened, he needed to be walked through it because he wasn’t there. You knew the guilt was probably eating at him for that, you partly wished you hadn’t mentioned it, that you had been more sensible before blurting it out. 

“How far along were you?” He asked, another question tumbling out so gently. He was trying to be careful, despite his hundreds of questions. There was no backing out now, he deserved to know everything just as much as you deserved to be able to tell him everything. 

You hiccuped as you answered, “Eight and a half weeks.” 

His eyes closed as a harsh breath left his lips, his hands dropped from your face to drag along his own. You weren’t sure what he was feeling, you weren’t sure what you were feeling. He did the maths in his head to figure out when you miscarried, he didn’t want to make you answer it. His hands dropped from his face to his lap as he looked back at you, then you saw tears in his eyes, ones that mirrored your own. “Did you find out what happened?” He asked, voice strained.

You dropped your head and looked down at your hands, “Genetic abnormalities” you whispered. Saying more seemed impossible as your throat felt like it was closing.

You remembered the appointment after like a scene on repeat. There were so many tears, so many ‘it's not your fault, there's nothing you could’ve done' and even more ‘Do you want me to call somebody?’ from the doctor, the question would only make your tears harsher, because there was nobody to call. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice cracked with emotion as he searched your eyes. He wasn’t angry, he was hurt, processing, overwhelmed, anything but angry with you. He wanted to know, he wanted to know everything, especially something like this. 

Your head dropped further as you whispered and ‘im sorry’ which made him shake his head, and remind you that he asked you why you didn’t tell him, he wanted to know what was going on in your head, he wanted to know, he wanted you to let him in, to let him grieve this loss with you. He wanted to know what it was that made you feel like this was something you had to carry alone. 

“You’ve been through – You’re going through so much” You mumbled out, every word seemed harder to get out, but there was no out of this conversation, no running or hiding from the truth, from him. “I didn’t– I didn’t want you to have to deal with this as well.”

His frown deepened, and you swore your heart broke in half when a sound so sad left his lips, as if what you said physically wounded him. “You-” He let out a harsh breath, “That's not fair.” He whispered, and you knew he was right. You withheld information he deserved to know, that could affect him just as much as it did you, and he understood your intentions, and your fears but that didn’t make it any easier to process. He wasn’t mad, he was hurt, maybe a little bit mad, but not so much with you, with everything else. “You don’t– Angel, you can’t choose that for me. This– this is just as much on me to deal with as it is for you. I want to deal with this with you.” 

“I know.” You were silent after that, because the only words you could think of was ‘I’m sorry’ and you knew he didn’t want that. You knew he didn’t want you to be sorry, he wanted you to trust him to let him in, to not treat him like he was fragile. He wanted you to have faith in him, to be able to rely on him, he wanted to be there. He hated that he hadn’t been there. He was right, it wasn’t your job to dictate what he could and couldn’t handle, and while maybe with the right intentions, you were taking away such an important part of your relationship from him, you were hiding something so important to you, and you knew it was just as important to him.

Maybe I’m sorry was all you could think of, because that's all you were. So sorry. Sorry that you hid it from him, sorry that you let him down, sorry that you lost the baby. You were so filled with guilt and grief it was consuming you. No matter how many times you were told it wasn’t your fault, the wonder of what if took up too much space in your mind, what if you just did one thing differently, it was useless, because it was out of your control, that felt worse. That there was nothing you could have done to change it. Spencer was just as silent as you were. The weight of what happened caused a crack neither of you wanted there, you didn’t know how to fix it, you didn’t know how to let him into the mind you didn’t even want to be in. 

“I love you” He muttered. 

The sob followed. You didn’t realise how much he was holding back emotion till this moment. Till he leant forward to wrap his arms around you and his head buried into the crook of your neck, seeking your comfort just as much as you seeked his. You shuffled closer and wrapped your arms around his, easing into his touch. “It's not your fault.” He spoke through his sobs, His hand trailed up to cup the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer, at his words your mind swirled, hearing it from him made you think about it, it didn’t shake the guilt, but it softened it, your sob followed his.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, crying in the comfort of one another, at some point you had moved so you were on his lap, his arms around you like he needed it to breathe. Telling him didn’t ease the grief you were carrying, you didn’t think anything would, but you were feeling it with him, and you weren’t alone in it. There were many more conversations to be had about it, probably hundreds of more apologies between the two of you, probably a lot more crying and days just like this, tangled in shared sadness and maybe that wouldn’t fix what you were feeling, ore take away the grief and maybe it would be just like this for a while.

But you trusted him, and you trusted that you would be okay, that your relationship would be okay. 

[draconic-desire]

Gosh i just loved your Sunday fic.. 😫

Im wondering what about a naive type darling? With so much isolation, it has made darling insecure. Darling thinks Sunday deserves a better woman and just ups and leaves Sunday when he isnt home. But ofc is soon found not long after 😋

ohhhh so personally i imagine this happening after sunday uses the harmony one too many times on poor reader…you never saw it coming, never would have thought sunday would hurt you despite being isolated for so long. any thoughts you had about escaping, even going outside to see friends, are obliterated. sunday becomes your whole world.

Yan!Sunday x Naive!Gn!Reader

You’ve been standing in front of Sunday’s door, fist raised and poised to knock, for twenty minutes now.

For what feels like the millionth time, you lower your hand, worrying your lip.

He’s been in there all day. Sunday is a busy man, his schedule constantly filled with meetings and Family affairs, but never too occupied that he would ignore you for an entire day.

Your mind fears the worst; even those initial days of being drowned in the Harmony, before you realized Sunday was trying to help you adjust to your life with him, is preferable to this. Did you do something wrong? Who is he in there with? Is he ignoring you?

Has he…grown tired of you?

The mere thought chills your heart and fills your veins with ice as you take a step back, inhaling sharply.

The wooden door before you is polished to a fault, bright enough that you can see your faint outline. It bitterly reminds you of how inferior you are compared to him, a mere speck of dust, a fleeting shadow on the wall.

You start to spiral. Surely Sunday, the most handsome and sought after man in Penacony, could have his pick of anyone—so why would he settle on you? Why did he bring you here, trap you in this mansion, keep you by his side, if only to throw you away in the end?

Did he never love you?

Why does that thought hurt you so much?

Heart pounding and tears blurring your vision, you quickly turn and flee, your knock forgotten.

~*~

It has long grown dark on the streets of the Golden Hour.

The normally bustling city is slumbering, the only light provided by the plethora of flashing billboards that never sleep. The few individuals you have passed are either drunks stumbling home or the stray Intellitron. You’ve been walking aimlessly for hours, wiping away tears and fruitlessly searching for a way to escape to reality.

After all your time mulling in your sadness and insecurities, you have come to the conclusion that you should relieve Sunday of his care of you. He’s much better off without you, or rather with a better individual than you. He should be dating royalty, a celebrity, an angel. The type of person who would have knocked on that door, would have strutted confidently into his office and sat directly into his lap to—

Another pair of footsteps echo behind you.

You almost don’t hear them at first, but you most definitely see the haloed shadow on the wall in front of you.

“And where do you think you’re going, (Y/n)?”

You immediately freeze, your breathing becoming erratic and shallow. His voice sends little butterflies pounding against your chest, begging to fly to him.

“Do you really think this pathetic attempt to escape would succeed?” A hand wraps around your waist, spinning you around to meet golden eyes rimmed in violet. You expect them to be filled with anger, perhaps even loathing, but you’re shocked to discover they are brimming with nothing but thinly veiled panic.

His grip tightens when you don’t respond immediately. “Answer me, (Y/n).” His voice cracks as he says your name again. “Where have you been?”

Words clog in your throat. “I—I thought—you were—you didn’t want—”

“I’ve been searching everywhere for you. You weren’t thinking. I believed we had moved beyond your futile attempts to leave, that you understood that you are mine—”

“But what if I don’t deserve to be yours!”

The two of you freeze in the wake of your outburst. His breath hitches as you lower your head and whisper softly, “I thought you stopped loving me the same as I love you.”

For once, you’ve caught Sunday off guard. His beautiful gaze widens in shock as he truly takes in your form—shivering, tears rolling down your cheeks, nails digging into your palms—and realizes his mistake.

You left because you thought he didn’t want you.

The mere idea baffles him. Standing before him is the most beautiful individual he has ever seen. Every fiber of his being screams for him to lock you in a birdcage and throw away the key—you are a precious treasure, meant to sing only for him. He has created you to be the perfect devotee in his very image.

And all of his efforts have succeeded, because you said you loved him.

His anger and fear immediately melt into softness as he holds your face between both hands, his forehead lowered to press against yours. “Oh, darling, no. You cannot fathom the adoration I harbor for you, the multitude of praises I wish to preach each day in your name.”

His voice takes on a nearly holy reverence, but his eyes shine with an untamed desire. “There is nowhere you belong except for by my side. Finding you missing this evening nearly tore my heart out. You must never venture out again, do you understand, my precious dove?”

You sniff and lean into his touch, a smile parting the river of your tears. Yes, that’s right. That’s what the Harmony said before, too: your purpose is to please Sunday, to serve Sunday, to live for Sunday.

Why would you ever doubt his love?

Why would you ever want to leave him? What a silly idea.

You think you feel a tiny pull at the back of your mind, a hook that wants to tether you to reality. But a quick slash of a knife severs the line, leaving you floating in a sea of multicolored bliss.

“I’ll never doubt you again, Sunday. I love you.”

Sunday’s lips curl into a smirk as he lifts your chin and examines the rainbows dancing in your eyes. “I love you, too, (Y/n).”

[feelo-fick]

WHY has no one talked about these panels. fuck it its 12 am (at the time of me "finishing" (<- not even close) writing this, its nearly 2 am) im going to talk about them

ahem.

before i get to the Main Point i wanna discuss chils tendency to spiral into his thoughts

like, sure, yeah, he's a reasonable guy. real logical-- but he tends to rush through so many possibilities and in this scene even berates himself for his tiny mistake. every thought in this scene goes so fast to me here, just "snap snap snap, call for help, no thatll attract too much attention- wait is there a switch? crap its too far away- nevermind lets just wait for marcille- but can i trust her with that?? god im so stupid, am i just gonna be trapped here until morning???" and it takes a moment for him to stabilise and snap out of it

like... he even has a little pep talk about it

i guess you could take this as him merely being a quick thinker? but i highly doubt it -- look at this fucking guy.

anyways. hes always got to be eased out of it one way or another, whether that be complainerism (self-explanatory), strategising with another person (that way all the insecure thoughts get pushed to the back in favour of working together), reassuring himself (discussed above) or...

you. could.

distract him.

place a brick wall in front of that zooming train of thought and watch it crash and burn :)

he doesnt even respond in that first pic, by the way. in fact, he doesnt say anything for another 3 (and a bit) pages, and by then the topic has been safely switched (granted those three pages are just marcille and laios making the familiars, but i feel it still stands that there was no response at all, not even visually)

secondly, in that other instance -- see how his eyes go wide as saucers when contact is made? and how they turn into pinpricks once he looks back**? god. and. like.

oh. fuck. ive gottta continue this in a reblog since ive reached the picture limit on mobile -- i am not even a THIRD of a way through all my thoughts on this- we didnt even get to my footnote!! sit tight everyone :)

[makethemhoesmad]

liability(pt. 3)

pt 1. pt 2

only a couple months late, but here it is!!

i’m thinking there will be one more part, hopefully coming sooner

thanks to @imaginespazzi, @azzibuckets, @patscorner, and @barbspeaks for dealing with my copious amounts of yap

—

“it’s for the better,” paige says, for the third time. the first two times, she’d whispered it to herself, trying to make herself believe that it was true. now, she said it to nika, who had witnessed azzi’s erratic flight to and from paige’s place, and wanted to know what had happened.

“thats what she said? verbatim?” nika questions. that’s not the azzi she knows. the azzi she knows is the one that would fight, tooth and nail, to keep her and paige together. that, even if they were separated for years, decades, lifetimes, she would be determined to find her way back.

“yes, nika i told you it was crazy. i announce that im staying another year to play with the people i love and.. oh.” paige breathes out the last word, tucking her head into her hands as she realizes something.

“what, paige? why’d you say oh?” nika inquires.

“she thinks i should have left,” paige murmures, standing up. she begins to pace the room, speaking quickly to what seemed to be only herself, forgetting nika was even there.

“she must think that i’m wasting my career by staying here, she must think that it’s her fault and that she’s the one ‘ruining my career’ in her mind. typical azzi. she’s on a spiral right now, she’ll come down, probably. probably.” the last statement seems to bring paige back to reality, and tears start to well up in her eyes. she looks to nika, sniffling and asking, “how am i supposed to make her see that she’s not, and never will be a liability.

~

in another room on the same campus, yet somehow seeming miles away, azzi is alone in her room, curled up under her blanket that still smells like paige, in paige’s hoodie and paige’s sweatpants. she’s giving herself only tonight to grieve for what she killed, and then she’s going to try and move on. that’s what she keeps telling herself, to justify the way she’s sobbed on and off all night. she’s about to start another round when she hears a loud knocking on her door. grudgingly, she sits up and trudges out of her room, opening up the door.

“paige, what are you doing here?” azzi gasps, even though she knows full well why exactly paige has just knocked on her door a mere five hours after their breakup. 

“az, we’re still teammates. we have practice in two hours i don’t want you to ever think that you’re holding me back. i’m doing this because i love you, but also because im doing this for me.” paige says, her eyes glistening. azzi wants to take her back, right there. but she shouldn’t, she can’t. so instead, she says something she’s sure to regret.

“you know, paige, if you had just stayed healthy, this wouldn’t have been a problem.”

paige recoiled at azzi’s words, shocked at the harshness in her voice and the statements she made. in a moment of what she will eventually remember to be nothing but complete stupidity, she fires back.

“damn, i mean, if you hadn’t insisted on continuing to play after you fucked up your knee, you might’ve been able to figure it out instead of hurting it worse.”

“don’t do that, paige.” azzi says, her face going scarlet. “you do this when you get mad, hurt people’s feelings and don’t mean it.”

“i could say the same about you, azzi. we’ve played almost zero games together, and that’s the reason i wanted you here in the first place. it’s almost like i want to play basketball with my girlfriend, you know?” 

“ex girlfriend,” azzi corrects quickly. she slams her teeth together, trying to trap the words back into her throat. why did she need to correct her so quickly?

“so that’s what we’re playing at, then? we’re playing pretend? we’re gonna sit here and we’re gonna act like we haven’t lived in each other’s skins for five years? our families are best friends, azzi. we can’t lose all that because you got insecure”

and azzi doesn’t know how to answer that. she doesn’t have a rebuttal, doesn’t have a defense or a witness. it’s just her, her thoughts, and her now seemingly unexplainable reasoning to break up with paige. right now, really all she wants to do is fall into paige’s arms and cry until she feels better, because paige always makes it better. something tells her that paige might not want to hold her, right now, though. so instead, she takes a deep breath, firmly points towards her door, and demands, “out.”

ironically, if azzi had in fact just thrust herself it paige’s arms, they’d probably be reunited right now. but instead, paige is standing outside azzis apartment door, debating whether to speed home and put on her gym clothes and wait for azzi to leave for practice outside her door, or corner her after practice. corner her, paige thought, speed walking to her car and grinning.

[koyagifs]

𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓪𝓬

pairing: yunho x reader au: non idol | friends to strangers | genre: angst word count: 2.6k synopsis: so you should turn back to your rat pack, tell 'em im trash warning(s): angst w/ no comfort, toxic relationship. mentions of alcohol, suggestive content. mdni!

taglist: @vixensss @gigikubolong29@xdannix @mrskill2 @hazeljisulatte

You gripped the cup tighter, your knuckles whitening as Yunho’s glare bore into you. His tall frame towered over you, his presence suffocating as anger crackled in the air between you. Every nerve in your body screamed for release—for the satisfaction of throwing the liquid in his stupid, infuriating face.

“I don’t fucking get you!” you cried out, your voice trembling with both fury and heartbreak.

“Get what, Yn?” Yunho’s growl was sharp, almost animalistic, cutting through the space between you like a knife. “That I don’t want to fucking be friends with you anymore?”

The words hit, sharp and heavy, but instead of breaking, you stood there, numb. You should be shattered, begging for him to take it all back, to rewind to a time when his warmth still felt like home. But instead, the ache in your chest felt all too familiar.

This wasn’t new. This was the cycle you were trapped in—a carousel of hurt, apologies, and moments of clarity that always spiraled back into chaos. The tears threatened to fall, but you swallowed them down, refusing to let him see how deep his words cut this time.

You let out a small, bitter laugh, one that held no real humor—just disbelief and exhaustion. Shaking your head, you felt the weight of his words settle into your chest like a stone.

“Sure, Yunho,” you said, your voice trembling slightly but steady enough to carry your resolve. “Let’s not be friends, then.”

The silence that followed was deafening, his glare unwavering as if he hadn’t expected you to agree so easily. But you were tired—tired of this endless loop, tired of fighting for a connection that only seemed to tear you apart. If this was what he wanted, you weren’t going to beg. Not anymore.

The cup in your hand felt heavier than before, but you clutched it tightly, turning your gaze away as if his presence no longer deserved your attention. Even if your heart screamed otherwise.

You stormed back into the party, the buzz of music and laughter hitting you like a wall. Without hesitation, you downed the rest of your drink, the burn of alcohol doing little to numb the ache in your chest. Determined to shove the weight of Yunho’s words aside, you scanned the crowd, locking eyes with a familiar smirking face.

Wooyoung.

His dark eyes sparkled mischievously as you made your way toward him, your resolve firm. Sliding your arms around his neck, you leaned in closer, his hands instinctively finding your waist. The warmth of his touch felt grounding, a welcome distraction from the chaos Yunho had left behind.

“Should we dip?” Wooyoung murmured, his voice low and playful, though his gaze searched yours for confirmation.

You nodded without a word, leaning into his touch as if it could drown out everything else. A smirk tugged at Wooyoung’s lips as he turned his attention to the doorway you had just stormed through.

Yunho.

His glare was sharp, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might snap. Wooyoung didn’t miss a beat, throwing a pointed smirk back in Yunho’s direction, as if to say, Watch this.

Without looking back, Wooyoung guided you toward the exit, his hand secure on your waist, while Yunho’s gaze burned holes into your retreating figure.

You leaned against the sink in Wooyoung’s bathroom, the cool porcelain pressing into your back as you fiddled with your hair in the dim light. The muffled sound of Wooyoung’s soft breathing filtered through the cracked door; he’d fallen asleep not long after you both made it to his room. You caught your reflection in the mirror, your tired eyes staring back at you, the faint smudge of eyeliner betraying the emotional storm you’d just endured.

You felt stupid. Pathetic, even. Running from one boy to another, as if their arms could somehow fill the gaping void Yunho left behind. But how could you not?

Yunho had been your constant—your best friend since diapers, the one person who always knew you inside out. Or at least, he used to. Lately, it seemed like all it took was a girl crossing his path to push you into the background. Each time, you’d hold onto hope that things would go back to how they were, only to be shoved aside the moment someone else caught his attention.

The tears prickled again, but you blinked them back. You hated feeling like this, hated that he had this kind of power over you. Still, no matter how hard you tried to shake him, he lingered in your mind, the wounds from his words earlier tonight still fresh.

With a sigh, you raked your fingers through your hair, straightening yourself in the mirror as if that could somehow piece you back together. Wooyoung’s warm presence had been a temporary balm, but now, in the quiet of his room, the emptiness crept back in.

“You know, I don’t mind you using me for sex,” Wooyoung’s voice drawled, smooth and teasing, as he leaned against the bathroom doorframe. His bare chest gleamed faintly in the soft light, his disheveled hair and half-lidded eyes giving away how recently he’d woken up. “But you should really drop Yunho.”

You jumped, your hand clutching the edge of the sink as you turned to face him. “Jesus, Wooyoung,” you muttered, your voice barely hiding the startled edge. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

He smirked, arms crossed casually over his chest, watching you intently. “Not sneaking. Just making a point.”

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze for long. “He dropped me instead,” you mumbled, the words tasting bitter as they left your mouth.

Wooyoung’s smirk softened into something else—pity, concern, maybe even anger, but not at you. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean you have to keep running after him,” he said, his tone quieter, more serious now. “The guy’s an idiot for not seeing what he’s got in front of him.”

You let out a weak laugh, shaking your head. “Easy for you to say.”

“It’s easy because it’s true,” Wooyoung shot back, stepping closer.

You sighed, the weight of the night pressing down on you as you turned around to fully face him. His dark eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of curiosity and challenge. He raised an eyebrow, waiting, silently daring you to say something, to make the next move.

You swallowed hard, your hands curling into fists at your sides. The tension between you crackled like static, his presence both infuriating and intoxicating. Finally, you exhaled, frustration and longing colliding all at once.

“Just—shut up and kiss me,” you blurted, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess them.

Wooyoung’s smirk reappeared instantly, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. “Gladly,” he murmured, leaning in without hesitation.

His lips met yours in a rush of heat, his hand cupping the back of your neck as he pulled you closer. The kiss was firm, almost possessive, as if he was determined to erase every trace of doubt lingering in your mind. Your fingers found their way to his bare chest, gripping onto him as if he were the only thing keeping you grounded.

You and Wooyoung lounged casually on the couch, his arm draped over the backrest behind you. The room was alive with laughter and chatter from his friends, who had quickly accepted you into their circle. You didn’t miss the way Yunho’s jaw clenched as he walked up to you, his eyes flickering between you and Wooyoung. The tension radiating off him was almost palpable.

He hated this. Hated how effortlessly you seemed to have Wooyoung’s friends wrapped around your finger, like they’d known you forever. It grated at him, the sight of you fitting in so easily somewhere else—somewhere that wasn’t with him.

You and Wooyoung exchanged a glance, eyebrows raised in silent amusement, as Yunho stopped in front of you. Before you could say anything, his hand shot out, grabbing your arm and pulling you up from your seat.

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” Yunho started, his voice sharp and accusatory, his eyes blazing with something between anger and desperation.

Your mouth opened, disbelief and hurt tangling into a knot in your chest, but before you could even get a word out, Yunho’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

“A fucking stalker. A psychopath. You can’t just—”

Smack!

Your hand connected with his face before you even realized you’d moved, the sound echoing in the tense silence. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you stared at him, your hand trembling from the force of your anger and heartbreak.

The room froze, everyone’s eyes darting between the two of you in stunned silence. Yunho held his cheek where you had struck him, his expression shifting from shock to something much darker.

His lips curled into a bitter sneer. “You know,” he said, his voice dripping with venom as he stepped closer, his words cutting deep, “I only kept you around because you were a good fuck to have.”

Your breath hitched, his words a cruel slap to the face.

Yunho turned his glare to Wooyoung, who was now rigid beside you, his jaw clenched so tight you thought it might crack. “How does it feel, Wooyoung, huh? To have my sloppy seconds?”

Wooyoung’s face darkened, his smirk gone, replaced by a cold fury you hadn’t seen before. He stepped forward, his presence radiating danger as his hands balled into fists at his sides.

The room was thick with tension, every eye trained on the escalating standoff. Wooyoung’s voice sliced through the air, low and filled with a menacing calm that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Say that again,” he dared, each word laced with a deadly edge. His posture was steady, his presence looming protectively over you, a stark contrast to Yunho’s boiling rage.

For a moment, it seemed like Yunho would retaliate, but before he could open his mouth again, Yeosang and San were up and moving in a blur. They grabbed Yunho by the arms, pulling him away from the heated scene as his eyes flicked between Wooyoung and the door.

“Let go of me!” Yunho snarled, but the others held him firm, dragging him out with surprising force. You could hear his curses fade as they hauled him outside, the door slamming shut behind them.

The room was silent again, save for the rapid thrum of your own heartbeat. You stood frozen, still feeling the sting of Yunho’s words, but Wooyoung’s presence anchored you, his arm suddenly wrapping around you in a protective, comforting embrace.

You had just finished a long shift at work, your body aching for rest, when your phone rang. The familiar name on the screen made your breath catch in your throat—Yunho. For a moment, you just stared at the screen, uncertainty flooding your chest.

You hesitated for a split second before answering, the sound of his sobs crashing through the speaker before you could even say a word.

His cries were raw, desperate, almost unrecognizable—each one breaking your heart even though the anger you felt toward him still simmered beneath the surface. He wasn’t speaking, just crying into the phone, the pain in his voice echoing through the silence that hung between you.

You didn’t say anything at first. You just held the phone to your ear, listening to the broken sound of his sobs as they filled the empty space around you. Part of you wanted to hang up, to tell him he wasn’t welcome to drag you back into his chaos. But something in the way he cried—so vulnerable, so shattered—made you freeze.

His voice cracked as he choked out the words, each sob more desperate than the last. “I’m so sorry, Yn—please, can you come over? I—I didn’t mean anything.”

You stood still, the weight of his words sinking in, the familiar ache in your chest twisting painfully. Part of you wanted to yell, to tell him everything he had put you through and that you couldn’t just drop everything for him again. You wanted to tell him he had no right to ask for your forgiveness so easily, to demand your attention after everything that had happened.

The ache in your chest deepened as you stood there, torn between the raw emotion Yunho’s words were dragging out of you and the reality of what Wooyoung was seeing. You could feel his eyes on you, the confusion in his gaze quickly turning into something else—something harder, something that made the air feel thick with tension.

You hadn’t even noticed that Wooyoung had entered the room, but now that you did, it was like the world narrowed around you. His expression was unreadable at first, but it shifted quickly to something more serious, more protective, as he realized who you were speaking to.

The grip on your phone tightened, a stark contrast to the way your heart was trembling.

Wooyoung’s gaze didn’t leave you, his brow furrowing, lips pressed in a tight line. You saw the flash of something painful cross his face before he masked it with a neutral expression, but you could feel the weight of his discomfort.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The tension between you two was palpable, thick with everything unspoken.

You took a breath, eyes closing for a moment to steady yourself, before the words left your mouth.

"I’ll be over, YuYu…"

Yunho’s smirk faded the moment you hung up, his heart pounding as the truth hit him. He’d been so sure of himself, so convinced that you’d come running back like you always had before. But now, as the silence settled in his apartment, that nagging feeling of doubt began to creep in. Maybe you weren’t coming back this time.

The realization hit like a tidal wave, and his anger surged. His fist slammed into the nearest wall, the pain barely registering as his frustration boiled over. He paced around his apartment, unable to control the rising heat inside him. How dare you turn your back on him now? After everything, after the history you two had shared, he never imagined you would just walk away.

His hands shook as he grabbed anything in sight—empty bottles, framed pictures, whatever he could find—hurling them across the room with reckless abandon. The loud crashes echoed through the space, the room filled with the sound of destruction. His breath came out in ragged gasps as his mind raced, unable to quiet the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

How could you just leave me like this?

Meanwhile, you were back in Wooyoung’s apartment, standing on the threshold of something you knew you needed to do—something you’d needed to do for a long time. Every part of you had been conditioned to run back to Yunho, but the pieces of your heart were finally finding the strength to put up walls, to reclaim yourself.

Wooyoung’s comforting presence had made you realize how much you had been losing yourself in the chaos with Yunho. For the first time in a long while, you felt like you were standing on solid ground.

As you sat on the couch, the weight of it all settling around you, a strange sense of peace washed over you. You weren’t sure what the future held, or what you were going to say when you finally spoke to Yunho again, but for the first time, you weren’t afraid of losing him anymore. The fear had been replaced with clarity—a clarity that had been long overdue.

Yunho’s rage might be waiting for you, but you knew, deep down, that this was the right choice. You had to choose yourself, even if it meant walking away from everything that had once been familiar.

And for the first time in a long while, you felt like you might be able to breathe again.

[nephalem-da]

was just stalking ur page and omg human bill and the whole monster trope u wrote?? pls consider p2 im so invested.. would love to see it!! <33

The Hunt

Part 2

(Human!Bill Cipher x GN!Reader)

Option 1 won ∑d(°∀°d)

Genre: Dark Romance, Thriller, Psychological Drama

Warnings: Obsession, Manipulation, Captivity, Emotional Distress, Non-consensual behavior, Power imbalance, Dark themes, Possessiveness

Summary: What was once a subtle connection between them has spiraled into a twisted game of control and survival.

The wind howled through the forest, the scent of salt from the distant ocean mixing with the earthy tones of the wild. Every rustle of the leaves and every snap of a twig felt like a reminder of the night you had been caught. Bill’s relentless pursuit of you had ended with your capture—an elegant and cruel trap woven by the man who was more cunning than any hunter you had ever encountered.

At first, you had expected cruelty. Bill was no stranger to games of control, his pursuit of you almost predatory, and his reputation painted him as nothing more than a monster draped in a human guise. Yet, after the initial chase, there had been something… different.

The first few days after your capture had been filled with tension, the cage separating you from Bill acting as a constant reminder of your situation. You had tried to resist him—pulling away from his attempts at conversation, glaring whenever he dared to flirt with you. But Bill didn’t seem to mind your resistance. In fact, he almost seemed to enjoy it.

"Come on, don’t be like that, sweetheart," he had teased, leaning against the bars of the cage that held you. "I caught you fair and square, didn’t I? The least you could do is talk to me."

You had refused, staring at him with silent defiance. But Bill never faltered. He kept talking, kept flirting, like this was all some game to him.

What you didn’t expect was how the silence started to wear on you. How, despite yourself, you found his words oddly comforting. It wasn’t love—at least not then—but there was a strange dynamic forming between you two. Something deeper than prey and predator.

It had been a few weeks since he caught you, and something had changed. The flirtatious comments from Bill had started feeling less like a taunt and more like genuine attention. His smiles weren’t just the sharp, amused ones you had seen in the beginning—there were softer moments, times when he looked at you as though you weren’t just a trophy, but something more.

You began speaking to him, at first short, clipped responses, but slowly more. You were cautious, keeping your walls up, but there was a strange pull you couldn’t deny. His eyes would light up when you spoke, his voice taking on a different tone whenever you gave in to the conversation. Bill Cipher, the ever-cocky hunter, seemed almost… vulnerable when you opened up.

And it was during one of these late-night conversations, the moonlight spilling through the trees, that he made his move.

“You know,” Bill said, leaning against the door of the cage with that familiar glint in his eyes, “I could let you out of there. Let you stretch your legs a bit.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Out there, where you have all your lackeys watching?”

Bill smirked, unlocking the cage door with a flick of his wrist. “Nah, not out there. My place. Just us. What do you say?”

The hesitation lingered, but a part of you wanted the freedom—no matter how limited it was. Against your better judgment, you stepped out, and Bill led you through the dark forest to his mansion-like tent set up further into the woods. Despite the luxuries inside, the locked doors reminded you of your situation.

Bill gave you space but stayed close, watching you like a hawk. He acted casual, pretending it was nothing, but the way his gaze followed your every movement told a different story. It wasn’t just attraction anymore—it was something far more dangerous.

At first, things felt… manageable. You could almost believe that the mutual flirting, the teasing, was harmless. That maybe this strange connection between you two wasn’t so bad. Maybe Bill could be reasoned with, maybe he wasn’t as twisted as you first thought. But then the possessiveness started to seep in.

It began with small things. Bill getting frustrated when you didn’t answer his questions right away, his moods swinging violently whenever you showed any sign of rebellion. The way his eyes darkened when you spoke about your past, your freedom, your desire to return to the ocean.

“What’s the rush?” he’d ask, his tone playful but laced with something darker. “You’ve got everything you need here. I’m not so bad, am I?”

You’d laugh it off, trying to keep things light. But you could see the way his smile never quite reached his eyes anymore. The way his gaze lingered a little too long, the way his words became sharper whenever you mentioned leaving.

There was a night when you realized just how far things had spiraled. Bill had brought you back to his tent after another casual day of conversation, but the mood had shifted. His usually playful teasing had an edge to it, a possessive undercurrent that made your skin crawl. When you had tried to walk away, to find some space, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

You had frozen, eyes wide as you met his gaze. There was something unhinged in his expression, something that made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with attraction.

“I-I just need some air,” you stammered, pulling your arm free.

Bill didn’t let go immediately, his grip tightening for just a moment before he released you. His smile returned, but it was strained, forced.

“Don’t go too far, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you to get lost, would we?”

That was when you knew you had made a mistake. You had let your guard down, let him in too close, and now you were paying the price.

It happened quickly after that. One night, something snapped. Maybe it was the way you had distanced yourself, maybe it was the fact that you had finally tried to leave for real. Whatever it was, Bill had caught on, and his response had been immediate.

You had bolted from the mansion, running through the dark woods, your heart pounding in your chest. The ocean was close, so close you could almost taste the salt in the air. But Bill was faster, his footsteps pounding behind you, his voice cutting through the night like a blade.

“You can’t run from me!” he called, his voice wild with frustration and something far more dangerous. “You think you can just leave? After everything?”

You pushed yourself harder, your legs burning as you sprinted toward the cliffs. The sea roared beneath you, the waves crashing against the rocks far below. If you could just make it to the water, if you could just dive in, you’d be safe.

But Bill was relentless.

The wind whipped against your face, the ocean stretching out below, an endless expanse of freedom just out of reach. You stood frozen at the edge of the cliff, your heart pounding in your chest as the salty air filled your lungs. The drop was dizzying, but that didn’t scare you as much as the sound of Bill’s footsteps slowly approaching from behind.

He had never looked this dangerous. The playful teasing, the sly grins, the cocky demeanor—all of it was gone now, replaced by something far more menacing. His blue eyes gleamed in the moonlight, the tension in his expression sharp as a blade.

“There’s nowhere to run, sweetheart,” Bill called out softly, his voice almost gentle despite the manic undertone. “You’ve had your fun, but it’s over. You’re not getting away from me.”

Your legs trembled as you glanced down at the ocean again, the waves crashing against the rocks far below. One leap and you could be free. Free from Bill, free from his possessive gaze, free from this twisted game of cat and mouse. But would you survive the fall?

“Don’t do it,” Bill’s voice interrupted your thoughts, softer now, as if he could read your mind. “You won’t make it. You know that, right?”

You could feel his presence closing in, his footsteps slow but steady, as though he knew you were already cornered. Desperation clawed at your chest. Maybe if you could dive into the water, you could escape his grasp, but your selkie form felt so distant, so unreachable in your panic.

"Why...why are you doing this?" you whispered, your voice hoarse as you turned to face him, your back to the precipice. Bill’s expression softened for a moment—just for a moment—but the darkness in his gaze lingered.

"Why? Because I want you. Because I need you." His lips curled into a smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "You were mine the moment I laid eyes on you."

Your breath hitched. This wasn’t the Bill you had seen glimpses of in those quiet moments. This wasn’t the man who had admired your voice, who had teased you with soft smiles and witty banter. This was someone else—someone dangerous.

"You don’t have to do this," you tried, your voice trembling. "You can let me go. You—"

Bill’s laughter cut you off, sharp and cold. "Let you go?" he echoed, stepping closer until he was only a few feet away. "Sweetheart, you don’t understand. I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever."

Before you could react, Bill lunged forward, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist with surprising force. You gasped, your body instinctively pulling back, but the cliff was right behind you. There was nowhere to go. His grip was like iron, and as you struggled, the realization hit you: he wasn’t playing anymore.

"Don’t fight it," Bill murmured, pulling you close, his breath hot against your skin. "You’ve already lost, and you know it."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stared up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The man who had once been your flirtatious captor now held you with a possessive intensity that sent chills down your spine. This wasn’t love. This was something far darker.

"Let me go," you whispered, barely audible.

Bill’s grip tightened, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in closer. "No," he whispered back, his voice cold. "You’re mine."

And then, without warning, he yanked you forward, pulling you away from the cliff’s edge and back into his arms. You stumbled, your body crashing into his chest, and before you could even register what had happened, Bill’s arms wrapped around you like a vice, holding you in place.

"See?" he murmured into your ear, his voice dripping with triumph. "Much better."

You struggled in his hold, your heart racing as panic set in. But Bill’s grip was unrelenting, his body pressed against yours as he held you close, his breath hot against your neck.

"You don’t need to run," he whispered, his tone softening slightly. "You’re safe with me. I’ll take care of you."

Safe? The word rang hollow in your ears. This wasn’t safety. This was control. You could feel it in the way his hands clung to you, the way his voice wavered between possessiveness and something darker. You had let your guard down, and now you were trapped.

"I... I trusted you," you whispered, your voice shaking with fear and anger.

Bill’s lips curled into a cruel smile. "And that’s where you made your mistake, darling."

The walk back to his camp felt like a blur. Bill never loosened his grip on you, his arm wrapped around your waist as he guided you through the forest. Every step felt like a chain tightening around your freedom, pulling you deeper into his world, into his grasp. You thought about escaping again, but Bill seemed to sense every thought before you acted on it. His possessive gaze never left you, even as he led you into the safety of his tent.

Once inside, he locked the door behind you with a simple flick of his fingers, sealing your fate. There was no way out now. You were his prisoner once more.

He led you to a chair and forced you to sit, his hands resting on your shoulders as he stood behind you, watching you with that same unsettling intensity. “Relax,” he cooed, his fingers brushing against your skin. “You’ll get used to it. You’ll see. You won’t need anything—or anyone—else.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at the locked door, the reality of your situation sinking in.

Bill wasn’t going to let you go.

And he had no intention of giving you back your freedom.

Ya guys want an alternative part 2? This time it's fluff and I already made a rough draft of it!!

[zep-zep-blog]

Im back from the dead yall. I got this idea from @timeslugarts ^^ Go give them a follow for their amazing art! Hope yall enjoy!

Vox x gn!reader

Genre:Fluff | Cw: death, car crash, hospital mention

☆Devilish Love☆

Darkness. That's all you could remember until you wake up in this fiery hellscape. In reality, you were hit by a drunk driver and was in a coma back on Earth with family crying at your bedside, but your soul was trapped here. In the underworld of sinners that were repenting for their crimes.

You wandered the streets, looking around at the different sinners, demons, and other wayward souls. That is until you ran face first into someone, that being a tall man(?) if you could even call him that. He had a tv as a face for crying out loud. "Watch it." He said in a voice that was common in late 50's shows, his voice was sharp and boomed. Ofcourse you squeaked out an apology, but it wouldn't be the last. As you ran into him several times, even getting into arguements with him.

Over time, you did grow close. You stopped arguing with him less often and he offered to let you stay at his place. Soon his roommates, Valentino and Velvette grew to accept you and noticed how much romantic tension there was. You hung around him like a lost puppy, helping him with paperwork or his various shows he produces. This did lead to some issues though, as one day you had accidentally mixed up the scripts for one of the shows and you got into an argument. You and Vox had argued for almost 2 hours, but he finally cracked and impulsively kissed you on the lips.

That kiss had spiraled into you being his right hand, his assistant, his second half. You and him ran Voxtech with a iron fist, planning on taking over sinners and hell. He was also planning some ring options behind the scenes, asking Velvette for help on diamond size, band size, even the box color. Little did he know that the doctors in the mortal plane had other ideas.

You stood in the kitchen, messy hair from just waking up and only in one of Vox's more casual shirts and some underwear. He sat at the island, pouring you guys some cereal, you were about to take a spoonful when BAM your gone in a blink of an eye. Vox panicked, going absolutely nuts. Every tv, phone, camera, you name it was spent looking for you. He even went down to the Princess's hotel to demand an answer from Alastor.

"WHERE ARE THEY ALASTOR! I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL TURN YOU INTO VENISON BY THE TIME IM DONE-" He yelled, going berserk at the front door of the hotel. The door opened by Vaggie lunging at him with her spear, but was thankfully stopped by Charlie. "What's going on? What did Alastor do?" She asked with her signature smile. "He took them! I just know he did!" Vox screeched, pointing his finger at the clam and smiling radio demon. Every one turned their heads to look at Alastor, who looked a bit too calm for the situation. "Who?" His staticy voice came off as genuine confusion. "MY SPOUSE YOU STUPID FUCK!" Vox argued. "Who?-" Alastor was cut off by Angel, "Wait. Someone married you?" He asks, "Well, we were going to get married, but-but they just DISAPPEARED!" Vox says desperately, but not wanting to give Alastor any ammo he left. He returned to his office, giving annoyed huffs to Valentino and Velvette's questions.

Meanwhile, you had woken up to a heart moniter beeping and the warm embrace of your mom, hugging and weeping. The smell of hospital had made you more aware of the situation. Was..was that all a dream? You weren't exactly the perfect person, but having a dream about falling inlove in hell was a bit much for your human mind. Eventually, years had passed and you had lived a single life with a few pets for company, never getting over that dream until your death. Unfortunately, time in hell is different, while almost 30 years had passed since that car crash it had only been a few months for Vox. He had lashed out and never stopped searching. He spent all his time balancing finding you, fighting Alastor, and running Voxtech.

You had woken up in the same place 30 years ago, but it didn't look like that time had passed. You were shocked, it wasn't a dream all those years ago. You dashed through the streets looking for the familiar building of your long lost beloved. Soon you reached your destination, zooming through the lobby, but getting caught short by security. You caused a huge scene, cussing and yelling, begging for them to let you see Vox. Velvette alerted him to your outburst and he zapped through the wires to the lobby and froze. It was you, the person he still had the perfectbring for. The person he still made a plate for. The person he hugged a pillow at night to remember the touch of. He ran to you, shouting at the guards to let you go. He hugged you tightly, sharing a few tears as you hugged him back. You missed this, he missed this.

After being reunited he couldn't wait anymore, he eventually proposed with the ring he saved all that time. Sure he waited months, but you waited years and now you both could take over hell together.

[my-beloved-ghosts-and-me]

YOU'RE THE QUEEN OF THE KINGDOM THAT HAS MY WHOLE HEART

꒰ synopsis: fate has a weird way of working and you still can fully understand the way everything it's delicately interconnected

꒰ content warnings: nsfw (18+), fem!reader, smut, masturbation, male pov, fem pov, breeding kink if you squint, rough sex, making love, virgin reader (at one scenario), Tangerine is a bit of an asshole, emotionally constipated idiots

author's note: this is probably bad, english it's not my first language, no beta we die like men, im still simping about a motherfucker called Tangerine, lalalas

Tangerine knew that there was no such thing as an easy job, but Jesus Christ nobody ever told him that things could be this fucking difficult.

Lemon warned him. His brother, god bless his good soul, tried to talk his way out of this ridiculous job, but Tangerine didn't listen to him. Maybe he truly was a Gordon after all.

At first, the decision seemed easy. Rescue the White Death's son and bring back the ransom money for a great payment or rescue Tora's sister and keep a job as a nanny in a luxurious house without having to worry about anything but your safety until your brother himself kill the motherfucker who decided to mess with his remaining family for a marvelous payment.

Lemon thought the second option was too easy, too good to be true. Turns out fate really was on their side because the White Death's mission was some kind of trap and everything went to shit. From what they heard, they were going to be dead if they accepted that job.

And now here he was.

Sitting in a ginormous comfortable chair with a fantastic book that he got from your bookcase trying to read while you and Lemon were on the couch talking excitedly about an anime that you convinced him to watch saying that in exchange you would watch all the twenty-four seasons of Thomas the Tank Engine.

He didn't know how much longer he could handle this situation with sanity in his mind, but with how much your brother was paying just for them to keep you safe inside your house he knew he would rather eat his right hand out of his body than mess this up. Even because Lemon, that traitor, was having the time of his life. Every day since the second half of the first week in your house, Lemon says he's grateful for Tangerine accepting the job. The easiest job of their life. And the higher-paying too.

Maybe, just maybe, if Tangerine was a little bit less of a professional this actually would be the easiest job in his life. A beautiful house in the middle of a forest that looks like a scenario out of the fucking Twilight movie that you made Lemon watch in exchange for that one cartoon with the human and the dog, his brother is happy that he finally got a friend to share his interests, a good payment at the end of every month, not even one day of violence since the beginning of this job and you.

The level of frustration and violence running wild in his body is not comprehensible, right?

Everything was just perfect.

.

.

.

Except Tangerine wanted to bend you on every surface in sight and fuck you dumb on his cock at every opportunity. It was the first time he tried to resist the impetus to take something that he wanted and maybe Lemon was right and he should have seen a therapist. But you were just so sweet, always concerned about his well-being, always smiling in the morning and making coffee for you and Lemon and tea for him, always offering yourself to moisturize his hair and asking his opinion on everything like the food you cooked or the books he's reading. It would be hard to resist nevertheless.

But again, Tangerine was a professional. The fact that your brother was one of the most dangerous mafia leaders in Eurasia and you used to date his best mate before he got murdered trying to protect you a few years ago sending your brother into a spiral of madness and cruelty was just a detail.

He didn't know your brother very well, and it was hard to gather pieces of information about him, or you for that matter, but you seemed very fond of him and even if he continued to ignore you every time you tried to reach him you didn't allow him and Lemon speak a bad word about him.

Your soft voice was distracting him from the words displayed in front of him. He didn't even recognize exactly what was being said because he was trying really hard to ignore Lemon and pay attention just to the sound of your voice. Your sweet voice. He didn't know if he was able to live without listening to you every day from now on.

Given the amount of erotic and vivid dreams he's having about you, he doesn't think he will, but physically was way better than his imagination. Although he didn't have the chance to listen to your moans and sighs in reality yet. He did listen to you beg to him once. "Please, Tangerine. Please. I promise you will enjoy it. Let's watch this movie with us." you had said. The first phrase got printed in his brain like a burn and it's almost present in every dream he has about you. You beg so prettily, pouting unconsciously just a little bit. A truly divine sight.

He could feel his cock getting hard at the memory and the annoyance building up inside him together with the hot white desire he feels for you. Why did you have to be so perfect and so good for him? Tangerine knew he would ruin you if he got the chance.

He wanted to fuck you so hard that you wouldn't be able to walk in the ridiculous aristocratic way you always do like the world knows better than demand hurry from you. He would fill you with his dick until you couldn't feel anything else, but him. No sadness, no worries, nothing. Only him and his burning love and desire for you. He would put your mouth to use and with the way you're always so careful with everything you do to him, he bet you would be a natural. He just know you would worship his cock with kisses battling your long lashes at him until he couldn't take any more teasing and started to fuck your mouth with wild abandon like the madman he is. And you would let it because you would be so good to him.

Given the chance, he would kiss you for hours. Slow kisses, steamy makeouts, soft pecks after fucking your brains outs. He wouldn't waste a chance to claim your lips in rough passionate kisses.

But he doesn't get a chance with pretty little things like you. He's not like your ex.

Did Tangerine know anything about your ex or the depths of your relationship? No, just the thought of you loving and touching someone that wasn't him makes him sick in the stomach. But he could tell by the way you spoke about him with Lemon sometimes that he had been different from him.

Although there's one thing that you said that stuck with him and made him think that maybe he and Draken are not that different after all. "He used to say that I was the queen of the kingdom that has his whole heart. I guess I'm in exile now huh?" You spoke softly and laughed when Lemon said he didn't understand what you meant.

Tangerine understood. He understood very well. And given the chance he would give you another kingdom to rule.

"Oh, for fuck sake, you both don't know how to shut up?" Tangerine shouts angrily out of nowhere and both you and Lemon are staring at him like he's some sort of alien.

It's not out of nowhere. He got an aching boner and if he didn't know himself any better he could say a broken heart. He denied himself too much, but you two didn't know that so it looks like out of nowhere.

Your face does show something, a brief emotion he can't read it very well, but after you press the heels of your hands against your eyes and he listens to your small quivering voice, he knows he fucked up again.

"I'm going to my room. I'll sleep early tonight. You guys feel free to stay here in the living room as long as you want okay"

His eyes followed your figure and maybe lingered a little bit on your round arse until you were leaving his sight. Tangerine wants to hug and apologize promising he'll never scream at you again, that he'll never let you sad again. But he can't so maybe it's for the better if you think he's a crazy unpredictable angry man. Like that, you'll stop treating him affectionately and will give him what he deserves from you. Nothing. He wasn't worth of you and he knows it.

Turning his head forward he comes across his brother facing him. They both keep staring at each other and Tangerine suspects Lemon knows what's up with him.

"Gordon wouldn't act like that." Lemon said with a straight face and turned around to face the TV.

If the room was a little bit more silent would be possible to listen to Tangerine's heart breaking a little more.

--x--

The cold of the night was soothing against your warm body and restless mind. You easily could see how you got yourself in this situation, but at the same time, you had no idea how you ended up like this: baking a lemon cake at two in the morning, trying to keep yourself from making a very reckless mistake that could get you in a lot of trouble.

Five years ago your first love and long-term boyfriend Draken got murdered trying to protect you. He was your brother's best friend since childhood and early in your teenage years they started a gang but things escalated quickly. An amazing duo, an unstoppable force, and delicious naive if you stop to think about it now. Nothing could ever last forever.

After your lover's death, your brother started spiraling into a darker path mentally and morally. He became a ruthless murderer, a tireless man, and crawled his way to the top distancing himself from every single person he used to hold dear, including you.

At least that was what everybody thought, but you know that's not true. Even if he refused to talk to you or answer your texts, he never blocked you. He bought you this house, a house that he knew was your dream house since you both were teenagers.

A soft laugh escapes your mouth at the memory while you finish putting the dough into the cake pan. You always said how much you would love to live like the Cullens and even if he claimed he always slept when you forced him, Draken, and the rest of your group of friends to watch Twilight in those rainy autumn evenings, you knew he was paying attention. You just knew. Just like you know he's not the monster people think he is. He's your brother and you have known him all your life.

He still keeping you safe even from afar just like he promised he would after your older brother died in your childhood. He's still your Leo. You know if you could just talk to him, face to face, you could knock some sense into him, but he never let you get close to him. Maybe he knew that too and that's why he refuses to see you but he wouldn't give up on you so you will not give up on him.

Putting the cake pan in the oven you ask yourself how you still handling life without losing your mind. Again, baking a cake in the middle of the night was not the best sign that your mind was 100%, but it's not like you are in the worst-case scenario given your history and current situation. Being a baby witch helps because gives you a sense of fate and fate brings you hope that you are not insane when you feel that everything is going to be alright sooner rather than later. Or maybe you're just delusional, but it works too.

But you didn't feel delusional. You feel like there are missing pieces to this puzzle and that's partially the reason why you awake to see dawn once again. Only partially. You don't like to admit it, but the man sleeping in the room next to yours is also a factor that contributes to your insomnia.

Sitting in the cold soft chair next to the kitchen bench, you let yourself relax a little while looking at the soft light radiating from the oven. Cake for breakfast, just like when you were a child and you had both of your brothers and nothing to worry about, but before you could drown deep in your thoughts a man appears right in front of you, and before you could scream, Lemon's hand cover your mouth and finally you're back to reality.

"What are you doing?" He asks without removing his hand from your mouth so you grab his wrist and push it down yourself.

"What does it look like I’m doing?” you ask.

Rubbing the back of his neck Lemon says a little wary. “Well, to be quite honest it looks like you're going a bit mental."

That gets your attention and your eyes finally snap up to his.

“I’m not going mental, Lemon! I’m making a lemon cake." you say trying to sound calm and composed "Clearly.”

He blinks once, twice. “A lemon cake?”

“Yes.”

“At two in the morning?” Lemon it's trying to read you right now, but he doesn't know which Thomas character he can use to understand you better nor he has watched an episode that could prepare him for this.

You pause, and then answer with a straight face: “Yes. Clearly.”

The younger fruit keeps looking at you expecting you to elaborate a little bit more, but no explanation comes out of your mouth. In the deep silence of the kitchen you both keep staring at each other. You shift your weight between your feet and keep your eyes on his waiting for something, anything, to happen and save you from this situation because you know if you don't make an excuse plausible enough, Lemon will figure you out.

Suddenly you hear a step at the stairs and you know it. He listened to you both talking and he is coming to see what this is about. That's not what you meant when you said you wanted anything to save you from this situation.

A deep voice with a thick british accent comes from behind you. "What the fuck?" Tangerine asks and you know, even without turning around, he's pissed that he got his precious sleep disturbed.

At the first month in your house, he was cranky enough, but Lemon said it was his normal self. A little bit aggressive, a little bit sarcastic, and a huge asshole, but it was his normal self after all so you didn't mind him. He's keeping you safe, he's a good brother and that's such a personal subject for you, he's intelligent and has such good taste in books. He's so unbelievably handsome too. But as time went by he got irrationally angry at little things and apparently he couldn't get a decent night of sleep in a while.

"I'm baking a lemon cake." You answer still without turning around and you're surprised that you can keep your voice calm.

"Why the fuck you would bake a lemon cake at TWO IN THE MORNING? A lemon one nonetheless. It's this some kind of fucking twisted joke? "Let's bake a lemon cake and wake Tangerine up just as he was closing his eyes after hours trying to sleep?". This fucking ridiculous, assholes. If you want to be insane at least keep it quiet." At the end of his little speech he was screaming and although you didn't know exactly what your face was showing, Lemon seemed to take pity on you and decided to speak for you.

"Tangerine, mate, you need to get help."

Oh, at least he tried.

"I need to get help? I'm the one who needs to get help? You both inconsiderate twats decided to be insane and bake a lemon cake late at night and chit-chat until you wake a poor lad trying to rest and I need to get help?" You could bet that Tangerine eye was doing that little twitch thing that always happens when he was about to get into a discussion with Lemon.

"Look, first of all: we weren't even talking that loud, but most importantly: this is her house. It may be a little weird, but there's nothing wrong about it."

You gathered courage enough to turn around and face Tangerine. You weren't scared of him, that was not the problem here. That would be too easy. You could just send a text to Leo and your brother would find someone else to protect you. The real problem was you were uncontrollably attracted to him and how could you not? The man was a god among men, handsome enough to make pornstaches sexy again. When he was angry you could see the veins in his neck popping, his face slowly reddening, his blue eyes darkening and his accent getting thicker while spitting all kinds of curses and insults. But now, in addition to these classical traits, his soft curly hair was falling around his head and he was shirtless, his waistband hanging dangerously slow.

Oh god, you hope he didn't catch your wondering eyes following the line of the hair just below his belly button into his pants.

You already touched yourself thinking of him today. Twice. Nothing new, you've been doing this for almost two months now. But three times was a new personal record.

You had just finished coming down your high when you decided that you wanted to distract your mind from wandering to him again and the best way to do this was baking a cake. But fate had other plans and now you had no choice but to touch yourself again. You honestly don't know how much you could resist the urge to get into your knees and beg to suck him for all he's worth, but if you could delay this humiliation a little bit longer, you would.

You got lost in your thoughts again and didn't realize when the shouting match between the twins started.

Your voice was small, but both of them stopped talking the moment you made yourself present in the situation. "I'm sorry, Tangerine. It was my fault. It will not happen again. Sorry for waking you too, Lemon. I just wanted to clear my mind and baking helps. Let's go back to bed, shall we?" Not a complete lie, just not the whole truth, you think to yourself hoping they would buy it.

You get up without saying anything else and walk towards the stairs hoping you can keep your walk as normal as it ever is and pray that they don't notice how much you wanna run from the kitchen. You still hear their voices from upstairs. "She was kidnapped and we have no idea what happened to her, man." Lemon said trying to defend you, but you already closed the door of your room so you couldn't know how Tangerine replied.

Your cat, Luna, was spread around your bed like she worked all day to pay the rent that was due. Your chance of trying to relieve the aching between your legs was ruined by this fur ball because you may be going a little bit mental, but you draw a line at masturbating around your pet.

Climbing to the soft surface you finally let yourself relax. Luna didn't enjoy it being disturbed, but quickly forgave you when you wrapped your arms around her and started caressing her ears. Feeling the soft fabric of your nightgown and the warmth of your cat around your chest, you started to succumb to the tiredness and the dark even if the desire running through your veins didn't vanish as you would liked to.

Maybe if he wasn't hired by your brother to look out for you or maybe if he actually could develop a relationship with you, but most importantly maybe if he didn't hate your guts for no reason... Maybe if wasn't for that you could try despite the odds. But all you can do right now it's wish for good dreams.

And this was your last thought before falling asleep.

--x--

In the silence of his room, laying in his bed, Tangerine knew he couldn't deny himself any longer. Your flimsy nightgown and perky nipples because of the cold night were his last straw.

He could feel his member in his hand, hot, pulsing, and begging for relief inside his pants.

God knows how much he tried to avoid this from happening because he knows once he lets his mind succumb just a little to the thought of you he will need more and more and soon just thinking about you will not be enough. But now it's over. His cock was throbbing so much and was desperately needing release.

Every goddamn time you made him hard he tried touching himself picturing another woman, but every time it was you that he was imagining you without him even noticing what he was doing. When Tangerine switched back to another woman he became almost instantly soft. It was driving him to the brink of madness and he couldn't deny himself any longer.

He was so eager to finally give in that he didn't even know where to begin with. Should he let you take the lead and be the sweet little thing he knows you are and be all soft and small kisses before giving in to desire shyly and slowly or should he take the lead and ravish you without mercy making you succumb to him faster and messier?

He wants to go down on you, that's for sure, but he can't decide between exploring your body slowly, anticipating you when he finally starts to eat you out, or going straight to the place he dreamed of for almost three months now and devour you until he was satisfied.

"Fucking hell, I need to slow down or I'll come and I didn't even decide exactly how I'm going to take her." Tangerine was getting close to spilling himself all over your stolen panties just with the flashes that he was conjuring of you but he wasn't able to decide how to make you his yet. He decided to test himself to see how much control he had over his body in case he needed to be soft and tender with you in case you're still a virgin and just cum after he was able to conjure both scenarios in his head without touching himself during this process of torture. He needed to prove himself worthy of you and be prepared for all possibilities concerning your well-being.

Tangerine moves his hands to his hair, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath imagining you asking for him to be careful with you "Please, go easy with me okay? I've never done this, not even with Draken? So please be gentle" you would say and he couldn't explain the feeling that bloomed in his chest and made his dick twitch uncontrollable.

"Of course, love. Do you feel prepared enough?" he asked while rubbing his cock along your slick pussy making obvious with the lewd sounds that you were more than ready.

"Yes."

"Can I put in?" he answered pressing the tip of his member in your tight opening.

"Yeah. And don't need to have pity okay? Just worry if I say stop unless keep going" Oh, but how could he not be pitiful of you if you're such a crybaby and he crumbles when he sees you with a tear in your eyes?

"Okay, darling. I'll try my best." Tangerine whispers against your neck, his hot breath making you shiver, before pressing his tip further into you making you suck a little breath.

You put your arms in his shoulders looking down mesmerized by the scene of finally having Tangerine filling you.

At that thought his cock throbbed so violently he instantly knew that he needed to be a little more alert otherwise he would cum before imagining you getting fucked dumb on his cock.

Tangerine is trying to calm himself after being carried away for too long taking deep breaths and holding firm the base of his dick so he wouldn't finish before accomplishing his goal. You will be the death of him, he's sure. Your pussy will be his reason to come back after every job in one piece. He just knew that.

His cock was running hot but stopped twitching a few seconds ago. He was stiff as a board and couldn't even phantom the idea of letting go of the tight grip on his hair because he needed to keep his hands firmly placed somewhere away from his painful and sensitive member.

After a few ragged breaths, he started to move his hand again, slowly and avoiding his sensitive tip.

He knows that once he's fully settled inside your warm tight cunt, he'll be careful and take it slow with you. There's nothing worse than the pace he's imagining for you. Nothing so torturous as feeling you heat swallowing him every time, her walls so tight and unused, begging him to just start going feral, but he knows he need to make you get used to his size.

So, just like that, he's fantasizing about taking you. Slowly, kissing you with eyes closed and tongue insistent, swallowing your mixed moans of pain and pleasure.

The pain was almost too much to bear, but so good at the same time. And the pleasure, oh God, the pleasure he's giving you. Your brain could only think of Tangerine, all you could only, feel, taste, and see was Tangerine. He was everywhere and you felt so full you swear you could feel your belly bulge a little.

Tangerine feels another violent throb run through his dick and his balls are twitching, itching for release. He let go of his dick again and press a pillow into his face screaming in frustration. A sudden urge to just give in and fuck his fist almost make him faint, but he can't give up now. His body was burning and his soft pink lips were bruised with how intense he was biting them, the skin on the verge of breaking with the force of his teeth.

He would never admit it, but the despair he was feeling was so intense that small tears were spilling from the side of his eyes.

"I can do this, I can do this" he thought to himself while taking deep breaths without the pillow on his face. His muscular chest was rising and falling quickly, the red in his face spread into his neck and started to fall into his pectorals, and his body was covered in a thin layer of sweat. A vision to behold.

Your shy tongue started to explore his neck, his skin hot against your wet tongue, and you could feel salty drops of sweat. Your teeth graze against the sensitive flesh and he let a breathy moan close to your right ear. Boldly you suck his pulsing point strong enough to leave a mark and he moans your name loud and clear.

These intrusive thoughts are the death of him. Even without taking his hands from his mischievous hair, his cock was pulsing against his abdomen, leaking from the tip. All his veins are startled like never before and his pretty sure his balls are getting really close to having cramps. Tangerine thought that maybe it was better to get shot in the neck than feel like this, delirious and fighting so hard to control himself for the first time in his life.

"Tangerine, I'm close, please" You didn't know exactly what you were begging for, but Tangerine knew. He picks up his pace? put his large, calloused hand around your neck applying a slight pressure, and keep his lips hovering over yours, like he's trying to decide if he wants to kiss you or keep listening to you moaning his name.

"Come on my cock, love. Be a good girl for me and let yourself go." His raspy voice so filled with desire and something that you still can't figure out what it is yet is enough to send you over the edge. Your orgasm is a hot white force that sends you over the edge and keeps your body spamming for what it seems forever.

The way you keep squeezing the life of his dick is enough to give Tangerine the best orgasm in his life. He's cumming so much inside of you that he's sure you're already full of his seed and he's not even finished yet.

"I can not do this." Tangerine says out loud. Did someone ever die of orgasm denial? Because he was sure he was about to. He was actually in tears at this point and was suspicious that blowing his load would not be that pleasing anymore. There was so much pre-cum pooling in his heated skin even with him stopping himself from touching his throbbing member a few minutes ago.

But now Tangerine could imagine how rough he would take you if this wasn't your first time and without his permission, his imagination started to run wild, and without him realizing it his hands started to crawl their way into his aching cock trying to relieve his pain.

He wasn't going to take it easy on you after everything you made him go through. Tangerine would take you hard, rough, borderline violent, and make you beg for more. More of him, unhinged, a beast out of the cage. More of what only he can give you. By the end, you would be completely addicted to him and his cock in the same way he was already addicted to you.

He would leave marks all over your small body. His fingertips would bruise the soft flesh of your thighs and of your round ass, bites, and hickeys around any smooth skin his hungry mouth could find. Your cunt would be tight and sensitive from the abuse his thick cock, a little too big for you, was making you endure it. But you would love every single second of it, Tangerine was sure.

His big hand was tightening his grip around your delicate neck cutting short your blood circulation and making you feel dizzy. The lewd sound you two were making, moans and skin slapping against skin, was out of a porn movie. To match his pornstache, you think.

You squeeze your tight walls around him and he groans so deep from his chest that you unconsciously squeeze him again.

"Fuck, my dirty little whore. You want me to come inside you so much huh? Is that what you want, love? My cum filling you up to the brim, leaking of you for days?" Tangerine's mouth is right against your ear so you can hear all the sweet sounds he makes, but listening to his voice calling you "his", degrading you, and calling you "love" sends you to another level of delirious"

Tangerine was sure he was losing his mind with how vivid his fantasies were, but now that he was getting close and actually was going to be able to cum he didn't want to question himself about it. His cock was throbbing in his hand, the sounds getting out of his mouth were pure filthy, and his fist slapping against his skin were the only thing he could focus on.

"Tangerine, please, please, please. I'm so close. Keep going just like that, but I'm begging you. Cum inside me. Let's cum together. Please?"

His heart missed a beat. He was staring at your pleading big doe eyes, left hand holding your hips in a bruising grip, right hand still holding your neck itching to give you a soft slap in the face.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Tangerine hisses through his perfect white teeth and when he's just about to spill all his seed, he fantasizes about you saying you love him, right after you finish. He's imagining you pulling him into your tight embrace after he pumped you full of his seed, his head resting on your soft tits, both of you trembling and heavy breathing.

Deep down he wants to think that you were holding all of his ugly and twisted sides of him. Deep down he's dreaming that you hugging him despite his dark desire for the result of this night to be your belly swollen with his child.

And with that wild picture, you round with his baby inside you, he cums. And he doesn't stop cuming, his balls heavy with much more of his thick seed to spill. Such a mess everywhere. His hand, abs, cock. He was sure you wouldn't mind licking him clean.

The sudden image of you on your knees with his cock in your mouth sends a new wave of fresh desire through his guts. Looking left while sighing he sees your stolen panties. In the middle of his self-imposed torture he forgot about it, but now he's going to start over he could put it to good use. He doesn't mind his burning, sweaty body nor his lack of oxygen because of his uneven breathing, the only thing he cares about it now it's his still hard cock.

This is gonna be a long night, isn't it?

--x--

You wake up the next morning feeling thoroughly fucked feeling your body running hot. You have a few flashes of your dream with Tangerine and you are actually on the verge of tears realizing that it was just a dream just like Bella in Breaking Dawn. In the only day you don't touch yourself to the thought of him it's the day that your brain reminds you of what you shouldn't try to ignore.

Maybe if you didn't manifested your life in your early teens wishing a life like Twilight and other book series your life wouldn't be such a mess right now and even with all the disasters in the history, the romance plot was the one consuming you the most.

Speaking of manifestation, you did asked for a sign that the spell you used of that old book with hand-written spells worked. And since you don't believe in coincidences there must be a connection between these things no? Maybe you should ask for a clearer sign.

[texasbama]

oh I AM WALKING

Like……i just. Hm. Okay. So like

Season 8: Buck is exploring and having fun with his newly discovered sexuality. With tommy or whoever. Doesnt matter. We see Eddie dealing with the layers and complexity of his catholic guilt. Him starting to truly discover what it actually is HE wants for himself versus what he think’s supposed to want.

Buck throughout the season, while dating, is having fun and he’s happy but he starts to feel like there is just still something missing but he doesn’t know what it is. We see the boys stories parallel in that way for most of the season. S8 finale. Big emergency cliffhanger. Trapped dads vibes okay. Perhaps feelings come out. Buck realizes “oh shit. Im in love with Eddie” and tries to tell Eddie but then something bad happens. Bam! End of season.

Season 9: buck is reeling from this realization but like. They almost died so all emotions are on 10. They are in the hospital talking about everything but the elephant in the room. They talk about the will and what it means. Its heavy. Eddie telling Buck again that there is no one else for his son. No one else for HIM. “Its only ever been you Buck” and they are just sitting in this moment with so many words left unsaid. Both of them scared of the magnitude of their feelings.

The season continues as both of the boys try and navigate through what it means to be in love with your best friend. Eddie possibly working through having feelings for a man. Buck scared of losing what they have but also knowing that Eddie is it for him. Maybe mid season, they finally sit down and talk. Buck tells Eddie in so many words: I want you. I want this life we have made together with Chris. I love you. Eddie feels the same way. they both agree: we need to be sure, because once we go there, there is no going back. This could be a great thing for both of them but they have to be ready for it.

Now as 9B goes on, we see flirty Buddie. We see them basically together but not together ya know? They are happy taking their time cause they know the wait will be worth it. Now of course cause this is a primetime drama, some very traumatic/ dramatic will happen in the season finale. Now while nothing happens to the boys physically, whatever big ugly thing that happened, they just want to be with each other afterwards. They are each other’s home. We get a scene in the finale of them at Eddie’s house, on the couch. Eddie basically says that he doesn’t know if he will ever be 100% ready (more to do with his feelings about his own shortcomings) but that he is 100% sure about them. About Buck. He says I love you. Buck says it back. Then Buck proceeds to give his own love declaration. All these beautiful words about how Eddie has been what he has been looking for all this time. That this life is short (they understand that better than most) and he wants to spend whatever time he has left with Eddie and Chris. Cue first kiss. Cue thousands of fan girls dying. End season.

Season 10: now that they are together i feel like the lead up to an engagement could be fun. They are all happy and in love and they are sappy and Chris is making fun of them. Maybe on a call, or somewhere else Buck introduces Eddie as his fiancé and Eddie is like ????? And we get some fun spiraling. Eddie talks to Hen or something. “I would know if I was proposed to right? I mean we’ve only been together a few months???” And Hen is just like “yall have been Buck and Eddie for much longer than that” so that leads to Eddie asking Buck about it. Buck is like yea I said I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you remember??? And Eddie is like that isn’t a proposal! A proposal usually includes a question like WILL YOU MARRY ME? Again. We’re having fun with this. So Buck is all like okay. Eddie, will you marry me? eddie thinks he’s joking but he’s not. The moment goes from light and fun to intimate and emotional. We get some more “you’re it for me. I love you” Buck is choosing Eddie. Eddie is being chosen. Eddie is choosing to be happy for himself. Eddie says yes. BAM! LET THE WEDDING PLANNING COMMENCE.

(Now obviously this is just idiots ramblings. These are bones and they story would need meat and muscles to become fully fleshed out but. I just. Ya know. Had feelings)

[suburbananarch]

A feeling in the force

Kanan didn’t need the force to feel something off about Hera lately.She wouldn’t say anything about it but she didn’t need too…she felt so tired? Empty? Like he could taste the bitter tears coming off her though it wasn’t visible on her face.Finally He couldn’t talk it any longer.He didn’t want to push her but it felt like the unshed tears where stinging him.So as she was heading to the cockpit ladder.He took her arm.

“Hera spill what’s going on.” Hera wasn’t the pity type so he needed a different approach.

“Nothing.” She responded.

“Thats a load of bantha fodder and we both know it.”

“Oh really how could you tell? Is it Jedi powers?” She replied more as a challenge.

“I don’t need the force to tell something is wrong now please talk to me.”

“Nothing…” she said with a pause this time

Im not going to get anything from her am I?He thought to himself.

“Nothing, except for the fact that we still haven’t found a base! lothal is still under siege and I just got word from fulcrum that ry-!” Her tone was rising as she spoke ending her rant with a growl as soon as she said ry- cutting herself off.He has never really heard her mention anything about her her home or her past if that was even relevant.

“This galaxy has gone to the wolves.Im going to bed.”she was about to head up the cockpit ladder when Kanan gently took her arm and rubbed his thumb over it.

“That never stopped you before, it never stopped us before.”

“Kanan thats sweet but not now I-“ and suddenly she was transported back to ryloth.Her father Cham had gotten badly injured in a battle, so much so that they weren’t sure if he would recover.Hera couldn’t even bear to visit him in the medwing, that is until Elani said those magical words. “Nothing can stop us Hera nothing , and you shouldn’t let anything keep you from your family.Your father needs you right now.” And suddenly she was little Hera again.Little Hera who was afraid.Who missed her loving mother and father and her eyes starting to mist and as she broke into a sob and fell into her jedi’s arms.

“Shh.” He rubbed her back softly.

“Today w-was the anniversary of my moms death!It was the day everything went wrong! And my father.I keep getting news of Ryloth! My people are enslaved and the war takes more and more from us! And Im watching my father spiral and I can’t go back-I don’t want to but ugh!” She shouts with angry tears,she starts tugging at her montrails.Kanan squeezes her tighter.

“Hera I don’t know what to say.” He rubs her back again quietly.

“This was the one day where we could patch things up.The anniversary of her death.We argued but we came together and thats all gone.I miss my mother.I miss my father.” Her Twi’lek accent was peaking.

“Hera we will get through this.” He responded now with a smile.

“Sometimes Im not so sure.” She responds with a grim chuckle.

“You taught me the power hope when I forgot it.When I was trapped in the drunk darkness, and because I feel it.

“In the force?” Hera asked.

“In you.” He said kissing her forehead gently.

Thank you guys so much for the support it gave me so much motivation to continue writing and slowly I will reveal more of the backstory.🥰.Don’t worry my OC backstory is plenty tragic and if anyone hasn’t seen it yet check it out in still tweaking it and looking for feedback.I decided to do something a little but different since Kanera is the current winner and I lack patience. (There is some Rebel Captain art in the works.) anyway I wrote this myself and I hope you like it.

[crushedsweets]

i was listening to twin size mattress by the front bottoms and was like. hmm this is the most toby song ever

SO i was wondering do u have any songs that remind you of specific creeps? could be from lyrics or just general vibes yk yk

- 🌙 anon (im new here hi)

HII welcome. ok ok. so i listen to music in a very boring way and never analyze lyrics/artists/albums/etc. but for you i will try to change.

also these lryics with toby oh wow.. wow. ok. wowwww. wow. ok. wow. STUFF UNDER THE CUT BUT KNOW IM DEEPLY WARPING THE ACTUAL MEANING BEHIND A LOT OF THESE SONGS LOL. i religiously listen to love songs so its hard

toby and honey by coastal club. (my fave song rn..)

whether its from his perspective or not.. it doesnt even have to be romantic either. just his friendships with everyone around him, both from people like tim and brian seeing this SEVERELY TROUBLED kid. . . 'wide eyed..dying to get outside' feels very :((( yk. he was a kid trapped in a fucking horrifying situation all his life. or him looking at his friendship with nina. "youve got a way with me... alive and so full of life, i'm mesmerized by your love" etc. maybe jack or clockwork with the "i started laughing at the words you spoke, i kinda like you and your stupid jokes"... AGAIN I KNOW ITS A LOVE SONG but i see it applying in so many different forms of love. and i love love. also a ton of like, car and driving references which is um. lyra reference sorry

nina x clockwork and "a big brown dog named bagel" by nep

ok this doesnt apply so much to my au(nobody is canon in mine but yk)... buttttttt... yeah. ugh. this is so nina @ nat. sorry guys ive been changed. one ask always diverts my attention at the speed of light. "I like the way she bites, the way she talks, the way she looks when I smile" is just SO FUCKING NINA ADORING NAT. nina just wants to be in the most fairytale coming of age movie ya novel lovestory and she says that her biggest dream in life is to get married. she wants to take care of her lover and give and give and give so fucking much and "I'll buy you a big old house on a big old hill And I'll grow old with my baby, 'til she's dead" is so very her. of course i chose clockwork cuz 'she's tall in the knees' and 'some green in her eyes' plus im a lesbian and havent fawned over sapphic relationships in months since i began my creepypasta return. LOL

eyeless jack and "downhill" by lincoln

there r few words to describe the amount of guilt, horror, and devastation that jack feels after what he's done, all he's lost, and what he has to do to survive. he has a year of his life that he was literally possessed by a demon and went around fucking tearing humans apart and eating their remains. even as he's """recovering""" and settling into a cabin, his friendships with the creeps, trying to just feel okay. he's on his last leg, he can tell that people know he's a shell of what he was but they'll never know how warm, kind, inviting he used to be. "i went downhill at such a steep inline" ... yea he did his life changed immeasurably in a single night and it's never coming back. the lyrics "'Cause I was born into the world on a silken cloud / And I got bored of the world before I hit the ground" ... while he had a ton of pressure. he loved his life, loved his family, was the type to constantly express how grateful he was for everything that got him where he was. and then he hit rock fucking bottom because he wanted to chase a little excitement with the pretty girl inviting him to join a 'club.' poor guy

liu and "i'm not angry anymore" by paramore

i dont think i need to explain this because um..... lols... liu just wants to fucking move on. he just wants to escape everything. he wants his family back, including the little brother he'd play catch with in the front yard for so many years. but he has his moments where it all comes barreling back, and he makes real fucking brash decisions - he lost his marriage because he spiraled trying to find jeff and moved to fucking alabama. so you know.

jane and "everest" by beabadoobee

again, i dont think i need to explain this. maybe this could be mary(jane's wife) singing to jane, cuz she was one of janes main supports after her parents death. jane can only act strong for so long but she is so so so fucking sad and mourning and she was always so soft and gentle and sweet and she lost everything in a single night. she spent a short period of time filled with rage, as she would be, but her story eventually evolves into her just wanting to help others with their cases, be happy with her wife, take care of sally, grow old, make her parents proud. she's climbed mountains and is probably in the best place of all the creeps. holds her. i dont touch her character too often because i just want her to settle happily lolz..

ok thats all i got guys :3.. thank youuuuu thank youuu. sorry if my music taste is bad guys. LOL.

[lakesbian]

what are your animorphs thoughts on how the characters have been changing over the course of the series so far? also, do you have a favorite animal moment in the ones you’ve read?

okay this got long due to my rambling so its going under a cut

well i can't say i have any profound analysis on how they've been changing but it's fun...jake rocks because he very rapidly went from "why are you guys saying im the leader im not the leader stop saying im the leader" -> someone has to be the leader, they want it to be me, i'll take the responsibility for making the calls that could get people killed and he Is becoming more repressed and solemn over time about it but he's also great at like. having internal spirals over it and shaking like a leaf and becoming very reactively resentful of both himself for not knowing what to do and everyone else for expecting him to know what to do. & sometimes people are like aww jake it's not your fault but sometimes they yell about how he's the one that got them into this mess so he has to get him out of it while internally regarding him as genuinely being the facade he puts up (<- even marco does this it's dire for jake) so you know. he's not doing so hot. shoutout to when cassie is like so what you're not supposed to be human? and he's like that's exactly right i'm not supposed to be human. it's fucking over for him marco has started calling him Prematurely Middle-Aged. he is turning into brian laborn. i like how they know they can still strategically coerce Whimsy and Immaturity out of him (e.g. 'letting' them sneak into a hollywood concert thing) by appealing to specific teenagerisms of his (shaq will be there).

veryfunny how they. put an arc about tobias navigating [checks notes] accepting his therian identity in the 90s children novels. just straight up. they gave birdboy a stomach-fluttering creeping lack of ability to stay in denial while a higher being was showing him his ideal body moment. They gave birdboy a "rachel is forced to accept who he is and stop solely thinking of him as a human tragically locked away by finding that only appealing to his true self as a red-tailed hawk rather than as a human can bring him out of being lost in a morph" moment. Also, he was autistic about dinosaurs as a child. i fear perhaps he'll have less focus for the rest of the series because his personal arc has like. more or less been sorted already. he's good now. there is the chosen one™️thing coming up still but i like that significantly less than him being just some guy so that's not really exciting. it's nice for him that his life is cool and awesome now though. i will say it's funny how almost every time the animorphs describe each other in their books they're just so wildly off-base (generally in the 'falling for the facade' way but it was funny when marco just confidently rattled off statements about rachels purported secret insecurities that were not even remotely accurate) and with tobias everyone is still like. poor soul. forever trapped in the body of a hawk. and then you cut to tobias and every time he's not in hawk morph he's complaining and bitching and moaning about how he wants to be back in his REAL body with his REAL eyes because they're SO MUCH MORE AWESOME. he's good, guys. he's fine. he's chill.

i am on the. checks notes. second chapter of the Cassie's Spontaneous Mental Break Over Doing Violence book. i like how she had an entire book dedicated to that one specific experience some kids have of being A Kid Who Loves Animals (TM) and then processes that bad things happen all the time in nature + human morality with regards to caring for animals is complicated and biased and gets really distressed about pondering the matter. like you know that type of experience. love that she gets an entire book dedicated to having it. fantastic character trait that she's the most prone out of all of them to having morality debates with herself and distress over the idea of choosing wrong to the point where she genuinely needs someone (marco) to explain to her that inaction is in itself a decision. girl who is very sick and tired of bloodshed, and also keeps accidentally murdering people. remember when she's like [trying 2 joke] i dont want to decide...could you just decide for me jake and jake is like [seriously, completely aware she wasn't kidding on a deeper level] do you Want me to decide for you? it is perhaps most necessary for her over all the other morphs that she gets to Not Be The Person Making The Final Calls. this does not stop her from having increasingly many little moments of nervous breaks before she gets so upset she tries to hard-quit though. should be interesting to see where that goes over the course of the entire series because she has a lot more books to suffer badly through

rachel is like. i think she's the slowest boiling pot here. she's had one (1) moment of really getting snappish about her role being The Brave One but other than that she's largely going "unfortunately i cant stop talking (instinctively immediately calling marco a pussy when he says something is scary and then throwing myself into it to motivate everyone even if i am also so very scared)" and then continuing to play out her role. it's been cute to watch her friendship with marco develop they're by no means each others favorite but they're playful with each other and they're learning how to read each other. i like when rachel is like hmm i think i hear your mom on a submarine and hes like thanks rachel [thinking] if she says youre welcome shes lying to be nice and shes like. Thank you for having better hearing than you? Loser. and hes like oh thank god. it's also very cute when he steals the tv remote while they're all hanging out in a hotel room and acts like he's gonna turn it to baywatch and she gets annoyed and then he puts it to xena warrior princess for her and shes like oh ok :). she is always getting ripped and torn to shreds and almost dying and it may actually be traumatizing the other animorphs marginally more than it traumatizes her. i think thus far my favorite scene with her is when she's traveling with tobias during megamorphs 2

aximili is like. he can be kind of nothing when it's not his book but his characterization is overall really solid. kind of enamored with how much having dinner with cassie impacted him. i want to see more of his developing friendship with tobias...i like how in his head he's like "and we're Best friends :)" without checking to see whether or not tobias also thinks this. deeply deeply funny character in terms of literally being a jock who didnt pay very much attention in school sent back 400 years and expected by everyone he meets there to, like, explain how to invent electricity when all he knows is what electricity is. i think during the dinosaur episode he should have started insufferably asking the other animorphs to explain how to invent a cellphone/water purifier/etc to make a point. bonus points because he comes from a society where being considered more technologically knowledgeable than other warriors is literally a huge diss. he wants to be a jock but he's being considered a nerd by all of his friends just for knowing what is to him basic fact. which obscures the truth that cassie is the real nerd of the group. sad! i disagree with the people who think he's genuinely weird compared to other andalites and not just on earth btw. just a side note. i really like his character development and internal struggles over geopolitics while being Extremely Fifteen. he is fifteen and they are making him undergo the horrors. i would like to see more scenes like where he's invited to dinner at cassie's or where he remembers the dinner at cassie's as smth very fond/important to him but at the same time i can get behind him having a like...undersiders-type relationship to the other animorphs where the connection is simultaneously very superficial and very deep because he wouldn't be in proximity to them if not for Being In A War Together and they don't really have any intimate interactions with him but they still have the intrinsic closeness of constantly fighting for each others lives. i like how he's objectively rachel's least favorite & least trusted and they would still bite claw maim for each other!

marco is becoming increasingly complicated 4 sure. kind of enamored with his character trait where he's completely fine with going "ATTENTION EVERYONE: i am so terrified and scared and afraid that i am shivering and crying hysterically and peeing myself and i've almost fainted as well" but he simultaneously considers the idea of anyone finding out about deeper emotional vulnerabilities of his and pitying him to be intolerable. which kind of clashes in an interesting way w/ how the other animorphs are all pathologically obsessed with the notion that it's fine for anyone Else to be afraid, but They can't be afraid or they're a coward and should be ashamed of themselves. i forgot the specific context but shoutout to when marco fully genuinely says that something is very scary/he's very scared and he wouldn't blame anyone who decided to go home and then cassie projects her own insecurities onto the statement and makes a kind of snippy remark about how she's not going to back down despite the fact that it was in no way targeted at anyone. i like how it's sort of his job to be The Sensible One (although this has shifted over the course of the series now it's more his job to be The Funny One i.e. the emotional medic) but his brain just completely shits out when he's scared and he frequently has to be reminded of common sense things during fights. i like how this does not stop him from being extremely impulsively angry and violent and poorly restrained around things that hit home for him. i like how when jake tries to go "are you ok? asking because you have not made a singular jest and thats worrying to people" marco takes it as "alright fucking fine i'll do better at doing my job and making jokes" instead of emotionally engaging. it's gonna be interesting to see where he goes he's one of the more complicated ones to see the perspective of

[fraudiidentity]

IM NOT SORRY .

I FUCKING HATE YOU

BUT I LOVE YOU .

IM BAD AT KEEPING MY EMOTIONS BUBBLED .

YOU’RE GOOD AT

BEING PERFECT .

WE’RE GOOD AT BEING TROUBLED .

synopsis

⤷ when izuku takes a moment to reminisce , things seem odd . putting pieces together and remembering advice once given to him , he realizes katsuki was never the person he thought he changed to , and was always the same .

content warning

⤷ angst focused ; hurt / no comfort . manipulation + gaslighting , etc .

other things

⤷ word count : 1.3k

characters : izuku midoriya , katsuki bakugo .

fandom : my hero academia ( mha )

ship : bkdk ( technically one - sided )

izuku sat on his bed , a brown box that has accumulated dust over the past years of sitting in his room now opened and giving the green haired boy a chance to relive his childhood memories .

it brought him chuckles . the way katsuki gave him certain looks in the pictures , man kacchan really used to be rude .

he’s become better at controlling his emotions now though . he could never be the person he used to be with izuku as of now . they’ve been through a lot together and have came a long way .

well , he thinks . he can’t guarantee it . especially when the memories of people talking to him about katsuki floods his thoughts and blocks everything out .

‘ he’s a no good player . ’

no . he’s not like that .

‘ he doesn’t really love you . ’

no . he’s not like that .

‘ this is just another one of his pranks on you . ’

NO . HE’S NOT — . . .

he’s . . he’s not like that .

izuku was lost in the void of his mind . it was hard to go back to reality when he was in a spiral , lost in a rabbit hole . he was stuck , unable to—

“ IZUKU . ”

a familiar voice broke him out the trap that barricaded him to his mental realm .

“ huh ? ”

“ you okay ? you weren’t responding for awhile , it was like you blanked out . ”

“ oh— yeah im fine ! ”

a lie . it was a lie that left izuku’s lips . he wasn’t fine , he was worried . concerned . he never overthought anything anymore, especially not after middle school .

“ right . . anyway do you — ”

“ katsuki . . ”

. . .

the blonde’s face portrayed an expression of shock for a split second before his eyebrows furrowed . izuku never called him by his name . it was either kacchan to bring them back to good times , or it was pet names like ‘baby’ or ‘my love’ .

“ yes ? ”

“ do you love me ? ”

“ yes , of course i do . why do you ask ? ”

“ you’ve never told me you loved me before . everytime i say ‘ i love you ’ , you just respond with ‘ i feel the same way about you . ’ instead of directly saying it . ”

“ how does that mean i don’t love you ? ”

“ i just— ”

“ izuku we cannot keep having this conversation . i told you im bad at expressing myself the way I want to . ”

“ is it that you’re bad at expressing yourself or there’s no feelings to express . ”

“ izuku— ”

“ answer me . ”

“ izuku— ”

“ or is it that hard to admit it— ”

“ IZUKU . ”

silence flooded the room . izuku’s gaze was on the photos he’s close to crumbling , his fist attempting to go against what his mind tells him . meanwhile , katsuki was staring right at izuku , eyes full with annoyance .

“ are you even fucking listening ? how many times do i have to tell you— ”

“ tell me that you love me . ”

. . .

“ what ? ”

“ tell me you love me . say ‘ i love you ’ and this all will be over . ”

“ why the hell do i always have to give you reassurance ? i’ve told you about my problems showing my love for you , and you keep pressuring me to do something i find difficult . it hurts that you don’t have faith in me . ”

izuku sighed , putting the photos back in the box and averting his eyes to his hands that were now folded over his legs .

“ im— ”

“ you know , he’s just manipulating you to stay in the relationship . ”

“ you’re ? ”

“ im— im breaking up with you ! ”

red eyes widened in shock , which quickly became anger . the semi - calm facade that was being held on to was now shattered into miniature pieces of glass .

“ are you fucking serious ?! i give you everything that i can afford to and this is how you repay me ?! you’re such an ungrateful narcissist ! ”

“ listen kacchan im— ”

“ no — no no no ! NO . ”

izuku looked up , and oh how he regretted it . katsuki was becoming frantic with anger . small blood dripped from his hands because of how hard his fists were clenched .

“ you’re just going to leave me here ? by myself ? BECAUSE OF SOMETHING I CAN’T CONTROL ?? ”

his deafening voice echoed through the empty apartment , teeth gritted together . beads of tears formed at katsuki’s eyes , threatening to spill .

“ katsuki what the hell is your problem ?! why can’t you just try and understand how I feel for a second ! ”

izuku yelled back . his voice wasn’t as loud as katsuki’s , but it was on a volume that could help someone understand his anger .

“ izuku .. im sorry , please . i love you .. don’t leave me . ”

his voice now weak , tears streaming down his face . weak in the knees , he got on the floor and looked at izuku with blurry vision as he cried .

“ please izuku ! i love you so much , don’t leave me ! im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry— FUCK PLEASE . DON’T LEAVE ME . ”

he yelled , repeating himself over and over . he was over the edge . it was evident he was basically going insane .

“ you know .. they were right . you never changed . ”

katsuki’s lips trembled , eyes wide . izuku put the box away and grabbed his suitcase .

“ where— where are you going ? ” katsuki asked , panicking .

“ im leaving . ”

izuku walked to his dresser , grabbing some clothes one at a time . katsuki was hyperventilating .

no .

no no no NO . izuku couldn’t leave him . he needed to stay , now .

katsuki immediately wrapped his arms around izuku , tight enough to bruise him . he was being fucking hysterical .

“ bakugo , let me go . ”

“ izuku please .. don’t leave me . im sorry . ”

“ no , we’re over . ”

a flame of anger ignited in katsuki . why wasn’t izuku accepting his apology ? what the hell has gotten into him ? he would always forgive and forget , but for some reason now was different .

“ but— but i said it ! I told you , i love you . ” his arms gripped tighter around izuku .

“ it’s too late . ”

izuku struggled for a moment before breaking free from the shackles that were on him . it caused katsuki to stumble back a bit and fall on the floor , but izuku didn’t care .

if he showed too much emotion , the cycle would fix itself , and he’d be back with katsuki . unable to break free . glued to a person who never loved him .

“ im sorry katsuki , but i must leave . ”

katsuki didn’t reply , nor look at izuku . izuku just continued to pack until he was done . his suitcase was held in his hand as he walked over to the door .

“ im sorry . ”

katsuki muttered , but izuku heard it . he heard it loud and clear in the silence of the night . he stopped mid walk .

“ im sorry for treating you like this , lying to you . not loving you . i never loved you , ever . i hate you even . what people told you was right . im a no good player . im not the right person for you . ”

it fell back to silence again .

“ yet i doubt you’ll love anybody more than you love me . you’ll probably come right back to me , because that’s all you know how to do . you can’t live without me because you are nothing without me . nobody will love you . ” he laughed , getting up and turning to izuku .

their eyes met , for what izuku hoped what would be the last time .

“ shut up. ”

izuku said , voice trembling a little as he swiftly walked out the room and slammed the door . he walked out of the apartment and noticed eyes were on him . everybody heard it , how disgraceful .

people began to laugh , and izuku was about to break down . tears spilled out his eyes quickly . he ran and ran , leaving the apartment complex . he tripped and fell on his knees , crying as it began to drizzle .

life .

this was life .

and he fucking hated it .

he hated how the universe treated him .

he hated his love life .

he hated how much he loved the one who

damaged him .

he hated katsuki .

yet he loved him , and always did.

even though katsuki would never be sorry .

[soapskies]

Could I request some general yandere hcs for capullo/zero year riddler?

Im down bad for this man

Also just found your blog, and even tho it's new, your writings amazing!

YANDERE CAPULLO RIDDLER 🧩 ?¿

MALE READER. RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS. CONTAINS YANDERE TROPES AND SUGGESTIVE CONTENT.

— Thank you, anon! :D

One of the most difficult Riddler’s to put up with, even more so as a yandere, simply because he has absolutely no qualms about getting rid of anyone who gets in his way, especially if they are of no use to him.

That woman who gives you flirty looks at your job? Gone, off the face of the Earth, she may as well have never existed. That guy who brushed against your shoulder one time? Edward will run him through a meticulous puzzle trap, enjoying the way the blood leaves his face as he nears death, the pathetic brain-dead worm. He might even make you watch just so he can force you to play nice.

When he first grapples with his feelings, he’s beyond frustrated. He tried his hardest to forget about you. You’re just another average, brainless fool in a city full of them, and he’s the Riddler, for god’s sake!

But he can’t stop his thoughts from spiraling, can’t help envisioning you at his beck and call, subservient to him, being able to do whatever he wants with you…

Sooner or later he’ll kidnap you. It’s painful not being able to control a problem like this for him, you understand.

He convinces himself that it’s completely your fault that things had gotten to this point, like your a man sent by Satan himself to ruin his plans… not that he believes in such things.

He’s one of the sleaziest Riddler’s, and that definitely plays into the way he treats you

He sees you more like an object than a person, something he’s entitled to, and he makes damn sure to remind you of who owns your body and controls your autonomy.

He can never keep his hands off you, whether they’re gripping your waist, slung around your shoulders, caressing your chest or lingering on your thighs, all while he watches you squirm with a smirk.

I’d imagine his obsession with you is a love-hate sort of relationship. He views you as inferior, yet he wants you around him at all times, practically attached to the hip.

And my god does he love controlling every little aspect of your life, and keeping you tightly under his thumb. He’ll decide what you wear, what you eat, where you are, at all times…

It’s the only way he can scratch that insufferable itch in his brain, and deal with his obsession.

The only way he’d let you be around others is if he wanted to show you off, or embarrass you enough to bring your self-worth down.

He’ll humiliate you in front of others, hold you down, make you do unsavory things for him… all while enjoying himself.

If you dare act defiant, oh boy…

He’s not above keeping you on a leash, marking your skin up, branding you if you refuse to stay in your place

He wouldn’t severely injure you in any way, you’re already pathetic enough as you are… just enough on the skin so that it’s visible and permanent

Edward’s not particularly concerned about you “loving him back”, as long as you do what he says and behave. He accuses you of lusting after him, never admitting to it himself.

He’ll make sure there’s no chance in hell you’ll escape him, even if it means inserting tracking devices under your skin. Not that there are many chances to get away, given how you’re forced to be at his side practically every hour of every day. And who would even dare mess with the Riddler?

He’ll leave dark purple welts on your skin from where he bit down too hard, especially on your neck in the most visible of places, just so he can force you to wear shirts that show everybody who you belong to.

He’ll make you sit in his lap when he’s working or out in public, taking pride in how embarrassed you get

Maybe he’ll even tease the waistband of your boxers and threaten to take things further under the table if you don’t stop acting like a brat…

“What’s wrong? Afraid someone might notice how pathetic you’re acting? Why don’t you be a good boy and stay still for me…”

[kpopscruggles]

ok remembered the sungchan prompt SO 😘😘

sungchan was always annoying to you. annoyingly loud. annoyingly wild. annoyingly hot. annoyingly cute. annoyingly lovable. it was hard not to fall for his annoying ass.

"yn, i think he's into you. i mean yeah he's nice but it's different when it's you and thats not because you're his roommate" you roll your eyes while your best friend tries to feed in your delusion "he's so hot and friendly im pretty sure he has someone already and yk im just ug-" your best friend shut you up before you try to spiral "ok stop you're one of the prettiest people ever, PLUS, you guys are roommates im pretty sure if he's seeing someone you would know"

"well fuck my partner just said i need to go now to fix our project" you friend said after looking at their notifs "where is he anyways?" your friend ask "in another party" you roll your eyes out again not hiding the fact that you wished he was hanging out with you instead

with your friend gone all that can think is really about sungchan. is there actually a possibility for us to be together? you ask yourself. you got surprised when a knock was heard in your door. not the door to the apartment but the door to your room.

you quickly fixed yourself before opening the door, to sung- "heyyy" a long haired man shows up in front of it. hes really fucking hot ???!:!..!. "oh wow sungchan didn't lie you are really pretty" you blush by this stranger's compliment completely ignoring the fact that sungchan calls you his pretty roommate. "wonbin" he raises his arms to shake your hands and you look down to see the veins on his hand thats really visible with his sleeveless outfit "yn" you said. he felt soft. he made you completely forget sungchan until you heard a familiar cough

(wonbin's outfit: https://pin.it/FC7JipCSj)

you turn to see sungchan wearing a sheer outfit with a blazer. "ynieee" he turns to you hugging you tightly. so tight you could feel his muscles. you felt like youre in heaven feeling sungchan but you wanted to not make it obvious so you pulled out even though you thought sungchan doesn't wanna let you go "channieee, i thought you guys were in a party"

(sungchan's outift: https://weverse.io/riize/artist/2-133557627)

wonbin answered you "the party was shitty as fuck, we just bought drinks and ordered pizza and decided to judt drink here" he said sitting on the sofa. he smirks before patting on the seat beside him "care to join us pretty?"

"he doesnt really drink wonb-" sungchan rambled until he was interrupted "gladly" you said going to the space making sungchan seat on the other side away from you.

sungchan secretly hated this idea. he was suppose to spend tonight with you. but you're busy flirting with his friend. he wanted to do anything just to keep you away from him and to trap you between his arms. he saw an opportunity when he heard a ping in his phone

"wonbin. the pizza is here" sungchan said. the delivery in your apartment you have to get your delivery from the lobby so he knows he has a long time alone with you. now with wonbin gone he can have you all for yourself and he wasted no time getting closer to you

"didn't knew you like wonbin that much" he said getting closer to you "huh?" you said quickly turning to see sungchan trapping you with his arms "i thought maybe i had a chance with you but turns out" he pouted while saying it making you annoyed at him again "sungchan i swear to go-"

"who do you like anyways? here you are looking pretty as ever, hot as fuck, while being cute, you got me and my friend falling head over heels for you who do you like really so i know who to fi-"

"sungchan" you whispered "hmm? what did you say" he said holding your chin making him look at you. "i like you sungchan" you said blushing.

"good. i like-no i love you yn" he said "may i" he says touching your lips with his thumb. you just kissed him too tired and needy for an oral answer

the two of you just kissed even with wonbin going back with the pizza sungchan didnt care but when you saw him you jumped with sungchan just being annoyed that you broke the kiss before kissing you again

"don't mind me, i'll just make out with the pizza then" wonbin said before eating the pizza seductively looking directly at the two of you as he ate the cheese pull. a part of you did get the ick but why is there a part of you that wanted for him to eat you out like he does with the pizza.

you three enjoyed the pizza before going to "sleep". the two of you slept at your room while wonbin slept at sungchan's room. the two of you fucked till morning while wonbin jerked off thinking of his two crushes fucking each other. wishing to get in the middle of it.

OKAY BUT BREAKFAST IN THE MORNING AND SUNGCHAN JUST LOOKS AT WONBIN!!!

He might even say some slick shit like “have fun listening” “sounds pretty didn’t he” and he’ll run your thigh while wonbin just nods “you can say something, go ahead, give my baby a compliment” too the point where wonbin will basically kiss your feet and Sungchan will just smile “it’s all mine”