#so I just know this scene will be so chilling ..

[juleswritesstuff]

The Pillow Contract

James Potter seems to have found the best pillow on earth. You.

james potter x fem!reader

warnings: none

James liked to consider himself a man of simple pleasures. 

A good meal ? Heaven. A lazy Sunday spent wrapped in a blanket burrito ? Perfection. A well-timed, sarcastic remark ? Chef’s kiss.

But above all else, there was one thing James had come to love more than anything in the world.

Your chest.

Well, you as a whole, of course. Body and soul alike. He was not a bloody prick, thank you very much. 

He loved you for you, not just for the flawless vessel that carried your golden heart and your beautiful mind.

But he couldn't help the way he was especially drawn to the perfection that peeked from your neckline when your shirt hung a little lower than usual.

And he also could not, in good conscience, ignore the life-altering comfort that was that perfection.

Now, to be clear, James wasn’t just some guy obsessed with his girlfriend’s body –okay, maybe he was a little addicted. 

But, come on, who could blame him when you were said girlfriend ? 

He was supposed to be a bit obsessed with you, right ? That’s what every person in their sane, right and helplessly in love mind would be about their partner, no ? 

Was that just him ? 

Ok, fine, maybe he was a bit of a simp (read, you had him at your feet). So what ? 

He liked it exactly like that. Sue him.

But this ? This was different. 

This wasn’t just about attraction or some primal male instinct. No, this was about something sacred.

This was about comfort.

The kind that he’d accidentally stumbled upon one evening when you had curled up next to him on the couch, and his head had somehow –miraculously– ended up resting right on your chest.

That’s when he had discovered it.

The Holy Grail of pillows. The pinnacle of all headrests.

Your chest was perfect. 

Warm. Soft. Inviting.

It had been life-changing. Existence-altering. World-stopping.

And in that moment, with his head resting against the softest, most heavenly cushion known to mankind, and your heart beating under his ear like a lullaby, James had made a decision.

He was never going back to regular pillows again.

Ever.

The problem was, he didn’t exactly know how to turn this into a permanent arrangement without looking like an absolute fool.

Which, really, was ironic, because James didn’t mind acting like the biggest dumbass in the world when it came to you. Not even a tiny bit.

The man had zero shame, and zero chill when you were involved.

If he had to beg ? Done.

If he had to bribe you with kisses ? Oh no, how awful.

If he had to declare his undying devotion in front of his friends and suffer their relentless teasing ? Call Sirius and Remus over, he was ready to suffer.

If he had to wear one of those, frankly quite obnoxious --yes, even for him-- ‘I ❤️ My Girlfriend’ shirts in public just because you wanted him to suffer a bit for forgetting the chores ? Consider it his new favorite outfit.

He’d do anything and everything –yes, even sacrificing his dignity in front of Pads and Moony– if it meant putting a smile on your face (and making you agree to be used as a headrest for the rest of your life. But let’s just say that was a teeny, tiny, wonderful bonus if the case ever came to be).

Tonight was his chance, he told himself.

You were already curled up on the couch, wearing one of his hoodies, your legs tucked beneath you as you scrolled through your phone. The dim lighting of the room cast a soft glow over you, and James took a moment to appreciate the scene. 

Because, honestly ? You looked really good.

Too good.

Like, unfairly good.

The hoodie –his hoodie, the one he had technically claimed as his favorite, but which spent more time on your body than his closet– was slightly oversized on you, slipping off one shoulder in a way that made his brain short-circuit for a second.

This was his moment.

You were comfortable. The couch was comfortable. 

And your chest ? Well, that was a level of bliss he had yet to find anywhere else in the world.

Time to execute: Operation Smothered by Heaven.

Ok, the name was a little ridiculous. But, to his defence, he had been a little distracted while thinking about it –the dress you were wearing mysteriously met the floor not even five minutes after he had taken a glimpse of you– and his brain had refused to work at his full potential.

Something that he absolutely couldn’t let happen now. 

Not when the fate of his comfort and sanity was at such a high risk.

That’s why he casually –so casually– stretched like a giant cat just waking up from a nap, letting out an exaggerated yawn before –still ever so nonchalantly, of course– leaning closer.

And would you look at that ? His head, as if drawn by an invisible magnetic force he absolutely had no control on –God forbid– found its way to your chest.

It was seamless. 

Flawless execution.

Absolutely fucking nailed that.

He gave himself a mental high five.

Operation Smothered by Heaven: officially successful.

“Wow. Smooth” you blinked down at him, amused.

James grinned but didn’t move. Not even an inch. Nope. 

He had claimed his rightful place, and there was no going back now.

“What can I say ? Gravity is a powerful thing” he purred, his voice smug, his eyes half-lidded like a cat who had just found the warmest sunspot in the house.

“Ah, I see. So this is all gravity’s fault, then ?”

“Absolutely” he confirmed, burrowing his face in just a little more “I have no control over it. Pure science”

You snorted, shaking your head, but you didn’t push him away. 

Of course you didn’t.

If anything, you shifted slightly, letting your arm drape around his back, your fingers absentmindedly tracing along his spine. He hummed in approval, his whole body melting against yours like ice under the warm sunlight of a summer’s day.

Because the thing James didn’t know –or, at the very least, seemed to forget– was that he wore his heart on his sleeve. Always.

James Potter and secret scheming ? Not a good match. 

Not a match at all, actually. But you still liked watching him try.

And with the way he had been ogling you for the past week, it really wasn’t hard to figure out what had been brewing in that ridiculously pretty head of his.

His thoughtful frown, the way his brows scrunched together, his deep-in-thought lip-biting. James had looked like he was trying to crack some highly classified government code.

Except the code in question was you.

Or, more specifically, that area right below your neck that seemed to steal his attention more times then it should've been considered healthy.

Subtle, he was not.

He had been studying you. Analyzing the way your sweaters dipped lower when you leaned forward, the way the fabric of your shirts clung to your curves, the way–

God.

James had the audacity to look like he was pondering the meaning of life when, really, all he was trying to find was an excuse.

Funny how he could’ve just asked.

It wasn’t like you would have refused him.

Hell, you didn’t even think you possessed the ability to refuse him. To refuse him anything, really.

But your smitten and extremely down-bad behavior when it came to your boyfriend was a topic for another time.

James let out a deep, satisfied sigh.

“You know” he murmured, voice slightly muffled as he nuzzled closer “I think I’ve discovered something important”

“Oh ?”

“Mhm” he tilted his head up, his expression dead serious. Like a man delivering a life-changing revelation “Your chest ? Best pillow I’ve ever used”

You raised an eyebrow, a quiet grin making its way onto your mouth. “I should be flattered, I think”

“You should be honored” he corrected, his lips quirking into a lazy smirk “I mean, it’s a very competitive market. But yours ? Easily top-tier”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Is that right ?”

James nodded solemnly. 

“Hell yeah, baby. I’d even write a five-star Yelp review if that were a thing”

You let out a soft laugh and slid your fingers into his hair, gently scratching at his scalp.

James immediately melted.

He let out a low, contented hum, eyes slipping shut, the tension in his body dissolving completely. You thought if he was a cat, he would’ve started purring.

“Mmh. Keep doing that, and I might never get up” he mumbled, voice already laced with drowsiness.

“Wouldn’t mind that” you teased.

Because, really, who in their right mind would complain about this ?

No one, that's who.

And surely not you.

James hummed in response, his arms tightening around your waist burying himself further into you. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. 

His lips brushed absentmindedly against your collarbone –a barely-there press of warmth that sent a quiet shiver down your spine.

This. This was perfection.

Then, because James Potter simply could not help himself, he tilted his head up again.

“So, uh... just out of curiosity. How often do you think I can get away with this ?”

You smirked. “That depends”

“On ?”

“How well you behave”

James’ eyes darkened slightly, though amusement still played at the edges. 

“Define behave” his voice dropped, all smooth and teasing, like he could coax an answer out of you if he said it just right.

You arched a brow, pretending to think. 

“Well, let’s see. No stealing the blankets at night. No pretending you don’t hear me when I ask you to grab something from the kitchen. And definitely no distracting me when I’m trying to get work done”

James gasped, offended.

“That last one is unreasonable and you know it”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, is it ?”

“Yes. It is literally part of my rights as your boyfriend to distract you”

You hummed, pretending to ponder your decision.

“Well, if we can do nothing about that…” your hand cupped his cheek, slender fingers applying a gentle pressure to lift his face up from that cocoon of warmth he had nestled himself into.

He blinked. “I-wait. What ?”

Before he could fully register what was happening, you leaned down and captured his lips in a slow, lazy kiss.

James melted.

Like, gone. Out of commission. Absolute goner.

The smug confidence he had a second ago ? Obliterated.

His hands, which had been lazily resting at your waist, tightened, pulling you closer like he never wanted to let go. One of them trailed up your spine, fingers tangling into your hair, holding you there like this was oxygen and he needed it to breathe.

You sighed against his lips, feeling the way James shuddered, the way his grip on you tightened, like he was physically trying to keep himself from falling apart.

Like you had just ruined him.

And maybe you had.

Because when you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, James just blinked at you, dazed and utterly wrecked, lips still parted like he hadn’t quite caught up with reality yet.

You bit back a smirk.

Unbelievable.

How had this man made a full-time career out of turning you into putty, and yet one well-placed kiss had him looking like he’d just been personally blessed by the universe ?

You dragged your fingers lazily through his curls, watching the way his lashes fluttered at the sensation, the slow, dopey grin tugging at his lips.

Completely gone.

You tilted your head, murmuring teasingly against his mouth “Was that up to your standards, Mr. Five-Star Review ?”

James, still grinning –and still absolutely useless– just nodded.

"Five stars ? That was worth the entire Milky Way, baby"

You let out a laugh, and James practically glowed at the sound, his fingers flexing against your waist like he wanted to bottle it.

Then, before you could say anything else, he tilted his head, brushing his nose against yours in that infuriatingly sweet way of his.

"You know-" he murmured, voice all warm and syrupy "-if this is part of my reward system, I promise to be so good"

You smirked, fingers tracing idle patterns into the back of his neck. “Do you now ?”

James nodded solemnly, though the grin he was fighting gave him away.

“The best. Model citizen. Proper gentleman. Will hold doors, carry bags, call you milady unironically if I have to”

You snorted. Loudly.

"Now that, I need to see"

James hummed, tilting his head up like he was about to deliver the most profound statement of his life.

“Mmh. Maybe after another kiss”

Your eyes narrowed playfully. “That so ?”

He nodded again, already leaning in, his lips curling mischievously.

You let your fingers drag slowly down the back of his neck, feeling the way James shivered under your touch.

The moment stretched, thick with something warm and electric, the air between you charged in that intoxicating way it always was whenever you teased him like this.

You leaned in deliberately, lips hovering just over his, close enough that you could feel the ghost of his breath, the heat radiating off his skin.

James, for all his usual smugness, stilled, his lazy smirk faltering into something softer, deeper. His lips parting slightly, his pupils dark and expectant.

Waiting.

Wanting.

You let your gaze drop to his lips, watching as his tongue darted out just once, a quick, unconscious flick, like he was already tasting the kiss before it happened.

And, God, he was beautiful like this.

All that usual bravado stripped down to this, his sharp edges melted, his hands twitching slightly where they rested on your hips, fighting the urge to pull you closer.

His restraint was admirable.

His patience ?

Well. That was something you just had to test.

You leaned in that final inch –only for your lips to land on his cheek instead.

Soft. Chaste. Infuriating.

James let out a dramatic, suffering groan, his head thunking back against the cushions.

“Tease” he mumbled, voice hoarse, his hands finally losing their battle as they gripped your waist, fingers pressing into your sides like he was physically holding back the urge to grab your face and kiss you properly.

You pulled back just enough to grin down at him, impossibly pleased with yourself.

“What ?” you asked innocently, tilting your head “You asked for a kiss. You didn’t specify where, love”

James cracked one eye open, glowering.

“Oh, that’s dirty” he grumbled, before huffing dramatically and rolling onto his back, taking you with him.

You yelped as you landed against his chest, sprawled across him, your laughter cut off when his arms wrapped around you, pinning you against him with the strength of a human vice grip.

“James-”

“Nope” he said, shoving his face into your neck like a petulant child, muffling his words “You’re stuck here now. Actions have consequences”

You laughed, wiggling in his hold, but he just tightened his grip.

“James”

“Mmm. Nope”

“I-”

“Shh. Thinking about my suffering”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself, your fingers naturally finding their way into his curls again, scratching lightly at his scalp.

He made a sound, deep and content, his body practically melting beneath you.

“See ?” you teased, voice softening “That wasn’t so bad”

James exhaled heavily, but his hands had already started skimming over your back again, lazy and unbothered, like he’d completely forgotten why he was fake-pouting in the first place.

“Mmh” he hummed “Don't know. Still feel like you owe me”

You smirked, arching a brow. “Oh ?”

“Yeah” James sighed dramatically, finally tilting his head up again. Looking at you.

That expression.

Soft. Mischievous. A little challenging.

Maybe even a little hopeful.

Like he was just waiting for you to put him out of his misery.

You let the moment stretch for a beat longer, lips quirking.

Then, with a small, amused sigh, you finally gave in.

And kissed him properly.

For a few moments, the two of you just stayed like that, tangled together, basking in the warmth of each other’s touch.

You felt him smile against your lips before he pulled back just enough to murmur “So… hear me out”

“Oh boy” you sighed, already knowing. 

James just grinned, completely unbothered by your lack in faith in him.

“What if we made this a permanent arrangement ?”

You let out a soft laugh, tilting your head at him. “A permanent arrangement ?”

“Yeah. Like, an official thing. A contract, even” he lifted his head slightly, hie expression the picture of seriousness “Something binding. A legally recognized agreement that states you will be my official human pillow for the foreseeable future”

You stared at him, an eyebrow quirked in amusement, lips twitiching. 

“You want to draft a pillow contract ?”

James nodded, almost professionally. 

“For accountability purposes”

You rolled your eyes, a disbelieved chuckle leaving your lips before you could stop it. 

“You’re ridiculous”

“But lovable” he pointed out.

You exhaled, shaking your head, your heart betraying you with the sheer amount of fondness you felt for this man.

“Fine” you relented, rolling your eyes as if you weren’t already completely gone for him “You win. You can rest on me whenever you want”

James grinned like he’d just won the lottery, wasting no time in smacking a quick, eager kiss right on your lips.

“But” you added, poking him in the ribs “I reserve the right to move if you start drooling”

“Excuse me ?” James gasped, offended “I do not drool”

You smirked. “That’s not what the couch cushions say”

James gasped again, dramatically this time, like you had personally insulted his honor “That was one time-”

“Oh, it so wasn’t”

James pouted, pulling you even closer and pressing his forehead against yours with a grumble.

“You wound me” he muttered, a mock distraught lilt to his voice.

You grinned, the warmth of him, the smell of him, completely surrounding you as you pressed a kiss to his jaw, lingering just enough to feel the way his breath hitched.

“I think you’ll survive just fine”

James hummed, tilting his head slightly, inviting you to keep going.

So you did.

You let your lips trail along his jawline, slow and lazy, your fingers threading through the curls at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly in a way that made him melt.

“Well” James sighed, voice lower, heavier, the tiniest shiver running through him “If this is how you comfort me, I guess I’ll forgive you”

You laughed against his skin.

“How generous”

James smirked, but there was something else in his eyes now, something wicked, something that sparked just before–

Before the menace shimmied down.

Yes. Shimmied. Like a man with a mission.

“James-”

Your protest was cut off by laughter, because he was determined, wriggling lower and lower with expert precision, slipping out of your hold like a human-sized golden retriever trying to find the perfect spot on the couch.

And then, with a triumphant sigh, his head landed where he had been aiming all along–

Right on your chest.

James let out a deep, satisfied hum, snuggling in, his nose nuzzling into the soft fabric of your shirt like this was some long-lost paradise he had just returned to.

“Now we’re talking” he exhaled in sheer satisfaction, like the heaviest of weights had been lifted from his shoulders, snuggling even deeper, and muttering an appreciative “Mmh. Yep. Definitely five stars”

You blinked down at him, helpless to fight the way your heart swelled, a smile threatening to bloom against your better judgment.

“Should I start charging you for this service ?” you teased.

James hummed, content, his lips brushing absently against the skin just below your collarbone.

“I’d go broke, baby”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, your fingers finding their way back into his hair, your nails scratching lightly at his scalp.

James groaned, pressing his face deeper into your chest, mumbling something incoherent that you were pretty sure translated to never stop doing that.

Before you could fully process how utterly whipped this man was, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss there –just because he could.

You pulled back slightly, blinking down at the mop of messy chocolate strands currently buried between your collarbones. 

“Do you make a habit of kissing all your pillows ?” you asked, voice mildly amused despite the unreasonable warmth now flooding your chest.

James, completely unashamed, grinned against you. 

“Pillows don’t usually deserve appreciation, but this one ?” his fingers traced slow, lazy patterns against your waist, his voice dropping to a reverent murmur “This one gets special treatment”

A full-body shiver rolled through you.

And James, that absolute menace, felt it.

His smirk was obnoxiously satisfied as he nuzzled in even deeper, practically purring as he molded himself further against you.

You rolled your eyes, trying –truly trying– to ignore the overwhelming affection clawing at your ribcage. And utterly failing.

“Jamie, you’re gonna choke like this” you warned playfully, fighting against yourself not to let out the endeared laugh threatening to spill.

James made a noncommittal noise, fully unbothered.

“Best way to go, honestly”

And that was it.

Not one beat missed. Not a single ounce of shame registered in his voice.

You stared wide-eyed at the mop of untamable chocolate curls right below your chin, completely bewildered by the words that had just come out of your boyfriend’s mouth.

Did this man, the actual lover of your life, just casually declare that he would willingly –no, gladly– perish via boob-related asphyxiation ?

Because that was what it sounded like.

Was that a normal thing for a person to say ?

No. No, it wasn’t.

And yet—here you were.

"James"

“Mmm ?”

"James, get up"

"No"

You sighed, trying to nudge him off, but it was useless.

Because this man –this grown, six-foot, sport-trained, annoyingly fit man– was currently clinging to you like a koala experiencing its first-ever existential crisis.

And you knew –you knew– that there was no reasoning with a man who had just fully committed to making your chest his final resting place.

"James-"

"No"

"You cannot suffocate yourself on my–"

"I can and I will"

"You will not"

James lifted his head just enough to look at you with actual betrayal.

"How dare you harm a man in his final moments ?"

A stunned laugh escaped before you could stop it.

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous”

James smirked triumphantly.

“And yet-” he murmured smugly “-you don’t seem to mind it”

He barely gave you a second to respond before he nuzzled right back in, burrowing into your chest like you were some long-lost paradise he had finally returned to.

You stared at the ceiling, dead inside.

How was this your life ?

You used to have dignity.

You used to be a strong, independent person.

And yet, somehow –somehow– you had become a glorified human mattress for your very large and very needy boyfriend.

And the worst part ?

You didn’t even mind.

You sighed deeply, fingers slipping into his hair against your better judgment. James melted immediately, exhaling in a way that was obscenely pleased. Like if he were any more relaxed, he'd have dissolved into a puddle of mushy, lovesick goo.

Then, with the solemnity of a man about to deliver a groundbreaking presidential address, he cleared his throat.

You barely had time to register the shift before he–

“Ladies” James began, his voice smooth, reverent “It’s always a pleasure”

Your mouth fell open.

Did he just–

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“I just wanted to take a moment to express my deepest gratitude” he continued talking to your breasts, completely ignoring the look of utter disbelief and sheer horror plastered on your face and sighing dramatically “For your service. For your warmth. For providing me with the best naps of my life”

Your soul, quite frankly, left your body, just straight-up abandoned you.

“James–”

He shushed you.

Shushed you.

“I’m having a moment with my girls, baby” he whispered, like he was delivering a speech at fucking Buckingham Palace.

You gaped at him. “You are not-”

“I am” he placed a hand over his heart “They deserve it”

You had never contemplated murder so seriously in your life.

James, completely unbothered, pressed on. 

“I promise to treat you with the respect and admiration you deserve. To appreciate your softness in all its glory. To-” he paused, tilting his head “Actually, I feel like I should name you”

“For the love of God, James. Don’t you dare-”

James gasped. 

Gasped. 

“That’s a brilliant idea. Baby, why haven’t we named them ?”

You smacked his arm, your eyes so wide they threatened to fall out of your skull. “Because they are literally attached to my body ?!”

But he wasn’t listening. No, the absolute menace was thinking, brows furrowed in deep concentration.

“They deserve names that reflect their greatness. Something regal. Something powerful”

He snapped his fingers. “Got it. Thelma and Louise”

You groaned. “Absolutely fucking not”

James ignored you. 

“Or maybe Hall and Oates ?”

“I- What- Aren’t they both men ?”

“Gender’s nothing but a social construct, darling”

“Ok-”

A sudden gasp interrupted you, as if he had just discovered the meaning of life itself.

"Baby- Baby, I’ve got it"

You sighed, already regretting everything. "James, no"

"Yes" he insisted, eyes alight with the thrill of an idiot about to say something profoundly stupid "Bonnie and Clyde"

You blinked. Once. Twice. 

"You want to name ‘your girls’ after two actual criminals ?"

James nodded solemnly, as if he were making the most reasonable suggestion in the world. "Iconic criminals. Star-crossed lovers. Thrill-seekers. Just like us, babe"

"Just like us ?" you repeated, incredulous "James, they literally died in a hail of bullets"

"Tragic, right ?" he sighed dramatically, resting his cheek against your chest. "Just two outlaws against the world. Inseparable. Madly in love. Probably great at robbing banks"

You stared at him, completely dead inside. "Are you about to compare my chest to a highly coordinated armed robbery ?"

James lifted his head just enough to grin at you. 

"Well” he mused, eyes twinkling “they did steal my heart"

You were done. So done, in fact, that you just gave up entirely.

"I cannot believe this is my life" you muttered, shoving your hands over your face.

James, the absolute menace, took this as encouragement and nuzzled back in, pressing obnoxiously reverent kisses between his newly christened 'Bonnie and Clyde'.

"Rest easy, my loves" he murmured dramatically "Your legacy shall live on"

"James-"

"Shhh" he hushed, patting your side "They're outlaws, baby. They don’t play by the rules"

At that point, you seriously considered pushing him off the couch. Or out the window. 

Maybe both.

You shook your head, defeated, completely annihilated by your boyfriend’s questionable choices.

James grinned, entirely too pleased with himself. 

“Oh, come on. I’m just having a bit of fun” he chuckled lightheartedly, turning his attention back to your chest with the solemnity of a man who had just finished writing a best-selling novel “Well, ladies, whatever your names may be, just know –you have my eternal devotion”

And then, as if he hadn’t just committed the most embarrassing crime against you, he nestled back in with a satisfied hum.

You stared down at him, deadpan. 

“You’re an actual menace”

“And yet, despite that, you love me” he mumbled, already half-asleep.

You sighed, your fingers automatically sliding into his hair once again. It took him less than two seconds to turn into a puddle, his entire body going limp as he exhaled in the most ridiculously pleased way possible, like he had just been given an award for the best nap ever.

“Unfortunately” you muttered, your heart melting just a little bit too, because, yes, he was a ridiculous man, but he was your ridiculous man.

And, as much as you complained, you couldn’t deny it --having James like this, warm and completely wrapped around you, was its own kind of perfect.

The Pillow Contract (Unofficially Signed & Approved) 

Clause 1: James gets unlimited chest pillow privileges.

Clause 2: Y/n reserves the right to kick James off if he drools in his sleep.

Clause 3: Cuddles are mandatory.

Clause 4: James won't ever refer to Y/n's chest as ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ again. Penalty: annulment of Clause 1.

Hello beautiful people 💗

I have no idea of where this thing spouted from. It popped in my head, and I had to bring it to the world 😂.

This is my first attempt at a more humorous type of fic. I had so much fun writing it, and I really hope it didn't downright suck, and you had a good time reading it, too.

Let me know what you think!

Thank you for reading, and I'll catch you in the next one <3

[neolxzr]

relief

[cameronsbabydoll]

THE PRINCE’S PRIZE — CHAPTER TWO

WARNINGS — birth, reader is confused and delirious, rafe is dark and possessive and controlling

You woke with a jolt, your body erupting in a surge of pain. Your muscles were stiff, sore, and unfamiliar, as if you had been trapped in a dreamless slumber for an eternity. You gasped, your chest tightening, and your fingers trembled as you touched the bed beneath you—cool, threadbare sheets that seemed ancient and worn. The air was heavy, stagnant, and something about the room felt wrong.

Your body ached in places that didn’t make sense. A sense of strange emptiness lingered, as though something vital was missing. When you tried to sit up, a sharp pain shot through your abdomen, forcing you back against the pillows. You winced, closing your eyes, trying to steady yourself.

And then you noticed them.

Two small figures lay next to you on the bed, their cries soft but insistent. Your heart began to race as you looked down to see two newborns lying in the bed beside you—babies, so small, their tiny bodies wriggling. Their cries were weak, and for a moment, you couldn’t grasp the reality of what you were seeing. Had you given birth? Why were they here? What had happened to you?

A flood of panic overwhelmed you. You instinctively reached for one of them, your hands trembling as you cradled the baby close to your chest. The feeling of their tiny body in your arms felt so surreal, like a fragment of a dream that you couldn’t quite piece together.

You glanced around the room, desperate for answers, but the scene before you was nothing like you remembered. The once grand room was now decayed, its walls crumbling and coated with a thick layer of dust. The furniture was ancient, its wood chipped and worn from years of neglect. There was no one else here, no sign of the kingdom, no evidence of anyone who might know what was happening to you.

Your mind raced in a panic. You were alone, isolated, with no memory of how you had gotten here or what had happened to your life. You wanted to scream for help, but your voice failed you, choking in your throat. You couldn’t even remember who you had been before all this.

Just as the weight of your confusion became unbearable, the door to the room creaked open. A shadow stepped inside—tall, imposing, with the air of someone who had always belonged in the place. Rafe.

Your breath caught in your throat as you locked eyes with him. He looked almost the same, yet somehow more powerful, his face lit with an unsettling smirk. He didn’t seem to notice your distress, his presence commanding as always.

“Well, well, look who’s awake,” he said, his voice smooth and chilling, as if the years of separation had done nothing to diminish his hold over you. He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, his gaze sweeping over you as though he were a predator savoring his prey. “You finally woke up, sweetheart.”

Your mind was reeling, trying to piece together what he was saying, what was happening to you. But your thoughts were a mess, slipping through your fingers like water.

“W-What...?” you stammered, your voice weak, as you struggled to make sense of it all.

Rafe stepped forward, a look of mock concern on his face as he approached the bed. He glanced at the babies, then back at you, his lips curling into a knowing grin. “You’ve been out for quite a while,” he continued, as if you should understand. “But don’t worry. You’re safe now.”

“Safe?” you echoed, confusion clouding your thoughts. Your hands tightened around the baby in your arms, your heart hammering as your mind tried to make sense of the situation. “Where... where am I? What happened?

Rafe’s smirk deepened. He moved closer, settling beside you on the bed, his presence overwhelming. His hand brushed over your hair, a gesture that seemed oddly intimate, yet laced with an undeniable power that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re home,” he said, his voice low, almost affectionate. “This is where you belong. You were cursed, trapped in a sleep that no one could wake you from. But I saved you.” He looked at you with those dark eyes of his, like a man explaining a story he knew all too well. “Our love brought you back. I’ve waited for you, and now, we can finally be together.”

You blinked, your mind spinning. Love? You could barely remember anything about your past, much less about him. His words felt wrong, too easy. “Our love?” you repeated, your voice trembling. “I don’t remember—”

“Of course you don’t,” Rafe interrupted smoothly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You were in a deep sleep. But I’ve always been here, waiting for you to wake up. I never left.”

Your breath caught as you tried to search his face for any trace of truth. Was he lying? Or was this some kind of twisted reality you couldn’t escape? His words didn’t fit with the broken, abandoned state of the castle or the overwhelming emptiness that gnawed at your chest.

“You were my fiancée,” he continued, his voice dark and silky, full of authority. “And now, we can be together again. You were always meant to be mine.”

Your chest tightened, your head spinning as you clutched the baby in your arms. You could barely trust yourself, much less the man who stood before you. What had really happened? Was he the one who had taken everything from you?

“I don’t—” you struggled to speak, to form the words that could explain how wrong this all felt. But the truth was, you couldn’t. Your mind was too clouded, the memories of your past too distant, like a dream slipping further away with every passing moment.

Rafe watched you with a satisfied glint in his eye, leaning in closer, as if sensing your uncertainty. He touched your arm, his fingers cold but firm, making you flinch. “It’s alright,” he whispered. “You’ll remember soon enough. We’re together now. And nothing can tear us apart.”

You closed your eyes, trying to push back the panic. You wanted to run. You wanted to scream, to escape this nightmare. But your body felt heavy, trapped in this reality where nothing made sense.

Your world had shattered. And now, all you had was him.

[ama0310]

A Pawn Once More

Character: Haymitch Abernathy

Requested: No

Type: Angst/ Fluff

Summary: For years, Haymitch has kept his biggest secret buried—his love for the one person he couldn’t afford to lose. But when the Quarter Quell announces that tributes will be reaped from the pool of Victors, his worst nightmare becomes reality.

A.N: Scene from Catching Fire. No, I haven't read Sunrise on the Reaping, so please, No Spoilers. It's a Female!Reader.

Age Gap: Haymitch is 41 and Reader is in her 20s (preferably 25)

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. As you know, in every Quarter Quell, we do things a little differently. To commemorate the 75th Hunger Games, the third Quarter Quell, we have decided to add a new twist to the tradition."

"The tributes will be reaped from the pool of existing victors."

The air was thick with the screams and desperate cries of your family, their voices echoing in your ears as your own face twisted in horror. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

After surviving the 66th Hunger Games, after securing your place in history and your district’s fleeting pride, you were supposed to live out your life in something resembling peace. You’d be called back each year to mentor, yes, but never again would you be dragged into the arena. Never again would you face the bloodbath.

But now? Now you were nothing more than a pawn again.

You had to leave. You had to run. Your little brother’s tiny fingers clung desperately to you, his sobs vibrating through your chest as your mother—your mother—threw things in fury, her heartbreak spilling over. Every instinct told you to stay, to comfort them, but you knew better. You had to leave or you’d lose your mind. Or worse, you’d drag them down into your nightmare.

You ran. The pounding of your feet against the dirt was deafening, a frantic rhythm of escape, but your body couldn’t outrun the reality clawing at your soul. You ran until your legs gave out and you collapsed, crumbling to your knees, gasping for air. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It had to be alright. It had to be. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t.

You wiped away your tears, your breath ragged and uneven, thoughts spinning wildly. Out of the eight victors from your district, only you and one of your mentors were women. And you weren’t about to let your mentor go through the Games again. There was no chance. You knew the nightmares she’d endured, the scars that marked her body. Like you, she had survived, but she wasn’t as capable as she once was when she won during the 47th Games. At least you still had a fighting chance.

Your mind turned to your family next. You just needed them to promise you one thing. They couldn’t watch. They couldn’t watch you die. It was the only mercy you could give them. You couldn’t let them see that.

Your death would rip them apart, you knew it. Your mother would be left without her daughter. Your brother would grow up without his older sister to protect him. Your father, already a shadow of the man he once was, would be broken, lost in the absence of his “princess.” And Haymitch—Haymitch.

The thought of him hit you like a physical blow, your heart constricting in your chest. He’s a victor too. A chilling realization gripped you like ice in your veins. He could be reaped. He could be sent to fight.

Tears spilled freely, hot and relentless, as you gasped, your breath stuttering. The weight of it crushed you. He could be reaped. And that terrifying thought shattered you more than the fear of your own reaping ever could.

You let out a scream—gut-wrenching, heart-shattering—your body shaking as it tore through you. It was a sound so full of anguish, so desperate, it seemed to rip apart the very fabric of the world around you. Haymitch. He could be reaped. And with that, all your nightmares, every awful memory, every twisted fear, came to life.

-----

“Get me that damn tablet,” Haymitch barked, shoving his way through the train car in search of the device. His mind was a tangled mess, his body still buzzing from the alcohol he’d consumed in an attempt to dull the gnawing pain. 

The last few days had been a blur, but he could still feel the sharp sting of the announcement ringing in his ears. The tributes... the victors... and his own twisted fate. He should’ve been focusing on how he’d somehow managed to cheat death. Instead, his mind was consumed with one thing—and one person—from District 5. You.

When the announcement came about the victors being reaped, he hadn’t reacted with surprise. No, he’d gone into a frenzy. He’d torn apart his house, broken everything in sight, and drunk himself into oblivion. His fingers had clutched his most prized possession with a desperation he couldn't explain—a beautiful gold chain, wrapped tightly around his finger, holding the most precious ring. 

The night before, Katniss had begged him—no, pleaded—for him to volunteer for Peeta during the reaping. He had agreed. Not because he wanted to, hell no. But because he had to be there if you were reaped. And now, as Peeta decided to take matters into his own hands, Haymitch found himself thrust into the role of mentor. It infuriated him. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want you in the arena again.

The other districts should’ve already been reaped by now, and his mind was frantic, itching to know if you had been chosen. Unfortunately, he’d been trapped in the mentor role, unable to watch the reaping unfold. Now, though, he was pushing everyone aside, his hands shaking as he aggressively swiped across the tablet screen, searching for answers.

“What's his deal?” Katniss scoffed, watching Haymitch swipe frantically at the tablet.

Effie, doing her best to keep the secret Haymitch had entrusted her with, attempted to downplay his urgency. “Oh, he’s just trying to see which victors got reaped. Don’t worry about it yet.”

“I can’t find it. Turn on the damn video on the TV,” he snapped, his patience gone. Effie scrambled, finally finding the footage and flicking it on.

As the video began, Haymitch subconsciously started playing with the gold band around his neck, his fingers caressing it absently as his heart hammered in his chest. The room fell silent as the broadcast began—District 5’s reaping.

"Welcome, welcome," the escort’s overly cheery voice rang out, her ridiculous outfit blinding in its absurdity. "As we celebrate the 75th anniversary and the 3rd Quarter Quell of the Hunger Games, as always, ladies first…”

Haymitch’s leg started bouncing in nervous anticipation, his pulse quickening. District 5 had eight victors, but only two were women—and you were one of them.

He couldn’t help it. His eyes locked onto the screen, unable to tear himself away. You stood there, dressed in black, your face a perfect mask of stoicism. Your eyes were red, your pain carefully hidden beneath a practiced, blank expression—the one you’d perfected from years of surviving. He’d taught you that. How to hide everything. How to show nothing. How to survive.

He watched you hold hands with your mentor, the two of you standing in quiet solidarity. A tiny part of him hoped that it would be you—the one they called forward, so your mentor could volunteer for you. He knew she would. You just had to let her.

The escort’s voice cut through his thoughts, though he barely heard it now. She gave both you and your mentor a small, sad smile before unfolding the slip of paper. “The female tribute of District 5…” she began, and the words hung in the air like a death sentence, “Abigail Winston.”

Effie’s sigh of relief was audible, probably thinking that you were home free, that everything was going to be okay. But Haymitch knew better. He knew you. And that’s why his entire body tensed in an instant. The anger surged through his veins like wildfire, hot and uncontrollable.

And then he saw your movement. The way you stepped forward. No.

Before your mentor could even make a move, your voice steady but fierce rang out, “I volunteer as tribute.”

Time seemed to slow. Haymitch’s heart stopped, the world around him blurring as he felt everything he’d been holding together shatter. His breath came in ragged, panicked gasps as the glass in his hand fell to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. The tablet in his hands followed, crashing to the ground in a violent thud.

Katniss and Peeta exchanged confused glances, unsure of who you were or why Haymitch had reacted like that. Effie’s tears fell silently, a mix of sorrow and disbelief. But before anyone could speak, Haymitch turned away, his mind consumed by rage and heartbreak. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

He stormed down the train, away from them all, his hands clawing at the air as if trying to rip the world apart. Every part of him, every inch of his being, was focused on one thought: You. You had volunteered. You had sealed your fate. And now, all of his nightmares were coming true.

-----

Haymitch wished he were drunk. He wished the alcohol could drown out the aching pain of having you step into that arena again. It wasn’t fair.

You barely had two years together. Two years of being an official couple, and yet it felt like it wasn’t enough. He’d first met you at the end of your Victor’s Tour, when you decided to escape the attention and hide at the bar. You outdrank him that night, which, frankly, was impressive.

At first, he never expected to care for you. You were just another survivor, bound to the same cruel fate as him. But then, over time, as you grew up and proved yourself in ways he never imagined, he couldn’t help but fall in love.

You were 15 years younger, and he had always kept his distance, hiding his feelings behind a wall of friendship. But as the years passed, and you all met yearly for the Games as mentors, one thing led to another. A night full of too much alcohol, too many unspoken feelings—and before he knew it, you had shared a night neither of you would ever forget.

The next morning, you confessed what had been lingering beneath the surface for so long. It took him months to work up the courage to ask you out, battling his own demons of self-doubt and guilt.

And then, for two beautiful years, you two had kept it secret. Notes passed in shadows, stolen kisses, quiet smiles, and letters filled with raw emotion. Two years of sneaking around, being completely, utterly in love.

And now, it was all coming to an end.

Effie found him passed out in the train’s aisle, and without hesitation, she put him to bed, understanding that he needed space.

The next morning, Haymitch tried to seek you out. He wanted to see you, to make sure you were okay, but his duties as a mentor took priority. Effie begged him to focus, to speak to Katniss and Peeta first, and then find you. He was torn between his heart and his responsibilities. And in the end, Effie dragged him to the kids.

He spent that day drinking and half-heartedly trying to teach them about the importance of allies.

“Finnick Odair, right?” Katniss asked, as they went through the list of reaped victors.

He nodded, pointing to the screen. “Yes, he won at fourteen—youngest victor ever. Extremely humble.”

“You're kidding, right?” Katniss scoffed.

“Yes, I’m kidding.” He flipped his hair dramatically. “He’s a... peacock. A total preener, but he’s the Capitol darling. They love him here. Charming, smart, and very skilled at combat—especially in water.”

Peeta leaned forward, glancing at the screen. “What about weaknesses?”

“One person, Mags.” A frail, wrinkled woman appeared on the screen. “She volunteered for Annie. Mags was his mentor, basically raised him. If Finnick’s trying to protect her, it exposes him.”

Katniss stared at the screen, watching the woman bravely volunteer for the young girl in tears. “A guy like that has to know she’s not going to make it. I bet when it really comes down to it, he won’t protect her.”

Sadness flickered in Haymitch’s eyes. “Well, Katniss, I just hope when she goes... she goes quickly. She’s a wonderful lady.”

He pressed a button on the tablet, knowing exactly who would appear next, but his body tensed involuntarily as the screen flickered to life.

"District Five: Mason Cover and Y/N L/N." Haymitch stared at the screen, his eyes locked on you, unable to look away.

"She's the girl we saw on the train," Katniss said, sensing the weight of Haymitch’s reaction. "What's her story?"

Haymitch glanced at Katniss before downing his drink. “She won the 66th Games at 16. The last hour of the Games, there were five tributes left. She killed each one of them single-handedly—arrows, spear, you name it. Extremely skillful, resourceful. And beloved by many of our victors.”

He pointed to Mason Cover, “Mason won the 55th Games at 18. Lethal in hand-to-hand combat. The last 30 minutes of those Games were a triple threat match. Those two are close friends. You want them as allies. And if you trust me... trust them. They're who you should be allies with.” He repeated, his gaze locked on Katniss. “Trust me.”

“Who is she to you?” Katniss asked bluntly, her voice cutting through the tension. “We all saw the reaping. We saw the way you reacted. Now you want to team up with her... why?”

Haymitch squinted at her, his fingers subconsciously playing with the chain around his neck. “She's just a friend. I've known her for years. I know both of them. Good people. Trustworthy people.”

“I don’t believe you,” Katniss retorted.

“Katniss,” Peeta interjected, sensing the simmering tension. "Let it go."

But before anyone could speak, Effie burst through the door, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she hurried toward Haymitch. "Haymitch, thank God you're here!" she said, voice strained with urgency. She then saw Katniss and Peeta standing in the room, and immediately faltered. "Oh... uh... Haymitch, you're needed outside of this room." She gestured quickly toward the door, trying to keep the situation under wraps, hoping the kids wouldn't notice.

Haymitch caught the hint, and without a word, he practically flew out of the room. Before the door even clicked shut behind him, he was pulled into an embrace. Your arms.

And for a moment, everything around him seemed to stop.

"Haymitch..." you whispered, your voice trembling as tears flooded your face. After days of terror, the weight of the world finally seemed to melt away in his arms. He was here. You needed him more than anything.

"Y/N..." He squeezed you tightly, his arms wrapping around you like a lifeline. His heart hammered in his chest, sobering instantly from the haze of alcohol. The warmth of your skin, the sweet scent of you, and the soft wetness of your tears soaking through his shirt — this was real. You were here, with him... for now.

He pulled back slightly, needing to see your face, his hands gently cupping your tear-streaked cheeks. He smiled at you, the corners of his mouth trembling with something he couldn't quite control. "Hi, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice breaking.

It hurt him to see you like this—eyes red and swollen, your hands shaking, a look of grim acceptance in your gaze. The kind of acceptance that made his heart shatter. What had you accepted? What were you preparing for? That thought alone gnawed at him.

"It's going to be okay. I’ve got you, pretty girl." His voice cracked with desperation, the words pouring out in a rush. "I’ll get you sponsors, and you'll be okay. Then when this is over, we can go back to my district, or yours, and live the rest of our lives together. I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever." He whispered it, desperate for you to believe him, for you to feel safe, for the horrible weight of your future to somehow lift.

But then, you shook your head, sobbing. "You can't... Katniss and Peeta are your responsibility. You need to help them. You need to save them." The words broke out in a cry, your eyes locking with his in raw, painful clarity. He shook his head, his heart sinking.

"No," he muttered firmly, "I’m not leaving you alone for this." His hands gripped your shoulders, holding you as if he could keep you safe, as if he could protect you from the arena, from everything.

"I’ll be alright," you tried to smile, wiping away the fresh tears that fell. "You don’t need to worry about me." You forced the smile, trying to push him, to focus on the kids, on them. You knew the truth, knew the game was rigged. Katniss needed to be victorious; you were just collateral damage, nothing more.

Your hand reached up to caress his face, your thumb tracing the rough outline of his jaw. "The kids need you, my love. You have to choose them over me. You have to choose Katniss over me. She... she is important."

"You're important." His voice cracked as he tried to hold on to some semblance of control, but it shattered as soon as he looked at you. "You're everything to me. You're my world. My wife... You don’t know what you’re asking me to do..." His voice broke, the words too raw, too heavy. "I can’t leave you in that arena. I won’t. I will save you."

You stared at him, tears running freely down both of your faces. He looked at you in disbelief, his eyes wide with an agony he couldn't hide. You had accepted your death, but he couldn’t. Not now. Not like this. He had already lost so much. He wouldn’t lose you too. Not like this. Not again.

"You don’t understand," he whispered, his voice raw, breaking with the weight of everything he couldn’t say. He shook his head, disbelief flickering in his eyes. "I can’t let them take you from me." His mind was already spinning, heart racing with frantic thoughts—how could he get more sponsors? Who could he talk to in the Capitol? There had to be a way. Anything to keep you alive. "Why the hell did you volunteer? Why—Jesus Christ, why you?" The words cracked through his chest, his heart shattering with the pain of it. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. He was losing you, and he couldn’t stop it.

You reached up to cup his face, your thumb gently brushing over the rough, scarred lines of his cheek, your touch a silent plea. You saw the desperation in his eyes—the panic, the fear that he couldn’t hide. Your voice trembled as you whispered, "Haymitch... I promise you, I’ll be okay. I’ll be fine." The words tasted like ash on your tongue, but you said them anyway, because you needed him to believe it. You couldn’t bear the thought of him falling apart, not when you knew what was coming. You had to be strong for him, even if it broke you to lie like that.

And then, with everything breaking inside him, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that spoke of everything: grief, love, fear, and an unbearable desperation. It was rough and frantic, a mixture of tears and longing. The kiss was an apology, a plea, and a final, desperate act of love.

What neither of you knew was that Katniss, Peeta, and Effie were watching from the crack in the door, their eyes wide with shock. 

Haymitch has a wife.

And she was about to die.

[softsunnyy]

p3 to when two people are obsessed!!!!!!!!!! down on my KNEES begging for this

because i'm a good person, i wrote it before i passed out from sleep 🖐🏻🖐🏻

🚨 i think all of this deserves a warning. Again, unhealthy obsession, spanking, cumming inside, stalking, him being inside your house, recording without your permission, biting. They know everything about each other because they're obsessed. Hunter x prey at the beginning, just a little bit. Dom!Quinn. You belong to him. I DON'T KNOW WHAT ELSE I'M MISSING. But anyway, i wanna write more and more about this couple, because my god, how I enjoy it. 🚨

poorly written!!

when you walked inside, there was something off; you knew it from the first moment. His scent wasn't flooding the room, nor were there even the slightest things out of place. Yet you can feel that you're not alone, even though you're not being watched.

a chill runs down your spine, and although a part of you feels paranoid, there's another part of you that wants to know, that wants to explore every corner of your place, hoping to find him.

you feel chased, as if he's hunting you, as if he wants to keep you scared, nervous, looking everywhere, hoping to see him appear from some corner or some shadow. And you know you should go to your room, but the cold in your body prevents you from going right away, and instead you pace around, prolonging the encounter.

Quinn knows you've arrived, of course he does, but he waits for you, camera in hand, his gaze fixed on the door. His jaw clenched, his cock aching like never before, having provoked himself by watching the video over and over again. His breathing was heavy, and the adrenaline was pumping through his body, driving him to do things, fueling every scene he'd imagined in his head.

he knows you're avoiding him, but he also knows that you'll eventually get to him, and he'll be waiting for you, ready to destroy you, and to accomplish every single thing he's planned.

and as the minutes pass, a force constantly calls you toward that closed door, making it impossible for your eyes to tear themselves away. The silence is heavy, and you feel like one false step will make him appear before you, and you won't have time to react before he takes your breath away.

thoughts run through your mind, as do questions.

how long has he been there? how did he react to the video? what is he planning?

while you felt brave filming, you know that seeing him in person is something entirely different. After all this time obsessing over him, learning everything you could, and having him in your mind every second of the day, you still know your legs might give out at the sight, that it will surely be too much.

yet you eventually give in, and trying to breathe deeply, you approach. One step at a time, your legs and hands shaking with fear and excitement. Your heart is beating so hard that Quinn can surely hear it.

finally at the door, you grab the handle and slowly turn it, silently opening it, your eyes glued to the floor, your heartbeat growing stronger and faster. You feel dizzy, and everything increases when you look up and see him. He's sitting on the edge of your bed, just as you've imagined so many times, and his eyes bore into you, as if he could see everything. You can only imagine the expression on your face when you see him.

his presence is overwhelming, tempting, intimidating. All the air that had entered your system was gone, and a shaky breath is all that remains.

"Quinn," you whispered his name, as if saying it louder would make him disappear. He closed his eyes for a moment, clenching his teeth even tighter, feeling the way his cock throbbed at the sound of your voice directed at him, finally. Then he looked back at you, trying to calm down.

your room feels small, you feel small, and you know he now has the power, and he can do whatever he pleases with you.

his voice interrupts the spiral of nervousness you were spiraling into, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You think that was funny?” he laughs humorlessly and stands up, approaching you, camera still in hand, moving it, showing it to you, letting you know he’d seen the whole thing. You could only gulp, shifting in place, still staring at him. “Did you think it would be clever to film something like that, knowing what it would do to me? Did you think you were being clever by moaning my name like that?” he stopped in front of you, so close you could suffocate in his scent. Your legs would have given way, but miraculously you were still standing. You couldn’t answer him, as if you’d suddenly forgotten how to speak. And he tries to be patient, but as i mentioned before, when it comes to you… that’s not his strong suit, so with his free hand he takes your chin, firm, confident, bringing your face close to his, “I asked you something, darling. When i ask, you answer. Or did the cat get your tongue?”

“I…” you hesitated, blinking nervously, feeling dizzy, drugged by him. Your eyes kept moving down, meeting his lips, and he noticed, of course he did, so he licked his lips and then smiled at you, enjoying seeing you like this.

“well, it worked. Whatever the fuck you wanted to achieve, now i'm here, and you're not gonna be able to escape it. Is that what you wanted?” his eyes left yours for the first time, studying your face, taking in your cheeks, your lips, moving down your neck and the little your shirt allowed him to see. Still, he knows what's underneath because he spent a long time memorizing your body, the way it reacts, your sweet sounds, everything.

you nod, still unable to form a word. And that's when the barriers fall, a button is pressed. Quinn carelessly throws the camera onto the bed and grabs your waist with both hands, pulling you against his body, devouring your mouth in a hard, intense, desperate kiss. His grip was so strong it would surely leave bruises on your skin, and yet that didn't bother you at all; you just reciprocated, moving your lips in time with him, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to merge with his body and feel him completely.

weeks of observing him, of learning about him. Weeks in which you learned so much about him that you can't even consider him a stranger. Weeks of memorizing his body, his voice, his expressions, imagining this scenario over and over again.

and for him, it took weeks of learning about you, following you, delving into your life until he absorbed every last detail of your existence, making sure to drive you crazy, to draw you to him, until his name was tattooed in your mind, until all you could think about was him.

your bodies seem to gravitate toward each other, as if it's habit, as if you've known each other forever, as if you've done this a thousand times.

Quinn's hands slid under your shirt, and you can feel the confidence in him in the way he moves his hands up, reaching your bra, and slipping his hands under it, finding your tits and playing with them, massaging, squeezing, stretching your nipples until they harden, without leaving your mouth, and entering his tongue, dominating you, making you understand who's in charge.

your whimpers die down in his mouth, and you can feel the heat both on your face and between your legs. Your pussy preparing for him, for whatever he wants to do to you. Your hole preparing, accepting what's to come.

when your body moved forward, seeking more contact, he pulled away, staring into your eyes for a few moments before maneuvering your body. He placed his hands on your waist again, moving you until you fell onto the bed, careful not to break the camera, which he moved to the side. Then he quickly positioned himself on top of you, trapping you, using his strength to make you almost unable to move.

his lips found yours again, and his hands desperately found your pants, carelessly trying to pull them down. You felt a slight burning sensation, though you helped him, lifting your lower body. He pulled away from you only to finish removing your pants, leaving you in your panties. They had a rather large stain that caught his attention.

with his hands, he held your legs open for him as he bent his head, bringing his face down to your clothed pussy.

first, he smelled your arousal, lightly touching your panties with the tip of his nose. He then proceeded to use his tongue, licking the stain, making it stick to your pussy, getting between your folds, making you moan and try to close your legs, failing pathetically.

Quinn feels like he's in heaven, getting high on the scent of your pussy and savoring the taste of your arousal caused by him. And he lingers for a moment, licking hungrily, creating an even bigger slick, and sharing the heat of his mouth, feeling your body move, trying to get closer. He only pulls away when his desires are greater, and he can't help it; his hands tear at your panties, taking advantage of how wet they are, opening a gaping hole that gives him the freedom to continue.

this time his tongue touches your clit directly, and the stimulation has you moaning. You move a hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in it, and tugging a little hard, letting him know how good that feels. He looked at you, pleased, and ran his tongue between your folds, this time playing with your hole, slowly entering it, pushing between your tight walls and pulling out a couple of times, then attending to your clit again, sucking with some force, appreciating the way your body moves and reacts, and the way your eyes squeeze shut as your hand in his hair keeps him close.

he played with your pussy, keeping you on the edge, stopping every time he felt you were about to come, and ignoring the incessant ache in his cock, which screamed to be attended to. He was punishing you, making you feel the pain he experienced while waiting for you.

tears began to stream down your cheeks when he stopped again, whimpering his name, begging him to have mercy, to let you cum. Your hole throbs, your pussy aches, and the knot grows more and more unbearable. But he doesn't listen, ignores you, and resumes his game, devouring you, savoring your flavor over and over again, enjoying your fluids dripping down his chin, making his face a mess of your juices.

the last time he pulled away, your hips moved, thrusting, trying to rejoin his mouth. His hands had squeezed your legs tightly this entire time, so you had his finger marks. But it's not enough for him, and now he decides to kiss the inside of your thighs, leaving small bites, and then he begins to suck, leaving a wild trail where he passed, decorating your skin like a painting. Then he licked each of his marks, feeling the pride in his chest, almost primal at what he'd done.

when his hands finally removed your shirt, it was as if another part of you had unlocked, and once again he ignored your pleas, removing your bra and beginning to play with your breasts, making sure to repeat the process, continued marking your breasts, your abdomen, and his way to your shoulders, collarbones, and neck. The image is completely animal, wild, and you'll surely suffer tomorrow looking at everything he's done to your body, but now it's pleasurable, and the way he proudly looks at his creation makes you feel satisfied.

you're more and more his. Only the most important thing is missing. So for that, he flipped you over, putting you on your hands and knees, letting you settle, arching your back and resting your head on your pillow. Behind you, he stripped off his clothes, freeing his cock, which is aching, burning red, with its veins prominent, his balls swollen, hoping to fill you once and for all.

it's then that his eyes find your camera, and he turns it on without a second thought, placing it on the nightstand, pointing it in your direction, although to give a better view, he positioned your bodies so that your face would be facing the camera. He didn't even ask you, because he wasn't interested. He'll have that recording for himself. To remember the moment he first took you, and repeat it over and over again.

once ready, he took his cock in one of his hands, guiding it to your dripping pussy, rubbing himself for a moment against your folds, enjoying hearing your moans once more as you felt his tip hit your overstimulated clit, taking no mercy on the way your body reacted. And without giving you time to recover, he thrust his cock inside you in one swift thrust, going all the way in, making your walls swallow him whole.

the air left your lungs, and you were grateful that he took the time to make you wet, even if it didn't help stretch your walls. It made his big cock enter a little more easily, though your insides were still tight, too tight, and he had to put in a lot of effort not to cum.

when he started moving, you felt like you were floating. He thrust in and out of you hard, so brutally that the wet sound of your bodies joining could be heard on the recording, with your moans and almost screams of pleasure. You raised your head, letting the camera capture your face, with drool wetting your chin and neck, your eyes squeezed shut, and his marks decorating your body.

he moved desperately, seeking his own release, even though he knew yours wasn't far away. One of his hands grips your hip, holding you still, but the other grabs one of your ass cheeks, squeezing, massaging, and then dropping his hand, landing a hard smack on your ass that made you gasp in surprise.

his eyes are glued to the way your ass begins to turn red and irritated, and something inside him seems to go crazy, so he begins to land more smacks on you, obsessively watching the way his hand began to mark your skin, red, with small dots of blood from the force he used.

you couldn't be more aroused, moaning his name incoherently, feeling your brain burn with each thrust, making it impossible to think about anything but how good you feel. And your body aches, but nothing matters to you; you just want to keep feeling him.

he takes it all out on your body, hammering into you. And the bed frame slams against the wall, so hard it might break something, but neither of you cares, and he keeps moving.

it's then that the knot inside you reappears, and you sob, begging him to let you cum this time. Begging for mercy. Begging for permission. Because you know. Your body no longer belongs to you.

it belongs to him.

and he decides to have mercy, considering how much he's tortured your body, and grants it, saying the magic words for you.

when you cum, it's so hard that for a moment you feel like you might pass out. Your legs tremble and nearly give way. Your walls clench so tightly it's even harder for Quinn to keep moving, but he does anyway, overstimulating you.

oh, but when he reaches his orgasm? you hear him moan your name, unloading inside you, filling you with his cum, and thrusting in and out of you. When he's done, he stays inside you for a couple of seconds, then takes the camera, focusing on the moment he pulls out of you and your hole lets out a bit of his cum, staining your folds, and letting it slide down your thighs, meeting the bite marks he'd made.

but if you thought he was done, oh baby, you're wrong. He's going to fuck his name inside you. This was just the introduction. Now he'll want you to ride him, to bounce on his cock while making your ass cheeks itch even more.

he wants to destroy you until you can't even sit on your bed without thinking about him and everything he can make you feel.

now that he has you, he won't let you go. You'll have to get used to it.

special mention to @kawhh and @ruinix , because i know you liked the previous part, and i'm a fan of both, so this one's for u <33

[holyblonded]

omg i’ve just thought of a chill day in the putellas-rios household, Soleil comes over and is holding the baby and Estrella is just curled up next to olga with the biggest heart eyes staring at Soleil, she gets a bit of teasing for it but she’s just so in love

— “you’re staring,” olga hums, her fingers lazily running through estrella’s curls as they lounge on the couch. she doesn’t even have to look to know—she just feels the way estrella has gone completely still beside her, gaze locked onto a singular point in the room.

— estrella, rather than denying it, just sighs dreamily. “can you blame me?”

— across the room, soleil is holding the baby with a kind of effortless ease, swaying gently as she hums a soft melody under her breath. the baby, snug against her chest, has one tiny hand curled around soleil’s finger, completely mesmerized by her. the whole thing is like a scene out of a movie, and estrella might actually combust if she stares any longer.

— “she’s so…” estrella trails off, searching for the right word.

— “perfect?” olga supplies, glancing at her with a knowing smirk.

— estrella groans. “ugh, shut up.”

— before olga can respond, alexia walks in, immediately stopping in her tracks when she catches sight of estrella’s expression.

— she snorts, crossing her arms. “you look like a lovesick puppy.”

— estrella, already embarrassed, buries her face into olga’s shoulder. “leave me alone.”

— soleil looks up at the commotion, her eyes soft as she watches estrella all curled up. “‘so perfect,” she murmurs, adjusting the baby slightly in her arms.

— estrella’s response is immediate, muffled into olga’s hoodie. “so are you.”

— the room goes quiet for half a second before olga full-on cackles, shaking estrella slightly in the process. “god, you’re down so bad.”

— alexia is no better, her smirk widening. “didn’t know my little menace had a soft side like this.”

— estrella groans louder, practically trying to fold herself into olga’s side to escape the teasing. “i hate both of you.”

— soleil, ever oblivious, just smiles, swaying a little more as she presses a gentle kiss to the baby’s forehead. “i love you too, estrella.”

— estrella peeks out just slightly, blinking at her. she’s quiet for a moment before mumbling, “love you too.”

— the room erupts into more teasing, but estrella doesn’t care. not when soleil is looking at her like that.

[quibbs126]

So earlier I was debating whether or not to even make and post this, and it doesn’t even have everything I wanted, but you know, it’s here now, so why not 

I don’t know, it started as me thinking about the idea and sort of wanting to put it in its own text post, but I thought it wouldn’t be worth much salt that way, and I’m an artist, why not draw what I want? But as I was doing so, I started to doubt whether anyone would like this, particularly Constructicon fans since I don’t actually know those bots that well, and that I would annoy people and maybe I should have just kept it as text, but I was already making it

It was a whole mess, but we’re here now, and this is what I’ve got for you today

Also, if you notice that this isn’t what was on here originally, yeah that’s because I rewrote it. I didn’t like how much I was butchering my thoughts and thought maybe I’d do better on a second go-around. Even I don’t really feel like writing the entire thing over again

But anyways, onto explaining this, we’ll talk about the art later

So basically this is drawing from that one scene in Five Faces of Darkness Part 4 that I’ve mentioned prior, with the Constructicons seemingly having built Megatron

Here I’ve got it that the Constructicons didn’t necessarily build him, but they did basically find him as a small sparkling, and since he was alone and seemingly abandoned, they pretty much just decided to take him in themselves 

In their words, he’s their apprentice, to learn the tools of their trade even if he isn’t a Constructicon (like let’s just say here that Constructicons are built Constructicons, same with other roles and such. That’s also why Megatron stays silver). But in practice, tiny Megs basically just has 6-8 dads

But he grows up under them, learning to build, even if he tends to lean more into mechanical/electrical engineering and such rather than civil engineering/architecture like the Constructicons. But they’re chill with it, he’s finding his passion

Eventually when he’s older, he decides to leave to pursue his own path in life, and they all part on amicable terms. It’s basically just him reaching adulthood and moving out

Then there’s the part I’m unsure about keeping, that being the reprogramming thing we see in The Secret of Omega Supreme, since I’m trying to weave those two parts of the Constructicon lore together at least. We’ll get into why later, let’s just explain the story here first

So later on, Megatron is building his Decepticon army, and he goes to the Constructicons to offer them a place in his ranks, in part for their useful construction skills, but also because he still values them greatly and wants them to join in his ambitions. The Constructicons however, decline his offer, as this Decepticon movement doesn’t really align with their own ideals. Something to note, I’m having it that prior to the formation of the Decepticons by Megatron, all of Cybertron would have essentially been “neutral”, including the Constructicons and Megatron, none of them being inherently evil or anything. But they still try to be respectful of Megatron during this, since they still greatly value him as well, and he’s his own bot now, they shouldn’t tell him what to think, and this Decepticon thing probably isn’t as bad as it sounds, they trust Megatron 

But Megatron doesn’t take this rejection well, at least inwardly. So he decides to instead make the Constructicons join him by reprogramming them, and thus the events of the Omega Supreme flashbacks

Now how the Constructicons feel about Megatron doing this, no one can truly say because of their reprogramming, it could easily be the new code telling them that they’re grateful to him for doing this. Megatron thinks it was good, but maybe down the line, he starts to feel some guilt for basically forcing his mentors to join him and stripping them of true free will. He might even consider trying to undo the programming, in the hopes that he can make things right, but he also wants their forgiveness. And a part of him is aware that most likely, he will not get that forgiveness from him should he do it; they’re more likely to entirely reject and denounce him for what he did, maybe even deciding to turn to the Autobots instead of staying with him. So he chooses to not to do anything about it, and tell himself that this is what they’d want

So the reason I’m unsure about keeping this angle is because it’s a pretty unequivocally evil thing to do, to forcefully rewrite your family’s brains so that they’ll agree with you when they’ve already respectfully said they didn’t. Like the only way anyone is getting out of that is if they’re a small child who doesn’t understand morals well yet, and Megatron is definitely not that. And yeah, Megatron’s supposed to be evil, but this is kind of on another level

And you know, it kind of takes away from the silliness of “Megatron has 6 dads” part of this if it’s canon this is all against their free will and he is forcing them into joining him. Like it becomes incredibly distracting 

I like the headspace thing for Megatron, seeing why he’d do this, but it also might just be too evil. I guess it does fit for g1 Megs, he kind of is just evil, but still

So if he didn’t reprogram them, how did they join the Decepticons? I don’t know, I guess they just decided to go with him that first time. Ignore that their morals presumably degraded in that time, maybe the Decepticons weren’t as bad at the time 

But regardless, how do they interact within the Decepticons? I mean Megatron is a grown bot now, but they still got times where they still see Megs as the cute little apprentice he used to be. And they also don’t tend to cow to his commands, probably instead snapping back for it, like “what did you just say, young man?”. They all still care about each other regardless though, at least on some level (the Constructicons probably care for Megs more than the other way around, but it still exists somewhere in his spark)

Also I’m thinking that their relationship, while they’ve never outright stated it, has never been something they decided to keep secret either. Like one of them will casually talk about something he did as a small bot, much to his embarrassment, and just their general vibes when they interact. It’s not the most known fact in the faction though, because they don’t tell people. Most bots probably don’t even know they’re older than Megatron, so when they talk about Megs having once been cute, it causes great confusion 

Speaking of which, why do the Constructicons still have good looks while Megatron, whom they raised, looks ancient? I don’t know, maybe he’s just cursed with old man face

Also where does this whole backstory thing fit with g1? Eh, I don’t really know. Like I wouldn’t say this is my exact headcanon for them in g1, though for all intents and purposes, it certainly could be. I mean, it’s my explanation as to two parts of the Constructicons’ inconsistent backstories, and also maybe why Megatron is so skilled in engineering in the show (and he’s built some structures too I believe)

But like, I feel like it’s simultaneously a little too different from g1? Maybe I’d use it for that g1 rewrite idea I had once, where you’d take the plots and concepts from g1 and just give them consistency/continuity and generally better writing. I’m given to understand Skybound might be similar to that? But also it’s not as dark as Skybound,  it’s just g1 with higher quality. And presumably the plot ends up changing at some point due to this

But anyways, I think that’s it on the plot stuff, now to ramble a little on the art itself

I wanted to do a few more drawings, like a younger apprentice Megs or when he left and re-approached the Constructicons, but I didn’t end up doing that in part because of my indecision on all this, but also because I’m lazy 

The designs are predominantly g1 based, since that’s where this draws from, but I think it turned out pretty well

I think I also did a little better on anatomy too, probably because at least on the second one, I tried to look for a reference for Megatron’s thinking hand. I think I need to remember pose references more, since it really was helpful here

I also gave tiny Megs a black helmet and yellow eyes to reference D-16/the comics because why not. Though I’m not sure why his head changed in universe, other than I guess getting older (the red eyes also isn’t because hier turned evil, I guess it just happened). Probably also more of his body should be different, but eh

He’s also got the permanent eye shadow because I like it

And I think that’s it for this, hopefully it’s more coherent than the original. And also, I think that Megatron should be given more of a connection with the Constructicons, even if I suppose it doesn’t make sense in most other continuities

[stupidlittlespirit]

Currently watching the first Men In Black which is one of my favorite movies ever and then the brainrot gripped my little brain and went "omg Ford would love this movie" since we KNOW he'd be super into scifi and fantasy movies but also imagine him seeing an alien in the movie and going "reminds me of someone I met in dimension XYZ--"

and then my brain went to "hehe imagine cuddling and watching a movie with Ford" but then i thought more about it and I imagine he's the type to get SUPER into whatever movie you're watching, if you wanna try and get frisky under the blankets he's still gonna be watching out of the corner of his eye while you try to makeout, you cannot pull his attention away from the screen.

but I imagine he has three modes when it comes to watching movies: 1) Completely engrossed 2) If it's boring, he's falling asleep 3) Dad-who-doesn't-want-to-sit-down-and-commit-to-watching-the-movie, you try to get him to join you for movie night with Dipper and Mabel and he insists he's busy but then you look over and he's standing in the doorway for over half the movie, and then very slowly over time he joins y'all on the couch haha

Ford "no I don't want to netflix and chill, I'm trying to watch this 9/11 documentary" Pines.

LMAOOOOOOO yeah no I can picture him as all of them, but especially the third one: he just sort of hovers around with his hands on his hips, eyes glued to the screen. Despite you offering for him to sit down like 15 times and join you, he's always saying "no no, I don't have time to waste watching television" and then stands there for a solid 30 minutes and does exactly that. He even just stands right in the way sometimes.

I've had similar thoughts about this kind of thing because I love sci fi and horror movies, which I can see being his bag. I think he'd definitely do that 'hey, I know that guy!' thing allllll the time, and you'd never quite know if he was being serious with it haha. I think he'd sometimes just make shit up because it'd be funny/to get a reaction out of you. Other times, he'd genuinely recognise a species or something, or the movie would be accurate and he'd enjoy it.

I'm personally very into J-horror. I'm back on a bit of a kick with it at the moment, and specifically I enjoy the genre of mockumentary found footage that's very popular out there. The whole thing is less about what is actually taking place during the main scene and more about the details in the background. They lay out a lot of clues and hidden images/messages etc, and I can see Ford really enjoying that. It's kind of cute to imagine him helping you put together the clues and figuring out the secret hidden story within the plot.

I do it with my partner all the time. We'll often be watching in dead silence and I'll suddenly spot something and get super excited, and be like oh my god there's a lady in background do you see her omg?! and they've completely missed it so we have to rewind it so I can show them frame by frame. I try to figure out what's going on by translating all the Japanese comments under the video lmao so having Ford to connect the dots would be very helpful. They're like a movie and a puzzle all in one. I can see him helping you out and writing everything down very seriously in order to get it right haha

[samsayswhatever]

https://people.com/patrick-schwarzenegger-isnt-going-to-watch-rest-of-the-white-lotus-with-his-family-11703152

I'm genuinely terrified

wtfff does that meaan

I knowww! I feel like there is going to be a lot of death, injury, and crazy twists in this last episode.

But the fact that Patrick won't even watch it with his family??? He seemed specifically anxious about his nude scenes being seen by his family, and even more anxious about the kiss scene and handjob scene because it was with his characters brother(or possibly just because it was a guy). He never talked about being stressed at all watching Chelsea's sex scenes, or the mildly graphic imagined murder scenes.

So that says to me there is a scene with him being nude either going further than a handjob with Loch, or with another guy. Expanded theories about ep 7 below:

I'm thinking that Saxon will continue to spiral in the next episode by going to Greg's party, getting crazy drunk, and having sex with someone. Who it is could be is interesting. Chloe mentioned a threesome between Saxon, Greg, and her, but that seems pretty doubtful based on how many people Greg is inviting over. If he wanted a threesome he wouldn't invite Belinda.

--

If Belinda goes to the party, she'll probably bring her son for support or he'll insist on going for support. If greg turns out to be actually chill and nice, that could put them at ease, and Zion could go off mother-protection duty. Belinda and Zion talked about relationships, and it seemed like he hasn't gotten any recently. So then if Saxon started flirting with him they could have sex! Which would be a fun twist.

I think Saxon would be interested in fucking a guy to see if the only reason he could cum with Loch was because he was gay. Saxon might be very anti-gay, but I think he's more anti-incest lol. So if he could convince himself he just likes guys, NOT only Loch, then maybe he could justify what happened in the threesome as not being about his attraction to Lochlan.

Idk what other guys will be at this party besides his dad, but if Saxon fucks his dad then I can see why he wouldn't watch this episode with his family at all. There is theme of confusing desire and identify, and Saxon does identify as wanting to be his dad, but it seems unlikely.

There is a chance that the three white ladies will go to this party for some reason. If so, Laurie could sleep with Saxon because she's mad about Jaclyn and Valentin, and Saxon might want to prove his heterosexuality to himself. However, it seemed like Laurie was going to go to the Muay Thai thing, so her friends could either go with her, or go to Gregs party in spite. I don't think Jaclyn or Kate would sleep with Saxon though, and I don't think that would keep Saxon from being about to watch this with his family.

--

If Piper ends up hating the monastery, then they might leave together and go to the party. Alternatively, piper will notice Lochy's not doing so well, and have a talk with him. I don't think Lochlan will say "I fucked our brother" in those words, but he might say, either "I can't figure out my feelings for someone," or "I messed up and hurt Saxon." Either way, Piper is likely to suggest talking it out with him. If she really likes the monastery at this point, she might say, "go on without me; deal with your issues." And then Loch will go home.

If one of the parents stay behind or is back already, they can direct Loch to where Saxon is at the party. Loch will show up, and Saxon will already be insanely drunk, and they will either have the talk they need to have, or they will just like fuck in Chloe's walk-in closet or something idk. I can dream.

If Loch leaves the monastery early enough, then maybe he will have a chance to talk to Saxon before he get's drunk, and there is a chance at some more tender and emotional moments. I would love to see this. I want Loch to walk into their room to find Saxon with his head in his hands, and they instantly know that they both remember. Aaaaggg. Anyway.

Another option is that Lochlan will stay at the monastery and meditate longer, and there will be a flashback to Saxon and Lochlan having sex after Chloe left the threesome. This plot point doesn't stop the others from happening, and is fairly likely based on the amount of flashbacks that have already happened. The show seems to enjoy surprising us in this specific way.

--

I think if there is any type of sex scene between Saxon and Lochlan then Patrick's insistence on not watching it with his family makes a lot of sense. If it's there is another make out scene between them, or a very clear confession, I can also imagine he would be embarrassed to play a character that explicitly and purposefully chose incest, compared to the more ambiguous previous scenes.

Anyway, TLDR I'm also terrified, but also excited 🥰

Thanks for reaching out anon! As you can probably tell, I love these messages

[lesmiix]

SFW ALPHABET: Cho Hyun-ju.

Cho Hyun-ju x fem!reader.

Summary: Title says it all. Warnings: Slight mention of dysphoria. a/n: This request was asked by: @natwendigo Thank you so much for your request! It's really sweet🫶 Love you 💋

🤍HYUN-JU REQUESTS ARE OPEN!🤍

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

At first she may seem a bit cold and distant, but once she knows she can trust you and that you truly care about her, she lets her clingy side show.

While being girlfriends, she'd be practically glued to you. I feel that she's kinda insecure, so she'd need reassurement.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Wether you met in highschool, before she started her transition and have always been on her side or maybe you just met casually, like at work or in a cafe.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

She'd LOVEEEE to cuddle. She gets shy to ask for them but once you start, there's no way to pull her apart.

If you were sitting in a couch, she'd be hugging you, almost on top of you.

in the case you're with friends, she'd hold your hand and lay her head on top of yours.

If you're chilling in bed, she'd lay her head on your chest, stomach, thighs as you read a book out loud.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Her cooking is AMAZING, she had to learn to cook at an early age, since she left her parents house at probably 18 years old.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

She'd think a lot about it, she's an overthinker, but she'd probably do it in a very caring way, without wanting to hurt you and her words would be soft.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

She'd want to wait some years before getting married, she just wants to take her time with everything.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

She's a teddy bear, she always hugs and kisses you in the softest way possible.

And emotionally, she's also very gentle. Anytime she's upset or frustrated, she'd never take it on you, she'd tell you she needs a little time alone or that she needs to talk and vent.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

She lives hugged to you, and I would say that her hugs are very comfy as, she's really strong, you feel protected.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Maybe 2-3 weeks after you guys got into a relationship, if not, she'd have said it in the moment you or her confessed.

Probably also while being friends, you'd have reminded eachother how much you love eachother's friendship.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

As I said before, she's a bit insecure that you'll change her about another person, so she may be get a little jealous when someone's being extra clingy with you.

Of course she'd never make a scene, but at home she'd tell you how she felt about that, always in a soft way, but there may be times where she felt terrible about it and may cry a bit.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Her kisses are soft, really, really soft. She likes and needs that feeling of intimacy. She'd kiss you slowly, as she's holding you by your waist, hands, back of your neck or cupping your cheek with her hand.

If you're taller than her, she'd love when you kiss her on the forehead, adn if you're shorter than her, she'd love if you kissed her collarbone or neck.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

She'd be so good with kids, like, kids love her, she'd be the sweetest, also, she'd always answer their silly questions like "what's your favorite dinosaur?"

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

I think we all know this, but, due to military, she naturally wakes up around 7am.

She can get out of bed and start doing some house chores while you're asleep or she'll wait in bed hugging you until you wake up too.

So, she'd make breakfast for you, always your favorites and would eat it while talking about your plans for that day or just watching TV.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Unpopular opinion but I feel like she's a very sleepy person, idk 😞

So, you guys would do your skincare routine together and as soon as she touches the bed she'd turn off.

Although, she'd wake up at the slightest noise or movement, but overall, she fall asleep quickly.

If you have trouble sleeping, she wouldn't mind if you woke her up asking her if she could cuddle with you or read you a book.

And you'd do the same for her, ofc.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

She'd wait a while to reveal things slowly, she's afraid of over sharing things she shouldn't.

But, she'd start telling you about her past probably when you were besties. Like, after half a year of meetings each other. Maybe it's a long time, but she needs to take her time to check that she can fully trust you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

She has the patience of a saint. You don't understand how she almost never gets mad at you.

Of course, sometimes she does, especially when you don't answer her calls for hours when you go out with your friends at night. Not because she's controlling, but because the thought of anything happening to you terrifies her.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

She has an amazing memory, she remembers every little detail of you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

She'd love your very first date. That would be such an important day to her, as she finally realized that she finally met someone who truly cared about her.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Super protective. If any man tries to flirt to much with you, to the point of getting touchy, she'd move between the two of you, and, as she's really really tall, she's very intimidating. So you don't have to worry about anything when she's around.

But she also needs to feel protected sometimes. If anyone insulted her because of her being trans, you wouldn't hesitate to answer back. Even though she always tells you that it's not worth it, she appreciates that very very much.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

A lot. Even if she doesn't have much money, she'd make your dates all memorable, she just loves seeing you happy.

Also, she'd spoil you a lot, she's like a sugar mommy, but broke. She does everything that's in her hands though.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

She'd be such a cleaning freak. But like, too much. You have to remind her that the little bit of powder that's on top of the shelf is not going to eat her at night.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

A lot. She'd have the bad habit of sleeping with makeup on, which would lead to her getting pimples and she'd get frustrated.

And also, you'd have to beg her to not wear her tucking underwear 24/7, as she'd always wear it for +8 hours, but she'd just refuse.

Finally, with you insisting so much that it was bad for her health, she would finally take it off. Even though she'd feel more vulnerable.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

She's terrified of losing you. The only person who accepted her from the very first moment. So, yeah, she'd be devastated.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

You're the only person she cries with. Throughout her life, she has learned to suppress her feelings and never let anyone see that vulnerable side of her.But with you it's different, she feels safe and knows that you won't judge her and that you always listen to her, so, your girl would cry her eyes out if she was very overwhelmed and frustrated about anything, because, my headcanon is that she keeps all her feelings to herself, and in the end when she can't take it anymore, she bursts into tears and needs to vent about it for hours and hours.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

She hates people who act rude because they think it's cool ,pick-me's and stuff

Also, people who eat with their mouths open.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

As I said before, as soon as she touches the bed's sheets, is in her fifth dream, even though she can hold herself and stay awake for you in case you needed it.

[drowsyapple]

hiiiiii i just had the worst day in a while lol 💔

so I'd like to humble request the cutest, fluffiest Caleb thing you could possibly think of 🥹

(I'm gonna do this on anon but we're moots, I'm just too shy and sad rn lol)

AWWWW ANON!! I HOPE YOUR DAY GETS BETTER <3 thank you so much for coming to me for a little pick me up :’) this is the first written work I’m putting out there (other than a headcanon) and it’s ALL FOR YOUUUUU <333 

For anyone else having a bad day, pls enjoy some domestic Caleb fluff :)) 

wc: 913

🍎🍎🍎

The rain pattered against the window in a steady, melancholic rhythm, matching the heavy weight in your chest as you trudged through the door of your shared apartment. Your day had been a relentless parade of frustrations—missed deadlines, a spilled coffee, and a crushing sense of loneliness that clung to you no matter how hard you tried to shake it.  

You kicked off your shoes with a sigh, not even bothering to turn on the entrance light as you shuffled inside. The apartment was dim, the gray afternoon light casting long shadows across the living room. You just wanted to collapse onto the couch and disappear into the cushions, letting the day dissolve into nothingness.  

But then, a warm, familiar scent curled into your senses. Vanilla, apple, and cinnamon. Your nose twitched, and your tired eyes flickered toward the kitchen.  

And there he was.  

Caleb stood by the stove, humming softly to himself as he stirred something in a pot, his broad shoulders relaxed, his movements effortless. The golden glow of the stove light haloed him in soft warmth, making the scene feel almost dreamlike. He hadn’t noticed you yet, too focused on whatever he was making, but the sight of him alone was enough to make your throat tighten.  

You didn’t realize you were crying until a tear slipped free, rolling down your cheek.  

A soft clink of the spoon against the pot. Caleb turned, and his entire expression shifted the moment he saw you. His purple eyes widened, then softened with instant understanding.  

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, abandoning the stove in an instant.  

You barely had time to wipe at your face before his arms were around you, pulling you into his chest. His embrace was warm, solid, safe—like coming home after being lost in a storm. You buried your face against him, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater as the dam finally broke.  

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, voice muffled against him. “I don’t even know why I’m crying—”  

“Shhh,” he soothed, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed slow circles between your shoulder blades. “You don’t have to explain. Just let it out, ‘kay? I’ve got you.”  

His voice was so tender, so unwavering, that it only made you cling tighter. He didn’t push, didn’t ask for answers—just held you, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, his presence a silent promise that you weren’t alone.  

When your sobs finally quieted into shaky breaths, Caleb gently tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears. His eyes searched yours, full of nothing but warmth and concern.  

“Bad day?” he asked softly.  

You nodded, sniffling. “The worst.”  

His lips curved into a small, understanding smile. “Well, lucky for you, I happen to be an expert in bad-day remedies.”  

You huffed a weak laugh. “Oh yeah?”  

“Mhm.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before guiding you toward the couch. “First step: comfort.”  

Before you could protest, he had already grabbed the softest blanket from the basket nearby, draping it over your shoulders like a cape. Then, with exaggerated care, he fluffed a pillow and placed it in your lap.  

“Second step,” he continued, straightening up, “sustenance.”  

He disappeared into the kitchen for a moment before returning with a steaming mug. The rich, sweet scent of hot chocolate, real hot chocolate he made from scratch, filled the air. You accepted it gratefully, the warmth seeping into your chilled fingers.  

Caleb knelt in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he peered up at you with those endless amethyst eyes. “Third step,” he said, voice dropping into a playful whisper, “distraction.”  

You raised a brow. “What kind of distraction?”  

His grin turned mischievous. “The best kind.”  

Before you could react, his fingers skated up your sides, tickling mercilessly. You shrieked, nearly spilling your drink as you writhed away, laughter bursting out of you despite your earlier gloom.  

“Caleb! Stop—!” you gasped between giggles.  

He relented, but not without pressing a smug kiss to your nose. “There’s that smile,” he murmured, satisfied.  

You swatted at him half-heartedly, but your chest felt lighter already.  

Caleb settled beside you on the couch, pulling you into his side as you sipped your hot chocolate. The rain continued outside, but now it felt cozy rather than oppressive, the sound blending with the quiet hum of the apartment.  

“You know,” he said after a moment, fingers idly playing with your hair, “I was thinking we could order takeout tonight. That new place you like. And maybe put on that terrible rom-com you pretend you don’t love.”  

You tilted your head to look at him. “You’d subject yourself to that?”  

He smirked. “For you? Absolutely.”  

Your heart swelled. This man—this impossibly kind, patient, loving man—had a way of making even the worst days feel bearable.  

You set your mug aside and turned fully toward him, cupping his face in your hands. His expression softened, his eyes flickering between yours.  

“Thank you,” you whispered.  

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “Always.”  

And just like that, the world felt right again.  

[hana-a-chattic]

Tsukishima's arc is (kinda) subversive and I need to talk about it!!

Also known as: Tsukkiyama is so everything for me pt 3 (but it's not shipper-y, it's about canon) (and I haven't written pt 2 yet??? lol)

Haikyuu!! is definitely a Shōnen Jump series, with great execution of old & gold tropes: the "light" and "darkness" double protagonists, multiple rivalries, training arcs and tournament arcs one after another etc. But Tsukishima Kei's character arc, specifically, kinda... breaks? and maybe even makes fun of the classics? (Which, if it is- very fitting for Tsukishima, huh)

You're probably familiar with "talk no jutsu" meme. In case you're not - it comes from the prequel to absolute banger series Boruto (I know this joke is overused. I like it, leave me alone), which involved its main character resolving so. many. troubled characters' arcs by leading them to light with his mid-battle speeches about hardships and hope and friends and trust, that people couldn't help but meme it. However, Naruto is indeed one of generation-defining sort of series, and as overused as it may be, this plot point creates many a powerful, emotional moments.

Haikyuu!!, of course, also does this. Having Hinata first blindly (literally and figuratively) trusting Kageyama, then (also literally and figuratively) grabbing Yachi's hand to help her take a step forward. Oh, also giving Asahi a thing or two to think about? All that jazz.

And I, personally, fully expected this to happen with Tsukishima. When the time comes, it will be mostly left to Hinata to, Idk, annoy him into character development I guess? This is shōnen, he's the "I can show you the world~" hero, that's just how it is, right?

Wrong.

We get the tense lead up. We get the flashback. We get the "Can ye help him, o protag-kun?" scene with Yamaguchi. And Hinata goes, basically: Uhhh... seems kinda like a you problem? 🤨 (Off-topic, but I l-o-v-e this as a Hinata character moment, too. This was maybe when I started legit liking him: realising how actually emotionally mature he is? The dude knows when it's not his time to get into someone else's mess, he sees the "do not enter" sign and is chill about it. I'm so sad this part of him gets overlooked so often)

The dialogue here is very simple, but very significant:

"Hinata, what would you say to Tsukki? Like you did to Kageyama and Yachi" <...> "What would you say to Tsukishima, Yamaguchi?"

This is where my theory that this is a little jab comes in - because in meta way, you can read this as, wouldn't it make more sense if the person he's connected to the most would be the one doing the talking? Not the random passerby protagonist like y'all like to do. But maybe I'm just weird. Even without any sort of meta reading though, this is still a great character writing.

Because yeah, why would Hinata talk to the guy? They don't even like each other. Hinata says it as it is: I have no idea what his deal is, there's nothing for me to say. They're also very different people, and whatever Hinata would say, honestly, is likely to not even resonate with Tsukishima. And that's not even accounting for the fact that Tsukishima might not listen to Hinata, at all. With all his defensive walls that Hinata is never shown to be invited inside or breaking through. But it's told to us ahead of this with visual language that Yamaguchi is.

Yes, I am talking about the headphones off while they walk together despite both being silent scene. Which seems a pretty obvious showcase of Kei's willingness to listen, if not him actually waiting for Yamaguchi to say what's on his mind.

And- of course it's him! If there's anyone there Tsukishima might allow himself to not build a front for, that would be the childhood friend who's known him since elementary school. Who knows him inside and out. Who knows why he's like this. With anyone else, it would be so easy to brush them off by a simple "You don't know what you're talking about, why do you even care". But... Yamaguchi knows. And Yamaguchi cares. Because that's his best friend. And Yamaguchi is the one person Tsukishima never just brushes off, actually, if you pay attention.

It had to be Hinata.

But in Haikyuu!!, it had to be Yamaguchi. To get Tsukishima Kei moving, it had to be his caring, supportive, strong-willed but not pushy, and very, very cool best friend.

P.S. For ppl who wanna say this type of rule-breaking isn't that uncommon nowadays, please also note Haikyuu!! did this in 2014, ie 10+ yrs ago.

[voxofthevoid]

I wanted to finally tackle the sukuita fic planned for the Hole Mission—it's been over half a year since it won the last poll. The fic I started afterward was also sukuita (plus goyuu), and it wound up being nearly 200k and taking over six months to finish. I've churned out a couple of short goyuu fics afterward and was planning on tackling the sukuita idea, but I'm in one of my states where I need to write goyuu like breathing.

So, as a compromise, I'm writing two fics at the same time. I usually don't, but the sukuita fic is essentially one long scene that's mostly sex, so I can peck at it in between writing a longer story.

The end result is that I've currently got 1k of sukuita and 8k of genderbent goyuu femlash. Have some samples:

what a hollow point does to a naked body

Gojou/Yuuji, no-powers AU, teacher/student, infidelity

Soft, yielding warmth presses up against Yuuji’s arm. “Do you know why they all believe you’re older, Yuuji?” Fuck, Yuuji thinks, her eyes snapping to Gojou’s chest—and the cleavage now split around Yuuji’s arm. Before she’s even processed that, there’s a touch on her stomach. She pries her eyes away from Gojou’s tits to blink down at the palm splayed over her bare belly. It's scorching. “It’s these,” Gojou whispers right into Yuuji’s ear, her fingers flexing like they’re groping Yuuji’s abs. “Girls your age don’t have muscles like this. Wouldn’t have thought you were hiding a six-pack under all those hoodies.” Of everything Gojou just said, it’s her knowledge of Yuuji’s routine violation of the dress code that surprises her the most, even though it really shouldn’t. Her teacher is dangerously sharp in every conceivable way. Yuuji’s known that for months. “Don’t you like it, sensei?”

Yuuji runs into her high school teacher at a lesbian bar. Neither of them should be there, but that’s only the first in a long chain of bad decisions with heady consequences.

a grave and i share the same unclean throat

Sukuna/Yuuji, canon divergence, reimagination of ch. 265 ("That Day")

Sukuna bites his tongue off. Yuuji breaks the kiss, slapping a hand on Sukuna’s forehead to shove him away while he focuses on regrowing his tongue. “What the hell, man.” It’s not really a question, and Sukuna doesn’t dignify him with an answer anyway. Or he’s just too busy chewing up Yuuji’s tongue to bother. “Disgusting,” is Sukuna’s verdict. “You never not disappoint.” “Are you seriously complaining that I don’t taste good enough, you cannibal weirdo?” Yuuji shakes his head. “And what kind of a kiss was that! This is why you didn’t get laid back in the Heian era.” All four of Sukuna’s eyes narrow. “Intend to change that, do you.” “Intend to let me?” he shoots back. Sukuna smiles, slow and vile and dripping red. “Why not,” he says, his voice a low, rumbling purr that sends a chill down Yuuji’s spine. “Let’s see how desperate you truly are.” Skin ripples and flesh bulges. The almost-familiar lines of Yuuji’s body split apart around Sukuna’s true form.

Yuuji makes a last-ditch attempt to impress his humanity upon Sukuna. But success is a double-edged sword.

These are the versions trimmed and rearranged to fit Ao3's summary box. The full scenes are slightly different. The WIP Wed posts will be the longer goyuu fic.

[mochasucculent]

Was looking at refs and since Viktor has two different leg braces I was wondering, do we think he wears them simultaneously?? The refs don't perfectly line up perspective-wise so it's hard to tell but parts of the one he wears during the Hexcore scenes look like they could maybe line up with the brace that he wears over his clothes, but also some parts really don't and look like they'd be super uncomfy. Also HOW does he take these on and off. Experts weigh in

[manguopudding]

someone give my girlie some glasses 🥺🥺

[chloesimaginationthings]

Can you imagine the puppet scene in FNAF 2…