#so after watching way too much stuff i had to write this

[ssour-apathyy]

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ signed, with love

hockey player!vi x basketball player!caitlyn x cheerleader!reader, fluff, secret love messages, pining, reader is lowk a dumbass, use of y/n

word count; 1,899

summary; as valentines day approaches, you start to receive anonymous declarations of love, only to find out they're sent by the last people you'd suspect

a/n; happy valentines day!! this is my little gift to you all, and i hope you enjoy. i'm gonna go ahead and claim that it's a bit awkward because they're high-schoolers and NOT because i don't know how to write stuff like this jdhfsjhfdj

It was the week before Valentine's Day at Piltover High, and the excitement buzzing through the air was almost palpable. The annual holiday event was in full force, where students were able to send love themed cards to each other, be it anonymous or not.

The hallways were abuzz with giggles and murmurs as students speculated who had sent them cards, who might send them cards, and the reactions of those they had sent them to. Everybody seemed to be deep in the tradition, well, everybody except for you.

You weren't insanely popular, but you weren't not popular. A nice middle ground, some may say. You had been on the cheer squad for a year now, which naturally meant you were higher up on the pyramid of social status compared to the rest of the student body. This wasn't the problem, the problem was that you just weren't interested in anybody.

You told yourself it was a mixture of nobody being interesting enough, and just not having enough time to pursue anybody. If you weren't doing anything cheer related, you were studying. If you weren't doing either of those things, you were spending time with Caitlyn and Vi.

Caitlyn- easily the most popular person at school. Captain of the basketball team, tall and beautiful, and just so nice. Not that fake, only doing this to keep up appearances, nice either, like actually nice. And then there's Vi- breakout star of the hockey team, a little rough around the edges, but so fucking hot. Together, they were the very top of the food chain, everybody's favourite couple, and absolutely unstoppable.

You had been friends with them for a few months now, when you had cheered at one of Caitlyn's games and she couldn't help but watch you the entire time. She just had to talk to you after the game was done, and Vi was on board immediately. All it took was one conversation and it was like you three had been friends for years, and suddenly were inseparable.

The three of you had lunch together every day. Vi would walk you to classes, Caitlyn would walk you to cheer practice, any spare time you had outside of school was almost always spent with them. People had tried to joke about you being their third wheel, but the look that Vi had sent their way had them promptly shutting their mouths. You didn't mind, though. Never at any point did you feel uncomfortable or left out, and you were happy to see your best friends so in love.

What you didn't know, however, is that both Caitlyn and Vi were absolutely smitten with you. Their feelings were small at first, like a small sprout popping up in Spring. That was until you had gone on a week vacation and they realised how much they missed you, and THEN you just had to go and bring them both home a gift- a basketball keyring for Caitlyn and a hockey stick one for Vi- and suddenly the small sprout was a grand oak tree and they just couldn't keep lying to themselves anymore.

They had a long talk between themselves, discovered that they were both on the same page, and started to plan how they would approach the subject. They cared too much to risk jeopardising your friendship by just springing it on you, so they knew that it had to be perfect.

── ⟢

Your eyebrows furrowed as the small card slipped out of your open locker door, fluttering to the ground in front of you. You slipped your textbooks into the locker before kneeling down to pick it up, turning it over in your hands as you stood back up. It was cute, a little doodle of a steaming coffee cup with 'Words cannot espresso how much you mean' written underneath. No name. You let out a soft chuckle and a little shake of your head as you slipped the card into your bag, and didn't think much of it. Probably just one of the girls on the cheer squad sending them to the team.

And then there was another.

'If I could start my life over again, I would find you sooner so that I could love you longer ♡'

"What the fuck.." you mumbled, looking around you to the other students filling the hallway, trying to see if anybody was looking suspicious. Nobody had ever shown an interest in you, not really, so to start suddenly getting valentine's cards was surprising to say the least.

Every day up until the 14th, there was a new card waiting for you. Every day they seemed to get more and more personal, and there was no doubt in your mind that they were meant for you and you alone. The girls on the cheer squad had no idea about it, but they were fawning over the cards that you had gotten, studying each one carefully. When you tried to ask Caitlyn and Vi, they had played it beyond cool.

"Wow, seems you've got yourself a secret admirer, huh? You sure you've not been out there flirting up a storm when we're not around?" Vi had teased you, causing your cheeks to burn as you snatched the card from her with a scoff.

"You don't recognise the handwriting?" Caitlyn had queried, even though it was no use. The messages in anonymous cards were written by the students handing them out for this very reason.

You got the final card on Valentine's day, and although it was the most simple and, well, least romantic, it still caused your stomach to do flips.

'Gym, after school today.'

── ⟢

Being on school grounds after hours was always slightly uneasy. The hallways were silent, your own footsteps echoing along the empty expanse of the building. You stood in front of the doors to the gym, heart racing as you wiped your palms on your jeans and shook the shake out of your hands. With a deep breath, you steeled yourself, and pushed the doors open.

The lights were off, the only source of light in the open room was coming from multiple candles scattered around the floor. In the middle of them was a picnic blanket with a hamper sat neatly on it, a couple of plastic cups tucked beside it. Both Vi and Caitlyn were sat on the bleachers behind, chatting away to each other before the sound of the door closing behind you caught their attention.

"Oh... uh, hi guys" you drawled, voice laced with confusion as you quickly checked over your shoulder before taking a few tentative steps towards them. "Sorry... I didn't mean to interrupt."

Caitlyn stood up, her varsity jacket hanging off her shoulders as she hopped off the bleachers to approach you. "You're not interrupting, don't worry. You're right on time, actually."

That increased your confusion tenfold, and it must have shown perfectly on your face as you watched Caitlyn busy herself with pouring drinks, because Vi's soft laughter was suddenly reverberating through the empty hall.

"Y'know, for somebody with your grades, you aren't all that smart sometimes" she teased, coming up to rest a hand on your shoulder as Caitlyn passes you both a cup of soda.

"Wha- but I don't-"

Your fingers wrap tightly around the plastic cup in your hand as the realisation hits you, and your eyes bounce between the two girls. Vi has a cocky smirk on her face as she sees the gears in your head turning, whereas Caitlyn looks a little nervous as she sips her drink, arms crossed over her chest.

"You sent those cards?"

"We did" Vi affirms, her hand squeezing your shoulder lightly. "Cait said the puns were too cheesy, but I think you liked them anyway, hm?"

You watched as Caitlyn rolled her eyes, even though a hint of a smile was ghosting on her lips. "We had been thinking of how to approach the subject with you for a while, and well, this seemed like the perfect opportunity."

You nodded, eyes flitting down to the picnic blanket on the floor. "And... you did all this.. for me?" you asked quietly, your voice hesitant and still coated with disbelief. Caitlyn took your free hand in hers and gently guided you to the blanket, sitting you down on top of one of the pillows as she sat in front of you, Vi doing the same to your side.

"Of course we did. You're special, Y/n. We care about you a lot, and-" she cuts herself off, playing with your fingers that she's still holding in her hand. "We were hoping you'd feel the same."

Vi clears her throat and shuffled a little closer, lifting a finger to your chin so she can turn your head to look at her. "What Cait is trying to say, is that we like you as more than a friend. This is our way of showing you that, and asking if you want to be something more."

Your heart stopped in your chest, and a warmth had spread across your face as you let everything sink in. It was like being doused in ice-water, the realisation that you did, in fact, feel the same way about them. Your lack of a love life wasn't because you were busy, or because nobody interested you. It's because they had already filled that hole in you, you just hadn't thought about it long enough to see it.

"Wow, I- honestly had no idea" you breathed out, your words coated in an airy laugh. "I mean, looking back at it, of course it seems obvious this is where it headed."

The three of you shared a laugh at that, and you lifted your free hand away from Caitlyn's to rub the back of your neck sheepishly.

"I don't want it to change anything though, not really. I mean, yeah, obviously things will change-" You blush at the thought of kissing them. "-but it won't get like.. weird or anything right?"

The two girls shared a look and set down their drinks, Vi gently taking yours out of your hand too, shuffling closer to you so they were sat on either side.

"Nah, not weird at all" Vi murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"We won't do anything you don't want to, love. We'll take it at the pace you want" Caitlyn affirms, her voice soft yet strong.

They both lean forward and press a soft kiss to your cheeks, and you let your eyes flutter closed as the feeling of being sandwiched between them. For the first time in a long time, you had never felt as at peace.

"Okay then" you whisper into the space in front of you. "I feel the same way, so.. I think we should give it a shot."

"Yeah, sweetheart? Wanna be our girlfriend?" Vi questions in that teasing tone that you love to hate, her lips grazing against your cheek as she speaks. You just nod in response, both girls crushing you in a bone tight hug as relief washes over them.

"Now then" Caitlyn starts after a moment of the three of you basking in each other. She pulls away only to flip the lid of the basket, pulling out various different snack items. "I prepared this specially, and we have a valentine's picnic to dig into."

[dduane]

Hi DD! I'm about mid-way through the most complex writing project I've ever done (several stories with some red thread storylines progressing in the background, so a sort of interwoven structure). I have an outline of the major plot beats, but the problem is, I've gotten about 2/3 of the way through, and this is where I've started to have trouble bringing my many threads together. The further I go, the the harder keeping it all clear and elegant becomes. Any advice for working at this stage?

It may seem counterintuitive, but once I'd found myself in a situation like this, I would immediately start working backwards.

It's difficult to describe what I mean here except semi-graphically���sort of in terms of one of those strings-pinned-to-the-wall diagrams so familiar to a lot of us from the various evidence-wall memes.

If we're imagining your present as-yet-unconnected threads as more or less progressing left to right, I would "stick pins in them" at their current furthest range and then move straight out to the far right side of the diagram.

For each thread I would then get busy establishing a detailed "end state" for the work: meaning a sense of what you want each of those through-line of plot to look like when you're done in terms of characters, situations, etc. I'd make very sure that all the major through-lines were covered, and (in passing) take a long look at how they'll stand in relationship to one another when all the action's finished.

Then I would start working back along each line toward the center of the matrix—looking to see what the next-to-last thing was that needed to happen to produce the final result on a given through-line. And then the third-to-last. ...And so forth.

I would try to work through the whole set of through-lines for each given step or stage before progressing any further backwards—unless, of course, some leap of logic occurs that makes an obvious connection between two different through-lines, or an earlier stage in the same TL that hadn't been obvious before.

(Is this making sense? God, I hope so.)

My experience with this kind of situation in the past is that it doesn't take too long before, on one or two of the lines you're constructing backwards, you'll hit something fairly major that somehow hadn't come up for consideration previously, or had simply slipped or fallen off the structural "radar" because so much other stuff had been going on around it. That event or piece of data, once perceived, will very often either immediately connect itself back to one or more of the "pinned" through-lines, or promote one of the other incomplete ones into growing connections to other adjacent lines of plot material. It's a little like watching neural tissue developing alternate pathways for itself after an injury.

...Anyway, give this approach a shot and see how it works for you. There are times when simply the act of reversing direction on the plot build will shake something loose in the business surrounding the building-it-forward part. It's worth a try to see what happens.

Hope this helps!

[stinkysam]

Choi Subong “Thanos” - Ka-ching.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : “thanos with a rich reader?” -anon

Reader : male (you/yours)

A/N : bold is in English

Oh, he’s so gonna use your money to his advantage. You freed him from his debts and are constantly paying him stuff, so he believes himself untouchable now.

You’re always spending money on him and he’s absolutely smug about it. A bit like a sugar baby but with feelings involved.

Don’t worry, he too spends your money as well.

Buying new high fashion clothes, special edition shoes, expensive rings. Sometimes he uses your own money to buy you stuff.

It’s the thought that counts, right ?

His clothes are really bright and colorful, with a few occasional darker ones, for you it’s the opposite. You own a lot of suits that are generally quite basic and dark but the colored and original looking ones come from him.

One day, you were staring at one of his bright orange t-shirts. It made you think of those fluorescent safety vests.

“Are you afraid to not be seen at night ?” You suddenly asked.

“Huh ?”

“It’s so bright I can’t look at it.” You continued, closing your eyes with a dramatic grimace. He scoffed, taking the shirt from your hands to put it on.

“Everyone’s in dark clothes.” He replied. “I want all eyes on me.”

You nodded, watching him put some cargo shorts on.

“You make me think of, uh, birds.” You smiled, trying not to laugh.

“Huh ? Birds ? Pigeons ?”

“When did I say pigeons ? Are pigeons the only birds ?” You sighed. “Birds try to mate by displaying their colorful plumage. Courting.”

He looked at you weirdly, thinking.

“Why the fuck are they attracted to colors ?” He asked, sitting on the bed to put his shoes on.

“Bright colors show their good health and that they’re genetically advanced. There’s more but I doubt you care that much.”

“You’d be a boring looking bird.” He said as you flopped next to him on the bed.

“Ah, you hurt my feelings, man.” You threw your hand in the hair, hitting his shoulder before letting it glide down his back. “You’ll learn that there’s no boring looking birds. Even pigeons. You’d be a pink-necked green one.”

He scoffed, standing up.

“Search it up ! It’s not as flashy as you but it’s still really pretty.” You said, resting on your elbows.

“You think I’m pretty ?” He asked with fake shock. “Homo.”

You snorted.

“No. Ugliest man I’ve ever laid my eyes on, get out of my house. I'm gonna scream.” You replied, throwing a pillow at him, hitting the back of his head as he laughed before exiting the room while flipping you off.

Later he sent you a text saying pink necked green pigeons were actually decent looking.

He says he doesn’t like asking for money yet he’s spending every won you give him.

He’s like this especially after his rap career flopped. He worked his ass off to succeed, made some money off of it and suddenly everything went to shit.

But now that he has your money, he can make a big comeback and shock everyone back to their places.

He’s trying to find a label that would want to work with him while making an album, already planning which song would have a music video and what’s gonna be in it. It’s far from cheap. Though it’s all just ideas for now as he hasn’t finished writing even half of it.

You had to put some limits to his spending habits. Because as much as you loved him, he was spending way too much like a teenager with zero perception of the cost of things and life in general.

Either you help him with his album but no more expensive clothes, shoes, cosmetics.

Or he can buy whatever he wants but does his album on his own.

He whined about it a lot, but chose you to help him with his album in the end.

“I still don’t understand why I can’t do both.” He sulked as you rubbed his back.

“Do you think I’m Jay Y. Lee ? Or maybe you miss your debts that badly ?”

“Of course not ! But I’m not spending that much !” He scoffed, rolling his eyes like a child.

You chuckled, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Maybe you should use your money to pay for all the things you buy in a month. What do you think ?”

“Huh ?” He stared at you, caught off guard. “No way ! Come on !”

“I don’t know. I like that idea.” You said with a shrug standing up and walking away. Thanos quickly followed you.

“Hey, let’s not be hasty.” He grabbed your shoulders, rubbing them. “You’re still gonna help me with my album, right ?” He leaned closer with a smile, wrapping his arms around you.

“Ah, should I ? I don’t know…”

“You told me you would !” He said as he slapped your shoulder, making you chuckle. That fucking brat.

“I’m fucking with you, of course I will. Just no other expenses.” You smiled, turning to face him.

He sighed, throwing his head back in frustration with a groan.

“Okay, fine. But you promise you’ll help me ?”

Your hands gently went to his face, pulling it closer as you caressed his cheeks before kissing his forehead.

“Of course. Pinky promise or whatever.”

He absolutely loves your house. It’s big and spacious and it’s equipped with recent gadgets. A fully equipped kitchen that looks like you never used it. You actually use it, well, not you but your cook does. And the food is always delicious.

The bed is definitely bigger than his. He still hogs all the blankets and most of the place.

He refuses to sleep on the sides, preferring to be in the middle because he fears he’s gonna fall. So if he goes to bed before you you’ll have to push him a bit especially if you like sleeping in the middle as well.

You let out a long sigh as you watch him sprawled on your bed, arms and legs open wide with the blanket wrapped around his body.

“Subong. Move.” You said, pushing him to wake him up. He hummed before replying.

“…no.”

He hissed as you placed your cold hand on his naked back, successfully making him move away from the middle.

You quickly laid down, pulling on the blanket wrapped around him.

“What are you doiiing ?” He asked with a groan, stretching, bones cracking.

“What do you think ? Going into my bed to sleep.”

He just hummed, not caring anymore about what you just said as he went back to sleep.

Just like you he’s not really patient if you go to bed first and sleep in the middle.

He scoffs as he climbs into bed and pushes you away from the center. You fight back, yawning half asleep as you try to not lose your territory.

“Fucking bastard, move !”

“Nooo. Fuck off !” You replied with a tired voice, wrapping your arms around him to trap him.

He tries to fight it but ends up giving up, falling asleep on top of you with a frown.

That scowl never really disappears even as he’s long gone, drooling on you.

You categorically refuse to let him drive your car. He has extreme road rage and drives with way too much confidence to be safe on the roads. And with how much your car had cost you, there was no way you could risk it.

Do not believe Thanos only loves you for your money. He definitely appreciates that part about you, don’t get it twisted. But he also really likes just spending time with you.

If you have free time, he’ll take you to the made-up studio in your house so you can stay with him. Sometimes he’ll record you making weird noises to put in the background of his songs or he’ll ask you to give him a beat.

He spends a lot of time there and as interesting as it is, it gets boring for you after some time. Hearing the same part over and over, random instruments, erasing it, making the same one but slightly different, going to another part, repeating it over and over. And so on.

If there’s a concert or show he can do, and the opportunity is rare now, he’ll invite you backstage even if he’s not allowed to.

He’ll just piss people off until they accept. You told him to stop because they’ll probably won’t ask to come back again if he’s too annoying. But he doesn’t care, you have to be here.

There’s a mental note in his brain to repay you completely once he's a well known and loved rapper. For now he’s just stuck dreaming.

But with a little bit more patience and your help, he can definitely make it and even make people forget about the lyrics troubles he had.

[sleepyswriting]

Have a baby by me, baby and be a millionaire

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Sukuna. R

Sukuna pays to breed you for an heir

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Warnings: !true form !Sukuna, village girl !reader, Dacryphilia, Somnophilia, power imbalance, noncon/dubcon, breeding, psychological and emotional manipulation, stalking, captivity, emotional distress, physical domination, possessiveness, slight size kink

Sukuna the king of curses offers you, the pretty little thing in the nearby village a handsome reward if you let him stuff you with his cock and impregnate you

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Word count: 4.7k

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Author’s Note: Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you like this, this is my first time writing something dark <3 it is edited I went through and edited it but I’m dyslexic so had my friend look through to see if I missed anything :D

Sukuna wanting you to have his child happened by accident. He remembers the day he first saw you, he was standing by the river north of the village so he was closer to the forest. He was cleansing his hand from the blood of his very recent hunting session when he saw you coming along carrying a wooden bucket. He watched as you squat down to fill the bucket and by God you were the definition of the word beautiful, honestly he thought you were too good for the word beautiful, you deserved something more than just plain ole beautiful. Everything about you gave soft and nurturing. The gentle way you looked at your younger sibling as they babbled about whatever, the bright smile when they said something silly that made your eyes crinkle ever so slightly, he couldn't miss the way your eyes shone and your skin glowed in the setting sun. Something about you made him want you in every sense of the word and he couldn't figure out what or why. All he knew was that he needed you, to have you, to own you, to ruin you. Nothing was going stop him from having you

He quickly retreated into the woods to make his way back to his estate, the land filled with concubines. He was ready for a heir to raise and train to be the next him, he was going to have one of his many concubines carry his child but the more he thought about it, he didn’t want one of his plain Jane concubines to have his child. Every time he thought about an heir, your face would pop up in his mind. He wanted you. He went back to the river everyday to see if he could catch you again. He had heard through the grapevine that there was a man in so much debt, he would pass it on his grandchild, but when he found out that that man was your father, he was ready to make a deal with you that you couldn’t decline. The day he finally caught you, after weeks and weeks of watching stalking he finally saw you again by the river with the same wooden bucket from last time. He slowly approached you, he didn’t want to scare you and make you flee, he had to be fragile with you, you were just a tiny human after all. He slowly approached you, clearing his throat to alert you of his presence. He saw your head snap up and took it as a sign. He looked at you as he stood at your side. “What is a pretty thing like you doing here all alone? It isn’t safe, you could be hurt.” His voice gruff and husky as his eyes watched your body language for any type of reaction. You were hesitant at first, not sure if you should respond to this random man, but your mother always said to be polite “I-… I’m getting water for cleaning.” There was a brief moment of silence between you before you spoke up again. "If I may ask… who are you?" His gaze unconsciously softened at the question, the way your voice was so full of warmth when talking to someone like him made his heart flutter. “I’ll be honest, I’ve been watching you for sometime now and I won’t lie, you’ve caught my attention. My name is Sukuna, Ryomen Sukuna now that pleasantries are out the way, I’d like for you to have my heir.” He watched as you choked out a response, your pretty little eyes going wide in surprise and your cheeks warming up to be a warm hue of pink. He wouldn’t be lying if he said the sight didn’t make his cock harden under his kimono. “I beg your pardon? I don’t even kno-“ Sukuna cuts you off, his shoulders laid back and he his head held high as he spoke again. “I’ll give you 200 gold,” his voice smooth, but with that dark edge. The words slid from his lips with an almost casual cruelty, like it was nothing. And yet, to you, it was everything. The weight of it felt like a punch to the gut, and you suddenly couldn’t breathe. “Take your time, little one. But don’t keep me waiting.” 200 gold!? That was more than enough to pay off your family’s debt and then some. “Take a few days and think about it, hm?” He said as he stood up and fixed his stance, his red eyes glaring down at your hunched form. He knows his offer landed, only a fool would reject that much gold. “I’ll be back in four days time to hear your answer. Farewell, woman.” He turned on his heels before walking away, his hand waving slightly. You watch as he disappears into the forest, a dumbfounded expression left in your face. You can't even begin to process the offer this strange man proposed to you. You stand up, carrying the bucket now full of water that feels like it weighs more than it usually does. You enter your family home bringing the wooden bucket to the kitchen, setting it down gently before walking to your room. You laid on your futon your mind racing. 200 gold is a lot and your family desperately needed the money, it would make everything so much better. Was having a baby with a stranger really worth it to get your family out of poverty? You stew on it for the night but ultimately you decided to agree to the offer. You never thought you would stoop this low and sell your body, but you loved your family and wanted the best for them even at your expense.

It goes against your morals but seeing your father slave away at multiple jobs just to slowly pay off his debt and provide for his family broke your heart. He was working himself to death. You felt so helpless, you offered to go out and find jobs as well but your father always smiled and shook his head and told you not to worry about it, you try to justify it in your mind by saying that this was the only option, you would have this man's child and your family's problems would be gone, but deep down you felt ashamed and a bit disgusted with yourself for accepting but what other choice do you have? You wait for him to come and like he said he met you at the river, he stood tall with his arms crossed against his chest, he eyes felt heavy on you as he awaited your answer. "What’s your decision?" Sukuna’s voice cut through the air. There was no kindness in it now—just an edge of something darker. The red glow of his eyes seemed to pierce you. "Answer me." You shifted your weight as you try to control the tremble in your voice. “Would I get the gold before or after?” There is a brief silence as if he was pondering his answer. “I’ll give you 100 gold now and the other half once you give birth to my child. Does that pleases you, little one?” The way he says little one sounds degrading, like he’s belittling you for your size compared to his. You nod your head, your eyes watching his arm move into his haori and handing you a small red pouch. You hold the pouch in your hands as you feel the weight of your decision but there’s no backing out now. “Can I… give this to my family?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he sticks his chin out. “Don’t take long.” You nod before quickly running to your family home, opening the shoji before stepping in. You prepared for your departure days earlier, you didn’t want your family to worry so you lied and told them you were going to travel and you were unsure when you would come home. You left the pouch on the chabudai with a prewritten letter saying your final goodbyes because you knew they would convince you to stay. You step back out softly closing the shoji screen and made your way back to the river… to your new life. Once you approached him, he silently turn and started walking into the forest, expecting you to follow behind him, which you did. Silence filled the air as the two of you walked in the forest, the only sounds coming from twigs and leaves snapping and crunching under your weight and an occasional hoot of an owl. The silence was suffocating, making you wish he would say something to you. You walk for what seems like forever before finally entering his property, you saw a couple concubines in the courtyard doing chores or interacting with each other, as the two of you drew near, the concubines stopped what they were doing and bowed to Sukuna and welcomed him home. He didn’t even give them a second glance as he lead you into the estate. He took you to a room and he opened the kichō and you looked inside, the room was bare beside a futon. “This will be your chamber until further notice.” You turned your head to look at Sukuna as he spoke to you, his voice gruff. “Any questions, little one?” You shook your head and looked back to your new room only for a rough, calloused hand to grab you by your face roughly. His grip on your jaw tight as he forced you to look at him. “You are to verbally reply to me”, he growled. “None of that nodding or shaking of your head. It won’t be tolerated and will lead to you being punished. Is that understood?” Your breath hitches as you quickly sputter out "Yes I understand" "Yes I understand my Lord" he sneered as he corrected you. You didn't want to call him my lord. You didn't even want to be here. You hated him. Hated him for making you that offer, for pulling you into this twisted game. You could be home with your family, safe and free- but instead, you were in a cold, lifeless estate with a man who only wanted to use your body. And yet, you could only blame yourself for forgetting how easily you could fall into this trap.

His grip tightened around your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. The pressure stung, making you wince. It was a warning. A reminder. "Y-yes… I understand, m-my Lord," you stammered, the words slipping out of you like a reluctant confession. He smirked. "Yes, that's more like it." His fingers left your face, but the ache remained, a constant reminder of his power. You rubbed your sore jaw, the fear creeping under your skin, a slow burn that you couldn't ignore. You turned toward your room, eager for the escape. But he grabbed your arm, spun you back around. His gaze was sharp, his annoyance unmistakable. "I didn't dismiss you yet," he growled, voice low and cold. "Nor have I finished speaking. "Your breath hitched in your chest, the harshness in his tone making the room feel smaller. Couldn't he let you go just for a moment? "You may go where you please-besides my chambers." His words were a command, chilling in their simplicity. "You are to remain on the & ate. And if you need anything… don t bother me. The servants are here for a reason. Use them.” He dismissed you with a wave of his hand, walking down the hall till his body was out of your vision. You enter your chamber and sit on your futon, burying your face in your hands, you let out a sob. What have you gotten yourself into? But then you have to remind yourself- this is for your family’s benefit. You sigh, flopping onto the futon, closing your eyes. You wanted to go home, you wanted to go to your family and help your mother take care of the chores and the land. Now you were in this unfamiliar room, waiting to be summoned for breeding. You honestly hoped he’d ask for you sooner rather than later but that’s not what Sukuna had plan. He was going to let you sit and simmer in anticipation. You don’t know when he’s going to strike and he loves how it makes you squirm how antsy you’re becoming. He lets you do as you please around the estate, he watches from afar, interacting with the combines who throws fake smiles and giggles to you, he’s not surprised they’re being so hostile or indifferent towards you. You were new and their Lord has took an interest in you and not them. When they were getting a little hostile he would come out and make his presence know, watching as his concubines start behaving and reeling in the way you would tense up. He enjoyed watching you squirm from just him being near you, he knew that you were waiting for when he would take you and he was going to take you, whether you liked it or not. You’ve been waiting for him to take you for what feels like years, you’ve only been getting more antsy and anxious, and he hasn’t even done anything. He silently approaches and he won’t acknowledge you, he’ll talk to a servant or concubine you with but you don’t miss the way his arm subtly brushes against yours which makes you tense up, your heart starts to race. But after awhile you let your guard down. You start to think he won’t actually do anything to you. Has he lost interest? Did he change his mind about you bearing his heir? Once Sukuna senses that your guard is down is when he decides to strikes. He enters your room while you’re peacefully sleeping, he fixes your position making you lay on your back. His eyes roamed over your sleeping form, you were only wearing a flimsy kosode. It was the only thing keeping him from you. He doesn’t bother taking the kosode off he simply pushes it up, he wants you and he’s not going to bother stripping you of clothing. He nudges your legs apart, taking in the sight of your pussy, and it’s all his. He palmed his cock through the fabric of his uchikake before freeing it through the slit. He positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock teasing your folds, making you squirm. His gaze moved to your face taking in the way your breath hitched and your face scrunched up as he rocked his hips so his tip would brush against your clit. He wanted you to wake up and see what he was doing to your body, he wanted you to wake up and scream and try to fight him only for him to shut you up.

His lower set of arms roughly grabs your waist as his upper set of arms moves up to your chest, grabbing your breast, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipple in between them. You started to stir from your sleep, a small whine leaving your lips as your eyes start to flutter open, vision still bleary. You see this large frame looming over you, you blink to focus your vision and you start to recognize the shadowy figure as Sukuna. You tense up, freezing as you realize he’s rutting his cock against you. You go to scream but his free hand covers your mouth before a noise can even escape your throat. “Hush little one, be a good girl and take it.” You start to thrash around, trying to push him off of you and scratching his skin but it was futile, you were so small and weak compared to him. “Now tell me little one,” he ruts against you earning an whimper you didn’t even want to come out of your mouth, his eyes darken hearing your pretty little noise, he wanted to hear more. “Did it make you ache for me?” Your lips part to say something, but nothing comes out as you yell at your brain to say anything, to deny it. Your body betrays you, heat coiling in your lower belly despite the fear you feel hammering in your chest. He chuckles at your silence and at the way you tremble beneath him as he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock teasing your folds. You felt your eyes prick with tears as you try to squirm and wriggle away but his grip on your waist keeps you in place. “S-stop… please…” you plead not sure if you’re wanting him to stop because it hurts or because it’s too much. “Stop?” He purrs, his lips curling into a smirk. “I paid for you so I’ll take you when I please.” He started to snap his hips, thrusting into you at a brutal pace. “Be grateful” he uncovers your mouth and leans over you until your chest to chest. “I could have taken you that first night.” He murmured, dragging his teeth against your cheek. “I could have fucked you raw against the cold ground of that river bank.” His tongue flicks out, licking a slow stripe against your jaw. He pushed forward, his thick shaft stretching you, white hot pain hits you instantly as he stretches you beyond your limit, the tears that pricked your eyes now spilling down your cheeks as you dug your nails into his flesh. You try to wriggle away once more but he’s still keeping you in place not planning on letting you go nowhere. “Shhh, take it little one.” He cooed, though there was nothing gentle about the way he fills you to the hilt, bottoming out in one ruthless stroke. Your breath comes in shallow, broken gasps. Your gummy walls clench involuntary around him, your body struggling to adjust but it only makes him groan in satisfaction. “Fuck,” he grits out, his forehead pressing against yours. “So fucking tight, like this cunt was made for me.” His eyes rolled back as your walls squeezed him like a vice. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to place yourself elsewhere, you wanted to be anywhere but here, only for his hand to move to your throat, his grip firm but not yet choking- just enough force to make you look at him. “Eyes on me little one” he ordered and when you don’t comply fast enough his grip tightens. “ I want you to remember this. Remember who’s filling up your pussy, remember who’s gonna use this pretty pussy when he wants.” Tears roll down your cheeks as he starts to move, his pace slow but punishing as he dragged out every sensation. The worst part was your body was starting to enjoy being stuffed full of cock. He watches every emotion that flickers across your tear streaked face- pain, fear, shame but beneath it all there’s something else that you’re so desperately trying to ignore. Your body keeps betraying you, gripping his base despite the overwhelming stretch, the way he’s forcing you to take every inch of him. He groans, his grip tightening around your throat just enough to remind you that he’s in charge. “That's it, sweetheart” he murmured, dragging his fangs along your jaw line, relishing in the way you shudder beneath him.

“You’re taking me so well, almost like you want this.” He growled, his hips snapping forward, driving himself deeper into her. You let out a sob mixed with a moan that you accidentally let slip, your trembling hands weakly push at his broad chest despite knowing how useless it was. “Please…” your voice hoarse, barely a whisper as the words come out. You honestly don’t know what you’re pleading for. For him to stop? To be gentler? For him to hurry up and finish? Sukuna chuckles, his amusement sending a new wave of humiliation through you. “Please what?” He taunts, his thrusts becoming more sharper and deliberate. He leans in to your face and drags his tongue across the side of your face catching tears. His lower arms slide beneath your thighs, lifting your hips slightly, angling you just right so he can bury his cock even deeper, the new position has your eyes rolling back as you try to keep your mewls in, you don't want him to know that he's making you feel good. "Tell me, sweetheart- do you want me to stop?" You shake your head but he just laughs at you. "Not you, little one I'm talking to your cunt." He growled snapping his hips forward. "Let's hear what she has to say, hm?" The room goes quiet as his hips keep rolling, soft, obscene squelches echoed as their bodies moved together, his cock dragging along your sweet spot, eliciting a whimper from you as you try to turn away from his intense gaze as you attempt to hide your flushed face from hearing how your body was reacting in ways you didn't want it to. He grabbed your face holding it in place, making your eyes lock. "She's so talkative isn't she?" His eyes darken when you don't answer which lead to you mustering a nod, he lowers his head into the crook of your neck nipping and sucking at the flesh, leaving dark purple hickeys, you try to pull your head away only to be disciplined with a harsh smack on your thigh causing you to whimper, the spot now red and stinging. His fingers trail down to where you're stretched around him, where your body is molding to fit him. He groans , his red eyes darkening as he watches his cock disappear into you over and over again. "Look at this, little one, "he breathes, almost in awe "You were struggling so much, yet your greedy little cunt is swallowing me so perfectly." You feel shame under the pleasure you're being forced to feel as fresh tears slip down your temples. You want to deny it but you know that he ca feels the way your velvety walls flutter around his length, the way your breath stutters with every brutal stroke. And Sukuna is nothing if not observant. His smirk turns cruel. "Oh, you hate this, don't you?" he taunts, his pace slowing down to an agonizing grind. "Hate the way your body responds to me. Hate the way I fit inside you." He lifts his head from your abused neck and flicks his tongue over your trembling lips before whispering against them, "Hate that you're sloppy wet for me." Air catches in your throat because you can feel it- the slickness coating his length, making his assault on your pussy much smoother and easier. He laughs, his already big ego swelling at the sight of you unraveling- submitting beneath him. "Such a stubborn little thing," he muses, dragging his fangs down the column of your throat, nipping at the delicate skin there. "You can fight all you want, little one, but your body knows the truth." His hips snap forward suddenly causing you to cry out, your fingers twisting into the sheets as pleasure and pain take over. He gripped your thighs, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pounded into you. The sound of skin on skin filled the room. His cock throbbed in you as you started getting noisy, the sounds you were trying to keep in slipping from you as his tip bullies your cervix. Your once sobs now replaced with whimpers as your hips buck involuntary. "Look at you taking me so well," he grunted "Just as noisy as her." He taunted, a twisted smirk on his face. "This wasn't such a bad deal after all," he murmured as her dank his teeth into your neck.

"Get to have this sweet pussy whenever I want," he growls, his tone possessive, almost feral, as his cock pistons into you. Your cunt clenches around him, back arching as pleasure overtakes you. Your vision blurs, jaw slack, a helpless moan slipping free when he slams into that devastating spot that leaves you seeing stars. Your body started to shake beneath him from the overwhelming pleasure you were finally allowing yourself to feel. It was just to good to deny anymore, you didn't care that you were moaning and crying out for him in his ear. Your frame began to tremble as that coil in your belly was getting ready to snap. His upper set of arms wrap around you, holding you close, his touch strong and oddly warm. "Poor thing, you need me to cum don't you?" You lets out a soft whine as he groans, his pace growing rougher and more erratic. He was close too, you can feel it- the way his grip tightens, the way his breathing becomes heavier. "You're gonna give me a strong heir," he growls against your skin, his voice thick with lust. "'M gonna fuck you full- of my seed every night til your belly swells with my child." Your thighs trembled, slick with your wetness, chasing the high you had so desperately tried to fight against in the beginning. Your stomached tensed as the coil snapped. Your vision blurred, back arched off the futon and your breath broke into shattered moans and cries. As he fucked you through your release he could feel his building, his balls tightening as he kept his brutal pace. He let out a guttural groan as he felt your pussy clamp down around his cock, your body shaking. He could feel your slick gush out, coating his shaft, the sensation pushed him over the edge. His hips slammed forward one last time before he buried his cock deep in your pussy, his tip kissing your cervix as his cock throbbed and pulsed as he filled you with is thick cum, claiming you as his. He pulls away from you, letting you go and exiting your room. You expected it but you couldn't explain the way you felt used, you knew he only wanted to get you pregnant with his heir but it still hurt. What you didn't expect is for him to come back to you with a glass of water for you. He laid back onto the futon, the room smelled of sex. He wrapped his lower set of arms around you cradling you to his chest as he held the glass up to your lips as you drank. He stroked your hair as he whispered praises to you. "You did so good for me, little one." He said sweetly as he placed a kiss on your forehead, setting the glass aside when you finished drinking. "Took me so well, well done." His grip on you tightened as he cuddled you, he made you feel safe from some reason. "I take care of what's mine, you belong to me now." He pulled the covers over the two of you leaving a few words before he falls asleep while holding you. "Your father can't protect you like I can." You lay awake, shame taking over now that your high is faded but you also left with a craving for more. Every morning and every night he fills you with his seed and you've started to enjoy it. You look forward to it everyday, being stuffed with his cock and just being around him. And every day like routine he comes to you until he doesn't and it left you confused. You wait all morning for him and he doesn't show so you go looking for him, feeling oddly empty without. You find him sitting at his throne with a concubine standing by his side. You couldn't help but stand there wondering if you weren't his priority anymore. And seeing him with someone that isn't you pissed you off. You wanted his attention on you and only you. He sees you looking and summons you in front of him. His gaze is on you as he sits on his throne, one leg over the other and his arm propped up on the arm of the thrown so he can rest his head in his hand. He pats his thigh, telling you to sit so you crawl into his lap, pressing your form against him. You look up at him your eyes filled with defeat as you speak, "Please?" Sukuna smirks, reaching out and tilting your chin up, 'Please what, little one?”

Your eyes search his, looking for an answer, but you couldn't come up with one. You realize that he's won. You don't even know what your begging for anymore. All you know is that you need him and you crave him.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Tags: @sterzin @collectionofdolls

[hellfire10005]

-All I Wanna Do-

Worst!Wolverine X Fem!Mutant!OC

TAGS: smut, soft sensual sex, riding, fluff, making out, self care, established relationship, lingerie kink, grinding, teasing, morning sex, if i missed anything please lmk!

Warnings: smut, MDNI, stupid amounts of swearing as usual,

A/N: This is so self indulgent, but I couldn't resist writing about my blorbos for one of my favorite holidays. Also when I say the tags sit in between Phoebe's tits, I am saying this from experience, my Wolverine tags tend to sit right in my cleavage lolol. Thank you @lubdubology and @yxtkiwiyxt for coming up with this challenge !! <33

<3 <3 <3

Rain pattering against the window, oldies playing softly in the background, Phoebe meandered towards her gorgeous green velvet couch, hips swaying as she made her way to the even more gorgeous man seated on said couch.

“Baby, we’ve got the place all to ourselves~” she said in a sing-song voice, perching herself on her boyfriend's lap, straddling his powerful thighs.

“Don’t we always?”

“No, baby, we truly have the place to ourselves,” Logan quirked a brow at her as he gently grasped her wrists in his hands, pressing a kiss to each before placing them on his shoulders. Phoebe leaned in as she explained, “Wade isn’t home, and Althea’s watching the pets tonight.”

“Where the fuck is the mouth then? Sister Margaret’s ?”

“Vanessa’s” She answered with a cheeky grin, the slightest shiver running along her spine as Logan's hands came to rest on her hips, thumb running along her waist. Pressing kisses along Phoebe's throat, making his way up to that spot along her jaw that makes her melt, he asks

“How'd you manage that, baby?” he murmured into her neck, just below her ear, then pulling back to look at the mischievous expression on his girl's face.

“Sent him off about an hour ago with a boombox, a mixtape, and a bouquet of Ness’s favorite flowers along with strict orders not to come home for the next 12-24 hours.”

“Jesus Murphy I love you so much, Phoebs.” Grabbing her face in his hands to pull her in for a kiss, and soon enough she was smiling and giggling into it. The sound going straight to Logan’s guts, fluttering around in his core, and warming his cheeks.

“I love you too, Lo’” She giggles, hands reaching up cradle Logan’s face, lightly scratching her nails along the scruff on his jaw. “Now c’mon, I have a whole night planned.”

Logan responded by kissing her again, pressing affectionate pecks on her lips, murmuring “Five more minutes, baby.” His hands gently holding her wrists, basking in the feel of her soft skin in his grasp.

“Alright,” another airy giggle, “Alright, matou, five more minutes.” she agrees, sliding her hands behind Logan’s neck, and into his hair.

It was definitely more than five minutes.

In fact they ended up having dinner about two hours later than Phoebe had originally planned. Not that she could complain when her legs still felt a little wobbly when she got up from the table, reaching for Logan’s empty plate when he lightly slapped her hand away.

“Uh - uh, pretty girl. You know the rules; you cooked, so ya don’t clean up after.”

“Baby, I was just gonna set them in the sink,”

“Yeah well I got another job for ya,” He said, getting up from the table, lightly smacking her ass as he takes the dishes from her hands, topping it all off with a kiss to her crown. “Go start a bath for us, yeah? Put in some of that stinky shit you like—“

“You mean the epsom salts??”

“Yea that shit. Pull out whatever self-care stuff you bought too, tonight’s all about relaxin’ right?”

Phoebe nodded eagerly, biting her bottom lip in barely contained excitement as she pivoted and made her way into the bathroom.

That’s how the two of them ended up in a steaming hot bath, Logan had let Phoebe go to town doing 'self-care' for the both of them, though truthfully he doesn't mind in the slightest. In fact he enjoys the feeling of his girl's hands running along his beard, rubbing conditioners and serums and whatever the fuck else into it. Shit he doesn't even mind the stinky clay mask she had spread across his cheeks and nose, not when it led to this; Phoebe leaning back against Logan’s chest, her head resting on his shoulder, the hair sticking out of her bun tickling his nose. The way she relaxed against him made it all worth it, fuck she was so relaxed the candles lit all along the counter’s flames were rising and falling in time with her steady breathing. As if they had become attuned to her. Her unconscious display of power amazed Logan in ways he could never fully explain, nor did he think he could ever find the words to.

The shrill dinging of Phoebe's phone alarm shattered the serenity of the moment, Phoebe shooting up to reach over and tap the 'STOP' blaring on her screen. Reaching over to snatch up a washcloth, she turns around to face Logan,

"Alright baby, time to rinse these off and get out."

Everything felt so domestic in the best of ways; the way Phoebe looked wrapped in her towel smoothing lotion onto her legs, how she made Logan sit on the toilet seat so she can towel off his hair, and simply sharing space in the bathroom as they went about their nightly routine. He never thought he would have this again, that someone could be his home again. Fuck, if you had told him two years ago that he would have somewhere to call home and someone waiting for him to get there at the end of everyday, he would’ve called you insane.

“Hey, matou, can you help me with these?” Phoebe calls as she leans out the bathroom door, holding up the silver ball chain sporting Logan’s tags, (the tags she only takes off when showering or swimming). “My nails make putting on jewelry such a bitch sometimes.”

“Comin’ baby.” He huffs out a chuckle under his breath. The last one he’ll ever have apparently as he rounds the corner into the bathroom to find Phoebe in soft, lacey, bubblegum pink lingerie. A cute little bra that barely covered her nipples, showing off her piercings, and made her tits look so good Logan swears his mouth started watering. Paired with the tiny thong, and topped off with a matching garter belt that held up the sheer stockings? His girlfriend might as well have put him in his grave with this ensemble. 

Don’t misunderstand, his girl wears sexy underwear all the time, she has an addiction to buying lingerie that Logan cannot argue with. But she tends to buy things that are more mature, sticking to jewel tones and darker colors. So on the rare occasion that she purchases something on the cutesier side, it drives Logan wild seeing her in soft girly pastels and florals. 

“Well, bel homme ? You gonna just stand there, or are you gonna pick your jaw up off the floor and help me with this damn necklace before I give up on wearing it entirely?” Phoebe snarks up at him, the chain still dangling from one slender finger. Taking it from her, Logan steps behind her as he unclasps the chain, leaning down so his cheek barely brushed hers, looking her reflection in the eye as he says,

“Can you blame me? It’s not my fault my girl looks so fuckin’ good,” His fingers brushing along the back of Phoebe’s neck as he clasps the tags in place, the tags themselves coming to rest right in between her pretty tits. “All this for me, pretty girl?”

Phoebe bites her lip as she slowly nods, trying to clamp down on the smile threatening to spread across her face. She’s been looking forward to this all day, eagerly awaiting Logan’s reaction to her newest set. It’s been insanely difficult trying to keep it hidden from him, he has a tendency to sniff out whatever new underwear she gets before she can ever surprise him with it. The only place she can successfully hide anything from him is at her best friend’s loft, and that’s only because the two of them loathe one another. But ohhh was it worth it to see the downright hungry look on Logan’s face right now, to feel his lips press against her skin so reverently.

No ones ever made her feel like this; like her entire body was on fire, and she couldn’t control it. 

She will never get enough of it.

Excited giggles pouring out of her as Logan scoops her up, marching into the bedroom all while kissing along her neck and face. Even taking a couple seconds to rub his beard into her cheek, making her laugh harder. Soon enough she’s tossed onto the bed, bouncing once before creeping back towards the pillows, Logan not giving her a single second to think as he presses her into the mattress. Kissing her like she was the air he needed to breath, his hands running along her waist, and gripping her hips like they were his lifeline tethering him to this world, this bed. Her hands slid into his hair and pulled, hard, relishing in the groan that it elicited from her boyfriend. Logan was quickly rid of his sweats and boxers in one swift move, eager to feel his pretty girl coming apart underneath him.

She was eager to be taken apart. 

Logan slides his cock between Phoebe's soaking wet slit and her cute lacy pink panties, her wrists pinned above her head, bra cups pulled down, tits out, Logan sucking and teasing them as he makes a mess of both his girl and her cute pink panties

“Fuck you feel so fuckin’ good baby, can’t get enough of this pretty little pussy” He moaned into the crook of her neck, savoring the feel of the soaked lace as he grinds his cock along her weeping slit, the tip hitting her clit so deliciously it had her canting her hips upwards with every thrust forwards.

“F-fuck Lo’ please fuck me, need it so bad,” Manicured nails digging into his shoulders as Phoebe clings to him for dear life, already pent up and desperate for release, “Please, baby” Tears welling in her eyes as she begs so sweetly for him.

“Poor baby, you need daddy’s cock that bad, huh?” Logan teased, his hips slowly ever so slightly as he dangled her over that edge, her eyes screwing shut as she let out a small wave of heat, trying to cool herself down, literally. Trying to be his good girl, knowing full-well that acting bratty won’t get her fucked any sooner.

“Y-yes daddy, please, n-need you to make me cum, please, please,please.” 

And how could Logan resist her sweet pleas? What kind of monster would he be if he didn’t indulge in her every desire?

“Yeah sweet girl? Just need to get fucked huh, just need t’cum on daddy’s cock?” Phoebe nodded vigorously, making Logan chuckle, carefully peeling away every last piece of clothing separating him from fucking her until she’s dumb and pliant in his arms, only able to think about how good he’s giving it to her.

It isn’t long until he’s buried so deep in her that Phoebe can practically feel Logan in her throat. He’s got his face tucked against her shoulder, placing the occasional kiss or bite as he sensually rolled his hips against hers, taking his sweet time unravelling her. Basking in the feel of her tight heat gripping him like a vice, her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Losing themselves in the pleasure as they chased their respective highs, love pouring out of their hearts as freely as the moans leaving their mouths.

Nothing else in this moment could matter more than one another.

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

Her head is tucked into the crook of Logan’s neck, one hand resting on his chest, legs intertwined with his own. Logan looks down to admire her features in the morning light as best he could from this angle without waking his sleeping beauty. He knows he’s said it before, and he’ll probably keep saying it until his dying day, but Phoebe truly is radiant. Her light hair fans out behind her, spilling over his arm as it’s wrapped around her so his hand can rest on her waist, his fingers playing with the material of the shirt she’s wearing. It’s one of many she’s stolen from him, but Logan can’t find it in himself to complain when his girl looks so damn good while absolutely swimming in his clothes. 

Phoebe stirs in her sleep, the hand on his chest sliding down to Logan’s waist to sleepily pull him closer, tucking her face even further into his neck, all while her legs straighten out as she stretches out before relaxing once more. Logan turns his head ever so slightly to place a kiss on her crown, considering trying to get a few more minutes of sleep, at least until he feels Phoebe’s lips press a gentle kiss to the underside of his jaw. He lets out a shaky breath as a tired smile spreads across his face. Jesus Murphy he loves this woman so much it hurts.

“G’morning little darlin’.” His voice low and still a little gravelly from sleep as he pulls Phoebe on top of him, basking in the comforting feel of her weight and warmth on him in what she affectionately calls ‘weighted blanket time’.

“Mornin’ baby,” Phoebe shifts so that her chin is resting on Logan’s chest to look up at him with bleary eyes and a sleepy grin. If asked later, neither of them could tell you how they ended up lazily fucking in the morning light, but they didn’t care. Phoebe was on top of him, legs straddling his lap as she rode him. Not that you could actually call it riding; she was grinding down on his cock, one hand resting on his chest, the other tangled in his hair, her thumb reverently brushing along his jaw, as she leaned forward to capture his lips in kiss after kiss after kiss. Logan’s hands ran along her thighs up to her waist and back down, resting on her hips for a moment before moving down to grip her ass, guiding her to rock back and forth along his length. They were taking their time with each other, basking in the warmth of the morning sun and of one another. This is all he wants to do for the rest of the day, fuck whatever plans they had. Logan’s gonna stay right here, buried deep in his girl’s tight wet cunt and pulling every sweet sound he can from her pretty lips.

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

A/N: if you see that I posted this after midnight, no u didn’t.

[hikakuriyyu]

poison. (Mickey Altieri smut)

⁎ warnings: toxic relationship, arguing, smoking, kissing, cussing, !smut! (p in v, unprotected, no aftercare or foreplay) female!reader. not proof read.

⁎ summary: you hated your life. you were in college, lonely and depressed. until you met Mickey, your current boyfriend. he made you feel loved. seen. but there was a problem: he was toxic. and you loved it...

⁎ author note: heyy. i know i said i didn't write smut, i wanted to experiment with stuff. so here u go, smut lol...

You were drowning. College wasn't helping, and loneliness clung to you. Your only escapes were drugs, cigarettes, and him. Mickey.

You met him on campus one late evening, leaning on a brick wall, cigarette hanging from his lips as he lazily asked where you were headed. It was casual. Innocent. But from that moment, he had you wrapped around his finger. He became your muse, your obsession.

Then came the fights. The shouting. The slammed doors and broken glass. The cycle... It never got better, but you didn't want it to. You loved the way he always came back, fists against your door, voice filled with desperation. The way his hands trembled when he touched you after. The way he'd drop to his knees, eyes glossy with regret and possession, begging for forgiveness.

And you forgave him. Everytime.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

A cigarette dangled between your fingers, smoke curling toward the ceiling of your empty dorm. You were lucky. You'd managed to score a room all to yourself, not having to deal with a burden of a roommate.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up: Mickey <3, the caller ID said. This was the 11th call of the night. You didn't answer. You just watched it ring, controlling yourself to not give into his desperation.

His voice still echoed in your ears from earlier. The sharp words, the venom laced in every breath. The argument had been bad. Even worse than usual. You could still feel the heat of it, the way his eyes had darkened, the way his grip on your hand had tightened a little too much...

☆FLASHBACK☆

''Oh so now you care ?'' Mickey's voice was sharp, his eyes wild with something between anger and desperation. He stood in your dorm room, pacing like a caged animal, running a hand through his messy hair. You scoffed, arms crossed, a cigarette burning between your fingers. "Don't start with this jealous boyfriend act again, Mickey. It's exhausting..."

''Jealous ?'' he laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Yeah, maybe I am. Maybe I'm fucking sick of you acting like I don't exist when we’re not in bed or when you're not using me to feel something."

Your jaw tightened. "Oh, fuck you. You're the one who disappears for days, then comes back like I should be waiting for you !"

He stepped closer, towering over you, voice dropping to something almost soft, but laced with anger. "Yeah ? And what do you do when I'm gone, huh ? Who the fuck were you with last night ?" he said. This again... Your eyes narrowed. "I was alone, Mickey." you told him. Which was the truth, but he wouldn't believe it.

"Bullshit." his hand slammed against the wall beside your head, making you flinch. "You ignore my calls all night, come back smelling like a fucking bar, and expect me to believe you just had a little me time ?"

"Oh, so now I need your permission to breathe? Well Mickey, you're the one who fucks off whenever it's convenient. Don't act like you're some loyal saint." You sneered at him.

His hands curled into fists, trembling with restraint. "I'd never fucking cheat on you." his voice was low, dangerous. "But you ? You're so fucking detached, it wouldn't surprise me if you already fucked someone else."

That one stung. Your blood boiled, and before you could think, you were shoving him back. "Fuck you, Mickey. Get out."

His nostrils flared, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. For a moment, you thought he might leave. But then his expression changed, dark eyes softening, lips parting, regret settling in.

"Baby… I didn't mean that." he murmured as he walked closer to you.

But you turned away, refusing to look at him. And just like that, you heard the front door close...

☆BACK TO PRESENT☆

You stared at your phone as it continued ringing. It then stopped.

*ding* ''Open the door.'' the message said. You knew Mickey wasn't gonna give up. It took him 2 hours to ''recover'' from that argument. You sighed before putting out the cigarette.

Dragging yourself up, you walked to the front door and unlocking it. The second you did, Mickey shoved his way inside, slamming it shut behind him. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair a mess, his breathing ragged like he ran here.

"You're useless." he snapped, jaw clenched.

"And you're a fucking psycho." you shot back, walking towards him.

His lips twitched, something between a smirk and a snarl. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer. "You love it."

You did. You hated him. You loved him. It didn't fucking matter.

You crashed into each other, lips colliding in something desperate, messy. His hands tangled in your hair, yours clawing at his jacket, pulling, needing. Teeth clashed, nails scratched, breathing ragged between kisses that felt like drowning.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Without further warning, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, his body pressing against you. You could feel the heat from his skin and the hardness of his arousal through his thin clothing. His mouth found yours in a brutal kiss, forcing his tongue between your lips and claiming your mouth as his own. You could taste the alcohol on his breath, the fire igniting a spark within you.

He pushed you towards the wall, his hands roaming freely over youre body as he unbuckled his pants. You waited there impatiently, watching as he freed his erection from his boxers. His dick was now fully visible, thick and throbbing.

Mickey turned you around before he entered inside you without any prep. He only cared about his pleasure right now, only seeking you to relieve his stress. But that didnt matter at the moment. You moaned as you felt him stretch you out... ''Fuck...'' you heard him groan.

He then started pounding inside you, not planning to stop anytime soon. His hand wrapped around your throat, not tight enough to cut off air, just enough to remind you who was in control.

''You're such a fucking bitch...'' he hissed, his other hand slipping between your thighs, fingers ruthless against your clit. ''And you're a cheater...'' you snapped back before letting out another moan.

His hips stuttered for a second. Just a second. Because you both knew it was true. But he didn't stop. Couldn't stop. This was how you punished each other, how you forgave each other, all in the same breathless, broken cycle. His hand clamped over your mouth, silencing your hurtful words. His hips snapped forward with reckless abandon. You moaned against his palm, the sound muffled but desperate, your climax hitting you like a freight train. Sharp, all-consuming, leaving you breathless and trembling.

The way your body clenched around him dragged him over the edge, a guttural curse spilling from his lips as he came, hips jerking, breath hot against your temple.

For a moment, there was silence. Just the sound of your ragged breaths. Then he pulled out, standing up without a word, and you knew it wouldn't be long before he walked out that door again. You felt amazing and disgusting at the same time.

''Do you think it's always gonna be like this ?'' he asked you as he fixed his clothes. You let out a sigh as you thought about it. Was it really going to be like this ? Argue, hate, forgive, repeat. ''Who knows...'' you murmur as you softly sat down on the couch. You still loved him to death. Nothing was going to make you leave him.

Then, his phone dinged on the coffee table: Message from Sid💕: is she gone ?

The End.

[scoutofmymind]

hold on is the bi fic coming today?! might cancel plans w friends im not kidding

À Trois — { Luigi x Reader x OMC }

Content: NSFW — MDNI Another Situationship, Luigi is canon techie, reader is a chef, interesting new French-Canadian techie chef hybrid enters the arena, m/m/f, anal fingering, all kinds of penetration, general filth!, original Male Character insert

Wc: 6,415

Notes: Chaos erupts on a packed Saturday night when your sous chef quits, forcing you to call in a favor. Enter a quick-witted, intriguing French-Canadian with a mop of curls and an eye for opportunity — a friend of a friend who might just turn disaster into something much more interesting.

Hi! So I should probably give some warnings before this but I kinda just want you to read it blindly hehe🐇

What I will say, is if this isn’t your thing, just don’t read it! I have plenty of other things to read on my Masterlist pinned on my blog and if you don’t wanna read my stuff, there’s other accounts and shit to read, hon!!

I liked writing this almost too much, and I think it’s because (as I’ve briefly mentioned before) m/m content is what I’ve written the majority of in my time as a writer, so this was a good introduction to dipping my toes deeper in the straight smut shores. This piece focuses on vulnerability, specifically involving Luigi, and very deep and sexual fantasies and desires.

Additionally, I would like to add I very recently watched We Live in Time after I started writing this and Almuts culinary ventures encouraged me to keep readers ambitions as a chef. Was very much envisioning the Bear vibes, too.

Also, anon! I hope you went out with your friends because Mama Scout is a very slow editor! I swear I went as quickly as possible, but that might mean I left some oopsies.

This is a Pinterest board to help you envision my version of Alex — but with that being said, please feel free to imagine him in whatever way resonates with you!

•

"I just want to die." You say dramatically, though your voice caught no wind of your unseriousness, sounding as if you truly had meant it from the bottom of your heart. "If I have to fill another puff pastry to be graded by that fucking wrinkle one more fucking ti-"

Luigi had interrupted you by nipping at your neck, gentle and soft but enough to snap you back into the moment, shared there on the couch in your apartment.

"I hate him," He whispers against the delicate and sensitive skin of your neck, the prickle of his growing facial hair making you shiver. "N'I never even met the guy." His tongue flattens below your earlobe, wet and hot, tasting your skin. His hands tighten possessively at your waist, and you can feel the tension in his fingers, the way they press into you like he's trying to leave marks deeper than skin.

You huff softly and hook your fingers into his sweater, pulling him closer. "Good." Your hips are eventually aligned with his, nestled into the spot in his lap that fit the shape of you so perfectly. "Isn't that what friends are for? Hating the same people."

You can feel him nodding, and in the back of both of your minds the sentiment echoes.

Friends

Friends

Friends

The word hangs between you like smoke, heavy and suffocating.

His fingers trace absent patterns on your hip, each touch sending sparks through your clothes, and you wonder if he can feel you trembling. You wonder if he knows that every time you refer to each other as friends, it feels like a beautiful lie, a comfortable cage you've both locked yourselves in.

Your foreheads are almost touching now, and you can count his eyelashes, dark against his cheeks when he blinks.

The room feels too warm, too small.

This had all started innocently enough, but had tumbled into something that felt cathartic, and as natural as drawing the next breath. Luigi knew just how to soothe you when you went on a tangent, wondering if culinary is even worth the hassle, and you'd convince him to rest after spending hours, staring at the same code and expecting it to unravel itself.

On the other side of the coin, he knew just the angle you liked it when you were on top, and you knew which buttons to push when he was getting close to the edge. His hands would always find your hips in the dark, steadying, grounding, like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.

All of that had lead here, two years later, drowning in debt but doing it together.

Your tiny apartment, always filled with the smell of your latest baking experiments and the soft glow of his laptop screen at 3 AM.

His coffee mugs mixed with your measuring cups in the sink.

Your cookbooks scattered among his programming manuals.

Neither of you had planned this.

But the memory of how it started still makes you smile.

That first night when frustration over finals had turned into something else entirely. Him, cursing at Java errors until 2 AM; you, covered in flour and close to tears over a failed soufflé. Somehow you'd ended up tangled together on the bed, comfort turning to kisses, friendship morphing into something neither of you had dared to name.

Now here you are, his thumbs pressing into your hipbones like muscle memory, your fingers twisting into his sweater — the same dance you've been doing for years, but it never gets old.

"You're thinking too loud," Luigi murmurs against your neck, and you can feel his smile against your skin. He always knows, somehow, when you're getting lost in your head. His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer, bringing you back to the present moment, to him.

"I just don't know what all this is for." You grumble, and it's the same sentence you rattle on once a week — even Luigi is starting to wonder if maybe you're onto something, this feeling so persistent it's become its own shadow.

But beneath that doubt, he knows better.

He's witnessed your passion in the way your hands dance through prep work at 3 AM, seen your drive in the burns and scars you wear like medals, and more importantly, he's watched your fierce determination to carve your place in a world that keeps trying to push you out.

Every time you prove another condescending male chef wrong, he sees that fire in your eyes that reminds him exactly what all of this is for.

•

It's day two of restaurant week, you're already down two servers, and your sous chef just threw his apron at you and stormed out — all because you dared to suggest his sauce was breaking. The dining room is full, tickets are piling up, and you're seriously considering whether arson is a viable career move.

"Chef?" Lucas pokes his head into the kitchen, looking nervous. "I might have a solution. My friend Alex — he used to run a kitchen in Montreal before getting into tech. He's moved nearby. He- he could help."

You're about to say you don't need some tech bro's help when three tickets print simultaneously and your saucier drops a pan. Although the worst images of Luigi’s grad class flashes before your mind, you’re resisting your fight or flight, landing on an almost comical freeze.

"Fine.” Your stare is blank, watching as the tickets roll in. “But if he can't keep up-"

"He can keep up, chef.” Lucas promises, already texting.

Fifteen minutes later, a tall man with messy brown curls walks in, already tying an apron.

He takes one look at your ticket rail and starts rolling up his sleeves, his arms crossed over his chest as if he’s admiring an art piece in a museum. "Alexandre Dubois," he says quickly, the earlier mention of his home in Montreal evident in his accent. "Where do you need me?"

You point to the chaos of your saucier station. "Can you make a decent béarnaise?"

His smile is quick and confident. "In my sleep, Chef. Traditional? or are we playing with modernist techniques?"

Before you can answer, he's already moving, grabbing eggs with one hand while adjusting your immersion circulator with the other. The next six hours are a blur — a whirlwind of perfect sauces, synchronized plating, and Alex's voice cutting through the chaos in a mix of French and English.

In the end, you couldn't tell anyone the details even if you tried, and you do, sat in a booth in the vacant restaurant, Alex sitting across from you as you scrub your hands over your face.

"I don't remember anything," you whisper, sipping from the glass of wine in front of you, having gone behind the bar to pour it yourself.

Your hands are still shaking slightly — adrenaline crash, or maybe low blood sugar.

Who’s to say.

"I think that's a defense mechanism.” Luigi murmurs, only a hint of humor in his tone. He's tucked beside you, shoulder warm against yours, and you lean into it slightly. Turns out, he had known Alex from KubeCon just last month — some massive tech conference downtown where Alex had presented his restaurant management platform.

You think that's what Luigi said, anyway.

You genuinely couldn't hear anything besides the imaginary ticket printer still squawking in your mind.

"You did beautifully," Alex says quietly, finally reaching for his wine. "That kitchen — you’ve built something special there. I had fun.”

You make a noise that might be a laugh or a groan. "A kitchen that nearly became a funeral march tonight." But you're smiling a little now, the wine and the company slowly unwinding the tension in your shoulders.

"I still can't believe you were actually cooking," Luigi says to Alex, shaking his head. "When I saw your presentation at KubeCon about automating kitchen workflows, I just assumed-“

"That I was another tech bro like you who'd never worked a line?" Alex's grin is knowing. "Non, I did my time. Ten years at home in Montreal, then Paris. The software came after — I kept seeing problems that needed solving." He pauses, takes a sip. "Who better to make restaurant software than a chef? Though I admit, I haven't jumped into service like that in.. Two years? Three?"

"Could have fooled me," you murmur, and his eyes catch yours, something warm in them that makes your breath catch slightly.

"High praise, coming from you," he scrunches his nose, freckles becoming more prominent as the wine warms his cheeks. "Luke told me about your kitchen. About you. I may have been particularly interested in helping tonight."

Luigi shifts beside you, and you feel him exhale slowly. "Funny," he says, voice carefully neutral. "Lucas told me some interesting things, too."

The air changes subtly, charged with something you're too exhausted to properly analyze, or maybe you're just not ready to acknowledge the way Alex's gaze keeps moving between you and Luigi, the way Luigi's hand has settled on your knee under the table.

The heat bouncing off of each of you.

The silence shatters with the unmistakable growl of your stomach. Alex's posture snaps straight, professional instincts overriding everything else. "Chef," he breathes, voice caught between concern and disbelief. "Tell me that wasn't-“

"I haven't eaten since breakfast," you confess, heat rising to your cheeks. The day had spiraled in that way only restaurant life can — you'd meant to cobble together something from prep scraps between tasks, but then the lunch rush hit, followed by inventory, and suddenly it was dinner service with nothing but coffee and determination keeping you vertical.

Alex's expression shifts from desire to decisive action in an instant.

He glances from you to Luigi, then back again, shoulders squaring with newfound purpose. "My place is three blocks east on Clark," he says, keys already appearing in his hand. The invitation is casual, but the glint in his eye suggests he knows exactly how to seal the deal. "Been saving a special bottle for the right occasion — Chateau Latour."

Unlike your wide-eyed response, Luigi maintains his composure, but his attention is caught by the way you practically vibrate with excitement.h His expertise lies in absorbing your rants about reducing sauces rather than reducing wine lists — and your own sommelier ambitions had been temporarily shelved when the kitchen claimed you — he finds your enthusiasm infectious.

The elevator opens directly into the penthouse — the contrast almost laughable.

Here's Alex, dark ink creeping up his neck from beneath a worn Black Flag t-shirt, keys hooked through his belt loop like any other line cook, standing in the middle of what could be an Architectural Digest spread.

His blue beanie comes off, revealing that mess of hair he was pushing back during service, as he pads across heated marble floors in scuffed Vans.

The space is all clean lines and floor-to-ceiling windows, but there are hints of the real Alexandre from Montreal scattered throughout — a battered leather jacket tossed over a $10,000 armchair, a crystal ashtray on the balcony holding the remains of his American Spirits, dog-eared Bourdain paperbacks mixed in with leather-bound first editions on the shelves.

The wine wall is a thing of beauty, a temperature-controlled showcase spanning an entire wall, though you notice he keeps his everyday drinks in a mini-fridge by the couch — sparkling water, craft beers and the kind of natural wines that come with cartoon labels.

The kitchen is a chef's dream — yours, in particular — Gaggenau everything, knives worth more than first cars — but there's also a well-loved cast iron pan that's clearly his favorite, seasoned by years of late-night cooking.

Luigi whistles low, taking it all in. "Never would've guessed, Chef.” he says with a grin, the sentiment still strange on his tongue. He knew Alex as a techie. Not a chef.

"Yeah, well," Alex shrugs, already heading for the kitchen with that familiar kitchen-swagger that both of you take heavy mental note of, eyes following him like he’s on a stage. “money doesn't make food taste better." He stops to light a cigarette on his way to the wine wall, the flame catching the faded stick-and-poke tattoo on his knuckles.

Your glances shared with Luigi across the kitchen island grow more frequent as the night deepens, like two regulars sharing secrets at the chef's counter after closing.

Each look is a silent conversation about Alex — the way his hands move with practiced grace, how his voice drops when he's concentrating, the slight curl of his mouth when he catches one of you watching. For Luigi, it's rediscovering someone he thought he knew; for you, it's discovering someone you wish you'd known all along.

His hand finds yours under the counter, warm and grounding, but doubt still gnaws at the edges of this moment. Maybe you're both reading too much into Alex's invitation — perhaps this is just what he does, this tech wonder with a chef's soul, feeding strays past midnight in his penthouse kitchen.

Your phone buzzes, Luigi's message lighting up the screen.

I'm gonna say it

You huff quietly, fingers dancing across your phone screen while feigning interest in Alex's enthusiastic discourse on his Japanese steel collection. He's talking about the way his yanagiba catches the light, but all you can focus on is how his own eyes catch it instead, bright and alive with passion.

Go on then

Luigi seems lost in a trance, captivated by the cadence of Alex's voice as he demonstrates proper blade technique with his hands.

The notification sits unread for two long minutes before he finally tears his gaze away to unlock his phone.

He's hot

The crude simplicity of it makes you bite back a laugh — trust Luigi to distill this magnetic pull into two blunt words. But he's not wrong. There's something raw and electric about Alex, the way he commands the space without trying, how his tattoos peek out when he reaches for the top shelf, the slight rasp in his voice when he gets excited about something.

You watch him plate with the precision of a surgeon and the flair of an artist, and your next messages to Luigi is equally succinct.

I know

We're in trouble

I thought you'd never touch another man again huh?? What happened to THAT??

Luigi's eyes roll dramatically at his phone, though his lips twitch with amusement. You've heard his declarations countless times — "I'm bi, but men are exhausting" and "I'm done with the whole scene" — always accompanied by that same frustrated wave of his hand, as if trying to brush away his string of romantic disappointments.

Dude it’s pride month and this is how you're going to treat me?

Your playful shove lands harder than intended, sending Luigi slightly off-balance. Your shared laughter, too loud in the intimate kitchen space, draws Alex's attention like a magnet.

He turns, wooden spoon still in hand, one eyebrow arched in that way that makes your stomach flip. "What?" he asks, voice low and amused, glancing theatrically over his shoulder as if checking for projectiles. "Do I need to separate you two?"

"Well, I'd apologize," you manage, watching Alex pour more of the wine with deliberate slowness, "but something tells me you're not actually upset.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, and Luigi's grip on your thigh tightens reflexively. The air feels charged, like the moment before a storm breaks. You're acutely aware of every small movement — the way Alex's shoulders flex as he sets down the bottle, how Luigi's breath catches when those dark eyes find his.

"Upset? Non." Alex circles the counter with predatory grace. "Curious, though." He stops just close enough that you can smell his cologne, see the faint scattered burns on his forearms from years in professional kitchens, matching yours. “About what's got two of the brightest minds I’ve ever met acting like teenagers in my kitchen."

Luigi makes a sound that might be a laugh if it wasn't so breathless. "Would you believe we were discussing network architecture?"

"No," Alex says simply, and the authority in his voice makes both of you straighten instinctively. "I wouldn't." His hand comes to rest on the counter behind you, effectively caging you both in. "Want to try again?"

The hunter has you cornered, and somehow, that's exactly where you both want to be.

You blink instinctively at Alex, your fingers wrapped around Luigi’s that twitch with sudden anticipation — of what, he wasn’t even sure. And cat’s got both of your tongues, because Alex laughs at the beat of silence that falls between you again.

“What’s the story here, hm?” He gestures lazily at your interlocked fingers and the way you hold Luigi’s hand between your thighs like it’s meant to be there; you realize now you’re closer than ever to experiencing one of your most beloved fantasies, the one you’d told Luigi a million times about after finding out he was bisexual.

“I’d literally cut my tongue out of my mouth to see you get fucked.” You blurt it over your oatmeal, causing Luigi to freeze, a long, drawn out sigh deflating him.

“Well at least then you’d shut the fuck up about it.”

The air grows thick with unspoken tension as eyes dart between the three of you in an electric dance. When Alex's hands find your thighs, the touch is deliberately slow, possessive. "No need to play shy now." His voice drops to velvet. "Are you dating? Fucking?" His gaze slides from you to Luigi, hungry and knowing. "Please fucking don't tell me it's neither."

Luigi swallows hard, and you watch his throat work. "We've been- we’ve had-“ The words tangle in his mouth, caught somewhere between confession and confusion.

"Ah," Alex hums, a sound of pure satisfaction. He doesn't need Luigi to finish; the truth is written in the way you lean into each other, in years of shared glances and stolen moments. His thumb traces circles on your thigh as understanding dawns in his eyes. He imagines the desperate moments over your kitchen counter after brutal workdays, knows about the languid afternoons when Luigi worships between your thighs like a man finding religion. "I see.”

"And do you both want this?" Alex asks, his thumbs still tracing maddening circles. "Because I've imagined it. Every possible way." His voice drops lower, intimate. "The way Lui would look taking my cock while he's inside you.”

Luigi's breath catches sharply, and you feel him gravitate toward you as Alex's hand captures both your chins, tilting your faces together like he's arranging a masterpiece.

"Look at each other," he breathes, and the command sends electricity down your spine. When your eyes meet Luigi's, your heart stutters — his pupils are blown so wide the brown is nearly swallowed by black, his full lips parted and flushed deep rose. A beautiful flush stains his cheeks, and you've seen him like this countless times before — desperate, wanting, on the edge of losing control.

But this is different.

The weight of Alex's gaze transforms something familiar into something thrillingly new, dangerous and electric.

It's like seeing Luigi for the first time all over again.

Alex's thumb traces Luigi's bottom lip, and you watch, transfixed, as it parts beneath his touch. Your breath catches at the raw intimacy of the gesture, at how naturally Luigi yields to him despite barely knowing him.

His other hand slides up your thigh, stopping just short of where you're aching for touch. "Tell each other what you want," he commands softly. "Both of you."

Luigi swallows hard, and you watch his throat work. "I want-" he starts, then breaks off with a shaky exhale when Alex's thumb presses slightly into his mouth. "I want to see if you can keep up with both of us," he manages finally. "Wanna see if you’re as strong as you look."

The words send heat flooding through you, and Alex's grip on your chin tightens slightly. "And you?" he asks, dark eyes fixed on your profile as you stare at Luigi. "What do you want?"

Your voice comes out rougher than you expect. "Want to watch you fuck Lu," you breathe, feeling Luigi's fingers dig harder into your hip at your words. "Want to see him come undone for someone else.” Your fantasy uttered aloud almost makes you moan, so close you can taste it. “I’ve thought about it for years.”

"That can be arranged," Alex says softly, “Give him some love.” He directs you to kiss Luigi, and you do — all soft lips and delicious spit, again, something so normal, so written in your code feels so new and different.

You know Luigi must be aching for some sort of friction, his hips stuttering against the seam of his dickies as he pulls away. The two of you finally look to Alex again, like lambs before a wolf — willing sacrifices to his altar. "My room is just around that corner." He gestures to a room with sweeping views of the city lights, dominated by a luxurious king-sized bed. The decor grows more personal the deeper you look — still expensive, but uniquely Alex; rich leather accents, dark wood, carefully chosen art. "Attendez-moi, mes petits anges."

Despite years steeped in French cuisine and culture, you've never understood French the way you do in this moment.

You and Luigi stumble into his room in a tangle of limbs, falling onto the plush bed where you undress each other with trembling fingers and burning intent. "You're finally going to get what you've always wanted," Luigi teases, his clothes scattered across the hardwood floor, mingling with yours until there's nothing left between skin and silk sheets.

"Don't act like you haven't been dreaming of this too," you swat his chest playfully, taking a moment to drink in your surroundings. Then doubt creeps in, and you turn to face him, voice softening. "You do want this- want that- want him — right?"

Of course he does. You can see it in the way his pupils have swallowed the rich hazel in his eyes, the slight tremble in his fingers when they trace your skin. He's a leaf caught in a storm now, ready to be carried wherever this night leads.

But..

"Oh, Lu." You cradle his face between your palms, unable to suppress a fond smile as you drink him in. He's ethereal like this — flushed and wanting, a stray curl falling across his forehead, skin practically luminescent in the dim light. "Are you nervous?"

He blinks slowly before nodding, following it with an overdramatic sigh that's so quintessentially Luigi. "What if I-“ he trails off, and it's jarring to see this crack in his usual confidence. For all his natural sensuality, there's a new vulnerability in sharing this first time with you, in letting you see him completely undone. What if seeing him like that - seeing another man inside him — changes everything?

What if you can't look at him the same way?

"C'mon." You settle between his legs, hearing the distant clink of dishes from the kitchen where Alex tidies up. It's almost amusing how the day's hunger has transformed into something else entirely.

The soft tear of tinfoil drifts from the kitchen — dinner waiting patiently to be revisited.

Luigi lies before you like a Renaissance painting, all golden skin and flush-stained cheeks, dark curls falling across his forehead. His breath comes in gentle pants, chest rising and falling with anticipation, fingers twisted in the sheets beneath him, cock stood proudly against his belly, flushed pink and leaking little dribbles of excitement over his bellybutton.

You can't deny your own nerves, haunted by the same fears but in a different key. It had always been you and Luigi — this delicate dance of yours, this perfectly balanced equation. Until Alex came along with his sharp wit and gentle hands, his ability to speak six languages and still leave you both speechless.

"You have no idea, Lu." The words spill from you like a confession as you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock, feeling it pulse against your tongue. Your fingers dig into his thighs, grounding yourself in the moment, in the taste of him. "How beautiful you are when you really fall apart.”

And yes, you've witnessed Luigi's pleasure plenty before, seen him come undone beneath your touch — but there's always been this unspoken limit, this boundary you've never dared to cross. Your body, beautiful as it is, lacks certain equipment, and you've never found the courage to suggest alternatives, to ask him to trust you that deeply.

"Oh, petite étoile," Alex's voice carries from the doorway, rich as aged cognac. You don't stop your attention to Luigi, but you feel the shift in the air, the electric charge of being watched, and the familiar act becomes something new, something thrilling under Alex's appreciative gaze. "Making you feel good, hmm, mon coeur?" His accent wraps around the words like a spiders carefully weaved silk, and you feel Luigi shiver beneath your tongue.

He whines — a delicate sound he tries to swallow back, as if embarrassed by his own pleasure. You know better, know exactly how to unravel him. Your tongue swirls around his cockhead with deliberate precision, a dance you've perfected over countless nights, and his attempt at restraint crumbles like sugar in rain.

Another moan escapes him, deeper this time, as his gaze flickers between you and Alex who’s taking his time, each piece of clothing removed with maddening slowness, like unwrapping a gift he plans to savor. You arch your back, rise slightly on your knees — a subtle invitation.

It works.

You hear Alex's sharp intake of breath, feel the heat of his approach even before his hands find your hips.

And then he’s to his knees at the foot of the bed, his tongue eager to taste you, his fingers buried in your heat almost immediately. “Fuck,” you whisper, watching Luigi’s eyes light up with adoration, with love, with uncontainable lust.

You had thought this through in the last moment — the best way to ease his uncertainties would be to show him just how beautiful vulnerability can be.

"Ooh," Alex's groan resonates through you, his fingers working with practiced precision, curling just right as his thumb traces maddening circles against your clit. Each movement is deliberate, calculated to make you tremble. "You watching, Lu?" His voice drops to a velvet whisper as he tears his gaze from where his fingers disappear inside you, seeking out Luigi's face with an intensity that makes the air crackle.

"Take notes," you manage through a breathy giggle, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along Luigi's inner thighs. You feel them tighten beneath your lips as another wave of pleasure courses through him. But Alex, the choreographer of your shared desire, seems to have another act prepared — some new way to push your boundaries, to guide you and Luigi through uncharted waters just when you think you've found familiar shores.

"Get him ready for me," Alex commands, his hands spreading you open with reverent curiosity, watching as your arousal creates dark constellations on his bedspread. There's something almost scientific in his observation, mixed with raw hunger. "Lu, I don't want to assume but — out of practice with the boys, oui?" His words are careful, considerate, even as they drip with desire.

A moan escapes him then, pulled from deep within by nothing more than the tableau before him.

You, displayed and wanting, and Luigi, trembling with anticipation.

"Couldn't blame you of course," he adds in a whisper that carries layers of meaning — an acknowledgment of what you and Luigi share, a testament to your completeness as a pair, and wrapped within it all, his profound gratitude for being allowed into this sacred space between you.

Your cheeks flush crimson, heat blooming across your skin as you meet Luigi's gaze, finding in his eyes the same mix of shock and raw desire that must be evident in your own. Your glance darts to Alex, words stumbling as the full weight of his suggestion settles over you. "You- you mean-"

The small black tube rolls across the sheets toward you and Alex's confirmation comes in the form of a slow nod, punctuated by the teasing press of his cock against your entrance, making you gasp until the sound morphs into something more determined, more primal — a wordless promise that you're ready for whatever comes next. "Jesus," the word escapes you in a reverent whisper, heavy with the realization that tonight is becoming a dizzying sequence of fulfilled fantasies. "I guess we're making all my dreams come true in one night."

That simple phrase draws twin laughs from them both, your own joining the harmony as you return to your devoted attention between Luigi's thighs, pressing tender kisses against his heated skin.

Alex begins to ease himself inside you, a careful, measured claiming that ends with him fully seated, drawing a soft sound of pleasure from deep in his chest. "Mmm, my angels," he breathes, the endearment floating through the air like a dizzying, poisonous gas. From his position, he has the perfect view over your shoulders, watching Luigi's features contort in exquisite pleasure as you work a single, slick finger into him with careful precision. “So good to each other.”

The sensation is entirely new — sex has become something different, something more.

It's overwhelming in its intensity, but already you feel yourself becoming addicted to this heightened state of being; the one where your hips move in a gentle rhythm against Alex, who maintains his controlled pace, ensuring your careful ministrations to Luigi aren't disrupted, and between your thighs, Luigi trembles and shakes, his cheeks painted with twin flames of need and vulnerability.

The crimson flush spreads down his neck as he surrenders to this new experience, caught between desperate want and the sweet ache of exposure.

The vulnerability only heightens his arousal, his cock twitching against his stomach as his composure crumbles.

His jaw goes slack, lips glistening in the amber glow of city lights that filter through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Far below, the city hums its nighttime symphony, a distant urban lullaby that feels worlds away from here. "Fuck," the word drags out of him, long and desperate, "Gimme more, baby.”

You're eager to grant his wish, your chest swelling with an unexpected cocktail of emotions — fierce pride, profound tenderness, and pure awe at his trust in you. It's a strange and beautiful revelation, this moment of watching Luigi surrender to pleasure, to vulnerability, to you.

The pride that floods your chest now somehow eclipses even that sun-drenched day in when you watched him cross the stage in his graduation gown — a comparison that would be comical if it weren't so achingly true.

"Mm," your hum resonates through the heated air as you introduce another finger, watching in rapt fascination as Luigi's body responds. His back arches like a devotee at prayer, offering himself up completely on this altar of shared desire. In this moment, he's transcended simple partnership — he belongs to you wholly, and tonight, by some beautiful alchemy, to Alex as well. "Where have your manners gone?" The words barely leave your lips before Alex responds in kind, quickening his own pace inside you, a delicious reminder that in this dance, every action demands an equal reaction.

"M'sorry," Luigi's whisper comes ragged and desperate, his bottom lip caught in a vice between his teeth. The indentations left behind are deep enough to threaten blood, a physical manifestation of his struggle to maintain control. "Fuck — please," he begs, the words carrying both surrender and demand, need stripped bare of any pretense.

To quell the tremor in your hands, the rising panic, your mouth finds solace, purpose, on Luigi’s cock. Hard and slick with his need, it strains against your lips, a silent plea you answer with a fervent pull.

He tastes of himself, of salt and arousal, but tonight, a sweetness blooms somewhere in the back of your throat

Alex’s hands tighten on your hips, anchoring you as he sets a bruising pace. His eyes, dark with desire, flicker between you and Luigi, a connoisseur appreciating the interplay of flesh and longing, a masterpiece rendered in sweat and gasps.

Beautiful.

Shattering.

Luigi’s gaze is fixed on you, raw and unguarded as Alex’s hips slam against you, a friction that echoes the storm inside you both and you meet his look, swallowed by the vulnerability etched on his face, the pleasure that paints his features.

His breath hitches, a strangled sound that mirrors your own.

“Tell me,” Alex breathes, the words catching in his throat, his chest heaving, each inhale and exhale a testament to the shared precipice you’re all teetering on. “Tell me where you want it, darling.”

You don’t have to speak.

Your fingers and mouth are too preoccupied with their work on Luigi. You let your body do the talking — leaning back gently, pressing yourself against Alex’s groin, pushing him deeper inside, your body tensing around him to keep him there. And that’s enough.

He fills you with a familiar warmth, but one different from Luigi’s.

Welcomed, of course.

But different.

When he pulls away, a gasp tears from your throat. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, reading your mind. You haven’t finished, and that simply won’t do. “not done with you.”

Alex coaxes you onto your back beside Luigi, skin touching skin again. Your hand reaches out, cupping Luigi’s cheek, feeling the warmth radiating from him. “Think she’s done enough?” Alex asks, his gaze falling on Luigi, who nods slowly, nerves flickering in his eyes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Yeah?” Alex coos, soft praise laced with understanding.

He’s packed with muscle, similar to Luigi, yet as Alex hovers over him, their bodies seem to fit together like perfect opposites. Luigi, usually all rigid edges and tough exterior, has softened into a vulnerability you’d only dreamt of witnessing — flushed cheeks, pupils dilated beneath a heavy-lidded gaze that finally finds yours.

He looks desperate for a kiss, for any type of comfort — and that’s precisely what he receives.

Your lips brush against his, soft and reassuring, while Alex's hands smooth over the taut muscles of his stomach. Alex then positions himself above Luigi, their bodies aligning, a symphony of muscle and limb, toned and intertwined, and you’re captivated by the exquisite beauty of the scene, the raw vulnerability on display, until a low groan is wrenched from Luigi's throat, a sound you’ve only heard once before, a sound that has echoed in your memory, a sound you've yearned to hear again.

It's a sound that speaks of pleasure bordering on pain, of surrender and release.

“That’s it,” Alex whispers, his voice a gentle caress, his touch even gentler as he moves slowly, deliberately, deciphering every nuance of expression that flickers across Luigi’s face, attuned to his every need, every shift in breath and muscle. He savors the moment, prolonging the anticipation, building the tension with each measured stroke. “Good boy.”

You can’t tear your gaze away.

The raw beauty of this moment, this unguarded version of Luigi you’ve fantasized about for years, captivates you. None of your imaginings, even the most intensely focused, had done him justice.

Perhaps some of those fantasies bordered on fetishization, but that intensity, that yearning for vulnerability, has always been at the core of your connection with him.

And this is it, you realize.

This is that vulnerability, unleashed in its most potent, breathtaking form.

You watch his face contort, muscles tensing, then relaxing as he rides each wave of pleasure. Finally, he surrenders to the riptide, a cascade of whispered moans and gasps escaping his lips as he seeks yours, then Alex’s, in fleeting, fervent kisses.

The sounds he makes are unmistakably Luigi – raw, rough, deep, and passionate; a symphony of raspy breaths, soft puffs, and pouty sighs. "I'm-“ he huffs, his damp curls, looser than usual, a messy halo of hazelnut brown. The scent of vanilla and tobacco mingles with the tang of arousal. "Fuck," he groans, tilting his head back, exposing his neck, an invitation for your wet kisses. “I’m gonna-“

"Up you get," Alex murmurs, gesturing for you to join them, creating space amidst the tangle of limbs. Muscle slides against muscle, a compelling juxtaposition of strength and softness. You settle over Luigi, guided by Alex's hand as he aligns Luigi’s cock with the slick remnants of himself still glistening on your thighs.

A chorus of moans follows the connection.

Somehow, improbably, this position works.

You rock your hips against Luigi, slow and gentle, a rhythm usually reserved for lazy Sunday mornings. Now, however, the languid pace isn't about leisurely pleasure, but about carefully navigating the edge of overstimulation, reluctant to let go of the exquisite sensation.

But even this tempered pace is overwhelming, a delicious overload of sensation.

He’d become a mess beneath you, torn between focusing on the sensation of Alex fucking into him, that little spot that made him feral nudged each time, and you — the ever so familiar warmth of all of you, and the wetness of the mess Alex had left for him to add onto.

Alex kissed gently down the sides of your neck when you sat up again, changing the angle in which Luigi had been seated inside of you, his perspective something he could have never dreamt up in a million years, but god, what a sight. “Fuck, Lu.” You whimper, reaching back to tug at Alex’s curls, similar to Luigi’s, but different in their own respects.

Alex’s hands roam your torso, they slide over your chest, one wrapping gently around your throat for a few moments before he uses them again to get better leverage with the position you’re in.

Breaths become synchronized, the crescendo building to a fever pitch, your half-squeal, Luigi’s muffled groan, and Alex’s breathless whine as the same warmth he’d imparted onto you had been shared with Luigi, and the sticky, delicious mess inside of you made messier.

“My little angels.” The sentiment leaves his lips again, and both you and Luigi have the same thought — you wouldn’t mind being his angel again. Whenever he wanted, so long as Luigi was by your side.

He watches as you collapse beside Luigi, your bodies tangled together as as you held each other through the last waves of pleasure, Alex arriving again eventually to feed you both, refusing to allow you to lift a finger, fed patiently from the same fork shared between the three of you.

[cod-thoughts]

And all this devotion rushing out of me

Word count: 1k

Relationships: Andrei/Vladimir, Makarov/Nolan, Makanolan

Tags: Established Relationship, slight hurt/comfort, possessive behaviour, falling asleep

Part of a project that has a tiny explanation here. Keep reading under the cut!!

AN: A gift for the wonderful @panchulien Happy valentines day Oliv!!! Its been so cool to see you get more and more brave to share your stuff on here you're really good, i love reading your writing and your tags on things??? That pure joy and excitement is so wholesome it always makes me smile. You're so sweet and so kind, its always a joy to see you around <33 This was my attempt at these two, i dont know that much about them yet but i couldnt help myself, i had to try for this so hopefully you like it aaaaaa <33

The mission had been a success, though the world would not see it that way. The air reeked of smoke and metal, the kind of stench that clung to skin, to cloth, to memory. But here, in the dimly lit confines of the safehouse, the world did not exist. Only him.

Makarov sat slumped in the chair, exhaustion creeping in at the edges. He did not yield to it, of course. He never did. Even with sweat and blood drying on his skin, even with the weight of a battlefield's worth of chaos pressing upon him, he did not allow himself to falter.

But Nolan saw it.

He was the only one permitted to. The only one allowed to witness the moment Makarov’s shoulders dropped, the mask of ruthless ambition cracking, if only in the quiet solitude they carved out for themselves.

“Stay still.” Nolan’s voice was softer than usual, but there was no mistaking the command laced within it. He crouched beside Makarov, cloth in hand, dabbing at the cut along his jaw. It was shallow—hardly a concern—but Nolan cared anyway.

Makarov did not flinch, did not push him away. That alone was a kind of indulgence, a kind of trust.

“You should eat.” Nolan knew the answer before it came.

A scoff, the barest curve of Makarov’s lips. “Later.”

“No. Now.” Nolan’s fingers curled against Makarov’s jaw, tilting his head slightly so he could work at a particularly stubborn smear of blood. His thumb smoothed over the skin once, then twice. A touch that lingered longer than necessary. “No good to me half-dead, Vlad.”

That earned him a chuckle. Makarov’s gaze flickered up, tired but sharp, always sharp. “To you?”

“To me.” Nolan did not hesitate. He never did, not when it came to this.

Silence stretched between them, thick with understanding, with possession so deeply ingrained it no longer needed to be spoken aloud. Nolan finished cleaning the wound, setting the cloth aside before reaching for the tin he’d pilfered earlier—something sweet, something small, something Makarov would not refuse if it came from him.

Makarov watched him, amusement glinting in that ice-cut gaze, but he accepted the offering. Only because it was Nolan.

Only Nolan got to see this—Makarov indulging in something as mundane as a biscuit after a bloodied mission, leaning into Nolan’s touch with the barest shift of his weight. Only Nolan got to take care of him.

But Nolan was not satisfied. He could never be satisfied.

Makarov was his, and yet, in moments like these, it was Nolan who belonged to him more. He dipped his head, pressing a kiss to the corner of Makarov’s jaw, just where the blood had been moments ago. A silent claim, a lingering touch. Makarov exhaled, barely a sigh, but it sent something electric through Nolan’s spine.

“You fuss too much,” Makarov murmured, but his hand settled on the back of Nolan’s neck, fingers twisting into his hair. Not pushing him away. Holding him there.

Nolan let himself sink into it, pressing his forehead against Makarov’s, their breaths mingling. No one else would ever have this. No one else would ever get him like this.

They stayed like that for a moment, bound by something deeper than mere loyalty. Nolan's hands traced over Makarov’s shoulders, finding the tension hidden beneath the fabric of his ruined shirt. He kneaded at the knots there, slow, deliberate, his movements bordering on reverence.

“Mmm, warm,” Makarov muttered, his voice slipping into something softer, something only Nolan would ever have the privilege to hear.

A faint smirk tugged at Nolan’s lips. He reached for the thick blanket draped over the back of the chair, pulling it around Makarov’s shoulders. The world outside was brutal, unrelenting. But here, in this stolen moment, Nolan could soften its edges.

Makarov let out a quiet sigh, barely audible, but Nolan caught it. He always did. He guided Makarov’s arms under the blanket before settling beside him, their legs brushing as he leaned in, the heat between them a stark contrast to the cold war that waited beyond these walls.

For a moment, Makarov let his guard down completely, resting his head against Nolan’s shoulder. It was not a show of weakness. It was acceptance. A silent understanding that Nolan was the only one permitted to see him like this.

“You let me take care of you.”

Makarov’s lips twitched. “And what would you do if I did not?”

Nolan’s answer was a whisper, almost too quiet for even Makarov to hear.

“I would tear the world apart.”

A hum of amusement, followed by the faintest press of Makarov’s fingers against Nolan’s wrist. A silent tether, a quiet promise.

Nolan exhaled, eyes slipping shut for just a second, allowing himself the smallest indulgence. Because Makarov might have been ruthless, might have been merciless, but in the quiet of their sanctuary, with the weight of war pressing against the door, he was soft.

And that softness was only Nolan’s to see.

But Nolan wanted more. He always did. He shifted, guiding Makarov’s head to rest against his chest, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns against the nape of his neck. The gesture was almost absent, something that might have gone unnoticed if not for the way Makarov’s shoulders finally, truly relaxed.

“Sleep,” Nolan murmured, the weight of the night settling over them.

Makarov huffed, a faint, amused sound, but his eyes had already slipped shut. He would never let himself be this vulnerable in the presence of anyone else, never let anyone else see the exhaustion steal over his sharp features. Only ever around Nolan would he let his guard down.

And Nolan, greedy, possessive, and wholly unwilling to share, pressed a kiss to his temple and held him close, unwilling to let the world intrude just yet.

[dorianbrightmusic]

Somewhat Quick Guidelines for How Not to be Triggering to ED-Havers

i'll do a more elaborate version of this some other time, but i have just consumed way too much youtube and i need to get some very mixed feelings out of my system

(tw for some discussion of EDs and the areas these render most sensitive)

Don't equate 'eating disorder' with 'anorexia nervosa'

The most common eating disorders are Binge-Eating Disorder and OSFED – according to Santomauro et al. (2021) and Yasmina and Keski-Rahkonen (2022), OSFED is more common than BED, so yeah. OSFED includes many, many categories in and of itself, including: subthreshold bulimia, subthreshold BED, atypical anorexia, purging disorder, and night eating syndrome. Orthorexia isn't recognised in the DSM-5-TR, but should be. I could not tell you what the most common form of OSFED is – I'd always thought it was atypical anorexia, but some studies I can find on a general population point more to purging disorder, subthreshold BN, subthreshold BED, (see Stice, Marti, & Rohde (2013), while this more recent study in a less reputable journal by Hay et al. (2023) places atypical AN as the most common OSFED. Either way, full-threshold AN is comparatively very, very rare.

Most eating disorders are not becoming emaciated + growing lanugo. If you did become emaciated and grow lanugo, then I'm proud of you for surviving your ED every day, because they are the absolute worst illnesses. However, you are also in a substantial minority. That doesn't make you any less valid—all it means is that EDs aren't necessarily traditional anorexia.

I'll get onto the main difference between atypical and non-atypical AN in a minute, but for now, let's say that even if atypical AN is horrifyingly common, most EDs aren't anorexia of any kind. Most EDs are one of the other kinds. And while good AN rep is great and rare, using 'eating disorder' to mean 'anorexia' is incredibly dismissive of the immense and debilitating of eating disordered behaviour out there. It's limited in the same way as using 'neurodivergent' to just mean 'autism + ADHD' – just as neurodivergence is much, much broader than Au/DHD (and this isn't to detract from the validity of Au/DHD folks), EDs are much, much broader than anorexia, and using 'eating disorder' as a synonym for 'thin and restrictive' is an extremely limited definition.

Moreover, many ED-havers go to immense, immense efforts to downplay their symptoms. The common refrain you'll hear in ED recovery is 'but I'm not sick enough to need help' – and the more narrow the operational definition of ED, the more people are made to feel they aren't sufficiently ill to have a real problem. EDs thrive in secrecy. They are often silent, and they are lethal. By using 'eating disorder' as a euphemism for 'anorexia', we give power to each of these illnesses by letting them remain silent, too macabre and mysterious to acknowledge.

Be specific. Do not talk about someone having 'an eating disorder'. Do not use it as a smokescreen behind which to hide nervousness. Say the exact disorder, or, if unsure, use an adjective: a restrictive eating disorder, an ED with purging, an ED with bingeing, etc.

2. 'Eating disordered' does not mean thin

This goes for all EDs, and especially for anorexia. Argh.

Bulimia is often overweight, and can be any weight. BED can be any weight. ARFID can be any weight. Pica, rumination disorder, night-eating syndrome, and orthorexia can be any weight. Moreover, a thin person with an ED may not have AN—they might have ARFID, BED, BN, or so many more.

And most importantly, most anorexics are not underweight. There exists a diagnostic distinction between AN and so-called atypical AN, wherein the sole difference is that atypical anorexics are not underweight. That's it. That's the one difference.

It's also a completely BS distinction, since ED psychopathology is as bad/worse in atypical AN, and atypical AN recovery rates are marginally worse. The two are the same illness. How thin you are does not necessarily correlate with how restrictive you are, and every use of 'anorexic' as a synonym for 'thin' is indicative of a total misunderstanding of the complexity of this disorder.

Have courage. Give me obese characters with BN and AN, normal-weight characters with BED, characters of all weights with ARFID. Please: I'm outright begging at this point.

3. Sensationalising weight makes us feel, unsurprisingly, fairly awful

Writing eating-disordered characters by focussing on their weight is an excellent way to sensationalise the illness and implant a horrible feeling in audience mouths. If I google search images for anorexia, I will see ribs and spines everywhere. If I google search images for bulimia, I will see extremely thin young women eating pizza or crouched beside toilets. If I google search images for binge-eating disorder, there's no end to the pizza.

There is no definitive size eating-disordered folks are. But the more we see EDs represented in extremes of thinness and fatness—think To the Bone or The Whale—the more we, as a society, convey the message that by not fitting a size mould, people aren't sick enough to have a problem. And that perpetuates the cycle of hiding disordered behaviours and getting thinner.

Making a show of how thin or fat certain characters are is a great way to make people with EDs feel embarrassed either by their similarity to the thin/fat people depicted ('wow, I am disgusting') or by their lack of similarity ('I was never anywhere near that thin. God, I couldn't even succeed at being a failure'). So, please don't emphasise specific emaciated or larger body parts as explicitly indicative of an eating disorder.

4. Please keep the numbers out of this

I don't have the perspective to speak from the POV of those with other disorders, but I can say this much: Anorexia is a very analytical illness—will I be small enough to fit in this space, hold this, do this? —and seeing someone else's minimum weight is an excellent way to make someone feel as if they are a failure for being less thin. This is especially problematic given that 'xxkg lady' is a headline that sells like wildfire in a world where most anorexics aren't thin. I love Hank Green and his work, but the CrashCourse video on eating disorders is an excellent example of how not to handle talking about weight: explicit height/weight numbers are mentioned for the hypothetical sick woman, emphasising the role of emaciation in the illness. It's a bit sensationalist and very triggering.

This is also one of the things Heartstopper (the comic – I haven't watched the show) does right. Though it's not perfect, Charlie's weight is never given a number, and while he's shown to be unhealthily thin, we never get an explicit close-up of any bones or the like. It's other physical symptoms, like fainting and constant coldness, that make it clear that he's seriously, seriously ill. And that took immense, immense tact. Also the fact that later on, after diagnosis, he's explicitly said to have anorexia, rather than the smokescreen of 'an ED', and that he still struggles after he starts recovery... those are all very respectful ways of writing ED-having characters. Alice Oseman, I tip my hat to you.

I'd recommend against mentioning numbers of calories in anything (guess who once scrolled through an ED blog, found out the number of calories in a normal breakfast food, and then was promptly very scared of eating such), or about mentioning explicit amounts of food. Moreover, if you're going to depict a character eating, please do it carefully.

If you want to mention any numbers when writing eating-disordered characters: mention blood pressure, temperature or rate of weight loss/gain (I don't think it's awful to say 'lost/gained this much in this much time), but keep the discourse around rate of any weight change as neutral as possible. If I say I weighed xyz kilograms at my sickest, that doesn't do justice to the illness. If I say my temperature was about 35 degrees and my blood pressure was 59/40, it does, but it's not exactly something that can be made competitive as easily.

5. Don't sensationalise amounts

See above. We don't need to know the explicit number of slices of pizza/bags of xyz/bars of abc that a character consumed during a binge, nor how little a character with a restrictive ED had for breakfast. There is an immense amount of horror that can be engendered through implication. One exception—showing that a character can remember the exact number of whatever food they consumed (so long as this isn't being done in kcal/kj) is an excellent way to show disordered eating behaviour! e.g. I generally count how many water crackers I eat in a snack and have strict (low) limits on how many I'm allowed per day. This is proof AN doesn't go away too quickly.

6. Don't sensationalise weight, generally

This goes out to every time i've seen neuroleptics bashed for having the side-effect of weight gain, but without it being then explained that there are a host of many, many other side effects, most of which are much worse than weight gain.

This goes out to every time I walked out of the ED clinic and saw the Jenny Craig ads across the road.

This goes out to every time I see losing weight promoted as a panacea for every single health condition, including those that cause weight gain.

Showing weight gain in an overly negative light or isolating it when it's one of many, many other things in a category is just tasteless. Please, don't do this.

7. Don't sensationalise kinds of food

Some binge-eaters will never touch pizza or chocolate in a binge. Some anorexics friggin' love chocolate. Don't assume a diagnosis necessarily means one will have or lack a sweet tooth.

8. Setting up ground for comparisons is... worrisome

We probably don't want to know the specifics of someone's diet, clothing size, or any of the like. When handling EDs, please don't focus on the specifics of what someone consumes or how large/small they are.

9. Don't assume EDs are character traits

BN and AN are correlated with perfectionism and harm avoidance, amongst other things, but EDs aren't personality traits. Bingeing is not sloppiness. Restriction is not vanity. Please don't assume these behaviours are indicative of what's in the soul.

10. Please don't focus on white, young, otherwise-neurotypical women

People of all ethnicities, ages, genders, and neurotypes can have eating disorders, natch. There is no single way to look or be eating-disordered.

11. Please don't assume we get better immediately

When you live with an ED, you live with a voice in the back of your head that is constantly vying to hit the self-destruct button. And it isolates you and mimics your own voice, and after a time, it becomes extremely difficult to tell it from your own thoughts. It's being taken over and possessed, semi-conscious, from the inside. It's living in a trance and being made a puppet. It is learned helplessness. It is sewn into the fabric of your thought, your speech, your values. Even before you are acutely sick, you live with it inside you. Learning to survive an ED is learning to live with it beside you—becoming less helpless to the behaviour, but no less aware of the thought for a very long time. Recovery is possible, but it's most certainly not linear, and most certainly a long, long process.

Recovery is not merely the cessation of the behaviour, or weight restoration. It's a disservice to ED-havers to say you can easily get to a point of never having ED thoughts ever again. So know that we are living with our illnesses every day, but that even so, we can move on. Grant us the grace to let us admit we won't always be well, and guide us nevertheless to believing in our own ability to recover.

[aq2003]

i saw a post saying boom was good bc it feels like it could be done with any doctor/companion duo and honestly that was one of the things i felt was wrong with it

[dollgxtz]

Sleepy Crow

Word Count: 1.8k words

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, somno, noncon, mentions of breeding, pet names such as kitten, sweetie, darling, reader is somewhat drugged but its her sleep meds!

AN: Hi all! This isn't my first time writing fanfics but I noticed a lack of Sylus fics with a darker undertone ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)σ". PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read the tags and if this isn't something that interests you or is potentially triggering, please do not interact! I get this isn't everyone's cup of tea but this is a fic for people who like darker romance stuff!! Please enjoy, and I AM taking requests as I really want to get back into writing again. Do not hold back, this is a safe place! Ty!! <333

Sylus trudged through the pouring rain, his jacket soaked through and his hair matted against his forehead. The drops were heavy and unrelenting, pelting against the pavement and creating small rivers that flowed along the gutters. The barely lit streetlights of the N109 zone cast an eerie glow on the slick surfaces, reflecting off the wet asphalt like a distorted mirror.

As the man approached his mansion, he couldn't help but feel relieved. The warm glow of the lights shining through the windows beckoned him home. He fumbled with the keypad to the door, his fingers slightly numb from the cold, before finally hearing the click that beckoned his entrance.

The sound of raindrops hitting the roof and windows followed him, a steady drumming that seemed to fill every corner of the place. He took off his sodden jacket and hung it up, feeling the weight of it pulling him down. He walked through the dimly lit hallway, his footsteps echoing softly on the marble floors, trying his hardest to be quiet. Mephisto was perched on his cage (not that he was ever really in it, it was more for decor) tilting his head when he saw Sylus brush past him but not making any sound himself.

He made his way to the bedroom chambers, deciding to make sure you were where you belonged. Peeking his head in the bedroom doorway, he saw your sleeping figure, chest rising ever so slightly with each breath. He smirked, closing the door behind him as he entered. He was happy you finally seemed to be getting some rest.

Your insomnia had been getting worse, and he'd been getting worried when he saw you were often messaging him at 4 am, sometimes as late as 8 am with no sleep. Of course he’d offer to have you over, to hold you and whisper sweet things in your ear until you succumbed to sleep, but he couldn’t always. Sometimes business was needed to be handled, and for those nights he had gotten you the best sleep medication that money could buy. You had been weary about taking them at first, but he had assured you that the side effects were basically none. He had made sure of it.

Sylus made his way to the bathroom, proceeding to rid himself of the damp clothes clinging to his skin. A quick shower and then he could finally curl up next to his little crow. Not that he would be sleeping yet, but it was nice to watch you dream. Sometimes you’d whine or make little noises, which he found absolutely adorable. He wondered what you dreamt about sometimes, but you had refused to answer much to his annoyance.

The hot water felt amazing after being gone practically all night. He washed all the blood and dirt from his skin, examining all of his various injuries. He had a run in with a few “pests” that he quickly exterminated, but they had managed to get a few nicks on him. He touched his arm where the biggest cut was, his Evol immediately snaking around it and healing it faster than he could blink. He did the same for the others, feeling brand new once more.

Some time passed before he finally turned the water off, dried himself, and slipped into a pair of boxers. He slowly made his way into the bedroom, hoping that he wasn't being too loud but you were out like a light. Sleeping like a rock.

Sylus slipped in bed next to you, sighing with pleasure as the soft mattress sunk beneath his weight. It felt heavenly. He turned to put his arm around you, trying to get as comfortable as possible so he could hold you. He softly kissed the corner of your ear, his head starting to swim with thoughts. Surprisingly, he felt comfortable enough to possibly fall asleep with you.

But he couldn't.

He had been laying in bed for thirty minutes just thinking. He thought about all the business arrangements he needed to finish. Tonight had been…messy. No doubt he had made some new enemies. How impatient he was getting about the new weaponry he had bought from Spain. They should be arriving soon, but it had been taking forever.

How he wanted to feel your tight cunt pulsing around his fingers.

Sylus stiffened, attempting to rid his head of these thoughts about you. His efforts were in vain though, as he was already rocking a semi hard on that was steadily growing into a full erection.

Obviously there was nothing he could do about it. You were sleeping after all. And not only that, it's not like he could wake you to do anything anyways. He hates quickies, they bored him. He likes to take his time. To take in your reactions, your faces, and your noises. Besides that, you were taking a pretty high dose of your sleeping meds and he kinda doubted he could wake you even if he really tried.

This thought stirred in his head for a bit.

Yeah...you wouldn't wake even if he tried. He sighed with a twinge of pleasure as he pressed his erection against the soft cotton of your underwear. The pressure felt immaculate, and if he hadn't been gone all night he probably could've finished just by pressing himself against you. You were the only girl ever that could make him finish that quickly.

But it wasn't enough. He needed more. It had been a bit since he touched you like this.

You moved a bit in your sleep, letting out a small whine. He leaned over you to get a better look at your face. Still sleeping, mouth open slightly ajar. You were so fucking pretty when you slept.

“Such a sleepy kitten” he growled lowly, snaking his fingers underneath the hem of your underwear. He didn’t know why, but the mere sight of your sleeping face was getting him worked up. You looked so docile, so vulnerable. He wanted you. Sylus began to tug them down slowly.

This was very wrong. He knew this and yet he couldn't stop. He kept going, making empty promises to himself that he would only take a peek. He just wanted to see you. All of you.

Sylus froze has he finally pulled your underwear down to your legs, practically breathless at the site of your cunt at his fingertips.

"Fuck..." he groaned, unable to stop himself from pressing a finger between your folds. He watched you carefully for any signs of discomfort or movement, but you were still fast asleep as he pushed his finger in. You were warm, inviting even. It's like your pussy was sucking his finger in, deeper and deeper. He slid a second finger in, picking up the pace. Soon enough, your cunt was slightly wet, spots of your slick forming on the backs of your legs near your pussy. Pulling out, he practically shivered with excitement.

Sylus was quick to put his fingers in his mouth, savoring every drop of you. You tasted so sweet to him, the best flavor he ever had the honor to try. He wanted nothing more than to dive head first into the source and lap it up. But his erection was so starting to bother him. It was rock hard, and throbbing ever so slightly, begging to be freed.

He had to have you. And he had to have you now.

He pulled his erection through the hole in his boxers, beginning to stroke himself with an intense grip. Groaning as quietly as he could, he stared at your wet and welcoming cunt. He swore it was just begging to be filled by every inch of his cock. Still wanting him, even when you were asleep.

"You’re so pretty sweetie" he whispered in your ear, closing his eyes as electrifying pulses of pleasure crashed through him. Sylus told himself he should stop now, but it was past that point. He knew himself better than that. His mind was already made up, no matter how much he was trying to talk himself out of it.

Turning you a bit more on your side, he readied the fat head of his tip to your entrance. You stirred once again, mumbling incoherent nothings before becoming silent again. Sylus chuckled softly, pressing his lips to the tip of your ear as he stroked himself a few more times.

As he sinks his tip into your tight entrance, his precum smears all over your hole. He shudders with intensity, trying his best to hold back a groan, worried that making too much noise next to your ear would wake you. He pushes further and further until he can't possibly sink himself into you anymore. You squirm, letting out another whine, this one a bit louder than the last.

"Im sorry kitten…" Sylus coos, laying his head behind yours as he fucks you with a slow, rhythmic pace. "Just need to cum in what’s mine. Be a good girl and stay asleep for me”.

He rests one of his hands on your hip, trying to keep from shaking you too much as he continually plunges himself inside you. You were warm, your gummy walls constantly tightening around him. He moans your name over and over like a prayer, feeling lost in your walls. The soft clap of his skin meeting your ass echoes a bit in the room.

"You're fucking made for me. Look at you sweetie, tightening around me, trying to squeeze me dry even when you're sleeping" he whispers, feeling himself getting closer and closer to bliss.

His thrusts became sloppy and he had to slow himself, trying to savor every moment he had inside of what essentially felt like heaven. He had been wanting to fill you for days. Images of his seed erupting onto the walls of your fertile pussy, eventually giving you a nice, round tummy that would grow his baby filled his head and he couldn't stop himself from finishing anymore.

As his hot ropes of sticky cum shoot against the walls of your womb, he accidently grips your hip a bit tighter than he meant to. You yelp, and he quickly rubbed his hand over the spot he'd hurt you, ensuring you remained asleep. He checks the spot and sees some slight bruising already starting to form and curses himself silently for losing control and hurting you. His Evol was quick to move over the injury where his hand lay, instantly restoring your skin back to a healed state. Sylus was amazed he could even do that. His Evol had only ever healed him. It wasn’t until you came along that it had ever revealed that kind of power and it didn’t work for anyone else either.

"Shh shh, its ok. Just be still, I'm almost done filling you up darling…”

Once his orgasmic high subsided, he took a moment to catch his breath before watching as his cum pooled out of you. He took his finger and scooped as much of it as he could gather before gently pushing it back within your folds. Feeling satisfied with his work, he pulled your panties up before finally pulling the cover back over you.

"There you go. Gotta keep my seed where it belongs so you can make us a baby. Right kitten?" he chuckled, finally feeling tired enough to cuddle you and fall asleep.

[thanosscross]

HII I REALLY LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH, i hope your willing to write about pregnant reader x thanos yk, thanos didn't know she was pregnant before they break up and then they meet up again the games and he finds out player 222 and player 333 type stuff 😭

Of course! We love this!!

Good person - Choi Su- Bong x pregnant! reader

Summary: After leaving Thanos, you encounter him again in a serious death game, only this time the stakes are lot higher

Warnings: Not much, just your usual squid game gore

A/n: Sorry it's so short! I'm going to try and start adding some length to my stories again especially my Thanos stories so stay tuned for those longer stories, trust me they are coming, they're just takin a lil time

You had told yourself whenever you signed up, you'd be as careful as possible, and that it was all for your baby, after leaving their father and being disowned for choosing to be single mother, you were left with little to nothing, so of course you took the chance to get money.

As you woke up in the giant room you soon came to regret your decision, seeing your sperm donor just a few feet in front of you, focused on the screen reading off debts "Y/n L/n, 25 million won" The guard shouted, showing you getting smacked across the face, quickly holding an arm over your stomach afterwards. Almost like he knew, as soon as your name was called out, his head snapped to yours "Senorita! You're here!?" He shouted in shock "No Way!" He shouted as he walked closer, you attempted to curl your body up away from him, but due to the six month pregnancy belly, you could only bend your legs closer to you slightly.

"Please leave, Thanos" You grunted, trying your best to keep him at a distance, for all he knew you had taken a plan B after your last hook up and that was it. Instead he just kept approaching until he was standing in front of you "What're you doing here!?" He asked excited, you just shook your head "trying to get my family and I money after my sorry excuse of a boyfriend convinced me to buy stupid ass crypto?" You said like it was obvious, it wasn't like you were entirely lying, you just didn't specify what family.

Going into red light green light, you were cocky at first, knowing you could do this easy, until the shooting started, players falling left and right, while your baby dad just skipped and danced his way to you down the field "You never answered me, Senorita" He repeated, placing his hands on your hips, terrified of what he might do, especially after watching him shove other players to win "I-I'm pregnant" You blurted, you couldn't help it, between your fear of dying by Thanos or the game was too much, you just wanted to get out of this alive, you didn't think it'd be this serious, if you did, you never would've done this. "Haha" He laughed sarcastically before looking at your face as the doll called out red light, he was in front of you now, and you were visibly shaking, Thanos using his body to try and shield you from the sensors "for real, flower?" He asked, his tone a lot more deep and raspy, you could tell he sobered up quick upon the realization you weren't joking. "I-I forgot the pill after hooked up a few months ago! a-and I left because I knew you couldn't be a responsible dad" You blurted, unable to contain your emotions as the hormones in your body were on overdrive.

Thanos was frozen, staring at you in shock before finally snapping out of it as the doll called green light, he grabbed your arm holding you behind him as he followed the others past the red line "Just stay behind me" He whispered, your words stung, how could you be so sure of how he'd be as a dad if you never gave him a chance? As you made your way back to the giant main room, you took notice to Thanos's hand on your back leading you to the bed "Sit, you don't put yourself through too much" He explained softly, helping you over to your bunks before eyeing Nam-Gyu "Give her your bed, man" he demanded, his friend stuttering before giving up and giving you his bed that was floor level, him taking your third bunk bed. "Thanos" You warned, not wanting him to make it a huge deal "What?! You're huge! You don't need to be climbing!" He shouted before catching his tone, apologizing quietly "Okay, well One, that was very very rude, two, I can do whatever I please, if I feel like I can't do something, I'll tell you" You stated poking him in the chest with your finger, he just smirked at you, biting his bottom lip slightly "Have I ever told you, it's hot whenever you yell at me" he asked, trying his best to charm you, but instead you just flicked his forehead in annoyance "Get away, freak" You replied, he just smiled at you, sitting at the foot of your bunk "So it's my baby?" He asked smiling pointing to your stomach "Well, if not I'd be concerned" You said raising your eyebrows at him "Can I..touch it?.." He asked nervously "it's not an it, it's your daughter" you glared, before grabbing his hand slipping it under your jacket, pressing his finger down in just the right spot to get the small baby inside of you to move around "Woah..weird" He said grimacing as he pulled away in disgust "Really!?" You gasped in shock laughing loudly, somehow forgetting you were in a death game for a moment "Yea! You have a whole human inside of you! That's weird!" He laughed, resting his hand on yours "You put it there, Su-bong!" You argued, you swore sometimes you got with a completely dumbass.

"Y/n..If you'll let me...I wanna be there..I don't want to be like my dad" He frowned, squeezing your hand gently "Please?" He begged "I know I fucked up bad, but, I want to try again, please" He continued, you glared at him for a moment before sighing "How can I trust you? And you'll have to get clean, for real clean, not how you're usually clean" You added on, you just watched as he nodded his head, no faces or complaints "You're actually serious aren't you?..." you asked sweetly "I want to be a good person for you, y/n, please" He whispered, pressing his lips to your knuckles "I guess..but you only get one chance" You offered, he just nodded before flopping himself next to you "Thank you!" He cheered pressing multiple kisses all over your face as he chanted his thank you's, not realizing the next 18-19 years were going to be hell for the both of you.

The rest of the games, Thanos was always on you, making sure you didn't over do yourself or risk hurting yourself or your baby, charming you right back into his arms.

--

Taglist!!

@acehasmyheart

@corrdelia

@ag022123

[marsmaximoff]

🦑 hwang jun-ho; headcanons 〇△□

content warning: gn!reader. fluff. mentions of death, coma and jealousy. pet names. no season 2 spoilers. let me know if i missed anything.

word count: 941

author’s note: well, my man is back, and i had to write some headcanons for him. the OBSESSION that i had back in 2021 needs to be studied, omg. anyway, as always, constructive criticism is welcomed, english is my third language, so i apologize for any mistakes. in case i don’t post anything else this year, happy 2025 everybody!! enjoy! 🩷

divider by @k1ssyoursister

〇 pre-games

best. boyfriend. ever.

that’s it, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

🙃🙃🙃

his love languages are:

1) quality time

he may be a police detective, but he ALWAYS tries to make time for you 

and see you every day, and if he can’t, he’ll save some minutes to call you

loves to hear about your day

big on communication, that’s key on your relationship 

type of boyfriend that picks you up after work, or anything really

he just wants to see your cute face :3

takes you out on cool dates

to the park, to eat, to cute animal cafés

he’s okay with staying in too, just cuddling, talking, watching something….

and 2) acts of service 

will drive you anywhere you need

you get ‘good morning/night’ texts every single day you’re not together

makes you breakfast 

and has no problem with cooking for you

opens doors for you 

pulls out the chair at the restaurant ☝🏻

he’ll simply do anything you need

loves coming home to you, it doesn't matter how shitty or overwhelming his day was, you just put a smile on his face

his favorite thing to do with you is eating

it may sound boring, but he loves to see you taking care of yourself, well-fed and happy

takes you to meet his family

his mom loves you

even his brother likes you

he’s a tease and enjoys seeing you all flustered

i feel like he’d be the type to have many pics of you on his phone that he goes back to whenever he misses you

you’re probably his wallpaper, perhaps even on his wallet too 🤭

some pet names like: “honey”, “love”, “beautiful”, “cutie”

would never cheat

a guard dog

not super jealous -a bit tho- but won't hesitate to step up if someone acts stupid 

(picture that one scene in season 2 when that man mocked him and didn’t believe he was an actual police detective hehe)

shows you off 🤩

checks you out :p

his hand is on you in some way when you’re out

has good emotional intelligence

big spoon

reminds you to take your make up off before bed if you wear any -he may even do it himself if you're too tired

or to take meds

he is just really caring and supportive

doesn't like seeing you worried or anxious because of his job

absolutely hates to see you suffer

doesn’t mind that you may be struggling financially, it won’t change what he feels

will help you with whatever it is

just don’t hide it, he hates secrets and lies

i hate doing it, but there always has to be some 🚩 

he’s the first one that would do it (lying and hiding stuff) to ensure you’re okay and don’t get worried

on a particularly overwhelming day, he will raise his voice at you

can get really overprotective 

some days you may not hear from him, or at least not much

will sometimes struggle to open up about his issues or what’s upsetting him

△ during the games

after your sudden disappearance, worry and fear ate him up

while checking your house he found a weird card

and once he discovered the exact same one at his brother’s, he knew something was going on

heard gi-hun at the police station rambling about some weird symbols and immediately recognized the design

interrogated him about you, desperate to know about your whereabouts 

as soon as he successfully infiltrated the games, he began your search

almost had a heart attack when he spotted you

had to make the effort of his life to stay calm and not run to you

would somehow manage to get you two alone so he can get you out of there (i wrote about this)

almost gets caught

feels betrayed you didn’t tell him and quite angry you’d risk your own life like this

but mostly relieved you’re okay (and still alive)

watches you like a hawk from the distance, ensuring your safety

constantly around, you continuously sense his presence close by 

□ post-games (you died)

had to see your death and practically went numb

blurry vision, ringing in his ears, shortness of breath, sting in his throat

the worst thing tho, was finding out his brother had been behind everything

how could he have done this to you? you trusted him! 

feels completely disgusted

after his coma, he blames himself for everything

your name was his first word after waking up

dreams about you 

gets you a cenotaph given that your body will forever remain strayed

nevertheless, he still talks to you like you’re there

tells you about his recovery and his progress finding the island

you are his strongest motivation

he’s doing this for you, to provide the love of his life a much deserving peaceful rest

gets you new flowers every few days

he’ll never stop feeling guilty

〇 post-games (you survived)

has nightmares he failed and left you to meet your demise on those cursed games

always there when you have them, and so is his shoulder if you need to cry

reassurance king

hides the identity of his attacker from you

becomes even more overprotective

shared location on at all times

gets paranoid if you don’t text him all day

he swore to never miss a single detail of your possible struggles. not again

you can still tell he holds himself responsible for your time on that island

stays awake at night just watching you sleep safe and sound (will never say it tho)

babies you

bigger spoon

doesn’t let you go out on your own if it’s late, afraid that something may happen and those psychopaths will reach you again

[totalswag]

hey i love your work so much and if it’s not to much go ask i was wondering if you could do a fic where fem!reader is part of the cast on obx and she is really close friends with drew where they are flirting and what not and everyone ships them and they are at an interview with the rest of the cast and that gets brought up? sorry if that doesn’t make sense! if you don’t have time it’s completely

behind the scenes ⎯ RAFE CAMERON

authors note thank you so much lovie!! i'm open to take requests and write them. i've thought of this concept before and all i gotta say is thank you for requesting this because I NEED THIS!! super sorry for not posting for a small while, there were stuff i needed to take care of first.

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set.

summary having a close relationship with drew that send hints to fans they like each other based on the way they flirt with each other.

warning(s) flirting, shipping, co-stars secretly like each other?

Being apart of the Outer Banks cast has been such a blessing. You've created relationships with people you consider family now and who you can count on no matter what the circumstances are. Being on set for weeks on end filming scenes and making memories is what you look forward to most.

You grew closer with Drew Starkey because your characters are dating in the show and always next together on set too. Drew has become someone that you consider very important in your life.

You joined the Outer Banks cast during the second season. Drew appeared in a couple appearances near the end of the season, implying that he is interested in someone— love interest. You recall fans going nuts trying to figure out if this will continue. Fast forward two seasons, and your characters are together.

After a long day of filming, the cast decided to gather for dinner at a local beachside restaurant. The atmosphere was vibrant, with laughter and the sound of waves breaking on the shore. You and Drew were seated next to each other, much to the joy of your cast members, who were closely watching your interaction with Drew.

"Drew, look at the camera," you softly sang, your phone in your hand on the table, Drew in the frame of the video— he was speaking to Rudy across the table. He gives you a look that shows he knows you are heard before looking down at your phone and waving.

"Oh! "Hello there," he smiles even more when he sees himself on the screen—you giggle at the end of the video before sharing it to your Instagram story. 

"You posted it on your story?" he inquires, his body language focused solely on you. "I obviously had to; it was cute," you said as you placed your phone on the table next to your wallet. You suddenly felt nervous in front of Drew.

He raises his eyebrows in satisfaction. "Cute, huh?" He smirks and smiles, patting your thigh.

Fans began to ship you and Drew together as your relationship grew. The chemistry between you two is clearly obvious on and off screen, which is why you perform scenarios so well. Fans go berserk every time you post something on social media about Drew.

You two flirt without even realizing it at times. You will compliment each other as if you were a relationship, but this is nothing out of the norm for you two. Even your cast members have boarded the train and made a few comments about when you'll finish up together. 

You can't lie, he's an attractive young man. There's no doubt about that.

Few hours after you posted on your story, fans have been discussing the video you shared in which Drew looks at you as if you are the most beautiful person on the planet and no one else is present.

Today, you and the cast will be doing interviews all day to promote Season four. For the first portion, everyone will sit in the same room as the interviewer, but thereafter everyone will be separated.

"Alright, everyone," said the interviewer, "we've got some fun questions from fans today, and they're dying to know more about the dynamic between some of our favorite cast members."

Everyone said "Oooo," anxious to see what else the interviewer would say.

"Let's start with a fan favorite," the interviewer added, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "There's been a lot of talk about the chemistry between you two." She pointed to Drew and you. "Care to share any insights on that?"

Your stomach dropped.

The question hung in the air, drawing a chorus of “Oohs” and playful nudges from the cast. You felt your cheeks heat up as you exchanged a glance with Drew. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement, a smirk playing on his lips

"Well," Drew said, leaning in slightly. "Y/N and I have always been close. We simply clicked, you know?"

"Really?" the interviewer asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Because the way you two flirt on and off set is pretty convincing."

You laughed and shook your head. "We simply have fun with it. Drew is a terrific person, and we like joking around. "It keeps things moving on set."

"From our first reading together, I knew she was going to be a great co star of mine and we've formed an amazing bond throughout the years" Drew says with his hands. In gratitude, you give him a pat on the back.

Your cast mates' eyes are constantly drawn to you and Drew since they can tell you have mutual feelings for each other. Granted, you two have scenes together all the time and have developed a strong bond. However, you consider being more than friends with him.

The interview continued on with more questions popping up that were exciting to answer. In the back of your mind you were thinking about the question about Drew and you— do you want more?

Later that evening, you and Drew returned to your apartment and relaxed in your living room. The city lights outside your window gave a soft glow across the room, and the steady hum of the air conditioner broke the silence. You'd both changed into more comfortable clothes, eager to relax after a long day.

"Today was something, huh?" Drew murmured, breaking the silence as he sprawled down on your couch, seemingly at peace.

"Yeah, it was," you said, sitting next to him. "They really went all in on the whole shipping thing."

Drew chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made your heart race. "Yes, they did. "Makes you think, doesn't it?"

He sat up, his face instantly serious. "About Us. I mean, everybody sees it. Hell, we see it, don't we?

Your breath became locked in your throat. The playful flirtation, the lingering touches, the way your heart raced whenever he was close—it all hinted at something more than friendship. However, hearing him say it aloud was another. It made it real.

"I suppose we do," you confessed gently.

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[solxamber]

'Elloo! :D I saw your requests open, can I request some hcs or short imagines for the first, second, and third years, separate characters?? Or you can just do it as a single scenario with all the characters. They're (Their??) reaction when they've realized the things reader/Yuu had to go through starting from the very beginning ,when they first got transported to the school. Like, the shock of not being able to go home, new environment, the fear-- just the emotional and mental turmoil reader/yuu went through starting from the beginning.

Also, as time goes by it just gets worse and worse along with all the overblots and stuff that got reader/Yuu over the edge. And now the students kind of help?? Or at least try to soothe or comfort the reader I guess??

Does this make any sense?? I dunno :'D

I want me some angst hehe >:]

But if this is kind of too much then it's okii if you wanna skip this one, I love the effort you put into your writings! <3

I kinda just wanted to ramble and yap about this idea I had hehe

Toodles!

thank you!! and i'm sorry it too so long, but i hope you like it <3

They realise what you went through - All NRC + Rollo + Neige + Grim, Staff

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle doesn’t realize the extent of your struggle until much later, likely after witnessing you reach your breaking point. The way you bottle up your emotions reminds him of himself before his own overblot, and it fills him with guilt. He prides himself on upholding order, but he feels like he failed to notice the chaos within you.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Riddle asks, voice trembling as he stands before you, his normally stern expression soft with regret. He places a hesitant hand on your shoulder, unsure if he has the right to offer comfort after overlooking your pain for so long. “I… I should have noticed. I’m sorry.”

Riddle dives into a methodical plan to ease your burdens. He takes on your academic concerns, ensuring your assignments are manageable and offering personal tutoring. When you’re overwhelmed, he insists you take breaks in Heartslabyul’s peaceful rose garden. While he’s not good at openly expressing affection, he’s steadfast, always by your side with words of encouragement and warm tea.

Trey Clover

Trey picks up on your struggles sooner than most, his observant nature allowing him to notice the small cracks in your demeanor. He doesn’t pry but stays close, offering quiet support until he realizes you’re beyond your limit. His heart aches knowing you’ve been carrying so much without asking for help.

“Hey… you don’t have to pretend everything’s fine,” Trey says softly, kneeling beside you as you sit slumped in an empty classroom. His usual calm demeanor is tinged with concern. “I’ve seen you pushing yourself too hard. You’re not alone in this, you know.”

Trey becomes your sanctuary. He’s the type to cook comforting meals for you, often sneaking you your favorite desserts. He encourages you to talk at your own pace, listening without judgment. Trey also ensures you’re surrounded by people who care, gently urging you to spend time with friends so you never feel isolated again.

Cater Diamond

Cater doesn’t fully realize how bad things are until he catches you breaking down when you think no one is watching. The sight hits him hard—he’s used to wearing masks himself, but seeing you put on a brave face while falling apart reminds him of his own struggles.

“Whoa, hey, hey…” Cater’s voice is unusually soft as he crouches in front of you, the playful lilt replaced with genuine worry. “You’ve been holding all this in, haven’t you? Man, that’s not healthy… You should’ve told me!”

Cater becomes your cheerleader, using his energy to lift your spirits. He takes you on spontaneous outings, distracting you with fun activities and selfies to remind you of life’s lighter side. When you need to vent, he’s surprisingly patient, letting you talk without interruptions. His go-to phrase becomes, “No filter, just let it out. I’m here.”

Ace Trappola

Ace is the last to understand the depth of your pain, brushing off your struggles as stress until you finally snap. Seeing you cry or lash out leaves him dumbstruck—he’s not used to serious emotions and struggles to process it at first. But beneath his awkwardness, he genuinely cares.

“Whoa… I didn’t think it was this bad.” Ace rubs the back of his neck, guilt clear in his expression. “Look, I’m sorry if I made things worse. I didn’t mean to. I just… didn’t know.”

Ace sticks close to you in his own Ace-like way. He cracks jokes to make you laugh and distracts you with playful banter, but he’s also there for the serious moments. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, he drags you outside to play a quick game of basketball or to look at the stars, insisting, “You’ve gotta clear your head, or you’ll go crazy.”

Deuce Spade

Deuce notices your struggles but doesn’t know how to approach you about them. When he finally sees you crumble, it makes him feel like he’s failed as your friend. His protective instincts kick in, and he becomes determined to help you in any way he can.

“Wait—you’ve been feeling like this the whole time?” Deuce’s voice is thick with emotion as he looks at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve done something! I’m supposed to have your back!”

Deuce takes your well-being seriously, to the point of overcompensating at first. He insists on walking you to class, carrying your things, and defending you against anything he perceives as a threat (real or imagined). Over time, he learns to provide quiet support, sitting with you during tough moments and saying, “We’ll get through this together. I promise.”

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is a perceptive man, even if he acts otherwise, but your struggles slip under his radar for too long. It isn’t until he notices how you’ve stopped rising to his teasing or how the light in your eyes has dimmed that the gravity of your situation hits him. It reminds him of his own sense of isolation, and the guilt gnaws at him.

“Tch. You think you’re the only one who has to deal with this crap?” Leona’s voice is gruff, but there’s no malice in it. He sighs, sitting beside you under the shade of a tree. “You should’ve said something sooner, herbivore. Doesn’t mean you have to carry it all yourself.”

Leona doesn’t coddle you, but his actions speak louder than his words. He offers his presence, silently inviting you to nap in the botanical gardens with him when you need a break. If anyone dares to make your life harder, Leona handles it with a quiet, lethal efficiency. “Rest up. You’re not falling apart on my watch.”

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie notices your struggles quickly, but his initial reaction is to brush it off as normal stress—until he sees you genuinely hit your breaking point. It stuns him; he’s used to dealing with hardships himself but hates the idea of you enduring the same without support.

“Oi, don’t do this to yourself,” Ruggie says, his usual playful tone replaced by something softer. “You’re not alone, y’know? I don’t let my people suffer in silence. That’s not how we roll.”

Ruggie uses his resourcefulness to lighten your load however he can. He sneaks you snacks, takes care of tedious tasks for you, and even makes you laugh with his sharp wit. When you’re overwhelmed, he shares stories of his struggles to show you that it’s okay to lean on others. “You’ve got me, okay? I’ll make sure you’re okay, promise.”

Jack Howl

Jack notices the signs of your stress early on, but he hesitates to bring it up, unsure if it’s his place. When he finally realizes how deeply you’re struggling, it stirs a protective instinct in him, and he immediately resolves to do whatever it takes to help you.

“You should’ve told me,” Jack says, his voice low and filled with regret. His ears twitch as he glances away, guilt etched across his face. “I could’ve helped. You don’t have to do this on your own anymore.”

Jack becomes your steadfast support, encouraging you to exercise or go for runs to clear your mind. He’s a calming presence, offering quiet companionship when words aren’t enough. “You’re strong, but you don’t always have to be. Let me help carry the weight, okay?”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul prides himself on noticing vulnerabilities in others, but your ability to mask your pain throws him off. When the cracks finally show, it shakes him deeply, reminding him of his own insecurities and the times he felt powerless.

“I didn’t realize…” Azul murmurs, his hands wringing nervously as he looks at you with uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I should have seen it. I’m sorry—for everything. Let me help you now.”

Azul’s approach is practical and calculated, but it’s rooted in genuine care. He offers to take over responsibilities or negotiate solutions to ease your stress. When you’re overwhelmed, he’s unexpectedly tender, sitting with you in his VIP room and reminding you, “Even the strongest need someone to lean on. You’ve been there for others; let us be here for you.”

Jade Leech

Jade notices your struggles early but refrains from intervening, assuming you’ll reach out when you’re ready. When he realizes how much you’ve been bottling up, he’s surprised and slightly guilty for not addressing it sooner.

“My, you’ve been carrying quite the burden,” Jade says, his usual calm tinged with regret. “It seems I underestimated just how much you’ve endured. Forgive my oversight.”

Jade is a master of subtlety, offering comfort in ways that feel natural and unintrusive. He invites you on quiet walks through the woods, using the serene atmosphere to help ease your mind. When words are needed, he listens attentively, his soothing voice offering reassurance. “Do not hesitate to lean on me, should you need support. I’ll always be here.”

Floyd Leech

Floyd doesn’t realize how bad things are until you completely snap, and even then, it takes him a moment to process that your outburst isn’t just a temporary mood. Seeing you so broken flips a switch in him, his usual playful demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness.

“Shrimpy, why didn’t you say anything?” Floyd’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet, his sharp eyes scanning your face. He pouts, but there’s no mischief in it—just genuine concern. “You don’t gotta handle everything alone, y’know?”

Floyd sticks to you like glue, his unpredictable nature becoming a strange source of comfort. He drags you out for spontaneous adventures, insisting that fun will help you feel better. When you’re feeling low, he’s surprisingly gentle, wrapping you in a tight hug and muttering, “I gotcha, Shrimpy. Nobody’s messin’ with you while I’m here.”

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is always full of energy and positivity, so it takes him a while to notice the depths of your struggles. When he does, he’s devastated, blaming himself for not seeing it sooner.

“Wait—you’ve been feeling like this?” Kalim’s eyes widen, tears threatening to spill. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve done something to help!”

Kalim does everything in his power to brighten your days. He showers you with gifts, invites you to lively parties, and insists on spending time together to lift your spirits. When he realizes that quiet support means more than grand gestures, he sits with you, holding your hand. “You’re not alone, okay? I’ll always be here for you.”

Jamil Viper

Jamil is highly observant, and while he notices your struggles early on, he assumes you’re managing on your own until he sees how much you’ve truly endured. It reminds him of his own bottled-up frustrations, and guilt eats at him for not acting sooner.

“...I should’ve known,” Jamil mutters, his voice low and filled with regret. He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “I’ve been through this too. I know what it’s like to feel trapped. I’m sorry I didn’t step in sooner.”

Jamil’s care comes in quiet, thoughtful gestures. He prepares your favorite meals, arranges peaceful moments away from the chaos of NRC, and ensures you never feel overwhelmed alone. “You’ve done more than enough. Let me take care of things for a while.”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil’s sharp eyes catch the signs of your struggles quickly, but he initially brushes them off, believing you’ll overcome them like any challenge. When the full weight of your burden becomes clear, he’s horrified and deeply regretful for not intervening sooner.

“I failed to notice something so glaringly obvious,” Vil says, his tone laced with self-reproach. “That’s not acceptable—not as your friend and certainly not as someone who should’ve supported you better.”

Vil approaches your comfort with precision and care, determined to help you regain your footing. He insists on self-care days, encourages you to vent your frustrations, and teaches you grounding techniques. “You’re stronger than you think, but even the strongest need rest. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Rook Hunt

Rook is attuned to the emotions of those around him, and your pain does not escape his notice. He marvels at your resilience but is deeply saddened that you’ve been enduring so much without seeking help.

“Mon cher trésor, your suffering… it pains me to think I let you endure this alone,” Rook says softly, his gaze earnest. “You’ve carried a weight that no one should bear by themselves. Allow me to lighten your burden.”

Rook’s support is poetic and heartfelt, crafting moments of beauty to remind you of the world’s wonders. Whether it’s a bouquet of flowers, a handwritten letter, or a quiet moment under the stars, he ensures you feel cherished. “You are not alone in this grand stage of life, and I shall remain by your side as your steadfast ally.”

Epel Felmier

Epel is initially too caught up in his own frustrations to notice the extent of your struggles, but once he sees you falter, his protective side kicks in. It reminds him of his own insecurities about being underestimated.

“Aw, geez, why didn’t ya say somethin’?” Epel frowns, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “You’re always lookin’ out for us, but ya never let anyone do the same for you. That ain’t fair.”

Epel takes a straightforward approach, offering to help however he can. He sticks close, ensuring you never feel alone, and encourages you to vent when needed. “You’re tough as nails, but that doesn’t mean you gotta do it all by yourself. We’re a team, remember?”

Idia Shroud

Idia is slow to notice your struggles, being so wrapped up in his own world, but when he realizes the extent of your pain, it hits him hard. He sees a reflection of his own struggles in you and feels immense guilt for not seeing it sooner.

“This is my fault, isn’t it?” Idia mumbles, his voice trembling. His hair dims as he nervously fiddles with his tablet. “I should’ve… I don’t know, paid more attention. I’m sorry. I—I wanna help, if you’ll let me.”

Idia comforts you in his own awkward way, creating a safe space where you can relax without judgment. He shares his favorite games, shows, and quiet moments, offering you an escape from the chaos. “You don’t have to be ‘okay’ all the time. Just… take it easy for now. I’m here if you need me.”

Ortho Shroud

Ortho is one of the first to notice your struggles, his advanced sensors picking up on changes in your emotional and physical state. His concern is immediate, and he wastes no time in seeking to help.

“You’ve been so sad for so long, haven’t you?” Ortho’s voice is soft, as he hovers close. “I wish I could’ve made you smile sooner. I’m sorry you’ve been hurting.”

Ortho’s comfort is warm and reassuring, filled with optimism and boundless energy. He’s always ready with encouraging words, small gifts, or simply a cheerful presence to brighten your day. “You’re not alone! I’ll do everything I can to help you feel better, okay?”

Malleus Draconia

Malleus has always sensed something amiss about your emotions, his acute sensitivity to auras making it impossible for him to overlook your struggles. However, he hesitates to approach, fearing he might overstep or worsen your burdens. When he finally understands the depth of your pain, he is both heartbroken and determined to help.

“You’ve been enduring this in silence?” His deep voice is laced with regret as his green eyes soften. “If only I had been more attentive, perhaps I could have eased your pain.”

Malleus ensures you feel his unwavering support. He invites you for peaceful strolls under the stars, shares his favorite quiet spots, and reassures you with his calming presence. “You are precious to me. Whatever darkness surrounds you, I will remain by your side until the light returns.”

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia has lived long enough to recognize the signs of emotional turmoil, and it pains him to see you suffer. While he often masks his seriousness with cheerfulness, he doesn’t hesitate to step in when he sees you reaching your breaking point.

“Oh, little one, you’ve carried such a heavy heart all this time.” His playful demeanor fades into solemnity as he places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You shouldn’t have to face this alone.”

Lilia comforts you with wisdom and warmth, drawing on centuries of experience. He shares stories to make you laugh, cooks (albeit questionable) meals to distract you, and offers sage advice when you’re ready to talk. “Life’s trials are harsh, but you’re stronger than you know. And if you need someone to lean on, I’ll always be here.”

Silver

Silver is observant despite his drowsy nature, and he’s one of the first to notice your growing exhaustion. When he realizes the extent of your suffering, he feels deeply remorseful for not acting sooner.

“I should have seen this sooner,” Silver says quietly, his tone filled with regret. “You’ve always looked out for others… I should’ve done the same for you.”

Silver stays by your side, offering silent, steady support. He doesn’t push you to talk but is always ready to listen when you’re ready. His calm demeanor helps ground you, and he often sits quietly with you under a tree or by a calm lake. “You’re not alone. I’ll protect you—not just from danger, but from this weight you’re carrying.”

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek’s initial reaction is frustration—not at you, but at himself for failing to notice your struggles while being so focused on Malleus. His loyalty shifts into overdrive as he becomes determined to help you.

“You’ve been struggling this much, and I didn’t see it?!” Sebek’s voice is loud, but there’s a rare softness in his expression. “That is… unacceptable. I failed you as a companion.”

Sebek’s attempts to comfort you are a bit clumsy but heartfelt. He insists on helping you with daily tasks and loudly declares his commitment to your well-being. Despite his rough edges, his sincerity shines through. “Know this: I will not allow you to suffer alone any longer. You have my loyalty, now and always.”

Rollo Flamme

Rollo’s disdain for magic only deepens when he realizes how much you’ve suffered due to the chaos and overblots of NRC. His concern for you is genuine, though it’s laced with anger toward the school and its culture.

“This place… It’s a cesspool of disorder and harm,” Rollo says, his voice cold yet trembling with suppressed emotion. “You’ve been caught in its web for too long. You deserve better.”

Rollo’s comfort is practical and protective. He tries to create a sense of normalcy for you, offering quiet, structured moments away from the chaos. His words are sharp but sincere. “You deserve a life of peace and stability. If you can’t find it here, I’ll do what I can to give it to you.”

Neige LeBlanche

Neige is quick to notice your distress, his naturally empathetic nature making him keenly aware of your struggles. He’s horrified to think of you enduring so much alone and wants to do everything in his power to make you smile again.

“Oh no… You’ve been feeling like this?” Neige’s voice is soft, his eyes brimming with concern. “You don’t deserve to carry such sadness by yourself.”

Neige’s comfort is gentle and uplifting. He sings for you, offers kind words, and encourages you to express your feelings without fear. “You’re so strong, but you don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s okay to let someone take care of you for a change.”

Grim

Grim initially doesn’t notice your struggles, his focus often on his own ambitions and mischief. When he finally realizes how much you’ve been enduring, he feels both guilt and panic.

“Hey… You’re not okay, are ya?” Grim’s ears droop as he looks up at you, his voice unusually soft. “Why didn’t ya tell me? I—I’m supposed to be your partner!”

Grim becomes fiercely protective, sticking by your side at all times. He tries to cheer you up with his antics and insists on being your “emotional support boss.” “You’re stuck with me, got it? So don’t go actin’ like you’re all alone. I won’t let ya.”

Staff:

Crowley

Crowley prides himself on being the "benevolent" headmaster, but when he realizes how much you’ve suffered under his care—or lack thereof—he’s struck by a rare pang of guilt. While he’s not one to admit fault outright, he becomes visibly uncomfortable with the weight of his oversight.

“My dear, you’ve been carrying all of this on your shoulders?” His dramatic flair falters for a moment, his usual exuberance replaced with awkward sincerity. “I… suppose I may have been a tad neglectful in ensuring your well-being.”

Crowley tries to make amends in his own roundabout way, offering resources, extended accommodations, or attempting to be more attentive (though his efforts are often misguided). “Rest assured, I shall personally oversee that you are well cared for! You have my full support—within reason, of course.”

Divus Crewel

Crewel is not one to tolerate weakness, but when he sees the toll everything has taken on you, his stern demeanor softens. He’s the type to take immediate, no-nonsense action to ensure you’re taken care of.

“You’ve let it get this bad without saying a word?” His sharp tone is laced with frustration, but his eyes betray his concern. “Pup, I thought I taught you better than to carry burdens alone.”

Crewel’s approach is practical yet caring. He insists you rest, brings you comforting meals, and ensures you know you’re valued. “You’re stronger than you think, but even the strongest need support. Lean on me, pup. I’ll make sure you’re back to full strength in no time.”

Mozus Trein

Trein is a man of wisdom and observation. He likely noticed your struggles but respected your space, waiting for the right time to step in. When he realizes the full extent of your distress, he feels deep regret for not intervening sooner.

“I should have addressed this earlier.” His voice is steady but tinged with remorse. “You’ve faced more challenges than any student should. It’s a testament to your resilience, but it shouldn’t have come to this.”

Trein offers gentle guidance, providing stability and reassurance. He shares stories of his own trials and reminds you that even the hardest times pass. “Life is fraught with difficulties, but you’ve shown remarkable courage. Allow others to help shoulder the burden—you need not face this alone.”

Ashton Vargas

Vargas isn’t the most emotionally perceptive, but when it finally clicks that you’re struggling, he’s hit with a wave of guilt. He immediately shifts gears, trading his usual boisterousness for genuine concern.

“Whoa… I had no idea it was this bad,” Vargas says, his brows furrowed in concern. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? I would’ve helped in a heartbeat!”

Vargas focuses on physical activity as a form of comfort, encouraging you to blow off steam in healthy ways. He also offers constant positive reinforcement. “You’re tough, kid, but even the toughest need a break. Let’s get some fresh air and clear your head—you’ve got this!”

Sam

Sam has always been attuned to the emotions of others, so when he realizes the depth of your struggles, he feels a pang of regret for not stepping in sooner. His usual upbeat demeanor becomes tinged with quiet sympathy.

“Well, well… Looks like someone’s been carrying more than their fair share.” His voice is soft, his usual grin replaced with a concerned expression. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?”

Sam provides comfort through small but meaningful gestures, like preparing your favorite treats or giving you space to talk. He reassures you with his calming presence and wise words. “Don’t keep it bottled up, friend. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s valid. I’m here to help you through it.”

Masterlist

[alastorss]

Hi! I hope you're having a good day! I've been thinking, how would Alastor react to the reader casually saying stuff like "I like your laugh, it's nice," and "You voice is really soothing," out of the blue.

a/n: oh i loooooved writing this ^ ^ he would 100% be the type to try and hide that he actually likes the compliments but fail miserably. thank you and i hope you like this!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You'd like to say you know everything about Alastor, but that's far from the truth.

You know his mother's jambalaya recipe, sure, and that he takes his coffee black. You've memorized the intro of his morning broadcast, and learned the feeling of his chin propped on your shoulder.

There are pieces of Alastor you know like the back of your hand, but somehow you've never even scratched the surface of deciphering him. He was just like that, you suppose—an enigma wrapped in another mystery that would take a lifetime to unravel.

The only thing he liked more than his secrets was keeping them, after all.

And he especially enjoyed toying with you—dangling little tidbits of trivia about him in front of your face and snatching it away when you inevitably took the bait. He'd laugh about it, too, saying you were so adorable for trying.

For some time you had hypothesized that his ears were a good way of gauging his real thoughts about matters, but he was irritatingly good at controlling those as well. Not even the slightest twitch to give away his inner monologue.

"You are so annoying, you know that?" You once told him while brushing your teeth, words coming out muffled from your toothbrush. Minty foam gathered at your mouth while you glared at him through the reflection in the mirror.

He only laughed, as he always did, and propped his chin on your shoulder.

"How rude!" He chastised you playfully.

You leaned down to rinse your mouth. "I'm just saying," you muttered after standing tall again, "I wish I knew what was going through that head of yours sometimes."

Unsurprisingly, Alastor's expression was unreadable.

He opted to bite your cheek and walk away from the conversation after that, not bothering to enlighten you even slightly.

You watched him from across the bathroom, eyeing the way his shadow danced around him with a mind of its own before it disappeared into the darkness.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

His downfall began with a comment you made after you ended up falling asleep with your head on his shoulder.

He had been reading the latest article about the Vees to you out loud, practically singing his amusement with how terrible this column had painted out Vox to be. With fame came criticism, of course, and Alastor would happily sit there and criticize Vox all day if he could.

Your head hit his shoulder quick and he sighed, ears perking at the familiar sound of your slowing breaths. (He didn't bother waking you. It's not like he had much else to do at the time.)

"Your voice is so soothing," you shrugged when you finally awoke. "The static is like... comforting white noise for me, or something."

'Or something?' he wanted to ask.

He didn't, because he didn't really care for an explanation further than that. (He definitely didn't avoid prying because he felt something warm in his chest knowing you thought that way about him.)

It kept happening after that, as much as he wishes it didn't.

Little comments you slid into conversation so casually—tiny compliments and teases that drove him up the wall. They were softening him up, flattering him in dangerous ways.

The demon felt his sanity wearing thin with each passing day, making tremendous efforts to hide the way your slips made him warm.

He's sure he is about to crack. At any moment, his ears will flick or his cheeks will cherub with genuine joy because you can't keep your words to yourself. But he's done well for himself thus far, pat on the back, for not gratifying you.

He mentally groans when you join him at the bar, eyeing his drink. "It's the middle of the day," you point out.

"And you've come to scold me?" He tuts.

"I've come to join you, actually."

Alastor chuckles, voice missing it's usual static filter. He reaches over to pour you a glass when you smile at him.

"You have a nice laugh."

He nearly shatters the glass in his hands.

You snicker quietly, leaning over the bar to creep under his face which is scrunched up in concentration.

"What's wrong? I like your laugh, you should do it more!"

Taking a deep breath, the Radio Demon reaches over to pinch your nose. You yelp and jerk away from him, glaring.

"Flattery will get you nowhere~" he sings.

Your head tilts to the side in confusion. There's a smugness to your gaze that makes him feel like a trapped animal, and he realizes that you've known all along what you've done to him.

"Oh, but I think it does," you laugh, nodding to his shadow burned into the floor.

Its smile is uncharacteristically soft, missing all semblance of its usual fangs and sharp edges. Howling in embarrassment, the shadow dives away, abandoning its owner to confront you alone.

All this time, his shadow had been the one betraying him. Through all the times he had forced his ears to stay rigid, with all the effort to maintain his mask of indifference, you'd seen where he had overlooked.

His jaw clenches so hard he can feel his teeth grinding into each other. "You are perceptive, my dear."

"No," you giggle. "You're just bad at hiding how you feel. I think it's cute."

Alastor glowers at you, but his ears flop back and forth atop his head at your praise anyway.

~

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