#sometimes your body knows something is deeply deeply wrong but it doesn't know how to communicate that other than

[itsnotyouithink]

AFRAID

PAIRING: tara carpenter x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Tara comes to your basketball game after you pass the most recent Film 101 test and you don’t expect the feelings you feel when you see her in the crowd cheering for you. You also didn’t expect your night to turn into an Ocean’s 8 reboot while trying to get “Drunk Tara” back into her own apartment.

WARNINGS: underage drinking, daddy issues

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: send requests i’m bored

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The gym is electric, humming with pre-game adrenaline and the sticky throb of too many bodies in one space. Air conditioning exists only in theory; the overhead lights radiate down like they're trying to cook everyone alive. The floor already glistens with condensation before the first whistle.

You're bent over at the waist near the scorers' table, sweat already lining your spine and pooling in the crease behind your knee. Your taped ankle pulses—tight, reliable pain. It's fine. You've played through worse. You stretch, pull your hoodie over your head, and shake out your arms.

Then you look up.

She's here.

Tara Carpenter. Second row, dead center. She's not front row—she said she wouldn't do front row—but she's close enough to see the way your jersey clings to your back. Close enough to hear your sneakers squeak across the court.

She's in a black ribbed tank and low-rise jeans, hair half-up and loose, strands sticking slightly to her cheeks from the heat. She's leaned forward, elbows braced on her knees, lips parted just slightly. There's a red Gatorade tucked between her feet like it's waiting to be handed off.

She doesn't wave. Doesn't smile.

She just watches.

"Eyes up, killer," Chad says as he jogs past you behind the scorer’s table, grinning like he's about to say something deeply inappropriate. "The professor showed."

You roll your eyes and jog back to the line-up. Tara's not your professor. She's your film studies tutor. Who sometimes brings you coffee and sometimes rolls her eyes when you flirt. Who told you, dead serious, that if you passed the test last week she'd consider coming to a game. And now she's here. With the Gatorade. Watching.

The ball goes up.

You don't get the tip, but you get the first steal.

Banks—number 5—telegraphs a lazy pass and you pick it, quick hands and quicker feet, and take it coast to coast. Easy two off the glass.

The bench is already shouting.

Your team runs motion and you're slicing through defenders, ghosting left and exploding right. You hit a pull-up jumper from the elbow. Then a deep three from the wing. Then another. You're finding seams where there are none.

Eight. Ten. Fifteen. By the end of the first quarter, you've dropped seventeen.

The gym smells like wood polish and sweat and something sweeter—the syrupy bite of Gatorade opened in warm hands. You glance at her once. Just once.

Tara hasn't touched the bottle. The crowd groans as someone misses a layup.

She's leaned back now, arms crossed. Her face is unreadable, but her foot is tapping. She's in it. You know that rhythm. It's how she tapped during your last study session, during a scene in The Babadook she couldn't look away from.

Mindy's beside her, shouting stats. Anika's filming. Chad's across the court pretending to be your hype man. He's yelling your name like he's your agent.

"She's gonna drop forty!" he calls at the start of the second. "Y'all better call SportsCenter!"

Tara doesn't react. But her eyes never leave you.

Then it happens.

You pivot off a screen, plant your foot wrong. Your ankle gives—not fully, not enough to fall, but enough that you feel the twinge. You bite down hard and keep going, but the limp shows in your next step.

Banks notices. Smirks.

"Uh oh," she says. "Little glass foot."

You say nothing.

You score twice more.

Twenty-four.

The crowd is a body of its own now—roaring, pulsing, reacting to every touch. It moves like breath. Every time you hit the floor, someone screams your name.

But there's a cold knot somewhere in your chest. And it tightens when you catch a glimpse—just beyond the student section, seated three rows up, expression locked in place like it's carved into stone.

Your father.

He's dressed like he came from work—suit jacket folded over one leg, tie loosened. He sits with his elbows on his knees, watching like a scout, like a coach. Not like a parent.

No smile. No reaction.

You feel it in your teeth.

By halftime, you've scored 28. You limp toward the tunnel, ignoring the trainer trying to catch your eye. The locker room is a blur of shouts, water bottles, and sweat-drenched towels. You sit. Untape your ankle. Retape it tighter.

You think about quitting. For half a second. But you can't. Not tonight. Not when he's here. Not when she is.

Back on the court, the heat feels worse. Like the building's gotten angrier. But you don't slow down.

Thirty. Then thirty-four.

The defense tightens. You take a shoulder to the ribs. No call. Banks clips you going up for a layup and laughs on the way down.

Mindy's standing now, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Ref! What's your job, babe?!"

Tara's not smiling. Her jaw's tight. Her hands are clenched in her lap. That red bottle has moved to the edge of her seat.

You miss your next shot.

Then—next possession—Banks hits you hard. Deliberate. You hit the floor. The gym gasps.

You hear Chad yell, "Hands! She's all hands!"

Mindy: "Deck her, babe! We won't tell!"

You press a palm to the court and push yourself up. The pain flares. Your ankle screams. But you get up.

The crowd rises with you.

Tara rises, too. Slowly. Her brows knit. The look on her face isn't exactly worry. It's closer to rage.

You keep playing.

Fourth quarter. Final minutes. You're at 39.

Down two. The gym is vibrating. The bench is up. Students are on their feet.

You fake right, step back left, and shoot.

It arcs.

Time stalls.

Swish.

Forty-two.

You barely hear the buzzer. The bodies crashing into you. The coach clapping your back. Chad screaming like he's at a wedding. Mindy waving a towel like it's a flag of surrender. Anika already filming your sweaty face in case it goes viral.

Your chest is heaving. Your ankle's on fire.

And she's still there.

Tara Carpenter, second row. Standing now. The Gatorade open, finally, in her hand. Her bangs are damp. Her face is unreadable.

But this time—when you meet her eyes?

She smiles.

Barely. But it's there.

You limp to the sideline. One of your teammates passes you a towel, but you brush them off. You keep your eyes on her.

Tara doesn't say anything. Doesn't wave. She just takes a slow sip from the bottle and watches you like the whole court still belongs to you.

And maybe, just maybe—you believe it.

⸻

The hallway outside the locker room was colder than the gym, but not by much. The walls were that pale institutional yellow that made everything feel a little sick. Rubber soles squeaked on the tile as players came and went in bursts—laughing, shouting, dragging gym bags over one shoulder and reeking of adrenaline and deodorant and sweat.

You moved slower than the rest.

Towel around your neck, jersey damp and clinging to your ribs, hair sticking to your temple, ankle burning with each step like someone had poured something molten into the joint. You should've been sitting. You should've been icing. You should've been letting the trainer tape you up again, but your eyes weren't on the locker room door anymore.

They were locked on the girl leaning against the cinderblock wall across the hall.

Tara Carpenter. Arms crossed. One foot pressed back against the brick like she wasn't planning on staying. Red Gatorade in one hand, label torn halfway off, condensation slicking her fingers. She had her head tilted just slightly, like she was still trying to decide if she'd made the right choice coming.

The hallway lighting did her no favors, but she still looked good in that infuriating way she always did—black tank clinging to her ribs, jeans low on her hips, hair half-up and loose from the heat of the gym. Her small braid had half fallen out, wavy strands curling at her cheekbones. Her expression was unreadable. Or at least, it would've been to anyone else.

But you knew better now.

You hobbled your way toward her.

Slow. Slight limp. Every nerve still buzzing. Not from pain. From her.

She didn't look up at first. Pretended not to notice. Pretended she wasn't watching you limp your way toward her like you hadn't just broken your body on a hardwood floor for 42 points and a maybe.

When you were only a few feet away, she finally glanced up. The corner of her mouth tugged upward, just slightly. Just enough to hurt.

"I didn't think you'd actually come," you said, breath catching a little from the lingering burn in your chest.

"I told you. If you passed the test, I'd consider it." Her voice was cool. Even. Like she hadn't spent the entire game on the edge of her seat. "I didn't say anything about staying."

"You stayed."

"I was waiting for it to be over."

"Forty-two's a long wait."

Tara's eyes flicked down to your ankle, then back up. "And what'd that cost you? Half a foot?"

You grinned, sweat still beading down your neck. "Most of one, yeah."

She held out the Gatorade like she was offering you a settlement. Her fingers brushed yours again when you took it—cool plastic against your overheated palm. You didn't drink it yet. You just held it between you.

You searched her face for something. Warmth? Relief? Maybe even a sliver of pride?

But she just looked at you like she was trying to hide something behind all that silence.

"You looked pissed," you said. "Third quarter. You stood up."

"I looked annoyed."

"You stood up, Carpenter. Don't try and spin that."

Her arms crossed tighter over her chest. "You were being dramatic."

"She elbowed me in the ribs."

"You've played through worse."

"You remember that?" you asked, your voice softer now. "You remembered I've played through worse?"

Tara didn't answer. Her jaw flexed. Her eyes dropped to your lips for a second and then darted away.

Inside the locker room, someone slammed a locker shut and shouted your name. Chad's voice rang out next from down the hall before Mindy slapped his chest to shut up, "Are we going or what, MVP?! There's literally jungle juice calling your name!"

You didn't take your eyes off her.

"You going to the party?" she asked.

Her tone was casual. But her eyes weren't.

You took a long sip of the Gatorade. It was warm now. But still sweet.

"I wasn't gonna," you said, "but if you're gonna be there..."

"I didn't say I was going."

"You didn't say no."

Tara tilted her head, mouth curling into something half-cocky, half-intrigued. "I've been to your parties before. It's loud. It smells like sweat and spilled vodka."

"I smell like sweat and spilled vodka," you offered.

She gave you a once-over. "You smell like painkillers and ego."

You laughed. It hurt, but it was worth it. She was close now. Closer than she'd been in weeks. And the weight of her stare made your skin hum.

You leaned forward slightly, voice low. "You could just say it."

"Say what?"

"That you're proud of me."

Tara rolled her eyes so hard it looked like it physically hurt her. But the flush in her cheeks gave her away.

"I didn't say I wasn't," she murmured.

The hallway quieted for a moment. Just the two of you and the buzz of the lights and your teammates yelling inside. You watched her watch you. Her eyes traced the curve of your shoulder, the red mark on your chin from the fall, the way you were trying not to favor your ankle.

She swallowed.

"Go get changed," she said finally, voice tight. "Before I say something I regret."

You smirked. "That a yes?"

"It's a maybe."

You backed away, smiling into your Gatorade. "Good enough for me."

And just before you slipped back into the locker room, you glanced over your shoulder—

She was still watching.

Like she couldn't stop.

Like maybe this wasn't just about a game anymore.

⸻

The hallway of the athlete dorms smells like victory and sweat and the kind of cheap pizza they only order when someone breaks a record.

You've got one arm slung around Chad's shoulders for balance, the other gripping a water bottle like it's a trophy. Your hair's damp, jersey untucked, ankle wrapped tight but still throbbing. Every movement hurts, but you're grinning so hard your face aches.

"Forty-two!" Mindy shouts like she's announcing a lottery number. "I've never seen a game like that. You literally had the crowd in cardiac arrest."

"Banks was crying," Anika adds, deadpan. "She said she was sweating but we all saw it."

"I got that shot on video," Chad says, gesturing wildly. "You hear me screaming in the background like I was being born again."

The group laughs. Tara had to do damage control before sneaking out for the party later in the night. You nodded with a small smile before you watched her go - Mindy joked with you the whole walk back to your dorm. The stairwell echoes with noise and sneakers and energy, other sports teams buzzing like they just won too.

You finally reach your door, cheeks still flushed, high off the chaos. Someone's still humming the fight song. Mindy's behind you, dancing with a box of pizza someone stole from the locker room. Your ankle twinges as you reach for the keycard.

"You need to sit down before your foot straight-up detaches," Anika says.

You swipe your key. The light flashes green.

And then you open the door.

And everything stops.

The dorm lights are on. Too bright. Not the warm fairy lights you usually plug in. Not the soft, lived-in glow. No music. No movement. Just cold fluorescents and—

Your father. Sitting at your desk.

Still in his button-up from the game. Collar undone. Tie hanging loose. One leg crossed over the other like he's been there for a while. His hands are steepled under his chin. He doesn't stand. He doesn't smile. He just looks at you like he's already decided something.

Silence.

A full, crushing beat of it.

Then Chad, blinking. "Uh... Coach?"

You don't move. Just grip the doorframe like it might hold you upright.

"He's not a coach," you say flatly. "Guys... it's fine."

"You sure?" Mindy asks, quieter now.

You force a smile. "Yeah. I'll see you at the party."

The group hesitates—like maybe they don't want to leave you—but you're already stepping inside, already closing the door behind you. The latch clicks too loud. It echoes.

Still silence.

You drop your bag by the foot of the bed. The ice pack from the trainer thumps as it hits the floor.

"You let her hit you three times before the refs blew the whistle," he says.

Not hello. Not good job.

Just that.

You peel off your jersey, slow, careful, trying not to let it stick to your back. "They were late. I still scored."

"You played sloppy in the third quarter."

"I was doubled."

"You should've adapted."

You toss the jersey onto your desk—next to his elbow. You don't meet his eyes. You head to your duffel bag and grab the Gatorade Tara brought. Still unopened by you. You uncap it now, take a slow sip.

"You came all the way here just to say that?"

"I came because no one on your team has the balls to tell you when you mess up."

You lean back against the wall, arms crossed, the bottle pressed to your wrist.

"I dropped forty-two points."

"You could've dropped forty-five if you kept your head in the game."

Your breath catches. You bite it down.

"I didn't know you were coming."

"I didn't come to be seen."

"No," you say. "You came to watch."

Your voice is sharp now. Tired. Not angry—just done. The kind of exhaustion that settles in your chest like wet concrete.

"You were three rows up. Stone-faced the whole time. I nearly rolled my ankle into a spiral fracture and you didn't even flinch."

He shrugs. "You kept playing."

"I always do." You shake your head, “But that’s what you taught me, right?”

That lands. A flicker of something in his jaw. Maybe regret. More likely just disappointment trying on a new expression.

"I need to change," you say finally, voice quiet.

He stands. Straightens his sleeves.

"I'll see you at the next one."

You don't answer. You don't look at him.

The door opens. Closes.

Silence again.

And in it—you're just a girl standing in a room still heavy with his absence.

Skirt still in your drawer.

Tara's voice still echoing in your head: I like watching you when you're not pretending.

You sit down on the edge of your bed. Hold the Gatorade in your lap.

And let the silence hum.

⸻

As soon as you entered the frat house, you went straight for the alcohol. You absentmindedly waved at people shouting your name, played a few rounds of Cup Pong with your teammates in a mess of drunken bets and shots.

The party's at its loudest now. Music thumping. Lights dimmed to a haze of color. Every cup's sticky. Every face flushed. You've been complimented thirty times, kissed on the cheek at least five, and someone made a toast with Jell-O shots in your honor.

You earned this. You won this.

And yet—

Your crown is slipping. Because somewhere in the back of the house, Tara Carpenter is absolutely wrecked.

"We need evac, NOW," Mindy yells, cutting through a crowd of girls doing TikTok choreography in the hallway. "She's on the coffee table, screaming about gender theory and how she'd fight Freud with her bare hands."

"She what?" you blink.

"-Tearing him apart," Anika says, breathless. "It was like watching a TED Talk delivered by a gremlin."

You drop your drink and follow them through the chaos. Bodies part for you like you're royalty—or a handler trying to rescue a drunken celebrity. And then you see her.

Tara.

Standing on the coffee table in combat boots and a tank top, one braid unraveling, cheeks flushed to hell, arms outstretched like she's trying to summon a demon.

"IF I'M CRAZY THEN CALL ME KATHY BATES!" she yells.

A guy nearby cheers. Someone else drops a joint in awe.

Mindy grabs her ankle. "Tara, babe. Please come down."

"I'm making a point!"

"You're gonna make a trip to the ER!" Anika calls.

Tara squints, sees you, and gasps dramatically like she's in a soap opera.

"You're here," she says, eyes glassy, wobbling a little. "Oh my God, she came."

"Of course I came," you sigh, stepping closer. "It's my party."

She crouches down on the table like she's preparing to leap into your arms. "Catch me."

"Do not jump."

"I'm gonna do it," she stage-whispers.

"You jump and I let you hit the floor, Carpenter."

Mindy slaps a hand over her face. "This is a disaster."

Chad appears beside you, holding a slice of pizza like a scroll. "She also told three people she invented lesbianism."

"I DIDN'T SAY I INVENTED IT," Tara shrieks, hopping off the table directly into your arms with absolutely no warning. "I said I redefined it!"

You catch her. She smells like tequila, peach lip balm, and rage.

"We have to get her home," Anika says, eyes darting around. "Sam cannot find out."

"She's gonna kill us," Mindy mutters.

"She's gonna start with me," you say, adjusting your grip on Tara as she curls against you like you're her designated pillow. "I was the one who was found with her locked in the basketball gym two weeks ago at midnight. Her sister already probably hates me.”

"Holy shit," Chad says solemnly. "You are gonna die.”

⸻

1:23 a.m. – Outside the Apartment

The porch light above flickers like it's struggling to stay conscious—maybe in solidarity with Tara, who's folded into your side, draped half-limp across your back, breath warm on your neck and smelling like peach Schnapps and bad decisions. Her left boot is missing. Her right sock is wet for some reason no one understands. There's glitter on her shoulder, and her braid has completely unraveled, curls stuck to her cheek like sleep lines made of chaos.

The rest of the group crowds behind you: Mindy pacing with military intensity, Anika wringing her hands like she's praying, and Chad holding Tara's boot, a bag of ice, and a Gatorade like he's bracing for an apocalypse.

"I need absolute silence," Mindy says. "We're going full Special Ops. Tara, you're not allowed to speak unless you're unconscious."

"I am unconscious," Tara mumbles against your shoulder. "I'm just narrating from the beyond."

"Shut it," you whisper. "You smell like a jelly bean died in your mouth."

"You smell like a warm bakery and judgment."

"She's feral," Chad says reverently.

"She's possessed," Anika corrects. "That's not alcohol. That's demon juice."

The door creaks open. It sounds like it's screaming in slow motion.

The apartment is dark, cloaked in shadow. The hum of the fridge is the only sound. The air is warm, still laced with dinner and detergent and something sharp underneath—like someone left out tension to ferment.

You take a breath and cross the threshold.

⸻

1:25 a.m. – Entering the Apartment

Every step is a war crime waiting to happen. The floorboards have never sounded louder, like they've unionized against your mission.

"Step only on the edge of the runner," Mindy mouths as she tiptoes ahead. "Not the middle. And whatever you do—don't look at Sam's door. She'll feel it."

Tara clings to your neck tighter. "You're doing so good. You're like... a hero."

"Shhh."

"You smell like a cinnamon candle."

"Please."

"I'd die for you."

"Then die quietly."

Behind you, Chad stubs his toe and drops the ice bag. It hits the floor with a wet slap. Everyone flinches.

The light under Sam's door flickers slightly.

No movement.

Anika mouths, we're dead.

Mindy waves a hand. Abort nothing. Proceed.

You adjust Tara in your arms. She nestles into your chest like she belongs there—like she's always belonged there—and hums something incoherent against your shirt. Her fingers curl in the fabric like a child's.

"I feel like a burrito," she murmurs. "A burrito... of shame."

"You're a quesadilla of regret," you whisper back.

"I'd let you eat me."

"Okay," Mindy hisses. "We're officially on pause. She's cut off for eternity."

⸻

1:28 a.m. – Hallway to Doom

Tara's room is seven steps away. Sam's door is four steps closer.

The floor groans like a warning bell. You hold Tara tighter, adjusting your grip beneath her thighs, one hand splayed against the small of her back, heat radiating between you.

Her skin is warm. Her breath is shallow.

"I want you to come tuck me in," she whispers.

"I'm doing that."

"With, like, affection."

You glance toward Sam's door. The hallway feels like it's holding its breath.

You whisper, "Tara. Focus."

She leans up just enough to nose your cheek. "You're so bossy. It's... intoxicating."

"You're already intoxicated."

"I'm double drunk. I'm you-drunk."

You almost drop her.

Mindy hisses: "MOVE. MOVE NOW."

You surge forward—two steps, three, four—

Anika twists Tara's bedroom doorknob, holding it open like a bodyguard ushering in a VIP client. Chad crouches in the corner, whispering prayers to no god in particular.

You slip inside just as a floorboard pops loudly behind you.

You freeze. The hallway stays silent.

No Sam.

You exhale like you just survived a plane crash.

⸻

1:30 a.m. – Tara's Room

The door shuts behind you.

You set her down carefully, slowly, easing her onto the bed like she's made of glass and landmines. Her head falls back against the pillow, curls spilling across the case like a halo of static.

Her lips are pink, parted. Her eyes flutter open halfway, mascara smudged just enough to make her look like a tragic silent film star. Her tank top rides up just enough to show the scar below her ribs.

She looks up at you like you're something she dreamed.

"Don't go."

Your throat closes.

Mindy tosses a water bottle on the nightstand and nods like a soldier finishing a mission. "She's down. Let's run."

Anika tugs Chad toward the door.

But Tara's hand finds yours before you can follow.

"Wait," she murmurs. "You stayed."

"I always stay."

Her thumb traces your knuckles. She smiles—barely. Sleepily.

"You're really hot when you panic."

You snort softly. "You're going to forget all of this."

"Maybe." A pause. "Maybe not."

You tuck the blanket around her, brushing the hair from her forehead with a tenderness you try not to analyze.

Her eyes slip closed again.

She exhales. "My heart is so stupid for you."

And then—out.

⸻

Back in the hallway, the others are waiting. Mindy's pressed against the wall like she's just pulled off a heist. Anika's shaking out her hands like she's landed a plane. Chad solemnly holds up the boot.

"She's safe," you whisper.

"For now," Mindy mutters. "Until the Sam Bomb goes off tomorrow."

You nod once.

But even as you walk away, even as the door clicks shut behind you—

You can still feel Tara's fingers wrapped around yours.

Like she never let go.

[im4rmy]

when he hurts you during sex by accident - OT7 (idol AU)

TW: rough sex, pain, fingering, anal, oral (woman receiving), bruised skin, handcuffs, MDNI

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Mark　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

After growing up surrounded by men, he’s still learning how to temper his strength when he’s with you. But when he’s caught up in the pleasure of thrusting into you, chasing his orgasm... he loses that last shred of control he had left. And it’s a little... too much for you. You squeeze his shoulder to get his attention, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

"Mark—wait, slow down, please."

Nothing. But when he slams into you again, making you cry out in pain and scramble to pull away, that finally snaps him out of it.

"What’s wrong?"

"You were hurting me—ugh," you groan, pressing a hand to your lower belly.

Mark’s eyes go wide. "W-What? Oh my God, I’m sorry! Are you okay, baby?"

You take a deep breath, relaxing your legs as the stinging sensation starts to fade. You give him a small smile and scoot closer, but his face and body have completely shut down.

"I’m so sorry... Are you—are you sure you're okay?"

"I’m fine, really. Don’t worry, it’s already over."

Still, Mark can’t stop apologizing—over and over—until you finally sigh and decide to call it a night. He feels so guilty that he doesn't touch you for nearly two weeks.

"It’s just—I’m scared I’ll hurt you again."

"It was just an accident, baby. I trust you."

Let’s just say, sex with him was extra gentle and cautious for the next two months or so.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Renjun　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Renjun is never rough or violent in bed, but he is freaky—there’s no denying that. He loves tying you up (and being tied up, though that’s another story). Tonight, though, he seems a little too lost in the moment to notice that your arched back isn’t from pleasure—it’s from pain. You’re lying on your stomach, hands cuffed behind you, as a moaning Renjun thrusts into you from behind. And when it feels like your back is about to snap in two, you realize it’s time to use your safeword.

"APPLE PIE!"

Renjun freezes instantly, sucking in a deep breath as he reels himself back in. As you relax your back, trying to ease the pain, he carefully pulls out of you.

"Are you okay, baby?"

"No, please—u-uncuff me."

You barely finish the sentence before your wrists are free. You collapse onto the bed with a whimper, face buried in the pillow.

"Talk to me, beautiful. Is it your back?"

You nod against the pillow, feeling his warm hands gently massaging your sore muscles. You breathe deeply a few times, trying to let your body relax, and then roll over onto your back. Meeting his worried gaze, you give him a small smile.

"I’m okay now."

"Are you sure? We can stop—"

"No, no, it’s fine. Really."

You lift yourself up enough to kiss him, and he melts into you, though he’s still cautious. His hesitation doesn’t last long, though—after all, you two communicate a lot, and you have a safeword for a reason. It’s not the first time one of you hasn't been comfortable with something you were trying in bed (and there have been a lot of things). You say the word, the other stops immediately, and you move on—no guilt, no second-guessing, no overthinking. That’s why soon Renjun is moving inside you again, slowly and deeply, kissing you and holding you close. You smile up at him, and just like that, nothing else matters.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Jeno　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You love having sex with Jeno. You’re absolutely crazy about it: he’s insanely hot, he knows exactly what he’s doing in bed, and he’s an expert when it comes to using his hands and mouth. He’s not even rough, not really—he’s just so strong that sometimes he doesn’t realize when he’s gripping your hips a little too hard. Honestly, you don’t even notice it in the moment. Let’s be real. But the next morning, you definitely feel it: your skin burns, your hips ache, and when you catch sight of the dark bruises blooming across your body in the mirror… you know Jeno cannot find out. If he sees them, he’ll never touch you again (and you cannot let that happen, for heaven’s sake). Still, when you keep wincing every time you shift your weight, it’s impossible for him not to notice. Ignoring your half-hearted protests, he lifts up your sweatshirt—and immediately spots the damage.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

His voice is sharp, panicked. And when you can’t even meet his eyes, can’t even form words—he realizes the truth.

“Oh my God, baby—I did this? Shit, I'm so sorry—why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?”

“Because you weren’t! I swear, it only started hurting this morning.”

He looks at you with those wide, heartbroken puppy eyes, pulling you into his arms and holding you tight.

“I’m so sorry, baby. Does it hurt a lot?”

You giggle softly, melting into his touch.

“No, it’s okay, really. It’ll go away soon. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Mhm.”

You stay curled up together for a long time. He even skips his gym session with Jaemin, choosing instead to stay in bed doing absolutely nothing but showering you with endless affection. And the next night?

He makes it up to you by eating you out like he’s never done before.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Haechan　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Sex with Haechan is messy, loud, and full of needy, desperate sounds. So it’s understandable that he doesn’t immediately realize when your moans of pleasure shift into moans of pain. He shifts into a wrong angle and thrusts too sharply, and your body stiffens, a strangled sound escaping your throat. But he moves again, making you cry out. Finally, something clicks—he looks at you, sees your pained expression, and his eyes go wide with alarm. He pulls out instantly.

“Are you okay?”

“Fuck—ouch.”

You curl your legs up to your chest, taking a few deep breaths to ease the sting.

“Y/N, you’re scaring me. Talk to me.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you assure him, even if you’re still a little breathless.

“Can I take a look?”

His voice is so soft, so gentle, and his warm hand resting on your knee makes you feel safe. You nod, opening your legs for him.

“You’re not bleeding, sweetheart,” he says after checking carefully. “How about I run a hot bath for you? We can cuddle until the water gets cold, and then I’ll give you a full-body massage with my best lotion—and snuggle you to sleep after that.”

You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck as he scoops you up and carries you to the bathroom.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re going to enjoy the massage more than I will?”

“Impossible! I’m using my precious, insanely expensive lotion just for you!”

“And getting the chance to rub it all over my naked body isn’t worth it to you?”

“Oh, baby, it’s worth every damn cent.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Jaemin　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Jaemin is a HUGE fan... of anal. You, on the other hand, have to be honest: you don't enjoy it quite as much as he does. But he really loves it, so sometimes you give in, even though you know it’s not going to feel amazing at first. But today, your body just refuses to relax — especially with your naked body pinned against the door, your muscled boyfriend pounding into you from behind, gripping your breasts like his life depends on it. And normally, this would be one of the hottest things you've experienced in a while (not that your sex life is anything close to boring), if only you could manage to relax... even a little.

"Wait, Jaem— please stop," you gasp.

"W-What?" he stammers.

"I-It hurts— please," you plead.

Jaemin immediately pulls back, easing his hold on you. "You okay, baby?"

You collapse back against his strong chest. "I'm sorry, love— I'm sorry, I can't..."

"What’s wrong, princess?"

"It just... hurts. I don’t like it."

He starts stroking your stomach gently, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. "I’m sorry... was I too rough?"

"No, it's just... I can’t relax tonight."

You can literally feel the smirk forming against your skin. "Mmh, my girl needs to relax? Lucky for you, I know just the thing."

Less than thirty seconds later, all your tension is forgotten— replaced by pure bliss as his head disappears between your thighs. A win is a win.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Chenle　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

That would never happen with Chenle. During sex, Chenle is entirely focused on you. There's no way he would get so lost in the moment that he wouldn’t notice if you were uncomfortable. Every move he makes is about your pleasure — so the worst that could happen is him trying something you’re not particularly into.

"Oh, you don’t like that? Noted," he says, adjusting immediately. "But what about this— yeahhh, that’s my good girl. There we go."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Jisung　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Jisung isn’t rough or wild in bed — not at all. But he is... big. You're the more experienced one in the relationship, so you’ve turned foreplay into an art form, making it playful and teasing. But the truth is, it’s all part of making sure you’re wet enough to handle him properly (not that you mind — you're a huge fan of foreplay). Tonight, though, Jisung is a little tipsy from the wine you gave him — and he's definitely in the mood to take charge. You’re not complaining: he’s hot as hell and you’re hopelessly in love with this adorably clumsy boy. So when he starts stripping you down with eager hands, kissing and licking at your breasts with reckless abandon... you're in heaven. Until he suddenly pushes between your legs, barely grazing your entrance— and you gasp, eyes flying wide open.

"Wait, Ji— SHIT!"

He tries to thrust inside you, but you’re not nearly wet enough. You yelp, scrambling out from under him, glaring at him with an exasperated look.

"What the hell? You can’t just go like that! Ouch," you hiss, pacing around the room to shake off the burn.

It’s obvious you’re not really mad at him, so you take a deep breath to calm yourself.

"I really... I hurt you?" he asks, wide-eyed.

You look up at him, and your heart just melts: he’s kneeling on the bed, stark naked, cheeks flushed, looking more wrecked than you’ve ever seen him. You sigh and climb back onto the bed, sitting in front of him.

"Baby, you're too big to just... shove it in like that."

"T-Too big?" he echoes.

"Yes, Ji."

"So every time I— does it always hurt?"

"No! No, not at all. Making love to you is my favorite thing in the world. We just have to make sure I’m ready for you, okay?"

Jisung keeps staring at you with those huge, puppy-like eyes. Then his gaze drops— right between your thighs. He wouldn’t dare look at you like that if it weren’t for the alcohol buzzing in his system. Still, he nods seriously.

"Got it. I have to touch you first."

You blink a couple of times, about to answer— but then you feel his fingers moving against your clit, and whatever you were going to say dies on your tongue. There’s a clumsy, inexperienced edge to his touch... but it’s still exactly what you need, your body relaxing under his hands.

"Is it working?" he asks.

You laugh, pulling him into a kiss. "Yeah, my good boy."

(He came right at that moment.)

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

other OT7 chapters:

your contact names in each other's phone

his favourite part of your body

when he hurts you during sex by accident ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ you're here!

when he comes back from tour

⇘ nct dream idol AU index ⇙

·˚✎ ﹏im4rmy's masterlist

Taglist: @carelessshootanonymous

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

[noxturnals-void]

Slashers seeing their s/o in a self-made p☆rn (Pt.1)

Characters include:

Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Michael Myers,

———————————————————————————

✨im back✨

this is not edited whatsoever

TW: NSFW, descriptions of sexual acts, masturbation, voyeurism, Micheal being Micheal

Jason Voorhees:

Oh boy

His view on sex is so skewed from his childhood, finding out you recorded a video of yourself in any way sexual has him so deeply confused

Honestly, he probably found it on your phone searching for something completely innocent in your camera roll

You only made the one video (he looked for others)

He takes your phone into the woods and privately watches the entire video

He's wounded at first - why would you do something like this? You seemed so innocent, nothing like the type of person he pictured would make this content

He starts to blush when your body straddles a pillow within frame of your poorly propped up phone

The sounds you make while humping the pillow has his free hand clenching tight at his side

He's careful with the volume, holding the phone close to his ear to listen to your whimpers then pulling the device down and rewinding so he can watch the video with the noises still fresh in his mind

Poor guy is so hard by the time the video is done

It would be wrong to touch himself to a dirty video of you, so he resists the heat between his legs and returns your phone, trying his best to play it cool like he didn't just watch you hump a pillow until you orgasmed

He won't mention it at all

Sometimes, he might make up an excuse to borrow your phone to watch it every now and then

Thomas Hewitt:

Similarly to Jason, his view on sex is skewed from childhood

He was taught that sex should be private and sacred and only after marriage

But masturbation? He's more confused about where that stands

Again, he would probably stumble across the video by accident

You left your phone open on your bed while you went to take a shower and he got curious

As soon as he realizes what the video is, he's hurrying to the basement as quick but non-suspiciously as possible

He locks the basement door- not that anyone, yourself included, goes down here often. It's just in case...

He sits down in a creaky wooden chair and pulls out your phone

Still unlocked, he finds the video again

He's exhilarated and oh so nervous as he watches your legs spread and your hands wander

He gets so hard at the sight of you so open and relaxed, touching yourself

Your first loud moan startles him, rushing to turn down the volume only he could hear

He knows it's wrong to touch himself to a video of you, but- oh god- you make it so difficult for him

He can't help it. He caves three minutes and seventeen seconds in when your legs shake and you make a sound that sends him over the edge

By the time he's finished, he's committed the entire video to memory from how much he has rewatched it to be able to finish in his own hand

He will return your phone to the spot on the bed he found it before your shower is done

He finds out your passcode later by looking over your shoulder, filing the information away so he can watch the video anytime he gets the opportunity

Michael Myers:

This guy steals your phone on the regular

It goes missing for days at a time, and you know it's him who takes it, though you can never get him to own up to it (or find where he hides it)

When he's snooping through your phone, he comes across a certain video of you getting intimate with a toy

He watches the entire thing (on repeat)

He doesn't care if your right in front of him, or sitting beside him, or out of the house- he's watching the entire thing shamelessly

Head tilts at the sounds you make

He turns the volume to max so he can hear every hitched breath and soft noise you make

He goes through your stuff, finding that particular toy (if you still have it) or something similar to it

He will bend you over into the same position as the video and use what he found to fuck you until your a mess with the video playing in front of you

Call it his way of getting back at you for using the toy and not him ;p

[crimsoncandy04]

wanderer but pre-remembering everything event smut.. i wanna kiss him and love him please.. maybe with slight jealousy?

Pre-Scaraification Wanderer?

So the only canon Kabukimono interaction scene we got before hoyo re-traumatized him and just TOOK him away from us forever 😻😺💜💙?

Ooh I have been WAITING for this.

(sorry I just have the biggest crush on Wanderer when he was still a sweetheart tbh. Like he was so cool and sexy as a harbinger and admirable and determined in his new healing era but his Kabu days just have a special place in my heart cause he was literally such a cutie with a heart of gold before shit hit the fan)

I'll fulfill your request with great enthusiasm fellow human.

(for plot reasons we were his secret fling before the irminsul event and now we find him again. Just BEFORE Traveler does and ruins everything of course

😔😒)

"Kuni I found you!" You call out excitedly as you rush over and instinctively wrap your arms around your lover's neck.

Except he doesn't embrace you back.

If anything he seems nervous and...shy?

"do we know each other?" A strangely pleasant voice suddenly asks you.

You look up at Kunikuzushi with a confused expression.

"what? Of course we do. What are you talking about? We see each other...all the time..." Your face falters as you finally register that something is wrong.

"Kuni? You do remember me... right?"

The man before you looked like your lover but for some reason it was as if you were staring into the eyes of someone completely different.

"I'm afraid not. Perhaps it has simply been a long while? You must excuse me, but sometimes my memory isn't the best when I'm distracted."

You felt like your heart was tearing in half.

He didn't... know who you were?

What the FUCK did he do with that stupid tree!?

You try not to sound as upset as you actually are.

"no no. Something happened. You know me very well it's just..." Struggling to hold back tears, you reach out and take his hand in yours. Silently begging for him to remember you but behind those unusually big and bright indigo irises, you saw nothing of the man you once fell in love with.

"i don't know what happened... but it appears... you no longer..."

The young man suddenly squeezed your hand tightly as the mournful and helpless expression on your face almost seemed to trigger some instinctive reaction in him to comfort you.

"Hey, don't be upset please. You seem like a really nice lady. Perhaps if you just helped me rekindle my memory a little, I could easily recall our previous interactions."

You hesitated.

How?

Every meeting between you both previously had been heated and steamy.

What would you even -?

Suddenly you got an idea.

"I know right now you don't remember me. And because of that this might seem sudden but... please excuse me!"

And with that you quickly tilt your head upwards and press your lips against his.

Archons how it was EVERYTHING you were missing.

Amnesia stricken Kunikuzushi again seemed to act on instinct.

He didn't understand why you were doing this but...it felt so...nice.

He placed a gentle hand on the small of your back and pulled you a little closer as you continued to kiss him deeply now and hold his hand.

Finally after several minutes you pull away. He stares at you with flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

"we used to...do stuff like that?" He asked in an uncharacteristically innocent way.

You nod.

"yes. And much more."

"more?" Kuni's body relaxed against yours as he considered your word. He seemed oddly confused but the hardness between his legs spoke otherwise. Still, if he couldn't remember you, maybe this was wrong? Maybe you just needed to start slowly accepting that-

"could we do that... again please?" Kuni asked suddenly. Derailing your train of thought completely.

"mm hmm" you lean into him again and this time there's a little more confidence in his touch. You both had been standing somewhere outside in the avidiya forest and as Kuni quickly figured out that he was enjoying this, he slowly leaned back against a nearby tree and pulled you against him. His hands move cautiously from your back to your ass. Squeezing your cheeks a little as he rubbed his clothed erection against your now moistened panties underneath your skirt.

You broke the kiss for a second as you just hugged him for a little bit longer. And oddly enough he's okay with this. This was unlike the Kunikuzushi you knew. This man was...softer...kinder... and oh how his gentle touch was so new to you yet so good feeling all at once.

You felt like you were more than desirable for once.

You felt like you were loved.

"how could I forget this? I jus-" you give him a playful kiss on the cheek as you slowly lean back and distract him from ruining the moment by pulling off your top. His soft indigo eyes widened as he gazed at your soft and large breasts. And yet this new curious and awe stricken expression in them, though different, was getting you just as wet as the lustful look you had grown used to in them.

"don't worry about it. I'm not sure what happened to you but...I still love you very much Kuni. So please..." You gently bring his hand to cup one of your tits. He gives it a cautious squeeze.

"let's make new memories?"

Something inside him seemed to falter as Kuni clearly lost himself in the moment and began to explore you a little more. He wraps his arms around you and knocks you both to the ground before kissing you once more whilst grabbing your thighs and spreading your legs around him. He lay on top of you then.

His soft lips trailing from your mouth to your neck. You gasp a little as you feel him pinch and tug at one of your nipples ever so delicately. Teasing you before moving further down and latching onto one of your sensitive peaks with his mouth and gently swirling his tongue, making you cry out and squirm underneath him as he continued to fondle your other breast at the same time.

"Kuni... your tongue feels so good ~ I want more please ~" your lustful tone reaches his ears yet for a split second he seems to pause.

He wondered why you kept calling him that. That wasn't his name. Well technically he didn't have one. But at some point he did... and it wasn't Kuni or whatever. Was it perhaps a special nickname you once gave him or...?

"stop calling me that please."

You feel yourself freeze a little as he tries to continue.

Does he not remember his name either?

"is that... not your name anymore?"

"I have no memory of it. just call me by my old one."

"huh?"

The young man moves further down your body. Pulling your knees apart before gently pulling aside your panties and giving your wet slit a quick teasing lick.

"Kabukimono. Just call me Kabukimono."

You let out a soft moan as you feel him suddenly pull you against his face and bury his tongue deep within your aching cunt. You squeal and cry out as he laps at your sensitive inner walls and alternates between fucking you with his tongue and teasing your clit.

Your fingers tangle themselves in his dark indigo hair, your other hand digging into the dirt underneath you both as you desperately try to anchor yourself to something.

This wasn't your Kunikuzushi.

But fuck was he almost... better?

No no. That was an awful thought.

But the name must've been on your mind still because when you feel him slide a finger into your tight pussy next and curl against your sweet spot, you accidentally mess up and say it again.

"Kuni!" You whine. You look down and see a brief look of irritation across his face. Followed by something else unrecognizable. Jealousy?

He voice vibrates against your cunt. Sending shivers down your spine.

"I told you. Call me Kabukimono."

"sorry I just forgot."

The young man who looked like Kunikuzushi suddenly got a familiar mischievous look in his eyes as he suddenly zeroed in on your dripping sex.

Yet his voice sounded teasing and playful almost.

"I'll make you remember then."

Suddenly you feel his lips seal around your clit. He sucked on the bundle of nerves HARD causing you to scream as your back arched upwards and your eyes rolled back in your head.

He continued to lick and suckle your clit even as your juices filled his mouth and you were seeing stars. Forcing your legs to stay spread as you instinctively tried to close them against the delightful onslaught of pleasure by jerking your knees apart and holding them in place. Finally in a fit of desperation and desire, you cry out.

"Kabukimono! Oh fuck! Kabukimono please I think I'm going crazy!~"

"Say it again please~"

He groaned as he continued his assault of ecstasy on your now oversensitive clitty.

"Kabuki-ah! Kabukimono! Kabukimono!"

The insides of your cunt tighten as Kabukimono hums against your sex in approval as he brings you to the edge of another intense climax that you swore left you seeing white for a second.

After that, he slowly released his hold on you and came up to kiss you again. You felt your heart swell with adoration as you tasted yourself on his lips.

Reaching out to hold him close as you slowly take deep breaths and calm yourself down as he gently plays with your hair and holds you as well.

You two stay together like this for a bit longer. You still weren't entirely sure what happened to the man you knew before but this... Kabukimono...

You loved him.

And he loved you too.

You could feel it in just how tightly he embraced you and how softly he whispered gentle words of sweetness in your ear.

Finally after several long minutes of cuddling together, Kabukimono reluctantly gets up and tells you that he has somewhere important to be.

You ask what could be so important now of all times and he simply responds by explaining to you how he is currently doing some local work for this man who helped him during a storm and that he shouldn't be late as it would be rude considering how he was working as a means of repaying him. Apparently.

You bid Kabukimono farewell as he gives you one last kiss farewell and promises to return to you tomorrow.

Little did you know

He would return as promised.

But Scaramouche would be the one returning for round two.

Or Wanderer was it?

You get the point;)

[r0-boat]

how do you think the kings would react to a very afeccionate mc? like, they are just hard clingy and loves to fill them with cuddles and kisses

Whb 5 Kings react to affectionate MC

Satan

Satan is not an affectionate devil. He doesn't do the mushy, gushy kisses and cuddles. However, you are the only exception. Being in your arms just calms him down. When he is in a bad mood and about to destroy the next thing in front of him, All you have to do is wrap your arms around him and bring his head into your chest, and he will take a deep breath, taking in your calming scent before exhaling deeply. He will crave your touch even if he doesn't know how to ask. Sometime, he even snatches you up and whispers mine, growling when you try to struggle out of his grip.

He'll give you lipstick just for you to kiss him and leave your kiss marks all over him and he will parade around like the happiest man on earth.

He loves most when you run give him soft supple touches It tickles and it feels good.

Mammon

Yes. However, your affection will always lead to something more because he's confused. What do you mean cuddles do not mean sexy time??

He likes being the big spoon; you're so small against his huge body when he holds you, he grabs all of you in his hand, and you're so soft compared to him. He wants to have you always.

His favorites are when you're in his lap, when he carries you like a princess when you try to wrap your arms around him, and you just can't because he's so big compared to you. He will gladly let you sit in his lap anywhere, anytime you may sit anywhere you like as long as it's on him. Mammon can effortlessly pick you up with one hand, carrying you around like the grocery bag or a knapsack; You don't have to worry about "hurting him."He likes being your big teddy bear.

Leviathan

What is this? What are you doing?? His eyes will go wide until he has realized this is what he's needed his whole life wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. This warmth that he feels being close to you. Levi does not understand that feeling, but is not a bad feeling—quite the opposite.

How to get Levi to be soft: step one cuddle. hold him close he will melt in your arms.

And when you try to get away from him, he will slowly reach and tug on your clothing, not wanting to let you go just yet. Levi takes his cuddle time very seriously. No one shall interrupt his precious time. Levi takes his cuddle time very seriously. No one shall interrupt his precious time

Beelzebub

What do you mean cuddles don't equal sex??? Though your touchyness is nice, I can see Beel becoming really touchy as well, like he cannot be in the same room with you without touching you in some way, from the littlest things like wrapping an arm around you to needing to be the one to sit so close to you that your shoulders are touching. Please don't move away from him. He will be crushed.

Pat or scratch his head He goes crazy for those It feels so good to get a head massage It feels like his brain is melting and all he can do is lay in your lap and think about how calming your fingers running through his hair feels.

Lucifer

Not much of a cuddler, But if it makes you happy, then I guess he'll indulge. He likes when you are sitting in his lap while he's working or laying on his shoulder while he's reading. Occasionally, he will bring his hand to your head and pet you or wrap an arm around you and bring you closer. But don't expect much from Lucifer. Just being in your vicinity is enough for him. If you ever walk out a room, he will pick up his stuff and follow you.

Lucifer will let you, but don't expect him to initiate back. But don't you dare stop; he will immediately think something is wrong. Just because he doesn't initiate touching that doesn't mean he doesn't want you.

[joejhang]

nathaniel wesninski vs neil abram josten

something that fascinates me abt the aftg books is the nathaniel vs neil dichotomy. so i'm gonna analyse and dissect it like a completely normal and fine person. spoilers ahead !!! continue at ur own risk

i feel like the fandom has the wrong idea abt nathaniel and neil; they aren't foils, they're mirrors. they're a lot more similar than i think the fandom likes to acknowledge. and i actually don't think neil himself has too much of a problem with that.

allow me to elaborate. neil isn't scared of nathaniel, and nor is he very sensitive about his father. he actually references his father sometimes as a defence mechanism ("you think i'm afraid of your knife? i'm the butcher's son.") his feelings towards his father are, i'd say, deep-rooted fear and resentment. this has to extend somewhat to nathaniel, given how deeply entwined nathaniel wesninski is with both the butcher (neil's childhood abuser, the one person he truly fears) and mary hatford (also one of neil's abusers imo but their relationship is a lot more complex), both of whom neil says he doesn't want to become like. but he also says it might be inevitable that he is a little bit like them anyway (he's right).

i think this is how the fandom differentiates between nathaniel and neil; nathaniel is cold-blooded, ruthless, analytical, a criminal mastermind. nathaniel wesninski sealed the deal for his own survival with ichirou moriyama. nathaniel wesninski endured the torturous conditions in the baltimore house. nathaniel wesninski watched the butcher of baltimore brutally murder a man in front of him at ten years old in castle evermore. nathaniel wesninski followed his mother on the run for eight years, twenty-two cities, sixteen countries and a dozen fake identities. nathaniel wesninski watched as his mother left bodies and sacrifices in their wake for their own survival. nathaniel wesninski orders hits on the people who have hurt the people he loves. more than once, others in the series note that neil will always be nathaniel wesninski at heart (ichirou, jean) and neil doesn't correct them.

neil josten, on the other hand, is scrappy and messy and impulsive. neil josten has sharply honed survival instincts that he throws away at the first chance of getting to live a real life. neil josten chose to stay at palmetto state university with the full knowledge that he would get himself and many others killed. neil josten clocked r*ko's shit on live tv and at the fall banquet. neil josten trusted a five foot nothing goalkeeper with his life for a year. neil josten saw the opportunity to do what he loved, even if it would kill him, and he took it. neil josten isn't afraid to run his mouth, be it to a teammate who overstepped or a reporter broadcasting on national tv. neil josten doesn't think about the past or the future but lives in the moment, all consequences be damned. neil josten gets to know and starts to care about the foxes even though he knows he shouldn't.

in short; nathaniel wesninski is ice all the way through, unapologetically the butcher and the bird's son, and neil josten is all fire, a young man and a runaway who chose living over survival and friends (family) over safety.

that's the dichotomy, but i actually think people don't realise that they're two sides of the same coin. i don't mean like "neil is nathaniel is nathan" i mean like neil chose to be neil josten, with full knowledge and agency, but that doesn't change that he was nathaniel first. in the fandom's declawing of neil, they forget that he's still the butcher's son, and he isn't afraid to show his teeth.

"neil josten" doesn't exist on his own. he is a product of neil's time with the foxes. neil says himself, at the beginning of the series, neil josten wasn't a person, just another identity that could be discarded at the drop of a hat. it was the foxes that made "neil josten" a real person. they pulled out from that facade the parts of neil that "no disguise could change". neil's character arc from the scared nobody at the beginning of tfc to the brave and happy young man at the end of tkm wouldn't have ever happened without the foxes' influence on his life. that pivotal narration change from neil to nathaniel in tkm is in a sense, neil shielding the foxes and the person he was around them from the cruel reality of his past. the identity of "nathaniel wesninski" is real and undeniable, already bloodstained from his brutal childhood, and untouched by the foxes, and so can't really be ruined by his father's hand (sweet mourning lamb, there is nothing you can do, it has already been done). everything that happened in baltimore, from the legal name change to neil and andrew's conversation in the car ("can i really be neil again?" "i told neil to stay. leave nathaniel buried in baltimore with his father.") is more of a decision to choose a new life than it is a new identity. "can i really be neil again?" is neil asking if he's really escaped his past and he can truly stay with the foxes and be who he was around them freely. and andrew's "leave nathaniel buried in baltimore with his father" is more of an assurance to let neil's bloody past go in favour for a new and better life.

note: "let go" does not mean forget or disregard or lose. it just means to accept it but move on. this is important i promise.

after that, neil is able to continue freely in his life. wait no he's not. ichirou comes to find him. right.

the neil and ichirou conversation is one of the most interesting in the series. it says a lot more about neil's character than people seem to notice. neil actively "switches" into the persona of nathaniel wesninski specifically for that conversation. something about how every word has to be true and it has to be the biggest lie he's ever told. neil's switch to nathaniel is a little jarring and a little uncanny. the way he speaks is pure business, coldly rational and disconcertingly subservient to ichirou (disconcerting because of how adamantly neil refused to submit to r*ko and testuji and even his father's people). but it's interesting because it's still neil josten speaking. the narration doesn't change, and the way neil talks is still very much himself, just honed and polished to suit the man ichirou thinks he's speaking to. ichirou wasn't looking for neil abram josten, starting striker for the psu foxes, he was looking for nathaniel wesninski, the only son of the butcher of baltimore. neil knew this, and knew he had a part to play and he plays it so easily it actually fucking works. he isn't even afraid of ichirou. everything he says and does in that scene is careful and thought-out and logic-based, but there is no fear. all of neil's fear in the aftg series quite literally is caused by his father, and can always be traced back to him. since nathan is dead at this point, neil isn't fearful of ichirou, just cautious.

the narration change in tsc is also notable. jean thinks of neil as nathaniel wesninski until the foxes beat the ravens and r*ko dies. this is significant because the idea of "nathaniel wesninski" is also deeply entwined with the perfect court. if neil had signed with the ravens he would've been nathaniel wesninski (03) not neil josten. but once r*ko is dead and once tetsuji steps down, the perfect court no longer exists, and neither does the phantom partner jean was clinging to all these years. there is no nathaniel wesninski (03), no forever partner for jean, even though he has nathaniel's auburn hair and ice-blue eyes and cruel smile, he doesn't have the mark of the perfect court anymore and r*ko and tetsuji aren't around to reinforce that delusion so for jean, now there is only neil josten.

still, he also says later on that neil is a wesninski at heart. neil doesn't really take this personally, from what we can tell. killing a rapist isn't something particular to neil or nathaniel, he would do it whether he was neil abram josten or nathaniel wesninski. but the method, the subtlety, writing the numbers on a napkin, handing them to his mobster uncle, that is such a nathaniel-characteristic thing to do that jean comments on it. neil might have problems with wearing his father's face and his father's smile, but he never denies the truth that he is a little like his father (referencing his hot temper), and he isn't hurt or offended by jean's comment.

this post is getting way too fucking long, even for me, so i won't go into the "abram" of it all, but just know there's something to be said about that, too. i just think the fandom takes the whole "leave nathaniel buried in baltimore" thing a little too literally. nathaniel isn't gone for good, he will always be a part of neil, but neil's accepted that and moved on. he's living his best life, doing what he loves with people he loves, and even tho he does act a little bit like a wesninski at times, he's come to terms with who he is and who he chose to be: neil abram josten.

[cherry-bomb-00]

The brothers react to an MC who has small spasms when they sleeps deeply

A curious fact about humans is that when we sleep deeply, we get small spasms, which is the brain sending electrical waves to keep the body alive, since we sleep so deeply the brain believes that is sign of death, that's why the waves. So it would be curious how our beloved demons react to MC when they has those little spasms while sleep together.

Big Brothers edition part 1/??

Lucifer

The first time you had those little spasms, it was in the middle of the night, while you were sleeping next to Lucy, he felt something move sporadically, in this case, it was you, the first few times, he ignored it to continue sleeping, but It was already difficult to ignore it, then he woke up and stared at you, after a few minutes, your body moves due to spasms, he became alert, is something wrong with you? you are sick? this is normal? but after a few minutes, Lucifer woke you up. -Huh? Lucy? - You said sleepily - Are you okay? You had some spasms while you were sleeping- Lucy said in a worried and serious tone.

The moment you heard that, you stayed silent for a moment and then laughed a little, to tell him that you're fine and that sometimes happens when a human falls into a deep sleep, and that it doesn't hurt if it's not frequent, after I'll explain everything. , he sighs although he still worries, sometimes it seems sweet to him that this happens, at least this way he knows that you are alive with him.

Mammon

oh…man, as soon as he felt that he twitched he became very alert, panicked, thinking that there was something wrong with you, then he didn't hesitate to wake you up a little abruptly.-Human! are you OK? Answer meeee - says a worried Mammon while shaking you, and you had to calm him down, poor boy, he looked nervous, you told him that you were fine, that it was normal when a human sleeps deeply, obviously you had to explain everything, although the explanation was a bit ..worrying for him, so you hugged him to tell him that you were fine and not to worry- at least it's okay…I don't want to lose you again- he said in a hoarse whisper while they were hugging, you sigh and snuggle, Mammon Keep it close to your chest.

You don't bother him when there are times when you have little spasms as you sleep, that reminds him that you are still with him and that you are still alive, and it is also adorable to see you sleeping so peacefully and calmly, and don't mention what happened the previous night, because if you do that, Mammon will enter his tsundere state and deny everything with a big blush and a small stutter.

Leviathan

It is easier for Levi to detect when you have small spasms while he is sleeping deeply, since you both sleep in a bathtub, you sleep on top of Levi, so when he feels that you move sporadically, he wakes up scared, just like Mammon, he also wakes up. He panics, and wakes you up immediately, he looks at you and checks if you are okay with his expression as if he were going to cry, you quickly comfort him and explain everything to him when he is calm. -ohh…that explains a lot, although it scares me a little, still, it's good to know that it's not because of me or something… because I want to feel your warmth…- Levi finishes saying with a big blush while he looks at you

After that they go back to sleep. It doesn't bother Levi but sometimes he gets scared if that happens, even so, he knows that you can't control it, although that also gives him the reminder that he is not alone and that you are with him.

[ckret2]

Ages ago I made a post about what Ford thinks about Bill (in a billford context), and I've had an infodump on what Bill thinks about Ford floating on discord for months, and an ask finally prompted me to post it, so here ya go:

If asked why he likes Ford, Bill himself claims that Ford overthinks everything, but in such fun, interesting ways, and Bill likes the way Ford thinks about things.

But really, Bill overthinks everything too; it's just he overthinks social things. He's always calculating how to persuade, control, manipulate people. He never has a conversation that isn't a chess game, it's exhausting and he won't even admit it's exhausting. When's the last time his top priorities weren't either "how do I convince some sucker to make a portal" or "ugggh I'm so SICK of the PORTAL I'm gonna THROW A PARTY and NOT THINK AT ALL"

Whereas Ford is guy who'd hear someone say something incorrect and bluntly go "no you're wrong" and accidentally offend the hell out of them because he's SO excited to share this fantastic information they don't know. The social world DOES NOT EXIST for him until he's reminded of it.

And so he's free to turn all his brainpower instead to. Like. The environmental impact of barf fairies on fern fertilizer or whatever.

Bill knows Everything™ but he's gotten tired of doing anything with that knowledge. They're all discrete points of information to him. He doesn't have time to muse over things, he's got an inventor to manipulate at 11pm and then a party to get to at midnight. He's never once in his life thought about the impact of barf fairies on the local flora. But he does happen to know the plants in that part of the woods are more acid-resistant and wow is that why???? He's never even thought to think about that before. Thousand year mystery that Bill didn't even notice has been solved.

(On the other hand "Ford doesn't think to think about the intricacies of social interaction" is also part of what makes him so easy to manipulate, he's so much more inclined to just accept at face value a friendly offer of assistance on a big academic project. Sure Bill's helping for the sake of scientific advancement in and of itself, why wouldn't he?)

Bill wants to just, fling random facts at Ford and see if he can think up connections between them. Go nerd boy go nerd boy go

"... So there you have it Ford, that's the problem you'll have to overcome with adapting alien machinery to human fuel sources, now I wanna hear YOUR thoughts on how to overcome that problem." "Well—" talks in an uninterrupted stream that by thirty minutes in has drifted over to the history of kerosene production, which he read an interesting book about between semesters in college— "... I've gotten off topic, haven't I?" "No no, I think you're on to something. This is how brainstorming works, free association of concepts. Keep going."

Ford in the morning: "... oh no I didn't let my muse get a word in edgewise for the rest of the dream, i didn't bore him did I?" Bill: "damn, I never noticed the patent process for hurricane lamps was so contentious. There's little dramas everywhere"

When things are going well, their relationship is,

Ford: "I just wanna hear Bill teach me things about the multiverse forever."

Bill: "I just wanna hear Ford think deeply on any topic that crosses his mind forever."

Both of them when they're in peak harmony: excitedly jabbering at each other at 200 words per minute about the stupidest topic you've ever heard, but you'd need a phd in at least two fields to comprehend it

That's love!!!

Ford, having historically been socially shamed: "... am I being weird?"

Bill: "💕❤️💓yeah❣️💖❤️‍🔥"

Sometimes I think about Bill watching Ford in his sleep and being in awe at this human-shaped genius: you with your beautiful electric mind, packed into this soft flawed uneven body. one would never know it from the outside—but you're in there. This genius with a mind like a galaxy. ... and he's like, growing hair and stuff. wild.

[mustardyellowsunshine]

In today's episode of Shut Up Robin, Nobody Cares:

InuKag bickering is so good because it's deeply telling of how comfortable InuYasha and Kagome are with each other at almost every stage of their relationship.

For starters, contrary to seemingly popular belief, arguing does not inherently signal dysfunction. It can sometimes signal the opposite: it demonstrates a level of intimacy and trust in your relationship that you are able to openly disagree with your loved one. You are not afraid of conflict because you know it won't break the relationship. In my experience, at least, it's shaky relationships that avoid conflict at all costs. When there's not enough emotional security with each other to openly disagree without fear/anxiety, open conflict never happens. That's why "arguing like an old married couple" is a cliché: it's the people who've built trust and security who will bicker like that.

I mean, don't get me wrong, it doesn't feel great to be in conflict with a loved one, even in a secure relationship. But being able to navigate conflict together in a way that eventually leads toward understanding and compromise is the sign of a strong relationship. Arguing is often a step in that process.

Which is why I find InuKag arguments absolutely, lip-smackingly delicious.

When they first meet, their arguments have the distinct flavor of, "I don't like you and I don't care what you think about me." Which is an excellent vintage tbh, full-bodied flavor with refreshing tartness. 👌👌 There's something so intrinsically entertaining about watching early-series InuKag butt heads, all the while knowing they eventually get married. And because early-series InuKag doesn't especially care about the other person's opinion of them, they don't hold back: there's no politeness barrier between them, there's no equivocating or filtering. They just have at it. They're not afraid to be themselves around each other, even when they dislike each other.

Then when their friendship begins to form—stage two InuKag 😁—their bond is forged from the two-pronged fire of 1) having each other's backs in life-or-death situations, and 2) experiencing the humdrum quotidian moments that come with traveling together all day, every day for long stretches of time. I've talked about this before, but I love how they know all the dumb little things about each other that you only learn from prolonged proximity: they know the timbre of each other's snores at night; they know how long the other can go without food before hangry-ness rears its head; they know which posture signals irritation or exhaustion, which facial expression signals daydreaming contemplation or a playful mood; they know which jokes will get a laugh and which insults will get the sharpest glances; the little intimacies abound!

By the friendship stage, InuKag bickering takes on a slightly different flavor. There's still that unfiltered, no-holds-barred vibe about them (because they're so used to being blunt with each other), but it also has the tenor of easy familiarity. Friends falling into the same low stakes argument they've had a hundred times already. There's not often any real heat or tension to the bickering, it's more like rote muscle memory. And when they do have real arguments, with real tension and emotional stakes?? It's delicious precisely because there are emotional stakes now! Goodbye, "I don't care what you think about me," hello, "I care so much what you think and I hate it and you're going to hear about it." It's still arguing InuKag, but with different emotional fuel sparking the arguments. Now there's affection and trust underpinning their unfiltered way with each other. It's mmm mmm good! I can eat it up all day.

And as the series progresses, and InuKag begin to develop obvious romantic interest in each other—stage three InuKag, yes it's terminal—the flavor of the arguments gets deeper because now those emotional stakes? They're even higher. And yet despite the higher stakes and the messy complications, they're still not afraid to butt heads. They're not afraid to be blunt and hash things out. I love this example of InuYasha's hack-and-slash style of conflict resolution. If there's a wall between him and resolving the tension, he'll just punch his way through it. 😂 Another favorite of mine is this banger scene where Kagome bluntly calls InuYasha out on his jealousy.

But probably my favorite stage three InuKag fight scene is this one, from chapter 310:

(Full scene here.)

Man, it's so good! Kagome—after taking pains to save Kikyo, who then essentially taunts her for it—starts to feel angry and resentful and then wallops InuYasha with those feelings. (Before any haters pipe in: characters need to make mistakes sometimes. This is one such occasion. Let the 15-year-old girl character make a mistake ffs.) And what does InuYasha do? He sticks around so they can hash it out. The best panels in this chapter are Kagome thinking, "He probably hates me now," only for her to look up and see him right beside her. He can handle her mistakes and flaws, because he knows Kagome. They've spent 300 chapters building trust in each other, and we see the fruit of that here. InuYasha knows very well that Kagome cares for him—cares so much that she's risked her life for him many times over by now, and cares so much that she just saved her own romantic rival partly for InuYasha's sake (but largely because she's just a good person). I think that's why he handles this moment with pretty good composure. He knows Kagome doesn't actually hate him, briefly hurtful as that comment surely was. So he waits until she's processed her feelings a bit more, and they talk it out. (While we're here: I really like that he's sitting close to her but is facing away from her, like he's trying to give her the space/privacy she needs to process her feelings without actually leaving her alone... ugh I love it.)

Notice how, even in the midst of this fight, they start checking in with each other, putting the other person's interest before their own. Kagome sincerely urges InuYasha not to "hold back," the subtext of which reads to me: "Don't let my outburst tie you down, please do what you need to do." InuYasha responds in kind (his subtext reads to me: "Be honest, don't just put on a brave face for me") and also reassures Kagome's underlying anxiety. When he says, "You saved Kikyo, right? Then she'll be fine, I'm not going after her," he's speaking directly to the source of Kagome's insecurity—he's telling her in no uncertain terms that concern for Kikyo's safety was his only motive for seeking her out. Now that he knows Kikyo has been healed and isn't in imminent danger, he's not going after her. Again, he is intentionally addressing what he knows to be the source of Kagome's outburst when he says, "You healed Kikyo? Then I don't need to see her." To me, his message is pretty clear: "I wasn't looking for Kikyo for the reasons you think."

Like! Look at them! Openly and honestly communicating! Messily sharing their feelings! Resolving conflict and talking shit out! They've come so far. 🥹

These stage three InuKag fights feel different than their early-series fights, and they should! InuKag have built trust and love, but with that love comes vulnerability. It's the people we love who have the power to hurt us most. So even while InuKag have fundamental trust in each other, they're both aware that their feelings come with greater potential to hurt each other. And watching them navigate that tension and that duality together? MMM MMM GOOD.

Like truly, InuKag fights at every stage of their relationship are my favorite thing, it's all such good food.

[lady-of-endless]

Ghiaccio x reader romantic headcanons (SFW+NSFW)

Author's Note: I'm so soft after this, it's pathetic. You voted for this to get posted first so here it is. Sorry that it's all over the place but so is my heart. Hope you will enjoy it! Warning: longer than my usual posts because I love him.

Other general and random headcanons are here.

(SFW)

- He doesn't have a type, he doesn't care if you're a ray of sunshine or a badass. All he cares about is trust and if you can stick with him and his harsh exterior when everything goes wrong. However, if you are also a Passione assassin like him, things will go more smoothly than having feelings for some outside of the mafia. He already thinks that having feelings for someone is a double-edged blade because of his occupation but it would be even worse if you're not in Passione as it can endanger both of you more.

- Ghiaccio generally feels a lot. He goes through many emotions and thoughts at once, and that's why he needs to lash out so often. But when it comes to feelings about you, they're so contradicting that he can't even get rid of them by letting them out at once. For example, he rolls his eyes at your antics and then the next minute he stares at your smile like it's the cure for anything in this world. You're both the bane of his existence and his personalized paradise. Ghiaccio isn't the type to be confused about his feelings, contrary to the general belief, he knows the meaning of his feelings. However, he prefers not to think about why he wants your presence, as it might trigger something he knows exists deep inside him. A complicated feeling.

- You will have to be the first one to confess. When you do, Ghiaccio's whole body freezes (and not because of his Stand). He stares at you in disbelief and a slight hint of terror crosses his eyes. Why terror? Because he realizes that he was falling for you too for long before. He craves this kind of happiness but he is also scared of it. He lets your words sink in for a while.

"Say it again..." He demands, staring at you.

- He loves that you can stand up against him when he teases you as a form of affection he's comfortable with but he can't get rid of a constant thought from the back of his mind. The thought that one day, his words would hurt you, that one day you'll get sick of him being like that.

- Ghiaccio doesn't fall in love easily but when he reaches that point, his intensity is directed to this new feeling. Expect his love to be intense but profound and honest. He didn't get the chance to care for someone so deeply and he wants to do it right.

- If you ever get severely injured and you're recovering, no one will get him to leave your bedside. When he first finds you like that, he will shake you by the shoulders, calling out your name with palpable despair in his tone. He will stay by your side constantly, demanding more coffee from Melone and a break from any mission from Risotto, only to watch over you. It's unhealthy and he will deny everything once you get better. The thought of losing the one who accepts, understands, and loves him, makes him sick with worry.

- Typical ice meets fire trope, but not as you think. Ghiaccio is all about ice, even his name means that, sure, but he has fire inside of him that keeps him going, keeps him on the edge every time. It's a fire that matches your calmness which is grounding for him. Sometimes, the roles switch, so there will always be a contrast.

- Ghiaccio is extremely honest and it's both a blessing and a curse. Sometimes this will spark some arguments and sometimes it will fix them by being honest about his thoughts. His words are straightforward and his intentions are clear. He's not trying to be subtle and he's not trying to hide anything.

- Ghiaccio is not afraid of showing affection, he's not a coward, but he's just learning how to express it more efficiently. He's analytical and this applies to gestures of affection as well, he'll take his time to observe what you like the most and what you don't. Please be grateful for that.

- However, whatever you might like, his preferred love language is banter and physical touch, in private. He is a blunt man, but that doesn't mean he's extroverted to have words of affirmation as a love language. Don't expect compliments from him but don't be surprised when he encourages you in a way that might come off as intense.

You might be frowning in the mirror, fixing your looks, and he'll come from behind you to tell you in an annoyed tone

"You're already pretty as hell stop fussing about it for fucks sake." and then roll his eyes and give you a kiss on the forehead.

But that's it, don't expect more words from him. Ghiaccio is also touch-starved because no one dared get close enough to him to touch him affectionately so when you do, he finds himself wanting more. But he's also curious about how it feels to touch someone like that and that's how it starts. He discovers that he enjoys giving it more, the feeling, your reactions, and everything about it.

- How do others see it? Many don't see a change in his usual behavior besides the fact that he always glances over you for many reasons. Risotto is presenting a mission? Ghiaccio looks at you for a reaction. Are you fighting a target? His eyes are on you. You do your usual stuff around? He's observing you. Are you not feeling well? His eyes follow you until you two are alone and he asks what's wrong. In conclusion, he gets more thoughtful.

(NSFW)

- Ghiaccio is quick to discover that getting intimate with you clears his mind and gets him sharper. Letting out his strongest and boldest emotions with you, the one he trusts the most and loves, clears his mind. It's just an observation, he already enjoys getting physical with you too much to care for other benefits.

- He's touch-starved, so he's relatively easy to fluster and he hates that. It doesn't take a lot for you to turn him on. One day, you notice that the lenses of his glasses are a bit dirty and feel bold enough to do something about it. If you decide to just take them off without warning and wipe the lenses casually like nothing happened, he's shocked. This audacity of yours gets him bewitched. So, Ghiaccio is a simple man regarding turn-ons, just show him that you care about those little things about him and show some willingness to take risks and he's done.

- His hair is unexpectedly sensitive. Play with his curls and it will make him shiver. He'll become all yours in that moment.

- Despite what everyone thinks, he'll never accept letting his anger out on you in bed. But that doesn't mean that his mannerisms will be soft either. With Ghiaccio, is hard to predict how it will go. Most of the time it will be rough but also slow and deep.

- He's a genuine switch but leading to dom. He is fine with you taking the lead from time to time but having control over you is much more appealing. He enjoys being a brat tamer but he's also a whining brat.

- He has a ridiculously high stamina. Seriously, where does he store all this strength? He's also motivated. Seeing you frowning a bit when you move your legs the next day is stroking his ego.

- So, because Ghiaccio is intense in bed too, aftercare is a must. Aftercare consists of him putting your pieces back together by throwing a blanket over you, making you tea, and holding you to his chest as he stares at the ceiling (don't worry, it's a good sign, you blew him away). However, shortly after that, he's knocked out, getting the best sleep of his life.

- He doesn't leave marks on purpose but he just can't help it. Surprising enough, he's not as possessive as you'd expect, to leave marks to show that you're his. No. Ghiaccio just enjoys hearing your gasp coming from the bathroom as you notice the aftermath of his desire. He smirks to himself like a brat.

He might be a fan of quickies and he's also the one to come up with the idea. After the session, he goes on with whatever he had to get done like he hadn't destroyed you earlier. It's both hot and annoying.

- Vocal, of course, a lot of grunting, and growling. It goes hand in hand with his primal tendencies. You'll get used to the consensual biting, hair-pulling, pushing down. He lives for raw passion when it gets too much to handle.

- Any kinks? Temperature play is something you already expect him to enjoy. For him, it's about how ice - something that has been in his life for years since he got his Stand, meets an element of you - your warm skin. Besides your reactions, he is hypnotized by how the heat of your skin melts the ice and how dewy it looks afterward. Other than that he's not very experimental because his almost aggressive passion is enough.

- Of course, he takes off his glasses but he hates that because his point of view gets blurry, and can't enjoy your details. However, you can't be able to stop him from wearing them when you're on top. That's a sight he needs to see clearly.

[greenandsorrow]

Dale's presence - sexual & beyond

headcanons that live in my head rent free

Beware, it's giving body horror and could make certain audiences uncomfortable. I've also given Daley some OCD qualities inspired by something I read by @crimsonxcloverr at some point, if I'm not mistaken?

I'm aware that just because we met a character through horror doesn't necessarily mean I have to keep the genre in my fanfiction, but... Let me live my early Summerween and keep the disturbing vibe going ✨

Hygiene

Clean in a ritualistic way. Not casually clean.

Scrubbed.

The kind of guy who probably bleaches his skin, who uses scented products obsessively -but not always the right ones.

Lavender-scented hand soap for his groin.

Baby powder under his arms.

Lip gloss near his nipples.

He doesn't smell like a man (whatever they thought that was supposed to mean in the 70's).

He smells like a dead woman's vanity drawer.

He brushes his teeth too hard. You can see the pink foam sometimes.

There's a travel-sized mouthwash bottle in every coat/jacket he owns.

His towels are always damp. He washes compulsively, but never lets anything dry fully.

Shaved?

Mostly.

His groin is almost hairless, shaved too close, probably irritated. The kind of skin that gets red bumps because he doesn't moisturize properly.

But he tries. God, he tries.

He wants to be pretty down there. He wants to be acceptable.

But it may come out as obsessive, not sexy.

You might see a little blood from razor nicks.

His thighs are also smooth but raw-looking. Razor burn.

His ass is shaved too, but badly -he can't reach everything, not really. There's a kind of vulnerability in that.

He won't let you see him before he preps.

You'll never know what he looks like without trying.

His cock <3

Thick, curved down slightly, pale, with sudden color when hard.

Up close?

The head is angry, like it's not supposed to feel this good.

The shaft looks wrong in contrast with the smoothness of the rest of him. Violent.

Veiny and too warm, like it's burning him from the inside out.

When he cums, it hits his stomach in thick stripes. He shudders like it's painful.

The kind of man who might name it. Or talk to it.

Fem Behavior??

He adjusts his wig with perfect, dainty fingers (right before choking you).

He whimpers when he enters you, but his eyes stay wide open, unblinking.

He kisses like he's never learned how, like he's mimicking porn or a movie he might have watched too many times.

He tries to sound sweet, but his voice switches midsentence -soft and high one second, guttural and manly the next.

It's like he's possessed by different people.

And he likes it that way.

He paints his nails from time to time. Always chipped.

He tucks sometimes, but only when it's not for sex. When it is, he wants to be looked at.

Tender (but not quite right)

After sex, he doesn't cuddle.

He hovers. Close enough to feel your breath on his face.

He watches you like he's memorizing the moment in case he never gets to do it again.

Sometimes he brushes your hair behind your ear. Carefully. Like he's repositioning one of his dolls.

He murmurs strange things to your skin. Not sweet-nothings.

"You were made for me."

"I'll keep you."

"This is the cleanest I've ever felt."

He doesn't sleep after sex.

You might wake up to him smiling faintly, like he's dreaming while awake.

He wants to be loved, but only in pieces. He doesn't believe in wholes anymore.

my masterlist

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🩷🩷🩷

Divider by @thecutestgrotto.

[ah0minecchi]

IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?!♥︎ megumi f. x reader

Ꮺ in which meeting megumi fushiguro was a complete, but sweet, sweet chaos . . .

cw: angsty af, mentions of intimacy, use of alcohol if u squint

NOW PLAYING! 💿 cherry waves - deftones

<𝟑.𖥔 ݁ ˖

dear megumi:

sometimes i wish i could tear apart this heart of mine, that’s apparently too big for my body. i wish i could just shut down everything you were and are for me. i wish i could turn off everything you light up in me. ever since the beginning…

[ ♥︎ ]

“so you’re fushiguro… yuuji talks a lot about you.” i looked at him, finally getting to meet my best friend’s best friend… wow. “just call him megumi, y’all are basically indirect friends at this point.” yuuji laughed, which i followed, looking at the raven haired boy for his approval.

“call me what you like.” megumi responded nonchalantly.

[ ♥︎ ]

i’ve been wondering nonstop what the fuck i did wrong. did i not deserve you? wasn’t i good enough? all those times i dropped everything just to run after you, all those times i promised you the whole world… weren’t they enough? weren’t you tired? of having me chase you around all day? did it bore you? having someone care so deeply about you, but not feeling the same about them?

i don’t think you can even imagine how it feels… cause, fuck.. has anyone ever said ‘no’ to you? have you ever wanted to pursue something that doesn't want you until it suffocates?

it hurts. it really fucking hurts.

[ ♥︎ ]

“are you at the party yet?” megumi asked through his phone, reaching my ear. “yeaaahhhh, im kinda drunk to be honest hahaha… but it’s real fun in here! you should come… pleeeaaasee.” there were a few seconds of silence until megumi broke it, shoting straight to my heart in the process.

“i don’t know how the fuck i’ll get there… but i will get there.” he hung up, leaving me excitedly waiting for him as i told all of our friends he was attending.

[ ♥︎ ]

that one night you kissed me, did i mean anything to you? cause at that very moment, to me, you were the whole world. my whole world. that one night i ended up tangled in your sheets. was i just another one on the list? cause to me, it was the very first time i felt cared about. you showed me the love i never thought i’d deserve.

could i even call it love?

i think you’d just call it lust.

[ ♥︎ ]

“how is yuuji going to find out about this?” i asked megumi as i ruffled his bed hair. “i think we should just tell him… but not now.” he answered as he scanned every detail on my face.

[ ♥︎ ]

i wish i knew what you meant by that. all the while i wanted to keep you as a promise, you just wanted to keep me as a secret. i wish nothing had ever happened, not because i regret it, nor did i not love it for a moment, but because i don't want to feel like this anymore. not with you.

i tried. i tried to be your friend. leave everything behind and continue as if nothing had happened. but the mere idea of ​​thinking that I was never for you what you were for me is enough to make my heart ache.

maybe we live in a world full of superficialities, empty, where everything is momentary pleasures, satisfyingly chaotic, and pleasantly disposable. i never want to fall like this again. i don't want to dream so high again. i don't want to be so naive again.

but i can’t help it when it’s you.

[ ♥︎ ]

“i’m not ready for anything, with anyone…” he sated as tears started rolling down my face. why? why’d you give me a taste of some love you couldn’t give me? or didn’t want to give me…

[ ♥︎ ]

weeks passed, and i started to accept the fact that it was not gonna happen. i started seeing someone else.

maybe you didn’t want to have me, but you definitely didn’t want to lose me…

[ ♥︎ ]

“you coming y/n? we gonna go grab ice cream or sum.” yuuji asked turning back to look at me. i couldn’t tear my gaze away from my phone, but i didn’t fail to notice how megumi looked at me.

“uhmm actually, go ahead without me guys! i’ll hang out with yuta later…” i commented as i blushed lightly. “OOOOOO Y/N’s GOT A DATEEE” yuuji joked.

megumi didn’t say a word until i left.

[ ♥︎ ]

next day, everything changed. that kiss you stole from me… i wish i could have it back.

you told me you were ready, that you wanted this. that you wanted me.

you made fall all over again. but deeper this time. you tricked me into your game once again. i mistook your lies for a future, with sins and sweet promises.

friday. i wanted to confront you about it.

and you tore it all apart. again.

i am so fucking greedy, and i don't want to let something i love die, even though i know i will never have it.

i’d fucking love to be your friend. i’d fucking love to pretend that it doesn't burn my skin to want to hug you and not be able to do so. i’d love not to want to know everything about you.

i wish i didn’t want to be your whole world.

i don't know why you hurt this much. i barely know you, and yet, i can't imagine a life without you. i have never had the courage to face what i truly feel. cause it's too soon, cause it would only complicate everything, or just because you don't want to hear it.

but i love you, megumi.

i wish it wasn’t like that. none of this.

yours truly.

y/n

a/n: i wish i could lie to y’all and say this wasn’t based on a personal experience but haha guess what…

AND SORRY FOR THE ANGST I LITERALLY CANNOT WRITE HAPPY SHIT WTF

LIKES, COMMENTS & REBLOGS are very much appreciated ♪( ´θ｀)ノtysm for reading !! <3

[obeymematches]

very fluffy and in depth hcs of a mc that basically lives off of cuddles? if you dont wanna do all of them can you only do lucifer, mammon, beel & diavolo? its fine if you dont wanna write this request tho! <3

i just need to snuggle up with them and maybe receive a forehead kiss yknow?

(also its def not bc of their man boobs wdym..)

thank you baby for sending in this ask, writing it cleared my skin and watered my plants- 💐🌸🌻

also your taste in men is very good 💯💯💯

this just teeth rotting fluff. GN MC.

❤️Cuddling HCs❤️

Lucifer:

Cuddling can only happen at night / the evening. Even on the weekends he is too busy to be cuddling during the day.

When you get in bed next to him he usually smells like coffee & sweat ngl. At first he does try to hide it with a nice expensive perfume but it might be best to cuddle after taking a shower.

He loves it if you curl up against him, laying your head on his chest. He is surprisingly gentle with his strokes in your hair!

He prefers not to talk or just very short I love yous are accepted. This is his calming, recharging moment.

His arms are strong as he puts them behind your back, or under your head if that's what you prefer. His weakness is stroking his head between his ears and forehead.

He is very glad to kiss your forehead without you having to ask! He is actually very affectionate if he is with you, and only you! Prefers holding one of your hands the entire time.

My love... Holding you in my arms in this moment makes me feel tranquil. As if nothing could ever go wrong again... I am aware it only lasts such a short time... I'm truly sorry we can't do this more often. Can you forgive me, my dearest?

Mammon:

Here is some Mams cuddles

Beelzebub:

Cuddling Beelzebub feels like the most natural thing. You fit just right under his arms, his legs. He can go on like this for hours. Nothing else has to happen and he is the most content demon in the world.

Being so close to him makes you realize he smells like deodorant and grass.

Likes to eat as you cuddle! Always brings you your favourite snacks! He can fall asleep very quickly like this though. Please just stroke his back he is going to melt into your touch.

He is going to kiss you with his hand holding yours to the bed. He kisses you very passionately, towering over you, using his tongue as he should; gluttony gets the best of him.

Very gentle with you the entire time. Carefully moves every inch of his body not to hurt you.

If you decide to lay too far away from him he just sweeps you right where you should be; entirely next to him!

Skin on skin contact is very important for him, pls don't wear too many clothes!!

I'm stronger now, but I can grow even more if you stay by my side. I'll do everything to support you, and I hope you will continue to support me too. I love you. So very deeply. Thank you for being here with me.

Diavolo:

I just think he enjoys being the little spoon. He can be the tiniest little spoon if he wants to!!

Loves to talk. This is no time to be quiet for more than 5 minutes. Something always comes to his mind which he wants to share.

His smell from up close isn't so easy to describe; it's a lingering smell of expensive parfume but also pine tree.

Can and will cuddle you in the afternoon if he/you needs it. Tea time can buzz off this is 300% better.

Talks about how nice it was to Barbatos. Poor Barb doesn't know how to react to this information.

Ah he definitely plays with the blanket; he likes to tuck you in real well, sometimes pull it over your head and kiss you in the dark.

Tickle fights are inevitable if you cuddle for too long. (He doesn't want to let you go pee but you must. So you tickle him.)

Sometimes he can forget how heavy he is though and if he falls asleep while on top of you, you'll be sore by the time he wakes up.

Ah just imagine the pure joy in his eyes the entire time.... sigh

My darling y/n... You are my most precious treasure in the entire world. You enchant and fascinate me, and each day, you ignite me.

[whereserpentswalk]

You're currently dating an involuntarily cyborg. Most of the cyborgs you know, including yourself, became cyborgs by choice. Most of you fought hard to become cyborgs and for your rights over your bodies to be respected. But the girl you're currently dating was made that way by force.

She doesn't look like most cyborgs. She's mostly humanoid, just with machine parts inside of her. But her movements are incredibly mechanical and her sensations and perception is different. Her body looks almost like a well embalmed corpse or even a doll, she's cold to the touch, and her face doesn't naturally express emotions anymore. She's always pale and always underweight. Most people see her and feel like there's something deeply wrong about her, and combined with her behaviors her appearance creeps most people out.

Her home planet was at war and she was conscripted into some sort of labor force. Apparently they changed her to be a better worker, possibly as punishment for not wanting to join their millitary. Either way she got out now but her body is forever changed.

She's in physical pain a lot of the time. And even when it doesn't hurt it's hard for her to feel comfortable. She says she misses her old body, and gets upset whenever she's reminded of the fact that she's not who she used to be. You've seen her looking at old photos of herself and getting upset just knowing everything she's lost. It's not just that she's in a body that hurts now but in one that doesn't feel like her own, one that doesn't move or look the way she's used to. She'll get cold sometimes, so cold that it hurts, and you try to hold her to make her warm. You wonder what it was like when she got cold before she met you.

You try to encourage her to go out more and talk to people. With how recently her body has changed she's still afraid of what people will think of her, and still upset just by existing, by seeing herself, by hearing her own voice. You're trying for once a week now. Though it's hard as she's basically never willing to go out on her own, though she has enough freinds at this point so that it doesn't have to be you. She used to try to not go out at all because of how afraid she was of someone seeing her, but at this point knowing other cyborgs, and living in a city with a lot of cyborgs has helped her accept that she's capable of being tolerated.

The bigotry against cyborgs isn't better just because she didn't choose to be one. Even though most people who are bigoted agaisng cyborgs say that they don't like that cyborgs chose to change their bodies it doesn't make them any nicer to those who didn't get to make that choice. At best, or perhaps at worst, bigots will use her as an pityable example while treating her like she's basically already dead. Casually people just think she's weird and creepy most of the time.

She's still learning to be a person again. You've encouraged her to start drawing again, something she used to do when she was a full human but that she was taught to abandon by the people she was forced to work for. She kind of still thinks of herself as a tool to labor for other people, or at the very least she's unlearning that mindset and still has a lot of work to do. She can't really be employed in the state that she's in, and she finds that shameful, like she was built to do one thing and she can't really do it. You try to compliment her a lot, and to tell her how much you're happy just that she exists, and just that you can see her. And at this point most of her freinds understand that she needs a lot of positive encouragement just to feel like she has a right to exist.

Trying to be intimate with her is hard. Her body was deliberately changed to make sex nearly impossible, her genitals were removed so shes just smooth like a doll between her legs, and the nerves in her skin dulled. She is finally confident enough to have sex with you at all, but it's mostly either just petting and hugging her and you complimenting her while she pleasures you. Or very specific role-play that she finds enjoyable. Either way it's something that helps make her feel like a person again, even if she can't really have what most non cyborgs would consider sex.

She is recovering though. And for as many bad days there are where she's in pain or can't get out of bed, there's more good days now then there where before. Days where you can just sit on the couch and watch cartoons together. Days where you can go places in the city she'd like to visit. Days where she can actually feel like a person. She's even starting to do things like picking out her own clothing and posting her drawings online which seemed impossible with how badly she was doing before. A lot of the time you and your freinds have make sure to treat her with kindness, to respect her when she's at her least human or least well, to give her little gifts and compliments to remind her she matters. There were people whose goal was to make her nothing, and strip her of her personhood, it's important you make an effort to make it so that their goal will never succeed.

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

hi ^^!! I wanted to know if you could do hcs or something about yandere hannibal w/ a anxious chubby reader who don't eat properly mainly because of they desire to lose weight bc of beauty standards and so he kidnaps they to take care "properly" being that an excuse to hide his obsession? please <3

Ohh shit 😳🤭🤭

MY FIRST HANNIBAL FIC IN IDK HOW MANY MONTHS???? NO CLICKBAIT???!!!!!

Warnings: hannibal gaslighting/manipulating you, mention of eating disorder, he kidnaps you and stuff, he's insane and typical unhealthy yandere behavior. And him friend zoning you 😐.

Relationship: yandere, romantic

Yan! Hannibal x anxious! Chubby! Reader

Your proness to being so easily influenced by things such as beauty standards just makes him think even further that you can't survive without him. That you need him.

He's often observing you in slight pity and the absolute need to just feed you himself. More often than not he's tired of making meals with ingredients explicitly for your liking only to have you take a singular bite and take no more. In between having you praising him with sweet words he hasn't never heard before, but it's different when it comes from you. All because you're on a so called strict diet on a weight loss journey.

Hannibal isn't a man to give up something simply because he couldn't have it the first few tries.

He loves your body, curves and how they look in clothing when you wear clothing that are little tighter than what you'd usually wear. Spending sleepless nights sometimes wondering how you would feel when his hands are caressing your face, roaming around your stomach, gripped tightly on your plump thighs...

He's so well aware of how wrong these feelings are. But he couldn't control it...

He wouldn't outright exploit your insecurity since it would be a problem if you were worrying about your weight and it affected your life more than it already has. He just wants you to be dependent on him.

So the day you wake up on his bed, confused and scared. He wants you to understand in a way that you won't view him as just a sick person, and weirdly you do.

Believing that he is doing this all because he is truly concerned for your wellbeing and doesn't want you to possibly have an eating disorder. He is doing all this sincerely because he is your dear friend and he cares deeply for you.

And also because he has absolutely no problem doing what he always did with his victims for so many years to you if you didn't comply. You know how he is.

Eyes watching intensely at every detail of your being while he spoon feeds you a dish that he knows you'll like. It's healthy anyways so why would you deny it?

Always confirming you with the idea that he is doing this for your sake, nothing more. He has to properly take care you because he knows you can't by your own. Just let him do what he does, he promises you don't have to worry about anything else or the damn beauty standard.

[a-spes]

Can I request a Kate Bishop fic with a fem reader where they're dating and the reader finally opened up about their mental health struggles and past attempts and shows Kate the scars that formed from self harm and they have a serious conversation and the fic is very fluffy? If this is too dark or triggering I completely understand.

Down A Dangerous Road. — One-Shot. (4,344 words).

" The woman would never judge you for the things you have done when you were at you lowest, but some had in the past, and sometimes you could still hear their voices in the back of your mind. You were a disapointment to everyone. Everyone, but Kate. The archer was able to see past the darkness that stained your heart. She saw the person behind the pain, and gave you a chance to feel love. "

| Tags & Warnings — Kate Bishop x Reader. Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic. One-shot. Comforting and Happy Ending. Crying, Depression, Healing, Mental Health Issues, Recovery, Implied Past Self-Harm, Self-Harm Ideations (No Act Is Described Or Happen), Suicidal Ideations. Please, read carefully, and take care <3

| MAIN MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES.

You can't recognize your face.

And it doesn't matter for how long you've been starring at your reflection, because the image returned by the mirror still feels foreign.

You looked at it until the details became blurry, until it became a shapless form that blends in with the rest of the room. You looked at it until you could not tell what you were looking at anymore.

Your gaze lost in emptiness, you wonder where did your smile go. And you may have been watching yourself in the mirror for hours, but you still haven't found it.

At some point, you tried to forcefully bring the smile back on your face, forcing the edges of your lips to rise again. Yet, it looked wrong. It was ridiculous, and painfully fake.

It was the eyes.

Because they never lie, and there was no chance that Kate wouldn't see past the act you were trying to put up. The woman knows you too well to fall into your traps, and as soon as she enters the appartment you share, she will know something is wrong. Without asking any questions, without speaking, just by looking into your eyes, she will know, and that is the last thing you want.

Kate Bishop may be your girlfriend, but she also is a hero, and you know how demanding her job can be. Every day, she puts her life in danger to save thousand of strangers — Something for which you deeply admire her. The last thing you want is to add your problems to the weight she is already carrying.

After a day spent in your bed, thinking about all the things that needed to be done, blaming yourself for not being able to complete the tasks,

You wish you could give your girlfriend the comfort she deserves. Usually, by the time she is back home, you would have taken care of most of the chores.

But not today.

Today, you have been unable to achieve anything. You spent the day in your bed, and if you were unable to move, your thoughts were racing the whole time, not giving you a moment to rest — How could you, when you had so much to do?

The dirty laundry was still in the basket, despite your promise to do it. The bed was undone, exactly how she left it this morning. And there was no warm meal waiting for her on her return, you didn't even have the energy to cook yourself anything, too busy drowning in your guilt, and shame.

When you woke up this morning, you tried to ignore it.

You tried to get up, and go about your day, as if your body didn't weight ten times what it usually does, as if every breath you took wasn't stealing all your energy.

It is a feeling you knew all too well, one you thought you would never know again. That's why you had ignored the signs that appeared in the previous days, fooling yourself into thinking that everything was fine when it was not.

It is your fault, you thought.

It is your fault because you preferred to pretend that you were just tired, even though it quickly became obvious that it wasn't the cause of your torments.

Soon, the few more hours of sleep became a day spent in bed, unable to leave the comfort of your sheets. Suddenly, everything was overwhelming, even the idea of getting up, and so you just kept putting off the moment when you'll have to do it, until the day was already coming to an end — It is too late, now.

You had tried to pretend that everything was fine. You had tried to push these feelings away because you didn't want to face the truth — That you were slowly going back to the state you were in months ago, when you were at you lowest. You wanted to ignore the signs of your distress, not wanting to go back to the days when you were so hopeless, in such agony, that you've resorted to drastic measures.

It has been months — fifteen exactly, and three days — since you last did it, a bit less than a year since you last thought about doing it.

Fifteen months.

Almost a year, and a half.

It is a lot of time, and so you thought your struggles were behind you. You may never forget the things you have done, the scars on your arms being a constant reminder of where you come from, but it felt like those things happened ages ago.

How could you have imagined that, fifteen months later, you would suddenly be back where you started, feeling as distraught as the day you decided to stop? You couldn't, because you never thought that life would be cruel enough to try to tear you away from your newly acquired peace.

Now that you had tasted how sweet life could be, you didn't want to give up this privilege, knowing you wouldn't be strong enough to survive losing everything for the second time. It is a battle you barely survived the first time, one that left permanent scars on your soul and body, and you have spent years trying to rebuild yourself after that — Something you recently achieved, or so you thought.

Everything has been so perfect since you met Kate.

One day, you bumped into each other, and since, you have been unable to pull apart. Your lives became entangled, creating a mess you didn't want to get rid of.

She gave you a reason to stay. Not only for her, but for yourself. She gave you something you have been missing all your life, something you couldn't find on your own — Hope. She gifted with you the most important thing in someone's life.

At first, you were staying because you wanted to read her next messages, because you were waiting for your next encounters, eager to see her smile and hear her laugh at least one more time.

But then, you stayed because you have learned how it felt to be loved, and seen. When you were by her side, it was as if everything became clear, and the future you have long refused to imagine, thinking that you would never live to see it, suddenly became a reality. One that was filled with the best this world had to offer, things that you always thought you didn't deserve.

And so you stayed.

The path to recovery hasn't been easy, but you made it, and thought that it was eventually behind you — You wanted it to be, because you felt ready to move on.

Until today.

Today, you are standing in the bathroom, seconds away from doing something wrong — Really wrong.

Today, your hands are gripping so tightly the rim of the porcelain basin that your knuckles are turning white, because you are scared of the things you might do if you free your hands.

Today, you can't let go of these ideas that poison your mind, you can't silence those vicious voices.

Today, you went back two years, and you are powerless again as you try to fight the same demons than the ones that used to haunt you. You have tried to ignore them, but instead of making them go away, it made them stronger.

Your breath is erratic, and your chest rising quickly, as you feel the panic rising up inside you. You are doing everything you can to ignore the aching feeling in your arms, fighting against yourself to not draw more blood out of them, to not break the promise you made yourself sixteen months ago — To never do it again. Ever. To prove them that you could be stronger than they thought, that you could be a lot more than just a disappointment, a failure.

You refuse to draw new lines along the old ones.

But your determination alone was not enough to save you from this situation, and you felt like you were merely postponing the inevitable. The whole day, you have tried to ignore these thoughts, but your mind was restless, and your thhoughts always returned, invitably, those dark scenarios.

You were consumed by this sense of hopelessness. It was blinding you, preventing you from seeing anything but the worst — What was the point of trying if you were doomed to fall back every time? There is nothing more frustrating than your inability to get better despite your attempts.

You want to be fine, more than anything, because Kate deserves the best, and because now that she is by your side, you are no longer sure you want to leave this life.

But when you look at yourself in the mirror, all you see is a girl that You have dark circles so pronounced that no amount of concealer could hide them. Your eyes were puffy, and red, because you spent most of your day crying in frustration.

But even the tears hasn't been enough to ease your mind, and you eventually ran out of them before you feel any better. On the contrary, it was even worse.

You wanted to cry, to get rid of the emotions that have settled in your body, those that were too much, but you couldn't, and nothing seemed to bring you comfort.

Your favorite food tasted strange, and the characters of your comfort were only getting on your nerves. Today, everything was too much, nothing felt right, and the things that were supposed to bring you comfort, only elicit cries of frustration for you.

You have tossed in bed most of the day, unable to rest, or to do anything else. And, as the hours went by, the thoughts you first tried to ignore, became obsessive. They looped in your mind, like a music that would play a little too loud, but that you couldn't stop.

You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn't hear when the door clicked, nor the footsteps that followed. Even when the woman swore, because her keys slipped out of her hands, you didn't react. Yet, usually you would have reprimanded her, shouting from the other end of the apartment.

But not today. Today it remained silent.

Yours ears were ringing, and you couldn't quite make the difference between the noises in your surroundings, and the things that were in your head. You were enveloped in a kind of mist that blended everything.

It was only when she entered the room that you realized she was home — Already? But you had so much to do, and barely time to do anything. She could not be home already, it is impossible.

Kate has been cautious, trying to not startle you because she noticed that you seemed.. absent. But, despite the gentleness of her gesture, you jumped when her hand came to rest on your shoulder.

A gesture that was supposed to be gentle, and tender, but which simply accentuated your confusion — She couldn't be home, not yet. She couldn't see the evidences of your inability. Yet, before you get a chance to say something, to try to find an excuse, the woman spoke.

"Love, what's wrong?" she whispered, the concern evident in her voice as she talks.

She is not asking if you are okay, already knowing that you would lie, brushing away the question. You always do this, you always tell her you are fine when you are not.

In addition, it seemed like an unnecessary question to ask. Even if she wasn't your girlfriend, she could have seen it, the sorrow on your face. It was written on every feature of your face — And that made her feel terrible.

It had been a long time since she has seen you in such a state, and in the past, the woman had hope that it would be the last every time because she couldn't stand to see your suffering. In these moments, Kate wished she could take it all, and replace your pained expression by a smile. But she can't work miracles. She is not a witch, only an archer, and her weapons were of no use to her in such a situation.

There was nothing she hated more than this feeling of helplessness. She is a hero. If she can save the world, if she can fight villain, then she should be able to make your demons go away — Right? What was the point of being strong, if she wasn't strong enough to help the only person that really matters?

But your problems couldn't be solved with a fist.

It was something invisible, something more vicious. A battle against yourself, and whatever dark thoughts the voices in your head came up with this time. It was a battle she couldn't fight for you, one you had to win on your own.

But you weren't sure you are strong enough to fight it, and you would rather run away — After all, it is your specialty, isn't it? You had this bad habit of burrying all the things you didn't want to feel deep down, where they could not bother you anymore — At least, until they eventually became too much to be kept hidden.

And that's exactly what you wanted to do, when Kate asked this question — "What's wrong?" The second the question crossed her lips, you wanted to answer it with a lie — "Nothing, I am fine."

But you knew better than to lie to Kate.

The woman is not dumb enough to believe anything else than the truth. She could already read the reasons for your torments on your face, and strange attitude.

Usually, when she comes home, you wait impatiently for her return, throwing yourself into her arms as soon as she walks through the door, and never you have hidden as you did today.

You were torn between two opposite needs, and while a part of you demanded that you remain strong, another part whispered to you to accept the comfort Kate was offering. You were craving for it, wanting nothing more than to throw yourself in her arms, but for that you needed to admit your weaknesses first, to share your darkest thoughts with her despite the fear that knotted your throat.

What if she leaves? One of the little voices says.

What if she eventually realizes that she deserves better? Someone that is not a complete mess. Someone she could build a future with.

But when she saw the tears in your eyes, when saw your hesitation to accept the comfort she was trying to provide, none of these thoughts crossed her mind, not even for an instant, because Kate could never see you as weak.

On the contrary, she was amazed by your strenght, and resilence, witnessing all the battles you have fought in silence, believing it was your burden, and only yours, to carry.

That is what was worrying Kate the most, your silences. She always made sure to keep an eye on you from afar, and even when you tought she was unaware of your mal-being, she was providing small, and almost invisible, acts of reassurance, waiting for the moment you would be ready to talk about it soon.

But she might have forgotten how stubborn you are.

When she came home that day, she feared that she had given you too much space, that she waited too long. The relief she felt when she saw you were fine came with the promise that she won't allow you to hide in silence anymore.

However, it seemed that you were eventually ready to accept a bit of the comfort the woman could provide. In fact, you came to the same conclusions — You waited too long, and it almost led you to make a big mistake.

When you walked up to her, the woman immediately opened her arms to you, a silent encouragement to chase away your last hesitations.

It is when you eventually find comfort in her embrace that your last barriers collapse, and then you can't hide your tears anymore. Your face may be burried into her neck, but she knows that you are crying. The woman does not need to see your face to reach this conclusion, your body being shaken by each of your loud sobs.

For the next few dozens of minutes, your cries are the only thing that break the silence. You desperately want to explain yourself, but you can't stop the tears long enough to say a few words — What could you say, anyway? How could you admit your darkest thoughts to the person you love the most?

You can't, because the urge not to worry her is surpassing all of your fears. You are ready to fight this battle alone, and to lose it alone, if it means not dragging the archer into it.

Kate is so gentle. She always finds time for you despite her hero obligations. She shows a patience with you that no one has ever shown before. She made you feel loved, and seen, even in the toughest moments.

Sometimes, you feel like you do not deserve her sweetness, the woman having given you more than you will ever be able to give her back — She gave you hope, a reason to stay, to try again.

She cradles you, pressing soft kisses on your forehead from time to time. Kate provides reassurance, but she doesn't try once to make your tears stop, or to force the words out of your mouth.

The archer simply waits.

She waits until your tears dry on their own, until you feel ready to speak, because that is not her decision to make.

But, when you eventually felt ready to pull away, and to leave the comfort of her embrace to meet her gaze, the words didn't come, still stuck in your knotted throat. You looked at her, your eyes puffy from your intense crying, and you really wanted to say something — you had to — and yet you remained silent.

Your thoughts were a mess that you couldn't make sense of, partially because of a headache, coupled with the excessive emotions you were feeling at the moment. Everything was so overwhelming, and you knew that, the second you would try to speak, you would cry again, and that's the last thing you want.

Fortunately, Kate seemed to understand your silent pleas for help. Of the entire evening, if she hasn't broached the subject again, waiting for you to do it first, she has been keeping an eye on you at all time — The woman was scared of what you might do in her back.

It is only later in the evening, when you were both in the living room, lying on the couch, that the words suddenly came back.

Kate was sitting with her legs crossed, and you were lying down with your head resting on her thigh. One of her hands was unconsciouly stroking your hair, a gesture that was enough to take all your worries away. You were supposed to watch a movie, but you weren't able to stay focused for more than a few minutes, your thoughts being louder that the voices of your comfort characters.

"I was thinking about harming myself," you bluntly admitted, and the woman didn't reply — not yet, because she could feel that you were not done, that more words wanted to escape your lips, but they were heavy, and not easy to pronounce.

The last thing she wanted was to pressure you, fearing that it would push you further into silence. However, despite her apparent lack of reaction, you can feel that the news trouble her, her hand halting its movement for a moment before resuming.

When you spoke, you were cautious, afraid that the woman would scream, but the anger never came to replace the tenderness of her gesture, and so, despite your initial hesitation, you eventually found the courage to continue your explanations.

"Earlier, in the bathroom, that is what was wrong," you explained further, "but I didn't do it, I promise," you immediately added, feeling a sudden need to justify yourself, probably because you didn't want Kate to worry too much. "It has been months since I last did it, and I haven't even thought about doing it since. But tonight, it was.. different.. and when I saw my old scars, I- I don't know, I felt so desperate. It is as if there is no point in trying, as if I could never get better, and these scars will always be there to remind me that I am a mess," you paused for a second before sharing the last few words that were on your mind, the hardest. "Tonight, I almost gave in to those urges," you said, eventually admitting the darkest thoughts that crossed your mind earlier that day.

"Love, you are not a mess," she whispers softly, trying to not show how touched she is by your confession. Kate has seen the scars before, but she never mentioned the subject, waiting for the day you would be comfortable enough to open up on your own. "Do you know what I see in these lines?" She asked, as her hand stop stroking your hair and move towards your arm, where she traces your scars with a tenderness that no one has ever shown you before.

You shake your head — No, you don't know.

"I see all your strenght," she softly answered the question, "because you've come a long way, and you did it on your own. You never gave up, even when the world was against you," she added, and that is when your gazes eventually met.

"What if next time I can't stop myself?" You mumbled the question after a silence of several minutes. You were hesitant, and your words were carrying all your fears.

"Then I'll be here to stop you," she promised, and her hands cupped your face, preventing you from looking away as she talks. "I won't let that happen, I will catch you before you hit rock bottom, and we'll get through this together as many times as it takes, okay?" She added, but despite the confidence in her voice, the woman is worried — What if you decide to remain silent once more, and she can't see the signs of your distress before it is too late? The thought that she might loose you was consuming her from the inside.

And you believed her, and every of her words, because when you looked in her eyes, you only saw the promise of a better future — You saw hope, and determination,something you have been desperatly lacking the past few days.

"I know it is bad," you confessed, "I know that I shouldn't do that, but.. you know, sometimes, it's.. the pain, it won't go away, and these voices won't shut up..," you took a break to take a deep breath that will give you the courage to go on.

You know the woman will tell you that you do not need to explain yourself, but you still feel like you need to, as if the explanations could make the situation less embarrasing.

The woman would never judge you for the things you have done when you were at you lowest, but some had in the past, and sometimes you could still hear their voices in the back of your mind. You were a disapointment to everyone. Everyone, but Kate. The archer was able to see past the darkness that stained your heart. She saw the person behind the pain, and gave you a chance to feel love.

"I don't want to go back to it, Kate," you said, almost begging, and she could see the tears that filled your eyes, she could hear the way your voice broke on the last words despite your attempt to stay strong.

"I know, baby, and I won't let you," she promised again, "we will figure it out together, you don't have to face it alone anymore, okay? I am here for you, now," she soflty said in your ear, right before she lays a comforting kiss on your forehead.

When she thinks about the things you had to endure in silence, about the ones the battle you fought alone, her heart breaks. She can't accept that you had no one to take care of you when you were at your lowest, and she is determined to make things different this time.

If the archer had to take a step back from saving the world to save you, she would not hesitate, not even for an instant — What was the point in being a hero if she couldn't save the only person that really matter, the one she loves?

"I am proud of you, for telling me," she later whispered, when you were already in bed, entangled in each other. She was holding you firmly in her arms, as if she was scared that you would disapear if she wasn't careful enough.

Kate was aware of how difficult it was for you to accept being vulnetable to others, and the praise meant more to you than she could have imagined when she said those words.

You knew that the next weeks wouldn't be easy, because healing never is. It was a constant battle against oneself. Yet, this time, you feel ready, and sure of yourself, because Kate is by your side. She said it, she promised it, and knowing that you wouldn't have to face your demons alone made them less scary.

She is your reason.

Your reason to stay, your light, your everything.

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