#spent way too much time cutting out partners

[arkaniske]

Say it like you Mean It

AO3 Link \\\ Chapter Three: Bluebells

2500 words \ SFW \ Jayvik

Tw: blood, blisters.

Beta read by @kitcatkim

Summary: Five times Jayce brought flowers for Viktor and one time Viktor brought flowers for Jayce.

This was how he found his third flower to gift. He had spent another hour scrambling through the language of flowers, finger tracing over every word until he found exactly what he needed. More words he couldn’t bring himself to say out loud, but could could weave into petals and stems.

Chapter One: Daffodils \\\ Chapter Two: Sunflowers

The lab was quiet, save for the low buzz of machinery and the occasional scrape of tools against metal. Jayce was hunched over his workstation once more, trying his best to focus on the intricate wiring of the device in front of him. He was supposed to be testing the power flow of one of their Hextech prototypes, but his thoughts kept straying from circuits to sunflowers.

It wasn’t like him to get distracted like this, and all over flowers? They were such a simple thing, yet somehow, picking them out had consumed his mind. He’d spent nearly two hours reading through his book yesterday, taking notes and making lists. The language of flowers had become his quiet obsession, each bloom a chance to say something he didn’t have the courage to put into words just yet.

What if I’m doing too much? What if I’m being annoying? Jayce thought, adjusting a tiny wire with his pliers. Daffodils were fine, same with the sunflowers. He seemed to like them? Are roses too much? Yes. Yes they are too much, don’t even think about it.

He frowned, biting his lip as he flicked a switch on the device. A faint hum told him it was powering up. He glanced across the lab to Viktor, scribbling notes in his ever-present notebook, his focus sharp and uninterrupted. He always made it seem so effortless, every move deliberate and calculated. Jayce found himself staring at his partner’s hands again, his own tightening slightly around his tools.

He probably thinks it’s ridiculous. Jayce thought, his stomach twisting. Bringing flowers into a lab like some… lovesick puppy. He sighed, dragging a hand halfway down his face before processing his own thoughts. Ok. Hold on. Lovesick? That’s a new thought, maybe not lovesick, that sounds like a lot. Maybe I just want him to know how much I appreciate him, and everything he does and is, and how I kind of want to wake up with him next to me and oh! Make breakfast for him, bring him his sweet milk while he’s snuggled up on my couch, maybe also like hold hands and maybe a kis—

The hum from the device grew louder, turning into a strained whine. Before Jayce could even react a sharp crack filled the air, followed by a burst of sparks.

Jayce’s head snapped up just in time to see the consequences of overloading the power regulator. The wires were becoming too hot, insulation burning away as the circuit surged with unstable energy. It glowed an ominous orange and sparks arced between wires like tiny lightning bolts, threatening to cascade into the rest of the system. The device sputtered violently, heat radiating from its surface.

“Jayce!” Viktor’s voice rang out sharply, cutting through the chaos. Before Jayce could react, Viktor was already moving. Panic rose quickly as the acrid scent of burning insulation and scorched metal filled the air.

“Wait, Viktor, don’t-“ Jayce started, but was too late.

Without hesitation, Viktor reached for the exposed wires. The heat radiating from the device made Jayce flinch, but Viktor’s hand remained steady. His fingers moved quickly with calculated precision, gripping the wires just above the sparking nodes to break the current without spreading the surge to nearby components. His knowledge of the circuitry made the dangerous act look deceptively simple but Jayce couldn’t ignore the way arcs of energy snapped at Viktor’s fingers.

The surge collapsed with a crackling hiss, the systems core flickering for a moment before shutting down entirely. Smoke curled up from the wires, leaving a sharp tang in the air.

An angry swear filled with uncontrolled pain rang through their lab. The damage was done. Viktor yanked his hand back with a sharp hiss, his fingers curling instinctively as he staggered back a few steps from the device.

Jayce rushed forward, his heart pounding as his eyes locked on Viktor’s hand. The skin of his fingertips was red and blistered, shiny with the beginnings of burns from the intense heat he had exposed himself to. A thin, jagged cut ran diagonally across his palm where one of the wires exposed edges had bitten into his skin. Blood welled from the cut, trailing down his wrist in thin, uneven rivulets before pooling in small drops on the floor.

“Shit!” Jayce’s voice cracked as he reached for Viktor, fingers gently placed along the back of his injured hand, careful to not touch the cut. “Viktor, are you-“

“I am fine.” Viktor said quickly, his voice tight but controlled. Another swear escaping, this time hushed and more frustrated than anything as he pulled his hand back. Jayce could see his partner’s jaw clenching from the reaction to pain, even in this moment Viktor tried to stay calm. “It is minor burns, nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious?” Jayce’s eyes widened, trying not to raise his voice in disbelief. “V, you’re bleeding, and your fingers are - sit down, please. Let me-“

“Jayce.” Viktor’s voice softened as he attempted to wave off the concern. His non-injured hand curling around the wrist of his other hand as if he could starve off the source of pain. “It looks worse than what it is.” Viktor muttered, his jaw tight. “It is pain. It will pass.”

Jayce shook his head, guilt and panic swirling into a sickening storm in his chest. “You’re not brushing this off.” He said firmly, his voice low but resolute. “Sit. Please.” It came out more as a plead than a request. His bleeding heart on his sleeve as he almost felt dizzy with guilt.

For a moment Viktor hesitated, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as if considering whether to argue. But whatever he saw in Jayce’s expression made him relent. With a quiet sigh he sank into the nearest chair, his injured hand cradled against his chest.

Jayce didn’t waste a second. He was quick to grab the small first-aid kit from their storage and hurried back to his partner side. He crouched down in front of the man, pulse still thrumming in his ears with adrenaline as he opened the kit. He was by no means proficient in medicine, but years of experience in the lab had made him no stranger to cuts and burns. Quickly he got everything he needed out of the bag, antiseptic wipes, gauze and a roll of bandages.

“Let me see.” Jayce finally lifted his eyes, his voice even softer as guilt ate away at the edges of his words.

Viktor sharply inhaled, but still he extended his injured hand. The faintest tremble betraying the pain he was trying to hide. A small twitch to his upper lip told Jayce just what he needed to know.

Jayce took Viktor’s hand delicately, cradling it in his larger one as though it was cracked porcelain. The warmth of Viktor’s skin was a sharp contrast to the cold antiseptic wipe. His gaze flicked over the burns and cuts, wincing as his chest tightened further. The blisters on the tips of Viktor’s fingers were raw and angry, the heat having seared delicate skin. The harsh cut across his palm wasn’t deep enough to scar, but it was still enough to sting. To become a reminder of how close they’d come to something worse.

“This isn’t just ‘nothing’, Viktor.” Jayce said quietly, his brows furrowing as he began gently cleaning the wound. He dabbed the cut with the antiseptic wipe, his touch as light as he could manage. His movement stopping with every twitch or hitch of Viktor’s breath.

“I’ve dealt with worse.” Viktor answered just before flinching as the wipe neared the center of his palm. His voice was steady despite the way his free hand gripped the arm of the chair, knuckles turning white.

“That does not mean this won’t hurt.” Jayce muttered, glancing up at him briefly. “Please, let me take care of you.”

Viktor didn’t respond immediately, his gaze shifting to the floor. Jayce continued working in silence, carefully wrapping the gauze around Viktor’s palm. His fingers brushing against Viktor’s skin as he secured the bandage with a strip of tape. He continued by applying a mild scented ointment to the tips of his partners fingers, covering the burns and gaining a soft sigh of relief from the man above.

“There.” Jayce said softly, leaning back on his heels to look at Viktor’s hand. “That should hold for now but…” He hesitated for a moment, worried about overstepping their unestablished boundaries. “You have to let it heal. You can’t push through this like you do everything else.”

Viktor’s lips twitched into the faintest semblance of a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know me better than that, Jayce.” His tone dragged with dry amusement gaining him a huff from Jayce.

“Yeah. I know. That’s why I’m saying it, hoping one day you might listen.” He lingered for a moment, his gaze flickering to Viktor’s hand again, as if double-checking his work.

“Thank you.” Viktor said after a moment of silence, voice quiet but sincere. His hand turned in Jayce’s grip, a gentle press of their palms.

Jayce’s chest tightened at the words, the surprising warmth in Viktor’s tone chasing away the lingering guilt. He looked back up, eyes meeting Viktor’s. For a split second he could swear he felt the ever so gentle caress of an uninjured finger across his wrist. “Anytime.” His voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment the air between them felt heavy with something unspoken. Viktor’s gaze lingered on Jayce’s, studying him as though searching for something. Jayce felt his breath hitch, the weight of Viktor’s attention making his heart skip a beat.

The silence stretched, not uncomfortable, but charged. As if the static from the failed experiment was still dancing between them. Viktor’s golden gaze, sharp and calculating, softened slightly, and edge dulled by curiosity or perhaps something else Jayce couldn’t name.

Viktor’s uninjured hand shifted slightly, fingers twitching as if they might reach out. Jayce’s gaze dropped momentarily to the faint movement before snapping back up, catching the faintest flicker of hesitation in Viktor’s expression.

“Jayce.” Viktor said at last, his voice low, almost quiet enough to be lost in the hum of the lab. His lips parted as though to say more, but instead, he simply let his injured hand rest more fully in Jayce’s grip. A deliberate weight that sent a ripple of electricity down Jayce’s spine, a shiver following after.

Jayce swallowed hard, his throat dry, his voice stuck somewhere between his chest and lips. The air between them thickened again, pressing closer. If he just moved an inch, if he just straightened his back, if he just leaned in a little closer —

Viktor blinked, and the spell was broken. He leaned back in his chair, expression settling back to its usual measured calm. “We should finish the diagnostics on the prototype, yes?” He said, though his voice carried an unspoken warmth that lingered in the space they had just shared.

Jayce nodded, his voice lost while he quickly gathered up the first-aid kit. The lingering warmth of Viktor’s touch stayed with him as he returned the kit to its place. For the rest of the day he found himself stealing glances at Viktor.

\\\

Later, as he replayed the day’s events, Jayce found himself flipping through his book of flowers with newfound purpose. This was how he found his third flower to gift. He had spent another hour scrambling through the language of flowers, finger tracing over every word until he found exactly what he needed. Gratitude. Care. Protection. More words he couldn’t bring himself to say out loud, but could could weave into petals and stems.

The next day, Jayce entered the lab with a small bouquet tucked under his arm. Bluebells, delicate and vibrant. The flowers were understated but full of meaning, a quiet apology and a promise all in one. He didn’t even hesitate as he stepped into the lab.

His eyes quickly found Viktor’s, sitting by the blackboard with a mug of something sweet smelling in his hand. The injured hand resting across his lap, now with a proper wrapping of bandages and bandaids. The mans eyes flickering from Jayce’s face and to the bouquet. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Another one?” Viktor asked, setting his mug on a desk before leaning back slightly in his chair. His voice carried its usual dry amusement, but this time there was an unmistakable warmth in his tone that made small sparks flicker in Jayce’s chest.

“Yeah!” Jayce answered, surprised at the softness in his tone. He stepped forward, holding the bouquet out toward his partner. “I wanted to say thank you. For, uh, yesterday. I realised… If you hadn’t stepped in it might have blown up in my face. Although I wish it had not been at the expense of your safety and hand. Just- I… Yeah. Thank you. It is appreciated, you are appreciated. And I am so, so very sorry about not being more careful with the power regulator, I will do better. I don’t even know what came over me not reacting, or seeing the signs.”

Viktor could barely keep up with the ramble of words Jayce produced, yet he took the flowers with a soft chuckle. Resting it in his lap to give one of the bells a gentle flick with one of his non-injured fingers. “These are bluebells, yes?” A sound of wonder followed as Viktor studied the flowers.

“Your apology is not needed, though if it makes you feel better I will accept it.” Viktor watched as the last bits of tension bled out of Jayce’s shoulders. A softness settled between their stolen glances.

“Wait, does this mean you’ll take it easy on yourself while you are healing?” Jayce could feel himself perk up, pushing his luck ever so slightly.

“Do you think flowers will keep me from overworking myself, Jayce?” The dry, unamused tone somewhat of a comfort. Knowing they had fallen back to their usual rhythm.

“Viktor, if I thought it would I would bring you a whole garden.”

Viktor’s lips quirked upward, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. His eyes lingered on Jayce for a beat longer than necessary before returning to his work, leaving Jayce with a faint flush and racing heart.

“Back to work, Talis. There is much to be done.” His tone unmistakably weaved with affection. And if Jayce noticed the faint flush creeping over the back of Viktor’s neck, who was he to point it out with his own cheeks in full bloom.

[ohnonotthehorrors]

Can I... talk about the theory that winners help craft the next game?

Because, and I really can not say this enough, it puts So Much into perspective.

Everything starts out Normal. Three lives, simple, cut and dry, there hasn't been a winner yet. No one to help craft the game. (And there's something to be said about how simple it really was. Not even a real expectation of the world becoming pvp or combative. No idea of the war to come)

Then Grian wins. The green killer, the man who vowed his first life to the one whose life he took. The next game the boogie man is born. A mechanic that allows and, in fact, demands, a green kill. People can trade lives back and forth, currency and debt wrapped up in one. (can we still be friends? Said the red partner. A life time later and reds are hostile, alone. Maybe it's an answer: No. Not anymore)

Scott wins this time. He refuses to play the game. He will not kill his team, he will love and he will do so fiercely and with all of himself. The next game people are attached through to their very souls. Every bit of damage to one soul is done to its twin. There is no boogeyman. (There is no way for a widow to be left without their love)

Pearl wins and she wins a blood bath. Spent the game draped in red, only wolves for company. Sitting in her tower, shivering in ice, maybe she wanted it to end. To see where it would. Limited life rewards you for killing, limited life has a clock tick tick ticking down, you always no how long you have. A curse yes, but a blessing too.

Now It's Martyn's turn.

And what a turn it is.

Keep your secrets, says the disloyal man, keep them well. Everything hurts, everything Matters, says the man fracturing with every loss. (What if we could love each other without hurting? Says The Hand, who never wanted to be coated in blood)

More importantly, Martyn has always seen the watchers below the surface. Now, they're right here in front of him. Something that could almost... be rebelled against, no? Something that someone else could finally point to and say: hey, hey isn't that familiar?

[wordstome]

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

[titania-sleeps]

Submissive Omega Yandere x Alpha Reader

hi guys it's tmr and i was able to cut down some of the words! i left out the full ver of his first heat and your first rut so that'll be a dif post

idk if i should go fully into omegaverse stuff and just give reader a dick regardless of gender (cause apparently female alphas have retractable dicks) so i'm avoiding that for now

edit: more works featuring Adonis: Adonis Rides You, First Heat

warning: nsfw, dom reader, omegaverse (heats, ruts, yknow), minors DNI pls

• Adonis and you have been fuck buddies for three years now. At first, it was out of necessity; you were both teenagers with raging hormones, and being an omega and alpha respectively meant that the two of you had a difficult time taking care of your needs on your own.

• Adonis was surprised when you proposed the idea to him in your third year of high school. The two of you were good friends by then, and you probably knew of his plight. However, his heart raced nonetheless and he wondered if you secretly had a crush on him. He wouldn't have minded if you did, since you were his type! Sadly, you made it clear to him that you weren't interested in him as a romantic partner, only as a sexual partner.

• Adonis didn't let that deter him, however. He couldn't deny that he felt a little disappointed, but he didn't think too much of it at that time. As long as he didn't fall in love with you, everything would be alright.

• Adonis fucked up. Two months into your friends w/ benefit situation with him, he'd already caught feelings. Whenever he was around you, his pulse would increase and his senses would go into overdrive. Even when the two of you weren't fucking like rabbits, his hole was dripping for you.

• Adonis cursed at himself every time he went on a date with you. (They were dates because he considered it so and he would take no other opinions.) It was especially terrible when you went shopping with him. He couldn't help himself but think about you fucking him senseless in the changing rooms. Just the thought of it alone had him squeezing his thighs, his breaths heavy.

• Adonis tried to hide it from you, but you easily noticed his rose scent growing stronger. You would pull him to the side and ask him gently if he was in heat. The worst part was that he wasn't. He was simply always like this around you.

• Adonis loved that you never asked any further questions. You would quickly take him home and tell him to strip. And strip he gladly did. He didn't have the time to prepare himself for you, but you didn't need it. In a matter of seconds, your tongue was in his hole, thrusting in and out. Your hand rubbed his rock-hard member, sliding easily with his slick. During those nights, he would cum quickly and sleep deeply, arms wrapped around your waist tightly. He would not let you leave him.

• Adonis didn't understand how you were so nonchalant. He felt silly being the only one so affected by the intimacy the two of you were supposedly sharing. He assumed that you would've bitten him already, but you were so resilient.

• Adonis tried to ignore it, and he did a really good job at doing so! Well, for about a week. He just didn't get it; he was perfect for you and you were perfect for him. Your scent intoxicated him, and he was sure that his scent affected you the same way. So why didn't you want him more?

• Adonis spent the next year grappling with his situation. It only got worse over time; just a small whiff of your scent drove his instincts insane. He needed to be bred by you, for you to mark him. He needed you to claim him, to destroy his being and rebuild him from scratch.

• Adonis had his first official heat in the middle of the day at school that same year. It came out of nowhere, and the arousal he felt was far greater than anything he'd ever experienced in the past.

• Adonis didn't bother hiding it. You were talking to your friends, but he interrupted and dragged you away by the arm, his face flushed. You were concerned, as you always were, but his eyes were clouded in need. He pushed you into the janitor's closet, locking the door behind you.

• Adonis stuck onto you in the closet, trembling. Sweat trickled down his neck, glistening against his skin. His scent was stronger than it had ever been; no longer just roses but now with a hint of lemon.

• Adonis whined, grinding against your leg. His pants were already soaking wet, the sticky liquid coating your leg. You sighed; you knew were going to miss class for the rest of the day.

• Adonis clung to you for the rest of the school year, nearly attached to your hip. You had lunch with him every day, you walked him home every day, and even your weekends were spent with him. He was so happy that you were giving him so much attention!

• Adonis suffered greatly during your last year of high school. He was so close to confessing to you, but he didn't want to lose what he already had with you. But you were glowing, your demeanor so confident and charismatic. He could see the other omegas turning their heads whenever they walked past the two of you.

• Adonis knew that if he didn't act quick, another omega would try and seduce you. He couldn't stand the thought of that, especially since he laid his eyes on you first. He would be your first and only mate. No one else.

• Adonis's heart dropped when he witnessed a small female omega confess to you under a cherry blossom tree the day of your graduation. He was planning to do that. That was supposed to be you and him.

• Adonis didn't bother trying to think when he intercepted her confession. He grabbed your arm, pressing his chest against it.

"Who is this, darling?" he had asked. The shock and hurt on her face were worth every ounce of courage it took for him to do that. She ran away, sobbing, and he was left with you and a sense of pride. No one was going to come between you and him.

• Adonis was scolded by you afterward, but he didn't care. You were his alpha, his fated mate. You didn't need any other omegas. That night, you treated him roughly, your body pressed heavily against his and your teeth baring at him.

• Adonis grinned. You were going to bite him! Surely, this was where you would finally, finally bite him. Hurry, show him what bad boys get. Show him that naughty boys get bitten, claimed against their will, and used like toys.

• Adonis was disappointed when you left the morning after, no bite marks on his body. He was being so good for you, so why didn't you claim him? Did you have someone else? Did he have to resort to murder just so you'd look solely at him?

• Adonis swore to himself that this year would be the year you bite him. This year would be your final year as fuck buddies. Next year, you two will already be mates. And if there's one thing you need to know about Adonis, it is that he mates for life.

something in me wanted to name him adonis casanova bc that would've been really funny but he's just adonis. for now.

next adonis fic is gonna be his first heat (in detail) and then maybe your first rut (also in detail),,,

-> masterlist

[ihavenomouthandimustmouth]

It seems like a lot of the anti-transmasculinity/transandrophobia discourse revolves around the ideas that either this does not occur, does not occur in real life, or is just transmascs viewing criticisms of transmisogynistic transmascs as oppression, so here’s a story.

I live with some other people around my age, and I stopped using my deadname with them earlier this year. it hasn’t been that long, about 3 months, but generally, they use my correct name with an occasional mistake, usually followed up by a correction. one of them, however, just cannot seem to stop deadnaming me, often without correcting afterwards. when they do notice they’ve gotten it wrong, it’s usually followed up by a big thing about how they don’t know why they’re so bad at it or blaming it on being drunk if they’re drunk, but often not an apology.

an additional piece of this—my partner, who is a trans woman, changed the name they use around the same time, but this person almost always gets her name right. this person knows me a bit better/longer than they do her, but not that much better/longer, and generally, when I am around them, my partner is also there. (adding a cut here because this is gonna be long)

I talked with my therapist about this at my last session. I was seeking advice on how to handle it, but I also spent a lot of time just complaining and running through different incidences of this happening. I ended up telling her about some of the weird things this person said to me when I first started socially transitioning, including them saying that they were sad when I came out because they (direct quote) “didn’t want to stop seeing me as a genderless elf” (???!?) (I had previously identified as nonbinary and used any pronouns) and followed that up by saying that they hated men, which they then followed up by saying “not trans men though” (which like okay but then why bring that up in this conversation).

In talking my therapist, I circled back to the deadnaming issue and said that I thought this person was doing this to me and not my partner because my partner is more feminine than I am masculine (in social behavior and the way we look as two people that have not started medically transitioning). my therapist pushed back on this and said that, based on all the things I said, it seemed more like this person just didn’t want to see me as a man.

this blew my mind a little because I, a transmasculine person who spends way too much time on trans and transmasc internet, did not put the situation in this context while my therapist, a cis woman who is supportive but not super aware of the trans experience, did. it made a lot of sense though, and fit into the context of my other experiences and interactions with this person.

this person is a nonbinary person who has never identified as or been seen as a man. they are supportive of trans people generally and of their rights. they are also someone who believes that woman are inherently better than men. this generally doesn’t have much of an impact on the cis men we live with—for them, this more comes as being around for jokes that might make them a little uncomfortable, but doesn’t stop them from being seen as men. for me, this means I have to deal with the fact that this person doesn’t want to see me as a man and deadnames me accordingly, seemingly because they see me transitioning as a loss.

my point here is that when transmasculine people say that there are issues they face specifically related to them being transmasculine, that’s not a lie or a hypothetical. there is a stark contrast between the way this person treats my transfem partner and myself (and, after talking with someone who’s lived here with this person for longer, other transmasculine people who have lived in the house). they are supportive of trans people as a group, but not of transmasculinity, and I have to deal with the consequences.

[delulustateofmind]

This is your home!

TW: Yandere behaviors, Kidnapped-ish Reader, Stockholm Syndrome, Manipulation, Older man x College student! Reader, Toxic relationship, Drugging, trapping. Gn! Reader

Wc: 1.3k

It seems like only a year ago you attempted to break up with your partner.

No—my deepest apologies—you tried to break up with your partner.

You see, he was the kind of lover who made you feel trapped. A man a few years older than you, with a stable job and a steady income, who somehow managed to fall for a mere college student.

That should have been your first red flag.

He begged you to move in, claiming your co-ed dorms weren’t exactly the safest. Did you really enjoy sharing a shower room with strangers? Was that the kind of life you wanted?

So, of course, you followed the hand that fed you. You were young, naive, and far too eager to believe in happily-ever-afters.

You moved in—why wouldn’t you? He was handsome, older, and confident, and his apartment was immaculate, with matching furniture. A dream for any broke college student.

He made space for you. A little nook for your “silly toys,” he’d tease, smiling warmly over his shoulder. He even set up a desk for you in his office so you could “spend more time together.” That is, until you spent that time playing video games instead of working on your finals.

He’d always find a way to scold you for it.

And then he started paying for your tuition.

At first, you refused—it was too much, and you had scholarships to rely on. But those scholarships suddenly disappeared. The donor funding your education pulled out, no explanation given.

So he stepped in. Your dutiful boyfriend.

He even showed you a spreadsheet, breaking down the mountain of debt you’d accumulate if you didn’t let him help. What choice did you have?

You felt bought out.

You felt like you’d sold yourself.

Desperate to regain some independence, you took up a part-time job. But even that became a problem. “I have money, let me take care of you,” he’d say, exasperated. Or worse: “Why are you working so hard when I’m here to make life easier for you?”

Still, you pushed back. For a little while, at least.

Until the day they let you go—just like that.

These strange occurrences… they made you overthink—his words, not yours—as you sat across from him at the café.

Your hands trembled as you raised the coffee cup to your lips, the warmth doing little to steady your nerves.

“Let’s break up,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced away from his piercing gaze.

You caught the flicker of heartbreak in his beautiful eyes, a pain so raw it almost made you falter.

“I’m the problem, not you,” you continued, your words wavering like the hand that held your cup. “I just… I just need to get my life together.”

For a moment, there was only silence. The bustling café around you felt muted, like the world was holding its breath. His gaze remained fixed on you, unblinking, unwavering.

“That’s not fair,” he finally said, his voice calm, but there was a tension in it—a barely restrained crack.

Your chest tightened as you stared into the dark swirls of your coffee, avoiding the weight of his eyes. “It’s for the best,” you murmured.

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, fingers threading together as if he were holding himself together. “For the best? For who? You?” His tone was soft, coaxing, but there was a sharp edge beneath it.

You nodded, though the motion felt hollow.

He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “You’re not making sense. You say you need to get your life together, but I’m right here. I’ve always been here. Isn’t that enough?”

It wasn’t enough. That was the problem.

You swallowed hard, daring a glance at him. His jaw was tight, his lips pressed into a thin line. Those heartbreakingly beautiful eyes of his—once so warm—now felt like they were cutting straight through you.

“I need space,” you said, forcing the words out before they could dissolve into cowardice. “I need to figure things out on my own.”

His hand moved across the table, fingers brushing yours. It was a tender gesture, but it felt like a trap. You pulled back instinctively, and his expression darkened, just for a moment.

“Space?” he repeated, as if the word was foreign to him. He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest. “I see.”

But he didn’t. You knew he didn’t.

He wasn’t the kind of man who accepted things like this easily. You could feel it—the storm brewing beneath his composed exterior, the questions he was desperate to ask but refused to voice.

“You’re just… throwing everything away?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. “After everything we’ve built together?”

Guilt stabbed at you, sharp and unrelenting. “I’m not throwing it away. I just need to…” You trailed off, searching for the right words, but they evaded you, leaving behind an aching emptiness.

The sound of a plate clattering in the distance made you flinch. He didn’t. He just stared at you, his gaze so intense it felt suffocating.

“Is there someone else?” he asked suddenly, his voice low but steady, like he was bracing himself for the answer.

Your head snapped up, eyes wide. “No! It’s not like that.”

He studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he leaned forward again, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You don’t have to lie to me. You owe me that much.”

“I’m not lying,” you insisted, the desperation in your tone surprising even yourself. “This isn’t about anyone else. It’s about me.”

A bitter smile tugged at his lips. “It’s always about you, isn’t it?”

You froze, the words hitting harder than they should have.

“I guess I should’ve seen this coming,” he said, leaning back in his chair once more. His eyes flicked to the window beside you, watching the rain drizzle against the glass. “You always did have one foot out the door.”

The knot in your throat tightened, but you didn’t respond. What could you say?

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the space between you feeling insurmountable.

Finally, he exhaled sharply and stood, tossing a few bills onto the table. “If this is what you want,” he said, his voice void of the warmth it once held, “then I won’t stop you.”

But as he turned to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over. Not really.

You managed to find a new apartment—a cheap, incredibly cheap one. The kind of place where the pipes rattled and the paint on the walls peeled if you so much as looked at it wrong. You had to take out a loan just to secure it, and as you stared at the mountain of paperwork, you felt the weight of your choices pressing down on you.

What had you been doing for the past year? Locked away in some castle. You almost cried just thinking about it.

The move was exhausting. Box after box filled with remnants of a life you didn’t recognize anymore. You left some things behind—things he’d given you, or things you couldn’t bring yourself to touch. It felt like shedding skin, leaving those pieces of yourself in the apartment you once shared.

A month passed in strained silence. You hadn’t heard from him, but you felt his presence everywhere. The way your phone seemed heavier in your pocket. The way every knock on the door made your heart jump. You told yourself it was paranoia, that he’d moved on.

Until one day, your phone lit up with a call.

His name stared back at you, bold and glaring.

You froze. The room felt smaller, the air thicker. The phone rang once. Then twice. Then thrice.

You didn’t answer.

When it finally stopped, the voicemail icon appeared, along with a text. You hesitated before opening it, your breath catching as you read the message.

"Can we talk?"

That was all it said.

But it wasn’t just the message. Attached to it was a picture.

Your chest tightened as you opened the image.

It was of your desk. Your old desk. The one from his office. On it sat your “small little toys”—the ones he used to tease you about. The picture was perfectly framed, almost artistic in its composition.

He still had your things. Of course, he did.

You told yourself you should’ve picked them up by now. That you’d been putting it off because you couldn’t stomach the thought of seeing him again.

But now… now you weren’t sure if going back was an option.

Your phone buzzed again, and you jumped.

Another text:

“You forgot these. They’re waiting for you.”

Something about the message sent a chill down your spine.

Waiting. That word lingered in your mind, heavy and suffocating.

You stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. You could just ignore him, pretend you hadn’t seen the message. But deep down, you knew he wouldn’t stop. Not until you answered.

And the worst part?

You weren’t sure if you wanted him to.

You told yourself you were overthinking. The picture, the message—it was just him being thoughtful, wasn’t it? After all, he was a caring guy. Always had been.

You stared at the text again. “They’re waiting for you.”

Your things. That’s all he meant.

Still, you hesitated. The memory of his voice, so calm and steady in the voicemail, echoed in your mind. It wasn’t like him to sound so… subdued. You’d expected anger, bitterness—anything but that gentle request.

Maybe you owed him this much. A chance to talk, to clear the air.

You typed out a quick reply:

“Okay. When?”

His response came almost immediately, as though he’d been waiting for you.

“Tonight. I’ll make dinner.”

Dinner. Of course, he’d turn this into a gesture of kindness. That was just like him—always going the extra mile, always making you feel like you were the center of his world. It had been suffocating at times, sure, but it wasn’t bad. Was it?

The memory of his smile tugged at your mind, warm and genuine, the kind of smile that made you feel like everything would be okay. You wanted to believe in that version of him, even now.

So, that evening, you found yourself standing outside his door. The apartment looked the same as you remembered—pristine, welcoming, like it had been plucked straight from a magazine. You knocked hesitantly, the sound of it feeling too loud in the quiet hallway.

The door opened almost instantly.

He stood there, his face lighting up at the sight of you. “You came,” he said, his voice filled with relief.

“I—yeah. For my stuff,” you replied, shifting awkwardly.

“Of course,” he said smoothly, stepping aside to let you in. “Come on in. I just finished cooking.”

The smell of something delicious wafted out, warm and inviting. It made your stomach twist—not from hunger, but from the strange mixture of nostalgia and unease settling in your chest.

You stepped inside, your gaze sweeping over the apartment. It was exactly how you left it. No, that wasn’t right. It was better. Cleaner. More organized. Your things, the ones you’d left behind, were neatly arranged in the same spots they used to occupy.

It was like you’d never left.

“I made your favorite,” he said, leading you to the dining table. The plates were already set, the soft glow of candlelight dancing across the surface. It was the kind of effort he always put in, the kind that used to make you feel special.

But now, it felt… off.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” you said, forcing a smile as you sat down.

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “It’s no trouble. I just want you to feel comfortable.”

Comfortable. That’s what he always said when you’d been upset, when you’d tried to pull away.

The dinner was good—perfect, even. He talked about small things, work, how he’d been keeping busy. He didn’t ask about your new apartment, didn’t press you for details about your life. If anything, he seemed… patient.

When the plates were cleared and the conversation lulled, he stood and gestured toward the office. “Your things are in there. I packed them up for you.”

You followed him, your steps hesitant. The office looked exactly as you remembered it, down to the way your desk was arranged. Your “small little toys” were lined up neatly on the shelf, untouched except for the care he’d taken to clean the dust from them.

“I didn’t want you to feel rushed,” he said softly, watching as you looked over the room. “I know how much these meant to you.”

You glanced back at him, guilt prickling at your chest. He was smiling, that same warm smile that always made you feel safe. But there was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t place.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice quiet.

He nodded, stepping closer. Too close. You could feel the warmth of his presence, the subtle shift in the air as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“You know,” he said, his voice low, almost tender, “you don’t have to go. You can stay here, where it’s safe.”

The words were kind, caring. But they lingered in the air, heavy with implication.

“I can’t,” you said, stepping back. “I—I have to go.”

His hand dropped to his side, his smile faltering for just a moment before it returned, softer, gentler. “Of course,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You swallowed hard and turned away, focusing on the task at hand. You quickly grabbed your little trinkets, each one feeling heavier than it should as you set them into the small box he had left out for you. The edges of your vision blurred slightly, and your mind felt strangely… woozy.

“You feeling alright?” His voice was warm, almost teasing, and you could hear the smile in it even though you weren’t looking at him.

“I’m fine,” you said, but your voice sounded far away, almost like it wasn’t yours.

The room seemed to tilt ever so slightly, and you reached out to steady yourself against the desk. The surface felt cool under your fingertips, grounding you just enough to stay upright.

“I don’t know,” he said, stepping closer, his tone a mockery of concern. “You look a little pale.”

Your head turned toward him, but your movements were sluggish. His figure was close now—too close—and his smile, while soft, seemed sharper somehow, like it could cut you if you looked at it the wrong way.

“You’ve been so stressed lately,” he continued, his voice dripping with honeyed care. “All this running around, all this independence... It’s no wonder you’re not feeling well.”

“I just need to—” You stopped, the words slipping from your mind as quickly as they’d formed.

“Shh,” he murmured, reaching out to steady you, his hands gentle as they guided you back against the desk. “It’s okay. Let me take care of you.”

“I—” You tried to pull away, but your body wasn’t cooperating. Your legs felt like lead, your arms heavy and limp.

“There we go,” he whispered, his voice almost soothing as he adjusted his grip, cradling you like you might break. “Let’s get you back to where you belong.”

The words sank into you like cold water, and your heart pounded in your chest. “I don’t—”

But your voice was weak, and the edges of your vision darkened as your knees gave way.

He caught you, of course. He always did. His arms were steady, strong, and terrifyingly familiar as you seemed to melt into them.

“You’ll see,” he said softly, his lips brushing against your temple as the darkness closed in. “This is for the best. You’ll understand soon enough.”

The last thing you heard was the faint click of the lock turning.

When you woke up, it was in a bed you knew well—his bed. The familiar scent of expensive lavender laundry detergent and faint cologne clung to the sheets, grounding you in a way that made your head spin.

Your body felt heavy, but there was no immediate pain. Just a dull, aching tiredness, like you’d slept too long.

The soft shuffle of footsteps drew your attention, and he appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray of food. His face lit up when he saw you were awake.

“There you are,” he said, his voice warm and soothing. “I was starting to worry.”

You blinked at him, your mind foggy. “What… happened?”

“You fainted,” he explained, setting the tray down on the nightstand. “I knew you weren’t feeling well, but I didn’t think it was this bad. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”

“I need to go home,” you murmured, though the words felt weak, half-hearted.

He crouched beside the bed, his hand reaching out to brush the hair from your face. “You’re not going anywhere until you’re better,” he said softly, but there was an edge of finality in his tone. “I can’t let you hurt yourself like this.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sincerity in his eyes made the words catch in your throat. He wasn’t angry—far from it. He looked… concerned. Genuinely so.

“I made another one of your favorites,” he said, gesturing to the tray. “You need to eat something. Please.”

And somehow, you did.

The first week passed in a haze. He was always there, tending to you with quiet patience and a gentle touch. He cooked your meals, brought you tea, even read to you when you were too tired to focus on your own.

When you’d ask to leave, he’d smile, tilting his head like you’d just said something silly. “Why would you want to leave when you’re safe here?” he’d ask, his tone light, affectionate. “This is your home.”

At first, you resisted. You’d test the locks when he wasn’t looking, search for your phone, try to reason with him. But each time, he’d find you.

And each time, he’d reassure you.

“I know this is hard,” he’d say, holding you close as you fought back tears. “But I promise, I’m doing this because I love you. Because I can’t bear to see you hurt yourself.”

The way he said it—so tenderly, so earnestly—made it harder to argue.

Months passed.

Your protests grew quieter, your attempts to leave less frequent. He never raised his voice, never hurt you. Instead, he smothered you in kindness, his care so unwavering it became impossible to distinguish from love.

He brought you little gifts—books he thought you’d like, your favorite snacks, new clothes in your size. He’d sit with you for hours, talking about everything and nothing, his laughter warm and infectious.

And slowly, bit by bit, you began to feel it: the comfort of his presence, the safety of his arms.

You still thought about leaving sometimes. But every time you’d imagine the cold, lonely world outside, his face would appear in your mind, smiling, reassuring.

“I take care of you,” he’d remind you. “No one else will.”

And part of you started to believe him.

A year later, the apartment felt less like a prison and more like a sanctuary. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

You’d stopped counting the days a long time ago. The routine he built for you was too carefully crafted, too comforting in its predictability. Meals prepared before you asked, your favorite books always within reach, even the temperature of the room adjusted to perfection. He knew what you needed before you did.

But tonight, something felt different.

He sat beside you on the couch, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as always, his fingers idly tracing circles on your arm. The television played softly in the background, though neither of you were paying attention.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he said, his tone light, almost teasing. But there was an edge beneath it, subtle but sharp, like a blade hidden beneath silk.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. “I’m fine,” you replied, offering a small smile. “Just… thinking.”

He tilted his head, his gaze soft but probing. “Thinking about what?”

“Nothing important,” you said quickly, looking away.

His hand stilled against your arm.

“I hope you’re not thinking about leaving me,” he said, his voice so soft it made your skin crawl.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. “I’m not,” you said, too quickly.

He smiled then, that same warm, reassuring smile that had once made you feel safe. But now, it felt like a mask. “Good,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Because you know what happens when you try.”

Your stomach twisted, memories flashing through your mind.

The first time you’d tried to escape, you’d woken up hours later, your body weak and trembling, with him at your bedside, his expression one of heartbreak. “You scared me,” he’d said, brushing a hand through your hair. “I can’t lose you. Don’t ever do that again.”

The second time, he hadn’t been so kind. His voice had been cold, his eyes devoid of warmth as he’d pinned you against the wall, his hand gripping your wrist just hard enough to bruise. “I love you,” he’d whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “But if you try to leave me again, I’ll have to show you how much.”

You hadn’t tried since.

Now, as you sat beside him, the weight of his arm around you felt suffocating. You nodded mutely, your hands curling into fists in your lap.

“I’m glad we understand each other,” he said, his voice bright again, as though nothing had happened.

He reached for the remote, turning off the television, and stood. “Come on,” he said, holding out a hand to you. “Let’s go to bed.”

You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand in his. His grip was firm, steady, like an anchor pulling you under.

As he led you to the bedroom, his fingers intertwined with yours, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the hallway mirror.

The person staring back at you was a stranger—someone small, broken, and unrecognizable.

But it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

Because as he closed the bedroom door behind you, the lock clicking into place, you knew one thing for certain:

You weren’t going anywhere.

And neither was he.

Characters:

BNHA: Hawks, Dabi, Endeavor

AOT: Erwin, Zeke, Levi

JJK: Gojo, Geto, Nanami...(maybe Yuta...if he was older)

HxH: Chrollo, Illumi, Hisoka

[cloudybarnes]

Busy Bee

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x slytherin!reader

Summary: you may have accidentally fallen asleep on draco, but in your defense, he was really comfortable to sleep on! now, though, you're forced to face your feelings for him and do something about them

Word Count: 2.6k+

Masterlist

✰  ✰  ✰

“Blaise, move your big arse away from my comfy spot.”

You had a tiring day of classes, and wanted nothing more than to just relax for the rest of the night. You had gone back to the Slytherin common room to hopefully see some of your friends and just wind down for the night. 

Everyone in Slytherin knew there was one special spot on the lounge couch that was reserved for you. You had spent countless hours and dozens of nights in that exact spot either studying or just hanging out with friends. That was your spot, and when you came into the common room, everyone knew to make way for it. 

Blaise chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, (Y/N), didn’t realize you’d be back so early.”

“Early?” You exclaimed as you jumped into your spot. “I’ve been busting my butt all morning for these stupid exams. I’m exhausted.”

Pansy groaned from her spot on the floor. “Why don’t you just cut yourself a break once in a while? It’s no fun when my best friend is too busy for, like, anything anymore.”

You frowned. “I’m not too busy for you! I’m here now, aren’t I?” You grabbed a blanket from the stockpile you kept in the common room, and wrapped yourself tight in it. 

Pansy rolled her eyes with a smile. “Yeah, yeah. You’re just in time to hear about the latest shit with Emma.” 

Pansy had a wild grudge against this poor Hufflepuff girl who didn’t even know that Pansy was beefing with her. It was quite funny, honestly, but you loved Pansy enough to let her moan on about what annoying thing Emma does everyday. 

“Oh goody.” Draco came out from the stairwell into the common room with a roll of his eyes. “Another go round of how insufferable you think that Hufflepuff is.” 

He glanced over to see you cocooned in your blanket and let out a soft laugh. Draco took his seat next to you and laid his arm over the back of the couch behind you. 

Draco intrigued you. Over the last year, the two of you had grown quite close. You considered Draco a good friend, but you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t wish it were more. Draco was kind. He was flirtatious and charming, but he was sweet and gentle with you as well. Sometimes you thought Draco may have feelings for you in return, but you were far too scared to confront him about it. 

“Well, for starters, we already know how much of a know it all she is, but for some reason she has to showboat just how smart she is. You’d think she was a Ravenclaw what with how obsessed she is with being correct.” Pansy said. 

Blaise started to respond to her squawking when Draco shifted closer to you. Blaise’s voice drifted away as you focused your attention to Draco. 

“You alright, Dray?” You asked. 

He smiled slightly. “Yeah, just trying to get comfortable. Salazar knows Pansy will be talking about this nonsense for hours.” 

Draco dropped his arm from the back of the couch to wrap around your shoulder and pull you into him. You could feel your heart beating out of your chest, silently hoping Draco couldn’t feel the intensity of it. 

You tried to hide the grin threatening to break out on your lips as you snuggled closer to his chest. This was definitely a first for you guys. Though you and Draco had been quite flirty, he’d never been so open with his physical touch before. 

“Then she had the nerve to choose me as her partner. Like I would ever consider her!” Pansy glanced over at you and did a double take when she saw you wrapped up in Draco. Her eyes grew slightly, but she averted them with a clear of her throat as to not make it obvious. 

“And then, she had the audacity-“

“She really is quite obsessed with this hufflepuff, huh?” Draco whispered to you, quiet enough for Pansy not to hear. 

You looked up at him. His face was so close to yours, your noses were practically touching. You bit your lip as a smile threatened your face. 

“Yeah,” you whispered back as you stared into his eyes. “Leave her be though, it keeps her entertained.”

Draco chucked, his minty breath hitting your face due to your close proximity. Your own breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t realized just how close you were to him. You could feel your stomach doing cartwheels as you took in all of his glorious features up close. The glimmer in his eyes, the point of his nose, the curve of his lips. 

“I didn’t see you earlier,” Draco shifted the conversation, pulling your gaze from his lips back to his eyes. “What were you doing all day, busy bee?”

You blushed at the nickname. “I was just in the library writing up essays and study guides for our finals.” You let out a yawn, the reminder of your morning making you realize just how exhausted you were. 

“Sleepy?” Draco murmured in your ear.

You nodded your head with a mumbled ‘yes’, then rested your head on his shoulder. Draco wrapped his arm tight around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. With his other hand, he softly combed his fingers through your hair.

You hummed as you closed your eyes. “You’re comfy,” you sleepily mumbled. 

Draco chuckled. His fingers brushed against your cheeks every once in a while as he gently continued combing through your hair. 

As you felt yourself falling asleep, you could hear Draco shushing Pansy and Blaise to ensure they didn't wake you. 

✰  ✰  ✰

The next morning you wake in your bed, unsure of how you got there. You must have gone up sometime in the night and just not remembered. 

With a shrug, you stood up and stretched your arms over your head. Pansy was snoring in the bed next to you. You tiptoed over to her and gently shook her awake. 

“Pansy,” you called as you shook her some more. “Come on, babe, time to wake up.” 

She just grumbled and swatted your hand from her shoulder. You huffed. Pansy was terrible in the mornings, and for some reason unknown to you, she didn’t believe in alarm clocks so you got stuck waking her up every morning. 

A mischievous idea came to mind, and with a smirk you jumped on top of her sleeping body. 

“Ahh!” She shouted as you frantically shook her awake.

“It’s wake up time, Pans! We’ve got to get ready for our charms exam this fine, beautiful morning.” You said with a laugh. 

Pansy sat up and pushed you off of her so you laid on the bed instead. “Geez,” she grinned as she rubbed at her sleepy eyes. “Who knew a night with Draco would make you so chipper this morning.”

You sat upright in crisscross as your smile fell. “Wait, what?”

You had spent the night with Draco? But that didn’t make sense, you woke up by yourself in your own bed. Plus, you would have remembered if something had happened between the two of you. 

Pansy saw your confused expression and chuckled. She grabbed a pillow and gently swatted you in the face with it. “Not like that, you silly. Salazar knows if you slept with Draco you’d have probably died of happiness.”

“Hey!” You whined as a blush started creeping on your cheeks. “I’m not that crazy for him.” 

“Oh, please,” Pansy scoffed with a slight smile. “I saw the way you cuddled up with him last night. I almost had a heart attack for you when I saw how close you were! Go (Y/N), go (Y/N)!” She cheered. 

You laughed and pushed Pansy away from you. “Shut up!” Your giggles died down as you recalled how you laid with him last night. “Was it really that obvious?”

“Girl please! I thought Draco was gonna scoop you up and run away with you. You should have seen the look on his face when you fell asleep on him. He looked at you like you hung the damn stars in the sky.”

Your heart fluttered. You knew there was something going on with you and Draco, but by the way Pansy was talking, though she had a knack for exaggeration, it sounded like he really did have a thing for you. 

“So, what do I do now?” You asked as you slightly rocked back and forth on her bed. 

“Are you joking?” Pansy deadpanned at you. “(Y/N/N), you gotta go get your man! I’m tired of watching you two drool like little puppies over each other just for nothing to come out of it.” 

Your cheeks flushed. It had been a long time of this back and forth with Draco, and you decided you were ready to see where it got you. 

“Okay, I’m gonna tell him next time I see him.” You said. 

Pansy cheered. “Yes, finally! Now hurry up, I’ll help you pick a cute outfit that has ‘date me’ written all over it.” 

You chuckled as Pansy eagerly jumped up and ran to your closet. She grabbed your shortest skirt, a white button up top, and your Slytherin robes. 

“Pans, how is this any different than my usual outfit?” You asked as you stood from the bed and joined her near the closet. 

“Ah, my sweet (Y/N), it’s not about the clothes you wear, but how you wear them.” She grinned as she threw the clothes into your hands. “Put them on so I can work my magic.”

You chuckled and stripped out of your pajamas to put on your school outfit. Turning back to Pansy, you said, “Okay, now what?” 

She devilishly grinned. Pansy pulled your skirt even higher up your legs to expose just a bit more of the skin there. She unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt and fixed your boobs so they popped out a little bit more. She wrapped the robe around your shoulders, but let the front open so you could see everything underneath. 

“And no tie,” she added, “that way your shirt can stay that way.”

You chuckled. “You get me into all these crazy shenanigans, you know that right?” 

“You know you love me.”

“Yeah,” you added wearily, “but what if it’s too much? I mean, we still have to go to class. It’s not like I'm only going to see Draco.”

“Who cares?” Pansy asked as she started to dress herself in a similar manner. “Let the other boys stare and show Draco that you’re a hottie who other boys can get at if he decides he’s gonna be a wuss today.”

You laughed. Pansy always knew just how to make you feel better. “Alright, let’s get out there, then. Don’t wanna keep all the boys waiting.” You winked at her. 

Pansy smirked and wrapped her arm with yours. You walked out together and down to your first class that you shared. 

Luckily for you, Draco did not share the same period for charms as you. You thought if Draco was in the class you would have surely failed your final. 

You felt pretty confident in your answers, and soon enough class was dismissed. 

Your heart beat out of your chest as you said your goodbyes to Pansy and walked to your next class: one you shared with Draco. 

Nervously, you picked at your clothes as you walked to potions. On your way there, you couldn’t help but notice all of the random students staring at you. Boys, and girls, sneaked peaks at you as you walked past them. 

It felt nice to be noticed, you just hoped Draco would react in a similar way. 

Speak of the devil.

There Draco stood in all his glory. He leaned against the wall outside of the potions room looking you up and down. Draco’s lip was trapped between his teeth and he sized you up. 

“Bloody hell, (Y/N).” Draco mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear over your rapidly-beating heart. 

Draco pushed himself off the wall and started walking towards you, meeting you halfway. He didn’t say anything. All he could do was stare. Draco knew you were gorgeous; he’d be a bloody fool to not have noticed it before, but there was something about the way you looked that made his head spin. 

While he shouldn’t say it, Draco had always imagined how you would look after he’d had his way with you. He didn’t ever want to seem like a creep, you were too sweet for that, but that just made him more curious. 

In all honesty, he didn’t know you had this in you. 

“Uh, Draco?” You asked. Draco had zoned out as he stared at you. You could feel your cheeks getting warm and you took in how awestruck he looked. 

“Hm?” He glanced back up into your eyes. “Sorry, sweetheart, you just- you just look incredible. Well, you look gorgeous everyday, just you look gorgeous and sexy if that makes sense.” 

You raised an eyebrow almost teasingly. “Oh, so you think I look sexy now, huh?” You don’t know where this newfound confidence came from, but you liked the way Draco’s eyes widened as you crossed your arms over your chest, pushing your boobs out ever so slightly.

Once he recovered, a smirk adorned his handsome face. “I always think you look sexy, now I'm just seeing it in person rather than my dreams. And speaking of dreams,” Draco grinned devilishly, “how did you sleep last night, darling?” 

You had almost forgotten about the confusion of the night. “I slept well. I think.” You chuckled as you pushed a piece of hair behind your ear. “I don’t exactly remember getting to bed, though. Care to enlighten me?” 

Draco chuckled, “You fell asleep, quite adorably I might add, and I as the gentleman I am had the privilege of carrying you up the stairs and tucking you in for the night.” 

You smiled, “how come you didn’t just wake me?”

Draco’s cheeks tinged pink. “I, uh, I just knew how tired you were from your morning and I didn’t want to disturb you. Hope that was okay.” Draco rubbed the back of his neck a little awkwardly. 

You grinned and reached up to squeeze his arm. “It was really sweet of you, Draco.” 

The two of you stared at each other for a minute, the silence held some tension, it had some longing imbedded into it. 

“Draco…” 

“Do you want to go out sometime?” Draco cut you off. 

You gaped at him. “Like a date?”

Draco smiled, “yeah, exactly a date. I knew I’ve liked you for a little while, (Y/N), but when you cuddled up against me last night, I had this thought that I wanted to do it again. And then again after that too. You held onto like you needed me, and, uh, I really liked that.”

Draco blushed a little at his confession and shuffled his feet around nervously. 

You couldn’t help but grin and wrap your arms tight around his neck. Draco was a little taken aback by your quick movement, but surely sunk into your hug and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“I’d love to go out with you, Dray,” you whispered as you were pressed so close to him. “I’ve been hoping you would ask me out for a long time.”

Draco pulled away, but still held his hands on your waist. “Sorry for keeping you waiting so long, darling.”

You giggled and grabbed Draco’s hands to pull him towards the classroom. “Come on, Slughorn doesn’t wait for anyone and I need to do good on this exam.”

Draco chuckled and let you pull him along to class. He couldn’t wait to finally take you out on a date. 

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. the damage is done.

about. when satoru decides that he wants you (his ex) back, his foolproof plan starts off by making your new partner extremely insecure..

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, non canon, toxic relationships, love bombing, exes to lovers, gaslighting, infidelity, cheating, breeding, fingering, multiple orgasms, couch sex, oral sex ( f! receiving ), unprotected sex, ex boyfriend!gojo, fem!reader.

ex!gojo who slides into the dms of your current partner to slowly make them insecure.

he acts like a nice guy, offers advice on what to do when you’re mad, what you like to eat, how to keep you all sedated and happy. your current partner starts to gush about how cool of a dude satoru gojo is. how could you pass up on such an amazing guy? he’s rich, funny, caring — they can see how you fell for him.

but what they don’t understand is the greedy side of satoru — the one who one who wanted you all to himself. the guy who never let you go out, who made you cry but made you cum with the promise of never hurting your feelings again.

sometimes the advice gets a little too specific. how does satoru know where you keep your sex toys for kinky nights of fun. why does he know the spot that makes you arch your back off of the sweaty sheets just like that? or how many fingers you like to take? or how long it takes before you start gagging on cock.

it makes your new partner insecure, gives them performance anxiety and ruins the vibes of your bedroom. they can’t communicate with you, at least not properly — it leads to fights that are all too familiar. conversations you’ve had with satoru before. your little insecurities and biggest fears are thrown into your face, things they know will hurt you deep down you. these are some of the first times you cry because of your new partner.

it’s all too familiar, these are things you’ve gone through before with your ex — the recognisable twinge in your chest and feeling of guilt after being gaslight is something you know all too well.

“he was right, you really are just a cry baby.” they say. “since he knows so much about you, maybe you should go back to fucking him.” which feels like a bullet to your heart because you’ve spent so much time proving to your partner that you’re over your ex and all the bullshit that satoru put you through. all the drama and all the trauma he left you with.

your partner leaves for the night, leaving you alone with your tears and the tiny voice in the back of your mind that tells you it’s all satoru’s fault. it goads you into calling him, his number which you blocked but kept written down in your notes app in case of emergency. it’s been forever since you last spoke to your ex and told him you wanted nothing to do with him — so you’re surprised when he picks up on the second ring, seemingly happy to hear your voice.

“what did you do, satoru?” his name on your tongue is foreign yet also familiar. you’ve said it a million times before, in many different ways (lust, love and loss) but this time you’re angry. like the last time you spoke.

“what do you mean?”

he plays coy and you feel your temper bubble. “we got into a fight, i know it’s your fault. what did you say to them?”

“shouldn’t you be making up with them?” gojo answers your question with a question, his all-knowing smirk transcending down the static on the line. “why was your first thought to call me?”

that makes you falter, stops your typhoon of rage in its place.

the truth is, you know why you called. deep down you know that gojo could fix this, when you fought as a couple you would always call him first and in tears — letting him calm you down. gaslighting you in the process. he always knew what to say to scab over the wounds of your arguments, patching over deep cuts with little white lies even if he would reopen them and leave mental scars in place.

when you fight with your partner now, you seek the same sort of unhealthy comfort in the only person who you know will give it you and that’s exactly what satoru wants.

“let me come over,” he states, suave. “let me help you fix this.” he takes advantage of your emotional torment, butters you up with the promise of comforting you and against your better judgement — you let him. your partner abandoned you, satoru wants to help you. you’ve always known that he still loved you, at least he wouldn’t leave, at least he’s not like your partner.

regret will come in the morning, you think, when you let satoru into your apartment and back into your life. he knows that everything on the walls are different, the picture frames are now brown instead of white and hold photos of your current life in place of what you had with your ex. the furniture has moved and the diffuser at the entryway smells different. but as much as you’ve tried, you can’t get rid of your ex, satoru gojo. he will always make his way back to you.

he makes sure that you’re aware of this when he kisses you on the couch that you kept from your previous relationship. satoru tells you that you’ll always need him when he pins your hips to its leather with a strong arm and buries his white head of hair between your warm, thick thighs. he proves it to you with the way that his tongue licks broad strokes against the entire length of your sex and flicks at your clit because he knows that how you like you it, he knows you’ll cum in seconds if he eats you out like that.

there’s going to be a stain in the couch from just how much more you gush on satoru’s skilled fingers and tongue, as he moans against your sopping mound and tells you how he’s the only one who could ever make you see stars this way. his face gleams with your arousal and his eyes sparkle knowingly because it’s true. you’ve never felt as good as you have with satoru in comparison to anyone else. it puts doubt in your mind, makes you question why you even left him in the first place.

though, you don’t have much time to dwell on the thought…because in hurried yet precise movements — gojo is making you cum on his fingers again. the rough pad of his thumb possessively writes the letters of his name against your pulsating clit — hardened by blood that rushes to it, carrying lustful hormones from your frenzied mind. he loves how you taste when you cum, how you cling to him, how he knows that you’ll never forget this phenomenalfeeling after tonight.

it’s a little too intimate for two exes when satoru makes you ride him. his legs spread wide while you straddle his lap, creating the perfect angle for his cock to nudge against that one special pleasure spot inside of you. you’ve missed his cock, it’s perfect length and thickness — it’s pretty pink tip that oozes so much precum that’s all for you. it’s only ever been for you.

the way satoru’s large palms cup the globes of your ass and guide you back and forth over his lap unlocks a nostalgic and loving feeling in your rapidly rising and falling chest. he kisses you with so much passion that you’re reminded of the good nights you spent with him — making love until sunrise while his tongue rolls over yours and licks at your teeth. you’re naked and chest to chest, noses becoming neighbours while the course of your breathing syncs up. it’s overwhelming, how adored you feel in the moment, all while fucking your ex on the couch.

you grope at each other like it’ll be the final time you ever have sex like this. your hands settle at the base of satoru’s neck and his on your waist while you languidly move together in a salacious dance routine you’ve done so many times before. you’re perfect partners, it’s evident in the way you reward his throbbing cock with dribbles of your creamy arousal — droplets of soft white running down and catching on veins on his shaft.

“i’m always going to love you, baby,” satoru’s soft laments echo through the home you’ve made with your over lover — barely audible over his balls slapping against your peachy ass and your cunt selfishly squeezing down on him, squelching with every thrust. “i’m always gonna want you like this, even when we fuck up. e-even when we’re not together,” he growls and rambles, blissful blue eyes darting all over your face twisted with ecstasy and right down to where you paint him with arousal and suck him in so well. “fuuuck, i wanna cum…s-say you want it, say you want me.”

it’s overwhelming, how much love you have for satoru. for your ex. it washes over your feelings of guilt in regard to your infidelity, any bad emotion or thought of your partner cannot compare to the burning and bright lust that flickers in your tummy. when you fuck yourself down on gojo’s throbbing girth he pulls back out of your snug, salacious sex — creating a delicious cycle of friction that you never want to forget. that you miss so bad.

“i want…i want you!” you stutter, tears brewing in your starry eyes. “i miss you, i love you,” the words rush out of you before your hazy mind can even catch up and register them. you barely manage to register that you’re fucking your ex just mere hours after arguing with your special one. it doesn’t matter, not right now and not in this moment. not when satoru teases your clit until you’re able to cum all over him, painting his thighs with your slick as you slump against him.

even though he shouldn’t, even though he’s ruined your relationship, gojo cums inside your quivering cunt. fills you to the brim with his viscous, scorching seed and there’s so much of it that it seeps from your entrance — pooling okto the couch below.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

“come back to me, baby.”

“i…i don’t know if i can…”

you want to so badly, especially the damage is done, sealed by stolen kisses that’ll mean nothing in the morning.

satoru’s gotten what he wanted, to make you question your relationship and remind you of why you should come back to him. you fell asleep an intertwined mess on the couch and he leaves in the early hours of the next day.

all so that your current partner will never know the events that occurred on the night of your fight — you don’t have to heart to tell them when they come back the next morning with your favourite flowers and an apology. they shouldn’t have left you. they shouldn’t have gone to satoru behind your back. they love you.

but it’s already too late, a seed of doubt has been planted in your mind by your ex. you release that you still want him, that you might even miss him and the foundation of your new relationship becomes shaky and unstable.

you’ve grown insecure and you will always be comparing your current partner to your last partner. to gojo.

and your lover? now they’re insecure too, because you’re always so distant and you always smell a little different when you come home these days.

because you’ve started going behind their back to be with your ex, satoru, too.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[willowed-wisp]

john price as a dad [ price ]

part two | part three

- Later in life dad, meets you when he’s 40 and you’re younger, by over a decade.

- It had been a few months of you dating John Price, having known him for a couple of years. He worked in the parachute regiment… that’s what he told you anyway… and had been going on dates before going back to his three bedroom house.

- ‘Age is just a number’, you had been closed off for so long to going after this man in his late 30s, early 40s even though you shared a morbid sense of humour and view on life.

- When you finally shared a night with John Price… he rocked your world and fucked you like nobody had done.

- You found out you were pregnant after 5 months of dating John and you were terrified of telling him.

- “John, I’m pregnant…”

- He stared at you before engulfing you in a crushing hug that you sank into. His eyes spoke all to you, smiling like his lazy grin.

- He’d never been so excited, usually women his own age left after a month or so because he was absent from their lives

- The chaos of his work life didn’t help either.

- That’s why he’d never had a child, no one had stuck around.

- The secret is John Price had always wanted to be a father but he didn’t want to be a bad one

- “It’s okay if you miss appointments because of work… I get it…” You wholeheartedly got that having a hectic work life yourself.

- But John Price made it to EVERY SINGLE ultrasound appointment by your side.

- He isn’t the mosh doting partner but during pregnancy… jeez… this guy steps up his game.

- Cravings, back massages and movie nights with popcorn and a blanket… he’s gotcha back.

- You move in with him pretty early on and he’s easy to live with. And stays up in the night to build the crib

- Insists he doesn’t require instructions… INSISTS…

- He’s territorial over the DIY that goes into the house in general let alone when the nursery is concerned.

- Leave it in his capable hands

- TF141 notice a difference in their Captain, he’d grown too nurturing for the normal Price.

- They asked him what was wrong… he didn’t answer.

- Price doesn’t tell any of the lads that he’s going to be a father. Maybe he would later on when the baby was born but not then.

- So the boys speculate what has Price so happy with a glint in his eyes. “Is he getting laid or what?”

- “I know right, he’s way too happy…”

- Ghost keeps silent, observing Price- he’s almost being fatherly with… ahhh, ‘He’s gonna be a dad…’ He thinks to himself.

- It was Price’s business not his, he just pats him on the shoulder, “You’ll be a good dad…” and that makes Price smile.

- John definitely wants to know the gender…

- He has an action plan to draw up

- “Christ, I’ve spent too much time in tactics…”

- Proceeds to draw up a baby action plan for a baby boy.

- Wasn’t entirely bothered what gender it was but just NEEDED to know.

- He’s in TEARS when he cuts the umbilical cord and holds his son. Glad he was your son as well as his.

- John definitely is a control freak when it comes to raising your child. But soon learns that not everything can be controlled in his civilian life when a kid is concerned.

- Loves holding his son while he sleeps in his arms

- Sometimes you’ll come home to them asleep in the exact same position on the floor. Not able to help but giggle, waking John up, “What’s so funny?”

- “Like father like son… I just hope he doesn’t have that attitude of yours…”

————

Part two is out! Thank you for reading xx

————

masterlist

[hoe4hotchner]

Not worth the tears | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader | WC: 1.6k  | CW: Angst, no use of Y/N, mention of cheating, reader was dating a man, crying.| Summary: reader got cheated on - Hotch is there to pick up the pieces

The weight of your phone felt heavier than it should have in your hand as you stared at the screen. The text was still there, glaring at you, a brief, emotionless exchange that had just ended your relationship. You couldn't feel much, not at first. There was shock, a numbness that spread through your body like ice. Your partner had cheated— of all things he had cheated. And it wasn’t even a messy confession or an argument where the truth slipped out. It had been revealed so casually like it didn’t matter.

Your thumbs had moved faster than your brain, sending a few bitter replies before cutting off contact completely. Now, you sat alone at your desk, a dull ache blooming in your chest, your breath shallow. He had taken all the air out of your lungs and drained every bit of hope you had put into him. The thought circled through your mind—I tried. I tried for him. I gave everything, but it wasn’t enough.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly. The words blurred on the screen, and you blinked back the tears clouding your vision. That was it. It was over. You stared at the empty chat thread—his response was short, dismissive, almost as if what had happened didn’t matter. As if you didn’t matter.

You rubbed your hands over your face, trying to swallow the knot in your throat. You were supposed to be working—on a case, of all things—but the walls of the BAU felt tighter than ever. The world outside of this room, outside of the text that had wrecked your day, seemed far away.

As you leaned back in your chair, your thoughts spun—how long had it been going on? Did the moments you’d spent together mean anything at all? The memories felt tainted now, like ink smeared across a once beautiful piece of art. You'd done everything right. You tried to make it work. But it was over. And it was time to face that truth, even though it burned.

It felt like a punch to the gut, that revelation. He had betrayed you in the worst way possible, and all you got in return was a half-hearted apology and an empty text saying it wasn’t a big deal. You should’ve seen it coming, right? But you’d held on, hoping that things could change, that he could change, despite the cracks that had started to show months ago.

The pain was suffocating. You stood up from your desk, pacing the room, trying to shake off the weight pressing down on your chest. But it wasn’t going away. It was just getting worse. You'd loved him, believed in him, and he tossed you aside like you were nothing. He'd broken you in ways you never thought possible, and now you had to pick up the pieces.

Again.

Your thoughts spiraled as you stared out of the window, lost in a haze of disbelief and hurt. You wanted to scream, to throw something, anything, to just feel something other than this emptiness inside. The room felt too small, too confining, and your heart ached like it was splitting in two. Maybe it was. Maybe that’s what happens when you give someone everything, and they rip it all apart.

The glass door into the BAU creaked open, and Hotch’s presence filled the room before you could even look up. He stepped inside, his brow furrowed, as usual, a file in hand. His eyes scanned over you, a practiced intensity in them, as though he was ready to talk about whatever work issue had brought him here. But then, he stopped.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asked, his voice soft but carrying that steady authority. It wasn’t a question he asked often, and when he did, it was because he already knew the answer. He had this way of reading people—of reading you—like any of the case files that came across his desk.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, brushing a hand through your hair as you shook your head. You forced a weak smile, but your throat tightened, betraying the façade. “It’s nothing, Hotch. Just… work stress.” You waved a hand dismissively. But the lie tasted bitter on your tongue. The raw emotion in your voice gave you away, and you knew Hotch could see it. He always could.

He stood there, watching you closely, then set the file down on your desk without a word. It was the first time you'd seen him hesitate. “Something’s wrong. Talk to me.”

You wanted to hide it, to shove the pain down and pretend like you hadn’t just lost someone who wasn’t even worth the heartbreak. But this was Hotch—someone you trusted more than anyone. Your lips parted, and the words came tumbling out before you could stop them.

You felt your walls crumbling, the mask you’d tried to wear falling away as the weight of everything hit you all at once. Your chest tightened, and you tried to hold it in, but the pain surged forward, unstoppable.

“I broke up with him,” you said, your voice trembling. “He… he cheated on me.”

Hotch’s entire body went still. His expression, once concerned, darkened with something else entirely. His jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. It was as though he was holding back from storming out and finding the man who had hurt you. “He what?”

You nodded, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “I tried, Hotch. I really tried. I wanted it to work, but… it’s over. He didn’t even care.”

The room was heavy with the weight of your admission. You had never seen Hotch angry like this—at least, not for something personal. His dark eyes were clouded, and the controlled, calm leader of the BAU was nowhere to be found. But then, just as quickly as it had come, the anger softened, replaced by something much gentler, much deeper. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush the tears from your cheeks, his touch soft, careful, as if you might break at any moment.

“Did he tell you? Or did you find out another way?”

The look in his eyes was enough to make you swallow thickly. It was protective, fierce, as though he was barely keeping himself together. You hadn’t known it then, but Hotch loved you. And the idea of someone hurting you, betraying you, was enough to make him want to hunt down the bastard who had done it.

“He told me,” you muttered, looking down at your lap. “Like it was nothing. Like I didn’t matter.”

Hotch inhaled sharply through his nose, his hands flexing. For a moment, you could tell he was fighting the urge to walk out and do something rash, something you knew he would regret.

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly, and there was something deeper in his voice, something that made your heart skip a beat. “You didn’t deserve that,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place. “He didn’t deserve you.”

You sniffed, wiping at your face as you tried to pull yourself together. “I just… I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Hotch shook his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” his voice was firm. He moved to sit beside you, his presence somehow grounding in all the chaos that had filled your head. “This is on him. Not you.”

The conviction in his voice made your breath hitch. You stared at him, taking in the intensity of his gaze, the way he looked at you as if you were the most important thing in the world. Your heart twisted painfully. You had never seen him like this before.

“He wasn’t worth your time,” Hotch continued, his tone softening even more. “You deserve someone who will fight for you, someone who will never hurt you like that.”

You could feel yourself breaking down again, the tears coming back, and you didn’t fight them this time. You didn’t have the strength to. Instead, you let yourself fall, collapsing into Hotch’s arms as he caught you without hesitation. He pulled you close, holding you tightly against his chest, his hand stroking your back in soothing circles.

For the first time all day, you felt safe. The ache in your heart hadn’t gone away, but being here, with Hotch, made it bearable. He didn’t say anything more, just held you, and somehow, that was enough.

For a few moments, neither of you said anything. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, and he seemed to understand that you needed the silence.

“I wanted it to work,” you whispered between sobs. “I really wanted it to work.”

“I know,” he said softly, his hand soothing as he rubbed slow circles on your back. “You deserve so much more than what he gave you.”

As he held you, a thought crossed your mind—Hotch had always been there. He had always cared, always looked out for you. And as he held you now, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek, you wondered if maybe he had cared more than you’d realized.

You lifted your head slightly, meeting his gaze. There was something in his eyes, something soft and warm, but it wasn’t pity. It was deeper than that. It was understanding. It was… love.

You blinked, trying to process the moment, but the sadness and exhaustion weighed you down too much to explore it further. Instead, you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. Hotch didn’t hesitate.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure why.

Hotch shook his head, his expression tender. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, and for a moment, the world didn’t feel so broken. In his arms, you could breathe again, and maybe—just maybe—your heart wasn’t beyond repair after all.

Because even though everything had fallen apart, Hotch was there to help you pick up the pieces. And this time, you weren’t alone.

[crushpunky]

a cameron family vacation: a travel day

masterlist | kook!reader masterlist

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

When Rafe invited y/n to his vacation to Italy, she wasn’t surprised. She had tagged along on numerous Cameron family vacations… mostly because Rafe refused to go if he couldn’t bring her with him. What she was surprised by, however, was that the Camerons had agreed to let Sarah bring John B with them. Seeing as y/n had the unique trait of being both friends with Sarah and Rafe (and also Wheezie), trips always just seemed to “work out” and go down without too much sibling infighting. But by throwing John B, Sarah’s romantic partner and someone Rafe couldn’t stand nonetheless, the sacred balance of the trip was immediately thrown into chaos.

It started on the plane when Sarah and John B opted to cuddle and giggle flirtily with each other for perhaps the entire duration of the flight.

“Can you cut that shit out? I’m trying to fucking eat here.” Rafe sneered, taking another bite of his apple. Y/n elbowed him, trying to prevent an argument before it inevitability would occur.  The setup of the Cameron’s jet was a bit unfortunate, forcing y/n and Rafe to stare directly at the couple for the duration of the flight.

“I’m surprised you can even hear us over how loud you’re chewing.” Sarah snapped, her and John B straightening in their seats but their hands still entwined.

“Well I can see it and that’s enough.” Rafe scowled, taking a final bite of his apple before tossing the core into one of the nearby trash cans.

“Cut it out.” A harsh voice cut through the siblings’ bickering: Ward. Sarah and John B rolled their eyes before returning their gazes to each other. Y/n peered over at Rafe, noticing the way his hand gripped the armrest between them, and grabbing his hand softly. Rafe closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and sinking back into his seat.

“We’re almost to Italia.” Y/n whispered with a quirk of her brow. Rafe opened his eyes once more, peering at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Italia, huh?” Rafe teased, bumping his shoulder against y/n’s in a way that made her giggle as she rested her head onto his shoulder.

“Oh so you guys are allowed to mess around but—” John B started but was cut off when Sarah slapped his arm harshly. Rafe shot him a look, and if looks could kill, John B would be a dead man.

“Shut the fuck up you—” Rafe started, but was stopped when Wheezie stepped between the couple and Rafe and y/n, a jumble of yarn in her hands.

“Y/n I think I did something wrong.” Wheezie groaned, holding up her… blanket? Scarf? Y/n wasn’t quite sure. Just the past week Wheezie had spotted y/n crocheting and asked if she could teach her. So, the rest of the afternoon was spent teaching her to crochet and Rafe whining about how y/n wasn’t paying any attention to him (not that he would admit that).

“Let me see.” Y/n sat up, letting go of Rafe’s hand as she grabbed the mess of yarn from Wheezie. The two girls examined the situation closely, throwing out all sorts of terms that went over Rafe’s head as he watched. In spite of himself, he found a smile creep across his lips as he watched y/n go through instructions step by step, patiently answering any and all questions Wheezie asked.

“Thank you, y/n.” Wheezie smiled widely as she took the salvaged crochet project back from y/n and returned to her seat. Sitting back in her seat, y/n spared a glance at Rafe and noticed the cheesy grin on his face.

“What?” Y/n scowled.

“Nothing.” Rafe shrugged, putting the armrest between them up and resting his arm across y/n’s shoulders, pulling her into his side.

The sun had already begun to set when the jet finally landed, the travel party already feeling groggy from the time change and tense flight. Thankfully, the drive from the airport to the hotel was short, the Camerons filing into the lobby as the bellhops took their bags up to the room.

“Ok so the room situation is gonna be a bit different this time around since we have additional guests.” Rose said, handing out the keys to the hotel room. Y/n didn’t miss the bit of sharpness in Rose’s voice, likely directed at John B (and probably her too) as she watched her give them their keys. Sure she’d been friends with Rafe and Sarah for as long as she could remember, but that by no means meant she liked Rose or god forbid Ward.

“There are two single rooms and one double,” Rose explained as they made their way into the elevator. “Your father and I will be in one and Sarah and y/n will be in the other. The boys will be in the double—”

“Oh hell no!” Rafe scoffed, his voice nearly a shout as the doors to the elevator closed.

“What?!” Sarah put her hands on her hips, a scowl on her face. “Rose, we’re not children, John B—”

“Where am I gonna sleep?” Wheezie piped up, but was swiftly ignored as the Camerons continued to talk over each other.

“Mrs Cameron, do you know who your step-son is?” John B cringed as he looked at Rafe.

“Fine, then y/n and John B can share the double and you and Rafe can share the single.” Rose said to Sarah, which caused the groans from the group to grow louder. Y/n and John B looked at eachother, disgust painted on each of their faces. 

“No, no, y/n is not sleeping with a fucking pogue!” Rafe snapped, which caused John B to scoff.

“Watch your mouth!” Ward gripped Rafe’s shoulder roughly, his tone causing a shiver to run down y/n’s spine. Luckily, the elevator’s door opened and Ward promptly released his son.

“Sarah and John B you will sleep in the double, with Wheezie… on the floor or with Sarah— I don’t care. Y/n and Rafe will sleep in the single. We won’t have any problems. I don’t want to hear any complaints.” Ward said sternly

“But Rafe gets to—” Sarah began.

“I don’t want to hear any complaints, understood?” Ward raised his brows, his sharp gaze passing over all of the Camerons and their guests before stepping out of the elevator. Y/n let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding before following the Cameron’s patriarch.

“At least we don’t have to share with Wheezie.” Rafe muttered, causing y/n to elbow him lightly in the ribs.

“I can hear you, you know that right?” Wheezie shot back with a scowl. Y/n giggled and Rafe ruffled Wheezie’s hair before throwing his arm over y/n’s shoulders as they stopped in front of the door to their suite. Ward unlocked the door, holding it open as everyone filed through. However, before y/n and Rafe could enter in, Ward stopped Rafe with another grip on his shoulder.

“We won’t have any problems with sleeping arrangements, will we?” Ward said, his voice low as his eyes darted between Rafe and y/n. Y/n’s eyes widened at his implication, Rafe’s cheeks flushing a soft pink before he quickly shook his head. They had shared a bed thousands of times at Tanneyhill, something about Rafe being too lazy to walk back and forth between his room and the guest room each time he inevitably couldn’t sleep and needed to talk to her in the middle of the night. Sure, Ward and Rose would shoot questioning looks at them when they’d walk down together in the morning or would hear giggles at two in the morning, but never had they been so… forward in their suspicions.

“No, sir.” Rafe sighed, his eyes avoiding his father’s as Ward’s grip finally loosened and he let the two of them into the room.

In typical Cameron fashion, the hotel suite was nothing short of spectacular. With a spacious living area across from a full kitchen, walls adorned with beautiful artwork, and, of course, plenty of crystal chandeliers, y/n felt a smile creep onto her face. She’d grown up well off, she was Kook of course, but there was something about this level of pampering that always made her head buzz… or maybe it was just because of the company.

“Y/n?” Rafe said with a grin, interrupting y/n’s admiration of the beautiful suite before guiding her into the room they’d be sharing for the week. Like the rest of the suite, the room was stunning. A king sized bed, large windows that looked out into the city, and a bathroom with perhaps the biggest shower y/n had ever seen.

With a huff, Rafe threw himself onto the bed, easing into the soft comforter with a groan. Y/n rolled her eyes before moving to unpack her suitcase. Once she was finished, she changed into her pajamas and finished up in the bathroom before heading back into the bedroom to finally get some sleep. 

However, Rafe was already fast asleep, sprawled out across the entire bed. Having attempted to maneuver a drunken Rafe more times than she could count, y/n knew there was no point in trying to move him onto his own side or wake him up. So, with a couple strategic shoves to his side, y/n was able to finally make enough room for her to climb into the bed. One she was able to wiggle herself under the covers, she turned to look over at Rafe. His lips were a soft pink and his long lashes rested against his squished cheeks, a look of quiet contempt on his face as he slept peacefully. Y/n felt herself smile, pressing a light kiss to his forehead before drifting into a sleep much needed in preparation for the rest of the week.

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION: BODY HAIR, BHAALIST DU DROW, BLOOD INQUIRIES, THE MAN'S DICK AND HOBBIES.

Answering more asks! As always, I want to apologize for not being able to get to everyone - literally nobody has ever complained about it, but I still feel bad 😅I appreciate everyone's questions and sweet messages all the same, and even if your ask isn't here I hope you can be entertained by the other replies!

Anon I feel terrible about having to say this because I can tell you were hoping for a specific answer here, plus doing your very best to sell your pitch to me -

But DU drow hates body hair.

I'm not making this up in the spot just to be a contrarian, this is one of various unimportant character details that have come up already at some point or another, for whatever reason. It is no coincidence that many of the characters he finds unattractive do have visible body hair, like Gale and Halsin whose hairy toes he dreads the sight of.

I refuse to believe that elves are truly dolphin-smooth as that would be an absolute biological nightmare, so both him and Astarion have a normal amount of peach-fuzz all over. Otherwise, DU drow finds the sight of anything longer/coarser than that unseemly, and the feeling unpleasant; it is simply what he grew up with and hence what he's used to. In this respect, he wants people who take after his own image.

As with most things, he could forgive it if he were in love with someone - assuming you don't mind the occasional joke about it. And unfortunately I think something as significant as Halsin's case would be too off-putting for him to ever give them a chance. A Shadowheart situation, on the other hand, he could grow to like.

I believe there's some sources that imply bhaal-corrupted(?) blood should taste a particular way, leaning towards the unpleasant. People can make up whatever headcanons they want with that information, BUT since I spent over half of this game supplying the guy with the stuff and he seemed all too pleased about it, I choose to assume it's not that bad.

I think there would be something... Lively about it? Fairly normal taste but it leaves a tingle on his tongue, like it squirms on its way out and dies in his mouth moments before it can hit the throat. Very salty, but it could just be his skin.

[FAR, FAR MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Bhaalist DU drow likes both cats and dogs just fine (again, he considers the animal kingdom to be it's own thing and hence removed from his fate to butcher humanity) and you wouldn't be wrong to assume he has a thing for dogs in that AU because of their unconditionally loving and loyal nature, however Bhaalist DU drow is still very much a cat person. He likes their independence, their little attitudes, their self-sufficiency, plus the fact that they keep the rat population in check inside the temple. He finds those qualities admirable, respectable, perhaps he would even find them desirable in a partner if, unlike he cats, he wasn't so opposed to them roaming free.

In-game DU drow succeeded the check required to spot Astarion before he could jump him - so yes, just not the version where they end up rolling awkward around the sand for 2 minutes, LOL.

He's semi aware of it, or at least he becomes aware whenever Astarion's mask slips. When Astarion is putting on a good performance, DU drow wholeheartedly believes it. Also, It's worth noting that Astarion does manage to have fun occasionally, and have periods of... Superficial happiness? They just so happen to be unfulfilling, and don't make up for all the other pitfalls of his situation when they inevitably come crashing back. He's also great at tricking himself into thinking this is a good time.

Bhaalist DU drow makes vague attempts at "making things better" whenever he catches him in a mood, usually through physical affection or lavish gifts. That works well enough the first year I think, before everything kind of loses its luster. After that, DU drow just gets it into his head that Astarion "doesn't understand what he must do to succeed and keep him safe".

This is a VERY interesting observation and... Maybe? Especially early in the relationship, DU drow finds Astarion's quasi-predatorial behavior very attractive, but only AFTER he notices his vampirism. I think this outlook of the character contextualizes Astarion's condition in a way that he can immediately understand and simpathize with, even if DU drow doesn't know much about vampires themselves. Of course, this is specific to Astarion - he does not extend this grace to the rest of his kind.

I'll be thinking about this one!

I don't know the video in question but from your description I think they would both be VERY confused, LOL.

HMM, I think that might actually depend on a lot of things! Assuming the woman (or just the other partner) in the relationship isn't a drow, and exactly what KIND of devotion we're talking about (is the drow pro-active? Protective? Does he put his neck on the line for this relationship with pride? Does he seem strong and capable and like he doesn't rely on his partner?) he might see enough of himself in him that they could actually get along. This is similar to how DU drow immediately took a liking to Aylin even though she's this moon-goddess child and a supposed beacon of justice.

The quickest way to get on DU drow's good side is to be the idealized version of what he believes himself to be. Oh, and not get in his way.

If they're both drow it's kind of hopeless though, yeah LOL.

Planning on it!!

DU drow never slept with Haarlep! He only took his clothes off and then attacked him full in the nude.

...I'm not sure how to justify that in the lore, but it's exactly what I did and it's too funny to take it back, LOL

I think Astarion was just kind of baffled by what transpired until DU drow turned to while hopping around pulling his pants back on and asked if he enjoyed the show, then he remembered he just loves finding any excuse to take his clothes off.

That's a lovely compliment, I definitely go for a very "organic" look so I genuinely appreciate it. Thank you!

Thank you!!! A lot has actually been said about Gortash in my #enver gortash tag, if you'd like to get all the gritty details. Suffice to say that they had a very odd but significant friendship.

DU drow is the kind of person who shoots awake as soon as the sun starts gracing the sky, but he tends to do whatever he has to do and then go back to bed right after, and stay there at least a bit past noon. He did this both in his bhaalist days and in Astarion's company, though the amount of time he spends asleep during the day definitely increases because of the vamp, especially over time!

So, the urethra in a penis is located pretty much on the underside of the shaft, so the wound actually does not reach it! As far as functions go - peeing and ejaculating - it comes out of the tip's opening as normal. When he first caused the wound it probably did puncture the urethra, but that would have closed up over time. What you see is the injury many years after the fact, after all.

So the implications are pretty minor. Aesthetically, his foreskin hangs a bit weirdly when he's soft (like a tiny little penis curtain) and has more give than usual. Functionally, he has spots within the scarred up injury that are either numb or overly sensitive. Also, you can kind of see the dickhead notch through his underwear which is fun.

Otherwise, that is pretty much it! No worries about the nature of the question I've gotten worse, LOL. Thank you for your kind words as well!

I think he used to write in his bhaalist days - very, very occasionally mind you - like if you scoured the temple you would find a dozen or so ripped up pieces of paper with little short poems on them, written in a very sharp and carefree hand. Anywhere from 3 to 10 lines per-poem, usually less than more. The sentences are descriptive of actions, never feelings or thoughts, but they don't ever seem literal.

Back in those days, he also went to the theater every other year.

Post-tadpole, he ends up dabbling in carpentry, leather-work, and enjoys listening for musical numbers taking place in taverns and inns to go to and watch. He eventually starts pulling Astarion into little slow dances when that happens. I think he might end up writing again someday, but not for many, many years.

[livlaughloveluke]

ᡣ𐭩 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗸

daughter of demeter! reader x luke castellan 🌿

IN WHICH.. the “best friends” of camp half-blood maybe wanna become a little more..

warning! this fic contains: fem!reader // use of y/n

🎧- lovesick by laufey

1.7k

Camp Half-blood was illuminated by gold streaks casted from the early morning sun. Light seeped into Cabin 4 through the window, painting the room with warm hues of yellow and orange. The bright rays were a natural alarm, gently waking you from your warm sleep. 

As the covers slipped off your skin with ease, you carefully tiptoed out of the twin bed to close the blinds. Young campers softly snored, and you couldn’t help but smile at their blissful state. Grabbing the rough fabric, you quietly pulled the two pieces together, blocking any more sunlight from startling your siblings.

Sleep still threatened to drag you under, so you slipped on sandals and trudged towards the kitchen, eager to get a warm cup of coffee, or really anything to help you wake up. 

Outside was fairly silent, contrary to the rowdy and noisy afternoons that typically filled the camp. The only ones awake were boisterous birds, who sung an enchanting song, and a few other counselors who were busy setting up  for the day. 

Your steady steps carried you to the small camp kitchen, where snacks littered the room as a reward for the effort of the counselors. A small jet black coffee maker stood on the counter, with Luke Castellan lingering next to it, facing away from you. Your presence went unnoticed by him, and you watched as he swiftly picked up two steaming mugs.

He slightly jumped at the sight of you, surprised by your hushed entrance. 

“H-Hey. Made you your coffee.” He said, reaching out to awkwardly hand you one of the energizing brown liquids. You delicately giggled at him for his initial fright, and accepted the sweet gesture.

“Thank you. Excited for today’s activities?” You asked, taking a sip of your toasty drink. Today, Hermes and Demeter Cabin were partnering up for a lazy day doing arts and crafts and indoor activities. The kids spent the past week relentlessly training, working hard from dusk till dawn, so an easy day was needed.

“Any time I get to spend with you is exciting.” Luke replied, smirking, before realizing how that sounded and backtracking. “I- Uh, I didn’t mean it-“ 

You laughed again, quickly cutting him off.

“I know what you meant. See you at eight.” You turned away, teasingly bumping his shoulder. 

“See ya.” He whispered out, pursing his lips and doing a slight nod as he witnessed you sauntering away. 

You and Luke had been close friends since the beginning. He arrived with Annabeth and Grover, confused and broken by the world. Luke never wanted to be a demigod, to lose Thalia. It was all too much for him.

But then you passed by in the infirmary, practically radiating a positive energy. You smiled at him, a genuine smile, with your nose scrunching up and your eyes nearly closing, before going to chat with some Apollo kid.

You were selected to give him and Annabeth a tour later that afternoon, presumably for your friendly and charming personality that seemed to lure people in. Luke got to observe your perfection firsthand as you helped the his sister adapt to the new surroundings, sweetly showing her everything to love about camp.

Luke followed you around like a lost puppy, mesmerized by your every move. With every step you took, luscious flowers blossomed, creating a beautiful scenery. Not to mention, the kids looked up to you so dearly, with the way you patched their nearly invisible cuts and grew them tulips on their worst days. 

The sad reality was you were more of a mother to them than their biological parents, even if you were only fourteen at the time. You did your best to make them feel “normal,” to let them live a glorious childhood that you were never granted. 

In those five years after his arrival, you became close as ever. Whether it was spending time basking in the strawberry fields or splashing around in the lake, you spent every minute together, your bond stronger than any weapon forged in Olympus. You laid by him on those restless nights before he got claimed, and after, too. And when you had a small cold, he went full Apollo-mode and spent hours glued to your side until you felt better. 

However, there was one teensy issue. Luke was hopelessly and utterly in love with you. Every one saw the way he gazed at you a little too long and with a little too much love in his eyes for just a friend.

Well, all noticed except you. The poor boy thought you weren’t interested, but the reality was your concept of love was so twisted and blurry that you had no clue what “love” even looked like. 

So, both you and him stayed silent, hoping one would realize eventually, and end this torture of a situationship.

Which brings us back to now, a cool and humid lazy morning with the campers, lounging on the few picnic tables decorated outside Hermes Cabin. Luke watched as you sat with your (and his) siblings, carefully threading pearly pink beads on a flimsy string. You laughed as you talked to the young children, making sure they were all included. The sun brightened your features, making you appeal heavenly. And your eyes twinkled with curiosity as a little unclaimed kid ranted on about some silly story.

“Dude, you’re staring again.” Chris chimed in, raising his eyebrows as he continued to paint navy shades of blue onto a rock.

“Shut up. Aren’t you whipped for Clarisse?” Luke sarcastically asked.

“If anyones whipped here, it’s you. How long have you liked her now? Can’t you just tell her already?” He was quick to return the sassy attitude, remaining unbothered by his friend’s remark.

“It’s not that simple, you know that. What if she doesn’t like me back and-“ He tried to ramble on, negative thoughts swallowing him whole. Luckily, Chris was there to pull him out of his own mind with yet another dumb comment.

“Damn. I knew you weren’t Athena’s son, but I didn’t know you were that clueless.”

“What?” Luke questioned, slightly offended.

“How many guys has she dated since she met you?”

“None. But I don’t see how this really relates-“

“And how many have asked her out?”

Luke paused for a second. There was Ethan from Ares, who tried asking her on a date a week ago, but she declined. Or Jack from Aphrodite, who, let’s be real, was the most attractive boy in camp, but she rejected him, too.

Chris took his silence as a victory. “Exactly.” He retorted.

“Whatever.” Luke shrugged, hopping up to sit by you. You scooted to your left, making room for him instantly. Cheers erupted from the campers as they saw their (second favorite) counselor.

“Luke! Y/N told us that you still snore when you sleep!” One of them pipped out, sending the rest of the minions into a giggle fit. Luke took a dramatic gasp in, placing a hand on his heart to pretend he was hurt.

“I do not!” He yelped, making the younger laugh even harder. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched the kids joke around.

“I can’t believe you would betray me like that!” He said to you, trying to fake upset, but the huge grin on his face said otherwise.

“I mean, am I wrong? You are the loudest sleeper I’ve ever met!” You reply, grinning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He looks the other way, and before you can say anything, a voice cut you off.

“Hey! Luke, Y/N!” A blond Apollo child shouted from afar, gently jogging while approaching them. They shifted their attention, prepared to fulfill whatever task presented.

“Chiron needs you in the office. New kid arrived. They said his name was Percy or something?” He finished, jogging away, most likely to get back to the infirmary.

The leaders looked back at their older friend, wondering if he could cover while they helped this newcomer out. 

Chris gave a thumbs up, signaling he could watch them for a few minutes. 

You and Luke playfully danced around one another on the short stroll, talking about anything and everything while you walk through the woods.

Soon, you reached the open building, the stain glass windows casting a colorful glow. You peer inside to see a blond teen, looking around twelve years old, arguing with Dionysius.

“Peter Johnson is here!” The drunk croaked out, and the two counselors made sure to swoop in. 

“Percy, Right?” You said, slightly a little too enthusiastic for 8am on a Tuesday morning.

“Yeah. At least someone around here can get my name right.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Sorry about that. He can be a little.. chaotic. I’m Y/N, counselor of Demeter Cabin, and this is Luke, counselor of Hermes Cabin. We can give you a tour, if you want.” You explained, gesturing towards Luke who gave a friendly smile.

“Yeah, sure.” The blond boy replied.

-

“And this is Hermes Cabin, where you’ll be staying.” Luke exclaimed, pointing to the rough looking room.

“Uh, no offense, but why am I staying here?” Percy asked, disgust lingering in his words as he stared down the messy bunks.

“Uh, Offense taken. First of all, we’re definitely the best cabin of all time. And all unclaimed campers stay here, along with children of minor Gods.” The brunette said.

“Hate to break it to you Luke, but Demeter absolutely solos your Cabin.” You cut in, mouth letting out a ‘tsk’ sound. 

“Slow your roll there. Your cabin may be neat, but the amount of plants in there is slightly concerning.” Luke joked, you and him now unknowingly engaged in your own little conversation.

“It’s better than your pig pen!” You shouted, your sweet laugh echoing throughout the area.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He replied, and Percy took a step back, running into an older teen, staring at the “friends” who were flirting right before everyone.

“Do they always act like this?” He asked, referring to their nonstop conversations, and their slight physical touch. Your fleshy fingers were somehow always grazing his calloused skin. 

“Always. It’s sickening.” Chris replied.

“Agreed.” Percy sighed out, as Luke looked back at the two. They both gave an encouraging look, telling him to shoot his shot. 

“Hey, I was wondering if you, uh, wanted to go out to the lake tonight? Just us?” He asked you, throat going dry and knees threatening to buckle as he fidgeted with his thumbs.

“I’d love too, Luke.” You replied, blushing as you swayed nervously.

“Great! It’s a date! Unless you don’t want it to be-“ He was quick to start, but you briefly interrupted.

“I’d like that.” 

୨୧

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

[flightlessangelwings]

FawKtover2024 Part 6- Frankie Morales

Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Kinks- sex pollen, overstimulation

Word count- 2.4k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), fwb to lovers, army days Frankie, reader is part of the team, sex pollen, unprotected sex, riding, overstim, no physical description of reader other than body parts, no use of y/n

Notes- Big thank you to @jolapeno for helping me come up with the scenario and for the good opening line here! I hope you like this bb!! This definitely got longer than I meant it to, but hey that's sex pollen for ya!! Enjoy!!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date!

~

“Dammit, Fish,” you cursed as you dragged your partner through the labyrinth of hallways, “I told you not to go sniffing things!”

“It’s not my fucking fault,” Frankie huffed as he felt like his body was on fire, “It fucking exploded in my face.”

“Still,” you hissed, “You need to be more fucking careful.” The worry was apparent in your tone though the chastising. You were truthfully more scared than you let on, but you had to hide it for now and get Frankie to safety.

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission: get in, investigate the seemingly abandoned town, gather information, and get out. You and Frankie paired off as the team split up to cover the entire town, but as you investigated what looked like an old lab, things went wrong. He picked up a small case, a puff of powder exploded from it and covered his face. Thinking quickly, you grabbed him and ran, darting through the halls in search of somewhere safe.

“Shit,” Frankie gasped as he suddenly became acutely aware of how tightly you held him.

“Hang on,” your voice was strained as you found a small room with a working lock far enough away from the lab you investigated. Closing and locking yourselves in, you set Frankie down onto the ground and knelt in front of him, “Frankie,” you let the worry show more in your tone, “How are you feeling?”

Frankie looked up at you with glazed over eyes as his hair fell in his face. You looked like an angel as you scanned him over for injuries or any sign of distress. But, it wasn’t pain that he was feeling. “I…” he choked on his words as his pants suddenly felt too tight, “I don’t know,” Frankie sounded annoyed and unsure; he had no idea what was happening to him. 

Your brow furrowed as you stared into his eyes. Your heart pounded as feelings threatened to bubble to the surface that you tried so hard to keep down. “It’s gonna be ok, Frankie,” your eyes darted around as you tried to come up with a plan. Digging into your tac bag, you said, “I’m gonna call the guys on the radio. See if they can help figure this o…”

“No!” Frankie cut you off. When you looked at him with a wide eyed expression, he clarified, “No,” his voice sounded strained, as if he was fighting something, “Don’t… Not yet.”

“Ok,” your voice softened as you put the radio down, “What can I do to help you? What’s wrong?”

Frankie looked at you for a moment as his thoughts raced. He thought about the first time the two of you slept together, about how beautiful you looked. He thought about how you both agreed not to let the sex get in the way of the team or your friendship, that it was only physical. He thought about how much of a lie that was as he quickly felt more for you than you obviously did for him.

“Nothing,” he coughed out as he didn’t even believe himself. Heat pulsed though his body as his cock strained in his pants and the more time he spent in this tiny locked room with you, the harder it was going to be to keep his hands to himself. 

“Nothing?!” you snapped back, “Frankie I just dragged you halfway across this town because of something you inhaled! We’re locked in a storage room and you’re sweating more than a whore in church! You have to do better than ‘nothing!’”

He winced, but your outburst was justified. Letting out a heavy sigh, Frankie tried to calm his racing thoughts as he clenched his fists tightly at his side. His arms strained to keep himself still, when all he wanted was to pounce on you and fuck you until neither of you could walk anymore.

“I’m sorry,” your voice softened, “I’m just…” scared.

Frankie couldn’t hold back anymore. The sound of your voice was overwhelming for him, and he launched himself at you, crashing your lips together in a heated kiss. Frankie swallowed the surprised moan you let out as his hands roamed all over your body. His hips bucked against you as he finally started to feel a small sense of relief just from kissing you.

“Frankie?!”

He froze. Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he opened his eyes to find that he had already stripped you of your tactical vest, belt and your shirt was unbuttoned to reveal your bra  underneath. When did he do that? Whispering your name, Frankie’s gaze dropped to the ground, “Shit,” he murmured, “I’m sorry,” he sighed heavily, “It’s whatever was in that fucking powder. It’s making me…” Frankie paused as he looked up at you with those big brown eyes, “Want to fuck you so fucking bad.”

“Frankie…” you breathed as you looked at him with a pleading expression. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d slept together, but yet this was still different. Your mouth dropped open as your eyes trailed down his body before you could stop yourself and you noticed the large bulge in his pants.

That explained a lot.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath as he tried to scramble away from you, “Shit. Shit,” he covered his mouth, “I can’t fucking hurt you. I won’t fucking hurt you.”

Feeling a flutter in your chest, you scooted yourself toward him and cupped his face, “Look at me, Frankie,” the resolve in your voice was clear, “I’m going to help you through this,” you paused as he opened his mouth to protest, “And you won’t hurt me. I know you won’t.”

“Baby…” 

You both launched yourselves at each other at the same time, wrapping your arms around the other. Frankie pulled you close as he crashed his lips against yours once more while you climbed onto his lap. You grabbed onto his tac vest as you writhed in his lap, grinding yourself against his hard cock over his pants.

“Fuck…” he breathed as he covered you in kisses. His hands worked to strip you of the rest of your clothes, fumbling with shaky fingers as whatever drug he inhaled pulsed through his veins.

Heavy breaths filled the small room as you adjusted in Frankie’s lap after he shimmied your pants off of you. With trembling hands of your own, you unfastened his pants and freed his cock, which sprung free and stood at full attention. You gasped when you noticed how swollen and red it was, and you were sure it was from the drug.

Straining to hold himself back, Frankie whispered, “Are you sure I won’t hurt you, baby?”

You met his eyes as your heart stopped for a second at the expression he had, “I’m sure,” you kissed him tenderly, “Let me help you, baby.”

He groaned as he helped you line yourself up with his aching cock. Perhaps if he had been more in his right mind, he would have done more for you before he fucked you, but he was too far gone. The need was too great, and it overwhelmed any other thought he would have had.

Slowly, you sunk down on his cock, whining and gasping at the stretch as you did so. Frankie let out a primal growl as he felt your heat around him. You clung to his tac vest as you lowered yourself onto his lap, tremors running up your spine with every inch that pushed into you.

Unable to stop himself, Frankie grabbed your hips and thrust you down the rest of the way, making you both yelp.

“Shit!!” Frankie gasped, “I’m sorry…”

“It’s ok,” you panted, “I’m ok.”

“Fuck…” he groaned as he rocked his hips against your body, rutting into you clumsily. Frankie grabbed your ass and kneaded the soft flesh as he stumblingly thrust up into you.

Your mouth dropped open to let the moans flow as he thrust into you from below. You held into his vest as your breasts bounced from the motion. You threw your head back and immediately he nibbled on the skin of your chest.

“Fuck, baby I’m gonna cum…” Frankie groaned right before he exploded into you. He held you even more tightly as he spilled himself into you while you whimpered in his lap.

But it wasn’t enough.

His cock was still rock hard, and Frankie growled in frustration as he lunged forward and threw you onto your back on the floor with him overtop of you. All the while, his cock never left you. Gasping at the sudden change in position, you let out a cry of surprise as you found yourself on your back.

“Frankie…” you moaned as he wasted no time pounding into you.

“Baby,” he groaned as he lost himself in your body. He grunted at how good you felt as his hips slapped against yours in a fast pace. “Fuck,” Frankie growled as his mind spun.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding him close as he pounded into you. He was rougher than he had been in the past, but you welcomed it. Even through the drug, you felt the care Frankie always had, and it brought tears to your eyes as he hit that sweet spot inside you over and over again.

“Frankie… Fuck… I’m…”

He groaned as he thrust into you as deep as he could as his second orgasm hit him without warning. The feeling of your inner muscles squeezing him sent him over the edge, and Frankie grinded his hips against yours for some friction against your clit. You let out a scream of pleasure as your own climax hit right after his, making you tremble underneath him.

With a gasp, Frankie collapsed on top of you, making you huff in surprise. Together, the two of you breathed heavily in a sweaty mess on the floor until Frankie realized he was still hard.

“Shit,” he groaned in frustration, “Fuck!” his fist landed on the floor next to you.

“Keep going,” you whispered in his ear, feeling his rock hard cock still inside you.

“But…” his head shot up to look into your eyes.

“It’s ok,” you opened your eyes, blinking tears away as you cupped his face, “I’m ok,” when he opened his mouth, you interrupted, “I promise.”

Frankie breathed your name as he dipped his head and kissed you sweetly, “Fucking hit me on the head if you need to. Alright?” The message was clear: do not let me hurt you no matter what. Frankie knew you could take care of yourself, but he was always determined to protect you regardless. Even if in this instance meant protecting you from himself.

If it were any other time, you would make a smart comment about how much pleasure you would have gotten from that, but this was not the time. Instead, you nodded, “I trust you, Frankie.”

Again, your words caused a switch to flip in his head, and Frankie pounded into you at a fast and rough pace once more. He murmured your name over and over again as his hips took on a life of their own, unable to stop himself. But the way you moaned and cried out only fueled him more and he grunted as he thrust into your wet pussy. He came without fanfare, yet he kept going. Thrusting into you with fervor, Frankie groaned as he attached his mouth to your shoulder. 

Both of you were overwhelmed by the emotions that ran high between you. Tears filled your eyes once more, and you felt drops from Frankie as well. He mumbled indistinctly in your ear as he continued to pound into you.

“Fuck you feel so fucking good, baby,” he managed to get out clearly.

“Frankie…” you whined as you felt another orgasm start to creep up on you, “Fuck…”

“One more, baby,” he murmured, “I think one more will do it.”

“Cum, Frankie,” you moaned, “It’s ok… Cum in me again.”

He growled your name as another climax hit him like a train. Relief finally felt within his grasp as he rode out his last orgasm on your body. As his mind started to clear, Frankie snaked his hand between your bodies and rubbed at your clit, determined to have you cum once more as well. And he got his wish. The moment his fingers made contact with your clit, you came undone and you came with a loud scream.

Finally collapsing down in exhaustion, Frankie felt like the drug had worked its way through his system. He took a deep breath before he pushed himself up to check on you, “You ok, baby?” he asked in a soft tone.

You kept your eyes closed as you also caught your breath. Feeling his large hand on your face, you blinked your eyes open and your heart fluttered in your chest at the way he looked at you, “A little sore,” you admitted, “But I’m ok.”

“Let me,” he groaned as he slowly and carefully pulled out of you. Frankie gave you an apologetic look when you hissed in pain and he never let go of you as he gathered you in his arms while he laid on the floor next to you. “Thank you,” he broke the silence, “For… this…”

You settled yourself in his arms as you rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, “I hope you learned your lesson, Fish,” you snarked back to hide the emotions that threatened to come to the surface again.

Instead of matching your snark like he usually did, Frankie let out a sigh. You were right of course, but that didn’t matter anyway. He squeezed you tighter as the confession spilled out before he could stop himself, “I love you.”

You gasped as you froze in place. Pushing yourself up, you looked into his eyes and saw no hint of uncertainty there. Fighting back tears, you leaned forward and kissed him tenderly, “I love you too,” you whispered against his lips.

Frankie smiled into the kiss and pulled you close once more, holding you tightly. “And I did learn my lesson,” he smirked in between kisses, feeling you smile back at that. The two of you settled down again, taking a moment to gather your strength when you let out a gasp. Frankie jumped into high alert as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot about the rest of the guys…”

[bellodazai]

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. - Kiss it better

breaking the peaceful silence of the armed detective agency on a gorgeous sunny day was the yelp of Dazai. He who had for once had put pen to paper and was sorting through paperwork had given himself a paper cut.

"belllaaa" he whined to you from across the room to where your desks were placed, separated, as Dazai could not go for 5 minutes without distracting you in any way shape or form if you were close together. He. In his words would say "how can I not give attention to my bella when she is right there just begging for me to smoother her with kisses" he would say in a overdramatic tone as if you were dying and closing his eyes with his hand thrown over his forehead to add emphasis to the drama.

Dazai rolled his chair over to you making sure to bump into as many people as possible on his way, he stops right next to you at your desk his rolly chair bumping yours slightly making you stomp your feet to the ground to keep yourself in place.

"it hurts" he whined to you showing his tiny paper cut on his index finger which had a small white slash, not even oozing out blood. You stare at him, not phased by his dramas anymore as this was the norm. "this is a sign to never do my paper work again! to think of the time i spent slaving away today, only to be bestowed upon the paper attacking my poor flesh!" he said quite loudly causing an irritated Kunikida to shoot Dazai a glare as if to say "shut up" from the commotion he was causing in the one peaceful office. You gave his forehead a gentle kiss before saying "you'll be fine, now off to work please." Dazai stared at you for a split second flustered by your affection big brown eyes staring at you. The PDA doesn't go unnoticed by Kunikida who voices his displeasure with this being a "professional space" and not a place for PDA. Dazai just snickers, ready to antagonise Kunikida who can never catch a break. "you're just jealous that I have a beautiful girlfriend and you don't" he jeered towards his partner while half throwing his body onto yours over the rolly chair armrests. his words resulted in a threat being yelled at towards Dazai by a poor overwhelmed Kunikida.

You stand up before Dazai could say anything else, rolling Dazai back to his desk by pushing is chair his feet dragging against the ground in protest. he sighs loudly at his desk and begins to recklessly sort out his paperwork and not even a minute later theres a high pitched shriek from Dazai who yells out "i'm bleeding! the paper has yet again damaged me, i'm bleeding out now!" Before Kunikida can yell at Dazai again who looks at Dazai as if he is ready to strangle him, you grab Dazai by the arm pulling him into the infirmary currently empty a small smirk plastered onto his face shot towards Kunikida unnoticed by you.

Dazai sits on the bed long legs touching the ground, you look around finding some alcohol wipes and some bandaids before placing the items on the bed next to Dazai's seated form. Grabbing his bleeding index finger you take one alcohol wipe dabbing the small open wound wiping away the blood. His face winces in slight discomfort from the sting of the wipe on the wound. "this is what you get for acting recklessly Osamu" you said softly tossing the wipe in the bin before grabbing the bandaid and wrapping it around his index finger.

You keep ahold of his finger as he whines about how much his poor poor finger hurts and how he will never do paperwork again. Bringing his finger to your lips you gently kiss it softly causing Dazai's breath to hitch for a moment in slight shock, he stares at you lips parted slightly. "better?" you ask with a smile, a small smirk at making Dazai flustered. Gaining back his composure Dazai shakes his head "hurts here too" he said giving you his other index finger holding it up in front of your face waiting for you to kiss his other finger, to which you do earning a mischievous look to flash in his eyes.

"i knocked my head today here" he said with a sad tone pointing to his forehead. "kiss it better?" he asked jutting his bottom lip out into a pout which you can't say no to leaning down slightly to kiss his forehead.

"and here" he said as he kept directing you to different places in his face to kiss. "you know what hurts the most and is in desperate need for your precious healing kiss?" he asked hiding his smirk.

Dazai pointed to his lips and innocent look on his face. "my lips are in agony for your lips to give me a healing kiss to relinquish me from the horrors of injury" he exclaimed. You stare at him unamused by his antics but he grips your wrists not letting you move away from him.

"bella" he pouts "kiss kiss?" he said making kissing noises. "kiss kiss pain go away?" he said in a sad, innocent way. You lean down and press your lips to his gently, Dazai doesn't waste any time reciprocating, letting go of your wrists to bring his hands to cup your cheeks urging for more, whining when you pull away. "one more? it still hurts." he said still feigning misery from his 'pain'.

"no more Osamu' you giggle. "we need to go back to work if you want to go home on time today." he shakes his head in protest "just one more bella?" Dazai brings one of his hands to his heart, placing it palm down, the other raised slightly in the air "if you give me another kiss I promise to do some dreadful paperwork"

"Just one more" you smiled before leaning down to kiss him again.

©bellodazai 2024

thank you for the love on the last post ❤️😭 I hope you enjoy this one :) Likes and reblogs are appreciated

dividers by @/benkeibear

taglist @saelique

[themeraldee]

SO WHAT IF: homelander got with a Female SO who is a screamer in bed. Not because it hurts but it feels sooo good. Better if she’s a quiet, timid employee at vought he finds endearing.

(He is so interesting. I can see him with strong women as seen in the show, but he would also like a submissive thing that fawns over him. He’s so versatile with ships!)

yessss yesssssssss

the semi-public sex would go HARD.

Also I'd love to see Homelander discover this. Such a difference to when they're just being cute and lovely or interacting at work. Here's her screaming his praises. Even though timid, she'd be making sure he knows how good it feels. Having had partners before who either found her vocal cries either disturbing or annoying, she wants to make sure he knows she's feeling good. All thanks to him.

Also at first she's super quiet and holds back, not wanting to be too much and freak him out. Until he forces it out of her one way or another...

lil 18+ snippet below cut

He knows you've always been reluctant to move your bedroom activities to other, more risky, places. Yet the thought of getting everyone to hear you get the life fucked out of you sounded too good to pass on.

"You gotta keep quiet for me sweetheart. Or everyone out there is gonna hear you sing for me." Except he has you on your back on your office desk, bent in half, knees next to your chest as he's stuffing you full of his cock. The squelching noise your bodies make on each slide is deafening enough without your screams and moans getting in the way.

Before he buried himself in you, he's spent good time getting you ready, feasting on your cunt until you were sopping wet and ready to take him the way you always want to. Full throttle without stopping.

And with each thrust you get louder and louder. You mumble just how good, ahh ahh, s'good it feels. How good he feels. It's barely coherent but Homelander licks up every word of praise from your lips.

Now that he's learned how to get you to let go he doesn't hesitate to abuse the sensitive spot inside you with short snappy thrusts until you sing for him freely.

Although there's no debating whether or not your moans are easily heard from the hallway, the answer comes swiftly anyway.

Someone knocks on the door. "Uhmm, is everything okay? I've come to bring you the paperwork you asked for." One of your co-workers sounds from the other side of the door.

Homelander takes pleasure in knowing it's the off-putting man he's seen attempt to flirt with you. Yes, let him hear. Let him hear how nobody could ever make you scream this way. Nobody but Homelander.

He gives you a head tilt that says 'see?' and he clamps his hand over your mouth while he rams you even harder. The wooden desk legs squeak horribly against the floor as the desk moves forward with every snap of his hips.

Still, Homelander puts good effort into keeping his voice stable. "Buddy, now's really not the time. Leave it till tomorrow."

"B-b-but." Even though the man is usually oblivious to Homelander's presence anytime he oversees his inappropriate behaviour, at least now he understands there's more at stake.

"Leave." His eyes power up automatically with his tone and while the disaster of a man can't see him, the shift in atmosphere is palpable.

At least from his perspective. Homelander's still fucking your brains out and you're barely aware of the situation. It feels too good to give up on the haze of pleasure lighting up your nerves and force yourself to face the real world where there's embarrassment that comes with nearly getting caught.

He watches the guy scuttle off at his menacing tone.

Finally, Homelander returns his attention back fully to you.

"Look how much attention you're attracting." He lets himself get back in the moment. His voice wavers when you squeeze around him.

"What's that, hah you want more?" He grips onto the desk, letting his pent up energy go into splintering the wood and not the fragile bones of your pelvis.

"Bet they'd all love to see what you're screaming for huh? Maybe I should let them. Let them know I'm the only fucking one to get you singing like this. Fffuck, yeah that's it. Feel so fucking good baby..." With his hand wedged in between your bodies he strokes your clit into completion.

Your screams are muffled by the leather of Homelander's glove and you let yourself scream your heart out as your cunt finally pulses around him with orgasm. The desk finally gives in and breaks when he spills inside you.

He puts all the force he wants to squeeze you with into destroying the office furniture. Because at the end of the day you're the irreplaceable one.