#to miss so much time and feel responsible for everything that happened in his absence

[thatonedudeinthecorner]

Thinking about this kids crippling guilt complex and the feeling of being so out of place for reasons beyond him

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Spiritual Siblings

Bruce: My assassin kid can't be that normal!

Damian: Well, I’m completely emotionally stable by Amity Park standards. The problem is with you. Obviously.

~~~~~

Damian had long found peace and home in Amity, so he did not worry that the new family and Gotham might not accept him.

Sure, Al Ghul had lived without any contact with his biological father all these years but he could safely say that he had a happy childhood. First years were hard and he was raised more as a weapon than a human being. Even so, after that a ghost who decided to become his brother appeared and everything changed.

Damian still does not know what Ra's owes Phantom but Danny has a right to take him, without prior notification, to live with Fentons, to visit Aunt Alicia at her farm, and to make Vlad’s weekends much less calm and boring. Danny jokes that he just steals him as a hostage when Al Ghul does not pay taxes for using Lazarus Pits. Whatever the reason, he already has a family that loves him.

However, he still wanted to make an effort to fit in this one too. The model of conduct certainly was his older brother. No, not the oldest, of course. To be honest Dan wasn’t the kind of a man that could charm you from the first minute. But Danny, in Damian’s experience, had a calming effect on people. So he tried to act like him.

And, yeah, for lack of experience, he was more fun!Danny at home and super!Danny on patrol but he also really tried not to get any of his own assassin personality in his new-self and was tired of it. He couldn’t get a 100% match. Fine. Still doesn’t look like anyone in this house really likes him, so whatever.

Damian understood why Bruce didn't like his company. Jazz had long ago explained to him the importance of voluntary consent. His mother did a terrible thing. Al Ghul was not a child and therefore he was ready to admit it. However, he also understood that children were not responsible for the actions of their parents.

As a biosocial being, he wanted to be more than just a painful reminder of what had happened to Bruce. Wayne's ignoring of his existence was rude. But Damian wouldn't force this man to spend time with him just because he was legally obligated to take care of his well-being. He wasn't going to prove anything to Batman, and he definitely didn't need his attention. The care of his real family is enough.

But Damian really tried to get along with new potential siblings. He even shared Sam's and Danny’s special jokes with some of adopted kids 'cause he didn’t want them to feel like he put himself above them. He wasn't good at showing emotions but he was as open as the assassin could afford to be to strangers.

But they all obviously expected something from him. And it reminded him of the League in an unpleasant way. It was easier with Fentons. Almost everyone in Amity Park was saying what they thought, and Damian didn’t have to waste time decoding potential conspiracies.

Damian missed movie marathon nights with Sam, Tucker, and Danny. And he hoped Dani had time to bother Vlad in his absence.

It was so weird here. When Danny and Valerie were fighting, they would gather at the dinner table anyway. When Damian wanted to have combat training with Drake here, he was forced to stay in his room. A very strange punishment. And undeserved one too.

Al Ghul felt quite calm and fine sitting at his easel and painting the people he left behind. An unusual subject for his paintings. But, Ancients, he missed Amity.

He missed Jack's bone breaking hugs, Maddie's Ecto-Contaminated food, arguments of Sam and Tucker, cozy art class with Mr. Baxter and even Vlad's done look. He missed Danny telling him about the stars. He also missed sword practice with Dan's boyfriend Fright Knight and he missed Dan's stories about his other youth. He missed literary evenings with Mr. Lancer, Clockwork and Ghost Writer. He even missed the hours-long Jazz lectures. He missed the dance of death and life. He missed being looked at without expecting anything from him. He missed the crowd. In the league, he was never at one with himself and in Amity he was always surrounded by people who were not afraid of his fate as the heir to the said League. This Manor was full of people, but for the first time in his life he felt lonely. Damian has to admit that he felt left behind. Of course, he understood that people needed time to build relationships, but he could have sworn that even he didn't need that much time to connect with Fentons. Maybe this is one of the tricks of the Clockwork? Then this one is not funny at all.

~~~~~Phone call~~~~ Damian: Mom, I want to go home. Maddie: I'm so sorry to hear that, sweetheart. What happened? Damian: Just…Nobody likes me. Why was I sent here? I'm not weak. And my brothers are quite capable of protecting me from Raas. I don't need Batman for this. Maddie: We'll figure it out, champ. Moms love you, remember? I'll talk to Talia, okay? Your brothers and sisters are already on edge and ready to steal you right during the patrol. Damian: It would be nice, but it would put a bat on their tails. So lock them in thermoses if they bother you too much. Maddie: But that won't stop Jazz. Damian: I missed the part where that's my problem. Maddie: Well, it will be your problem if she comes to your doorstep with your childhood photos and moralizing.

~~~~~~~~

It's his birthday. And he was always excited about it. But now, looking at the pile of gifts, he realizes that these people don't know him at all.

And this is the family of the best detective in the world? Maybe yes, but none of them bothered to really find info about him or ask him about his likes. Damian's a stranger here, and that's obvious.

The lunch container, which he will obviously give to the Boxing Lunch when he's in the right time interval, tennis rackets that Youngblood might like, The Graveyard Book…

Valerie had already read it to him and Dani before it was published. Thanks to Clockwork for his little miracles. The book reminded him of home.

Obviously this one is from Jason. And well, Damian doesn't think it was a pun on his life in Amity, more like Hood's inside joke about death but Dami will definitely leave this thing in the room at the Manor and maybe take it with him to the GZ or Amity Park.

~~~~~~~

When they gather at the festive table, Damian realizes that he has to make some kind of speech. He tries to be as brief as possible in his report.

Damian: Todd, your gift is appreciated. And I found a potential use for items that were given by others, Bruce.

Damian never called Batman his father. With Maddie and Talia, calling both moms wasn't weird, especially when Jazz explained to his biological mom that he wasn't trying to replace her. But with Wayne, it was different. Both women took care of him, they deserved this title. Wayne provided for his needs, but his core heart didn't feel like they were close. Surely there's nothing wrong if they're just Bruce and Damian? Obviously, they both don't enjoy each other's company.

Jason: So, do you like books, little demon? Damian: Sometimes reading is quite relaxing, I should point out. I'm not indifferent to Stephen King and Lovecraft. Jason: Personal recommendations? Damian: Cujo is one of my favorites. Jason: Not a common opinion, huh. Damian: It reminds me of my family. Damian tries to smile like Danny does, but Jason's twitching eye clearly indicates that he screwed it up.

~~~~Dick and Jason synchronously drop their forks as an excuse for a conference under the table.~~~~ Dick*whispers*: How's the situation? Jason*whispers back*: If the boy asks for a dog, don't be fooled. He will be happy to dance on our graves.

~~~~Cass knocks over their heads, urging them to return to their seats.~~~~

Damian: So how good you are at fading and sliding,Todd? Jason: Why did you ask? I can't, of course. Damian: Because you're dead. It seemed to me that this was a completely understandable interest. Jason: Wow, what a jerk. Damian: I wonder why your own incompetence makes me a jerk? Even my sister could do this when she wasn't dead for even a month.

Jason, for some reason, looks awkward, although he has never been embarrassed before by the idea that a girl could be stronger than him.

Jason: Your sister? How old was she when... So it's all about age. Damian rolls his eyes.

Damian: We're the same age. It seems like it was four or five years ago. To be honest, I don't remember. I wasn't around then. I'll ask Danielle the next time I go to the cemetery to visit her. Dick: I'm so sorry, Dami. Where is she buried? We can take you. Damian: There's no need. She has no grave, as there was nothing to bury. Bruce sighs loudly and covers his eyes with his hands. Damian: It's just easier to contact the afterlife in places like this, you now? Duke: We are very sorry, dude. Damian: Don't be. People come and go, and then come back if they haven't finished annoying you. There's no point in regretting the past. Her creation was not the most ethical thing but everything is going as it should. At least that's what Grandpa says. Considering that the old man is older than time, I prefer to believe him. No one plays with fate without his permission unless they want to get hit by the clock. Tim now looks like he's going to throw up and Damian hurries to move his plate closer to him. Jason: Yes, Bruce, this is definitely your son. Damian: Did I say something wrong? Dick smiles faintly at him but still doesn't find anything to say. Damian shrugs and goes back to eating asparagus. People outside of Amity are so weird.

Signal looks at Damian suspiciously as he carefully rearranges the plate of soy sausages away from himself. Did he take him for an idiot? Everyone knows that even vegetarian sausage bite and fight no worse than those with meat when they come back to life. It's not Damian's fault that he doesn't have an ectoblast with him and wants to have extra distance from the opponent.

~~~At the same time, in the walls of Wayne Manor~~~ Dani: The operation codenamed "Get Haunted Idiot" is declared open. Danny and Dan *salute*.

~~~Several Days Later~~~

Damian: So, this is Dan. Danny says we keep him as a GIW repeller. Dick: And Danny and Dan are.. Jazz: His brothers. I'm Jazz by the way. Elle and I are his sisters. Damian: I feat the criteria to participate in their name cult, so they took me. Dan, Danny, Dani and Dami. Dan *ruffles Damian's hair* : I prefer to call this biting threat Damn, to be honest. Dami: Shut up, DaNtE, they almost wrote Dark in your passport, you idiot. I can't believe I thought I missed you. Danny: Wow. Rude. Your grandpa would be disappointed. Great job, lil one.

~~~Several years later~~~

[gilbertscurls]

can you do one of matt thinking reader is cheating and they get into a bad argument and dont speak for a couple days but than he apologizes

hope you like it!! <3

Complicated ➵ Matt Sturniolo

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut through as you stood on opposite sides of the room, Matt pacing back and forth like a caged animal. His usually calm demeanor was nowhere to be found, replaced with a storm brewing in his eyes, each step filled with frustration.

“You think I don’t see it?” His voice cracked, like he was struggling to keep himself together, the edge in his tone unfamiliar, biting. “All those times you’ve been distant? On your phone constantly? Don’t lie to me, I’m not an idiot.”

Your heart raced in your chest, his words hitting you harder than you expected. You blinked back tears, disbelief washing over you. Matt’s accusations felt like daggers, cutting through the trust you had built together. “What are you even talking about?” You asked, voice shaking as you tried to keep your composure. “I haven’t done anything. Why are you suddenly so paranoid?”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair, eyes narrowing at you. “Suddenly? It’s been building for weeks, and you know it. You’ve been pulling away, and I see the way you’ve been texting someone else. You think I’m blind?”

It hit you then — the misplaced jealousy, the suspicion. He had been watching you, second-guessing your every move, twisting them into something they weren’t. You could feel the anger rising in your chest, mixing with the hurt, your hands trembling by your sides.

“Matt,” you started, your voice growing firmer, “I’m not cheating on you. I don’t know where this is coming from, but this is insane. I would never do that to you.”

He stopped pacing, his eyes locking onto yours, desperation swirling in them. “Then what is it, huh? Why have you been acting so weird? Why does it feel like I’m losing you?”

You could see the cracks beneath his anger, the insecurity gnawing at him, but his accusations were too much. The very thought that he believed you would betray him like that stung deeply, and it made you question everything.

“Because we’ve both been busy, Matt. College, your channel, life — it’s all happening so fast. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care. You know me better than this.”

He looked down, clenching his fists as if he was trying to get a grip on himself. “I just— I can’t stand the thought of losing you,” he muttered, his voice finally softening, but the damage was already done. The weight of the argument settled heavily in the space between you, a canyon that felt too wide to cross.

“You won’t lose me,” you whispered, the pain evident in your voice, “but if you keep pushing me away with these accusations, maybe you will.”

That hit him hard. He turned, walking to the window, his back to you, shoulders tense. The silence was suffocating, the words unsaid hanging in the air like thick smoke. You stood there, feeling the weight of his doubt pressing down on you, wondering how things had spiraled out of control so quickly.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” you said after what felt like an eternity, grabbing your coat. The coldness in your tone was unfamiliar even to yourself, but you couldn’t help it. The hurt was too raw. “When you’re ready to actually listen to me, you know where to find me.”

Without waiting for a response, you walked out of the room, the door closing softly behind you. But the quiet sound felt like a deafening finality, like a door slamming on everything you’d built together.

The days that followed felt like an eternity. Neither of you reached out, both too stubborn, too hurt. You missed him — every part of you missed him — but you couldn’t be the one to break first, not when he was the one who doubted you. The silence between you stretched into every part of your day, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

You tried to focus on school, on anything but him, but his absence was like a gaping wound that refused to heal. You kept replaying the fight in your head, wondering where it all went wrong, how everything had unraveled so quickly.

Three days later, you heard a knock at your door. Your heart leaped into your throat, hoping it was Matt. You opened it to find him standing there, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were red-rimmed, and there was a sadness about him that made your heart ache.

“I—” he started, but his voice cracked, and he had to clear his throat before trying again. “I’m so sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice almost broke you. You’d imagined this moment over and over, but now that it was here, you weren’t sure what to say. You stood there, frozen, as he took a tentative step closer.

“I messed up,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “I know I did. I let my fears get the better of me, and I said things I shouldn’t have. I should’ve trusted you… I do trust you. I just— I was scared. Scared that you’d leave, that I wasn’t enough.”

The vulnerability in his words made you soften, the anger and hurt slowly ebbing away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of sadness for him. For both of you.

“Matt…” You finally spoke, your voice barely a whisper, “I never wanted to hurt you, but you can’t keep doubting me like that. We can’t keep going like this.”

He nodded, his eyes meeting yours, filled with regret. “I know. I swear, I’ll never doubt you again. I’ll work on it, I promise.” He took another step closer, his hand hesitating before reaching out to you. “Please, just give me another chance. I don’t want to lose you.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the remorse, the desperation, the love — all of it written so clearly on his face. And despite everything, despite the pain and the fight, you still loved him. Maybe that was enough to try again.

Slowly, you took his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers against yours. “We have to communicate better, Matt. We can’t keep hurting each other like this.”

“I know.” He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to find some reassurance that everything would be okay. “I’ll do better. I swear.”

You stood there for a moment, letting the tension melt away, replaced by a tentative hope. There was still a lot to work through, still wounds to heal, but as you looked at him, you knew that you were both willing to try. And maybe that was enough.

“I love you,” you whispered, and you saw the relief wash over his face.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back, pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly, as if afraid to let you go.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274

[gloomwitchwrites]

Missed Hints

King Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, light angst, humor, pregnancy, suggestive themes, fade to black, established relationship

Word Count: 1.8k

With the pregnancy confirmed, you decide to drop little hints until Thorin makes the connections.

A/N: for @protosslady

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

“You’re pregnant, your majesty.”

Those two little words are enough to make time freeze. You are cold, a bit hesitant, and completely unbelieving of what you’re hearing.

“Are you sure?” you ask slowly, needing to know if you’ve heard her correctly.

The midwife, Lena, smiles broadly. “As sure as the sun rises in the morning. I’ve been doing this for close to thirty summers now. Rarely am I ever wrong.”

Lena’s assistant, Petal, matches Lena’s smile with one of her own. It is radiant and sunny, a stark difference from your sudden anxiousness. “This is wonderful news,” she exclaims. “King Thorin will be so pleased.”

“Indeed,” agrees Lena. “And so will the people when it’s formally announced.”

Both women sigh at the same time, but you are not nearly as excited as they are.

You and Thorin did try for a child many times in the beginning of your marriage. It was enthusiastic—and constant—but nothing ever came of it. While it bothered you, Thorin never seemed to care. He told you that all he wanted was you and that anything else was a bonus.

That is still true. Thorin loves you.

But Thorin is being pulled in a different direction. Erebor needs attention, and Thorin throws himself into service attempting to tackle every obstacle and difficulty on his own. Most nights, he comes to bed late—usually when you’re already asleep. When you wake, he is usually gone, off to take care of his abundant duties. They are piling up, becoming a burden. Thorin does too much, and while you admire him for his dedication, you miss him.

To know that you’re pregnant is a surprise. It’s not that you and Thorin haven’t been intimate, it’s just that it hasn’t been nearly as frequent as in the past. While Thorin is gone, you have your own duties and responsibilities. When the two of you do have quiet time together, intimacy is brief but passionate and almost always followed by the two of you falling asleep in each other’s arms.

“How far along?” you ask, trying to place exactly when it might have taken.

When your cycle never came, you didn’t think much of it. That happens sometimes. But then didn’t occur during the next expected timeframe. With its absence came irritability and random bouts of sudden crying you couldn’t explain. Certain foods smelt odd, and while you weren’t emptying the contents of your stomach, constant nausea made it difficult to complete daily tasks. You knew then that something was different. And now the midwife has confirmed it.

But even with an answer, you’re not sure how you feel.

“I’d place you at about ten weeks. Perhaps eleven,” answers Lena with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“That far?” you squeak, wincing immediately with how upset you sound.

Lena and Petal’s smiles start to diminish. Their enthusiasm melts away, replaced with furrowed brows and soft lines of concern.

“Is everything all right? You look a bit faint?” Lena places her hand on your shoulder.

“Yes,” you reply, though it sounds like you’re gasping for air. “Surprised is all.”

Their smiles return but it’s subdued.

This is supposed to be a happy occasion. A child means an heir, and it also gives the people hope for the future. Much of Erebor is still in pieces from Smaug’s habitation. That doesn’t even begin to include all the damage and death from the battle. Dale, which was once abandoned and forgotten, is starting to see life again as well. The races of Men are returning to it, hoping to rekindle its long-extinguished flame.

A royal child is a symbol of hope. It’s a moment of celebration for everyone.

“I think a bit of rest for the remainder of the day will do you some good,” says Lena softly. “We will prepare some ointments that you can use to relieve any aches or pains. Bloating is likely, and as the body makes room for the little one, you’ll have some discomfort.” Lena taps her bottom lip and then turns to Petal. “We’ll need to prepare some liquid supplements to take with meals.”

“Of course,” nods Petal. She begins packing up their supplies.

Lena squeezes your shoulder before letting go. “I’ll come check on you in a few days. Bring a few things with me. We’ll talk more then, preferably with the father present.”

“Yes,” you reply, absently rubbing your belly. “That would be best.”

The two women bow and depart quickly, leaving you alone in the royal bedchambers. The room is quiet and your breathing sounds too loud in such a large space. With hands clasped, you twist them over and over again in agitation, needing to move but unsure of how to quell the anxiousness. It’s stubborn like the deep roots of a tree that refuse to give up the dirt.

How are you to tell Thorin? How do you approach this when you rarely see him. It’s just one more thing to burden him with. Perhaps, if you dropped a few hints? Covertly toss the pregnancy in his direction and see if he picks it up?

You know deep in your gut that you shouldn’t worry over this. Thorin will be happy. He will be.

You spend the rest of the day as Lena instructs. Reclining, resting, and reading. Thorin is supposed to return tonight for evening meal. Whenever he promises an early arrival, Thorin means it. Rarely does he make promises he cannot keep.

As dinner is brought in, and the table is set, Thorin walks through the door. There is a bit of soot on his cheek like he’s been in the mines, and his cheeks are slightly flushed. When he notices you, he beams, and there is so much love there that you simply want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“My love,” he says, moving toward you swiftly. The embrace nearly sweeps you off your feet. He plants a kiss on your forehead and draws back.

“You’re filthy,” you laugh, looking him over. Thorin has been in the mines.

Thorin shrugs sheepishly. “I had to help dig. Structural issues.”

“Wash your hands at least,” you playfully tease.

“Not interested in eating a bit of dirt?” he asks with a laugh.

“Go,” you giggle, pushing away from him.

Thorin disappears and you take a seat at the table. He reappears a few minutes later, face and hands clean. The clothes he wore before are also gone, replaced with simple, fresh attire. He takes a seat next to you, gaze darting over the spread.

“I’m starving,” you begin because it’s true even though you’ve been consistently snacking all day. “It’s like I’m eating for two.”

First hint dropped.

Thorin laughs, and the sound is sweet like honey cake. “I promise, love. You couldn’t eat for me. My appetite is insatiable.” When Thorin says insatiable, he pointedly glances at you with a heated stare.

You perfectly understand his meaning.

You attempt a different angle. “I’ve also been having the oddest cravings,” you say, starting to load your plate.

“What do you mean?” asks Thorin before he pops a chunk of bread into his mouth.

“Different foods. Things I’d never eat together otherwise.” It is common knowledge that pregnant women will often crave highly specific foods and food combinations.

But Thorin doesn’t appear to pick up on the hint. He frowns, then shrugs, continuing to eat without making a comment.

Sighing, you pick up one the freshly made rolls. “I think these buns need a bit more time in the oven.” You stare hard at Thorin, mentally sending message after message. “What do you think?”

Thorin glances up at you then down at his own plate that has five of them. “I think they’re perfect but if you’d like them more done, I’ll let the kitchen know in the morning.”

“Thorin,” you say flatly.

“Yes, my love?” His head slightly tilts, and his gaze becomes pointed. He’s starting to pick up on your agitation. You don’t mean to be cross, but you were hoping that he’d figure it out so you wouldn’t have to tell him outright.

Setting the roll down on your plate, you promptly divert the conversation to a different hint. “We’ve never talked about where we’d put the nursery.”

Thorin’s brow rises toward his hairline. “I didn’t think you wanted to discuss that until we crossed that hurdle?”

Does he hear himself? Does he understand the context of what’s coming out of his mouth?

“You’re right, Thorin. I didn’t want to discuss it until we needed to.” You repeat his words back to him, slightly leaning toward him as you speak to emphasize the point.

Still, it brushes right over his head.

“Some of the advisory council members have brought up financial concerns. Rebuilding Erebor is important but the needs of the people are pressing. Food. Proper housing.” Thorin begins slicing into the chunk of roast on his plate.

Maybe you are going to have to say it outright.

Licking your lips, you ignore Thorin’s change in conversation. “I did receive a few inquiries about baby clothes. Offers to knit a few items,” you shrug.

“That’s kind of them,” says Thorin slowly. “But why—” he pauses, “you’re not—"

Thorin’s features suddenly shift, becoming almost unreadable. His jovial expression is gone, replaced with a stern consideration.

Are you going to have to shout it at the top of your lungs?

Thorin’s lips part. Promptly shuts. Opens again. “Are you…” he begins but does not finish.

You start to nod, urging him on.

Finally, like light igniting in the dark, Thorin’s face transforms into one of shock, then pure joy.

“Truly?”

“Found out just this morning.”

Thorin abruptly stands, pushing himself and his chair away from the table. He is moving toward you, grasping your hands, bringing them to his mouth to kiss your fingers.

“Why not say anything?” he asks.

“I did,” you laugh. “Many times.”

Thorin momentarily frowns before his mouth turns up into a soft smile. “Clever.”

“You’ve been busy and I was unsure of how to tell you.”

Thorin’s thumbs rub little circles over your knuckles. “You can always tell me anything. Whatever is happening. Whatever is on your mind. I wish to hear it.” He kisses the tops of your hands. “Especially something like this.”

“Are you happy?” you ask, voice cracking at the end.

“Happiest I’ve ever been.”

Thorin pulls you up from your chair, his large, muscled arm sliding behind your waist. He drags you to him, his eyelids lowering seductively, all gentleness leaving him to be replaced with desire.

“Are you up for a bit of celebrating?” he asks.

“What kind of celebrating?”

“The kind that landed us here.”

“Thorin,” you gasp, lightly slapping his chest. He snatches your wrist, kisses the pulse point there.

“The food can wait,” and his voice ends on a soft growl.

“Thorin,” you repeat, this time with a rasp to your tone.

He seizes it, draws you even closer. “The food can wait?”

You nod. “It can wait.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath @mrsdurin @therealbloom @ninman82 @thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos

[sadnymi]

Lovefool p2

[part one] [Mattheo riddle x reader]

Summary: Being the only girl in the group, and now stuck in the middle of nowhere with them, you found myself in a tricky situation. You had to share rooms, and Mattheo, leaving no room for negotiation, insisted that you would share with him. The problem was, there was only one bed. From uncovering feelings to heartbreak, it was a night you wouldn't forget.

Warning: angst,fluff,strong language, hints of smut .

Words:5,5k + Bonus scene.

When we arrived back home, I quickly said goodbye to the boys, avoiding eye contact with all of them. I couldn't bear to see their pity or confusion. I just wanted to escape to the solitude of my room. Once inside, I shut the door and leaned against it, finally allowing myself to break down. Tears streamed down my face as I slid to the floor, clutching my knees to my chest.

There was only one week left before returning to Hogwarts, and I knew I would have to face them—most of all, Mattheo. The thought of seeing him again made my stomach churn. During that week, I waited for him to reach out, to say something, anything, that would make sense of what happened. But he didn’t. The silence from him was deafening, and it drove me insane.

All the other boys sent me messages as usual. Even Blaise, who had been so harsh, reached out, perhaps feeling guilty for his words. But not Mattheo. He ghosted me completely, and the pain was unbearable. Every time my phone buzzed, my heart would leap with hope, only to be crushed when it wasn’t him.

I spent days replaying our time together in my mind, trying to understand what went wrong. Had I misread everything? Was I just another conquest to him? The questions tormented me, and the lack of answers made it worse.

I remember that night vividly. The way he looked at me, the tenderness in his touch, the passion in his kisses—it all felt so real. But now, it seemed like a cruel illusion, a trick my heart played on me.

I tried to distract myself by throwing myself into reading, but every word I read seemed to blur into the memory of him. I’d catch myself staring at the same page for hours, lost in thoughts of his hands on my skin, his whispered words.

By the middle of the week, the weight of his absence was unbearable. I lay in bed, clutching my phone, scrolling through old messages, and torturing myself with his silence. The boys' messages were kind and casual, but they couldn't fill the void Mattheo left.

Enzo’s messages were the most frequent, always checking in on me, making sure I was okay. “Hey, how are you holding up?” he’d text, and I’d force myself to respond with a lie. “I’m fine, thanks,” I’d write back, even though I was anything but fine.

Blaise's messages were surprisingly considerate. “Sorry about the other day. Didn’t mean to upset you,” he’d said. I couldn’t bring myself to be angry with him; he had only voiced what I feared was true.

But Mattheo? Nothing. No calls, no texts, no attempts to explain or apologize. It felt like he had erased me from his life completely.

The pain was relentless, gnawing at me day and night. I felt hollow, like a shell of the person I had been before. I missed his voice, his laughter, the way he made me feel seen and cherished. I missed him so much it hurt to breathe.

The final straw came the night before we were due to return to Hogwarts. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and realized I couldn’t go on like this. I needed to confront him, to demand answers. I couldn’t start the new school year with this weight on my shoulders. I had to face him, even if it meant shattering my heart all over again.

I took a deep breath and picked up my phone, my fingers trembling as I typed out a message. “Mattheo, we need to talk. Please.” I hit send and waited, my heart pounding in my chest. Minutes felt like hours as I watched the screen, praying for a response.

But none came. The silence stretched on, suffocating me, and I knew that no matter what happened, I had to find a way to move forward. With or without him.

I boarded the train with a heavy heart, my eyes scanning the crowded platform. As soon as I found Enzo, I slid into the seat next to him, trying to muster a smile.

“Hi,” I said, glancing briefly at Mattheo, who was sitting across from us.

“Hey,” Mattheo replied, his voice neutral, his gaze avoiding mine.

Theo soon returned, his eyes lighting up when he saw me. “How have you been?” he asked.

“I’ve been okay,” I lied, forcing another smile. Before I could say more, Draco and Blaise joined us, making the compartment feel even more cramped and awkward.

“Hi,” Draco said, his voice soft, his eyes flicking between me and Mattheo. Blaise offered a similar greeting, his usual bravado toned down, as if he sensed the tension.

I tried to lose myself in my book, Emma another Jane Austen novel, hoping it would distract me from the unbearable atmosphere. But I could feel Mattheo’s eyes on me, and each glance was like a dagger to my heart. His stare was intense, and it made concentrating impossible.

“I’m going to say hi to Pansy,” I announced suddenly, grabbing my bag and book. I left the compartment quickly, not giving anyone a chance to respond.

As I walked down the corridor, I realized I couldn’t face Pansy either. She would ask questions, and I had no answers. I turned a corner, only to overhear a group of girls talking animatedly about their exploits.

“Enzo is amazing,” one girl said, giggling. “Blaise too, though he’s a bit too cocky for my taste.”

“Oh, Theo is a sweetheart,” another girl chimed in. “But Mattheo... God, he’s something else.”

My ears pricked up at his name, and I leaned closer, my heart pounding.

“What’s it like with Mattheo?” a third girl asked, her voice dripping with curiosity.

“He’s rough, but in a good way,” the first girl said, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “He barely looked at me, but I didn’t mind. It felt so good. He didn’t kiss me, though, just... did his thing and left.”

My heart pounded as I continued to listen, hiding behind the corner.

"God, I'd do anything to sleep with Mattheo again," the first girl said, her voice filled with a mix of longing and frustration. "But he doesn't sleep with the same girl twice."

"Yeah, he's got a reputation for that," another girl chimed in. "And yet, somehow, they all are so different with her you know??," she said, her tone dripping with disdain.

" Y/N right? What's so special about her anyway?" a third girl asked, her voice filled with venom.

"She's always hanging around them, like she's one of them. I can't understand how she managed to get in their group."

"I bet they all fucked her at some point," the first girl said, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Do you think they share her? She's their slut for sure."

"I know right?," another girl agreed, her laughter harsh and cruel. "I mean, how else would she keep their attention? She must be really good in bed."

"Or maybe she just does whatever they want," the third girl added. "So pathetic, really. Always trying to act like she's so special. I bet she’s just a desperate little slut."

My heart pounded as I continued to listen, hiding behind the corner.

"Yeah, spreads her legs for any of them at the drop of a hat," another girl sneered. "She's probably been passed around like a party favor."

"And they act so protective of her," the first girl said with a bitter laugh. "I can't imagine why. What do they see in her?"

"They must be playing some kind of game," the third girl suggested. "Maybe seeing who can screw her over the most."

My heart beat faster and faster, each cruel word piercing deeper. Tears blurred my vision as I stepped away from the corner, desperate to escape their venomous gossip.

The world around me seemed to blur as I walked faster, not caring where I was going, just needing to get away. I collided with a strong chest, and looking up through my tears, I saw Mattheo.

"Why are you crying? “ His voice was sharper than a knife

“Who did this to you?" He asked once more when I didn’t answer his hands gently cupped my face, his thumbs wiping away my tears.

I pulled away, my voice shaking. "I'm not talking to you," I said, the tears flowing freely. I turned to leave, but he grabbed my hand.

"Stop it. Let me go," I demanded, trying to pull free from his grip.

"Not unless I know what got you crying like that," he insisted, his eyes filled with the same loving and caring expression that had once made my heart soar.

I looked away, the pain and confusion overwhelming me. "Just go and ignore me like you have been for the past week, or whatever," I said, my voice bitter. "Pretend I don't exist. You're good at that."

His face fell, looking speechless for a moment. I didn’t wait for him to respond. I pulled away, breaking into a run until I found an empty compartment far away from everyone. I slammed the door shut and collapsed onto the seat, sobbing uncontrollably.

The cruel words of the girls echoed in my mind, mingling with the confusion and heartbreak of Mattheo's unexpected concern. Why did he have to care now, after leaving me in silence for a week?

As the train rumbled on, I curled up on the seat, hugging my knees to my chest. The weight of everything pressed down on me, and I felt utterly alone. I had no answers, only questions that seemed to multiply with each passing moment. Why had he treated me so tenderly, only to disappear? And why did it hurt so much to see that same tenderness now, when I was already so broken?

Why had Mattheo been so different with me? Cause I’m pretty sure I wasn’t imagining that night and from what I heard from those girls it seems like he’s a different person from the one they are talking about .

I had a long time trying to explain to the boys why I suddenly disappeared and never returned. They didn’t look convinced, and their probing questions made it clear they weren’t buying my excuses.

Days passed, and I tried to put some space between me and all of them. It wasn’t easy. Draco cornered me in the common room one evening, his eyes filled with concern. "Something happened," he said, his voice low and insistent. "Tell me what it is."

"I'm fine, Draco. It's just family drama," I lied, my stomach twisting with guilt.

"You’ve been skipping meals and acting different," Theo added, joining us with a frown. "This isn’t like you."

"I told you, it’s family stuff," I insisted, hating how naked I felt under their scrutiny. It was like they could see right through my facade.

"Just...let us help," Draco pleaded, but I shook my head, turning away from their worried gazes.

Over the next few days, I was in a bit of a slump. Not only did I skip meals, but I also skipped more classes than usual. If I could have, I would have skipped the whole week, but unfortunately, that wasn't an option.

I grabbed my bag and walked through the courtyard, I overheard a girl talking loudly to her friends. "She's such a slut," she sneered, and my steps faltered. "I bet she's been with every Slytherin boy."

I stopped, my blood boiling. I turned around and marched over to her, my fists clenched. "What did you say?"

The girl looked taken aback for a moment but quickly recovered. "I said you're a slut. Everyone knows it."

The rage bubbling inside me reached a boiling point. "You think you know me? You think you can talk about me like that? Here’s a newsflash for you: I don’t need your approval or your pathetic opinions.“

Before she could respond, a boy next to her smirked. “Yeah, I’d love to fuck you just like the whole Slytherin boys have. Bet you’d like that, huh?”

I stepped closer, my fists clenched at my sides. "Why don’t you come a bit closer and say that to my face?" I said, my voice trembling with rage.

The crowd that had gathered around us watched with wide eyes and open mouths. "What's wrong?" the girl taunted. "Truth hurts?"

“Do you think it makes you look strong, demeaning someone you don’t even know? Do you think you’re better than me because you can spread lies and gossip? You’re pathetic. You think I care about what you say? The only thing that matters is that I know the truth, and that scares you, doesn’t it? Because deep down, you know you’ll never be anything more than a coward hiding behind cruel words.”

The girl, emboldened by the attention, added, "Your family must be so proud of you. What a disgrace."

"Shut your mouth," I said, stepping closer, my eyes burning with anger. "I don’t care what you think of me, but if you ever talk about my family again, you’ll regret it."

She looked a bit scared but tried to stand her ground. "Or what? You'll hit me? No wonder why your dad left,""

I saw red. I lunged at her, my fist raised, but strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back. "Let go!" I yelled, struggling against the hold.

"Not her, not now, love," Mattheo's voice whispered in my ear, calming yet firm. He started to pull me away from the mess, his grip gentle but unyielding.

"Mattheo, let go of me," I insisted, trying to break free.

"Not until you calm down," he replied, his eyes full of concern. "I can't let you get into trouble over this."

He guided me into an empty hallway with a balcony, a secluded spot even the ghosts avoided. I was still shaking with rage, my breathing ragged. "Who do you think you are? Don’t touch me! Stay away!" I shouted, pushing at his chest.

"Just breathe, my love," he murmured, his hands cupping my face gently, thumbs stroking my cheeks. "Breathe with me."

His touch, his voice, started to pierce through the fog of anger. I took a shaky breath, then another, my heartbeat slowly steadying.

"Look at me," he said softly, tilting my chin up so our eyes met. "Every single one who talks bad about you is going to regret it. They’re going to wish they were dead before they ever said a word."

"Why do you act like this?" I demanded, my voice trembling. "You act like you care, like you—" I faltered, trying to find the right words. "Your mixed signals are driving me crazy! You pull me closer just to walk away after."

He looked pained, his eyes searching mine for understanding, but he said nothing.

"Say something!" I pleaded, tears welling up. "Anything!"

Still, he remained silent, and the silence cut deeper than any words ever could.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and the rest of the boys appeared. Blaise was the first to speak, his gaze flicking between me and Mattheo. "You okay?" he asked.

I nodded, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Theo stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "This happened before, didn't it?"

I took a deep breath, nodding again. "Yes."

Draco crossed his arms, his expression softening. "Well, that explains why you were acting distant. You should have told us."

"I didn't know what to say," I admitted, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Enzo's voice was gentle as he asked, "What happened before?"

I glanced at Mattheo, who was watching me with an unreadable expression. I couldn't bear his eyes on me anymore. Looking back at Enzo, I said quietly, "It was on the train."

Their eyes widened as I recounted the overheard conversation, the cruel words that had been said about me, and how it had all culminated in the confrontation just now. Mattheo's gaze never left me, and I knew what he was thinking, but I couldn't deal with it anymore.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice breaking. "I just... I need to go to my dorm. I'll see you all tomorrow."

Enzo stepped forward, his concern evident. "I'll walk you."

I nodded, unable to look at Mattheo as I turned to leave. Enzo fell into step beside me, his presence a small comfort amidst the chaos.

The next day, as I walked into class, I was met with an unexpected wave of greetings and offers of help.

"Hey, need any notes from yesterday?" asked one girl, her smile bright and friendly.

"I saved you a seat," another girl said, gesturing to the spot next to her.

"Do you need a quill? I've got an extra," someone else offered, holding out a shiny new quill.

I looked around, confused by the sudden change in behavior. These were the same people who had ignored me or worse, whispered behind my back just a day ago. Before I could process it, a group of girls approached, all smiles and compliments.

"Your hair looks amazing today," one of them said, her tone overly enthusiastic.

"Yeah, and your shoes are so cute!" another added.

"Thanks," I muttered, bewildered by their sudden interest.

Then, the girl from yesterday's confrontation appeared, looking hesitant. She took a deep breath and stepped closer. "I'm really sorry about what I said yesterday," she began, her voice shaky. "Please forgive me. I didn't mean any of it, and I feel terrible."

I stared at her, trying to make sense of this abrupt apology. "Why are you apologizing now?" I asked, suspicion creeping into my voice.

Before she could respond, I noticed him. The boy who had made that disgusting comment about me the day before. His arm was in a sling, supported by a wooden splint, and his face was a mess of blue and purple bruises. He had a black eye, swollen nearly shut.

"I, uh, fell down the stairs," he mumbled, not meeting my gaze.

I looked between the two of them, realization dawning. My stomach churned, and I felt the sudden urge to get out of there. Grabbing my things, I bolted from the classroom, not stopping until I was far from the castle. I found myself in a hidden garden, a place where I often went to think.

I sat down on the ground, trying to calm my racing heart and catch my breath. I wasn't dumb. I knew what had really happened. I knew who was behind the sudden wave of attention, the apologies, the broken bones. It wasn't hard to piece it together.

Mattheo.

But clarity seemed a distant dream. I leaned back against the tree, closing my eyes, and tried to find a moment of calm amidst the chaos Mattheo had left in his wake.

I stayed in the garden for what felt like hours, trying to find some semblance of peace amidst the turmoil. Eventually, I knew I would have to face him, to confront what had happened and what it meant. But for now, I just needed to breathe.

I felt someone approaching and sat beside me. I looked up and met Mattheo’s eyes. He was holding a book in his hand.

I felt someone approaching and sat up, my heart pounding. When I looked up, I met Mattheo’s eyes. He was holding a book in his hand.

"I—I got this for you," he said, his voice soft.

I glanced at the book, then back at him, and took it from his hand. It was Persuasion, another Jane Austen's novels. My heart beat even faster as I muttered a thank you. Then I noticed the blood on his hands, despite his clear attempts to wash it off.

He asked, "What were you reading on the train?"

I stared at him, incredulous. "You’re seriously asking me about my books while having blood on your hands? and probably terrorized the whole school before coming here!" I shouted.

He just smirked. "Are you insane, Mattheo? Seriously, what the hell?" I yelled again.

He raised his eyebrows, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I told you they were going to regret what they said yesterday, didn't I?"

"I can take care of myself. I don’t need your help," I snapped, trying to walk away, but he grabbed my hand, pulling me back until my back hit the tree.

"I know," he said.

I rolled my eyes and looked away, trapped between his hands on either side of my face and the tree behind me. His closeness was overwhelming.

"You’re insane," I muttered.

"Well, I need to talk to you, and you left me no other choice," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I chuckled sarcastically. "You kidding me? Because as much as I remember, you were the one who left after—" I stammered, my face turning red, unable to finish the sentence.

"Yes, my love, after what?" he asked, smiling even wider.

"After I went down on you? Or when I had my finger deep inside you?" he continued, his voice low and teasing. I put my hands over his mouth, desperate to stop him.

"Oh, Lord, stop," I said, my voice a whisper. He kissed my hand, sending a jolt through me, and I pulled it away quickly, my face burning even more.

"Don’t go shy on me now, love. I’m pretty sure I kissed more intimate parts," he said, leaning closer to whisper in my ear. "I've had your taste on my tongue for weeks."

I tried to hit him in the chest, but he grabbed both my hands with one hand, pinning them above my head.

“Listen,” he said, getting more serious. “Enzo told me about what Blaise said that day.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think I really want to know another tale about you with a girl in bed.”

“Another tale?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

I looked him in the eyes, my voice trembling with both anger and hurt. “I heard what that girl said on the train. About how good you were in bed, how you liked it rough, just did the job and left with no kisses. She wasn’t even complaining, Mattheo. She said she’d do anything to sleep with you again, but it’s too bad because you don’t sleep with the same girl twice."

“Did she now?” he said, smirking.

“Fuck you, Mattheo,” I said, trying to pull away, but his hold was too strong. “Fuck you so much. I get it. I was delusional to think it was more than a one-time thing for you because you don’t sleep with the same girl twice, you don’t—” My voice cracked, betraying my emotions.

"Did it look like a fucking one-time thing back then, Y/N?" he demanded, sharp and serious. I avoided his gaze, my anger and pain battling inside me.

"Answer," he insisted, his face inches from mine. I looked up at him, the intensity in his eyes making it hard to breathe.

"No," I admitted, my voice barely audible.

"Because it fucking wasn’t," he said. "It wasn’t a simple fuck. I was making love to you, and that freaked the shit out of me." The veins in his neck stood out as he spoke, his eyes blazing.

I blinked, trying to process his words. "So, yes," he continued, his voice lower but no less intense, "what the girl said was right. I’ve fucked other girls like that. Rough, fast, no strings attached. Just getting off and moving on. No kisses, no tenderness, just raw and dirty, didn’t look at them more than I had to.”

My breathing grew heavier as his words sank in.“So, does it look like that now?” he asked, his voice softer but still intense. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed.

“Fucking look at me Y/N,” he commanded, and I looked up at him, shaking my head.

“Every time I look at you, at those lips,” he whispered, his voice dropping lower, “all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you. How much I want to taste you. How much I want you in every way. It’s not just about fucking. It’s about you. Every part of you, that night... you were in my arms, and I managed to sleep. You have no idea how rare that is for me.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, my body responding despite my confusion. I could feel the heat between us, the undeniable pull that had always been there.

I looked at him, standing there, rain-soaked and intense, and the tears kept falling from my eyes.

“And no, I don’t want you to be my friend,” he continued, his voice rising. “I want to hear you moaning my name. I want to have you, all of you. To kiss every inch of you. To make you smile, to see you laugh. To put your happiness above anything because nothing else matters. Nothing but you.”

His words were raw, cutting through the rain and my confusion. The sheer intensity of his confession left me breathless, my heart pounding in my chest. I could feel the pull, the magnetic force between us, stronger than ever.

“I’ve tried to stay away, to keep my distance,” he went on, his voice breaking slightly. “But every time I see you, it’s like a punch to the gut. I’m fighting a losing battle. I don’t just want you. I need you. In every way possible.”

I stood there, soaked and trembling, unable to speak. His words had stripped me bare, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. The rain continued to pour, a relentless backdrop to his declaration.

“So tell me, do you understand now?” he asked again, his voice softer.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with emotion. The truth of his words was undeniable, resonating deep within me. I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself, and met his gaze.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I understand.”

He reached out, gently wiping the tears from my cheeks. “I will be so good to you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing my skin. “I would do anything for you. I fucked up, and I—”

I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his, cutting him off. For a moment, he was surprised and didn’t kissed me back, I pulled back, looking him in the eye. And as if a dam had broken, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer.

He leaned down, capturing my mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. His lips were soft but insistent, demanding and giving all at once. I felt his hands on my waist, lifting me effortlessly. My legs wrapped around his hips as he held me against him, the kiss growing more passionate. The rain poured down, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else.

His tongue parted my lips, and I opened to him, the taste of him intoxicating. He kissed me with a fervor that made my head spin, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me tighter against him. I could feel the hard lines of his body, the heat between us almost unbearable.

"Wait," I managed to gasp, pulling back slightly. "The book, the rain—"

"I'll get you a new one," he promised, his voice fierce, breathing heavily against my lips. His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling gently until my face tilted up to meet his gaze. Then he kissed me again, more fiercely this time, as if he couldn’t get enough.

I melted into him, my hands clinging to his shoulders as he devoured me. His lips moved over mine with a raw, desperate need, and I responded with equal fervor. The world around us disappeared, the rain, the cold, everything fading away until there was only him, only us.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled back, his forehead resting against mine. "Come with me," he murmured, his voice a soft plea. "Let's get out of this rain."

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest, his hand slipping into mine, and we ran through the rain. We found shelter under a nearby awning, the sudden silence after the roar of the rain almost surreal.

He looked at me, his eyes dark and intense, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. "You're soaked," he said, his voice gentle, as he brushed a strand of wet hair from my face.

"So are you," I replied, a smile tugging at my lips.

"Well, we make a pretty pair then," he teased, his hand settling on my waist.

I laughed, the sound light and carefree, a stark contrast to the storm still raging around us. "We do, don't we?"

His gaze softened, a tender smile playing on his lips. "I've never seen anyone look so beautiful soaking wet."

I rolled my eyes playfully, running a hand through his wet hair. "You're just saying that because you want to kiss me again."

He grinned, leaning in closer. "Maybe. But it's true." His lips hovered over mine, the anticipation making my heart race. "And for the record, I do want to kiss you again. Very much."

"Then what are you waiting for?" I challenged, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He didn't need any more encouragement. His lips captured mine in a kiss that was both sweet and passionate, his hand tightening on my waist, pulling me flush against him. I could feel the warmth of his body through the wet fabric of our clothes, the contrast to the chill of the rain making my skin tingle.

As the kiss deepened, his free hand slid up my back, tangling in my hair. I moaned softly against his lips, the sound making him groan in response. He pulled back slightly, his breath hot against my skin.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "The things I want to do to you."

My cheeks flushed, and I looked down, feeling a mix of excitement and shyness. "Like what?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I want to make you mine in every possible way," he said, his eyes burning with intensity. "I want to hear you scream my name, to see you come apart in my arms. I want to kiss every inch of you, to make you feel things you've never felt before."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I bit my lip, trying to suppress the blush that was spreading across my cheeks. "You're making me blush," I whispered, my voice shaky.

He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Good. I like it when you blush." He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "I like knowing I'm the one making you feel this way."

I closed my eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. His words, his touch, everything about him was overwhelming. "You're insufferable," I muttered, but there was no heat in my words, only affection.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. "You love it," he teased, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my neck.

I sighed, my fingers threading through his hair as I leaned into his touch. "Yeah, I do," I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I really do."

He pulled back, his eyes searching mine. "Good," he said softly, his hand cupping my face. "Because I'm not letting you go."

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the rain. "I don't want you to,".

"So, I really have done it in your Mr. Darcy way, haven't I?" he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I was always jealous of him, when you talked about him like that you know?"

Before I could respond, his mouth was on my neck, kissing and sucking gently, then more insistently. I let out a soft moan, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Perfect," he said, admiring his handiwork.

I laughed, breathless and flushed. "What was that for?"

He smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes. "It's for Blaise. Since he loves to ask so much."

I rolled my eyes, unable to suppress my smile. "You know he went on a date last night, right?"

"Did he now?" Mattheo replied, his fingers trailing down my arm. "I want everyone to know you're mine."

The possessiveness in his voice sent another thrill through me. "And what if I don't want to be claimed like some trophy?" I teased, raising an eyebrow.

He pulled me closer, his lips brushing against mine. "Then I'll just have to work harder to prove I deserve you," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.

I smiled, feeling the warmth of his words seep into me. "You've already proven that," I said softly, kissing him again. "But I wouldn't mind seeing you try."

He laughed, the sound rich and joyful. "Challenge accepted."

We stood there for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, the rain a distant memory. His hands roamed over my back, his touch sending sparks of electricity through me. I leaned into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my chest, and knew that this was where I belonged.

"We should get inside," I said, glancing at the castle in the distance. "Before we catch our deaths."

"Right," he agreed, but made no move to let go. "But just one more kiss."

"Just one more," I echoed, leaning up to meet his lips again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Bonus scene ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

As we approached our usual spot, I saw Blaise, Enzo, Theo, Pansy and Draco already seated, with an unfamiliar girl sitting beside Blaise.

I caught Blaise’s curious gaze fixed on my neck. He raised an eyebrow, a knowing grin spreading across his face.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Blaise said, his voice dripping with amusement. “Is that a hickey, Y/N?”

I felt my face heat up, and before I could muster a response, Mattheo leaned forward, his grin turning positively devilish.

“Yes, mate,” Mattheo said smoothly. “It is a hickey.”

Blaise’s eyes widened slightly before he broke into a laugh. “By whom, I wonder?”

Mattheo wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “By me, obviously,” he declared, his voice filled with pride. “Wanted to make sure everyone knows she’s mine.”

I blushed even deeper, but I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips.

Draco looked between us, his grin widening. “Well, it’s about time. I was starting to think you’d never make a move.”

Mattheo chuckled, his hand moving to rest possessively on my waist. “Trust me, I’ve made plenty of moves. Just decided it was time to make it official.”

He winked at me. “Just make sure he treats you right. If not, you know where to find me.”

Mattheo tightened his hold on me, his eyes flashing with a playful warning. “She won’t need to, because I’m going to treat her better than anyone else ever could.”

I laughed, the tension melting away as I leaned into Mattheo’s embrace. “I think I can handle him.”

"So," Pansy said, leaning forward with an impish grin. "Does this mean you're off the market, then?"

"Consider me taken," Mattheo said, his voice firm. "And very happily so."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Tag list :

@heelshiree @hoeforvinniehackerrr @cookiesex115 @mgchaser @mayamonroem @hereticdance @heelshiree @fallingblackveils @cardi-bre91 @sonnderlust @too-efn-old-to-be-here @gemizminee @broadwaybaby123 @howdyhowby@hisparentsgallerryy @sksksksk28

[gojoath]

ಣ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ JUST AS HE LEFT YOU, OKKOTSU YŪTA

your (ex) boyfriend yūta decides to pay you a visit on his way home from a mission. although he forgot how pretty you look when you’re asleep.. and how hard it is to resist.

summary. fem reader. yandere yūta. ex boyfriend yūta. obsession. manipulation. stalking. yandere themes. noncon somnophilia -> you wake up. dubcon. pussy inspection. he breaks into your apartment. brief masturbation. aged up characters. wc, 6.1k.

note. repost repost repost :)

your apartment just happens to be on the way home from his mission, yeah that’s it. that’s his excuse, no, not an excuse— his reason, yuuta nods to himself as he stands outside your complex despite the way it’s just past 2am in the morning.

not that he needs a reason to be here anyway, he loves you and you’re his girlfriend, you swore yourself to him— every part of you, so it’s his responsibility to check in on you despite the way he knows you’re asleep. he just has to make sure you’re okay, make sure you’re still his.

he misses you, that’s all the reason he needs.

yuuta’s katana feels heavier than usual as it rests slung over his shoulder, he wishes he could’ve atleast went home to get changed but his desperation for you outweighed anything else when he thought it over in his head. although he didn’t have too much difficulty keeping his clothes free from the insides of the cursed spirit he just finished exorcising, it’d been a while since he’d had any great level of difficulty given his special grade status.

but there’s an ache in his chest since the absence of you, despite the way that he’s not really been without you. he still seen you in everything, everywhere— since he’d memorised the parts of your day that you favoured. it was because of his love for you that he was able to catch glimpses of you doing your grocery shopping or in your favourite cafe. he remembers every part of your routine just so he can see you whenever he wants.

although it did hurt when yuuta had seen you at the movies with that other guy, it must’ve been uncomfortable for you to have a stranger following you around everywhere. he’d noticed him a few times before that, holding your hand or leaning in to kiss you. his girlfriend. you must’ve been so scared. but don’t worry— he made sure to take care of that problem before he managed to make it home that night. it was his duty to protect you afterall, to keep you from harm. to keep you with him.

it’s unnervingly silent, chilling how easy he’s able to make his way up to your apartment floor from the outside— albeit a little impressive as he rests on the ledge of your bedroom window. it’s a path he’s followed so many times before, it’s almost second nature now.

you’re home this time though, so he needs to make sure not to wake you.

another few seconds is all it takes for yuuta to make quick work of the window, to pull it up before expertly slipping through to rest on your vanity. he recognises the shape in the blankets as you by the way you’re resting on the mattress and he finds himself smiling despite the low lighting, you were always so cute he can’t help it.

he sheds himself of his katana first before he rests it gently to the side of your window, followed by his shoes as he politely positions them just short of his blade. another exhale and he feels more comfortable than ever when his feet meet the familiar cold press of your flooring.

yuuta’s footsteps had always been unnervingly quiet and you’d made a few comments before on how unnoticeable his presence was. he was never someone who liked to take up too much space or gather much attention, he’d much rather observe from afar. but that trait worked in his favour when it came to moments like this. he didn’t want to wake you up yet, he knows how much you need your sleep. that’s how good a boyfriend he is.

he takes his first careful step deeper into your bedroom but his eyes remain on you as you breathe softly underneath your blanket, there’s still a soft, gentle smile on his lips and it truly does just seem like a lover observing another. despite the deeper, more twisted sort of relationship that you both actually have.

but yuuta’s self control crumbles piece by piece when he finds himself at the edge of your bed, looking over your still sleeping features and he thinks you’re beautiful even in the dimly lit room as he swallows loudly. his throat feels dry as he takes in the way your lips are parted as your cheek smooshes against your pillow, eyelashes fluttering softly as your eyes rest closed and it’s almost by instinct, the way his fingers reach out to sweep gently along your cheekbones before he flinches back when the touch makes you rouse ever so slightly.

you’re breathing so softly and he swears it must be because you know he’s here, maybe his presence alone is making you sleep better and that fills him with a little sense of pride as he smiles down at you again.

“pretty,” yuuta lets himself admire you there for a few more minutes, to take you in and to make sure nothing bad will happen to you before he leaves. he almost does, but then your eyes squeeze closed and you kick at your comforter slightly before letting out a soft, dreamy whine and it’s not his fault that the pretty sound makes his cock throb in his slacks.

he sucks his lower lip between his teeth to muffle the whimper that it almost earns from him, he’d been so fixated on you that he’d ignored the need that was building in his gut as he stood over you. even when the moonlight is just a sliver outside, it still illuminates you so prettily and the more he looks at you now, the warmer he feels under his clothes, in his own skin and it makes him want to strip it off entirely.

“s-sorry, it hurts, baby.” yuuta whispers as he presses his palm into the bulge in his slacks and it makes him curl forward slightly as his eyes squeeze closed. your breathing has evened out again but you just look so pretty it makes him desperate for a release, you wouldn’t mind him doing this, right? you know how hard it was for him to resist you.

it’s quick the way hes able to unbutton his slacks, to shove them down to his ankles with such silent ease you wouldn’t think he was there at all. the only hint at any presence in your bedroom is the soft, trembled exhale your ex-boyfriend takes when he finally reaches into his underwear to wrap his fingers around the shaft of his cock.

he knows it’s not particularly normal, the way he’s acting but it’s driven by pure devotion, by pure love when his eyes are on you and he lets himself lean forward slightly to get closer.

yuuta swipes his thumb over the already beading pearls of pre-cum gathering at his tip as he stands over you, smearing them along the shaft of his cock to ease his first few, languid pumps of his fist that are so filthily close to your sleeping features. he wishes you were awake, mouth parted— tongue poking out to push your spit along the length of him, he’s sure if he leaned forward a little more he’d be able to press himself between your parted lips while you’re pliant but he won’t, not yet.

“mmfp—“ another strangled whimper is lost as he bites down hard on his lower lip and his unnervingly dark gaze cuts through you as you lie there, so blissfully unaware of your ex-boyfriend currently getting himself off as he stands over where you sleep after breaking into your apartment. his lips part and he follows the next slow stroke of his cock with his hips as he breathes out your name.

part of him wants you to wake up, to see what you do to him— how much he loves��you, even still. yuuta’s dark eyes gloss over before they flutter closed, and his legs buck slightly with the pleasure that pours through him as his hips hump needily, cock glistening and disappearing into his fist.

the sight of you makes him burn as he twists his wrist, fingertips squeezing around the sensitive veins of his shaft and he’s so driven by desire, that he finds himself reaching towards you to flick gently at the top of your comforter— letting it pull down lower so he can see the way your tits rest in your pyjamas.

yuuta knows he needs to be careful but he can’t stop himself as his hips twitch, chasing the friction of his fist especially when he’s got you beneath him. he’d neverforget how pretty you are, but you’re real and infront of him now and still so responsive when he lets his free hand edge closer, to swipe along the clothed press of your nipples until they harder under the touch and it makes something pleasurable shoot up his spine as he pants quietly.

another roll of his thumb and your lips part to exhale, something high pitched and pretty he swears he almost cums there and then at the sound as your eyes flutter. the pace of his hand on his cock is faster now as his abdomen tightens, his fingers busying themself with your tits as his lidded gaze eats up your reactions. the way they pebble and poke through your shirt as they harder and he bets if he pressed his hand beneath your panties you’d be soaked— maybe he should check.

but then you shift slightly and yuuta’s hand jumps away from you as you roll over onto your back, kicking at your comforter again until it’s resting just over your knees and revealing even more of your body for him to toy with. it’s like you know it’s him, you must want him to keep going, he knew you missed him just as much as he misses you.

so because he loves you, he lets his approaching orgasm fade as he unravels his fingers from his cock— his dark gaze is fixated on the space between your legs now, the peek of your stomach that’s been revealed with the rise of your shirt due to your movements, and suddenly he knows exactly where he wants to be instead when he realises that you’re only draped in your shirt and a pair of lace panties.

you must’ve known he was coming, right? this is all for him. all of you.

yuuta’s cock is still hard as he kicks off his slacks entirely, letting it rest and throb as he rounds the bed until he’s standing at the bottom and staring up at you like an ominous, haunting presence as he looms in your dark bedroom. he’s still gentle when he finally presses his knee onto the mattress, feeling it dip under his weight and he still moves softly so he doesn’t wake you as he pulls down the remainder of the comforter, revealing you to him completely as he leans over to cage you beneath him.

he feels so much bigger than you at this angle, the sight of your body so soft and pliant underneath him forcing him to squeeze his eyes closed when his cock throbs between your bodies.

“you’re so warm,” yuuta sighs lowly, smiling before he’s dipping his body to bury his face into the crook of your neck. he inhales the all too familiar sweet smell, peppering a few wet, open mouthed kisses along the dip of your shoulder as he earns a soft sigh from your pouty lips, smoothing a slender, cold finger along your cheek affectionately. “i missed you,”

his next exhale is a little more shallow, but still low and careful enough not to wake you before he pulls himself back again, letting himself crawl down your body as he allows his fingers to trace and push the hem of your shirt up higher, and he feels himself grow warmer as he reveals more of your skin to him.

“s-sorry, i can't help it.” yuuta needs to check, especially after that guy he seen you with. you wouldn’t let anyone else touch you that wasn’t him, right? you promised it was all for him, all his—but he needs to be sure. it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, it’s everyone else, he needs to make sure you’re exactly as he left you.

which is what encourages his next, meticulous movements as he pushes himself low enough to be able to pull your thighs over his shoulders, exhaling with a mix of want and relief when his eyes are face to face with the intimate press of your panties against your pussy again. it’s been solong since he’s seen you this close, since he’s been able to taste you and it makes his cock throb from where it’s pressed and leaking into the comforter now.

yuuta’s slender hands make quick work of pulling your panties to the side gently but he almost whines as his lidded gaze locks on the first real look he’s had of your glistening folds in weeks.

but you look.. different, like something, someone’s been stuffed in your pretty pussy that’s not him and it almost makes him pull back to give you an empty, hurt look as his heart rate picks up.

but no, no you wouldn’t— you wouldn’t do that to him, maybe.. maybe you were just needy and he shouldn’t jump to conclusions so quickly. not when yuuta’s seen the expanse of toys you keep hidden away in your bedside table, he’s even seen how you struggle to take them from the times he’s been watching you. even from afar, even from a rooftop over he can still remember how your face would twist as your walls spread so desperately around the silicone.

you’re still his, he knows it in his heart and it’s so perverted the way he swipes his fingers between your folds because he’s so pleased to find you already wet. see—his, he can’t help but feel something jump in his chest at the idea that you did miss him too.

an almost giddy smile graces yuuta’s lips before he returns his attention back to the rough pad of his finger, dragging it beneath the hood of your clit and rolling the sensitive bud, allowing a shaky exhale to fall from his lips when your thighs twitch in response.

“just n-need you,” he almost growls, his eyes lustful and locked on the place between your thighs when he presses down on your puffy clit harder, eagerly, as he spreads your soft thighs wider. he inches himself closer to your folds, knocking his nose softly against your clit and he inhales deep before his fingertips trail lower and he’s pushing one inside of you.

the familiar scent of your heat has yuuta lightheaded, hips twitching into your mattress as his cock throbs against the fabric beneath him, and his eyes almost roll back with how deeply he’s longed to have you like this again. you’ve been holding back on him for so long.

his eyes snap up to you quickly when a faint moan falls from your lips, ceasing his movements until sleep laces your features once more and he places a soft, open mouthed kiss against your clit to soothe you before finally sinking another finger into your warm cunt.

yuuta’s cold fingers scissor you open as he tests you, checking that you’re still as tight as you always were whenever he fucked you as your walls try so, so hard to squeeze down around him. you’re definitely just as greedy as he left you though, as he lets his tongue push out from between his lips to lick softly against you again, whining at the warm taste of you that he’s been craving since you starved him of it.

“you’re still so t-tight,” he whines, bathing your clit in soft kitten licks as his fingers brush against the spongy spot inside of you,

his chest feels tight with how much he wants you and the comforter beneath him feels damp as he presses his cock softly into the bed, rolling his hips in time with the pace of his fingers as he pumps them in and out of your wet heat.

yuuta’s flushed to his chest as he buries himself into your pussy, he can hear the way you’re breathing has turned to soft pants now, accompanied by the way you’re pussy is squeezing around his fingers like you’re trying to pull him deeper. “missed this,” he mutters again, words muffled against your folds as his tongue swipes along your puffy clit again, “s-so much.”

every deep press of his fingers pushes more slick out of you and it’s so lewd the way he eagerly slurps it up, swallowing loudly before hes pulling out his fingers in favour of replacing them with his tongue instead so he can taste even more.

despite the way you remain still above him, yuuta can pick up on how much your body responds to him, like it was made to— so eager for the press of your ex-boyfriend tongue as he pushes past your folds. he curls it into your flexing walls as if you’re an oasis and he’s been deprived of water for weeks— similar to the way he’s been deprived of your love for this long. he’s only taking back what belongs to him.

“it’s so good,” he pants, muffled against your folds and he’s so unaware of the pace his hips have found as he humps himself into the mattress, dizzy on the pleasure and the feeling of finally having you in his arms again.

“can i feel all of you.. please?” yuuta’s begging despite the way he knows you can’t hear him, pleas buried into your pussy so softly they go unheard with how wet you are— squelching lewdly with every press of his tongue deep into your walls and it’s so hard for him to pull himself away. he’s buzzing, cock leaking so needily along his shaft and he’s sweating hard, still connected to your folds with a string of spit as he leans back to push himself to his knees.

it only takes a few seconds before he’s leaning over you again, one hand pressing into the pillows by your head while the other wraps around his shaft— positioning his cock between your folds. but he lets it glide through instead of sinking into you right away, letting himself hump against you as each withdrawal of his hips makes a loud, wet sound— coating his shaft in a mess of slick and his spit as he teases himself with the tight squeeze of your walls that’s so close.

yuuta curls over you as his eyes squeeze shut, but he’s so desperate to look at you as he ruts you into the mattress, to watch your eyes roll beneath your eyelids as your brows pull into a pretty, pleasured frown.

it’s like your body is begging for him when he peeks his lidded gaze open to look down at your tits again, nipples still hard underneath your pyjamas and he’s so overcome with want that he can’t help but duck his head to take your right nipple into his mouth. “i’ve w-waited for you,” his tongue circles around the fabric, muffling his words as he soaks it with his spit. he picks up the pace of his hips and he feels so dirty, like a badly behaved dog humping his owner despite the way his pace stutters with how good it feels, “until you were ready for me,”

yuuta grazes his teeth along the sensitive skin of your tits and he feels you shudder beneath him as he sends you a slow blink, checking to see if you’re awake yet with how much your body is rising to him now. you can’t be far from it, but he’s so close now he doesn’t think he can stop. he can’t bare the idea of you kicking him out again.

the feeling of your pussy against his cock is hot and aching, but it burns him in the best way because your skin against his is like fucking silk. he leaves your chest before he drools more kisses up to the crook of your neck, laving his tongue along your jawline and cheeks as he pushes more weight onto his arm— letting him rut into you harder as he feels you stir beneath him.

“p-please don’t wake up,” yuuta whimpers, he’s flushed to his chest and so fucked out— he can’t stand to keep it in anymore when you’re giving into him so easily. he doesn’t think he could stop even if he wanted to, but with the way he can feel you getting wetter beneath him with every thrust of his cock through your folds, he knows you wouldn’t want him to. you love him.

you stir beneath him again and he’s so unaware of the way he’s panting now, drooling and licking at the space beneath your ear as he marks you with his saliva, feeling your clit graze along the sensitive underside of his cock as he presses into your harder.

yuuta’s burning up, making a mess of the space between your thighs as his cock desperately drools precum along your skin and it’s so filthy the way he’s rubbing himself against you, making goosebumps burst along his skin as he offers you another drowsy, lustful look from his place over you.

your eyes are still closed and the tip of his cock catches on the hood of your clit, followed by a wet, tacky sound that makes him gasp but it makes a pretty moan pour from your lips as his body tenses up at the sound.

his hips stutter and yuuta cums with a tight lipped “i love you.” smeared along your cheeks as his cum lands messily across your skin, painting you in his seed as his body crumbles under the weight of his orgasm. it’s dizzying, making him sway as he tries to keep himself steady but he doesn’t realise the way your eyes start to flutter open beneath him, still dazed with sleep until your drowsy voice pierces through the room.

“huh?” you begin and your ex-boyfriend freezes in his place over you, it takes you a few moments to realise the situation you’re in. pinned to your bed at almost 3am after your ex has broken into your apartment and used your body to get himself off— soiling you in his cum. the realisation makes you tremble before you begin to struggle beneath him.

you try to push him off but he grabs your hand, so you opt to open your mouth to scream next, “yuuta! get out, what the fu—“ but yuuta is quick to cover up your words with his other palm as he shushes you, leaning his weight onto your body to stop you from kicking out beneath him as he presses you tight against the mattress. you wouldn’t want to wake the neighbours afterall, he doesn’t want you to end up embarrassed when they figure out it’s not an intruder.. it’s just a misunderstanding, he’s your boyfriend.

“baby, it’s me.. it’s me.” his words are so soft as he presses kisses along your cheeks, meaning to soothe you despite the way he can taste the salt of your tears along your cheeks now. he thinks you look relieved to see him, he could almost cry too— now that you’re back together. he can feel the way you’re sobbing against his palm.

“s-sorry, shhhh, i didn’t mean to scare you,” maybe he should’ve told you he was coming, yuuta thinks as he feels you try to push out from beneath him again, but he’s so strong above you. he keeps you pinned, with both his body and his gaze as you hold it with your own, his cold stare keeping you in place with the shiver it makes jolt down your spine.

“i’m here now,” another soothing hum and he feels the way your body relaxes beneath him, albeit more survival instinct than anything else as he eases himself away from you slightly— still sticky from his lingering pleasure as he gives you a soft smile.

your eyes are still wide as you look up at him, but yuuta loosens his grip over your mouth in favour of brushing his cold fingers softly against your cheek instead. he feels the way it makes you shudder beneath him, your body was probably so desperate for his touch by now, with how long it’s been since he’s had you like this. he’s sure you must think you’re still asleep, dreaming maybe—

“please, baby. just stay still.” he drawls as he noses against your cheek, tongue lolling out to lick messily at the corner of your lips— he feels you go to turn away from him, but he knows it must’ve been an accident when you still make it so easy for him to catch you. like a cute little game of making him work for it.

“yuuta,” you try again and it’s adorable the way your voice trembles before yuuta presses his lips against yours finally. you must be nervous with how long it’s been since you’ve been together— maybe you’re embarrassed at how wet you are already because your words are begging for him to finally make you cum now. it’s your turn.

“see, it’s okay,” the kiss is full of teeth but your mouth doesn’t part the way it normally does, “p-please,” is groaned against your lips as your ex-boyfriend forces his tongue between them, humming when you finally stop resisting him and melt into him like you’re supposed to.

he didn’t like when you teased him like this, he just wants to love you.

yuuta’s eyes close as his mouth moves slowly with yours, but his grip on your arm remains tight when his free hand moves to your hips and he keeps you pressed beneath him. you’re giving into his movements now, chasing the twist of his tongue as it pushes against yours and you whimper when he nibbles at your lower lip.

the kiss breaks wet and his hips rock into yours despite the over sensitivity that makes him sting, but you spread your thighs for him so eagerly it’s easy for him to ignore as he rubs his cock against your still glistening folds.

“does it feel good?” yuuta asks, sweetly despite the threatening hold his eyes have on yours. but you nod— eyes still glistening with unshed tears despite the dampness that still dries against your cheeks from the previous ones.

your pussy makes a wet tacky sound with the next withdrawal of his hips, and you both gasp when the head of his cock catches on the entrance to your cunt before he begins to finally sink carefully up inside you. he’s met with little resistance and it’s made easy by the wet press of his cum and your slick, like your own make-shift lube as his hand squeeze and pull your hips closer to his.

you’ve relaxed enough now for him to let your hand move freely, most likely dizzy from the way he’s gliding against your sweet spots in a way that makes your whole body twitch. your pussy squeezes around him and it’s so lovingthe way yuuta rocks himself into you, curling forward to nuzzle into the crook of your neck as he reaches to intertwine his hands with your own now. a stark opposite to the bruising grip he had on them a few seconds ago.

“mmm, i.. i missed this,” his words are soft despite the way he’s forcing your walls to spread open for him, moulding you to his shape— he wants to break you for anyone else. he feels something ache deep in his stomach, desire heavy to make love to you for aslong as he lives and each laboured breathe he takes holds another strangled i love you as your legs wrap around his hips to squeeze.

you only reply with a sound that’s high pitched and needy when the weight of his hips finally rest against yours and he bottoms out, but it still earns you a soft kiss against your cheek as his hands squeeze affectionately against yours.

yuuta’s content with just bathing you in soft pecks of his lips while his cock stays deep inside of you, still half clothed and his chest pressing against yours, but he knows you need more. he can tell by the way your thighs are twitching around him, your walls trembling around the weight of his cock like you’re eagerly begging him to move, to finally fuck you.

because you’ve been waiting for him, right? that’s why you’ve saved yourself for him to come back.

“say it and i’ll move, baby. please?” his voice is low but it’s unwavering, followed by another wet kiss against the corner of your lips as he gives you a look,

“yuuta,”

“i haven’t heard it in so long,” another kiss and he’s pretty sure he can feel the way your heart is beating against your ribs, he thinks it’s so cute that he can still make your heart race like this. even now, after so long. love is funny like that.

“i.. i love you, i missed you.” you eventually admit, bending to yuuta’s will like you’re a curse under his control, but he rewards you for your efforts when he finally pulls his hips back. he drags his cock out of you as his hands stay intertwined tight with yours, but your pussy bears down on him so eagerly, trying to lure back in every inch you lose before he’s beginning a steady pace with another slow withdrawal.

“i know, baby.” he mutters against your cheek as he twists into you and your pussy squeezes around him in response, his words lighting a fuse that fizzles into something that feels even better as his body rocks seamlessly with yours. “i love you so much,”

another adorable whimper leaves you when yuuta pulls back to lean over you slightly, holding your gaze as he lets go of one of your hands to cup your cheek instead. he offers you a few more kisses, smearing them across your jawline then your lips as his hips work to meet the encouraging pull of your cunt, sucking him in with every wet, clapping thrust.

the pace he’s set isn’t fast but it’s driven by his obsessionfor you, pouring it into the cracks he’s wormed his way into in your heart and body as your chest stays tight with his. he kisses your skin again, teeth nipping playfully before he’s lapping over the sensitive spots that make you twitch deeper into his hold.

“it’s been so, s-so long,” yuuta smiles softly, holding your gaze and the touch of his cold fingertips across your cheek has you nodding as he sweeps at the drying tears on your skin,

“heh, you look so p-pretty, mmf—“ he emphasises the compliment with a few sharp thrusts that make you tremble beneath him before his pace inevitably speeds up, but he keeps himself just as close as he’s always been as he holds you gently.

despite his previous orgasm, yuuta already feels so close again— it had been so long since he’d been buried in you like this, after you’d been holding out on him. but he wasn’t one to hold a grudge, not against you, because he’s back now and he won’t let you out of his sight again. although the grip he has on your intertwined hands is sure to snap if he holds it any tighter.

your eyes glimmer with lust as he sends you another blink and it makes him burn even warmer when you look at him like that, your tight pussy baring down around him and you both gasp before it breaks into something needier. he slows his pace slightly, deliberately pressing his pelvis tight to bump against your clit as you shudder beneath him and he smiles,

“can you keep looking at me, please?” it’s an innocent little proposal despite the less than innocent actions that have brought you both here, but you hold yuuta’s gaze as he speaks when it’s accompanied by the stutter of his hips. “i’m already s-so close.. i want you to see.” to see what you do to him, what your love does to him.

“o-okay.” and so he gives more to you. has given more to you than he has to anyone else, and you bask in it and give back all that you can, all that he can take as he presses his forehead against yours. he inhales the sweet familiar scent of you that’s now mixed with his and he feels something carnal boil in his stomach.

yuuta repositions his knees and takes up a pace that’s a little faster, rougher, pounding into you mercilessly as he marks your insides as his between soft kisses along your cheeks and forehead as he makes his way across your features. a groan kicks out of his chest when the harsh slap of his hips makes your thighs tighten around him, and you feel your own hips tremble along with your lungs with the way it feels like he ignites something in you, even if it’s in his own little twisted way.

your insides curl and ache as your lips drop open to moan his name and his own ragged breathing cools the spit over your ignited nerves. your nails dig into the back of his hand while the other scratches along his shoulder as you arch your back into his chest and he eats up your reactions like he would your entirety if you’d let him.

“i-im gonna.. ngghh—“ a few more long, drawn out moans of your name and yuuta can’t help the way he gives into you as he pulls back to look at you again— his gaze holding yours as he spills hot and thick inside of you with more slurred i love yous between trembled breathes. the mess between your thighs only grows with intensity as he fucks his load into you, eager to dig out your own orgasm as he pulls away to thumb at your clit.

you’re more than eager to give into him all the same after a few more stuttered thrusts and flicks of his wrist, the hot rush of bliss and warmth settling over your skin when you cum. your head drops back into your pillows and your eyes threaten to roll back before you feel a tight grip squeeze along your jawline to keep you in place.

“o-on me, baby. please, don’t look away.” yuuta’s words are rough despite how intense your orgasm is, almost making you see white if it wasn’t for the way his gaze swallows that light entirely. so you look at him as he fucks you through it, only stopping when his hand trembles with the aftermath of overstimulation as his body blankets you.

the moments after feel like they stretch on forever for you, but the man over you feels like he’s in heaven as his fingers trace messy little heart shapes into the back of your hand. but you’re just there, staring wide eyed up at your bedroom ceiling as the weight of what just happened settles into your bones.

“can we stay like this?” the low drawl cuts through the silence as your eyes remain on the space above you, but you can feel the way yuuta’s staring at you in the goosebumps that raise along your skin, he’s close enough for his dark hair to graze along your cheeks. like he’s examining you up close.

“okay,” your words scratch slightly in your throat but your response, albeit short, still earns you another peck to your lips before he’s pulling away to send you another smile. his hands are still cold when you feel him massage them along your hips, then up your waist, then back down again as he tries to soothe out the tension he can sense in you.

“i love you,” yuuta speaks again, like it’ll make everything better, like it’ll remind you that at the root of everything— he loves you, everything he does is driven by his devotion to see you happy. happy beside him, that is. isn’t that the place that’ll make you feel your most fulfilled? by his side. it would be better for everyone, if you just accepted it, maybe then people would stop getting hurt because of you.

he hears the way you swallow, clearing your throat but he still looks at you softly because he could recognise the way you look at him anywhere and it makes his cheeks burn to the tips of his ears.

“i love you too, yuuta.”

© gojoath. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[chiyuuchu]

omg omg omg i literally love your works so much YOU WRITE SO WELL?? LIKE???

and so if ur doing requests what about y/n taking care of sick bakugou or something? xx love youuu

lovesick <3 (9th August 2024)

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Prompt! Katsuki who thinks that he can handle everything on his own learns that sometimes it’s okey to be helped

The harsh winter winds howled outside the dorms of U.A. High, the air biting with a cold that seeped into the bones. The entire class had been training hard, pushing their limits in preparation for the upcoming hero exams. But even the strongest could fall, and that’s exactly what happened to Bakugou Katsuki.

Bakugou wasn’t one to admit weakness. If it were up to him, he would’ve fought through the fever that had settled in his body, but today, the sickness hit him harder than any villain could. He lay in his bed, groaning and glaring at the ceiling, his usual explosive energy dulled by the heat radiating from his skin.

You had noticed Bakugou’s absence from class earlier in the day, his empty seat feeling unusually prominent. It wasn’t like him to miss training, so when Aizawa mentioned in passing that Bakugou was ill, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of concern.

After classes ended, you decided to check on him. You weren’t particularly close to Bakugou; his abrasive personality and short temper kept most people at arm’s length. But you couldn’t just ignore someone in need, especially when that someone was a part of your class, your team.

Gathering your courage, you knocked on the door to his dorm room.

“Bakugou?” you called softly, but there was no response. You knocked again, a bit louder this time. “Bakugou, are you okay?”

A muffled growl came from inside. “Go away,” he rasped, his voice hoarse.

You hesitated, but then opened the door a crack, peeking inside. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to block out the sunlight. Bakugou was sprawled out on his bed, a blanket half-thrown over him, his face flushed with fever. He looked worse than you had imagined.

Ignoring his earlier protest, you slipped inside and gently closed the door behind you. “I brought some medicine,” you said, holding up the small bag you had prepared. “And soup. I thought it might help.”

Bakugou turned his head slightly to glare at you, though it lacked its usual intensity. “I don’t need… help,” he muttered, trying to push himself up but failing as a wave of dizziness hit him.

You sighed and moved closer, placing the bag on his bedside table. “Everyone needs help sometimes, Bakugou. Even you.”

He grunted, clearly unhappy with the situation, but didn’t argue further. You took that as permission to stay. Setting the bowl of soup on the table, you reached for the medicine.

“Sit up a bit, okay? You need to take this,” you instructed gently.

Bakugou gave you a look that could have melted steel, but he complied, albeit slowly. You handed him the pills and a glass of water, watching as he downed them with a grimace. His usual fiery spirit seemed dimmed by the fever, and it was strange to see him so vulnerable.

“Thanks,” he mumbled after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. It was a rare show of gratitude from him, and it made you smile softly.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, pulling a chair close to the bed. “You should eat something, too. It’ll help.”

Bakugou eyed the soup with suspicion, but hunger and exhaustion won out. He took a few spoonfuls before setting the bowl down, his eyelids drooping.

“Don’t think this means I’m weak,” he muttered as he sank back into the pillows.

You shook your head, your expression gentle. “I know you’re not weak, Bakugou. You’re just sick. Even heroes need to rest sometimes.”

He didn’t respond, already half-asleep, but the tension in his body seemed to ease at your words. You stayed by his side, occasionally checking his temperature and making sure he was comfortable. As the hours passed, his breathing evened out, and the harsh lines of pain on his face softened.

When he finally woke up, the fever had broken. His eyes, though still tired, had regained some of their usual fire. He looked at you with a mixture of confusion and something else—gratitude, maybe?

“You stayed,” he said, his voice stronger than before.

You nodded, a small smile on your lips. “I couldn’t leave you alone like that. Besides, you’re pretty scary when you’re sick. Someone had to make sure you didn’t blow up the place.”

Bakugou huffed, but there was no real annoyance in it. “You’re annoying,” he muttered, but there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get better, okay?” you teased lightly, standing up to stretch. “I’ll check on you later. Try not to set anything on fire while I’m gone.”

He watched as you left the room, his gaze lingering on the spot where you had been. He might never admit it out loud, but for the first time in a long while, Bakugou felt a warmth that had nothing to do with his quirk—or the fever.

[eternalfarae]

Slut me out | Sano Manjiro

Warnings: noncon,incest,forced sex,gun,violence,doggy position

"Mikey, do you remember the time we painted the sky with our kites?" You asked, your voice echoing through the empty apartment. The question hung in the air, unanswered. The silence was a stark reminder of his absence. It had been a year since your brother, Sano Manjiro, had disappeared without a trace. You missed him every single day, his infectious laughter, his fiery spirit, and the way he could make the dullest moments feel like an adventure.

The walls of the apartment were bare, save for the faded paint marks where the colorful kites once danced in the sun. The floorboards creaked under your weight, each step a silent plea for a response that never came. You knew he had left to join Bonten, the strongest gang in Tokyo, but you never knew why. The phone call you received was cryptic, mentioning only a place and a time to meet. Your heart raced as you thought about what he might say, what he had been through, and how much he had changed.

As the day of the rendezvous grew closer, you found it hard to focus on anything else. The mundane routines of your life were suddenly overshadowed by the excitement of seeing your brother again. You picked out your favorite childhood outfit, the one Mikey had said made you look like the hero of your own story. The fabric was worn, but it still held the scent of our shared adventures, a scent that was forever intertwined with the essence of your brother.

The sun dipped below the horizon as you approached the designated meeting spot, your heart pounding in your chest. The location was a rooftop, a place that used to be your secret fortress where you both could escape the harshness of the world. The wind picked up, sending a chill down your spine as you climbed the last few stairs. The cityscape unfolded before you, a sea of lights that seemed to whisper secrets of the night.

You spotted him from afar, his silver hair gleaming in the moonlight like the wings of a mythical creature. Mikey. Your Mikey. He looked so different yet so much the same. The aura of power that surrounded him was palpable, a stark contrast to the carefree boy you knew. The anticipation grew with each step closer, a mix of excitement and dread. You missed him so much, but what would he say? What kind of person had he become in this gang-ruled city?

As you approached, Mikey's eyes lit up with recognition, his smile a warm embrace that reached out to you across the rooftop. "Y/N," he said, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to carry the weight of his new life. "It's been a while." He opened his arms, inviting you into a tight embrace that felt both comforting and slightly unfamiliar. The tension of the moment dissipated, replaced by the warmth of his touch.

"I've missed you," you whispered, your voice muffled by his leather jacket. He smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and something else, something that made your heart ache. It was the scent of a life lived hard and fast, a world away from the one you'd shared together.

Mikey pulled back, his eyes searching yours. "I know you have questions," he said, his voice low and serious. "But I need you to trust me. What I've done, it's all for the best."

You took a deep breath, the cold air stinging your nose. "What is it, Mikey?" you asked, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "What's going on with you? With Bonten?"

Mikey's smile grew sad, and he looked out over the city. "Bonten is a means to an end," he said, his eyes distant. "We're fighting for something big, something that will change everything. I can't explain it all now, but I promise, it's for the better."

You studied his face, the shadows playing across the angles of his jaw and the furrow of his brow. The urge to believe him was strong, but doubt whispered through your thoughts. "What happened to you?" you asked softly. "You're not the same Mikey I knew."

He sighed heavily, his gaze drifting to the horizon. "I had to become someone else to survive," he said, his voice filled with a weariness that didn't belong in his 23-year-old body. "But deep down, I'm still the same. I just... I just have responsibilities now."

Before you could respond, a sudden movement caught your eye. Mikey's foot was a blur as it swung towards your head, and the next thing you knew, the world went dark. Pain exploded in your skull, and you felt your body hit the ground with a sickening thud. You hadn't even seen the kick coming. The last thing you heard was his muffled apology as the darkness swallowed you whole.

When you woke up, your senses were assaulted by the cold, the smell of concrete, and the taste of copper in your mouth. Your wrists and ankles were bound with rough rope, and a strip of fabric was tightly knotted around your eyes. You tried to struggle, but the binds held fast, and the effort only made your head spin more. Your heart hammered in your chest, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You were naked, and the air was cool against your bare skin. You felt exposed and vulnerable.

You heard the shuffling of footsteps, and then the unmistakable sound of a zipper being undone. Panic set in, a wild animal in the cage of your chest. "Mikey?" you croaked out, desperation and fear tinting your voice. There was no response, just the sound of fabric brushing against fabric. You tried to turn your head, but it was too late. Something warm and wet slithered across your cheek.

A hand, rough and unyielding, grabbed your jaw, tilting it upwards. You felt a warm, moist object press against your lips, and the unmistakable scent of tobacco filled your nostrils. "Open up," a voice murmured, and despite the fear, you recognized the tone as Mikey's. You hesitated for a moment, unsure what was happening, but the desperation in your heart overrode your instincts. You parted your lips, and the object was pushed inside. A cigarette, still burning.

The smoke filled your mouth, hot and acrid, making you cough and gag. You tried to spit it out, but the hand held your jaw closed, forcing you to swallow. The taste was vile, and your eyes watered. "Breathe," Mikey said, his voice a gentle coax. "Take a deep breath." And so, with no other choice, you inhaled, the smoke burning your throat and making your lungs protest. It was a strange, twisted version of the comfort you'd felt in his embrace moments ago.

You felt the warmth of his body as he leaned over you, his breath a soft whisper in your ear. "Good girl," he murmured, the words sending a shiver down your spine. His hand released your jaw, and you coughed, the cigarette dropping to the ground. You could hear the sound of it sizzle out against the wetness of your saliva. Your eyes were still blindfolded, but you could feel his gaze on you, appraising and intense.

"Mikey, what are you doing?" you choked out, fear mixing with confusion. Your voice trembled, and you felt the beginnings of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. He didn't respond immediately, and the silence was more terrifying than any answer he could give.

Then, you felt him move behind you, his warmth like a living shadow that sent a shiver down your spine. The sound of his zipper echoed in the quiet, and you realized what he was about to do. "Mikey, no!" you tried to protest, but the words were strangled in your throat.

The next sensation was the tip of his cock pressing against your wet, trembling pussy, and despite your fear, your body betrayed you with a whimper of arousal. He didn't hesitate, pushing in slowly, filling you completely. You felt so full, so violated, and yet your body responded, your walls clenching around him. He began to fuck you in a doggy style, his hips moving with a steady rhythm that seemed to resonate through the very core of your being.

With each thrust, he whispered words that you didn't quite understand, something about being a good little girl, about needing daddy's cock to feel safe. Your mind reeled as he claimed you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drove into you, his silver hair a blur in the darkness of the blindfold. The pain and the pleasure melded together into something new, something that made your stomach twist with every stroke.

You couldn't help but moan, despite the tears that trickled down your cheeks. The sensation was too much, and your body began to respond against your will. His grip on your hips tightened, his pace quickening as he reached around to tweak your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger until you were panting and whimpering. "That's it," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. "Take it all."

The ropes bit into your skin as you tried to arch your back, to escape the relentless intrusion. But there was nowhere to go, no escape from the overwhelming sensation of being filled by him. "Fuck, you're a good little one, aren't you?" he murmured, the words sending a shiver down your spine. You hated the way your body seemed to melt under his touch, the way his praise made your stomach clench with a strange mix of fear and arousal.

Mikey's hand left your nipple and slid down to your clit, his thumb circling the sensitive bud as he thrust deeper. Your moans grew louder, and the tears fell faster. This wasn't what you wanted from him, wasn't what you expected from the brother you'd idolized. But your body didn't care about your mental protests, responding to his touch as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Mikey, please," you whimpered, not sure if you were begging for mercy or more.

He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your neck. "You want it, don't you?" His voice was a seductive purr that sent shivers down your spine. "You're so wet, so eager for me." His words were a twisted form of comfort, a perverted echo of the affectionate banter you'd shared as children.

Your body responded with a jolt of pleasure as his thumb hit just the right spot. You couldn't help the way your hips bucked back into him, taking him deeper. "Please," you begged, your voice a desperate whine that seemed to fuel his desire. His strokes grew more demanding, his grip on your hips tightening until you were sure you'd be bruised.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, a harsh counterpoint to the soft whispers of your breaths. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess, a tornado of confusion and fear, yet your body was betraying you, arching back into his touch, begging for more. His other hand slid up to grip your hair, pulling your head back so you were forced to look up at the sky. The stars above you were a cold, indifferent witness to your degradation.

"You're mine now," Mikey murmured, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. "You'll do anything for me, won't you?" His thumb pressed down harder on your clit, and you couldn't hold back the scream that tore from your throat. The pain and pleasure melded together in a crescendo that shook you to your very core. You didn't know how to process this, how to reconcile the brother you knew with the man who was now claiming you so roughly.

As he continued to fuck you, his hand reached around to the side of your face. You flinched as you felt something cold and metallic press against your temple. A gun. Panic exploded inside you like a bomb, your thoughts racing. What was he going to do? Was this really happening? "Say it," he growled, his voice thick with lust and something else, something darker. "Say you're mine."

You could feel the tremble in his hand, the power he wielded over you. The coldness of the gun was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, the heat of his touch. "I'm yours," you whispered, the words feeling like acid on your tongue. But the fear was too much, and your voice broke on the last syllable.

Mikey stilled, his cock buried deep inside you, his breaths coming in harsh pants. You could feel his heart hammering against your back, a cacophony of emotions resonating through his body. The moment stretched out, taut and unyielding, until finally, he pulled out with a wet sound that made you cringe. He stepped back, and you heard the rustle of fabric as he tucked himself back into his pants. The gun was removed from your head, and you felt the warmth of his hand as he gently untied the blindfold.

You blinked against the sudden onslaught of light, your eyes watering as they adjusted to the sight of your brother's face, twisted in a smug grin. "You liked that, didn't you?" he asked, his voice a low, dark rumble. "You liked being mine." His words were a taunt, a challenge. You wanted to scream, to lash out, but all that came out was a broken whisper.

"Mikey..."

His smug grin grew wider as he knelt beside you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair out of your tear-streaked face. "What's wrong, Y/N?" he asked, his tone mockingly sweet. "Didn't you enjoy our little reunion?"

You stared at him, the betrayal cutting deeper than any knife. "What happened to you?" you managed to whisper, the tremor in your voice a testament to the horror you felt.

Mikey's grin faded, his eyes searching yours. He leaned closer, his silver hair framing his face like a halo of lies. "This is who I am now, Y/N," he said, his voice deceptively gentle. "The world has changed, and so have I." He paused, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped the corner of your eye. "But deep down, I'm still your Mikey."

[apomaro-mellow]

Hot for Teacher(s) 3

Part 2 / AO3 Link

After school practices for the Thanksgiving performance was only for the students who wanted to put a little more time into it. Apparently a bulk of the rehearsal happened during their music class and that made sense. Still, Steve was glad to put a face to some of the kids his son mentioned. The first night there had been a girl who's lip trembled at the slightest upset and Steve knew that had to be Yasmin.

"She's a crybaby who cries over everything", Shawn had said one time.

"Hm, need I remind you of all the times you've cried? Why I remember just last week-"

"We don't need to talk about that", Shawn said, properly chastised.

Even so, Steve could see how it could get a little frustrating to be in a class with someone as sensitive as that. And yet, Mr. Munson never let on that he was frustrated or anything like that. Every time the tears came, he talked her down. Which was quite the feat since he had probably been doing it for eight hours at this point.

"You're really good with the kids", Steve complimented when Mr. Munson took a seat near them to rest.

Third grade was working on their performance piece on the stage now while the smaller kids got a break. Mr. Munson smiled a bit as he scratched at his head.

"Yeah, well, patience is key, as I'm sure you know. Actually, how old are the kids you teach?", he asked.

"Middle school", Steve answered, laughing a little when he saw the other teacher's eyes get wide in fear.

"Braver than any marine, I swear. I will take spilt milk tears over the raging hormones going on over there."

Steve's brain decided to highlight the word 'hormones' which made him delayed in his response. He cleared his throat to try and cover it up. "It's not as bad as all that. I've got the babies of middle school, the sixth graders, but don't tell them I said that. And I'm lucky I've got a group there that's absolutely obsessed with science."

He met Mr. Munson's eyes and was met with a million watt smile. One that he knew was on his own face too.

"That's the best feeling, ain't it? When they wanna soak up as much as you can give?"

"The best", Steve agreed. It wasn't always candy and roses but it was all worth it for those days when everything just clicked. "Speaking of passions, did you get that approval for your ideas for the show?"

"They said I could play guitar, but they vetoed my pyrotechnics idea."

That night, Mr. Munson walked him and Shawn back to their car. And as such, became a routine for two days out of the week. Through it all, Steve commended himself for only drooling a little over him and only when he was alone.

At home, one Saturday, Shawn was humming his class' song while Steve made them lunch. He looked to the calendar and realized the show would be that coming Monday. Well, he knew that but it hit him that in less than a week, Thanksgiving break would start and then there wouldn't be much of a reason for him to see Mr. Munson anymore.

Just as the thought came to him, he looked at the school events calendar he had put in his phone and saw that there would be a Winter Dance but that it was for 4th and 5th grade only. He held back a sigh. Oh well, maybe if he got particularly antsy, he could schedule a confere-no, nononono.

He wasn't going to waste a teacher's time over nothing. Just because, what? He wanted to see him?

He said as much when he talked to Robin the next day. They were sitting in his living room, Shawn was up in his room, reading on this lazy Sunday.

"So, you're just going to avoid him?"

"It's not avoiding. I'm just not going to go out of my way to seek him out", Steve clarified. "And maybe this little crush", he whispered the word 'crush' like tiny ears were listening, "will die down."

"Mhm", Robin nodded, unconvinced. "You know they say absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?"

Steve leaned back against the couch. "There's at least one absence I'm not missing."

"...Don't tell me this is all because of him?"

"It's not because of him but...", Steve's eyes traveled to where Shawn's baby book sat on a bookshelf. Inside were the only pictures of Shawn's sire. And honestly, Steve wouldn't even have those if it were up to him. But he wanted to leave the door open just for when Shawn got older and could decide how much he wanted that man in his life.

"I don't think Mr. Munson is anything like him. Of course I don't. But I can't make a mistake like that again. If Shawn got hurt, I could never forgive myself."

Robin gave him a pat on the leg. "If you really think it's for the best."

It was. Steve knew that what was on the surface could be hiding something ugly underneath. He wasn't going to expose him or his pup to anything like that again. Mr. Munson was nice but these feelings weren't deep enough to swim in. Steve was barely getting his toes wet. He would stay high and dry and then Shawn would go on to second grade and then he would only see Mr. Munson in passing, if that.

Steve had all these affirmations in mind as he settled in to see Shawn's performance Monday. Planning ahead, Steve had told his school a couple weeks ago that he had a doctor appointment and wouldn't be coming in until later. Just long enough to pop in and see Shawn sing. As he had planned and rehearsed, Mr. Munson sat on a stool to one side of the stage, acoustic guitar in his lap.

It was all the school would allow and seeing as the kids' singing voices weren't super strong, it was for the best. Steve recorded the act, phone focused on Shawn while every once in a while, his eyes drifted to Mr. Munson.

After the song, Steve waved to Shawn, who waved back. He had told him ahead of time that he'd have to go back to work after seeing him, so that his son wouldn't be disappointed. When they saw each other at home later, Shawn's adrenaline from the day hadn't waned.

"So a lot of the other kids' parents took them home, so Mr. Munson let some of us play with his guitar!"

"Did he now?", Steve smiled.

"Uh-huh. He even taught us how to play. Do you think he teaches guitar?"

"Would you like some lessons?", Steve asked.

"Only if Mr. Munson is teaching it. He makes everything so cool."

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

Steve watched as Shawn ran ahead to go into the corn maze. Most of the corn was gone, so he wasn't worried about him getting lost as Robin went to get them hot ciders. Shawn scurried through the maze when he found someone familiar.

Robin had come back with two ciders that she and Steve sipped on while Shawn made his way through the maze.

"Dad! Look who's here!"

Steve looked up, expecting to see one of his little friends. Not Mr. Munson.

Not Mr. Munson in ripped jeans and a leather jacket.

Not Mr. Munson in ripped jeans and a leather jacket with chunky rings and his hair let loose, spilling over his shoulders.

"Dad look! It's Mr. Munson! Dad?"

"Mr. Munson! What a surprise!", Robin came in for the save while Steve was speechless. She gave him a subtle nudge that really wasn't all that subtle but that was okay because Mr. Munson was having his own crisis.

Because here was Mr. Harrington, enjoying a harvest festival, shoulder to shoulder with a beautiful alpha woman.

"H-hey, didn't expect to run into you here", Mr. Munson stuttered.

"Me neither", Steve said, voice a little breathless. He cleared it and remembered himself. "This is Robin, she's my neighbor. Robin, this is Shawn's teacher."

"Heard so much about you", Robin grinned.

Steve wanted to kick her in the shin.

"Hey, Shawn, how's about we go and pick out a pumpkin or something?", Robin suggested, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the other two, leaving them alone.

Mr. Munson looked like a deer caught in headlights and Steve couldn't blame him.

"Jesus, she couldn't be anymore obvious."

"Did you want to talk to me about something, Mr. Harrington?"

"No, I didn't. But, I think...I think we should have this conversation anyway." Steve ran a hand through his hair.

They went to a little sitting area the farm had set up near the food booths so that they could talk. Eddie's mind ran a mile a minute, thinking of what this could be about. Both good and bad. He'd gotten a hot chocolate both to keep his hands warm and to give him something to do with said hands. Hands that Mr. Harrington was staring at right now.

"I um", he shook his head and pushed a lock of hair behind his ear. "I just wanted to-god this is hard."

"Well, let's make it easier", Eddie said. "Is it about Shawn? Is he having problems in school?"

"No, it's not about that. It's about us-I mean, there is no us but I-goddammit", Steve hissed, cheeks getting red in embarrassment. He let out a breath. "Mr. Munson, I'm having..." don't say feelings don't say feelings don't say feelings "-sensations, that aren't entirely professional. About you."

"Oh."

"And I know nothing can come of it, but I just want you to know that, to know that I'm aware of them and if I ever come on, I guess too strong, please just let me know."

"Um, for how long?", Eddie asked, hoping he wasn't vibrating in his seat because it sure did feel that way.

"Uhh, pretty much since I first met you", Mr. Harrington admitted. "And I don't know if it's because you've been looking after me and Shawn when we walk back to the car, or if it's something else but you just smell...you feel safe. And it's hard for me not too....", he trailed off, voice getting soft.

He didn't know how much that meant to Eddie. His first year of teaching, Eddie had gone on scent blockers, not wanting to overwhelm the little noses in his room. But one day he'd forgotten and things just seemed to run more smoothly when they could get a whiff of him. For Mr. Harrington to say his scent made him feel safe...

"It hasn't exactly been easy for me either", Eddie finally said. "Me too, since that first day I... But you already said nothing can come from it."

There was a hesitant look in Mr. Harrington's eyes. "Well, you know, why not?"

"Why...not?", Eddie echoed.

"I have my personal reasons for not pursuing this, but they mostly involve Shawn. If he doesn't know about it, I mean if we can hide it from most people, you won't get in trouble with the school. And we won't, you know get Shawn's hopes up if it doesn't become serious."

"Why, Mr. Harrington, are you propositioning me?" Honestly, Eddie didn't give a flying fuck what this principal thought about his private life. At the end of the day, it really was just Shawn he was worried about. He didn't know what happened to the other half of his DNA, but he knew that kids with only one parent sometimes longed for a second. He couldn't make Shawn think that was him unless this was the real deal. And he wouldn't know that for sure if he didn't give this a try.

"For starters, when we're not on school grounds, you can call me Steve."

"Eddie."

"Eddie, would you like to go out with me sometime?"

Steve's face was a mix of hopeful and confident that Eddie wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon. "I'd love to."

Part 4

There is absolutely some angst with Steve's baby daddy comin down the line. I came up with it where I come up with all my best ideas, half asleep when I wake up in the morning.

Tag Team

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @hippieg1rl420 @gregre369 @attic-cat-blog

[chillypowder]

Rescued Hearts: A Second Chance at Love

Part 2

Pair: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: After 6 years of marriage, you've finally decided to end it half heartedly. So how did you end on the floor of your house that was once something you called home.

As I sat alone on the couch in our once-luxurious penthouse, the empty room seemed to echo with loneliness. The soft hum of the city outside was the only company I had, and it offered no solace. I had grown accustomed to these moments of solitude, moments when Bakugou Katsuki, my husband of six years, would once again prioritize his career as a pro hero over our relationship.

At first, his absences had stung, the broken promises a constant source of disappointment. But as time passed, I had learned to bury those feelings deep within me, like embers slowly fading into ashes. I had grown adept at putting on a brave face, hiding the hurt that gnawed at my heart each time he missed a date, a celebration, or simply a quiet evening together.

Unbeknownst to Bakugou, I had been carrying a secret that weighed heavier with each passing day. A secret that, in a cruel twist of fate, had driven a wedge between us even further. I had been diagnosed with leukemia, a merciless disease that had already claimed so much of my strength. After a grueling surgery, the doctors had delivered a grim prognosis - I had just a week left to live.

I couldn't bring myself to burden Bakugou with this devastating news. I understood the overwhelming stress and dedication he poured into his hero work. His days were filled with battles against villains, and his nights with endless paperwork and public appearances. How could I add to his burden with my own impending demise? Instead, I had decided on a different path, one that would ultimately make him resent me.

Tonight, as I waited for him once more, I contemplated divorce. It was a desperate attempt to push him away, to free him from the guilt and responsibility of a dying spouse. The courage to have this difficult conversation had taken time to gather, but I had resolved to go through with it.

Just as I steeled myself to face Bakugou and tell him that our marriage had become too painful to endure, a sharp, excruciating pain radiated through my chest. I gasped for breath, clutching at my heart, and then everything went dark.

Six long hours later, the weight of the door closing behind him alerted me to Bakugou's return. I wished I could see his face, explain everything to him, but I was trapped in this agonizing darkness, unable to move or speak.

Then, his voice, choked with panic and desperation, cut through the haze. "What the hell happened?!" he exclaimed, his footsteps racing toward me.

He found me, unconscious and unresponsive, lying on the couch where I had spent countless nights alone. Panic surged through him, and he fumbled for his phone, calling for an ambulance. But it was too late. I could feel my own consciousness slipping away, like grains of sand through my fingers.

As the paramedics rushed in, they tried to revive me, but I knew it was futile. My time had run out, and I had left this world with so much unsaid. I could hear Bakugou's voice, raw with anguish, begging me to hang on, but there was nothing I could do.

In those final moments, I wished I could have told him about my illness, about the love that had never waned despite the distance that had grown between us. I wished I could have told him how much I cherished the moments we had together, even if they were far too few.

And as the darkness closed in, I hoped that somehow, he would find a way to forgive himself, to understand that life had given us both a cruel hand, and that our love had endured through it all.

Note: I'm sorry I changed the original text from the idea to a more evolved version if you want to read the original idea I'll post it separately.

Once again. Sorry 😔

Masterlist

[ruinofchimera]

Hello! I really like your posts and analyses, I was the one who sent the anonymous ask asking you to talk more about Snape's relationship with Voldemort and what differentiates it from Voldemort's other relationships

I always felt something different in the dynamics between them, although some passages went unnoticed and I couldn't connect some points very well. That's when I saw a brief comment from you about the complexity of their relationship and how it gives goosebumps to anyone who dares to research further. I was intrigued and needed to read more from you about this, so I sent you the question

I came running to read your response as soon as I saw you posted it and... Oh, that was amazing. Although my approach to Snape is more romantic and sentimental (I'm in love with him and I love him, so I'm completely biased towards him), it's very rewarding to read a rational, intelligent, objective, direct and less biased analysis. You have given me incredible intellectual pleasure and it has been a real treat to read about. I love delving into everything surrounding this complex man and the complexities of his interactions with the most powerful and manipulative wizards of his time.

I can only think about how Snape was so exceptional that he became irreplaceably precious to the two most powerful wizards on both sides of the war. How he was the fundamental player in this war, as he gained the power to influence his two masters, who completely trusted him. Even so, as you discussed, it seems that he gained power of influence over Voldemort almost immediately, whereas with Albus it was built over the years. Of course, Snape always had more affinity for darkness than light, but he ended up being recognized by both.

(By the way, wasn't Lucius Malfoy another one who protected Snape almost immediately as soon as Snape was sorted into Slytherin? What do you think was behind that? Lucius saw Snape as just a brilliant but vulnerable boy? An easy target and promising for the Dark Lord? Or did he also see something more in Snape? After all, Snape was invited to Malfoy's mansion as a family friend and became godfather and private tutor to Lucius' son. What's more: could Lucius' opinion of Snape have influenced Voldemort? Or did Voldemort's predilection for Snape raise Lucius's opinion?)

Anyway, reading your response gave me a lot of new feelings and insights and I was hoping that the text would never end (unfortunately the text ended, but what I read will certainly be enough to leave me sleepless for a few nights). I really, really want to read more of your thoughts on this topic and everything you have to say, I can even pay for your working hours (ok, unfortunately I can't). But please feel encouraged to post your thoughts on them whenever you want, because from what you've said, you still have a lot more to say.

I'll probably only be able to think about it for the next few days. And by the way, why aren't there fanfics about this? People are missing out on something extremely valuable to explore. In the absence of fanfics, I ask you: what are your personal theses for the reasons that lead Snape to gain privileges with Voldemort? I just want assumptions, just what you think or what would make you satisfied as an explanation

Anyway, thank you so much again ❤️ you made my day and now my obsession is well fed (and much hungrier)

It’s a paradox—being in such a sprawling fandom, yet feeling like I’m wandering alone with my little reflections more often than not. So, isn’t that the sweetest bloody thing—hearing my take on Snape and Voldemort hit home for you? Got me grinning wide enough to split my face clean in half, and trust me, that doesn’t happen often.

When it comes to Lucius Malfoy and his role in shaping Snape into a Death Eater, unfortunately, I can’t say much. The trouble is, my memory of their interactions in canon is a bit hazy, so my perspective isn’t exactly reliable. It would probably be best to keep quiet about this amusing peacock lover until I reread the books, which is in my immediate plans. But then, when has better judgment ever stopped me from tossing a little fuel on the fire? I can’t resist the urge to stir the pot.

The way I see it now, Malfoy—who was a few years older and comfortably entrenched in the upper echelons of the wizarding world—would have no trouble sizing up Snape for what he was: a scrawny kid with a dangerous gift, a mind for dark magic, and, most importantly, not a single friend worth counting on. An outsider. Vulnerable. All ripe for exploitation. Lucius was sharp enough to realize that while Snape might lack the natural charisma to climb the ladder on his own, his brilliance in potions and the dark arts could make him invaluable. So, Lucius played his hand expertly.

But you’ve raised a compelling question: did Lucius’ influence on Voldemort shape Snape’s rise, or was it Voldemort’s favor that swayed Lucius’ attitude toward Snape? Likely a bit of both. I assume Lucius had a knack for spotting rising talents and knew when to cozy up to someone with potential. He could’ve easily whispered a few words to Voldemort in Snape’s favor, spinning the boy’s talents in the most flattering light. Yet once Voldemort started grooming Snape, you can bet Lucius would have fallen right in line, ensuring his regard for the young wizard was well-known. By the time the Dark Lord took a more personal interest in Snape, Lucius would have been perfectly positioned to ride that wave.

Still, I can’t help but think Malfoy would never have seen it coming: someone he deemed lesser rising so high. That kind of reversal must sting, don’t you think? Watching a kid who once lingered in the shadows suddenly become a key player in the very game you thought you controlled. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, and I imagine it would gnaw at him, lurking in the back of his mind like a persistent itch he couldn’t quite scratch.

It’s a shame I never paid the proper attention to the dynamic between Snape and Malfoy in canon. I’m a sucker for Snucius content, though, and I practically pounce on any decent fanfiction featuring them. I’d happily indulge in anyone’s reflections and headcanons about their twisted relationship—it’s my not-so-guilty pleasure, and I’ll own that without a second thought.

Now we’re circling back to my favorite pastime—unpacking the inexplicable yet utterly breathtaking relationship between the snake and the bat. I have to say, your whole “romantic and sentimental” angle on Snape? Adorable. Though my own metas often resemble a cold vivisection—slicing things open to expose the guts and see how they work—don’t let that fool you: my personal view of Snapemort is as romantic and sentimental as it gets.

I’ve crossed paths with more than my fair share of people in this fandom who wouldn’t know canon if it came up and knocked them flat on their backs. They get gaslighted so fast it’s almost like they’re begging for it—like canon’s some blurry afterthought they just can’t be bothered to keep straight. So in my metas, I’m constantly fighting not to let the canon get tangled up in the wild mess that is my headcanon. I try to delve into the cracks and shadows, and find something that feels like truth. But up in my head? Forget about decent—this concept doesn’t even exist in here. My imagination is as twisted as the characters I’m dissecting.

Now you’ve signed up for this—my own romantic and sentimental take on Snapemort. So, Moon Prism, give you strength. Here we go.

The tension between Severus and Tom wasn’t just about power, it was about identity. Here was a boy who, like Voldemort in his youth, was shunned by the world, brilliant but unloved, wearing his heritage like a festering wound. Tom Riddle saw himself in Snape, and that, for someone as narcissistic as the Dark Lord, was the ultimate form of attraction.

Voldemort didn’t love Snape—he couldn’t love anyone in the traditional sense—but he could covet him. He could hunger to possess that fractured reflection of his own soul. In the end, Voldemort bends for Snape again and again, not because of Severus’s skill or loyalty, but because he sees in him something far more irresistible—himself. A shadow, a twisted echo of everything Voldemort despises in his own nature, or maybe everything he adores—who’s to say? The truth could be both or none at all.

Voldemort wasn’t merely grooming Snape for power; he was grooming him as a personal obsession. He wanted to control Snape, to mold him, to shape him into the perfect instrument of his will. But deep down, perhaps he knew he never fully could. And that only made the obsession stronger.

Maybe it’s a matter of souls, twisted and broken as they are. Maybe there’s something cosmic, some fucked-up string of fate that ties them together, a soulmate bond gone rancid. Or maybe it’s simpler. Maybe it’s just the raw, magnetic pull of power and cruelty, a dynamic that thrives on dominance, fear, and that unspoken tension. There’s something primal in the way Voldemort circles Snape, the way Snape stands just that little bit straighter in the presence of the only man in the world who can destroy him with a word. It’s all there in the pauses, in the quiet moments where one wrong move could mean death—or something far worse. That razor-thin line between obsession and control, submission and defiance. Could be that. Could be something else entirely.

That’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? They’re never just one dull thing, never some tired trope you’ve seen beaten to death a thousand times before. It’s that constant churn of possibilities that keeps me restless, on edge, always hungry for more. They breathe life into the idea that stories can be unpredictable, that characters don’t have to fit neatly into boxes, that two men with such deep, twisted histories can be everything at once: allies, enemies, crooked reflections of one another. Maybe even something darker, something that defies the lines we’re so used to.

As for fanfics — you’re absolutely right. The world is sleeping on some seriously juicy material. At this point, I could devour just about anything that puts those two in the same room. Give me soulmate AUs where they’re bound by destiny, torn apart by the weight of prophecy. Give me porn without plot, where all their schemes, all their calculated moves, fall away until nothing’s left but raw need and lust, tangled up in shadows. Hell, give me crack fics where nothing makes sense, yet somehow—it still works.

I’m desperate for more of it—more fics, more theories, more art—because it’s never enough to stew in these thoughts alone. I want to see what everyone else has simmering in their heads, to be blindsided by a take I never imagined, to be pushed by a version of their dynamic that’s raw, savage, and utterly thrilling. It’s not just speculation—it’s about feeding the fire, stoking it higher, until we’re all swept up in the chaotic, breath-stealing storm that is Snape and Voldemort. Two men so alike they could rip each other apart or drag one another closer, and either way, you know it’s going to hurt like hell.

I know it’s a bit presumptuous to keep my hopes high for the sudden spawning of Snapemort content. Best to roll with the punches. Truth is, I made my peace with the constant oversight of these two in the HP fandom ages ago. If folks didn’t spare their enigmatic relationship a thought back in the early days, it’s hard to expect much now, especially with parts of the fandom becoming a bloody nuisance, twisting everything into some fanon nightmare. Ah, there’s my grumpy old man alter ego rearing its head again—apologies for that.

Still, your cravings—so much like mine— are like a rare ray of sunshine for me. I can’t help but hope you’ll stay just as obsessed as me, gnawing at the same bone, driven by the same hunger. After all, who ever said I’m noble?

[iwonderwh0]

Toxic codependent coworkers (more like sentimentally attached. I really tried but it didn't turn out toxic, but rather everything but)

(AU where Hank and Connor work as partners for years(or at least months) prior to revolution, and not on deviancy cases)

Despite being an android Connor has apparent lack of respect to Hank's superiority status, and at first it drives Hank nuts. He thinks he must be broken and fills the form for condition tests, but they come back normal, and as Hank finds out he's pretty much the only one having problems in making his android partner listen to his commands. After that Connor becomes even more annoying, as if specifically messing with Hank.

Hank, spends month begging to be partnered with someone else. Finally gets his wish granted and for one case he gets partnered with someone who is actually listening to him with respect and doesn't do or say weird shit. And it feels so off and boring that the next week or even day all he does is quietly asks to get Connor back.

This change made him aware that although sometimes annoying, his work has become much more fun and bearable with the presence of this specific android in it. It actually helps him forget things and distracts him enough from his regular thoughts for him to almost feel like fully-functional human again. Despite how much he hates overtime work, he's now occasionally taking some, especially on some holidays that he couldn't bear the thought of spending alone. This change of character is a bit shocking for everyone to witness, but Connor pretends to not notice, sparing him sarcastic notions this time.

Connor, being an android basically never leaves his work place. He leaves sticky notes on Hank's desk to report to him everything minor that happened in his absence, like overnight. The observations he's sharing aren't exactly worthy of a report, it's just things like "Someone had broken the coffee machine again (can you guess who?)", "That guy who came to report his stolen bike had a living rat in his pocket 🐀", "I've counted 12 spiders in this room alone, do you think I should give them names?"

He does that just out of boredom. He used to message Hank before, but the other threatened to block Connor's number if he keeps messaging him about work in his spare time, so now he's just leaving him notes. Sometimes they're just "Your shirt is ugly today" and Hank goes "How did you know which one I'll be wearing?" to which comes the response "Hank, we both know that they're all ugly"

In Hank's phone Connor is named as "smartass", periodically being renamed into other names. What Hank doesn't know is that Connor is aware of every name change. One time he makes it clear by saying something like "I can't believe I finally got promoted to Connor in your contacts. Not plastic asshole or smartass. I'll miss robot emoji tho."

One time Connor mentions that he charges his battery in the morning before Hank arrives and this fact now consumes his thoughts. So much that one day he shows up an hour earlier just to see that. When he doesn't account for is that Connor is deeply moved by this his decision and is like

"You hate waking up early, but you came here today an hour before your shift starts just to see me? Oh..."

For a moment Hank is embarrassed and half-expects his snarky partner to make fun of it, but instead he's just...so glad to see him it almost makes him feel bad.

Android doesn't rest and Hank can't help but feel kinda bad for him, even though he knows he's just humanizing him and shouldn't bother. Sometimes he's almost certain that he looks tired, but can't really explain what gives him such an impression.

One time Connor fucks up bad. For a regular reason of deciding to do something without being given a command to do so (which in absolute most cases was resulting in their favour before). For all Hank knows, such cases should be reported and usually result in temporary detention. But Connor is an android. He apologies frantically and visibly panics thinking about what it could mean for him. Hank ends up taking all the blame – the report on the case doesn't mention Connor doing anything out of line.

After that Hank can't deny feeling a sense of responsibility for his partner. After deviancy cases started to spread out, every android at the station is required to be tested weekly. As his partner, Hank is required to run those tests on Connor. The really first time results show "deviant".

Hank looks at him for a long moment

"I knew it."

"You're a good detective."

He marks the results as negative in the record. From now on they both keep pretending that everything is as usual. Hank never missed the day of assessment to keep marking "negative" under Connor's deviancy status, but Detroit is becoming more and more unstable. They start to get assigned their first deviancy cases. They let everyone escape and wonder how long they can keep doing this before they're both replaced. One day Connor receives the key to Jericho. Hank encourages him to get the hell out from DPD the same day it happens.

He gives him his gun and some money, they both dispose of his android uniform and Hank helps him to remove his LED. He says to throw it away, but actually saves the LED in his pocket in case it happened to be the only physical reminder he has left. They hug goodbye and part ways.

Hank fills the resign form the next day.

[lixisere777]

Drabble 02: Amidst the shadows and rain, there's Jungkook who becomes your sun instead

Wc: 2.7k

Mentions of: ocean water, crying, stress, knives and a bulgar (nothing happens), a bit suggestive, kissing and I think that's it?

Note: I've been working on this for months, it feels nice to finally get it done. I wanted to finish it especially now to comfort us after Jungkook left so aaah >.<. Hope you enjoy!

_________________________________________

The long, hectic week was finally catching up to you. You were exhausted, anxious, irritated and just in need of a warm cuddle session with your lovely boyfriend. One would think you felt relieved at this moment—now that this hectic week has come to an end—, but it felt like you were just destined for worse. Everything was going wrong, nothing went the way you planned it to. Now that it was finally over you expected to be greeted by the feeling of relief, but alas even on your way home, you were not left alone by the grip of misfortune clinging to you. It suddenly started raining and since the bus you wanted to take decided to be a no-show you had to walk home. Without a jacket. Great.

It wasn't raining that hard so you thought it didn't matter, but you arrived home in soaking wet clothes anyway after a car passing by caused a wave of dirty water to splash your way. You could cry. If you didn't turn out sick the next morning, it'd be a miracle. 

A week full of stress had just ended, but you couldn't seem to get rid of every gnawing feeling that it left behind. You just want to take your mind off of things. When you entered the door to your shared apartment, you wanted nothing more than to be greeted by his beautiful face stretched out into that famous bunny smile you loved so much. But of course —since nothing was in your favor—you arrived to the deafening silence of Jungkook's absence. 

You were planning on dumping your soaked body on top of him and ignoring all of your worries, but even that you can’t get. 

With a heavy sigh you peeled off your clothes and put them in the laundry basket, jumping in the shower right after to try to wash away the weight on your shoulders. 

—

You jumped awake at the loud clatter coming from the kitchen. Instead of reacting like a normal human being and hiding, you started yelling with your eyelids still stuck together—the drowsiness refusing to escape you. Grabbing the first thing you could find on the couch you fell asleep on, the huge rainbow-colored hello kitty plushie you were cuddling with, you tried forcing your eyes open. You yelled, "Who's there?” pointing the innocent plushie towards the source of the sound. 

A fit of giggles replaced the sound of the echo your voice left behind, probably mocking your messy bed hair and unusual weapon. You frowned, a pout appearing on your face as you realized your lover was the one to awaken you so rudely from the magical dream you had just a few seconds ago. 

“Do you expect a plushie to protect you from a burglar?”, he approached you after picking up the empty bowl he dropped.

“Well what do you expect me to do when the burglar is in the kitchen, where all the knives are, and my boyfriend isn’t there to protect me?”, the pout never left your face. 

His tattooed hand went through your head to try and smooth down the mess your pillow had created. He didn’t mean to but he got so lost in the look in your eyes and the feeling of your hair against his hand, that he forgot to form a response. You didn’t mention it though, the fond smile on his face and his gentle touch on yours fill your heart with warmth in ways you could never have dreamed of before.

You did however miss the sound of his voice, too soon to your liking, so you spoke up anyway, just to hear him speak. 

“When did you get home, anyway?” This time, your hand was the one to reach towards his body. Your fists bawling around his loose shirt, resisting the urge to hug him. 

“Not too long ago, didn’t wanna wake you”, the sweet sound of his voice reached your ears again. The muscles on your face contract, trying to hide the involuntary smile that tried to betray your unsatisfied yearning for Jungkook's attention

You sigh, giving in and pulling his body close to yours. Your arms wrap tightly around his waist, your head rests on his chest and all negative feelings flood from your body. A sound of relief escaped you. You could cry. But this time it’s because your heart is so full of love, so full of love you were afraid it would burst and lose all the love you’ve stored in there just for him. 

“Are you okay, baby?” His voice faltered with concern. Nonetheless he hugged you back as you felt his arms snake around your neck.

“Just a hectic day—”, your stream of words got interrupted by the single tear falling from your eye, you had to stop talking or you knew you’d burst out in tears. You wanted to tell him so badly, tell him; “who am I kidding, this whole week has been holding me by my throat and I still can’t seem to find a way to loosen its grip.” But you didn’t want to break down in tears in front of him. Not when he was probably having a more challenging week than you could ever handle. Truly, could you ever complain about your life knowing his everyday is way harder?

“Oh no, baby don’t cry.” You were a bit shocked, but how could you be? Jungkook knew you better than you knew yourself. Is it scary that he can recognize the slightest change in your tone and behavior so easily? Maybe. But do you love him all the more for it? Definitely. 

He started swaying you both to the side, knowing how you liked to be cradled. It was an unconscious habit of yours whenever you couldn’t sleep or felt uneasy. Over the years, he had also adopted your silly little habit and now he couldn't hold you without swaying you anymore.

“Hmm, you know what? Tomorrow I have a day off. What if we spend it at the beach?” He sighed, placing his head on top of yours, plans for the day filling his mind already. “We could bring a cloth and sit by the shore an—oh!” His excitement got the best of him as another string of ideas flooded his mind. “And we can bring some snacks and some stuff we could do. We can paint, play lego or play board games. I can think of so many things!” 

You just giggled to yourself, the dried-up tears on your face long forgotten. “I’m all in. I just wanna see the sunset,” you croaked out a response.

“Anything for my baby,” he spoke, kissing your forehead when you finally removed your head from his now slightly damp shirt to look him in the eyes. But you weren’t planning on settling for a simple kiss on the head, so you pouted your lips, non-verbally asking for a proper kiss on the lips. And he complied—with the biggest lovesick smile on his face.

—

The smell of Jungkook's cooking skills flooded your nostrils and your mouth started to water. After the long day you just had, a warm meal is everything else you craved. 

"What are you doing?," his voice was filled with amusement. Since you weren't much of a good cook yourself, you decided that your antics in the kitchen should be entertaining—or distracting—the chef at work. This time that amusement contained sitting so close to him he could barely reach for the spoon to mix the ingredients and your hair almost slipped into the pot he was so desperately trying to steer.

When you decided to sit by the kitchen counter with your laptop, you thought you could continue your schoolwork while being in the detoxing atmosphere that Jungkook provided. But the thought of studying vanished your mind as soon as his sleeves rolled up and his hair got tied into a manbun. 

You tried so hard to stop your teeth from biting down on your bottom lip, but should you even be willing to hide the effect Jungkook has on you? Sure he teases you about it and sure you're a little stubborn, but how can you ignore such a sight. 

“You want to hear a secret?”, you whispered in his ear as his hand reached for your hair, making sure it didn't dip into the food. Yet his heart was beating against his ribcage, what are you planning? 

“I never thought watching you cook for me could get me so turned on,” and as if your comment wasn't wild enough to drive him crazy, you didn't miss the chance to graze your lips against his skin. Not enough to be a kiss, but also not enough to be a mere brush of innocent affection. 

"Fuck–, baby—, you can't say things like that!,” he groaned, aggressively stirring the pot, making you giggle. 

When you didn't say anything and nonchalantly returned to your schoolwork he decided to speak up again. “You're acting like you've never watched me cook before,” he says in a rather mocking way, but you laugh at that, enjoying the reactions you get out of him. 

“Just because I don’t always show it, doesn’t mean I don't feel it,” you wink at him, shrugging your shoulders like you confessed the most normal thing on earth. 

He couldn’t hold in his smile, his expression of amusement quickly turned into a smirk, remembering all the moments you were extra touchy in the kitchen. He took a mental note to always make you watch him cook from now on.

—

“Baby, did you pack the towels?,” Jungkook asked softly, trying to start up a conversation. The car ride to the beach was awfully quiet. Normally you were very talkative when you were going to the beach, too excited for all the things you would do. It was one of the things you loved most in the world of course, and Jungkook knew that, so he couldn’t help but worry about your silence. 

The pounding in your head however made you unable to think straight. You took an aspirin this morning, hoping to redeem the aches in your body. The last thing you wanted was for Jungkook to notice and spend his day off taking care of you. So you kept it to yourself. You couldn't stay in and sit in your flu, or whatever it decided to be, you needed to get out of your head. 

“Yeah, I put it in my bag,” you sighed as your head came in contact with the cold window of the passenger seat in his car, your shoulders sagging in relief. His hand squeezed your thigh in worry, he knew there was something wrong. 

“Baby, we’re here,” he shook your sleeping body. The ride to the beach wasn't that long, but the never-ending headache made you close your eyes a little too long. 

The sudden excitement that flew through your body at the thought of finally spending a carefree day at the beach got knocked out of you as soon as you looked out of the car window. 

“Are you fucking kidding me,” you almost yelled in annoyance towards the raindrops landing on your face as you got out of the car. You made sure to check the weather report every hour of the day ever since last night and it still managed to rain today. It made you more frustrated than you could imagine. You could cry.

“___, baby...,” he looked at you with pity. Carefully approaching you to avoid you getting even more upset. 

Your teary eyed face faced his sympathetic one. The looks you were exchanging saying it all. You expected him to comfort you, hug you, offer to sit in the backseat instead and rest. But Jungkook always seems to surprise you, even when you know how spontaneous he is. 

“What are you doing?!”, you shrieked as you felt the ground under your feet disappear. Jungkook carried you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and your eyes widened, feeling overly exposed with your ass up in the air.

Like he could sense your discomfort he twisted your body around to carry you bridal style. Your wide eyes gazed into his excited ones. You immediately shook your head when that mischievous glint in his eyes and that childlike smile on his face made you realize what he was planning to do.

Despite your panicked protests he threw caution to the wind and started running towards the beach with you screaming in his arms.

“Jeongguk, if you fucking drop me I will—!,” you yelled at him punching his chest, but he silenced you with a kiss. 

“I won’t,” he reassured you, making you blush.

So you just let him. Let him run into the deserted beach, towards the water, with the biggest smile on your face because Jungkook always knew what to do to make you smile again. He always knew what to do to make you fall deeper in love with him. 

You gasped loudly as Jungkook entered the water—fully clothed. He ran past the shore, his favorite boots getting wet, but he didn't care. He kept running however, so far that his entire lower body had entered the water. He knelt down, you being in his arms getting completely engulfed by the cold water. This way he avoided getting his own upper body wet. You panicked, swimming out of his grip to look at him with an angry expression. But your face didn't match your feelings, or so you thought, the broad smile on your face betraying you.

“Jeongguk! You said you wouldn’t drop me!,” you splashed a bunch of water his way making him duck down to avoid getting his hair wet. 

“I didn’t drop you, I just dipped you in,” he shrugged, making you scoff. Another wave of water was thrown his way, this time he couldn’t dodge it in time, the water hitting him straight in the face. 

“Oh now you're asking for it,” he strides towards you, his arms ready to engulf you and body slam you into the water but you’re too quick.

What was supposed to be a relaxing day at the beach ended up turning into a chaotic water fight. And even though you were sick, the cold water felt rather healing as well as spending time with Jungkook did. You must look like reckless children to onlookers, but you haven’t had this much fun in a while, so you decided to not care. 

—

“You should've told me you weren't feeling well,” you smoothed the frown between his brows out with your thumb, smiling brightly. You were now in the backseat of his car, both of you covered with the towels you brought earlier to lay down on the sand. You were basically sitting on top of him, having persuaded him with the argument that you needed his body warmth to warm up quicker.

“Then I wouldn't have such a fun day… Besides I think I'm feeling better already,” he pouted at you, not believing your words for a second. After getting out of the water you couldn’t stop shivering and what he thought was only natural turned concerning when he found you coughing and sneezing as well.

He held your hands in his, looking into your eyes, feeling guilty for noticing how bad you were feeling earlier. Blaming him was never in your agenda though, he made you feel healthier than you actually were in his presence. 

“You’re not falling asleep on me are you?” he looked down at your slumped figure leaning on him, your full body weight on top of his.

“Uhuh,” you responded, snuggling further into his embrace. He smiled, not minding it one bit if you decided to sleep for hours on end. He’d stay right there, in the back of his car, thinking about all the things he can do later today to make you feel better. Because that’s what Jungkook did best. Love you unconditionally and brighten up your days. 

He planted one final kiss on the top of your head, telling you goodnight, unaware of your lingering wakefulness. You think you might love him a little too much, you could cry.

[belit0]

Itachi with number 12 please, i need this man biblically 🛐

Me with Indra 🛐🛐 OKAY BUT WHAT IF ACTUALLY, the reader cheated on him with Shisui? That would be so hot.

NSFW prompts!

12) Imagine that Itachi and reader lived together. Itachi comes home one day and hears loud moaning coming from their bedroom, recognizing reader’s voice. Itachi assumes, to their horror, that reader is cheating on them, and they rush to the bedroom and open the door. Instead of seeing a cheating partner, Itachi actually walks in on reader masturbating/using sex toys while moaning out Itachi's name.

Being Hokage is one of the most daunting tasks of his life.

Itachi thought things were difficult when he had to prevent the almost military takeover his family was planning, when trying to stop Orochimaru from killing the Third Hokage, when preventing his best friend from committing suicide, when he had to remove that idiot Danzo and displace all the corrupt people from Konoha's power.

The villagers grew to love him so much, with him replacing the murky image of his clan with one of respect and responsibility, that there was no hesitation when a new leader for the community had to be chosen. A unanimous vote decreed him as the new Hokage, and Tobirama Senju is probably rolling over in his grave because an Uchiha reaches the pinnacle of authority.

Consumed by his new role, Itachi forgot what freedom was, leisure time, not being stressed or anxious about the amount of work he must do every day. Many old-school skeptics still believe him incapable, and he is determined to prove to everyone that not all Uchihas are demented psychopaths.

With the death of his father at his own hands, he had earned the hatred of the entire family, but he ended up making them understand the motives behind his actions, how wrong it would have been to allow the clan to take control by force. Shisui had been the mastermind behind the plan, and while people accused them of being double moralists for killing Fugaku and taking the leadership, they eventually understood that it was the right thing to do.

He tried to have his best friend be the one to take the position, but Shisui, missing an eye, excused himself under the pretext of nobody respecting a half-broken Uchiha, and absolved himself of the responsibility. With no other options, the people proclaimed Itachi as the village's savior, trusting the young boy to be capable of leading them all to a good future.

Drowned in meetings, events, documents, papers, he lost his free time, and returns home late at night every day. With his face ruined by fatigue and barely able to move his legs because of sitting all day, he manages to walk through the doors of his home, having refused to live in the Hokage's tower.

He knows who suffers the most from all of this is (Y/N).

Neither of them was prepared for events of such magnitude, everything happening overnight, and the period of adaptation was practically nil. Overnight, she lost her man's presence as if the earth had swallowed him up.

When Itachi comes home late at night, the girl is already asleep. When Itachi leaves home, early in the morning, the girl has already left for her own work.

Having lost close contact without warning, the Uchiha has almost no time to see her, talk to her, or connect with her in an intimate or sentimental way. Shuffling his feet, he makes it home, and after leaving his shoes at the door, he enters.

His ninja instincts kick in the moment he walks past the entrance, confused by the noise heard throughout the house in the middle of the night, when his wife should presumably be asleep.

He assumes the worst. The lack of touch, absence of dialogue, no physical presence had finally broken (Y/N)'s patience, and his wife decided to look for in other people what she had previously found in him.

Destroyed and with a heavy heart, he suddenly feels a huge emptiness in his chest, and becomes paralyzed. He cannot move, nor approach the room, neither can he open the door and find another man between his wife's legs. He doesn't know what his reaction would be, and he doesn't want to find out either.

Is he willing to throw it all away, everything he achieved, people's respect and affection built with painful effort just because his wife is also human and has needs? Killing the person who is pleasing her, replacing him, will only bring disgrace on everyone's head, with citizens wondering who they elected to rule. It would unleash new chaos as they would see him as an insane Uchiha and this would catapult that-.

"Where the fuck is he? He should have been here by now... dammit!" His wife's voice exclaims from the room, snapping him out of his dark lucubrations and bringing him back to reality. That doesn't sound like another person fucking her, does it?

Unsure, he approaches the half-open door, and peers through the gap of vision it provides. Could he have used his Sharingan to detect other presences in the house? Yes. Is he too consumed by his own inner demons to think about it? Also.

In front of his eyes, he sees a naked (Y/N) on the bed, legs spread and lying face up on the mattress, holding one of the toys they both use for their intimate moments. The object vibrates non-stop inches away from her pussy, but she seems to be distracted looking at the clock.

"What are you doing, (Y/N)?" Itachi asks in a mixture of confusion and relief, not understanding what his wife is up to but happy that she hasn't dumped him for someone else, watching the image with intrigue and helplessness.

Startled, she suddenly throws out the vibrator, her body involuntarily jumping in surprise, and it flies off towards the ceiling only to land on the floor "ITACHI!".

The Uchiha laughs, suddenly relaxed and calm, shaking off today's troubles and understanding his wife's effort to revive the passion their relationship was lately losing. "You should be sleeping, love." He walks over to her, and sits down on the bed.

"I wanted to surprise you... I know how stressed you are lately and maybe I could help you like this..." He takes her in his arms and all he wants to do is hug her, kiss her, squeeze her until suffocation and make her understand how much he loves her.

"Well, you succeeded, but let's not waste your state, hm?" He kisses her eagerly, pouncing on her even with the Hokage robe on, not losing a second.

Tomorrow, his work clothes will have strange light stains on them, but no one will dare ask where they came from.

[nocreativityfornames]

Hello! Um, I don't know how welcome you are to asks but I kinda wanted to bring up this little headcanon I have of Michael that you may or may not find interesting? Iv posted about it somewhere on my blog, but to summarize it, here

Consider the potential of a Teenage Michael!

Hear me out! I just think there is a lot of potential, not only angst wise but also narrative wise.

I just love the idea of the head angel of the celetial relm being this scrawny teenage boy with issues.

Not only is he a teenager with the responsibility of being the mature older brother to the other angels, therefore, having to step up more in the absence of lucifer, but also having a lowkey abusive father who burdens him with religious trauma.

And I just loove the trope where it's like:

The younger siblings stays behind with abusive parents left to take care of the rest of their family because their older sibling left to live a healthier life. And resentment builds because they think their older sibling abomdoned them.

Also considering how I don't think the devs will make him a villian, I think it would make Michael look way more sympathetic if he was on the younger side.

Is this accurate to what the game has established Michael to be? Not really but they've retconned things before. Not that I'd ever think they'd go along with a concept like this.

Anyways I'm writing this at like 11pm so exuse the spelling errors, I'm so tired 🥲.

Ps. I really like your content :D

I actually REALLY like that, and the angst oh boy :")

I mean, looking back to NB S1 (spoilers!!!) with this in mind makes everything so much sadder. Like how he disguised himself as Raphael just to visit the others in the Devildom because he missed them and didn't know how to interact with them as himself. And also him giving Lucifer that ultimatum to either come back or make the Devildom an enemy of the Celestial Realm as a last attempt to bring his older brother and brothers back (even though deep down he knew they'd refuse) because he was struggling to step up and handle things on his own after he left, especially since the trauma of the war was still fresh for everyone (including himself) and he had to look after the traumatized part of the family that stayed, like you said.

Which is... heartbreaking.

Funny thing though: I always thought Michael to be the oldest one (or them being twins) and your ask made me start thinking about how that would play out in this scenario with the og game stuff in mind.

So like, the older sibling carrying resentment while also being happy for the youngest because they got tired of the abuse and had the courage to stand up to their parent and leave to have a happier life when he couldn't because he still feels tied to that parent and that it's his responsibility and duty to stay with them no matter what (think of Dean and Sam from SPN, who have this exact dynamic and a very complicated relationship with their father).

And then there's the whole thing about Michael being the one to cast out Lucifer and his brothers from the Celestial Realm, which only adds to this. It's like: the younger brother stood up to his father and was met with rage, so the oldest stepped up and to avoid something even worse from happening kicked him out of the house himself.

(@luckykittysshowerthoughts has an amazing post about this that has never left my mind ever since I read it and I recommend everyone reading it)

So we fast-forward to years and years later where the oldest is still living with their parents looking after the siblings who didn't leave while missing his younger brother, worrying for him, and wanting to know how he's doing. So he tries his best to stay in contact and know what's happening but since their relationship has been strained ever since what happened (because from the youngest's POV his older brother betrayed him by not taking his side and kicking him out of the house, which I think was how Lucifer felt for a long time before he saw the bigger picture as he got older) the youngest rejects his attempts at trying to contact him and the oldest's only way to know how he's doing is by sending his other siblings to check up on him or contact the people close to him.

Does he do it to the point where it gets annoying? Yes. Is his constant need to know how his brother is doing making said brother feel even more frustrated with him and only driving him further away? Yes. Would it have been better if he had left the brother alone and waited for him to reach out on his own? Yes. But he can't find it in himself to do that because he'd worry too much and miss him even more.

Tbh, I can see both of these scenarios being true together. So younger Michael right after the fall is still bitter and doesn't want to admit that he misses Lucifer and his brothers (he didn't seem to like to hear that Luke thought he missed them when talking to him as Raphael) and later accepting that and leaving a lot of that resentment behind to just be happy for them and miss them, wanting to know how they're doing often, etc.

So I definitely don't see him as evil either, but more of a broken younger/older sibling who wants to reconnect with his family and whose intentions are good but don't translate very well in his method of doing things.

Sorry for going on my own rambling here, lol

And I'm more than fine with asks, I love discussing stuff about the game and the characters <3

[mrsgreenworld]

Okay, so I've been obsessing over Aslaz for weeks and there isn't nearly enough fanfiction in English for them. But I learned my lesson a while ago: you wanna some fanfiction you gotta start writing it yourself 🙈😂

Here goes my first attempt at writing Aslaz.

That episode 28 final scene was so all over the place and out of nowhere. But we got what we got. There was a millisecond of adorable Aslaz but it wasn't nearly enough so I decided to sprinkle in a missing Aslaz scene that takes place after the iftar.

I don't own the show or any of the characters. They belong to the Yabani writers and the production company. This is only fanfiction.

Cross-posted on Archive of Our Own.

_____________________________________________

You Never Know Unless You Try

They finish their meal and Asi leaves his side to go help clean up. He feels her absence immediately. But also knows it's not normal to crave her presence this much at all times. So Alaz wanders off to find his brother. They talk and hug and then work together as a well-oiled machine, loading the tables and chairs into a truck. They spend time with street kids, feeding them. Later they all sit around crackling fire and sing together.

Alaz gives himself a mental high five for having been a perfectly functioning independent human being and thinks he's had enough space and given enough of it to Asi. So his eyes scan everyone gathered around the fire but don't see her. His anxiety spikes but is soothed immediately by the sight of her, standing alone at the water, staring into the distance. Alaz goes to her, leaving the crowd.

He approaches quietly and comes to stand behind her with only a few inches between his front and her back. He doesn't touch her until he feels her relax and lean back into him. Only then Alaz snakes an arm around Asi's middle, his palm coming to rest over the place where he knows her stab wound - the one that matches his own - is hidden under the layers of clothing. Alaz presses a tender kiss to Asi's temple and whispers:

"Hey! What are you doing out here all alone? Are you okay?"

Asi's hand comes over the one Alaz has on her abdomen and squeezes his fingers gently.

"Yeah, just ... Needed to breathe a little, you know. And to think".

Alaz nods, leans his head into hers and asks quietly:

"Think about what?"

"Everything. What happened. Life. Future. Us".

"What about us?" Alaz asks with a hint of vulnerability in his voice, hugging Asi a little tighter but mindful of her healing wound.

"It's just ... How's it going to be? Us?"

"What do you mean? We love each other, don't we?"

"We do. But what now? We've never been ... Well, this. We've never been normal. Just ... loud. Screaming, hitting, biting and stabbing each other with words and not only words. What are we going to do now when it's quiet, Alaz? How are we going to do this?"

"Look, I don't know how but we'll figure this out, together. This is new for me too. I've never done this before. So we just learn to walk, step by step, before we can run".

"Run where? I've never even thought about the future, Alaz. Never thought I had one".

"Well, now you have a future. We do. We can be and do whatever the hell we want".

"I haven't even finished school, Alaz. What could I possibly do?"

"Well, you can finish school, for starters. If you want to. And I know that you're a woman of many talents. You sing, you dance, you fight, you're good with a knife. Bet you could make a mean chef" Alaz says with a smile, nuzzling Asi's neck.

She lets out a small laugh and pushes at him slightly, trying to get away from a tickling sensation of his barely there scruff on her tender skin.

"I'm serious!"

"So am I!"

"You're an idiot!"

"Okay, I am. Your idiot".

Asi turns to face Alaz and looks deep into his eyes.

"Alaz ... What if we try and this doesn't work?"

"We'll never know unless we actually try. And maybe it'll work out even better than we could ever imagine. I'm ready to try. Are you?"

He waits for her response with bated breath, willing to accept anything she chooses, even though his very being is screaming at him to screw this acceptance and respecting her wishes and just make her stay with him forever. Lost in this inner turmoil, Alaz almost misses Asi's softly spoken words:

"I am ready ".