#you're kind of missing the point of her character

[greyedian]

MAN I'm seriously so sad about season 2. Bc I wish act 2 had the same emotional impact on me as it appears to have on so many others. But rn I'm just somewhere between unable to care and actively annoyed by some of those writing decisions. Seriously the more I think about it the less I like it.

[astralleywright]

i would be much more open to the idea of Imogen being selfish, and even that being her defining flaw, if the evidence was more than just a laundry list of the harm she’s committed in which the connection to selfishness specifically often feels spurious at best, and the action is much more traceable to an actual flaw of hers.

people she's attacked or killed- prone to violence (maybe even more so than the average dnd character!). telling FCG off for looking into her mind without asking while doing the same to others - hypocritical. briefly suggesting the ruby vangard might be in the right in front of Orym Laudna etc- insensitive and impulsive, and also something she immediately apologized for, and that both Marisha and Liam said their characters understood and did not hold against her, why are people so stuck on this moment. the deterioration of her relationship with Relvin - we don't have time to unpack why "daughter failing to connect with her father during years long episode of horrible chronic pain and isolation" is being characterized as selfish!

like theoretically all of those things could be related to selfishness, the way basically any action anyone takes ever can be related to selfishness. people are often self-serving, including in actions they take that are good or value neutral. i genuinely don't understand why Imogen specifically gets called out as selfish, and why people are so insistent on it that they treat not viewing her as such as a fundamental misunderstanding of her character.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

being alive at the time i gleaned some general elements abt encanto but never actually heard we don't talk about bruno beyond awareness it existed popping off & i think i heard like the title recited off key off rhythm but in a way that indicates speak singing nonetheless lol so upon experiencing it it's like oh but it's the Verses? while the last refrain goes harder but prior to that it's comparatively underwhelming to said verses which feels appropriate like verses / pieces of a larger picture & that a "we don't talk about him" as a disappointing Lid on infinitely richer more characterful & dynamic "but: talking about him" instances. like well personally it'd be like um seven foot frame....anyway besides being able to firsthand go like oh damn Real (the kind of thing you know exists if alive at the time) it's like alright hang on lol. one thing when a core theme is yeah like "is it a refuge if 'especial' vulnerability ultimately gets pushed out rather than made safer" subset like the parties whose even observation of truths (problems) & drawing attention to them is seen as Ruining Things, like if you're painted as Making futures that aren't simply what's desired or reassuring rather than a guidance via just observing & sharing the truth. but then it's like whaddaya mean living in fear of bruno stuttering and stumbling you could always hear him sort of muttering and mumbling lmao like now that's just Association between the Truth Perceiving & Telling behavior & behavior that's just apparently distinctive of the same person. & like Not Accidentally when [what if people were magic] specifics are obviously primarily abt a metaphorical meaning & like, indeed it was made clear like oh this situation isn't Just b/c [boo we hate your prophecies] & that [an Ability that isn't directed towards what anyone Wants / is "weird" even by these magic standards] isn't Coincidentally given to someone who just so happens to already be "weird" in other ways & be set up to have a different perspective & be pushed away due to having the supposed "extra" vulnerability of unmet needs / insufficient support, same as someone who doesn't "correctly" have any kind of magic ability....like yeah banger and also like Oh Yeah Kind Of Devastating re: that metaphorical resonance allowing for like [set the metaphor aside] now hang on with this about this disabled family member lol. misinterpretation to The Ruinerrr / The Problemmm / The Maliciousss etc (i.e. the scapegoatinggg) despite their efforts likely entirely to the contrary. then despite like, efforts aside, Just Existing, always kind of muttering & mumbling like & what of it. & then like oh sorry weird pets. weird [auspicious for adaptable tenacious thriving surviving; either way simply creatures, existing] pets.

truly like As Is The Idea I'm Sure quickly becomes like hands behind back standing at the window Uh Oh Sisters musing on all the [disabled person] metaphorical & already literal elements there. blair witching it in contemplation like We've All Been There whether being so resented for the mere disruption of "existing in a group as the 'abnormal' odd one out" or like people talking shit abt anything associated w/you as soon as you've left the room, which is also made relevant like, this wasn't Only directed at this person when seemingly permanently gone, nor were they unaware / unaffected prior....pacing in the Musing parlor like things don't Have to be compared to billions but i only ever even see so many things & it's like billions sure is like "get scapegoated rword" & then said scapegoating is presented as only beneficial & we hate autists & even beyond that it's like, grabbing billions, Imagine If Things Meant To Be About Something Were About Something. quite a contrast when they are & furthermore like, deliberate thought & Care for [who gets scapegoated & why] & the truth of like, people getting pushed aside & out who have a key perspective & are primed / liable to come through for others similarly vulnerable & the supposedly Ruinous, Problems Generating disruptiveness is actually the strongest effort to make essential changes to a group. & come through with like, it'd be undermining thee point if it was "reassuring" us like oh haha people will be supportive b/c bruno will be more normal, so great that it Didn't like no, no Normality Reassurance(tm), presence of abnormalities(tm), Good, & everyone Can Deal b/c if you don't then it's pushing this person away, is exactly what happens, including even if they're still Around but are being mistreated b/c that is entirely part of that pushing away like anyone's victim blaming is ready to pounce at any time but if someone can't stand to stay / leaves b/c they can't see another option like that's not out of nowhere nor Regardless of what full support & flexibility they were getting lol. these Active Measures everyone loves so much, which are everywhere always & would include Staying & Trying To Make It Work & those efforts would be "disruptive" & resented & Bringing It On Oneself & etccc smh

that is to all say like. Woww when clearly basically the core thread was these beats of like, the crucial site of [thee scapegoated], & why that comes down on someone & how that plays out. endless ideas about how someone weird(tm) & disabled (&/or queer. but there's no Or here lol. & again like it's a Context like, to even be the one person without kids? likely not living up to "full" correct sexuality in that way alone; any oppression's logics of "inferiority" being logics of ableism, ready examples being that "inferior" race, gender, sexuality (& their experiences as people classed as inferior) all being pathologized as disordered) are seen & treated as someone Ruining Things & who cannot belong like whew. bracing. winding. which, i also recall like i was watching with headphones & during this one dialogue pause i was like "?? what's this Extra Sound i heard there" & had to go over it like twice before being hit upside the head like well it Was still the dialogue pause but it was also bruno Stuttering in a very quiet whisper for the duration of that pause before continuing like iiiiiiii x_x

[outeremissary]

You know I spent a lot of time reading Nuzlocke comics and fics as a teen and I think that really shaped my understanding of approaches to canon in fandom. Like there's fandom you're doing straight and trying to be faithful to the material on, and then there's fandom like a lot of the Good Stuff on Nuzlockes and wacked out chess AUs where you're somewhere on the sliding scale of remixes from "playing fast and loose with the base material" to "reality is whatever makes the story fun. heart." And they're both valid. God I fucking love how insane Nuzlocke comics could get.

[evieelyzabethh]

"glue song"

✭"don't forget to kiss me or else you'll have to miss me"✭ ~ How Arcane characters show affection headcannons {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw ☞slightly pervy jayce (you can't pry him from my cold dead hands), fluff

♞Vi♞

♞Vi kisses like she is starving, and you are the first morsel of food she can get her hands on. Like she is drowning, and you are her first breath of air. It's not just desperate and hungry, but there's also a thankfulness to it. Thank you for sticking with her, thank you for being so patient with her, thank you for loving her. Vi doesn't do anything half-assedly, especially not kissing her pretty girlfriend. It's probably her favorite form of affection because it's so versatile. It doesn't have to lead to the bed if neither of you want it to, sometimes it's just on the couch, you sat in between her large thighs, positively falling into her.

♞Her favorite place to kiss you would be on your lips as she holds you chin in her rough hands. She would kiss you thoroughly and deeply, her tongue languidly kissing your own without a rush or care in the world. She is quite prone to getting overwhelmed herself, squeezing the air from both of your lungs and having the nerve to pout at you when you pull away. On her messier days, she leaves a string of spit behind, but she's always kind enough to wipe it away with a few swipes of her thumb. With every inch you pull back she leans in a mile more, chasing you as you try to catch your breath and when she does pin you down, she holds you impossibly close so you can't escape again until she's had her fill. Even then, she holds you in her large arms and tangles your limbs together, at one point sliding her hand beneath your shirt just to lay it on your tummy and feel it move as you breath.

♞Vi is also secretly a space heater. She runs incredibly hot and because of this, sleeps naked and is always down to give you her jacket. It just makes sense in her mind, seeing her clothing wrapped around you. She likes sharing most things; oddly specifically, drinks. She's gross and thinks it's hot that you're technically swapping spit. When it comes to alcohol, especially if you're not a big drinker, both of you will nurse off the same drink, her tipping your head back and pouring it into your mouth when you get a bit too tipsy to do so yourself without spilling.

♞Her go to pet name is 'pretty' and I will die on this hill. It's the thing that defines you for her. She's an idiot and a loser and she knows there's more to you than just how you look, but she just can't help it that whenever she sees you, all her reptile brain can think is 'pretty'. She absolutely abuses it, too. Besides this, I also think she would use those sleazy kinda bar pet names, like sweets or babydoll. Not in a creepy sleazy way, but that is just realistically what she would've been hearing for terms of endearment.

♞Slight side tangent, in a modern AU she is definitely one of those mascs that gets a hold to some Calvin Klein boxers and takes advantage of every opportunity possible to show the waistband off. Part of it is just her showing affection, even if you can reach tall shelves on your own, she still insists on getting the items for you. This carriers over into many things, like twisting open pickle jars or opening your soda cans if you're someone into longer nails. While she isn't as good with building things as Jinx, I think she would definitely be able to manage putting together the furniture in your shared home. Would it take all day? Well, yes! But you chose to make the best out of it and fuck on top of the furniture to test its sturdiness and congratulate your girlfriend on a job well done.

♞On the topic of nails in a modern AU, she would love a partner who gets them done absolutely goes feral if you get them customized to her liking, like coloring them after her eyes or hair or sneaking her name in there somewhere. She feels like she's made it in life when she can pay to get them done. It seems like a selfless action, but it would be a lie to say she gets nothing out of it. The scratch mark you leave on her back after break her brain a little.

★Ekko★

★Ekko loves cooking for his girlfriend! I feel like that would definitely be his main love language along with quality time. As stated before, you two would spend a lot of time in his kitchen, often times with some source of music providing a background noise to the nonsense that you concoct together, occasionally slow dancing while there's time to kill while waiting for something to finish in the oven. Food fights may occasionally occur, but he does a thorough job of licking you clean after. He claims he 'can't let good food go to waste'.

★He would also have a sketchbook absolutely full of you. You can tell when a new edition is about to be added as well. Ekko isn't loud, but he isn't quiet either. His foot is always tapping, he's usually humming something, he always has something to keep his hands busy. He's hardly ever still, except for those moments when you fully wash over him. Sometimes the lighting is exceptionally beautiful, sometimes it's in appreciation of how the wind moves the world around you, and some moments are just so breathtaking beautiful he has to take a moment to go silent, still, and stare. Sometimes he'll just tell you to be in his presence and be pretty so he can properly commit you to paint and commemorate you forever in oils and brush strokes. He's not above nude paintings, though those strokes look and feel much different.

★Ekko is the CEO of quick kisses. He's a busy guy!! He's running an entire commune. He makes the absolute most out of moments when you have the world to yourselves, but most of what you receive are quick passing kisses on your cheeks or the corner of your mouth. He misses on purpose because he simply does not believe in starting things he doesn't have the time to finish. For this reason, I don't think he'd be a big quickie guy. A kiss can easily just be a kiss, but sex is not something meant to be done in 5 minutes.

★Ekko's favorite place to kiss you would also be your lips. He's a romantic, what can I say!!! At the end of every day, you ask each other how your day was after you've both showered and gotten comfy. You both sit on his bed, set beside each other, your legs haphazardly laid over his as he casually massages your thigh. Sometimes you're both a bit too tired and aren't listening that hard, the occasional tidbit catching your attention making either of you sit straight and get closer until eventually you laid on top of him, both of you half asleep. No matter how much energy either of you has, a good night kiss is to be had. When Ekko doesn't need to be quick, he is impossibly slow. He has all the time and then some.

★Not only does he demand a good night kiss, but a good morning kiss to. He gets pouty without it. And sassy. He tells Scar, very loudly so that everyone can hear him, that you hate and don't love him anymore and he is just so deeply hurt that you would let your boyfriend, you're one true love, leave the house without kissing him goodbye and doesn't shut up about it until he gets his goddamn kiss.

★He loves picking out your outfits. He prides himself on the way he dresses and out of everyone, I think Ekko has the most domestic skills. I've already discussed how well he cooks, but I wouldn't be surprised if he also knew his way around a needle and thread. He is not just wearing any clothes; he has a sense of style that he is very proud of. This being said, he loves going shopping with you in a modern AU and he loves when you eventually get comfortable enough to not retreat into the bathroom when changing from outfit to outfit. He's the one making you do the little spin so he can appreciate the outfit from all angles.

★As far as pet names go, I think Ekko would keep it simple with "babe" or "baby" for more casual usages. I also think he would be fond of "my girl" and expects it from you in return because yes he is "your boy" and yes you are "his girl" and yes he loves you very very much. He wouldn't be a stranger to "my love", especially in the mornings or at night when your face is the first and last thing he sees when he closes his eyes. It makes him feel extra sappy.

❂Jayce❂

❂He is all over you at all times of the day omg. I feel like of everyone, Jayce would be the clingiest. This isn't to say he's attached to you at the hip, but his favorite part of the day is getting to go home to you. You're cooking and there he is sitting on the counter yapping about Hextech or something. You're taking a shower and he wants to join. And it's not just a proximity thing, it's also a touchy thing. Any reason or way he can find to touch you, he is taking it. He doesn't care if it's pathetic, dammit, he wants to be held.

❂Jayce would absolutely thrive in a modern AU. He would be the guy whose social media page are all posts about his girlfriend and does he just love to show you off. He would spoil you so good, but rather than buying anything you wanted like Mel would, I think he would also really enjoy making you presents. This isn't to say he doesn't enjoy buying you things, one of your staple pieces of jewelry is the gold anklet he bought with his initials on it.

❂Physical touch is easily his love language but he cannot handle all that, or rather, he freezes in situations where you initiate it. His hands tend to naturally find your waist and will occasionally, if he's feeling bold enough, slip down to your ass, but one time when it was freezing out, you offered your tits as handwarmers and he got a nosebleed. Jayce is definitely an undercover perv but due to never having a girlfriend before and being completely foreign with the concept that he doesn't need to hide how badly he wants to jump your bones at nearly all hours of the day, he freezes when it comes to you initiating contact.

❂He would definitely be the type to get you teddy bears and flowers just whenever. It's never with any rhyme or reason and it happens rather sporadically, just when he is out and about for any reason and thinks of you and wants to bring you something home. He thinks of you a lot, actually. Mel and Viktor love the both of you, but sometimes he goes a bit overboard when it comes to talking about you. This being said, he jumps at any opportunity to show you off. He loves going to gala's because he likes seeing you in pretty clothes and hanging off his arm. He also likes kissing you in public, even if no one's paying attention. He is well versed in the art of delayed gratification and loves getting the both of you riled up knowing full well he does not have the balls to actually fuck you with people around (he gets loud and is very well aware of this)

❂ Jayce's absolute favorite place to kiss you is your neck. He usually starts with your lips, large hands cupping your cheeks and soft lips moving over yours until he gets more antsy. His hands travel from your cheek to your neck then begin to creep under your clothes to grab and knead at your warm skin. Then he would move down your face, peppering kisses across your lips, down your jaw, then down you neck, panting as he goes along and his hands getting rougher as he tries to remain composed. He stops there for a moment, breath fanning over skin that is now slightly red from his canines nipping you and his fresh stubble scratching the area, reminding himself to be gentle and not take more than he's given. He pleads with you, his own cheeks flushed from the heat of the movement as he mutters out his "please...". He's begged you time and time again to not make him verbalize exactly what he wants, but you are relentless. At least he has the manners to ask sweetly beforehand.

❂He is the type to lay right on top of you. After you've gotten comfy in your bed, thrown on your pajama's, maybe are doing a bit of light reading before bed, he comes around to disturb your peace and lay himself right on top of you, smothering you with kisses while he lays there. He eventually moves out of his starfish position to lay his head on your chest and wrap his arms around your torse. He's like a giant, weighted, warm teddy bear

❂One of his go-to pet names would be 'baby', but only when it just the two of you. He is also quite fond of 'gorgeous' and he always has a stupid smirk on his face when he says it. His favorite would be 'sweetheart'. Slightly off topic, he would be the first to jump the gun and start calling you his wife. Especially to council members that are annoying him and taking up time he'd rather be spending with you, he is very quick to pull a "Sorry, gotta get home to my wife." He bought to matching rings for your one-year anniversary to sell the story better.

☽Viktor☾

☽As far as physical affection goes, I think he would be the least touchy. I think the touches would be concentrated on your face, lazily tracing all of your features, marking where your cheeks sink below your cheek bones, the divot between your chin and lips, and where your face is most pronounced. While he wouldn't call himself an artist, he could probably mold your face in clay from the number of times his feather light fingers have caressed every inch of it. He's utterly entranced by it. His mind often wanders while listening to you speak, eyes roaming from your lips and taking note of them in proportion to your eyes, getting lost in the color of them until his eyes flit to your nose and the way your nostrils slightly flare out. It's very mechanical, but that's just the way his brain works.

☽Less of a hugger but he does like to keep his arms around you. Especially on date nights when you're cuddled up on your couch, a myriad of snacks in between the two of you, your head resting on his shoulder while he tries to hide his snores as he falls in and out of consciousness. You accuse of him trying to go to sleep and he tells you he was just "resting his eyes".

☽He would make you all the trinkets in the world. Many of them start as failed experiments of his or scraps from projects past that need to be repurposed, but the thought is always there. He hates to waste and there's really no need to when he has a girlfriend he can make gifts for. Your vanity is full of pretty side projects, decorative boxes for your makeup, ornate music boxes, tea sets and tiny figurines. Your desk would be full of special tchotchkes.

☽Speaking of tchotchkes, I think that would be one of his playful nicknames for you. It sounds absolutely delectable in his accent. I think he would also go for the classier terms of endearment such as 'dear', 'love', 'darling' as well as variations of them in his mother tongue. He would love teaching you his native language, both as a way to bond even more but also to make sure he never loses it.

☽He would also be big on compliments. He is probably your number one supporter, but not in the loud sports fan with a huge foam finger kinda way, but in a quieter more personal way. He is extremely confident in you and your abilities as well as being endlessly proud of everything you do. He is in complete awe of you, and he tells you as such. It is impossible to feel bad about yourself in his presence, he keeps a mental rolodex of every accomplishment of yours to combat any sort of negative self-talk.

☽Not a big PDA guy. He would rather throw himself out of a window than suck face with you in Jayce's presence. He is a big hand-holder which is disastrous when doing it while walking around because neither one of you can walk straight to save your life. It's not even an issue with his leg because you do it too. You bump into each other all the time, though in the winter it is more often on purpose to keep warm.

☽Viktor's favorite place to kiss you is on your forehead. It's simple and it's sweet and more often than not what he can get away with the most. With how much time he spends in the lab, he has grown to deeply appreciate those quiet moments with you, holding your hand under the table as he works in the low light, papers rustling as he tries to find the specific formula he's looking for. Jayce is across the table, snoring loud enough to keep the both of you awake. You look like you want to kiss him, he can feel your gaze on his lips as your fingers tangle through his hair and he turns to you and gives you a small smile then a sweet kiss on your forehead. When he pulls away, he leans into you and you sit there for a moment, nose to nose. "Just a few moments, love, I'm almost done." You giggle through tiredness. "It won't be a few moments, Vik." And he appreciates your understanding more than most things in the world. "No, it won't. But I'll try to make it quick.", he promises and then plants another kiss on you

☽He really likes reading with you, or just doing activities that allow the both of you to be doing something together without necessarily needing to talk. It doesn't even have to be something he's good at, it could be a painting session, or a pottery lesson, and he would be down. He would also be the type to try and pick up on your hobbies. You like to crochet; he's also picking up a crochet needle to try and work alongside you. And he's not too proud to ask for help, he likes a relationship where both parties are constantly learning and exploring.

☼Mel☼

☼Mel is definitely the type to spoil you. She has so much money and is not afraid to use it. You really like that dress you saw while window shopping? She's already ordered it to be tailored to your exact size. You like that bracelet? You wake up to it in a box on your nightstand the next morning and spot her wearing a matching piece later on that day. It's not to try and buy your love, she just thinks you deserve the world, and if she could buy it, it would be your wedding present.

☼Mel love holding hands at all times and specifically is the type to rub the skin between your pointer finger and thumb. Her skin would also be so soft, touching her feels like touching smooth velvet. She also likes to kiss your knuckles and the inside of your wrist before letting go, the mark her lipstick feeling like a heavy imprint of her lips.

☼She is also very fond of kissing your nose. She thinks 'booping' you with her finger is childish, but she is not above a little peck on the nose, which is the abridged version of her usual ritual of pecking your forehead, nose, and lips. Those kisses are usually taken in the morning when you go your separate ways for the day, particularly those that she knows will be long and tedious. She likes to think she takes part of you with her when she does it. She misses your intellect, she misses the silent indicators of your presence, she misses how you feel. Some days, she greatly yearns to return to you. She feels like a physical weight is lifted off her back and she can actually breathe.

☼She loves spending wash days with you. Those locs take hours and you are there right by her side, gossiping and discussing everything and nothing while royal hairdressers take down or retwist that beautiful head of hair. It's even better if you're the one doing it for her. She likes the feeling of your fingers in her scalp, massaging out the wrinkles in her brain as she goes boneless in between your legs. I, unfortunately, do not think she could return the favor. She is like basically royalty; her whole life someone was likely doing it for her. She would try and learn!! It would just take a little bit.

☼I do think she would be very good at doing your makeup. She has the base routine DOWN and usually likes to do simpler eye looks, though she can do whatever you request of her. All hell breaks loose when it comes time to do lips, and her gloss would end up all over your face as she is overcome with the unabating urge to leave glossy kiss marks all over your face . You would return the favor, whatever pigmented shade you previously wore landing all over her flawless skin, and she would savor the moment with a photo she keeps in her journal

☼In a modern AU, I think she would be really good at carnival games. I can't explain it, she just would. She's not the biggest fan carnivals and fairs as they're a bit too loud and crowded for her taste, but if you wanted to go, she certainly would never say no to you. While I think Vi would try very hard to beat them only to fail, Mel would be unexplainably good at them and win you tons of prizes.

☼Mel carries a purse on her at all times and has absolutely everything in there. Pads, tampons, ibuprofen, lip gloss, hand sanitizer, wet wipes, anything you could possibly need is in that bag of hers. She also carries the big bag so you only have to carry around outfit purses than can barely handle a handful of coins. She also loves matching outfits with you!!! You probably own so many matching outfits, matching pjs, matching workout sets, as well as multiple items of clothing that are the exact same except for sizing.

☼She would be another one who constantly talks about her partner, albeit, in a much smoother way than Jayce does. Jayce jumps at every opportunity to bring you up in conversation, it's always flows naturally with Mel but she also brags far more. It's always, "That's great but my girlfriend..." or finding ways to talk about big accomplishments knowing damn well no one else can compete. See her girlfriend has a doctorate, or her girlfriend won this prestigious award, or her girlfriend was the first to do this...what were you saying about your wife though???

☼As for pet names, I think Mel would be another person who uses "my love" or "my dear" but I also think she'd be the type to refer to you as "princess". Once again, coming from royalty, she treats you as such, and that also comes down to how she refers to you. She also just likes calling you by name, usually in her sappier moments followed by her last name She can't get enough of the way it sounds rolling off her tongue and the two of you together just sounds perfect.

[impactrueno]

it helps me to remember when i get sad about how annoyed lydia gets in s4 is that she’s fourteen at that point so she is ACTIVELY going through puberty. and we’re all kind of annoyed with the world at that point, even the people we love.

that's very true. she's also known him for years at that point, and he can be uhh a lot. he can't get away with displaying his huge flaws as often as he used to, lydia doesn't allow it, and when he DOES get away with it, the episode ends with lydia disappointed and even outright mad at him. Midnight Scum in particular is so hard to watch, you can see her losing respect for him as the episode progresses and...then it ends. episode over. beetlejuice is horrible, what did we expect?

but yeah season 4 is. whoof man.

sure, you can chalk up part of it to teenage hormones making her more irritable, but i really do think she's just like, at her limit sometimes. i can't blame her, i too want to strangle him a lot of the time and i'm not even the one putting up with his shit, babysitting him or having to deal with the consequences of HIS actions.

this isn't Critter Sitters anymore, she is simply not having it and she won't make a cute little excuse for him "oh he makes me laugh and eats bugs hee hee"

season 4 lydia reacting at his jokes like 😒🙄

she's probably heard that one a thousand times by now. beetlejuice is a static character; he doesn't change, he doesn't go through character development, he doesn't learn his lesson (outright refuses to) but lydia DOES change. and she will continue to change as she grows older. and i KNOW this is a sad theory but i can't help but think that, as she grows and moves forward, she's just...gonna leave him behind.

it'll be hard for her not to. not only is she starting to make her own life and will continue to get busier and busier and not having time to hang out with her ghoulish best friend...she's also maturing. something beetlejuice has never done, and seemingly never will. and as she grows more mature, those puns and pranks and hijinks will become less funny, and his lying, clinginess and refusal to grow will become more evident. season 4 has lydia expecting better of him and being let down, constantly. if it's exasperating for us imagine how it must be for her.

at what point does it become too much? how often has lydia sat and thought about this kind of thing? considering how intelligent and sensible she is for her age, probably more than a few times. this dead guy inadvertently saved this depressed little girl by becoming friends with her and giving her the confidence to be herself and make her own friends. does she know that though? beetlejuice does, he saw it when they showed him the reality in which lydia never meets him. but lydia has no idea (and he will never tell her) so sometimes i wonder if she's missing that key aspect of why he's so important in her life. it's possible she might've come to the same conclusion herself; but even then, these things can be hard to remember when you're having to, once more, clean up after him and the messes he gets them into because his chaotic impulses are always stronger than him. you can tell she's very tired of this. and she will become even more so as time passes.

best friends forever though.

...

...right?

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 2

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Azriel’s shadows liked to spoil his mate rotten.

Not that Azriel could find anything wrong with that.

She deserved more for putting up with him. 

More than new tea from the Dawn Court and her favourite chocolate covered, wafer thin cookies from a small bakery near the Sidra…more than the occasional embroidery thread they snuck her…More than whatever animal he went to go hunt, to cover his bed in even more furs just for her. 

He nearly had enough Sable furs to have a blanket made for her for Winter Solstice…

Azriel also had half a mind to go sneak in her office later that day. 

Just as a treat for not killing either of his brothers. For being civil. 

Rhys had come over for sparring, unnannounced. 

Azriel had hoped to have some peace and quiet today, but it seemed like Rhys had other plans. 

Currently Cassian and Rhys were wrestling with less sense than they had had when they were just kids, and Azriel was cleaning his weapons, watching from the sidelines.

Azriel couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of his brothers roughhousing. It was typical of them to turn a simple sparring session into some kind of ridiculous competition. He focused on sharpening his knives, trying to ignore their antics.

"You know, we could also actually train properly," he called out, his tone dry. "Instead of wrestling like a bunch of children."

Cassian looked up from his grappling with Rhys, grinning. "Oh, come on Az. Don't be such a stick in the mud. Loosen up, have a little fun for once."

Azriel's expression remained impassive. "I'm perfectly capable of having fun, Cassian. But I prefer to do so without rolling around in the dirt like a wild animal."

Rhysand chuckled, standing up and clapping Cassian on the back. "It's good to let loose every now and then, Az. You should try it sometime. It might make your brooding sessions a little less depressing."

Azriel just grunted in response, not willing to engage in a verbal sparring match with Rhys. He continued to clean his weapons, hoping that the training session would end soon so he could escape his brothers' teasing.

“When did you even come home yesterday?” Cassian asked him.

Azriel looked up from his work, his expression neutral. "Around 11," he said simply.

“You didn’t come to dinner,” Rhys pointed out. “You were missed.”

He highly doubted that.

And maybe he had made that mission in Dawn just a little while longer, so that he knew that dinner would be over and when he came home, he wouldn’t need to be alone.

Azriel just shrugged. "I was busy," he said, offering no further explanation. He knew his brothers were just trying to rile him up, and he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

*Are you still pissed of at me?* Rhys asked him mentally with a sigh. *I get it. But you don’t need to avoid everybody else, just because…*

*I’m not avoiding anyone,* Azriel replied, his mental voice tight. *I’m simply choosing to spend my time how I see fit.*

“I was busy,” he repeated aloud.

Cassian rolled his eyes. "You're always busy, Az. You know, there's such thing as taking a break once in a while. Spending time with your family."

Or he could spent time with his mate. He could spent time with his mate, who let him brush her hair and even braid it …who pressed kisses to his horrible scarred hands and smiled at him. 

If it was a choice between Irena or a family dinner where he didn’t want to stay longer than an hour or two, because he was still too fucking pissed off at Rhys…the choice was easy. 

“Or is there a special somebody?” Cassian teased him.

Azriel glowered at him. "It’s none of your business." He went back to working on his weapons, his expression tense.

*You can’t keep panting after Elain for the rest of your life,* Rhys said mentally. *Look, I know I didn’t…I am sorry. But she’s happy with Lucien and…*

*Don’t worry, I’ll go to a pleasure hall and pay for it if I want to fuck somebody,* Azriel shot back viciously.

Or his own hand would suffice. More than suffice, especially if…especially if Irena had let him kiss her the evening before…sometimes he waited until she disappeared into her room, and he buried his face in the pillows that smelled like her, fisted his cock and rutted like an untried boy for seconds before he came all over himself. 

It was still better than any other sex he ever had had before.

Cassian raised an eyebrow at him. "It sounds like you need to get laid," he said, chuckling. "Maybe that'll help with your bad mood."

Azriel shot him a glare. "Mind your own business, Cassian. My love life is none of your concern."

Rhysand gave him a sympathetic look. *We just want you to be happy, Az. You deserve happiness.*

“Ohhh, touchy,” Cassian said with a snort.

Azriel just gritted his teeth, his temper rising. "Cassian, if you don’t shut your mouth right now, I swear to the Mother, I’ll shut it for you."

Cassian just grinned at him. "Come on, Az. I’m just teasing you. Lighten up."

Azriel's grip on his weapons tightened. "I don't like your teasing, Cassian. And I certainly don't appreciate you making assumptions about my personal life.”

Mostly he just wanted his brothers to leave him the hell alone.

And then...then before he could say another thing...he felt the shaking.

And then the sound came. An eardrum shattering explosion, the very foundation of the House of Wind shaking. It was terrifying him.

Irena was down there in her office. Nesta was in there. 

He was moving before he was even thinking. 

*Merrill's office, Master!* the shadows screeched.

Azriel was already running.

Cassian hot on his heels, so was Rhys.

Azriel was faster, heaving shadows around his limbs as he rocketed down the spiral stairs of the House of Wind.

Level Two, Straight to the right. Clearly...Clearly the epicenter of the blast. Of the explosion…of whatever had happened.

He pushed as hard as he could, legs burning as he hurtled down the hallway to Merrill's office.

He wasn't the only one. "Merrill!" He could hear Gwyn's shrill voice screaming, coming to a stop in a hallway of what had once been Merrill's office but now was just...

It was a mass of wood and rubble.

He barely slowed down, scrambling into action. Gwyn was already digging through it, so where Nesta and Emerie. Cassian landed behind him, immediately moving some of the debris.

His shadows swarmed as he and the others quickly dug at the rubble. Looking, desperately looking.

He moved another piece of rubble out of the way...a piece of blue cloths. The same blue cloth that he knew covered Irena's body, the scent of poppies clinging to her...Without a thought, he grasped and then dragged, a hoarse shout that was her, that was her...

He felt as if he were choking, as if he were drowning as he dragged out her body. Bloody, bruised, broken but still...still there was a faint flicker, a faint, thready heartbeat.

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, he tried to pick up on her heart. There was barely a flicker. Too fast, too faint, she was barely holding on. Barely hanging by a thread.

There was blood pooling on her abdomen, dying the blue dress she wore bright scarlet red, He put pressure on that wound immediately, leaning on her with nearly all his weight, his fingers slick with blood. "Damn it, stay with me, love," he demanded sharply.

Azriel felt like he could barely breath. Like he was falling, tumbling down as he tried to will her to stay with him. Stay. Stay. Stay. Please stay. Stay...

Rhys was there suddenly, checking her pulse. "Breathing is erratic. She's in shock," he told Azriel with a grimace. "Mor is getting Madja..."

"Az..." her voice was so weak, but he turned to see dark brown eyes watching him, brows furrowing.

"Just keep breathing, Love," he told her, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

He could barely hear what was going on around him. It was as if he were in a bubble, a world of just himself and her and the desperate beat of her heart under his fingers.

"I am sorry," she whispered.

"There is nothing you need to apologise for her, Irena," he promised her sharply. "Absolutely nothing."

Irena's eyes drifted shut. Azriel felt like something was dying inside him as her heartbeat fluttered against his fingertips. His world was collapsing, shattering into pieces as her breath stuttered.

"Stay. Just stay..." he was barely aware of what he was saying, his eyes frantically searching hers. She had to stay. He would do anything to keep her here. Anything.

"I am still owing you that flight," he told her. She hadn't let him take her flying yet. They had snuck away in the library...in the rooftop garden...in her office. But he had never gotten to take her flying. He had never gotten to take her out into Velaris. They had never had a date at a fancy restaurant, had never gone to see the symphony. There were thousands of things that he hadn't yet gotten to do with his mate, because they had all the time in the world.

Irena just stared at him, her eyes pleading, as her heartbeat slowed, fluttering weaker and weaker. Azriel felt a sharp pain in his chest as fear clawed at his spine. "Just hold on a little longer, love," he whispered. "Please."

And then there Madja. Thank the cauldron. There she was.

Azriel could barely manage to let go of her, his mind consumed with the singular thought of Irena's laboured, erratic heartbeat as he moved back. Madja immediately set to work.

He lunged for her head, lunged to pull it on his lap, to touch her with blood slick fingertips, her normally rosy red lips pale, her skin even whiter than usual.

"Hurts," she whispered, as Madja set to work, barking orders.

"I know, I know, love," he whispered, touching her cheek with his fingertips as Madja got to work.

His eyes searched hers as he murmured those words over and over, as if he could somehow hold her in this world through sheer force of will alone.

"We haven't had enough time," he whispered desperately, leaning his forehead against hers.

She was slipping away. He could feel it. Feel her slipping, feel her heartbeat slow. Feel the thread that tethered her to this world fray, fray, fray...

No. He couldn't lose her. Would not let her leave him. He had waited far too long for her. Far, far too long to let her slip through his fingers.

"Stay with me," he pleaded. "Please stay with me."

But her eyes were slipping shut, her head lolling to the side. He gently patted her cheek, trying to urge her back to consciousness, but he didn't think he was even really aware of what he was doing, where he was. The world had boiled down to a desperate litany, in his head. Stay...stay...please...don't you dare...

“I am going to be so furious with you if you die. We may have our first fight,” he told her fiercely.

He needed her to know that he would be there to be furious with her if she dared to die, that she couldn't die. Couldn't. That she had to stay. Had to keep fighting. There were too many things ahead of them...a wedding to plan, children to have, years and years of life to live.

“Az,” she breathed his name, her eyes not even open anymore.

“Open your eyes, Irena,” he demanded. “Look at me, love,”

Her eyes finally fluttered open at his command. It was barely more than a slither of brown, but he latched onto it, taking it for what it was. A chance. A moment to get through to her.

He wasn't sure what he was saying, but the words spilled forth from him, a litany, a desperate prayer. "Please," he breathed, "don't go...don't you dare..."

He was dimly aware that the others had gathered, but he didn't dare look away. Didn't dare look away from her as he cradled her head, trying to pour all of his prayers into those words. All of his hope and desperation.

"You can't go." A statement. An order. An absolute certainty in his voice. "I will not let you go."

He wouldn't. Would never, ever let her go. Would drag her back from the Cauldron's grasp with bloodied and broken hands if thats what had to be.

She didn't speak. Didn't need to. He could read her answer in her eyes, the determination in those brown eyes as she tried so, so hard to stay.

It was as if she were holding on for him, because he had asked her to. Because it was him there with her. Like she would fight until her last breath because he told her too. He didn't deserve this beautiful creature, who was willing to fight for him, willing to live for him.

It was something primal, something desperate, something fierce as he whispered those words over and over, like a prayer. "Fight. Fight. Fight."

And she listened. She did. He could feel her hold on, just barely grasp hold of that tether that kept her in this world. Just barely keep her eyes open.

Just look at him.

And she did, those dark eyes unfocused but open, staring up at him, watching him. Trying so, so hard. It nearly made his heart stop in the most terrible way that she was struggling for him.

And he was so proud of her. Of the way she was fighting like she was. Of the way she was grasping, hanging on to life like she was.

The seconds stretched too thin, feeling like eternities and only the slightest of moments. But her eyes were open, if only barely. She hadn't given up. Hadn't let go.

He was dimly aware of the others, Gwyn hovering with a worried expression, Madja murmuring quiet instructions to the others, Rhys kneeling not far away. But he barely glanced at them, barely dared to take his eyes off Irena.

He was certain that if he looked away, if he let this tenuous thread sever, that she would die. That as long as he kept her here, she wouldn't slip, wouldn't let go.

He had one hand on her cheek, her skin still clammy and pale, as her eyes slipped open and shut. But everytime, they would find his face. His eyes, like he was the only thing tethering her to the world. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her barely holding on, only that last sliver of determination keeping her here.

"Please," he pleaded, whispering those words like a prayer, like he would be praying to a vengeful god. Those moments felt like eternities, stretching on and on with only his desperate whispers. "Please..."

The world felt so still, so silent as if the world was holding its breath. Azriel's eyes locked on Irena, silently begging her, asking her to please, please...

Live, live live... he whispered those words over and over, a desperate plea to the Mother, the Cauldron, to anyone who would listen. To Irena, the only person in the entire world who truly mattered in that moment.

Her eyes were growing glassy, slipping closed only to jerk open again. Stay he demanded. Keep looking at me. Please.

She tried. Mother, she tried. Her eyes drifted to him, the smallest hint of life, of a spark there in those dark brown eyes.

He hardly dared to breathe, hardly dared to move. Afraid that any wrong move could tip her over the edge, could pull her into that chasm of non-existence that she was desperately clinging too.

He felt something pricking at his eyes, felt something in his chest cracking, breaking at the sheer intensity of emotions thrumming through him. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her like this, so pale, barely holding on, barely conscious...

“Alright,” Madja said quietly. “Good girl. You were so very brave.”

"Will...will she be alright?" He asked, voice hoarse.

He didn't let his eyes drift from Irena's face, her half lidded eyes staring at him. It filled him with such an intense pang of relief and fear at the same time. Relief, because she was alive...and fear, because they had been so close to losing her.

"She's not out of the woods yet," Madja warned. "But she'll make it. She lost a lot of blood. It will take some time to get her vitals stable again."

He felt like he could breathe for the first time. It was almost dizzying, the sheer, intense relief that flooded through him. Irena was here. Irena would live. It filled his veins with an almost drug like euphoria, that made him light headed, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

He barely managed to keep that feeling in, the pure euphoria from showing as he smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. "Thank you," he whispered, voice hoarse, eyes finally dragging away from Irena's face to look at Madja. "Just...thank you."

He looked back at Irena, taking in her face. Alive. Still alive. Still here with him, not gone. The tension seeped from his shoulders, a strange sort of exhaustion taking over. As if all the adrenaline that had fueled him, the fear, was slowly draining out of him like water.

“Merrill,” Irena whispered, her voice near silent.

Azriel felt his fingers brush her cheek, just the gentlest touch as he tried to keep it together. It had been too close. Too, too close. He couldn't stop the overwhelming feelings flowing through him of elation and fear as he looked down at her as he looked down at her, alive. Alive and breathing and whispering soft words. "Shhh," he whispered softly. "Save your strength. Don't strain yourself."

He looked up finding Cassians gaze who just shook his head. Merrill was dead.

Azriel couldn't quite process that information, not in that moment. His eyes were still drawn to Irena, still unable to take his eyes off of her for more than a moment. His fingers brushed her cheek again, just the faintest touch as he pressed a small kiss to her forehead. "Rest," he instructed softly. "I'll be right there.” He promised.

“Being here to her room,” Madja said quietly.

“My room,” he corrected.

The priestesses dormitory was locked from males. If he even tried to get in there it would’ve end well for him. And he wouldn’t leave her side.

“Your room?” Gwyn asked sharply.

“Gwyn,” Rhys said quietly.Azriel didn't even acknowledge Gwyn's words, didn't have the energy. All he could focus on was the way Irena's eyes had drifted shut, the steady rise and fall of her chest. She would be alright. She was going to be alright. She was alive. Right now, in that moment, thats all that mattered.

“Az, how long have the two of you…” Cassian asked hesitantly.

Azriel just shrugged, his hand resting on Irena's hair, smoothing back from her face. “Two years. She’s my mate,” he said flatly as he gathered her up. 

“Mate,” she rasped. “Mine.”

“Yours,” he agreed softly.

[luvvixu]

mind over matter pt. 1

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

tags: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, miscarriage, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: y'all, im back after ghosting this page for way too lonh cuz im on my process of taking psychology. yep! this random bitch is up for being a psychologist despite her mental health place amidst the fluctuating status. and you know what's crazy? my sanity is slowly decomposing! all thanks to that one mf and one chapter in which im not going to name about (gege and jjk chapter 261)

previous / masterlist / next

it all started when he started caring for you.

after being inside an arranged marriage for like five years, satoru was confident with himself that he doesn't need a wife to console his woes as he is perfectly capable all by himself.

to say the least, the start of your marriage was a definition of an absolute disaster. clearly, you and satoru were like a magnet in the same pole, it can never collide despite how many efforts you push on both magnets.

from fights, misunderstanding, up to almost divorce after you caught him kissing another girl when you decided to give him a visit during his mission.

you were hurt, yes. but you would always tell yourself that neither of you want this marriage, so being hurt when there's no even love is called invalid. yet, you can't still help it but to feel somewhat jealous because he was supposed to be your husband—but oh well.

your family begged you to stay as it was for the peace of mind and safety of your clan. you snorted sarcastically as you wondered if they ever cared for your personal peace of mind and safety also.

nevertheless, you still stay inside this loveless marriage and maintain the gojo surname. you forgive him even though he's not explaining himself nor asking for your forgiveness.

as for satoru, he's aware that he's being a dick to you. his reason is that this marriage was his least priority as it was a hindrance for him. so basically and truth may hurt, he thinks you're only a hindrance and a distraction from the higher ups.

there were times where he would bury himself with work so he doesn't have to go to his original home and breathe the same air as you.

there were also times where he spent almost two months without seeing you or even communicating with you. it was like you didn't exist in his life nor he doesn't have a wife!

although, he is not that cruel to the point that he would slam the fact in your face. no, he's just leaving his presence until you feel it yourself that he doesn't want you.

his shenanigans would continue for almost a year until that night occurred.

that night when it was your wedding anniversary and he came home very late after fighting some annoying curse. he took a swearing underneath his breath when the stinky smell of curse blood hit his nose.

scrunching up as he was about to proceed to his own room (despite being married, you two sleep in a separate room) to clean up when he saw you up by the garden. you are currently watching how your little seedlings grow into beautiful flowers swaying along the air with a calm look on your face.

your husband broke the silence by asking you what are you doing this late. in which you replied that you couldn't sleep as you slowly looked at him.

satoru watched your face, it did not even flinch with any kind of emotion—nothing, just nothing. you're basically acting like a robot to him, and he hates it.

"i'll prepare a warm bath for you." you mumbled, standing on your feet and was about to leave when he grabbed your arm.

"i heard what happened earlier." satoru said slowly, as if he's being careful on his words which was very out of character for him.

"really? great." detaching from his hold, you left him no chance and instantly left.

"y/n." the man followed you until both of you reached the bathroom. you paid him no attention and just did the usual things you do, prepare him a bath.

"talk to me, please." his tone becomes soft, pleading. turning the water on, you refused to turn around, you refused to make physical contact with him, you refused to let him see the tears brimming in your eyes.

"go on. say what you want to say. i'm listening." you mentally curse yourself for almost stuttering. satoru looked at you, eyes finally unveiling an emotion. he aches to hold you for some reason but to think that he doesn't want to upset you even further, he stops. all he can do is watch you serve him.

"do you want to keep it?" he asked quietly, his ocean blue eyes dropping on your stomach. getting uncomfortable, you tried to hide it.

splash, splash, splash, you did not answer him.

"i said, do you want to keep it?" satoru asked once again. this time, his voice was a bit louder than before.

"i don't know. do you want to?" you asked him back the question, quietly.

your husband went quiet. having a child is not part of your plan but you have to because that's your purpose of marrying him, to bear an heir. now, satoru was asking you nicely if you want to keep it when in the first place, it should happen this way.

"how many months?"

"two."

"and you didn't tell me?"

"do you want to know?"

"of course i want to know. that's literally my child in there." he pointed to your belly with a slight frustration on his face.

you did not say anything back, just continuing your duties as his wife—wife on papers. satoru was growing upset, tired, even angry at you. where was the talkative and fierce look that you have? where's the harshness in your voice? why do you look so vulnerable now?

"you can take a bath now. i'll be downstairs to prepare you dinner."

"y/n, wait—"

*slam*

before satoru could even stop you, you already left, leaving him in all silence. the husband heaves a deep sigh within him as he recollects the events prior to this day. he remembers how he acted when he discovered to ijichi that you went to the hospital and went back home with a pregnancy result in your pocket.

satoru remembers almost getting killed by the special curse when the news caught him totally off guard. you two only have intercourse when both are drunk after coming home from shoko's birthday and that's it. you also told him that you were on pills so he's relieved. but how?

what if—

no, no, no. you wouldn't. you wouldn't do that to him. you are his little loyal wife and even though both of you aren't on good terms, he trusted your loyalty…or was he? were you?

everything was so messed up that he couldn't think of anything even after taking a shower and now he's on his way downstairs to eat dinner. once he was in the kitchen, he saw you almost absentmindedly cutting the vegetables.

satoru took a seat, quietly. he was watching you as your back was facing him. his six eyes weren't dumb to notice how much weight you are slowly losing. unconsciously, satoru was clutching his fists tightly.

"i bought you your favorite milk tea. it's in the fridge, you can drink it later." your voice seemingly dropped him from his daze. satoru looked at you once more, only to find out that you're still not facing him back.

"o…okay, thanks."

minutes later, you place a plate of curry in front of him. satoru noticed that there's only one plate on the table, which was his.

"where's your meal?"

"i already ate." oh right, it was literally midnight now. you should be asleep by now, yet here you are, serving your husband. also, why does it seem like satoru was hoping to eat dinner with you? it is unusual, to be honest.

for your five years of marriage, you two would only eat together for formal matters. but with a simple domestic setting like this, there's no way a peace would occur if the two of you shared a table and a meal.

while he is eating, satoru watches you grab the said milk tea from the fridge and place it in front of him. "just leave the dishes on the sink. i'll wash them later." and with that, you left the dining room.

the food was great, it was very delicious. satoru can't deny that you're great at cooking, and you really have a specialty when it comes to curry like this. but why does this meal taste bitter? perhaps, was it because of the taste of his conscience? he doesn't know.

the six eyes ate in silence. he was planning to talk to you later about everything. but anyway, satoru has been eyeing the milk tea you bought for him. now this wasn't unusual. everytime you would go out, you would always buy him some of his favorites, mostly food.

like there's a time where you bought him his favorite mochi, crepe cakes, churros, ice creams—basically every dessert or food stalls you happened to pass by. it warms his heart, though. there's also a time where he anticipated what kind of sweet delicacy you would give him next.

anyway, satoru finished eating his meal. he was drinking the milk tea you gave to him while searching for you. he saw you sitting on the same spot when he first saw you this evening, by the patio of your garden. silently, satoru took a seat beside you with a mindful distance between you two.

"can we talk?" he started. in which you reply with a soft hum. satoru finds himself gulping, he sets aside his drink first before mimicking your posture—wrapping his arms on his folded legs.

"so um, since there's a baby now…i'd like to discuss this matter with you, properly. i was thinking about…moving you in one of the jujustu high's dorms." satoru nibbles the straw of the sugary drink, absentmindedly.

"it's for safety measures, since i'm not always at home and the risk will be doubled by now. but if you're inside the campus, a lot of sorcerers would be able to protect you." he added.

"okay." you did not even question him or even argue with him, you just simply agree without a second thought.

the man could feel himself gulping, the bitterness increasing despite the sweet liquid he was drinking. he's starting to get uncomfortable the way you are currently acting.

also, come to think of it, you agreed to temporarily live in jujustu high—does that mean you are keeping the baby? satoru couldn't help but to finally ask you.

"d…does that mean—"

"the baby has nothing to do with us. i'm not that cruel to take its life." before satoru could beat you, you already beat him.

"when will i be moving out?"

satoru gulped the growing rare anxiousness down to his throat. "probably next week. give me some time to deliver this news to the higher ups." you just mumbled an okay as your response.

"y/n, are you really sure about this?" the man couldn't really pinpoint your decision. although you made it explicit, he still couldn't comprehend you.

"i'm okay with anything. it's just you who didn't. also, if you are planning to ask me about keeping the child once again, go ask yourself instead. your decision is my decision." you replied.

satoru made a mental note that your voice sounds more tired than before. it kinda ignited something that he was not used to feeling before as literally a man-god himself who's full of pride.

"i'll be resting now. have a good night." he did not stop you, in fact, he thinks it's for the better. satoru could only follow you by his gaze as you enter your own room.

yes, your own room. the two of you did not share the same room. you two couldn't even bear to eat together, what more on sleeping together. this is not what satoru meant when he asked you to talk. but oh well, guess he should also call this a night. with that, satoru retreated to his own room and slept.

fast forward, you moved to jujutsu high and started teaching as a history teacher in a world full of related curses(suggested by satoru) since you're an alumni at this school like your husband. you like that idea too since it's a great way to distract yourself from everything.

currently, you are watching your third year students train themselves along with the second years and the first years. it was quite a good sight since all of them have a nice and strong potential as a sorcerer.

suddenly, one of your husband's students came to you with a big smile on his face. that must be yuuji, the vessel for the infamous king of curses. you always adored him, he's a good kid. but you couldn't help but to be saddened by the fact that he was literally carrying a big burden over his life.

"y/n sensei, good afternoon!" he waved at you before taking a seat nearby you. behind him, you saw his two other friends—your husband's students too.

"oi, you're being too loud." megumi scolded his friend. he was worried that yuuji's loudness was too much for your situation, your pregnancy.

"it's fine, megumi." you just chuckled. "i have some extra chocolate bars here, you three can have it." the trio thanked you happily, while you just smiled in return.

"by the way, we have a question for you, y/n sensei." yuuji said, munching on the chocolate. you asked him to shoot the question but he suddenly hesitated, looking at his two friends for support.

when he received the support he needed, he took a deep breath. "y/n sensei, we were wondering about your husband a-and…" yuuji trailed off. you already know what he meant, so you didn't wait for him any further.

"oh, i suppose you are curious because you haven't seen my husband even though i technically lived here?" the smile still lingers on your face as you watch them nod their heads.

there's something that you forgot to mention to them, they don't know that their teacher is your husband and the father of your child. you were prepared for a situation like this, though.

megumi on the other hand, could've known this beforehand since satoru took care of him during his childhood. then your marriage came through and your husband was already taking care of megumi, but it was kept a secret to everyone—including him.

stroking your six months belly, a recent hobby of yours when you want to seek some comfort. "he was a busy man. most of his job requires being out of town. but he never fails to shower me with love by making sure that we still communicate despite his busy schedule."

"lately, we've barely talked. yet, he promised me that he will finish all of his jobs and tasks before going home to me. probably that's when our child is about to be born." you sigh just to justify this facade.

the students seem to believe your story. although you're quite worried that they might tell this to gojo and your cover will be blown. you planned to talk about this to him, anyway.

"that must've been hard, y/n sensei." nobara mumbles out of sympathy. she was worried for you and your child due to the absence of your husband.

if only they knew that your experience was much harder.

"you could always come to us, y/n sensei. we will not hesitate to help you and your child." beaming brightly as the other two agreed, you really adore yuuji. the amount of softness he gave to you is something that your future child would like to possess.

"thank you, you three. now, you all better go back to training. i will be heading to shoko since i promised to visit her." watching as the three wave their good-byes to you, you couldn't help but to feel an urge to protect them at all cost. probably due to your maternal instinct but whatever, you just hoped they would stay safe.

another fast forward, you are on your way towards shoko's office to spend your free time. knocking softly on her wooden door, shoko opens the door with a smile on her face.

"how's my little mama doing?" she engulfed you with a hug, which you returned warmly.

"good. the morning sickness did not attack me today, thank goodness." you said as you took a seat on her sofa.

shoko also commented that she was happy too. as mentioned before, stroking your six month old baby bump is a must on a daily basis. you are now used with a thought and feeling of a growing child inside you.

"and how're you and dickhead gojo?" shoko changes the topic.

"we were just fine like i have said before."

your friend heave the deepest sigh you've ever known. "just fine? y/n, do you want me to say the like i have said before too?"

"sho, ever since we knew that we're having a baby, we really tried our best to be compatible with each other. but we just couldn't." it's true, on the exact tomorrow of that eventful night wherein gojo discovers your pregnancy, he tried to make it up to you by lessening the sparkling arguments, making sure you are well feeded, and even showering you with things your eyes would have landed on.

you are delighted, of course. even though he absolutely fails his duty as your husband, at least he's trying his best to be a good father for your child. you appreciate him for that and also start to open your heart and pour a little more trust to him.

however, you are not dumb to notice the faint smell of a female's perfume and lipstick stain on his neck whenever he's with you. your heart slowly closes once again and your little more trust shatters.

once you saw yourself crying silently—feeling betrayed and angry for yourself on trusting him shortly after that. guess old habits never die, you are crying about something you've already expected. self-blaming is an understatement for letting your guard absolutely down.

gojo's still a jerk even though you had his baby. i should've expected this. having a baby doesn't mean he's going to change for me.

"we both tried, sho—we both tried. but we just couldn't." your voice dropped its tone once more. you still felt bitter even if it happened way back like two months ago.

"or he just couldn't." she snorted sarcastically.

you both knew she's right, gojo just couldn't. for years of being married, you unfortunately learned how to love a man like him who doesn't even give a one shit about you. tragic. very fucking tragic. if only you could see yourself directly, you would laugh at her nonstop.

"maybe this marriage is meant to be loveless—"

*slam!*

"yo shoko, i need—oh…" the door suddenly bursts open as it reveals your hot issue for today and probably for the rest, your husband gojo. you could tell that he was also surprised (but he shouldn't be) to see you here in shoko's infirmary.

"learn to fucking knock, gojo." shoko hissed at the white haired male.

"oh sorry. am i interrupting something?" he asked, looking at everything but you. he refused to spare you even a small glance, which you kinda do the same.

"you're not. now what do you need?" shoko was the one who answered him.

before gojo could even open his mouth , you already excused yourself. "i'll be taking my leave now. thanks for the check up, shoko." and then you left, leaving shoko and gojo with an awkward silence.

"aren't you going to talk about your business or maybe you want me to kick you out?" shoko sarcastically made a comment.

"right…" satoru cleared up his throat. for some reason, he doesn't know why he's suddenly getting iffy.

"ho…how's the child doing?"

"you have to be fucking kidding me." shoko groaned loudly. somehow, she expected this, but she couldn't believe that she would actually encounter this.

"y/n was just right there moments ago and you didn't even bother to ask her that yourself?!" the doctor could feel herself getting really annoyed. the truth may hurt but she's getting annoyed by the two of you.

fight here, ignore there—ignore there, fight here.

"bet she told you that we're not on good terms even though we really tried to work it out. yet, you're seemingly acting clueless." satoru snorted sarcastically. he's not dumb that you're telling stories to your friend, shoko.

the doctor rolled her eyes. she was this close from smashing his old friend's face to the wall to wake him up and stop being an idiot. "every fucking time, gojo. but that should not be an excuse to not talk to her. you two are still married for god's sake, and now, there's even a child along the way. i can see how much effort y/n has put in your marriage, you must do the same."

"don't you dare to compare her efforts to mine, you know nothing." he growls.

"but i sure know how shitty you are."

something inside satoru snaps. "why are you being angry at me?! you've been like this since we got married. always defending y/n, but what about me?! i have been your friend since highschool and you just met that girl! wouldn't it be unfair to side with someone whom you just met?!"

"you're asking me that when you have six eyes and yet, you can't see how much she suffers from you?!”

“but what about me? am i not suffering too?!”

how did we get here? things are getting pretty out of hand. two friends getting fired up because of a marriage that was about to fall apart. one being inside the marriage while the other one has the eye inside the marriage.

both shoko and gojo have their own sides but it all leads back to one thing, you are involved.

“you don't know how much pressure i take just because of that fucking marriage. everyday that i woke, another constant nagging from these bastards of higher ups. i'm getting so, so tired and i just want to…”

“just want, what? end your marriage by divorcing her?”

the moment the last syllables escaped her lips, she already knew the answer.

“fucking gojo.” shoko mumbles under her breath. “if you want to fix your life, you better not act dumb.”

satoru was still caught silent. his wide eyes trailed on the floor and unable to move. shoko saw how she hit the point. sighing over herself, she motioned the door. “get out, gojo. if you're gonna rethink your life choices, do it in your home with your wife.”

and with that, without a word, satoru left her clinic feeling heavy and defeated.

along the hallway, he saw you. satoru saw you looking at him with horror in your eyes—for the first time in one month, you finally looked him in the eyes, but it's filled with fear and tears.

“y/n, i—” just like what he had done before he left shoko's clinic, you left without saying a word.

satoru felt everything become hazy, his knees were trembling, his six eyes were stinging, his lips were turning white on how hard he bites them. the man shuddered in disappointment, you must have heard everything.

his feet act on their own and chases you, holding you by the wrist. but it was torn away immediately after you forcefully snatched it back. while doing so, satoru didn't fail to notice the hot tears streaming on your pale face, in which you immediately wiped it out.

“y/n, i-it’s not what you think. i…” as much as satoru would like you to hear himself, he hasn't gotten the words. he was left stuck by his own thoughts and self-doubt that he puts himself into shame.

meanwhile, you thought you could've just walked away from the scene. but from the moment you hear shoko and satoru exchange heated words, it gets you glued to the floor and unable to move. despite her clinic being semi-soundproof, you hear everything. even if you're not there in the room physically, you seemingly know everything.

“you don't know how much pressure i take just because of that fucking marriage.”

“everyday that i woke, another constant nagging from these bastards of higher ups. i'm getting so, so tired and i just want to…”

“y/n,” satoru called your name. his tone was very far from you used to. you grow accustomed to him saying your name venomously, but now it seems like he's saying your name delicately and vulnerable…and satoru hates being vulnerable.

“i know what you're thinking. i accidentally eavesdropped but i didn't t hear everything.” you internally praise yourself for being a great actress. you thank yourself for not stuttering and not sounding so dejected.

but you lied. you're a terrible liar. you heard everything. you heard every single thing that escaped his lips during his argument inside your friend's office. and you feel like dying, his words hurt you so much more than any deadly curses.

“have you eaten already? do you want me to prepare you for a bath?” satoru couldn't understand why the heck you still care for your wife duties when your husband, him, just broke your heart not so long ago?

you're acting absolutely strange in his eyes and he hates it. he hates how you would just bury or bottle your emotions. you're creating a facade and a labyrinth where you keep it by yourself.

“y/n, it's not time for anything. let's just talk please.” you hate it how he sounds like he's begging, but satoru never begs.

“let’s go to my room. let's talk this out—”

“gojo sensei! yaga sensei was looking for y—oh…” yuuji trailed his tracks when he saw you and satoru together.

“dummy! why do you just yell like that?!” megumi bonked his friend's head for interrupting your talk.

wearing your mask again, you smiled at the duo then brushed yourself away from the scene. satoru couldn't stop you any further, you're already away from him.

either way, satoru does the same, he wore his mask just like you. smiling at his students, he let them navigate the way towards yaga and deal with all of his shits so he would have time and talk to you properly this time.

meanwhile, yuuji and megumi were dismissed after they had done their task. nudging his black haired friend, yuuji pointed out things earlier.

“hey, fushiguro. is it just me or did i just see y/n sensei…crying?” he questioned. megumi remained silent because even saw that you were crying—they’re also not dumb to notice the burst energy somewhere inside your body.

“whether she is or not, it's none of our business.” megumi replied.

“i know. but i couldn't help but to feel really worried about her. you know crying can be bad, especially when you're pregnant, that could stress her out.” yuuji surprisingly knows how pregnancy somehow works. but they both know he's right again. they're worried about you and your baby, so they both take a mental note to visit you later.

as you slam the door behind you, a silent sob escapes your lips as you slide your back behind the wooden frame. along with the sound of your cries, was also the sound of your heart breaking.

for some reason, the facade you just put up there early makes you suffocate. it burns your eyes and it makes you shudder in pain. the hyperventilating noise escapes from your lips while you clutch the handful of fabrics of your blouse.

“you don't know how much pressure i take just because of that fucking marriage.”

“everyday that i woke, another constant nagging from these bastards of higher ups. i'm getting so, so tired and i just want to…”

god, that feeling burns! his words keep on burning in your head, engraving the letters piece by piece. those words are not too cruel, it's a little far from what you had heard before. but it came out directly from your husband's mouth, the father of your baby.

maybe, you think you acted this way because of your hormones. but nonetheless, he's like blaming you for all of his misfortunes and that made you recall your past arguments with him before.

it was like a collection of puzzles coming up together, picturing a clear image; you were just a distraction, he wanted nothing to do with you, you were just a burden, he wanted to dissolve this marriage, you would never be his, he wanted to be free from you.

you put your hand on your baby bump, stroking it ever so gently. you swore to yourself that you would never let anyone harm your baby, you would never let this marriage harm your baby, you would never let satoru harm your baby, you never let yourself harm your baby. that's for sure.

because as the clock ticks, time passes. and as the time passes, more tears flow to your cheeks along with blood on your legs.

[part 2 is out now — ©luvvixu2024]

[glassrowboat]

Lights! Camera! Headcanons! Reca.

SFW collection of silly HCs!

- Little Miss Frog is only ever oiled by Reca. He doesn't trust anyone else to be as thorough with her joints as he is.

- Reca has multiple hats for his favorite assistant director, it's just the one we see her wearing all the time is her favorite

- If for some reason you ever needed to switch shoes with Reca, he would gladly do so. After all, what kind of love interest would he be if he couldn't even do that much? The only problem is that he looks better in your heels than you ever have.

- He has a pair of shades with a print of old TV static on the lenses. They are not practical at all but he still uses them.

- This man does not know the meaning of the word subtlety

- You're getting atrocious petnames 24/7, to the point you even begin to think he's forgotten your actual name. It's always love muffin this, honey bear that- and if you ever jokingly refer to yourself as one of them it might as well become a part of Reca’s daily vocabulary.

- He has had multiple people in the past pointing a remote at him to see if they could pause the YouTube play button in his eyes. Now, whenever he sees someone holding one close to him, Reca just snatches it because he's that fed up.

- The button can change, but he's never telling you how it works.

- “The mystery only compels you further to my character, sweetie pie.”

- Please do not trust this man with cooking. He's more of an order in kind of guy and trust that that's preferable over letting him near a stove, oven, or even a microwave on some days. However, he will set the table and clean the dishes for you- it just might take a while because he's busy editing a script.

- Has picked up tons of little facts over the years from all the research he's put behind films. You could ask the most random questions and he'll undoubtedly have an answer- even if it concerns you how he knows how to dispose of a full body.

- On that note, Reca knows a good handful of the meanings behind names, so when someone introduces themselves to him, he usually ends up deciding if that “meaning” fits their character.

- Usually, it doesn't.

- Aka: Crew members

- It's easier that way.

- Those who are a regular part of his filming crew all carry earplugs with them now as a habit after having to listen to Reca's …excited shouting.

- He disapproves of relationships amongst the cast. There's always going to be issues working with people, but he doesn't need the entire film getting pushed aside because one couple had a fight! It’s utterly nonsensical to bring that onto his set. Save that for after everything has wrapped up.

- Anyone listen to Distractible and Markiplier’s entire stunt with lenses? Reca's worse. That's your only warning.

- After your first kiss, when Reca was walking back home, all self accomplished, he jumped up and cracked his feet together- completely unironically. He's not even ashamed about it, either.

- If Reca didn't start on Broadway as part of the crew, then he at least had some experience with it. (He was the theater kid in school). He knows a good couple of songs off the top of his head at this point, and when this one particular song comes on, he always has to stop himself from dancing.

- Owns a gramophone, but it only works half the time. Reca claims it's part of its charm….

- You've watched him mix redbull and coffee together only to drink it all down in a single sitting, then walk away without an explanation. That entire night he was yapping in your ear excitedly only to fall asleep on top of you as soon as it hit 4am.

- Reca tends to repeat the stories he's told you. He just loves them so much that he gets a little ahead of himself and forgets which ones he's shared, that's all. Plus, with his flair for the dramatic and tendency to add in a new line or two, it keeps things fresh.

- Reca affectionately pinches your nose using that baby voice of his. It’s supposed to be an affectionate gesture, in his own way, but it just comes across as annoying.

- Reca will pick you up and spin you around (just like the movies) but at the same time this man will happily let himself flop into your lap with a hand to his forehead so he can lament to you about his woes. Usually, this just means he wants attention.

- He gets busy with filming a lot, to the point you both can go up to a month without really getting anything more in than a one minute call. Usually, Reca is running around during these, or he's so close to passing out after a long day that you're left with the sound of him snoring on the other end of the line.

- Because he's famous, there are actually a good couple of edits and images of Reca made into memes you see when scrolling online.

- His handwriting is comically large. To the point it takes up so much space, Reca might as well be writing a signature instead of scrawling down notes to ensure he doesn't forget a fantastic idea.

- He writes his 7's with that little line crossing it.

- Reca is the type to grab your shoulder while he's laughing. And he does this whether you know him well or not.

[thebestsetter]

Imagine Barou Shohei deciding to spend a day having fun with his little sisters.

They dress him up like a princess, do his hair and put make up on him. And then he takes them to the park cause the girls wanted to play on the playground. And they didn't let him take the things off, cause according to them he turned out "so pretty!!". So, he just followed their orders like the great older brother he is.

Everything was fine, they were all having fun on the slides and swingers when all of a sudden...

"Pfft... Barou?! Is that you?"

Fuck.

You were there. You were the last person he wanted to see right now, while he had pink eyeshadow on his eyes and was wearing pink fairy wings.

"H-he even has a little crown!"

"He's not a maid anymore, he's a princess. Princess Barou"

"BAROU-KUN, SAY HI TO THE CAMERA!!"

No way. Isagi, Nagi and Bachira were here too.

Fuck. This was the worst situation he has ever been in.

"Turn. The camera. Off." He gritted

"Nah, I don't want to!!" Bachira smiled

"Focus on his blush!" Isagi laughed, and even Nagi was smiling a little

"He's wearing little bows on his hair!! Film them, Meguru!" You also laughed at him

He couldn't take the embarassment anymore.

"Turn this shit the fuck off or else I swear I'll fucking..."

"Sho?" He felt a tug on the pink ballet tutu he was wearing "Who are these people?"

"Yeah! Do they want to play with us?" Appeared a little girl on his other side

"Ownn, are they your younger sisters, Barou?" You giggled and crouched to match their height "They're soo cutee!!!"

"Thank you, miss" one of them smiled

"You're very pretty too!" The other one added, which made you almost melt

"Were you the ones who made this excelent work on Barou-chan?" Bachira asked them, finally turning off the camera

"Yeah!! Do you guys want to be princesses too?" They asked, eyes lighting up "We brought our make up kits with us!"

"Of course!!" You smiled at them, petting their heads "Turn me into the prettiest princess, please!"

"No way!" Bachira said "I'll be the prettiest one!"

"Well, if you're all going to participate, I will too." Isagi added, laughing

"Sounds like a hassle to get the make up off" Nagi said "I'll just watch you all"

"Come on mister! Let us at least do your hair!"

"Yeah Nagi, it's gonna be fun!" You tried to reason

"Boooo! Don't be a party pooper, Nagi!" Bachira suported

"Pretty pleasee" the girls said, batting their eyelashes

"I don't want to"

"I'll buy you a new character on that idiotic game of yours if you participate" Barou sighed, seeing as his sisters were almost crying (and he hated seeing them cry)

"Deal."

And so, you all spent the whole day having fun and playing with his sisters.

Sadly, the fun time came to an end.

"You're a great brother, Barou" you said to him when you were all parting ways

"Huh?"

"They're happy." You pointed to his sisters, who were playing tag with Bachira and Isagi "Thank you for making them happy"

You smiled at him, making him blush. Gladly, his make up was so strong that you couldn't see it.

"No big deal" he managed to compose himself

"Sho! Are they already going home?" His sisters interrupted the moment

"Yes, they are. You spent the whole day playing already. Come on, let's go" he grabbed his sisters arms and waved goodbye to you all

In the middle of the walk home, the youngest sister asked something that made Barou so surprised he almost jumped.

"Can your girlfriend play with us again tomorrow?"

"Girlfriend?!" Barou said with a high-pitched voice, but quickly calmed down "She's not my girlfriend"

"Why?? She's sooo pretty! And so nice, too! Call her tomorrow! The four of us can all go to the park together!" His sister begged

"...I'll see about that" he sighed and smiled, thinking about you playing with his siblings (and also wondering how great of a mother you'd be, not that he's ever admit it out loud)

The girls wanted to play with you on the park, just you four alone without anyone else to intervee. And what kind of brother would Barou be if he declined his little sisters' wishes?

It's not like it would be a date or anything, right?

Secretly, his sisters high five each other. They really liked you. It would be a shame not to have you in the family as Shohei's girlfriend. They're little geniuses, aren't they?

~ A/N: TAGGING THE BIGGEST BAROU FAN I KNOW @sharkissm

THIS ONE'S FOR YOU CAUSE THERE ARE TOO LITTLE BAROU FICS AND YOU DESERVE ONE. ☝️

Also, not proofread. This is basically just a word vomit lol

Masterlist

[kaivenom]

Hellooo, could I request the one piece dilfs catching you masturbating and humping their pillow?:3

The One Piece Dilfs catiching you masturbating and humping their pillow HCS

Characters: Doflamingo, Mihawk, Crocodile, Smoker, Shanks

Masterlist

Dracule Mihawk

He was two months away, two months that you were alone at the castle.

He called you and was sweet and said he missed you, but you missed his touch and you couldn't wait.

It alrealdy happened a couple of times these two months, but this one he was coming back.

It was a surprise so he didn´t told you, and want to make it special, but when he entered the room he saw you naked with your wet pussy moving all along his pillow.

He freezed a little, not knowing if he should join you and scare you or be sweet and give you the chocolate and flowers.

"My love." you were the one frozen now. "Maybe you were missing me more than i thought, i missed your pressence too."

With that, you saw the gifts he had and know he can approach you.

With one hand he took your chin and kissed your lips, with the other he guided your hand to feel his boner.

He was trying to be sweet and caring after spending that time away but right now he just wanted to split you in half.

And when you started to squeeze his boner and put him on bed, he took it as the signal to be savage with you.

Donquixote Doflamingo

You know it was risky, like a lot, if he founds you like that he could get angry.

He doesn't like anyone to be on his chambers, but here you are, naked with his pillow between your legs.

You don't know what was on your mind when you decide to enter the room but since your mind can only think of him and your voice can only moan, well you are not thinking straight anymore.

On the other hand, he was watching you thru a camera on the room, nobody knows about it except for him.

When he saw you entering the room, he was about to send someone to take you out, but when you got naked and started humping his pillow, things changed.

He was observing you with a serious face, trying to ignore his hard-on, but you made it so difficult.

He was on top of his nerves, you could open a drawer and see his secrets, but you are there, getting of with just the smell of him.

He started to stroke himself thru his pants, not really caring about anything else that was happening around him.

His thoughts were varying a lot: "Why is this bitch on my room" "what a annoyance" "She's looking so hot" "I want to stuff her" , etc

When you cummed, he couldn't and that made him angrier.

So, when you left the room, he approached you on the hallway, almost giving you a heart attack.

He lifted you up and put you on his shoulder, going directly to the room.

"You are going to have a punishment for getting where you're not supposed to be."

Sr. Crocodile

Long day at work, and you long bored day.

So your mind started to go to specific memories and made you take the decision to hump the pillow.

You were so lost on your pleasure that you lost track of time.

So, when you heard the door open you didn't have time to react.

"Ummm, it looks like my little lover can't wait for me to get home, you are a little vicious one."

He was listening to you for a couple of minutes, building his desire just to move the door when you were about to come.

For a moment you thought you did something wrong but when you saw the big tent on his trousers poking out of his coat, you felt arroused x3

He felt really arroused too, he was a little upset that you didn't wait for him to get home but at the same time he loved that you couldn't wait.

He just sits there and makes you a signal to come closer, you have to get some kind of punishment.

"You can still pleasure yourself love, but you need to do something about this too."

Smoker

It's really difficult to be in the same ship as a man who is that hot and always walks shirtless.

Today's training was the breaking point, he was all sweaty and groaning.

You were in charge of laundry today so you had an excuse to enter his room.

You layed on the bed, turning on with just his smell and cologne on the sheets.

You hugged the pillow, you were being weird and you know it but suddently the idea of humping it took your mind.

You are either way going to wash it, so nobody would notice.

The bad feeling lasted 5 seconds, after that all was pleasure, to the point that you were trying to stay quiet.

The thing is that your captain was going to take something on his room and catched you, but you were so distracted that you didn't realize it.

He was about to yell at you but he didn't have the nerve, he felt too embarrased about how he instantly got a boner.

He just tried to forget it but that night he tried to catch your smell on the pillow and he was now the one who was jacking off to your thought.

He was distant from you a couple of days but then he coudln't wait and kissed you hardly against a wall.

"God, how can i be a god supervisor if all i think is you riding me?"

Akagami Shanks

You were angry at him, for some stupid thing he did, but you were arroused too.

Solution? humping a pillow.

You were angry about thinking of him, but you were getting so much pleasure.

You heard someone coming in but you didn't care, the only person that would open the door is the one you are angry at, so, f*ck him.

"God baby, you are feeling so good."

You tried to slow you movements and ignore him, but he got closer, smelling a little like licour, but you know he isn't drunk yet.

When he starts to kiss your neck you groaned but you have to stay strong.

"Im sorry for earlier baby, please, let me hear your pretty voice."

You tried to ignore him and not moan but his voice was so deep and sensual that you coudln't resist.

He started to grope your breasts and bite your neck.

"You are not going to do it again?" you grabbed his hair agressively.

"I promise you." he said while pressing his boner on you.

"Good, now fuck me."

[aemondsbabe]

A Kindness

summary: you're finally ramsay's most favorite toy, but is that really a good thing?

pairing: ramsay bolton x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark content it's ramsay hello, blood kink but no injury/gore, mentioned major character death (again, no injury/gore), slight au (ramsay wins battle of the bastards), choking, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation/degradation, slapping, piv sex, unprotected sex don't be silly wrap ur willy, hair pulling, creampie, slight breeding kink, puppy play, boot humping idk how to else to phrase it, slight angst but a happy ending for ramsay lmao, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.2k

a/n: my first foray into dark or at least semi-dark writing and my first time writing ramsay! i've had this one in my head for such a long time so it feels really good to actually get it out! hope everyone enjoys and please make sure to heed the warnings with this one!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🖤 my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Dip the cloth again, you dolt,” you snap, looking up from the scroll of parchment rolled out before you on the table when you hear the coarse woolen cloth begin to scrape dryly across the silver Ramsay’s… thing was supposed to be polishing, “If I have to remind you of that one more time, I’ll tell him you tried to touch me. I wonder which part of you he’d hack off for that, hm?” 

Reek’s eyes go wide at your threat and he nods his head frantically, quickly reaching over and dunking the cloth into the small bowl of vinegar before him. “Yes, m’lady. Apologies, m’lady.” 

A small sigh leaves your lips as you rest an elbow on the table, nose scrunching up slightly at the sour smell that seems to hang like a cloud over the room, the small one by the kitchens.

 Probably where the staff ate, you think, staring blankly at the fire crackling away in the hearth. You’ve tried hard to picture it – Winterfell in its former glory, trussed up with wolf banners and filled with children’s laughter, how it was when the Stark’s called it home. 

Your eyes linger on Reek and for a second, you’re halfway tempted to ask him about it – what it was like living here, being one of them. You don’t, knowing the question would fall on deaf ears at the least, or send him spiraling to the point of being unable to finish his chores, and then it would be your head on the chopping block as well. 

Distantly, you hear the familiar baying of Ramsay’s hounds and your eyes flick up to the narrow slit windows on the wall; you do your best to ignore the way Reek’s head swivels to the sound in the same instance yours does, the way that adrenaline so keenly rushes through you – a burst of panic leading the charge before you have the chance to correct it. 

Anticipation, you remind yourself, jaw clenched, Passion, excitement. 

Your eyes vacantly scan over the parchment you’d nabbed from the library earlier that morning, an account of the birth of Arya, apparently the sister of the one that had actually managed to escape some weeks back, no doubt frozen now in one of the snowy forests that surrounds Winterfell. You don’t really care, your thoughts once again reverting back to Myranda. Bitterly, you remember how he never made her stay behind when he went hunting, never made her watch over his man-servant, never made her second guess.

The last one is a lie, the truth woven deeply into the many nights you’d spent up with her – listening as she fretted about each word she’d uttered to him that day, hoping each one had been right and had been said at the right time, that he wouldn’t find some made-up cause to punish her. Tendrils of jealousy had twisted into you even then, even as she painted a picture of what he truly was. 

Just as men’s voices filter through the windows from the courtyard outside, your lips quirk up into a mean, victorious little smirk. 

It’s her body he fed to the dogs, you think, the voice in your mind a proud hiss, Just like Violet’s and Tansy’s and Kyra’s. You remember the day well enough, remember the shock of seeing your friend's body laying in the courtyard as you’d run out to greet Ramsay, teal eyes staring at nothing. It had been you that had warmed his bed that very night, and all the ones after it. 

“There you are,” a familiar voice sounds from behind you, nearly making you yelp as Reek scrambles to stand up from the table. Before you even have a chance to, a strong hand clasps over your shoulder, stilling your movements, “No, no, don’t get up on my account.” Rusty copper stains color his hand, dried blood outlining each of his nails. You don’t let your mind linger on what the source of it could be.

You whip your head around and swallow nervously as he chuckles lowly, “Ramsay!” You breathe in greeting, the corners of your lips tilting up into a tentative smile, though that’s quickly washed away as you take in the messy splotches of red that stain his coat and tunic, that snake their way up the pale column of his throat and dot the sides of his face. 

He looks every bit the hunter and you wonder, not for the first time, what that makes you. 

“You seem quite comfortable here, pet,” he drawls, leaning down until he’s eye-level with you, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more at home down here with the help,” he continues, hand tightening to the point of pain on your shoulder, making you grit your teeth, “Than you are in our chambers where you’re meant to be.”

Our chambers. A privilege he never granted her. Stupidly, your heart sings. 

His hand tightens on your shoulder once more, finally drawing a pained whine from your lips.

“Y-You told me to watch him! To make sure he –” You’re cut off as Ramsay unceremoniously hauls you to your feet, clawing at your leather doublet. A cry leaves your lips as the hand on your shoulder tangles into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging as he forces your head back, blue eyes flicking to your neck as you swallow thickly. 

“I told you to be in our chambers when I return from hunts,” he corrects you, standing to his full height as he holds you tightly, forcing you unsteadily onto your tip-toes, “That I expected you to be at the door, ready and waiting for me.” His lips ghost over your ear as he speaks, his voice a low growl that shouldn’t excite you the way it does. 

“I’m sorry,” you wince internally at the way your voice comes out as a pained little squeak, your hands scrambling to hang onto his forearm, nails digging into the stained quilted fabric of his jacket.

“You know how I get after a hunt,” he suddenly pulls away from you, his hand pulling out of your hair, a gasp leaving you as your heels drop to the floor. You blink as he reaches up, not flinching from years of practice, though instead of striking you or harshly gripping at your jaw like you expect, his hand cups your cheek. Your chest rises and falls as he strokes his thumb over your cheekbone, blood stained fingers now delicate against your soft skin. 

“Today’s was a special one, too. Don’t you remember?” He questions, icy eyes sliding from yours to the red-headed man still standing by the table, glimmering cruelly as he smirks. 

Still, you nod your head, knowing Reek won’t answer. “To celebrate killing Jon Snow,” you breathe, gripping at the leather of his tunic, desperate to win even a scrap of approval.

Surprisingly, he grants it – fixing you with a proud little grin, like how an owner would look at a dog that’s just mastered a new trick. “That’s right,” his hand ruffles the hair on the top of your head, a gesture that should feel demeaning, yet it sends a tingle of pride through you instead, “Seems you can remember something after all.” He pulls away and traipses over to Reek, hands clasped behind his back.

“Surely you remember too, Reek? You were in the kennels that evening when the dogs had their treat, were you not?” He taunts, the playful inflection in his voice entirely for show, “Our little problem’s been dealt with and now we hold not only the Dreadfort but Winterfell as well! What do you think about that, hm?” Ramsay studies the other man carefully, eyes flitting over his face as he takes great pleasure in the subtle twitches of pain that still manage to flicker through the harsh conditioning he’d endured. Your eyes stay fixed firmly on the stone floor. 

“A… A great victory, master!” 

“Yes, a great victory, indeed,” he smiles, watching Reek for another moment before turning back to you. His smile morphs into a cold, callous frown that ties your stomach into knots, each of his steps making your heart hammer faster in your chest. “You know, it’s actually rather amusing,” he starts, bloodied fingers twirling a stray lock of your hair, “How my hounds seem to be continually more well trained than you, pretty little idiot.”

Pretty, pretty, pretty! Your heart thumps dumbly, a rabbit in a snare. 

“I’ll do better!” You whimper, shaking your head frantically as your eyes meet his, “I can do better, really, I was just confu–”

The hand in your hair shoots down suddenly, yanking several strands with it as he clamps it around your neck. “Confused?” Ramsay murmurs, watching with rapt attention at how you struggle in his hold, lips quivering as the words die in your throat, “Really? I give you one task, I ask one thing of you, and you can’t even figure that out? You still disappoint me?” 

He’s not expecting an answer, you know this, and yet you still try to give one as your mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water, only the faintest little whines managing to escape. You feel faint, both from his grip around your throat and from the myriad of emotions coursing through your veins – your heart twists at the thought of failing him, your stomach is in knots as various punishments flash through your mind, and yet your center still sparks, still sends little glimmers of arousal through you. 

His grip loosens enough to allow you to suck in several shaky lungfuls of air as he snickers, endlessly amused at how eager you still are, how you still yearn so deeply for him. Again, he pats your head condescendingly, muttering little hushes as if you were a crying puppy. “Lucky for you, pet, I have plenty of experience training stubborn bitches,” Ramsay chuckles, blue eyes glimmering with mirth when he feels you swallow apprehensively, “I think we’ll have your behavior corrected in no time, won’t we? Even the stupidest of beasts can still learn a trick or two.”

Before you have time to react, the hand cradling the crown of your head harshly grabs at your hair again, tugging you suddenly toward the door. “Ah!” You yelp, stumbling as he all but drags you behind him, your hands shake as they struggle to grab onto his forearm, “Ramsay, pl–!”

“You should be grateful I am allowing you the kindness of walking!” He growls, sparing you a glance over his shoulder as he leads you through the Great Hall, “Pity I’m so protective of you, really, I’m sure it would be quite entertaining for my men to watch you crawl.” His drawled threat sends a spark of fear down your spine and you pant, chest heaving, as you shuffle behind him; your cheeks burn as several of his soldiers sitting at the long wooden tables catcall as you stagger past them.

Finally, the two of you reach your shared chambers, that fact sending a little torrent of satisfaction through you even now. Unceremoniously, Ramsay all but tosses you inside and you whimper as your hip collides with an edge of the decorative table just inside the door, no doubt hard enough to bruise but at least it breaks your fall. 

“It’s quite unfortunate, normally find your impudence amusing,” he starts lowly, pressing the old wooden door closed with a thud before sliding the lock into place with a self-satisfied grin, “But I know you know better, don’t you, little one?” He asks as he stalks toward you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he stands before you, studying you silently for a second in the same calculated way he studies a deer through the sight of his bow. Not knowing what else to do, you silently nod your head as your eyes slip down to the floor, like a child being scolded. 

“You’ve been with me the longest now,” he murmurs as if you don’t know, one bloodstained hand grabbing at your waist as the other fits around the back of your neck, once again forcing your eyes to his face, “We grew up together, you and I. You know my ways, my rules, isn’t that right?”

Again, you nod your head, bottom lip trembling with the want to explain yourself, although you know that would only make things worse.

“That’s what makes your disobedience so frustrating,” his blue eyes bore into yours as he speaks, his lip sticking out in a mocking pout, “Because you do know better and yet you’re stupid enough to act out anyway, hm?” His tone is sharper now, dangerous like the pointed tip of an arrow.

“I wasn’t acting out!” The words claw themselves out of your throat before you can stop them and instantly you know you’ve made a mistake, but now you’re desperate to remedy it, “I wasn’t, really! I j-just misunderstood you, that’s –” 

Your pleas come to a screeching halt as his hand smacks across your face, the other grips at your jaw tightly, tight enough to make you whine softly in his grasp. Your eyes squeeze shut for a second, cheek stinging, before they open and lock with his again, wild and desperately. 

I wasn’t being insolent! You scream silently, hoping he can somehow hear you, that maybe all of your years with him would’ve granted that ability, I would never! I was doing as you said, like always! 

“I was wrong earlier, wasn’t I?” Ramsay mutters, so close to you that your foreheads nearly touch. Your eyes widen slightly at his words, heart thumping in a hopeful little staccato, though he wrenches that away quickly enough, “You’re not a dog at all, no, a dog would be obedient and docile.”

Your brows knit together with confusion at his words, biting so hard into your lower lip that you’re shocked you don’t taste blood. Although, you can’t help the surprised little gasp that leaves you when his hands begin quickly tugging at the laces of your bodice as your own remain in white-knuckled fists at your sides, the whole of you determined to stay still like a statue, a plaything. 

“No, you my sweet little pet,” he growls sarcastically, low voice morphing into a pleased chuckle as he tugs your bodice off; the shirt below it quickly follows and a small part of you blooms with pride at the happy little sigh he lets out at the sight of your breasts. 

“You’re just a dumb puppy, aren’t you?” He chuckles against your throat, nipping at your skin more so than kissing it, although you relish the feel of his lips on you all the same. “A dumb, defiant little puppy,” he continues, hastily pulling at the ties of your skirts and you whimper despite yourself when they finally fall to the floor, pooling at your feet, “That’s in desperate need of more training.” 

He stops, pausing for a mere second, and pulls back just enough to look at you, no doubt gaining satisfaction from the desperation written so plainly on your face. There’s a hunger in his cold eyes – a predator silently deciding to go for the jugular, nocking an arrow on his bow. 

You whine as he properly kisses at your throat now, his hands rough against your skin as he grabs at your hips. One skims higher to cup your breast, the unexpected gentleness of his touches causes you to shiver and whine in his grasp and into his mouth as he kisses you finally, his full lips moving steadily in time with yours. 

Harsh pants leave your lips as your heart pumps madly in your chest, his touches always work you up so quickly. The thought of him still being fully clothed as he left you bare and vulnerable made you hotter still; the feel of his warm leather tunic against your exposed skin, of his bloodied hands against your supple skin, drives you mad. 

Before you have time to second guess your movements, you begin blindly pulling at the strings on his leather tunic, desperate to feel him against you. Surprisingly, he lets you tug it off of him, granting you a last meal of sorts, and you can’t help but to smile into the kiss, gasping into his mouth as he unbuttons his jacket himself before quickly tossing it aside as well. He’s panting nearly as harshly as you are as the two of you part long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head, your hands immediately go to his chest the second it joins the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Your eyes flicker over him as the two of you pause, the knot in your belly growing tighter at the sight of his taut stomach and chest, the low, warm glow of the many candles dotted throughout your chambers accentuating each muscular dip. Your fingers shake as they trail over him and you feel a sick sense of pride twist in your stomach at the fact that, unlike so many men, his skin isn’t mottled with years of scars and bruises. No, his is flawless, a pale, unmarred, ruthless canvas – a flawless killer. 

Of course, he can’t let you have this reprieve for long. A good trainer doesn’t spoil his pet. 

A soft, broken gasp leaves you as one hand wraps around your neck again, slotting perfectly against your throat like a collar, as he walks you a few paces further into the room, closer to the small hearth by the bed. “Kneel,” his command leaves no room for anything but obedience; you swallow thickly, nervously, and do as he says, lips parting ever so slightly when your knees rest on plush bear skin instead of hard stone. 

A kindness, even now. 

Ramsay’s lips twist into a proud grin as you stare up at him, legs folded beneath you with your hands poised perfectly on your thighs, a familiar stance he’d taught you years ago. “Good girl,” he mutters, fingers threading gently through your hair as you moan softly. 

“Thank y – Ah!”

“No,” he chides harshly, tugging your head back by the roots of your hair until your neck is bared to him, your back arched, “Puppies don’t talk, dumb little thing,” he growls, shifting more closely to you in order to gain a better hold on your hair, close enough that you whimper as your front is pressed firmly against the length of his leg, the thick fabric of his trousers rough against your skin as one of his feet slots between your thighs, “A well-trained pet certainly doesn’t.” 

The knot in your belly seizes at his words, aided by the laces of his leather boots brushing oh-so gently against your center, the knotted fabric sticking against the wetness already leaking from your clenching cunt. You whine, high-pitched and frantic when he clutches your hair tighter still, his fist white knuckled against the crown of your head. 

“A well-trained little pet would always obey their master, wouldn’t they?” You can’t miss the breathiness of his voice now, his tone lower and smoother than it normally is, and the sound makes your hips hump against his boot before you can stop yourself, your nipples stiff, nearly aching, as they rub against his trousers. 

A low, rumbled laugh echoes through your chambers when your arms wrap around his leg, fingers digging desperately into the firm muscle of his thigh. “Aww,” he coos mockingly, licking his lips as he watches you, his attention making blood rush to the apples of your cheeks, “Is my pretty little puppy getting off on this? Does your cunt drip when I tell you how stupid and worthless you are?”

The sound of your blood pumping furiously through your veins thuds in your ears, Pretty, pretty pretty!

You whine as you try to eagerly nod your head, his hold on your hair preventing you from moving much, though your hips rut steadily against his boot now – pressing tightly against the worn fabric, the knots from his laces rubbing perfectly over the throbbing little pearl at your center. 

“You look like you’re having fun,” he drawls, cold eyes shining as he studies you closely, chest heaving in time with yours as his cock hardens in his pants, “Are you having fun, little one?”

Again, you try to nod, keening brokenly as your eyes stay fixed on his. You pant harshly against his leg, breath fragmented as they’re punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter and tighter with each pass of your slick center over the laces of his boot. 

He knows, of course. As soon as he ordered you to stay in the kitchens with Reek this morning, he knew – knew you’d follow his orders to the letter, even if they contradicted his previous ones. He knew he’d find you there, knew he’d punish you for it, knew exactly how he wanted to break you down so that it could be him who built you back up. He’s known you the longest, you’d grown up together. He knows, of course he does. He’s nothing if not a thorough hunter. 

A loud, broken whine leaves you when he flexes his foot, pressing his boot harder against you still. You’re helpless to do much else aside from stare up at him, gasping, while your hips buck against him as quickly as your sore muscles will allow, your high barreling toward you at a breakneck pace. 

All of that comes to a sudden, screeching halt though when he moves again, shifting his weight until his boot is just out of reach. The sudden lack of stimulation makes your back arch further still, your muscles taut like a drawn bow. 

“Oh, poor little puppy,” he laughs, watching gleefully as you whine loudly, the peak that had been so close fading away, leaving you aching, “If you thought it was going to be that easy, you haven’t been paying attention.” He taunts, crouching until he’s eye-level with you, smirking as his movements cause his pull on your hair to become tighter, making you wince, though his hand thankfully releases its grasp once he settles.

“Mmm,” you mewl softly as he caresses your breasts again, jumping slightly when he thumbs over your nipple before softly pinching at it, giving the other one the same treatment. Your eyes flutter shut as you arch your back further still, pressing against the palm of his hand as he kneads at your chest, eager for any stimulation you can get.

“Myranda was never like this,” he says suddenly, his voice low, steady, calculated. He smiles cruelly when your eyes snap open at the sound of her name, the back of your throat tight as tears already blur your vision – just like he wanted. “No, Myranda always behaved perfectly, she always did exactly what I said.” 

He leans forward suddenly, the side of his face pressed firmly against yours so that when he speaks, you’re sure to hear every syllable, to feel them punctuated against the skin of your neck. “She was perfect. I never had to punish her for the same thing twice, you know. Not like I do with you.” 

You shudder as his lips press against your skin again, pressing eager kisses against the wet trail of tears running down your cheek. He admires the way your shoulders shake as you sob, the way the subtle movement makes your breasts bounce, the way your cheeks flush so prettily, how your eyes always shine so brightly with fresh tears in them. 

Ramsay loves breaking you – adores the moment when his arrow is finally launched free from his bow, adores the moment he sees it pierce your little heart. He loves you, in his way. 

Not that he’d tell you that.

He lets you sob for a moment longer, all the while pressing hot kisses against your cheeks, relishing the salty taste of your tears as the little droplets of blood still caked to his skin mar your pretty face, staining it with delicate streaks of red. His cock twitches at the sight, black pupils nearly drowning out the blue of his eyes – maybe one day he’d bring you hunting, what a sight you’d be covered in the bright blood of a fresh kill. 

“Myranda never needed training, puppy, not in the way you do,” he nearly whispers, the corners of his lips twitching up into a small smile as he leans back enough to grab at your chin, tilting your face up to his, “That’s what made her so boring.”

“Huh?” You breathe, sobs stalling for a second as you process what he’d just said, your obvious surprise making him laugh lowly again. 

“What? Does that shock you? That I found her boring?” He questions, eyebrow raised, “Why would perfection be interesting?” 

Your eyes search his face as he shifts, kneeling rather than crouching. A little glimmer of pride sparks to life within you as he kisses you again, your lips moving against his frantically, mewling when he pushes his tongue into your mouth and nips at your bottom lip. 

“I never got to train her,” he breathes against your lips, grunting at the way your hands skim over his chest and stomach, grabbing at him so frantically, “I hardly got to punish her; if I gave her an order, she would follow it blindly – it made her predictable, it made her boring.”

“N-Not like me?” You whisper hopefully, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes as you pant, your chest pressed tightly to his. 

“No, sweet pet, not like you,” Ramsay smiles, making your heart sing as it leaps beneath your ribs, “I get to train you, don’t I? And punish you when that little puppy brain can’t follow the simplest of orders.”

You should be offended, should feel mocked and belittled, but you don’t. Instead, you nod your head eagerly, preening like a proud little bird at his praise, because that’s what is, really. Ramsay will never be one to sing your praises softly like other men, but he admires you all the same. 

Before you have time to reply, he grabs at your waist and abruptly maneuvers you, manhandling you until you’re poised on your hands and knees, cheek pressed firmly against the fur rug beneath you. 

“I get to play with you, pet,” he drawls lowly, pressing a hand into the small of your back and grunting appreciatively when you arch down like he wants, licking his lips as your cunt finally comes into view, shining already in the low candlelight. He smirks at the way you moan when he presses his hard length against you, grinding against your slit, chest heaving at how warm you are even through his trousers, “Don’t I?”

“Yes!” You nod eagerly, pressing back against him like a wanton whore, nearly dizzy with need when his fingers bump against you as he quickly undoes the laces on his pants, “Yes, yes, yes, please!”

“Ohh, so you can be good, hm?” He teases, groaning in relief when he pushes his trousers down just enough to free his cock, too impatient to remove them entirely, “Seems my training’s working nicely.”

Mindlessly, you nod, willing to agree with whatever he says so long as he gets inside you.

Mercifully, you don’t have to wait long. A loud cry fills your chambers as he presses into you, the slight sting of his thick cock stretching you open making you shiver, a familiar sensation since he was rarely ever patient enough to work you open on his fingers. 

Immediately, he sets a brutal pace, his hips pressing against yours tightly each time he pushes forward, the head of his cock nearly kissing your cervix with each harsh thrust. Your cunt clenches at him greedily and your hands scramble against the rug beneath you, fingers tangling into the furs, desperate for something to anchor yourself. 

“Fuck, tight little cunt,” Ramsay grunts harshly above you, his hands gripping meanly at your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. 

“R-Ramsay, fuck… fuck,” you whimper beneath him, your eyes squeezed shut tightly as the knot in your belly threatens to unravel, your walls pulsing rhythmically around his length each time it spears into you.

He chuckles breathlessly at your little murmurs and runs a hand up the length of your back before grabbing at the hair at the nape of your neck, relishing the little cry you give as he pulls you up until your back is pressed firmly against his chest. “Are you close already?” He mocks smugly, his fingers untangling from your hair to wrap once more around your throat as his other paws at your breasts, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. 

You swallow thickly, throat bobbing under his grip, and nod your head the best you can, grabbing at his thick forearm. 

“Do you think I’m going to let you?” He teases, biting harshly at your shoulder as his hips keep up a punishing rhythm.

You nearly sob at the question, so desperate, but still you shake your head, cunt pulsing around his length. “No, n-no…” You moan mournfully, voice hoarse from his hold. 

He chuckles behind you, his chest rumbling against your back as he kisses and bites at your earlobe, your shoulder, any part of your neck not covered by his hand, each touch driving you mad. “Finally, that little brain seems to be working,” he grunts, laughing lowly as he abandons your breasts long enough to slap your cheek, blessedly soft this time, “I’m having too much fun playing with you to let you go that easily,” He drawls, chuckling once more when you whine. 

“In fact,” he continues, reaching down and rubbing his fingers roughly against your aching bud, just enough to make you cry out before he suddenly pulls away again, tugging his length from you as he lets you flop to the floor with a little grunt, “I want to see you do a trick,” he whispers, rubbing over your ass before smack it roughly, making you jump, “Roll over.”

“Wha –” You start to question, only to be cut off with a loud cry as his hand spanks you once more.

“Be a good fucking puppy and roll over.”

His order leaves no room for questioning and obediently, you listen and roll over onto your back with a little whimper. You keep your legs bent up when you settle, keeping yourself on display for him, clenching around nothing as you eye his hard cock bobbing against his stomach, the tip red and leaking. 

“Good little pet,” he praises, his words going straight to your pearl as you shudder. Hastily, he pushes your legs up further, one hand holding you open as he presses his cock back into you, savoring your loud whine, the way your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He resumes his harsh pace, slamming into you as he chases his high now, blue eyes trailing appreciatively over your trembling body, watching as your breasts bounce with each unforgiving thrust he gives. 

“Please, please, Gods, please!” You whine frantically as he presses his hips against yours, grinding into you, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your bud perfectly, “Ramsay, p-please! I – fuck!”

He laughs breathlessly at your cries and leans down when you arch your back toward him, mouthing savagely at your chest, teeth nipping at the fat of your breasts before he licks over your nipples. He knows each touch is only driving you closer and closer to your release, yet he still doesn’t give you permission, a part of him meanly hopes you’ll slip over anyway and give him another reason to punish you, like he actually needs a reason. 

Still, you have been good today and he does love how willing and docile you become when you peak, so malleable – entirely submissive, entirely his. 

He bites and kisses his way up along your chest and neck before licking into your mouth for a moment, eagerly swallowing each desperate little cry before grabbing at your neck once more. Greedy, he turns your head to him, needing to see that empty-headed, hazy look in your eyes when he lets you finish.

His cock jerks at the sight of you, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you try desperately to hold off, cheeks flushed, reddened lips parted. He grunts, feeling his balls tighten, his thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm. 

“Cum, puppy,” he growls, forehead pressed against yours.

Your lips part in a silent curse as your high slams into you, each muscle in your body contracting at once. Your eyes bore into his wildly as your cunt spasms tightly around his cock, eyes rolling back as he fucks you through it.

“Fuck!” He grunts, growling lowly as his cock spasms within you, your walls all but milking his own high from him as well. His hips slam into you a few more times before he stills, gasping as he fills you with his spend. 

The two of you lay together for a moment, panting loudly against one another. Ramsay is the first to move, shushing you as he pulls his softening length from you, making you whine. 

Distantly, a part of you twists gleefully when you feel his seed drip from you, another thing he never dared do with her. 

“Here,” he says softly, offering you a hand, which you gladly take, letting him help you stand since you doubt you’d be able to on your own. Finally, you stand on your feet, albeit unsteadily, and grab onto the foot of the carved wooden bedframe to steady yourself. Strangely, he stays with you, neither of you saying anything as he holds you, blue eyes studying you as they gleam with some unknown emotion. 

After a moment, you try to pull away, meaning to leave as you always do, not one to wait around for his order anymore. 

“Stop,” he murmurs, only pulling away once you still, “Stay.” He orders, an unfamiliar softness to his voice. Your head reels, eyes staring unfocused as you try to make sense of… whatever this is, whatever his game may be now. 

He returns quickly enough, a damp cloth in his and from the small wash basin he keeps on the vanity. You reach out to grab it, to clean yourself off like you assume he wants, and yet he stops you, holding the cloth out of your grasp until you lower your hand again. 

“Obedient puppies get rewards,” he says softly, all of the harshness from before absent from his tone as he answers your silent questions. You nearly freeze when he presses one small, gentle kiss against your forehead. Finally, he makes quick work of wiping between your legs, taking care to wipe away any of his spend that leaked from you. 

“Thank you…” You nearly whisper, voice scratchy from his earlier treatment. That doesn’t feel like the right thing to say but if it isn’t, he doesn't say. 

Silently, he cups your chin, lifting it enough to give him room to check your neck, trailing his hand over it lightly until he must be satisfied that you’re okay, that he hadn’t treated you too badly. 

Kind, even still.

A few moments later, you recline in the plush bed, watching as he kicks off his boots before joining you, lying with you under the soft blankets. This part, at least, you’re used to – lying together like this but not touching, not cuddling, that’s too intimate, too close. 

He hadn’t said that, wouldn’t say that, but you knew. 

A surprised little gasp leaves you when he pulls you close, hands, clean now that he’d taken a moment to wash them, resting on you gently. One smoothes up and down your arm as he lets you lay against his chest, cheek pressed against his collarbone, his chin resting on your head; the other grabs at your thigh, pulling you to him until you’re tucked into his side, one leg propped over his hips. 

“You did well,” he says softly, chest vibrating under your cheek as he speaks, “With your training, I mean. You did well. I’m… proud of you.”

“Thank you.” 

The two of you are silent after that, neither of you knowing how to handle this new territory that you seem to be spilling into, but you don’t care, not with your heart pounding quickly in your chest. You’d think you were dying if it weren’t for the savage sense of victory threading through every inch of you. 

Proud, proud, proud! The word echoes in your head with each pump of blood through your heart. It was so small, the barest of compliments, but from Ramsay it meant the world. It was something he’d said to you, only you, never to her, not once. Never to anyone else. 

His chest rises and falls under your cheek, breath steady and even. He always falls asleep quickly, normally you do too. But not this time, not tonight, not wanting to let this moment fade just yet. 

He loves you, in his way.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @iamawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino @targaryenbarbie @fan-goddess

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[motimatcha]

miss you

hazbin hotel Adam x fem!reader

what happens to Adam when you go away for a long time?

Adam really depends on how much attention you give him. As a man who was abandoned by two wives for a "duck" and as a man who was clearly abandoned in subsequent relationships (which most likely were), your attention and confirmation that you are not going anywhere is very important to him.

Adam will probably never admit it, but he gets very worried if he doesn't see you for most of his day. Moreover, you don’t have to have any contact with each other, if Adam just sees you a couple of times a day and you pay your attention to him, he will be more than calm.

And therefore, the information that you will have to leave heaven for two whole weeks, just because you need to start teaching people on the true path, on the righteous path, did not make him happy at all. Most likely, there was a whole scene where Adam tried, if not to beg you to stay, then at least to go with you. He was ultimately not allowed.

Adam, of course, accompanies you (along with Lute, to whom you give instructions on how to deal with your man). He wants to enjoy his last moments with you before the long days of waiting for your return begin. His hands never stop touching your body: constantly holding your hand, intertwining your fingers, putting his hand on your waist, touching your wings, stroking your hair, kissing and all that - he wants to remember the feeling of your body, taste and voice for the entire time while you're gone.

It holds up relatively well. At first. Over time, it becomes noticeable to everyone how his character is deteriorating, it becomes even worse until the moment of your relationship, which is an indicator and a wake-up call for other angels. Everything reminded him of you, especially being in your common home (not surprising): your things, photographs, smell. Adam, at first, even out of habit, sets the table for two, before remembering that you are temporarily absent. Your portion goes to Lute, who feels awkward.

Perhaps the climax was when Adam decided to take up his work as the leader of the exorcists. He needed at least something to prevent obsessive thoughts from entering his head, and due to the fact that the seraphim refused to provide him with any information about you, these thoughts visit him quite often. Adam locks himself in his office and finally touches the papers and documents that required his attention.

He spends his time working from early morning until late evening, sometimes simply spending the night in his office. Adam becomes nervous, tense and angry with every matter that he cannot solve due to his hot-tempered nature, since some decisions required a sensitive attitude and could not be solved with a snap of his fingers. Usually he asked for your help or advice, but due to your absence, he had to turn to Lute, who was also not known for her kindness and gentleness of character.

Adam begins to get annoyed by other angels, especially the happy angels or couples that he meets here and there. "Why are they so happy?" — flashes through his head, or: “Everyone is deliberately getting on my nerves?!”. At some point, Adam breaks down. This probably happened in his office, when some angel handed him a new stack of documents and raised the topic of your absence.

Lute, who was returning to Adam’s office, found a picture of a frightened angel lying on the floor, and Adam bending over him and almost growling at him to get out. After this incident, the angels try to tiptoe around Adam, not look in his direction and not breathe, and God is a witness to whoever upsets Adam’s fragile mental balance. From now on, all matters are transferred personally to Lute, so that she can take everything to Adam.

The angels begin to mentally count the days until your return so that this nightmare ends.

At the end of the last day, when the sky turned a shade of scarlet, as if bursting into flame, a golden portal opened in the sky testified that the angels sent to earth were returning. The rising wind pulled the curly clouds inward, which is why at first it was impossible to say for sure which of the angels appeared in heaven first.

Lute stood in the front row among those awaiting the return of their loved ones. It would be more accurate to say that she was floating almost a couple of meters from the portal, which was slowly distorting space to create a stable corridor between two dimensions. She needed to meet with you as soon as possible while Adam is in a meeting where he is 100% likely to be reprimanded for his behavior over the past two weeks.

— Lute? — sincere surprise is heard in your voice when you leave the portal and see her, and not Adam. — And where?..

— It’s because of him that we need to hurry.

Lute extends his hand to you, which you immediately take. The angel exorcist pulls you along, causing you to jerk forward sharply at first, but in time you begin to flap your own wings, trying to keep up with the girl.

During these two weeks among people, you forgot how powerful exorcist angels are.

You can't help but notice how some angels accompany you with looks of encouragement, looks of relief. You can only wonder what this is connected with, but Adam will definitely be the main figure in this matter. It was suspiciously quiet in parliament, only the rustling of papers, the fluttering of wings, and barely audible whispers coming from the offices behind the high doors. Initially, it was suspicious that Lute brought you here, and not to your home or Adam’s home, and only when approaching his office did you clearly see this certain line, an exclusion zone, where there is not a single ascended soul except you and Lute.

— Adam is now at a meeting, — Lute informs you and, taking out the keys, opens the door to the office, — Please wait for him here.

Lute's voice was full of unspoken pleas and a little panic, as if something terrible would happen if you left. Perhaps Lute’s fears were not so far from the truth, because who knows what Adam will do if he doesn’t see you today; he already missed the opportunity to meet you first. Lute leaves, apparently after Adam, so that he does not waste his time searching for you near the portal to Earth.

Adam's office greets you with darkness, illuminated by light from the crack under the door. The room is hot and stuffy, and there is a sour taste; you doubt that Adam ventilated his own office or did it very rarely. The room was surprisingly tidy and the mountain of documents that was on the table during your last visit was missing, indicating that there was work. Having spread your wings, you fly up to the thickly curtained window to not only let the light of the setting sun into the room, but also to give way to the fresh evening air.

Fingers pull the string and the curtains part to the sides, raising clouds of dust from the windowsill. It immediately becomes lighter, warmer and more comfortable, even a certain atmosphere of romance and mystery creeps in. You pull the handles of the windows, allowing them to creak open and immediately a cool breeze slid over your body, ruffling your hair and feathers of your wings. Until Adam's hot hands touched your waist.

— Hi Adam, — you say and turn in his arms so you’re face to face. — Well, what have you already done?

Adam's grip only became stronger on your waist, but not yet so pressing as to cut off your access to oxygen. Adam, like a cat or dog that was starving for the attention of its beloved owner, wanted to be as close to you as possible, to occupy all your thoughts - a selfish desire to be your only priority. His hand takes your wrist to bring it to his face and rub against your palm, tickling the sensitive skin with the stubble that has begun to grow. Adam looked really tired, as evidenced not only by the dark circles under his eyes, but also by his slow, inhibited actions.

— Sweet tits, who do you even think I am?.. And in general, I really missed my beauty, who left her beloved guy for two weeks. Do you know how I suffered for you?

Looking around his office again and remembering the looks that accompanied you from the other angels, you could imagine the scale of the tragedy that Adam caused every day. And it was honestly and sincerely funny, even a little sweet; a laugh escapes your lips, causing Adam to smile as well before scooping you up in his arms and turning to face his desk, setting you down on the dark wooden surface.

— Next time I’ll go with you, wherever it may be, — Adam promised you with a threat, and then his smile turns from gentle to anticipatory. The fingers on your sides dig deeper into your skin and pull you towards the edge of the table, causing you to wrap your legs around his body and feel his growing erection. — And now you have to take care of the fact that you abandoned me for two weeks.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

About the "kwamis as mentors" angle: Interesting to read and analyse, yet I can't help but feel they were not necessarily meant to be seen as mentors. At least to me, they seemed to be kind of whacky mascot characters who are tied to the lore, who have a personality to crack a joke or point something out or cause a little situation or be cute, but nothing more.

They are rather naive magical entities chained to jewelry (a fact they don't seem to mind that much or think about at all except for Plagg) and all that talk about "being around for 5000 years" and having seen many holders before is just there to make them seem more wise than they actually act like. From what I've seen on the show I would even assume there's a threshold to how much they can even mature emotionally and understand humans. Sometimes Tikki and Plagg even come off as indifferent and egoistical towards their holders (like an example you gave with Tikki, or Plagg's fixation on cheese over Adrien at times).

So...sorry if I missed it, but why do you view them as mentor characters? You made an interesting post about rom-com vs magical girl and the magical girl part is exactly why I always viewed them just as critters to appeal to kids, but nothing more. I can see that the show's writing is so inconsistent that sometimes they are portrayed as wise but more often then not they are just background noise to get a little interaction on screen so that the characters are not talking to themselves about miraculous stuff or to point something out for the audience.

The show's writing is pretty weird, so there are elements that are hard to get a clear read on. The Kwamis are one such element. When they're one-on-one with their chosen, they often feel like mentors to me. When they're all together, they almost always read like "critters to appeal to kids" (mostly because there are too many of them to let them have individual personalities when they're all together). So while I think that they're supposed to be mentors, it's not like that's the only canon-accurate read.

To dig into what I mean by the one-on-one writing, let's look at this exchange from Feast:

Master Fu: See, Wayzz? If Marinette had kept her Miraculous, the sentimonster would have swallowed her right up. Wayzz: Or she would have transformed into Ladybug and fought it. Master Fu: Sometimes fighting is futile, Wayzz.

And then later on we get this:

Wayzz: Master, look! Ladybug and Cat Noir, despite their ridiculous costumes, they haven't let you down! Wang Fu: That's impossible! They don't have their Miraculous! Wayzz: Master, it's obvious it's them—who else would do something so crazy? Cat Noir (Adrien): Hey, have a taste of this! Some exploding banana split from Bananoir! Ladybug (Marinette): Much tastier than any Miraculous! Wayzz: Look, Master, there's no use in running! Your disciples never give up the fight, no matter what! With or without their Miraculous, they are Ladybug and Cat Noir!

That's some pretty active mentoring right there.

Wayzz is probably the character that feels the most like a mentor to me. When he's with Fu, he feels like Fu's partner or adviser, which is why I think that the Kwami's aren't supposed to just be cute critters. They're regular ol' Jimmy Crickets meant to act as a conscience that the characters can talk to since this is visual media and you want a way for the characters to talk through their thoughts instead of having them do it all internally.

I also present this exchange from Desperada as evidence:

Adrien: Plagg, Ladybug needs me. She needs "Adrien"! Plagg: If you asked me, this whole idea is worse than cheese in a can. Adrien: She thinks I'm the perfect guy for this mission. Plagg: You can't be Cat Noir and another superhero at the same time! Which means that you're not the perfect guy for this mission. Adrien: The Lucky Charm told her I am. Plagg: That's not how it works. Why am I bothering? You're not even listening.

We then get Plagg reiterating that this is a bad idea through multiple loops, ending with this:

Plagg: Ah! At last, you've come to your senses. Adrien: I'm not sure Ladybug will have very fond memories of her experience with "Adrien Agreste". Plagg: Then make up for it as Cat Noir.

See? I told you Plagg can be a good mentor when he wants to! Tikki, take notes!

I'd even call this bit from Sapitos some quality subtle mentoring from Trixx:

Alya: Oh please, Ladybug! We'd make a great team! I could help Cat Noir and you every day! Ladybug:(her earrings ring) I'm about to transform back! Hurry! Alya: Please? Ladybug: I have to go! I'm trusting you! (opens a nearby door and goes inside, so she can detransform) Trixx: You're absolutely right, Alya. I'm sure the three of you would make quite the team! You have all the makings of a true superhero. You're strong, brave; but most of all, you're trustworthy.

Way to both build Alya up and reminder her of her duty, Trixx. Gold star. Quality mentorship!

So are the Kwamis supposed to be mentors? Who knows! I just see them fill the role often enough to feel comfortable judging them through that lens.

Miraculous also isn't the only magical girl team show to make the cute critters into mentors. That's a pretty standard path even though it's also common to see the critters used to sell merch/appeal to kids and nothing more. In terms of classic magical girl team shows, I'd say that the Kwamis are written way more like Luna and Artemis from Sailor Moon than Mini Mew from Tokyo Mew Mew.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured: Before III

Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: You really like Ingrid

You're kind of small.

That's the first thing Ingrid thought when she saw you from a distance.

She hadn't been at Barcelona long, hadn't fully settled in so everything was still new to her.

Everyone knew that Alexia Putellas had a child but Ingrid had never expected you to be so tiny.

Tiny and reserved and very shy.

She gets a few little waves from you across the car park when she and Frido pull up at the same time as Alexia and Jenni.

You never approach. You never say anything but you always wave, hidden behind Jenni or Alexia's legs. You always seem nervous when you do it but you never miss a day.

It's during an away game that you speak your first words to her.

It's late, very late and the whole team is spread out at the reception of the hotel as the staff try to sort out everybody's room with the severely understaffed hotel workers that are trying to pull up all the booking information on a buffering internet connection.

Alexia is up by the reception desk as well, practically pulling out her hair because she's so stressed over it.

Ingrid sits with Frido, Mapi and Aitana on the plush armchairs nearer the door. Mariona has found herself a piano, which she plays beautifully and Jenni is walking back and forth between the door and the desk with you standing on her feet.

You're Alexia's daughter but it's so clear that Jenni just adores you.

You adore her too.

"Jenni!" Alexia calls," Did you see where I put that folder of papers?"

Jenni drops your hands and gently shuffles you off her feet to approach Alexia.

You stand in the middle of the hall by yourself for a moment before Mapi calls you over.

You pad towards the group cautiously.

You know Mapi and Aitana but Frido and Ingrid are still very new people to you.

Mapi lifts you up onto her lap.

The flight was an evening one and you're still little so slept on the way over.

You're dressed up snugly in a pair of fuzzy train pyjamas that Ingrid's sure Alexia and Jenni must have picked up from the boy's section because she's never seen ones quite like it for girls before.

You're clutching a stuffed train as well, some character from the kid's show where the trains have faces. You have little figures of them too because Ingrid's seen you play with them at training but she supposes you haven't brought as many for this away game.

"Do you like trains?" She asks, pointing a little bit at your toy.

You tug it closer to you, like you're scared she's going to take it but she doesn't. You nod your head, running a finger over one of the felt wheels.

"Love trains," You whisper.

It's the first words you ever say to her.

They're short and barely audible but you do say them and you look like you want to say more but a huge yawn forces its way through your body and Alexia appears behind you.

"You're so sleepy, bambi," She coos at you, taking you from Mapi easily and letting you rest your head on her shoulder," Come on. Our room's ready. Let's get you back to bed."

You grumble a little. "In bed with you?"

Alexia smiles. "Yes. In bed with me."

"Good."

You approach Ingrid again the next day before the match in the changing room.

Jenni is with you this time, hand on your shoulder and gently pushing you forward.

"Go on," She coaxes," You can tell her. Ingrid, y/n has something to tell you."

You take a big deep breath. You look Ingrid in the eyes before deciding that's much too scary and you look away.

"Like your hair," You say," Is very pretty."

Ingrid smiles. "Thank you. I like your hair too."

"Mami did it," You say," Like yours because I wanted it like that."

You hide behind Jenni after that, your social battery truly drained.

The game, like practically every other, is a win. A very good win and everyone is jubilant at dinner.

You're in your train pyjamas again, sitting on top of the table with Alexia gently feeding you cake.

Somehow, Ingrid has found herself at this table with Mapi.

Jenni is leaning back on her chair despite Alexia telling her to stop it, balancing on the back two legs.

Alexia is focused on feeding your cake mainly, tucked right up into the table so she's as close to you as possible.

Ingrid remains impressed with Alexia on and off the pitch. On the pitch she's flawless, perfect but off of it, she's so attentive to you. The love she has for you is so palpable as she guides the spoon into your mouth for another bite of cake.

"You're getting messy," Alexia coos at you, tickling your tummy as you giggle.

"Nooo!

"Yes! Yes you are!"

"Nooo!"

Alexia tickles your tummy again before wiping your face with a napkin.

"Now, who do you want to read your bedtime story? Me or Jenni?"

You look around the room as Jenni reaches over to the back to Alexia's chair to grab the book from her bag.

"Er...Ingrid!"

Ingrid lowers her fork back onto her plate as you turn your body around to point at her.

"Huh?"

"You want Ingrid to read your story?" Alexia checks and you nod.

"Ingrid with the pretty hair!"

"Ingrid with the pretty hair," Alexia laughs," You'll have to ask Ingrid. She can say no."

"No," Ingrid says," It's fine. I can read her story."

You practically crawl your way over the table and Jenni throws Ingrid the book.

Ingrid places you on her lap and you easily rest against her.

"Is a train book," You tell her," 'Cause I love trains."

Ingrid smiles.

"Jenni read, Mami read. Now Ingrid read."

"It would be my pleasure."

[scorpioriesling]

Tight Black Leathers

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Liam x reader

Warnings: SMUT, mdni, 18+

Summary: As Liam's girlfriend, you've been feeling rather... fed up, lately, that he's been ordered to hang out all day with another female. So... whatever will you do about it?

SR’s Note: Ooh, switching it up with a Fourth Wing fic? Okay, okay... and yes of course, Liam is my favorite character from Fourth Wing. No, I still haven't recovered. No, I probably never will. Denial is a river in Egypt-

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You clicked the power button on your phone once more, checking fruitlessly to see if your boyfriend had responded to your message. Of course, he hadn't -- but you'd expected as much. It was Friday, which meant he was on Violet-duty today, per usual.

With a sigh, you tucked the device into your pocket, zipping it shut as a familiar voice approached behind you.

"Hey Y/N!" Rhiannon's usual bubbly tone made you smile, and she took in your state. Her face softened as she took you in a warm embrace. You appreciated the kindness she offered you -- her friendship was a priceless one you'd made after crossing the parapet. She was one of the only people, other than your boyfriend, who truly understood how hard it was to be a rider when you were meant your whole life to be a healer instead.

"Still haven't heard from him?" She asks softly, releasing you. You shake your head, and she loops her arm through yours, pulling you with her in a cadence down the dormitory hallway.

"Well, there's no point in waiting around doing nothing," she starts. "We may as well have some lunch, hmm?" As if on cue, your stomach gurgles, and you both chuckle at the sound. You truly couldn't be more grateful -- you hadn't eaten all morning.

Entering the cafeteria, you find your squad -- well, most of them. Imogene's unmissable pink hair shakes back and forth as she listens to a ridiculous story Ridoc recounts; Sawyer is laughing at something Bodhi is saying across the table. You can't help but wonder...

"Hey guys!" Ridoc greets Rhiannon and you with a smile, but you only continue to search the tables near you. Imogene folds her arms over her chest, sitting back in her chair.

"He's not here," she says, and you look to her. Rhiannon takes a seat, motioning for you to sit by her, but you only stare at Imogene in hopes she'll keep talking. "Violet took the lunch break to get in extra training time, so-"

You squeeze your eyes shut, head dropping to face the floor. You'd been missing him so much recently, since Xaden assigned him to follow your fellow cadet around like a guardian, you barely saw him anymore. Your own boyfriend. He was spending time with another female. That was really starting to get old.

"Of course." You clip. Ridoc huffs a laugh, and Rhiannon glares at him.

"He's only doing what Xaden tells him-" Bodhi begins, and your eyes slide to his.

"Anymore, I don't really care what Xaden-" Your rage begins to bubble over, and the table falls silent as their gazes drift behind you. Shadows curl around your fists, the cool tendrils working against your warmed skin.

"Care what Xaden... what, exactly? As your Wingleader, I would love to hear you finish that sentence, Y/N." Xaden's lethally calm voice sounds from behind you, and you glance over your shoulder, face falling at the realization. You shake your head.

"I... it's... look, I just think it's a bit much to have Liam following Violet around all day, don't you think? Can't she defend herself?" You ask. His hard gaze on you only intensifies.

"I would say Liam is one of the strongest in this wing, wouldn't you agree?" He asks, and you nod.

"Yes, but-"

"So he will continue to defend what's most precious to me." He says in finality, turning to walk away as you scoff, throwing your hands in the air.

"What about what's most precious to me, huh? I never get to see him anymore because you're always having him whisked away to defend your girlfriend -- isn't that your job!?" You nearly shout. The entire room goes silent, and Bodhi slaps a hand over his mouth. Rhiannon's jaw is practically on the floor, but your eyes are only met with Xaden's searing gaze as he turns to face you once more. He steps close to you, speaking again in his constrained, calm voice.

"I highly suggest you take the rest of the afternoon off, cadet y/l/n. You seem a bit high strung -- wouldn't want you too worked up for the challenges later this evening." The muscle in his jaw ticks as you turn on your heel, beelining for the exit and stomping all the way back to your dorm room.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You know what? Xaden was right. The afternoon off was exactly what you needed before a night full of challenges. You spent the whole afternoon getting yourself more riled up within the confines of your dorm, pacing back and forth and glaring into your mirror. Did you nap? Nope. Try to calm down, do some meditation, maybe? Absolutely not. Perhaps stretch, or read a book so you were at ease before the night began then. Hell no.

You were ripping a brush through your long hair, slamming it down on your desk when you decided the strands were untangled enough. You yanked at the band around your wrist, muscle memory causing your hands to wind your hair into a ponytail atop your head when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. You glance down at your phone still dark on your desk, and an idea sparks in your mind. Dropping your hands, you run them through the strands a few times before separating the mass into three sections. Since he likes the Sorrengail so damn bad, you thought. Maybe you'd show him you she wasn't anything special. She was just like everyone else here; she was just like you.

Securing the band at the base of the tight braid, you sway side to side, pleased with the result. Pulling on your tightest-fitting leathers and boots, you sheath your finest daggers and head out of your room. Within minutes, you've crossed the courtyard and are in the training center, approaching a mat near the center where you find Ridoc and Bodhi and Rhiannon gathered. Rhiannon turns when Ridoc whistles loudly at you. You lighten your steps on instinct, realizing you're still stomping your way across the mats toward them.

"Ohhhh my, Y/N," she looks you up and down, taking you in fully. You huff a breath, pretending not to notice her stare. Or Ridoc's. Or Bodhi's. Or Violet's...

Or Liam's. From three mats over.

"New tactic?" Ridoc laughs, and you roll your eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Uhhh, distracting your opponent with the tightest black fighting leathers you could find?" Rhiannon giggles, and you scoff, feigning innocence. Bodhi only groans.

"CADETS, attention please!" Emmetario shouts. He stalks closer to the mat you stand before, calling off more pairs for challenges. You and your friends watch as people fight and wrestle match after match. Rhiannon wins her challenge, Ridoc hands Jack Barlowe's ass to him, and your attention snags on the mat a few feet away as a new pairing is called forth. Your perfect, wonderful boyfriend is taking the mat, shucking off his tee and revealing his perfectly toned body, abdominals flexing as he laughs at something Xaden says. He takes a fighting stance as another guy from third wing stands opposite him, and they begin. It's not long before Liam has the poor fella on the floor, tapping out. Being the kind male he is, Liam hops off and helps him up, shaking his hand and offering him a kind smile after they finish their challenge.

As he is exiting the mat, his eyes meet yours and widen slightly, raking over your body as he slowly steps off the platform. They linger on the straps clinging to the curve of your ass, then trail back up to the form-fitting compression shirt you've chosen and his brows knit in confusion when he notices your new hairstyle. You tilt your chin up and flip your hair over your shoulder, just as Emmetario bellows once more.

"Bodhi and Y/N!"

You walk onto the mat, Rhiannon cheering from the sidelines. Bodhi looks to you in silent apology, and you position yourself close to your friend, taking your beginning stance. You can see the worry in his expression, and you glance to your left as Liam, Violet, and Xaden flank the edge of the mat to observe as well.

"Bodhi, it's alright. I know you won't hurt me for real," You say. He grins at you.

"Never." Is all he says, taking his beginning position, not-so-subtly drinking in your form so close to his. You smirk.

"Begin!" Emmetario calls. Bodhi immediately lunges for you, but you're quick and dodge his advance, and he stumbles forward -- you've trained with him countless times, you knew he'd make the first move. You snake to the side, wrapping your arms around his midsection and using your whole body weight to throw yourselves both to the ground. You cry out as you land on your own elbow, and he tries to roll you onto your back. You dig your heels into the ground, fighting with all your strength to stay to the side of him and not let him get on top. He's stronger though, flipping you with his hands around your knees. You plant both feet in his ribs, knocking into him with as much force as you can muster and he falls back with a sharp cry.

The growing crowd winces and you jump to your feet once more, him following suit and clutching his side only for a moment before charging you once more. You crouch; but you're too slow this time. In seconds, his hands wrap around your waist and your thrown over his shoulder, hands smacking against his back.

You know what comes next -- this is the part where your opponent will throw you onto the mat, onto your back, knocking the wind out of you. You won't let that happen; not tonight. You tap into the rage you felt, all day, all week, and unleash it, feeling every feeling all over again.

Anger. You push against Bodhi, his hands losing grip and you tumbling haphazardly down his back. "Keep pushing, Y/N!" Rhiannon shouts.

Hate. You turn, Bodhi's still doubled over. Now's your chance. You run, jump, cling onto him, grabbing his neck and wrapping your legs around his waist-

Jealousy. It was a ploy. He whips you around, throwing you to the mat, hard. You shriek, breath catching in your throat as he holds you down with his forearm. He gazes down at you, his familiar friendly orbs glowing with warmth as he shifts uncomfortably above you.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Y/N, but... I'll be damned if anyone ever climbs me like a fuckin' tree-" the words die in his throat as your red-hot emotions dissipate, laughter rising and breaking free past your lips as he chuckles along with you.

"I don't care! I said she's done!" The sharp tone has your gaze turning to the left, the crowd making way as Emmetario calls after the tall male entering the mat and heading straight for you. In seconds, Bodhi's weight is completely lifted off of you and you suck in a breath of full, delightful air.

"Yep, and you can stay the fuck off of her, thank you very much," Liam gripes, bending down to grasp both of your hands in his and pull you up. You gasp as pain blooms in your back, and he begins leading you off the mat, away from the crowd. Toward the exit.

"Liam... Liam... I didn't tap out; my challenge wasn't over-" you stutter. He turns, his raging blue eyes narrowed on you. Yours widened in shock as you register an emotion so rare, especially for him you almost missed it.

Sadness.

"Trust me. It was over."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

"Liam, it's only a bruise, it'll be healed in a few-"

"He shouldn't have been man-handling you like that."

You stare at him, pacing back and forth in your dorm room from the bed where you sit. He half carried you back here a half hour ago, ending your challenge early and ignoring orders from a professor in the process. Now he seemed all worked up over your injuries, which were rather minor, at that.

"Like what, exactly? Liam, I've trained with Bodhi a million times. I know he would never hurt me. Not for real, anyways." You say, and Liam meets your gaze. His deep blue eyes are as dark as the midnight sea, only illuminated by the candle lights in your room. He chews on his bottom lip, halting his pacing.

"He trains with you?" He asks quietly. You scoff incredulously, fiddling with the band at the end of your braid and loosening the strands.

"Yeah? He's my friend, Liam. I have to have someone to spar with, right? It's not like my boyfriend is exactly... available..." you trail off, casting your eyes toward the floor. You finish undoing your braid, the strands hanging in loose waves over your shoulders. His brows knot in confusion.

"Y/N, what are you... what do you mean?" he walks close, kneeling before you, placing his hands on your knees. His face is level with yours, and Gods damn you if you don't want to kiss him-

"You know I'm always here for you Y/N..." he says softly. You meet his gaze, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth to keep it from quivering.

"Liam... I barely even see you anymore." Oh boy, here we go. "You always have to be with... with Violet... and if I do see you, it's never in our own privacy... I never just get you alone, to myself..." you trail off. He presses a soft kiss to your knee, and you praise yourself for changing into shorts and one of his big shirts when you returned earlier.

"Baby... you know I just have to hang out with Violet for now, just because of all the attacks and such, but," he places another soft kiss further up your thigh, and you feel your pulse quickening by the second. "...you have me alone... right now, right?" He asks sweetly, his eyes meeting yours again. You lean back on your elbows, and though his tone is sweet, the lust swirling in his irises tells a different story. You nod wordlessly, and he continues moving up your body, softly pushing up the hem of your shirt with his fingertips. His eyes remain in contact with your as he plants soft kisses up your abdomen, the muscles flexing as you fight to remain calm under his searing touch.

He pulls back, lips curing into a wicked grin as his eyes waver to your waistband, and he hooks a finger under the seam.

"If you wanted to be... man-handled... you could have just... asked." He says, your eyes widening at his words. Heat pools between your thighs, the incessant need for your boyfriend to ravage you only growing with every passing second he teases you. He chuckles, slipping a hand beneath the bands of both your shorts and underwear and wasting no time sliding a finger through your folds, easily gliding through the slickness. His lusting gaze meets yours again, and his free hand pushes himself closer to you on the bed.

"Mmm... you really have been missing me, haven't you?" You nod, looking up at him doe-eyed and innocent. He shakes his head, cupping your jaw and running a thumb over your lower lip while continuing to tease your leaking heat with his other hand.

"Such a good girl... I haven't been around as much as I should, have I." He says it more to himself, his forefinger circling your entrance and you rock your hips forward, aching for more.

"I haven't been as good of a boyfriend lately, and I'm sorry for that, okay?" He cups your cheek, and you meet his gaze.

"Liam... please..." you beg.

"Let me make it up to you?" He asks. Your nod of confirmation is all he needs as he slips both his index and middle fingers in -- knuckles deep. You gasp, jolting forward a bit and he pulls out, reinserting and driving them back in again. You bite out a moan, leaning back on your hands and looking up into his eyes. He's smirking down at you, drinking in every inch of your complexion as he massages that spongy spot inside of you.

"Liam..." you chant. "Liam, oh... my..... please-" He rises from his knees on the floor, continuing to curl his fingers inside you, to hover over you. He cuts off your whimpers with a beautiful, bruising kiss that is both sloppy and salivating. A mix of tongue and teeth clash as you make out with a primal need, his teeth finding your swollen bottom lip and playfully latching on. You groan once more, feeling the warm band in your stomach tightening.

"Gods I'm... I'm so-" Liam retracts his fingers and you groan, his lips finding yours again. He shucks his trousers off, kicking his boots off moments later. He breaks the kiss, yanking his shirt over his head and pulling yours off after, your bottoms following. Laying bare before him, he breathes deep, loosing his breath through the nose as he hovers overtop of your naked form.

"Y/N, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he says sweetly. You blush, even though this is the hundredth time you've had sex with the man and probably the hundred millionth time he's called you pretty. You feel his hard on grounding against you, and you wiggle your hips, only creating more friction. Liams hand meets your hip, holding firm.

"Tsk tsk," he says, kissing your nose. His hand snakes between the two of you, his knuckles brushing against your pelvis making you shiver. His fingers wrap around the length of his cock and stroke a few times as he inches closer, and when the head finally makes contact with your dripping core, you whimper.

"Li... please..." He flashes you a devilish grin, his cute dimple warming your heart as your hands find their way to his built shoulders atop you.

"Since you asked so nicely," he says lowly, and pushes into you. You suck in a breath, the small stretch increasingly painful as he continues to push in, inch by delicious inch. The pleasure courses through you when he is finally fully sheathed inside of you, a growl escaping his throat as his hips retract and slam back in with immeasurable force.

"LIAM-" You shout. He pulls his hips back again, only pulling out half way as he continues to pound into you relentlessly, relishing in every breathless moan and scream of his name he can pull from your perfect lips.

"So tight, baby.... my gorgeous, gorgeous girl," he praises. Your hands slide down his tones arms, and the calloused fingers on one of his hands thread through your delicate ones, holding them to the mattress above your head. His breath comes out in short pants, and you let out a particularly sharp gasp.

"Ugh, fuck Liam; just like that," you breathe. His fingers let go of yours and wrap around your lower back, pulling you flush against his chest. HIs pace quickens as your breasts bounce with every quick thrust he delivers.

"You feel so good, Y/N," he says between breaths. His soft grunts almost send you over the edge, the new pace and angle spurring the impending orgasm from within. His warm breath tickles your neck, and his lips find your cheek, placing a single kiss as he continues to savagely thrust into you. "So perfect..." he whimpers.

You can't hold it together long enough to warn him this time as you fly over the edge, your orgasm barreling through you. You cry out, hands tugging on the ends of Liam's hair as your walls squeeze around his throbbing cock that hasn't yet slowed, riding you through your high. Your thighs start to shake, and Liam's mouth drops open as his eyes meet yours once more.

"Oh fuck, Y/N-" he jolts, releasing inside of your pulsing core as his movements begin to slow. Your combined ragged breaths are the only sounds filling the room, and his fingers trace the curve of your collarbone as his eyes lovingly gaze into yours again. You offer him a soft smile in your fucked-out state and he chuckles, slowly slipping out of you and retrieving a cloth from your desk. You move to take it from him, but per usual, he insists on cleaning you up himself.

Ahh, the gentleman he is.

He returns from tossing the cloth in the wastebasket, and you pull his big tee over your head for the second time today. He frowns at you, and shrugs, reaching for his pants and pulling them back up over his hips. He takes the spot on the bed next to you, propping up on an elbow to stare down upon you.

"I meant it," he starts, and you sigh.

"Liam-"

"Really, Y/N. I know its shitty that I have to always hang around with Violet. I know it sucks that it means I have less time with you. And... and I know it isn't your favorite thing. It isn't mine either." He says, taking a strand of your hair and twirling it around his index finger before letting it fall, and going for another piece.

"I know this, and I still listen to Xaden's orders. I know that doesn't make me a very good boyfriend, and I need to do better." He says in finality with a nod. "I'll talk to Xaden in the morning about it." You lean up off the bed, planting your lips on his. His hands cradle the back of your head, kissing you back with all the love he has to give. When you pull away, you know that no matter what, no matter how much or how little time you have together, there's no changing the connection the two of you share.

"Liam, I don't think I could find a better boyfriend than the one laying next to me in this very moment. You're as good as they get, my love."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ