#“i didn’t order this! send him back!”

[fionacle]

okay i spent this morning putting together a version with additional information and links on each bullet, with only bullets republican parents should care about, so you can send it to your parents and hopefully get them concerned. my dad is really mad about something unrelated right now so i won’t send it to him yet, but i made this with him in mind, so go over it to make sure it matches your parents. (unsure about the immigration and death penalty ones for even my dad, but i mean there’s gotta be empathy on some level right?)

edit: didn’t even show him yet and no dad is very supportive of the tariffs because we have to “punish” the other countries and very supportive of the anti immigration stuff because he doesn’t like immigrants. leaving them in because someone might be swayed by it but not my dad it seems

Some of Trump’s Executive Orders

Withdrew from the Paris climate agreement, which has been working to reduce current temperatures and the amount they’re increasing due to global warming (https://www.kcci.com/article/donald-trump-executive-orders-inauguration-parade/63486993)

The green new deal and "electric vehicle" (green energy) mandates are over (https://www.cnbc.com/2025/01/20/trump-inauguration-live-updates.html) (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_New_Deal)

Withdrew from the World Health Organization “…many scientists fear [this] could roll back decadeslong gains made in fighting infectious diseases like AIDS, malaria and tuberculosis. Experts also warn it could weaken the world’s defenses against dangerous new outbreaks capable of triggering pandemics.” (https://www.kcci.com/article/donald-trump-executive-orders-inauguration-parade/63486993) (https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/2025/01/withdrawing-the-united-states-from-the-worldhealth-organization/)

Anyone from the Southern boarder can’t declare asylum in the US (https://www.npr.org/2025/01/23/nx-s1-5272406/trump-suspends-asylum) (https://www.whitehouse.gov/fact-sheets/2025/01/fact-sheet-president-donald-j-trump-protects-the-states-and-the-american-people-by-closing-the-border-to-illegals-via-proclamation/)

“Reinstated” (it was never gone, just decreased in quantity) the death penalty (https://www.kcci.com/article/donald-trump-executive-orders-inauguration-parade/63486993) (https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/2025/01/restoring-the-death-penalty-and-protecting-public-safety/)

Tens of thousands (I heard all but I can’t confirm that) of existing appointments for people wanting to legally become US citizens are canceled (https://apnews.com/article/trump-immigration-cbp-one-border-app-652854b5f2a4e6ccd6ee2ccc729cbb55)

Tried to get rid of birthright citizenship (aka the 14th amendment) for anyone born in the US whose parents are both not legal citizens, but as of yet this isn’t in place because you can’t executive order away a constitutional right (there are other ways he can eventually make it happen) (https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2025/jan/21/birthright-citizenship-explained-trump-executive-order) (https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/2025/01/protecting-the-meaning-and-value-of-american-citizenship/)

Revoked an executive order signed by Biden which attempted to stop cops from using chokeholds or doing no-knock warrants (https://www.cbsnews.com/amp/minnesota/news/biden-signs-law-enforcement-reform-bill-into-law-with-george-floyds-family-present/)

25% tariffs on Canada, Mexico, and China begin on February 1, 2025 (https://www.nytimes.com/2025/01/22/us/politics/trump-tariffs-trade-mexico-canada-china.html)

Immediately released/pardoned a majority of the January 6 insurrectionists “…including people who assaulted police…” (https://www.kcci.com/article/donald-trump-executive-orders-inauguration-parade/63486993) (https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/2025/01/granting-pardons-and-commutation-of-sentences-for-certain-offenses-relating-to-the-events-at-or-near-the-united-states-capitol-on-january-6-2021/) video evidence of violence (we can agree this is terrorism, the pardon is proof Trump agrees with it on at least some level): https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=b3_O91gyj9o

Pardoned the former leader of the Proud Boys, who had been sentenced to 22 years in federal prison for seditious conspiracy for his role in the January 6 riot “More than 600 defendants were charged with assaulting, resisting, or impeding law enforcement agents or officers or obstructing those officers during a civil disorder. Those include nearly 175 people charged with using a deadly or dangerous weapon or causing serious bodily injury to an officer” (https://www.npr.org/2025/01/20/g-s1-43698/trump-inauguration-executive-orders-2025-day-1) (https://www.cnbc.com/2025/01/20/trump-inauguration-live-updates.html) (https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/2025/01/granting-pardons-and-commutation-of-sentences-for-certain-offenses-relating-to-the-events-at-or-near-the-united-states-capitol-on-january-6-2021/)

Alaska will be mined and become a “crucial” source of fossil fuels (https://www.cnbc.com/2025/01/20/trump-inauguration-live-updates.html) (https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/2025/01/unleashing-alaskas-extraordinary-resource-potential/)

reproductiverights.gov, a website that provided information on birth control, abortion, and preventative health services like breast and cervical cancer screenings, was taken down (https://www.businessinsider.com/government-websites-dei-reproductive-rights-went-down-trump-office-2025-1)

All federal employees are required to work in the office five days a week, with working from home being removed as an option (https://www.npr.org/2025/01/20/nx-s1-5268852/trump-telework-executive-order-federal-workers)

He also didn’t put his hand on the bible as he was sworn in (https://www.cnbc.com/2025/01/20/trump-inauguration-live-updates.html)

And I’m sure you’ve heard of Elon Musk’s Sieg Heil:

^ Neo Nazi

and him doing it twice, giving him time to correct himself, showing it was not an accident. “My heart goes out to you” was a coverup/excuse

i watched the livestream of trump signing executive orders and answering questions from the press. here are some of the big ones + other things mentioned today:

trump declared a national emergency at the southern border + is getting the US military more involved in stopping "invasions including mass migration"

no one can declare asylum in the US

all existing appointments for people wanting to legally become US citizens are canceled

birthright citizenship (aka the 14th amendment) is now gone

ICE sweeps beginning "soon," not specifying when (though there are rumors it's starting tomorrow in sanctuary cities such as chicago)

mexican cartels are now designated "foreign terrorist organizations" and trump is not opposed to US troops entering mexico to eliminate them

he restored the death penalty for "crimes committed by illegal aliens"

biden had signed an executive order attempting to stop cops from using chokeholds or doing no-knock warrants. trump just revoked that order

25% tariffs on canada and mexico begin on feb 1 2025 — expect a lot of produce imported from mexico to get more expensive soon

tariffs on china will begin soon, not specified when

trump said he intends to take back the panama canal, did not specify when or how

january 6 insurrectionists are to be immediately released/pardoned

he pardoned the leader of the proud boys

tiktok has a 90 day extension, during which the US gov will try to buy 50% of tiktok. trump said he no longer cares that china is "spying on our young people," but he wants to buy half of tiktok so the US government "can police it a little bit, or a lot." if tiktok will not sell, it will be banned in the US again.

he claims the people of greenland want to become part of the US

he says the gulf of mexico is now to be called the "gulf of america" + denali is now to be called "mount mckinley"

alaska is to be mined and become the US' main source for fossil fuels

the green new deal and "electric vehicle" (green energy) mandates are over

the US has withdrawn from the paris climate agreement

the US has withdrawn from the world health organization

reproductiverights.gov is already gone

the US now "only recognizes two genders, male and female"

trans women prisoners are to be housed in male prisons; gender affirming care for prisoners is gone

self-identification for gender on passports, government IDs, and social security cards is gone

all federal employees are required to work in the office five days a week, no more working from home

trump said the US is going to "pursue our manifest destiny into the stars" and plant a US flag on mars

sources on what executive orders were signed: one two three

and lastly, some things that happened during the inauguration:

the pastor who blessed the inauguration during the swearing in ceremony has already announced a new meme coin/cryptocurrency

trump did not put his hand on the bible + there are rumors the pope is going to say trump is the antichrist

the wealthiest people on the planet — the CEOs of twitter/tesla, amazon, google, meta, and even the CEO of tiktok — who own almost all communication platforms used by westerners — stood directly behind trump as he was sworn in

elon musk, the wealthiest person alive, who has been given his own vaguely-defined US government agency, did a nazi salute on stage at the presidential podium. neo-nazis are already celebrating

[velarisdusk]

No Room for Error

Azriel x Reader

word count: 1.5k content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, az does not pull out (as is typical with my fics lmao), hate sex, explicit language ] summary: Your heated argument with Azriel during a mission turns into an unexpected, yet not first-time, encounter in a broom closet. author's note: AZ AND Y/N SPIES AZ AND Y/N SPIES AAAAAA i've been wanting to write this one for a while, i'm happy it's finally in existence somewhere outside of my brain and writing drive lol ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

“You really couldn’t wait to make your move, could you?” you snap, frustration leaking into your voice as you shift again, the small space feeling tighter by the second. “We’ve been plotting this mission for months, Azriel.”

“I’m getting the job done, aren’t I?” His tone is dismissive, the usual bite to it harsher. “Maybe if you focused less on talking and more on following orders, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Following orders?” You scoff, pressing back against him involuntarily, even though you’re not sure if you want more space or less. “Maybe you’d actually listen to me if you stopped thinking you know everything.”

“I do know everything,” he growls in your ear, a dark edge to his words that makes something inside you tighten. “But you’re too busy trying to prove me wrong to realize it.”

“I’m not trying to prove you wrong,” you retort, voice sharp as you shift against him again. “You’re just impossible.”

His breath huffs against your skin. “And yet, here we are,” he murmurs, tone low, barely hiding the edge of amusement. “You’re not exactly walking away.”

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter, shifting uncomfortably in the cramped space. “I should’ve completed twice as many missions as you by now. This was supposed to be my assignment, not yours.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Azriel snaps, his voice tight with annoyance, the tension between you both palpable. “Maybe if you didn’t rush into things all the time, you’d actually finish your missions instead of barely scraping by.”

“I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job,” you retort, clenching your teeth as the walls feel like they’re closing in. “I’m just fine without your help, Shadowsinger.” You spit out the title like it’s venom, though the words feel hollow as soon as they leave your mouth. The competition between you two was fierce—always had been.

“It’s not about help,” Azriel mutters, shifting just enough that you feel his presence even closer. “It’s about keeping up. You always think you can do everything on your own, but in the end, you just screw it up. It’s like you're trying to outdo me for the sake of it.”

“Outdo you?” You laugh bitterly, barely able to move without pressing into him. “I’ve been outdoing you for months, Azriel. You’re just too arrogant to see it.”

His laugh is low and dark. “If you were outdoing me, we wouldn’t be stuck in this closet right now, would we?”

“Oh, you think this is my fault?” You almost scoff, your words dripping with irritation, but the heat between you is undeniable now, thick with more than just frustration. “Maybe if you didn’t play the lone wolf every damn time, we wouldn’t be here.”

“I didn’t play ‘lone wolf,’” he growls. “You’re just too proud to accept I’m better at this than you.”

Your hand moves, fumbling to adjust—or maybe to steady yourself—and the shift in position has Azriel’s breath catching. The sound sends a rush of heat through you, though you’re still unwilling to admit it aloud.

“Better than me?” you ask, voice dropping dangerously low, your lips curling into a sharp, humorless smile. “That’s rich, coming from someone who’s been riding my coattails for months. Admit it, Azriel, you can’t stand that I’m winning.”

His hand tightens at your waist, and his next words are spoken with deliberate, biting calm. “Winning? You’re delusional. You’ve never beaten me, and you never will.”

Your lips part for another retort, but the words die on your tongue, the sound morphing into a moan as he moves. The shift in position presses him against you in a way that makes your breath hitch, his body hitting that spot deep inside you.

A faint sound of footsteps outside the closet snaps you back to reality. You barely have time to register it before Azriel’s hand is covering your mouth, his fingers warm and firm against your lips, stifling any sound you might make. His other hand grips your hip harder, pulling you even closer as he continues to thrust into you, each movement making you feel him deeper, the rhythm brutal and unforgiving.

“Do you want them to hear you?” he growls low in your ear, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “Want to fuck up the mission? Want to give us away?” His voice is tight with barely-contained pleasure, his breath hot against your neck. “You better keep quiet, sweetheart. We can’t afford mistakes.”

You can feel the cold leather of your pants bunched up at your thighs, the heat of his body pressing against you, the sensation of him pushing against you with every thrust, sending jolts of pleasure that make it even harder to keep silent. Your body trembles beneath him, every instinct screaming for release, but the fear of getting caught only makes the tension sharper. 

A desperate whine escapes from your throat, muffled by his hand, and you feel him pause. The sound of footsteps somewhere outside the closet slows, a beat of silence hanging heavy in the air. His breath hitches slightly, but his grip moves up to your waist, and then, in one fluid motion, he presses his hips harder against you.

“Am I going to have to tell Rhys that you cost us months of work?” His words are a dark tease, but the edge of warning lingers in his voice. He pulls back, only to thrust forward again, his hips grinding into yours with slow, powerful force, each movement designed to make you feel every inch of him, to make sure you can’t forget for a second what’s happening. “Think about that, sweetheart. All of this… for nothing.”

Your breath catches as he shifts again, his rhythm turning into something deeper, more intense. The tight space only heightens the feeling of him—every inch of his body pressed against yours, making it impossible to escape the raw heat between you. He grinds into you again, his control slipping as the pressure mounts, but his voice stays dangerously low.

The footsteps outside fade, growing softer as they move away from the door. Azriel’s grip loosens slightly, and he pulls his hand from your mouth, his breath ragged against your skin. You can’t hold back anymore. 

“Please, Azriel, don’t stop, I need it,” you whine, the words slipping out before you can stop them, desperate for more. 

His response is immediate, cold, and calculating. “You don’t need anything. You want it.” His tone is firm, void of any tenderness. “You always want more, don’t you?”

Before you can answer, he shifts again, thrusting into you with a deep, controlled force that makes your body seize in response. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, using the grip to pull you onto him again and again.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, voice low but commanding, “do you always beg like this? Is this how you get Rhys to give you assignments I’m the obvious choice for? Or am I the only one who gets to see this side of you?”

Your heart races, his words swallowing you whole. But you’re beyond caring now, beyond anything but the feeling of him inside you. His hips grind into you with a brutal, possessive rhythm, and you can’t help but let out a moan, your back arching as you press against the wall. You can feel the pressure building, every part of you straining for release, but his control is absolute, keeping you on the edge, making you ache with every moment. You know you can’t hold back much longer. 

With a final, deep thrust, he shudders, his body tightening as he finishes inside you. His breath is heavy, ragged against your neck, and he pauses, just for a moment, as if to savor the feeling of you beneath him. 

Azriel pulls out slowly, his movements deliberate, and you feel a brief emptiness where he was. Without a word, he tucks himself back into his pants with calm efficiency, as if there were nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Pull your pants up,” he says, his tone cool, detached. There’s no hint of the intensity from moments ago, as if he can shut it off in an instant. 

You blink, the haze of pleasure clouding your mind as you slowly process his words. What? You’re still trying to make sense of everything when he pulls back as far as the cramped broom closet allows, glancing at you with that unreadable expression. 

“We’ve got shit to do,” he shrugs, voice colder now, businesslike. “Maybe I’ll stop by your room tonight.” There’s a dangerous flicker in his eyes as he says it, but it’s gone before you can even react. 

He opens the closet door and steps out, holding a hand out to you. You hesitate for a moment, still reeling, but you take his hand, letting him pull you back out into the hall. 

[lay-z]

battered and bruised | 1/3

Synopsis: Captain Price won't tolerate you risking your life on a mission again.

Pairing: alpha!Captain John Price x fem!omega!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Omegaverse; comfort fic; humour; blood and injury; morphine/medical drug usage; fraternising; teammates/friends to lovers; dub-con; sexual/suggestive content; a/b/o dynamics; cussing; fluff (Some of these apply to upcoming parts!)

Word count: 2.2k

🖤 masterlist

Location: Hereford/UK | TF-141 HQ Date: Friday, 24/01/2025 Time: 00:37 a.m.

A door is flung open and then you’re harshly pushed and shoved, nearly sending you stumbling and crashing in your heavy boots before you barely catch yourself on the edge of a sturdy table, head spinning as your eyelids blink rapidly. 

Your sight is somewhat blurry, dust and eyeblack smudging your vision, white-speckled stars dancing and flickering in the corners of your eyes in the semi-darkness of what must be some vacant, random briefing room. 

The door slams shut behind you with more force than necessary, making the surrounding windows tremble in their frames, and then the room is filled with thick, accumulating tension as you feel Captain Price’s piercing glare on the back of your skull, his tangy scent surrounding the space, making you bristle like an animal caught in a trap. 

His voice is sharp and jagged, a combat knife slicing through heavy silence when he snaps at you: “You wanna explain that little stunt you pulled earlier, Sergeant?” 

“Oi–!” You huff, rolling your aching shoulders underneath your heavy tac gear as you turn to face him on wobbly knees; swiftly pulling your black balaclava off in one smooth motion and taking a greedy breath while tucking the fabric into an empty pocket of your cargo pants; revealing your dishevelled hair along with a thin, bleeding cut on your right cheekbone. 

“We finished the mission successfully, innit?” You counter briskly like the bloody smartass you are, though you usually never dare to adopt a tone like this with Price, not even in the privacy of twosomeness, and you gulp a gasp of air, eyes widening as you realize your mistake. 

This isn't John, your packmate and friend, but Price, your alpha superior. 

Price’s steel blue eyes darken another shade as he steps forward with a grim frown, tilting his head slightly, the look almost murderous. He stops in front of you, tips of your chunky boots touching now, before he grabs your chin with his gloved hand, lifting your bruised face up towards him. 

“You almost got yourself bloody killed, you goddamn fool!” He snarls, eyes scanning over the cut on your cheek before he lets go of you roughly. “You weren’t supposed to get that close; do you understand me? Never!” 

You tut, scrunching your nose in a small snarl like a disobedient pup baring its baby teeth at his rough manhandling, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes while your supple omega skin pounds and burns around the cut, irritated and raw. 

“Sir, I took those fuckers out efficiently, giving you and Gaz the necessary time to take out the main target–” you explain, trying to stay calm though your voice keeps wavering, “Call me a fool all you want, but you know I’m right, Captain.” 

Price growls at you as you continue to talk back to him; eyes hardening and turning to a shade of navy blue while his jaw clenches so tightly, you’re surprised it didn’t break yet. His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, trying to calm himself down as his alpha pheromones turn too heady and aggressive, causing your gut to clench and your throat to tighten as you hold back a submissive whine. 

“That wasn’t part of the bloody plan, and you know it, Sergeant! Shouldn’t you be better at following orders by now? Ya could’ve gotten yourself–” He stops mid-sentence, his buff chest deflates with a rushed exhale, lids narrowing and zeroing in on the gnarly cut and bruises on your face once more. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath and the roughness in his voice makes you shiver in your boots before he reaches up with both hands to cup your face this time, gentler and tenderly; thick thumb lightly brushing away coagulated blood, making you wince and flinch, and melt simultaneously. 

“That needs to be taken care of, dove,” he says much quieter, his anger now replaced with worry as his frown softens and the wrinkle between his brows smoothens out. 

A tingling sensation spreads over your face, making it feel hot beneath his touch, like someone tugging on your hair so tightly, your skin is pulled taut while the tips of daggers are wrenched into your eye sockets, prodding at your brain and scraping inside your skull. The sudden pain makes you dizzy and sway.  

Time slows down for you, crawling along like thick tar, though, it merely takes seconds. 

With fluttering lashes, your eyes flicker up to stare blankly at his ruggedly handsome, dirty face; pain and adrenaline lowering your inhibitions and qualms, all reason melting from your brain and running out of your ears in an instant as you catch another whiff of his alpha scent. 

Cold bones covered in rich dark chocolate, wrapped in ripe tobacco leaves and presented to you. 

“Sergeant?” 

Swallowing down a mouthful of foamy saliva, your black pupils dilate as your wide doe-eyes flit down to stare at his lips as John speaks up again, and in a moment of weakness, your omega instincts manage to slither from your grasp despite the strong suppressants you take religiously and you reach out to clutch and curl your gloved fingers into the front of his tac vest to pull him to your level for a rash, first kiss. 

John freezes the second your soft lips connect with his; initial clumsiness balanced by raw fervency make his chest rumble with a pleased growl, and he finds himself kissing you back for a second, fingers carding through your hair and cupping the back of your neck, applying some pressure; sighing as he finally gets that ardently longing taste of you before his brain screeches to a halt; duty and regulations forcing him to act and contain his alpha nature, to be the reasonable one again. 

He pulls back with a sharp curse, lips smacking and stealing another peck before a string of saliva connects his bottom lip to yours. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He breathes harshly, uncurling his mammoth hands from you reluctantly before stepping backwards, running a hand through his short, brown hair in frustration. “Bloody Christ, Sergeant,” he huffs, “–you’re not... We’re not supposed to–What are we doing here, huh?” 

The feeling of his lips on yours, the taste of him melting on your tongue like hard candy, bursting on your tastebuds, and his beard scratching your sensitive skin, was enough to distract you from the throbbing pain and fuzziness in your head momentarily, though now it’s hitting you again full force. 

Inhaling a sharp breath through clenched teeth, your eyes widen as you stammer for an answer: “I–I–I’m–” you stutter, heart now hammering in your throat as your ears start ringing. “I’m sorry! I–I don’t know–ah!” 

You wince as you pinch the bridge of your nose harshly, and John can merely stare and watch you struggle to speak while his heartrate increases, strong muscle slamming into his ribcage underneath his layers of gear and clothing; both thoughts and emotions all over the place uncharacteristically after you’d kissed him without so much than a friendly premonition. 

Then, he steps forward again, pushing your hips back against the sturdy table behind you, large hands grasping the front of your tac vest more desperate than he’d like to admit. “You’re sorry?” He repeats in disbelief. “You kiss your superior just like that and you’re bloody sorry, Sergeant?” 

“Y-Yes, sir. I–ah... Fuck,” you curse and groan, squeezing your eyes shut as the splitting headache worsens; barely registering the way John has grabbed you by the shoulders now. “Please–” you whine, unable to keep the pathetic sound concealed this time while you reach out to get a hold of his strong forearms, finding purchase against the table as you lean back.  

As soon as your soft whine is torn from your delicate throat, alarm bells go off inside the Captain’s head as he ignores the pleasant shudder running down his spine and focuses on the need to protect and take care of you blossoming behind his ribcage instead.  

“How are you feeling?” He asks, eyes filled with worry as he witnesses you practically falling apart in front of him and not knowing why is driving him mad already. “Jesus, you look like you’re gonna pass out any second now, dove.”  

Wrapping an arm tightly around your waist despite the bulky gear covering both your bodies, John pulls your smaller frame as close as he can get you; securing you against him. “Let me help you, okay? I’m taking you to the medbay. Just breathe for me and calm down. We can’t risk you getting sick–” 

You feel even weaker in the knees now, but you manage to loop your arms around his neck somehow while you take eager little sniffs of his calming scent at this proximity, and as soon as John notices you trying to seek out his comfort, he swiftly unzips his combat jacket and tugs at the tight collar of his compression shirt to expose more of his scent to you, mumbling to himself. “Damn it, honey, why is my life never easy with you?”  

A pleasant tingle runs down the length of his spine when the tip of your nose grazes along the curve of his neck cutely, narrowly missing his sensitive scent gland as you breathe in his scent, and John’s jaw clenches while his mind short-circuits at the featherlight contact. He should be able to resist it, being an experienced SAS Captain and all that, but he’s slowly realizing how powerless he is when you’re all submissive and vulnerable for him like this. 

“Hit my head... pretty badly when–when I grappled and–an' took out that ah... one bloke,” you explain in a muttered murmur while John hums affirmingly and starts leading you out of the briefing room, down the long hallway towards the nearest elevator, making you lean heavily against him with his arm curled around your waist below your vest. His jaw is clenched tightly, his face set in a frown once more as he tries to keep his simmering anger at bay. 

Given the chance, he’d rip that fellow apart with his bare hands. 

Pulled away from his violent thoughts, his attention shifts again when the bright fluorescent lights along the ceiling crackle and switch on automatically, filling the eerie silence inside the building at this hour, and causing you to groan pitifully as you squeeze your eyes shut immediately. “Ouch... Please, make them stop!” You mewl before twisting and turning your face to bury into his shoulder for protection like a lost, helpless kitten, and John feels something else stir in his chest, something heavy and warm that slows him down. 

“You hit your head, and you didn’t tell anyone?” He hisses, though it’s lacking harshness, and he gently pushes his hand into your hair, along the side of your head until his fingers shield over your temple as he tries to block out some of the light. “Fuck me, Sergeant, you’re too bloody stubborn, ya muppet.” 

He’s never truly witnessed you acting like an omega; always too guarded, too stoic and professional; constantly drugged up with military issued suppressants and scent blockers while the knowledge about that has always sort of peeved your alpha teammates, including John himself, leaving them worried and itching to order having you to throw them away recklessly, make you go natural, knowing each of them would more than willingly take care of you. 

Almost subconsciously, John leans in and sniffs your hair; catching a slight whiff of your scent, though it’s still heavily suppressed, and he swallows down the rumble in his chest, ignoring the flutter in his stomach as he thinks back on that kiss. “And we’re gonna have a long discussion about that kiss, too, when you stop being so bloody delirious.” 

With another breathy whine of pain, you practically curl into his side, holding on tightly despite his cussing and scolding; despite him being your superior. “Don’t cuss at me,” you whimper, nuzzling your face into his shoulder as he keeps guiding you towards the elevator that will take you down to the medbay. “I’m sorry... for the kiss, John.” 

John croons lowly in his chest as you apologize, trying to soothe your pain and distress. He hates that he can’t smell you, which means he can’t read you properly; it's like trying to read the most interesting novella through a veil. And he hates your apology, too, not wanting to hear it.  

He huffs sharply as he adjusts his grip around your waist, stopping in front of the closed elevator doors before pushing the button for it with his free hand. “Don’t talk back to me, you little brat.” John straightens and grumbles half-heartedly, trying to keep his professional demeanour up here out in the open around HQ, though the smallest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth when your soft snicker reaches his ears. 

The elevator doors open with the faintest gust of wind, and he catches another whiff of your scent, though– 

His heart drops into a pit as he freezes, pupils dilating instantly.  

A bouquet of wildflowers, resting on a pile of fresh white linens, surrounded by an assortment of candied fruits; succulent, soft, and utterly saccharine.  

[chibinasuu]

Promises | Law x Reader

Summary: Law breaks the news to the Heart Pirates that he's going on a solo mission to Punk Hazard. Tags: sfw, angst-to-fluff, mutual pining, confession, first kiss, slight spoiler for punk hazard/dressrosa/zou, GN but written with F!reader in mind, no use of y/n

The dining hall of the Polar Tang was so silent you could hear a pin drop. 

Every member of the Heart Pirates was frozen in place. No one had the nerve to breathe a single word against the Captain’s orders, despite the strong urge to protest visible in their clenched jaws and fists.  

“Sail on to Zou without me.”

The Captain’s final sentence rang again and again in your head. The directive was straightforward and indisputable, but you just couldn’t wrap your mind around what he was asking his crew to do. 

You felt a pressure slowly building in your chest, a lump forming in your throat. An avalanche of emotions washed over you in quick succession, and you recoiled when you realized that the strongest was a feeling of betrayal.

Was he seriously telling his crew to leave him behind? Did he not trust you all? What good was a crew without its captain and a captain without its crew?

The more rational part of your brain eventually took over and you let yourself fall into a reluctant acceptance. Your Captain was a determined man. Once he had put his mind on something, there was nothing anyone could say that could change his decision. 

Law must have had his reasons for sending you all away to Zou while he confronted Caesar Clown by himself. You had your suspicions of said reasons, and you were screaming on the inside, begging him to not do this alone – to actually allow himself to depend on his crew for once. But, you kept your mouth shut, just like everyone else. 

You and Law had gotten close over the years since you joined the Heart Pirates, way back when it was a small band of six. Aside from his three childhood friends, you knew him more than anyone else on this submarine.

However, before all that, he was your Captain first, and you have always held a deep respect for his authority. The only thing you could do right now, as his crew member, was to follow his orders. As a friend, though, you could feel your heart clenching with immense worry for him. 

Law’s expression was stern and unyielding. He was holding his hat in his hands, leaving his eyes bare as he stared down his crew, daring them to voice an objection to his command. 

A sniffle broke the silence, and you looked to your right to find Bepo quivering as he tried to hold back his tears. You rubbed your palm softly against his back to console him, despite your being in emotional turmoil yourself.

You knew Law had probably told Bepo about the plan beforehand, seeing as he was one of the Captain’s closest confidants, and also the fact that his birthplace was supposedly the Polar Tang’s next destination. 

Penguin was the first to speak up. He took a deep breath and clapped his hands once to get the crew’s attention, “Alright, folks, you heard the Captain. We’re not far from Punk Hazard – should be arriving by dawn tomorrow. We’ll drop off the Captain there, then we’ll immediately set course for Zou.”

“Is that all, Captain?" Shachi stood up, the screech of his metal chair scraping the floor piercing the air, "I have some chores I need to get to.”

Law’s gaze softened in gratitude at his best friends’ effort to diffuse the tense atmosphere, “Yes, you’re all dismissed.”

A weak chorus of “Aye, aye, Sir” echoed throughout the hall as the Heart Pirates dispersed, clearing the tables and bringing their empty dishes to the kitchen sink. The crew had barely finished dinner when Law dropped the bomb with his announcement, but now, nobody could even recall what was on the menu anymore. 

You headed toward the sink. It was your turn to do the dishes tonight, and as much as you didn’t want to do it, a duty was still a duty. You unzipped your boiler suit halfway, took out your arms, and tied together the long sleeves on your waist, leaving your upper body in just a loose, white tank top. Then, you got to work.  

One by one, the Heart Pirates filed out of the room, until only one other person remained. 

Your Captain sat on the main table with his head clutched in his hands, still weighed down by the burden of telling his crew about his plan. Most of all, Law felt guilty for his selfishness. For ordering you all to leave him, when he knew that was the last thing his crew wanted. The Heart Pirates’ unconditional loyalty to him always left him abashed, but he also admired it. He truly couldn’t ask for a better crew, for better friends, for a better family... and now he was sending you all away. 

However, he also knew that he couldn’t in his right conscience involve his crew in his ridiculous ploy. This was not some random trouble the crew was used to while sailing through the Grand Line. This time, Law himself was going to purposefully stir the pot, inciting conflict that would have a warlord and an emperor going after his head. 

No, he couldn’t let all of you get caught in this mess. 

After a while, his eyes found you, watching your back silently as you worked. You didn’t acknowledge his presence, instead choosing to focus on your chore. Dishes after dirty dishes, your hands worked on autopilot while your mind was going a million miles per hour, trying to figure out what to say to your Captain.

The sound of running water died as you turned off the tap, plunging the room into an even more excruciating silence. You were drying your hands on the towel hanging above the sink when you heard Law softly call out your name. 

You paused but refused to turn around, afraid that your face would betray all of the emotions you kept bottled inside. 

The tap, tap, tap of his shoes against the metal floor of the submarine felt more deafening than a cannon fire, growing louder and louder as he approached you. 

He was close, too close. You shuddered when his breath tickled the back of your neck as he called your name again. 

When you stayed silent, he asked, “Are you upset? That I didn’t tell you first about the plan?”

You couldn’t contain the slight shakiness in your voice as you replied, “I trust you know what you’re doing, Captain.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

His voice sounded so vulnerable that it broke you.

Your lips started trembling as tears pricked your eyes. You blinked them back stubbornly, not wanting Law to know how troubled you actually were about him leaving – how worried you were that he was going off alone into what seemed to be an evil scientist’s secret lair. 

Law’s hands came to rest on the sink on either side of you, caging you in. He placed his forehead gently upon your shoulder. You noticed that his hat was still absent, abandoned somewhere on the dining table. 

One of his hands hesitantly moved to your hip, his thumb slowly drawing circles on your clothed skin.

You couldn’t help feeling like a line was starting to be crossed here.

That thin, delicate line between friends and something more that you and Law had always tiptoed around.

“Law–“ You started to breathe out, but he cut you off. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you first. I wanted to. You know–“

It was your turn to cut him off as you shook your head, “You had no obligation to tell me first, Law. I’m one of your crew members, same as everybody else here. It was only right I found out when they did.” 

“I told Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi a few days ago.”

You rolled your eyes even though he can’t see it, “They’re different and you know it. I know how special they are to you.”

Law took his other hand away from the sink. His slender fingers ghosted over your waist tentatively, before he fully committed to wrapping both of his arms tightly around your middle. 

His uncharacteristically bold display of affection surprised you, leaving you breathless and your heart racing erratically. 

You and Law have had your fair share of casual hugs, but he had never held you so close like this before. 

He was holding you as if he never wanted to let go – as if you were the last life vest in a sinking boat. 

He shifted his head slightly, burying his face in your neck, and your face heated up at the feeling of his lips grazing your skin as he mumbled something unintelligible. 

“Come again?”

“I said,” He grasped your hips and turned you around to face him. Your breath hitched at the sudden closeness between your faces, and his eyes met yours as he confessed, “You’re special to me too. More than you know.”

His forehead creased as he calculated his next words. 

”You’re more than just my crew member,” he paused before adding softly, the words nearly inaudible, “And… more than a friend.”

Your heart was threatening to jump out of your chest at his honesty. Until now, you refused to even entertain the possibility of your Captain returning your long-hidden feelings, not wanting to ruin the pleasant dynamics that you two already had. But with this… was it okay for you to finally hope for more? To want more?

“You want to know why I didn’t tell you about the plan?” Law continued, “I knew that even a slight look of disapproval from you would have me throwing the whole idea out the window. And I really can’t do that right now, not when the opportunity is right there. Not when I’m this close to my goal. I can't miss this chance.” 

He drew a breath resolutely, “You understand I have to go through with this, right? For Cora-san.”

There it was, you thought. You had figured that was why he wanted to do this by himself.

After years of sailing together, you had come to know bits and pieces about Law’s past – about Flevance and his family, about his white lead disease, and how he cured himself with the Op-Op Fruit. 

But he never told you how he got his Devil Fruit. Not until the night of his 26th birthday. 

You had found him alone on the deck of the Polar Tang, sitting under the sky full of stars with a barely sipped bottle of rum clutched in his hand.

“I’m now as old as he’d ever be.”

He had collapsed into your arms and told you all about Corazon then, the bottle of alcohol passed back and forth between you. 

That was the first and only time that you ever saw him cry. 

How could you possibly stop him from avenging the man he owed his life to?  

“Law, I’m not opposed to your plan.”

He let out a pleased sigh as you reached up and threaded your fingers in his hair. You chuckled softly, “From what little you told us, I could already tell it’s quite a brilliant one.”

The corner of his lips turned up in a smirk at your praise, but you continued, “I just wished there was a way for you to include us in it too. We’re your crew. Your family. You don’t have to do this alone.”

He shook his head, “This is my mess. I can’t drag you all into this.”

“That’s what families do, Law.” You said with a small smile, “They drag themselves into each other’s messes all the time.”

You didn’t give him a chance to argue as you put a finger to his lips, “But, if you think this is the best way, then I trust you.”

His eyes shone with gratitude at your support, your understanding, and most importantly, the trust you had in him. 

He cupped your face in his hands and touched his lips gently to your forehead, “Thank you.”

The gesture somehow felt too much like a goodbye, and you didn’t like that. At all. 

Before he could pull away, you gripped the front of his sweatshirt, “Promise me you’ll come back to us.”

Law hesitated. 

And that was how you knew how little he considered his own safety in this grand scheme of his. He wasn’t even sure he could give his word that he’d safely return. 

“Law.” You said urgently, “Promise me.”

His heart fell when he saw your beautiful face painted with distress.

“The Heart Pirates need their Captain. We can’t lose you.” The tremble in your voice worsened with each word, “I can’t lose you.”

Law was a smart man, and the implication behind your emphasis was not lost on him. His hand found yours as he vowed, “I don’t know what will happen on that mission, but I promise I’ll do everything in my power to get back to you.”

You let out a sigh of relief. You knew that once he put his mind to something, he’d damn well do anything to fulfill it.

“Can you promise me something too, then?”

You looked up at Law curiously, but nodded nonetheless. 

“Wait for me.” He said firmly, before continuing in a slightly lower voice, “Promise me you’ll be there for me. When this is all over.”

You knew that taking down Doflamingo would take a toll on him, even likely break him, physically and mentally. But, you’d be there for him – to help him pick up the pieces and rebuild them into something stronger – if that was what he wanted. Of course, you would. 

“I promise.” Your thumb caress his cheek tenderly, “I’ll wait for you at Zou.”

“Good,” Law said, and with that, he moved his hand to the back of your neck and pulled you to him. 

You gasped when his lips crashed into yours. 

His lips were warm, and soft – softer than you could ever imagine. 

In his kiss, Law poured out all of his unsaid feelings, of his desperation and yearning, of his regrets for not doing this sooner. 

Your arms circled his neck, tugging him in as close as possible. You kissed him back with equal fervor, hoping your lips would also tell him what your words couldn't. 

It was the need for oxygen that finally broke you apart. 

The intense gaze in which Law looked upon you was too much for your heart to handle, so you buried your face into his chest instead. You could feel the strong, quick thumps of his heartbeat, and it satisfied you to know that the kiss affected him as much as it did you.

“You’re not fair,” You mumbled into his sweatshirt, “Doing that the night before you leave.”

“Sorry,” Law chuckled as he held you tight against him, “I couldn’t help myself.”

You stayed in each other’s embrace in the empty dining hall, under the harsh fluorescent lights. The temperature inside the submarine was low, as always, but you didn’t feel cold at all, wrapped in your Captain’s arms. 

“Stay with me tonight.”

You could only nod and follow along as he led you by the hand into his quarters. 

You both knew he needed to rest – he needed all the energy he could get to begin his mission at dawn – but the adrenaline from your earlier moment and the anxiety for what was coming kept sleep away from the both of you.

Law ended up giving you a detailed review of his plans as you both lay on his bed, outlining every single step of his mission from the beginning to the desired end. You felt yourself growing more and more confident of his chances the more you listened to his cunning and meticulously crafted ploy. 

The room was plunged into silence when Law finished recounting his plans. The seconds ticked by, becoming minutes, then hours. But however long time passed with your arms around each other, it still wasn’t enough for you. 

At one point, he reluctantly disentangled himself from you and reached into the bag he had packed for his mission. He took out a pristine sheet of paper, ripped a small piece from it, and gave it to you. 

You watched as the Vivre Card on your palm inched slowly in his direction.

“I want you to have it,” Law said as he closed your fist over the paper, “As long as it stays whole, you’ll know that I’m alright.”

You flung your arms around his neck, “I swear if so much as a wisp of smoke comes out of this piece of paper, I will find you and kill you myself.”

Law only chuckled as he held you once more. He was just about to say something when the jarring sound of a knock interrupted him.

You and Law jumped apart as Penguin’s voice came from behind the metal door, “Captain, we’re in range of Punk Hazard.” 

“I’ll be right out.” Law replied, his voice steady despite trying to hold back a laugh as he saw the panic in your face. 

You buried your burning face in your hands as Law finally let himself laugh once Penguin’s footsteps were out of earshot. 

When you were sure that Penguin was gone, you told Law, “I should probably get back to the bunks before anyone else wakes up.” 

Law didn’t want you to go just yet, but he nodded anyway. He peeked out the hallway, giving you the all-clear when he saw that it was empty. 

Before you stepped out of the room, you couldn’t resist stealing one more peck from his lips, leaving him stunned and red-faced. 

“I’ll see you in a bit, Captain.”

After you freshened up – thankfully without anyone inquiring where you were last night – you joined your crewmates on deck to see Law off. 

Punk Hazard’s half-ice, half-fire terrain was a menacing sight, and instantly, the worry you felt for Law came rushing back in. You forced yourself to calm down. You had faith in him, and after all, he promised he’d come back to you. 

Despite the crew's frustration when Law announced his plan yesterday, they were all smiles now, preferring to send their Captain off with high spirits and support rather than reproach. Your navigator’s eyes were still glassy with tears, but you could tell he was also trying to put on a brave face for his Captain. 

“Bepo!” Law clapped the mink’s shoulder, “Lead them safely to Zou for me, yeah?”

Bepo clung to him, rubbing his face all over Law’s and shedding white fur all over the front of his clothes, “Of course, Captain! I’ll make you proud!”

Law turned to his two other best friends, “You two are in charge. Don’t burn down my submarine.”

Penguin and Shachi mock-saluted him, the redhead grinning mischievously, “You can count on us. No promises that I wouldn’t take over the Captain's quarters in your absence, though!”

Law rolled his eyes at the joke, then turned to address the whole crew, his lips drawn in a thin smile. 

“Safe travels.” He said, as if your journey was even half as dangerous as his, “I’ll see you all at Zou.”

“Aye, aye, Sir!”

The formality broke away as the Heart Pirates smothered Law with hugs, pats on the back, and sloppy smooches on his cheeks. 

Law never seemed to show it, and he would rather die than admit it, but you knew he secretly enjoyed the attention from his overly affectionate crew. 

Once they all had their fill with the farewells, he turned to you at last. In full view of everyone, he pulled you into a tight embrace. 

Some eyebrows were definitely raised when he held you just a bit longer than what was deemed appropriate for a merely friendly hug.

“Promise me you’ll be careful.” You whispered into his ear. 

You had lost count of how many promises had been exchanged between the two of you since last night, but he simply nodded, “I promise.” 

He subtly pressed his lips to your temple – just a touch, not enough to be noticeable by the rest of the crew. With a last squeeze, he released you and walked toward the railing. 

“Room.” 

The Heart Pirates cheered their good lucks and farewells once more as a massive blue dome surrounded the Tang, extending all the way to the edge of the island.

His eyes locked onto yours with determination, silently reassuring you that he’ll remember your promises. You gave him a small smile and a nod of encouragement. 

Law put his hand out in front of him and uttered, “Shambles!”

And then he was gone. 

In his place was a small frozen pebble that he had exchanged positions with.

You picked it up and rolled it around between your fingers, feeling the ice slowly melt as it met your warm hand. Your other hand reached into the pocket of your boiler suit, ensuring the piece of paper was still safely in your possession. You hung on to it as if it were Law’s lifeline, which it might as well be if you thought about it.  

The Heart Pirates went inside, preparing for the imminent sailing to Zou. No one said a word when you stayed behind on the deck, watching Punk Hazard getting smaller and smaller in the distance until it disappeared from the horizon.

The pebble eventually lost all of its coldness, and you pocketed it alongside the Vivre Card.

“Oi, the course is set." Penguin’s voice pulled you out of your trance, "We’re ready to submerge.”

He and Shachi positioned themselves on either side of you, throwing their arms around your shoulders. 

Penguin cleared his throat and grinned cheekily, “A little heads-up: the whole submarine is abuzz with the newest hot goss. Apparently, someone didn’t return to the bunks last night after dish duties.”

“That long-ass embrace you shared with the Captain before he left isn't helping your case either,” Shachi added unhelpfully. 

You groaned, mortified that the crew had likely put two and two together and suspected where you had spent the night.

“But seriously, though, what the hell was that?” Penguin bumped his shoulder to yours, “Did something happen between you two?” 

Shachi laughed, “What, did he finally grow some balls and admit his feelings to you?” 

Your silence and averted gaze were enough of an answer for them. 

The two gawked at your bashful reaction, not actually expecting Shachi’s guess to be spot on. They both knew about your and the Captain’s feelings for each other, and were even at the point where they thought of interfering, but it seemed like the two of you didn’t need their meddling after all. 

You grimaced as you noticed them eyeing each other with matching shit-eating grins.

This was going to be a long, long journey to Zou. 

a/n: I've been working on this fic for so long, it's quite unreal that I'm finally letting it see the light of day. If you've read my fics before then you'd know I mostly just write fluff, so writing this was kinda an experiment for me. I do want to get better at writing angst, though, so please please please let me know what you think in the comments or tags! I really hope you enjoyed this fic <3

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[shybluebirdninja]

Wild Sip

Summary: Logan makes it clear—if you want water, it’s coming from his mouth, and suddenly, thirst has a whole new meaning.

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Gf!Reader

Note                : forced intimacy, mouth-to-mouth drink

The tension in the room was thick, the kind that made every breath feel heavier, every glance between you and Logan hotter. He had that look in his eyes again—the one that said he was in charge, and you were his.

Logan leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest, staring you down like he was sizing you up for a fight. You could feel his eyes tracing the curve of your neck, lingering on your lips like he was already claiming them.

“Thirsty?” he asked, voice low and rough, like gravel dragging through honey.

You nodded.

“Yeah? Then come here.” His voice rumbled, deep and commanding. He didn’t wait for you to move, already taking those few steps to close the distance between you two, his body heat washing over you before his scent hit—smoke, whiskey, and something feral, all so Logan.

You glanced over at the glass of water on the counter. Reaching for it was instinctual, but his hand was faster, snatching it before your fingers even grazed the rim.

“Not from there.” His eyes darkened, a wicked smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He brought the glass up to his lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip. His eyes never left yours.

“If you’re thirsty,” he rasped, stepping closer until his breath mingled with yours, “you drink from me.”

He was right there, lips parted just inches from yours, his thumb rubbing the edge of the glass before he tipped it back again, letting a trickle of water wet his lips.

“Open your mouth,” he growled softly, and you hesitated for just a second before his hand cupped your jaw, fingers firm but not rough. “I said, open.”

Your lips parted before you could think. Logan took another sip, and the cool water slipped from his mouth into yours, a slow, intimate exchange that felt more sinful than it should. You could taste him, feel the heat radiating off his skin as he watched you swallow.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice thick with approval. His thumb brushed your lower lip, a smirk playing on his face as he leaned closer, mouth just barely brushing yours. “Tastes better from me, doesn’t it?”

It was hot. Too fucking hot. His eyes gleamed with mischief, dominance, and something deeper that sent shivers down your spine.

You wanted to say something, maybe throw back a smartass comment, but Logan wasn’t having it. He set the glass down with a clink and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips crashed into yours—rough, demanding, full of that raw need that only Logan could pull off.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was an attack, all teeth and tongue, like he was trying to devour you, claim every breath, every inch of you. His hands slid to your hips, grip firm enough to make you gasp, and then—just like that—he pulled away, leaving you breathless.

“Not done yet,” he muttered, eyes locked on yours, glinting with that animalistic hunger. He reached for the glass again, took another slow sip, then nodded toward the couch. “Sit.”

You blinked, trying to catch up with him, but when Logan gave an order, you didn’t argue. You sat, feeling the leather beneath you as he came closer, towering over you like the goddamn force of nature he was. He sat down too, pulling you onto his lap with ease, like you weighed nothing.

“You don’t drink unless it’s from me,” he said, his voice low but firm, fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. “Got it?”

His tone left no room for argument. You nodded again, throat dry, heart pounding. He smirked, lips brushing your ear as he added, “And you don’t eat unless I’m feeding you.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest, vibrating against your back as his hands slid down your sides, making you feel every inch of him pressed against you. His breath was hot against your neck, sending shivers straight down your spine.

The room was quiet—too quiet, except for the occasional creak of the floor or the distant murmur of voices. You could only imagine what the rest of the team thought of this fucked-up little ritual, but you didn’t care. Neither did Logan.

“Everyone’s staring, you know,” you whispered, glancing toward the open doorway, knowing damn well the other X-Men were probably whispering among themselves, gossiping about Logan’s possessiveness, his obsession.

“Let ‘em stare,” Logan growled, teeth grazing your earlobe as he pulled you tighter against him. “Ain’t their business.”

Your breath hitched as he trailed kisses along your neck, his hand sliding down to your thigh, gripping it possessively.

“Logan...” you whispered, half in warning, half in plea.

He bit down on your neck, just hard enough to make you gasp.

“You don’t get it, do you?” His voice was rough, dripping with that dangerous edge he always had. “You’re mine.”

The words sent a shockwave through you, a mix of fear and thrill that had you trembling in his arms. His lips brushed your ear again, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“Every drink. Every bite. Comes from me.”

He kissed you again, hard and deep, and this time, there was no holding back.

You could feel the weight of his dominance, the way his hands gripped you, his body pressing into yours, and the way he controlled every breath you took, every movement.

And you didn’t want him to stop.

[valentine-cafe]

hello (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

I'm sure ur inbox is probably brimming with requests rn, so I'm just gonna slip this in and u can take ur time with it!

[Top male] reader who's usually gentle in bed but had to go through a day full of misfortune that got him stressed, and he channels that into pounding the characters hard? When he comes back to himself, he feels so guilty and remains minimal contact with the characters for a few days. (⁠>⁠▽⁠<⁠)

The orders will be tiramisu, affogato and croissant! though, I'm not sure if the characters fit the prompt so feel free to change them out for another. (⁠╯⁠︵⁠╰⁠,⁠)

And if I haven't lost your interest, may I be so blunt to ask to take up the 📖 anon? If that isn't taken, of course.

Thank you dearly! ♡

˖⁺. “ stress fuck ! ” : 

﹙ multi bttm m. characters x frustrated top male reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . various bttm male characters !! 🍒 : 

you're typically so gentle with him . . . but after a bad day - you can't help but come back and fuck him senseless 

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ penetrative sex ˖ rough sex ˖ degradation ˖ some angst | wc : 1.8k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: here you go! hope you enjoy this! and of course you can be our 📖 anon <3

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

﹙ Alessio 781. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : He prefers it rough. Prefers his eyes rolled back into his skull and nails dragged down your back. Prefers the loud slapping and lewd moans pouring through the room as you manhandle him. Him. A 6’7”, highly trained mercenary. Have you any idea how fucking hot that is?

So when you were pounding away at his tight ass and spewing your degradation to his ear. Well, let’s just say that your cock ramming up his prostate was not the only thing sending him to cloud nine. The very notion that his soft-as-a-feather boyfriend was using him as a cocksleeve was enough to have him creaming all over himself.

Your hands left bruises on his olive skin. Ones that took his breath away when he looked at the mirror the morning after. His throat whispered memories of your tight grip stealing his breath away. Making him cling. Making him keen.

And then. . . you went distant. What the hell was that all about?

Alessio has never been good at no contact. Not texting you goodnight drives him insane as is. So don’t be too surprised when he’s crawling through your window at some ungodly hour to find out what the hell is going on.

“You - feel bad for fucking me?”

His half-hung eyes are wide for once. Before his hands grab at your shoulders and hoist you in. “You’re kidding right? Baby - I loved it.”

The puppy-eyed look he gives you is enough to melt your stubbornness. You sheepishly explain the entire situation and behold his frown. It doesn’t take much more until his arms are around you and toppling your body into the plush of couch cushions.

“No seas idiota.” ( “Don’t be an idiot” ) he huffs into your neck that he nuzzles up. “I just want you to do what you need, amore. None of that. Especially not for giving me the night of my life, yeah?” He pulls back to stare you down and then gives you a little peck when you nod.

﹙ Vespasiano 781. ﹚. . . !! 🍓 : It’s no secret that Vespasiano has almost always been on the giving end in a relationship. Not to mention his lack of experience when it comes to men — so he’s still growing accustomed to being with you. His lovely boyfriend. Who also tops him. With that in mind, he quite appreciates your gentle hands and tender pace whenever he finds himself beneath you.

With that being said, he didn’t mind getting his ass ploughed that night you came home full of huffs and tensions. Even with his shock when you had suddenly buried your hand into his hair and forced his head into the pillows. When you started grunting and calling him a whore - splitting him open and making his eyes roll back.

He doesn’t thin anyone has ever fucked him out so much before. You got him to whine. Got him to whimper. Stutter and tell you it’s too much. Him. A man of his age, his experience.

The morning after, while the ache in his body and the realisation of what occurred still left him shocked, pleasure bubbled over his entire being. That felt. . . amazing.

Then came your distance. Anxiety swelled in his chest all over again. He can’t handle that. He’s dealt with it too many times from his ex wife. This sends him right back to the panic of uncertainty. Did he do something wrong? Were you mad at him?

He’s not going to bother with calling. He knows it never gets anywhere. So he’s showing up to your doorstep with big eyes while trying to keep it all together.

“Tesoro. . . did I do something? Talk to me, please.”

He’s collapsing into you before you know it. The guilt in your heart has you spilling everything which leaves him confused through his endless kisses all over your face.

“Too rough? Please. Do you think ‘m glass? I’m sixty-six, baby.” He’s chuckling against your ear despite his shaky demeanor. Cupping at your face and letting out a soft croon. “Nonsense. Is it new? Yeah. Do I hate it? Fuck no.”

He hooks you onto his lap soon after and shoots you a look of concern. “If anything I’m more worried ‘bout that bad day of yours. Won’t you talk to me?”

 

﹙ Jìngyí 209. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : He’s so used to his tender and gentle loverboy that the second you had him pinned down to the marble kitchen counter and fucking him to delirium — he almost thought he was dreaming.

He’s so accustomed to whispering sweet nothings to your ear, telling you how good you are, what a great job you’re doing. The last thing he expected was to have that replaced by your ragged voice muttering curses rough praises to his neck. Your nails clawing down his skin. Your hands making use of his flexible, snake-like body. With coils, pins, rough handles all over.

With all his work stress, of course he was all for you fucking him dumb and limp into the sheets. What he could not understand, however, was the sudden distance you put up after the morning of softness. Where he clung to you and murmured how much you had completely wrecked him the night before.

Good luck trying to remain distant from Mister Zhao, however. You’d find yourself confronted the second you avoided his call to check on your wellbeing.

He’s at your workstep before you can so much as blink. Pulling you off somewhere quiet and giving you a look through those amber, slitted eyes of his that told you to talk. Truthfully.

“You know how much I hate being ignored. . . sweetheart, what is the matter?”

All you can do is break when his tender hand caresses your face. Thumb rubbing below your eye while you sniffle over your rough day. How it resulted in you taking it out on him —- how bad you felt about it.

You catch his narrow-eyed stare. The look of disbelief and concern that melted through the prior irritation from your avoidance. He’s pulling you into his arms and tucking your head beneath his chin with a small frown.

“Silly boy. . . if I had an issue with it, do you not think I would have stopped you? Please, take it easy on yourself.”

You’ll have a quiet and calm day with him throughout. Anything to show you that he is fine, and so are you.

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[leilawanderingaround]

I miss him already... Phainon, come home but don't come back like Kevin. Hoyo, I beg of you.

“I don’t know who you are, nor why you’re here.”

It is common to be wary of strangers, especially at this dark time when the black tide continues to wreak havoc on the people of Amphoreus. So when the supposed savior of the world suddenly appeared outside of the golden gate of Okhema, you were already expecting the worst. Aglaea’s golden threads were wrapped tightly around every corner of the city, ready to attack at any moment. Three gates were opened by the Tribios, prioritizing the civilian’s life above all.

And you—one of the best soldiers of Okhema, born with Oronyx’s blessing—were ready to raise your sword and strike if needed.

“At your order, my lady,” You said, standing before Aglaea. Your sword raised, shielding her figure from the deliverer. Her golden thread too, wrapped around your arms in a form of protection.

“At ease, my dear.” She smiles reassuringly. “Three against one is quite an advantage, isn’t it?”

“But let me make this one thing CLEAR”

Your sword clashed against his as Aglaea’s golden thread surrounded you two, waiting for the right time to attack. With one more clash, you successfully push him far away enough to create a distance between the two of you. He is a natural fighter but his moves lack skill. This boy probably picked up sword fighting not long ago without anyone to guide him. And unfortunately for him, you have way more advantage over speed and experience on the battlefield.

With one sweep move, your sword pressed against his neck as the golden threads immobilized his limbs.

“Deliverer, state your business here at Okhema.’ Aglaea gracefully drops down next to you, her eyes coldly staring at Phainon’s bound form. You can also hear the sound of wings clapping nearby, the Tribios too are here.

“I’ve got people to PROTECT. Friends I can’t NEGLECT. So I’m not taking chances, dear”

“So Aedes Elysiae has fallen I see.” You sigh as you watch The Tribios tend to the white-haired man’s injuries. You refused Tribbie’s help earlier since there was barely any wound. Sure, Phainon was able to cause a bruise or scratch here and there but nothing major enough to ask for help.

“I’m very sorry for your loss. Is there anyone beside you who survived the Black Tide? Okhema is always willing to lend a helping hand,” Aglaea said, though her facial expression didn’t change much. Aglaea has changed a lot since the time you first got to know her.

She was colder and more calculated. And the same thing could probably be said about you. The Chrysos Heirs are willing to use every scheme and face every criticism as long as Amphoreus remains standing.

Even if it meant getting rid of one of their own…

Ever so slightly, Aglaea’s threads remain wrapped, invisible to other’s eyes. And your hand still rests upon the handle of your sword.

“If you make one WRONG move, then you’re DONE for

Anything I don’t APPROVE, then you’re DONE for”

“ Castrum Kremnos too will fall in the hand of Nikador” you said to Mydeimos, not very much bothered by the heavily injured state that you are in. If Thanatos wanted to claim your soul, they would have to earn the right to it. “ I’m sorry to disappoint you. What you are doing right now won’t change anything. The loss of my life won’t make a difference, not for you and not for Kremnos either.”

As The Undying, everyone you inflict on his body soon disappears yet the fatigue is clear on Mydei’s body. He groans, sending another wave of spike your way, impaling your arm yet you barely react to it. Your words though cold, said nothing but the truth. Despite the blessing that Oronyx has granted to you, you are not a Chrysos Heir. Your blood isn’t golden, your body is not suited to bear a core flame. You can do nothing to change Kremnos’s fate.

So all of Mydei’s effort to locate and catch you off guard to force you to help him was all for naught.

“Then tell me, oh blessed one?” Mydei has to take in a deep breath to stop himself from shouting at you, his gaze lingers on your heavily wounded yet still-standing body “What am I supposed to do now?”

“You could either go with me and eventually avenge your people by killing Nikador. Or you could accept your fate here and be frozen in time by my hand.” You said, letting out a heavy breath. Your vision began to go blurry from the blood loss.

“Still acting so high and mighty even now? You could barely move, oh dear blessed one.” Mydei let out an amused laugh. Such is a person worthy of the title of the str, strongest soldier of Okhema.

“Oh, I am no longer suited to fight in this state. I will have to lend this honor to another person. I’m sure he is worthy of your challenge.” You shake your head, already sensing the hurried footsteps of Phainon. “My mission here is done.”

Behind you, the figure of Phainon began to materialize. His body drenched in blood, blade held tight by his hand. He approaches you, using his cloak to cover your battered form. “I’m sorry, teacher. It seems like I was late”

You chuckled at the pitiful tone of his voice “No, no, I think you came at the perfect time.”

I could put a spell on YOU, and you’re DONE for

Boy, you better RUN, or soon you will be DONE for”

[doumadono]

TEASER 𖥸 SANGREAL - chapter I (to be added) 𖥸 MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The balcony jutted out like a jagged precipice, a sinister ledge hanging over the vast expanse of the Deadlands below. The ruins of the world stretched endlessly, their twisted remnants clawing toward the ash-choked sky as storms of soot churned violently through the wasteland. Far beyond the desolation, Musutafu — the largest of the Dregs — flickered weakly on the horizon, its faint glow barely piercing the gloom, like the final gasp of a dying ember. From this vantage point, the world looked utterly forsaken — an expanse of shadows and echoes, hollow and forgotten, a graveyard of what once was.

You hadn’t wanted to follow Shigaraki here, but you hadn’t been given a choice. His hand lingered on the small of your back, cold and commanding, a silent threat that pushed you forward through the dim, sprawling halls of the Sangreal’s fortress. When the heavy doors to the balcony creaked shut behind you, the chill of the open air hit you like a knife, cutting through the thin, half-translucent black dress his maids had forced you into.

You’d seen the hollow emptiness in those women’s eyes — undoubtedly human, their bodies trembling, their fragile minds dulled by the narcotics Overhaul pumped into their veins, rendering them docile and compliant for Shigaraki’s every whim. They moved like puppets on broken strings, their pale faces devoid of anything human. You’d heard the whispers, the sickening truths that once Shigaraki grew bored of them, they would become his feast. Their blood drained to the last drop, their lifeless bodies discarded without a second thought. And yet, even through their dazed haze, you’d felt their pity as they tied the ribbons around your waist and adjusted the lace at your shoulders.

His dark cloak billowed slightly in the ashen wind, revealing the jagged edges of his form. His shoulders were sharp, his pale skin stretched too tight over his bones, and his crimson eyes burned like dying coals in a face that was almost too hollow to be alive. He stopped at the railing, the cracked stone pressing against his palms, and tilted his head toward the horizon as if presenting a masterpiece only he could understand.

“This,” he rasped, his voice scraping like gravel against the silence, “is the world your kind left behind. All of it. Rotting. Forgotten.” His head turned slightly, just enough for you to catch the flicker of a smile — sharp, jagged, and devoid of warmth. “Tell me, doesn’t it make you wonder? What would it take to fix it?”

When you didn’t immediately move, he turned to you, his lips curling in a dangerous smirk. His hand reached out, and before you could recoil, his fingers cupped your chin. He handled you with surprising care, his grip just firm enough to hold you in place. His index finger hovered, careful not to touch, an ever-present reminder of the destruction he could unleash with a single mistake. The fragility of the moment — the closeness of death itself — made your throat tighten.

“Look,” he ordered, tilting your face toward the sprawling wasteland below. His sharp nails grazed your jaw, sending a cold shiver through you. 

The world stretched out before you, endless in its desolation. Twisted skeletons of buildings jutted out of the earth like ribs, the Deadlands smothered under layers of ash and soot. The faint orange glow of fires burned in Musutafu Dreg in the distance, a mocking parody of life.

“This could all change,” Tomura uttered, his voice soft but filled with an unrelenting edge. His eyes glinted with something you couldn’t name — obsession, hunger, perhaps madness. “It could all end.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came. 

Shigaraki’s breath brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Your blood.” He said the word like it was sacred, his voice trembling with reverence and rage. “You could be the cure. The answer to everything.”

His hand tightened slightly, forcing your gaze back to him. “Do you even understand what that means? You could fix this— fix me. Fix all of it. But instead, you want to refuse me?” His tone cracked on the last word, his fury bubbling beneath the surface. The thin veneer of calm he wore threatened to splinter entirely. “I’ve offered you everything,” he continued, his voice rising. The ash-filled wind stirred, swirling around the balcony like the world itself was reacting to his anger. “Power. Protection. Purpose. And you want to throw it away? For what?” Shigaraki’s tone was venomous now, each word a lash. “A rebellion that’s already dying? A life you can’t even call your own? Or maybe—” His lips twisted into a sneer, his voice dipping into something dangerously low, “��it’s for him. The traitor who thinks he loves you.”

Your heart stuttered at the mention of Dabi, the faintest flutter betraying you, and Shigaraki saw it. Of course he did.

His smile widened, sharp and cruel. “Oh, I see it now,” he breathed, his voice like a blade sliding through silk as he leant closer, his breath ghosting over your ear. “Dabi’s embers flicker for you, don’t they? A pathetic little flame, desperately clinging to life.” His laugh was low and venomous, rattling your nerves. “Embers always die out.” He tilted your head roughly, forcing you to look out over the Deadlands below and the Dreg on the horizon. “And when his flame finally burns away,” he uttered, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction, “this will be all that’s left. Ash. Dust. Ruin.” 

His tongue darted out, dragging a slow, long stripe across your cheek. The motion was agonizingly unhurried, his breath hot against your skin. 

Revulsion churned in your stomach as the slick trail of his saliva clung to your flesh, cold and sticky in its wake. The nausea rose sharp and sudden, clawing at your throat as your body recoiled from the grotesque intimacy of the gesture. You wanted to vomit, to scrub away the violation, but his presence pinned you in place, suffocating and inescapable.

You jerked your head back, trying to escape his grip, but his other hand shot forward, fingers hovering near your throat. All five of them — so dangerously close to touching your flesh — stilled you instantly. 

“He’ll fail you,” Shigaraki stated matter-of-factly, his tone softening, but not with kindness. It dripped with mockery, each word a needle pressing deeper into your chest. His thumb traced the edge of your jaw as his long, pale index finger ghosted over your cheek. “Like he failed Sangreal. Like he failed me. It’s in his nature. And when he does,” the vampire prince whispered, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth, “you’ll come crawling back. Because no one else can give you what you need. Not him. Not the rebellion. Just me.”

You swallowed hard, willing your voice to stay steady. “I don’t want to be your queen, Shigaraki.”

“You don’t understand yet. But you will,” his lips twitched into a sharp, jagged grin that didn’t reach his eyes. 

Before you could react, his lips collided with yours, a brutal, forceful act that left no room for tenderness. It wasn’t a kiss — it was an invasion, his sharp teeth clicking against yours as his fangs scraped along your bottom lip, slow and deliberate, until the skin gave way. A bead of blood welled up, its coppery tang mingling with the icy, metallic chill of his breath. His grip on your chin tightened, unyielding and cruel, as you stood frozen in place. 

He broke the kiss abruptly, his lips pulling away with a sharp, wet sound, and you stumbled back, your knees trembling beneath you. The faint sting on your lip told you he’d drawn blood, and the way his tongue darted out to drag across his lips made your stomach churn. His crimson eyes gleamed with something feral, something unhinged, as he savored the taste.

“For the Night of Ash’s sake,” Shigaraki hissed, his voice trembling with barely-contained hunger, “your blood drives me insane.”

His hand hovered near your face for a moment, as though he were considering dragging you back into his grasp, but instead, he turned abruptly, his gaze cutting toward the horizon. The meager lights of Musutafu flickered in the distance, like dying embers fighting for survival.

“When the world tears you apart for refusing me,” the vampire prince stated, his voice dropping into a rasp that oozed malice, “you’ll understand. You’ll understand everything.”

The ash-laden wind roared again, and the faint glow of the Dreg in the distance flickered weakly as though the light itself was suffocating under Shigaraki’s rule.

Hello Everyone,

I'm excited to share a teaser for my new series, Sangreal. The story narrates the tale of vampire Dabi, who is enlisted as a Hunter in the prestigious vampire guild, Sangreal; a female protagonist whose unique blood is the world's sole hope following the catastrophic Night of Ash; Aizawa's insurrection against a tyrannical vampire regime, and the rise of vampire prince Shigaraki - a powerful vampire created by AFO's virus that annihilated humanity.

The series will incorporate a blend of horror and thriller elements, along with some smut and plenty of dark content. The first chapter is scheduled to be published in the first half of February, or possibly a little earlier if I can manage (this is just an estimated timeframe).

Over the past few weeks, I've been working hard to develop the concept for Sangreal, and I sincerely hope you'll enjoy the story. I want to extend my heartfelt thanks to the wonderful people who not only read through the initial concept but also shared their constructive feedback, helping me shape the story to its current form: @crystalwolfblog @lura-valentine @unhinged-bratty-boy @scary-grace & @within-eyesight

If you'd like to be tagged in the series, please send me an ask, DM me, or comment below. Please also reblog to help spread the word!

Thank you for your support!

[magics-neptunes-things]

Love Sweet Love

Hi guys!

Happy Steph's day ♥

I'm sorry, I haven't posted for a very long time but I'm working on it. I hope you will love this new Chapter of my Steph's series. You don't have to read the first two, but it's a plus I think.

You can find them here : Lightning Love | Struck By Love

Please enjoy ♥

And Happy Birthday to Steffy ♥

TW : None

When you come back from the USA, after your injury against Colombia, Steph makes you live in her house. Officially to help you with your injury and because she doesn’t have any stairs in her new house. Which is really a good point, because almost all of the other people who could have offered their help actually have stairs in their home.

Steph and you have been friends since you were teenagers, so no one asks any questions when you mention that you are living with Steph for now.

With time, your things found a specific place in Steph’s house, and she even made some more space in her closet for your clothes. Your Tottenham jerseys are washed with her Arsenal ones, you share the vegemite pots that your grandmother sends you and you sometimes wear Steph’s shirt to sleep.

You love the intimacy between you and how everything is so easy with Steph. She is the most easy-going person in the world, and you are falling in love even harder with her every day.

You’re a little afraid of when it will be time for you to go back to your own apartment. It will probably be soon, because your cast has been removed two weeks ago, and you now have an ankle splint to help you walk. You are supposed to still use your crutches, even if you don’t when you are home. You prefer jumping around on one foot.

It drives Steph crazy.

Steph isn’t home for two days now, she had a game in Liverpool and left with the Arsenal squad. You weren’t able to go to watch her because you had to go to your rehab. So, you went to watch Tottenham playing at home instead, cheering for your teammates. Charli and her fiancé came with you to walk Calvin those two days and for the others walk you just stayed around Steph’s house or went in the garden with him.

When you come back home after the game, a look at the clock tells you that your girlfriend will be home in one hour.

You are so grateful for Steph, her patience while you were injured and all the little attentions she had for you during this time. So, you decided to thank her with a real good meal tonight, with all the romanticism you have in you.

You set the table with a red tablecloth, a vase with some roses in the middle of the table and some candles. You listened to the florist talking about the number of flowers for the bunch of flowers, not even knowing before that the number had a meaning. Coming back home, you thought a little bit about your ex-girlfriends and wonder what they would think about your behavior.

You kind of explained to Leila what happened with Steph, without giving her the name of your girlfriend. But you needed to explain to her the reality of your feelings and why things didn’t work between you two.

For dinner, you chose Steph’s favourite meal, and you ordered the ingredients needed to be delivered to you here. It’s way easier for you like this, doing your shopping in crutches would have been way too complicated.

Steph’s car wheels squeak on the gravel in front of the house several minutes after. You jump between the fridge and the table with the starters when Steph opens the door.

A cream and red flash passes next to you when Calvin runs to great Steph, making you smile softly. You distinctly hear Steph cooing and greeting Calvin back, before coming in your direction.

“No! Don’t come here! Close your eyes!”

“Why? What have you done?”

You jump on one foot in her direction, seeing that Steph had in fact closed her eyes. She looks so cute with her low bun, her scarf and her training clothes that you can’t help yourself but steal her a kiss.

You feel her smile against your lips and then kiss her cheek when she talks.

“Is it to distract me about the fact that you are walking without your crutches?”

“No” you giggle. “Can you walk without opening your eyes please?”

You take her bag from her hand and put your hands on her shoulder to walk easier towards the table. You make her stop and move to be able to watch her reaction.

“Ok, now you can open your eyes” you say when you are in the right place.

You totally ignore the table you settled a little bit before, your eyes only looking at her. Steph’s eyes go wild for a moment while she takes everything in sight. You are suddenly nervous, wondering if it’s maybe too much. Or stupid? You never talked about it finally, but isn’t a girl supposed to like being surprised?

Maybe it’s not a good idea finally, after being away Steph maybe just wants to take a shower and go to bed.

“Did you do all of it yourself?” she asks finally, turning to face you.

“Yeah” you nod, fidgeting with your fingers. “I wanted to thank you properly for the way you took so good care of me while I was just like a burden hurt teenager. I am really thankful for you and your patience and your kindness”

You are totally rambling now, talking a little too fast and almost breathless. You weren’t looking at her while talking, looking at the flowers in the middle of the table. But when you feel her grab your hand, you look at your girlfriend again.

“You have nothing to thank me for, I did it because I wanted it. Even if you are terrible to look after, you little troublemaker”

You smile shyly and let yourself relax when she hugs you. You pass your hands around her neck, taking advantage of your position to breathe her scent. You really missed her.

“Do you mind if I go take a shower quickly before we eat, though?”

“No, it’s a great idea. You stink” you smirk.

You giggle when she smacks you behind your head, clinging against her when she pretends to push you away.

“You’re so mean”

“Yes, but I made diner”

She rolls her eyes and smiles before you let her go. She doesn’t smell at all, but you totally understand the need to take a shower and refresh herself after a long travel day.

You lean on the furniture behind you, looking at her leaving to go to the bathroom.

“Steph?” you call her just before she closes the door.

“Yeah?”

You look at her curious face exceeding the port frame two seconds before smiling softly.

“I really missed you”

Her eyes go soft, and you would literally die for the smile coming on her face right now. There is a tenderness in her eyes, and you sometimes are still surprised when you realise that it is destined to you.

“I missed you too” she says softly. “I’ll be quick, okay?”

“Yeah” you smile back.

You look at her going inside the room again, before jumping back towards the kitchen.

“Use your crutches!” you hear her shout from the bathroom.

You roll your eyes again before deciding to oblige and go to look for them. You don’t really know where you left them, and you finally spot them next to the door of Steph’s bedroom. Then you go back to the kitchen and start to warm up a little what you will eat after the starters.

A little lost in your thoughts, you don’t hear Steph coming back. She takes you by surprise, passing her arms around your waist and kissing your cheek at the same time. You almost jump off your skin, which she seems to find very funny.

“You’re so annoying” you grumble, even if you are smiling.

You just can’t resist her laugh.

“I’m sorry. What can I do to help you?”

“Just put your ass on that chair, Catley”

“As you wish”

You weren’t expecting her to take you in her arms, carrying you like a bride, to the table. She then puts you in your chair before sitting in front of you. That wasn’t exactly how you were picturing things, but it’s maybe better like this. At least you aren’t scowled one more time because of those damn crutches.

You have to admit that you are pretty satisfied about how you were able to cook everything. You like cooking, you sometimes don’t have the time or even the energy to do it. But today you really liked cooking for your girlfriend.

After the diner, you went for a quick walk with Calvin and then to the living room. Arsenal men are playing, and it probably will be a good game. You take advantage to snuggle against Steph, happy to find her arms back. She absently strokes your back under your shirt while watching the game, talking sometimes about something that comes into your minds.

“Dean wrote to me earlier today” Steph says casually.

You feel your heart missing a beat and a strange feeling in the bottom of your stomach. All the fun you had after sharing Calvin's last mischief in the park is now very far away.

“What did he want?”

Your tone is flat, probably giving Steph a hint that you may not be handling this information as easily as you should.

“He wanted to see Calvin”

You can feel her eyes on you, but you look straight in front of you, looking at the TV screen without really looking at it.

“I thought Calvin was your dog only, not his?” you frown.

“He’s mine only, but he still wants to see him again”

You just hum for any answer. You don’t believe it for a single second, in your opinion it’s just an excuse to be able to see Steph again. You know that your girlfriend is the one who ended the things between them. Now that some time has passed, maybe he wants to see if they maybe could get closer again.

You don’t like the strange feeling, now not only in your stomach, but in all your body. You maybe are with Steph for several weeks even months now, but you still don’t take your relationship for granted. You are fully aware that you can lose Steph at any time. Few people know about your relationship after all, it would probably not mean much in the eyes of the world. To yours, however, it would be worse than anything.

On another hand, you can’t tell her that you don’t want her to see him. You won’t take that right.

You raise your eyes on Steph when she pokes at your ribs, to see that she’s still looking at you.

“You know that if I ended things and cancelled my engagement with him, it’s for a good thing, right?”

“Of course” you mumble, looking at the screen again.

She already told you that he might have a thing with a girl he was talking to while they were still together. But other than that, you never really asked about him. Steph never mentioned him either, to be fair.

“Are you still talking to him regularly?” you ask finally, raising your eyes on her again.

“Nope. It was the first time he wrote to me since Christmas. You’re the one being friend with your ex”

She’s right here. Since the confessions you made to Leila, you and her are friends again. She started throwing teasing comments on your Instagram’s post again and you call each other from time to time.

“If it bothers you…” you begin while sitting.

“Not at all” she smiles “It was just to point out that you are still in contact with one of your exes too. But I trust you.”

“I trust you too. But Leila knows we are together. Your ex doesn’t even know that you aren’t single anymore.”

“I’ll let him know, okay?”

She’s looking at you with so much affection that you can only smile back at her. You feel your body relax again and you cuddle closer to her again.

“Okay” you say, burying your face in her hoodie.

********

Several days later, you are finally able to walk without any crutches, having received the green light from the physio team. You don’t feel any discomfort in your foot anymore and it’s a really good point.

In fact, you were even able to train with the rest of the team today and that makes you happier than ever. You probably won’t be able to play that weekend, but it’s obvious that it will be okay for next week.

You are practically hopping when you come home that day, parking your car next to Steph’s one in the driveway. You frown when you see that there is another car too, not recognizing it like Beth’s car or even one of her teammates. In your memories, no one is driving a Skoda.

Like usual, Calvin comes to greet you when you arrive, this time silently stroking himself around your legs. You pet him, before hearing voices coming from the living room.

“I just… It doesn't make any sense to me. I thought you were friend with her, nothing else”

Dean. What the hell is he doing here? You frown again, taking two steps to be able to hear better what is happening in that living room. None of them heard you coming in.

“Nothing ever happened while we were together, Dean” you hear Steph sigh.

“Still. She just waited for us to be over to shoot her shot?”

“Not at all. She doesn’t even say anything, I kind of pushed her to know about her breakup at Emily’s wedding and… Well, you don’t have to know everything, but I was the one figuring out alone her feelings for me. Then all clicks and it was like evidence”

There is a beam of silence, only broken by Calvin chewing with application one of Dean’s shoes. You let him do it with a cold satisfaction. You don’t like the way that man tries to make you pass for the one corrupting Steph in the wrong way.

In contrast, you love the way Steph doesn’t share everything with him. It belongs to you and her, not him.

“And just for the record, you were the one getting over it very quickly with that girl from your medical team”

“It wasn’t serious. She was just a rebound”

“You were talking with her when we were still together.”

You can easily picture Steph, her eyebrow arched, and her arms crossed on her chest.

“It was a mistake” he sighs. “I shouldn’t have done that. If I knew it would push you to end things between us, I wouldn’t even have looked at her.”

“She wasn’t the reason for our breakup. I mean maybe a small part of it, but it wasn’t the big deal. What I said at this point was valid and still is. I just don’t have any love feeling for you anymore”

Must be painful to hear, but at least you have to give credit to Steph for standing her ground and being clear with him. You empathise a little bit with him though, you will be destroyed if Steph ended things between you. Even if you never will talk to someone else like he did.

“Okay but what will you do when you will want to start a family? You won’t even be able to do it together”

Okay, we are now finished with empathy. Maybe now is the best time to make your appearance. You go for the door again, opening it without any discretion.

“Love, I'm home!” you shout happily while almost slamming the door.

You take off your shoes quickly without even untie the laces, petting Calvin’s head.

“Living room” you hear her answer.

Deciding to put it more in the show, you start to talk while you are still outside the room.

“Did you know that Hayl… Oh. Hi.”

Dean and Steph are both standing in the room, separated by at least two meters from each other. You look at the both of them, taking the situation. He seems upset and doesn’t answer anything, and you drag your gaze away from him when Steph talks.

“Hi Sweets. How was training?”

“Great”

You smile at her and hesitate to go for her, but when she raises her arm to invite you to hug her, you don’t hesitate. You pass your arms around her waist, kissing her cheek softly. You don’t want to push things too far either, you know she won’t like it.

You cringe a little at the silence coming after that, exchanging a glance with Steph. You want to know what the hell is this guy doing here, but you don’t really know how to ask that question.

“Dean informed me that he found some of my things in his boxes and wanted to give them back” Steph informs you.

You probably will be forever grateful at how much Steph knows you and seems to read into you. You just nod before turning your eyes toward him. He was already looking at you and you know that look perfectly. He seems to be jealous of your proximity, but you won’t move.

Maybe it’s a stupid thing to want to mark territory, but you don’t want him to pop randomly at Steph’s door, now that he knows where she lives. Anyway, you don’t take your hand off of your girlfriend’s back.

“Lucky you were home” you finally answer.

“I didn’t realise I needed to ask for approval to see my ex-fiancée” he growls.

“She lives here too, actually” Steph intervenes before you even can open your mouth “She has her words to say”

You use your better poker face at this, because you totally aren’t living here officially. Now that you are able to walk correctly you could probably go back to your home, but you never really left. Steph never asked you to do and never made you feel like you were too much here.

“I have to go” Dean finally says. “I have training”

You don’t move but Steph nods, saying goodbye too. You can’t hide the smile creeping on your face when you hear him grumbling when he finds his chewed shoe, Calvin now sleeping peacefully on his bed next to the couch.

You love that dog.

When the door is closed, you feel Steph take a deep breath and lean a little more against you. You realised how tense she was, but you are surprised by such a relief.

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly, kissing her temple.

“It was the first time I saw him since I left our home” she explains to you. “I told him I was seeing someone without saying your name, but he didn’t want to leave before knowing how you are. I’m sorry, I don’t think we will be able to hide our relationship for any longer”

“It’s not a problem for me” you shrug. “People have known that I love women since my teenage era. What about you, though?”

“I don’t know” she begins slowly. “I haven’t any problem with Kyra knowing it to be honest. But maybe I’ll need to talk about it to my family first”

“Okay. If you need me, just tell me, yeah?”

Stephs smile softly at you, and you kiss her for good this time. The kiss is soft and slow, and you feel her thumb stroking your cheek softly.

“So, what did Hayley do?”

********

Later that day, you are looking at the ceiling, lost in your thoughts. Even if you tried all the rest of the day to forget about Dean and what he said, some things are dancing in your mind.

Did Steph and him talked about starting a family? And if it was the case, why does it bother you so much? They planned to get married; you shouldn’t be so disturbed with that. You know you are lucky to finally be with the girl of your dreams, but that strange feeling in the bottom of your stomach won’t go away.

You tried to distract yourself by cooking with Steph, playing some video games with her and telling her about your first training back since your injury, and it went pretty great to be honest.

But now with Steph under the shower and Calvin sleeping, you are alone with your thoughts.

“I was waiting for you to come with me”

Steph’s teasing voice makes you smile softly. You turn on your side to look at her when she enters the room, wearing a big shirt and probably panties, even if you can’t see them given the size of that shirt.

“You are the most beautiful girl in the world” you mumble.

Your smile grows wider when she rolls her eyes and makes one grimace of her own. You love her with her hair down.

“That’s true!”

“It’s not” she giggles while coming with you under the cover.

“Yes it is”

You let her have the time to lie on her back before you lay on her, sighing with ease. It’s your favourite spot in the world. You enjoy her stroke in your hair while she scrolls on her phone for several minutes, before starting to draw shapes on her hips with your fingertips.

“I can hear your brain boiling, Sweetheart” Steph finally says. “What’s going on?”

You bite your lips softly, looking for a way to approach things. Because she doesn’t know that you heard a big part of her conversation with Dean, and you don’t want to upset her. Your silence pushes her to try to guess what’s in your mind.

“Is it football related?” she asks first, and you shake your head no. “Is it about us?”

“Kinda” you hesitate. “I just…”

“Is it about something you heard earlier?”

Damn. You look at her, stunned, torn between guilt and amazement. You can see the ghost of a smile on her face and her eyes shining with fun.

“Do you think I really don’t know you?”

You roll your eyes with a smile, accepting the teasing easily. She doesn’t seem mad, and she waited for you to show something to talk about it. You really don’t deserve that girl.

“I didn’t want to intrude. I didn’t know it was him” you shrug.

“I knew it the second you passed the door” she smirks, making you smile too. “Plus, I don’t have anything to hide from you. What part of the discussion is playing with your head?”

Sitting on her hips, you pass a hand in your hair. You don’t know how to express yourself and how to tell her things. Once again, you don’t want to fight with her. But you promised each other early in your relationship that you will always discuss and talk about things, not to drag any misunderstandings along.

Steph waits patiently, looking softly at you while playing with the edge of your shirt. You finally decide to go straight to the point, it will be easier like this.

“When he talked about having a family. Is it something you discussed together?”

You try hard to fight against the pictures coming in your mind, focusing on your girlfriend’s pretty face.

“Not really” she frowns. “We were both into sport and I don’t think it was time for us to have this conversation. He was very traditional you know, first dating then living together, then engagement… One thing at time”

It does make sense actually. You nod softly, trying to process this information.

“But was it something you wanted?”

You watch her looking at you with a little bit of… angst maybe? That doesn’t seem good and just when you were going to tell her that you finally don’t want to know the answer to that question, she starts to talk again.

“No, not really. It’s very selfish but I wanted to finish my career before even thinking about it”

Oh. That wasn’t what you were expecting. It’s probably strange to feel a little relieved about it.

“It’s not selfish” you assure her with a smile, redrawing the features of her face with your fingers. “We, women, have to choose between sport or baby. It’s so stupid”

She nods softly, suddenly lost in her thoughts. It looks like things were exchanged because several minutes before you were the one thoughtful. Now you feel lighter than ever.

“What is it?” you ask, tilting your head on the side.

“What about you?”

“I was never serious enough in my relationships to even talk about it” you roll your eyes.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want to have kid one day”

She has a point. You feel your cheek getting redder because to be honest, the idea of you and Steph with a little kiddo running with Calvin in a big garden is something you would love. Maybe even back in Australia, who knows.

“I do want kids, but not carelessly. I want to have time for them, all of that…”

“Okay” Steph smiles softly.

“And a great mummy to raise them with me” you add, winking at her.

“Okay” Steph says again, laughing this time.

“But not now, though”

“Not now”

Steph repeats your sentence before suddenly grabbing you by your hips to change your position, making you lie under her while she straddles you.

“We have something else to discuss first” she says.

“Oh, do we?”

“Yeah. What do I need to do for you to live officially here? Lose your keys? Burn your house?”

“You just have to ask” you laugh.

“In that case… Would you like to live here with me?”

“I’d love to”

She smiles at you with so much tenderness that you feel your heart almost burst with love. Taking her gently by the collar of her shirt, you drag her towards you to kiss her. She doesn’t wait any second to kiss you back, making you smile against her lips.

“You’re such a dork” you giggle shortly after.

“You love me, though” she answers, her head now on your shoulder.

“I do. You don’t know yet how much I do”

“I love you too.”

[inkyquillstories]

A Firstborn with Second Thoughts (A Body Swap Story)

Note: Lucky for you if you saw the original post (which was flagged for some reason?), here's a definitely more SFW version I guess haha

(Brandon) 

(Tom)

My name is Brandon, and I have an older brother named Tom. We’re brothers, but you wouldn’t think so at first glance because we look so different. Tom is tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular, while I’m shorter, thinner, and lack his athletic build. Our personalities are just as contrasting—he’s outgoing, carefree, and not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, whereas I’m bookish, reserved, and tend to overthink things. Despite our differences, we’ve always had a relatively good relationship. He’d tease me sometimes, but never in a mean-spirited way, and I’d help him with his homework when he got stuck. We had a balance, and it worked.

However, when Tom went off to college, things took a turn. He fell in with a reckless crowd—guys who cared more about drinking, partying, and skipping class than actually studying.

(Tom having fun in college) 

It wasn’t like he was ever the academic type, but his natural charisma had always carried him through. That didn’t work in college. Without discipline or structure, his grades plummeted. My parents were livid, especially my father, who had worked hard to send Tom to a good school. They weren’t about to let all that money go to waste. Meanwhile, I was in my senior year of high school, excelling academically, and on track to get into a prestigious university. I knew my parents wished Tom had my dedication, but I never expected them to take such drastic action to fix things.

When Tom came home for the holidays, our parents sat us down for a serious talk. They explained their plan: they were going to use a secret family heirloom—a body-swapping talisman—to switch our bodies. 

I thought they were joking at first, but when I saw how grave my father’s expression was, I knew they meant it. Tom was furious, shouting that this was insane, while I sat there in shock, unable to process what they were saying. Before we could protest any further, my father held up the talisman and muttered a phrase in a language I didn’t recognize. Everything went dark.

When I woke up, I felt... different. My sheets felt tight, my body felt heavier.

(Brandon waking up) 

Confused, I sat up and noticed that my clothes—my usual loose-fitting boxers—were now straining against a larger frame. I glanced down and saw muscular legs where my thin ones should have been. 

Panic surged through me, and I stumbled out of bed, rushing to the mirror. The reflection staring back at me wasn’t mine—it was Tom’s. His chiseled jaw, his deep-set eyes, his broad chest. It was me. I was him. 

A scream from the next room startled me—my scream. I ran to Tom’s room and found my old body flailing in oversized clothes. Tom—now in my body—looked horrified.

Our parents were waiting for us in the living room, prepared for our reactions. They handed us each a bag containing our new belongings—phones, wallets, even keys to our respective rooms. We were expected to swap everything, down to our names. “From now on, you will call each other by your new names,” my father ordered. “No slip-ups. Act like nothing happened. If you disobey, this arrangement will last even longer.” I looked at Tom, my former self, and saw the helplessness in his eyes. But what choice did we have?

That night, I sat in Tom’s room, getting acquainted with his life. I stood in front of the mirror, my breath shallow as I took in the reflection that wasn’t mine. Tom’s face—my face now—stared back at me, a mix of confusion and curiosity in those deep-set brown eyes. I lifted a hand to touch my jaw, feeling the rough stubble beneath my fingertips. My old face had been smooth, youthful, almost delicate. But this? This was strong, angular, rugged. My fingers traced the defined cheekbones, the squared jaw, the broader nose that gave me a more commanding presence. Even the way my eyebrows furrowed looked different—more intense, more... powerful. 

Even my posture felt different, more naturally dominant. My legs, too—thicker, stronger. My calves flexed with every slight movement, and my feet… even they felt bigger, more grounded. I wiggled my toes, marveling at how different they looked, longer and more substantial than my old ones.  

In the next few days, I stood in front of Tom’s closet, my fingers brushing against the rows of neatly folded shirts and stacks of jeans. Everything felt bigger, heavier. I grabbed one of his t-shirts and pulled it over my head. The fabric stretched comfortably across my broader chest and arms, fitting perfectly in a way my old clothes never had. 

Downstairs, Tom—now in my old body—stood awkwardly in my usual hoodie and sneakers, fidgeting with the sleeves. “This is so weird,” he muttered, staring at me like he was looking in a funhouse mirror. “We actually have to go out like this?”

I smirked, grabbing the keys to his car. “Unless you suddenly know how to drive, yeah.”

His scowl deepened, but he followed me outside without another word. As I slid into the driver’s seat, the leather felt familiar yet new beneath me. I adjusted the mirrors, and for a split second, I caught my reflection—Tom’s reflection—staring back at me from the rearview mirror then I looked at the pedals and loved my new perspective. I grinned. “Let’s go.”

We pulled into town, and from the moment we stepped out of the car, it was like I had stepped into a whole new world. “Yo, Tom!” Someone waved at me from across the street, and without hesitation, I lifted a hand in response. A couple of guys I vaguely recognized from Tom’s social media clapped me on the back as I walked by, greeting me with easy confidence.

“Tom, man, you hitting the gym later?” one of them asked.

I laughed, flexing an arm instinctively. “You know it.”

The words rolled off my tongue effortlessly, and it felt… right. No one questioned me. No one looked past me. They saw Tom—the strong, charismatic, confident guy. And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t just the shy, smart little brother. I was someone people noticed. Someone people respected.

Tom, trailing slightly behind me in my old body, kept shifting uncomfortably. He barely spoke, barely made eye contact. The contrast between us was stark. I had spent my whole life in his shadow, and now, here he was—quiet, uncertain, small. And me? I was the one towering over him, leading the way.

As we drove back home, I caught my reflection in the window once more. The smirk on my face wasn’t just Tom’s. It was mine. I dropped my brother home and proceeded to the gym.

Eventually, I had to go to college and college life as Tom was surprisingly easy. I went to his classes, aced his exams, and even managed to keep up his social life. His friends were shocked at how “responsible” I had become, but they admired it. My parents were pleased with my performance, thinking they had fixed Tom’s future. What they didn’t know was that I still partied—I just balanced it better than Tom ever did. I was living his life better than he ever could.

Meanwhile, Tom struggled in my old life. He hated the long study sessions, the lack of social outings, the expectation to be quiet and diligent. He constantly complained, but he knew that failing to keep up my grades would mean a prolonged swap. I tried to encourage him, but he was miserable. He didn’t want my life. But the more time passed, the less I wanted to give his back.

Months went by, and I grew more attached to my new life. I loved the strength, the confidence, the admiration. When I came home for the semester break, Tom stared at me and muttered, “You even look bigger.” I smirked and shrugged. “Kept up your gym routine.”

My parents announced that they had decided to extend the swap indefinitely, claiming that everything was better this way. Tom clenched his fists, but he had no choice but to accept it. Me? I was secretly thrilled.

Later that night, I found Tom sitting on the edge of my—his—bed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees. His expression was distant, frustrated. I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over my chest. “Alright,” I said, breaking the silence. “Let’s go over some things.”  

Tom let out an annoyed sigh. “Seriously?”  

I nodded, stepping inside and shutting the door. “Yes, seriously. You keep slipping up, and if we mess this up, Dad will keep us like this even longer. So, let’s make sure you know who you are.” I sat across from him, leveling him with a firm gaze. “What’s your name?”  

He gritted his teeth, then mumbled, “Brandon.”  

“Louder.”  

“Brandon,” he said again, voice bitter.  

“Good. How old are you?”  

He shifted uncomfortably. “Eighteen.”  

I tilted my head. “And I am?”  

His jaw tightened. “Twenty.”  

“Who’s the older brother?”  

He swallowed hard before answering. “You are.”  

A small smirk tugged at my lips. “That’s right. And what do you like to do in your free time?”  

Tom hesitated before mumbling, “Study. Read. Play strategy games.” The words sounded foreign coming from his mouth—my mouth.  

“And what do I like to do?” I asked, pressing further.  

His fists clenched in his lap. “Work out. Party. Hang out with friends.”  

I nodded approvingly. “See? You’re getting the hang of it.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Listen, you need to start thinking of yourself as Brandon. You need to act like him, talk like him, live like him. The more you resist, the harder it’ll be. The sooner you accept it, the easier your life will be.”  

Tom looked up at me, and for the first time, I saw something in his eyes I hadn’t expected—defeat. A reluctant acceptance of what was happening. He exhaled slowly and muttered, “Fine.”  

“Good,” I said, standing up. “Now, repeat after me. ‘I am Brandon. I am eighteen. I’m the younger brother.’”  

Tom clenched his jaw, but he obeyed. “I am Brandon. I am eighteen. I’m the younger brother.”  

“And I am?”  

He swallowed hard. “You are Tom. You are twenty. You are the older brother.”  

I grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “Now you’re getting it.”  

As I walked out of the room, I felt a deep satisfaction settle in my chest. The more Tom accepted his new role, the more permanent it all felt. And honestly? That was exactly what I wanted. To solidify this, I changed all his social media passwords, cutting off any connection he had to his old life. If he wanted to live as me, he had to fully embrace it. I wasn’t going to let him live vicariously through the life I had made better.

One evening, after dinner, I found my dad in his study, sipping a glass of whiskey while reading through some paperwork. He barely looked up when I stepped inside, only acknowledging me with a small nod. I hesitated for a moment before speaking.  

“Dad,” I began, keeping my voice steady, “how long do you plan on keeping us like this?”  

He sighed, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “I haven’t given it much thought,” he admitted, leaning back in his chair. “But everything is working out, so why change it?”  

His words settled over me like a warm blanket. I nodded, suppressing the grin threatening to creep onto my face. I had expected some vague reassurance that this was temporary, but instead, he was practically confirming what I had already been feeling—this wasn’t temporary at all.  

Dad stood up and, to my surprise, pulled me into a firm hug. “I’m proud of you, son,” he said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.  

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. He had never said those words to me before—not when I aced my exams, not when I won academic competitions, not even when I got accepted into top-tier colleges. But now, as Tom, as his firstborn, he finally said it. And for the first time, I truly felt like his eldest son.  

As I stepped back, I saw the way he looked at me—with pride, with respect. It was a look he had never given the old Brandon. And maybe that was why I felt no guilt when I realized I didn’t want to go back.  

Dad was happy. The new Brandon had adjusted. And I… I loved this. Being Tom felt right. More and more, it was starting to feel like a permanent arrangement. And honestly? I was perfectly okay with that.

The End.

[onebadassunicorn]

The Spy Who Loved Me

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: angst, torture, despair

word count: 2.1K

Taglist: @motheroffae @rosecobollway @tele86 @anainkandpaper

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please leave me a comment!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

********

Chapter 13

The dim torchlight flickered faintly against the damp stone walls of the Autumn Court dungeon as Eris stepped inside your cell. The sharp scent of blood and sweat assaulted him, but it was the sight of you that made his breath catch. You were slumped against the wall, your body battered and broken, barely recognizable beneath the layers of bruises, cuts, and dried blood.

Your breathing was shallow, a faint rattle in your chest betraying how close you were to the edge. The chains binding your wrists hung loosely now, your body too weak to resist their pull. Eris’s golden eyes scanned over you, his usual mask of arrogance slipping for a moment as his expression darkened with something close to concern. He had known Beron would resort to cruelty to extract information from you, but this… this was far worse than he’d anticipated.

“Gods,” he muttered under his breath, stepping closer, his boots clicking softly on the stone floor. He crouched in front of you, his fiery hair gleaming in the faint light as he tried to meet your eyes.

“Look at you,” he said quietly, his voice unusually soft. “Still holding on, even after all this.”

Your head lifted slightly at the sound of his voice, but it took all your strength just to open your eyes. They were glassy and unfocused, but the faint flicker of defiance still lingered in their honey-colored depths. You didn’t speak, your throat too raw, your energy too depleted, but the look you gave him was enough.

“You’re stronger than I gave you credit for,” he admitted, his lips pressing into a thin line as he took in the extent of your injuries. “But I’m afraid your strength is only provoking him further.”

Eris’s golden eyes narrowed as he thought of Beron, of his father’s escalating temper and the way he seemed to take pleasure in pushing you closer and closer to death. Beron was a cruel man, but he was also calculating. The fact that you hadn’t cracked yet only made you more dangerous in his eyes—and more expendable.

“You’re not going to make it much longer,” Eris said bluntly, though his tone wasn’t unkind. “If you keep this up, he’ll lose his temper. And when that happens…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but the implication hung heavy in the air.

Eris straightened, his jaw tightening as he turned toward the cell door. He couldn’t waste any more time. The plan had to be put into motion now, before it was too late. He pulled a slip of parchment from his pocket and quickly scribbled a message, his handwriting swift but precise.

The note read:

Rhysand, She is in far worse shape than I anticipated. Beron is growing impatient, and I fear he will lose his temper and kill her before long. She hasn’t cracked, but her body is failing. I am finalizing the plan now. Azriel needs to be ready to retrieve her at dawn tomorrow. I’ll send the specifics later today. Do not wait.

Eris folded the note, sealing it with his ring before handing it to one of his most trusted couriers waiting just outside the dungeon. “Get this to Rhysand immediately,” he ordered, his tone cold and commanding. The courier nodded and disappeared down the corridor.

He turned back to you one last time, his expression unreadable. “Hold on just a little longer,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Help is coming.”

And then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

********

The message arrived at the Night Court just as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. Rhysand read it silently, his violet eyes darkening as he took in the contents. He handed it to Feyre without a word, his jaw tight as he turned to Azriel and Cassian.

“Eris is afraid she’s near death,” Rhysand said grimly. “Eris says Beron is close to losing his temper entirely. He’s finalizing the plan and will send the specifics tonight. Azriel, you’ll retrieve her at dawn.”

Azriel had been sitting on the edge of a chair, his body coiled with tension, but at Rhysand’s words, he shot to his feet. “Dawn?” he demanded, his voice low and trembling with barely contained fury. “She’s dying, Rhys. I can’t wait that long.”

“You’ll have to,” Rhysand said sharply, though there was no malice in his tone. “If you go now, you’ll risk compromising everything. We don’t know where she is, how many guards are around her, or how Beron might retaliate if he catches wind of this.”

Azriel’s wings flared, his hazel eyes blazing with a mix of anger and anguish. “You expect me to sit here while she’s being tortured to death?”

“She’s strong, Az,” Cassian said, his voice quieter but no less firm. “You know she is. She’s held out this long—she’ll hold on a little longer because she loves you.”

Azriel turned away, his shadows swirling violently around him as he paced the room. The bond throbbed faintly in his chest, a weak and fragile connection that only heightened his torment. He could still feel you, but it was faint, like a flicker of light in an endless void. And it wasn’t enough.

He thought of the pain he had felt earlier—the agony that had lanced through the bond, the unmistakable sensation of knives carving into flesh, of fingernails being ripped away. He had felt your strength, yes, but he had also felt your despair. The thought of you believing no one was coming for you, that you would die alone in that gods-forsaken dungeon, was almost too much to bear.

“You’ll bring her home tomorrow,” Rhysand said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “We’ll follow Eris’s plan to the letter. And when she’s safe, we’ll make Beron pay for every second of her suffering.”

Azriel stopped pacing, his hands clenched at his sides as he stared at Rhysand. His voice was quiet, but it trembled with raw emotion as he said, “She has to make it through the night.”

“She will,” Rhysand replied, his voice softening just enough to show the faintest glimmer of hope. “She will, Azriel. And you’ll be there to bring her back.”

Azriel nodded stiffly, though the tension in his body didn’t ease. He turned toward the window, his wings shifting restlessly as he gazed out into the night. The bond pulsed faintly once more, and he closed his eyes, focusing on the fragile thread that tied him to you.

Hold on, he thought desperately, sending a silent plea through the bond. I’m coming for you.

********

Eris stood in the dim light of his private study, the golden-red hues of the setting sun filtering through the tall windows. His hands moved deftly as he scrawled the details of the rescue plan onto a sheet of fine parchment. Every stroke of his quill was deliberate, precise, his thoughts sharp as a blade as he finalized the instructions. The plan had to work. It was the only chance to get you out alive.

The distraction would take place at dawn. Eris had ensured that key guards stationed near your cell would be pulled away under the guise of a sudden, critical incident elsewhere in the palace. Fires would be set in the far wings of the dungeon, a chaotic diversion that would draw Beron’s attention—and his paranoia—just long enough for the rescue to take place.

He listed the details carefully:

Number of guards remaining: Two stationed outside the cell, armed but not overly skilled.

Location of the cell: The third corridor of the eastern wing, farthest from the main dungeon entrance.

Timing: The diversion would last for approximately ten minutes before reinforcements were called. Azriel needed to be in and out before the window closed.

Kill any resistance: Eris made it explicit—there could be no hesitation. If Azriel encountered resistance, the guards would need to be eliminated immediately to avoid alerting Beron.

As he finished, Eris sealed the note with his family’s flame insignia and handed it to his most trusted courier. “Get this to Rhysand in Velaris before midnight,” he instructed coldly. “And tell him that if Azriel deviates from this plan, it will cost her her life.”

The courier nodded solemnly and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Eris alone in his study. He leaned heavily against his desk, his golden eyes dark with worry. He had seen your condition earlier that day, seen the fragility of your broken body. Time was running out, and he could only hope the Night Court would act with the precision required to save you.

The rescue plan arrived at the House of Wind late that evening, the faint glow of Eris’s flame insignia flickering as the note appeared on Rhysand’s desk. Rhysand read it quickly, his face grim as he absorbed the details. Feyre stood beside him, her expression tight with worry, while Cassian leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he waited for the verdict.

“It’s detailed,” Rhysand said, handing the parchment to Azriel, who had been standing silently by the window, his wings half-spread in a posture of barely contained tension. “Eris has accounted for the guards and provided a clear path. But there’s no margin for error. You’ll need to move quickly.”

Azriel’s hazel eyes scanned the note, his shadows writhing around him like restless phantoms. Every muscle in his body was coiled tight, his jaw clenched as he read the specifics of the plan. In and out in minutes. Two guards. Kill anyone who gets in the way. He had done countless missions like this before, but this time, the stakes felt impossibly high.

“She’s going to die if I don’t get there in time,” Azriel said quietly, his voice laced with anguish. “The bond is… it’s faint. Almost silent.”

Rhysand’s violet eyes softened, but his tone was firm. “She’s strong, Azriel. She’s held on this long. She’ll hold on a little longer.”

Azriel’s hands tightened around the note, his scarred fingers trembling slightly as he forced himself to nod. But doubt gnawed at him, a sickening weight that refused to be ignored. The bond had grown eerily silent, the faint pulse that tethered him to you now little more than a flicker. It felt as though you were slipping away, and every moment he waited was another moment he feared he’d lose you.

He turned away from the others, retreating to the solitude of his room. Once inside, he sank onto the edge of his bed, his head in his hands as he struggled to breathe through the fear and despair choking him. He closed his eyes, focusing on the bond, willing it to respond.

I’m coming for you, he sent through the bond, his voice trembling with desperation. Just hold on. Please, hold on.

But there was no response. The bond remained silent, an empty void where your presence should have been. Azriel’s chest tightened, the hollow ache in his heart spreading like poison through his veins. The silence was worse than the pain—it was suffocating, deafening, and it made him feel as though you were already gone.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he pressed a hand to his chest, where the bond throbbed faintly. “I can’t…”

He thought of you—your honey-colored eyes, the soft curve of your lips when you smiled, the sound of your laugh as it echoed in the summer breeze. He thought of the week you had spent together at the beach house, the way you had looked at him with a vulnerability that made him want to shield you from the world. You had become his anchor, his light in the darkness, and now you were slipping through his fingers.

Azriel exhaled shakily, his wings drooping as he sat in the silence of his room. He reached out through the bond again, this time sending more than words. He sent his love—fierce, overwhelming, and unyielding. He poured every ounce of it into the bond, hoping, praying that it would reach you, that it would remind you that you weren’t alone.

I love you, he thought, his chest aching with the depth of his emotions. You’re not alone. I’m coming for you.

But still, there was nothing. The silence remained, and Azriel’s heart shattered a little more with each passing second.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

And yet, he feared that by the time it did, it would already be too late.

Chapter 14

[carnalcrows]

DISOBEDIENCE - INHO

pairing: inho x dom! male reader

synopsis: When the normally composed Front Man disobeys, his lover steps in to deliver a firm but intimate punishment, breaking his pride and leaving him vulnerable—only to patch him back together with tender, loving care.

content warnings: 18+, sub!inho, spanking, a little aftercare at the end

word count: 0.8k

A/N: I forgot where the request went my bad g

The control room was dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of the monitors displaying the games in progress. You sat behind the large desk, watching the feeds in silence. Across from you stood In-ho, the Front Man, his mask clutched tightly in his hand. His usually commanding presence was subdued, his shoulders slightly hunched, his gaze avoiding yours.

“You know why you’re here,” you began, your voice cold but steady.

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I do.”

You leaned back in your chair, your gaze sharp and unyielding. “Then tell me why you thought it was acceptable to disobey my direct orders.”

He shifted uncomfortably, his grip on the mask tightening. “I… thought my decision was the better one,” he admitted reluctantly. “I was trying to—”

“You were trying to what?” you interrupted, your tone cutting through his excuse like a blade. “Undermine me? Prove that you’re above following instructions?”

“No,” he said quickly, his eyes darting to yours, desperation flickering in their depths. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“But that’s what you did,” you countered, standing and walking around the desk. Each step you took echoed in the tense silence, the air between you heavy with anticipation. “You’re supposed to be my right hand, In-ho. My enforcer. If you can’t follow orders, what message does that send to everyone else?”

He didn’t reply, his head bowing slightly as shame crept into his expression.

“Look at me,” you commanded, and after a moment of hesitation, he obeyed. His dark eyes met yours, a mix of defiance and vulnerability swirling within them.

“You’ve made a mess,” you said quietly, stepping closer. “And now, I have to clean it up. But first, I need to ensure you understand the weight of your actions.”

His breath hitched as you reached out, brushing a gloved finger along his jawline. He held your gaze, though his hands trembled slightly at his sides. You could see the tension in his body, the battle between his pride and the guilt that gnawed at him.

“Take off the jacket,” you instructed, your voice low but firm.

In-ho hesitated for only a moment before shrugging off the sleek black coat of his uniform, letting it fall to the floor. His crisp white shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the collar, his stoic mask slipping to reveal the man underneath. The vulnerability made him seem almost human—almost.

You guided him to lean over the desk, his hands gripping the edge tightly. The room was silent except for the sound of his breathing, uneven and shallow. You slowly pulled his pants and boxers down before your hand came down with a sharp smack against his ass, the sound echoing in the confined space. He jolted, a quiet gasp escaping his lips, though he didn’t resist.

“This is about trust,” you said, your voice firm but not unkind. “And you broke it.”

Another strike, more deliberate this time, drew a stifled groan from him. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the desk harder, his composure slipping with each stinging blow.

“Do you think I enjoy this?” you asked, leaning close to his ear. “Do you think I want to punish you like this?”

“No,” he choked out, his voice strained. “I— I understand.”

“Good,” you murmured, your hand lingering for a moment before trailing up his spine, a touch both punishing and comforting. “Because if this happens again, the consequences will be far more severe.”

Another, after another, the sounds of your hand striking his ass filled the room, with him counting every single one.

“Fuck– that’s ten, sir,” he whimpered, feeling the sting all the way to his cock, making his brain go mushy.

“I hope you’ve learnt your lesson from this In-ho,” you said sternly, your hand massaging the flesh before striking it once more.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he nodded, his breathing ragged. “I won’t disobey you again,” he whispered. “I promise.”

You straightened, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I know you won’t,” you said softly, the edge in your voice replaced with something gentler. “You’re better than this, In-ho. Don’t make me doubt you again.”

He turned to face you, his usually stoic expression crumbling into something raw and exposed. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible.

You reached out, cupping his face in your hands. “You’re forgiven,” you said, your thumbs brushing away the faint traces of tears. “But don’t forget why this happened.”

“I won’t,” he vowed, his voice steadier now. “I swear it.”

You nodded, offering him a faint smile before pulling him into an embrace. His body relaxed against yours, the tension finally melting away as you held him close.

“You’re mine to trust,” you whispered into his ear, your voice both a promise and a warning. “Don’t make me regret it.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and I take genuine effort to do them.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Sings Part 20

Hello! We are back with more of this lovely fic. I think this will have 24 chapters if it keeps going the way it's been going this last week. It might surprise me. It has before, so we'll see.

In this we have Chrissy apologizing and Steve meets the family.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19

~

The next morning there was a knock on Steve’s hotel door and he went to go get it. He wasn’t expecting anyone. All the kids knew to wait for him down in the lobby and Eddie was off visiting the mysterious Uncle Wayne. And as far as he knew the rest of the guys were off doing other things today, too.

He opened the door to a large bouquet of purple hyacinth obscuring the person who was carrying them. He knew it wasn’t from Eddie. They would have been yellow and daffodils. His favorite.

Suddenly they were being thrust at him, forcing him to take them. “Oh!”

But once they were in his grasp he could see the bearer’s face. Chrissy was standing there looking sheepish.

“Oh hello,” Steve said awkwardly, standing there with the flowers in his hands. “Um...thanks for the flowers?”

She bustled past him into his room. “Sure, come on in.”

She flopped down on the chair and leaned her elbows on her knees. “Look, I’ve been an ass. I big one. And that’s on me. But I think I need to explain why. So sit down and buckle up. This is going to take awhile.”

“Uh...” he waved at the phone. “I was going to order some breakfast if you want anything.”

Chrissy blinked up at him for a moment. “Sure...um, an egg white omelet with sour cream and ham please.”

“Right on it!” Steve said with a grin. He wandered over to the table and took out the flowers that housekeeping put in a vase on it every two to three days and replaced it with the hyacinths. Then he called down for room service.

“You didn’t have to dump the other flowers,” she said tilting her head to the side as Steve threw them away.

“Nah,” Steve said like a half shrug. “Eddie gets me flowers all the time and I do the same thing. Rosa prefers those to the high priced unscented things the hotel gets and is always happy to see me trash them.”

“You really made friends here,” Chrissy said, leaning back in the chair. “I’ve heard nothing but good about you from the staff.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Look my parents were assholes, but they were rich assholes who knew that if you didn’t treat staff well, than you would get stiffed in service. They raised me to do the same. Then they became my friends when the only people still talking to me were barely teenagers and their parents. Oh and Eddie of course. I would have been lost without them.”

“I’ve severely misjudged you,” she murmured. “Hence the flowers. According the florist purple hyacinths mean ‘please forgive me’ so...”

Steve shrugged and came over to sofa, where he flopped on it sideways, tucking one arm behind his head. “Story of my life. I think the only person who’s come into my life that immediately didn’t judge me for being who I am was Eddie. And even then he was worried I might be under eighteen.”

Chrissy snorted a giggle. “Look, you looked like a baby chick out there in a sea of metalheads so it’s not hard to see why.”

“Oh didn’t I know it,” he said shaking his head. “I was looking to get laid to have a warm place to spend the night and maybe a couch for a week or two while I tried to get out of town. But then Eddie happened and the rest is history.”

“Well,” Chrissy said with a smile, “you certainly made him happy and I’ll admit sending him your fake ID was inspired.”

“Thanks!”

“So as an apology,” she said, continuing, “I’d like to something special for each of your kids. We got Lucas on lock, but I don’t want the rest of them feeling like you love Lucas more...”

“You’ve got younger siblings, don’t you?” Steve asked with a small smile. “I bet they were the gold child that could do no wrong while you were constantly told you’ll never measure up?”

Chrissy blinked at him for a moment. “How did you know? I’m pretty sure if you had sibling they would have been brought up before now.”

Steve sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. “My cousin, Scott. Not the one who bounces for The Hideout, but the one who made my ID. His parents always wanted a little girl and after three boys, finally got one. Amanda was their parents little darling who could burn down an orphanage, steal a police cruiser as her get away vehicle, and crash it into a cancer ward, and they would still find a way to blame Scott or one of his older brothers.”

“Okay then,” Chrissy said with a huff of breath. “Yeah, that’s exactly how it goes. Thankfully he has sense, but yeah. I just don’t want your other kids to feel left out.”

“Agreed,” Steve said. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to fulfill all of them but here’s what they like.” And then he broke down all their passions.

Chrissy nodded. “Hey do you have some paper and a pen? I want to write this all down.”

“On the desk,” Steve replied. “It’s where I tried to live up to other people’s expectations by trying to get a job, even though my dad made it super fucking hard.”

Chrissy got up and moved to the desk. “I heard about the ice cream incident,” she said over her shoulder. “Eddie wanted to sue, but Chief Hopper talked him out of it. I’m still not sure it was the right move to let it go. You could have been seriously hurt by the stunt. What if it had hit your head or you slipped on the sludge? You could have died.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve said with a sigh, rubbing his hands on his jeans. “But Hopper thought that scaring them by taking them down to the police station would have been enough of an incentive to never do it again.”

Chrissy came back with the paper and pen. “Still bullshit. So let’s make sure I have this right, Max likes skateboarding and video games. Dustin is a huge Corroded Coffin and heavy metal fan, but also likes building little machines and stuff. Mike is also a metal fan, but he likes writing and D&D.” She paused for a moment. “Well, they all like D&D, but especially Mike. Ellie likes fashion and fabric arts. Will is a little artist and has gotten into painting lately...” she looked up from her list. “Does that cover it?”

Steve nodded. “Yup! I hope you can do something for them. Lucas was the easiest because of the basketball game.”

“I can knock out all of them in one event,” she said with a smile. “Or at least one event will spawn a couple of others if I finagle it right. And finagling is what I do best.”

“Oh?” Steve said, tilting his head to the side. “Wha’cha got?”

She stood up with one fluid motion and a change came over her features. Steve suddenly got why this tiny woman was in charge of the biggest metal band in the world.

“You haven’t met Uncle Wayne yet, have you?”

~

Eddie was vibrating happily beside Steve in the Sunbird. “I can’t wait for you to meet Uncle Wayne. He’s the best the thing that ever happened to me.”

“So you’ve said,” Steve said, shifting to let his baby unwind on the country road. “He instilled your sense of responsibility and caring to others in a bad way.”

“Yeah,” Eddie chirped. “He took me in when dear ole dad decided that the best way to pay back the loan sharks on the house was to burn it down for the insurance. Only the dumb bastard used gasoline and even the stupidest adjuster can tell a gasoline fire on the spot. He tried to tell them it was the loan sharks, but they didn’t believe him and he went to jail for arson.”

“Ooh,” Steve said with a grimace. “My dad is an abusive ass, but at least he’s not trying to burn down houses.”

Eddie snorted. “Dad of the Year he was not, ole Al Munson. Was even worse when I got famous and he tried to take credit for my success.”

“From the confines of a jail cell?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s some pretty fancy mental gymnastics. Maybe he should try out for the Olympics.”

Eddie laughed.

They pulled up to the house and Steve secretly thought it was amazing. It was a sprawling ranch style house nestled on acres of land, stretching out as far he could see. There weren’t any animals that he could see, but there was an amphitheater and things that were set up for parties and weddings.

A lovely gazebo, a dance floor with an area for the band or DJ, beautiful trees everywhere with fairy lights strung up everywhere. But there was also a wilderness to it as well. Steve could almost hear the sounds of laughter and tinkling of glasses raised in cheer.

It was magical.

Eddie hit his shoulder. “Come on, let me introduce you to the man of the century.”

Steve got out of the car and hurried to catch up to Eddie. They knocked on the door. The door opened to reveal an older man that looked nothing like Eddie at first glance. He had short, thinning grey hair without so much as a hint of a curl, deep set eyes that spoke of a life of hard labor, and a face that was closed off.

Until he saw who was standing on his doorstep. Then the man lit up like it was Christmas. His face fell into an easy smile and the brown eyes twinkled. And there it was, the resemblance.

“Eddie!” Wayne greeted and pulled him in for a hug. “You said you’d be dropping by today, but I thought it would be later in the evening.”

Eddie smiled. “I assumed we’d be later, with lazy over here liking to oversleep, but it turns out the jock is strong with this one!”

Steve pushed Eddie’s shoulder playfully. “I do not oversleep! I get up at eight every morning to go for a swim or a run. You’re the one that likes to sleep in!”

Eddie cackled as Wayne let them in. The house was as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside. It was warm browns and soft reds with wood paneling everywhere.

“You have a lovely home,” Steve breathed, eye wide, jaw slack. “You can tell it’s well loved and not some stand-in for a catelogue somewhere.”

Wayne tried to suppress his smile, but the amusement crinkled his eyes. “Thank you. The perks of having a rich nephew who likes to dote on everyone and everything.”

Eddie ducked his head and shoved his hair in front of his face. “Flatterer!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wayne said shaking his head. “Flattery works on you. Get in here, you big goof.” He led them to front room and pointed at the biggest, fluffiest sofa imaginable. “Go ahead and have a seat. I’ll go get us some drinks. Is Coors okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a smile. “Sounds good.”

Eddie nodded and then when Wayne left the two of them alone, the manic energy returned. “So what did you think of him? Like first impressions?”

“I’d have him adopt me from the house alone,” Steve said with a snort. “But no, he seems nice. I like him.”

Eddie grinned. “So this is the type of place you like? Interesting, very interesting.” He stroked his chin like he was stroking an invisible beard.

“You’ve bought me a car, clothes, and even jewelry,” Steve said pulling out his canary necklace from his shirt, “you buy me house and I’d marry you on the spot.”

Eddie leaned into Steve’s space. “That’s an incentive, not a deterrent there, Stevie.”

Steve blushed and was grateful when Wayne came back with the beers.

“It’s nice to finally put a face to the name,” he said as he settled into his arm chair. “Eddie liked talking about ya, every phone call, every visit would have something you did or said.”

“Wayne!” Eddie huffed, shoving his hair in front of face again.

“He taking good care of you? My boy?” he asked leveling Steve a stern look. “Don’t feel you hafta lie to me because I’m his relation.”

This time it was Steve’s turn to duck his head to hide his blush. “Yes, sir. He’s been taking care of me better than my own parents could. Or would.”

“Good,” Wayne said with a smile. “Now tell me what you think your Pacers chances are against my Hornets this year...”

Eddie groaned, but Steve leaned forward and started talking to Wayne excitedly.

Eddie smiled fondly as he settled back to watch his two favorite people get acquainted. And if the night went on as it started, they would end up liking each other. And that was all he could ask for really.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @wheneverfeasible @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @themoonagainstmers @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt @just-a-tiny-void

8- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

9- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts @steddieislife

10- @fearieshadow @kultiras @thesecondfate @tartarusknight @genderless-spoon

[purplepeptobismol]

Okay, so clearly I’m still not normal about this…

So I wanted to make a comparison to all of the scenes that were amazingly drawn here!!! I’m gonna go on the chapter order because.. my brain.

“He doesn’t know anything”

Starting off with this scene from chapter 6! FREAKING KENNY AND COOPER PANICKING IS ABSOLUTELY SENDING ME! Craig and Tweek also look so good! We love a Peruvian Craig! HOORAY FOR CREEK! Can we also talk about Butters?!?! LMAOO, he looks like he’s about to whoop some ass (which,,, if you read what happens next, he kind did scold them).

^this little tidbit tho ☠️IM DEAD…. Someone PLEASE SAVE HIM

"Do you think he's there?"

Bunny looking for their kid (even though they didn’t know he was THEIR kid yet) in chapter 8 😞… god, when you know the context of his backstory, it feels even more gut wrenching when you think about how Coop just laid on the snow for HOURS, constantly dying and coming back on his FREAKING BIRTHDAY </3

Insider scoop, but according to Lyn, this was the first scene she sketched 🫢!!

“You have my eyes, too”

I CAN LITERALLY MAKE A RELIGION OUT OF THIS! Butters and little itty bitty Cooper!!! I want to squish his cheeks and hug him and protect him and just ARGGHHH. He looks so tiny and so cute!!! How did Linda even manage to hate this little sugarplum when he looks THAT adorable?!?!?! His little teary eyed face, their noses brushing, their foreheads touching, Cooper’s little freckles, AHHHHH—

Cut the cameras! DEADASS!!

More scenes from ‘I Will Make of You’ !!!

I hope you like these @purplepeptobismol 🫶♥️

Previous // Next

[chasingstardust]

Hii ♥️

Could you write a chubby reader with the Frontman where he fell for her and is trying to help her win the games because she is seriously very clumsy

Thank you 🫶

yes anon 🫡

Frontman x Chubby!Reader

PAIRING: Chubby!Reader/Frontman/in-ho/Young-il

CONTENTS: 🩷 - fluff

WORDCOUNT: 703

Request status: Open

(this takes place in a S1 squidgame without gi-hun)

The the players woke up in their beds looking around confused. Among them was Y/N, a chubby woman in her late twenties, who had barely survived the first game because of her clumsiness. She wasn’t the fastest or strongest, but her determination kept her going.

From the shadows of the control room, the Frontman watched her closely. Behind his mask, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to her. Her awkwardness and stubborn will to survive made her stand out.

"Player 197," he muttered, observing her every move. "How do you keep surviving?"

The second game was Sugar Honeycombs. Y/N opened her tin to reveal a star—one of the harder shapes. Her hands shook as she picked up the needle, trying to carve it out. She almost dropped the tin twice, and her needle nicked the edge of the star. Her heart raced as she whispered to herself, "No, no, no."

Somehow, she managed to carve out the star with only minor cracks. She raised it with trembling hands, and the guard nodded, signaling her survival. She let out a relieved breath and laugh, not realizing the Frontman was watching her every move.

"Barely made it," he murmured to himself, almost smiling beneath his mask.

The fourth game was Tug of War. Y/N’s team looked hopelessly outmatched. As they stood on the high platform, she glanced down, her stomach churning at the sight of the drop. The other team was stronger and more coordinated. When the game began, Y/N’s team started losing immediately, slipping closer to the edge.

Suddenly, her team’s strategy shifted. They leaned back, pulling in unison, and the other team stumbled. Y/N tightened her grip on the rope, following the new rhythm. Against all odds, they won, sending the other team plummeting.

What Y/N didn’t know was that the Frontman had ensured her team had an experienced leader who knew the best strategies. Watching her survive brought a rare sense of satisfaction to him.

As the games went on, Y/N’s clumsiness nearly got her killed multiple times. During the Glass Bridge game, she almost fell twice, saved only by another player grabbing her arm. Near the end, she slipped completely, missing the next panel. She braced for the fall, but the glass beneath her somehow stabilized just long enough for her to recover.

The Frontman’s heart had leaped when she slipped. He gripped his desk tightly, relieved when she made it to the other side. He issued a quiet order to a guard:

"From now on, notify me immediately if Player 197 is in danger."

The guard nodded, though he didn’t question the unusual request.

Finally, only Y/N and one other contestant remained. She couldn’t believe she had made it this far. Exhausted and scared, she stood in the rain-soaked arena, ready for the final game. Her opponent looked fierce, but Y/N was determined.

The Frontman felt conflicted. He had bent the rules for her countless times. It wasn’t just her persistence that intrigued him—he admired her spirit. She reminded him of something he thought he had lost: hope.

When the final game began, Y/N surprised everyone, including herself. She outmaneuvered her opponent, using quick thinking instead of strength. The Frontman watched with pride as she collapsed in relief after winning.

Later, Y/N was escorted to a private room. She was confused and anxious, unsure of what was happening. The door opened, and the Frontman walked in. Her eyes widened at his imposing figure.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling.

He removed his mask, revealing a handsome but troubled face. "Someone who’s been watching over you."

"Watching over me? Why?"

He hesitated. "You reminded me of something I lost long ago. You have hope, even in a place like this."

Y/N stared at him, overwhelmed. "What happens now?"

"You’re free to go," he said softly. "But if you ever need help, you know where to find me."

As he turned to leave, she called out, "Wait! Why did you help me?"

He paused, glancing back. "Because you deserve to live."

With that, he left, leaving Y/N to process the strange connection she felt with the man who had saved her life.

[blankwashed]

Backstory: After years away, Caleb finally returns to Linkon, ready to pick up where he left off. He’s been gone long enough to chase his career, but the draw of the old town—and you—was never far from his mind. Tonight, he walks into the familiar bar, hoping to make up for lost time. The years apart haven’t dimmed his feelings for you; if anything, they’ve only intensified. During this one night to catch up, Caleb’s determined to see if the spark is still there, he wondered if you felt the same way about him as he did about you.

Triggers: Explicit sexual content (Sex in the club’s toilet), Slightly alcoholic substances (It’s a club), death of Caleb and Hunter’s grandma mentioned

It’s been years—no, let alone decades—since you’ve seen your childhood friend, Caleb. The memory of him was burnt into your mind: sharp eyes that always seemed to see too much, that cocky smirk that got him out of trouble just as often as it got him in it. Back then, he was trouble you didn’t dare to approach. And now? Trouble is exactly what he looks like as he leans against the far wall of the bar, one boot propped up, a glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers.

You froze in the doorway, your pulse skipping like a damn schoolkid’s, though you’d never admit it. He’s different now—broader shoulders, a shadow of stubble darkening his sharp jaw, and a dangerous air that screams don’t touch. But those eyes? Those same intense, soul-pinning eyes? They lock on to you the second you step inside.

He doesn’t smile, not right away. No, his lips pull into something slower, darker—a smirk that tells you he knows exactly how your stomach is twisting. And as if the years apart mean nothing, he tips his glass in your direction, daring you to come closer.

You don’t, not immediately, of course. You head to the bar instead, ignoring the heat of his gaze crawling over your back. You can feel him watching, though, as you order a drink.

“Bartender! One scotch on the rocks. Put it on this tab,” you said as you slipped a hundred dollar bill on the bar. Caleb doesn’t know that you drink now, hell, the last time he met you, it was practically against the law to go to such a place! But to find you in a place like this now…he’s got a few questions for you to answer.

As the bartender gave you the drink you ordered, he mentioned that you didn’t need to pay for it as a ‘kind gentleman’ already paid for your tab. Slightly confused, you had to guess it was Caleb. The scotch made your skin tingle and your fingers to tighten around the glass when you finally took a sip.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” came his voice, low and rough as he stepped up beside you. His presence was way too familiar but towering and close, and his scent, leather and smoke, it flooded your senses.

“I could say the same thing,” you replied coolly, keeping your focus on your drink, even though your pulse is hammering. “Didn’t think you’d still be alive.”

He chuckled, the sound low and delicious. “Oh, I’m full of surprises, sweet pea. You, though…” He leans in, his breath brushing your ear. “You’re exactly the same. Still trying to act like I don’t get under your skin.”

You stiffenned, your glass clinking against the counter as you set it down a little too hard. “And you’re still an arrogant prick huh?” you snap, spinning to face him. But damn it, he’s closer than you expected, those lips just inches from yours, his eyes burning with something dangerous.

“And yet,” he murmurred, stepping into your space, his hand brushing your waist, “here you are, letting me get close. Then I’m guessing…still single?”

Your breath catches, your body betraying you with the way it leans into him despite your better judgment. He notices, of course he notices, and that damn smirk deepens.

“You missed me,” he whispered, his voice a rough caress, his hand sliding to your hip, squeezing just enough to send sparks up your spine.

“To hell with that,” you shot back, but your voice trembles, and the way his eyes darken tells you he heard it.

“Liar,” he growled, and then his lips crashed onto yours—hot, demanding, a kiss that steals your breath and leaves no room for doubt. His hands were on you, possessive and firm, pulling you against his body like he’s been waiting for this moment for years.

The kiss breaks, and he stared down at you, his thumb brushing your cheek as his voice drops to a rasp. “You can tell yourself you hate me all you want, sweetheart. But your body? It doesn’t lie.”

And when you grabbed his shirt and dragged him back to you, your lips crashed onto his this time, you knew he’s right. He knew he was right.

You never forgot about him.

“Why did Grandma have to die and not you instead?”

The words hang in the air like a gunshot, sharp and final. You hadn’t meant to say it, at least not out loud. But the second they leave your lips, the silence between you feels suffocating.

Caleb stiffens, his jaw clenching so tight you can see the muscle tick. His usual bravado, that cocky shield he always hides behind, is gone in an instant. All that’s left is the raw, wounded man beneath.

He takes a step back, his eyes narrowing, but there’s a flash of something else—pain, maybe? Regret? It’s gone as fast as it came, replaced by that cold, hardened look you’ve seen him wear a hundred times before.

“Is that what you really think of me?” His voice is low, deadly calm, but there’s an edge to it, sharp enough to cut.

You don’t answer, your chest heaving with a mix of anger and guilt. You should apologize, take it back—but part of you doesn’t want to. Part of you wants to hurt him the way he’s hurt you, the way his absence, his choices, have haunted you for years.

“Go on, say it again,” Caleb growls, stepping closer this time, your body basically hitting the back of the bar’s walls. “Say it so I know exactly how much you hate me.”

Your lips part, but the words stick in your throat. The anger is still there, burning bright but the way he’s looking at you - his eyes dark and raw, his body towering over yours..it’s throwing you off balance. You hate him, and yet…you can’t ignore tha way your body reacts to the heat rolling off him.

“Maybe I will,” you snapped, lifting your chin, refusing to back down. “Maybe you deserve to hear it. Maybe you deserve to die under all that rubble from our house instead of grandma. She’s innocent, but you? You killed, you murdered, you..”

He’s closer to you now, so close till you can feel the tension vibrating off him. He isn’t afraid of you, even after hearing the heartless things you said from your mouth. “You don’t mean that,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t? How’d you know, huh?” you challenged, your voice shaking just enough to betray the turmoil inside you. Mainly, the scotch playing with your voice.

For a moment, it’s like he’s about to walk away. You know how much he treasured grandma, so talking about something like that hit heavy for him. He never wanted her to perish but…

“Then hate me,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Hate me all you want. But don’t fucking pretend you don’t feel this.”

Your heart pounded, your head was already intoxicated and pounding from the questions your mind was playing on itself. “I hate you,” you whispered, but the way your fingers traced the line of his jaw told him a different story.

“Liar,” he growls but before you can respond his mouth was on yours again, stealing every thought, every ounce of self control. His hands roamed your body, claiming every inch as if he’s trying to prove something, as if he’s trying to remind you of everything you’ve been trying to forget.

Him.

You gasped as his teeth grazed the curve of you neck, his unshaved stubble tough against your skin in a way that has your thighs squeezing around his hips. Caleb’s hands were everywhere—pulling, grabbing, demanding— as though he’s afraid if he stopped touching you for even a second, you’ll disappear.

“Gods, you drive me fucking crazy,” he growled against your collarbone, his voice rough and filled with something raw. His hands slip under your shirt, calloused fingers brushing against the bare skin of your pushed-up cleavage.

You clutch at his shoulders, your nails digging in hard enough to leave marks ans the low rumble from his chest tells you he likes it. He loved it hard. “Good,” you spat back at him, yanking at the collar of his shirt. “Maybe now you know what it feels like.”

He pulls you to a secluded toilet stall that has a singular light bulb hanging from the ceiling. “You think you’re the only one?” he snaps, his hands tightening on your waist, dragging your hips against his. “You’ve been under my skin since the day we met, sweetheart. You fucking own me, and you don’t even realise it.”

His confession only confirmed his feelings for you, but you didn’t get a chance to respond. His lips were on yours again, his kiss was brutal and angry with its intensity. He ngaws at your bottom lip and when you almost let out a yelp, his tongue slides into your mouth. Always trying to take control like it’s the only thing he knows how to do.

Your back hits the counter of the toilet. “We..we’re doing it here? In this disgusting shit hole?” you said, as you swore you saw someone go there to vomit almost 5 minutes ago.

“Do you have a better suggestion, angel?” he said a matter of factly. Caleb tugs your shirt over your head in one sharp motion (it was just a strapless top anyways).

“You make me a fucking menace, did you know that?” he growled. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You barely managed to get out a breathless, “Maybe,” before his mouth was back on yours, his kiss so hungry it steals the air from your lungs. His tongue tangles with yours, and you moan into his mouth as his hand slides down the tight mini-skirt you wore.

“Fuck,” he murmured against your lips when his fingers lapped up how wet you were. “You’re soaked already? Guess you don’t hate me as much as much as you said, huh?”

“Shut up,” you snapped, but the way your body arches into his touches, you were completely lying at this point.

He smirks. That cocky bastard, and his fingers slipped right into your folds, teasing you with just enough pressure to make your legs tremble. “Say it,” he demands, his voice low and commanding. “Say you want me, sweetpea.”

Your pride was high and wanted you to hold your ground. “I hate this, I hate that childhood name that you keep calling me. I’m an adult now, don’t you see?” you tried to say with gusto while trying to glare into his eyes but instead the breathy moan that escaped when he slides one finger inside of you made it clear how much of a lie that was.

“Liar…” he growls, his thumb circling around your clit, pinching in the areas where he knew would drive any woman mad. “You hate me, hm? But you’re dripping for me? Tell me again, sweetheart. Tell me how much you hate this as much as you hate me.”

Your head falls back against the door, your hips rocking with his hand as heat floods through your veins. “You’re such an asshole, always has been..always will be.”you managed to quiver as your nails drugged into his shoulders as you tried to ground yourself against the intensity of the orgasm he gave you.

“And you fucking love it,” he shot back as he adds another finger, stretching you. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten the way you looked at me. The way you bite your lip every time I get too close.”

You wanted to argue as you always do but the pleasure building inside of you steals the words from your lips. Instead, a strangled moan escapes as his fingers curl. hitting that spot that makes your vision blur.

“Say my name,” he demands, his voice way more rough that you remembered it to be. “Say it.”

“C-Caleb,” you gasp, wanting to find the same pleasure that he was giving to you.

Caleb of course, a man of his own word, lifted you up in one smooth motion and carried you to the sink. In one smooth motion, his shirt is on the nasty bar’s floor. He flexed and the hard lines of his body were showing that he had all power and control now.

“You want more, my sweet?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave as he looms over you with eyes dark with lust.

“Don’t make me beg. You know I never do,” you managed to say despite your voice sounding breathless.

His smirk returns, that annoying cocky grin that would make you punch bricks but fall in love with him. “Oh you’ll beg, sweetheart,” he promises, his hands parting your thighs apart as he lowers himself between them. “But don’t worry—I’ll make it worth your wait.”

Caleb’s lips are in between your thighs, giving kisses in areas where no one has been before. He was teasing, again. Memorising every inch, every curve, every scar…it was just agonising. The way his tongue moved had your body arching into him. your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him deeper as your breath came in gasps.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with hunger. At that point, the both of you forgot you were in public. He’s between your legs again, skirt chucked up in some other random place, his main goal to give you sensations that sent you overdrive. The heat was building, swirling, coiling tighter and tighter as he works his long fingers and tongue in you with relentless precision.

“Caleb, please,” you begged, your voice trembling. “Please, I need this—“

He was not letting your finish, not when he’s this close to breaking you. His fingers slide inside your again, curling deep and his other hand grips your thigh stabilising your half drunk body as you spread wide for him.

“Need what, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice silky and dangerous, his lips brushing your inner thigh as he speaks. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

“You,” you moan, your body trembling under his trouch, his name slipping from your lips. “You, Caleb, please I need you.”

His smirk widen as he pulls aways just enough to hover over you. you could see his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. He looks down at you with the same intensity and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something more in his eyes—love? No, it was something deeper. This was him fulfilling his dream, his desire.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t remember your own name,” he growls as he positions himself at your entrance.

Before pushing in he rubbed his very hard cock along your soaked pussy, making you wonder whether he was teasing you again. But once he slowly filled you in with one smooth stroke, the pain made you realise why. Caleb thrusted deeper and you gasped when he bottomed out making you stay still and silent. He wanted to move but he was waiting for your answer.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice way quieter now. He wants to move but he was waiting for your answer.

You nod, your hips already starting to rock against him, craving more but the burn of his length was ripping your insides apart. Everything you’ve ever wanted.

“More,” you moaned, “please, Caleb. Don’t stop.”

With that, he moves, his hips snapping forward to meet yours in forceful motions. HIs rhythm is relentless—hard and fast—pounding into you as his name falls from your lips over and over. It was consummating for you, finally, after all these years of loving him for a far.

His hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as he fucks you harder, faster, his voice rough while he speaks.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice low. “Say you need me.”

“I need you,” you cried out, the words spilling from your lips as the pleasure inside you becomes unbearable. “I fucking need you, Caleb!”

And with that, he fucks you harder, faster, as if the world was exploding behind him but it didn’t matter because he was having the best time of his life. Your body shakes by the own force of your orgasm and Caleb follows close behind, his own cum spilling into you with a rough groan.

Both of you are breathless, your bodies tangled together on the sink. Both of your breathing normalises while staring into each other’s eyes.

“You still hate me?” he softly asked as he stares into your eyes. His lips smirking, but in a gentle way.

“Very much.” you replied, your voice still a little shaky but the both of you knew it was your biggest lie.