#and in the end it was useless but he tried and i feel so bad that he relapsed after 3 years

[pumpkinbxtch]

Hi, I just saw that you said that Jason is a little possessive, so I was wondering can you do a request with Jason and reader in that scenario, where he is a little jealous and possessive boyfriend?

he wrote 'mine' on my upper thigh

— jason grace x fem!reader

warnings: jealousy, language, jealous jason

a/n: I live for this face of everyone, it makes me very irresistible, lol.

— Want to die? — Jason asked, his expression completely changed. As if his pale skin wasn't enough, the way his face turned into a deadly calmness gave them enough reason to doubt every decision they had made in the last two miserable years of their lives. When they felt a cold breeze run down their spine, confirmed they had definitely messed with the wrong guy. What Jason didn't know was that normal mortals didn't find it hard to play that game because, well, those threats were never as real as he was used to.

— It's just a woman, no big deal, buddy — maybe was the brown-haired guy said it in a disdainful tone, or maybe was the last word that made Jason's stomach churn, but he remembered he was still in public, so he tried not to incinerate them with a snap or at least not to keep gritting his teeth the way he was because he swore he was about to shatter them.

— Just a woman — he repeated the words, dragging each one with hatred and disgust. The guy with the red hair looked more nervous than his other friend, so he tried to make peace, but that was something Jason had already left behind as an alternative to that argument. He wouldn't forgive any disrespect to you, because you were his best friend, his girlfriend, the person he would die for without a second thought, and if they wanted to see him that way, then you weren't just a woman, you were his woman.

He glanced to make sure you weren't anywhere near the checkout and took a few steps toward the pair. The redhead was close to wetting his pants, but his friend still had that stubborn look, pretending to downplay the significant difference in height and muscle mass between them.

For a moment, Jason struggled with his morality, because it was stupid to fight with his clearly abnormal strength for something that was easy to ignore because they would never be able to lay a finger on you while he was alive. However, he couldn't help but notice the way their eyes had been roaming over your body or the way they looked at you while you smiled at him. It made his blood boil and awakened the most primitive part of his being causing his logical side to drown and disappear, almost like those days when he was with the wolves. Besides, if he thought about it, it wasn't just them, it was every damn man and woman who dared to smile at you in a way that suggested more than just kindness, especially if they were the ones making you laugh. That's when he always felt on the edge of losing control.

Jason could feel shame somewhere in his conscience for his behavior, but this was also too real to hide for a little longer. That moment alone with those idiots had only given him the golden opportunity to unleash those piled-up frustrations.

— Yeah, just a woman — it was stupid, the conversation didn't go beyond that, but the retort was enough for the air to smell metallic and their hair to stand on end warning of the electricity beginning to fill their surroundings. How bad would it be if two mortals were struck by lightning for earning the title of the biggest idiots of the month? The answer was obvious to Jason: very bad, useless, in fact. So he took a deep breath and watched their hair return to normal.

— She's mine — he said, starting to turn around to go help you, but he stopped when he heard the other mocking him.

— Who says? —Jason was fed up with the irreverence and turned back to them, his fingertips sparking again.

— Beat it —he said as he sent a small electric shock to both of them. Mild enough not to cause harm but enough to make them scream. His eyes literally sparkled, making them doubt what they were seeing, scaring them, and confirming that the Mist hadn't helped when he saw them run. He wondered if he had gone too far, if he had let himself be carried away too much by that part of him that didn't make him proud but that he knew was part of him. In the end, he decided he didn't care, remembering that someone had once told him he had to stop holding back. So, with that philosophy in mind, he decided to go look for you.

The picnic tables weren't as crowded as you expected, in fact, there was hardly anyone around you, and you wondered if it was because for a moment there was a hint of rain or because of the heavy aura that Jason had been carrying since you left the grocery store, and now that you thought about it, you considered that both reasons were possibly related.

— Jason Grace — you called him sweetly as you opened the picnic basket, and he immediately softened his frown and looked in your direction. He was struck by the gentle way the breeze swayed your hair, it was an almost imperceptible movement but it highlighted how beautiful you were. He knew why you were calling him by his full name, his behavior couldn't be more obvious, but those words echoed in his mind.

»Who says?«

He slid along the bench to get closer to you as he watched you set things on the table. He wrapped his hand around your waist, and although you smiled in that way that was like oxygen to him, it wasn't enough for him. So, taking you by the hips, he forced you to stand up.

— C'mon, let's eat, baby — you said giggling, and he sat you on that old wooden table while he returned to the bench.

He looked up at you with his blue eyes, and seeing you from that perspective that made you look majestic. he rejected the idea of letting anyone else be the person who hugged you or who was close enough to smell your sweet scent. The idea of someone else other than him being able to kiss your lips, which were so perfect and soft, drove him crazy, he couldn't handle it.

»Who says?«

With that thought, he started searching in your bag that was lying next to you, you never stopped him, but you wondered about that change in attitude because he seemed a little rougher and severe, his eyes were even a little darker, but you couldn't deny that he looked handsome, that you even liked it.

When Jason found what he wanted, he stood up supporting only his right knee on the bench as support and he enjoyed the way that velvet skirt rose, leaving your thighs in his view. Before leaning towards them, he searched your eyes for any kind of disapproval because for him, the most important thing was how you felt, and not finding anything like that, gave him enough confidence to continue.

He felt your muscles tense and tried to undo it by caressing your leg, but failing that, his lips kissed a bit above your knee, which made you swallow saliva, what the hell was he trying to do and why now? Jason was never too public, any major display of affection was always in a more intimate place. When he straightened up, in his hand you finally saw what he had taken from your bag: your eyeliner.

Dazed, you reached out to try to take it, but he quickly caught his hand with yours on the table and before you could do the same with the other, he placed the open eyeliner between his lips and trapped your other hand in the same way.

He raised his gaze above his glasses and slowly shook his head, sending a silent warning before leaning towards you again, exactly on your upper thigh. You felt the moisture of the pen on your skin and with a given precision, you started to see that he was writing, but it wasn't until he finished that you could barely read it. The air left your lungs when you deciphered it and you didn't understand how after doing that, he had sat back down with the same serene smile as always, his hands spreading the tablecloth for you to eat while he hummed a familiar song.

Had you missed something? It was definitely something new in him to behave openly in that way, but you didn't dislike it. After all, what it said there wasn't a lie.

— Do you have any objections? — His demanding question didn't match the sweet tone in which he had said it, and you got off the table to put both hands on his shoulders.

— No, sir — you confirmed with the same tone and kissed the line of his jaw before taking a seat beside him.

Jason continued to arrange things, he seemed peculiarly focused, so you took the opportunity to discreetly look down once more, but your skirt had covered the word. Slowly with your hand, you lifted the fabric until it was visible again:

"Mine"

You felt a warmth spread through your body and crossed your legs on purpose to make it visible. That action drew a smile on your boyfriend's face, and not long after, he kissed you. No, it wasn't a lie, but as you was his, he was yours.

[crazylittlejester]

What is one head canon you have for every individual member of the chain?

only one headcanon for each of them? 🥺

Time: I’ve definitely said this one before, but he is not at all trying to be fatherly. He does care about the boys a lot, but his fatherly actions are all completely unintentional, he has no idea some of them look up to him like a dad, and he has yet to realize he looks at some of them as his kids. In his mind he’s just being kind and brotherly. He has a hard time expressing emotions and seriously struggles with facial expressions, which is why he comes off as so hard to approach and seems more responsible and dad like, but that’s not the case at all. He’s just as chaotic as the others and seriously is oblivious to how some of them look up to him

Warriors: I headcanon he comes from a family of tailors (which is a headcanon ive seen before) who own a small shop in the little village he comes from (he’s not originally a city boy to me, he became a city boy later in life). His family also owns a small farm and he had big dogs growing up. Had the war never happened he’d probably still be with them, taking over his mom’s shop because he was the one most interested in it (i also headcanon he has a lot of siblings)

Twilight: He needs people to take care of or he won’t take care of himself. He just falls into such a slump if there’s no one for him to look after because he feels useless and unneeded. He’s a serious hoverer when one of the others are injured but he feels bad for hovering so he ends up sitting on the opposite side of camp looking like a wet dog and it’s just so sad looking 😭

Sky: I know a lot of people make him super sleepy or give him asthma because of his low stamina in Skyward Sword and also because he just always seems tired in that game, but for me Sky has epilepsy, and that’s why he has periods of time where he’s just absolutely exhausted

Hyrule: Not afraid of much and has a stomach of steel. This kid will eat anything and everything and will be completely fine. Bonus extra headcanon: I think he’s older than Legend

Legend: I headcanon he’s autistic and struggles to control the tone of his voice, and that’s why he can come off pretty harsh. He doesn’t mean to, he’s seriously pretty chill (unless Warriors is involved), but he can come off as disinterested or snappy when he really doesn’t mean to

Wild: Actually extremely good at handling his emotions and dealing with problems (compared to the others). He knows he gets overwhelmed and while he’s not the best at telling someone where he goes to blow off steam, he knows how to hold himself back and handle himself, and he’s perfectly capable of defending himself if something happens when he goes off alone. Sometimes he just needs to be alone, and if he really CANT be alone because it’s too dangerous, Wolfie will trail after him just for backup and keep his distance

Four: BIG reader, he loves to curl up with a good book but it’s hard for him to get his alone time to focus on what he’s reading while he’s traveling with the others. He will make up stories in his head when he can’t sleep or actually focus, and he’s a really animated story teller. He’s told a lot of campfire stories and when he’s doing those it’s one of the very few times the others actually shut up

Wind: Dyslexic and seriously struggles to read, but he absolutely LOVES to draw and would doodle all the time during any lessons anyone tried to give him ever. Give this kid a sketchbook and he’ll literally draw you a masterpiece. He loves sketching scenery and the others and he’s FREAKY good at it

[reallifetangent]

Just saw someone on TikTok saying the "You could live a thousand lives and never deserve that boy" saying that Cat King, Monty and Charles don't deserve Edwin and I've never seen so much bullshit in my life (as far as I can remember)

How come you throw down 3 character arcs and ignoring at least Charles' temper and context to put above on a pillar one character who has bad things as well.

Post was in Spanish, I'm translating what it said with the colors.

Sorry for the random rambling/texts, I had to get it out of my system and sorry if I had wrong stuff

Obviously spoilers about the whole series

Cat King: he started wrong and pressured Edwin on things he didn't know

There's an analysis post here that explains why the punishment made sense. Edwin was warned of not messing around with the cats. Cat King of course had moments where he made Edwin obvious and clearly uncomfortable, and either stopped there or stepped back. Even between all his flirty aura and wanting to play and be loved by this Twink Ghost, he still respected Edwin and was pretty much consensual (the bracelet not because again, it's just the punishment because of what Edwin did to the cats), like proposing counting cats instead of pleasing him physically as soon as he realized Edwin wasn't in that lane.

By the end of the season, he's the one that changes the less respecting from where they started (I think). He's still a flirty, charming, iconic, still respecting and asking for the hug, this time only calling him from the distance because he knows the context, they're mourning Niko, he can't be that flirty or attention seeker, he knows how much she meant for Ed. The flowers scene where it's both flowers for him but also for her (the flower's meanings about rebirth, purity, innocence. I think it's how Niko was for this world, but also huge kudos to this Reddit when I was looking for the flower scene)

Monty: tricked Edwin so the witch could have her revenge.

Monty is a Crow Familiar. He ofc owes loyalty to his witch. He was turned into a human with the condition of helping his master. And he catches feelings. He's been a human since what? Less than a week? He gets hooked by Edwin. He loves Edwin. When they kiss and Edwin says he doesn't love him back, he's hurt. And he's Esther's familiar. What did she do once she didn't get what she wanted? Plan on revenge. He's still hurt, he thinks Edwin didn't care about his feelings. He even said they shouldn't be friends anymore.

Damn, he even went along deeper even thinking that they wouldn't get the case since they were Ace Detectives, until he heard that the fungus ate ghosts/spectrals so this wasn't an easy revenge. He tried to lead them/him away from it. Then Cat King interrupted and well, shit went down. More hurt feelings, more disgraces. He gets back to Esther who dislikes that her dear crow familiar was on the side of Edwin and caught feelings. He didn't want to feel like that, he didn't ask to be hurt, didn't want to be human and have feelings. Ofc he couldn't be with Edwin as long as Esther is his witch, she still has control over him. And yet he tried to go against her orders. He even helped Charles getting away on last ep.

Charles: said cruel words, wishing he never died and throwing in his face that Ed would never be able to keep the group together because he can't and he lacks Char's charisma.

Charles was fresh from living on a loop that caught him because his reaction to trauma was too strong. He had to live(?) and watch over and over again a family suffering for the exact same thing that reminded him his living life. Even worse, he had to experience on bucle him trying to stop it just to be interrupted and made him watch it until the father was done, looking at the corpses and then the gunshot. Tell me about feeling helpless and useless when you are stuck on a loop where your attempt of trying to help it's not working and you are seeing it over and over again. Ofc he was more than upset for not being able to help, to stop Crystal from getting hurt, from Edwin lying to him because Ed was troubled in his mind, and Night Nurse reminding him the physical violence he lived, how he died.

Charles and Edwin died at 16. Sixteen. How many things they could've experienced but never happened? They'll never get to grow up. He died and he never had a chance to stand up against his dad and protect his mom. He lost the chance to keep the bullies away from others. He lost all the sensations, he lost most of his senses. Not being able to enjoy things because he can't feel them. He misses spaghetti, he said he might miss kissing (he and Crystal kissed, he said he didn't feel anything but well, as long as she does, he's okay with it). He misses being able to have people his age to hang around. And everything was taken away from him.

Ofc he tries to be positive about it, he tries to be useful to make up for not helping when he was alive. He didn't want to be like Brad and Hunter, but he wanted to be that cool guy loved by everyone and was an actual good person. You can't hold on a smile for too long without it turning into a fake one after having all of that. All those years he shoved away the familiar violence, until he had to live it again, two times, and see that he couldn't stop it. He's hurt by everyone (Edwin lying to him, the whole Crystal's case still unsolved, etc), and he reached the limit. Are you telling me he would just smile again and pretend it was nothing? He'd been doing that for so long, and now he was unable to hide it again.

And last but not least, Edwin.

Edwin Payne, sassy Edwardian Era Teenager who has an ego so big you can see it from space, plays hard to get on the cases, thinks he's better/smarter than anyone (one thing is being it, other is claiming it), thinking everyone is on his same level or page (the whole Does that look blue to you? We have the same left! Implying that what he says and knows are too obvious that forgets not everyone thinks like him. I relate to that soooo bad) Shoved away more than once Crystal, has more salt than the Dead Sea, calls out more than once Charles for trying to keep Crystal around, when Jenny was calling Crystal out for running or whatever he was shocked that Crystal wasn't paying attention to him like how dares she ignore me. And don't get me started with invalidating everyone's feelings when they said they were hurt or living a nightmare... We got it. Hell was a literal hell. But you're dealing right now with a girl who's around 16-18 and you're trying to solve her case, not a competition about "Who suffered the most".

Ofc at the end of the season he's finally fond of Crystal, he was finally accepting her as part of the team even without her powers, he's now able to express better his feelings, better at setting and saying things and stop assuming everyone is on his same level, he starts caring about people like Monty (even after breaking his crow heart, he apologizes and tries to explain that he was new to that as well and things could've been with them staying as friends until Cat King made his entrance and the reveal, Cat King with the whole Cat Mouse Game he was able to again, start accepting he has feelings and being the way they are is not bad, able to set boundaries, even allow himself to play silly things like actually counting the cats.

Edwin had to go through a lot of things to be able to actually be open and grow as a character. I feel everyone likes Edwin at the end of the season or praise his Salty Sassy Edwardian Teenager phase, and it's not bad, but please do not throw down other characters to get him higher. Or at least, don't throw them down like that. Do not treat him like it's flawless, just because you like his flaws.

I mean, I feel like I'm not writing nothing we haven't seen, like stating the obvious. Maybe a rewatch to see better the character arcs?

[schmico-fanatic]

Random musings I wanted to share with my fellow Buck x Tommy stans. Read and humour me, please. 😉

So being in this 9-1-1 ship war is kinda making me feel like we are in the film 'My Best Friend's Wedding.' Here's my analysis of the movie and how it is relevant to the whole Buck-Tommy-Eddie conflict in the fandom:

Julia Roberts' character Jules represents the B*ddies, Cameron Diaz's character Kimmy represents us Bucktommies, and the hero Michael represents Buck who is caught in the middle of it all.

So in the movie, Jules (B*ddies) tries every trick in the book to sabotage Kimmy (Bucktommies) and split her and Michael (Buck) up. But all her desperate attempts are ultimately in vain, because Michael truly loves Kimmy, and the film ends on a happy and positive note with Michael and Kimmy getting married and Michael and Jules staying best friends (or should I say buddies, pun totally intended 💀) as they always were.

You know where I am going with this rambling right? (Also, please watch the movie if you haven't. 😁) Below are a few noteworthy points and takeaways from the film:

• Kimmy came later in Michael's life, but there was practically nothing to hate about her and there was no denying that she was great for him. So, even though Jules thought Michael was rightfully hers because she had been a part of his life much longer and tried to paint Kimmy as the villain, she failed because Kimmy was never the bad guy in the story as she was hell bent on making her out to be.

[Takeaway: Finding your true love in someone doesn't always need a long history of acquaintance or friendship with that person. Also, the new person doesn't automatically become the wrong choice for endgame because of the lack of said history. Neither is the BFF entitled to your romantic affections just because you've been too close for too long. Platonic soulmates can be a thing too.]

• Kimmy never tried to undermine Jules' significance in Michael's life as his best friend. Even though Kimmy and Michael got their happy endgame, the film didn't dismiss the importance of Jules and Michael's friendship.

[Takeaway: Buck's thriving romance with Tommy is not a threat to his friendship with Eddie and vice versa. Both relationships are different and are beautiful in their own ways. In fact, Buck and Tommy's love story began with Tommy clarifying that he understood his deep bond with Eddie and so he never intended to get in between that.]

So, my point is, Buck x Tommy being endgame is never going to reduce the significance of Buck and Eddie's friendship. It will always be important because it is beautiful, and if the Tevan romance is hampering certain people's enjoyment of B*ddie, that is because they can't look past their desperate want of a romantic/sexual relationship between those friends. They themselves are sending out the message that Buck and Eddie's friendship has zero value if it doesn't end in a romance, that the multiple years/seasons of developing a strong bond between those two is useless if they don't eventually fuck.

The difference between us Tevan stans and those B*ddie truthers is that we accept and acknowledge how important Eddie will always be to Buck even if he falls in love with Tommy, whereas the BoBs so badly want to believe that Tommy is a villain because he is the cockblock to their delusions (pardon my language). If Buck-Eddie's friendship in and of itself genuinely mattered to them, Tommy's arrival would never have ruffled their feathers. So they can whine and cry foul all they want, but nothing is going to change the fact that Buck x Tommy is as beautiful and important a romance as Buck x Eddie is as a friendship on the show, just as the message in the movie depicts.

To conclude, I have faith that Tevan will keep rising and flourishing and winning over all the stupid hate! Hope you'll enjoyed my little piece of romcom-inspired wisdom!

[vincess-princess]

we, the psychos

ch. 5

Word count: 2724 Warnings: violence A/N: i really am spoiling you with all those updates. gene simmons fans, i'm sorry, i needed a bad guy

Vince was suffocating.

Water in his lungs, water in his eyes, water in his nose. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t even scream – no sound came out, only bubbling. The coldness burned his skin; he grasped the handles of the chair, but couldn’t feel its wooden texture. And it went on, and on, and on, and the world was just cold and water-

And then it ended. The water trickled down his body and pooled at his feet. Vince opened his eyes, but still couldn’t see anything and for a second panicked. Then he realised it was just his hair covering his eyes. He shook his head to get it out of sight.

His eyes were hurting as they do after you open them underwater, and his vision hadn’t returned to him completely, so he could only see a figure in white coming up to him. But the voice was unmistakable.

“Well, Wharton,” nurse Simmons said, “enjoyed the shower?”

“Screw you,” Vince coughed out.

“Well, you’re the only one screwed here,” nurse Simmons responded cheerily. “You might want to be more polite if you don’t want another shower. And you don’t, do you?”

Vince didn’t answer. Nurse Simmons came close to him and squatted down in front of him so that their faces were on the same level. He smiled. It was all fun and games to him.

“Well?”

“Yes,” Vince croaked. He wanted to spit in Simmons’s face so bad, but that would not help his situation.

“That’s a good boy. Now, I’ll untie you, and don’t you try to pull anything.” Simmons unfastened the belts first on Vince’s legs, then on his wrists.

Vince stood up, stretched his shoulders. And when nurse Simmons turned his back on him to fetch a towel, Vince launched at him.

He jumped on nurse Simmons’ back and clasped his arms around his neck. Simmons staggered back and clutched at Vince’s arms, but Vince clung to him like a tick. Simmons was like a head taller than him and twice as wide in the shoulders, so direct assault would have Vince on the ground the very next moment. This – this gave him a chance. Not to kill Simmons, no. That would be too much. To cause him at least a sliver of the pain and discomfort he just caused Vince.

“Let go,” Simmons croaked. He tried to poke at Vince’s eye with one hand, but missed. Vince bit his finger, and Simmons yelped in pain. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Vince’s arms began to hurt, so he enclasped Simmons’ body with his legs to give himself some propping. Simmons finally realised trying to reach the parasite on his back was useless and backed into the wall with all the speed he was capable of.

Vince hit the wall with his back so hard all the air went out of his lungs. His grip weakened, and Simmons managed to shove his hand in between his arms. Now that he could breathe again, Simmons began slamming his back into the wall until Vince released his grip and slid to the floor.

Simmons began kicking him in the ribs vehemently, shouting curses along with it. Vince covered his head and lay onto the floor in the pose of an embryo – that minimized the damage to vital organs. And now just to wait, just to endure until Simmons runs out of steam. Blows rained down his back and legs, some even came at the arms covering his face – the nurses usually tried not to hit in the face, but Simmons must have got too carried away.

In a distance, as though through fog, Vince heard another voice – a different nurse. Wonder if he stops Simmons or joins him?..

Then blows stopped.

Stradlin stood over Vince, looking at him with his typical indifference. Nothing ever touched him. Vince wished he could go through life like that – with a glass shield separating him and the world, so that he could see everything but not care about it. Stradlin never got angry, even when a patient was smearing shit all over his face, and barely ever smiled.

But at least he stopped Simmons.

“What’s that again?” he asked Simmons tiredly.

“The motherfucker tried to choke me!” Simmons said, rubbing his neck.

“Why’d you do that?” Stradling now said to Vince, not a change in his tone.

Vince moved his arms away from his face. The back of his palm was bleeding from Simmons’s sharp heel. He licked the blood off and smiled.

“He’s a dick.”

”And what do we do with him now?” Stradlin asked Simmons, losing interest to Vince.

“I’ll go ask Dr. Duren. I don’t even know what else can be done.” Simmons spit on the floor. “Would you mind watching him while I am away?”

“Alright.”

Simmons sent Vince the last hateful look and left. Stradlin picked up the towel that Simmons dropped when Vince attacked him and threw it at Vince.

“Wipe yourself up and dress.”

***

The man Duff delegated Tommy too surely was… peculiar. Long black hair that almost reached his waist that was unusually well-kept for a psycho streamed down his shoulders. Clear blue eyes looked at the world with wariness so old it was almost ingrained in them. His hospital robe was well-worn but clean, without a single wrinkle. This man hardly looked insane, and at first Tommy even doubted Duff told him the truth: how can be this man a patient? But then he looked at his fingers, and they were covered in wounds and scabs; the man kept picking at them absent-mindedly even as he and Duff spoke. Blood was under one of his nails. The man seemed not to notice.

“Bob, this is Tommy Lee. He just arrived to our asylum, so make sure his first impression is good!” Duff said with a smile. “Tommy, this is Bob Deal. He’s one of the oldies. Knows everything around here. He’ll show you around.”

“Hello,” Tommy said carefully to the man, hesitating whether he should offer him his hand. Then he decided to go for it – and the man looked at it like it was smeared with crap.

“Bob doesn’t shake hands,” Duff said apologetically. “He’s very… hygienic. Our laundresses’ favorite patient!”

“Ah, alright.” Well, what else could I expect.

“People used to show their hands to each other to prove they had no weapons. This is where hand-shaking comes from. You both can agree this is not needed in our situation,” the man spoke with a low, slightly hoarse voice. He must be a smoker. Were cigarettes allowed here?

“Well, you know, with some patients you wish they got in the habit of showing you their hands,” Duff laughed. “Not needed with you two, though, that’s true. Alright, I’ll be on my way. Please be back in twenty minutes, gents, or I’ll get into a big trouble. And keep out of nurse Simmons’ sight!”

“Don’t worry, boss,” Bob Deal said, made Tommy a lazy gesture to follow him and turned around. They went up the pathway circling the asylum.

“Hey, Bob. What’s so bad about nurse Simmons?” Tommy asked. Bob kept silent so long Tommy thought he was ignoring him. What did he do to earn such unfriendliness?

Then he stopped and turned to Tommy. “Two things,” he said. “First: don’t call me Bob. My name is Mick Mars. Nurses mustn’t know.”

“Mick Mars?” The name was more fit for a practicing performer than for a psych patient. Though… these were not too far apart. People of the arts were all a bit cooky. “Alright… And why nurses mustn’t know?”

“They will tell them.” Mick highlighted the last word with his voice. He looked at Tommy with grave seriousness. To laugh now would be to lose his favor for good.

“Oh. Them. Alright. And who are they?”

Mick didn’t answer, just put his finger to his mouth.

Well, if that was the asylum’s most reasonable fellow, Tommy feared to imagine what their worst case looked like. The blonde guy from the canteen? Or something worse?

They stood in silence until Tommy lost his patience.

“What’s the second thing?”

“Oh, yeah.” Mick’s tone switched to lazy casual so suddenly it gave Tommy a whiplash. “Nurse Simmons. Right. Well, he’s very good friends with Dr. Duren. And he tells him about everything he sees. And he usually sees things that we’d rather Dr. Duren didn’t know about.”

“A snitch,” Tommy concluded.

“You could say that.” Mick turned around and continued his path. He was surprisingly fast for a short man that he was - his head barely reached Tommy’s shoulder.

They went up the path and reached the asylum building.

“Alright. This,” Mick waved vaguely in the air, “is out beloved Feelgood Asylum. You feelin’ good here already?”

Tommy snorted. Mick clearly liked that.

“Our beloved asylum contains about seventy patients, give or take. About twenty nurses and then the director, Dr. Duren. He’s the one who’s gonna diagnose you and prescribe you stuff and all. Sometimes he requests help from other doctors when the case is tough, but usually he does it all himself.”

“And what kind of case is so tough Dr. Duren can’t crack it?” Tommy’s father spoke of him with much respect, even reverence. Dr. Duren also treated Tommy’s uncle, and, as far as he knew, successfully. Tommy never met him, but father said he was living peacefully in the Yorkshire countryside. If your treatment goes well, you can join him there, father used to say. That was before Tommy’s psychosis revealed itself, though.

“I think you’ve already met him,” Mick said, looking pointedly at Tommy’s cheek. Tommy couldn’t help but touch the bruise the blonde guy left him. It hurt a bit, and the cheekbone began to swell, but overall Tommy felt pretty good about the fight. He didn’t back off and stood up to himself.

“You saw the fight too?”

“No. But everyone had heard about that already. You did the right thing. Wharton had it coming.”

“He really is… something else.” Tommy recalled the inhuman shriek and shuddered. “Is he always like that?”

“Usually not. But he’s had a bad spell for a couple weeks. Spent almost all of them in a padded cell. Guess that makes a person a little bit… mad.”

Tommy snorted again. Well, at least this old man was fun.

“And what was the consensus on him?”

“I don’t know, but if I were those doctors, I’d say: pour more cold water on the bastard. He surely needs to cool down.” Mick started walking again, and Tommy followed him. “The problem is, he hurts other inmates. Some complain of sexual assault. Some… well, don’t react well to his antics. My advice is: keep away.”

“Alright,” Tommy said. What he saw and heard of Wharton convinced him this was rather sound advice. He only wished Wharton would also keep away from him. For some reason, Tommy doubted it. People like him tended to be pretty vindictive.

“Now, the asylum itself is Building A. Nurses live there – in Building B.” Mick waved at a smaller building a little bit farther away. It was connected with the asylum by a corridor. “We’re pretty far in the countryside, and they can’t commute here from London every day.”

“Looks much newer than the asylum.”

“Because it is. When asylum housed less people, nurses lived in the same building, just in a different wing. Good times those were. Peaceful.”

“You were there already?” Tommy stared at Mick. He didn’t look that old – in his forties, maybe. How long had he spent in the asylum?

“You heard Michael – I’m one of the oldies,” Mick huffed. He looked clearly displeased, and Tommy decided to drop the topic.

“And then the world went crazy, and people went crazy, and the asylum had to take in more and more patients. And now we’re all cramped in here, two, three in a ward… I heard you’ve got it rather fancy?”

“What, the ward?” Tommy clarified. “Fancy” was the last word he could come up with to describe it. But other patients probably didn’t have even that. “Well… the curtains are full of holes and the carpet needs washing, and I’m pretty sure someone bled on my mattress, but otherwise yeah, you could say it’s fancy.”

“Oh-oh, look at him, he’s got holes in his curtains!” Mick teased. “Spoiled little brat, you are. Why aren’t you wearing a robe like us peasants, anyway?”

“Du- Michael said there’s none in my size.”

“Well,” Mick looked him over critically, “your size is probably hard to match, that’s true. But don’t you worry – they’ll dress you up like the rest of us.”

“Oh no,” Tommy moaned. “These look just horrible.”

“You’re in an asylum,” Mick reminded sternly. ”It’s not a beauty pageant.”

“Maybe that’s why you all are crazy here,” Tommy grumbled. “Humans need beauty to live.”

“Humans need food, water and air to live. Everything else is secondary.” Mick waved his hand and headed up the path.

“Now, that’s the laundromat and that’s the kitchen. You might be assigned laundry or kitchen duty some time – if you’re normal around knives, of course.”

At home Tommy was forbidden from going to the kitchen after a maid discovered four knives under his pillow and two in the pockets of his coat. He decided not to tell Mick that, but the old man with his piercing gaze probably saw something anyway.

“So do the patients do all the work around here?”

“Well, not all. There are cooks and laundresses and cleaners. But there are too few of them to service all the patients, so yeah – we have to help ourselves.”

“And why don’t just hire more people?”

Mick stopped dead in his tracks, looked at Tommy, saw he was serious and erupted into laughter.

“Oh, sweet innocence! You do know that services cost money, right?”

“Of course,” Tommy pouted, crossing his arms on his chest in a defensive gesture. “It’s just… doesn’t the asylum have sponsors?”

“Sure it does. But sponsors are also not bottomless moneybags. And they, unlike patients, haven’t doubled in numbers in recent decades.”

“Oh.” Tommy’s father was one of the sponsors, and he never mentioned the asylum was underfunded. And Tommy’s father had no problem with money. Couldn’t he invest even a little in the place he sent his son to?

“Yeah. So that’s why we have to work. Dr. Duren says, of course, that labor humanizes and ennobles, but we all know that’s just an excuse.”

Tommy imagined himself mopping a bathroom floor and shuddered. Working like a servant, getting all sweaty and dirty, fumbling with psychos’ dirty underwear or washing the dishes – horrible, horrible! Maybe his privileged status would also absolve him of all this labor? He was already noble enough.

Duff would probably tell him to get off his high horse, and as much as Tommy liked him, that attitude irritated him. They all may be psychos here, but even among psychos there is variation. He needed to ask Dr. Duren about it. He was friends with Tommy’s father, surely he would cut Tommy some slack?

“And you sure need to learn what real labor is like. You look like you haven’t washed a dish in your life,” Mick added ruthlessly.

Well, he was not wrong. Tommy was used to considering that a reason for pride, but somehow the only thing he now felt was shame. And then – anger. How dares this lunatic shame him?

He just opened his mouth to express his resentment when Mick frowned, staring at the nurses’ dormitory, and then quietly cursed.

“Damn it. Nurse Simmons! He can’t see us!”

Tommy followed the path of his gaze and saw the nurse from the canteen. Even at this distance he instilled some primal fear in Tommy. Especially now, when he was walking in big strides, his hands were clenched into fists, and his coat half-soaked in water.

Mick dashed to the nearest tree and hid behind the trunk. From there he gestured to Tommy to hide behind another tree, which he did.

They watched the nurse enter the building, and even from their spots could hear the bang he slammed the door with.

“Hm. Someone got him real mad.” Mick scratched his stubbly chin. “We better go back to other patients.”

[tommykinard6]

It's me, back again! (V88SY)

I hope you don't mind me sharing a Tommy HC because it won't leave me alone and I just feel like putting it out into the universe.

So, he's horrible at waking up. Like, real bad. I'm talking grumpy, cranky, can't seem to get moving. I'm talking needing to set 5 alarms 20 minutes apart just to get up for work. When he first started at the 118, he would actually just stay awake the whole shift because he knew if he tried to sleep and a call came in, he'd be absolutely useless. Needless to say that didn't last long. He's gotten way better at it now, opting for light naps in a chair when on shift, but one time when he was so bone deep tired, he slept in the jump seat on the engine already in full turnouts, just in case. Funny enough, that ended up being the one night nothing came in.

Like I said, he's gotten a lot better at it over the years, but not enough that he could call himself anything even approaching 'a morning person.'

Hello again! I don’t mind at all, feel free!

And I actually love that take. Sometimes it’s just hard to be a morning person 🤣 I can picture it all too.

And I can see Buck being a caring boyfriend about it, who chuckles and gets his boyfriend coffee so that he can even start to function in the mornings.

[hauntingblue]

making a collection

making another collection with a threatening aura

[romanroygirls]

logan mentions in the first ep that kendall was "still in the nut house three years ago" so that's why he couldn't do The Job and this makes me so angry. three years is a long time in sobriety. it's actually a huge accomplishment because addiction is so difficult, especially in the executive business. kendall has to look away from stewy doing coke so he wouldn't be tempted. coke in their business is just an appetizer for heavier stuff and kendall tried so much, so hard only for logan to write him off as incapable for having a fucking illness

[supercutszns]

Hi!! Just had to drop in and say I LOVED your Luke fic and I can’t wait for more. I would love protective Luke with hurt/comfort, if that sounds interesting at all. Thanks for sharing your writing!!! 🌸

fighting chance; luke castellan

wc + pairing: 4.2k, luke castellan x daughter of ares! reader

synopsis: when an enemy takes advantage of your kindness during capture the flag, luke intervenes with a sword in hand.

warnings: a creepy boy👎, threats/harm to reader, she’s going through it, blood/injuries (nothing major), angry ANGRY luke, violence, lots of fluff/reassurance at the end<3

notes: thank you SO much for your kind words & your request!! hurt/comfort is my bread and butter my favourite fic genre of all time i think. & protective luke is just a bonus bc he’s already crazy so it can go as far as i want🤭 i’m not exactly sure what this turned into but if i fix it any more i'm going to go insane so hope you like it!

You’re not much of a fighter.

That alone is a normal thing to admit—plenty of people don’t like violence, the frisson of a challenge, the bruises that come with them. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Unless you’re a child of Ares.

People at camp often ridicule your gentle nature when they see you with your half-siblings. They’re all gritted teeth and sharp edges, born warriors that take up all the space they can get. You, on the other hand, are lousy with weapons and even lousier with your fists. You’re quiet, attentive. While your siblings charge into battle without second thought you stay back, flitting around to adjust armour, change out weapons, oversee the terrain. Planning isn’t Ares’ style so you’re pretty much useless but nobody wants to admit it. You’re usually mistaken as a child of Hephaestus or Athena.

Unfortunately, you are a child of Ares, through and through—just in none of the ways that matter.

There are rare times your father’s influence peeks through. Not with bursts of rage or fists flying, but with thoughts. And sometimes those thoughts turn into words. Well, not sometimes. One time. This one.

The evening before the camp’s Capture the Flag game, every cabin gathered around the bonfire past dinner. To burn offerings, to chat, or in Luke Castellan’s case, to admire.

He watches you laugh with Clarisse from a distance. The Ares cabin leader always had a certain fondness for you. When Luke first started dating you he had to ask Clarisse for her blessing beforehand just to be sure she wouldn’t kill him. He’d do it a million times over just for the moment you look back, your face warming when you catch his stare. He rolls his eyes at you to lessen his smile, but he’s not sure it works. You giggle and turn back to your friend.

He’s always loved your softness; your capacity to defend and not attack. Your body rejects any skill you could possibly develop for violence. Believe him, he’s tried to teach you sword fighting, but the last time he gave you a lesson you nearly impaled yourself thirty seconds in. He loves your wit and your tenderness, your proficiency at preventing conflict, your refusal to argue. But a selfish part of him loves the fact that he’s your protector even more.

The night wears on with the flickers of fire and friendly banter. One of the times Luke looks back at you, his brows wrinkle. There’s a guy talking to you. A group of them, actually, but there’s one clearly leading the pack. Some Aphrodite kid. Luke’s jaw twitches.

“Hey, princess,” the voice makes you pull away from your talk with Clarisse, but you’re confused. Luke is the only one that calls you that.

“Um, me?” You ask when you see the boy in front of you. He’s tall, chest puffed out. It’s not an endearing silhouette. “What’s up?”

“You wanna be on my team for Capture the Flag tomorrow?” He asks nonchalantly.

You laugh politely, “Sorry, but I don’t think we’re allied with Aphrodite tomorrow. That’s your cabin, isn’t it?” You feel bad that you can’t remember—his face is so … plain.

He chuckles back, but it’s a lot less nice. “No, doll, that’s not what I mean.” He steps a little too close, and even though you know Clarisse is behind you it feels like she’s a thousand miles away. “Well,” he drawls, a smirk drawn out, “you meet me in the forest after we start, and then we can … you know. Confer.”

“Confer?”

“Yeah. You get what I mean, pretty girl, don’t play dumb.”

A revulsion coats your gut. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me that,” you say as firmly as you can.

“What, pretty or dumb? Why not both?”

It’s demeaning, the way he says it, and it stirs a temper in your stomach you know you inherited from your father. You’re not big on confrontation. Or embarrassment. But this weirdo is talking to you out in the open and people are starting to stare. He wouldn’t dish it out if he can’t take it, right?

“I’ll pass on your offer. I have a boyfriend and I’m actually on his team tomorrow, so I’d rather confer with him, sorry.” Your hands wring together but you do your best to quell them, imagining it’s the string of Luke’s camp necklace, threaded between your fingers. You try to look for him out of the corner of your eye.

He snickers, even though it’s common knowledge you and Luke have been together for months now. “So you are dumb, huh?” He tries to smirk and you assume is supposed to be sexy, but it’s just gross. His hand tries to slide around your waist.

“Don’t touch me, please,” you hit his hand away. Your skin is crawling and the knot inside you tightens.“Just leave me alone. People are looking, you know.”

“We could go somewhere where nobody looks,” he sneers, and the grin on his face is so sleazy that you just can’t stand it anymore.

You pray to your father for strength. And to yourself for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, are you stupid or something? I told you, no.” You snap. “Maybe you’re the pretty dumb one, but for a child of Aphrodite it’s shocking how little the first one applies.”

His eyes are wide, and the posse he’d assembled behind him has attracted quite the view. You almost feel like crying, all these eyes on you, but you’re so sick of people thinking they can walk all over you just because you’re not like your siblings.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m just trying to be nice—” He grabs your wrist as you leave but you yank it hard.

“Don’t. Touch me.” People are staring at you now, but the only one you care about is Luke, who looks equally ticked and equally proud, and all you want to do is kiss him. “Hope the only time we confer tomorrow is if somebody’s sword is at your throat.”

It’s the last thing you say to him. He starts to go after you but Luke is already at your heels. “Back off, man.” You can spot how all his muscles are already rearing themselves for a fight. You wrap a hand around his wrist, and he meets your eyes. Not now.

The altercation is lost the second the two of you leave the bonfire. Nothing matters when Luke has you in his arms, kissing you outside of your cabin, telling you how damn beautiful you looked.

You’re fixing a new Ares boy’s armour when Luke finds you. “Hey, angel,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. He relishes in the way your face heats up. “You ready for battle?”

You smile, “Always.” You pat the kid on the cheek and send him on his way. He gnashes his teeth and roars, joining his siblings at the front. Luke catches the longing in your expression.

“All good?” He asks gently.

It takes you a second for your eyes to meet his. “Mmhm,” you swallow. “Just hope his armour doesn’t fall off.”

Luke sighs for a moment, then wraps his arms around you. “He’ll be fine, sweetheart. Be safe, okay? Stay close.” He kisses your temple, rubbing circles on the nape of your neck.

“Yes sir,” you reply against his chest. His insides flutter.

He pulls your face up to his and kisses you, tender and wanting. “Let’s show these hooligans who’s boss,” he quips.

“You’ll show them. I’ll hide in the woods until some idiot comes along and tries to ambush you.”

Your dulcet tone has him wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. “You’ve always got my back,” he croons, kissing your brow.

“And you’ve always got our flag.”

You kiss him again and he lets you slip out of his arms no matter how badly he wants to keep you there forever. He watches you vanish into the trees, and his heart goes with you.

He gears up with his team and the horn sounds. Game on.

There’s yelling, sweat, adrenaline, and Luke embraces it all like a man starved. This is his chance to be ruthless, to let all his untapped rage cycle through him. This is why he’s unstoppable. This is why he’s the best.

Clarisse is unusually cooperative today, but competent as always, and whenever someone’s weapon breaks or they lose their team she just barks at them to go find you. You, the smartest person in Ares, who can mend a weapon with nothing but blades of grass and determination. Luke is pretty sure your cabin would be lost without you. He wonders if you know.

The groove of the game has fully enthralled him. He’s alert, his wrist nimble, his sword a living, breathing part of him. There’s almost nothing that can take him out of his victory path until he hears one of the younger campers tell Clarisse he can’t find you anymore.

Whatever nincompoop he’s dealing with is left groaning on the floor. “What?” He barks, hand flexing around his sword. “Where is she?”

“Probably just moved,” Clarisse grunts as she kicks back an opposing camper. “She knows where everything is. Maybe she’s—oof—safer.”

“But how am I supposed to fix my spear?” The kid frowns.

Luke runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth, dry and laden with salt. He told you to stay close. Where would you go? “I’ll find her,” he decides, already sheathing his sword to walk towards the trees.

“Luke—”

“I’ll find her!”

He barely pays attention to the calamity going on around him. With a flick of his wrist he knows he can take out any person he wants. The second he gets to the trees, where the air is cooler, it’s startling how much quieter it is. No wonder this is your preferred hiding spot.

He thanks the quiet a thousand times over because if it had been any louder he wouldn’t have heard you scream.

It’s so short it’s almost indiscernible, but he knows it’s you based on how his body movies before his brain does. It snaps something in him, the adrenaline transformed into something acerbic, determined.

“Don’t fucking scream again.” A cluster of boys are stationed around you. You’re leaning back in the dirt. You barely feel the earth sticking to your skin. Just your heart jostling madly, your fingertips shaking in the ground beside you. “Okay, I won’t, just put the sword down—”

The snarling Aphrodite boy from last night takes a swing at you, and you scramble back just enough to avoid it. “No can do, doll.” His face is twisted with rage. The lackeys he had when you told him off are there too, cornering you against a cluster of trees like you’re some caged animal. There’s a dagger clenched in one of your dirt-ridden fists but you know it won’t do you any good. You can’t fight; you don’t have it in you. But these boys do. And they’re angry.

“Tell me where the flag is,” he orders. The tip of his blade comes under your chin, fogging up with the labours of your breath, your head pressed against the trunk of a tree.

You stutter, “You’re not—You’re not supposed to threaten like this—”

“You embarrassed me in front of all those people yesterday,” he cuts you off. “Thinking you’re so fucking smart. I didn’t even say anything that big a deal but you run your mouth to the entire camp and make me look like the idiot. I thought you were nice.”

The words are laced with poison. You know from the wild look in his eyes that this isn’t about the flag at all.

Tears sting your eyes and the sword grazes your throat. Of course this is happening to you. The one time you feel your father’s rage, when you exemplify the thing you’re told to be, you are punished.

You are never going to be the right kind of daughter.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you try to say it evenly, but your breath is so ragged it’s barely audible. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all that.” You mean it, but they won’t care.

The boy’s face looks pleased at your tears. It makes you inexorably ashamed. “Some fucking Ares kid,” he snorts. “Can’t even fight, can you? Can’t even pretend to.” His sword leaves your throat and travels up to your quivering jaw. You’re wordless, white-knuckling the dagger at your side, praying that Luke is somewhere nearby.

“No wonder they stash you back here. You’re useless.” His eyes scan every part of you, and the idea of him knowing what you look like forever is so revolting it makes you want to vanish. “Too bad you’re alone, though. Nobody’s gonna know I was here because nobody’s gonna hear you.”

Your eyes get wide, and something in your mind rumbles through you like an engine. An urge buried in your blood.

Your dagger tears into his leg just as his sword dashes your arm. The pain is sharp, stinging, but the boy winces and you know you hurt him too. It gives you just enough time to roll out of the way as he lurches forward. “The fuck is wrong with you?” He swears.

Blood drips onto your shorts, splotched with tears. You know you can’t go anywhere because his friends are here and you’re almost certain you’ll be maimed, but you tried. At least you tried.

The Aphrodite boy picks his sword back up, stalks towards you, and then freezes.

Because Luke has just spotted you. And he’s spotted the boy that has you on the ground.

And he’s the best fucking swordsman Camp Half-Blood has seen in three hundred years.

“If you don’t get away from her right now I’m putting this through your skull.” He emerges from the foliage, his sword raised, sweat dripping down his face. You have never seen anyone look angrier. He has never felt angrier.

The boy blanches, and Luke sees how easily his lapdog friends shrink in his presence. Good.

“Woah, easy,” the boy holds his hands up in mock surrender and tries to flash a smile but it’s just fucking pathetic. His arms are shaking and his throat bobs about a million times. “We’re just playing the game.”

“Like hell you are,” Luke spits. “You gang up on my girlfriend and you expect me to believe this is fair play? Want me to tie you all together and push one of you off a cliff to keep the spirit going?”

“Didn’t know she was yours,” the boy tries to shrug but again, it’s a miserable attempt that only makes Luke feel stronger.

“Not that it matters but yes, you do,” Luke chuckles thickly. “I beat your ass in sword training last week. You know exactly who I am. And I’m sure you know who you are, so it’s obvious you’re playing out of your league here.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you still cowering, blood dribbling down your arm. He wants to tear the world apart. “Apologize and maybe I don’t send you to the infirmary.”

“We just want the flag, man,” the boy swallows.

“And I want your head on a stick. Want to see who gets what first?”

It’s too provocative an insult for a moron like this to ignore, so soon Luke has the pleasure of disarming five bitter boys that have clearly never been good at a single thing in their life. He tears through them like sheets of paper, knocking them to the dirt, ripping their clothes. He thinks of you, just you, your honest heart and patient hands, and it’s enough to fuel him for a millennia.

The last boy, the leader, is at Luke’s mercy, and he has none to give. The flat of Luke’s blade is pressed horizontally against the boy’s neck, an angering similarity to the position he had you in earlier. “If you ever do this again, I’m going to kill you.”

“You’re—fucking—crazy—” The boy wheezes, the length of the blade squeezing his throat against a tree trunk. “I’ll—I‘ll tell Chiron.”

Luke has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep him from doing something he regrets. “Oh yeah? You want me to tell Chiron how you harassed and terrorised a girl in the middle of the forest all in the name of play? Want me to tell him what you said to her last night at the campfire? Because I’m sure it won’t take much for him to get rid of your ugly face as it is, and I’m a camp counsellor.”

He knows it’s not the most morally correct use of his title. He knows he might be stepping over the line. But he also knows you’re always being ignored or trampled over and he’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t give a damn. He’s tired of people trying to force you into something you’re not. Of you crying in his bed at night because they’re trying to drag a violence out of you that isn’t there. Always in the name of fucking play.

Luke takes the sword off the boy’s neck and shoves him backwards. His calf is bleeding, not a deep wound, but a wound nonetheless, and Luke is full of pride when he realizes you did that. The boy’s bad leg makes him wobble and fall at the force of the push. Luke enjoys watching the scramble. “I—I was just trying to be nice, it’s not my fault she took it the wrong way!” The boy flails his hands in the air, rising to his feet again, and Luke shoves him down twice as hard. A piece of his shirt tears off in Luke’s hand.

“You’ve gotta stop talking or I really am going to kill you,” he seethes. “Don’t touch her ever again. Go.”

Luke is sure he looks homicidal right now because the guy finally tumbles his way down the hill. His body fades into the distance, swallowed up by shrubbery and sweat.

The second he’s gone Luke tosses his sword and armour and gets back to you. “Shit,” he mutters, kneeling down. You’re still shaking, your head in your arms, and all his hatred morphs into a love so desperate it terrifies him. “Angel, come here. Let me see.” He lifts your face with his hands and scans you rapidly. “Did he hurt you anywhere else? Anywhere?”

“Just my arm,” you whimper. “My arm.”

He knows it’s not the cut that’s hurting you; it’s long, but thin, and it’s not bleeding too thickly. He takes the cloth from the Aphrodite boy’s shirt and wraps it around your arm, knotting it at the end. “All right, that should be better.”

You look at him with watery eyes, and he knows all you need is for him to hold you. He folds you in his arms and leans against a stump. You can’t get close to him fast enough. The tip of your nose buries itself in his neck and he feels the dampness of your cheeks on his skin. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re safe,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m so sorry.”

Guilt swaths over him for a brief moment; he wonders if he shouldn’t have done all that, if he should’ve been more sensible. Then your lips form a ‘thank you’ against his skin and all is forgotten.

You feel so small. The shock is still running its course, so all you can do is cry it out. Your hands still shake when you thread your fingers through Luke’s necklace to steady them. He soothes you the best he can, running his hand along your spine, all the sharpness of his voice softened just for you. “You’re all right, angel. I’m not going anywhere.”

You stay like that for a while. The sounds of the forest return to you; leaves in the wind, birds chirping, Luke’s breath tickling your hair. You crane your head up to nuzzle your nose against the faint stubble of his jaw. “My hero,” you murmur, and feel his skin shift as he smiles.

“Couldn’t have done it without you. Saw the cut you gave him on his leg.” He kisses your temple. “I hope it gets infected.”

You giggle weakly no matter how you try smothering it in his chest. “Gods, you’re awful.”

“He deserves it! I probably should have killed him!”

“You came pretty close, didn’t you?” You mumble. Luke’s expression is wary, but you smile to yourself and it dispels everything. “I was hoping you’d come.”

“Good. Serves them right, messing with you like that. Fucking idiots.” He kisses your face again for good measure, “You sure they didn’t get you anywhere else, princess?”

You nod but you know you look wounded. You nudge into the crook of Luke’s neck again. “They … you know, it’s just … the usual stuff.” Every word weighs a pound as it comes out. Your heart feels sore.

Luke tenses again instantly. “What usual stuff?”

“Um, just—” The shame gets caught in your throat. “They all think I’m useless, Luke. Why can’t I do this right?”

You start to cry again, but he just holds you closer. Sometimes it surprises you how much patience he has. He prides himself as the harsher one between the two of you, but you don’t know who he’s fooling with the way he always knows how to comfort people.

“I don’t know what to do,” you continue, blinking back tears, “I’m not—I’m just not good at this, I don’t know why I’m in Ares, I don’t know why I can’t … be that. Why is he my father? I’m no good at being angry. I want to be angry.”

Luke’s quiet for a moment. Nothing changes except his hand rubbing circles on the nape of your neck again. Then he sighs deeply and says, “You don’t owe your father a damn thing. You don’t owe anyone anything.” He’s resolute, firm, a sharp contrast to his gentle kiss on your hairline. “You’re the smartest, most generous person I know. You need those people in battle. You’ll lose if you don’t.”

The warmth of his skin prompts you to look up at him. He looks different so often, the way he can shift between so tough and so gentle. Sometimes, like now, he’s caught in the middle, the remains of a furious sweat hardening his face, but his eyes are nothing but tender. You think it’s how you like him best.

“Besides, we’re not our parents, right? Who cares about Ares anyway?” Luke shrugs.

“Luke! Don’t say that!” your tears turn into a giggle. “The Gods might punish you!”

“I’ll handle it. There’s enough fight in me for the both of us.”

“Okay, tough guy,” you mutter with a weak smile.

You’re still sniffling. He runs his thumbs across your cheeks, and his gaze softens. “You’re an Ares kid because you are a fighter, angel. You just fight a hell of a lot smarter than the rest of us. Best one I know. Well, other than me.”

It makes you smile. “So second-best?”

“Tied for first.”

He kisses you with that stupid roguish smile. It’s salty with tears and sweat, but it mends your heart anyway. There is nowhere in the world you’d feel safer.

“I love you,” he says against your cheek. “Be as sweet as you want. If anyone has anything to say about it I’ll mess ‘em up good.” Your face warms as his voice drops to your ear, “And I know you’re an Ares kid because you’ll encourage it every time. You might not have a violent bone in your body, but you sure don’t have a problem with me using mine.”

“Diplomatically, Luke. Diplomatically.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you want.”

You can’t help but kiss him again. You’re not entirely sure why he loves you so much, why you love him so much, but you never feel quite as secure as when you’re with him.

Cheers boom from the other side of camp. Luke’s head perks up like a dog, and you turn back to search for spots of red or blue. “Did we win?” You ask, craning your head to get a better view.

“Don’t care,” Luke says.

You look back at him. His anxious face says it all. “Yes, you do.”

“Okay yes, I do, and I need to see if those douches found our flag so I can choke them out with it.”

You laugh, standing so Luke can jog off to see the state of your team. But before he goes, he picks you up and smothers you in kisses, holding you like you’re his prize.

You are not a fighter, but your boyfriend sure is. And you’re perfectly okay with that.

[matryosika]

Untitled #9

Wordcount — 1,618 words

Includes — Fem!reader, mentions of contraceptives, unprotected vaginal sex. Dubcon elements (but it is all explained in detail), mentions/fantasies of creampies, use of petnames (baby).

Author's note — Just a little something! I've had this thought for a while now, and I wanted to put it out there. Despite the dubcon elements of it, I really picture both parties being super into it with full consent —for this, the male character just puts up a fight because he considers things risky, but deep down he wants it just as bad. With that in mind, read this if you have no problem whatsoever with some dubcon. If it's not your cup of tea, just scroll!

Just thinking about a forced creampie with Chan.

He had been pretty vocal about how badly he wants to fuck you raw and come inside you, but the overly-reasonable, almost persecutory part of him doesn't let him get loose. Whenever he thinks about coming inside of you, he can't help but also overthink everything that could go wrong.

“Maybe I just need a little push, you know?” He told you right after you asked him what was stopping him from fulfilling his fantasies. “I tend to get too into my head, maybe I should just- I don't know, go for it in the heat of the moment”.

But even in the heat of the moment, Chan holds back. The amount of self-control he has is crazy, so as much as he wishes to get loose, he never manages to do so on his own.

You come up with a plan, but you first make sure that he is on the same page as you —that he wants this just as much as you. So you ask him just that, and the response you get is enough for you to proceed.

“I think about it at least twice a day,” Chan confessed. “I mean, not a day goes by without me thinking about how pretty your pussy would look leaking with my cum”.

So you start off slow —first, you convince him to fuck you without a condom, fully raw. He pulls out every fucking time, much against his lust's will, but you don't mind. At least not when you can now feel every inch of him, every thickness of his veins and the warmth of his bulge. And now, he gets to feel you too —like fully feel you. From your soft walls squeezing his dick, to the sticky arousal that drips out of you.

It doesn't take long for him to get addicted to that feeling, though —despite him “wanting to take things slow”, he soon becomes obsessed and the idea of using a condom ever again is discarded by Chan himself.

So it all starts off with fucking you raw, and it eventually ends up one night with you offering that much needed push to finally allow himself go.

You're on top of him, straddling his lap while his cock reaches the deepest spots inside your pussy. You can feel him twitching inside of you, and if that isn't enough confirmation that he is seconds away from coming, the grimaces of pain and pleasure along with the veins popping on his temple and neck definitely are.

His hands are bruising your hips pretty bad while he guides your movements on top of him —roughly grinding yourself against him, squeezing your walls to provide him with the stimulation he needs to come.

“Just like that,” he groans biting down his lower lip with furrowed eyebrows and eyes closed shut, “come on, fuck yourself on my cock just like that. Make me come”.

Coincidentally, you're trying to do just that. So when he bents his legs against the mattress, and his hands try to push your body away from his, you don't stop.

“Baby,” he groans out your name, whincing in pain the longer he tries to hold his orgasm back, “'m gonna- fuck, I'm close”.

You lean down over his body, placing chaste kisses along his jaw and neck, “give it to me, Chan”.

He squeezes his eyes shut, just as his body stiffens underneath yours, “move, baby”.

“Inside,” you whimper, shaking your head into the crook of his neck. “Come inside”.

Chan's back arches a little, just as he struggles to maneuver your body, but it's all useless —he doesn't have the strength to push you away, and he doesn't want to.

“No, baby,” Chan hisses, gripping your hips as rough as he can. “I can't- please, let me pull out”.

“Come on, Chan,” you plead into his ear, biting his earlobe while your walls clench around his girth, “I know you want to”.

He lets out a painful, exasperated groan in an attempt to hold back the pent up tension between his legs —you can see he is really trying his best not to come.

“Please,” you leave one last wet kiss on his neck before straightening up your body, going from grinding against his cock to fully bouncing on it, “please, come inside me. I need it”.

Chan swears he is going to lose his mind. Between the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, the sight of your pretty body bouncing on top of his, and the lewd words and moans that are leaving your lips, Chan is sure he isn't going to last any longer.

“Let me pull out,” he tells you once again, with no intention of ever wanting you to stop. At this point, Chan still puts up a fight because he doesn't want to give in too easily. But honestly, he is not interested in winning that fight whatsoever, “'m gonna come, baby”.

You press your hands against his chest and increase the pace of your movements, forcing his body underneath yours while caging it with your legs on each side of his body.

His face is flushed, and the painful grimaces and groans he lets out can only warn you that he might not resist any longer.

“Come for me,” you insist, digging your nails on the flesh of his chest, “please, fill me up”.

At one point, he just gives in to his dirtiest fantasies and carnal pleasures. Who is he to deny himself? You're begging for something that only he can give you, and he fucking will.

So the painful moans turn into primal ones, instictual and animalistic. He opens his eyes and stare at you, his hands going from your hips to your neck, choking you ever so slightly as you ride him to his high.

Not only that, but his hips start fucking into yours from underneath —if he is going to come inside you, he is going to have it his way. Meaning he is going to be the one in control, not you.

Your whole body trembles at the unexpected thrusts, and it doesn't take you long to feel a warm, almost hot sensation filling you up.

“You wanted me to come inside you?” He asks through gritted teeth, snapping his hips against yours while your whole body goes limp. Chan hugs you tightly in place, preventing his dick from sliding out of you, “you better not fucking waste it, then”.

He milks himself inside you with each thrust, letting out deep grunts of pleasure in between.

“Chan,” you gasp when you feel his cum oozing out of your pussy and around his cock, all while he is inside you, “fuck”.

Even after a few seconds, he feels he isn't done yet —he is still throbbing and pulsating inside your walls, and he just can't stop shooting his cum into you. This is the first time he comes like this, and it is as painful as it is pleasurable.

“It's dripping out of me,” you murmur when he finally slows down, looking down to where your bodies connect —it's messy, but neither of you can begin to care. At least not when it feels this good to be filled.

Chan lets out a deep exhale, his chest moving frantically as he tries to catch his breath. He feels defeated, and weak, but at the same time he can't wrap his head about how good it fucking felt to finally let go, to be able to fuck you full of his cum until it dripped out of your tight hole.

So much so, that the idea of pulling out and coming anywhere else it's just not an option any more.

And just like he got addicted to fucking you raw, he might be addicted to stuff you full of his cum now too.

He just needed a little push.

[crackedpumpkin]

ɪɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ

Warnings: Mild spoilers for Across The Spiderverse, one (1) curse word, angst, unrequited love.

word count: 1, 545

[ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

In every other universe, Gwen Stacy falls for Spiderman.

“Right,” You snort, closing the comic book in your hands and placing it back into the pile on Miles’s bed. He glances up from the comic he’s reading, raising a brow at your sceptical expression. 

“What?” He hums in amusement, casually grabbing a candy bar from his pocket and tossing it to you. It almost slips from your fingers, but you manage to catch it just in time with a playful eye roll.

“What’s so bad about Gwen Stacy ending up with Spiderman, anyway?” 

“It’s just,” you hesitate. Would he think it’s stupid? “It’s unrealistic. I mean, it’s nice that Spiderman has a predestined love, but it doesn’t mean that it has to go by the book, y’know? It’s his life. Maybe there’s a really rude and narcissistic Gwen out there in another universe.”

“W-well, what if there isn’t? I’m pretty sure that there are good Gwens out there.” You look at him curiously, wondering what’s got him so defensive. 

“What’s got your undies in a twist?” You chuckle at his earlier words, the tautness in his voice a surprise. Leaning back against the wall next to his bed, you kick your feet up to rest next to his arm, watching him frown and shove you off playfully.

“It’s nothing.” He tries to laugh it off, but the hint of nervousness in his eyes suggests otherwise. You narrow your eyes at him, watching him rub the back of his neck as beads of sweat form on his hand. 

He’s lying. Why?

“Okay,” You choose to say instead, letting him be as you turn away. Your heartstrings tug slightly at the wistful look in his eyes when he stares at the front cover of the comic you were reading earlier, the illustration of Gwen Stacy clear as day.

You know he’s hiding something from you, something big. Ever since last month, he’d been cancelling hangouts and study sessions, and he’s always coming up with new excuses to avoid hanging out with you. During the few times you get to meet him, Miles always has a hint of nostalgia in his words, a glint of longing in his eyes as if he’d rather be with other people.

It hurts. 

And it hurts even more when you planned to confess to him last week on the rooftop, only for him to show up hours late. He called you in a panic, apologies spilling past his lips before you promised you weren’t mad. 

On the other end of the phone, however, you throw away the letter you’d so painstakingly written for him, just for that day. All the words prepared were useless, fading into the corner of your mind when you heard his voice on the phone. 

“It’s fine,” You promised him countless times, hearing nothing but hesitance in his words when he checked to make sure it really was fine. Since then, you decided to squash down your confession, constantly procrastinating the day you tell him how you really feel.

“What about tomorrow’s bio test? You studied?” You ask, turning your head to see him freeze at the mention of the test he most definitely hasn’t studied for. He smiles sheepishly, silently pleading for you to share your notes with him. 

“You and me against the world, right?” He grins, holding out his hand for a fist bump as he sits on his bed from his lazy position. 

“Right,” You chuckle, grabbing the binder and notebook from your bag and handing it to him. You watch him flip through the pages fondly, eyes tracing the outline of his face and your gaze lingering on his lips.

You and him against the world.

It's always been you two for as long as you can remember. From the day you met in kindergarten to now, even as he stands in front of you in his Spiderman suit. 

You let out a disbelieving laugh, sitting down on your bed. Shocked doesn't even begin to describe how you're feeling right now. You come home from school and decide to drop by Miles’s apartment, waiting in his room with your feet propped onto his desk, only to see motherfucking Spiderman crawl into the room and pull off his mask to reveal your childhood friend (and the boy you’re in love with).

Miles had been keeping such a huge secret from you this whole time. You're ready to punch him - to scold him even, for not telling you earlier. He’s your best friend, but apparently, he doesn't feel the same way if he’s been hiding this from you. Aren’t you trustworthy enough? 

Aren’t you good enough?

His eyes are wide and filled with pure fear, hands trembling as he hugs himself, bracing his emotions for when you finally get mad. Your breaths are shaky, eyes flitting between him and the mask he holds in his hands. Flickers of anger begin to sink in, the claws of self-doubt sinking into your chest.

But a moment of clarity hits you. Miles didn't need a reaction right now. He needs you. He needs his best friend.

"Okay. Okay," You repeat through a slow exhale, looking up at him with a nod of acceptance. You simply gesture for him to sit down next to you. He does so without a word, automatically leaning his head on your shoulder like he always does when he's nervous and scared.

"You're not mad?" He asks softly. You shake your head, bringing his hand up to plant a soft kiss on his knuckles, ignoring the slight flutter in your chest as your lips graze against the skin.

To him, the action meant little, a comforting gesture used between you both since you were kids.

But to you, it means everything else. You try to push down the way your heart speeds up when his breaths brush against the exposed skin of your shoulders, hoping he won’t look up and see your gaze filled with pure love and concern for him.

Instead, you stare straight ahead at the window that overlooks the next few apartment buildings. The sunset is beautiful, auburn orange bathing the graffiti-covered concrete in a warm glow that has you wishing this isn’t the situation you’re in now. He tucks his head under yours, and your cheek presses against his hair, watching the sunset together. 

"I'm not mad," You promise in a soft sigh, feeling him finally relax under you. He mumbles out thanks, and you merely grin, pressing another casual peck on his hand, the both of you falling silent after.

And for once in the five years that you've grown to love him more than he'd ever know, this time, you're not lying. 

— — — — — 

It's the day of the celebration, a joyous occasion meant to act as a hallmark for Mr Morales’s promotion.

But Miles is nowhere to be found. After returning from god knows where he disappeared, he returns with a girl.

Gwanda is her name. You stare at the blonde hair, the strawberry-coloured tips catching your eyes. The colour looks pretty on her. Her nervous disposition only makes you slightly suspicious, watching her leave from a short distance away after Mrs Morales approaches them.

But judging from the look in Miles's eyes after his mom talks to him, you know.

The way he looks at her is different. He's never had such fondness in his gaze with you, much less watching you walk away with such regret. So you walk to him and hand him your drink which he takes a sip from, and pat his shoulder with a reassuring smile.

"Go." 

"You sure?"

"I'll be fine here. Besides, I’m sure I can handle a few hours of distracting your dad." You chuckle with a roll of your eyes, pushing down the pained pang in your heart at his bright smile. Every fibre of your being screams at you to grab onto his arm, to never let go. They scream at you to part your lips and let the words festering in your heart finally spill out.

But even as your eyes linger on him with a hollow grin, he doesn’t notice.

And that’s the difference.

"Thanks. Hey, you and me against the world, right?" Miles grins, placing a soft peck on your forehead. You bat him away with a faint smile, struggling to keep the tears from forming in your eyes. If he didn’t leave in the next ten seconds, you’re not sure you can no longer hold back your choked hiccups.

"Just come back to me, okay?" 

He nods, a silent promise lingering in the air between you both. To him, it's a promise of return, to come back safe.

To you, it's a promise filled with desperation, wanting nothing more than for your Miles to come back to you. For your Miles to see you in the same light he views Gwanda in. To see you the way he sees her. 

Maybe he was right all along. Maybe in every other universe, Gwen Stacy falls for Spiderman.

You watch him leave with an excited grin on his lips, taking a sip from your cup and wishing that the fizzy liquid could drown your sorrows instead.

And in every other universe, you wish it were you.

[somerandomdudelmao]

CASS! YOUR BRAIN! IT'S SO... HUGE!!!!Okay, okay. So, to recap what you have confirmed to us-

The robot that we see is NOT controlled by Donnie's spirit. We see that Donnie is able to control it via headset, etc.

Also, the reason this "Plan B" did NOT work is because Casey got possessed by Don's Hamato spirit in a memory from the future on accident.

It was going to work. He was literally mid-crawl before Casey swooped in and tried to help him but ended up somehow bringing his spirit into the past and cloning him a new body with plot serum.

We don't know if this robot would have worked. We don't know if Donnie even had enough equipment to make a robot body like the one he made for Raph. Maybe it would have failed. Maybe everything would've been okay. I just don't know.

But that's the beauty of this series. You planned this since you first decided how Donnie was going to die. Yes, you've said that you're kind of as clueless as we are at times when it comes to "what's next." But the amount of detail you put into this is ASTOUNDING!

Even with your VERY FIRST COMIC, you used Don's failed experiment with Leo and turned it into another chapter where we found out that Donnie was trying to find a cure for Mikey's peepawed body!!!

The fact that Donnie not only didn't say anything before he died because you knew that it "wasn't the end for him," but he also had a plan B that he didn't tell anybody about hence the guilty faces, the reasurrences, and ignoring Leo's "we don't need to worry" talks. And he couldn't simply tell them that "everything was gonna be okay" because his plan possibly wouldn't even work!!!

AND THAT'S WHY HE HAD A BREAKDOWN WHEN HE LOOKED BACK AT ALL THE RECORDINGS OF THE RESISTANCE FAILING BECAUSE NOT ONLY IS HE WATCHING EVERYONE HE TRIED TO PROTECT WITH EVERYTHING HE HAD DIE BEFORE HIS EYES, BUT HE ALSO REALIZED THAT HE FAILED THEM AND LEFT THEM WITH NOTHING!!! HE FEELS SO USELESS AND GUILTY FOR SOMETHING HE HAD NO CONTROL OVER!!!!

Even since we first met Raph, we got Don's theory about how storing spirits into mechs worked. He probably used the rest of their most valuable resources to even BUILD that thing.

I don't know if when they all realize that Casey is actually the reason Mikey couldn't sense any of their spirits because he snatched them up and brought them to the past/different timeline that they're either gonna feel angry or like "Oh!....oh." You know?

It seems to me that they still don't know the answer to that question. With all of them back, I thought they would have by now, but I guess we'll see pretty soon.

A lot of things could happen in this chapter. Good things, bad things, it's quite a toss-up. Let's just hope this whole big misunderstanding comes to a big finish soon. Donnie deserves a comeback. Everyone deserves to have a breather where they can all just...talk. Cause' by GOD there is a lot to talk about. I know they had some downtime before Miwa showed up, but Donnie's still working. If Donnie doesn't finally open up to his family by the end of this, I'm bringing out the beach balls, I swear.

[finelinevogue]

lost n found

summary - you are lost in italy the night before your wedding

pairing: fiancé!harry x reader

word count: ~2k

You were definitely lost.

Drunk and lost.

To: harry - im so sor:(y

From: harry - Baby, you’re fine❤️ Drop me your location and I’ll come find you. Please don’t move xx

To: harry - okaY.i love you xox

So currently you were sat on a stone wall, somewhere on a random side street in a small Italian village, waiting for your boyfriend to come and pick you up.

Harry had gone out with a few of his closest guy friends for drinks, for one last night as an unmarried man.

You and your girls had gone out for drinks too and you had mentioned to the boys that you would catch them up later.

At some point during the evening, though, you and the girls had all gone to the beach and you had gone to the toilet. It had been a trek to find one, only when you tried to find your way back you took so many drunken wrong turns that you couldn’t tell your legs from rights now.

Reading a map was useless, but sending Harry messages wasn’t.

You originally hadn’t wanted to send him any messages, not wanting to ruin his last night a “free” man but at some point you had become a little too lost to care.

Swinging your legs as you sat on the wall, you watched the birds fly overhead amongst the clear blue sky. You detailed all the cracks in the old buildings and counted twelve windows on one wall alone.

Your brain was fuzzy and your eyes kept on wanting to close from tiredness. You would be blaming a lot of your girl friends tomorrow for the continuous passing of shots your way.

Your phone rang in your hand.

“Yeah?” You answered, not even checking the caller ID.

“Baby? Love? Can y’hear me?” Harry asked.

“Yeah.”

“You’re not where y’said you’d be.” Harry sounded stressed.

“N-no I am. I sent you my location a-and I haven’t moved.”

You stood up and could feel yourself starting to panic. If Harry didn’t know where you were then there was no way of you knowing. Harry wasn’t ever a big enough drinker to get really drunk, unlike you.

You only ever got drunk when you felt you were in a safe environment, like tonight had been surrounded by all your closest girl friends. Or always with Harry.

Now that you didn’t have anyone and you were still drunk, you were getting anxiety of being alone and intoxicated.

Cue to shaky hands and tears.

“Are y’sure baby?”

“Y-yes. Fuck me. You’re not going to find me. Fuck. I don’t – shit – I.. I’m…”

“Hey, hey. Y/N, baby. Woah, slow down for me, okay? I am coming for you, okay? I just.. It was my mistake and I just need to relocate myself. You’re okay.”

Your phone was shaky in your hands and you started twisting your body around, as if expecting some random creepy guy to come around the corner and take advantage of you.

The twisting didn’t help your head, though, and was making you feel increasingly dizzy and sick.

“Y/N?” Harry asked urgently and you wondered whether you’d missed something he said.

“I-I’m scared.” You honestly said, backing yourself against a wall and trying to let the cool stone calm you down.

Your tears will no doubt have ruined your minimal makeup by now, not that that was a main priority of yours right now.

“Honey, you’re okay. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

Harry sounded like he was running.

His voice sounded a little breathy and you could hear the fast movement of wind through the speakerphone.

“Y/N, love, turn on your data.” Harry said.

“I ran out.” You banged your head back against the wall, not even thinking about the pain that just caused.

You whimpered as you sank down onto the floor, knees tucked close to your chest and arm wrapped around your legs. Your phone was still to your ear, with Harry’s voice being the only sane thing in this moment.

“Okay, okay.” Harry muttered to himself rather than you. More running sounded from Harry’s end of the phone. “Baby, y’still there?”

“Mm.”

Your mind travelled to many worst case scenarios and due to how bad they were your panic only increased.

This was supposed to be your last nights as an unmarried couple and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d ruined that. He must’ve been having such a good night.

You’d seen a couple of photos on his private Instagram story and other people’s Instagram stories. Your fiancé looked divine. He just looked so perfect that it was difficult to believe that he had chosen you and you got to call him yours.

It did make you nearly cry that he was thinking of you, via Instagram, though.

“You feeling okay, baby?” Harry asked.

“Don’t know. I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“It’s okay. I’m not angry or upset. Just want to make sure you’re okay, my love.”

“Okay.”

“So you have to be brave for me, okay?”

“Yes, okay.”

You got stuck for a moment, trying to think of possible ways you could calm yourself down and distract yourself. Luckily, Harry was already one step ahead.

“Hey, baby?” He grabbed your attention.

“Yeah.”

“We’re getting married tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help but let the smile take over your face. You weren’t scared at all for tomorrow. You had no nervous jitters. All you felt was love in your heart for your husband to be.

“We are.”

“And you’re going to look so beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“I can’t wait to see you in your wedding dress. I bet it looks so pretty.”

You sniffled, building back your strength and overcoming your anxiety. A lot of your strength came from the love you hold for Harry.

You heard a noise from your left and looked to see a cat rustling through some litter.

Your heart deflated when you realised it wasn’t Harry. You knew he was coming though. He was on his way and he would not stop running until he found you.

It was almost like a bad scene out of a romance movie.

The night before your wedding and something terrible goes wrong. It’s a sign!

“I think it’s just perfectly me.” You said, talking about your wedding dress.

“Sounds perfect to me then.” Harry paused for a moment. “Baby, did you walk under an archway, like, uh, a stone archway covered in pink flowers?”

“I-I don’t know. I don’t remember.” You ran a stressed hand over your forehead.

“Okay. That’s okay.”

“Everyone’s going to be so mad at me.” You began getting frustrated with yourself. “Fuck.” You breathed in a sob and exhaled with a bigger breath.

“Promise you no one’s mad, baby. Gem has messaged me a thousand times asking if you’re okay. I can’t even answer ‘cause this bloody maps apps is a fucking nuisance. I swear to–”

“Harry?” You furrowed your eyebrows, looking up from your knees to check your phone. He was still on the line. “Hello?”

“Y/N!” Harry shouted your name, but not from down the phone.

You could see Harry walking over to you very quickly, clearly panting from having run street after street.

“H.” You dropped your phone and cried as you saw him faster approach you.

Definitely a moment worthy of a romcom.

Harry was probably living his Ryan Gosling dreams.

“Baby, hey. I’m here. You’re okay.” Harry sank down to the floor and scooped his arms around you, pulling you close and squeezing oh so tight.

He sank down to his bum and leaned against the wall, pulling your entirely onto his lap. Too close wasn’t an option right now.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you sat sideways on his lap. Your face was tucked under his chin and his head rested on top of yours. You cried as Harry held you tight.

You couldn’t see Harry’s facial expressions but he was breathing out sighs of relief, some tears in his own eyes from the adrenaline of trying to find you. He had been just as scared as you, but had to remain strong for you. Now he had you he could let it all out.

“You’re never going to the toilet alone again.” Harry laughed. You laughed back.

“Deal.”

“That was scary.” Harry kind of mumbled, but you heard him anyways. He kissed your head a few times and you melted at the feel.

“Harry.”

“Yeah, love?”

“My head is so dizzy.”

Harry used a hand to tilt your head up so he could see your face. He noticed your mascara ridden face first of all, but beneath that you were all beauty.

“Tequila is only our friend for two rounds, remember?” He laughed at you. He was able to tell from your eyes that you weren’t exceedingly drunk, but definitely tipsy.

“I did not remember.”

He nuzzled his nose against yours as he shook his head with a grin. “You’re such a handful, you.”

“M’sorry.” You pouted.

“Never said I didn’t love you as a handful.”

“Do you? Love me a handful?” You used a hand to stroke over his cheek that had gotten so scruffy with the stubble he was trying to grow.

“‘Course. Love you every way and anyway. Love you so much. Love you until my body literally decomposes my wedding ring off my finger, and then some more.”

“That was dark, even for a 2AM drunk thought.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Harry chuckled, noticing that smile on your face becoming more and more permanent.

“But I’ll love you for the same.” You promised.

Harry kissed you then, not wasting another moment of this evening away from you. Well, morning now. His lips were soft against yours and you smiled into the kiss, happy that he was here with you even if it was under really weird circumstances.

“Let’s go, trouble. We’ll go back to the hotel and I’ll kiss you all night.”

“Don’t you want to spend the rest of your night with the boys? You know, last night as a free man?” Even though you were suggesting this, all you actually wanted to do was kiss, kiss and kiss him.

“Free man?” Harry furrowed his eyebrows with disgust, “What are you talking about?”

“You know? People say the last night before they get married is their last chance to be free?”

“Why would I need to be free when I’ve got you? I’m choosing you, like I always have. Never needed to be free.”

You smiled warmly at him. “I’m shackling you to me for life.”

“Too right you are, baby. Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Now, take me home, trouble.” You giggled.

“Oh. So I’m the trouble now?”

liked by gemmastyles and 682,928 others

yourinstagram tomorrow i get your last name forever <3 p.s. i would like to state that harry bought himself that tshirt :)

view all 78,977 comments

harryfan1 oh to be y/n l/n

jeffezoff Where did you two go?

harryfan2 moustacherry fans rrIISEEEEE

harryfan3 wish my bf supported me with tshirts like that

jamescorden Tequila anyone?

harrystyles I am planning on wearing that tshirt tomorrow.

yourinstagram @/harrystyles the tshirt but nothing else please

gemmastyles @/jamescorden They aren’t coming back for tequila….

[celeryb1tch]

spencer reid x student!reader

18+! this post contains nsfw content

when spencer gets home from work he finds that you haven’t finished your essay, so he tries to ease your mind.

content: lots of pet names, fem!reader, you’re getting an arts degree lol, age gap but not too intense since this is early-ish seasons spencer, slight degradation at the end, reader orgasm, oral and fingering (r! receives), overstim, forced orgasm.

(i’m literally gay but i’ve been so delusional and in love with this fictional man lately i had to write something to get it out of my system!!!)

—

when your boyfriend came home from work, tie loose and satchel abandoned on the kitchen counter, you felt a wave of embarrassment flush you. you were still working on the same essay you had been last night; the one spencer made you promise you’d finish today.

“how is my pretty girl?” he asked, laying back beside you on the couch. when he leaned over to kiss you chastely, your stomach churned and you shut your laptop quickly.

you could feel hot tears start to pool in your eyes, biting back the sob you so desperately needed to get out. spencer took one look at your face and sighed, wrapping an arm around you.

“oh, baby. you didn’t finish it?”

“i tried!” you protested, your eyes squeezed shut to avoid seeing his disappointed face. “please don’t be mad at me.”

spencer’s gentle hand cupped your cheek, running his thumb across it lightly. “look at me, angel. i’m not mad.”

the floodgates opened when you finally dared to look at him, seeing his mouth pressed in a flattened line. tears streaked your face and it only added to the embarrassment. your boyfriend was a capable man, and here you were crying because you couldn’t finish a stupid essay before he got home from his 9-to-5.

he tried to hold you closer, but you struggled against him. you didn’t deserve his comfort or his sympathy. he settled for running his free hand through your hair soothingly. “hey, just talk to me. what went wrong, can i help?”

you shook your head, fighting through a hiccupped sob to answer. “i couldn’t find the last source i need. i was sifting through articles for like four hours, and i just gave up.”

ever the problem solver, spencer smiled down at you softly. “okay, let me take a look. you know i have fairly good research skills, they’re kinda required for my job.”

“you don’t get it!” you huffed, frustration evident in your voice. “you go to work all day and i can’t even find one source. one! i shouldn’t need your help for everything.”

recognition flashed in his eyes, and then he really pulled you in. it was useless to relent, you could feel the determination in his touch. he shushed you softly, one hand wrapped around you firmly while the other drew patterns on your back. when your breaths slowed and your sobs subsided, he pulled back to hold you at arms’ length. “baby, you are one of the smartest people i know.”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and spencer grabbed your chin to ensure you couldn’t look away.

“i wouldn’t lie. no one i know is as sensitive as you are, as empathetic and in touch with their emotions. that’s what makes you so good at this program. i certainly couldn’t complete your degree.”

and you knew how bad at concealing the truth your boyfriend was, so reluctantly you believed him. “thank you,” you just about whispered.

his eyes cast pure adoration on you, even as your tear-stained cheeks were red and raw. “your incredible brain is one of the reasons i fell in love with you. so if you can’t find anything, there must be a reason. could you please just let me take a look?”

spencer had indisputably won you over, one arm still holding you to his side as he opened your laptop on his own lap. you relaxed into him, head pressed to his chest where you could hear his heart beating perfectly. with a hum, he scanned your tabs in a matter of seconds, scrolling to the bottom of the search result page at a speed the computer could barely keep up with. “i know what it is, but you’re not going to be happy.”

lifting your head, you squinted at your boyfriend inquisitively.

“you were typing the date wrong, honey. the last two numbers were flipped.”

you felt that feeling of incapability rush through you again, your eyes stinging in preparation to cry. but spencer was right there to prevent you from shutting down, hand on your head passing slow strokes in comfort.

his lips hitched into a small sympathetic smile when he looked down at you. “my poor girl, worked yourself up so hard your brain stopped working. too much essay writing this week.”

and of course, he was right. you’d been running yourself ragged recently trying to keep up with deadlines, not to mention the extra work you’d taken on early to prevent overwhelm for finals. when you’d told him your plan, spencer had advised against it. he didn’t want you sacrificing your sanity now for a bit more time with your boyfriend in a few months. but never not supportive, he relented and instead helped you draft a schedule to complete everything.

you couldn’t feel too stupid with spencer’s sweet voice telling you that you weren’t. “it’s not even due until next week, remember? i just wanted you to finish it tonight so i could take you out to dinner,” he confided sheepishly. “you’ve been working so hard, i wanted to reward you.”

despite knowing it was physically impossible (as spencer reminded you often), you could feel your heart swell from the overwhelming love you felt for your boyfriend. you pecked kisses all over his face incessantly until he swatted you away, blushing crimson from the unexpected affection. “okay, where are we going?”

spencer hummed mischievously in faux thought, tucking your wild hairs back from your face. “you didn’t finish your essay, so i actually think it’s only fair to punish you. at least before i take you out anyway.”

a heat bloomed in you, both in your cheeks and between your legs. it was rare that your boyfriend was anything but tooth-achingly sweet with you, saving his more dominant side for certain circumstances. apparently this was one of them. “oh, really? how are you gonna punish me, sir?”

he pulled you into his lap, mouth finding your neck immediately. “if you’re going to be stupid, i might as well treat you like you are. i know how much you like it when i call you a dumb slut, despite the fact that we’re both aware of how intelligent you are.”

your core ached with need, fluttering at his words. “that’s kinda fucked up, huh? i shouldn’t want that.”

“actually, it’s fairly common, especially for women with a high amount of stress in their everyday lives. most people enjoy some form of degradation and or praise when having sex.”

“spencer,” you groaned. his beautiful brain always had to get in the way of the fun, not that you seriously minded.

he smiled, pressing his lips to yours again. “sorry, baby. yes, it makes you a very naughty girl.”

despite the pure love in his eyes and his touch, you felt a pang of arousal when he degraded you. it felt good to be demeaned by someone who thought so highly of you. so you let him pin you against the couch, clothes long forgotten, and relished in his nasty words as he sunk to his knees before you.

your laptop was somewhere on the ground, still open to that unfinished document. but it was the last thing on your mind when you felt spencer’s mouth trailing down your front. his fingers hooked your panties, pulling them down with a string of arousal attached. “fuck,” he grumbled. “you are a little slut, aren’t you?”

you struggled to respond as his fingers passed through your folds, thumb toying with your clit lightly. “mhm, yours.”

“that’s right, baby.” all of the showy dominance dropped for a second when he smiled up at you, that familiar twinkle of passion in his eyes. and then he ate you out.

all you could do was grip the bedsheets, small whines leaving you each time he ran his tongue roughly up your clit. he’d take a moment to kiss your inner thighs, slipping two fingers inside to hit that sweet spot when he wasn’t lavishing it with his mouth. it wasn’t long before you were on the edge, feeling the knot snap in your stomach. with a start, you gasped through your orgasm, spencer’s hand finding yours to soothingly stroke his thumb across your knuckles. but as your breaths slowed, he didn’t.

“spence, i’m done,” you panted, hand gripping his hair.

“no you’re not.”

with a roll of your eyes, you tried to pull your hips away to no avail. his fingers were still pumping into you at a relentless pace. his head raised to meet your eyes, slick across his lips. he looked wild like this, disheveled, so different from your normal boyfriend, who was almost too sweet for his own good. “i told you this was a punishment.”

even knelt between your legs, this spencer was in complete control. his gaze was locked on yours, watching every tiny movement when he skimmed his thumb across your clit again. your core reignited when you realized what was going on. he was going to force you to cum again.

“please, too much” you whined, free hand pushing the top of his head away in a superficial effort. you couldn’t think properly with the intensity of the overstimulation.

spencer licked his lips, voice gravelly in a tone it only reached when he was purely aroused. “you can take it, honey. i know you can be a good girl for me. don’t you wanna be good?”

you nodded silently. there wasn’t much you could do but let him fuck you stupid.

“that’s it. gonna make you dumb, yeah? i’m gonna fuck you until you can’t think.” his head dipped down, resuming his wet, sloppy kisses to your clit. and with the combined effects of his words and actions, you were cumming again quickly.

you were unabashedly moaning now, jaw slacked open and eyes screwed shut. you were far past the point of caring what you looked like to the man furiously devouring you between your legs. your hand gripped his tighter, feeling his fingers pound a bit harder in acknowledgment.

your second orgasm felt like being catapulted into the atmosphere. it was sharper, practically knocking the air from your lungs. it took you a few moments to stop panting.

spencer grinned up at you, a sight for sore eyes in your clouded vision. “thinking about anything, baby?” he asked. and when he only received a small shake of your head, “good.”

his mouth returned to your core, soft kitten licks causing you to twitch and wince away. he squeezed your hand firmly, giving you a stern look. “only cleaning you up this time, promise.”

once you weren’t dripping arousal down your thighs, spencer pulled you onto him when he sat back down on the couch. all you could focus on were his warm, strong hands tracing sequences on your skin. he loved to imagine binary code, mapping it out on you because he knew the motion calmed you down.

you were barely conscious, brain buzzing like tv static in the post-sex bliss. you heard spencer chuckle to himself before saying, “so i think we’re getting takeout.”

[straykeedz]

day 17: bang chan + bulge kink

©straykeedz

tw: female anatomy; oral sex (f receiving); protected piv sex; dirty talk??; ♡

wc: 2,3k;

this is part of my kinktober masterlist. you can find my regular masterlist here (tho it will not be updated until the end of kinktober) ♡

🔖 (open): @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; ♡

to make sure i add you to the taglist, your age must be clearly visible on your profile. also, empty blogs will not be added - add at least a profile picture to your blog so that i’ll know you’re not a bot. ♡

smut below the cut, minors dni.

☉

You never thought a date with a man you’d met online could go that well. 

But a certain Chris somehow proved you wrong, and now you’re absolutely whipped for him. He feels the same way about you, so you decided to make things exclusive pretty quickly, and have been seeing each other for nearly a month now. The two of you get along really well, the chemistry is definitely there and you can’t keep your hands off each other every time you’re together - making out and touching each other, not in a sexual way tho, you haven’t gone that far yet.

However, tonight you just had your fifth date and you’re now about to do something you never do.

See, you have a rule: you don’t sleep with a man until the tenth date. To somebody, it may sound like a stupid and useless rule, but you’ve never been one who only looks for fun in relationship. You don’t judge who only goes out with people for fun, it’s just not something you can do. You tried hooking up with a couple of guys, but soon found out it’s not your thing, and that in order to be satisfied in bed you need to develop a proper emotional connection with that person. 

So what the hell were you doing on that stupid dating app? Easy - your friend had practically begged you to download it and try meeting somebody there since it’d been ages since you’d last gone out with somebody. 

You did it - for her. And you were pretty skeptical about it, because meeting strangers online is not something you’d usually do. But somehow you ended up meeting Chris - and it changed your life. 

But back to that tenth-date-rule. You now find yourself about to break it, and you’re blaming Chris for that.

Yes, because he looked so fucking sexy on the day you had and you just couldn’t stop thinking of how bad you wanted him to bend you over the next surface and fuck you senseless, or how banter you wanted o just kneel down before him, unzip his pants and suck him dry. And he was not even wearing a sexy outfit or had hinted at something racy or anything - the man was just innocently standing there, in front of the aquarium, explaining something about jellyfish to you and you were staring at him while all kinds of dirty, filthy thoughts involving him were flowing in your mind. 

All you kept doing was stare at his fingers, then his veiny hands, then his wrists, then his strong, muscular arms and suddenly, you were wet. The rest of your date went on like this - him explaining everything about this and that species of fish, and you thinking of him pressing your body against the next fish tank, unbuckling his skinny jeans, lifting your dress, pulling your panties to the side and, finally, entering you. 

When he drove you home and walked you to the door of your place, you decided you just had had enough of being good and following the rules, tonight you wanted - no, you needed to be reckless. 

So, you pulled him in for a hot, passionate kiss, and you now find yourself under him on your bed. His body hovers over yours, lips still pressed together, only pulling away from each other when you have to remove your sweater first, then his. And then, when he unbuckles his pants and slides them off his thighs together with his boxers, you notice it. And it’s big, probably bigger than any guy you’ve been with, and it kinda intimidates you. 

“What’s wrong?” Chris asks, noticing your wide eyes and slightly panicked expression, worried he might’ve done something wrong. 

“Nothing, it’s just…”

“Just?”, he encourages you. 

“You’re big.”, you admit, blushing a little. 

“Oh.”, he looks flustered too, glancing down at his own cock, which looks painfully hard. “It’s not that big.”

It’s not that big, says the guy with an eight-inches dick that’s about to split you in half. You’re about to say something when Chris suddenly lies down on his tummy, right between your parted legs, and you forget what you wanted to say in the first place. 

“Can I take them off?”, he asks, looking at you with big, lustful eyes, fingers brushing the soft fabric of your underwear, making you shiver. 

You nod, and he hooks his fingers on your panties before sliding them off your thighs. You’re feeling kind of embarrassed of being exposed like that in front of Chris, and he seems to notice it immediately. 

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”, he reassures you, caressing your inner thigh with the pad of his thumb. “Okay?”, he gives you a warm smile. 

“No, I- I want this.”, you say, propping yourself on your elbows to look him in the eye. You want him to believe you, because it’s the truth. “I promise.”

Chris doesn’t say anything else, he simply licks a long stripe on your pussy and hums as soon as your taste invades his mouth. It’s intoxicating in the best way possible, and if it were for him - he’d never stop. He laps at your clit repeatedly, expertly, occasionally flicking it with his fingers with delicacy - after all, it’s the first time you’re sleeping together, and he has to experiment a little in order to find out what you like. 

“Can you…” you let out a shaky breath. “Use your fingers, too?”, you ask him, cheeks flushing red. 

“Inside?”, he asks, kissing your clit. 

“No, just - put them on my clit like this.”, you shape a ‘v’ with your fingers.

You’re not used to telling men what you like in bed, but Chris is not men. He nods, then places his digits on your pussy, just like you asked, clit beautifully placed between his index and pointer finger. He spits on your clit to lubricate the whole zone, then attaches his plump lips back on your clit, gently moving his fingers at the same time, providing further stimulation, especially when he delicately squeezes it between his digits. 

Chris seems to be naturally skilled at eating pussy, because he makes you cum in record time with a combination of kisses and sucks on your clit and the movements of his fingers, which has you tugging at his hair and practically pushing his whole face against your pussy as you ride out your orgasm. 

You let your body fall back on the mattress as you pant, releasing the grip you have on his hair. “Shit- sorry, did I hurt you?”, you ask, propping yourself on your elbows once again, scared that you might’ve unintentionally pulled his hair too strongly. 

He shakes his head as a no, then licks his lips, savoring the way you taste, then wiping his chin with the back of his hand. “No, you didn’t. In fact, it was really fucking hot.”

“Now it’s your turn.”, you reach for his hard cock, but when you wrap your fingers around it, giving it a couple of slow strokes that have Chris biting his lip and kicking his head back. “Although…” you suddenly stops your movements, and Chris snaps his head in your direction, looking at you “I’d love it if you came while inside of me.”

Chris blinks a couple of time before his brain finally registers what you’re asking him. Once he processes your words, he nods frantically, climbing off the bed only to pick his skinny jeans up from the floor, taking his wallet out of one of the back pockets, eventually fishing a condom from it. Then, he’s back on the bed. 

“You know, you really shouldn’t keep your condoms in your wallet.”

“I promise it hasn’t been there long. I put it there today.”, he admits, cheeks slightly blushing at the implication of his words. 

“Oh, so you were hoping to get laid?”, you chuckle, but he can see you’re not really offended by the situation. 

“Not hoping, but you know…”, he says while unwrapping the rubber, rolling it onto his length swiftly. “Better to be safe than sorry.” He’s got a point. 

He positions himself between your spread legs and aligns the tip of his cock at your entrance. Then, he spits on his fingers and spreads his saliva all over your pussy to make sure you’re wet enough to take him - little does Chris know you’ve been wet since he picked you up four hours ago. 

“Tell me when you’re ready.”, he tells you, rubbing soft circles on your knee with his thumb. 

“Ready.”, you tell him immediately, and he chuckles - he’s just as whipped for you as you are for him. 

When he pushes inside - the stretch is insanely good and it doesn’t hurt, even though he didn’t use his fingers to stretch you out before entering you. It’s thick and long, and it feels so big inside of you it makes your head spin. It takes a while for him to bottom out completely, mostly because he’s pushing him at an excruciatingly slow pace to make sure not to hurt you - all while rubbing soft circles on your clit. 

Then, once he’s fully inside of you, he lets his body fall on top of yours - chests pressing together as he balances himself using his elbows. He kisses you on the lips as he gives one tentative thrust  inside of you, testing the waters. You moan against his mouth, taking in the feeling of having him inside of you - a feeling that’s overwhelming in the best way possible, and you don’t want it to stop. 

The first thrusts are slow and precise, letting you adjust to his size, and the angle is just right, hitting all the right places with each movement. Then, he starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts all while kissing the corner of your mouth, or your neck, or your collarbone. Kisses, kisses everywhere, combined with his fingers gently caressing your hair and scalp as he snaps his hips against yours quicker now. 

“So good to me.”, he whispers words of praise in your ear, letting out a choked whimper when your hand squeezes the flesh of his ass as he moves inside of you. “You feel perfect around me.”

You believe him, because he does feel perfect around you, too, and you can’t believe you almost missed out on all of this because of that stupid rule. 

“And you feel perfect inside of me.”, you moan. “So deep. Look.”, you intertwine your fingers with his, then drag his hand all over your body, placing it on your abdomen. 

He’s confused at first, but then he feels it. He feels himself. Inside of you. The tip of his cock right below your belly button, moving inside of you. His eyes widen, and he pulls away from you abruptly, but it’s just because he wants to witness it with his eyes.

He continues to fuck you, only this time he’s kneeling between your legs to get a better look of how his cock moves in and out of you. He’s mesmerized by the view, a tiny bulge appearing on the soft, delicate surface of your belly - shaped just like the tip of his cock, making his head spin. He brushes it with the pads of his fingers, feeling himself inside of you, moving slowly, and then halting his thrusts completely. His dick throbs inside of you, and he can see it reflected on how the bulge moves. 

“Do you like it?”, you ask, your voice soft as your knuckles caress his forearm. 

Like it would be an understatement. “I love it.”, he whimpers, and it makes your stomach do a flip. Then, he does the same thing you’d done a couple of minutes before. He takes your hand and places it on your belly, letting your palm lie flat on your skin as he thrusts deep inside of you, allowing you to feel every inch of him sinking in your hole. “Tell me you like it too.”, he moans, and he sounds absolutely desperate and close to his release. You are too. 

“I do.”, you pant, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist, keeping your hand on your tummy. “I do so fucking much. You’re fucking me so well, Chris, I’m so close.”, at this point you’re just rambling, incoherent words falling from your lips as your toes begin to curl. 

“Y-Yeah?”, he whimpers, hissing as he kicks his head back and breathes through his nose, snapping his hips against yours until wet sound start filling the room. “You like my big cock stretching you out? Like it when you feel it in your tummy, baby?”

You can’t believe this is the first time you’re fucking this man - the chemistry feels unreal. 

“I do, I do.”, you whimper, your orgasm is so close your toes are already beginning to curl. “So close, Chris, so close.”

“Fuck, cum for me, baby, please.”

As soon as he feel you clench around him, his orgasm washes all over him too, cock throbbing inside of you and he places his own hand next to yours, wanting to feel himself emptying into the rubber, even if it’s from the outside. It doesn’t matter, the thought drives him wild. He keeps his hand there until he feels his cock start to get limp, and then he’s quick to pull out our you, careful to hold the base of his cock. Then, he takes the rubber off and throws it in the trash can in your room and climbs back on the bed to lie down next to you. 

And as you try to regain your breaths, cuddled up next to each other, you can’t help but think that you really need to thank your friend for making you download that stupid app. 

☉

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[ajaxwfe]

They were too late to get you back.

Warnings: mention of death, arguments, angst with no happy ending, neglected reader, jealousy.

Diluc x reader, Alhaitham x reader

"Never got the chance to apologize.."

DİLUC

Diluc and you were not the type of people who would fight often, been a relationship with him almost 4 years. Sure, everything is going well.

Well... it was going well. For the past 1 year everything changed for you and him. He barely came home, interact with you, ignoring you most of the time... and kept arguing, fighting over small things.

You never opened your mouth or fight back, you loved diluc so much that it was starting to hurt. Your shared room started to feel cold, no more morning kisses or hugs before diluc went to work, cold breakfasts and dinner all by yourself. Even if he did join the diner he would be quiet all the time, not even looking at you.

You did kept your mouth shut, holding for a hope... a hope for your future with him. Until you heard the conversation with Jean. The last knife that would break you.

"She's so useless, I cant keep up with her annoying presence all the time. All she do is stay at home and distract me from work... she keeps finding noneless things to argue with me. I just want to break the ties with her already, being with her is so tiring."

"Am I... that bad?" Who knew your dear lover was thinking of you like this for the past 1 year. All you wanted was too be like the past relationship you both had. Warm bed, morning kisses, happy breakfast and dates. Covering your mouth trying not to make any sound you left there sobbing quietly.

You did everything, I mean really everything. That all arguing was really nothing for him? You just asked for him to stay by yourside for more. You were slowly draining from inside, you had no one but diluc. Only his presence was keeping you sane but this cold mansion was making you crazy.

You returned back to the mansion, you had enough. Talking with him would go nowhere after all. You wanted his attention, you wanted him to see your worth. Going to the storage room picking up the sword once you held before moving in with your so called lover. Taking a mission from katheryne, you walked to the lawachurls camp.

You were going to show him that you are still worth for something, that you could help him with everything if he asked for it. Even if it meant death. Standing in front of the big creature holding your sword tightly you ran towards to it.

..Oh how wrong you were, thinking you could defeat that monster. Laying on a pool of blood coming from your head. Suddenly feeling peacefull for the first time after 1 year of suffering from neglect. Looking at the shining stars above you. Your head ringing from aches, sword a meter away. Faint screaming noises from back. You couldn't bother to look that way.

"Please..." a faint voice big hands caressing your cheek, weird it wasnt raining but you could feel wetness on your cheeks. Turning your eyes to the voice. Hands wiping away your blood.

"Diluc.." your throat dry, coughing the blood. Your beloved, your future. How could you hate him when he was the only one left in your life? İs this really how you were going to die? As a pathetic advanturer? Few tears sliding from your face as your blurry vision tried to capture every beauty on his face.

"Jean is coming here so... please... please dont leave me now..I wont neglect you anymore...I will beg on my knees once you recover... so dont leave me here all alone.." Ah... was he also holding a hope on his hands too? A future would be great with him. Your eyelids feeling heavy, heart beating slowly as the seconds passing, his voice becoming more and more faint.

"Sleep...Can I sleep in your arms?" Your head falling to his chest, inhaling the scent for the last time you missed for so long. Diluc holding your cold body close to him, screaming and crying cursing to the celestia as you drift away from him.

Alhaitham

Alhaitham was no bad guy, I mean if it is you, he actually is willing to do anything for you. He is sure workaholic, but you guys were making sure spending time.

You met him in akademiya when you guys were like 18-19. İt wasnt a love in first sight infact you hated him because he was a cocky man. He barely cared for any situtations, always one step ahead of you, teasing you even if other cant really understand his way of teasing. But overall because of kaveh you guys did get along sometimes.

Suprisingly he was the one who confessed with a valentines card, it was cute since he was shy about it and now its been 7 years.

Alhaitham is good at fighting so sometimes he takes dangerous missions other than being scribe and that worries you a little. You were just a researcher in akademiya so you cant always be with him. First time meeting with The Traveler your mind was at ease since they were with Alhaitham and helped him with secret missions in desert.

From 7 years to this day he is also not the type of person who really shows affection towards to someone but you, it made you feel speacial. But after all that archon saving missions he invites traveler to dinner, hanging out with her more and more. You told yourself that you were not jealous and its normal to hang out with people they like.

This became so often that you were feeling so neglected, you couldnt even talked about this with alhaitham since you felt like he wouldnt care about it.

You were in your room with kaveh, he was trying to finish his desings as you were staring at the ceiling. "Saw alhaitham with a woman today while coming here." Kaveh broke the silence. "Do you know her?" He turned to you.

"You mean the traveler?" You asked tilting your head. "Uhm no? Traveler left to fontaine almost 1 week ago..." he was cold sweating, your eyes widened from shock. Then who he was meeting up with for 1 week?

"Kaveh... tell me your joking?" You laughed. İt was probably one of the jokes he was making right? But he remained silent looking down. No you wouldnt believe it until you see it with your own eyes. "Y/N wait-"

You stormed off to the Sumeru City streets heart beating like crazy. You stopped 20 meter away from alhaitham, hiding in the corner. You saw him... his betrayal as he caressed another womans cheek. She was beautiful, long silky hair and shining eyes, thin and elegance body. Your eyes watering slowly as you watched him lean for a kiss.

You ran from there. As fast as you can, till your lungs gave up. Entering your shared home to pack things up, you looked at youself on the mirror. Hair that looked horrible, sleepy eyes, body that looked like a frog in your eyes. But her... she was beautiful unlike you. You cried for the first time after years, wiping your tears as you packed your things. Leaving your room with no trace of you.

Kaveh on the other hand, explaining alhaitham that you saw everything. Panic rising in him he ran to the shared house. Walking inside slowly, trying to hear if there were any noise. "Y/N? I.. I came home?" He shouted. Feeling weird like the house got colder and quiet. His heart still beating like crazy he rushed to your room only to be faced with a tidy bed, empty warddrobe and empty studying desk.

This was a cruel joke on him right? You were joking, pranking him to make him regret for not telling you sooner it was for a mission right? His hand covering his face as he falls on his knees calling out your name a few times before breaking down.

Looking around trying to find anything that belonged to you, walking inside the house he spotted a letter.

My beloved lover,

I had to leave our home because my heart was hurting too much. Sometimes, I saw things that made me scared—little moments that maybe meant nothing but felt big and heavy to me. I've always struggled with feeling good enough, and these fears made me feel even smaller.

Leaving wasn’t about anger; it was about being so overwhelmed by sadness that staying felt impossible. I never wanted to run away, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe I wasn’t what you needed.

I'm really sorry for any pain my leaving has caused. I hope one day we can understand each other better, but for now, I need some space to work through these feelings.

Take care,

[Your Name]

That was it, you left without giving a hint where you went. Guilt eating alhaitham up. For him you were perfect, you were everything he needed. Even your silence made him happy and peacefull. He was never good at showing his emotions and expressions but when you were with him he felt like he didnt need to force himself. You understood everything about him.

He lay down on your bed, a faint scent inhaling as he slightly squezzing the letter in his hand. Murmuring your name, begging to the teyvat to bring you back to him.