#he don’t love them if he doesn’t beat them senseless

[gatorgrumbles]

I swear he gets the shit beat out of him every time he’s on screen.

[tojipie]

could u do prison toji relationship headcannons 🙏🙏

prison bf series here !

content: mentions of incarceration + violence

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shows up to your legally monitored video calls boasting about each and every new tattoo he gets. “a needle and a ballpoint pen can actually do a ton” he tells you, lifting his faded wife-beater up to show you his state identification number scrawled on one of his ribs.

he has 6 tally marks on the back of his neck, just under his hairline, the most recent one showed up after a brawl with another inmate in the visitor’s area. you don’t want to know what the marks are for, though the fact that you haven’t seen the inmate since may or may not give you an idea.

hates the news station in the common room, tells you it’s all bullshit and prefers to get his info from you. you spend hours every visit catching him up to speed on politics, celebrity gossip, new movies. gives him something to mull over in his cell at night.

develops a habit of picking at his knuckles unknowingly, the busted skin never seems to heal. he never tells you how or why his knuckles split in the first place, but it doesn’t take a scientist to figure out that he’s been fighting.

his standards for food go down the drainnnnnn. prison toji will eat just about anything. he likes to plays chef during visits sometimes, taking sips from a styrofoam cup full of coffee creamer and ice chips. “a mcflurry,” or so he calls it. you don’t have the heart to tell him he’s nasty.

addicted to your scent when he sees you. will bury his face into the curve of your neck and just stand there, motionless, letting your shoulder support his weight while his hands stay firmly placed on the small of your back.

makes everyone in the cell block his bitch to absolutely no one’s surprise. need new ink? toji’s got a guy for that. doesn’t feel like doing his laundry? toji’s got a guy for that. short on commissary money? time to make his bunkmates fork over a little dough.

he’s possessive during visits, violent towards other men when he’s with you. he’ll push, shove, and threaten any inmate to get the message across that they will stay away from you. he’s not asking. he spent 2 months in solitary over beating his cell-mate senseless for touching a picture of you taped to the wall of his bunk. toji is not one to mess around.

has been on a little arts and crafts streak for quite some time now, you think it’s all the free time he has. he’s whittled you little animals out of wood, made bracelets using loose threads from his bed sheets. even took up watercolor painting in the rec room once. deep down you know it’s because the option to buy you gifts just isn’t there anymore. you always tell him how much you love them, you can tell how good it makes him feel when you do.

[missing2socks]

My Miguel O’Hara Headcanons! (18+)

fem!reader, 18+

CW: descriptive talk of kinks & body stuffs, pure smut and lewdness, sex, more sex, and my darker hcs at the bottom.

You’ve been warned :-)

Oh Miguel where can I even begin

Tall, strong, and handsome. In his younger days he’s buff and muscled, peak physique with dark brown hair and a smooth complexion. Thick brown hair slicked back, every chiseled part of his face visible to everyone around him.

When he’s an older dilf he’s got a little bit of a dad bod, still buff but he’s still got it. Hair still slicked back and dark brown eyes that could melt your heart.

Sure he’s stoic and comes off as crabby and rude but we don’t care :3

I never see any tomboy representation so I like to imagine his type is a strong willed tomboyish type of woman. Does it matter how she looks? No! But me personally I like to think he loves women with short hair, an attitude, and boyish mannerisms.

It doesn’t matter how tall you are— he’s always taller. You could be petite or curvy and he’ll still toss you over his shoulder and make you beat at his back to put you down.

Now into the NSFW 😏

Miguel, the thick man he is, has a fat cock— just difficult to stretch to his size. It’s not impossible but somehow it feels impossible when it’s stuffed in those guts mmmhhhh and it goes so deep it’s delicious

His dick stands proud at 7 and a half inches long, and is thick like a mf. I like to imagine he’s uncut and it’s slightly darker than the rest of his body. Thick veins that you can trace with your fingers or your tongue, his cock swollen and slightly redder at the tip than the rest of the member. Tilts downwards for the best gspot stimulation and slightly tilting towards the left…

Don’t think his sack won’t do anything because when he has you bent over in doggy the way those nuts hit the clit is so !!!

In bed he’s dominant and mean, having you helpless in his arms while he makes you a whining, whimpering mess under him. Soft dom, only a hard dom when he’s had a bad day at work or is pent up and angry.

He will fuck anywhere, anytime, and he has a ridiculous amount of energy. It’s actually unfair how he can go round after round without getting exhausted. Both of your sweaty bodies laying on the bed, you’re sore and used and you feel him stiffen and slowly push back into you, kissing you to hush your whines as he quickly picks up the pace again.

Predator/prey dynamic 😋 as a vampire he loves marking you up and leaving hickeys and love bites everywhere visible and invisible. He’s yours and you’re his, his precious little mami.

Service dom 100% AND a praise kink that drives you wild. Showers you with praises as he bullies his thick cock into your pussy. He loves to make your orgasm, never having the heart to deny you the pleasure of cumming for and on him.

“Mi nena, you’re doing so good taking it all, mm, t’so good amor,”

“Give me one more, baby, jus’ one more cariño, don’t cry just let me use this perfect pussy tonight…”

Breeding kink. Round after round of rough fucking and he’s still not done— being his universe’s spiderman gives him an unfair amount of stamina during sex— filling you over and over with his seed until you’re slightly bloated and dazed.

And when you get pregnant he’s all over you, showering you with love and affection for the baby in your belly. And he has a deep carnal desire to fuck you deep and sensually while you’re swollen with his child, his mouth latched onto your leaky, milk-engorged tits.

My Darker Headcanons below!

CW: somno, CNC(?), free use, more edgy fantasy but not necessarily dead dove do not eat (idk)

Turn back now, you have been warned

I fantasized that Miguel just wants to take reader captive & use them as a toy, to fuck senseless even if they’re whining and protesting and clawing at his back it’s just so hotttt

You’ll beg and whine and plead for him to go easy, take a break, and he shuts you up with passionate, sloppy kisses before he cums deep inside you. So deep, you’d think he’s trying to get as much of it as possible directly into your womb.

And he’ll fuck a baby into you trust me, he’ll be so happy that he can’t help but give you more after the birth of your first baby, just a few more, he loves stuffing his loads into you and seeing you slowly grow his baby.

Definitely into the free use kink or even somno…

When he comes home from a rough day of being spiderman, he sees your soft sleeping body in one of his shirts and he can’t help but nestle behind you, pulling his half-chub cock out and lazily dragging it between your folds. You wake up to the feeling of him pushing his fat cock inside you, and he covers your mouth before you can make any noises.

He’ll sink his fangs into the soft flesh of your neck, groaning as he hears your soft muffled cries, stretching you around his girth and slowly rutting inside those slick walls.

Or for free use maybe you’re spiderwoman from a different universe and he sees you and he can’t help but feel horny and aroused seeing you in your spidersuit but you love being bratty and misbehaving… also goes back to the predator/prey dynamic

He’ll track you down and corner you in a dark alleyway, throwing your small body on the ground, tearing off your suit and having his way with you, rutting into you and forcing you all the way down on his cock while his claws dig into your skin. Your helpless moans and cries go unheard as he groans filthy words in your ears, snarling at you to shut up and take it.

And when he’s done he’ll leave you to pick yourself up, of course after giving you feverish kisses and love bites to your neck to remind you that you’re his and only his. But he’ll leave you, pussy swollen and his cum gushing and pooling between your legs, thighs twitching and body trembling from the orgasms he ripped from you.

Oh but I’d still give him a bit fat sloppy kiss :-)

[sehtoast]

The Fall (Conqueror Homelander AU)

18+ | 2.7k, graphic violence, murder spree, conqueror!Homelander | Fic Directory

God cannot give a mercy he's never been shown.

Art by the wonderful @homelanderbutbig , who i couldn't have done this without <3 (Link)

Should god have to beg?  Must he line up at the heel of some master, perform his little tricks and pray that scraps would fall his way?  Where is his dignity?  Where is his worth?

Where is his rage?

Where, under layers of conditioning and desperation for approval, is this dog’s teeth?  

When they stripped the first parts of him away, they did so in a lab.  Controlled and concise, they chiseled him into perfection.  Do as we say; bark on command.  Bite not the hand that feeds, but, rather, bite for it.  Where we point, you must go– tail between your legs– and do all that we instruct.  Only then will you have earned it.  

Only then will this dog get to eat.  Only then will god earn his scraps.

Always with the promise of love, he performs.  Vogelbaum’s love, a nonexistent, virulent thing.  Something that bites as much as it rewards.  

A father.

A father who wanted a perfect son.  A creature built to withstand, a child strapped to a critical nuclear reactor.  The boy drowned in boiling water by day and incinerated by night.  Carved and cut, poked, prodded, injected.

More, more, more… All for the love of a father.

The fists of supes, gods in their own right compared to that little boy, beating him senseless all to nurture him.  The hands of doctors, invasive and uncaring, all to manufacture him.

When will he earn it?

Did the young man, overwhelmed by the world, crying fifty miles down the highway earn it?  Did he thrill the investors– make the company look good?  Were his lines delivered with poise and elegance, but not so much that he was too synthetic?

Why hasn’t he earned it?

Maybe, he thinks, he’s meant to earn something different.  Pretty lips and soft, golden locks of hair.  Firm and unwavering in her treatment of him.  Direct and to the point, with something in her voice he’s never heard before.  She is new, she is unfamiliar, and she is what he must earn.  

Her approval.  Her good graces.  Her love.

Promised for years– for more than a decade.  

Jump through this hoop.  Say this line.  Good boy.  But don’t touch.  You have to knock, you have to wait, you have to be patient.

He did it all for her.  Watched her climb higher and higher because of everything he ever did– all for her– but she never took him with.  Merely held his lead and kept the carrot too far from his desperate, starved fangs.

You cannot be bad.

But he wasn’t!  He’s done everything– everything!  

Shouldn’t it be enough?

It was supposed to be enough…

But when does it all become too much?  When does this trained dog finally gnaw himself free of the leash and tear its anchors from his very bones?

When does the little boy in the lab finally free himself?

When he is stripped of everything, when god has his makeshift throne pulled out from under him– that’s when.

Edgar tells him plain and simple, with Madelyn by his side.

“You’re out.”

She does nothing to protect him.

But he doesn’t believe it.  How could they discard their most loyal dog?  Sure, he quakes and whimpers, but his bite is still fierce.  He’s tested the boundaries so many times, but he’ll still rend flesh from bone to protect them.  He can still do every trick asked of him.

He doesn’t believe it when the construction crews disassemble his penthouse.  Even watching the fabrication of his personality ripped from the walls, he doesn’t believe them.  They’re merely redesigning things, of course!  Something new to represent him.  Something better.

When his ‘retirement’ is announced, he still doesn’t believe it.  He must be taking over a new team– a better team.  One that was made for him.  One that was worthy of him.

But it never comes.

They demand the suit be returned in exchange for something more… human.  He denies, of course.  He is their crown jewel.  Why would they want to take that away?

Too much, too much, too much–

He flees to the cabin, but even that is gone.  Flattened earth and sealed pipes, tread tracks leading away from whatever machine tore down his solitude. 

“I’m The Homelander!  You can’t just do this to me!”  

“Not anymore.”  Was the only response Edgar gave him, coupled with that disapproving gaze. Like he was a nuisance, a beast of burden that had long since outlived its usefulness.

The next day, his fingerprints no longer registered in the security scanners.  

His funds had dried out.  There would be no breakfast at whatever cafe he chose to grace with his presence after being refused service at the tower.

Card declined. Card declined. Card declined.

Madelyn wouldn’t pick up.

Edgar’s line was forbidden from outside callers.

Card declined. Card declined. Card declined.

Too many stares.  Too many whispers.

His first attempt at normalcy.

They even took that away.

They took everything.

They took fucking everything.

That poor little shop is the first to feel his wrath.  Cashier lasered in two, customers reduced to pulpy piles of viscera, the front of the building decimated from the deafening boom of his takeoff.  

He rips through the sky toward Vought.  There are no thoughts when he pierces through the building.  He doesn’t even know what floor he picked, only that he’s there and that’s all he needs to know.  His eyes stay primed, indiscriminately mowing down every petrified code monkey or researcher who dared cross his path– or simply was unfortunate enough to be there.

The emergency alarm blares just loud enough to rattle his head.

He severs the elevator cables.  Pries the doors clean off the shaft entrances and goes to work.  Screams echo as the cars plummet, growing softer and softer until the massive bang at the end leaves him closing his eyes in satisfaction.

If he can’t escape his doom– his undoing– then why the fuck should they be able to?

There were more screams to snuff out.  More roaches who have seen his glory and declared him unworthy, who have rescinded their adoration with such telling, instinctual noises of terror.

They don’t love him.

They never did.

He zips out and around the building, targeting a structural support this time– barreling clean through it,  but only one.  Just enough to make them all feel exactly how he felt when the world was pulled out from under his feet.  Unsteady.  Afraid.  

At least he could fly when everything crumbled.

They cannot.  He will rise when they fall, which is exactly how it was always meant to be. 

His eyes roll back into his head with the next wave of shrieks.  The steel beams creak and moan under the imbalanced weight and the building itself seems to sway.  He picks a random level of windows and unleashes his lasers with an intensity he’s never used before.  They pierce through everything– glass, concrete, steel, anything at all that could have been holding Vought Tower together.  They rip through to the next building over and the screams of terror, the gurgles of blood– it all fills his ears like a symphony.

The world is so loud, but, for once, it’s truly all for him. The sirens, the wails, the crying and pleading– it’s all his.

One in particular calls to him.

Her.

She screams his name as though she deserves to utter it– calls out to him, begs for mercy.

But did she show him mercy?  Did she show him anything of the sort when making him jump through hoops and do his little song and dance?  For every time he fabricated stories of his nonexistent family, for every lie about a baseball birthday cake or every tear he ever cried imagining what could’ve been– what should’ve been– did she ever show him mercy?

Every touch and caress was to get what she wanted.  Every teased kiss and wandering hand was simply bait to keep her dog obedient.

No more.

He flies inside, bursts through the windows and takes her by the neck.  His eyes burn a raging crimson, sizzling away with tears that could never shed past the heat of his fury.

“Did you show me mercy?”  He grits, hand tightening around her airway.  “Did you show me love?  Did you!?”

“I– I do lo–” She gasps helplessly, nearly inaudible over the concerto of terror.

“Oh, please.”  Homelander scowls, teeth bared.  “You loved what I could do for you.  You loved what I could fucking help you gain!”

He drags her through shattered glass.  For all of her thrashing, she could never escape his grasp, and he can see the moment she realizes she shouldn’t want to.  He dangles her over the ledge, watching through blazing eyes as her heels plummet to the streets below.

Ninety-nine floors up.

“Oh g-god!”  Madelyn squeaks out, gripping desperately at his wrist.  “P-Please!”

He likes the sound of that.

“God help me!”

He lets his eyes flutter shut and blows a breath through his nose before letting a contented smile creep onto his face.  He brings her close enough to whisper, close enough to see hope flicker in her eyes when she’s above solid ground.

“Why would god help you… when you’ve abandoned him?”

Watching the hope rot in her eyes was delicious.

She falls.

She screams.

And then she’s nothing more than a mark on the pavement.  His heart twists for but a moment, and then he’s off to visit a few others.

Stan.

Easily his favorite moment of the day.  He leaves that office tossing the decapitated head between his hands like a ball.  His only regret was that he didn’t draw it out long enough to hear Edgar beg for his life.  

He sets it on the ground before a gaping hole in the side of the tower, winds up, and kicks it as hard as he can.  Sure, the head is practically mush upon impact from his god-like strength, but the thought of it arcing across the city, maybe even going into orbit, is glorious. 

He’d never be looked down upon again.

Never.

His next visit is to the man he called father.  He feels sorrow in droves as he presses his heel to the old man’s head– perhaps even more so when his fingers pierce through the muscle and sinew surrounding his spine.  It was the screaming he didn’t like.

Ever the authority figure, Jonah Vogelbaum was not a man who cried out from pain.  In turn, he expected his test subjects to be the same.  To scream was to be punished for being so weak– whether because of fear or pain that his body hadn’t quite learned to protect against.

He almost flinches in preparation for the floor grates of his cell to charge with enough electricity to incapacitate him.

But that was then and this is now.  He stands upon freshly waxed linoleum, not metal grates.  The walls are lined with books and photos of great minds his father found inspiring, not blank white panels.  On the wall ahead is the painting of God creating Adam.

He stares at it as he wraps his fist around his father’s spinal cord and rips it clean out.

His ears ring.

He, too, has sinned against his creator; however, he had been damned from the start. There was no Eden for him. Not unless he took it. 

When he finishes, he leaves a trail of bodies.  Workers, supes, emergency teams– anyone he came across.  Not even The Seven was spared his fury.

The only one he makes it quick for is Noir.

The rest of the world isn’t so lucky.

He wipes the Pentagon off the map entirely.  Targets military installations around the country– torches them all and leaves nothing but craters and ash once he’s done.

The little boy once strapped to a nuclear reactor is a force greater than anything they can throw at him.  He practically giggles when he walks off the first atomic bomb.  He’d been just south of San Antonio when they lobbed it at him.

The pilot who dropped it wasn’t so lucky.  Nor the town a few miles away.

He takes out every missile silo his x-ray eyes can find.  Chokes out every detail he can from every soldier with rank worth a squirt of piss until he’s squeezing it out of politicians.

Eventually, even the president.  

He paints the White House red.

Kicks his feet up on the desk, utterly drenched in gore, as he declares himself America’s new leader over the emergency broadcast network– the former’s head rests beside him on the table.  He promises the world will be his.  He vows.

The UN scrambles.  Every nation considers their options.

He laughs.

When they come for him– when he’s eviscerated every supe or cockroach with a gun who dares to think of challenging his rule– he simply smiles.  He laughs and laughs as he litters America’s streets with carcasses of soldiers– of tanks and aircrafts.

He even dives down to find the submarines, pulling them deeper and deeper until the ocean’s pressure devastates their hulls and crushes everyone inside.  He sinks the boats, throws the jets into space, destroys everything until his path of destruction leads him to the front door of every world leader who even so much as humored the thought of taking what was rightfully his.

He makes sure to present the corpses in broad daylight.  He wants everyone to see.

Some cheer.  Tyrants dangled above their heads, blood dripping over the masses.

He is their savior.

Others jeer.

Their heads roll.

He thins the herd of every nation in this way.  Reminds them all of who they serve now,  of what god has seen fit to free them of their spineless rulers and protect them.

All he demands is their love.

That they fall to their knees and pray to him in their time of need.  That they respect the natural order, revere those who have been elevated above them and tear down those who would seek to destroy it.

He reminds them: he can hear everything. He can see through everything.

He will know.

God will know.

Months later, he has them adorn him the way he should have been all along.  He hosts a competition from his new throne– from the tower now stable and powerful once more.  A testament to his glory.

“The winner earns my favor.” He told them.  Thirty costume designers tasked to create a suit worthy of a king.  Something regal, something fierce.

Something for him.

He cuts down those who put forth no effort, offering only designs rotten and abysmal, unbecoming of their god. They should have known better.

They serve as a warning.

One by one, he rages about how they must see him.  Ugly colors, a lack of originality, stupid designs.  One by one, he hands out punishments in abundance.

Until one designer in particular approaches him.  The very last one.  A steely eyed old woman who had worked for Vought for some time.  He recognizes her from his first ever fitting.  She designed the one he wears now.

Before him, she holds a piece of paper and an item covered by fabric.  Homelander chooses not to spoil his own surprise.  Had it been anyone else, he’d have assumed it was garbage beneath that covering, but that look in her eyes dared to differ.

She doesn’t kneel the way the others did.  Doesn’t sputter through justifications on what she shows him or why she thinks it would look best.  She simply hands him the paper and waits.

“And where is this suit?”  He asks with a hint of excitement.

“All good things in time, my lord.”  The woman replies.  Instead, she extends her arms and offers him the covered item.  “For now, I have this.”

A grin carves into his face, eager and pleased with such a creation.  Something fitting for a king.  Something he should’ve had all along.  Carved laurels and gems of deep crimson nested in that touch, that flair he’s been missing this whole time.

For what is a king without his crown?

[cheemscakecat]

Hear me Out: Detroit become rebooted major changes.

Alice is an actual human girl. If Cyberlife created an android line to look and act like human children, it would lead to controversy and a declining birth rate as more couples bought disposable android children. Todd also should not be able to afford a new top of the line child android.

Kara doesn’t belong to Todd; she belongs to his drug peddling organization. They bought her for their front to build credibility, and tampered with her code. Kara doesn’t call the police when she finds Red Ice or witnesses Alice being abused because her owners purposely removed her memory share and police calling protocol. She was only at Todd’s house because the front was being inspected, and her code would look suspicious. Especially during the deviant crisis.

They can’t flee to Canada. Canada would be wary of Cyberlife’s products due to the deviancy cases, and since androids are not human/are property, they would not be permitted to cross the border without an adult owner and registration.

They go to Eden [Jericho] to escape the police [who Todd foolishly reported Alice’s kidnapping too] and the drug gang [who don’t want their operation to be exposed].

Alice is a human who will be living amongst hiding deviants, who are going to require Kara to do missions for their rebellion in exchange for her presence in Eden and the resources needed to care for a child.

Instead of playing as Markus, we play as Alice between Kara and Connor’s missions as a way to give the player a break and to explore the rebellion. Alice -being an abused child- acts like many of the androids around her, to their surprise. Many of them have only had experiences with abusive humans, and some have not interacted with children.

We learn Markus’s backstory through Alice getting to know him. That way we don’t have to explain how the rebellion started or how Markus inspired frightened androids to rebel; something the original DBH did not expand on well. Markus is surprised that a human father could show such cruelty to his offspring; being Carl’s son. Alice can’t imagine yelling at her father, even if everything she said was true [unlike Leo].

North’s reckless view on killing humans can be challenged by interacting with Alice, if the player chooses the right dialogue. She and other androids would not have considered the innocent humans who would die if they set off a nuke, even if Markus tried to explain Carl to them. Seeing and/or befriending an innocent human with much in common with them would be more convincing.

If Kara is captured by the police instead of Todd/the gang, they’ll find out she was innocent. They can also find out if Connor decides to see why Todd is kicking up a fuss at the station, which will draw Hank over. In both cases, Hank will become furious with that abusive druggie and beat him senseless.

Asking Hank why he snapped on Todd is another way that Connor can find out about Cole, and will affect his mission to find Eden. It doesn’t result in him telling you how Cole died; just that Hank had a son and abusive parents make him sick, since they throw away their chances to love their kids.

Alice would be Connor’s foil; she’s a human that acts like an android and easily befriended/understood them, Connor is an android that acts like the humans they fear, and the deviants see him as an abomination.

Instead of Markus confronting Connor, Alice confronts him. If Kara was captured or Todd was found out, he’ll already know she’s telling the truth about why Kara stole her. Her standing up for the deviants and saying they’re better than some humans would hold weight if Hank beat Todd and mentioned Cole. An abused human girl sharing similar body language with the deviants might give Connor the realization that the glitch is mainly caused by abuse and trauma. This would be the point where Connor can turn deviant.

When Connor’s battery is about to die, he explains Cyberlife’s backup supply of his model and warns the rebellion that they’ll be sent without his memories. So they won’t become deviant like him. But if Kara has done the right missions at the Cyberlife warehouse, Connor’s current memory can be uploaded into another model at the factory, enabling him to do an an important mission there.

[oneprompt]

HELLO AGAIN I HAVE CAME FOR ANOTHER REQUEST! >:D

Ok so I was thinking on how the Straw hats would react if their newest crew member was dealing with an a parent that was verbally or physically abusive and something accidentally triggered them or Y/N finally tells them about their past since everyone else shared theirs. I don’t really see much of fanfics of the strawhats comforting Y/N due to a traumatic event like this but I dunno I just thought it might be comforting for those who’re dealing with an abusive parent like myself

authors note : im so sorry you have to deal with such treatment .. just know that lots of people love you , and you don't need the approval of bad people , regardless of who they are to you. please stay strong my darling <3

ps , these are very self indulgent , as i grew up in a similar fashion .. soo , the reader is a bit bias to my reactions ;; my apologies.

CW : MENTIONS OF ABUSE. do not read if this is triggering

Luffy x Gn! Reader : Opening up about Abuser

- The moment you first tell Luffy, he blows up. He wants nothing more then to beat them senseless, to ask why they would treat their child in such a way. Luffy knows first hand how lovely you are, how earnest your heart is. Why in the world would anyone do such a bad thing to you? You're his crewmate, his nakama. Regardless of the tie to you have with your parents, the share of blood will never cure his hatred.

- Once Luffy takes time to actually process everything, noticing the itching fear molding your features, he holds his tongue. Luffy rarely filters his speech, making it very apparent that he was getting serious. He never felt the need to act maturely, unless it truly was a huge deal. And your safety was his number one priority. He may not be the best with words, or at comforting people but he does his best. Truly. 

- With a frown, Luffy shoves his straw hat onto your head, staring directly into your puffy eyes, your cheeks stained with your tears. With an abrupt swing of arms, Luffy captures your trembling form in an embrace. It’s still tight like always, but more tender then enthusiastic. For once, Luffy is dead silent. You can’t help yourself, feeling more sobs break free from the prison of your throat, cries filling the space around you both. 

- Luffy makes sure to praise you lots, after you opened up about such a private matter to him. He knows how awful you must’ve felt, all those years. Insult after injury.. That’s all your life was before this crew, wasn’t it? In case you’re ever doubting your self worth, or the things you have to offer others, Luffy is quick to clear those doubts from your admirable mind! He isn’t super wordy, so you can’t expect such an open display of affection but it’s love alright. Just- in Luffy’s weak vocabulary. It means so much to you, knowing you’re so cherished by another being. Especially the one who unknowingly saved you from that living hell, 

- Luffy is quite impulsive, not processing his actions or words before acting upon them. But he’ll notice if anything he does upsets you. Whether it’s a jumble of words or a loud noise, he can recognize that terrified gleam in your eyes. As soon as Luffy does notice, he’s right at your side, ready to give you a big, stretchy hug. He doesn’t mean to be so ignorant to you and your feelings, and he’s trying to get better with that... Truly. 

- Even though Luffy is a blabbermouth, he knows when and what to keep under wraps. He won’t even mention anything about what you told him to any of the other Straw Hats. Trauma is a thing you tell people in your own time, not something you have others talk over. Luffy knows that much. 

Zoro x Gn! Reader : Opening up About Abuser

- Much like Luffy, Zoro’s first thoughts are wrathful. He wants nothing more then to punish them for hurting you, testing his highest strength sword moves on them. Yet, he doesn’t verbalize them. He has half a mind to know not to say anything. He knows showing off such a rage filled face might mirror your parents, making you feel untrustworthy of Zoro, perhaps full of regret that you told him such a thing. 

- Zoro sighs, shaking his head as he pulls you close to him, allowing you to bury your face into his chest. He just holds you, cuddling you within the warmth of his bed. Slowly but surely, Zoro rocks you to sleep. He could tell how much energy that took from you, how much courage was needed. Zoro could tell how badly you needed to rest. And he wanted nothing more then to be there for you while you did, making sure he was there to ease your mind if you woke up, panicked by a night terror. 

- After you told him about your trauma, and how it haunts your mind to the point you often cannot sleep, Zoro began to sleep with you every night. He’d be there to calm you down, helping you either go to sleep or return. He knows how important sleep is, and he’s gonna make sure you keep yourself healthy. 

- Very cautious around you, when it comes to things that could trigger you. Whether it be loud noises, aggravated screaming, he tones it down, And Zoro is sure to keep the other boys in check, not wanting any of those numbskulls to upset you so drastically. He just... refuses to let those memories plague your mind, at least to such a panicky degree. 

- Zoro is 10x more protective of you now. Not that he finds you weak, no. You’re quite the opposite, being capable of enduring all that cruelty for years... you were the strongest person Zoro knew. He just doesn’t ever want you put in such a position again, for obvious reasons. You don’t deserve to be hurt, and you never did. Zoro would rather die then let you suffer again. He’s more then willing to put his life on the line for your sake. 

- Zoro loves drinking, but he avoids bringing it out when its just you two. He knows that alcohol isn’t all fun and games, especially for somebody with a traumatized psyche. He doesn’t want you developing an unhealthy coping mechanism with it. So, Zoro is sure to hide his sake beneath his bed everytime you come to sleep in his room. Even if you lack interest in drinking, it’s just an extra step of precaution. 

Nami x Gn! Reader : Opening up About Abuser

- Nami feels on the verge of tears when you finally tell her the meat and bones of your past. She wants to act mature and give you words of wisdom but she merely can’t, letting out silent cries as she glanced at you. You were so sweet and loving... what could you have ever done to earn such terrible parents? You two cry in silence together, trading glimpses of the other. 

- Once Nami finally gets ahold of herself, she leans forward, enveloping your flushed cheeks in her tear soaked palms. She murmurs to you in between hiccups, going on and on about how none of your trauma was your fault, about how proud she was of you for still being here. Nami knows how hopeless it is to be enduring that type of torture, especially for such an extended amount of time. Knowing you’re the radiant being you are now, even after all of that... she’s so happy! 

- Nami is much more patient with you, in comparison to the more high strung Straw Hats. She’s a good comforter, offering any support she can to her nakama. Once Nami notices that hollow look reflect from your gaze, she’ll urge you to her side to cuddle her. With your head in Nami’s lap, her hand combing through your hair, she’s sure to remind you of how loved you are. 

- If Nami ever catches you degrading yourself for the scars you got from your abuse, Nami will show you her own. Even if her tattoo hides the side of brutal stab wounds from when she was with Arlong, she knows they’re apparent enough to ease your mind, to make you feel less alone. Embrace them, as they’re a sign of strength. That’s what Nami says. 

- Nami knows how important alone time is when dealing with trauma. She makes sure to give you your personal space. If you’re cooling off from a breakdown, she’ll let you haul yourself up in her room for a few hours. And thankfully not even Luffy will come to bother you, as he’s too afraid of Nami’s punches. 

- She loves kids, and she always tells you how great of a parent you would be. Just because you were raised in chaos, doesn’t mean you’ll be like your parents. Nami knows you, she knows your nature. And she knows you’d be the upmost best parent, keeping your babies safe. Your trauma doesn’t define you or how you’ll treat people. 

Usopp x Gn! Reader : Opening up About Abuser

- Usopp may not be a fighter, but he is a mediator. With a hold of your hand, Usopp asks you about everything. No overly pushy questions or ones that’ll upset you, he just wants to know if he needs to adjust certain behavior around you or set new boundaries. You and your comfort are his number one priority. He love that smile of yours and he wants to keep seeing it, just like  he has been for the few months or so. He never wants the bright and amazing Y/n to lose their flare, all for the sake of your disgusting parents. 

- He means well, even if his words of comfort can fall flat. Usopp shows off physical affection during this, but not as much as the  romance dawn trio. He’ll occasionally stroke your head or caress your hands, just little things to put your quivering body at ease. Although, if you flinch at the move of his hand, he’ll stop immediately. As i said, your comfort is Usopp’s number one priority, and nothing will ever alter that. 

- Knowing you trust an infamous liar like Usopp makes him soso happy. He isn’t used to being a persons comfort or someone they rely on for support. it means a lot to be trusted, especially by somebody he loves so much. 

- From then, Usopp holds your hand a lot now. It’s a helpful aid to you, being able to cling to your best friend, somebody you trusted so much. You had nothing to be afraid of. Being able to just make contact with another person without the fear of stinging or aching afterwards may seem like a birth right but to you, it felt like a treasure itself. Usopp was your sanctuary, whether he knew so or not. 

- Usopp makes you all sorts of helpful things! His first gift to you was a pair of noise counseling earmuffs, made to avoid audio caused meltdowns. You had a ton of issues with dealing with loud noises, a thing you had admitted to Usopp. The first gift wasn’t the last, as he continued to make you gifts to help you with your PTSD. Whether it was practical things or just comforting things like stuffed toys, he wanted to do the best he could to make you feel better. 

- Usopp shares a dream journal with you! Not that it directly helps you, but monitoring and focusing on things can help freeze out the problem in a healthy manner. You both document your dreams, the patterns, the similarities, all of that jazz. Its a cute thing for friends to do together, and you really do appreciate the lengths Usopp goes to in order to comfort and distract you from your pain. 

Sanji x Gn! Reader : Opening up About Abuser

- Sanji is so understanding, due to sharing a similar upbringing. He puts an arm around you, letting you lean into his side. Like Luffy, Sanji knows when to drop his comedic behavior. He doesn’t chant any overly formally honorifics at you as you snuggle into him, nor does he let any blood leak from his nose. Sanji just lets you melt into him, humming to you softy, doing his best to calm you down.

- He’ll tuck you into your bed, once you’ve relaxed. Sanji offers you the kindest smile, finally saying a singular string of words. “I’m proud of you, Y/n-san.” Not a lick of his words are ingenuine, Sanji is deeply proud of you. He knows the despair you fall into, being treated so brutally by the ones who are meant to love and cherish you. He’s proud you’re here, that you never gave up on yourself. 

- Sanji will serve you your personal comfort food and beverages, whenever he notes that you look upset. He’ll hand them to you, a heartfelt letter resting on the tray. Its never anything perverted, just a lengthy letter of praise and sincerity. All those letters mean the entire world to you..

- He’s more careful when cooking now, making sure to not accidentally break a porcelain dish, knowing how much that sound may upset you. Sanji becomes much more aware, more cautious. Especially when you’re directly in the kitchen with him, he’d hate to remind you of your wretched parents. 

- Sanji will take you out for fun little things, whenever you’re all docked at an island. He’ll take you shopping with him, pampering you with whatever you desire. Clothing, lotion for sunbathing, cute little knick knacks, he’ll buy you whatever you want. Retail therapy..!! 

- Sanji tucks you in every night, when you two are done spending. He loves asking you how you enjoyed it, because of the smile you give him. Its large, oozing with pure joy. He’d- he will do anything to protect your smile. 

Nico Robin x Gn! Reader : Opening up About Abuser

- Robin can’t help but frown. She heaves a sigh, reaching to pet your hair. She isn’t the most open person, she never has been. So, Robin hasn’t ever had anyone come to her about something like this. She isn’t good at comforting, honestly. But, she’ll do the best she can. “You can cry, Y/n. I know how much you want to.” Robin now has your head held to her shoulder, letting your tears nurse themselves into her blouses fabric. “Thank you for trusting me...” She murmurs, full on hugging you at this point. 

- Robin hasn’t had somebody trust her with such information. It- it felt nice to be trusted, to be viewed as an earnest friend. She can’t help but smile ever so slightly, cradling you in her arms. You really did trust and love her, didn’t you? 

- She’s very motherly to you from there on out, almost the way she is with Chopper. Robin will let you hold her hand, lay on her lap or chest, anything. Her maternal instincts want nothing more then to make you feel loved, something your true mother could never do. Robin never had a mother, but she does her best to do what a true mother does for her babies. 

- At night time, Robin will come into your room to read a book to you. She knows you struggle with insomnia because of your trauma. So, Robin does her best to fix up your sleeping patterns. She’ll read you her favorite books, making her voice as soft as she can. Once she notices you asleep, she’ll give you a light kiss on your forehead before taking her leave. 

- Robin can read you easily, knowing exactly what body language you use when experiencing specific emotions. If she notices you’re upset, Robin will offer you to build a puzzle with her, or listen to her read her newest book. With those distractions, she’ll give you all sorts of love. Verbal, physical, every form. She wants to preserve your pure heart and your joy, helping build that further every time she shows you her love.  

- Robin is the most protective of you out of the Straw Hats. If you two are in a battle with anyone, and multiple of them rush to target you, she’’ll make sure to break them. She’s as fierce as a mother bear, not letting any disgusting people near her child. She’ll make sure to give them a painful punishment for messing with you... 

Franky x Gn! Reader : Opening up About Abuser

- Franky tears up under his sunglasses, each drop escaping and dribbling down his face. He rests his large hand on your head, caressing you with an unfamiliar softness. Franky may not have grown up with his parents but he knows that such treatment against their young is not okay. His heart aches for you, for the childhood you lost.

- He’s furious at this newfound info but he cant express that, as Franky’s rage succumbs to his wavering heart. Franky is full of anger and sadness, pity for you. You poor thing... You manage to smile every day and be so sweet to everybody around you, how do you do it? How are you not...mad? You’re one tough cookie, even if you’re just a kid compared to him.

- Like Robin, Franky’s dad switch is activated. He’s used to protecting and taking care of people, and that’ll extended to you. He won’t smother you but he’s so lovey to you! Franky wants to protect your happiness, letting you flourish. Regardless of what happened in your past, that doesn’t define you. You didn’t deserve it, it didn’t ‘ruin’ you. You’re suuuuper! You grew into such an amazing person, Franky knows that. He won’t ever let you utter a single negative thing about yourself.

- Franky always surprises you with gifts! More so, personally made ones. He’ll make you a cute little music box, something that can act as a sleep aid for you. Something so dainty is out of his normal craft but for you, he’ll push himself to do anything! You’re his ki- friend! You’re his pal.

- He always welcomes you to come goof off with him, Usopp and Chopper! If that is your forte, they’re all sure to keep you laughing, launching endless jokes and absurdities your way. Franky knows that laughter is one of the best medicines! And he’s much better at that sort of comfort then the sophisticated kind... Whether it’s as simple as him doing silly poses, telling you greatly dramatized stories, he’ll do whatever shameless thing it takes to hear that angelic noise. He tries his best to keep you happy.

- Franky often writes letters to Iceburg, even if his handwriting is illegible. He’ll go on and on about his journeys, his new weapons, anything and everything under the sun. But nowadays, he’ll sneak in a mention of you. Going on and on about how much you remind him of his carefree youth, the way you make him feel at home in the same manner Tom and Iceburg did. You may think Franky is helping you with your mental health the most out of you two, but thats not to say you haven’t been helping the cyborg. You really do remind him of simpler times. Those beaming summer days in Waters 7, frolicking with Iceburg in the junkyard... In a way, you make him feel even more connected to those memories, holding an unexplainable nostalgic glow.

Brook x Gn! Reader : Opening up About Abuser

- Brook places a boney hand over yours, looking down at you. He’s never seen you this way. You look like you’re in so much pain, it hurts his heart. He repeats words of affirmation to you, his voice delicate and quiet. Brook repeats over and over how glad he is to have met you, how lucky the Straw Hats are to have you in their crew. Your parents seemed to have distorted your self image for years on end, almost brainwashing you into thinking you were this horrid person. Brook may not be able to erase such work over night, but he’ll do whatever it takes.

- He lightly squeezes your hand, staring directly at you. “We’re your family now, okay?” With that being uttered, you fall apart right then and there. You can no longer hold back your loud sobs, desperation filling your tone. You hold onto the skeleton tightly, gurgling out thank you’s after thank you’s.

- You and Brook grew much closer afterwards, having you spend a hefty amount of your time with him. Your presence meant so much to Brook, the same way his meant to you. Brook had grown accustomed to being in his lonesomeness, not having a single soul to be with. But now, things were much different. You were his most beloved friend, a person who shared a mutual love for him.

- Brook often composed songs for you, ones that would make you smile or even weep with joy. He put his heart and soul into your songs, putting care into every note. He knew they served as both a comfort to you, and he knew the stroke of the piano keys could calm you down after a night terror. Each song was strategically crafted, containing notes that could lull you to sleep, your favourite instruments bellowing in the back.

- Brook is always there to help comfort you whenever you have a meltdown. He’ll usher you comforting words or warm touches. After you’ve calmed down, he’ll return with your favorite flavor of tea, maybe with some macarons on the side... Whatever snacks you may fancy.

- Brook often ends your days together by tucking you into bed, pulling the warm and cozy sheets over your form. You may be an adult, but to Brook, he believes anyone can be tucked in, regardless of age. It’s a kind and endearing thing, something you deserve. Once he’s gotten you comfortable, he’ll give you time to decompress and sleep. You deserve to relax once in awhile, turning off all your negative thoughts. 

Jinbei x Gn! Reader : Opening up About Abuser

- The moment your words force themselves out of your mouth, Jinbei already has you in his lap, arms wrapped around you. It’s a comforting embrace, holding a sense of security. He’s quiet, leaving you to only listen to his lingering breaths, Jinbei doesn’t push for details, letting you ride out your emotions with him. Even as your tears sink into his yukata, beginning to soak the fabric, he never pushes you away. 

- Jinbei is the most composed out of the crew, not displaying too much heavy emotion. A small frown just rests on his face as he rubs circles on your convulsing back. He avoids showing how upset he truly is, not wanting you to feel any need to comfort for him. You’re the one that deserves all the comfort right now. You’re who needs attention. 

- Jinbei lets you come into his sleeping quarters whenever you need. Whether you’re upset, happy, mellow, you’re always allowed in. He’ll let you sleep in his bed if you need. He knows how touch starved you are and how much you crave validation, and he’s more then happy to deliver. Jinbei will cuddle you, showing you his care for you in the simplest of ways. He may not directly express his love, but he makes sure that you know how much he cares about you. 

- If you come to his room upset, Jinbei won’t force you to talk about whatever upset you but the offer always stands. He knows he isn’t the greatest at this, especially out of the Straw Hats but as i said, Jinbei does whatever he can. If it regards your parents, you’re immediately met with a hug. He wants to fill that void for you to the best of his abilities. 

- You give Jinbei a sense of meaning for the first time in awhile, making him feel valued for more then his strength. You and the Straw Hats both made him feel that way. You all helped him feel loved, but you did the most. The way you trusted him so deeply, enough to confide in him for the most heart wrenching things... Jinbei was grateful for that, to have your trust. And you had his, 100%. Jinbei would trust you with his life. 

- You remind him of Koala, in a sense. Is it just his fatherly front that connects you two? Is it the fact you manage to brim with optimism, even after everything that’s been done to you? He’s not very sure. But all Jinbei knows for sure is how much Fisher Tiger would love you, if only he were still alive. He often dreams of that, of how you, him and Fisher Tiger could be a happy family. Maybe in another life. 

[murderoushagthesequel]

Fallen by Their First

for @jegulus-microfic's prompt, first (449 words)

ok this one. oh i have feelings on this one. mostly just that they're everything to me and i want what they have.

They’re so close. All it would take is for him to lean in one inch and their lips would meet. Regulus has never been this close to James before and his brain is having trouble functioning. How is one supposed to think when James Potter’s breath is ghosting across their lips and he’s looking at them with simultaneously the sweetest and hungriest look anyone’s ever given them.

James can’t think straight either. He’s standing an inch away from the human embodiment of an angel, how is he meant to think straight? He’s close enough to feel the warmth most people don’t guess is there radiating off of Regulus’ skin; and to pick out each individual colour in his shimmering eyes. It’s entrancing. Merlin, he wants to lean in so badly. But he’s never done this before.

What if I do it wrong, Regulus thinks. I don’t know what I’m doing. Very slowly, James’ hand comes up to cup his jaw and Regulus stops breathing right then and there. “James,” he whispers. Before he can say anything else, James leans forward ever so slightly, brushing Regulus’ lips with his own. Some might not even consider that a kiss. But Regulus is already feeling his knees go weak. He stumbles into James, connecting their lips again, slightly stronger this time.

James is being kissed by Regulus Black and he can honestly say he’s never felt anything better in his life. Regulus basically fell into him but James isn’t complaining. He’s no longer just feeling Regulus’ warmth in the air around him but through the hand on his jaw, the other settled at his waist, his lips lightly pressed and moving with Regulus’. James is consumed in his feeling, it’s heavenly.

Regulus thinks people are lying when they say first kisses are always awkward. Maybe Regulus was just lucky enough to find his person. Because nothing could beat the feeling of being pressed against James and feeling his hands holding him close while they exist together, in the same space, moving with each other. Regulus doesn’t know if it’s been seconds or days but he couldn’t care less.

“James,” Regulus whispers again, pulling back slightly. James smiles softly. Regulus smiles back. “I didn’t think a first kiss was supposed to feel like that.”

“Maybe it’s because I love you,” James says without missing a beat. Regulus feels the whole world spin around him. He never thought he would hear those words directed at him. He wants to run around and scream, or go to his room and cry, or push James against the wall and snog him senseless. Instead, he finds not a single hesitation in responding:

“And I love you too.”

[spnandtvdudeservedbetter]

Until the Light Comes Back

Kol mikaelson x reader

 TW: mentions depression, self isolation used as a coping mechanism. 

Some days were good for her, she could get through it. Go to school, do her homework and even make it to bed on time. And then it would hit. The sadness would crash in like it had no problem ruining what dam she built up.

Today was one of those days she had been avoiding her best friend; Kol Mikaelson for a good week or so now. Not messaging or calling him back, not even wanting to talk or let alone have him around. Yes, she did love him but still his usual cheeky behavior was exhausting to even think about.

So as the week went on, she moped around her house, struggling to even lift herself from the bed and into the bathroom, her body felt cold and numb no matter how many times she put on her oversized hoodie. She continued to neglect herself, barely cooking herself a good enough dinner to keep her going, she had always stuck to the basics of meals, she never was much good of a cook but she could get by with her baking.

Even though she tried to avoid the stillness inside, the ache of her heart, she still felt alone and she wanted him, as pathetic as that made her feel to even admit she wanted her best friend. But still, she pushed that down and went on through her day.

Kol on the other hand, was worried senseless, his family was the most hated and he knew they had enemies. He spent his day pacing back and forth in his room thinking, “what if she’s been killed? Or taken? “ he quickly made his mind up and grabbed his keys to go to his best friends house.

When he got there, he could sense her, not only because he was a vampire but for a reason even he of all people couldn’t explain. He walked up the steps to her front door and rang the bell, at the tone; her dog began barking, making her heart skip a beat, “shh you scared me!” She said stomping over to her dog who sat at the door.

As she walked over she caught a glimpse of her best friend through the window on the door.

She hurriedly opened it, “Kol?”

“Are you alright, darling?”

She sighed, hesitant to even speak another word.

But he knew the answer to his question and walked into her house to pull her into a hug.

She turned away for a second to check if the door was closed and locked, but Kol had already taken care of it. She pulled him back in.

“I’m sorry, it’s just been really hard for me the last few days and I just don’t know why I’m like this.” She spoke after many moments of content silence.

“I was worried about you, you never returned any of my messages or calls, do you even know what I’d have done if something happened to you?” Kol spoke, softly pushing her away to look into her eyes.

She nods her head “no”.

“I would never forgive myself for letting you fall, I need you here and I know that the days feel so long and the nights seem longer than a century. I know. But I need you to stay with me, that’s all I need.”

“Why?” She looks up, tears begging to be let out.

“Because you’re my everything, darling and I promise to sit with you in the darkness until the light comes back.”

“I’m not supposed to feel like this still, it’s been years. I should be over it.”

“Healing doesn’t have a timeline, it happens over time.”

“ I feel like I’m running out of time, everyday it's the same thing, same feelings, same anger. And I’m so so tired of it.” She says, tears inevitably bursting through the floodgates.

“I know, trust me I know, y/n.”

“I- I feel like I can’t do this anymore. I'm so tired of being “strong” and I just want to be weak.”

“Succumbing to that will only drive you deeper, you are allowed to break down, you’re allowed to feel the things you do. But I won’t let you sit in them.”

“Kol. You’re a vampire, you can shut it off.”

“It may be easier for me in that sense but that doesn’t mean I don’t relate to your pain any less.”

“You’re not alone.” He says, breaking from the hug and grabbing her hands.

“I feel like I am, can you just hold me?”

“Of course.”

They walked to her couch, and he wrapped his arms around her body, she melted into him, willingly letting the walls break down in his grasp.

She sniffled and cried into his shoulder, desperately trying to get every inkling of pain out of her body.

He held her strong, making sure she felt safe.

“Do you know how much I’ve needed you?” She says against his chest.

“I’ve felt this need for you since the day we met, you’ve made me feel so much more than I’ve ever felt for another person. “

“I know, Y/N I’ve felt drawn to you too, since day one.”

She sits up,turning to face him “really?”

“Yes, darling.” He gently pulls her back into his arms, kissing her forehead.

“And I will sit with you until the light comes back.” He whispers gently,tracing lines down her back.

[radiowallet]

Gorgeous

Summary: You help Javi relax in the pool one evening. WC: 2.4K Pairing: Javi G. x Female!Reader (established relationship) Warnings: 18+ Minors be gone! Handjob, cumplay, praise kink, body worship.

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This bright yellow pool lounge is almost definitely not made for two fully grown adults. Javi’s frame already overwhelms it, wide shoulders and soft belly spread out in the most delicious way as he floats through the water, wide eyes beckoning you to him without saying a single word.

Both of you nearly topple overboard as he reaches for you, meaty arms wrapping around you and pulling you into the float, half of your frame draped across him, your legs tangling together where they dangle in the water. Javi isn’t complaining, only wrapping his arm tighter around your waist and pressing a chlorine scented kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Perfecto,” he murmurs quietly, before reaching for the glass of whiskey he filled before you came out for the evening, offering you a sip before taking his own. 

The air is warm despite the night sky drifting listlessly above you, the stars lighting the world from up above, the soft glow of the pool lights from below. The two of you don’t speak, content to let time pass slowly, the crashing waves of the salty sea mixing with the sound of Javi’s breath in your ear. 

The cool water sends goosebumps across your arm, but Javi’s strong hand chases them away, lulling you down from the heights of a hectic day. You’re practically limp against him, head resting over the steady beat of his heart, fingers making senseless patterns across his bare chest, and it’s only when you press your lips to the curve of his neck that you realize that Javi has yet to join you in the loose waves of relaxation, his shoulders still tight beneath your kiss.

So like your Javi, coaxing you into the pool with the singular goal of erasing your worries, only to let his own cling to his weary bones. He’s content to carry his stress quietly, while every other action of his is done with vibrant joy. He doesn’t know any other way to live, his kindness radiating brighter than the sun. Day after day you have been blessed to live in his warm summer shine, letting him care for you in every way he knows how. If only you could give as much as he shares in return, and melt away the stress that makes a home inside his heart. 

You consider briefly pulling him into the water and letting him work his woes away between your legs, but you know how that story ends– pleasure pulled from you again and again– this beautiful man only happy to take his fill after he greedily gives as much to you as he can. He truly is infuriating in the best ways possible, grinning wider with each wave of pleasure he ripples down your spine, refusing to slide into you until you’re soaked and quivering beneath his touch. 

You press one more kiss to his shoulders, lips matching to a constellation of freckles and listen to him hum in appreciation, his busy fingers already drawing their own tiny patterns along your hip. Small tremors shadow his touch, and you let out a sigh of appreciation, letting it mingle with the distant sound of sea water. Another idea comes to you, almost by accident, your fingertips drifting just a little lower, catching at the coarse hair starting just below his belly button, a sigh slipping from between his lips when you do. 

You start slowly, hand moving gently over the swell of his belly, the patch of hair leading down past the waist band teasing your appetite. He sighs again, the noise choking off as it bleeds into your name, soft brown eyes peeking down at you, a smile teasing at the corners of his lips. Your lips find his neck again, kissing gently, a scratch of your teeth following. The smile flips up higher, his whole face lighting up brighter than the stars in the sky and you fall a little bit more in love with him, unable to look away as he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss. The float tilts dangerously left then right, peals of laughter breaking your mouths apart.

“Should we retire for the night?”

You don’t answer right away, instead letting your hand continue to make soothing patterns along his tummy, lower and lower with each pass, watching as the golden skin shivers and swells with each haggard breath that catches in his throat. Finally– finally– your finger catches at the waistband of his bathing suit, and you don’t hesitate in slipping the tip of one finger between the heavy fabric and Javi’s smooth skin. 

“M-mi…mi amor ...let me…”

You cut his words off with a soft shush, lips pressing gently to the sharp cut of his jaw, a second finger sneaking down to join the other where it’s brushing up against the coarse hair at the base of his cock. He’s already half-hard, the outline of him growing with each small movement of your fingers. You’re in no rush, content to watch his cock lengthen slowly, his breath coming in short spurts as you continue to stroke softly at the heat of his skin, your fingers trapped beneath the slick fabric of his bathing suit. 

The hand wrapped around your waist, moves in time with your strokes, his own finger slipping between the thin string holding your bikini bottom in place. He tries once, twice, three times to touch you, the hand not pulling gently at your bathing suit attempting to sneak between your legs, but you stop him at every attempt. Halting your ministrations to swat his hand away, always pressing a kiss just below his ear in apology every time that you do.

“Let me take care of you.” Your voice barely breaks a whisper as you coax his waistband lower, just enough for the weight of his cock to bob free, drops of water splashing up as it smacks down on the swell of stomach. You lick your lips, wishing for the first time you were in a bed, if only so you could settle your body between the thick expanse of his thighs and let the tip of your tongue trace the veins along the underside of him before swallowing him down to the back of your throat. You settle for the tip of one one finger, letting your own moan of pleasure drip out of you at the sight of his cock quivering beneath your light touch. 

You glance up quickly, catching sight of Javi’s twisted features, his brows bunched in and eyes squeezing shut in concentration, plump bottom lip worried between his teeth. Drops of water cling to him, his curls, his temple, the hook of his nose. You watch as one follows the cut of his chin and down his throat to bead at the base of his neck. You long to dip your tongue out and catch at it, curious to know if it’s pool water or sweat clinging to his skin as he struggles against his shuddering breath. 

You call his name, a playful nudge of your nose into his jaw followed by your lips until honey brown eyes are blinking open in wonder as he looks back at you. You take your time, reaching up and running your fingers softly through his curls, tucking them gently behind his ear. 

“Relax, my love. Just breathe.”

You make a show of breathing in slowly, keeping your eyes locked on his, counting the seconds inside your head.

In, two, three, four. 

Out, two, three, four.

He breathes with you, shoulders loosening with each pull of air in and out of his lungs. You reward his efforts, wrapping your fingers loosely around the base of his cock. He startles, enough to rock the float side to side, and another wave of giggles filter through both of you as fresh pool water splashes up into your laps, breaking the last of the tension free. It’s enough to relax him completely, his body melting back as you slowly stroke upwards. He whines, high and sweet, and you wish you could bottle the sound and carry it around with you, something to remind you how much this man means to you. 

You keep close to the base at first, fingers curled loosely around him, marveling at the way your gentle touch has him growing thicker, harder, until finally you stroke all the way up, pulling his foreskin back to reveal the head of his cock, a bead of precum waiting for you. In that one moment you can’t help yourself, swiping at the liquid with your thumb and bringing it to Javi’s lips. He opens obediently, sucking the digit into the hot cavern of his mouth, letting the taste of himself sit heavy on his tongue. 

You moan in tandem, a familiar heat pooling in your core as Javi swirls his tongue around the tip of your thumb. Something hot and wet joins the cool water between your legs and you can’t help the shiver that pushes you closer to Javi’s warmth. He grins as you slide your thumb from his mouth, satisfied with the effect he’s starting to have on you, but you’re determined at this point, your hand returning to the base of his cock, stroking with a set pace that has him crying out your name. 

“Shhh, sweet boy. I’ve got you.” You chase your words with a soft press of your lips, letting them linger at each drop of water that clings to his chest. You can feel the thump of his heartbeat as you kiss along his bare skin again and again, keeping your strokes steady along the length of his cock. The water chafes at your grip, but Javi only seems to moan louder when you hand catches at his foreskin, thumb swirling around the head before you stroke back down to the base. All the while you never stop talking, whispering filthy praise into the golden hues of his skin. 

“So good for me. Such a good boy. Love those little noises you’re making for me. You can be louder, baby. Just us out here. Can you be louder for me?”

He whimpers at your words, the praise sending him into a spiral, and you can’t help but reward him, increasing your pace, squeezing harder at the base, knowing that’s what starts to tip him over the edge. He tries to thrust up to meet your grip, but you squeeze your legs where they’re tangled with his own, stilling his movements as you press the heat of your core to the meat of his thigh. The pressure is intoxicating, and you’re just as desperate suddenly, fighting the urge to thrust your own hips down. You settle for wrapping your legs just a little tighter before focusing again on the weight of Javi’s cock between your fingers. 

“I have you, Javi,” you promise, making sure to twist your wrist just enough to pull another drop of precum from the tip of his cock, little mewls spilling out of him as you do. “I promise I have you.”

He nods, eyes slipping shut, brows curling in and down as his body goes taut from the pressure of your touch. You’re having trouble deciding where to look, eyes drifting from where his toes are curling in, up the tight draw of his legs and the clench of his thighs. The length of him is flushed red from tip to base pulses in your hand as you work him closer and closer to the edge, his chest rising and falling with the pace of your touch. 

You follow the path up his neck, veins popping perfectly from the strain of it all, up to the clench of his jaw and the tick of his cheek. His eyes are still closed, but you’re feeling greedy for the first time tonight and so you let go of his cock, letting it smack back down to the water pooling in your laps, a pathetic cry breaking past Javi’s lips. 

“N-no…please, please don’t…”

You lean up the best you can and kiss him soundly, praying the lounger doesn’t flip over in the process. You slip your tongue between his lips, searching for the hint of his own taste you had left behind earlier before finally pulling away. 

“Open your eyes, Javi. Let me see you.”

He takes one slow breath in before opening his eyes, brown practically gone, the black of his pupils blown wide with arousal. You kiss him again, quick and sweet, before once again wrapping your hand around his cock, stroking him with intent. You don’t look away from his face as you move your hand faster, watching with rapt attention as he slowly starts to fall apart in front of your very eyes. 

“So pretty, my love. You’re so pretty when you come.”

A breathy whine ratchets from his throat, his eyes wide and eyebrows pinched, and you can see the very moment before it all comes crumbling down. Everything quiets, his lips part around a silent quiver, moonlight catching in the white of his eyes and then he’s falling, his gorgeous features stretched and curved beneath the dark night sky. Your name is cried out and his fist splashes in the water, as warm wet heaven pours out of him, coating the swell of his belly and dripping between your fingers. You refuse to stop, stroking him through wave after wave of his release. It seems to go on forever, his hips bucking slightly, his control faltering as the aftershocks rocket through his system. 

Finally, blissfully, his body slumps into the float, every bone in his body turned to loose string, a gentle smile that tells you how at peace he truly is. You indulge yourself one final time, dragging your sticky fingers through the mess on his stomach, watching as drops of his come pearl up and float along the water. You bring your fingers to your lips, allowing yourself a small taste, savoring the salty brine as it settles on your tastebuds, before sharing the rest with Javi. He’s dazed, happily parting his lips for you, cleaning your fingers off one by one, a lazy pace to the stroke of his tongue. 

Once he’s had his fill, a soft hum drifting out of him as his eyes drift shut yet again, you settle back into this side, one more kiss pressed to the beat of his heart. You know it’s only a matter of time before he finds his second wind, Javi’s own restless hands desperate to repay your actions in kind, his own praise waiting in the wings. You won’t be able to stop him, you don’t want to, your own needs still simmering in the background, but for now you’re content to watch him beneath the starlight, sated and relaxed. 

Gorgeous. 

Dedications-

To my dearest @astroboots who is so supportive of all my hoe ways and is off on a new adventure! I am so happy for you and I expect many many food porn spam pictures from here on out.

To my lovely @jazzelsaur for beta reading and once again assuring me that this is hot. And also agreeing with me that Javi G. deserves nothing more than to be told what a good boy he is.

And to @write-and-buried who has listened to my unhinged ramblings regarding all of my writing and hasn't stopped encouraging me since the moment she came shrieking into my DM's.

[rehfan]

What’s that face? — Tag Game

Rules: Pick a situation from one of your fics and post a screenshot of the expression you imagined your blorbo is making in that scene.

No one tagged me, but here’s a bit from my latest WIP…. “La Belle Dame avec Mercí” mostly because I wanted to remind people that I still am writing shit, I’m just SLOWWWW and I have a full-time job.

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader — Fake Relationship Trope

(This fic is dedicated to @hard-candy-writing and is inspired by their post.)

A/N: Cosmo is an OC.

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[Cosmo] took each of you by a respective elbow and led you over to the defunct freight elevator in the drums section. He took the warning tape off one side and it and the sign attached fell to the floor. He pressed the call button and the elevator doors opened with a soft hum. “In you go,” he said to you. Dumbly, you obeyed.

“Is it safe?” you asked, remembering at the last minute that you were up one story.

“Oh yes. It’s just stuck. No power to the elevator itself, just the doors, and the brakes have it frozen in place. Going to cost me a fortune to fix, so until then…” Cosmo shrugged. He gestured for Eddie to enter.

Eddie was more recalcitrant. His arms were crossed as soon as Cosmo had released his elbow and he stood stock still. “I’m not doing time in the shaft with her. I don’t care what she has to say.”

Cosmo evaluated him soberly over the rim of his glasses. “That’s your fear talking.” Eddie huffed dismissively. “Edward. You will enter this freight elevator if I have to beat you senseless with that crash symbol. Now go.” He pointed inward and Eddie looked from him to you.

He shook his head, his mane of hair waggling along with the motion. “Nope. Not doing it. I have nothing to say to her.”

“Then just listen,” said Cosmo. “For God’s sake, man! Take it from a dude who has loved and lost four times! Get the fuck in the shaft and let the lady apologize.”

“That’s just it: she doesn’t love me. And I may not know much about love, but this isn’t about love. This is about using people. And Jesus Christ, do I know what that looks like! And she’s used me for a stupid and selfish reason and I’m done! She needs to leave me the hell alone. Starting now.”

Eddie didn’t know where the words were coming from, but they felt right. Like a perfectly balanced sword in his hand made just for him. It felt good to say what was hurting his heart so much. But a small part of him hated the sound of the words, the forming and voicing of them was simple, natural, and free. The hearing of them, the tone they took, and the effect on your face was another matter altogether. You were clearly hurt.

You watched all of this from the farthest corner of the elevator like it was a tennis match: Eddie objecting, Cosmo deflecting and returning the serve. If you weren’t directly involved, you might have found it entertaining. But you were involved. Matter of fact, you were at the crux of the conversation and it made you heartsick. “Please, Eddie,” you begged quietly. “I only want to say sorry.” The metal walls made your voice echo, magnifying your pitiful state.

Something in Eddie’s eyes shifted, softened. But only for a moment. “So say it then. And get out. I’ve got to spend time with my real friends.”

“Edward.”

“Call me Edward one more goddamned time, old man!” he snapped at Cosmo.

[softkostyk]

I’m about to go on a genyadavid rant. Beware SPOILERS for S&B S2 and Rule of Wolves.

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Let’s just start with the fact that their short scenes were absolutely memorable. I’m overjoyed we actually got the I know metal scene, since it’s such a turning point in their relationship. In the books we kind of see the development of their relationship happen off-page — mostly because both of them already had feelings for each other before we meet them — and we see that once they’ve confessed their love in their own unique, beautiful way, they’ve already found their rhythm as a couple. The fact that he was going to make a ring for her, either as a promise or a proposal, feels my heart with joy. It’s in little things like the holding hands or being affectionate that tell us David wants to make up for lost time with her, especially because of all the danger they’re facing, even if it doesn’t come easy to him. Luke honestly nailed his portrayal of David, his mannerisms are so, so perfect, and I love how David’s core kindness shone through. Daisy absolutely shattered me, she’s definitely in my top three performances of the season. Now, to the tough part: I can’t deny there’s poetry in his (alleged) dying to protect Genya, the same way she got hurt in protecting him at the beginning of the season. We know he felt guilty and beat himself up for leaving her, and the fact that his last act of love was making sure she was safe is the most David thing ever, and it actually made sense (which it didn’t in Rule of Wolves, where his death was absolutely senseless). While all signs point to him being gone — the blood on the dumbwaiter, Genya not being able to feel his heartbeat) — I’m going to hold on to hope that he might actually have gotten out of there injured but alive, although I don’t know why he wouldn’t have come back. It’s a very slim chance, I know, and with the fact that this season has thrown in elements from all the books, they might very well have just anticipated his death to now. If the only reason they killed him off was to put Alina in the triumvirate with Genya and Zoya in his stead (which they mention in the last episode), I’ll admit that doesn’t sit well with me. Alina already has roles to fulfill, and I’m sure fans would have collectively agreed on more screentime for David, and more happiness for Genya. I’d love to know what you all think about this and if you have any theories for a potential s3. 🤍

[rescuesonic3]

The Sonic Movie fanbase is DISGUSTING!

The Sonic movie fanbase is disgusting.

A few years ago, an amazing movie called Sonic The Hedgehog came out. It was BEAUTIFUL. A heartwarming story about a young blue hedgehog who found a home and a family on a new planet.   Unsurprisingly, people loved it. And people loved Sonic. Many of them said they'd guard the little guy with their lives.   But then the second movie came out.  The entire second movie was basically a giant snuff film. There wasn't a single scene in the entire movie where Sonic wasn't being beaten senseless or suffering somehow else. Knuckles, who dished out most of it, didn't get any sort of punishment for all the needless harm he brought. 99.9% of the humor in the movie was just Sonic being beaten for cheap slapstick.  Surely, the same people who said they'd defend Sonic with their lives would be outraged by this, right?  They f*cking loved it.  In fact, they swapped over and started loving Knuckles instead, even cheering as Sonic was mauled and maimed for no reason. They even had the audacity to call Knuckles CUTE of all things. Yes, they called a bloodthirsty caveman foaming at the mouth "CUTE."  Why did the second movie do this to Sonic? Why didn't Knuckles get the punishment he deserved? Well, perhaps that's because the movie's chief writer, Pat Casey, flat-out hates Sonic. He even posted a tweet reading "[Sonic] gets his ass kicked in every movie, it's tradition" on his Twitter. Surely this should have outraged all the so-called "Sonic fans" who claim to like Sonic, right? Nope! Instead, they CHEERED at Pat's tweet, EXCITED to see Sonic suffer at Shadow's evil, bloody hands. I know you might say “Well, he was just joking!” Well, can you prove that? I didn’t think so. If he were joking, don’t you think he’d give some kind of signal that he was? Welcome-to-green-hills is especially guilty of all of this, but so are 99.9% of the entire Sonic Movie fanbase.  I'm growing tired of hearing Sonic Movie fans talk about how much they "love Sonic" yet they advocate for his suffering and want to hug the bloodthirsty monsters like Knuckles who maul and mutilate him. Lots of people argue that he saved Sonic’s life and therefore made up for his wrongdoings. But for f*ck’s sake, the only reason he saved Sonic’s life was because HE saved HIS! So that doesn’t really even the playing field! Not to mention, even if your argument WAS true, that’s hardly an apology given he nearly killed Sonic 3 times throughout the film. And now, you’re going to defend Knuckles by claiming he was misled by Eggman and that his parents (who, in addition to ORPHANING SONIC, were warlords and killers who undoubtedly had innocent blood on their hands for the record) are dead. What the Hell does that prove? If I were tricked into committing a crime, would the police just left me off and forgive me since I didn’t know any better? Of course they wouldn’t. Knuckles being misled doesn’t justify ANYTHING that he did. If you REALLY liked Sonic, you'd advocate for Knuckles to have received the beating he rightfully deserved, and you'd be outraged at the idea of someone who hates Sonic as much as Pat Casey does writing any of the films. But no.   Quit hiding behind the facade. If you hate Sonic, just admit to it. Pretending to love or care for a character you don't give two craps about isn't productive in the slightest. If you hate him, you hate him.  But if you really DO love him like you say you do, why don't you try SHOWING it for once? I do realize that movie protagonists have to suffer a bit in order to overcome their struggle. But don’t you think there’s a pretty big difference between a protagonist’s struggle and reducing the character to a punching bag? You’ll still argue that all the suffering he went through was just “the hero overcoming his struggle” but what the Hell did Sonic “overcome?” NOTHING, that’s what! He lost every single fight in the movie except the Super Sonic scene, and none of the people who wronged him except Eggman got the punishment they deserved for it.  If the movie would have been better, Sonic would have won the temple fight (so Knuckles would have gotten what he deserved) and all the humor in the movie wouldn’t revolve around pounding Sonic for cheap laughs. How hard could that have been to do?  I know that you, the “Sonic fan” reading this, are probably furious at this post. You probably can’t stand seeing this. You’re gonna comment some threat that isn’t even related to my argument, aren’t you? Well, let me give you this: if you don’t have an actual argument to combat mine, that literally means I’m right and that you can’t change it!  If you hate Sonic, that’s just fine. You can have an opinion. But pretending to love him WHILE hating him is where you’re going wrong.  

[jheqiawrites]

All is Calm, the Future's Bright

This is my @mlsecretsanta gift for @juliettelime! You wanted some sweet holiday fluff, so I hope this delivers the feels. Merry Christmas!

Adrien leaned against the door frame, staring at the blue-black messy bun that was bent obsessively over the desk.  He smiled.  He had known from day one of his lady’s brilliant, creative mind and her ability to bring the most convoluted plans to fruition, but the same intensity that had led them safely through hundreds of battles also led her to get easily overwhelmed by deadlines and panic over setbacks.  

“Of course, knowing that Ladybug is Marinette means I know how to take care of her when she gets like this,”  he thought warmly.  It was just what made her the woman he loved, the woman he needed in his life as much as the air he breathed.

Padding softly across the crimson rug of her studio, he eased up behind her.  Moving slowly so as not to trigger her selfdefense skills - it took getting thrown off a building only once to get that through his thick skull - he placed the mug of hot chocolate on the desk where she could see it but there was no way she could knock it over.

Then, bending over, he kissed the back of her neck gently, the loose curls hanging there delightfully tickling his nose.

“Hmmm,” was her only response, a questioning lilt in her hum as her stylus skated over the tablet.

“It’s getting late, love,” he murmured, breathing in deeply of the scents of flowers and citrus in her hair and the deeper, more personal scent of her that drove him to distraction even when he wasn’t transformed.  “You’ve been at it all day.”

Marinette sighed.  “I was just trying to get this finished.  You know the spring line needs to be in production by mid-January and-“

“Yes, I know,” he interrupted, wrapping his arms around her.  “But I know you also need to rest well to work hard, Princess, and you have been skimping on sleep again.”

He felt her cheek grow warm against his.  “How did you know?”

He let her go and spun her chair around so he could see her face.  “What, you don’t think this old cat doesn’t notice when half the bed gets cold?  Besides you have been depriving me of the joy of having my wife wake up in my arms in the morning.”

Her blush deepened, but her eyes sparkled.  “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to you saying things like that without the mask.”

Holding himself over her on the arms of her chair, he leaned in with a smirk.  “Oh, trust me!  I’m worse when you’re not around.  Nino says I’m an unbearable sap and most of the other guys either make gagging noises or pretend to call their dentist.”

A smirk of her own spread across her lips as she tapped him on the nose.  “It’s your own fault for being such a sweet talker, Kitty.”

His heart skipped a beat.  Even after eight years together in one way or another, he would never get over her punning back at him.  “Oh, and when she smirks like that I am liable to kiss her senseless!”

“Speaking of sweet, you should drink your hot chocolate before it cools,” he said with a sigh.  “And if you don’t come down by the time I’m finished with mine, I will come fetch you myself.”  

Her smirk widened into a mischievous grin.  “You know that does’t give me much motivation to do that, don’t you?”

He growled and spun her chair around playfully.  “I am giving you five more minutes, little bug, then I’m canceling our reservations.”

He saw her eyes widen in surprise before he sprinted for the door, barely hearing her panicked cry of “Reservations?!  What-“ over his laughter.

Adrien chuckled all the way down the stairs of their townhouse, enjoying the mischief he had caused his Lady.  Marinette could take it, of course, and give as good as she got, but she had been working too hard for the last six months and she had to relax and get the rest she needed in order to be her best.  It was no mean feat, as she was trying to get her fashion boutique up and running, but he made sure she got it, by hook or by crook.

He made himself a cup of hot chocolate and settled on the couch, thumbing through his phone’s contacts with a subtle smirk.  Just keeping up with his lady was a full time job.

In less than five minutes, Marinette rushed down the stairs, empty mug in hand and a chocolate mustache on her upper lip.  “There.  All done,” she panted, looking at him with worried eyes.  “What was this about reservations?  Adrien, I’m sorry!  I must have forgotten -“

Standing up, he moved to her side.  It had been a shock several years ago to learn exactly how drawn to Marinette he had always been, even before he had learned she was Ladybug.  She had always been his lodestone, whether with the mask or without.

“Shhh.  The only thing you have forgotten is to take care of yourself, love,” he soothed.  Reaching out, he wiped the chocolate from her lip and then licked it off his finger.  “You take care of everything and everyone except yourself, Marinette.”

She sighed.  “Comes from being a hero too long, I guess.  I’m just used to it.  Kind of hard to break that sort of habit.”

“And that is why you have me.  To take care of you so you can take care of everything else.”

She smiled at him crookedly.  “I don’t deserve it, you know.”

He scoffed at that.  “My lady, I would find a way to bring you all the stars of the Milky Way on a diamond chain if it would make you smile.  What’s a little thing like making sure you sleep and eat regularly?”

At that moment her stomach rumbled loud enough to be mistaken for an angry monster.  They exchanged looks and burst out laughing!

“Speaking of which,” she said, laughter still on her lips, “I believe someone said something about reservations?”

The doorbell rang throughout the town house.

Marinette sighed.  “If it is Stella with more fabric samples tell her I'm not home!”  Her voice was petulant but her lips still quirked in a smile.

Adrien kissed her on the forehead and went to answer the door.  He saw her face turn confused when he returned with two delivery bags full of take out boxes.

“But I thought-“

“Our reservations, my love, are for the most exclusive location in town.  Invitation only.”  He set the bags down on the coffee table and started unpacking them.  The heady scents of garlic and marjoram filled the air and he saw Marinette’s eyes light up when she saw the restaurant name on the bags.

“You ordered from Prima Vera?  You remembered!”

“That you love their lasagna?  Yes, but the location goes hand in hand with the meal.  So you go get dressed in something cozy while I finish laying it out.”

“Cozy?”  She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, rubbing her face against his shoulder blade.  “Shouldn’t I dress for the occasion, Kitty?  A date at an invitation only spot sounds very exclusive - black tie at the very least.”

“It generally is,” he replied with a smirk, pulling one of her hands up to press a kiss to her palm.  “But tonight it is lady’s choice.  Besides, I …ahem… happen to know the owner.”

“Really.”  

“Oh yes.”  Adrien left the boxes on the table and turned around so he could hold her.  “He happens to be dead gone on you and would do anything to make his dream princess happy.”

“He sounds sweet,” she replied coyly, looking up at him through her lashes.  She rose up on her toes to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.  “But I hope you told him I have a very jealous husband and cat at home.”

“He knows, my love.  I go off to duel with him at dawn over you.  If I don’t come back, Cat Noir can have you with my blessing.”

Marinette fell into a fit of giggles, laughing so hard she ran out of breath and was left gasping in his arms, clinging to him to remain upright.

“You’re ridiculous!”  He grinned widely at her happy smile as she wiped laugh tears from her cheeks.  “Adrien, you always know how to make me laugh!”

“Good!  Step one of Operation: Holidate has made a successful start!”  He turned her and gave her a gentle push towards the stairs.  “Now, you go get dressed in something comfortable while I slip a twenty to the manager for a prime table in front of the fire.”

She chuckled on her way up the stairs to their room.

“Thank you for planning all this, Adrien,” Tikki said, flying out of the kitchen with two cloth napkins.  “Our girl works too hard.  She’s always put so much pressure on herself to get things done.  Whether that meant fighting akumas, homework, competitions, or presents for friends, she has trouble knowing when to ask for help.”

“But that’s why she has us.”  He went and grabbed two of their good china plates and some silverware, laying everything out nicely on the coffee table.  He lit a fire in the fireplace and candles all around the room, giving it a romantic, golden glow.  He even laid out little plates in the kitchen for their kwamis with some fried mozzarella for Plagg and a slice of chocolate torte for Tikki.  

The little red kwami flew up to his cheek for a fond nuzzle.  “You’re so thoughtful.  Thank you.”

He smiled and stroked the top of her head the way he often would for Plagg.  “You’re welcome,  Tikki.  You are so considerate that it is a pleasure to do nice things for you.”

There was a derogatory snort from Plagg and Tikki rolled her eyes.  “He should say thank you too, but he is too busy stuffing his face, as usual!”

There was a loud gulp followed by an even louder burp.  “Lay off, Tiks!  If you keep being this sweet, you’ll spoil him after I finally got him trained up right!”

Adrien chuckled.  “Just be thankful I’m not telling her about your teaching methods, you old stinker!”

“You can’t scare me until you’ve been around the block a few thousand times, Kitten!”

“Well, in that case, I’m sure Tikki would love to hear about the time when you encouraged me to sneak into Marinette’s room while she was out and-“

Suddenly his face was full of nervous, black kwami trying desperately to cover his mouth.  Adrien burst out laughing as Tikki shot Plagg a look that could blister paint and tackled him out of the air.

“What was that all about?”

He turned to see Marinette smirking at him with a raised eyebrow.  Adrien’s breath caught in his throat at the sight.  Her raven hair spilled around her shoulders in silky waves, held away from her face by a pink cloth headband.  She wore one of his dress shirts, the sleeves rolled up enough for her hands to show, and a worn pair of grey leggings.  She was beautiful, alluring in a way that only she could be for him and she did it without really trying.

A few years ago, Adrien would have been stunned stupid by the sight, but younger Adrien had been too afraid to speak his heart honestly.  He knew better now, he knew her better now, and he wasn’t afraid to say what was in his heart to the woman who held it gently in her own hands.

He stepped up to her, his hands running up and down her arms slowly, soothingly, despite the rapid tempo of his heartbeat.  “Have I ever told you what seeing you in my clothes does to me?”

Marinette looked up at him coyly and pretended to straighten his collar.  “Hmmm, at least once.  I believe there might have been something about kissing me senseless, but I was a little distracted at the time.”

“Didn’t Maman teach you never to eat dessert first,” he chided with a smirk of his own.  “You’ll spoil our lovely dinner.”

“You’ll spoil me, more likely,” she whispered and rose on her toes to kiss him softly.  “But you are right.  I’m starving and everything smells amazing!”

So they sat on the sofa, eating delicious food and listening to some soft jazz as they watched the firelight dance in each other’s eyes.  It was a beautiful moment, like the world had paused just for them to enjoy and Adrien burned it into his heart to remember forever.  There had been so many years of loneliness, heartache, fear, hurt, confusion, and, finally, acceptance before they had found each other.  

Marinette was his storm anchor, holding him fast when the world threatened to spiral out of control.  She had been there for him through it all, giving of herself and her golden heart long before he understood what love really was.  She fought his demons when he was no longer able to fight for himself.  She was his laughter, his peace, his home.  

And now, with her lying curled against his chest within the circle of his arms, he felt overwhelmed by the gift she always gave him.

“I love you, Princess,” he murmured softly, kissing her forehead with all the tenderness of his overflowing heart.  “I don’t know how I could have made it this far without you.  You are so precious to me, Marinette, and you need to take more time for you.  For us.  I need time with you.  You are what makes me feel whole and alive.  I… I’ve missed you, little bug.”

She looked up at him with eyes full of love and tears welling up in the corners.  “I’ve missed you too, Kitty.  I just know how much you disliked modeling for … that man and I don’t want to bring back unpleasant memories for you.  You’ve been so good about supporting me, but-“

He placed a gentle finger against her lips.  “None of that!  I love you, Marinette!  I have always supported your dreams of being a fashion designer!  Always!  And believe me, there is a world of difference between helping you with your boutique and working for Gabriel.  You are thoughtful and considerate of my needs, you listen respectfully when I offer suggestions, and you want to work with me.  More than anything, you love me and it shows in everything you do, my lady.  I look forward to building new memories at your side for the rest of our lives, but I need you to step out of your bubble in order to do that.  Okay?”

She blushed and sighed.  “You’re right.  I’ve just been trying to do it on my own and try to keep you from getting hurt.  You know that is the last thing I would ever want, right?”

He nodded and stroked a tendril of hair behind her ear.  “I know, but there are no more akumas… no more chances for broken moons, no mater what our nightmares may tell us.  So let me in more and come out more yourself.  You’re doing yourself no good staying locked away in your studio all day.”

She smiled up at him.  “Have I told you how much I like it when you stand firm like that?”

“Not recently,” he drawled, cuddling her closer to him.

“Well, I do.  Like it, I mean.  It makes me feel safe… protected… loved.”  She yawned hugely, stretching like a kitten on his lap.

“It really is getting late now, my love.”  He chuckled ruefully.  “I got down the boxes of garlands and things earlier.  I thought we could do some decorating, but you need sleep more than holiday spirit.”

She giggled sleepily, blinking her cornflower eyes slowly at him in a way that warmed him all over.  “Just so you know, I don’t deserve you.”

“So what do you deserve for saving the world a thousand times before getting out of university?”

Marinette leaned up and kissed him lightly on the end of his nose.  “A happy ending?”  She sighed and snuggled back against him.  He breathed in her sweet scent and sighed contentedly.  It was the scent of home.

He knew she would be asleep soon, but he didn’t want the moment to end just yet.  He wrapped his arms around her more firmly and settled deeper into the sofa, watching the firelight sparkle off the satin of her hair.

“Sounds good,” he whispered.  “As long as it’s with you.”

[bright-eyed]

Blah parent stuff therapy stuff embarrassing to post without a readmore but I’m getting it all out

Talking to my parents is… so remember you will always be on your own for everything and no one will help you. Which is a lesson I have already learned in full but I keep going back. Partly out of hope that it will be different this time, partly to be reminded.

I sometimes blame myself for it but i also know it’s just something children instinctively do with their parents, no matter how much we grow up or how unreliable they are for us, because there’s something biological that reaches out to them for support. But it’s like… I know I’m not going to find it and I hate this instinct to be comforted and helped by them but I keep doing it like a rat in a lab electrocuting itself over and over to relieve stress.

Talking about it w my therapist and realizing it’s just their lack of emotional maturity on top of me being a naturally sensitive person has been helpful, but also there were years where I believed it was just that I was subhuman or was doing something wrong and that belief led me to turn away from people who could have actually empathized with me, as well as so many other horrible things I’ve done to myself, which led to this weird moated tower life. It’s nice to not just passively accept that there is something innate about me that is unknowable and wrong but I still can’t go back and undo years of carrying that. It’s not something you can just put down.

But even then, despite all the emotional loneliness and neglect that I grew up with as a result of it I suppose I’m still grateful for my sensitivity because it has given me a depth of life that I know my family will probably never have. Obviously it sucks that I’m beating my head against a wall trying to get them to love me, but I have no doubt they beat their own heads against their own walls and then wonder where these headaches and all this blood come from. I remember being seven or eight when I stopped being able to say i love you to them and I know they didn’t notice or think anything of it for years but now I’m sure they wonder why I don’t say it. I don’t think they ever go so far as to ask themselves if they did anything wrong but they might still wonder. And there’s never a way I will be able to say it and they’ll never know why. I’m sure that’s hard for them even though I know they’ve never thought about it in so many words. To live life half senseless doesn’t save you from pain entirely, and might make the pain more confusing.

I used to be so jealous of my sister because she seemed to not have my problems and always found it so much easier to relate to them and they always favored her and were so obvious in their love for her, which were all more reasons for me to believe it was all my fault, but then last week I read this:

“Enmeshment sometimes manifests as playing favorites (Libby 2010). It can be hard to watch your parent give attention to a preferred sibling, making you wonder why your parent never showed that kind of interest in you. But obvious favoritism isn’t a sign of a close relationship; it’s a sign of enmeshment. It’s likely that the preferred sibling has a psychological maturity level similar to your parent’s (Bowen 1978). Low levels of emotional maturity pull people into mutual enmeshment, especially if they are parent and child.

Remember, emotionally immature parents relate on the basis of roles, not individuality. If you had an independent, self-reliant personality, your parent wouldn’t have seen you as a needy child for whom he or she could play the role of rescuing parent. Instead, you may have been pegged as the child without needs, the little grown-up. It wasn’t some sort of insufficiency in you that made your parent pay more attention to your sibling; rather, it’s likely that you weren’t dependent enough to trigger your parent’s enmeshment instincts.

Interestingly, self-sufficient children who don’t spur their parents to become enmeshed are often left alone to create a more independent and self-determined life (Bowen 1978). Therefore, they can achieve a level of self-development exceeding that of their parents. In this way, not getting attention can actually pay off in the long run. But in the meantime, high-functioning children still have the pain of feeling left out as their parent pours energy into emotional enmeshment with one or more siblings.”

But maybe I should be grateful for having been forced to turn to nature and art and literature and animals because even though I was always still lonely I’ve found so much in those things that saved me. So many mary oliver poems just rushed through my mind writing that but obviously especially wild geese, which I think resonate with so many people for really sad reasons. “Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, / the world offers itself to your imagination, / calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting — / over and over announcing your place / in the family of things.” It’s a tough way to grow up, but it’s a way to grow. Maybe eventually I’ll feel more gratefulness than despair. Like everything else it’s probably mostly a matter of perspective.

I know what I’m asking for is a basic need. Humans need to connect emotionally with other humans and creatures and the world, and loneliness is just as real as thirst or hunger. Asking to be seen and emotionally connected to is not too much to ask for, generally. But with my family it is. Not because my emotion receptors are broken or something. They just can’t connect with me in that way. And that’s really sad and it really sucks. But I have resources 🌳🧘🏼‍♀️🔮

[janis-1987]

This is probably gonna be the most self indulgent fanfic I’ve ever written. 

Based on these posts  X, X  by @bulkhummus

This is meant to take place after episode 227 but before the next episode. 

Tw: Violence

 Cecil coughs and spits out a tooth that had been knocked loose from the punch he had just endured from Dr. Jones. It was the last in a series of them from Dr. Lubelle’s team. 

 “Had enough?” Dr. Jones taunts, smirking down at Cecil, convinced that they had won. They had been going about this for a good 15 minutes now, and Cecil had just heard Lubelle take over his show, the man should be begging for mercy about now.

 Cecil can't help the smirk that appears on his face, “Please, my weekly re-education is worse than this.” He taunts his captor and current torturer. It was true after all, this was nothing. It hurt sure, but he had been through worse.   

 Dr. Jones sneers, getting in Cecil’s face, “We will break you Cecil. It is only a matter of time.” 

 Cecil scoffs, “I’d like to see you try.” 

 Dr. Jones glares at him, pulling his head up by his hair, Cecil groans slightly at the feeling but he refuses to say anything. “Is that a challenge?” 

 Cecil doesn't respond, not like he has the time to. Almost immediately after being asked, Dr. Jones lands another punch on his face, this time with brass knuckles, causing a gash in the side of Cecil’s face. Cecil yells out in pain but he will not crack so easily. 

  It takes hours of various torture methods before the scientists start to lose hope. They'd tased him, beat him practically senseless, water-bored him, everything and besides being obviously hurt, Cecil didn't seem any closer to breaking than when they started.

 Dr. Jones stomps his foot, "Ugh! Why won't you just give up already?! Hell, how are you even still alive?"

 Cecil offers no response, squaring his jaw as he prepares himself for whatever is next. He wouldn't give in, he couldn't. He needed to hold firm on this. He would not betray his town or himself.

 Dr. Jones runs his hand through his hair as he paces, frustrated beyond belief. He was almost tempted to let Cecil go. What else was there to do? Cecil didn't care at all what they did to him. There had to be something that would make him tick. Everyone had a weakness of some kind.

 It was then that he was brought back to the night at the Moonlight All Night Diner, the one thing that got under Cecil's skin. He looks to another scientist. "you know, maybe it's time we bring Carlos into this."

 Cecil's head snaps up to look at them and he struggles against his binds. "NO!" He roars, his voice filled with panic.

 Dr. Jones chuckles darkly, there it was, the reaction they'd been dying to get from him, "Ah, so there is something that gets to you."

 Cecil gives Dr. Jones the dirtiest look he's given anyone in his whole life and if looks could kill, Dr. Jones would be dead, "You leave Carlos out of this."

 "And why should I? You are so... Unresponsive to everything else. So the only logical option, would be to bring in the one person that's gotten a reaction from you." Dr. Jones asks with a tone of arrogance.

 Tears fall from Cecil's eyes, and he fights against the restraints violently, injuring his wrists as he does. "Don't you dare! If you bring Carlos into this I'll- I'll-"

 "You'll what? Come on Cecil, threaten me, stoop down to my level, I’m sure Carlos will love that.” He taunts the man before him as he watches him squirm and struggle more desperately than he had the entire time they had been torturing him. 

 Cecil falls silent at that, he can't help but think of his husband and how disappointed he would be in him if he did stoop down to his level, but it was so hard not to. His resolve was cracking now at the idea of his sweet husband, the love of his life, sitting across from him being treated the same way he was being treated, he couldn't let that happen, he wouldn't. Not to mention, what would they do with their son? Who would watch him? No. No, he couldn't spiral like this right now. Finally, he swallows nervously, “I’m being held against my will. I’m sure Sherif Sam would love to arrest you for that and assault.” He says, grasping desperately at straws, he was pretty sure he had said the right things.   Dr. Jones can't help but laugh, “Oh Cecil. Cecil, Cecil, Cecil, even if someone did tell him, they would still have to find you and they would have to get past our security. Face it, you're trapped. And soon, your husband will be too. Unless of course, you start to see things, our way.” He says with a smug smirk on his face.  He looks at the doctor that stands in front of him, his third eye the only one that remains open. he was battered and bruised and honestly exhausted. But he could handle all of that, What he couldn't handle was the idea of his husband, an innocent bystander in all this, being forced to endure this torture. He hangs his head in defeat. He couldn't believe it had come down to this. Betraying his town, the place he loved so dearly, the people he had grown up with, his friendly desert community. He didn't want to do this, but what choice did he have? He loved his town, but he loved his husband more. “Fine.”  Dr. Jones claps his hands together, “Excellent, first things first, we need to figure out that extra eye of yours.” 

[stormkobra-5]

✨ I HEARD ASKS WERE OPEN DARLING ✨

So- I think the moon boys deserve a goth s/o for many many reasons, the number one reason being the contrast between their s/o looking like a creepy Victorian doll and the boys body in like jeans and collared shirt lol

Elaborate however you wish dearest homie *smoochies* love ya

✨Hello Gadget my homie✨

*claps hands together eagerly* Alright. Do I have both thoughts and thots to bless you with.

Let’s start with Steven, our sweet boi. When you first meet he honestly probably finds you intimidating. He’s a shy sweetheart, so he’d have trouble getting up the courage to say anything to you. But once you start talking he’s immediately at ease, because you’re so friendly. He geeks out with you over the design of your outfit and the Victorian era and then, when you go out, Steven’s not so nervous with you. And honestly? He’s a little turned on by how well you can kick ass. A couple weeks into dating you’re mugged or something and you beat the shit out of the attackers, cueing Steven to pull you deeper into the alleyway and press you up against a wall— all while asking if that’s okay.

Marc, our mercenary man with a heart of gold. He’s braver (obvs) and finds your choice of style fascinating, even if he pretends to treat you no differently. Behind your back, he’s always staring and is actually more smug than he thought he’d be when people stare at the two of you, pointedly taking your hand, kissing your knuckles, entwining your fingers. And honestly this boy’s got the hots for the clothes, he’ll fuck you six ways to Sunday with as much on as he can before doing it again without them.

Jake. Our favorite Spanish murder husband. Sesenta y nueve. First of all, he’s definitely been eyeing you since he saw you, and Jake’s not one to play games. He approaches you with a rose and asks, “¿Irás a cenar conmigo, hermosa?” And of course you say yes, who wouldn’t? Jake is literally always showing you off, he’s so proud. “Look at ‘em. Mi vida.” He’s on a strict look-don’t-touch basis with you, which only goads you into flirting with other guys. And when you get back to your apartment, Jake decides to pay you back for that, but not in the way you’d expect. He strips down completely, makes you stay in your clothes, and kisses you senseless, hands roaming, before flipping over and chirping “Buenos noches cariño!” and then he doesn’t even let you change into pajamas, turning to lay on you when you try. But Jake’s not gonna let you suffer— once he’s sure you’ve learned your lesson he’ll give in and fuck you so good you’re shaking.

Only my 2nd headcanon, so I hope it’s good! ^^ (I may need practice tho tbh)