#at the end of the day though everyone is different and everyone has a process that works for them
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Which DBZ antagonist do you like the most?
Boring opinion, I know, but I gotta give it up for the Obvious Choice.
And I'm not just saying that because I haven't had a chance to talk about him yet.
Frieza runs a real estate empire that carries out genocidal acts of gentrification, purging tracts of land of their native inhabitants so he can sell their land for profit. Commenting on this choice for his ultimate villain, Akira Toriyama stated that he made this decision because real estate speculators are the worst people there are.
Fucking based.
From the moment we meet Frieza, he is a monster. Toriyama likes this Big Guy Little Guy dynamic where the Little Guy is the one you really need to watch out for. Frieza is the Littlest Guy ever.
He's so tiny. And yet you know exactly who the most dangerous person in this group is. Zero question.
By the end of this altercation, Frieza reveals one of his signature attacks, giving us our first glimpse of the kind of person and the kind of fighter he is. This is such an important moment for his character and I'm kinda mad that the anime had Dodoria do it instead.
Muri destroys the Scouters and blinds Frieza. I've talked before at length about the devastating impact that this move and the Namekian warriors' attack has on Frieza's campaign.
But once it's done, he has to face the music. He's not getting out of this alive.
In one last desperation play, Muri tells Cargo and Dende to run while blocking them with his body. And that's when it happens.
This is Frieza.
Specifically, this is Frieza's Death Beam. It's never actually given a name, but is generally referred to as Death Beam. We've seen a move like this only once before.
The Dodonpa, signature technique of Tsuru-senryu, first introduced by the assassin Taopaipai, was built for extreme lethality. This is not a technique for fighting; It's a technique for killing.
What makes Frieza's Death Beam stand out from the Dodonpa, however, is its accuracy and its speed. He threads the needle around Muri to hit Cargo before anyone even has a chance to react.
We see its accuracy and speed again six days later, when it finally catches up to the other child fleeing from him here.
The panelwork here calling attention to everyone's reactions as Frieza's ki bullet shoots past them, as his shot threads the needle between all obstacles in his path to strike his target far behind them. Dende is dead before anyone can even process that Frieza fired.
This is the difference between the two techniques. The Dodonpa is a gun. The Death Beam is a sniper rifle. Faced with the physical hurdle of bodies impeding his path, Frieza point-clicked Cargo and Dende to death.
He later executes Vegeta this same way.
Done with you.
All of this context for Frieza's sniping shot serves to set up the stunning subversion when Goku arrives to fight.
Frieza's never seen this before. Goku shouldn't even be able to see the shots coming until they've perforated his lungs. That's how Death Beam works. It's this moment that lays it out: Frieza's about to be tested like he's never been tested before.
Speaking of cool techniques, I've always been partial to this move from his Third Form.
The anime gives Frieza little ki bullets coming out of his fingers but I want to note that we never see a physical projectile when he's doing this. Frieza jams his fingers back and forth in the air while something pulverizes Piccolo.
I've always imagined he's poking the air so fast that it's hitting Piccolo with pressurized air currents. Similar to Goku's Mazoku air current punch from the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai.
But that's just me.
In any case, Frieza's got some fun moves. He's something of a hobbyist martial artist. Which is to say, Frieza has an interest in martial arts. In addition to his Death Beam, Frieza's concocted a litany of other interesting techniques.
He even invented the Kienzan, independently of Krillin.
Though he can remote operate his Kienzan so it's strictly better than Krillin's. Frieza, in his spare time, has come up with a bunch of cool moves. Too bad he has no idea how to use them.
Frieza's greatest weakness is his inexperience. He practices martial arts the way a business CEO who bought a log splitter so he can cut some wood and feel woodsy practices agriculture. Frieza has never had a proper chance to truly experience martial arts, because he was born too powerful.
The only partner who's ever even dirtied his skin was his dad.
And even that isn't much. Frieza's too strong. He wants to pursue martial arts. He wants to hone his technique. But when you win every fight by blinking too hard in the opponent's direction, what even is there to practice?
Frieza created a transformation to seal away his immeasurable ki because he was born with so much ki flowing from him that he can't even contain it. At his peak, Frieza's ki bleeds out of him. He simply can't contain it.
Goku wonders aloud why Frieza took so long, even after the fight turned against him, to go to 100%. Frieza's been all "Oh I'm only using 10% power this is my 50% you made me go to 75%" and Goku's like, "Okay. My dude. What's this about, for real?
This, incidentally, is not a great translation. What Goku's saying here is supposed to be basically, "Perhaps when you use your full power, your body can't handle it."
He is correct.
Frieza's Full Power has a lot in common with Super Saiyan 3. His theoretical maximum ability is wildly different from the reality of what he's capable of, because he bleeds ki like it's going out of style.
So, while other characters wound up earning transformations that make them more powerful, Frieza created a transformation to seal away some of his incomprehensible ki.
Then he created a couple more because even though he could now control his strength and even manipulate the amount of ki he's releasing at a time, he was still too powerful for anyone to ever compete with and needed even more ki sealed away.
Again, not a fantastic translation from the people who brought us "bottom-tier boy", as Frieza's statement here could be interpreted as saying that he gets taken by a berserker rage or something.
What he's saying is more like, "My power is so great that I can't properly contain it."
Point is, Frieza transformed to lock down his ki and seal parts of it away, so he could control the rest better. Then he kept going, locking away more and more and more of his ki. And even at his most nerfed, he's still five times more powerful than the Second Strongest Guy in the Universe.
Frieza has never in his life had the opportunity to be pushed. That's what makes Goku so enthralling to him.
Frieza plays with Goku because he's genuinely having the time of his life. This guy can fight him in his Final Form. Nobody can fight him in his Final Form. He's so happy, he straight-up forgets that he's trying to complete a genocide against Goku's entire race.
He said that five minutes ago. Gohan's hidden power freaked Frieza the fuck out. Saiyans are too strong now. They've gotten too strong. Frieza cannot permit them to keep existing because they're getting strong. Every last Saiyan, every last one, must die. Every single one. Scorched earth, no survivors.
But then he meets a Saiyan martial artist who's a technical master and pushes him more than he ever thought possible and suddenly:
He goes from "Saiyans are TOO STRONG and they all must die because they might threaten me" to "OH MY GOD I'M HAVING SO MUCH FUN CAN I KEEP YOU!?"
It's this desire for a true rival, this opportunity to satisfy his amateur's curiosity about martial arts, that ultimately unravels him. Frieza has one ruthless and pragmatic option for ending this fight once it starts to be too much for him. He can technically stop the fight any time he wants.
But he can't bring himself to do it. He wants to fight. He wants to compete. Frieza's been on the outside looking in at martial arts for his entire life and even when his greatest fears are fulfilled and the Super Saiyan is in front of him, he wants to try.
So when he does attempt to pull his Lethal Ragequit, he pulls back at the last second. He can't bring himself to do it. Goku initially assesses that Frieza held back out of fear of hurting himself.
But later, as Frieza begins unlocking the final chains on his ki, Goku changes his assessment. Noting that if Frieza really held back simply out of a mistake, he could have shot the planet again at any point to finish the job. He's been letting this play out because he can't bring himself to end the greatest fight of his life that way.
This fight is still happening because Frieza wants to compete. I mean, he wants to win, of course, but he wants to win as a martial artist. He's never truly gotten to be a martial artist before.
He is not the guy winning the gold medal at the Tenkaichi Budokai. He has never been that guy. He's the guy who buys up the land the Tenkaichi Budokai is held on and then bulldozes all the people off of it. But in his heart of hearts, he wants to be that guy. That guy is so cool. Frieza wants to play too.
In a sense, by hosting the Cell Games, Cell got to live Frieza's greatest fantasy.
This is who Frieza is. He's the cruel and wicked heir to Genocide Realtors Inc., who is in love with the idea of being Tenshinhan - A desire that exists at odds with - and undermines - his pragmatic business sense, so to speak.
He is the most vile character in the history of Dragon Ball. The worst kind of person. He is also an overeager child whose wealth and privilege prevents him from ever truly enjoying his hobbies, to an extent that he'd be almost pitiable but for all the genocides.
And he is Dragon Ball's greatest villain.
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a wound to close, the whole thing open
zutara month, day 2: journal/diary.
summary: when katara searches the attic of ember island, she comes across a journal, hidden away on an old bookshelf.
warnings: implied/referenced child abuse wrt ozai's treatment of zuko. what's referenced here is emotional abuse and i would say at show-canon levels.
other notes: title is from gracie abrams' "camden". also, this fic is very much 'picture taken moments before mild disaster', because i imagine after the end, katara still finds ozai's baby picture, thinking it's zuko, and her thought process is 'well that was sad but look at cute baby zuko!' oops!
Katara knows she’s wrong to snoop, but it’s just so hard to resist now they’re somewhere a young Zuko once lived for stolen weeks of golden summers at a time. For so long, she’d never wondered about him much at all—she’d had, after all, no reason to want to know the boy who chased them around the world in his pursuit of capturing Aang—but things are different now.
First, there had been the catacombs of Ba Sing Se, and she’d caught another glimpse of that boy, another side of him. Wearing Earth Kingdom robes two sizes too big for him, with grief and sympathy that matched hers shining in his eyes, saying strange things about destiny and curses and seeming so lost.
Katara had spent long weeks after the fact wondering whether any of it was true as she struggled to capture sleep on that stolen Fire Navy ship.
Of course, that was far from the only anxiety on her mind. Wondering when Aang would wake up, if he would at all… Sokka’s growing plans for the invasion, and what it could mean for all of them… being with her father for the first time in years, how half of her wanted to light up at the comfort of it but the other couldn’t dare because he went away and what if it happened again?
And Zuko…
She would turn to her other side, her chin resting on a flat hand, and wonder about him. He’d seemed so sincere, but Katara had wondered often how that could be the case when just moments later, he was catapulting rage and fire in her direction.
But then he’d come to them and begged for a chance to prove himself.
And even before she wanted to, far before she felt ready for it, she’d started to come to know things about him. How he would get up at dawn every morning—rising with the sun, she’d thought bitterly—to practice his own firebending forms before his lessons with Aang. How he’d sometimes frown when making the first batch of tea for them around a campfire and then make a second and always seemed to light up when their meals had a little extra spice to them.
How he would sometimes squirm just a little and hesitate a beat and sometimes even bristle before smiling shyly when the others teased him, as though it took a moment to steady his footing and catch up to the fact that it was only teasing.
She had started to know him, to really know him, before she’d wanted to, before she’d forgiven him, before she decided it was safe to let the distance between them shrink.
But now they’re friends. And with the comet looming in the coming days, with things a little tense and strange between everyone since that disaster of the play, and with the vestiges of Zuko’s childhood right here, it’s hard not to be curious.
And, as she reasons to herself while setting the cooking pot of solid silver atop the bookshelf, at least she has deniability.
The shelves are lined with old books, with gold thread traced through their spines, and old scrolls with white parchment coloring yellow, with shiny maps, and…
Katara’s brow scrunches as she catches sight of what seems to be an old journal, bound by leatherskins, poking out from behind one of the old tomes, clearly meant to be hidden away.
She reaches for it. It’s such a small, delicate thing, really, but it feels heavy in her hands.
When she flips to the first pages, she recognizes the symbols for Zuko’s name, written out in a long, intense, careful scrawl. She’s never seen his handwriting before, but it matches what she might’ve guessed it would look like, teetering between bold and delicate.
Katara flips past the first pages, which seem to mostly consist of Zuko practicing his letters, and comes across what seems to be a draft of a letter he’d written to Iroh, certain lines crossed out or words respelled after an ink-permanent error. He asks after when Iroh will return from the war—and she shudders to think that the kindly old man who'd helped them on more than one occasion had once been much different, the terrible Dragon of the West, laying siege to Ba Sing Se.
But in another line, Zuko writes to his uncle about a festival and paper dragons. Her heart swells to think he was once so young and even playful.
Atop the right corner of the page, there is a tiny, shaded-in sketch of a blooming fire lily. Katara smiles.
She flips through more pages, most of which are much the same as the first several, but then pauses. On this one, there are dark patches—the kind that she can tell came from water drying on the parchment, and it’s now wrinkled. Once, she might have been able to salvage the page with her bending, but the water has long-since dried up and left only deterioration in its wake.
It’s…
The page is tear-stained. He’d cried when writing this.
Gulping, Katara squints her eyes to read his small script, so much shakier than the previous pages had been. She can’t read most of it, for the smears and the wrinkling of the page, and she’s not sure she even wants to, anyway, because what she does manage to scan through makes her feel a little sick, her stomach clenching.
—don’t know what I can do, he had written, and it’s all too easy to imagine a much younger version of her friend with tears in his eyes, sobs wracking his shoulders, a lonely figure in a dark attic. — to better, to not so weak.
There's a series of words Katara can’t make out, but she does catch Father and love.
And then, one shining beacon of hope:
But Mom says—
The writing stops there. She will never know what his mother used to say.
She flips through the rest of the journal, but the pages are hauntingly blank. There are no more entries after that.
Katara places the journal back where it was tucked and has the vague sense that she’s back where she started.
A strange guilt gnaws at her. Somehow, she thinks she understands Zuko both better and worse than she did before.
#trigger: child abuse.#trigger: emotional abuse.#trigger: abuse.#zutaramonth2024#zutara#atla#katara#zuko#my fic#a wound to close the whole thing open#day 2: journal/diary.#zutara month#one day i will write something more explicitly romantic for one of these prompts. maybe. anyway
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hi☺️ how are you?🫶🏻 I recently got an idea for a fic (I used to write but i’m honestly not satisfied with my works yet so i never posted anything) andd I was wondering if you have any tips maybe? Because I can’t stress enough how talented you are! (if you ever write a book pls let me know!!!) and i’d really appreciate some tips if you were willing to give me some🫶🏻 My ideas usually come in my mind visually, like i’m watching a film, and I struggle finding the right words to express what’s in my head and I’m not sure how to fix that😕 in my head it’s so intense and full of emotion and alive but when i’m writing… it’s a disaster I think🥲 anyway thank you in advance whether you decide to give me tips or not, i know it’s a lot to ask but I adore the way you write🫶🏻☀️
AKJFHDSKF THANK YOU LOVIE !!! This is so sweet and nice of you to say, I appreciate the kind words more than you know 💕
I would absolutely love to give you tips ! I've answered a few asks like this in the past, one of which you can find here just to save time and reiterate most of what I would say.
It sounds like you've got the overall plot of your story nailed down and you know what you want to write, so the best thing I would recommend for your visualizing tactic is to make an outline that can better depict the progression of the whole thing. I totally get wanting to just control c + control v your thoughts onto a page and be done with it, but that's where being patient with yourself comes in. The outline doesn't need to be followed to the letter (mine very rarely are), but it can really help you organize the order of events you're imagining in your head.
Take your time with describing the scenes in your story that build up to that final, pinnacle moment. It might seem like you're rambling, but in my personal experience the added attention there really pays off in the end. I always follow the 'show-not-tell' guideline when I write so there's less of me telling the readers what's going on and more of me showing it. An example would be a character's body language changing when they're uncomfortable, or icy wind leeching the warmth from their cheeks. Little things like that can add life to a story vs. simply stating "He was uncomfortable" or "She was cold".
Writing isn't a linear process for most people. There's ups and downs and lengthy breaks followed by intense, week long binges of word vomit, so definitely be kind to yourself and have fun with it ! If you need anything else feel free to shoot me another ask or DM me, I would be happy to help ! Have a great day and good luck my dear 💗
#asks#I need to start tagging my writing tips cause I hate to sound like a broken record and I mostly reiterate the things that work for me#at the end of the day though everyone is different and everyone has a process that works for them#I can't stress enough how helpful creating an outline or taking notes can be though#the hand kink fic had me handwriting four pages of notes that I kept next to me while typing the whole thing#and when all else fails just remember it took five months for me to finish the damn thing so you really can't do worse than that LMAO#please come back here if you need more help anon I can cater my advice to you specifically if I glean more info about your story <3#writing tips
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Opinion Here’s how to get free Paxlovid as many times as you need it
When the public health emergency around covid-19 ended, vaccines and treatments became commercial products, meaning companies could charge for them as they do other pharmaceuticals. Paxlovid, the highly effective antiviral pill that can prevent covid from becoming severe, now has a list price of nearly $1,400 for a five-day treatment course.
Thanks to an innovative agreement between the Biden administration and the drug’s manufacturer, Pfizer, Americans can still access the medication free or at very low cost through a program called Paxcess. The problem is that too few people — including pharmacists — are aware of it.
I learned of Paxcess only after readers wrote that pharmacies were charging them hundreds of dollars — or even the full list price — to fill their Paxlovid prescription. This shouldn’t be happening. A representative from Pfizer, which runs the program, explained to me that patients on Medicare and Medicaid or who are uninsured should get free Paxlovid. They need to sign up by going to paxlovid.iassist.com or by calling 877-219-7225. “We wanted to make enrollment as easy and as quick as possible,” the representative said.
Indeed, the process is straightforward. I clicked through the web form myself, and there are only three sets of information required. Patients first enter their name, date of birth and address. They then input their prescriber’s name and address and select their insurance type.
All this should take less than five minutes and can be done at home or at the pharmacy. A physician or pharmacist can fill it out on behalf of the patient, too. Importantly, this form does not ask for medical history, proof of a positive coronavirus test, income verification, citizenship status or other potentially sensitive and time-consuming information.
But there is one key requirement people need to be aware of: Patients must have a prescription for Paxlovid to start the enrollment process. It is not possible to pre-enroll. (Though, in a sense, people on Medicare or Medicaid are already pre-enrolled.)
Once the questionnaire is complete, the website generates a voucher within seconds. People can print it or email it themselves, and then they can exchange it for a free course of Paxlovid at most pharmacies.
Pfizer’s representative tells me that more than 57,000 pharmacies are contracted to participate in this program, including major chain drugstores such as CVS and Walgreens and large retail chains such as Walmart, Kroger and Costco. For those unable to go in person, a mail-order option is available, too.
The program works a little differently for patients with commercial insurance. Some insurance plans already cover Paxlovid without a co-pay. Anyone who is told there will be a charge should sign up for Paxcess, which would further bring down their co-pay and might even cover the entire cost.
Several readers have attested that Paxcess’s process was fast and seamless. I was also glad to learn that there is basically no limit to the number of times someone could use it. A person who contracts the coronavirus three times in a year could access Paxlovid free or at low cost each time.
Unfortunately, readers informed me of one major glitch: Though the Paxcess voucher is honored when presented, some pharmacies are not offering the program proactively. As a result, many patients are still being charged high co-pays even if they could have gotten the medication at no cost.
This is incredibly frustrating. However, after interviewing multiple people involved in the process, including representatives of major pharmacy chains and Biden administration officials, I believe everyone is sincere in trying to make things right. As we saw in the early days of the coronavirus vaccine rollout, it’s hard to get a new program off the ground. Policies that look good on paper run into multiple barriers during implementation.
Those involved are actively identifying and addressing these problems. For instance, a Walgreens representative explained to me that in addition to educating pharmacists and pharmacy techs about the program, the company learned it also had to make system changes to account for a different workflow. Normally, when pharmacists process a prescription, they inform patients of the co-pay and dispense the medication. But with Paxlovid, the system needs to stop them if there is a co-pay, so they can prompt patients to sign up for Paxcess.
Here is where patients and consumers must take a proactive role. That might not feel fair; after all, if someone is ill, people expect that the system will work to help them. But that’s not our reality. While pharmacies work to fix their system glitches, patients need to be their own best advocates. That means signing up for Paxcess as soon as they receive a Paxlovid prescription and helping spread the word so that others can get the antiviral at little or no cost, too.
{source}
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DP x DC Prompt #4
When they all convene at the cave, Alfred is silently wrapping Dick's knuckles. Damian hovers beside him. Tim and Barbara are hunched over the batcomputer, not even sparing Bruce a glance as he strides over.
"Report," Batman grunts. No one reacts.
"Report!"
"Hood pushed his panic button at 2:34 AM," Barbara says shortly, straightening.
The button had been a joke, mostly because Jason would never use it and everyone knew it.
"I patched into his comm at 2:35. This is what I heard initially." At her nod, Tim presses play. What occurs next is a garble. There is the sound of high winds, as if Hood is rushing through the air, even though the comms are designed to filter out any ambiance otherwise the Bats would never hear each other. Interspersed is a mixture of static punctuated by high, inhuman screeches of metal and something else unknown.
"This goes on," Barbara says after thirty long seconds, switching it off. "Red Hood failed to respond to any attempts at contact. I dispatched Nightwing to Hood's location at 2:36 AM. He was approximately two miles away." She pulls up a GPS map of their respective locations, their beacons blinking.
"At 2:41 AM, Red Hood's comm goes off, as does his GPS," Barbara says, swallowing softly as the red beacon indicating Jason disappears. "Nightwing arrives at 2:42 AM."
Dick doesn't say anything, head hanging low as he grips the metal table he sits on. Damian glances between the two of them, expression flat but fists clenched.
"Nightwing, report."
"..."
"Scene was empty, B," Tim speaks up. "No trace of Hood, no sign of a struggle. No cameras in the alley. We've been checking the ones nearby but so far there's no sign of anyone but Hood heading in that direction...and no one, Hood included, caught in the cams heading out, not within that time frame."
"So he's still in the area," Batman concludes. "The local buildings?"
"All the entrances have cameras, which showed no evidence of Hood nor any evidence of being tampered with," Barbara says. "Nightwing, Red Robin and Robin canvased within a half mile radius to check for any signs of disturbances in any of the windows or rooftops but found no evidence to support Hood being taken. A scan confirmed several serial offenders, but when interviewed and searched there was no sign of Hood. Several in the area reported an unusual quiet for Crime Alley."
Batman forces the next question out. "Did you check the dumpsters?"
"Yes," Nightwing grits out. "Empty."
Barbara clears her throat. "I have attempted to reconnect to Jason's GPS and comm as well as restart both remotely but there's no signal at all. The thing is, when there's a disruption like that it usually leaves some sort of sign" she pulls up the audio waves, pointing at the end where the spikes conform into a straight line that makes everyone deeply uncomfortable. Upon playing, the noise from before plays before going abruptly silent. "But there is no large spike, this is clean. It just ends. His GPS is much the same. It's not off, it's just gone."
"I know you don't like to hypothesize this early on, B, but we think this involves a meta," Tim says, rewinding the audio. "We've been running the audio from Jason's comm through different filters, playing with the levels and isolating what we can and, well, take a listen--"
The screeching drops to a sort of muffle and in the background, distantly, they can hear bits of Jason's voice.
"No, I'm not---"
"--don't need--"
"get AWAY from--"
a particularly desperate yell that makes Tim flinch, "I am NOT--!"
and almost a whimper that makes Batman's blood run cold, "please..."
And then, unfairly clear even through the faint garble, Jason says "I don't have a choice, do I."
And a minute later, quietly: "Ok."
The audio cuts off.
The defeat in Jason's last words is palpable, and fundamentally wrong. Jason has never sounded defeated a day in his life, and no one knows how to process Red Hood all but giving his hands over for the cuffs. Nightwing pushes himself off the table.
"I'm going back out there," he growls. No one tries to stop him as he stalks out the cave, not even Alfred.
"I will accompany Nightwing, make sure he does not punch any more walls." Damian says, nodding tightly.
"B?" Barbara asks.
"Keep working on it. See if you can identify what could be making those noises if Hood was standing still in an alley," Batman says, walking towards the zeta tube. "I'm going to make a few calls."
#batman#danny: how do i take this incredibly volatile vigilante that shoots first talks later and scares the crap outta me to a doctor#danny: I scaRE HIM HARDER#danny phantom#red hood#nightwing#red robin#dp x dc#oracle#dp x dc au#batfam#dp x dc prompt#dp x dc crossover
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i need help
summary: Rafe has a breakdown and he finally asks for help
word count: 1.4k
warnings: angsty and fluffy?, crying, mentions of drugs and alcohol, ward is the worst father (this is ward’s hate space btw💋)
a/n: I just want to baby him. so yeah, soft/clingy Rafe again because apparently, I can’t write anything else right now🙂
You were sitting on Rafe’s bed, patiently listening to his firm footsteps on the staircase. The room was dimly lit only by a lamp from the nightstand and you fought back an urge to fall on your back and fall asleep with your face in his pillow.
Yet the harsh and cold voice made your head clear of your thoughts and you finally noticed your best friend walking into his own room.
“What are you doing here?” Rafe grumbled at you as soon as he slammed the door, turned the lock and turned around, only to see you sitting on his bed.
“What?” His bloodshot eyes were burning holes into you and you innocently blinked at him, not understanding why he was acting so weird.
“I said, what–”
“Don’t yell at me.” You interrupted him calmly. “We wanted to hang out; it’s been a few days since it was just the two of us. You never complain when I come here.”
“Ye-yeah, fuck…sorry, I didn’t mean to.” You watched how Rafe started pacing around the room, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. He was almost shaking, his hair looking like a mess, and you would’ve thought that he was on the verge of tears. “I’m not in the mood right now, okay? We’ll do it another time. Can you leave now? I– I need to be alone.”
“No, Rafe, I’m not leaving. What happened?” Your brows furrowed, concern and nerves bubbling inside of your body as you watched how your friend and the guy you had a crush on was slowly breaking down.
“Nothing. Nothing happened, Y/N.” He mumbled, still not staying in one place. “Just go.”
“I told you no.”
“Why can’t you listen to what I’m fucking telling you?!” Rafe snapped, stepping closer to you as if he were trying to scare you away. Yet you remained still in your place, not even flinching. Your brows shot up in silent question, eyes were glued to his face, and especially to the way his own eyes became more glassy and watery with every second. “Fuck, fuck—I'm sorry, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to yell at you.”
“Then don’t. You know I hate it when you’re doing it, Rafe.” You continued calmly. “Sit here and tell me what happened. I see that something’s wrong. It’s been that way for a long time, right? You’re acting differently… C’mere.” You patted the bed near you, giving Rafe a reassuring smile.
“I don’t know what to do, Y/N.” Sitting near you on the bed and holding his head in his hands, Rafe spoke so quietly that you could barely hear him. “I’m going insane. I have issues and nobody hears me.” You slowly, as if you were touching a wounded animal, put your hand on his back, slowly moving it up and down.
“Tell me. I’m here and I hear you. Please tell me what’s going on.” You tried to sound as soft as you could, moving a little bit closer. “You know you can trust me.”
“There’s something wrong with me. I— I have thoughts in my head that I don’t like. They’re bad. They’re wrong. I don’t want to be violent or feel these things inside of me but I c-can’t stop. They’re stronger than I am and sometimes they’re messing with my head.” Rafe’s voice cracked at the end and you felt the violent beating of your heart in your chest. He sniffed a few times, desperately trying to be strong in front of you and to hide the disgusting things that were eating him up alive.
“Are they dangerous to others or to you?”
“Both.”
You slowly nodded, processing the information and trying not to show the way it actually freaked you out. Did you know that Rafe struggled with anger and was not everyone's favorite person? Well, yes. He was nothing but sweet to you, though. You saw that he was a nice person, with a good heart. The only thing that he wanted in return was to feel needed, important, and loved.
And you always gave it to him.
But realizing that there were problems so much deeper and that he was now screaming for help because he could not live like that anymore made you wonder how you could be so stupid to not notice the signs earlier.
“Did you talk to your dad about it? Maybe anyone else? Or is it just me? ” You finally reached Rafe's face with your hand, turning him in your direction. You’ve never seen him even shed a tear, not to mention the state that he was in right now and it was shocking how much it hurt you too. The look in his pretty eyes was so desperate and so hurtful that you felt sick.
“He told me to man up. Cool, right? Can’t even do shit without disappointing him. I–I said that I have problems, but he just ignored it. He told me to rest and that it'd be okay.” He smiled at you, even though tears were still freely streaming down his face. “I just thought that maybe once he would hear me. See me. Not Sarah. I’m so fucking tired of it.” He shook his head and looked down. “So it’s only you. Nobody really cares about me anyway, so...”
“Oh, Rafe… Come here.” He wasn’t resisting when you dragged him closer to you by his arm. No, instead, he wrapped his arms around you as if his life were depending on it. You hugged Rafe back, slowly lowering both of you on the bed, until he was lying almost on top of you with his face in the crook of your neck and your fingers slowly brushing through his hair.
What you noticed is that Rafe was always cautious with physical contact. Sometimes it seemed like he tried to be closer to you, sit near you, or casually play with your hands or hair, but the next day he was completely dispant and hesitant.
It was obvious that now Rafe lowered his guards; he let you see the damaged parts of him and he craved your touch because it was the only thing that could ground him.
“I need help. I’m tired of this shit in my head, and I don’t want to continue ruining my life with alcohol and drugs…but it just calms everything down for some time and I don’t know how to come out of this circle.” Rafe sobbed harder, his arms wrapping around you even more, until you were closer than you'd ever been before. Your own eyes were filled with tears, but you refused to show them. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being such a disappointment. P-please don’t walk away.”
You knew about Rafe’s lifestyle, but despite your words, he always made it seem like not a big deal, like something fun that he does at parties. Though now it was obvious that the facade that he had built was slowly falling down and drowning him in it too.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Rafe. It’s not your fault. But you do need help, darling.” You whispered, pet name rolling from your tongue faster than you could’ve processed it. “It’s important that you understand it. And I’m not leaving. It’s the last thing that should be in your head.”
“I do. I want to get clean. I want to be normal. I just don’t know how.”
“That’s okay. I’m here for you, yeah? Your dad may not hear you, but I do and I’ll help you. We’ll figure it out together tomorrow, okay? Now you need to rest a little bit.” You reached the end of the bed, dragging a duvet and covering both of you with it. Rafe didn't move an inch from your warmth.
“You promise?”
“I promise, Rafe. You mean a lot to me; you know that, right? More than you think.” You whispered, soothingly brushing his blond hair again.
“You mean a lot to me too. More than you think.”
#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x you#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fluff
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so, you've heard shows be recommended because they had gay characters. you don't really know what they're actually about though, and don't know if they'd be something you'd be into and are worried about spoilers. here's spoiler free plot summaries of em!
The Owl House
The Owl House starts out as a typical teenage girl goes into a fantasy realm story, but with a twist. Actions have consequences. The protagonist is a girl named Luz Noceda, who was being sent to a camp to make her behave normally by her mother after causing too much trouble at school. She ends up finding a place she's always dreamed of: a fantasy world. A world where everyone's so much weirder than she is. And she thinks, maybe if I don't belong out there, maybe people will like me here. Maybe I can be special here.
It's a story about found family, propaganda, erased history, living with disability, religious trauma, and neurodivergence. It's fundamentally a show about people who's brains work differently finding each other and making a family that treats them right. Definitely my favorite of the ones on this list. It's about people who've been oppressed being pissed about it and about finding yourself again after giving up on everyone around you for so long. It's basically a show about being a minority and trying to be understood and to understand yourself in the process. It's about growing up neurodivergent and how isolating it feels and figuring yourself out. It's about repairing broken relationships and parents who fuck up. And it's just. Such a love letter to anyone who was the weird kid in school. It's sad and heartbreaking and also so hopeful, and it's wonderful.
Content warnings: Abuse, Death, Grief, Animal Death, Suicidal thoughts, Vague suicide attempts, Depression, blink and you'll miss it s/h, body horror, religious trauma
She Ra and the Princesses Of Power
Adora was raised in the Horde since she was a baby, being fed propaganda about how cruel the princesses were. After learning how the horde actually was, though, she defects. But there's one problem. Her best friend, Catra, stays behind. Adora finds a sword that can transform her into She Ra, and might be the key to figuring out who she really is, while Catra takes her place as force captain.
It's a story about abuse, at the end of the day. Adora and Catra were stuck in a golden child and scapegoat dynamic, despite how much they care about each other. This leads to them knowing everything about each other but not understanding it. There's a fundamental disconnect between them, because both of their traumas are completely different. They have complete misconceptions about each other. Even in their initial split, they both have completely different perceptions of what's going on and why the other is upset. It's not a story about magic princesses, it's about the cycle of abuse and what makes it so complicated. Does it have flaws? Yeah. But ultimately I really really enjoy it, and when it does something right it does something RIGHT. Get through season one, it starts kids show-y but it gets very good during later s1.
Content warnings: Abuse (obviously), body horror, gaslighting (and I mean actual gaslighting, not what the Internet thinks gaslighting is), suicide, depression, flashing lights and eyestrain during the finale
Steven Universe
Steven Universe is a sins of the father story. Steven is the son of the leader of the rebel group The Crystal Gems, who's name was Rose Quartz. He navigates the confusion of being half gem and half human, as well as trying to figure out the mess of the rebellion and what his mother left behind. He's constantly in her shadow, for better or for worse.
It's a story about grief. How it impacts relationships, how it taints history, how it impacts family. It has some definite flaws, but ultimately it's about very flawed people who have lost so many people in their life trying to cope with it. Trying to handle what they lost and trying to adjust to life without them. It's about how expectations fuck a kid up and about agency and just a show about complicated relationships in general, at the end of the day. Also, it has some FANTASTIC music.
Content warnings: Grief, Abuse, body horror, very creepy people I don't know how to tag, heavy allegories for homophobia
Nimona
Nimona is a story about a guy who gets framed for murder. His name is Ballister Boldheart, a commoner who hoped to become a knight. It seemed everyone was waiting to watch him fail, so it was no surprise when he was the immediate target. Heavily injured and away from the man he loves, he's left alone trying to figure out a way to prove his innocence- until a strange kid comes into his life. This kids name is Nimona, and while he is intent on proving his innocence, she gave up on being anything but a villain a long time ago.
It's about deconstructing the model minority myth, trans rage, propaganda, and with a healthy dose of "FUCK the police".
Content warnings: Heavy injury, on screen suicide attempt, flashing lights
feel free to add more shows! just remember to keep the summaries as spoiler free as you can and add content warnings!
#show recommendations#movie recommendation#the owl house#toh#owl house#steven universe#shera#she ra#spop#nimona#queer#gay#lesbian#bisexual#trans#transgender#queer shows
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Queerplatonic Alastor x Reader Headcanons
Hehe my plan of writing headcanons for various Aroace-spec identity Alastor headcanons has begun. This one is with a cupioromantic and asexual Alastor in mind. I haven't seen enough of them, and as they say! "If you want it done right, you gotta do it yourself."
TW: Frustrations regarding romantic identity, complete unawareness of certain LGBTQ+ topics (my man's from the 1920's, he's almost completely in the dark), slight yandere behavior? (I feel he's just obsessive by default, regardless of the relationship type)
• So, this man has never necessarily identified himself with any sort of LGBTQ+ labels. Back in his day, there weren't any terms to use for being asexual or aromantic. At least, not any that he knew of. He's always been comfortable with his sexuality, though! His main thought process was always "I'll probably find someone that I'm attracted to at some point, and if I don't, that's alright." That thought process has also followed him down to Hell, and stayed the same for all these years.
• However... Whilst he's very comfortable with his sexuality... His romantic feelings are very complicated, now. He's always desired to have one, and he's very confused as to why he hasn't felt any romantic attraction, yet. It makes sense that someone who wants a romantic relationship to be able to feel romantic attraction, yes? He's very much in the dark to the complexities of how these things really work, mostly due to him being from the 1920s-30s. He's caught up on slang and technology, but he hasn't bothered to keep up with sexualities and romantic identities, as he doesn't think about them much.
• So, does he ask any more modern demons and sinners for help? Ha! No. He's too prideful, and simply assumes that there probably isn't much of a difference in knowledge on romantic attraction as compared to his day. Yes, he's aware that there's way more identities for sexualities. People talk about them often, and he hears terms thrown around here and there as he walks through Hell. He never hears anything in regards to romance, though. It's simply not talked about as often, from his experience. So, he's completely in the dark. If anything, he's probably completely unaware that there are identities for romantic attraction.
• He does what he can to cope. This whole situation is very frustrating for him. However, at the same time, he thinks that it shouldn't be so frustrating. So, it's embarrassing to him, and he doesn't tell anyone about it. Instead, he does what he believes everyone who is single and ready to mingle does: reading romance novels. More specifically, he flips to parts where said attraction is described, or little scenarios that he wants is going on. Restaurant dates, walking through the park, dancing, holding hands and cuddling. Those sorts of things! Things nobody would ever expect someone as unhinged as him would want...
• The most frustrating part, however, is that he feels he should already be feeling such an attraction to you. You, being his most close friend. You're the one he trusts with certain secrets, one of the few people he doesn't mind touching him unprompted (besides, say, Niffty), and probably the only person he lets his smile down around. Though, he rarely does so, as he doesn't want to worry you. Unlike Niffty, who he sees as having a more familial feeling towards, he sees you as a close friend. His closest friend, but just a close friend, which frustrates him to no end.
• It takes him a long time to even think of mentioning it to someone. However, when he does, he'd feel too awkward to bring it up to you. So, he decides to speak to Charlie about it! After all, she has one of the more "modern" relationships. So, she probably also knows something about whatever is going on with him! And after the long and grueling process of talking to her? He comes out even more frustrated than before. Being unable to feel romantic attraction, but still want romance? Cupioromantic? It is all so confusing. However, he won't question it. He's clearly out of his zone, and he was horribly wrong when assuming the world of romance hadn't progressed...
• You, however, are his most trusted friend. His closest friend. So, he decides to waste no time in deciding to propose an idea to you. He's heard of these things called "queerplatonic relationships", and his understanding is that they are like friendships, but with some more traditionally romantic interactions involved. Which, whilst his understanding of the nature of queerplatonic relationships may be a bit off, he's trying his best. Once you explain it a bit further, emphasizing that they're closer relationships than friendships, but not romantic and can vary widely in affectionate interactions, he is immediately is set on trying to start one with you. Luckily, though, you agree rather quickly.
• Despite him wanting many of your interactions and ways of showing affection to be more traditionally romantic, such as cuddling or going out on friendly dates, he won't cross any boundaries. Both because you're his closest, most prized relationship with another person, and because he can't think of many other people who would even be willing to enter such a relationship with him if he ever asked. Not that he'd want to ask anyone else. There's a reason why he immediately went to you. It's hard for him to describe it, though. Despite being a man of words, whenever he tries to explain why he feels like you are the perfect person for him to enter this queerplatonic relationship with, he stumbles heavily.
• His little ideal for this relationship is, essentially, the types of things he's read in the romance novels he has. Sure, a little bit of a twisted version of it, but at it's core it's the same. He wants to cuddle in a nice, safe, and warm room (while there's probably the screams of an extermination going on the background). He wants to go to restaurants (this man's a cannibal so check your food). He wants to do the cheesy move of handing you red roses and candy as a gift (do not ask how he was able to buy such an expensive brand, or where the two large, heavy trash bags came from or what they are filled with).
• He's going to be very, VERY protective of you. Almost, if not completely to an obsessive degree. He knows how Hell is. People want power, and he's powerful, and you are close to him. He's sure many people are going to go after you, in order to get to him. So, your little relationship is going to be as well protected of a secret as it can be, at first, until he believes he can properly protect you from any danger. And after the secret is out, he's going to be right by your side the entire time. Literally. Whenever he can be, he's next to you. Nobody, except maybe Vox or another pesky overlord, is going to try to hurt you as long as he is there. Even then, he could completely destroy them, anyways!
#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor the radio demon#alastor#hazbin hotel headcanon#alastor headcanons#lgbtq headcanons#lgbtq+ headcanons#queerplatonic#cupioromantic#aroace spectrum#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel x reader
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begging you to write matt with reader who's also a youtuber/influencer. I want them to be best friends and reader is naive and way too kind for her own good. my idea is that there's another influencer who has a bad reputation and everyone hates on him because supposedly he's a big red flag. but one day y/n met him at a party and he put on an act so y/n now believes that he's not as bad as everyone makes him out to be. they become friends and that's when matt questions her about it and keep warning her about the type of guy he is because matt's worried about her but she won't listen because she's still giving the guy the benefit of the doubt and then they argue about this stuff idk you can change it up I just want this fic to have lotssss of angst but with a happy ending. if you could maybe even squeeze in an angry confession like "WHY DO YOU CARE" iykwim🤭
Why Do You Care?- M. Sturniolo
pairing: Influencer!reader x BestFriend!Matt
classification: angst, fluff
warning: use of y/n, toxic relationship, argument, slight cursing, mentions of blood, physical fight, “slut,” mention of alcohol use, long
inspiration: request^^
summary: You’re naive and let yourself be led on by someone you believe has good intentions, but one day Matt puts him in his place and ends up confessing his feelings to you in the process.
—
Most celebrities quickly become out of touch with reality, allowing the fame to inflate their ego beyond recognition. They splurge on fancy cars, big houses, designer clothing, and then flaunt all of it in the face of their viewers. They become friends with whoever’s currently trending only to chew them up and spit them right out, draining them for as much clout as possible before moving on to the next.
When you first started YouTube you were scared to become one of these celebrities; the celebrities that trade in everything old and meaningful for whatever’s new and shiny. You worked hard to create quality content for your viewers while also trying to remain as humble as possible. If it weren’t for your friends, you probably would’ve fallen victim to the materialism as well.
You had a large friend group consisting of influencers you met after the fame, but a small inner circle made up of your true, irreplaceable friends. Matt and his brothers were a part of this inner circle, all of you riding the wave into fame together. So, when everyone else was gloating over their newfound fame, the four of you remained humble and down to Earth.
Erik, the guy you were seeing, was the complete opposite though. You met him at an influencer event, much like all of your current friends, and he held a certain charm that drew you in immediately. Everyone warned you, claiming he was bad news and would only break your heart, but you didn’t listen. You were naive, giving him the benefit of the doubt and letting his sweet words convince you that he wasn’t what everyone said he was.
You’re currently sitting with Nick and Chris in their living room talking anything and everything boys. Usually Chris would just sit and listen, but the conversation has meandered into the topic of Erik, and he struggles to contain his opinion. An old film plays lowly in the background, a bowl of popcorn situated between piles of blankets and pillows.
“He’s not that bad. I promise!” you exclaim towards Nick and Chris, but it sounds more like you’re trying to convince yourself. You’re scrolling through your phone, buttery fingers trying to find proof that Erik wasn’t all that bad. Nick rolls his eyes, peering over your shoulder as you shuffle through endless photos on your phone.
Chris scoots in closer, copying Nick in invading your personal space before saying, “I don’t know, Y/n. I’ve seen him at a couple parties and he’s always either arriving with a different girl or leaving with one, or both.” You pop a few pieces of popcorn in your mouth, finally finding the screenshot you were looking for.
“Shush Chris, just look at this,” you reply with a mouthful of popcorn, a greasy finger zooming into the screenshot of messages between you and Erik. Before Chris can grab ahold of the phone, Nick is snatching it from you and reading the messages out loud.
“Hey baby, you looked so cute in that black dress. Can’t wait to see it off,” Nick reads, visibly shuddering at the message. “THAT’S the message you wanted to show me?” Chris scoffs, stealing the phone from Nick to examine the messages for himself.
“Just keep reading,” you murmur, now peering over Chris’s shoulder and shoving more popcorn into your mouth. Chris rolls his eyes at you, proceeding to read the messages from Erik, “You’re better than any girl I’ve ever had.” Nick laughs loudly at that, a laugh that exemplifies how unimpressed he is.
“He basically told you he’s fucked other bitches but you’re the best,” Chris deadpans, tossing your phone onto your lap. He’s had enough with the messages, all of them making him cringe beyond belief. Nick once again grabs the phone, examining the messages one more time, “He’s fucking doing the bare minimum, Y/n. Actually, he’s setting the bar so low it’s on the floor.”
Chris laughs at the comment, getting comfortable on the living room floor and averting his gaze to the TV. “Whatever Nick, he’s nice and I really like him,” you retort, no hint of true bitterness in your voice.
The room goes silent for a while, Nick’s focus being on deciphering any hidden meanings within the messages. You lean back into the blankets and pillows that surround you, joining Chris in finally watching the movie. Finally, when Nick has read the messages 10 times over, he replies, “Yeah you really like fucking him apparently.”
Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, your hands swiftly snatching the phone away from him, “I haven’t fucked him! What the fuck!” Nick laughs, knowing the comment trigged you, “Well from what I read, it sounds like you did.”
Before you can stop yourself, you’re grabbing one of the many pillows you’re laying on and lightly hit Nick with it. The pillow ricochets off his chest, the feeling being more annoying than painful. “Don’t start, bitch. I’ll fucking win every time,” he laughs, grabbing a pillow of his own and bouncing it off your head. Soon you’re both caught in a pillow fight, your giggles and laughter filling the living room and drowning the movie out.
Chris groans in annoyance when a stray pillow bonks him in the head, scooting away from you two and turning the volume up. Matt enters the living room fresh out of the shower tussling a white towel on his wet hair. He watches in amusement as you and Nick toss and turn on the living room floor, turning to Chris briefly and asking, “What’s going on with these two?”
Chris groans again, getting up and rounding the corner to head downstairs to his room, “I don’t know, something about Y/n fucking Erik.” Matt watches as Chris disappears into his room, the statement settling in his mind when the door clicks. You hear Chris’s comment, attempting to hit him by throwing a pillow his way, but missing because he descends the stairs before it can reach him.
“You’re fucking Erik?” Matt asks, attempting to sound nonchalant and casual. But there was nothing nonchalant or casual about his question, especially not when directed towards the girl he’s loved from the moment he met her. You and Nick halt your movements, both slightly out of breath and in shock by the straightforwardness of Matt’s question, he was never the type to be so blunt.
“No, that was a lie made up by Nick. See, Nick, that’s how rumors start,” you reply, directing the last part to Nick who holds his hands up in defense. Matt feels himself relax at your confession, the anxiety that was forming subsiding, “Oh okay, yeah. Good, cause I don’t like that guy.” He’s still trying to play the unbothered card, and he wonders if you can tell that it actually did bother him. You roll your eyes, watching as Matt slings the towel over his shoulder from behind the couch.
“Yeah, alright, because who I fuck is dependent on who you do and don’t like? Right?” you reply, a challenging tone in your voice. For some reason it hurt more coming from Matt than from Nick or Chris, maybe because you’ve been pining over Matt since childhood and he’s never realized it. You’ve seen him go through girlfriend after girlfriend without complaint, but the second you’re interested in anyone it’s a problem? “And that’s my queue to leave,” Nick mumbles, getting up and walking upstairs to his room in an attempt to leave the awkward moment.
Matt doesn’t get a chance to reply as you continue, “Whatever, I don’t know why I’m fighting with you.”
“We’re not fighting?”
“We literally are? You never like any of my boyfriends,” you reply, but even you know that you’re overreacting.
“Oh, so he’s been promoted to boyfriend?” Matt prods, a sassy hand resting on his hip. Truth be told, Matt has loved you for longer than you’ve loved him, but he’s always been too afraid to admit it to you. Both Nick and Chris know, but they’ve never exposed Matt’s true feelings for you because they know your relationship is complicated. They’ve watched you both try to fill the void with fling after fling, only to end up arguing about who’s dating who and ending up alone again. It was a never ending cycle between you and Matt, a cycle that would never break until one of you confessed.
“And so what if he has? What is to you, Matt? Not like you don’t have a new random girl in here every week,” you snap, surprised by the venom in your voice. Matt’s hurt by your comment, is that what you viewed him as? As a womanizer? But his hurt is quickly masked by anger, “Alright so now we ARE fighting, and it shouldn’t be any of your concern who I’m seeing.”
“Same goes for you, buddy! I don’t see why you care so much about my relationship with Erik,” you stand from your spot on the floor, feeling small compared to Matt’s towering figure. The condescending nickname is a slap to the face, quickly informing Matt that you aren’t here to play games or coddle his feelings. He wants to say so many things, all of them about his true feelings for you, but he bites his tongue. Plus, after being called ‘buddy’ he’s not sure you’ll even listen.
His jaw is clenched, one fist balled up and the other gripping onto the towel so tightly his knuckles turn white. Once the silence becomes too much, you continue, “Whatever, Matt. I’m going home, I’ll talk to you later. Tell Nick and Chris I said bye.”
“No, you don’t get to ‘whatever’ me. Let’s talk about this,” his tone is almost pleading, a gentle but firm hand keeping you in place. You won’t make eye contact, afraid that if you meet his gaze the tears will spill.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” you sigh, suddenly feeling defeated and guilty for arguing with the one man you truly loved. Why was this so hard for you both?
Matt opens his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it like a fish in water when he realizes that what he wants to say will only further complicate the situation. He silently watches as you gather your things. You push past him, making your way to the front door without another word, but you’re internally wishing he’d pull you back in and fix this. He doesn’t though, so you swing the front door open and walk towards your car.
When the door slams closed, Matt realizes that if he doesn’t do something about it, he’ll lose you for good.
—
Loud music booms through the club, the vibrations of the bass shaking the walls with each beat. You never pass up on the opportunity to celebrate friends, so when Tara, an influencer friend of yours, invited you to her party you immediately said yes. The venue is filled with drunk people, all of them so inebriated that all they can do is dance, makeout, and continue drinking.
Matt, Nick, and Chris follow closely behind you as you push your way through the crowd of dancing people. They were completely out of their element, choosing to stick to you like gum to avoid any uncomfortable interactions. As you weave your way through the club, you spot Erik in the corner with a few of your other friends, and immediately without thinking you abandon all loyalty to your friends and start walking towards him.
“Hey, where are you going?” Matt asks, voice straining to be heard over the music. He’s holding onto your elbow, grip firm enough to keep you from moving. “I’m gonna get Erik, I want you guys to meet him,” you reply, managing to slip out of his grasp and continuing your journey through the dense population of drunk, sweaty people. Matt wants to grab you by the waist and pull you back, but you just forgave him after your last argument and he knows your relationship is too fragile for another argument right now.
“Where is she going?” Chris shouts, scanning the room anxiously. The club was loud and chaotic, filled with strobing lights and bumping bodies that were enough to overstimulate anyone. Matt’s eyes are trained on you, watching as you reach Erik and cling onto him like a necklace. Chris, upon not receiving a response from Matt, looks at his brother. Matt’s jaw is clenched, prominent veins visible on his arms as the anger begins coursing through his veins.
Chris follows Matt’s gaze, immediately clocking what has Matt so serious. Nick is standing close by, bopping his head to the music. “Fucking hate that guy,” Chris comments, slapping Matt’s back and pulling him into a quick side hug. He was attempting to console his brother, to show his solidarity, but Matt was too blinded to notice.
“Tell me about it,” Matt grits, watching as you excitedly lead Erik towards the trio. Your right hand is holding a drink high in the air as your left is behind you, fingers laced with Erik’s as you dance your way back to your friends.
“Guys! This is Erik!” you look so excited, like a little kid showing off their new toy. But Erik is unimpressed and honestly, he doesn’t give a fuck who your friends are. Matt, Nick, and Chris care even less about him, in fact they hate this guy from the rumors alone.
“Hey man, nice to meet you. I’m Chris,” Chris is the first to break the awkward tension. He extends a hand, dabbing Erik up briefly as to not seem rude. Nick follows, going in for a quick side hug, “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Nick. Y/n has told us so much about you.”
“All good things I hope,” Erik replies. There’s a fake tone laced in his voice that Matt catches instantly, causing him to roll his eyes. Matt waits for Erik to give him his full attention before introducing himself with a firm handshake, “I’m Matt.” He wasn’t going to put on a show, all he had to do was introduce himself, simple as that.
Matt’s hand holds onto Erik’s for a little too long, successfully managing to intimidate him before he pulls away. “Matt. Noted,” Erik says awkwardly, ready to ditch this situation and consume as much alcohol as possible to forget this ever happened. Erik rocks back and forth on his heels, surveying the room for an excuse to leave. He spots a girl he’s fucked before, eyes lighting up as he creates an excuse on the spot, “Hey baby, I’m going to go find some friends I want you to meet. I’ll be back in a bit.” Erik plants a kiss on your cheek before dismissing himself with a wave, “Nice meeting you guys, see you around.”
“Nice meeting you, see you around,” Matt mocks in a high pitched voice, rolling his eyes for what feels like the 100th time tonight. There were so many red flags about this guy, but he was being so nice, so fake, that Matt couldn’t even point them out. And hearing another man call you baby has Matt’s blood boiling, he just knows that Erik throws that nickname at anything with legs.
Chris and Nick return Erik’s wave, but Matt immediately pulls you in close and begins warning you about the type of guy Erik is. “He’s so weird, Y/n. Just be careful please,” he whispers into your ear, the loud music forcing him to be inches away from your face. As he says it, he catches Erik checking a girl out on the dance floor, the same girl that Erik dismissed himself to go talk to.
“I don’t want you to get hurt. I care about you and don’t want to see you upset over a guy, especially not a douche like him,” Matt continues, subconsciously letting his hands rest on your waist. It’s a feeling you welcome, wishing that it was more than just friendly.
“I’m not going to get hurt. I’m a big girl,” you reply, a drunk smile on your face. How you’ve managed to get so drunk already, he doesn’t know, but he knows that he feels a sense of responsibility for you. He’s about to tell you to stay close, your drunken state inhibiting you from properly taking care of yourself. “I’m gonna go find Tara,” and with that you’re lost in the crowd again, forcing Matt to loosen his grip on your waist as he watches you dance away.
He leans against the wall behind him, a tight jaw forming as he switches his attention from you and Erik. You’re having so much fun dancing with friends, completely oblivious to the fact that Erik is chatting up yet another girl, and Matt couldn’t do anything about it.
—
After about two hours, Matt has officially decided that he’s bored. He and his brothers are the only sober people, the three of them watching as everyone else makes drunk decisions they were sure to regret later. “I’m gonna go to the restroom,” Matt excuses himself, earning a head nod from both his brothers. In reality he just needed an excuse to stretch his legs and a reason to walk around the club to look for you.
Matt hasn’t seen you since went to look for Tara. And as he laps the club, he ends up running into Tara, her small dancing figure thanking him for celebrating such a big milestone with her. He asked her if she’d seen you, but she said it had been a while since she last saw you. That worried Matt, especially considering how drunk you were. So, as he heads towards the restroom, he studies every face in the room in search of yours.
When he finally reaches the restroom, he still hasn’t found you, but as he pushes the door open he’s met with Erik’s annoying voice, “No I don’t actually like her. I mean, yeah she’s cute, but why would I tie myself down? I just need her to boost my views.” Matt sees red as soon as he hears it, he knows Erik is talking about you, who else could he be talking about?
“So you’re using her for clout?” another voice chimes in.
“Something like that. Have you seen her numbers, dude? Her and those little triplets she hangs out with are all anyone’s talking about right now. I don’t get the hype, but you know I have to get in on that… Plus, if I play this game long enough, she might let me hit,” Erik replies, the gross comment he made about you earning him a round of laughter from his equally as disgusting friends.
Matt’s about to push the door open, slam Erik onto the floor, and beat the living shit out of him, but Erik continues before he can, “And the look on that Matt guy’s face when I finally do it will be priceless. He’s clearly in love with her.”
Matt’s heard enough, and before he knows it he’s fuming and barging into the restroom, you can practically see the steam coming off of him. It doesn’t take long for him to single Erik out, the adrenaline pumping through his body providing him with a sudden, unmatched strength. Matt grabs him by the color, using momentum and force to push him against the cold tile wall.
Matt is glad that no one is here to hold him back, but even if there was he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from doing what he’s about to do. “Ay bro, what the fu—” Erik’s sentence is cut off by a swift punch to his jaw, a punch so hard that it has him dazed. Erik falls onto the floor harshly as all of his fake friends scurry out of the restroom, commenting something along the lines of “this guy’s crazy.”
Matt was in a blinded rage, watching as Erik spits blood onto the floor, using one hand to hold himself up and the other to wipe the warm liquid that dribbles down his chin.
“You think a punch will stop me from fucking your bitch?” Erik asks with a malicious, bloody smile forming on his face. Matt doesn’t respond, his fists doing all the talking for him as he kneels to Erik’s level and pummels his face. Punch after punch is thrown, each one leaving Erik bloodier and more bruised than the last.
Erik’s friends must’ve told people in the club what was happening in the restroom because you, Nick, and Chris are suddenly barging in. Nick and Chris are horrified at the sight, but with Erik’s track record they’re not surprised, he certainly had it coming. “Matt! Matt!” Chris shouts, wrapping strong arms around his brother and attempting to pull him off Erik, who’s laughing maniacally like he got what he wanted.
Matt’s stiff as a board, so it takes both Chris and Nick to pry him off the bloody boy. Finally, when they pull him off, Erik stumbles to get up. His face is so bloody he’s almost unrecognizable. “Matt, what did you do?” you whisper in shock, a trembling hand coming up to your face at the sight. Matt’s chest heaves as he tries steadying his breathing, his dark eyes softening a little when he realizes how scared you are.
“C’mon, let’s go,” Nick whispers, the severity of the situation settling into the atmosphere. Nick ushers everyone out of the restroom, and Erik gets one last jab in, “Yeah! Leave you fucking loser! And take your slut with you too!”
Matt was never quick to anger, in fact he was docile and patient most of the time, but Erik’s comment lets you know that his outburst was building and was most certainly justified. If Chris wasn’t holding onto Matt, he would’ve turned around and finished the job, but he’s glad he doesn’t because he catches the pleading look you give him.
“Let’s go home, yeah?” Matt asks softly, pulling you into his side and planting a kiss on your head. You nod slowly, eyes trained on the bloody knuckles that wrap around your shoulders.
“Yeah.”
—
The ride home is quiet, slightly awkward, and extremely uncomfortable. The streetlights illuminate the streets, the blood on Matt’s busted knuckles glistening every time he grips the wheel and takes a turn. Chris played music in an attempt to break the tension, but even that doesn’t help.
Once you’re finally at their house, the initial shock wears off. Nick and Chris are quick to go to their rooms, the entire night having drained them both socially and emotionally. Matt makes his way to the restroom, allowing the warm water to run across his hands. He winces at the feeling, watching as a pool of red forms in the sink. You’re upset, even if you shouldn’t be, so you follow Matt in hopes of getting answers.
“So are you gonna tell me what happened tonight?” you prod, leaning against the door frame. He doesn’t look up from the sink, instead running gentle fingers across his hands to wash the blood off.
“Nothing to say,” he replies sternly with a nonchalant shrug. In reality he had everything to say.
“Oh so you didn’t beat Erik to a bloody pulp?”
“No, I definitely did,” a smirk tugs at his lips.
“Okay… Why?” Matt was avoiding the question like the plague, not only because what Erik said is something he never wanted to repeat, but because it came with uncharted territory.
“Just…” his voice trails off as he turns the sink off, grabbing a nearby towel and drying his hands. He winces again at the applied pressure.
“You don’t get to ‘just’ me, Matt. Why!?” you’re raising your voice at this point, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you in the process. If Nick and Chris were asleep, you didn’t want to wake them.
“He was being a douche, okay?” Matt’s response is lame and he knows it. “I didn’t like what he was saying about you,” he continues without getting into detail, he was just trying to protect you and if that was such a crime he’d happily go to jail for it.
“I’m a big girl Matt. I told you I can take care of myself,” you scoff. Matt slumps onto the toilet seat, wishing he could just pull you onto his lap and hug the conversation away. “You always do this shit. You protect me like I’m a helpless little girl. We’re not eight anymore, Matt.”
“Sorry?” he replies, a sardonic tone evident in his voice.
“I DON’T NEED YOU TO FIGHT MY BATTLES, MATT!”
Matt sighs, he’s not in the mood for this right now.“He’s just a fucking dickhead, Y/n. He doesn’t deserve you. Plus, that bitchass pussy had it coming,” Matt replies, his voice remaining stern and steady. He didn’t want to raise his voice at you, but he knows it’s bound to happen with the way the conversation is progressing.
“WHY DO YOU CARE, THOUGH? WHY DOES IT MATTER SO MUCH TO YOU??” your hands are thrown up in exasperation, desperately trying to squeeze the answers out of him.
“Because you’re my friend.”
“No, Matt. Why?”
“BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU, OKAY? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR? THAT I’M MADLY IN LOVE WITH YOU? THAT I HAVE BEEN SINCE WE WERE KIDS AND I JUST—” he takes a deep breath, adjusting his volume and continuing in a defeated tone, “just forget I said anything, Y/n.”
The room is silent, so unbearably silent that Matt’s ears are ringing. His cheeks are flushed, almost as red as his knuckles. Your heart is pounding out of your chest. Small, quick breaths falling from your lips as you process everything he just said.
“You love me?” your voice is hushed, almost inaudible. When Matt looks up at you, he sees the twinkle in your eye as the tears brim your waterline. “Yes, I love you,” he affirms, it’s simple but true.
“Oh Matt,” you cup his face, suddenly it all made sense. All the times he chased away your boyfriends, complained about a fling, commented on a new friend, it all made sense with this new revelation.
“I get it if you don’t feel the same. You don’t have to pity me—” You cut Matt off with a passionate kiss, it’s the only thing you can think to do. He’s shocked at first, but he melts into the kiss once it registers.
His hands travel to the back of your thighs, legs spreading as he pulls you in closer to him. He moans into the kiss, unable to contain his excitement.
Matt’s tongue finds its way into your mouth, his grip on your thighs becoming stronger with each passing second almost like he’s afraid that if he lets go you’ll disappear. You only pull away to catch your breath, whispering four long awaited words into his lips, “I love you, Matt.”
Strong hands tug you back in for another passionate kiss, the pain in his knuckles suddenly vanishing as he relishes in this newfound feeling.
He’s never letting you go again.
—
MASTERLIST
A/n: it’s been a while guys 😋💃🏻
thank you sweet anons for the requests, I combined them because they were very similar & I hope I did them justice!
-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗
—
taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03
note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐
#teapartyanonreqs✨💗#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew x reader#matt x y/n#matt x reader#matthew sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#matthew bernard sturniolo#sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo oneshot#matthew sturniolo x y/n#matthew sturniolo oneshot#matthew sturniolo fanfic#matthew sturniolo imagine#matthew sturniolo fanfiction#matthew sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo headcannons#chris sturniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo imagine#chris x y/n#chris
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human!reader taking nude and explicit photographs of herself to give to the colonel 😩
Sweet like cherry – Chapter 1
Miles Quaritch x female human reader
Words: 3.1k
Summary: Miles has a secret admirer and apparently, she has a thing for photography.
Warnings: explicit smut, (mutual) masturbation (lots of it), voyeurism, degradation kink, body worship, misogyny / bullying if you squint, obsession, corruption kink, size & age difference
Notes: apologies for the header photo, i promise there aren’t any physical descriptions of the reader in my fics (such as skin color, hair, etc).
Cherry. A symbol of both, purity and innocence.
Technology had never been Quaritch’s forte. It wasn't even his strongest branch of knowledge; a strange piece of information that always came as a surprise to anyone who knew him, even to himself. He was usually too proud to admit this flaw of his to others. But he excelled in other things instead. Leading, for example. Leading troupes, soldiers, recoms. Keeping them safe.
On a typical day, the head of security ensures that security measures are properly implemented, educates and trains soldiers and develops security processes to reduce risk and limit liability for the RDA. Oh, and guns. Yeah, guns he knew how to handle.
And this was something that he took great pride in.
Miles knew that some people use technology to create all kinds of art, as useless as that may seem to him. They draw, they create, they write, whatever, you name it. Sometimes, people use technology to document things. They videotape or photograph stuff. All that unnecessary shit that he pushes into Wainfleets area of responsibility, because hell, he couldn’t even open a stupid document on one of those data pads everyone seemed to carry around these days.
Which is why this tiny, square piece of paper, right there on the floor of his living quarters, spiked his interest so much.
A polaroid.
Quaritch knew polaroids. He knew how to use a polaroid camera too, surprisingly. Learned it back on earth when he was young, when technology was as simple as pressing a button which resolved an instant result. A photo, in that case. They often came out looking a little blurry or foggy, he admits that was probably due to the outdated technology. Nothing compared to the quality that cameras could capture today. But that’s what gave them their charm, right?
He doesn’t remember them being this small, though, but that’s probably because the last time he held one of these was when he was a kid. And when he wasn’t a little over nine feet tall and blue.
Faintly, Quaritch wonders how it even ended up here. He wasn’t really the type to carry memories with him, photographs of all things. And a polaroid? Who even brings a polaroid camera all the way from earth to pandora? As far as he could remember his first time coming to this hell hole, the list of belongings he was allowed to carry with him was fairly short, limited to the necessities only.
Instead of breaking his head over an answer to where it may came from, the Colonel chose to continue observing this strange… let’s call it gift, his eyes narrowing and squinting throughout his thorough investigation.
But when he finally turns the polaroid, his eyes widen in surprise.
There‘s nothing blurry or messy or foggy about the picture, even under the dim light of the lamp that lit his dark bedroom. It was crystal clear.
Your tattoo is the first thing Miles sees of you. Thin, red lines adorn the flawless skin right on your hip, resulting in a cherry as a whole. Cherries. Miles loved them. Small, soft round, almost heart shaped and of bright red color. And so, so sweet.
He’s never been a big fan of lingerie, truth be told, but the way those panties matched the color of your tattoo, Quaritch couldn’t deny that this was one hell of a sight. You wore a set of thigh-high stockings, same color of course, to make the match perfect.
Too bad the photo’s frame cuts off right where your head would be, so he could only wonder if whoever the woman on this picture was, she was wearing the same color of lipstick too.
A nice little gift, he thought, not thinking much of it as he laid the polaroid into his nightstand drawer.
It doesn’t take more than a couple of days for him to find a new set of polaroids, slipped under the crack of his door while he was on a mission. With a huff, Miles set his gear down to pick them up from the floor. He might not have realized back then, but he was actually pleased to find not just one, but three polaroids this time.
Surprisingly, there was something written on them this time. A fine line of red ink, reminds him of your tattoo. Handwritten in cursive, with a small heart at the end of the sentence, like a love letter directed to him, stood, "to Colonel Miles Quaritch."
As if someone was trying to make it clear that those were meant for him. That the last time wasn’t just an accident or made by a perverted voyeur that gets off from sliding naughty little photos of herself under random peoples doors. No, they were made entirely for him.
If the first one he received was already a sight to see, the ones he was holding in his hands right now were straight up mouth watering.
Quaritch couldn’t help it.
He was still a man after all and it’s been one hell of a long time since he had last touched a woman. A life time, you could say. So even though his own bodies reaction to stirring alive at the sight of your photos took him by surprise, it wasn’t actually that surprising after all. Because how could he not grow hard at the sight of that faceless woman with the cherry tattoo, sprawled out on her bed, messy satin sheets underneath her picture perfect body, legs spread wide and angled so he could get a good view of her glistening folds.
The first polaroid he had received was nothing more than a little tease, meant to get him intrigued, maybe even rile him up and make him want to longe for more. But these, these photos were straight up pornographic.
The second one is enough to make Miles sit down on his bed and rearrange his pants, as they had suddenly grown suffocatingly tight around his crotch. In that one, you were bend over what looked like the edge of your bed, spine arched just the way he liked and with your thighs spread to make room for your hand that had two delicate fingers buried to the knuckle inside of you.
"Fuck…", Miles chuckled lowly. What a pretty pussy, he thought, as he started to palm his cock through his cargos.
He held the polaroid just a little closer to his face to catch all the details. How your walls seemed to clamp down on your fingers, spread wide to swallow them whole. God, what he would give to hold your legs open and watch your tight pussy struggle to take him down to the base.
He groaned at the thought, as his hands found the waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down enough to free his hard cock. Throbbing painfully in his palm, he begins to move his hand up and down, stroking lazily as his eyes scanned over the polaroid like he was studying a fine piece of art.
Miles imagined how your voice would sound like. How cries would tumble from your lips, his name like a mantra as he fucked you until your entire body would tremble, unable to bear how good he was making you feel. The loose fist he’d made around his cock grew tighter, as his steady pace became a touch less steady, his body growing desperate for more friction than his lazy drag had allowed.
Miles stroked over his shaft, squeezing the blue tip of his cock just right, forcing the very first droplets of pre-cum to form and spill over his knuckles.
His eyes traveled over to the next photo, the same lithe body, biting his lower lip as his gaze settled on the way you were squeezing your soft breasts together for the shot, fingers teasing your perky nipples. A sight that would only be better if there was a cock, his cock, in between them.
While the pre-cum that leaked from his tip did serve to smooth the dry tug, it wasn’t enough to keep up with his pace, so he spat into his hand, the glide easier now, and the filthy sounds made his head spin. He could almost feel your pussy clamping down, tight and hot, around him. If he closed his eyes, it was like you were really here.
But Quaritch rather kept them open, half lidded at least, just to keep staring at those filthy little pictures, like a pathetic sailor looking at pinup posters taped on his bunk bed.
Soon, he was actually fucking into his hand, faster now, as he imagined exactly how you would take him. Perhaps you’d look best, sitting prettily on his lap. Riding him, rolling your soft hips while he gripped your ass hard enough to leave bruises, lifting you up only to slam you down on his cock. Wrenching cries from those spit-glossed lips, skin shiny with sweat and a lustful gaze through thick lashes.
Spurting his thick, warm cum into his fist definitely didn’t feel as good as pumping you full with it would, he determined that day.
Cherry, Miles named the mysterious woman of his late fantasies. Because no matter the pose, you always managed to leave your face out of your photos. Instead, you sneaked your fruity little tattoo on every single one of your shots. Like a trademark, as if he could somehow recognize you like this.
Ever since then, the days Miles received cherry's little gifts had piled up quite a bit. So much so, that the Colonel couldn’t even deny anymore, that he even grew a tad excited about coming back home from his missions just to find a new set of naughty little polaroids on the floor right behind the door.
And even when he wasn’t specifically looking at your photos, he sometimes caught himself thinking about you. With so much shit going on in his life, it was nice to have a little something to let his mind drift off to.
His sweet little cherry, for example.
Miles washes himself mechanically. Shampoo, rinse. Conditioner, soap, lathered across his blue skin. Sliding over his board chest, balancing on the cliffs of his hips, dripping down to where his cock hangs hot and heavy, tingling under the pelting water as if they were an angel's kisses. Pecking, spreading on his skin. Drowning him in drowsy heat as he slips rough fingers through his short hair.
He washes away all the grime, sweat and dirt that had clung to his body after spending most of his day in the sultry heat of pandoras jungle. Looking down at his palms, as he rinses them under the spray of hot water, he thinks about your latest polaroid, from two days ago. It was a shot of you, standing in the shower, too.
The camera was set somewhere behind you. Both of your hands against the tiled walls, you stood entirely on your tip toes, back arched and chest pushed against the wall to give him a good view of your backside. You really had a delicious looking, peachy butt. Especially delicious, if said butt was covered in soap.
Placing a hand against the wall to steady himself, Miles other hand traveled down over his toned stomach, until he reached his cock, that was now standing proud and tall, his tip an angry color of purple, as pre-cum already oozed from its slit.
There used to be times when it was a lot harder to rile him up like that, he thought with a scoff. You made him feel like he was a teenager once again. Back in his old room, on his parents farm, where he had just discovered his old man's playboy magazine. When his body was pumped full and overflowing of hormones and testosterone that desperately searched for a way out. Or when he was in college, bending over every pretty girl that willingly got into his old mustang and spread her legs for him in the backseat.
Miles thought he’d grown up since then. That he had better impulse control now. Had his fair share of women so that things like seeing one naked wouldn’t immediately get him this hard. Hell, he was a completely different man now, he has responsibilities, a team to lead, a whole damn planet to colonize.
But as he furiously pumped his cock, lubed with pre-cum and body wash, he thought that maybe he was just acting like some horny teenager because it’s been an awful while since he had last buried his cock into a wet little hole. Or maybe it’s something about those damn Na‘vi and their fucked up dna that was used to clone him. Maybe they’re so hormone driven and that’s why he has those borderline animalistic urges to fuck that faceless woman into the mattress of his bed, any bed.
Or maybe it’s just because of you. Because cherry looks just so perfectly edible, so bite sized and delicious. A pretty little thing made for him. Needy enough to send him those downright pornographic polaroids, because you were thinking about him, thinking about him stuffing his cock so deep into your pussy that you could taste him on your tongue.
Miles exhaled a shaky breath, hips stuttering to fuck into his fist at a faster pace as he continued to recreate the last photo he had seen of you in front of his minds eye.
The second polaroid of your previous set showed you in a squatting position, legs spread wide, while the water of the shower was running down over your curves, over your tattoo and pubic bone to dribble onto the white-tiled bathroom floor. Quaritch swallowed thickly, tongue lapping over his pointy canine as he imagined to dive head first between your thighs to get a good taste of you. Fuck, he bets you would taste so damn delicious, truly living up to your little nickname.
In this shot, your own hand was wrapped around your throat, almost as if you were taunting him.
I wish that was your hand instead.
"Jesus, cherry", Miles groaned in a hushed whisper, "Bet you’d love my hand around your throat. Filthy little slut."
His eyes squeezed shut even tighter as he imagined you in this exact position, squatting in front of him in the shower, your hands on his thighs as he fucked your throat, until your voice was raw and hoarse.
Unfortunately, in this moment there was no one to swallow his thick load of cum, but the tiled wall of his shower and the drain after the water had washed it down.
In his youth, and even sometimes in his years as an adult, the morning after was often filled with an emotion that his current self didn’t even possess anymore. Shame, sometimes even guilt. He took what he desired, made a pretty girl see stars and then ditched before the first ray of sun could even shine through the ugly smog that was once a white cloud in the sky –before the humans fucked up.
But ever since his sweet Cherry had bought him her little gifts and once in a while gave Quaritch a way to release all of his pent of frustration, he was in a surprisingly good mood. Not that good, of course, because Quaritch wouldn’t be Quaritch if he was running around like a brainless bimbo full of sunshine and butterflies. But good enough that he didn’t immediately growled something along the lines of "watch where the fuck you’re going" or something like that, when a small body bumped into him in the hallway.
Yesterday nights shower activities left him in a good enough mood, that all he did was scrunch his nose and scoff at the pathetic sight in front of him.
White lab coat, black pencil skirt, blouse and clipboard in a tight death grip, clasped over her chest like she thought he would snatch it from her, stood one of those scientists that were running around all over bridgehead like little ants.
Looking all the way down at you, Miles realized that you must’ve dropped a few of your books and other paperwork when you accidentally ran into him, as they were scattered across the floor all around you.
There was a long moment of painful silence, as you stared up at him with wide eyes.
Eyes, that were filled with something that looked like panic to him, like a deer caught in headlights and you blushed, blushed so much that your whole face turned red. Oh god, Quaritch thinks to himself, she’s one of those kind of lab coats. Those nerds that never see the sunlight because they’re always cramped into their little labs, studying whatever fucking plants and stuff they could get their hands on, like it’s their only purpose in life. One of those nerds that he made fun of when he was still in college, virgins he’d call them, because that’s what they were. So smart, yet too stupid to socialize and actually get their hands on another human.
You, too, looked like a virgin to him. Albeit a little too pretty to be compared to the other scientist freaks he had crossed ways with so far. Less like a sun starved vampire, with dark circles under their eyes and greasy hair that made him wonder if they even had showers down at the labs. No, you looked more like those kind of girls you’d see in those weird roleplay porn movies, dressed down to make them look nerdier, as if they were someone completely different outside of work, wearing those fake glasses that weren’t actually needed for anything other than the sheer purpose of covering them in cu—
"Oh god, I’m s-so sorry, Sir!" You finally snatched out of your trance when he crooked a brow at you, hastily hurrying to fall to your knees and collect the papers that were littered across the floor like confetti.
With an amused huff, Miles was about to turn on his heels and continue his way to meet General Ardmore at the corporate hq, when his gaze flicks to a tiny, square piece of paper on the floor. The sheer horror on your face, when he crouched down to pick it up, was actually quiet an amusing sight to him.
"Well, well. Look what we have here." Quaritch chuckles as he flips the paper over, that in fact turned out to be a polaroid, just as he assumed. It reveals the picture perfect shot of a body, with a small tattoo he’s grown very familiar with.
"If that ain’t my sweet little cherry…"
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Whispers in the Night || Jake "Hangman" Seresin
Summary: Request - Can i request a jake x reader where they're partners/married and she's pregnant (maybe like 6 months) and he has to go on a mission. when he gets back she's just super clingy because 1) she was worried and scared and 2) she just missed him. and maybe he snaps at her
A/N: TY for the request. Love Jake sm!! Enjoy!
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader
Word Count: 2.4k +
T/W : Angsty in the beginning
The house felt different without Jake. His absence echoed through the rooms leaving a void that seemed impossible to fill. As you sat on the couch the silence of the house felt deafening in Jake's absence. Your fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your swollen belly seeking comfort in the life growing inside you. But despite the reassuring kicks and movements from your unborn child there was an undeniable sense of unease that settled deep within your heart.
Each day without Jake felt like an eternity. The minutes dragging on as you counted down the moments until his return. You tried to distract yourself with mundane tasks, but the worry and anticipation gnawed at your insides like a relentless tide. Jake made sure you weren’t completely alone though. His mom came to stay with you for a few weeks. Your mom popped over as she could as she lived a few hours away. Even friends would come over keeping you busy, and mind occupied when he wasn’t there. But the nights were always hard. Always when you craved his touch and sweet whispers. Six weeks was a long time for him to be away in the middle of your pregnancy, but you knew what you signed up for when you married him a few years ago.
Being accustomed to Jake's dangerous line of work did little to ease your anxiety this time around. If anything, the realization that you were six months pregnant only amplified your fears. Every news report, every phone call filled you with dread. You mind always seemed to imagine the worst-case scenarios playing out. To add insult to injury you couldn’t even call him or write him. They were on a no contact mission. Your least favorite.
You longed for his presence, his reassuring touch, his calming voice. But as the days turned into weeks, the void left by his absence only seemed to grow larger, consuming you with a sense of longing for the man you called your husband.
Perhaps it was just your maternal instinct kicking in, but the fear of the unknown loomed over you like a dark cloud. It cast a shadow over even the brightest moments. You tried to stay strong for yourself and for your unborn child, but deep down the uncertainty gnawed at your heart with every passing moment. Fortunately for you it was coming up on six weeks and thankfully it had been radio silent. That was the best-case scenario for these types of missions.
The familiar sound of the front door opening stirred you from your slumber though you remained in that hazy state between sleep and wakefulness. As you shifted slightly in bed you felt a pair of strong arms enveloping you pulling you into a warm embrace. Startled by the touch your eyes fluttered open. Y you were met with the sight of Jake, his beautiful face illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window.
"Jake?" you murmured, your voice heavy with sleep and confusion.
He smiled over at you with his eyes filled with tenderness. "Hey, sweetheart. It's just me. Go back to sleep love." he reassured you. His voice a soothing melody in the quiet of the night.
You blinked trying to process the sudden appearance of your husband. "You're home early though," you observed, your heart fluttering with a mixture of surprise and joy. You were supposed to pick him up from the base in a few days’ time. This was a wonderful surprise though.
Jake nodded as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "The mission ended earlier than expected. Everyone was eager to get back home. We all voted on coming back. I just couldn’t wait to see my beautiful wife." he explained. His voice tinged with relief as he watched you with the utmost love in his eyes.
You melted into his embrace. Feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the familiar scent of his cologne enveloping you like a comforting blanket. Despite the initial shock of being awakened from your sleep there was no place you'd rather be than in Jake's arms. As you nestled closer to him you became acutely aware of the changes in your body since he had left. The baby had grown significantly in the six weeks of his absence. Evidence of the new life growing inside you.
He shifted slightly in bed his hand finding its way to your larger belly now. With a tender touch, he traced gentle circles on your skin, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "The little one has grown a lot," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder and awe as he held you close to him revealing in your heartbeat. It was always a silent comfort he craved and missed so dearly while deployed.
You smiled feeling a surge of affection for the man lying beside you. "Growing big and strong just like his or her daddy," you teased while running a hand through his now shaggy hair. The two of you opted to keep the gender a surprise.
He chuckled softly as he pressed another kiss to your forehead. "I missed you, angel" he murmured. His words a silent promise of his unwavering devotion. And as you lay entwined in each other's arms the worries and uncertainties of the world faded away leaving behind only the overwhelming love and warmth that bound you together.
As the next day wore on, Jake couldn't shake off the feeling of being overwhelmed by your presence. Not that it was your intention. But the sheer intensity of your need for him seemed to permeate the very air around them. You craved him, your every move mirroring his own as if you couldn't bear to let him out of your sight for even a moment.
At first Jake found your clinginess endearing. It was a testament to the depth of your love and longing. A quiet declaration of your desire to be close to him after his long absence. He welcomed your affection. Your constant need for his presence filling a void he hadn't even realized existed.
But as the hours stretched on your constant proximity began to grate on his nerves. Every time he turned around you were there watching him with worried eyes. Your need for him palpable in every touch, every word. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate your affection – far from it. But the intensity of your clinginess seemed to smother him leaving him gasping for air in the suffocating embrace of your love.
Jake's time on the carrier had left him overstimulated. He was constantly surrounded by noise and activity. Now back in the familiar confines of home the silence seemed deafening, yet your presence felt like an onslaught of sensory overload. He longed for solitude, for a moment of peace to collect his thoughts and decompress after the chaos of his mission.
Your concern for him only heightened the pressure he felt. The weight of your worry pressing down on him. He knew you meant well, that your clinginess was a manifestation of your love and longing for him. But right now, he just needed space. With every touch, every word, he felt the walls closing in around him. The need for air becoming more desperate with each passing moment. He tried to push down the rising tide of frustration. To swallow the bitter taste of guilt that lingered on his tongue. But it was a losing battle.
As he retreated into himself seeking solace in the quiet recesses of his mind, he couldn't help but feel a pang of remorse at the hurt he knew his words would cause you. But in that moment he couldn't bear to think about anything except the overwhelming need to be alone. To find respite from the constant barrage of emotions threatening to engulf him.
No sooner had he settled on the couch trying to catch up on some much-needed rest. He felt your presence hovering nearby. You stood at the edge of the room. Your eyes never leaving him. Your need for his attention a silent plea that echoed in the silence of the house.
"Y/N, can't you find something else to do?" Jake finally asked. Unable to contain his frustration any longer.
Your heart sank at the sharpness of his tone, the hurt evident in your eyes as you took a step back. A tear welled up in the corner of your eye showing him the hurt you felt inside at the words he just spoke.
"I'm so sorry, Jake," you whispered. Your voice trembling with emotion. "I think it's the hormones."
Jake's heart sank at the sound of your voice. The weight of your words hitting him like a ton of bricks. He could see the hurt etched on your face. The vulnerability in your eyes tugging at his heartstrings.
His expression softened at realization of the pain he had caused evident in his eyes. "No, angel, it's not your fault," he murmured. His voice filled with regret. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I was just... overwhelmed."
He reached out to touch your hand, but you pulled away feeling self-conscious over your sudden clinginess to him. With a heavy heart you turned away walking out of the room despite his profuse apologies. Jake watched helplessly as you retreated into yourself. The distance between you growing with each passing moment.
Jake felt a heavy sense of regret weighing on his chest as he watched you retreat away. Despite his apologies he couldn't shake the feeling that he had let you down. That he had failed to provide the comfort and reassurance you needed in that moment of vulnerability. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to you. To wrap you in his arms and soothe away the hurt he had caused, but he knew that he had to give you the space you needed.
As the hours passed Jake found himself pacing the empty rooms of the house. The silence you had grown accustomed to weighing heavily on his shoulders. He tried to focus on the tasks at hand to distract himself from the gnawing sense of unease that lingered in the back of his mind. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that seemed to permeate every corner of the house. Was this how you felt when he was gone?
Meanwhile, you lay curled up on the bed. Your thoughts consumed by the events of the day. Despite your best efforts to push them away the hurtful words and the sharpness of Jake's tone echoed in your mind. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious of your actions, second-guessing every word you had spoken and every tear you had shed. Even when Jake checked in on you with his concern evident in every word and gesture you couldn't bring yourself to face him. Your need for solitude outweighing the comfort of his presence. You were embarrassed. How could you not pick up on the signs? Of course, he needed space. Missions were a drag. You knew that better than anyone.
And so, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the darkness of night descended upon the house you remained cocooned in your own thoughts. The distance between you and Jake stretching on indefinitely.
But as night fell and the quiet of the house enveloped them, Jake couldn't bear it any longer. He found you in the bedroom where you’d been all day, curled up on the bed. Your tears staining the pillow beneath your head. Without a word he crossed the room and pulled you into his arms holding you close as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.
As Jake held you in his embrace he felt the tension in your body slowly begin to melt away, replaced by a sense of warmth and comfort that washed over him like a gentle tide. He knew that you were pretending to be asleep, your breathing steady and even, but he also knew you too well to be fooled by the facade.
"I know you're awake, angel," he murmured, his voice a soft whisper in the darkness of the room.
You remained silent. Your eyes closed as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The warmth of his body enveloping you like a protective shield. Despite the hurt and the distance that had grown between you, you couldn't deny the overwhelming sense of relief that flooded through you at his touch. The knowledge that he was there by your side, ready to mend the cracks in your fragile heart.
"I'm so sorry, angel," Jake whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "I never should have snapped at you. I shouldn’t have taken that out on you."
You opened your eyes meeting his gaze with a mixture of sadness and longing. "I'm sorry too," you replied. Your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I don’t know what’s going on with me." And with that you felt more tears falling.
Jake shook his head. His expression softening as he cupped your face in his hands. "No, baby, you have nothing to apologize for," he insisted, his voice gentle but firm. "I love how much you care, how much you need me. It's what makes us work. I let my own stress get the better of me rather than talking about it with you. I should have leaned on you instead of pushing you away."
As his words washed over you, a sense of relief flooded through you, the weight of guilt lifting from your shoulders. You realized that despite the challenges you faced, the love and understanding between you were stronger than ever before.
Jake's thumb gently brushed away the tears that still lingered on your cheeks. His touch tender and reassuring. Pulling you close, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. His hands drifted down to cup your growing belly, whispering sweet nothings to the baby growing inside. The sensation sent your heart into overdrive with a surge of warmth spreading through you at the sight of Jake's adoration for your little one.
And as Jake leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss, you felt the steady emotion of love wash over you. The barriers that had kept you apart crumbling away in the face of your shared love and forgiveness.
Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @mrsevans90 @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @missxmav @kajjaka
#jake seresin#jake seresin fanfic#jake seresin x y/n#jake seresin x you#hangman x y/n#hangman x reader#jake seresin x reader#top gun imagine#top gun maverick#top gun#jake seresin x oc#jake seresin fluff#jake seresin fic#jake seresin fanfiction#jake seresin angst#jake seresin au#jake seresin blurb#jake hangman seresin#tgm#top gun hangman#hangman top gun#hangman x oc#hangman x you#jake hangman x you#jake hangman x reader#hangman fanfiction#hangman fic#hangman fluff#hangman imagine#hangman
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Sweet Pea x soft!reader hcs
wc: 1.3k
genre: mutual pining, tooth rotting fluff
pairing: sweet pea x soft reader
warnings: reader is implied to be smaller than sweet pea but he's like 6'3 and beefy so it's not too out of the question, reader is called clingy needs attention and hates being alone by jughead but sweet pea LOVES that about you, size difference, protective sweet pea, sweet pea is a rottweiler boyfriend, kisses and cuddles, mentions of fighting and gang activity
song recs: fight for me - heathers obc, big boy - sza
a/n: been watching the anime my love story and it's feuling my sweet pea obsession lol. I've also decided that while horribly bad, riverdale is camp. If I convince myself it's camp I can drag myself through it. It's supposed to be bad and make no sense and of course there's a "goblin king" running around town causing problems because it's camp.
tags: @yesv01 @magcon7280
Okay so like I said in my initial drabble
When Sweet Pea first sees you he deadass thinks you’re an angel
You are so sweet and soft and perfect
The only way to describe you is angelic
He’s so wrapped up in how alluring and enamoring you are that he doesn’t notice you’re just as drawn to him
You immediately see past his gorgeous and intimidating exterior to the soft great big heart inside him
You see all his good traits and you’re not scared off that he’s a little rough around the edges
But Sweet Pea sees that you’re not rough around the edges
And he doesn’t want you to become that way
Especially not because of him
He feels so protective over you from day one
Even though he’s fighting his obvious feelings for you and ignoring your obvious feelings for him, he still tries to look out for you
Keeps an eye on you a little, just to make sure no one’s giving you any trouble
You’re friends with Betty so you’re sort of tied to the serpents already, but he doesn’t want to drag you any deeper into gang life than you already are
So he tries not to fall any harder for you than he already has
Even though Jughead is always bringing you up, telling him that Betty says you’ve been asking after him
He can’t even process that Jughead just said you’ve been asking after him and about him a lot because of how Jughead keeps describing you
He says you’re sort of clingy and need a lot of attention, that you get nervous in crowds and you’re really touchy and hate being alone
That’s why your last boyfriend broke up with you
But the more Jughead talks about you and your apparent flaws, the more perfect you sound to Sweet Pea
You’re exactly what he’s been dreaming of
Someone he can go all in with, someone who wants him and needs him as much as he wants you and needs you
Which is obviously a lot
And now it’s getting harder and harder to listen to that logical voice that tells him he’s no good for you, that you deserve someone from northside who can take good care of you and not drag you into any more chaos than you’re already surrounded by
But you’ve been writing his name in your diary over and over for weeks now, and it’s really just a matter of time before you end up together
All your friends know this
Betty and Jughead and Toni know this
Even Fangs knows this
Everyone knows but you and Sweet Pea
You both still think it’s an unreciprocated pipe dream
Something to imagine scenarios about before you fall asleep
You’re more alike than you realize
But soon you find your way to each other
You just can’t stay away anymore
And once you’re together, once you’re finally in his arms, neither of you ever want to let go
Sweet Pea is an amazing boyfriend to begin with
But especially when it comes to someone as soft and sweet and precious as you?????
He’s literally the best person you could ever hope for
He’s a classic rottweiler boyfriend
AND he’s a gang boyfriend
Plus Sweet Pea’s just naturally a very protective person to the people he loves
So you can guarantee you’ll be safe with him
He won’t hesitate to stare down anyone he thinks looks at you too long
But he’s not going to start shit with you around unless he has to
If he does need to fight someone, he’s going to make sure you’re not there to see it
Even if he has to ask Betty or Veronica or Fangs to drag you into the other room and stay with you until it’s over
He doesn’t want you to see him like that
But he knows how to hold his own, and Fangs and Toni both reassure you there’s not a fight he hasn’t been able to walk away from
You’re always there to patch him up afterwards too
You touch him so gently
With more love and care and tenderness than he’s ever gotten from anyone before
It makes it kind of impossible to regret sticking up for you
Even if he did walk away with some nasty scratches and a black eye
You’re still not scared of him
You don’t judge him
Like at all
He always makes you feel so safe around him
All he’s wanted for a while is someone to go all in with
Someone to protect, someone to take care of
Someone who needs him
And you do
You spend more and more nights together before finally confessing that you can’t really sleep without him anymore
When I tell you his heart explodes when you say that?????
God as if you couldn’t get him wrapped even tighter around your finger
Surprise! Yes you can
He dips you a lot too
Mostly because he’s so tall and it’s so easy and it makes you so nervous when he pulls you close and leans over you like that
It makes you all dizzy and he talks so close to your face for a few moments before finally kissing you
GOD it makes your head spin
You can’t get enough
And he can’t get enough of the way you look up at him all soft and sweet
Like you’re not scared of him
Which you’re not
It’s still kind of new for him
But it’s something he really hopes he can get used to
He’s touchy too
He pulls you into his lap and rests his head on your shoulder a lot
Or wraps his arms around yours
Don’t even get me started on holding his big old hands with both of yours
It makes his stomach flip every single time
And SO MANY FOREHEAD KISSES
You kiss his neck and jaw a lot too
Mostly because it’s all you can reach half the time
And because you know it drives him completely crazy
If you ever worried about getting unwanted attention from guys, you don’t have to anymore
EVERYBODY knows you’re Sweet Pea’s
And EVERYBODY knows not to fuck with him
Sweet Pea can be fucking terrifying when he wants to
Which makes things like him pinning you to the couch and tickling you until you tap out and you’re both blushing giggly wrecks even cuter
You completely and totally have scary boyfriend privileges
And you take such good care of him too
He really doesn’t think he’s ever been this happy and content and at peace
His friends can easily attest to the fact that they’ve never seen him this happy either
And your friends have never seen you this happy too
Over all, you’re really just a fantastic match
You become the emotional support couple of riverdale high so fast
People get used to seeing him walk you to classes he doesn’t even have
Seeing you ride around town on the back of his motorcycle together
Because you belong together
You really do
Sweet Pea might not know what the future is going to look like
He might not know what’s going to happen tomorrow
But the only thing he does know about his future is that you’re going to be in it
And he’s going to be in yours
You’re starting to make him dream about a soft domestic life away from gangs and murder and conspiracies
He doesn’t know if that’s practical or attainable, but he hopes it is
Until then, he’s more than happy just getting to be around you
Getting to see you all the time and wake up next to each other on the weekends
He loves loving you, he loves keeping you safe and happy
Just like you love him and keep him happier than he’s ever been
Just being with you is more than enough
#sweet pea#sweet pea x reader#sweet pea headcanons#riverdale#riverdale x reader#riverdale headcanons#I want sweet pea to manhandle me tbh
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Landslide
Summary: Melissa's doing a lot of self-reflection while she ponders about what the future might hold for the two of you.
Feel free to listen to my cover of the song too!
WC: 1.95k
Melissa Schemmenti has been through a lot- there’s no two ways about that statement. She’s had plenty of rough seasons, and they’ve shaped who she is today. And then you came crashing into her life the day that you quite literally tripped and fell walking into her during the first day of development at Abbott your first year. Your mere existence threw her into an existential crisis, and that was before the two of you started dating. And now? She’s contemplating asking you to marry her (how you managed to get her to rethink her entire outlook on life, love, and marriage without your realizing it is beyond her). With this revelation of hers that she might want to get married again, she’s doing a lot of reflection of the course of her life.
I took my love, I took it down. I climbed a mountain and I turned around. And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills, til the landslide brought me down.
She used to wear her heart on her sleeve. That’s actually how she fell in love with Joe. It was a typical school girl crush in the eighties when she met him in an entry level writing course during college that everybody was required to take in order to graduate. They fell in what she thought was love and got married far quicker than she had ever expected herself to do. She had climbed that mountain, and she almost made it to the top. But then, their marriage had turned into the situation that she had promised herself she would never be in. She turned around, and as she began her trek down, she saw her reflection in what was now a snow covered hill. She saw the way that this experience changed her, and she knew that she would never be the same again- not after what Joe had done. And then the landslide brought her down, and she had fallen from what felt like the highest peak, and she found herself in one of the lowest valleys.
Oh, mirror in the sky: what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Building herself back up to be as much of the Melissa Schemmenti that she knew and missed was a process, and the redhead knew that it was always going to a little different than it once was.
Melissa found herself looking up at the sky quite often, feeling a sense of serenity when the sun in the sky shone on her face or when the droplets of water that fell from the clouds trailed down her face and she couldn’t quite tell what was rain and what was tears. It was freeing and made her feel as though everything might just be okay.
The redheaded woman was looking up at the sky on a rather cloudy and dismal day as she wandered through the city aimlessly when she finally decided to ask herself what love really is.
Melissa came to the realization that day that she had no idea what love was. Her mother and father certainly didn’t have the love story everyone yearned for- no, they ended up divorced by the time the redhead was ten. She remembers hearing their fights, the cursing and tears, while she lay in bed trying to fall asleep. A part of her had died in those years, and she truly wondered in that moment if the inner child within her heart could ever rise above and find love- true, real, and natural love that wasn’t forced or expected of her.
The woman walked through the city without a destination, wondering if she could handle the changing ocean tide of being in a marriage to being single again. Could she handle the different seasons of her life that were yet to come? She supposed she made it this far, so she can’t give up now- if anything to spite whatever God was trying to make her life a living hell.
Well I’ve been afraid of changing, cause I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older. And I’m getting older too.
That night, Melissa went back to the small apartment in the middle of Center City Philadelphia that she couldn’t quite yet call a home. She stood out on her balcony, eyes focused down on the streets below her. Somewhere, Joe was roaming those streets looking for his next booty call. And in that moment, she realizes that she needs to change her ways- it’s been two months that she’s been moping around since the divorce was filed.
But she was terrified of change. She had built this whole life around Joe and his friends and family, and she lost it all in an instance when she caught him in their bed with another woman.
With time, Melissa’s heart healed and mended itself- the only true remedy for heartache and heartbreak. And in that time, she grew to love where she worked at Abbott Elementary. She grew bigger and bolder, back into the woman that didn’t put up with shit and marched to the beat of her own drum.
Years passed, and the redhead found herself watching her first class graduate from Abbott. Only then did she realize that even children grow and get older- onto their new chapter, and then in a few short years she would find herself at their high school graduations cheering and clapping for them among their families.
But Melissa Schemmenti was like family to some of those kids- like a second mother, or even a first mother in certain cases. And she would continue to be there for them.
Only after she enters the door to her townhouse that at least somewhat feels like a home to her now does the second grade teacher realize that she too is getting older.
And then you came around. You started working at Abbott when Melissa was finally settled into her own being and she was happy with where she was in life. And you came and shook that all up in your flowery sundresses and bright smile. You turned her world upside down with your infectious positivity and sunny disposition. The redhead who wore mostly muted colors with her pleather pants and leather jacket started to wear brighter colors again, because you unintentionally made her see the world like she was living in technicolor.
And after a few months of you working there, the two of you began to see each other romantically. You brought out parts of the hardheaded second grade teacher that she thought she would never see again, yet she was still Melissa. She was still the woman who knew a guy and wasn’t afraid to back down from a bare knuckle fist fight or to bring out her bat to destroy someone’s car who wronged her. You found yourself loving that. You also found yourself loving the way that Melissa would turn soft for you in an instant if you needed it. You knew she was the woman of your dreams, and the redhead felt that too oddly enough.
And so, here she is in her classroom as she waits for you to finish up a meeting with Malik’s parents and doing some self-reflection again as she wonders if maybe you are the miracle that she’s been waiting for her entire life- if you are the one true, real, natural love that she’s been looking for. If you’re the one that she’s going to throw caution to the wind for and get married to.
Well I’ve been afraid of changing, cause I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older. And I’m getting older too.
She’s been afraid of change her entire life. Melissa Schemmenti thrives off of routine and the things that she knows to be true in the world. But you came and shook everything up, and she’s built her new life around you now. Is she willing to change everything if a second marriage of hers goes south again?
But… time has made her bolder. Time has shown the redhead that no matter what happens, she’s resilient- she’ll make it through. And genuinely, she isn’t so sure that she would hate the change of being married again, as long as it was to you.
Time passes around her slowly as she looks around her classroom and realizes just how much has truly changed since she started teaching you and even just in the past few years that you’ve been in her life.
The kids that she started out with are onto the real world, they’ve grown up. They’re off creating their lives, creating families and raising beautiful children that are now wandering through the halls of Abbott themselves.
The practice of teaching has changed and evolved as Melissa’s been here, and while she’s always been afraid of change, the redhead realizes that she’s always been changing and growing to fit the standards of the time in order to give her students the best education she can.
And you? You’ve brought a new sense of life and passion into her world… she’s getting older, she’s aware of this. Maybe you’re worth the potential landslide that could take her out again. She doubts you will- you’re nothing like her ex-husband in the slightest. And that gives her hope. The lingering fears though stay with her, because much like you’ve shaped her, so have her past experiences.
Oh, take my love, take it down. Oh, climb a mountain and you turn around. And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, well the landslide brought me down. And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, well the landslide bring it down.
Melissa’s worn her heart on her sleeve when it comes to you. And so far, she hasn’t had to take it down. You’ve both climbed the mountain, but neither of you have turned around. She saw her reflection as she climbed up, and she’ll be quite frank: she still glances down at the snow-covered hills occasionally when a moment of self-doubt and self-worth takes over. But she doesn’t think that the landslide will ever bring the two of you down.
And so, she opens her phone and pulls up the number of one of her guys.
“Jack? I think I need a ring,” she says into the phone lowly, praying to God you aren’t coming around the corner.
“For?”
“I think I found the future Mrs. Schemmenti,” Melissa reveals with a soft smile on her face. “I’m done letting the landslide bring me down.”
“Meet me tomorrow after work, and I’ll have a few things picked out for you.”
She hangs up the phone with a smile.
You walk into her classroom a few moments later, bags slung over your shoulder.
“Hey, babe,” you sigh. “You ready to go home? I’m beat, and I need some relaxation and Desperate Housewives.”
Melissa chuckles softly as she stands from her desk chair and grabs her own bag. She stretches to peck your cheek before taking your left hand in her own. Subconsciously, she rubs her thumb on your ring finger as she thinks about the meeting that she has tomorrow with her guy.
Melissa Schemmenti has always been afraid of change… always wanted to heal that inner child of hers that used to look up into the night sky and wonder what love was. And here she was, changing for you and knowing what love truly felt like.
TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson
#melissa schemmenti fanfiction#melissa schemmenti fanfic#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti#abbott elementary fanfic#abbott elementary#abbott elementary fanfiction#singing#guitar#landslide cover
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Ok so — Luo Binghe is happily living his life with his husband, all their problems have been sorted out, the human and demon realms are at peace… and then one morning he wakes back up at the base of Cang Qiong, a child again, on the day he was first accepted as a disciple by Shen Qingqiu. He doesn’t know how to get back to his original timeline, or even if it’s possible, but while he’s here… maybe he can make sure things between him and Shen Qingqiu go better this time around?
SQQ doesn’t like him initially, something he’s sort of forgotten over the years, preferring to think of happier times instead. He doesn’t get tea poured on him though, which is his first improvement, and he isn’t kicked out of the disciple dormitories either. Even his first cultivation manual is a copy that’s less damaged than he originally got!
(SJ still doesn’t like LBH much, but unlike the first time around, he doesn’t have a reason to specifically hate him. Instead, he just sees him as something of a sycophant, at least at first — cunning and ambitious, but loyal enough).
LBH manages to get the job of making food for SQQ again, which means he’s spending a lot more time around the bamboo house than he ever did before his shizun had that strange qi deviation, and it’s giving him the chance to see a side of SQQ he never saw before. He can still see the similarities between this one and his husband — they share a tendency for cutting critique, embarrassment over being seen enjoying something outside their role as Peak Lord, and a fondness for sweet snacks. They’re still very different though, and LBH slowly finds himself falling in love with this version of SQQ as well.
Being closer to SQQ also lets him see his interactions with the other peak lords — especially YQY and LQG, and their relationships are so different from what he’s become used to. He knows that SQQ apparently lost some memories during that qi deviation, since he apparently forgot whatever caused him to hate LBH in the first place, since he’s never been able to explain why to him — but he really must have lost a lot to forgive people that he so clearly doesn’t get along with. Sure, part of LBH is glad that LQG isn’t a romantic competitor any more, but that’s no excuse to be rude to his shizun!
Keeping this in mind, LBH decides to try and avoid that qi deviation that changed SQQ so much. The first time it happened, it was a blessing, but this time, it would erase this other version of SQQ that he’s only just getting to know. So he manages to convince SQQ to teach him how to treat qi deviations.
(SJ goes along with it, because it seems more convenient for him, even if he has to read up on some of the theory in order to teach it).
When Sha Hualing invades, LBH is ready — and when SQQ shows up with injuries he didn’t have the first time, LBH is willing to stand up and take on the first fight against the one-armed demon. Instead, SQQ fights the demon who covered his armour in Without-A-Cure, winning easily. Liu Qingge shows up, just as he did the first time, and that’s where things go wrong — when everyone is distracted by his appearance, the defeated demon charges at SQQ, almost getting him poisoned, if LBH hadn’t thrown himself between them.
(SJ was only just able to save LQG due to his better knowledge of qi deviation treatment, but he still ended up getting injuries in the process, and they hadn’t fully healed yet).
LBH wakes up a day later, in the side room of the bamboo house again, still dusty and filled with storage boxes. He’s met by a Qian Cao disciple who explains that, even though the poison ended up not being Without-A-Cure, he still needed time to fight it off, and qi infusions from a stronger cultivator — like his shizun. After they leave, SQQ comes in and asks if LBH knew he was part demon.
(SJ grew suspicious when LBH was so willing to sacrifice himself, and investigated, confirming the poison was actually Without-A-Cure, but he didn’t tell Qian Cao that. From the way he just fell ill from it, he knows that LBH must be only part-demon, although he doesn’t know how much, or if he knew if the poison would affect him or not).
LBH pretends he didn’t, drawing on his memories of the first time he learnt about his heritage, and it seems to convince SQQ. He tells him that he can stay in the sect, but only as long as he can hide his heritage — and if he decides to learn demonic cultivation, he should come to SQQ instead of seeking out any strange old masters who claim they’ll show him the route to power.
(SJ rationalises this as just a way to pay back the debt for LBH saving him from Without-A-Cure, and also a potential way to test out some of the theories about demonic cultivation. Over the next few days, he doesn’t get the chance to sleep, between the chaos resulting from the demon invasion, and the presence of LBH so close to where he sleeps. One day, just before LBH is meant to go back to the dorms, he finds himself collapsing onto his bed out of exhaustion. Rather than the nightmares he’s become used to, all his dreams are peaceful.)
Sleeping closer to him, LBH can now slip into SQQs dreamscape to take a look. The SQQ he married had strange dreams, absurd really, that mix things he’s never heard of with reality (what is a ‘microwave’ and what is it doing in his kitchen???), but this one has nightmares. Even from just a few glimpses, he can tell why SQQ might have wanted to forget those memories, to pretend they didn’t exist, so he pushes them away and replaces them with happier memories instead. A few days of peaceful dreams later, SQQ tells him he can stay in the side room, because ‘it will make cooking easier’.
(SJ still isn’t really sure what to think of LBH although he’s slowly starting to care about him — very against his will)
The Immortal Alliance Conference is coming up, and LBH has a difficult decision to make. He doesn’t exactly want to go back to the Abyss but… if Tianlang-jun gets free again, won’t his plan to unite the realms be the same? If he can find his way into the Abyss and claim Xin Mo before LBH does… no, it’s better for him to take it, to hide it away somewhere. Xin Mo may be considered lost, but there are still stories about where it could be found, some of which he knows to be accurate.
(SJ isn’t sure why his new head disciple seems so worried about the Conference, he’s sure he’ll do fine — he’ll even bet on it, and get some money out of all that work training him that he put in. It’s just a simple competition — what could go wrong?)
#svsss#svsss au#shen qingqiu#luo binghe#shen jiu#bingjiu#but it’s bingmei#scum villains self saving system#scum villain self saving system#scum villain
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I love your art so much!!! I've also been starting to paint with gouache, and I'd love to know a little more about your process! What kind of paints do you use, do you sketch first or start with paint, do you paint in layers over several day or all at once?
Hi and thank you! I hope you don't mind me answering this publicly and apologies for length, but:
MY ART PROCESS!
Supplies: I use winsor and newton gouache and arches cold press paper blocks, usually 140 lbs (the lime green ones) and sometimes 300 lbs (the teal green ones). Even though this paper comes pre-stretched in blocks, I actually take the sheets off and stretch them myself because I've found arches' glue isn't as strong as it used to be. This is how you get watercolor paper to lay flat! I recommend youtubing some videos on how to do it -- there's a lot of great tutorials out there. Also, I use princeton brushes, and kraft paper tape and these boards to stretch my paper. (these aren't affiliate links, I just shop at blick)
A word about art supplies: these are the exact tools I use but everyone uses supplies differently and two people with the exact same supplies might get different results! A lot of it is about what works for you and what you like, so I always suggest that gouache/watercolor beginners just buy a few tubes from a couple of different paint companies and some small pieces of paper from different manufacturers to see what you like. Just changing one ingredient in the above has created massively different results for me, but maybe that'll end up being something you'd like! The first step in learning a new medium imo is to play. Just have fun!
ALSO: gouache isn't super light permanent, check your tubes for which ones hold up to sunlight. Here is winsor and newton's color chart explaining which ones will fade when exposed to sunlight -- all manufacturers will give you this. I only use the colors rated A and AA, and I still frame my pieces with UV glass just to be safe. Not all gouache is re-wettable, but winsor and newton is. I just put it in my palettes and refill my palettes if it runs low. AND SOME PAINT IS TOXIC. A lot of paints have cadmium and cobalt in them. I don't use any of the toxic colors, but if you do, make sure you don't eat while working and wash your hands thoroughly afterwards. This information is also usually available on manufacturer's websites. As more people are rejecting cadmium paint, you'll see more tubes labeled things like cadmium-free yellow. This is why. More artists should be aware that their tools can be dangerous. You don't need that many tubes of paint to begin, just a warm and cool red, warm and cool yellow, warm and cool blue, white and black. I have around 50 colors and use 20 regularly. I always mix all my colors myself, and never use straight tube paint. Most of my colors have about 5-6 different tube colors mixed together. If you use re-wettable paint a tube of paint will last you years; even as a professional I only buy new paints every 5 years or so.
Process: I ALWAYS start with a sketch first. Not everyone has to, but because I do illustration work -- where sometimes a client gets input on a drawing -- I always do a lot of preliminary work before I even begin to paint. At this point, even my personal work usually involves the exact same process:
I start with a 3" or so thumbnail that I scan (left; I traced it quickly digtally for clarity to myself here) and then either clean up digitally or print out and clean up traditionally with tracing paper (right):
Then I scan the cleaned sketch in and color rough it digitally (left, this was for a gallery show, so no one had to approve my color roughs, so it's messy!) then I transfer my sketch to my paper (with either carbon transfer paper or a light table), stretch my paper, and paint (right):
I obviously changed my mind about the color of the ribbon in the trees, ha, and made everything a lot more vibrant. The benefit again of gallery work is no pre-approval!
You are correct, I paint in a series of washes, going from lightest to darkest, where I apply the same color beneath all shapes that are the same warmth (cools under all upcoming cools, warms under all upcoming warms). I paint a piece usually in one or two days, depending on complexity. I didn't take pictures of the above painting, but here's a different painting to show you a little bit what I mean:
I painted the peach color under everything (and twice for skin tones), and the gray color of the sky under everything that would be grayish (the rocks, trees, her pants, her skirt, and coat). I do this to stop me from getting darker lines where two different colors butt up against each other, and also for color harmony. I have step by step photos of this in my process stories highlight on my instagram; also check my FAQ and tip highlights for more info on all this stuff. Most pieces take around 25-30 washes before I start adding in the details (sometimes I add in face details early though because if I mess those up it's not worth finishing the rest of the painting! 😅)
All this might seem like a lot of work (...it is) but I do it so that I can show clients previews of the final piece and so I don't have to repaint the finals. I also used to pre-test all of my washes on scrap paper like this:
I still recommend doing this if you're just beginning! But at this point I only do it when testing techniques because I know my paints really well. (the above was my test for the pine boughs in this piece)
Painting by far is the longest part of the process, so I do more work up front to not have to do it twice. Every piece takes about 6-24 hrs of actual work time to produce. Stretching watercolor paper takes about 24 hrs to dry, and because I sell most of my originals in galleries, they need to be flawless, so planning ahead is useful and in the end saves me time.
And to conclude this novel of an explanation, don't be overwhelmed by all the information I've given you! I put it here so that people at various stages of their artistic journey can maybe find something useful in it. But seriously, the first step to learning how to paint whether it's traditionally or digitally is just to have fun. Try it out, see what's working and what isn't, and then try to solve specific issues that you're struggling with. I've been doing this for a loooooong time at this point, but here's my first watercolor piece from when I was re-teaching myself how to paint traditionally nine years ago:
Obviously, I was destined for greatness. Ha, yeah, no. If you scroll back through my tumblr archive, you can see me learning how to use these paints in real time. And keep in mind that I'd been working digitally for years before then, and years before that where I didn't post my work online at all.
So for anyone who needs to hear it: there's no such thing as talent, just hard work, patience, and trying again and again and again...and sometimes again. What I do is a skill and anyone can learn it. Sometimes, progress is slow. I'm 38. I only really feel like my art was half-way decent starting a few years ago, but I've been making art my entire life, and I went to art school at 18. 20 years later I'm kind of figuring it out.
The best advice I can give, whether it's about art or not, is find the thing you love so much that you'll keep at it even when you suck at it, because most skills you'll suck at to begin with -- and perhaps for a long time. I sucked at art for yeeeaaaaarrrrs. On top of the usual learning curve, I struggled with fine motor control and dexterity. But I loved it so much I kept trying every time I failed. If I can do it, so can all of you, no matter what stage of art you're at now, and no matter how old you are.
Anyway, thank you to those still reading this deep in. I wish you all the best on your artistic journey. Art can kick your butt sometimes, but it's also pretty dang rewarding 💛
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How do you think make up sex with Naoya would be? 🫣🤭
Heya anon 😏
Well, I hope this will offer some insight.... (more at the end)
warnings: smut. MINORS DNI. breeding kink I believe. Naoya would give you everything in the whole universe just to make you happy.
Make up sex with Naoya normally occurs after he teased the living hell out of you, and you got really annoyed by it. And of course, the way for him to fix that is to proceed by teasing you even more…
But let’s make it a bit more serious, let’s say Naoya acted stupidly, said something he shouldn’t have and instead of apologizing, made it worse. Probably prodded at an insecurity of yours.
Or more specifically, didn’t defend you from his imprudent family.
“You know I don’t like it when your family says that!” you’d gasp once the two are alone, eyes silently telling him you wished to speak. “Why didn’t you do anything?”
“What was I supposed to do? You know how they are—it’s better to just stop wasting your energy and ignore them.”
“I don’t think ignoring them is doing any good anymore! By doing nothing it’s like we’re telling them there’s no consequences to their actions!” you snap back.
“I’m not going to spend my efforts on fighting a useless battle! There’s nothing I can say or do to make them change their mind! If you want to do that, go ahead!”
“So what? You’re just going to leave me alone, then?”
“Don’t say things I didn’t say.” He frowns. “You know damn well I wouldn’t do that.”
“Then you should at least try to do something… or am I not worthy of that either?”
“Where did that even come from?? Do you even know what you’re saying?!” Naoya scowls.
“… I don’t want to talk anymore.” You say, quickly turning around and retreating, faster than Naoya could attempt to hold you back.
Though honestly, he lets you go, for he too is bothered by the way this conversation went on, a seemingly silly issue that shouldn’t have gotten that much attention to begin with (before his eyes, at least) moving on to focus on his other duties instead, thinking that in time you’ll come around.
You have to, since you were well aware that his family had always been like that: with their annoying, unwanted commentary. It’s not like you ignored that, nor accepted it when marrying him!
But though you knew what you were getting into, he was greatly miscalculating your willingness to tolerate it, for everyone had limits, especially for someone who grew up in a completely different environment to him.
Just as it did today.
Yet, what Naoya believed to be the problem, it turned out to simply the tip of the iceberg when it came to your feelings, the issue being much bigger, deeper, always, than what was seen at a simple glance—and that much he’d understand when the day went on and you were nowhere to be found, besides your shared bedroom.
Naoya was elated to see you on the bed, fearing that he wouldn’t given your prolonged absence, yet, as much as he wished to convince himself everything was fine, it wasn’t.
He wasn’t to simply lay down next to you and act like nothing ever happened. Move past this issue without speaking about it, or without feeling wrong about it.
Guilty, in other words.
So, your husband does his best to close that gap between the two, let you know how sorry he was…
If not by his words, then by his actions.
“Y/N.” Naoya would murmur. You know it’s serious when he doesn’t call you by any of the millions of pet names he has for you, but still, as much as he wished to portray assertiveness, you do not acknowledge him immediately. “I’m sorry, you know that right?”
“No. I don’t.” you snap quickly, and Naoya, who now laid down on the bed, proceeds to embrace you—only for you to try and move away, failing in the process. “Naoya—”
“What? I’m just getting more comfortable.” He adds nonchalantly, resting his chin in the crook of your neck in the same manner. Hands just below your waist, he pulls your hips towards his, keeping you close and steady even when trying your best to fight against him. “This is my bed too, you know?”
You frown, letting out a small grunt in return before eventually accepting your unwanted fate.
After a few seconds of quiet and realizing you were not to do anything else, Naoya acts next by moving his hands further down your body, fingers taking in the softness of your nightgown (incomparable to your skin, he notes) before stopping just by your thighs, fingers quickly clinging to the edge of the fabric and lifting it up, just enough so his hand could gain access to your underwear, and soon enough, your mound.
“Naoya!’ you cry, tensing when feeling the touch of his fingers hovering over your slit, before pushing past it and deep into your slick, warm walls. “Stop—”
“I’m just checking how she’s faring.” Naoya adds, rubbing his clothed member against the cleft of your ass, giving you a tease of what is yet to come. “He wants to know too, hm?”
You always hated the ridiculous way he had when referring that; it was childish, stupid, and above all embarrassing…
But most of all, you also hated how hot it got you, the lewd connotation making your walls tighten for the slightest of seconds, a gesture that did went by unnoticed from Naoya given how he chuckled, further sliding down your panties, enough so he’d be able to do the same with his pants and move his cock in between your thighs, right next to your slit—he smiles the fact that, even when upset, your body will never deny it’s true feelings for him.
“D—Don’t move…!” you whine when he starts to do so, the heat of his member rubbing against your slit, alongside the girth and the hardness itself makes you instinctively tighten your thighs, pressuring his cock in a way that makes his movements falter for a second before continuing, exactly the opposite of what you asked. “You shouldn’t—”
“But we’re the ones having problems, my mochi.” He murmurs against your ear, you could feel him smiling, clearly enjoying teasing you. “Our issues shouldn’t come in between them.”
“Stop saying that!” You gasp at the particularly harsh trust that gives you a jolt of pleasure, instinctively leaning back onto him as you struggle to reject his advances or succumb to them. “It’s—It’s weird!”
“Yet, the truth.” Naoya adds, his hands sliding their way up to your breasts and comfortably resting them there, occasionally kneading and pinching them in the way he knew you loved, though you’d always whine otherwise, further igniting your guilty pleasure. “They never like it when we get angry, princess… me neither; so why must we hurt them?”
“Naoya—I’m going to—you should—” you grith your teeth, trying your best to hold back the orgasm building up in your cunt. “I don’t want—to—"
“I know—I can feel it.” He smiles, pressing a kiss against your cheek before giving you another sharp trust and making you shriek. “See? They feel so good together, and when they’re apart they always miss each other so terribly… so why put them through that painful endeavor, when we can always be like this?”
At the feeling of his and your orgasm fast approaching, the heir quickens his pace, the air soon filled with the lewd noises of his body slamming against yours, followed by his breathy grunts and your whines that solely demonstrated how deep both were getting into their carnal enjoyment.
“Or feel like this every night? All day too, if you want.”
It wouldn’t take long after that, just a few more thrusts and squeezes before he finally cums, cock twitching as it spurts his seed into your soft, warm thighs, engulfed soon after by the slick of your cunt, a sensation that has you instinctively clamping even more around his member and Naoya moaning louder while resting his face deep into your neck.
He keeps you so until your release eventually dissipates, alongside your breath slowing down, and soon enough, silence.
Naoya hoped that by his gestures he was granted the opportunity of an apology, the reflection of his true feelings and the understanding of how much you truly meant to him—and perhaps on a deeper, selfish level, a repeat of this endeavor, hopefully from your desire as well.
But far from obtaining the simplest indication of the former, he gets a soft, almost undetectable sniffle instead, which to his anxious, attentive ears was nothing but loud, making him tense up and immediately rush to your aid.
“Y/N, what’s wrong? Did you—did you not like it?” or worse. “Did I hurt you?”
Not necessarily, at least not at this moment.
Having spent the past few hours ruminating on your last discussion with him, you get back to your room tired, still battling through the turmoil of whether to continue being angry with him or simply move past this issue and accept that indeed, you knew what his family was like.
But sensitive from this battle, his actions would provide you the last piece needed to achieve an answer, reminded of how much you truly loved him, enjoyed spending time with him, day and night, anytime whenever possible—and how hurtful it would be to not be with him anymore.
Especially for issues caused by others, ones that perhaps maybe wasn’t even yours to struggle with, yet still affected this relationship.
Now you agree that this was a situation that shouldn’t have grown as much as it did; you shouldn’t have avoided him for the rest of the day, and Naoya shouldn’t have acted as dismissively as he did.
Both should’ve instead communicated, expressed the things that bothered the two from this problem and worked on a solution from there.
But if there was a silver lining to make out of this moment, is the realization that even when anger clouds their judgement, they still looked for one another, for love prevailed far more than any obstacles life might send their way.
“I never wanted to be angry at you!” you sob, now allowing your tears to freely fall down your cheeks, the same as your emotions. “And for something so stupid too! You were right, I know what your family is like, and yet, I still allow it to bother me and take it out on you too! Like you’re responsible for their actions! I’m so sorry for all I did—It’s all my fault—”
“No, Y/N, I’m the one that should be sorry.” Naoya murmurs, hugging you tighter against him. Your cries will always feel like a stab against his heart, no matter how many times he hears them. “I should’ve been more sensitive with my approach, especially with something I know only hurts you.”
“…Not all of your family hurts me.” You sniffle, reaching for his hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“But enough of it does.” He answers, squeezing your hand. “I promised to keep you safe and happy, and yet the place that is supposed to do that only brings you harm.”
“It was never issue for me to do so.” You confess. “I wanted to do this so you can continue your duties as heir, and eventually, leader. But sometimes… It’s just too much.”
“If that is the reason of your suffering, I can do that somewhere else. I can make it possible—I’d rather die than to see you like this.”
“Don’t say that.” You frown, he chuckles. “But… will you do that for me? Would you really do something that will anger your family… just for me?”
Wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last.
“The only thing I fear is that I might need time to arrange something different.” Naoya adds. “But for a long time, my family has only been you—it might take a while before I can get a house where it’ll only be us, but I’m determined nonetheless, if… you’re willing to wait for me.”
You slowly turn around to see him, a smile on your face as you gently hold his face. “I waited years to marry you, surely I can wait a bit more.”
Naoya’s heart tightens at your words, motivating him to turn you over completely so he could get a better look at you, before leaning down to take your lips into a soft kiss.
“Though I will not make you wait any longer to show how much I love you.” Naoya reassures, taking your lips into another kiss and marking the mere beginning of his promise to cherish you through thick and thin, which his heart always knew he was meant for since seeing you for the first time all those years ago.
“Naoya—don’t—don’t do it so quickly.” You gasp, tightly holding onto the blankets beneath you as he heatedly slams his hips against you from behind, pushing his cock as deep and deeper as possible, bruising your cervix each time and making you shriek in response. “It’s—It’s too much—!”
“It’s only my love for you, princess.” He groans, completely hypnotized by the way your ass jiggles whenever slamming into you; so tempting, Naoya naturally needs to raise his hand and strike it, leaving behind for you to always remember in the subsequent days who is the only one that can make you feel this way.
Whom you belong to.
“But if you don’t want it, I can simply—”
“No!” You gasp, leaning back onto him the moment he begins to slide out from you, a reacting that has him laughing, amused by your debauchery. “Don’t you dare leave!”
A reward is only expected with a wife so dutiful…
“Can you feel that? —Can you feel my cock deep inside you?”
You whine, agreeing with his words as you continue to move against him, the mere thought of being empty is enough to fill you with unparalleled eagerness, which you did not hesitate to show.
“Nnghh, Naoya—you’re so—you’re so big—!” you gasp, and your words alongside your lovely whines, make him grow even harder. “Ah, it’s—it’s getting bigger—how?!”
“Because you keep squeezing me like that.” He growls against your ear, taking your breasts into his hand and kneading them tightly, you cry. “That’s what you do to me, my wife—your lewd cunt is squeezing me so tightly, it’s like you don’t want to let go.”
“I don’t want to….!” You whine. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop—I’m going to die if you do!"
“Keep saying that, whore—keep telling me what you deserve.”
“My pussy—my pussy deserves your hard, hot cock!” you breathe.
“It's like falling in love with you all over again.” he murmurs.
“I love you, Naoya.” You gasp, mind hazy from the pleasure yet keeping you conscious enough to keep seeking him. “I love you so, so much… I never want to be away from you!”
“You won’t.” He darkly promises, having long made up his mind on how exactly he plans to do that. “I won’t let you—!”
Naoya’s hips begin to move faster and faster, each time his cock prodding onto your sensitive spot that he knows will have you undone in a matter of seconds, just around the same time he comes to the conclusion that will ultimately make his promise real.
“I’m going to get you pregnant.” He darkly declares, gritting his teeth as he pushes his cock deeper as he utters those words. “I’m going to fill you with my seed until you have a baby—and even then, I’ll keep filling you until all you could think is when you’ll get pregnant again.”
“Nao—Naoyaaa…!” you moan at his promise, his words washing over you with another layer of pleasure you never considered possible, although the thought has crossed your mind before, bothered you enough late at night, wondering about the arduous attempts the two would have to commit to make it happen…
“I can’t wait to see your breasts full of milk—I bet it’ll taste just as sweet as your cunt.”
“Don’t—Don’t say that!” you shriek, feeling impossibly lewder at his connotation and tightening even more your walls, making his breath hitch.
“But it’s true.” He groans, moving his hand down to your clit and beginning to rub it eagerly once feeling your orgasm just a few instances away, frantically desiring to be engulfed by the choking sensation his cock deserves after it’s diligent work. “All that comes from you is unbearably sweet…”
“I’m—I’m going to—I’m going to cum!”
“Do it. Do it now!” Your husband hisses. “Cum, Y/N!”
A few thrusts later, you do, followed by a quick gasp and a long groan, the knot in your stomach snapping undone and making your vision go white, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you moan, falling limp onto the bed while Naoya’s seed fills you to the brim, the burning promise to make you pregnant reiterated by his lips taking yours into a heated kiss…
“Can you—Can you feel that?” he murmurs, cock twitching as it spurts the last ropes of his cum. “It’s my love for you. And now, our baby…”
“Naoya…” you whine, squeezing your walls ever so slightly when feeling him twitch; he groans. “I want it—I want your babies…”
“Take it—take all of it—” he smiles, looking down to your cunt. “Looks like she also wants that—can you see how eager she is to milk me?”
You glance downwards, eyes hazy by pleasure but still capable enough to see what he meant, unwilling to deny his words… before gasping when realizing the gravity of what transpired next.
“Naoya! It’s spilling! Don’t let it spill!”
“If you think we’re done, you’re gravelly mistaken.” He smirks, fingers quickly cleaning up his seed and pushing deep into your cunt, where it belongs, before adjusting you into the next position. “I’ll give you as much as you want, my love, whatever is necessary to make you a mommy.”
You moan when he begins to move again, feeling impossibly fuller the deeper his cock went, an endeavor that would go on and on until you were unequivocally reassured of his feelings for you, his immeasurably desire…
As well as the first semblance of a future together, hopefully soon, as a family.
“I love you.” You breathe once he finally unsheathes himself from you, many hours later from the beginning, as you laid beside him and rested your head over his chest.
“I love you too.” Naoya responds, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you tight, his head resting over yours while his hand made way to your full stomach. “And our baby.”
“It’s still too soon, love.” You say, gently reaching for his hand, smiling. “But hopefully it’ll take…”
“Guess we’ll have to do it a few more times, just to be sure.” He chuckles, you pout.
“I don’t think I can fit any more, I feel so full already…” His cock invertedly twitches at the thought of proving you wrong, which you don’t fail to catch immediately after. “Naoya? We’ve just—it’s 3 in the morning!”
“Then why did you say something like that?” he asks, already adjusting you into position yet again. “If you wanted to rest, then perhaps you should control your words.”
“I didn’t even say anything!” you gasp, cunt twitching when he rubs the head of his cock against your slit. “Naoya— I don’t think—I don’t think I can take anymore! What’s gotten into you? Aren’t you tired?!"
But for a man like Naoya, that was impossible.
To ask him to be tired of his beautiful wife, the same one that has endlessly doted on him, shown him a world of color where previously all he’s seen was darkness, as well as demonstrated the future the two could create, by simply setting their minds into it, was like asking him to stop breathing.
He just couldn’t, because doing so would kill him.
And all for one particular reason:
“I’m not, Y/N.”
“H—how?!”
“Because I simply love you too much.”
This could really go down like a:
Naoya: My wife is angry... what can I do? Oh, I know! *gets her pregnant*
I mean you do want to have a family with him!! but not like that hahaha.
Anyways, I've had this thought for a while but guess it finally came out with this small drabble: The Zen'in estate is not a good place to have a family lmao. I keep writing our favorite couple there but lets be real, Naoya wouldn't want her there.
Naomi is out of the question too! I literally just thought about how neither you or Naoya would allow her to have sleepovers at the estate because the Zen'in are just a bunch of pricks.
I like to think that he'll either have a whole area secluded for his family, or just live somewhere else. Maybe when he's leader tho he'll change a lot of things.
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this small thing!! Naoya and his domineering ways will always come to bite you in the butt some way or another much to your dismay, but it'll also be the reason you remember why you love him so much 🥺
Take care, and hope to see you soon!!
#ask#naoya zenin#naoya zen'in#naoya x reader#naoya zenin x reader#naoya zenin x you#jjk naoya#naoya zen'in x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#prompt series: jujutsu kaisen
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