You. N And Volo's Massive Parallels. You Understand Yes?

just saw that hawks and bunny s/o and I gotta ask,,,,what would hawks do if his s/o wore one of those playboy bunny outfits?

Hugh Hefner? More like Hawks Hefner, amirite?! Eh?!!

(NSFW)

Time for more feral!Hawks. So I got a little too into this and basically made an alternate version of my other bunny scenario.

Like, Hawks apparently does model gigs for fashion, right? Imagine that he has an S/O that also models, but for things more..mature. He owns just about every product that you’ve been featured in—magazines, advertising, merchandise—he’ll take anything that has your face on it. Such a supportive boyfriend. Just don’t touch any of his pics; there’s mysterious stains and a stickiness to some of them.

And then there was that one job that had you dressed in a playboy-style bunny outfit. As usual, Hawks received his own copies of your photos and…well, it’s too bad you weren’t there to see his drooling face. The next time you see him, you’re surprised to hear just how enamored he is with your most recent photo shoot.

“I never thought you’d look so delicious.”

“Look at you, acting so small and meek in this shot. If only I was there to taste you.”

“This one’s my favorite. So sexy and delectable.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he wanted to literally eat you.

You got to keep the costume in the end, and since your man loved it so much, maybe you’ll surprise him tonight. Hawks had just gotten home from an active day of chasing down several quick-footed villains, and he wasn’t at all ready for what greeted him in the bedroom.

Then again, turns out that you weren’t ready either. You were expecting several possible reactions. Maybe he’d nut on the spot, maybe he’d faint, maybe he’d drop on his knees and thank you for blessing him on this stressful night.

Instead, he just…glares. You’re not sure what to do as he takes a step toward you with the most predatory gaze you’ve ever seen on a human. Hawks has been chasing down villains all evening, his speed and ambushing skills being put to the test. And now he comes home with traces of adrenaline still flowing through his veins, and you dress like this. You’ve got some damn nerve.

With one strong flap, he’s across the room and on top of you. He just stares down at your pinned form, watching you breathe harshly in confusion and slight fear. Any other time, he would stop what he’s doing and apologize. But this cute little bunny, this scared and helpless bunny that’s shaking beneath a hunter’s hold was turning him into something fierce. His lips crash into yours in a violent kiss before he’s licking you all over. You lay there in scared arousal, having no idea how this all got out of hand so quickly.

He’s growling as he tries to remove your clothing, too frustrated and currently too simple-minded to figure it out. When you motion to help him, several feathers are launched, wrapping around your wrists and holding them down. The look he gives you is sharper than a dagger. He doesn’t speak, but the message is clear: ‘No Moving.’

The outfit is officially ruined by the time he gets it off, and with you wearing nothing underneath, the smell hits him instantly, raw and powerful. You can’t deny that his feral behavior was exciting you, especially when he spreads your legs wide and salivates at your dripping cunt.

His mouth was on you instantly, lapping at you so loudly and sloppily that the sounds alone are bringing you close. He’s snarling and whining like a starving animal that’s ecstatic to finally be fed. When you cum, you try your best to free your legs and scoot away from his greedy mouth, but your struggling only riles him up. Prey is tastiest when it struggles. You’re writhing and moaning weakly while he drinks every drop that leaks from your pussy. Eventually, the loud and juicy meal is finished and he releases you, rising to his feet and leaving you in your paralyzed and drenched state.

Ten minutes later and Hawks is bawling about how he’s destroyed the best outfit in the world, cursing his “damned raptor instincts” to the moon. He buries the remains outside, dressed in all black. You just watch in pure bewilderment while your lower body tingles from small aftershocks, still at a complete lost over what the fuck just happened.

alternative universe where there are TWO epic fail sons in the todoroki familiy

kagehina

🍯 And escape with shigaraki 👉👈

🍯 - “Good pets don’t take off their collars. Nor do they try escaping from their owners, do you understand?”

Yandere!Shigaraki x reader

Yandere promt event for 800 follows

Shigaraki was so disappointed in you. After two days of being away he came home from a mission regarding the league, only to find you asleep on the sofa in his room without the pretty collar he bought for you? Sure the sight of your cute face when sleeping, with that pouty lip of yours and innocent face was enough to get him drooling and breathing heavy, but that didn’t mean you were allowed to start disobeying orders.

What was he to do as your punishment? Take away all the little privileges he gave you as his pet? Punish you by not giving you any of the attention you needed to keep you sane? He wondered while looking for the collar around his room. You were sure to have left it lying around somewhere. After a couple minutes or so of searching, Shigaraki found the collar under your pillow on his bed that he usually let you use, however when he lifted your pillow, a small notebook fell out of the pillowcase.

It was suspicious, Shigaraki wondered what a girl like you could have hidden in between the covers of the small notebook that needed to be hidden so well. So of course he opened it. Reading the contents of it as he went page through page was rather mediocre at first, it seemed like some sort of diary, listing all the mediocre things you did during the day as well as listing what date it is so you didn’t lose track of time. But there was one page that was rather peculiar. A page that didn’t have a whole boring paragraph about a spot on the ceiling, or how the springs in the sofa made weird noises. This page had a singular word written down on it.

Escape.

The mere mention of the word had Shigaraki livid. You were being so good for him lately and you had to ruin everything didn’t you. He’d much rather be rewarding you with affection and anything you’d ever want, but of course you had to go thinking of ‘escape’ . Perhaps Shigaraki’s been too lenient on you, since making you wear a collar wasn’t enough to get it through your head that this is your home. It seemed as though Shigaraki would have to look for a way to take things a step things further. He didn’t kidnap you from your old boring life just for you to want to run back to it. He gave you a new home so you could belong to him. He saw no reason for you to reject any of his compassion.

Was he aware that there was a good chance that you’d think of him as a monster after he took you from your old life? Yes. However, he believed that perhaps, if you’re smart enough you’d realise that learning to at least love and cohabitate with the monster is the only way to keep you alive.

No matter how many times Shigaraki wished for you to just submit to being his, you still refused like this didn’t you. Thinking of escape like that. Shigaraki wanted to save you from the shitty world full of hero wannabes before they infected you too, in the process he hoped that you’d spare him an ounce of sympathy perhaps for how badly they fucked him over. But you were too dumb to understand whatever he was doing, or at least he assumed you were dumb. What normal obedient pet takes off their collar and thinks of leaving their master? It’s unheard of from pet owners with loyal pets.

Shigaraki wasn’t completely angry with you, due to all the fury he was restraining. Since the moment you got here as the hostage of the league of villains Shigarakis been holding back a lot. He kept silent after all those times he could’ve snapped and it payed off. He was finally making some progress with you, you stopped crying at the sight of him and actually slept even when he was present. But apparently progress wasn’t enough, since you still had silly delusions like ‘escape’ in your mind.

Shigaraki simply sighed as he picked up the collar, putting it onto his desk next to his computer before sitting down in his revolving chair, turning on his computer. The blue light emitted from it being the only thing lighting up the dark room.

•-•-•-•

Your eyes slowly opened as you woke up from your nap, when did you even fall asleep? How long were you out for? You shot up from your position on the sofa at the whirring sound of Shigarakis Pc. You’d never forget that sound. That taunting sound that you grew used to hearing everyday.

Looking to the side, you spotted Shigarakis slumped form over his computer, playing another one of his games. You stared intensely at his back. Feeling a chill up your spine growing. Something was wrong. Something felt different, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

While you continued to ponder on the thought, it seemed as though Shigarakis game had finished with him as the victor, judging by the fanfare playing to signify a win. Or at least you guessed it was over, since he finally spun around in his chair to look at you, the collar you always wore dangling in one of his fingers.

Thats what it was. You took off the collar. You fell asleep out of sheer boredom with nothing to do while Shigaraki was out and you forgot to put back on the collar. Your hand instinctively reached out for the skin on your neck where the collar would usually sit.

“I see you’re awake. Had a nice time while I was gone?”

You shook your head, feeling as though if you said yes to the trick question, Shigaraki would have gotten the impression that you prefer spending your time away from him. Your answer simply made Shigarakis lips curl into a smirk.

“Are you sure darling? It looks to me like you had loads of fun, taking off your collar, hiding a little diary to write in.. even planning a little escape in that little old diary! You’ve been quite a busy pet while I was out”

You stared at him, silent, unaware of what to do. Was he going to kill you? Was this it? You watched as Shigaraki spun the collar around his finger while getting up and walking towards you. The floorboards of the cheep building creaking under his ever step. His shadow loomed over you as it blocked the only light source in the room, which was his open computer.

You flinched, closing your eyes as Shigarakis hand reached out for you. Perhaps this really was the end. You waited for the agonising pain of being disintegrated, yet you were faced with something else. Unexpectedly he simply put back on the collar on you, the familiar choking feeling returning to you as he closed the clasp at the back of your neck.

Shigaraki couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at your scared, weak expression. Oh how he missed that cute scared face during his time away from the league.

“Good pets don’t take off their collars. Nor do they try escaping from their owners, do you understand?”

This time you nodded, looking back at Shigaraki with tear glossy eyes. You thought for a moment that you were going to die. Shigaraki smiles back at you with his sinister grin, one of his hands reach out to you again, this time to sit on the top of your head and rub it.

“Thats my good girl. You’re my good girl. My good little pet who knows what her master wants. You wouldn’t dare do anything again to make me mad right?”

You shook your head again, before leaning into Shigarakis gloved hand as it slid down to cup the side of your face and rub your cheek with his thumb. Oh how he loved having complete control of his little obedient pet. He was still going to punish you later of course- you disobeyed one of his rules after all, however perhaps for now, so long as you behave for him, he’ll reduce how much he’s going to punish you.

revamped my old human ink designs!

Can you draw us cuddling with chef saltbaker 👉👈

I have a feeling that Saltbaker is good at showing fake affection, but genuine hes more awkward and confused

TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, violence/abuse, threat of bodily harm

gn reader

Thinking about poly yanderes again…

They’re both so patronizing – suffocatingly so. 

But where one is a brute, the other is sweet – or sweeter than the former, in any case...

He has a certain calm about him – gentle with you – considerate when showing his affection, and patient with you when he’s intimate. He doesn’t growl at you to shut up and lie still the way the other one does – instead, he asks you if you can be good for him – if you can let him love you – lipping at your throat without the touch of teeth as he all but begs for your consent.

The brute doesn't bother with such foreplay...

Your will doesn’t seem to interest him in any other aspect than ripping it from you and strangling it in his fist with a big grin, laughing while watching those pitiful tears start slipping down your cheeks.

He'll just shrug off the kinder one when he chides, telling him to stop being so rough with you. He just squeezes you a little tighter, sucks your neck a little harder, and kneads his cock a little deeper – saying that he can do whatever he wants with that which belongs to him.

When you struggle against him, he’s not shy of punishing you accordingly – in fact, he jumps at the opportunity – bending you over his lap with his fist riddled in your hair – landing strike after strike until you’re screaming in surrender, all cute pleas for his mercy, words he’s told you to say. 

He likes fucking you like that – when you’re a broken mess who only clings to him for comfort, crying into his neck while he pumps you full of cock and cum.

The kinder one scolds him afterward. Tells him he’s a fiend while petting your head and hair, carrying you away from the scene and into the bathroom. He draws you a tub of bubbles and holds a glass of water to your lips. But for all his niceties – he still gets in the hot water with you – cock in your sore hole while he washes your hair.

Still, he’s more reasonable.

When he’s tying your wrists to the bedpost like every night of you sleeping stuck in between them, you ask him if it’s really necessary – promising him you’re not going to run away – telling him that you’re going to stay right there, peacefully asleep.

The brute says that it isn’t something that’s up for discussion, that if you push your luck, he’s gonna tie every inch of you up like a floppy fish caught in a net ready to be gutted. But you don’t heed the warning – looking to your kinder warden with puppy eyes and a pout on your lips, saying please, it hurts your wrists – again, promising him you’ll be good and stay sound asleep between them the entire night.

You just needed to get to the door. 

You just needed to get to the door – through the door – out into the street, screaming while at it, and surely someone, anyone, would come to your rescue. 

Why wouldn't your feet move quicker? Why weren’t you faster? Why were you clumsier now? Tripping over rugs, missing steps when scrambling down the stairs, slipping when turning corners – trying to navigate the house when you’d barely ever seen anything but the bedroom.

You just needed to get to the door – but you could hear one of them coming after you – just behind you – big monstrous thundering steps shaking you to the core, strangling your heart, shattering your bones – and it’s getting hard to breathe, hard to see, hard to feel anything other than the numbing fear and the awful way it cripples you – throwing your mind into a tailspin while choking your lungs free of all air, clawing up your throat into a scream. 

You just needed to get to the fucking door –

You hadn't known you could make a sound like that – like something out of a horror movie – high-pitched and desperate – ripped from somewhere raw and primal.

There’s a hand in your hair, yanking you backward where you’re received by a hard chest and an arm snaking around your waist, hoisting you off the ground, kicking and yelling.

It’s the brute. He looks almost happy you’d tried running away – a manic look of delight on his face when he finally drops you down on the floor – pinning you beneath him – shadowing you with teeth seemingly dripping with venom and all the ugly punishments he’s no doubt cooking up inside his sick mind.

“Your ass is gettin’ it extra fuckin’ hard tonight – my handprint won’t heal for a month – won’t even be able to sit down without cryin’.” He growls, his teeth on your cheek as he grips your jaw tight – starting off your punishment with a harsh lovebite.

You look at the more merciful of the two. 

He’s standing off to the side, looking down at the two of you. 

You expect he’d come to the rescue like he’d done all those other times.

But to your utter horror… he isn’t lifting a single finger to stop it. 

His face is blank – cold – as cold as the words that roll dryly off his tongue, “I think we’ve established that spanking isn’t enough…” 

The one holding you down halts in his advances and seems to get just as frigid as you by the cold-blooded tone of his partner – who takes slow steps toward the two of you, so close he’s got your hair pinned beneath his toes before crouching down until he as well looms over you like a darkening storm.

He reaches a stiff hand to soothe the ring of teeth left on your cheek by the other – seemingly kindly, but his eyes are so jaded your breath catches in your throat – soulless as they stare into your teary ones.

“Maybe we ought to get ahead of the issue and break your legs.” He suggests nonchalantly, making both your and your other captor’s faces bleach.

Then he smiles – that kind smile, only now you can’t help but flinch at the sight of it. 

“That way, everyone’s happy,” He states, explaining, “You won't have to be tied up, and we can trust you to keep your word and stay put when you promise us you will.”

Then he stands up and straightens himself, looking at his partner with that same eerie smile.

“Where’d you put the bat again?”

The brute stiffens. His crazed expression had melted in light of the other into a look you’d never seen on him before. He swallows thickly as though he’s just as worried as you are. His voice is hesitant, “I think rope is enough…” 

The other throws his brows up. “Oh?” Then he snaps his focus back to you. “What do you think, baby? You think that’s enough?” He walks back to the two of you, and you feel the intense urge to hide behind the one you’d initially been caught running from.

He looks down at you expectantly, watching your lip quiver as you struggle to form an answer without choking on it.

“Hm? What was that? Rope or bat, what do you prefer?” His voice is sharp, licking at you like a knife.

You stutter, “Ro-rope.”

“Yeah? Okay, then – that’s settled.” He confirms, then looks back at the other. “Go get the rope.”

It doesn’t seem like he wants to leave – almost like he’s afraid of what might happen if he does. “Now?” He asks.

“Yes, now.” The smile tightens – sharpens into something truly lethal if you were to test it. “Our pet thinks they can run wild, so we’ll have to reintroduce them to the leash.”

Then he sets his sights back on you, robbing you of all air.

“Unless you’d prefer the bat after all?”

You whimper, shaking your head with a sniffle, “No-no – rope…”

He looks back to the other. “You heard 'em. Get going.”

He’s reluctant about it – looking from you to him, then back to you again, almost apologetically – before he gets up off you, leaving you on the floor – alone.

Your hair is then grabbed harshly, and you’re pulled up to your feet before you’re dragged off them – pulled along until you’re tugged from the floor up onto his lap as he plopped down, comfortably seated on the couch.

He sighs, letting go of your hair and placing both hands on the fat of your haunches, making you straddle him – mirroring your breathless, tear-streaked face with an expressionless one.

A hand ascends, and you’re convinced he’s going to slap you – but as you squeeze your eyes tightly shut in wait for it, his hand finds your cheek, only to ever-so-gently pet the wet away.

Cupping your face, he places a light peck on the corner of your mouth, followed by his voice, “Apologize, and I’ll forgive you.”

Your eyes peel open, looking back into his. You regret it instantly. Still eclipsed, it’s a cold and blank stare that seems to seize you by the throat.

“I’m sorry, I’ll never- never ever do it again.” You whisper pitifully – as if you’re afraid to be too loud.

“Hm…” He hums, looking unimpressed. “I don’t think that’s good enough…” 

His hand slips from your face down your neck, circling it lightly before squeezing it firmly with whitening knuckles. “You hurt my feelings, y’know? I trusted you, and you lied to me – right to my fucking face.”

You cack, wrapping your smaller hands around his wrist as he strangles the words out of you. “I’m sorry- I’m really- really sorry-”

His breathing is thick, as though something’s bubbling underneath the surface – a beast within whose bloodthirst hasn’t yet been sated. “I want more than empty words.” He states flatly, unforgivingly.

Still, he lets go of your throat, letting you drop to his chest, panting sore breaths with his words ringing hot in your head. You start kissing between sipping for air – desperately, up his neck and jaw, then his lips, even though he doesn’t kiss back – pleading, “Please forgive me- I’m sorry, I-”

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” He mocks, stroking the back of your head, down your back as though soothing you – voice dripping with fake empathy. “Sorry for what exactly? Hm? For being a dumb little bitch, thinking you could run when you haven’t even so much as walked on your own two feet for months.”

A laugh inches into his words like a sickness. The eerie smile returns, small and curling in the corner of his mouth.

“You were fuckin’ hilarious, you know that?” He breathes lightly – eyes wide, staring at you like cornered prey. “Trippin’ over yer own two feet, barely even making it to the door.”

The grip around your throat returns, and you squeak out a whimper.

“Say it.” He seethes, “Say you’re a dumb little bitch who didn’t know what you were doing.” His lips ghost yours with the command, forcing you to echo the words back into his mouth.

“I’m- I’m a dumb little bitch- I’m- I didn’t know what I was doing-” 

He hums at your shivering but doesn’t ease his grip – molding his lips against yours, he kisses you deeply until parting with your lips between his teeth – letting go slowly.

“I- I’ll be good from now on, I promise-” You add – in the hope it would thaw the ice of his stare.

It doesn’t. He keeps them just as jaded – half-masted now as he runs his fingers up and down your spine, brushing your chin and cheek with his lips until blowing on your ear. “You better be.”

You shudder, wincing.

“‘Cause if you ever try anything like that again, I’m gonna go get that bat – and nothing and no one is gonna keep me from bashing away at you until I’ve made certain you can’t lift a single fucking finger without my help.”

You’re a broken mess of sniveling apologies and prayers on his lap by the time the brute comes back with the rope. 

But the one who’d reduced you to it doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. 

“There you are!” He beams with a bright smile.

Acting as though you weren’t falling apart in his arms, gripping his shirt for purchase while sobbing hard and ugly into his chest. 

“Let’s tie every square inch of 'em up like you suggested.” He muses while picking your tear-stained face up in both hands, nose-kissing you with his words dripping fondly off his tongue. “Just like a floppy fish ready to be gutted.”

BNHA – BakuDeku, DabiHawks, EndMight, ShinKami, TodoDeku, KiriBaku, Shiggy x villain!Deku

JJK – SatoSugu, YujiKuna, YujiGumi

HQ – Miya twins, IwaOi,

BLLK – NagiReo, KuniGiri

AOT - EreMin

DS - InoTan, DouAka

💨💨💨

I’m so excited for all the new things you’ll be writing :D if you’re cool with it, could you write hawks with a broken darling and him just providing comfort? I’d imagine that when it comes down to it, hawks wouldn’t be all too happy about having his darling become a shell of who they used to be. I feel like he’d just hold darling and pray with all his heart that he’ll fix the problem.

Title: Sunday Regret [Yandere Hawks x Reader]

Synopsis: He didn’t meant to do it. And now he’ll do what it takes 

Word Count: 1312

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of violence

 If he wasn’t in the middle of cooking, he’d probably carry you into the dining room for a change of pace. But he doesn’t want to burn it, lest you get scared at the sound of the smoke detector. 

You haven’t moved from your spot on the sofa in hours. If it weren’t for him, you’d probably still be in bed, tucked on your side, alternating between staring at the wall and burying your face in a tear-stained pillow. 

But it’s not good for you to lay in bed all day, so he carefully picked you up and carried you into the living room after a while. He even left your walker next to you, though you’ve never bothered using it.

You don’t bother doing much of anything, anymore.

At least the living room had more stimulation for you than the bedroom. He worried when you spent hours in there, staring at a blank wall. In the living room, there were books or decor to look at, or he could turn on the TV or play some music, if you wanted. Not that you would say what you wanted, because you haven’t spoken properly in… he doesn’t want to think how long. You’ve made noises. Grunts of assent or disagreement. Sighs. Whimpers, sometimes, at night, when you think he might be sleeping.

He didn’t mean to break you down like this. Truly. How was he supposed to know--know what would happen, and know his own strength. You probably don’t believe him, which hurts (you’re supposed to love him, after all) but he didn’t actually mean to break your leg. You were trying to run, and you made it outside and tripped--all your own fault--and when he’d grabbed your leg as you tried to scurry away, he’d gripped your calf and then.

Crunching. Your screams, no, they were more like wails, primal sounds that made his gut curl. He’s not proud of the way he slapped a hand over your mouth, then, pulling you inside with no delicacy, only hurried fear that someone heard you and might come snooping.

And maybe he shouldn’t have screamed at you after dropping you unceremoniously on the bedroom floor, maybe he should have offered you painkillers right away instead of jabbing a finger in your face and telling you that you could just-deal-with-it.

Maybe if he’d treated you tenderly from the moment of the break, you wouldn’t have become so depressed and downtrodden. The next day, stuffed with painkillers and leg wrapped (courtesy of a favor--no questions, no answers) you simply… stopped existing. You wouldn’t talk, barely nodding or shaking your head at his requests. You stopped bathing yourself--getting to gently bathe you in the tub himself is one perk of all this, he thinks, though he’d never say it out loud. You barely eat, and when you do, he usually needs to feed you.

He’s threatened you with a feeding tube and you didn’t even flinch; he doesn’t want to go that route, but he can always call in a favor. You sleep erratically, sometimes all day, sometimes all night; you stare ahead of you for hours, tears leaking onto whatever pillow is tucked underneath your head. All of his attempts to get you on a sleeping schedule failed, so he stopped trying. You probably needed more sleep to let your broken leg heal, anyway.

He tries to be understanding, because in a way, this is his fault. If he’d been a better boyfriend, you wouldn’t have tried to run from him, and he wouldn’t have broken your leg. (He often reminds himself, that if you hadn’t run away, he never would have needed to grab your leg--but what good does it do to point out that it’s partly your fault, too?)

Besides, he knows that you need lots of forgiveness right now. You’re hurting.  You’re sad. But it’s hard. It’s hard. And he doesn’t blame you, not really, but he wishes he had someone to talk to about his problems. He misses you. He misses watching TV together. He even misses the arguments, in a way. At least you were talking. At least you were feeling something other than the sadness that kept tracks of tears on your cheeks all day.

Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference in the end. Maybe you would have done this regardless.  It’s not important. What is important--and he knows this in his heart--is that the regrets it, all of it, and he’ll never do it again. And he’s going to make sure you get better by being the best damn boyfriend there is.

“Lunchtime, babe,” he says, quickly scooping together two bowls of rice, some veggies, wanting to keep things light on your stomach. It’s easier to feed you when the vegetables are soft--he worries less about you not chewing properly, at least--so they’re a bit overcooked, mushy in the bowl.

You don’t respond. But it’s okay. He doesn’t expect you to. If anything, this entire ordeal has taught him a lot about considering your needs. He wasn’t exactly a great boyfriend before all this. He got a bit too selfish, making you sit on his lap, getting annoyed if you cried while he made you try on lingerie. Now, though? It’s all about you.

So if he has to miss an interview because you broke down sobbing in the tub and need to be held for a while, so be it. If his new couch gets food stains because you don’t want to get up and he feeds you right from the comfort of the sofa, so be it.

Whatever it takes--he’ll do it.

When he cranes his neck back into the living room, the sight makes his feathers rustle. You’re standing, leaning on the walker he’d left behind, arms trembling from the effort. You got up! It’s the most you’ve done on your own in a long time. A grin instinctively breaks out and he can’t stop himself from practically running up to you, eyes bright, smile brighter.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says, practically breathless from the change. “Do you--shit, this is great, do you want to do something? What do you need? Want to take a walk on the balcony or--”

He pauses when he sees your mouth moving, sees you looking at him with sad, puppy-dog eyes. It’s a tentative gesture, and he’s reminded of an infant, staring at their parents and trying to force through words through unpracticed lips.

“I--I--I…”

He rises up on his toes in anticipation. Moving on your own and talking, all in one day? Maybe this is your breakthrough, maybe this is it, maybe he’s pulled you across that threshold back into health. Back into you.

But you don’t--can’t--finish whatever it was you wanted to say. You huff instead, sighing in defeat, face falling and thick tears dribbling down your splotchy cheeks as you give up entirely.

You burst into short, pitiful sobs, arms shaking violently as your grip on the walker weakens, as your physical strength seems to drop.

He doesn’t wait, and immediately swoops you up in his arms, cradling you as he sits on the sofa, careful of your leg as he tucks you into his lap. You don’t resist as he pushes your head towards his rest, letting it rest there as he rubs your back, stroking softly.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

It makes you cry harder, leaning your face into his shoulder like you do the pillows on the bed. Which is good, isn’t it? You’re getting it out. And when is the last time you let him hold you like this without struggling, legs and arms kicking, nails scratching?

So he won’t deny that he enjoys this moment, enjoys getting to comfort you in the way he’s always wanted to; in the way that you’ve always, especially right now, needed.

It might take a long time to get you back to yourself. But he’ll be here, every step of the way, waiting for you to come out on the other side.