#(It does not fit but you can replace it later.)

[copperbadge]

[ID: Four images; top left is a bright white light mounted on the ceiling of a shower, and the top middle is the remote control for it, mounted sideways on a wall. The top right is an overhead light in my front hallway, which is an unusual shade of green. Bottom image shows a window in the corner of my living room, with a star-shaped lamp hanging in the middle of it, gently glowing with light.]

Ironically, this is all photography of the stuff I didn't intend to do today.

I've been considering getting an offsite storage unit (more on this in another post) and it turns out some good friends who live nearby were also, but neither of us need a TON of space, so we decided to go in halves on the unit. They're a little more prepared than I am to move in, but they also have a car and will help me move my stuff when they move theirs, so for the next week or until the project is done, I'm mostly going to be packing big plastic bins with stuff I'm taking to storage. And all the bins I currently own have my full name on them in big block letters, so I won't be photographing those.

A side-effect of this, however, is that in the "DIY" bin (which will not be going to storage but needed weeding) I uncovered a light bulb that fits my star light, which had been flickering due to a dying bulb. So I got out Darth Ladder and changed the bulb. I figured as long as the ladder was out, I'd replace the bathroom lamp with a remote-control version, and that's a whole comedy of errors, but suffice it to say this one, which has a remote and doesn't NEED good motion sensing, actually has great motion sensing. So while I hung the remote on a magnetic bracket nearby, I probably won't need to use it much. I had to hang it sideways to get it to work, so now it does kind of look like my toilet has a control panel.

I found one other lightbulb in the DIY bin, a Kasa smart bulb -- I bought one for my bedroom floor lamp so I could turn the light on without getting out of bed, but they come in packs of two and I'd just kind of stashed the other one to deal with later, then forgot about it. As long as I was already running around risking death on Darth Ladder, I thought I'd install one in my hall lamp. I have two hall lamps on one switch, but I like to leave the front-door lamp on when I go out so that I don't come back to a totally dark hallway. This way, I can turn the smart lamp (nearer the living room) off so I don't have two unnecessary lights burning.

Also as you can see, it has some rad color settings, so if I want to have a little hallway rave, I can.

I sometimes find listening to new podcasts kind of challenging, so today I had some comfort-listening: The "Art Nouveau" and "De Havilland Comet" episodes of Well There's Your Problem. The Art Nouveau episode is a "bonus episode" you get with a Patreon membership and that episode alone is worth the $2 a month.

[blackvahana]

From Leviathan, notes on Dei's bodies:

16/12/23

Oh dear. I made the mistake of sitting near your cards - your other bodies. Immediately the voices came in as gentle coaxing over a foundation of boiling madness. I know you noticed, you're hearing it from yourself again... Emphasis on again. You used to be like this too, you know. My son, I suppose, coaxed that out of you, said that was his traits and not yours... But you recognise the mirror now.

Hurried whispers in various tones, the feminine especially, laced with... Not deceit, but like a cat mimicking prey noises. You're talking in multiple voices, your energy is exuding intelligence. You move with fluidity that speaks to how surrounded and encompassed reality is with a sea of nothingness, something that makes the usual laws of this world seem less like nature and more like rules of a game played on a single field. Arbitrary.

19/12/23, Continuation of above:

You are settling in well... I'm glad the emanating whispers from your form and the myriad voices emerging from your energy aren't as disorienting as they have been in the past, you really are an incarnation of stability for yourself. It is fascinating though. Your room begins to playfully hide things from me, it talks to me, greets me at the door when I walk in with Void fae mischief and grabs at my body like a playful - albeit ominously "eldritch", I think your word is - cat. You are seeping out of everything you touch in theoretical eyes and black tendrils, things that aren't even there beyond suggestion or.. Really, it's probably that you're in the Void between all space, hence why I can't see you.

The sound of ticking clocks, the chatter, the gentleness of night rain...

19/12/23, Tonight's topic:

You want to talk about your astral body? Go ahead. But why not let me given how much time we've spent face to face lately?

I start to tell you what I see of your form, you are expanded into black abstraction, Void fog, but you are upset. You say something along the lines of you worked hard and expressed yourself harder, only to falter into illusion territory... First of all, this is just my observation of your Astral form while you were around me. Second of all... I think you need to invoke paradox here and not confine my thought and view of you to either/or ideas.

But here's a thought then. Stand before me and show me, and show me well. I will push you to your limits and beyond them until you give me your true self - consensually, of course - and I will document it. In your house in the astral, come with me to the front garden...

You tower over me, your energy in this form a lovely rich shade of brown like your eyes in sunset, like heady old perfumes, tree bark and resin incense. The sun is setting, can you see? It filters through your hair - but your hair moves in fractal lines as an illusion of hair. You are in your own way and form a little black hole and you pull inwards so much more than you know. I'm watching your silhouette in the sunshine, I set this house up partly because of where the sun sets in relation to it... Anyway.

Your skin, show me. All your details are fractals. Every colour and pore is writing. You're upset, I know. Because you're taking my talk on your details to be equivalent to your work and self being unreal. You aren't understanding that you are a little sky god who falls under my umbrella, my entourage, therefore you should be seeing these infinite fractals as what they are: a Corresponding expression of the fractal book that is the Sky. You are a part of my inner circle, my domain is your territory, therefore your territory is infinite fractal cubes. The Sky is made of words that are four dimensional, it is extensive libraries of atomic suggestion and Void reality, letters, characters, folds, angles, it is molecules that scatter light into a perception of a unified thing. You are the same, therefore do not be scared of your nature being intrinsically as it is.

You have an input, a question. "Can I just ask, is this real? I know you're going to give me a Shiva-Shakti-Maya answer, I'm just... I don't even know what I'm asking I'm just praying that you do." Oh, I know. You pray with your body, and I can feel it.

Your perception of "real" is nothing, you do not know what that word means because it means nothing to you, you have built no tower on top of its name. You do not know what you're asking because what you're really wanting is for someone to give you a definition. You want to be reigned, blinkered, you want a saddle in fine leather, you want to be ridden with spurs. You don't want to know if you're real, you want connection, to feel the heat of leather taut against and burning into your skin, your head yanked into your neck, the embrace and safety of a bridle net across your face, a bit kissing your mouth. You are latching on your own feeling of hollowness to the concept of reality. This is why I told you embody the Sky Father and take a lover, an Earth Mother.

This is expression. All of you. You are something only symbolised in the trinity of black, the nervous system, the retina. And you also are the white, the body, the eye...

You're not looking for "reality", you're looking for an embrace that won't refuse you, a body that will not leave you, an Other that will not Other you.

Can I not touch you? Can I not feel your hair in my hands? Your breath on my skin? Can I not put my hands inside you and feel flesh, can your words not vibrate into my ears... Is that not real? Are you going to sit here in front of me claiming reclamation of connections to Shiva and reject our child Maya as divine, real illusion?

I sit with you, watching the sun go down... As soon as I mention it between our energies the sky plummets into night's expanse. Well, it did, it is now liminally between states. You organically brought it down to night so vividly, so fast, so - I will not use the word "real", I will not allow you to keep hurting yourself over this word - fully, and I pointed it out, and so you shied away. Let it go, Dei.  

-

The sky's stars are war's bonfires. You exude through every hole in the firmament, talking in wide, frantic, fire eyes about destruction, tears running down in code that fracture in the atmosphere and affect no one below. Your body - the night itself - is aching, I feel you like tectonic or steel plates on an old, worn machine, forced to warp by the movements of magma tides you can't control. You've been crying out for relief for a long time now, thousands of years, for someone to hear you. You put your own Sky hands over each and every one of your mouths. It is not raining, but it wants to be. You have so many wants... Come with me for a while, when you are ready. Make tea in your house and I will take you somewhere you can be yourself. 

[tojikai]

Sundered 6: DREAMS

Pairing: Gojo x reader

• Part 1   |  Part 2   | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Alt. Ending

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments, implied noncon, sexual assault

word count: 6.7k

He wished to tell you that he loves you too but that wouldn’t be right.

“Megumi.” Toji warned, raising a finger at the breathless, laughing toddler. “No jumping on the bed. You’ll fall.” He put an apple in his mouth as he watched them. You combed the ends of your hair, leaning on the doorframe. Toji was sitting on the bed, while the two kids were playing beside him, jumping up and down.

“Yui, baby, can I ask you something?” He gently picked the little girl up, glancing at you as he put the bowl of fruit down. He sat her on his lap, “Who's Gumi's Dada?” Yui looked up at him, pointing a finger at his chest. “Alright, very good. How about you? Who’s your Dada?” You know what he’s trying to make her understand.

Yui just developed that habit because oftentimes, Megumi would run and call Toji. And what her playmates do, Yui does too. She would follow him screaming ‘Dada’ as well, but Toji never failed to gently correct her. “Toru!” She raised her short hands, clapping as she looked at you. “That’s nice. So, you call Satoru Dada, okay?” He tapped her cheek.

“Toji no? No Dada?” She shook her head at him, asking. “Yes, just look at your hair.” You butted in, pointing playfully at her as you walked towards them. You can feel Toji’s eyes on you as you sit down in front of them. You’re still not over the conversation you had earlier. But you’re not letting the kids hear about that.

Yui was pulling at her hair, trying to see the color and looking back at Toji’s to check. “See? You and Satoru look the same.” You pinched her cheek “Yui hair white.” Megumi pointed at his playmate, “Yeah, you’re getting good at colors!” You raised your hand, asking for a high five, which he gladly returned with a shy smile.

Toji looked at you as you scooted beside him, before placing a hand on your thigh. He’s ready to apologize, but he doesn’t know if he can let it go. Toji’s mind is still stuck on that day you told him Satoru was still in love with you. And if he’s being honest, it puts him in a really rough spot.

“It’s getting late.” You tapped on your phone, allowing it to light up. “Why are they not tired yet?” You yawned, feeling his thumb rub on your skin. “'cause they ate the cake.” He sighed, stretching his back before staring at you again, “What?” You asked, watching him shake his head. “We got things to talk about.” He nodded.

“I know. Later, we will.” You moved to him, pecking his lip quickly, “We can’t talk about it with the children in here.” Scrolling through your contacts, you pressed Satoru’s number. “Yui, come here, we’ll talk to Dada.” Tapping a quick message that you’ll call, you sat your child in between your thighs.

“Do you want to say sorry to Dada? You were mean to him earlier.” You poked her side, watching her nod before throwing something at her playmate.”’Gumi, sit down first.” Toji told the boy and he followed, but only to continue playing with Yui. Megumi’s a quiet kid but with playmates around, he can get hyper too.

“Wait, what if he’s asleep now?” You asked Yui, “Maybe we can apologize tomorrow when he picks you up, okay?” You kissed her cheek, hearing her whine, “Now Mama. Yui says sorry.” She tried to grab the phone. “Okay, okay. Alright. Wait a second, we’ll try.” You pressed the telephone icon. There were multiple rings but no answer.

“Dada’s asleep.” You pouted at her, “He said he wants to sleep early so he can see you early tomorrow too!” You tickled her side, making her flinch with a smile, followed by fits of giggle that made Toji chuckle. ‘Gumi quickly replaced you, laughing with the little girl as he pokes her tummy.

“Let them play like that, they’ll get tired quicker,” Toji uttered, putting a hand behind his head. “What happened earlier? I thought it was his schedule today.” He asked, referring to the events earlier. “You said that his mom was there.” He added recalling what you were explaining to him before you fought.

“Yeah, and he had to take Yui back here with me. We were supposed to eat Yui’s cake there before he takes me home because that’s what she wants. But of course, the devil ruins things.” You rolled your eyes just thinking about his Mom. You still haven’t told your mother about it, knowing how she gets when it’s about you.

“Does Satoru’s father know that she’s like that?” It’s now your turn to nod, “He’s just tired of her, actually. I know.” His father’s always busy but you’d never forget how he’d always take your infant for a walk to give her some sun.

“Oh, I thought your son wasn’t married yet. Look at this cute baby girl.” An elderly man who once visited said to him, It worried you that your child was born out of wedlock. You used to avoid going out with them to avoid this type of situation but his father didn’t mind.

“They’re not married yet. This one’s a…”mini advanced gift” for us.” He chuckled, lightly bouncing the infant in his arms. “Oh, she's like a little girl version of Satoru.” The elderly cooed when Yui opened her eyes. Whenever Satoru’s mother tries to argue with you and he’s around, he’d also say a sentence or two just to stop her.

“You’re not thinking! Getting a baby’s ear pierced. What kind of a mo—” She rambled on, claiming that I was harming her granddaughter when they visited Satoru’s house. “You’re crying about this more than the child who got her ears pierced.” Satoru’s father cut her off, rubbing his temples as he sat beside her.

Satoru was taking a call outside and his mother just had to take this opportunity to antagonize you. “I’m her grandmother. I got the right to protect her. She’s a newborn!” His mother was hysterical and if it weren’t for Satoru’s father, you would be talking back to her by now. “She’s 5 months old, Aiko! She’s an infant. Stop arguing with the mother.”

You sat far from them, not wanting to scare the baby in your arms. “She’s not capable of—” His mother tried to retort but Satoru’s father was getting fed up “You’re not capable of understanding.” With that, the fight came to an end and after a few minutes, Satoru was walking back to the living room. “What’s going on?” He asked but his mother could only scowl.

After a little while, the kids started to get sleepy. Yui was whining as she rubbed her eyes, and Megumi kept asking for the phone. “You could let him watch something that could help him sleep. Like the—” You were about to suggest but Toji was already picking the child up, answering: “Ah, no. My wife used to cut off his screen time 30 minutes before sleep.”

You remained silent for a minute as you took off Yui’s hair ties. “Let’s go to bed.” You whispered after combing the toddler’s hair. “Come on, so we can talk.” You lifted Yui up before walking to her room with Toji trailing behind you. When Megumi and Toji stay over, he and Yui share a bed. Thankfully, it was big enough for the two of them as Yui rolls around a lot in her sleep.

You were supposed to sleep over at Toji’s house tonight. But because of the fight that you had, you figured that sleeping here would be more comfortable. It was good that he always kept some extra clothes for Megumi in his car.

Now, the two toddlers are peacefully sleeping and you two are starting to feel the tension again.

“You can go first, what is bothering you?” He asked as the two of you walked back to your room. You don’t know why but for some reason, you feel embarrassed that you’re getting jealous of his wife. Not only that but it also makes you feel overreacting. You took a deep breath as you closed your eyes, telling yourself that it was better to say it now than to let it get worse.

“It’s because…you keep talking about your wife.” You let your shoulders slouch as you plopped on the bed, watching his face contort into disbelief. “My wife?” He repeated, he looked at you as if you just told him a dark secret. “Toji, look. When you want to tell or suggest something to me, Can you not… always say that your wife did this and that? I mean… I just get uncomfortable.”

There was a pregnant pause as he straightened up, pacing back and forth as he thought of an answer. You wished he didn’t take that long because now it’s making you feel like it’s hard to decide between the living and the dead. It’s making you feel like you're not even in his top five; like you only come after someone who can't even be here.

It’s making you feel like you’re just the second best. And that’s all you’ll ever know of him too.

“Look, I am simply putting her words out. You know how much they mean to me, you know how much and what she means to me—” He sat down on a chair across the room, explaining as calmly as he can but that hurts and before you know it, you’re already asking him: “Then, what do I mean to you?” Toji looked at you, mouth slightly ajar.

“You’re jealous? Of my dead wife?” He tried to clarify like it’s the most unbelievable thing you said. “It’s not jealousy, I just—” He cut you off by exhaling harshly, rubbing his face. “She’s not here, Y/N. I could only think of her, but you’re here with me. How could you feel jealous about that?” It’s only making you feel bad; like what you’re feeling is trivial.

“It’s because you make me feel that way.” You clenched your fist. This type of pain is making you angry; not because it hurts too much but because it’s pissing you off that after everything during these months, he could still make you feel like this. “I know that if you're given a chance to choose you wouldn't want me in her place, but I wish you didn't make me feel like that too much.”

“Do you really just expect me to never reminisce about her? She’s my first wife. I lost her so suddenly I didn’t even have time to process it.” Everything that he’s saying is wrong to you and you’re not afraid to express. You cannot live with a man who probably wishes that you were someone else. “Then, why did you even date me?” Your words were sharp, like how you’re looking at him.

“And why did you even date me when you still can’t get over your ex?” He retorted, “You won't let me call you a petname because he used to call you that. How is that any different?” Now, he’s just as aggravated as you and you hated it. You hated arguing with him even if it was just about simple things and now that it’s not something simple, it frustrates you even more.

“Satoru isn’t dead, Toji. I wished that you called me something else because it’s triggering, and I don’t get to control that.” You tried to keep your voice down as your hands clenched. “I do it because I’m protecting my peace, not because I compare the things you do.” You panted, looking at him with nothing but exasperation in your eyes.

“Toji, I’m starting to feel like a placeholder.” You put your hands on your knees, hanging your head low. “I’m starting to feel like a stand-in for your dead wife. And you would keep telling me what she used to do so I could perfect it.” Biting your lip as you shook your head, “I wish you’d just understand me. I really want to try with you…”

He leaned back on the chair, keeping his eyes on you. “Look, Y/N. I’m sorry.” He spoke after a couple of seconds, “I can’t promise to not think about her because that person; that woman is the mother of my son.”

“And I want to try with you too, you know that. Maybe this will all get better with time. But I can’t find my peace knowing that he’s just there, loving you.” The room felt so big now that there was a space between you and Toji. A space that is bigger than the actual size of your room.

“Then, what should I do?” You asked him, genuinely clueless as to what he wanted to happen. “I don’t know, Y/N.” He shook his head, sighing. “What should you do when someone keeps trying to get to you?” There was an obvious answer to that.

“You know I can’t just do that. He’s the father of my daughter, Toji. You know where I’m coming from—” You looked at him, your eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t. He literally told you he regrets you and your daughter, isn’t that enough for you to take Yui away?” You shook your head, eyes tearing up as you realized what he just said.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that. Babe—” He walked towards you, grasping the weight of his words. “Don’t touch me.” You shut your eyes, not wanting to shed a tear anymore. “Just…just don’t talk to me right now, Toji.” Your hands gestured for him to stay back as you shook your head.

“I can’t believe you’d use my pain against me.” You whispered to him as you stood up, walking out of the room.

—------------------------------------------------

“What about…Yui?” Your eyes glimmered as you looked at him, “Ah…I like that.” Satoru smiled up at you, before leaning down. “Yui? Do you like that—” Before he could even finish his sentence, you stared at each other with wide eyes. “She just kicked…” He laughed, placing his hand on your bump.

“Yui. How’s my little girl?” He asked again, earning another kick after a couple of seconds. “That’s so cute, Satoru.” You gushed, happy tears pooling in your eyes. “She likes that name.” He sighed, kissing your stomach before standing up. The sinking sun made your eyes gleam.

“She’ll be here soon.” He kissed your forehead, putting his hand around your waist as he closed his eyes feeling the wind blow on his face. At that moment, he felt like he’s got everything already. At first, you talked about how everything you’ll do is just for the child.

But as months went by, seeing your face first thing in the morning and last thing in the night has already become Satoru’s favorite thing.

“What are you thinking about?” You looked up at him as you stood there on his balcony, holding his hands on your stomach. “You. So, kiss me.” He leaned down as you giggled, pecking his lips. “More.” He intertwined your fingers with his, brushing his nose on your outer ear until you gave him another one.

You wouldn’t have met if Satoru didn’t enter the bar you were working at, and that thought made Satoru grateful that he did because this is something he wouldn't want to miss.

“Y/N, stay with me.” He whispered, feeling you lean your body on him. “I love you...Y/N”

“Kiss me…” And so Naomi did, putting her lips on his as she tried to prepare him. She closed her eyes as he heard him hum, speaking other words unknown but she knew that it was to urge her to continue. “More…” The word made her exhale, relaxing more and more as he coaxed her, probably half asleep.

Maybe he’s just too sleepy and drunk. She thought, putting her hands on his chest to support herself. She raised her lower half, aligning herself with him. She traced her fingers on his arms before lacing them with his. She felt his warmth as she took a deep breath, thinking one last time before throwing it all away, frustrated.

She was ready to put it in, take all of him in her, and just let it all happen. You were a stranger to Satoru when he chose to keep a life with you. But I’m his girlfriend; his salvation and love. Satoru wouldn’t deny me and his child to me. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to find the final push to proceed.

But it only took one word from him for her to come back down. Her temperature dropped low as she felt her blood run cold.

“...Y/N.” Naomi halted her movements, eyes wide in shock. Did he just call your name in his sleep? “...Stay with me.” His brows furrowed in his sleep, and Naomi could only look as his image got blurry because of her tears. What? “I love you…Y/N.” She clasped her hand over her chest, trying to move away.

He’s dreaming about you? All this time? Tears fell from her face as she tried not to make another movement or sound. And he said he loves you? Her initial suspicions were right. Naomi’s throat constricted as she held in her sob. “No…” She whispered, finding it hard to breathe. Her ears were starting to ring as she struggled to get up.

*Ring. Ring. Ring.*

Naomi’s breath was knocked out of her lungs as she noticed Satoru’s phone ringing and vibrating beside his pillow. He can’t wake up. Not now… She thought as she forced her weak knees to work and grab the phone without startling him but it was impossible as it was right beside his head, partially covered by the pillow.

Before she could even get it, Satoru stirred awake, blinking his eyes up at her. “Naomi?” His eyes scanned her before realizing the situation she put the both of them in. “What the fuck?” His eyes went wide, trying to get up. Naomi was panicking, stepping off of him as he looked at her with confusion and disgust.

“S-Satoru, it isn’t like—” She tried to hold his hand, face wet with tears as he tried to get away from her, “What the fuck are you trying to do?” Pulling his pants before standing up. She picked up her silk robe, trying to give herself some decency as what she did started to sink into her. “Were you—fuck!” Satoru’s frustration was obvious, making Naomi flinch as she wept.

“Were trying to sleep with me while I was out?” His eyes were filled with emotions; dismay, disgust, fear, and disbelief. The last thing Satoru remembered was staring at his phone before he dozed off. Then, he remembered dreaming about you. Satoru rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm. He knows that he shouldn’t have taken shot after shot even if he’s at home.

Satoru’s a lightweight and Naomi knows that. Could it be… “You made me drink on purpose.” His voice lowered as he pointed a finger at her. “No…I didn’t. I—” She tried to utter, voice coming out as a squeak, “I am not asking a question. I know that you did.” Satoru gritted through his teeth.

“Do you know what can happen to you?” Satoru walked towards her, glowering. “I could put you behind bars for this, Naomi.” Satoru was fuming, he didn't even know where the alcohol in his body went. He just knows that he’s dizzy. Raising his hand only to put it back down again, he doesn’t want to risk anything.

“What were you trying to do?” He spoke in a low voice, reaching for his phone on the bed. Your name was written in bold letters when he looked at his notifications. So, it was you who was calling. Once again saving him from whatever type of hell he got himself into. “N-nothing happened.” She shook her head, trying to convince him with her eyes.

“I’m not asking you if something happened or not, I’m asking about what you were trying to do.” His jaw and teeth hurt by how hard he is biting down. She sat there with tears cascading down her cheek while Satoru waited for her. “Please, don’t make me do this—”

He can't believe that a face as angelic and tame as this could do something so evil; so vile.

“Don’t make you do what? You feel embarrassed now but you weren’t embarrassed earlier when you were assaulting me!” He snapped, watching her eyes widen and her fear flashes on her face. “It’s not that, Satoru. I wasn’t trying to…” She walked to him, grabbing his hand with her cold ones. Satoru snatched his hand away, taking a step back.

His glares sent daggers to her heart. Never once has he been like this to her. “I…We were having problems. I thought that a…a child—” Naomi stopped talking, crying even more as Satoru closed his eyes and shook his head. He could tell that he was holding back on her.

“We were having problems so you thought having a child would fix it.” He finished for her, biting his lip. Her tendencies scared Satoru. He remembered how he decided not to tell her about his feelings for you earlier when he had every chance to because he felt bad. And now that one decision almost ruined him. “I’m gonna tell you now. Nothing will fix this.”

Naomi could feel her heart crack and break at his words. “Is it because of her?” She scowled, thinking about his mother’s words. “Is it because she got a boyfriend? Satoru, she's only trying to make you jealous—” She tried to explain, desperate to make him listen to her. “I don’t fucking care. I don’t care if she doesn’t take me back, I don’t care if she's only doing that to spite me.” Stopping, he took a step towards her.

“Naomi, I don’t give a fuck if she hurts me back because I fucking deserve it.” He panted, “For all the shit I put her through when I decided to be with you instead of fixing things as I promised her.” His mouth quivers as memories flash across his vision.

The day he let go, the day he started over for himself, the day he chose only for himself while you were out there waiting for a change.

“You know… I don’t regret meeting you. Because you helped me. You were a great friend to me. But I regret choosing you over Y/N. We should’ve never been something like this.” He sighed deeply, listening to her sniffles and apologies. “I should’ve just told you earlier that I’m still in love with her.” With that sentence, all her questions got answered. Naomi's world came apart.

“You’re getting checked tomorrow.” He stood up straight, grabbing his phone as he headed for the door. “Satoru, nothing happened, there’s no need to—” She tried to go after him, stopping when he paused by the door. “I don’t trust you.” He spoke before stepping out, leaving Naomi in the room with nothing but her broken heart, shame, and humiliation.

Satoru sat on the couch, running his hands through his hair. He stared blankly at the dark corner of his room, thinking about all the wrong paths he took. So much has happened and it’s not even a whole day yet. First, his mother ruined his child’s family day, and now— Cutting off his own thoughts, Satoru started to suspect something.

Naomi said she spoke to his mother. Is she, by any chance, involved with the decisions she came up with?

As much as Satoru hated to think about it, with the way his mother was acting, he couldn't help himself from thinking that she told Naomi something that made her do this. Even if she didn’t directly command her to do that, she could still be involved. Tears pooled in his eyes as he thought of it all. He did his everything to try and understand his mom, to be a good son to her.

“Naomi,” Storming back to the room, she found Naomi speaking on her phone. Terror appeared as she looked at him, hurriedly ending the call. Trudging towards her, she tried to put her phone away but with their size, it was impossible. “Who are you talking to?” He was far too angry to listen to her pleas and calls of his name.

She desperately tried to get it back but she was too late. “So, I was right? You talked to my mom about this.” He laughed bitterly, clenching the phone in his hand. “Satoru, let me explain, please. I won’t lie. We had a chat, we—” Naomi rambled on but Satoru was already pressing the call button, walking out as she chased after him.

“What?! You came up with that plan, deal with it!” Satoru can tell how annoyed she was by how she immediately answered, not even thinking about who it was. Satoru tried to keep Naomi away as she tried to grab the phone, calling her mom. “Did you coach her to violate your own son?” Satoru felt nauseous. He wants to throw up everything in his stomach.

“Satoru? No, honey, I didn’t tell her to—” Her voice cracked, shaking and tears finally escaped Satoru’s eyes. Naomi could only stand there, watching the man she loves break down because of what she did. Because of what they did. She should’ve listened to her conscience when it was telling her to stop.

Her desires brought her nothing but a quick, frail pleasure and a lifetime of agony. They gave her something to regret for the rest of her life.

“I’ll be in contact with Dad. And you won’t ever hear from me again once I settle all of this.” His voice was hoarse, low, and rough. Not giving himself a chance to hear his mother’s cries, Satoru ended the call. Before Naomi could even talk he was already harshly shrugging her touch off of him, “Don’t even try to explain. It’s clear to me now.”

“Satoru, can you just listen for a bit, I didn’t want to do that—'' She choked on her own sobs, “But you did! And I could get you arrested for it.” Satoru threatened, making her shake her head in fear. “You’ll get tested tomorrow.” He pointed a finger at her face, before turning to leave.

Entering his child’s room, Satoru sat on the bed, letting himself crumble and fall apart.

—-------------------------------------------

“Mama, mama!” You woke up to the feeling of someone jumping on the bed beside you. “Eat, Y/N. Let’s eat.” Looking down, you found two children looking at you in their pajamas. “Alright, alright. I’ll be up in a minute, calm down. “ You rubbed your eyes, smiling even as you remembered how the other night went.

After an hour of sitting in the kitchen, Toji came out. You refused to look at his face, but you can feel his cautious movements around you. You subtly wiped your cheeks, trying to hide the fact that you cried. You always know that it’s alright to cry to him, but for some reason, you feel like you’re so far away from him right now.

You felt like he was holding a weapon against you. One shot could be enough to tear you down again.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, after a couple of seconds of standing in front of you. You looked down, leaning on the kitchen counter. “I didn’t mean to say that.” Toji took a seat on one of the chairs, patiently waiting for you to respond. Sighing, you looked up at him, seeing him looking at you with contrite in his eyes.

“You’re a father too, Toji.” You tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear, before letting your hand rest on your nape. “I know, Y/N. I shouldn’t have said that.” Toji admits that he felt like you were being unfair to him. He didn’t realize that he was the one being unfair to Satoru when he’s obviously trying to stay at a distance.

“Please, understand that I’m not asking you to forget your wife. I just don’t like feeling like I’m…like I’m not enough.” You swallowed right after saying it, as if it’s a strong medicine that tasted bad enough to numb your tongue. “I’ve had enough of feeling like that.” It was barely above whisper, Toji didn’t really catch it but he wrapped you in his arms.

“I’m sorry, I really am.” Kissing your forehead, he felt you relax in his arms. Toji hated himself for making you feel like this again. He hated that he let himself project his feelings on you. The jealousy was coming from him and not you. He failed to understand your point because he was blinded by his bitterness over the fact that you and Satoru are finally getting along.

He didn’t even think of the child involved.

“I’m tired. I just want to sleep.” You murmured to his chest, “Alright, alright. Let’s go.” With that, you and Toji went to bed; with his arms around you and your back against his chest. You didn’t want your head against his chest, you can’t bring yourself to look in his eyes.

You were afraid that you’d hear a different name if you listened to the beat of his heart. It would be painful to see a different woman in the reflection in his eyes.

Picking up your phone, you felt the two kids lay beside you. There were texts from Satoru. You initially assumed that it’s probably because of your missed call from the night before but your brows furrowed in confusion when you saw how early he sent them. 4:37 in the morning.

Opening the messages, you heard Toji enter the room. “What are you two doing? I said "no jumping on the bed.”” Your eyes were glued to the screen of your phone, taking in every single word in Satoru’s messages. “Good morning,” You felt a kiss on your forehead, “You okay?” Toji asked, curious as to why you looked worried first thing in the morning.

“Satoru’s got matters, he can’t pick Yui up until later today.” You spoke, opening the next message. I saw your call last night. I couldn’t call back because it was late. I fell asleep early. “It’s probably because of what happened yesterday.” You caught a sigh escape from Toji’s lips. “He’ll be ok. He won’t let you get caught up in this.”

He sat down next to you as he looked at the screen, you didn’t bother hiding it, not wanting to make him feel like you’re hiding something. “Do you want to talk to him?” You looked at him as soon as the words escaped his lips. “It’s okay. He would say that if he needed that.” You replied, looking away after giving him a small smile.

“Well then let’s have breakfast, I cooked something. The kids woke up really early.” He chuckled, pecking your cheek. “I’ll be there.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into you as you kissed his ear. “Thank you so much.” You whispered to him, feeling his weight on you.

“Anything for you.” Only Toji knows how much he meant those words.

��-------------------------------------------

“It will be out in two days.” Satoru threw the car keys on the couch, before walking towards the stairs. “You can take all your belongings. If I–“ He trailed but Naomi cut him off, “Satoru, I’m sorry. I was just desperate to–“ He gave her a warning look, making her look down. He’s been nothing but cold to her.

“You’re desperate so you tried to do that to me?” He shook his head, “You know, I’m sorry too. I regret that I didn’t just tell you what was really going on. I should've just broken up with you that day. I thought I could save it if I tried, even just for the sake of the time we were together and what you did for me, but I can’t. This wouldn't have happened, you wouldn't have gotten a chance to do that.” Satoru was getting harsher and harsher with his words.

Filled with mixed emotions, he watched as the woman he trusted cried again. She’s been crying since the night before but he couldn’t find it in himself to comfort her. He doesn’t even want to be under the same roof as her at that moment. When he thinks about what could’ve happened if he didn’t wake up on time, or if you didn’t call, all he feels is dread.

“I will be the first to touch the test results.” Satoru declared as he clenched his jaw, “Satoru…can’t we just wait until—” Naomi tried to grab his arm, looking at him with teary, pleading eyes. She’s shaking, and her fingers are freezing. “Wait until what? ‘Till I can’t go back? ‘Til you achieve what you’re trying to do?! ‘Til you ruin every hope that I have?!” The woman cowers in fear and embarrassment.

“Naomi, are you not scared? Of this mess that you got me in?” He hissed at her face, watching her look down as she sobbed. She’s visibly trembling at this point, “You should be ashamed.” Satoru nodded his head, clenching his fists. “For what you’ve done... you should be ashamed.” He walked out of the room, slamming the door on her as she fell down to her knees, wailing.

Locking the door, Satoru changed quickly, before laying down on the bed. His head’s been killing him since last night; hangover, sleeplessness and stress are continuously tearing through every muscle. He looked at his phone, seeing the hundred missed calls from his mom who probably came earlier, as expected, when they went to the hospital.

Satoru was just about to put his phone down when it started to vibrate. Your contact with a picture of Yui and you flashed on the screen. He didn’t waste any time answering the video call. Seeing his little girl made all the tiredness leave his body. She looked down at the phone, smiling at him.

“Dada! Dada, Hi!” Waving at him, “Hey, baby. I’ll pick you up in a bit, alright? Dada just needs to nap.” He watched her scrunch her brows, seeing your frowning face for a second. “Yui don’t want.” She whined, hearing the word ‘nap.’ Laughing, Satoru saw you peek on the screen, “Not Yui. Dada will nap.”

“Take your time to rest. You look really tired.” You talked, holding a baby plate in your hand. “I just noticed she’s starting to look like you.” He chuckled, sighing as his eyes blinked slowly. You remained silent on the other end of the line, feeding a spoon full to the toddler.

“What were you going to say to Dada?” You talked to Yui, wiping her chin. “Sorry. Yui, uhm, Yui not nice.” The view kept shaking as she struggled to hold the phone in her small hands. “It’s ok, baby. Dada will buy you the cake, as promised.” The way her eyes lit up as she heard the word made Satoru forget about his problems.

After a little bit of talking and watching his daughter eat, you took the phone from her but still kept the camera on her face. “Say bye-bye now, let Dada sleep for a bit.” You spoke, and the kid obediently followed, waving her father goodbye, “Bye-bye. Dada.” She looked up at you, “See you later,” Repeating each word you say, Satoru could only tell her how much he loves her.

He wished to tell you that he loves you too but that wouldn’t be right.

“I’ll call later. “ He talked to you, hearing you hum, “Alright, rest well.” With that, you ended the call, leaving Satoru on the verge of sleep. He prayed to dream of you and maybe even do the things that he wished to do with you. He wished that he could just ask you to hold him before he breaks down again.

He realized that all this time, it’s you, it’s your arms that he needed to put him back together again permanently and not just as some sort of comfort that could so easily break. If he had a choice to turn back time, he’d turn it all the way back to when you, Yui, and he were together; not before he met you.

Because even if his relationship with you began with an obligation, it was still his choice to love you.

—------------------------------------------------------

TWO DAYS LATER

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s alright.” He spoke to the phone, struggling to put his seatbelt on. Satoru’s been anxious, he couldn’t even sleep properly. Today, he’ll be receiving the test results. “I just got back from Toji’s, and he’s got something to do so he couldn’t take me to pick Yui up.” You sighed from the other line.

You were about to take a cab to Satoru’s house but he insisted that he’ll just drop Yui off back to you. “Let’s talk about the car next time, okay? So, you don’t have to commute.” He reminded, hearing you hum. “Yeah, ok. I’ll tell Toji about it too.” With that, you bid farewell, telling him to drive safely before dropping the call.

“Alright, let’s go to Mama.” Satoru looked over at his daughter who was sucking on her binky. She nodded eagerly, wiggling her little legs as she claps her small hands. Satoru didn’t tell you about what happened with Naomi. He doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to. That night was still clear to him. He closed his eyes, grabbing the steering wheel before starting to drive.

The car ride to your house was filled with little giggles and occasional singing of his little girl. She slowed Satoru down, preventing his mind from overheating from thinking about things as she playfully calls him every now and then. "Dada! Yui hair!" She pulled at the strands, scrunching her nose as she laughed. "Dada hair!" Her fingers pointed at him.

Satoru smiled at her through the mirror, instantly understanding what she was implying. "Ah, yes, we have the same hair." He cooed, making the little girl cover her eyes as she smiled, "You're a smart kid." In no time, the two of them reached your apartment. The kid kept hugging her Dad as they walked up your steps, as if sensing his distress.

"Baby!" You opened the door for them, kissing Yui's cheek. He can see your eyes scan his face, a hint of worry was etched on your features, "Would you like to come in? How did things go?" You were reluctant to ask the question, worried that it might be a bit too private for you to know. But it looked like he needed it when a small, sad smile appeared on his lips.

"Not good," He sighed, "I'll tell you about it some other time." Satoru went inside but only to put down his daughter's bag. "I, uh, have a delivery coming today, so…" Nodding, your mouth formed an 'O' shape, "Alright, you better get back then. Say bye to Dada." You adjusted your daughter on your hip, urging her to give her father a kiss.

"Bye love, I'll see you in a few days." He pecked the kids forehead, patting her hair and smiling at you as he went. His head, his heart and his feet felt heavy as he walked away. It's like the second Satoru left your apartment, his headache was back knowing that whatever's waiting for him at his house could be another obstacle to pass. And the worst; it could be something that he can never run away from.

He arrived only a couple of minutes earlier than the mailman. The envelope felt like a tonne in his hand as he took it, signing quickly before thanking the worker. Satoru stared at it as he walked to his living room, sitting down on the couch when he felt like his knees were about to give up. With cold fingers, he opened it, going directly to the section where he could find his peace.

Eyes widening as he breathed out the air he didn't know was holding in, he slammed the papers on the table as he pulled his phone out and dialed the number he's been hoping to call ever since the incident.

"Dad, I need to talk to you."

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[scoops-aboy86]

Music teacher Eddie and student Steve.

Like, someone told Steve that marching band is easy credits, and he’s athletic. His parents made him take piano and clarinet lessons as a kid. Clarinet is a pretty easy instrument to march with; not too heavy, doesn’t have to hold it at a crazy straight angle like flutes or most of the brass instruments. He’s not a great musician or anything, but it doesn’t hurt his feelings if he ends up with 3rd or 4th part. The halftime shows are fun and he was never really into playing football so it’s not like he’s missing out on anything; this way, he still gets to watch the games. Sure, the trade off is having to sit in stupid concert band for the second half of the year, but only half; any other elective would be for the full haul. And it definitely doesn’t hurt that the new band director his senior year, Mr. Munson, is the youngest teacher on staff and brimming with infectious energy. The kind of guy you can tell used to be stick thin before his teenage metabolism kicked the bucket, and now he’s got kind of a belly and a sweet tooth that everyone knows about. A lot of the band girls have a huge crush on him, so he gets a lot of apples and also a lot of baked goods left on his desk, and he lets students call him by his first name, and he’s always down to soak up flattery—with a grain of salt. Steve has never once seen him flirt back; his best friend, Robin in the trumpet section, can confirm.

It’s not until accompanying Robin on her first venture into the gay bar in the next or two town over (with fake IDs, obviously) that Steve figures out why. Robin is absorbed in talking to a pretty redhead, and Steve has just bought himself a beer when someone bumps into him hard enough that he drops it.

“Shit, sorry about that!” says Mr. Munson. And usually, at school, he sticks to black slacks and plain shirts, but here? Form-fitting jeans that are more rip than black denim and well-worn band shirts that were probably bigger on him years ago, but now are on the tighter side. Hair loose instead of tied back, and he’s wearing eyeliner.

Steve, who can’t stop staring, has never really seen what all the girls do in the guy before, but now he gets it. And so can Mr. Munson. Eddie.

The double take when he recognizes Steve as a student is pretty priceless, and Steve can’t help messing with him, smirking a little while saying, “So this is what you’re doing instead of grading our music theory tests.”

And, well. Steve is eighteen. Eddie is in his early twenties. What’s the big deal if he asks a hot older man to dance instead of taking him up on that replacement beer? It’s not like it’ll be for more than once dance. Not like the crowded dance floor jostles them closer together, Eddie flailing a little as he stumbles forward and Steve catches him, faces close and accidentally brushing. Not like they’ll kiss for real a few electric-charged seconds later, or end up in a more out of the way corner making out. And no way would that turn into Eddie turning into a flustered mess any time he makes eye contact with Steve at school, or a series of serupticiously passed notes, or Steve making sure they ���accidentally” run into each other more often off campus.

Under no circumstances will they kiss again, or get carried away making out against a dark wall somewhere and both need a change of pants, or go on a tentative date where Eddie doesn’t let Steve do any underage drinking but does let him drive Eddie home and come inside for a coffee. Absolutely zero chance of falling into bed together and each of them confessing to real feelings that only Robin (who constantly makes cradle robbing jokes but is so supportive of Steve that he’d kiss her if it wouldn’t gross both of them out, it’d be like kissing a sibling) knows about until after graduation.

… Right?

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[ghostbsuter]

Water drips down in the corner, the steady dop drop drop— does wonders for the bat.

Batman has been taken, tied up, and undressed of his utility belt. It takes him a second to figure out who took him, by the large but empty and run down warehouse, the sound of the shore not far away.

The docks. He shuffles, bound and comm off.

Then, the steel enforced door slams open and Joker enters.

"Batsy!" He calls, overjoyed. The man walks to the bound vigilante and crouches to his height.

"It's been so long, hasn't it been?"

The vigilante grunts. "Joker."

"Today will be different." He goes on, "today, we have," the crime Prince drums his fingers on Batman's thigh. "A guest!"

He freezes at that, Joker has a civilian.

(Oracle sends out the message, her voice firm, and the coords are shared to the rest of the clan in seconds as she looks at her monitor. Batman's red dot at the harbour bright.)

"I'm a guest now?" The voice of a child asks, it brings slight confusion that the boy wasn't tied nor harmed in any way.

It's relief that he seems okay, but the danger of standing next to the Joker has Batman wiggling in his restrains.

"Is that a promotion or demotion for son?"

A brief look of annoyance enters Joker before being smoothed out, the boy is dealing with a delicate time bomb. Uncomfortably close to the madman.

(He hurries in the process of breaking free.)

"My son! My blood!" Sings the clown, throwing his hands around the boy's shoulders and prancing around.

Which brings another question.

Son?

Cool lighting hits the boy's head and the tuffs of pink, blue and green become more obvious, hidden beneath black hair previously.

Joker and Harley have a child. A son.

He will visit harley later. The boy comes first.

"Dante! Danyal! Daniel?" Joker croons, shaking the boy. "What was it again?" He stops, turning his son toward him with a grin.

(Robin drops down behind him, hiding, katana ready to be swung.)

"Danny, actually," the child— Danny– shrugs off the hands and steps back. Unflinching from the judging stare, simply waving off the hands creeping to his throat.

"Danny," the name is tested, and the Prince of Crime hums to himself. "We can always replace it as Joker Jr! It fits you better than Danny."

(Red Robin and Spoiler get on position above them, ready to pounce from the construction pillars.)

"Yeah, I don't know about that." He chuckles nervous, catching Batman's eyes and—

His eyes alone scream of fear, scared– scared—!!

"We will get you an acid flower, a new suit as well, the hoodie looks horrible on you." The man notes, humming.

"I prefer hammers." Danny replies with tense shoulders.

Joker clicks his tongue, "You always went after your mother." he hisses, outright glaring at his son now. His hand tightened around the crowbar he'd gathered not long ago.

"I mean," he hesitates, eye trailing off the Joker and over his shoulder. "I did come out of her."

The sound of a loaded gun shatters the silence, and Joker is pulling Danny, switching their positions and pushing him right in front of the gun in Red Hood's hand.

"Always a coward, hiding behind others, aren't you." Danny stops himself from squealing. That's the Red Hood!

(Escrima sticks light up with electricity as Red Hood speaks.)

Joker is ticked off, party ruined and surrounded now that he looks around.

Oh well, he can get his son on his villain path another day.

Cackling, he evades the escrimas, dodging the wonder boy and evading the twin attacks from above.

He pulls out a trigger and presses the bright red Button.

"Have fun bats and birds!"

The warehouse is completely flooded with fear gas, scarecrow wouldn't be mad he sacrificed one of his warehouses, will he?

It's all blurry. In one moment, his view is shrouded, and he's coughing. In another, he gets picked up and brought outside, the Joker gone.

An oxygen mask is placed on him by a paramedic, being handed off to an ambulance that had been called.

Peeking around, he sees Red Hood (!) still lingering around. Danny catches his eye and with a wave, the man is walking towards him.

He simply crosses his arms and tilts his head, waiting.

"Could I get a picture?" Danny blurts out, flushing after and coughing, holding the oxygen mask in his lap.

Red Hood makes a show of his shoulder sagging before crouching down and leaning toward him.

Later, Danny will look at the picture with a boyish grin, crooked and charming.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

A continuation

[fishsinsareacknowledged]

Tw: sfw, fluff, could probably be read as platonic.

Husband König who rushes over to you when he hears the softest wince in the kitchen. Quickly grabbing your shaky hands with light touches as he crouches down, bending his spine to look at the small knife wound. Sure it was small but an injury's an injury and he'll be damned if he didn't at least try to heal your now cut index finger.

His larger hand cradling yours gently as he turns your wrist just to see how deep the cut was before looking back at you with worried eyes, knowing the closest hospital was nearly two hours away.

"Schatz...we have to stitch it up."

Dropping your hand slowly as he leads you over to the couch with a hand on your shoulder, blood falls on the floor and stains but he really couldn't be bothered with it. He'll deal with that later.

"Hold still now, little love."

Methodically cleaning your whole hand with a small alcohol pad, wipe after wipe, care for perfect cleanliness. A wet look in his eyes as he takes off your ring, sadly setting it off to the side and disinfecting again before he takes off his own and sanitizes his own hands. Ripping open a sterile needle with his pointer and index and holding it between slow, careful hands.

Standing before you, grabbing your hand tightly and pinching your finger by the base, almost breaking the first layer of skin with the needle in steady hands before he places it back down on the sanitary pack. No second tries. Repositioning himself as he crouches down for a better angle before he decides to just sit on his knees, sighing in relief as the light finally hits your skin, allowing him to see better.

"3,2,1", muttering to himself as he pushes the needle into the side of your finger, sighing softly as he hears your pained wince. Ever so quiet as he concentrates to tie up the needle, two twists and two turns before he cuts it off and does it all again. And again.

"Just one more, come on", he tries to convince by the third stitch, the wound almost fully closed up now as he sews another one into your shut tightly skin.

"Good one, Schatz", whispering softly as he quickly cuts off the last string. Still holding your index between his pointer and thumb before he wraps a damp cotton around the wound, disinfectant stinging your skin and nose as his pinky finger gently taps on your palm, trying to calm you.

"Better no?", asking to try and distract you as he wraps a small thin piece of gauze tightly around the whole finger. Tying it off with some medical tape before he sighs once more. Relieved, bringing your hand to his lips for a gentle graze, smiling softly at his own childish action.

Chuckling to himself as you pat his head with your free hand. A hand to your thigh that pushes down as he helps himself up with a timely groan.

"See, we're now married again", jesting to himself as he slides back on your ring. Watching lovingly how it was the perfect size, not too tight nor too wide. The same as his, a perfect fit, even with his calluses.

König who holds you a little looser than usual when you cuddle. Holding your injured hand in between your two chests as if he was trying to protect it. Willing himself still in his sleep unlike his usual nocturnal activities.

König who watches you sleep with failed eyes, unable to protect his spouse.

König who doesn't let you cook for a whole two months. Replacing and managing your bandages throughout, not even letting you near the kitchen lest he pulls you back to whatever you were doing.

"I can cook, don't make this harder for any of us Schatz."

Letting you cook once again when he spots the wound turning into a scar. Helping you in the kitchen turned from bi-daily to daily as he chops everything for you, never letting you near the knives until he's sure. Which is maybe in two more months.

"I can cut the ingredients so you don't have to. I won't cut myself Schatz, I'll be fine. Okay Ja, understood but I am used to a little sting."

Yeah he's letting you bandage him too.

Letting out a little, "I approve", at the flowery bandage.

Masterlist

[schoenpepper]

Hi! I’ve got a rq but it’s kind of elaborate and might be sensitive to u so if u don’t wanna do it that’s fine!

But can I have some hcs of Deuce, Jack, Leona, Vil, Epel, Malleus, Silver, and Lilia with a reader who lived with a single parent all their life (whom they were very close with) who passed away not long before they came to TW, but they never said anything about it. So as a way to grieve they wear their parent’s shirts/jackets, accessories and fragrances because they’re all they have of said parent.

Vil sees that some of their clothes doesn’t quite fit their size or style, Jack and Leona can smell a very faint lingering scent of another on their shirts, Deuce notices them playing with their necklace frequently, etc.

I Still Feel You, I Still See You, I Still Hear You

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, sad things, dead parents ig, platonic-ish, short

A/N: No need to be considerate nonnie my parents are fine haha. Finished this while trying to review for my accounting quiz tomorrow...uh, later this afternoon...?

Masterlist

Deuce might be a little...denser, regarding the situation.

However, he's not that tactless.

Ahaha he so is

Forgive him, he always means well. That sentence doesn't make it any better when he brings up the necklace you can never seem to stop fiddling with.

"My mom gave it to me before she died."

Mmh baby gets shut up realll quick.

Do you...want to share his mom?

Pardon the wording. He really means well.

So do you want to come home with him for the holidays?

Jack has a good sense of smell, so it's a bit jarring when the usual scent you have on you is replaced by a musky sort of cologne that you were unlikely to ever wear.

He asks an innocent question.

You give an innocent answer.

"It was my dad's cologne. It's his death anniversary today."

He pats your shoulder to express his condolences.

He doesn't usually do this but, do you want ice cream? His treat.

If you insist really hard, he'll let you cuddle his tail as an apology for his "insensitive" question (it wasn't really but ok)

Leona is very emotionally and socially sensitive, so he'll have a few guesses in mind already.

Your leather jacket always smells faintly of smoke.

He doesn't ask about it. Actively wards off people who makes comments about it, too.

You'll be the one to bring it up when you trust him enough.

"It was my dad's. The only thing salvaged from the fire."

Awkward.

Tsk, you're so troublesome.

Pulls you under his blanket for lots of grumpy cuddles.

He's not good with sappy comforting stuff, so you'll have to make do with his presence. He'll sit by you and listen, 'kay?

Vil is a lot of things, but he's not inconsiderate, and he's certainly not stupid.

When he first sees you wearing that ungodly sweater, soft and knitted and in such a drab color that it completely washed you out, he does get a little curious.

You have better fashion sense than that, potato.

But he notices the way you seem to sink into the fabric, eyes dazed and looking out into the distance.

"It was my mom's."

Oh. Alright.

Now he's a bit embarrassed.

Hm, maybe if you pair the sweatshirt with these pants... and do your hair like this...

You can mourn and look gorgeous while doing it, darling.

Still, he won't force anything if you don't want to.

Epel thinks the ring on your finger is really neat. He's not really one for girly things, but to be honest, he does find it a little bit cute.

Not that...he likes cute things...

Anyway, where did you get it from? Gee, you sure do stare at it a lot.

"My mom left it for me when she died."

Grim topic, but alright.

Likely the type to try and steer the conversation away to some other topic after apologizing for bringing it up.

Says your eyes are pretty. Accidentally.

He'll blush and deny it and apologize for saying weird things.

Idia accidentally snagged your watch on some cable wires while you were in the bathroom.

Total whoops. No problem, he got it out ez

Ugh, why are you panicking, dude? The watch is fine, y'know?

"Sorry, it's just, it's the last thing I have of my dad."

Okaaaay he'll go die in a ditch now tnx

He definitely feels like crap. Not to mention, he's also someone who lost someone super important to him, who was his world and best friend.

Buries himself in his bed and dies.

Silver isn't one to pry, so at normal times, he's unlikely to mention anything about your rather gaudy earrings that don't seem to fit your persona.

It's your choice, anyway. He won't judge.

Still, he has to mention something about it when it catches onto a tablecloth you were napping on. (he won't judge your napping choices either don't worry)

"Is it broken?! No, it was my mom's, I can't..."

He pauses a little bit and helps you untangle it from the tablecloth.

Assures you it's not broken.

He won't ask unless you want him to.

Lilia is all too aware of loss and everything it entails. Call it intuition, or maybe something connected to his UM.

He knows that keychain of yours has a story behind it.

Some punks snatch it off your bag as a prank when you're not looking, and Lilia gets some exercise.

"Thank you so much! It's something my dad gave before..."

There's no need, really.

Everyone has a story, and he won't pry into yours.

Taglist:

@yummyyummyinmytumny @fsh1 @lemon-koii

[dreamwatch]

Ramblin' Gamblin' Man

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #20 - Prompt: Under The Covers | Word Count: 979 | Rating: M | CW: period typical homophobia (alluded to) | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: secret relationship, sharp suits, Steve Harrington is stupid for Eddie Munson, Fluff but make it lustful

Steve’s at the Grammys. Holy Shit.

It’s not the first time Eddie’s been here, but it’s the first time he’s brought Steve. He walked the red carpet alone last time, the rest of the band ahead of him with their wives and girlfriends, Eddie playing up the bachelor angle. Steve watched from their home. 

Tonight they’re ’best friends if anyone asks’, which Eddie thinks is unlikely because there are some big names here and like, who the fuck are they in the scheme of things?

They’re not nominated for anything; Eddie said they’d been asked to play a cover of Ramblin’ Gamblin Man and both Wayne and Steve’s dad are big Bob Seger fans so the band said yes. See, its little things like that that make him want to climb inside Eddie and never come out. Any other act is thinking about the prestige, Eddie’s thinking about whether his family would like it.

He loves this man so fucking much.

The band are sitting about ten rows back; he’s got a clear view of Sheryl Crow from his seat, and he’s pretty sure that’s the back of Whitney Houston’s head over to his left.

His new phone is buzzing in his pocket. Robin is obsessed with sending him messages. Tonight so far:

‘Is Stevie Nicks there?’

‘If she is please tell me she’s hot.’

‘Shit I think I just saw you!’

‘Is that Sheryl Crow in front of you?’

He deletes them to make space for new messages, hopefully something about how their friends are at the goddamn Grammys and not whether Shania Twain has a nice ass. (She does, he looked.)

Eddie taps his arm. “Okay, we have to go get changed.”

“Huh? Why?”

They’re wearing their ‘Corroded Coffin smart attire’, essentially their usual clothes minus the rips. They’re not exactly scruffy, per se, but… Steve’s in a suit here, you know? (The suit is borrowed, but it’s all about the effort.)

Eddie grins at him. “You didn’t think I was performing at the Grammys in this, did you?” He pulls at the long sleeve tee he’s wearing under his new leather jacket. 

“I mean, yeah, I kind of did.”

Eddie tsks. “For shame, Steve.” He leans in, achingly close, his breath tickling Steve’s neck. “Wish me luck.”

Just for a second Steve thinks about kissing him. Fuck everyone else, fuck the fans, the industry, he just wants to kiss his man publicly. But he doesn’t. Instead he shifts so his lips are practically touching the shell of Eddie’s ear.

“Good luck,” he whispers. 

Eddie shivers. Steve laughs.

The boys all leave, and now it’s Steve and The Wives.

Thirty minutes later the sound of a trashy high-hat fills the auditorium, lights flashing in time to the thu-thu thump bass drum pattern. Despite Jeff being their lead vocalist it’s Eddie, with his raspier, bluesier voice, that’s taking the lead tonight, and doesn’t that just make Steve’s heart fucking cry out with pride? And you know, Eddie, his Eddie, singing at a nationally televised event should be the thing he’s concentrating on, and it is! It is. But when the lights go up the first thing he actually notices is—

“Holy shit, they’re wearing suits!” 

Bonnie says it before anyone else gets a chance. He imagines the four of them are a picture right now, side by side, eyes on stalks because their men are all on stage at the Grammy’s wearing blacks suits, crisp white shirts and… fucking sunglasses. 

Look, he’s seen Eddie in a suit. It was a nice suit, but he looked about as comfortable as a priest in a lingerie store. This is not that.

These are sharp tailored suits, fitted to perfection. Eddie has too many buttons undone on the shirt, some of his chest exposed, that old Fender guitar pick necklace replaced with a solid silver copy (the original with Wayne). The stage lights hit his mirrored Ray Bans, the chain, the rings. But Steve can’t take his eyes off that fucking suit.

He’s going to devour him.

Eddie’s not a frontman, says he loves being able to just do his thing and let Jeff take care of the crowd. But he has a feeling things might change after tonight. 

The audience are on their feet, and Steve grabs the girls so they can head down to the backstage area. They have passes but even then he has to pull the ‘pregnant ladies coming through’ card to get them back to the green room. And when they get in there--

They’re still dressed in those fucking suits.

Eddie spins toward him. “Hey! What did you—“

Steve doesn’t give him a chance to finish the sentence, he has his hands on Eddie’s face and he’s dragging him in for a long, deep kiss, Eddie’s eyes wide and cross eyed.

When he finally comes up for air he realises Jeff, Gareth and Matt are all getting much the same treatment from their wives.

“You’re never taking this off, understand?” Steve says breathlessly. “Never.”

“What… the suit?”

“Duh, the suit, yes the suit. You’re never taking it off. I don’t care what you’re doing, mowing the lawn, taking the trash out, washing the car, don’t care. This,” he says gently pulling at a very expensive lapel, “is never leaving your body.” He goes in for another kiss. “God the things I’m going to do to you tonight.”

“In the suit?”

“Fuck yes, in the suit! Told you, you’re never taking this off.”

Eddie’s grin is slow and mischievous. “This is really doing it for you, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

It’s doing it for everyone. There are three respectable married ladies here, mothers no less, acting like groupies at an Aerosmith gig. 

Steve squeezes his hips. “Let’s go.”

“Sunglasses: on or off?”

Steve wants to sink his teeth into him right here.

“On. Definitely on.”

The song:

The inspiration:

[michaelsfavgirl]

heartstrings & rings

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: A thoughtless act on your part leads Michael to mistakenly believe you're planning to divorce him. Consumed by fear he spirals, thinking he's about to lose you.

Tags: light angst, angst with a happy ending, established relationship, misunderstanding, mention of divorce.

Word Count: 1.7k

Requested: yes/no

Author’s Note: I'm trying to get better at writing angst

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

You’re in your luxurious walk-in closet, surrounded by the endless racks of designer clothes. The shelves stretch from floor to ceiling, filled with everything your heart has ever desired, all organized by season and color. You’re standing in front of a full-length mirror, your brows furrowed in concentration as you pull on a pair of pants, only to tug them off moments later.

You’ve been doing this for the past twenty minutes—putting on clothes, taking them off again, sifting through options like a stylist on a deadline. Today’s a shopping day with your friends and you want to look absolutely flawless. Of course, Michael insists that you use his card and not your own. He's always made it clear: what’s his is yours, and what’s yours is yours.

You smile at the thought, rummaging through your jewelry collection to find the perfect accessories. Your fingers absently fiddle with your wedding band and engagement ring as you try on a few necklaces and swap out a pair of gold earrings for something with more sparkle. 

Finally, after trying on half your closet, you settle on an outfit that showcases your sense of style. But as you give yourself a final once-over in the mirror, something doesn’t quite fit. Your rings, your beloved wedding band and stunning engagement ring, don’t quite match the vibe of your outfit.

Without thinking twice, you slip them off, replacing them with a few rings that go better with your look. You toss them onto the bed thoughtlessly, mentally noting to put them back on later, before walking out the door.

—

Meanwhile, Michael is wrapping up an exhausting day at the studio. He’s been working tirelessly, and all he can think about is coming home to you and recharging with a quick nap before you return from your shopping spree. He smiles to himself, thinking of how you’ll undoubtedly strut through the living room later, showing off your new outfits like you always do, and how he’ll cheer for every single one. It’s a tradition he cherishes, one that brings a sense of normalcy to his otherwise hectic life.

The house is quiet when he arrives. He heads straight for your shared bedroom, tossing his jacket onto a chair as he pulls off his shoes, already anticipating the comfort of your shared bed.

But as he approaches, something catches his eye. There, on the cozy sheets, are your wedding band and engagement ring, glinting in the sunlight like tiny, heart-wrenching beacons.

His breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s crumbling beneath his feet. He stares at the rings, his mind racing. Why would you leave them here? Why did you take them off? The thoughts claws at him, panic quickly seeping into his chest.

His heart pounds as he walks closer, sitting on the edge of the bed and picking up the rings with trembling hands. What does this mean? His thoughts spiral as he turns them over in his palm, his vision starting to blur. The weight of them feels like the weight of his worst fears—fear that he’s failed you, that he hasn’t been the husband you deserve. Is this how you’re telling him? Is this how you’re leaving him?

His chest tightens, and it becomes harder to breathe. He clutches the rings, pressing them against his chest as if holding them close would somehow keep you from slipping away. Tears fog his vision, spilling down his cheeks as his mind continues to spiral. How could he not have seen this coming? He thought things were perfect, that your marriage was growing stronger with each passing day. But apparently, he was wrong. He wasn’t good enough. He should have been more attentive, more loving, more… everything.

God, I can’t lose her, he thinks, his tears falling freely now, dripping onto his shirt as his whole body shakes. The love he feels for you is so deep, so consuming, and the thought of losing it—of losing you—makes his heart feel like it’s being torn apart.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even hear the door open. He doesn’t notice when you step inside, your arms laden with shopping bags and a soft smile on your face.

That smile drops instantly when you see him. His shoulders are hunched, his back trembling with silent sobs, and you can’t even see his face because he’s holding his head in his hands. Your heart clenches in panic as you lose your grip on all the bags and let them fall to the floor. You rush to his side.

“Michael? Michael, what’s wrong?” Your voice is filled with worry, your hands immediately cupping his tear-streaked face as you stand in front of him. You feel the wetness of his tears on your palms, your heart squeezing painfully at the sight of him like this—so vulnerable, so broken.

But his eyes… they don’t even meet yours. He looks past you, still holding something tightly in his hand. Your voice shakes as you plead with him. “Please, talk to me. What’s going on?”

He pulls your hands away gently but doesn’t speak. Instead, he drops to his knees, wrapping his arms around your legs, holding onto you like you’re his lifeline. His voice cracks, pleading as he presses his forehead against your thighs. “Please… please don’t do this. I’ll be better, I promise. Just… Please don’t leave me.”

You freeze, confusion flooding your senses. What on earth is he talking about? You feel his grip on you tighten, his body trembling against yours as his desperate words continue to spill out. “I’ll be more attentive, more loving… whatever you need. Just please, don’t leave. Don’t file for divorce.”

Your mind races, trying to make sense of his words, of why he’s in this state. Divorce? Leaving him? You’re about to beg him to explain when something catches your eye—his hand, the one that’s clutching something so tightly. You gently pry it open, revealing the rings in his palm.

Your wedding band. Your engagement ring.

And suddenly, it all clicks.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, the realization hitting you like a freight train. 

He looks up at you, his tear-streaked face filled with so much raw emotion that it nearly breaks your heart. His lips tremble as he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He just looks at you, utterly lost.

You feel horrible, guilt slamming into you as you realize what he must have thought when he saw the rings. Sinking down to his level, you wrap your arms around him, as you desperately try to bring him out of his haze.

“No, no, no. It’s not what you think. I just… I just took them off because they didn’t match my outfit. That’s all. I swear, I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to—”

He interrupts you, his voice still shaky but tinged with disbelief. “They didn’t go with your outfit?”

You nod, your throat tightening with emotion. “Yeah. That’s it. I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think about how it would look. I just… I didn’t want to clash, and I didn’t realize you’d—” Your voice falters, on the brink of tears yourself.

Michael stares at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he lets out a shaky laugh, a sound that’s so unexpected that it takes you a moment to process it.

“They didn’t go with your outfit,” he repeats, as if trying to wrap his head around the absurdity of it.

You nod again, your own tears threatening to spill over. “Yeah,” you whisper, your voice cracking.

He shakes his head, letting out another soft chuckle, and suddenly he wraps his arms around your waist, his face buried against your chest as he laughs, really laughs this time, the sound full of relief and disbelief all at once.

You can’t help but giggle along, the tension between you evaporating in an instant. You lay your head against his curly hair, finally breathing out. The sheer absurdity of the situation is too much to handle, and soon you’re both laughing together, wrapped in each other’s arms as the misunderstanding dissolves into nothing.

“I can’t believe you thought I was divorcing you,” you say, your voice still tinged with laughter as you stroke his hair.

“I thought I was a terrible husband,” he admits, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression soft and vulnerable. “I thought I wasn’t good enough for you.”

You shake your head, cupping his face in your hands as you gaze into his dark brown eyes. “You’re not a terrible husband. You’re the best husband I could ever ask for. And I’m sorry I scared you like that. I love you more than anything. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

He smiles softly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I love you too,” he whispers, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips. The kiss is slow and unhurried, helping him remind himself that you are his and he is yours. Body and soul.

For a long moment, you just stay there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the weight of the misunderstanding finally lifting as you hold each other close. And as you sit there, your heart full of love and relief, you can’t help but marvel at how deeply you love this man—the man who thought he wasn’t enough for you, even though he’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

Eventually, Michael pulls back, his smile soft and genuine as he takes your hand in his, gently sliding your rings back onto your finger. “There,” he says quietly. “Right where they belong.”

You smile, tears brimming in your eyes once more as you lean in to kiss him again. This time, the kiss is passionate and full of love, a promise of forever.

“Now,” you say with a playful grin as you pull back, “are you ready for the fashion show?”

He laughs, shaking his head as he wipes the last of the tears from his eyes. “Of course I am. My little fashionista.” And with that, the two of you fall back into the easy, playful rhythm that defines your relationship.

© michaelsfavgirl 2024

Taglist: @theladyinmoscow @yeriminist @yeaiamme2 @helloaugustmoon @cinnamoncunt @theladyofmylife @minekarina @kionaaa @theskinniestjackson-denny @leociinta @graciegizmo3184 @theasexual-jackson @mrsmikaelsxn @fallinlovewithevil @armasbw @b3rk1ey @sirusxx @maybe7tommorow @falllovesomemichealjackson @virgomjj @michaels-nonbinary-child @veavixen @elthoughtzos @kingayanna

[froggibus]

Catching You Reading a Smutty Story - Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso & Toji

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x gn! reader, Suguru Geto x gn! reader, Kento Nanami x gn! reader, Choso Kamo x gn! reader, Toji Fushiguro x gn! reader

Genre: suggestive, fluff, kinda crack?

Summary: your bf reacting to you reading smut

CW: suggestive content, NSFW content (Toji's), established relationships, gn! reader, book bf! Nanami, teasing, slightly mortifying ngl

this is part of my Summer Suntacular event, come check it out!

Satoru Gojo:

absolute fucking tease when he finds out

takes whatever you were using to read away and runs around the house reading it out loud

good luck getting it back cause this mf definitely uses his technique to keep you away

“baby if you wanted sex so bad, you coulda just asked.”

gives it back when you start to get upset but he’ll never forget

quotes lines of it at you at inopportune moments

you’ll be hanging out with your friends at the beach, or at dinner, and he’ll just lean over and whisper it to you

smack him. please. 

keeps in mind whatever you’re reading so he can ask you later if it’s something you genuinely want to try

Suguru Geto:

so casual about it that it’s almost annoying

reads over your shoulder just to embarrass you—but also commits the scene to memory

you’ll think he forgot about it but then he quotes something from the scene just to watch you squirm

at least he’s better than Gojo and doesn’t do it in public

or he won’t do it unless he gets jealous or bored

looks it up on his own later so he can read the whole thing (secretly enjoys it)

things get hot and heavy and all of a sudden he does a move or something that you know could only be from the smut

denies it.

Kento Nanami:

casual about it but not in the same way as Geto

asks you to send it to him so he can read it too

reads the whole thing & wants to have a discussion about it after

asks what about it appealed so much/what you didn’t like

“Was there anything from it that you’d like to try, love?”

the things this man does…

honestly fits the whole book boyfriend trope 

asks that from now on you share whatever you read so that he can read it too

Choso Kamo:

doesn’t even notice at first

he just assumes you’re reading like a normal book or a biology textbook or something

it’s not until you leave it out and he snoops reads it that he notices 

tries to deny reading it but this poor man’s face is a fucking inferno 

doesn’t really understand why you’re reading this & asks if you’re still satisfied with him

PLEASE reassure him PLEASE

this experience probably leads to him reading smut of his own so he can learn & please you better

Toji Fushiguro:

“whaddya need that for? you already got me.”

curious about it & reads it when you walk away/when you sleep

assuming this man probably can even read

absolutely wants to make you read it out loud while he fucks you until you can’t even form words anymore

enjoys watching you squirm so much that he’ll actually go out and buy you smutty books to read to him

however he WILL force you to replace the main man’s name with his cause there’s no way he’s letting you moan another man’s name

Summer Suntacular | Masterlist | JJK Masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[rafeandonlyrafe]

the game part one

words: 2.1k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, high sex, reader does drugs and drinks, drug dealer!rafe, male and female receiving oral, partying

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs

read part two here!

you watch rafe cameron carefully to learn his ways, what he likes in women, what they do to cause him to approach, or better yet, take them home. you watch as he ignores the girls who throw themselves at him, rather seeking out the hard to get, the aloof, the seemingly uninterested.

rafe cameron is a man who likes a challenge, so that is what you become. you start showing up to parties, in dresses that show the perfect amount of skin. not too much, too slutty for his taste. but not too little to hide your body.

it takes him an hour to head over to you, smirking and delivering a standard pickup line, and as much as you want to submit, you know the chase is what he likes the most, so you roll your eyes and walk away.

he follows you the rest of the night, eyes never straying too far from you no matter where you go. he doesn’t try again to speak to you that night, letting his expression do all the talking. he’s a predator, and you’re the prey he’s got his sights set on.

the next party you wear a form fitting long sleeved dress, and when you take to the dancefloor after a few drinks, you allow rafe to grind against you, feeling his large hands moving all over your body but you don’t go any further that night.

you wait a week before going out again, hoping that rafe is still invested in the game that you’re playing, and when he stalks over to you and interrupts the conversation you were having with a random man, you know you’ve got him hooked.

“can i kiss you?” rafe asks later, having spent the party by your side, either dancing or talking, mostly meaningless conversations to pass the time.

“yes.” you nod, but pull rafe away from the main party area to a darker lit corner, letting him push you up against the wall as his lips attack yours. you moan into the kiss, giving it your all, letting his tongue dominate your mouth.

“take me home.” you whisper against his lips.

“i can take you upstairs.” rafe says, fingers widening on your waist, feeling the satin material of your dress.

“i’m not letting you fuck me in some random strangers house with a party going on downstairs.” you shake your head, hoping this play works. “either take me to your house or this isn’t happening.” “why not your house?” rafe asks, but you shake your head. “unless you want to deal with my older brother, it has to be yours.”

rafe nods, staying silent for a moment as he looks down at you, like he’s trying to see if it’d actually be worth it to take you home. you jut your chest out, pressing your tits against his chest, and that has rafe giving in instantly, dragging you out towards his truck, his hand stroking dangerously high up your thigh as he speeds home.

“want a bump?” rafe asks you upon entering tanneyhill, the house completely silent as rafe has it all to himself.

“yeah.” you say, knowing you shouldn’t, but it will give you the confidence you need, so you inhale the white powder rafe offered you on the side of his finger before he leads you up to his room.

rafe sits down on his bed, looking at you expectantly. the coke now flowing through your veins has you moving instantly, taking the dress of your body and trying to keep the movements slow and sultry as you reveal the lingerie underneath. you watch rafes expression as you strip for him, the fascination on his features clear as the image he built in his head of you, the good girl not so easily willing to give it up to him like so many other girls, gets demolished and replaced with the slut you become for him when you’re alone.

you strip off your bra and underwear, twirling to give rafe a view of your body, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight flaws, like the scar that runs upon your hip, or the way one breast is slightly larger than the other. you quickly shake the thought out of your head, you’ve never felt insecure with a man before, and this is not the time to start.

you move closer to the bed, bending down to kiss rafe in his sitting position, a complete juxtaposition from when he was looming over you before. his hands trail over your naked body, touching your thighs, your hips, your waist, until he gets to your tits, groping them and playing with your nipples with his thumbs. you moan into his mouth to show your appreciation for his movements 

you pull away from the kiss, admiring the glossy look in rafes eyes, mouth slightly parted and lips pink and wet from your kiss. you sink down to your knees, rafe spreading his thighs wider to accommodate your body as you waste no time pressing your hand over his erection, clearly straining against the material of his shorts.

you tug at the zipper, keeping your movements slow and teasing, but rafe is in a bigger rush than you are, lifting his hips and pulling his shorts and underwear down, his large cock jutting out and pulsating, like it’s begging you to take it in your mouth.

you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, bobbing your head up and down, moaning at the taste on your tongue, so good compared to anyone you’ve had before.

“fuck, you’re so good at that baby.” rafe moans, and you haven’t even pulled out your hidden talent of being able to deepthroat, even a cock as large as the one rafe possesses.

you suck on his tip before flicking your tongue over it, satisfied when precum coats your mouth, smiling to yourself before taking him back in your mouth, moving halfway down and then pulling off as you work him with just your mouth, not wanting to bring your hands up to take away from the blowjob you’re giving him.

you pull off and take a deep breath before pushing your head forward, relaxing your throat and letting his cock push all the way down until your nose is nuzzled against his skin, having to repeatedly swallow as to not choke.

you feel rafes cock pulsate in your mouth, but then his hand is in your hair and you’re being pulled off. you frown at rafe as the line of spit connecting your mouth to his cock breaks.

“i wanted your cum.” you say sadly, looking at his cock, the tip a gorgeous pink color that is practically begging you to take back in your mouth.

“and i want to fuck you. get up here.” rafe tugs on your hair gently, just enough to signal that he wants you up on the bed. he pulls his shirt off as you climb up, placing one hand on his chest and having him lay back against the pillows.

“gonna ride you.” you tell him, pressing a kiss to his sweet lips.

“mmm, let me taste that pussy first.” rafe says, and makes no effort to move, and that’s when you realize he’s meaning to have you sit on his face.

“wanna feel your cock though.” you pout, but despite your protests you begin to climb up his body, positioning your knees on either side of his head as your pussy hovers over his face.

“and you will, after i get a taste.” rafe gives you no time to lower yourself on your own, his hands coming to your hips and pulling you straight down onto his face.

his mouth opens, greedily eating out your cunt, already wet just from sucking him off. you moan and have to grip onto the headboard for support as he slurps and sucks, prodding at your hole but ignoring the one place you really want his mouth.

you try to angle your hips to get him to give your clit some attention, but rafe keeps you in place with his hands, occasionally sliding down your hips to grip your ass as your pussy drips into his mouth.

rafe murmurs something against your skin, and you can’t make it out fully but you think he may be saying delicious. he finally drags his wide tongue upward, swirling around your clit before finally giving it a teasingly quick flick.

you cry out, legs shaving as he doesn’t give you any time to get used to the sensation, sucking your clit into his mouth. you feel your orgasm beginning to build, shocked that it’s happening so quickly, but rafes mouth is so skillful.

just when you’re about to go over the edge, rafe lifts your hips up. before you can complain, he’s lining you up with his cock, head pushing into your entrance. you get control of your body again as you sink down the rest of the way, letting a shudder move through your body when he’s fully inside.

“you’re so big.” you tell rafe, circling your hips as you get used to the movement before you begin to bounce, hands bracing on his abs.

rafe keeps his grip tight on your hips, his chin and cheeks shiny with your slick as you continue to bounce and grind, leaning forward and licking over the wetness, tasting yourself on his skin before connecting your lips, making out as you ride him.

“your pussy feels so good.” rafe moans, and you smile against his lips, giving one more peck before you sit back up, straightening to get a better angle as rafe begins to push his hips up against yours, adding to the movements as you work in motion together.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum.” rafe warns, and you move one hand away from his abs to rub at your clit, not surprised neither of you can last long after both almost cumming.

“inside me, please. i’m on the pill.” you probably should have discussed it with rafe beforehand, but you couldn’t imagine asking him to wear a condom, not when you get to feel him fill you.

“fuck, y/n!” rafe yells out, hips jutting up as he cums, his warmth filling your insides as you rub yourself to completion, body falling forward, unable to hold yourself upwards as you cum, his cock still lodged deep inside of you as you slowly stop moving your fingers against your clit.

“that was amazing.” rafe huffs, hand coming to rub at your back.

you let out a yawn, pulling off of rafes cock, letting his cum drip out onto his abs until you can’t push any more out of you.

“let me clean us up real quick.” rafe kisses your cheek as you flop onto the bed next to him, letting out another yawn. 

rafe reemerges from the bathroom with a washcloth, being extra careful when wiping your pussy down before tossing it into the hamper, flopping down onto the mattress with a yawn of his own.

“you don’t mind me sleeping here?” you ask.

“i wouldn’t make you leave.” rafe sounds almost hurt when you ask, and it makes a pang of guilt shoot through your chest.

you smile, letting rafe pull you into him. you press your head to his chest, not surprised by how quickly rafes breathing turns deep, slipping into a deep sleep. you wait, you’re not sure how long but it’s at least an hour, before sneaking out of bed, making sure to move slowly and carefully to not wake rafe up. 

your body misses his heat as you get dressed, smirking to yourself when you leave your underwear on the floor for rafe to find in the morning.

you head carefully down the stairs, making sure nothing creaks too loud as you search the house silently, keeping your ears open in case rafe wakes up. you’re about to give up when you find a storage closet, eyes widening when you open it to find the shelves full of packed cocaine, along with a few briefcases that upon peeking inside reveal they store money.

found camerons stash. meet me outside in 5 minutes. you send your accomplice a text, smirking to yourself as you grab as much of the cocaine as you can carry.

you spent weeks devising the plan, of getting rafe to fall for you and get yourself into his house, into his bed, only to rob him blind. it’s not your fault he didn’t recognize you as the younger sister of his only rival dealer on the island.

you load everything into the vehicle, briefly glancing up at rafes window with a smile on your face, knowing that you just won the real game.

read part two here!

[aroaceleovaldez]

i know a lot of people talk about the Cupid Scene as not being great as Nico's coming out story (which i think is a complex matter but that's a rant for another day), but I personally find it way more compelling if it's just not Nico's coming out story at all - it's the beginning of Jason's.

Because it doesn't really work or make sense to be Nico's, right? It's not Nico's pov. Nico doesn't have a POV at all in this book. And in House of Hades, the Cupid Scene is one of the first major things Nico gets to do right out of the box jar. Why introduce a character, have him be outed as gay, lead the crew around, and then leave to go travel with someone else all in one book where he's not even a POV? It's also contrary to the way Nico generally functions as a character - he's either exposition, dues ex machina, or damsel in distress. He's kind of a damsel here, but ultimately he doesn't need anyone else to save him - or even be there. He handles it on his own. Jason is mostly just a witness.

But, if you view the Cupid Scene as being about Jason, it narratively fits a lot more; Jason at this point is dating Piper, and they're three books deep into their relationship. TLH they start dating and are relatively happy with it and where they are. SoN is a skip but we know they're happily dating during that time, and then Mark of Athena we get a slight shift. Jason and Piper see Percy and Annabeth and go "Oh! They're perfect. Their relationship is perfect. We could be happier if we were more like them." Piper and Jason are also both characters who go through an identity turmoil in general - particularly about how both of them want to be perceived by others and who they are as people. The things they identify with - their parents, their heritages, etc etc. Their orientations. Piper's get more focus earlier in HoO, and Jason gets more later.

The Cupid Scene is from Jason's POV, in a book where he is beginning to struggle with his identity and what people expect from him - particularly him not feeling like he perfectly fits with "either camp." He's too "Greek" to be "Roman" but too "Roman" to be "Greek." He's not quite one or the other. He doesn't meet the expectations either has for him. (This is bi-coding, if you couldn't tell. Just replace "Greek" and "Roman" with "Straight" and "Gay.") It starts with Cupid addressing Jason first, before Nico, very directly - asking him if he's so sure he's happy in his relationship? Does he really think it's perfect? Even Favonius very pointedly asks him if he really forget that guys can date guys? Do you have some internalized bias around that, Jason? Hm? Heck, they're both specifically in their Roman forms, not Greek. Why would they appear in their Roman forms if they're there for a Greek demigod? And very notably, they have this exchange:

(remember what I said about the bi-coding with Jason's Greek/Roman identity crisis? I don't think it's coincidence that this so pointedly comes up during the Cupid scene.)

Favonius' introduction to the Cupid scene sets up Nico's portion of it, but Cupid almost exclusively speaks to Jason for the first half of it. Then Nico steps in. He diverts the conversation away from Jason and focuses the attention onto him. Nico's the one Cupid wants, he insists, not Jason. He's the target, not Jason. This is very in line with Nico's character - practically one of his core character traits is he trusts and starts caring about people very quickly, probably quicker than he should or even wants to, and will put himself in harm's way to prevent others from being hurt. The Cupid Scene isn't the start of Nico's coming out story - Nico already knows he's gay. He has no internal doubts about that. He's known it for awhile. He's just in the closet. And he starts coming out of his own free will in the next book, first to Reyna and Coach. The Cupid Scene is Nico recognizing that Favonius and Cupid are pushing Jason for something he's not ready for and hasn't figured out yet, but something Nico has and just hasn't said out loud yet. The Cupid Scene is Nico taking the proverbial bullet/literal arrow for Jason (Jason consistently describes the arrows as whizzing by him before striking near Nico, interestingly) and being outed so Jason isn't. And that presents Jason with the path to begin questioning his identity further. (Jason also then directly compares Cupid to Aphrodite, specifically her Greek form, which also ties into Jason's greek/roman stuff.)

And I don't think it's coincidence that Jason and Nico mirror each other so much, and that their arcs in HoH are so intertwined. The Cupid Scene functionally, on a meta level, establishes an explicitly queer character to parallel Jason and for him to bounce off of during his own arc. (And, also on a meta level, establishes to the audience to be sympathetic to queer struggles, with Jason's arc then proceeding to be a queer-coded struggle.) Jason is presented as having this strange level of isolation from how others perceive him in a positive way/the expectations people have of him that wraps around to something akin to Nico's ostracization as being an outsider and atypical demigod in general. Nico is a rouge - he explicitly expresses how he feels like he doesn't fit in at either camp (something he expresses explicitly during the Cupid Scene, mirroring Jason's simultaneous questioning his own place at Camp Jupiter) and a core part of his character is that he does function outside the rules and expectations of both camps. He operates on an entirely different realm to them. If the camps are an expectation of normative concepts of acceptable relationships, Nico is outside of that. And he recognizes that he operates outside of that and will never fully fit into the mold either expect of him, and he recognizes he doesn't need to fit in, even if he theoretically could force himself to fit that mold. Jason, meanwhile, is still locked within those boundaries, and grappling with this idea of how he can exist between them.

Nico hands Jason a goblet of poison and says "how much do you trust me?" and it's Nico challenging Jason to take his own advice about trusting others about their identities, and almost immediately after that Jason gives up his praetor title to Frank. Jason's Greek/Roman arc is directly tied to Nico and the Cupid scene. BoO ends with Jason asking Nico to stay at CHB so they can hang out that summer. By TOA, we learn that Nico has started dating and is staying at CHB (is exploring the niche of expected and socially accepted relationships) while Jason has broken up with Piper and is living away from both camps (rejecting hetero/allonormative expectations), still struggling with his own identity. They functionally swap places. And that's fascinating.

Anyways i think about Jason's bi-coding a lot.

[cera-writes]

Omg, I love your blog! 👁️👁️✨ I really love how you write for X-MEN characters. Today, I’m requesting a song fic for either Remy or Kurt. I think they would both fit Too Sweet (By Hozier). I’ve been obsessed with this song ever since it came out. Thank you! ✨

A/N: THANK YOU <333 I too, am obsessed with this song lol Pairing: Gambit x F!Reader Tags: songfic, Hozier, fluff, mutual pining

Too Sweet - A Hozier Song-Fic

The insistent chirping of birds filtered through the blinds, a jarring intrusion into Remy LeBeau's slumber. Ten o'clock. Ten o'clock before Remy would ever say a word and none earlier. Unlike him, you were a symphony of pre-dawn energy. Your voice, a melodic counterpoint to the morning symphony, cut through his haze.

"Remy! Rise and shine, sleepyhead! I've already been out on my mile run this morning before the sun rose."

He peeked from beneath the covers, your silhouette bathed in the golden morning light. Even in your active wear, you possessed an ethereal quality. It couldn't be said I'm an early bird, Remy thought, a wry smile playing on his lips. You were the quintessential early riser, a stark contrast to his nocturnal rhythm.

"Don' you jus' wanna wake up, dark as a lake, cher? Smellin' like a bonfire, lost in a haze?" he mumbled, the words tumbling out unbidden. You paused mid-stretch, concern clouding your bright eyes.

"Did you sleep well?" Your worry was a balm to his soul, a secret he wouldn't readily admit. You cared about him, the man who thrived in the shadows, a stark contrast to your rose colored glasses. You were too sweet for him, a melody in his whiskey-soaked symphony of existence.

"Peachy, cher," he lied with a lazy drawl, forcing himself upright. You were right. The allure of being the thief in the night seemed to pale in comparison to experiencing a sunrise with you. He joined you on the cool floor, his movements stiff compared to your effortless grace.

"You know you don't gotta pretend," he propped up softly, voice laced with amusement. A heat crawled up your neck. He saw through you, your carefully constructed facade. Perhaps, it was this very quality that drew you to him like a moth to a flame.

As the day unfolded, the contrast between you became even more apparent. Your afternoon was spent enveloped in the warm aroma of chocolate and sugar, your hands weaving magic with the ingredients. Remy, however, sharpened his fighting skills with his staff, the rhythmic clang a stark counterpoint to your gentle symphony.

You offered him a hot cup of joe, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "I remembered you liked your coffee black. Oh, and I just made cookies. Help yourself to a few."

He chuckled, taking a tentative bite. The sweetness exploded on his tongue, a stark contrast to the life he led. "You're too sweet for de likes of Gambit, cher," he teased, a pull in his chest that wasn't from the charged cards strapped to his thigh.

"What does that make you then?" you countered, a playful comeback escaping your lips. But beneath the surface, Remy saw a flicker – a spark of attraction mirrored in his own gaze.

Later that night, when the moon replaced the sun, casting familiar, cool shadows, he found you on the balcony, gazing at the starlit canvas above. This was his domain, the time he craved.

"Couldn't sleep, cher?" he drawled, leaning against the railing, whiskey in hand as he took a sip from the glass.

You shook your head, a smile playing on your lips. "Just thinking."

He joined you, a comfortable silence settling between them. "Maybe," he started, feeling uncharacteristically hesitant, "maybe we don' have to pretend or play dis lil' game anymore. Maybe we can share de sky for a while."

You turned to him, your eyes twinkling like distant stars. "Maybe we can, Remy."

He leaned closer, the scent of tobacco mingling with the cool night air. In that twilight space between light and dark, he found himself lost in the sweetness of your kiss, a perfect counterpoint to his world of shadows.

[carionto]

When in doubt, duct it

The prevalence of mass printers means that if the design is functional, anything can be built. Humanity boasts the largest orbital shipyards in the known Galaxy, capable of constructing vessels beyond reasonable scope and complexity, which they need to be able to do due to the sheer number of redundant systems, safety features, and the compartmentalized nature of their space craft.

So why is that half of them begin to look cobbled together after a while? Nearly all civilian craft appear unique, every single small military craft has personal modifications reflecting the pilot's and crew's personalities. We've even seen whole engineering teams rip out large sections of their massive Dreadnoughts and replace them with parts from others. One time we even saw them cut off the propulsion system of a smaller Destroyer and just...

plug it under a Capital ship.

Once again, we desperately are trying to understand the nature behind this odd behavior.

"Well, the architects and designers do a fine job, but when the rubber meats the road, or I should say, when you bump into an asteroid for the first time, only then you begin to understand what each ship is like, you know? A good pilot and crew can feel what their ship wants to really be only after you've been on it for a while.

Any ship or station starts off as a blank slate, but after a while it starts to develop a personality. And like any good friend, they take care of you, so you take care of them. Sometimes the lights just aren't right, so you replace them with a different model. Other times the recoil tilts it a little bit to where it makes the life support hiccup, so you gotta add a counterweight, but not just anything, it has to fit the vibe. Then that has it's own little complaints, and it just goes on like that.

As a matter of fact, the oldest ship in the Fleet started off as a Carrier, but over time the crew, without saying a word, just knew it was meant to be a Battleship. A few "surgeries" later and the Jubilant Axolotl added six extra generators and now can't hold a single fighter craft, is always leaking something, and has two of the biggest Rail Cannons we've ever built. She could probably punch a hole through Mars if she overloaded all her generators, but the crew think that that would be the last thing she, and everything within a few hundred thousand kilometers, ever does."

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids,

Shame is a helpful feeling - in some cases.

As draining and painful as it is, shame serves important purposes: If you make a mistake, that feeling helps you reflect on your behavior and motivates you to fix what you did wrong. This is necessary to navigate social interactions and relationships in a healthy way!

Without any feelings of shame, you would really struggle with peacefully co-existing with other people. You would often cross other people's boundaries and not even apologize for it. In that way, shame is a really wonderful thing! It acts as a "social glue" that helps us be nicer to each other.

But shame can also become unhealthy, for example if:

you keep feeling shame for a mistake that has already been taken care of, when there's nothing left to (productively) reflect on, apologize for or fix

you feel deep shame for a small mistake that did not affect the other person that deeply

you become so afraid of embarassing yourself that your quality of life suffers (as you stop doing things you love or stop trying new things etc.)

another person is purposefully instilling a sense of shame in you over something that wasn't your fault or wasn't a mistake at all

And a big one:

the shame is not related to one specific mistake at all

You may feel ashamed of something you are (rather than something you did) or something that isn't fixable and/or doesn't need fixing at all. This includes, for example, feeling ashamed of your sexual orientation, your gender identity, the way your body looks, a disability or illness etc. It can also be a sense of shame over something that is hard to pin down, a general feeling of "I am embarassing", "Nobody likes me", "I am worthless" etc. This is often associated with mental health issues such as depression, PTSD or social anxiety.

Unlike the "social glue" type of shame, these types are not productive or helpful. So, how to deal with those? There isn't a one-size-fits-all answer or a quick fix to that. Especially when they're related to a mental health issue or severely affect your quality of life, you may need professional help to deal with them.

Something that can help (not as a replacement of but in combination with therapy) are self-compassion exercises, such as

"Imagine a good friend would feel the same way you do right now and asks you for advice. What would you tell them?"

"Think of some situations in which other people may feel worthless. What would you think or do if you witnessed such a situation?"

"Describe your situation from a completely neutral point of view. Don't try to make it sound more positive but don't include negative judgements, either - just stick to neutral facts. How does this make you feel?"

It can be helpful to actually write down your answers (rather than just quickly answer them in your head), so you can repeat the exercise a few days later and compare your answers!

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

[mommypieck]

What about threesome w Levi and Erwin

this was requested a lot of times

you sigh when your sword drops again, the pain in your hand still not decreasing. you look around, trying to see if anyone saw you. all of the other trainees are fighting, not caring about you but your gaze falls on the commander who's watching you intensively.

"oh shit," you think to yourself. you try to pick up the sword again but your wrist remains limp. you know it's not a big deal but now that commander saw it, you might get into trouble.

"is everything alright?" erwin asks, looking worried. you know that commander cares a lot about his soldiers but that he's also strict about their abilities.

"just a sore wrist." you reply. you hope that it will brush erwin off but your face falls as he tells you to follow him. he takes you into his office. you sit there, watching him as he searches in the first-aid box. he comes back seconds later, carrying a bandage. he carefully puts it on your wrist, stroking it as he does so.

"i wouldn't sleep if i knew that the prettiest trainee is hurting."

"what?"

"you've heard me."

one of his hands still holds your wrist while his other sets on your thigh. you feel high, not knowing how to react.

"how about you take care of something of mine?" he asks and you can just dumbly nod. his gaze makes you feel butterflies.

"get on your knees." he orders and you do so. you can feel your heart racing as he undoes his belt, pulling his cock out. you eyes widen at the size but it's also understandable that a commander like this is going to have a big cock. you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking it. you kiss the tip of his cock, making his moan. you smile at his, loving the noises he makes. you take him into your mouth, stroking the rest that doesn't fit.

"your hand seems completely fine." erwin says, getting your hair as he urges you to continue sucking. you take him deeper into your mouth, gagging at his size, making erwin let out a satisfied groan. you feel your panties get wet at the expression he gives you. you've always found his attractive and now that he's towering over you, makes you submit to him even more.

"just like that, good girl." his praises are like honey to your ears and you wish to hear them all the time.

"is she good?" your eyes shoot up to levi who's standing in the door. you quickly pull off erwin's cock, coveting your face in hopes of levi not recognizing you. erwin has other plans tho as he pulls you on his cock again.

"be a good girl." he whispers to you, completely ignoring levi. you don't know where to look and your eyes twitch to levi every few seconds.

"erwin, can you explain what's going on?" levi asks, this time more annoyingly.

"she's fucking me off." erwin replies bluntly. you don't know what's going and you can't tell anything from the looks they're giving one another. you've heard about the history between levi and erwin but this is completely different.

"and is she good at it?" levi's question coughs you off guard. levi stands behind you, pulling down your pants.

"she's fucking soaked." he moans, his fingers probing at your slit. he gathers your wetness on his fingers before slipping them inside of you. you moan, trying to get his fingers deeper inside of you.

"stay still, whore." he orders, pulling his fingers from you and replacing them with his cock. your back arches as he slips inside of you. it's been a while since someone was inside of you and the stretch is surely there.

"what? can't take it?" he chuckles and you only reply with a moan. he starts fucking you slowly, teasing you with the thrusts. erwin starts thrusting inside of your mouth unexpectedly, making you choke. levi uses your distraction to speed up his thrusts.

your body shakes under their thrusts as they use your body. neither of them are soft and you love it. none of your boyfriends never treated you like them.

erwin tugs at your hair, urging you to deep throat him. you take a deep breath, taking his whole cock into your mouth, your nose meeting his skin. levi spreads your cheeks apart, watching himself slip in and out of you. every single one of his thrusts hits your sweet spot and you can't help but to think about how experienced he is. it's almost like they planned for this to happen.

"you're a good girl. you're gonna swallow, right?" erwin asks, stroking your cheek. you nod enthusiastically. it takes few swipes of your tongue before he's cumming inside of your mouth. you swallow everything as you promised, showing him your mouth empty mouth. levi groans at your gesture, speeding up his thrusts. you can feel yourself on the verge of cumming and it takes one sharp thrust to bring you over the edge. the squeeze of your pussy makes levi groan and pull out. he cums on your back, staining your uniform. you lay on the ground panting, looking at the two man who look at you with a smile.

"get up and don't dare to say something." levi says, bursting out of the door. erwin just chuckles at his, kneeling beside you.

"you good?" he asks and you nod your hair.

"good. i think im gonna keep you."