#I feel he wouldn't care about his scars too much

[meownotgood]

(zooms in) AKI TATTOOS. I HAVE THOUGHTS

i already love love loooove tattoos and i like giving a shitton to aki when i draw him but its like. i dont feel like hed be the kind of guy to have full sleeves or anything yk? its hot to imagine but i dont think hed fully commit like that and hed end up getting just a few tattoos that have an important meaning to him.

like maybe he has the date of his familys death on his wrist? like either the very inside near his hand or along the side of his wrist. i feel like itd be in roman numerals. or maybe he gets his family name as a tattoo to honour them? he definitely has a tattoo for his family bc its meaningful to him

i also feel like he got matching tattoos w himeno when they were both drunk, something silly he kind of regretted at first but now he cherishes. like a silly frog or smthn.

he also definitely gets either your name tattooed or gets matchies with you like the last anon said, i feel like thatd be really cute! maybe he also gets your favourite flower tattooed, but thats just because of my Aki Flower Tattoo Agenda. like imagine him w a pretty floral piece on his shoulder blade .. itd be so pretty ……………

- 🐙

I'M SO GLAD YOU MENTIONED IT BECAUSEEEEE THAT'S JUST WHAT I WAS THINKING ABOUT

I totally agree that aki wouldn't get a ton of tattoos, but I brought it up because I imagined him with a shoulder tattoo... like the kind that goes from your shoulder down the arm or across the back... god

and I love the thought of him having a drunken tattoo of something silly, he gets shy whenever you bring it up or touch it (it's just so cute, and you love how he makes an embarrassed face whenever you notice it)

[hurlingdown]

WITH MY HANDS AROUND YOUR THROAT — TOP MALE READER X SUKUNA

synopsis. taming the king of curses is one thing. making him beg is another. since it's either fuck him good or get your throat slit anyway, why not take a gamble and achieve both? wc. 2.6k

tags. sub! sukuna, soft dom!reader. can be read as cock or strap. brat taming, choking, begging, hair-pulling, belly bulge, heavy praise kink, pet names (good boy, sweetheart), porn with feelings, this turned out way more intimate than i intended it to be

His back arched away from your chest as you slowly pushed your cock inside him, stretching him wide open. You could feel his every ragged breath from the hand you wrapped around his throat, silent for once, and you knew he was eager. 

“Good fuckin’ boy, Sukuna,” you muttered lowly into his ear.  

You barely heard the warning growl. He turned his head abruptly, teeth snapping together in an attempt to bite as you jerked away, barking out a startled laugh. 

“Aw, that was cute.” And as though the bite wouldn’t have torn flesh, wouldn’t have scarred your face for life, you smiled down at his scowling face like it was a pretty thing. 

“I am not your pet,” Sukuna snarled, and he sounded angry, something akin to a wounded animal. You hummed non-committedly, continuing to push until you were snugly seated inside him. “Fuck—the n-next time you call me that, I will bite something more than your face.”

“How tempting.” Despite his threats, his legs were trembling with effort to hold himself up, and he pressed his throat into the cup of your hand, willingly submitting to your touch. You squeezed lightly, just enough to press into his windpipe, and watched as all four of his eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

It was funny, really, how he was using violence to disguise what a whore he really was. You counted to five before you let go. 

Apparently, you stopped too early for his liking. He was panting, his glare wet with tears, biting down a moan with bared teeth as the fat tip of your cock caught on his rim before easing in again. You were moving at a lumbering pace, deep and hard inside him but too fucking slow and rubbing at all the wrong places. 

He was growing frustrated by the second, and he finally barked, “Get on with it or I’ll kill you! Do you want to fuck me or not?” 

“I am fucking you, Sukuna.” 

“Not like this! Fuck—fuck you!” he half-hissed, half-whined, nails digging into the soft mattress. ‘More’ and ‘faster’ were on the tip of his tongue, but he took pride in his title of the King of Curses, and naturally his ego kept his mouth sealed shut. “Do really think I will hesitate to kill you just because I let you inside me? Are you that much of a fool?”

“Nah,” you replied nonchalantly, rolling your hips inside him to jolt out a startled moan. “You can kill me, but I don’t feel like catering to you today.” 

His words exploded into a string of expletives as he slammed his hips against you, shuddering as it only dug deeper, missing his sweet spot by far. 

Sukuna wanted to scream. 

Hand sliding up from his throat to firmly seize his jaw, you turned his face to meet you. “D’you need a reminder, sweetheart?” Your fingers dug into his cheek, taking extra precaution in making sure he wouldn't suddenly rear up and bite you. 

You needn’t have worried, though. He was way too desperate to care about the pet name or comprehend your question at that point, and he bucked his hips impatiently against yours, letting out a displeased growl. “What? J-just fucking fuck me already, brat.” 

You ignored him, continuing to move into him at a languid pace. “If I just give you the reward every time you ask, you’ll turn spoiled. How about you show me that you’ve earned it first, mm?” 

“What,” he lets out a shudder, breath bordering on a sob because why couldn’t you just give him what he wanted? He was so good for you, all patient despite his arousal, waiting for you to take him like you had promised, and yet you were being so mean and unfair to him. “What do you fucking want from me? You are just—fuuuckk, you are just human—so fucking weak, comparable to an insect! What makes you think you have the right to demand that of me? I am your king.”

He wanted to rip that smirk right off your face, punch your pretty face in. Dine in your blood. You didn’t deserve him. 

“I don’t have any right, I know,” you agreed, “but you aren’t entitled to everything, either.”

“Your ways of insinuation are pathetic—”

It hit him then, like a thunderbolt splitting the earth apart, and he gave a violent shudder.

The past twenty minutes had not been for nothing. You weren’t just toying around with him. You wanted him to see him crumble from his want for you. You wanted to hear him beg for it.

“No,” he gasped, shaking his head wildly. “No, fuck you. I am not going to beg.” 

You felt a sadistic smile creep onto your face. Seeing him deviating from his usual cocky self, now a babbling, incoherent mess, gave you a strange sort of pleasure. “I didn’t ask you to beg, though, did I? But now that you mention it…” 

You wanted to break him. 

Not that he wasn’t breaking already.

Sukuna was trembling with the effort of not giving in, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip so hard it tore through skin. Blood trickled down one side of his chin, and you wanted to lick it up. 

“I am your king,” he repeated, a tremor in his voice betraying his want. “You offer to me. I do not beg.”

“Well, king, you’re holding up all the fun,” you taunted, voice sickly sweet. “Don’t you wanna be a good boy for me?” 

He shook his head again, this time with less force. Tears were welling up in his eyes again, and he didn’t even bother to blink them away, too occupied otherwise. They dotted on his lashes, threatening to spill. Where were his promises of ‘biting something more than your face’? What a little liar. 

“I’ll make you feel so good you’ll be feeling it for days,” you purred into his ear, “in exchange for one word. That’s all I’m asking for. You can do that, can’t you, sweetheart?” 

You watched in triumph as his eyebrows furrowed, as though carefully contemplating his answer. It was far too generous of an offer—he would be a fool to refuse. You made sure he knew that. Just one more little push, and he would topple over the edge and become putty in your hands. One more push. 

Kissing your way down his spine to plaster yourself to his back, you reached a hand down his abdomen with your free hand, pressing into it where your cock rested within him. It was too much, and you knew it. You were heavy and thick inside him, filling up every inch of his tummy, and he hadn’t stopped clenching around your girth since the first time you pushed it in. Then you moved your hand, feeling him up until you found the thing you were looking for. 

You heard his breath hitch. 

Beneath your fingers was an obscene swelling high up in his abdomen, protruding from the hard lines of his stomach. A bulge that made for clear evidence that his insides were carving out a space for you. You should have known there was no way it would fit so innately. No matter how disagreeable his personality was, his body was so good for you, as always. 

You gave the bulge a little squeeze, and Sukuna let out a choked whine, mouth gaping as though trying to form words. 

You pressed yourself to his back, kissing his shoulder. “What is it?” 

He shook his head, continuing to whine softly, no longer as petulant as he was desperate. You were almost afraid you had broken him. 

You decided to take one more step. Flattening your palm on the bulge, you carefully pressed it back into his stomach. “What do you want, Sukuna?” you whispered. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

He tipped his head back to glare at you with the corner of his eye, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Give me more,” he gritted out, helpless. “Please.” 

Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?

Without warning, you pulled back and rammed yourself into him in one go, angling your hips to pound right into his sweet spot, making him cry out in surprise. “W-wait, wait, ahh!” he screamed, the hand on his neck forcing him to stay in place. “Slow down, ‘s too much—” 

You continued to slam your hips against him, hitting his prostate with every sharp thrust, drinking in his whines and complaints and ignoring all of them. “You’re so good, so fuckin’ good, Sukuna.” 

He whined loudly in response, hands grasping for purchase on the sheets as you railed him into oblivion. “Not good, no,” he sobbed, shaking his head, his protests falling on deaf ears. “Bastard, slow down…”

You let go of his throat to grab the back of his neck, shoving his face roughly into the mattress as he cried out. “Fuck, how do you feel so good?” you muttered mindlessly, taking more rapture in looking at his pleasure-addled expression (eyes squeezed shut, drooling onto the bed, moaning loud and clearly in ecstasy) than the fact that you were inside him. “I could do this all day long, y’know?” 

The tip of his erection grazed against the sheets with every thrust, and he wanted nothing more than to grab it and jerk off to your pace, but you kept his hands so busy, either trying to knock off his balance or brutally pound his entire body into the bed. 

“Ah, ah, sh-shut up! Keep talking and—I’ll twist your head off!” he threatened with a whine, desperate, but you continued to talk, embarrassing him further. 

“Look at you,” you cooed, “you were making a fuss earlier, and look at you now, taking me so well. Fuck. You look like you’re made for this, Sukuna. Made for taking my cock.” 

He seized up at that, hole clenching around your girth obscenely, making your pace stutter. 

“What was that?” you laughed. “Was that a turn on? You’re too cute, really.” 

Sukuna tried to morph his face into a look of disgust, but all he succeeded in doing was have his eyebrows pinched up in a look that resembled pure bliss more than anything. At some point he gave up struggling, arms going slack as he allowed you to pull him back against your cock by the hips, fucking him onto your lap as lewd ‘ah, ah, ah’s escaped his lips. 

You were pounding into him like an animal, treating him like one, and yet your pathetic, ingratiating words never failed to make his heart cramp up with a strange sensation, heat spreading from his face to the tips of his ears and down his chest, painting him a pretty red. 

You were just another lowly human, he reminded himself, someone to fuck and forget, but at the moment Sukuna found himself wishing to get lost in the stars that erupted around the edges of his vision every time you hit his prostate, found himself wanting a second time, even if the first hadn’t ended yet. You drove him insane, and he loathed how good it made him feel. 

“Brat,” he heard his own voice, wrecked by how much noise he had been making, and you leaned forward to kiss his spine, letting him know you heard him. 

“What?” you murmured as he didn’t continue, slowing down your thrusts. “D’you need something? Does it hurt?” He bristled at how tender your words were, how you acted like you cared about a bloodthirsty curse like him. 

“Did I give you permission to stop?” He pushed his hips back against you with a growl, forcing you to pick up your pace. “Just wanta let you know—after this. You’ve got—hnngh, ahh, fuuuck! Nowhere to run. So don’t even think about i-it.” 

You blinked, equal parts amused and perplexed by his sudden threat. You dared not stop, though, even as he started to pant and whine heavily into the mattress, body shuddering with the gradual approach of an orgasm. “I’m not going to run from you, Sukuna. Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Why would you run, when he was right under you, pliant and wanting for you to satisfy him? Did he not understand how much you’ve yearned for this? 

“Good choice,” he moaned, “don’t you dare fucking stop until you make me cum.”

You sped up your thrusts, snaking a hand back onto his neck and up to fist into his hair, wrenching his head up to smother him with a filthy kiss. It was rough, and more teeth than tongue, and at some point you could taste the sharp tang of blood from the cut in his lip earlier. You lapped it up along with the saliva that trickled down his chin, hearing him let out a needy whine. 

“So close, ah—so damn close, please, please, fucking please—” he begged shamelessly between loud moans, stripping himself naked of all dignity as he spent the last of his energy to bend his back into a vile arch, pressing his ass against your crotch as you slammed yourself into his swollen sweet spot in one powerful thrust. 

A scream ripped from his throat and he came untouched, staining the bed with white, at the same time clamping down on you so hard you jerked to a sudden stop. You collapsed onto his back, panting loudly as you tried to catch your breath. 

“Fuck,” you groaned. “You okay?” 

He refused to respond, keeping his face buried in the mattress. You took the opportunity to pull out, hearing him let out a soft whine, cold and aching and suddenly empty. 

“Fuck you,” you heard him mutter. 

That was good. He was still alive. 

You slumped down onto the bed next to him, kissing his shoulder to try and get him to turn, and he raised a shaky hand to flip you off, mumbling something you assumed was a profanity. 

Biting down a grin at how utterly adorable he was being, you found yourself overwhelmed by a sudden rush of affection. 

“What, are you shy?” you teased. “Don’t be.” 

He scoffed, the tips of his ears reddening. “Brat, I am not shy.”

He didn’t have any reason to be shy. Not to you. After all, you had long mapped out every inch of his body, from his prominent features to his most vulnerable. Made him want to bare his throat for you to make him feel good.

But nothing could have prepared you for the way Sukuna slowly flipped himself onto his back, levelling you with a sleepy, half-lidded gaze instead of his usual hard glare, muttering something under his breath. He watched you quietly, placing his hand next to yours on the bed, the position far too intimate for your comfort.

“Hey,” you blurted out, feeling your heart skip a beat. You knew you were risking everything, and that he could kill you in the blink of an eye, but you couldn’t stop the next words from coming out. “You were really good today.” 

Good.

Sukuna had been called many things in his life before, but ‘good’ was not one of them. Good men did not dirty their hands with the blood of the innocent for fun. Good men did not sit on a mountain of bones and call themselves a king. Good men did not grow six arms and four eyes and look like monsters, and Sukuna was a monster himself.

There was a long, awkward pause, and his eyes were wide with a look you couldn’t decipher—one of disgust or mockery, maybe, and you were already regretting it. But to your utmost surprise, it started with a light blush dusted high on his cheekbones, before it bloomed into a dark red that spread across his face. The corners of his lips twitched, and then lifted, ever so slightly. He immediately fought to replace it with a scowl, but you had already seen it. 

He had smiled. Sukuna had smiled at you. A genuine, almost soft smile, as though he cherished the way you told him he was good, had longed to hear it for centuries of living.

“Quit smiling, brat,” he huffed, but his voice lacked any real venom, more exhausted and content than anything, and made no refusal when you leaned in to kiss him.

Sukuna would later realise that he was neither good nor man, but if you were ever so willing to embrace a curse like him, he supposed he could be good to you, for you.  masterlist! # and here’s to introducing me and my delusions to the jjk fandom… also i feel like my tags r getting a lil repetitive lol

[mellosdrawings]

The Princes

Ten years later. When marrying a Prince turns a Queen and a Servant into actual Royalties.

Because Vil deserves a real crown and Jamil deserves to be treated better.

NOW I'M GONNA RANT ABOUT MY CHARA DESIGNS CHOICES AND ALL THE DISCOVERIES I MADE WHILE LOOKING FOR REFS! If you only care about art and funny doodles, you can scroll down for a handful of slices of life.

(Don't worry if you can't read my notes, I'm repeating myself better right under this)

Leona

-Lion: As you may know, one of my grievances with Leona is how his hair doesn't look like an actual mane despite being a lion. While I don't want to stray too far from the canon design with the usual drawings, that's the occasion for me to have some fun with a future version. Give that lion a beard and voluminous hair!

-Hair: First, get those bangs out of his face. Despite Leona being very confident, he still has bangs covering his scarred eye. I wanted him to finally own the aspects of him that may be scary to others (his UM, his scar, etc). I actually went with bangs framing his face similar to the ones he had during his Overblot. I wasn't sure whether to give him dreadlocks or curly hair, but I ended up choosing the free curls decorated with some atebas and braids so that Vil could have more fun styling them.

-Eye: Thanks @aria-faye for the idea, I decided to have his eye gradually lose its capacities with time. From a headcanon that, while the eye wasn't directly touched by whatever attack scarred him, the process of healing still had an impact on it and he gradually lost sight in his left eye years after years.

-Body: Not giving him a dad bod (yet, maybe in another ten years), but definitely giving him more voluminous yet casual muscles. Practical muscles with a healthy dose of fat and tissues. Also giving him two full sleeves of tattoos because I decided he should have much more than just his lion tattoo.

-Clothes: Went full Maasai dressing and Kenyan fabrics and beadworks. If you're not familiar with it, please go check it out, it's GORGEOUS!! Crown is beadwork too. He also has one Arabic styled foot jewellery.

Jamil

-Hair: My first order was to remove his double-faced hairstyle and also remove his bangs from his eye. Make him confident enough to show his whole face. Unlike Leona and Vil, he doesn't really want a crown though (he still feels weird about becoming royalty) so instead he uses a braid as crown. Also gave him a little goatee because I like facial hair and Jafar has a beard too.

-Body: He grew up! While he didn't quite catch up with Leona and Vil, he is now closer to their sizes than before, sitting at around 180cm. He kept his breakdancer/martial artist lean muscles but developed a bit of shoulders.

-Clothes: Went full Arabic dressing and fabrics (once more, go check the fabrics, they are pieces of arts). I gave him floral motifs instead of his usual fire/snake motifs (though he does have a snake earring and a fangs necklace) to symbolise his rebirth/blooming. Like Leona, he has one piece of jewellery that is beadwork.

Vil

-Hair: Here it was a bit tricky. Considering Vil's work, he likely changes hairstyles a lot, going from long to short for his roles instead of his wants. So I leaned into the little things he could add to his hair despite their constant changes, mostly jewelleries, beadworks and wool decorations he stole from his husbands. He also cares a bit less about them looking perfect and is allowing himself to be more natural. He doesn't have any facial hair (yet), keeping a youthful appearance for as long as he can. In another ten years though, he might start looking more and more like his father, beard included.

-Clothes: For Leona and Jamil's mental states, the three of them most likely started living in Sunset Savanna so they wouldn't freeze to death. Vil is well traveled so he can handle most temperatures without trouble, and he is used to dressing up in the local get ups. Here I decided to give him both African dress and Arabic fabric, and likewise both beadwork and golden jewellery. I gave him crown and heart motifs so he can keep being himself despite borrowing a lot from his husbands.

There, I'm done rambling. Here's some doodles, followed by some random headcanons.

-Vil does his husbands hair every morning and keeps giving them more and more intricate hairstyles. He developed a whole haircare and beard-care products set for them.

-When Vil is away for a movie, Jamil keeps his hair mostly down save for a few accessories.

-Jamil and Falena get along surprisingly well (to Leona's despair). Vil gets along very well with Falena's wife.

-Jamil acts as a Scalding Sands ambassador and still is the one to care for Kalim when he comes to visit, though this time he's doing it because he wants to and not because he has to.

-Vil got used to his new title immediately but Jamil struggles with it a lot. He still has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he is no longer a servant.

-The servants at the palace love Jamil because he always makes their job easier.

-Leona finally decided to put his wits to good use and became Falena's advisor. He still fights a lot with Kifaji about the direction to take with the country, but he managed to make some of his ideas heard to help with the staggering inequalities in the country.

That's all for now!

[cherryredstars]

you know what season it is!!! back shots in a sundress with no panties!! i strongly request rich people private beach sex! boat sex! rich sugar daddy husband who is never really home but when he is he WRECKS your body!!

Pairing(s): Miguel O'Hara, Simon Riley, John Price x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Public Sex, SugarDaddy!Characters, Simon isn't gentle in this one (sorry!)

A/N: My favorite season!!!!

Unedited

| SIMON "GHOST" RILEY: CAKE BY THE OCEAN

He can't help himself when his pretty baby is all dolled up for him.

You got that cute little sundress he bought you on, letting out little giggles every time the wind picks up and you have to hold your dress down like the better version of Marilyn Monroe. He doesn't understand why you do it though. You're the one who begged him to take leave so the two of you can spend the warm weather at the beach house, wanting to spend time on the private beach. Plus, if you really cared about decency, you wouldn't have left without panties. He thinks you're adorable, clueless to the fact that you've flashed him a handful of times already.

But maybe that's part of some secret plan you've been plotting. especially when you pout at him and demand he let you rub sunscreen all over his body.

I just don't want your scars to get irritated, Si.

He thinks your a fucking liar. How else would that explain the way you so willingly sprawl out on the beach blanket you've brought along, your bare ass exposed to him as your dress is bunched around your waist. In the sun, he can see your dripping cunt glistening with arousal. He fucking loves the pretty gasps you let out when the wind fans over your folds, a tiny plea for him to stop his teasing following after. His poor, spoiled baby, so desperate to have a different kind of fun at the beach.

He doesn't care for the beating sun burning his back as his thick cock slides through your puffy folds, more focused on the way your insides are a thousand times hotter. The only thing he needs coating his skin is your sticky arousal as it drips around his cock, a foamy ring of white forming at his base as he thrusts into you. He hates sand, but he doesn't mind the way it gets on the blanket as you pull on it, crying and hiccuping at him how it's too much.

"Si! It's too hot, I'm getting all gross and sweaty!" You sob out, teary eyes looking back at him.

He coos at your cries, giving your ass a hard smack before rubbing the pain away. You could have just told him you needed something to help you cool down. He's more than happy to help as he licks over your skin, his saliva coating your neck and shoulder blades. You taste like the sun and sweat, and he knows that after his he'll need to eat out that pretty pussy of yours to see how they add to your addictive taste.

He must have spoiled you too much, rolling his eyes as you start complaining about how sticky your skin feels with his spit drying on you. He shuts you up with a few punishing thrusts, only tolerating your incoherently wobbly moans and cries. He grits his teeth when he feels his high peaking, swiftly pulling out of you with a groan as he hot seed shoots onto your back. It darkens the fabric of your dress, pearly lines sitting on your sparkling skin.

Simon chuckles as you whine under him, his rough hands rubbing his cum over your skin in a thin layer.

"Gotta make sure your pretty skin is nice and coated, love."

His cum looks close enough to sunscreen, anyways.

| MIGUEL O'HARA: HANDS ON THE WHEEL

"Keep 'er steady, baby."

You only moan back in reply, your hands tightening around the wheel. Your hands are sweating from the sun's heat and from the heat radiating off of Miguel's body as he thrusts into you. The sound of your wet cunt is drowned out by the sound of the ocean, but Miguel is more concerned about the ocean of wetness that gushes around his cock. Your grip on the wheel has nothing on the vice grip your pulsating walls have on his cock.

His large hands reach up, his chest pressing against your sweaty back as his hands cover yours. He guides your hands slightly to keep the wheel straight, his thrusts not stopping. He's trying to teach you how to steer the boat through groans, and you only moan and whine in response as your mind gets consumed by the way his cock drills into you. Miguel curses when your grip on the wheel slips, your body falling forward as your orgasm crashes into you and the wheel spins quickly out of control.

His hand instinctively clasps around your neck to keep you from hitting your head on the wheel, making your back arch as he pulls you close to him as his other hand works to fix the wheel. His cock slips out of you, the ends of your fluttery dress pushing over his angry tip. He grunts as he thrusts his cock into your back, groaning as he spurts hot strings of pearly white dampen the back of your dress. You babble as you come down, feeling the wet parts of your dress starting to cling to your skin.

"Didn't I tell you that ya'gotta be careful while at the wheel, mi vida?"

Well, whose fault is that.

| JOHN PRICE: PRETTY HOUSEWIFE

This by far is his favorite part of coming home.

He loves getting home after a rough deployment, only to find his pretty little wife waiting dutifully at home for him. You treat it like a special occasion, making his favorite meals in that cute little apron and sundress that has his cock throbbing. You're so good to him. It's only right that he shows his appreciation with a good fucking.

He doesn't care if his hot plate of food is getting cold as he bullies his cock into your needy hole. You're so tight from not being filled with his cock for so long, your fingers not stretching you out the way his fat cock can. Your little moans and cries of his name are the only nourishment he needs at the moment. His pretty little wife takes him so well.

"Looks so gorgeous f'me like this, doll." John grunts at you, chuckling at the way your walls flutter around him.

This is by far the greatest way to be welcomed home, and of course he's gotta give you the first of many gifts he's got you while he was away. He groans low and deep as he shoots the build-up of cum that's been sitting painfully in his balls, watching as it gushes around his cock as your pussy gets stuffed full. You look so pretty sitting across from him in that sundress, trying to keep as much cum as possible in your snug cunt as he finally digs into his home-cooked meal.

No way in hell he'd let his seed go to waste.

[amoreva]

KISS THE GIRL

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: two times luke knows he’s in love with you + one time he can’t hold it in anymore

warnings: pre tlt luke, ooc luke

a/n: percy jackson 🔛🔝 (request some fics for the characters), i think i ended this terribly, but i’ll fix it later at some point!

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

I. SCAR

“You are an idiot.”

That’s the first thing Luke hears when he wakes up in the Camp’s infirmary. He feels groggy, sluggish and slow and barely registered that you were in the room.

He faintly tasted his mother’s cooking. A small comfort for the consequences of failing his quest. His heart is filled with embarrassment and pity and dejection.

You snapped your fingers by his ears. “I know you’re awake. You hear me? You are an idiot!”

“If you’re here to make fun of me failing my quest, go away.” Luke groaned and turned on his side, despite the pain flaring in his abdomen.

"Luke." You said in a much softer tone. You were concerned about his injuries since he returned from the quest. "You know I wouldn't do that, not with something this serious.”

You helped him sit up in the infirmary bed and cup his cheek. He felt a gauze patch rather then your warm palm on his right cheek. “I’m saying you’re an idiot for not letting me come with you!”

“You can’t do everything by yourself.”

Love is fickle and strange thing. Luke and you promised that if either of you went on a quest, you’d bring each other. Yet, Luke couldn’t keep his promise.

He couldn’t see his girl—best friend, his best friend get hurt because of a stupid promise. He wouldn’t forgive himself if you went out he quest and got injured in some way, shape or form.

Even if you hadn’t gotten hurt, he might’ve— he would’ve gotten worse injuries from being distracted by your beauty. He could never tear his eyes from you whenever you entered the room.

In hindsight, it was a really bad way to go about things.

“I’m fine, aren’t I?” Luke responded and couldn’t hold himself back. He interlaced his fingers with yours, knowing you were still pissed when he didn’t choose you or anyone, for that matter, to join him on his quest to retrieve a Golden Apple from the Garden of Hesperides.

He resented his father and the gods for not caring for his wellbeing during the quest.

“Yes, but—” You protested.

At least you cared for his wellbeing. You caring about him was better than any god or goddess on Olympus.

His eyes softened. His mind screaming the words he was too scared to say to you out loud. “I love you.” He loved you for caring about his wellbeing. His safety.

“Yes, but nothing.” Luke retaliated and squeezed your hand to assure you. “I’m okay, I’m alive and have some cool ass scars now.”

Luke grinned as he was able to produce a laugh from you. Your laugh was like music to his ears. His own ambrosia in human form.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

“Never.”

II. SPARRING

“Again.” Luke demanded as he pointed the celestial bronze sword at your throat. The sun beating down on the two of you as you trained. A past time as the days got boring.

“Fuck off.” You scoffed and laid back in the grass that laid beneath the pair’s feet. The grass tickling your arms and legs.

“C’mon! Up and at it. The momentum will wear off.” Luke helplessly convinced you to try and spar him again.

“Oh no, what ever will we do?” Sarcasm bled through your tone. You pushed yourself to sit up and leaned against the rack contained to celestial bronze swords.

Luke shook his head and grinned. He pushed back his chocolate curls to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He joined you on the grassy floor.

“Five minute break then.” Luke nodded.

“Ten minutes.” You negotiated and looked over at Luke. His scar was healing nicely, no infections—just a clean cut from his eye to his jaw. “You can’t expect to be up and at it after training with the greatest swordsman for an hour straight.”

Maybe it was the heat or maybe it was from the training. Luke’s cheeks became pink. He knew his siblings and other demigods talked about him being the “greatest swordsman”, but hearing it from you was different.

“You think I’m the greatest swordsman?” Luke said with a teasing grin.

“Not after I’m done with you.”

“Say that to the many times you hit the floor.”

“I was going easy on you!”

Luke and you burst out in laughter at your banter, unable to keep a serious conversation. He thought your laughter could brighten up the Underworld. Hades would even agree.

Again, those three words would cross his mind. “I love you.” He loved bantering with you back and forth. How dare he try to ruin the moment with his romantic phrases.

“C’mon!” You huffed and pushed yourself to stand up. You were obliviously to the admiration in his eyes. The celestial bronze sword gripped loosely in your hand.

“What happened to the ten minutes?” Luke titled his head up only slightly to look at you. A stupid grin on his face. He stood up to get in position

“I can train when I damn want too.”

“Don’t start complaining about being tired then.”

He never tore his eyes away from yours as you thrusted the blade at his torso.

III. STARS

Luke had no idea where the line between lover and friendship was crossed. He had absolutely no idea when he started to see you more as a crush rather than his best friend.

Though he did notice his stomach started to twist and turn every time he saw you. He noticed his heart raced a little faster every time he heard your laugh.

Luke found himself gravitating towards you during dinner, training, capture the flag—like a moth to burning flame. Would he find himself getting burned for pursuing you?

“Hey.”

Luke spoke as the wooden dock creaked beneath his feet. You were sitting on the edge of the dock. The night sky lit up with tiny bright lights. You gave him a smile (one that could melt his heart) and patted the space next to you.

“You doing okay?” Luke asked and sat next to you. His leg touching yours. The lake rippled. The moonlight shining down on it.

“I just—needed a break.” You reassure Luke. “From gods, goddesses, prophecies, quests…all of it.”

The chirps and cheeps of the birds and animals filled the silence. A background noise. Luke felt your head lean against his shoulder. His heart beat quicker. He hesitantly wrapped his arm around your shoulder. Comfort, he convinced himself.

“You can’t really escape being a half-blood.” Luke consulted and rubbed his hand up and down your arm. You hummed in agreement.

You were quite glad Luke joined you. These nights on the dock, after dinner, were getting lonely. The silence is comfortable save for the wildlife in the forest.

Faintly, ever so faintly, you heard Luke speak three words. Three words you would never hear from him.

“I love you…”

Gods.

He didn’t even realize it. His lips were making the consonants and vowel sounds. Luke didn’t know until you picked up your head from his shoulder. Your eyes wide with shock and what he had hoped was…relief.

“What…?” You mumbled.

Did he just ruin his friendship with you? Did he just lose his best friend because he said his thoughts out loud? Luke thought he had better control over that.

“What?” He responded and let his arm fall from your shoulders.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Luke.”

His breath hitched. He felt lovesick. Like Aphrodite personally made his body malfunction during this moment. “I…”

“I love you…” Luke avoided your gaze like he was ashamed to have a crush on you.

How did you feel? Would you reject him in a heart beat? Would you ridicule him? Thoughts swam his mind.

Before he could get too into his head, he felt a soft pair of lips pressed against his. Your eyes closed and he willed himself to close his eyes as well. Melting, melting into your touch, your lips.

When you pulled away, his eyes opened. He was graced with the sight of you in the moonlight. “What?” He spoke breathlessly.

“What?” You responded slightly confused and scared you made the moment uncomfortable.

“You…” Luke paused and closed his mouth as he tried to formulate the words. To form a coherent thought. He just…he wanted that to never end. He finally got what he yearned for (and he wasn’t rejected?). He got you.

“Is this real?” Luke asked and you laughed. His stomach churned with butterflies.

“Yes!” You answered and interlaced your fingers with his.

“May I?”

“You’d be a pretty bad demigod if you didn’t.”

And once again, Luke got the kiss the girl. He got the kiss the girl he been pining over for gods know how long.

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

[buckybarnesandmarvel]

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥

pairings: bucky x reader

summary: bucky hates his scars, he hates how he got them, he hates how they look and somehow he’s convinced himself that you hate them too. obviously, that’s not true

warnings: scars, self-hatred, some angst, sad!bucky, cursing, fluffy ending

a/n: sticking to a schedule?? who is she?! just a little blurb today, though :)

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He hated them. Every time he took in his reflection in the steamy bathroom mirror, his eyes were immediately drawn to the jagged lines that marred his skin. They were all over his body, reminders of the pain and torture he had to endure with HYDRA, but the worst were the ones that connected metal to skin. He still gets flashes, memories, nightmares, of clawing at his skin, his nails drawing blood at his shoulder as he tries to pry his body away from the filthy weapon they had given him.

His eyes pricked with tears of frustration as he shoved on one of his many long-sleeve Henleys, that clung to his biceps, hiding the horrendous marks that corrupted his skin.

You smiled as he left the bathroom, coming to your shared bed, not noticing the masked look on his face.

“Hey, handsome.“

Bucky could almost scoff at your words. In his mind, he was anything but. Shitty thoughts invaded his brain, how could you love him when he looked like that? How could you not recoil every time you saw the scarred flesh? How could you still look at him, with so much love and adoration in your eyes when he looked like he did? Like a monster. How, how, how?!

You reached out for him, setting your book down, a smile on your face. The both of you had been busy today, barely having time to see each other. You reached out for him, your hands curling around his, pulling him down onto the bed.

Bucky swallowed as he took in your attire, a small, skimpy, sating nightdress, that barely reached mid-thigh. He knew were this was going, he knew what you wanted, he just had to come up with a way to stop it before you finally realised you were better than him.

Part of him knew he was being irrational, the two of you had had sex countless times in the past. Part of him knew you loved him just the way he was, you loved him for him. Part of him knew you didn’t care about the lightning shaped clusters of damaged skin that littered his body, but the thoughts kept plaguing him. It was like a leaking pipe in a small room, dripping slowly until it drowned him. You would realise your worth, you were better than him, better than his past, better than his nightmares, better that his disfigured body and once you realised that, you would leave. And that was a thought Bucky couldn’t bear.

He lay in bed, but pulled the covers tightly over you, shutting the lights so he wouldn’t have to endure the disappointed expression on your face. He closed his eyes, still silent and tried to focus on his breathing, when he felt your soft hands snake under his shirt against his toned torso. He tenses, his eyes screwing shut tighter as he tried not to give in to your touch.

“Bucky...”

Your hands massaged his waist and abs, roaming over the hard muscles and the climbed higher and higher. Just as he felt your fingers brush against the scars on his shoulder, he took your wrists in his hands and shoved them out of his Henley. Your eyes widened slightly in shock and as you started to try again, you were stopped again but his larger hands.

“Stop it, doll. I’m not in the mood, today.”

“Buck-”

“I said no.”

His tone was cold, curt, final. You couldn’t help but feel a little hurt, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. It had been like this for days and you didn't know why. Bucky wouldn't let you touch him or love him like you wanted to, and honestly, it was driving you a bit mad. You let out a small, almost inaudible sigh and roll over, facing away from Bucky as you tried to stop the tears from falling.

Bucky's supersoldier hearing picks up on your small, dejected sigh and it tugs at his heartstrings. His jaw clenches and, as much as his self-hatred is at an all time high, he hated seeing you upset more. He hesitate before sitting up and turning on the bedside lamp again, looking over your curled up form.

"Doll..."

You don't reply and he sighs, rolling you over easily and then taking your cheek in his palm. He saw how your beautiful eyes didn't meet his and he tried not to cry and take you into his arms.

"Doll, look at me... please."

His words are a whisper as he tilts your head a little up, but the pleading tone is barely concealed. Your walls crumble and you look up at him and he takes in your watery eyes, the sight killing him.

"I'm so sorry, sweeth-"

"Is it me?"

Bucky's eyes widen, he wasn't expecting you to say that.

"Is what you, doll?"

"Why you won't let me touch you. Is it me? Did I do something-"

You sit up, now properly facing Bucky, his hand no longer cupping your cheek.

"-because it's almost it been a week and I can't help thinking if I've done something by accident o-or-?"

Bucky can practically feel his heart break at your insecure tone.

"No, doll, don't say that, please, never-" he takes a deep breath, pushing down the lump in his throat. He whispers, "I'm a monster, doll, a monster. I'm hideous, my scars, my arm, my flesh. Every day I look in the mirror and I can't seem to think why your want to be with me. I'm... broken. I'm broken, doll and it shouldn't be on you to fix, it's my problem, not yours, but I don't want you to touch me, to see the... ugliness... I don't want you to leave me."

His voice breaks, sounding exactly how he feels on the inside. Broken, defeated, small. He can't bear to meet your eyes, dreading to find a single shred of disgust or disappointment or whatever may ring his stupid fucking brain could conjure up.

You, on the other hand, let the tears fall, looking at Bucky, the man you thought was the most handsome in the world, no, the universe, or, even better yet, any of the multiverses talk about himself in such a way. Without hesitation, you slide into his lap, your legs on either side of his thick thighs. You look into his oceanic eyes, seeing the self loathing in them. You repeated your earlier actions and slid your fingers under his shirt again. You felt him tense once again but this time, he didn't stop you. You pulled the shirt over his head and discarded it on the floor before taking his cheek and turning his face to face you.

"You're gorgeous. And this isn't some 'you're my girlfriend, you have to say that-thing', you are drop dead, jaw dropping handsome, my love. And I know you can't see that now, but I swear to you, Buck, I will spend eternity proving it to you if I have to."

His eyes fill with tears as your fingers trace over the lines on his shoulder.

"These scars don't make you ugly, they make you brave, they make you strong, they make you unique, you, they make you you."

You place a kiss on the border between metal and flesh.

"These scars are a part of you, whether you like it or not. They're a part of you, but that also just means I love them as equally as I love you, Bucky. It will only be you. It will only ever be you. No one else, not in a million years, not in any universe. I want, my scarred, handsome supersoldier, but only if he promises to try and learn to love himself as much as I do. For me."

Words are caught in his throat, his heart bursting with love for you. He lets the tears fall as he sobs against you, holding you like a lifeline. But between his broken, child-like cries, you feel a subtly nod and a couple seconds later, his muffled speech.

"I promise."

************************************************************************

okay, so a little longer than a blurb

************************************************************************

[dark-konohagakure2]

Could I request a Gaara X reader. Please

He sees her admiring his tattoo while at a neighbouring village, decides that noone will mind him taking her home with him. Gives her a matching tattoo somewhere on her body only he'll be able to see.

tw: dub/noncon, kidnapping, scarification, womb marking, possessiveness, power imbalance, breeding, obsession, abuse of power

All characters depicted are 18+

Gaara is somewhat insecure about his kanji shaped scar, having had it since he was a young boy, and he's never once been complimented on it, only pitied and mocked. So when he's visiting a small village on official business and a very cute villager girl expresses her admiration of his 'tattoo', it awakens something within Gaara.

Gaara is the Kazekage, and a respected one at that, so surely this tiny village wouldn't mind him taking a little souvenir with him, so that's exactly what he does. The red haired Sand shinobi feels a sense of contentment as he makes his way back home with his prize tucked snugly underneath his arm.

Despite his unconventional means of acquiring her, Gaara treats her rather kindly, doting on her and not letting her leave his side, and nobody bats an eye at the fact that the Kazekage suddenly has a woman they've never seen before at his side at all times. Gaara thinks it's fate, she complimented his biggest blemish, the mark of 'love' on his forehead, and he wants to give her one to match.

Gaara already knows exactly where he wants to leave his mark on her. He won't do it anywhere too visible, he wants it to be somewhere only he can see, so that it's a special secret just between the two of them, although it will hurt quite a bit.

"This mark means 'love', something very important to me... I'll give you the same mark right here, on your most precious spot, then we'll be bound together by our love forever... It only hurts for a moment..."

He'll use his sand to leave the kanji shaped scar just above her pussy and directly over her womb, marking her precious womb as his property and his alone. Gaara will even gently hold her hand in a comforting manner until the pain and her tears subside, although it doesn't take long before he finds himself getting a bit excited.

Now that he's marked her womb, he wants to fill it as well, claiming her body both inside and out. He needs an heir anyway, and he can't think of anyone more qualified to be the mother of his children then such a sweet and perfect girl who was able to see the beauty in something as nasty as a scar.

Gaara will be gentle despite the fact that he's practically forcing himself upon her, easing his cock in and out of her tight pussy, his face buried in the crook of her neck and he pants heavily and murmurs words of praise and love to her, his hips firmly yet gently grinding against her own.

This will go on for a very long time, taking hours until he's completely sure that he's thoroughly bred her full of his offspring before he finally pulls out of her, leaving her pussy leaking with his semen as he looks down at her with a gentle smile, a rare expression from the usually stoic Kazekage.

"Th-There... You did a great job, my love... I'm sure our children will be just as sweet and caring as their mother..."

Gaara is glad that he has found what he believes to be true love at long last after so much yearning for love, and he's not going to let her go anytime soon, and if she does get away, he wouldn't mind giving her another mark, just somewhere much more noticeable.

[darkbluekies]

The ocs reactions to darling vomiting

Warnings: throwing up, fingers down ones throat, mentions of alcohol,

Silas:

He's the type to hold your hair if you have it long enough for it to be a bother. Brings you to the bathroom and crouches down behind you to hold your hair/you up. Isn't fazed about it the slightest. He has seen — done — worse things.

"Good girl/boy, get it all out. You'll feel much better afterwards. Hold my hand, squeeze it as hard as you want. You're safe with me, I'm not going anywhere."

Dr Kry:

He will not leave you alone until you are feeling better. If you are nauseous, he will find solutions, often leading to throwing up. He will help put two fingers down your throat if you're uncomfortable doing it yourself.

"It's safe, I promise. I am here the entire time. I wouldn't do anything that would harm you, would I? You trust me, don't you? If you throw up, you will feel better, trust me."

King Edmund:

He hates it. There can't be anything more disgusting than vomit. But he can't ditch you. And he certainly won't let anyone else hold your hair up, won't let anyone see you in such a vulnerable moment. His solution is to sit beside you on the floor and hold your hair, but with his back turned to the bucket and with a clothespin over his nose and eyes either closed or focused on anything in the distance.

"Yes, yes, I do feel bad for you, my love, i do. But I will throw up too if I see or smell it — fuck this is disgusting — but don't care about me. No, I'm not leaving! Keep on vomiting instead of whining."

Jerry:

This girl will hold your hair/hold you up, give you water, clean you up, and wipe your tears. These moments are the few ones where she is genuinely nice without any sarcastic remarks. She knows how absolutely naked one feels when throwing up and how scarring it feels in that moment. She will try to joke to comfort you.

"Lesson learned: you can't handle this much alcohol. Next time you should alter it with water. But damn babe, look how much your body holds. There's your lunch. What a waste of ten bucks on that pizza, huh? Just breathe, I'm here. I'll take care of you."

Hedwig:

If it had been anyone else, she would have been disgusted beyond measure. But since it is you, she will sit beside you and not let anyone see you, acting like a hawk. If anyone does see you, she will shout for them to leave. Hedwig will shield you from everyone who happens to be nearby while holding your hair, cleaning you up, and feeding you water.

"I know it's disgusting, sweetheart, I know it tastes horrible. You're doing great. You're getting rid of whatever is making you feel like this. It's okay, when you're done, I will get you a mint. You don't need to feel bad, I will always be here."

[a-spes]

| DEVIOUS LIES — Part two (8.790 words).

| Summary — Anon Request — When your friend asked you out for a drink, you didn't think much about it. Yet, maybe you should've, because that night ruined your life. It has been two years, and you can't stop think about what you lost. Your job, your friends, your lover, and even your mind was left in that motel room.

| Tags & warnings — Avenger!Natasha Romanoff x Avenger!Reader, AoS!OC x Avenger!Reader, Other Avengers, angst without comfort, cheating, mental health issues, suicidal ideations, self depreciation, mentions of SA&SH, manipulation, toxic relationship (OCxR), revenge porn, use of drugs.

| Author's notes — I don't know how I feel about that second part, i'm not sure i like it, but now it's written it costs me nothing to share. So here we are. I can just hope that I managed to convey, at least a little, the emotions I wanted to. And, most importantly, take care of yourself.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

Almost a year has gone by, and it means one thing: in a few weeks, it’s going to be Natasha's birthday, again. The woman is not sure how she feels about it. She never really had a birthday before she joined the Avengers, and despite the years that have passed since, she still feels a certain awkwardness at this time of the year. Especially as the boys tended to do too much.

She could only pretend to match their enthusiasm. A slight smile spreads across her face as she takes a sip from her drink, staying silent. She has been listening to her teammates talking about her birthday’s party for almost half an hour now. She stopped trying to avoid it a long time ago, when she realized how much they enjoyed organizing this stupid party. She can deal with anything they’re going to come up with if she gets to see their smiles in exchange. Her sentence won’t last more than a few hours, but the memories are going to stick with them for eternity, and it has no price.

"Wait, you know what?” someone asked. It was Clint, and by the mischievous smile on his face, the redhead already knew that she wouldn't appreciate the next words that are going to come out of his mouth. “I think we should have the mascot come over again," he added, his eyes not leaving hers. "What? It was funny to have a cartoon version of you running around," he defended himself when he saw her glance darkening.

"You know what? Do whatever you want," she mumbled, “it’s not as if you were asking for my opinion anyway,” she eventually gave in. Sometimes, you have to know how to pick your battles, and that is one she definitely cannot win, not when all the others seem to appreciate the idea.

"That’s such a great idea!” one exclaimed, and this time it was Peter Parker, “Mr. Stark, do you think they would accept to come again?” he asked the man.

"Obviously!" Tony replied without an ounce of hesitation, laughing at the question. The man thought it was a stupid thing to ask, "she likes you too much to miss your birthday,” he explained, pointing at the redhead while saying those words. "What? She pretends it’s not true, but I know she is lying. I can see right through her and, believe me, she’ll be here,"  he explained when he noticed the confused looks of his teammates.

"Who’s she?" a voice asked, cutting short to Tony’s rambling. That’s the question that has been on everyone’s minds, but that no one dared to ask out loud, except for one of them — And it hasn’t been Natasha, it is Steve that spoke first.

On the contrary, the woman remained silent because she didn’t need words to express herself, a silent conversation taking place between the billionaire and her through a simple glance. Even if she already has her suspicions, and is almost sure that she knows the answer to that question, she wants him to say it, refusing to believe it otherwise.

The moment she saw the box, she was intrigued by it, something drawing the woman to the small package that no one claimed as theirs. It’s almost as if it came out of nowhere, no one knowing who left it here, or what may be inside the black box. At first, she thought it was some joke, but she knew they were being honest when saying they had nothing to do with the gift. And if she had expected a lot of things to be wrapped in the red ribbon, she definitely wasn’t ready for a ghost from her past to emerge from it.

A quick glance before she suddenly closes the box again, that’s all it took for the redhead to know who was behind that gift. The only thing she could think about was how — How did it happen without any of them noticing your presence? Despite the appearances, and the smile she was trying to keep on, the woman was shaken — Why would you do that, more than two years after your break up? Could it be that you are that desperate?

"Is everything okay?" Clint asked, being the only one to seem to notice a change in Natasha’s behavior. At least, everyone had enough restraint to not ask the question that burns their lips — What’s inside the box?

She wouldn’t have answered if one of them had asked. She wouldn’t even have opened the gift if she had known that it was from you, and that’s probably why you left it on the table, avoiding giving it to her directly. Smart girl, she thought. At first sight, the woman couldn’t tell it was coming from you but there was no doubt remaining once she saw the content — There is only one person on Earth that cares enough to give her such a gift. A person that constantly looks after her, guessing what the redhead wasn’t telling.

A person that she used to love. 

A person that couldn’t be here, was she? The woman can’t help but glance around but she can’t find your face. What was she expecting anyway? To see you in the corner of the room with a bright smile and your arms open for her to throw herself in a hug? That was stupid, and so is the hint of hope she felt when she opened the box. The others told her many times she has to turn the page, but she doesn’t seem ready to let you go. Even after two years, she is still craving your presence as much as before.

The thought of it puts to shame the redhead who knows she shouldn’t hold on to the past, especially when the past in question has a pretty face and breaks her heart. Even after what you’ve done to her, she has spent hours crying, praying for you to come back. Even after listening to the others assuring her that she deserves better, she couldn’t forget how you’ve always been the most caring, and strong, and beautiful person she has ever met in her life. 

You weren’t horrible. Were you? 

Sometimes, she thinks you are a monster. 

Sometimes, she thinks she is, for not listening to you that day. 

That day, she let her anger speak for her, something she swore she would never do again. When she started to realize that, maybe, she should’ve listened to your version of the events, it was too late. At the time, she couldn’t bear to hear the sound of your voice or see your voice, but after two years, as the memory of it starts to fade away, she surprised herself to miss it. 

Except that Fury had refused to tell her where you were. She tried to ask nicely, to beg, and even to threaten the man, but none of it worked. He said that you needed time, that you’ll be back when you are ready, not before. Despite her frustration, the woman accepted it. After all, she is the one to blame, the one that puts herself in such a situation. She could only hold on to the fact that, one day, you’ll be back. Right? As the days go by, the likelihood of ever seeing you again is gradually diminishing. Some nights, when she can’t sleep, she stays up, eyes fixed on her laptop’s screen — Maybe she could give fate a helping hand? She knows she could find you easily. Yet, despite her urge to do it, she has always ended up closing her laptop without starting the research. 

She has to trust Fury, she repeats to herself. Even if she sometimes disagrees with the man, even if it’s frustrating, she has to believe him when he says that you are safe.

Some other nights, all she can feel is anger, and hatred. The redhead is lost, and scared, again, something she never thought she would feel again the day you two met. What if it was true, and you really cheated on her? Then, you could do it again if she forgives you, because history always repeats itself, and you are no exception to the rules of the universe. She knows how people tend to promise a lot of things that they don’t mean, especially when they are desperate, which is exactly what you’ve been that day. She couldn’t forget the look on your face when she dragged you out of the building, the despair in those bright eyes, glistening with tears. This is the only thing she can remember when she thinks about you. Not the good moments you’ve shared, only the brutality of the end of your relationship. 

You've abandoned her, and so did she.

It has been three since she last saw you, and almost a year since her birthday party, but the woman couldn’t stop thinking about it. She didn’t take the gift, leaving the jewelry in the box, and the box on a shelf. She hasn't touched it since. How could she when just the sight of it was already too much to bear?

Every day, when she wakes up, it is one of the first things she sees, and one of the last when she goes to sleep. If it doesn’t feel right to the woman to take the gift, it doesn’t feel right to throw it in the bin either, so it stayed here as a constant reminder of what she has done. Every time she thinks she is finally over it, the box rekindles her doubts. There are some things she can’t quite understand about the situation, and why you would give her such a gift, two years after she kicked you out, is one of them.

Maybe it was a poisoned gift. Maybe it was a sick trick to make her feel guilty, a way to get her to crawl back to you. Beside these possibilities, she couldn’t think of any others that were likely, and she was afraid to admit that your plan was working. The box was a permanent reminder of your existence, something she couldn’t get herself to give away because of those dumb feelings she was experiencing. Somehow, she was holding on to that last piece of your years together after she threw away everything else with the help of the team.

The pictures, the clothes, the gifts, even your favorite cutlery has been burned a few days after you left them. It is almost as if you’ve never stepped a foot into the building, as if you’ve never existed. The woman was fine with the idea of pretending that nothing happened — She was fine with the idea of erasing every remaining part of your relationship.

Except that black box. It is stupid how she hangs onto that last proof of the relationship she once had with you. She had burned everything, but she couldn’t get herself to do the same with that gift. Maybe because she knew that she could never erase you completely from her life. She surely could pretend, it is a game she is really good at, but you would always be on the back of her mind because memories don't go away as easily as objects do.

Since she had opened the box, doubt had been creeping inside of her — What if? What if she has been wrong the whole time? What if she should have listened to you? Give you a second chance? That day, her reaction had been dictated by anger and hatred, feelings that still inhabit her soul, but have faded over the years. For two years, she had been sure that she made the right choice — At least, that’s what everyone kept telling the woman, and she listened to their comforting words.

But since she opened the box, she was no longer sure of anything. She wasn’t the one that wanted you gone in the first place. She surely needed a bit of space before being able to talk with you properly, but only a few days, maybe a few weeks, not two years, and definitely not more than that. That little box only worsened her doubt because who would be desperate enough to still cling to the person they betrayed, years after the events? A person truly in love. She had kept her doubts for herself before that day. If she is almost sure of the identity of the person who gave her the box, because there is only one person on that planet that cares enough to gift her something so meaningful, there are still a lot of questions to which she doesn’t have the answers — For example, how did you manage to sneak into the building without everyone knowing? She now knows that someone knew the whole time.

“Tell me,” she firmly asked the man, leaving little room for discussion.

No one pointed out the thing he has said about the mascot, the subject of the conversation quickly changed after that. Except, while they were talking about which flavor the cake should be, Natasha could think of nothing but Tony’s words — “She likes you too much to miss your birthday”, “she pretends it’s not true but I know she is lying.” So when everyone eventually decided to go back to their rooms, around two in the morning, she stayed a bit longer in the common room in hope of getting some information.

“Sorryy, I can’t, I don’t know anything,” the man replied, indifferent to her tone, “anything at all,” he repeated, chuckling like a child who has done something wrong. 

The woman sighs, pinching her nose as she takes a deep breath, trying to not lash out her frustration on the man. The conversation isn’t exactly going the way she had hoped, Tony refusing to answer her question no matter how many times she has already asked. She even tried to blackmail him, but he was persistent in pretending that he didn’t know anything. When he almost falls on the ground trying to get a few steps back, it has been the last straw for the woman. Gladly, someone entered the room before she could hit him so hard that it would have sobered him in an instant.

"Is everything okay?" the voice asked, and both of them immediately shut up to turn their heads toward the woman who just entered the room, Astrid. She is leaning in the doorway, her gaze alternating between Tony and Natasha.

She hates her. Not as much as she hates you, but she still feels resentful toward the agent. When she smiles, when she speaks, even when she is just here, existing, the woman can’t help but hate her from the depths of her heart. Gladly, she rarely sees her, as an agent of the S.H.I.E.L.D., she is only around when they have outstanding missions. If Natasha had a choice, she would’ve thrown her away with you that day. 

"She wants me to admit that her girlfriend was the one in the costume," he immediately replied, "but sshht, we can’t let her know that!" he added, holding his index finger in front of his mouth for a few seconds before leaving the room giggling. 

"I know what happened," she eventually said when she noticed that Natasha was about to leave after a few seconds when they glanced at each other in silence. "Th- That night, in the motel room~," she added, her voice being hesitant. Those words made the redhead stop in her tracks.

"If you're about to rub in my face how you've ruined my life, you can shut up," she immediately cut her, not wanting to listen to the woman, not if it’s to tell her about how she fucked the woman she loves. Her voice was full of anger, just like the murderous look in her eyes. The only thing that prevented the woman from immediately leaving the room was the thing she saw in the other’s eyes. Her attitude betrayed her emotions, a mix of guilt, sadness, and shame, which aroused her curiosity. 

With a nod, she ordered her to continue.

That morning, as many others, you are woken up by your girlfriend’s gentle touches, her fingers slowly tracing circles on your stomach. A hum of satisfaction escapes your lips before your turn around, nuzzling your head further into the crook of her neck.

How could you have known it would be the last time? How could you have possibly guessed that the routine you’ve got used to would be broken so quickly?

Every morning, it is the same thing, and while the former spy has no problems getting up early, you definitely can’t say the same for yourself. She is always awake before you are and, even if she had never admitted it, you are sure that she takes a few minutes to observe your sleeping form. She loves seeing you so peaceful and calm, being able to have a glimpse of your face without those worry lines, without the marks of your anxieties. 

She is always the one who wakes you up, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. There is no better way to start a day than Natasha’s sweet words and caresses. It’s her fault if you never want to get out of bed, wishing every morning that you could stay in that bed, next to her, for the rest of your life. Sometimes, you suggest that you tell the others you are sick, just to spend a day together, but she just laughs, dismissing your idea.

But all the good things must come to an end, right?

"It's time to get up, milaya," she softly said in your ear, her breath tickling your skin, "Astrid won't be happy if you are late again," she added when the only answer you gave her was a groan of discontent.

"They won't say anything if I am late once, it's okay", you mumbled, her words not being enough to convince you to leave the comfort of her arms. 

Especially when you realize that there is nothing to get excited about the day ahead of you, in perspective, only hours spent in an office, listening to men who think they know everything better than you do. Today, you are supposed to attend an important meeting alongside Astrid, and you still don’t know why you volunteered. The thought of the paperwork and the efforts that you will have to put in pretending that you are actually happy to be here definitely don’t worth your pay.

Except that you’ve lied to Natasha, and she knows it. This is definitely not the first time that you are being late, it happens almost every day, to the point that the day you are in time can probably be counted on your hands. Gladly, when you are coming in the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters, it's Astrid who’s your supervisor, and she appears to also be your best friend. Most of the time, she is kind enough to accept to close her eyes on your delays. Today, you came in only ten minutes late, and the woman was somehow impressed, expecting you to be later than that.

“You’re late, again,” she replied, obviously waiting for an excuse that you don't have. She would know if you are lying to her, and you don't have the energy for that kind of game today, and you could see that the woman neither. She was starting to get tired of every day starting with the same bullshit coming from your mouth.

“I am so, so, sorry,” you said to her for what may be the tenth time since you’ve entered the office. She is walking fast, and you are trying to catch up with the black-haired woman, who is also your superior within the S.H.I.E.L.D. “Please, don’t tell Fury,” you begged, but all she did was roll her eyes, and give you a file when you eventually reached her office. You quickly glanced at it before closing it again, your attention focused on the woman, “Astrid, I am serious. He is going to give me more paperwork if you do. Or worse. Imagine if he forces me to train the new recruits, you know I can’t do that again. Please, …,” you added, looking at her imploringly.

“And what do I have in exchange?” she sighed, turning around to look at you, one eyebrow raised. Despite her serious expression, you know she was trying to not laugh. She may be your boss, but above all she is your friend, and you both know that she would never tell Fury about your delays. Even if she has threatened you to do so a few times in the past, she has never actually done it. Yet, this time she felt like she needed something in exchange, she had covered for you enough time for free, and you were happy to thank your friend with whatever she may want.

“Anything you want!” you replied, desperate but no less honest. 

“Tonight, after work, you pay me a drink, deal?” she asked after pretending to think for a few seconds. In reality, she already knew what she wanted from you. She has thought about asking you out since the moment you met, something you’ve never noticed, always reducing her to the role of a friend, and not keeping up on the clues she was leaving you. Tonight, however, she will be clearer than she has ever been.

“Deal!” you immediately said, accepting the proposal without thinking twice about it. "Thank you. Thank you so, so much. You are the best," you added, kissing your friend on the cheek before leaving the room quickly, a sight that made the woman chuckle.

It is a deal that makes you both happy. You have met Astrid at the Academy, when you were both trainees that dreamed of joining the S.H.I.E.L.D. without even knowing if you were good enough for that. The two of you quickly became close — That’s the kind of thing that happens where you are the only two females of your promotion. Either you hate each other over your dead bodies, or you grow so close that you become inseparable. 

Except that, since you've both achieved your dreams and joined S.H.I.E.L.D, something changed in your relationship. It wasn’t your fault, nor hers, that you had less time to see each other, your jobs taking a lot of your time and energy. Then you've been assigned on a long-term mission with the Avengers, and you’ve spent less time at the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters despite still working for the organization. Then you've met Natasha, and you feel like you’ve slightly grown apart from each other after you’ve announced to her your new relationship. On the whole, you had less time to spend with your best friend, and the promises to make up for the lost time have never been kept, not until today. That deal was the perfect occasion to spend a bit of time together outside of the office work.

You both really hoped that this night would make things back as they were before.

"You know, I love her," she confessed to the redhead, her voice being barely louder than a whisper as she felt tears filling her eyes. "Since the day we met, I have loved her. That's what I told her, that night, when we went out," she admitted, and Natasha felt her heart pounding in her chest, her hands were shaking with apprehension, “but she rejected me. She loves you so much, too much," she sadly chuckled, but the redhead felt no relief when she heard those words because they were not explaining the pictures. She can't cry, not now, not in front of that woman.

"Continue," she ordered, feeling that the woman had more to say than that. She already knew that Astrid loved you, you may be the only one that hadn't seen it, or maybe you were pretending, or maybe you were blinded by your love for Natasha.

"I didn't plan to do that, you know," she started, carefully looking at the spy, "but I was so desperate that night, and I-," she said, except she was unable to finish her sentence, the words stuck in her throat.

The past three years, she had kept the truth a secret. At first, she thought it was better that way. The woman was ashamed of her actions, and she was relieved when heard that you’ve been transferred to another department, and she thought that her secret would be safe. Except that, if everyone acted as if you’ve never existed, her mind didn’t allow her to forget. Every hour of every day, you were in her mind, and the longer she thought about that night, the biggesther guilt became, until the burden was too heavy to bear. Tonight, hearing them argue about you, has been the last straw.

“What did you do?” she asked, sensing that something was wrong. She didn’t like the feeling that was creeping inside of her, “what. did. you. do.?” she asked once again, but more firmly that time, when the other didn’t immediately answer her question. As she saw the hesitation, she reduced the distance between them in a second, her hand gripping the collar of Astrid’s shirt that she pins to the wall abruptly, “tell me. Now,” she insisted as the interaction only reinforced the bad feeling she had.

That morning, unlike the others, you woke up alone. There haven’t been the gentle caresses of your girlfriend to wake you up, nor her sweet words to coax you into getting up. No, that day, it was only yourself, draped into the cold sheets, and it felt so strange, the silence and the loneliness of the room. Sadly, it has not been the exception you’ve wished it would be, but only the first of too many mornings like that.

In the sleepy state you were in, it took you a few seconds to realize that something was wrong, and almost a minute before you noticed that you weren’t home. You couldn’t even recognize the place you were in, only knowing that it looked like a hotel, a shitty one if you might say. The room was small, simple, and not-so-comfortable. There was something in the ambience that gave you an uneasy feeling about the whole thing, but you were unable to say what it was exactly.

Your head is throbbing, and you are definitely feeling nauseous, but you know that’s not the problem. Your physical distress isn’t the cause of the weight on your chest, the one that makes your breath aching, it’s something else that your mind can’t comprehend yet. It’s all these inconsistencies. The missing memories of last night, the unknown room, the fact that you are alone,... you don’t remember drinking that much last night. You may not be the most responsible person that planet has known, but you know how to handle yourself. Usually. 

Could you have possibly drunk that much? 

The day has barely started, but you already know it is going to be a rough one. If only you knew how right you were, maybe you would have taken a few more hours of sleep, enjoying the comfortable peace of your old life a bit longer before joining the chaos. Yet, you had no means to guess that your day would go that way. 

It's a note left on the bedside table that answered all your questions, easing some of the worries that were creeping inside of you. Someone has written the following words : “Couldn’t get you home because of how drunk you were. don’t worry about being late today, I won’t tell Fury. however, had to go on a mission, be careful when you go home. I left you a bit of money, it should be enough to pay for the room and an Uber. Love you.” The message might not have been signed, but you can easily recognize Astrid’s handwriting. A smile spreads across your lips as you are reassured, the situation not being as bad as your mind made it look.

Some memories of last night flew back in your mind, but it’s only a glimpse of what happened, a lot of the events staying unknown to yourself. The last thing you can remember is the conversation you had with Astrid, when she admitted that she loved you and you replied that you too, thinking she meant as friends because you couldn’t see her any other way, not when you were already engaged in a relationship. The rest of the exchange is confused, and you are not sure what’s real and what has been made up by alcohol. Even today, you are still not sure. 

Maybe you’ve really drunk too much that night.

Knowing that you’ve been with Astrid the whole time was reassuring, and you are no longer as bothered by the absence of memories. For a moment, you thought you'd been kidnapped by some weird man. As you regain your composure, your thoughts become clearer and you decide that the first thing you should do is to send a message to your girlfriend. She must be so worried, and your heart aches at the thought that you might be a source of problem for the woman you love.

It is not your kind to not keep your promises, and you’ve told her you would be home last night. It is not your kind either to not answer her messages or calls. In reality, you are quite the opposite, always sending her hundreds of messages when you are out with your friends. The only reason she hasn’t got after you is because she knew you were with Astrid, and she trusted you. However, the sweet messages are going to have to wait because, when you try to turn your phone on, you only encounter a black screen, a sign that you’ve run out of battery. Obviously, your friend didn’t think to leave you a charger.

You sigh, admitting your defeat. Shaking your phone surely won’t change the situation. For the moment, there is nothing more you can do, except hoping that Natasha won’t be too angry. As you are getting ready, your mind is focused on how to earn the redhead’s forgiveness — Maybe you could stop to buy her some flowers? You hate it, when the two of you are arguing. It doesn’t happen a lot, but it’s never pretty, and the mere thought that it might happen was already hurting.

As you definitely couldn’t go back to the compound by yourself, not knowing how far you were and being in a pitiful state, you decided to use the money left by Astrid to call a cab, as she instructed you to do. It’s not before you enter the car that you realize how late you actually were. It is almost one in the afternoon, and if you are not an early riser, like your girlfriend who is always up by six at the latest, you rarely get up after ten.

It has been a thirty minutes drive back to the compound, and the whole time you were thinking about two things: taking a shower, and leaning into your girlfriends’ arms. You are so exhausted, physically and mentally, that you’ve decided to skip work today — You were already so late that it wouldn’t make a big difference anyway. The journey was long, and those thirty minutes felt like hours. 

Soon enough, you started to suffocate into your own mind, then skin. You felt so sweaty, and dirty, that it quickly became unbearable. Maybe it was the effects of the alcohol, or maybe because you’ve slept in a seedy motel, but the only thing you wanted was to get rid of the clothes you were wearing and the uncomfortable state you were in as soon as possible.

When you enter the compound, you find it empty, and so is the room you are sharing with the woman. If you frown, you don’t think much about it. If the building is rarely empty, it sometimes happens when emergencies are called. A whine escapes your lips as you realize that, if it’s true, they are going to be mad at you for not being here when they needed it. You can already feel your mind losing itself to self-hatred thoughts, as you mutter to yourself how stupid you are. You are going to need more than a few flowers to earn their forgiveness. The fact that JARVIS confirmed that everyone was at the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s quarters didn’t, you would have preferred to hear that they went to the restaurant without you rather than that.

Tears brimming your eyes, you quickly put your phone to charge. It is only when you get out of the shower, twenty minutes later, that you saw the missed calls and messages from Natasha. The most recent ones were sent a few minutes ago. There were too many of them for you to take time to read everything so you just sent her a quick text that said: “sorry, my battery was dead, and I couldn’t answer your calls. I’ll explain everything, I promise. see you soon. love you.” A message she saw but she didn’t answer, which is unusual and an obvious hint of how angry she probably is.

Despite your decision to not work today, you still end up in the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters. You are almost running in the corridors, going to the meeting room where you find your girlfriend, and the rest of the Avengers. When you stumble into the room, a deadly silence descends. None of them greeted you, and the only reaction you got was Fury’s nod when you started mumbling excuses for your late arrival. While your eyes immediately landed on the redhead, she didn’t glance at you once of the entire meeting. The sight made your heart sink. You love her, but you have to admit that the spy is scary when she has that stern expression on her face, one that leaves no room for discussion.

The safest decision was to sit on the furthest chair, leaving her space until you get the opportunity to explain yourself. Something that you hadn't had a chance to do before a few more hours, when you stumbled into her in the corridors. You have been lost in your mind, having a hard time focusing on your work. Earlier, when the meeting ended, she immediately left the room, not leaving you a chance to exchange a word with her, and it has been bugging you since.

“Please, wait,” you said, already begging the woman. When she heard your voice, she stopped, allowing you to gently grab at her arm so she didn't go. She could, if she wanted to, and a part of her did want to run away, but the rest of her knows that this conversation can’t be avoided. “Listen, I- I am sorry,” you started once you were sure she was willing to listen to your excuses, “I should have warned you, but I couldn’t, my phone’s battery was dead and, and- honestly? I don't remember much of what happened last night. All I know is that once was enough. It won't happen again,” you chuckled sadly. When you woke up that morning, you promised to yourself that it was the last time you drank that much. A promise you kept, and three years later, you still haven’t touched a bottle of alcohol. “I promise, 'tasha. Please, don't be mad at me for that, or at least tell me how I can make up for my mistake,” you said, and the woman knew she had heard enough.

“Seriously?” she scoffed, breaking free of your grip. “I can’t believe you are that stupid,” she said, as she started to walk away. But if she didn’t want to hear the sound of your voice any more, you, however, weren’t done yet.

"I know I’ve made a mistake, but I am fine, isn’t it the most important?” you asked, starting to follow. Except that, when she heard your steps in her back, she accelerated her pace. “I promise to be more careful next time but, you know, I can handle myself for one night. Well, I might have drunk a bit too much, but Astrid was wi~,” you tried to explain, except she cut short your ramblings. To say, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but the woman quickly cut you. She scoffed again, in disbelief this time.

"You are really stupid, aren't you?” she said, stopping in her tracks, and you almost ran into her, surprised by her sudden stop. A few more seconds passed before she turned around to face you, her posture matching her stern expression. “Do you think I don't know what happened last night, with Astrid? Do you really think I wouldn’t have known the truth?” she added, taking a step forward for every question she asked, and you took one back every time, until your back hit the walls. You would certainly have found the situation hot if she didn’t look like she was about to murder you.

“W- what?” you said, “you are mad because I went out with a friend. That’s the problem? Astrid is the problem?" you snapped, starting to feel frustrated about the whole situation. 

You are tired, and the only thing you’ve wanted to do since you opened your eyes that morning — Throwing yourself in your girlfriend’s arms — was impossible to do. You hadn’t expected the woman to give you such a hard time. You knew she could be jealous sometimes, you’ve already had arguments about that in the past, but you’ve always been understanding because you know that her jealousy isn’t caused by a lack of trust. This feeling is fuelled by her own insecurities and past. Except that, that time, it was too much. The way she wouldn't listen to your excuses is seriously hitting on your nerves.

"Don't you dare to lie to me,” she said. For a moment, you thought she was going to hit you, but she took a step back before she could do that. She was angry too, taking deep breaths in an attempt to ease the feeling. “I trusted you,” she eventually added but her tone was different — The anger left her voice, replaced by pain. “I trusted you and, most importantly, I loved you,” she whispered, turning around to see you one last time. “After everything I have done for you, I can't believe that's how you are thanking me. You know, I really thought you were different, better," she laughed, trying very hard to not throw you against the walls or worse, to cry. The most insufferable was the look in your eyes, the false innocence. She was tired of pretending, she had given you enough chances to tell her the truth, “but you’re not,” but now, she was done trying.

That is the last time the two of you talked. The next time you’ve seen her, she hasn’t been kind enough to let you have a chance to explain things. She was done trying, and so were you. The last words she said are still ringing in your head, even years later. Maybe if you'd chased her once again that day, things would have ended differently, but you haven’t moved. You couldn’t, petrified by the conversation that just took place, you have just watched the redhead walking away without glancing back.

It’s only when you enter the break room that you understand the whole conversation you had with Natasha. No one was here, but the walls had been covered with pictures of yourself. At first, you thought it was a prank from your teammates’ but the pictures were all but innocent. You felt your heart sink when you took down one of the photos to get a closer look at it, and tears in your eyes when you realized that you were nude in those.

It was you, in bed, with Astrid. Your face doesn’t entirely show but you can easily recognize yourself and the bed you’ve woken up in that morning. There were dozens of different pictures, but all showed similar scenes: your bodies against each other as you are obviously sharing an intimate moment. Something that you should only share with one person on that Earth. A person that is definitely not Astrid. 

Except that the more you look at those pictures, the more foreign they feel. You are sure you are the one in the pictures, but you are still unable to remember what happened. Slowly, doubt creeps into your heart — Did you drink that much last night? 

So much that you betrayed the woman you swore to love until the sun dies? 

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. You are suddenly overwhelmed by a bunch of emotions that you can’t describe, but that are definitely not pleasant. It is a mix of confusion, anger, guilt, and disgust. The pictures speak for themselves, and they leave little room for doubt about what you were doing — And you were surely not just sleeping. The woman was on top of you, her mouth closed to your neck, maybe she was leaving soft kisses against your skin, maybe she was whispering sweet things in your ears, you don’t know. But the thing you were focused on was her hand hidden by the sheets, leaving only your imagination to complete the scene. It wasn’t the only picture of that kind: they were all picturing similar scenes. You can easily understand her rage and hatred earlier because you are now sharing those feelings with your girlfriend, just for different reasons.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" a voice said, pulling out of your mind. It was Astrid, who just entered the room. She glanced around before looking back at you, a sad smile spreading on her lips when she notices the tears that are soaking your face. and you saw Astrid entering the room. She looks around, a sorry look on her face. "I am sorry,” she started, and you could feel she was looking for the right thing to say, “I- I sent the pictures to the wrong person. When I realized, I tried to explain to Romanoff but, well… you know how she is,” she explained, shrugging as if she was trying to make you believe she had actually tried to, “she wouldn't listen to me, and they- they did that before I could stop them. It doesn’t please me either," she added, reminding you that you weren’t the only one suffering from the situation. Except she seemed to deal with the situation better than you do. As she talked, she slowly walked closer to you, accompanying each of her sentences with a few steps forward until she was close enough to wrap you in her arms. 

You didn’t get the energy to push her away.

"Did we.. ?" you asked, but your voice broke before you could finish your sentence. It felt too difficult to say those words out loud — “Did we hook up? Did I cheat on Natasha?” But the woman doesn’t need the words to be said, she seems to read in your mind the end of your sentence.

"Of course we did, what kind of question is that?" she replied, frowning. She seems to be surprised by your question. For a second, the hand that was slowly caressing the back of your head stopped. The woman pulled back a little, just so she could see your face. "Why? Do you regret it?" she asked, and for an instant she seemed to be genuinely worried about your reaction, "because you didn't seem to last night, when you cried my name,..." she whispered in your ear. You could feel her breath tickling your skin but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling, unlike when Natasha does it.

Everything felt so much. Her voice, her touch, her presence so close to you, was now unbearable. As she remembers the night you’ve spent, a soft smirk spreads on her lips, but you are definitely not sharing her feelings. “Of course we did.” The words loop back into your mind, it seeps in like a poison that quickly takes over your whole being. Soon, you are paralyzed by an awful feeling. It hurts, but at the same time you are not sure you are actually feeling something, your body and mind feeling so foreign to you — If you wanted it, why does it feel so wrong?

At that moment, if you had been able to move, you would have ripped your ears off just so you wouldn’t hear her voice any more, and maybe you would have done the same with your skin. It felt like the only way to get rid of your overwhelming feelings. Suddenly, the reassuring touch of your best friend made you feel gross, and so do her sweet words — But if she said that you did it, and wanted it, then it must be true, right?

You have seen the pictures, they are in your hands, right under your eyes. You can see yourself betraying the woman you love and in those, you really don't give the impression that you didn’t want to. On the contrary.

"No, no, it- it's not that, it’s just…," you eventually managed to say, but you are hesitating and unsure of yourself. There are too many thoughts and words clouding your head, so many ways you could react and yet, none of what you could say or do felt right. "It’s just that I don’t even remember last night,” you admitted, feeling ashamed about it, “I mean, did we- you know,... for real?" you asked softly but you were not even listening to Astrid’s answer, the question was more for yourself in reality. "Sorry, I have to go, see you later", you said, interrupting the woman. Somehow, you regained control over your body, just enough to push the other away and leave the room. You are not sure where you are going, but as far from that room as you can is already a good start.

That's where she found you when she came home that night, sitting on the bathroom's floor, the pictures in your hands.

Your hand is still wrapped tightly around the pictures, but you didn’t notice it. Not before being back home, in the room you are sharing with Natasha — Or were sharing, you thought, unsure about how the situation would unfold. It may be the last time you set a foot in that room that has been your safe place for months. Before you could completely break down, you decided to take a shower, thinking that, maybe, the steaming water would be enough to ease your mind. You took two showers. Then three, then four, and maybe more. You can’t be sure, you’ve stopped counting. All you knew was that it hasn’t been enough to get rid of the uneasy feelings and thoughts. You’ve scrubbed yourself until your skin was so sensitive that even the touch of the towel has been painful — But maybe you deserved it.

The rest of the day is a blur, and you are not sure what time it is. You’ve spent hours on the bathroom’s floor, your left hand clenched around the picture while the right one was holding the towel. Your head was so empty, but so full at the same time. That’s how she found you when she came home that night, and if she had been tempted to wrap you in her arms when she saw your pitiful state, the conversation she just had with the others discouraged her to do so — You didn’t deserve her pity. They are right when they say that you are not the victim: you are the one that cheated on her, and she needs to be firm, stern. You knew how hard it is for the woman to trust someone and yet, you still broke the fate she had put in you after years of making her dream of a better future.

"Oh, so you remember now?" she coldly said to you when she entered the room. You didn’t move, not even your eyes to look at her, but if you did, you would have seen that the woman was leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed. Maybe you would have also seen that her coldness was only a facade, and that she was as close as you were from breaking down. 

You stayed silent, unable to say anything. The words were stuck in your clenched throat, and they aren’t feeling right anyway — How could you defend yourself when you didn't even know what happened exactly? Plus, you weren’t even sure there was something to defend, the pictures speaking for themselves. Even when she started packing your belongings, you didn’t move. For you to move, she had to grab your arm and drag you all the way outside the Avengers’s building by herself. 

She needed you gone, and everyone agreed that it was only for the best. At least for a few weeks, just the time for things to calm down. That’s what she came to announce. The few words that left your mouth were useless, your pleas falling in deaf ears: the decision had already been made, and the sentence was irrevocable. The woman is done with your bullshit. She is done with you, and so you are.

"The pictures, they- they aren't real," she eventually admitted, her voice being barely louder than a whisper as she unburdens herself of this old secret. “I mean, th- they are, but it’s a staging. Nothing happened between us, she- hm, loves you too much to give you away,” she continued, tears filling her eyes as she talks, her voice wavering a little more with each word. "She isn't even conscious in these," she continued when the spy didn’t react. If the black-haired woman thought it was because the other was listening, it was because she didn’t know how to react.

The weight of what she had done left her shoulder, and it was now lingering in the room, where the air was suddenly thick, and almost unbreathable. Natasha felt a weight in her chest that made each breath harder than the previous one. Overcome by surprise, she had let go of the other, stepping back a few steps. Her thoughts were racing, numerous and contradictory, they weren’t coherent enough to allow how to respond in any way. She needed to do something, but she didn’t know what.

“I- I don’t know why I did that. It wasn’t me, that night, you know that, right? That I would usually never ever do something like that,” she started to defend herself when she saw the look on Natasha’s face, “I was so angry, and disappointed, when she refused. I have given her everything since we met, and yet you are the one she chose. I thought that, maybe, with a bit of time she would eventually realize her mistake, … but I was so wrong,” she sighed, and the redhead could see the remnants of that anger in her attitude. A clenching jaw and fists, accompanied with firm words that left no doubt about the resentment she held towards her, and towards you. “That night, I- I wasn’t myself. We’ve already had a few drinks and, you know, it doesn’t mix well with emotions,” she continued, and the woman could feel her anger rising with every word the other spoke. “All I could think about was getting revenge. I wanted to show her she was wrong, that I had so much more to offer than she thought. I wanted her to change her mind, to see me for more than just a friend,” she admitted, her voice being just a whisper as she says the last sentence. “I never thought it would end this way, I swear, you’ve to believe me, Natasha,” and to forgive me. She didn’t say the last words out loud, but she doesn’t need to, her eyes are speaking for herself.

Only, when her gaze met the redhead’s, she didn’t see in her eyes the compassion she had been expecting, only pure hatred, an emotion that had quickly replaced the initial surprise. Not even a word was addressed to her as the other left the room, leaving her alone to dry her tears.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

| Taglist — @cd-4848, @chocolatestrawberrykryptonite, @gemz5, @jusnough, @m0nsterqzzz, @marvelwomenarehot0, @mrsrushman, @riyaexee, @takeyaki, @taliiiaasteria.

[belovedcloud]

Your writing is so good! If it's not too much trouble, can you write soft loving sex with Las Plagas Leon or any of your favorite Leon's?

Crave

pairing: las plagas! leon kennedy x fem! reader

✎ Notes: i hope you like this, i was thinking about las plagas leon and him being possessive of you in a cuddly way when he comes back from saving ashley. sorry that it's short, i have a lot going on for me atm!

➤ WC: 1.55K

➤ CW: porn with barely any plot, possessive leon, leon sucking and appreciating your tits (he's definitely a boob guy), pet names: sweetheart, baby, my love. p in v (unprotected sex), creampie, fingering & rubbing.

Days passed, worry flooded all over your body as you wondered where your boyfriend was. Although you knew this mission was important in many ways than one - Leon never deserved to be forced into working for the government. However, you couldn't help him in any way but care for him when he came home. Tonight would be different, the Leon that returned wouldn't be the one you knew.

You snuggled yourself onto your couch, the only sounds ringing in your ears was the sound of the wall clock ticking each second. 02:41 AM. Your eyes wouldn't bring themselves to sleep, the constant ideas of what Leon was doing made you shiver in fear. His mission was laced in pure secrecy, nobody but him and the government knew what he was doing. Suddenly, the thoughts in your mind were quickly shut off as you heard keys jingle, a familiar figure yanking them out as he opened the door. He was home. You rapidly lifted yourself up, fumbling the blanket in your hands as your eyes gazed upon Leon. He seemed different. Low groans sporadically came out of his mouth as he threw his duffel bag against the wall, Leon's eyes averted to you. Without hesitation he approached you, wrapping his arms around you. "I missed you... Fuck, you smell good." The feeling of his voice rumbled against the skin of your neck as he nuzzled his head into it. "L-Leon, you should really go rest." A small mewl erupted out of your throat as you slowly caressed his arm, staring upon it. Why was black liquid flowing through his veins?

You tried to pull his head away from your neck, but to no avail. He calmly sucked onto your skin, holding you gently. Leon fought off the feeling of something telling him to lose control, he wanted to make love to you. To caress you in ways where the softest moans would be elicited out of you. Subconsciously, his arms lifted you up for the ground, pulling his face away from your neck. This time, you could focus on the cuts and fresh scars that illustrated all over his face. The dark veins protruding out as he took you upstairs. "Leon? What is up with you?" Your soft voice echoed through his brain, oh how he loved you. How he loved you soft skin against his, the roughness of his own pressing against yours. "What do you mean my love?" His coarse voice juxtaposed his mellow actions towards you, gently placing you down on the shared bed. He stared at your figure with such lust and adoration apparent in his eyes, the way his shirt hugged your curves just right. Your shorts pressing into your plush skin as the movement of his hands slowly crept onto your thighs. Rubbing them tenderly as he gave you a small smile.

"What do you mean? I mean... Look at you. You've got some pattern on your skin." You whispered out as his touch infected you with a burning feeling. An ache pulsing where you needed to be touch - how his hands were so close to your sensitive clit. Was this right? You didn't even know if you knew the man in front of you. Of course it was Leon, your lover, was it really him? "Don't worry about me baby, look at how gorgeous you are." He purred out, slowly lifting up his shirt to see your tits. God, they were perfect. He couldn't help but remove his own shirt, feeling hot in his own skin. Seeing your body was a fuel that he never knew he needed, his veins becoming more prominent in his skin. Spreading all over him, your face still in constant worry. Leon didn't like that. He didn't like that you worried for him, when he felt perfectly fine right? He knew he wasn't okay, the voices still in his head and flashbacks to when he previously just saved Ashley. The government would find some type of cure for him, surely right?

The pads of his fingers fondled with your nipples, his mouth enclosing on one of them as he looked up to see your blissful face. Light moans escaping your throat as your fingers laced themselves into his hair strands - tugging on them just slightly. Leon groaned into your tits, feeling himself jerk into the soft bed you both laid on. He craved you. Your body craved him too as a wet patch formed on your panties, the baby blue colour turning dark as your slick clung on it. Leon's hands moved methodically all over your body, caressing parts that needed him for so long. Until moving them to tug under the waistband of your shorts. "Can I?" He begged, his eyes pleading for you to say yes. A quiet mumble fell out of your lips as you granted him permission to see you. To see that pretty pussy he missed so much. A bite of your lip nearly drove Leon over the edge as he touched the wet spot on your panties. He could smell the sweetness of your pussy calling out to him. Without a thought, he pulled them off.

"L-Leon!" You yelped as you felt his fingers slowly slide into you. "Need to get you ready baby, want to make you feel good with my cock." The squelches of your cunt taking two of his fingers muffled his sentence as he watched them go in and out. A slight curve to his movement causing a loud whine to flood out of your mouth. You could feel yourself starting to gush onto him, needing more of his touch. Leon's other hand interlaced with yours, a sweet look on his face of appreciation as he watched you moan his name out. He was so in love with you. This new profound feeling in him, made him feel different from any other time he was having sex with you. You were his, his craving. A familiar feeling bubbled up in your chest as you felt the pad of his thumb rub on your little clit. "O-oh Leon..." A mellow moan left you as you shook in his touch, your orgasm gushing out. "That's my good girl... Yeah, cum on my fingers." His praises inundated you. You desired this, as much as he desired you.

Leon made quick work of his pants as he unbuckled his belt, removing the cargos that he used in his rampage in Spain. A wet spot standing out on his boxers where his tip leaked out it's pre-cum. Your eyes followed his hand as he pulled his cock out, it was beaming a harsh pink colour. Impulsively, you sat up and reached out for it. A gasp hushed out Leon's lips as he moaned into his hand, feeling your hand rub his hard cock. "Fuck... Baby please I can't do this anymore." A soft smile appeared on your face as he took it into his own hands, positioning himself in front of your entrance. A slow but steady thrust left you both panting as he rutted himself into you.

"Oh my.. fuck, you feel so good sweetheart." Leon whimpered out as he placed his hands on your hips, staring into your eyes as his thighs tapped against yours. He didn't want to fuck you, he wanted to make love. You were his pretty girl, the one he loved so dear and if it meant holding back his own urges for your pleasure, he would do it in a heartbeat. The eye contact shared between you and Leon made you shy; you covered your face, just to have your hands softly removed by your lovers. "Let me see you.. please you're so pretty like this." His lips pressed against yours, moans rung out between the both of you. Creating a melody filled with raw passion as his thrusts became deeper. Your eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy as you felt yourself shake.

"H-Honey.." you whimpered as your hands scrunched the sheets beneath you. The soft cotton rubbing against you as Leon admired your body. His fingers found their way to your clit again as he started to rub it. "Cum on my cock, cum f'me." His voice turned raspy as his dick throbbed inside of you. The pitch of your moans heightened as you felt a sensation that burned so good, the coil in you snapping as your orgasm rushed over you. Making you chant Leon's name as he felt his thighs starting to shake from pure pleasure. Leon watched his dick move in and out of you, a sheer film of sweat forming on his forehead as he felt his release coming. "Fuck baby, I'm gonna cum. Need to fill this tight pussy up." His head fell back, the strands of his hair sticking to his forehead, the black veins spread all over his body as his load filled you up. A warm feeling loaded into you as he slid his cock out. Seeing some of his cum drip out of you with a silly grin on his face.

"We need to get you checked up Leon.." You mumbled, tracing a dark line down his face. "Tomorrow sweetheart.. Let me hold you." A gentle smile formed on his face as he stared at your blissed out body.

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! thank you for reading :)

-> masterlist

[asumi2020202]

The Right Choice

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader(slight), Daeron Targaryen x reader

Summary: After everything that has happened, you thought he would change. Only for him to inflict a bigger scar as your hope for this marriage vanishes into thin air.

A/n:Thank you for reading.

Alternate ending of: Everything has a Price to Pay

_______________________________ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ__

War was at its peak. It had been almost two weeks since the last time you met Aemond in your shared chambers. Your wounds had healed leaving behind just some aches.

You knew that he didn't speak the truth. The informer of the green, Larys Strong had informed them that Aemond had returned to Harrehal. And that his whore was pregnant with his bastard.

You knew he would do so. You knew he would not be able to keep his word. Because if he truly was faithfully, then he wouldn't had slept with her in the first place.

You didn't really feel anything. You were disappointed,Yes, but you wouldn't hold him back if he did love her. You had your son and your family.

Instead of being dissatisfied with his actions and crying over it, you thought of asking your eldest brother to annul the marriage.

Aemond had broken the gentle girl you once were. The pain and betrayal numbed your mind. No longer did you care of what the others would say.

_________________________________________

Word had been sent to the Red Keep from Harrehal that Prince Aemond would bring back his whore to the Keep.

Your numbed soul hurt. Alicent didn't even want to call him her son but she couldn't deny it.

He had stated that a room should be prepared for... Alys. The name of his whore.

You simply couldn't stand the thought of being with him again. Not when that perpetrator would also stay with his whore inside your very home.

You asked the maids to shift your belongings and your son's to another room. Your mother, the dowager queen had told you to stay with Helaena since Aegon doesn't sleep with her.

She thought that since both of you had the same fate, you could find comfort in each other.

You had agreed. Hastily leaving the room along with your son to find your eldest brother, the king.

_________________________________________

Aemond had landed near the dragon pit. He got off of Vhagar before carefully taking Alys off of Vhagar as well.

Alys had tried to touch Vhagar. Trying to pet her like Aemond does but Vhagar gave a loud and angry growl. And almost tried to bite her before Aemond intervened.

Alys fearful of the dragon, hid behind Aemond.

He turned and saw Moonfyre giving a very angry and loud scream towards them before both the female dragons flew off in the sky.

Aemond, turning his gaze back to Alys, guided her inside.

_________________________________________

As he walked through the garden and inside the corridors, he could see you talking to someone. It was a man. He too had white hair like him and was tall like him.

Aemond asked a passing maid to escort Alys to her room before he saw you coming towards his direction. The man going the opposite direction.

As you tried your hard to walk past Aemond and avoid him, he grabbed your hand.

"Y/n.." he started.

You turned to look at him. He felt a pang of hurt in his chest. Your eyes looked hollow unlike the way it shined when you conversed with the other man.

" It was just one night . I didn't think she would get pregnant. I couldn't leave her there, knowing our enemies might attack any time. I really am guilted. I didn't wish to hurt you love. Please forgive me." He spoke, looking at your face as you looked outside.

"I'm sorry I couldn't satisfy you. That you sought out another woman for pleasure." You said. He was about to speak but you didn't give him the chance.

"From now on you can live with her. I hold no grudge. After all, it is my fault for not being able to hold my husband to myself.

But don't worry you can love her as much you wish from now. You and I will only be related through blood and name, nothing else. I already found someone who will love me."

"My love. I don't understand what you mean. Found another? We are married. I am your husband and you are my wife." He spoke up, hoping you didn't mean what he thought you mean. Anger and jealousy in his voice.

"No longer. I had asked Aegon to annul our marriage after you're raven arrived. And he did so. The whole of kings landing knows of what you did brother. The council has decided that me and my twin will marry each other so I can be relieved of the shame you bestowed upon me. Daeron and I did loved each other before he was sent to old town.

Now that I am no longer bound to you, I am free to marry him and my son does need a father. Aegon assured me that my son will be acknowledged by the people as mine and Daeron's son, as the people haven't seen Aenor yet. You would be wise to not disturb us." You spoke with venom as you walked away.

Annul the marriage? Your twin? When did Daeron return from old town? Aenor will be claimed as Daeron's son. His younger brother.

So many thoughts went around Aemond's head. He had messed up everything just for pleasure. He lost the only who loved him for who he was and now she left him along with his son.

Defeated, he asked a maid to escort him to where Alys was.

_________________________________________

All the family had gathered in the dining hall. Aemond came in and saw everyone already chatting and conversing. His eyes looked for you until they did find you.

In your right sat Helaena, conversing with you. And on your left, in his seat, sat Daeron.. he saw how the two of you held hands and occasionally smiled at each other.

His thoughts were disturbed as he felt a tugging on his arm. It was Alys.

The entire family's laughter and peace was stopped due to the unwanted face in the dining hall.

"Brother. I thought that this hall was only for family, you had been the one to tell me that. And yet you bring some whore here. Aren't you acting hypocritical?" Aegon said. Giving a disgusted look towards Alys.

Aegon noticed your discomfort with Alys present. He knew he treated his wife the same but Helaena was weird to him. Yet you... were his perfect little sister.

Aegon had completely changed after becoming the king. He couldn't quit drinking but he didn't go to brothels.

"Alys will be eating with us from now on. And I suggest you show her some respect." Aemond replied as Alys looked down.

"Suggest? Hah!" Aegon laughed. "Are you trying to intimidate me brother? I am the king. Your whore is of little worth to me." Aegon continued.

"Aegon." Alicent tried to stop her son. She got up from her seat and came around the table at your side and gently placed her hand on your arm.

"I could behead you and whore at once for the shame you brought to the house and my sister." Aegon said as Aemond had nothing to reply with. He only looked at your face as you turned away.

"Guards. Escort prince Aemond and that.... Witch! to their chambers." Aegon ordered as the said people were escorted away.

You looked at Daeron as he offered you a smile which you reciprocated and intertwined your hands together.

_________________________________________

"How could you?! You ruined everything that I had! Just to cover up one lie of yours! You decieved me!!"

"I'm sorry Aemond but I needed money to raise my child! I had to do it. I am sorry if I hurt you.. but I do accept that I never loved you to begin with."

Hurt?! You took everything from me! My child! My wife! My family!.. And now you tell me that... The child is not even mine?!!

Shouting could be heard throughout the castle.

Alys had been secretly seeing and writing to her lover. Not Aemond. Aemond had accidentally seen them kissing when he entered the room.

She confessed that she was pregnant before they even laid with each other. That the child was of her lover's.

Aemond in a fit of rage even slapped her when she told him that she only stayed with him for money to run away with her lover.

Aemond felt betrayed. Just as he felt when his father didn't take his side when he lost his eye. He felt blocked from all sides. Because of his mistake, no one in his family believes him anymore.

He ran out the door as fast as he could. He hastily reached the dragon pit and mounted Vhagar.

He took off to the place where Aegon had been coronated. As got off and pushed through the crowd. Tears flowed from his eye.

There you stood before the crowd. You and Daeron. As the High Septon finished his speech. You lips and palms were already cut. By the time he reached, you two were drinking from the cup.

He saw the way you both kissed eachother so lovingly, the same way he did when you both got married. But now he had to see his brother do that to you.

His mother, the dowager Queen. His brother, the king. His grandsire, the Hand. His sister, the Queen. All stood there and smiled. The crowd were cheering. Yet Aemond felt bitter.

_________________________________________

The Dowager Queen and The Hand had left for the Red Keep along with the King and the Queen.

Daeron was mounting Tessarion and you Moonfyre. Aemond ran to meet you. As he did, you looked down at him.

"It isn't mine. That child isn't mine." Aemond spoke. He was panting, having to run all the way to you.

"Oh that.. I already knew. Helaena told me 2 days after I last met you." You spoke calmly.

"Already knew?" He felt confused.

"Well if my mind serves properly, Helaena told me through her riddle 'The one who he sacrificed for is not his own.' "

Aemond didn't even know what to say, so you spoke for him.

"Brother..... I know it was a mistake you made. I won't blame you for seeking love hence I forgive you for what you did but I don't know if mother will. I am thankful to you." You spoke.

"Why would you thank me for what I did?" Aemond didn't understand what you said.

"I am thankful because for your mistake I was reunited with my twin, my husband. I blindly thought I loved you but it seems that I was wrong. I can only give you one advice... Move on." You said the last sentence coldly, not sparing him even a glance. And with that Moonfyre and Tessarion flew into the sky, roaring from above.

Aemond stood there, his one eye saw your pain and anguish. His tears fell endlessly as he stared into the sky.

_________________________________________

You stood near the corridor of the second floor, staring at the training yard. While your husband, Daeron, cradled your son to his chest.

You turned to your husband as he gently kissed you with one hand cupping your cheek and tilting your head up.

"I am to go get a dragon egg for my little princess." Daeron said as his eyes travel to your stomach.

"Princess? How do you know it'll be a girl? I am betting a barrel of wine that it'll be a boy. Mother's intuition." You replied to your husband, smirking at him.

"Let's see who will win. The father or the mother." Daeron spoke, giving you his kinky smile. You got on your toes to kiss his cheek as you both were leaving for your chambers.

Beknownst to you, Aemond had seen everything you two were doing. He felt hurt. Hurt because he couldn't experience it. Hurt because he saw how happy you were with his brother. He regretted everything he had done that day. The day he laid with the whore.

He saw you both leaving. While he was blinking away his tears, he saw you angle your head a little towards him. He saw you smile and rotate you head back to the front.

He heard you say a sentence before you left with you husband and child. One that completely broke him.

..."I finally made The Right Choice".......

-Lillian

[thebibliosphere]

Wait, is Jason in Gotham Knights body horror? Because it doesn't feel like his body even tho he's controlling it? (He died, he came back, it's not the same and never will be)

Or is it more analogous to puberty and feeling like you don't know anything about your body anymore?

Just having thoughts about that boy again

I think Jason in Gotham Knights is very much connected with his physical body. It's his biggest weapon, possibly more so than his guns, given his lasting connection to the Lazarus Pit and the power it gives him.

His backstory talks about building himself up to peak physical condition into the absolute unit he is now, and you can either see that as someone trying to reconnect with their physical self or someone vowing never to be small or weak again.

I tend to think of it as both. It's a reclamation of his physical form but also a transformation into something bigger and stronger that ensures he's the scariest, meanest-looking mother fucker in the room. Basically someone you can't underestimate as a threat.

(Try not to think too hard about the fact that he now largely resembles Bruce in stature, that he is now the group's heavy hitter, the most menacing and the most likely to strike fear into the heart of his opponents, and that Jason molded himself into the person he needed to be rescued by as a child. Don't do it. Do not. I am normal about this.)

But he obviously struggles with feeling present mentally sometimes.

You'll see him zoning out occasionally, touching the J-shaped scar on his face before violently shaking himself back into the present.

He has panic attacks while playing a dance video game with a coffin in it—a coffin his character becomes trapped in because he's not moving fast enough. (hello, trauma)

He's angry all the time and so relieved when Barbra expresses her own rage at something because, yes, finally, someone else is letting their emotions out instead of bottling it up (Dick).

His emails are littered with orders for self-help books, emails from his therapist moving his sessions around, and concerned messages from his friends (Roy comes to mind) saying if he needs to get out of Gotham, they'll make it happen.

Alfred holding him while he sobs over losing Bruce still breaks me every time. I have to pause the game and walk around my house until I feel normal again.

And then there's the cut scene where Dick asks, "Hey, remember that time we all [insert funny thing here]," and Jason admits, somewhat angrily, that no, he doesn't because Lazarus took entire swaths of memories from him and he hates how he can't connect with people the way he used to and he hates the way they all look at him (the way Dick is looking at him now) when he admits he doesn't remember something they clearly loved about the old him: the version of him who didn't have volatile mood swings or made people flinch when he did something as mundane as handle a kitchen knife -- the undead monster he came back as*.

The fact that Dick then contrives to recreate this memory so Jason can be included in a newer version of it -- while also giving him what is arguably a weapon -- fucks me up every time. Dick just yeets a kitchen knife at him, trusting that Jason will catch it, and then just steamrolls over Jason's rightful 'what the fuck' expression with "Hey, we're making food. Get dicing."

And Jason knows what they're all doing. He's aware of it, and he gets the teeniest, tiniest smile before smothering it out. Except he can't quite. He's still smiling as he chops the vegetables. And yes, they're all hopeless at cooking compared to him, and he knows he's going to end up taking over, but that's okay. Because this is for him. He gets to control it.

And that's how Jason gets to make a new memory, one where he is handed a weapon and gets to turn it into a genuine expression of nurturing and care.

Because he does care about them. He wouldn't conspire with Dick to bake Barbara's favorite childhood cookies if he didn't. He wouldn't try so hard to be gentle with Tim triggering the shit out of him while he's struggling with his grief. He just doesn't always know how to express it because he doesn't always know what he's feeling.

Is his anger valid? Or is this Lazarus Pit Rage? Is he being overly sensitive because of his trauma, or is everyone else underreacting because of their trauma? (Should he sign them all up for therapy, quite probably, yes.)

So, you could perhaps argue that Jason experiences body horror in the sense that he doesn't remember all the pieces of who he used to be. (Speaking as someone with severe memory loss from medical trauma, it's certainly a type of horror.) But I don't think it's because he's detached from it physically or doesn't feel in control of his body. I think it's his mind that worries him.

His body he can control. It's his mind that still sparks green sometimes.

---

*Re the scene with Tim when Tim calls the Talons monsters. "What about me? Do you think I'm a monster?"

No, they don't.

But Jason does. And it scares him shitless.

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LNDS: Bongo Butts | 18+

I should be going to bed but I forgot to do laundry so here I am, writing more content that nobody asked for. Just like motorboating them...when I see them butts. Just. WHAM BAM. Thanks for coming to my TED talk. Also hope you know I had to research different types of dump trucks for this fic.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Ass Slapping, Crack Fic, Playing their asses like they're bongos, Zayne's lost sanity, Rafayel is scandalized as per usual, you mentally scar Raf, Xavier is confused as per usual, but is he confused?, he does get you back tho

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Xavier really did need to be more careful around you. He was the one who wanted you to date him first, in your defense. He chose you. And you wouldn't let a single day go by that you didn't prove why that was a horrible decision on his end. At the very least, he could claim that he was never bored with you around.

Today was supposed to be a lazy day. You two had off from all missions and were relaxing around the apartment since it was too damn hot to actually go outside. It also happened to be laundry day for Xavier, so he was dressed in his workout attire while his uniforms were being deep cleaned from all the dirt that accumulated on them during his missions.

Those shorts. They were so damn short. You'd even call it slutty because hot damn. His ass was just right there. It was staring at you. Hypnotizing you like it was a snake charmer. Your hands were already twitching in a grabby motion as you stared directly at those perfectly rounded globes on his backside. His beautiful bubble butt.

Xavier could feel your stare burning into him as he looked over his shoulder. He was just sun bathing by the window, laying on his stomach. So vulnerable to your upcoming attack.

"Something you need?" Damn, he already sounded suspicious. It might've been by how you were practically drooling with your hands up, ready to grab at him. It was a slight give away. He should've been more prepared though, because you lunged at him in that moment.

He only had time to turn slightly when you pushed him back on his stomach, sitting on his back to pin him down. Your hands took a fistful of his ass before you began hitting them with little force. Just watching them jiggle with every little slap of your hands.

You were cackling like a maniac as you continued your assault until he managed to maneuver you off of him. You were laughing, your cheeks flushed as you almost teared up. His entire face was red as he stared at you in horror. Then you saw a flash in his eyes and you knew you were done for.

He grabbed you, pulling you onto his lap. Then you felt a harsh slap at your ass, making you squeal. It was so much rougher than you had hit him. He stared at your back side and did it again.

"I can see why you found this so entertaining. I think I'll play with this for now."

"Unhand me you creatine!"

"I think not, if I let you go, who knows what else you'll do to me."

Zayne

Anyone who has ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on Akso's best Cardiac Surgeon knew that one thing was a pure fact. He had an ass. His doctor's coat did a good job concealing it, but he couldn't wear it all the time. You had even noticed a few nurses who would glance down at him when he passed them in the hallway.

It was something you knew very well about Zayne, and something the man seemed oblivious to. The man didn't just have a dump truck as a rear end, it was a dump trailer. That shit could keep a family fed for an entire year. It was so perfect in every way. You could grab onto one cheek with both hands and you still wouldn't be able to capture the entire thing.

Yet for some reason, Zayne had no idea just how badly you needed his ass. You would often times find yourself staring at it when you hung out, had an appointment, or were just lounging at the apartments. It plagued your thoughts. You were losing sleep over this. It wasn't good for your health.

"Zayne..." You said as you relaxed on the couch next to him. You two were catching up on a TV show that you started well over a month ago but hadn't had time to really enjoy it.

"Yes, did you need something?" Oh how sweet he was, always looking out for you.

"Yes actually...can you lay down on your stomach for me? I wanna do something." You said, knowing that this man would do just about anything you asked. He eyed you for a moment, contemplating if he wanted to play this game with you.

"Might I inquire as to why?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out."

Zayne took one more moment before giving in. He adjusted his position, laying down on his stomach just as you had asked. You decided to be subtle, leaning over his form and placing your hands on his shoulders at first. You gently caressed the skin there, massaging the muscles through his shirt as you slowly made your way down to the small of his back.

There it was. The prize. The holy grail of all asses. It was ripe for the taking as you looked over to see Zayne's closed eyes as he relaxed under your touch. You didn't hesitate. Your hands slapping down on his ass and grabbing it roughly.

His eyes shot open as he looked over at you. You licked your lips as you began gently slapping the flesh, watching the bounce as though it were made of jelly. It was a sight to behold and you couldn't help yourself. You had seconds before Zayne reacted and pulled your grubby little hands off him.

So you leaned your head in and bit down. His pants managed to cushion him from the force of your bite, but he sure as hell felt it. He sat up and grabbed you under the arms like a cat, stopping you in your tracks as you stared at him.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Playing with your nice ass."

"My butt is not a play thing."

You paused for a moment, eyes trailing down to the front of his pants, "If you aren't gonna let me slap your ass, can I play with your dick like it's a Bop-It?"

You watched Zayne go through five stages of grief. He sighed as he grabbed a blanket next to him, wrapping your entire body like a burrito so your limbs were no longer effective. He then sat back down on the couch with his legs open and placed you between, holding you tightly to his chest.

"I'm begging you, please be quiet for once and let's finish this show."

Rafayel

He should've known you were up to something if your gaze was anything to go off of. You had zeroed in on him the moment you had come over. Even during your little date as you two explored Linkon together, he knew something was up. Your not so subtle glances in his direction couldn't be considered innocent.

If only he knew why you were staring so hardcore. He had gotten a new pair of pants, or at least you assumed they were new. You were pretty sure you'd remember them with how good he looked at the moment. It was tight on him, accentuating his ass perfectly. You were pretty sure if you riled him it would also perfectly outline another aspect of him.

Still, you had a mission. Rafayel didn't know it yet, but the moment you had caught a glimpse of him this morning, you knew what had to be done. His muffins needed to be squished. His plump little cushions had to be properly admired and worshipped. You would be the one to happily give them the attention they deserved. An ass sculpted by the gods themselves were staring at you literally all day.

You closed the door to his home slowly, turning over to him. He was already heading to the living room. You slowly stalked behind him, and he could feel you were up to no good.

"Something caught your interest? I know I look good, but not even you normally stare at me this much."

"I just think you look particularly handsome today is all." As does his ass. You couldn't say that yet though, he would realize what your plans were if you verbalized it too early. Like a cat stalking a mouse, you followed him until he was in the living room. The moment he was by the couch you took action.

You rushed behind him and pressed down on the small of his back, making him stumble forward. He grabbed the edge of the couch, his body hunched over. Rafayel turned just in time to watch you drop down to your knees. Then he felt your hands harshly gripping his ass. Then the quick slaps in succession followed as you began laughing maniacally.

"Finally!" You said as you grabbed at them again. Rafayel finally reacted, rolling onto the couch to get away from your hands. You were practically panting as your hands twitched, "Come on Raf, lemme just squeeze em again."

"You are a psychopath." He said, hiding his ass from your view.

"I'm your psychopath though." Despite how horrified Rafayel looked, he was also amused by your antics. He grabbed at your arm, making you fall forward and your chest pressing against his own. His hands went to grab at your ass this time, squeezing them and laughing.

"You know, I think I'm seeing the appeal of this." He commented, his hands lazily hitting your ass cheeks like you had to him, although he was far more calm about it.

"See, it's amazing...now can I go back to playing with your butt? I wasn't done yet."

"I think not...although this has given me an idea. Do you mind if I paint your backside?"

"You wanna paint on my ass?"

"Perhaps."

"...I'll agree if you let me eat your-" Rafayel had never cut you off so quickly.

"Never mind."

The most accurate representation of what we're doing to these poor men. I will not be silenced. Their asses need to be slapped. And ate

[echantedtoon]

YANDERE DEMONS AND BRIDES

Been thinking about this for a while now and I don't know if it counts as yandere but it is how the demons take a bride (or husband for the lady demons unless you also want to imagine that it's a lady.)Yeah. I know old trope but I really like this trope and I wanted to make headcannons for the Upper Moons. I think they'd all have a certain main element fueling that desire for their specific Bride(or Groom for the ladies).

When it comes to the lady demons like Nakime I'll leave Y/n's gender up in the air for anyone to interpret if the ladies also get a wife or if you prefer them to get a husband.

Warnings for yandere-ish (???) themes, kidnapping mentions, possibly death mentioned, mentioned wounds and scars, mentioned illness, mentioned bad vision, etc.

If any of these warnings upset you pls don't read. I will be including Daki/Ume in the line up as part of Gyutaro's part but she will be strictly PLATONIC yandere!! Absolutely NO romance between her and reader!! And her parts will be minor.

KOKUSHIBO:

HARBORMENT

-You have to be a very specific kind of person to attract this man's attention. I think it'd most likely be one of two things that guarantee his bold interest. 1. you are a reincarnation of his wife or 2. you remind him of someone he used to love long ago but never could have especially if you were close to/was with Yoriichi. But whatever the case he finds himself taken by your familiar being.

-He doesn't even know why he bothers with it. But he can't help but watch you from afar. The old feelings resurfacing. He tells himself that it doesn't matter anymore. Most likely you wouldn't remember him even if you were a past lover, and even if you did you'd most likely believe him dead by now or want nothing to do with him.

-He is perfectly content with just watching you live out your life. He's learnt so much about you through just secretly watching. He learns your favorite tea, you love long walks at morning, you work just around the corner at a tailor shop.

-He's content until it no longer becomes enough. He starts to wonder. Do you still smile the way you used to? Do you still wear the same sweet perfume you did back then? He walks into your work one day in disguise. You weren't there being so late, but he ends up buying a Jacket you personally tailored.

-Muzan definitely knows about you. He knew the exact moment Kokushibo saw you. He just doesn't care and sorta lets Kokushibo get away with it being his most loyal demon. He doesn't allow his obsession to interfere with his missions and in turn Muzan is idgaf.

-He is a very traditional man and believes in courting a woman before marriage. In his mind you both are still married/together, he just needs to make you aware of it again. So he starts leaving small gifts for you when you're not around.

-At first you're confused but you think it's just a harmlessly sweet gesture from a secret crush. A few flowers on your doorstep every other night, maybe a small gift of a necklace or hair pin, however your quickly get freaked out when the gifts get TOO personal.

-You came to work one day and was freaked out when your boss handed you a decorative vase an 'admirer' left you for you after he overheard you mentioning it. (You only ever mentioned it once to you boss in private with no one else around.) Your boss is also slightly confused since they also hadn't mentioned that to anyone.

-You freak out more than ever when you come home and find a pair of wedding rings and a shiromuku(wedding kimono) laid out perfectly on your bed.

-Kokushibo sees nothing wrong with his behavior. As in his mind you both are still together, you are still his woman, and he's going to reclaim what is his own. This is just letting you know what he expects. He can't comprehend you'd be against this.

-He's not allowing you to go, especially after he lost you last time to his brother's affections. Whether these affections were platonic friendship or romantic lovers is up to you, but his internalized inferiority, jealousy, obsession, and greed won't allow him to let you go.

-You shriek when you first see him reveal himself. He doesn't understand why you're reacting like this. Don't you recognize your husband? You can't get away. He's holding you to him in an embrace as you freak out.

"Death may have stolen you from me..but I will deny the reaper of his claim to you once again."

DOUMA:

EMOTIONS

-Again you have to be very specific for these men to even consider taking you as a bride. For Douma, it'd be because of the way you make him actually feel things.

-However this ends up happening or when it does is entirely a thing all of its own but for the sake of not making this a mountain of a post, we'll leave that part up to whatever you interpret for now.

-The problem is that he has legit NO idea of what he's even feeling. He's never felt adoration, anger, happiness, etc so how is he supposed to know what this fluttery strange feeling in his chest is?

-So for a long while even he's not aware of his growing obsession with you. He just knows these feelings are not bad. He knows these feelings are coming from you. So somehow he deduced that you are the problem for his new predicaments.

-For this reason he has you looked over by the cults resident healer in case you're using some kind of sickness or chemistry stuff on him. Gets more confused when you are perfectly fine. Nevermind that demons couldn't get sick.

-You become weirded out by how clingy and stalkerish he's suddenly become overnight. He's not even aware he's doing it and if he is he doesn't care really. He just knows you're the cause of the fuzzy warmth in his chest and he's starting to like it.

-The only chance for you to escape is now while he's still confused on what he's feeling. Afterwards it's too late.

-EVERYONE notices his behavior and there's a mixed reaction to it all. Some congratulate you which you're so confused on and some express their happiness to their founder. Douma is just even more confused at it all. Eventually someone notices his confusion and asks him about it, then proceeds to explain what's he's feeling because he's not so sure himself.

-This revolution is mind blowing to him. He's literally the shocked Pikachu meme.

-In his mind as he thinks about it, technically he's been already courting you for nearly a year now. Showering you in affection and gifts and treating you like the goddess you were. So the next logical step would be marriage and that thought actually has him giddy at the thought of you in a shiromuku.

-You've been giving him subtle hints that you're uncomfortable the entire time but he either flat out ignores it or it just flies over his head.

-He randomly wakes you up in the middle of the night and asks if you're not busy the next day.

You blink at the shadowy creepily happy smiling figure too tired to comprehend the gravity of the situation. "I think?"

"Alright." He's silent for a moment. "I made us an appointment with a local priest."

You mumble a nothing response, still on the brink of sleep.

"Just remember to take the day off," he presses. "Hello? Are you there?"

"Uh huh." Your eyes won't even stay open.

"It's settled then. We'll get married tomorrow." He claps happily as he makes his leave. "Go back to sleep now, Lotus blossom."

He leaves and you breathe a sigh of relief as you snuggle into your bed again-

You jolt up. Did he say married?

AKAZA:

FAMILIARITY

-Akaza has never, has not, and never will harm a woman. He himself is unsure of his past where this stems from but he feels a familiarity to something deep but distant when he first meets you.

-You either are dealing with a similar illness Koyuki experienced, or you're a demon slayer whom had to retire due to injuries. Let's go with the second option for this one.

-Akaza had randomly heard recently that a demon slayer had to retire and was currently in the area he was in. He's always looking for a good fight so it's not a no brainer he'd seek you out. What he doesn't know was that this particular retired slayer was a woman. He doesn't realize this even when he first sees you until you horrified and scared seeing a demon in your home confirms that you are indeed the person he's looking for.

-Akaza is shocked. Not at the fact that there's a lady slayer (he's seen plenty of strong lady slayers) but at how you look. He's never seen a woman covered in so many wounds and scars even amongst other slayers. He's so stunned he asks you about it. You're more confused on why he doesn't outright end you, but you answer his question to avoid provoking him. An entire gang of demons has ganged up on you and if it weren't for a Haishira you'd be dead. However your current state left you unable to continue.

-He's angry. About a lot of things. How dare those lowlifes! HE'S obviously not gonna be getting a fight here. There's no way to release this anger- You're stunned as the angry demon just leaves without another word, but he takes it out on some rocks some miles away.

-Akaza ends up swinging by much to your growing horror and worry. He never comes close or makes threatening actions towards you, but you've seen him multiple times staring into your window or you'd see him in the distance barely visible through the darkness. It always freaks you out.

-Akaza doesn't mean to scare you, he just can't help but be curious about you. He finds himself thinking about you and your poor condition a lot. For some reason it pangs his heart seeing you limp about knowing it's permanent to your walking pattern or get angry when he sees people stare at you funny. He even ended a man who insulted your beauty by calling your battle scars unattractive not that you had any idea. He just..feels an odd need to give you care. It feels so... familiar. Second nature.

-He's just so entranced by you. Your smile, your gently nature, your kindness- Despite your losses and bad treatment you still treat everyone so gently. It makes his heart race with something so familiar yet so foreign.

-Reality shatters for him when he hears of your arranged marriage. After returning you had to move back with family who were all horrified to your condition. Their logic was that you needed to get married like a sensible woman and you should be grateful someone was willing to put up with you as a wife.

-In Akaza's view no one would ever treat you like you deserved. He knew he could care for you like he did for-... Someone that makes his head fog. HE CAN'T LET HIM TAINT HER SMILE. If you needed a husband to provide for you then he's happy to step in. Don't be surprised when you wake up to him carrying you out the window.

"Anything that is gold is often buried beneath where everyone's minds skim over without a second thought. You won't have your gold tainted to rust by another."

GYUTARO(+PLATONIC UME/DAKI):

EQUALITY

-Let's be fair. Gyutaro (and Ume/Daki) were never treated as an equal. He was always treated like a piece of garbage (and Ume a pretty doll) so he's gotten used to the fact that he's just destined for that.

-So he's surprised when his sister just starts yapping about another girl in her workplace. It's not out of the ordinary for her to talk about other girls mostly complaining about them or demanding he do something about it. But he's surprised that she's not complaining but gushing about how she made a friend....What?

-Gyutaro.wav is confused af

-She proceeds to proudly gush to her brother about how this girl 'actually knows her place' and 'knows how beautiful Daki is without even needing to know her.'

-Gyutaro.exe is VERY confused af

-She notices his blank stare and scoffs in annoyance. "She's visually impaired you dolt! Honestly it wouldn't be much of a difference if she was actually blind." Oh. Well now he's less confused. Turns out you're new to the house Daki is currently working in and she had originally planned on eating you outta jealousy, however changed her mind when you complimented her voice.

-Daki.wav is now confused. She was used to being complimented on everything from her beauty to her hair to her walking even but her voice? It was then she learnt you weren't blind but you might as well be with how bad your vision actually was seeing everything in colorful blurs. This confuses her. Confused her enough to spare you that night and instead you both just sorta awkwardly talked casually. You politely asked her what it was like to be a famous oiran and if she had any tips for make up as you couldn't see well enough to tell if yours was good.

-You had spoken to her without fear, or condensending, or even any flat out adoration. It was just as if she was another person on the street and not a cannibalistic monster. Honestly it was ..nice. Hella confusing but actually nice for once being treated like another. She decides she will not eat you. After all it wouldn't harm anyone if you couldn't see the red flags in front of you, and you believe her anyways when she said she's beautiful.

-She decides you are her default friend and you now listen to all her problems and tantrums whenever she wants. You gently listen awkwardly sometimes with a frown after you hear she had punished another worker. However there's very little people here nice to you and her reputation alone has kept troublemakers away from you so you decide her friendship is worth more than the cons of not having it.

-She's very territorial over her one friendship. Almost toxically so. If you want something you had BETTER get it within the day or there's hell to pay! If there's a customer you don't particularly like he had BETTER find another girl. No is not an option. Even the house master is scared of her so all complies.

-Gyutaro has legit no idea of what to think of this but his logic is whatever his precious baby sister wants she gets so if you make her happy being her friend then he'll leave you alone and leave her too it. He hasn't met you yet tho. Most of the time he's either out hunting or asleep dormant in Daki's body. Sometimes he heard you two talking but tuned it out as it was mostly boring or his sister complaining to you again. You two completely meet by accident.

-One day he came back from hunting, the two had to split as it'd look suspicious if she suddenly disappeared, so as usual he went to go clean up the mess. The two were just talking when the door suddenly opens and they both freeze as you stand there smiling. Turns out you had just come to say good night to Daki and didn't even see the demon in front of you. However you are barely able to make out a second blurry figure in the darkness. It prompts you to apologize for interrupting her and her customer to which both relax from their tense posture remembering you couldn't actually tell there was a six foot something demon in front of you.

-Daki is prompted to scoff and explain that it wasn't a customer but her brother visiting. In turn Gyutaro is stunned as you genuinely smile his way and greet him like he was another friend. It quickly becomes awkward as he just stares. His brain can't compute a girl(a pretty girl at that) was smiling and talking to him normally. He answers in grunts and quickly leaves the awkward scene.

-Is later shocked weeks later when his sister informs him that you sometimes ask her how her brother is doing. He's not used to having anyone think of him so nicely even as a second thought. The way he reacts gives Daki the idea of making her brother come out to again meet you. (She forces him out and doesn't let him merge until he meets you again.) He's shocked at how you still genuinely are kind to him offering him tea and asking if he'd like to hear you play the shamisen.

-Man becomes fastly smitten by you. With so much touch starvation and affection denial he has it was inevitable. You suspect he might like you by the stutters of his floundering voice but out of respect to your friend you remain casual and never bring it up to either of them when they visit you.

-You've got two demons utterly obsessed with you for both two different reasons. Daki is unwilling to lose her only friend. In her mind NO ONE is allowed to be friends with you! She's the best! So she's your best and only friend! She's very possessive over things she sees as hers and you're no exception. She even was jealous of Gyutaro's affections for you at first but quickly realized it would be easier to share her big brother with you. They share practically everything else anyways. She still gets annoyed when he takes your attention for too long tho. You were her friend first!

-Gyutaro is obsessed with the way you treat him. The way you don't back away from him when he gets close. The way you smile at him. The way you don't treat him like the scum of the earth. He's a very possessive man, even more than his sister. Any visiting customers you have are never seen again. Any present or past he finds out about are quickly taken as his dinner for daring to touch what's his.

-If he doesn't get them then Daki will. She eliminates any threat within the house. Any servant who stares at you with disdain or someone who gets too friendly is swiftly delt with.

-You're hella confused when the house master says he is cursed with many runaway workers.

-Both absolutely FREAK when they return to the house and You're not there anymore. Daki realizes this first when she goes to see you and finds you GONE! All of your belongings are gone and your room is empty. Practically tears the house apart looking for you and calling your name. Her panic wakes up her brother concerned she's in danger but also freaks out when she informs him you're GONE! She goes to the house master after not finding you anywhere else and DEMANDS they tell her where you are with murder in her eyes.

-Turns out a man had bought your marriage contract after watching a show of yours playing the shamisen and singing. You were relieved to be leaving and had left with him after waiting for an hour to say goodbye but your friend never showed up.

-Both are HORRIFIED and ENRAGED!

-Daki ends the house master in a rage as her brother appears. It's not too hard to find you being lead by your soon-to-be husband leading you towards the train station. Had they been ten minutes late then you would've been completely out of the E-District.

-Instead you're quickly absorbed into Daki's belt as her brother violently rips the man apart in a blind rage. You aren't going to leave your best friend behind and he wasn't going to let another man have your hand.

"I'm your friend! Don't you get that?!"

"I'll cut down anyone who tries to hurt my precious sister or take you from me. You're mine."

KAIGAKU:

GREED

-This man and Kokushibo are similar. Both have inferiority issues against younger brothers(Ik technically Zenitsu n him aren't brothers but bare with me) being better than them in swordsmanship one way or another. With Yoriichi and Kokushibo it was more complicated. Between Kaigaku and Zenitsu it was that ONE Thunder Breathing technique he never conquered.

-His inferiority and greed has caused him to make so many bad decisions (if you've read the manga or read his wiki then you know what I mean). He's not one to want to be out done even if he has to resort to underhanded tactics.

-You both met when he was still human and training under Master Jigoro. You were a simple healer often just helping patch him and Zenitsu up after training. He's annoyed and often doesn't give you a second thought that is until Zenitsu starts running his mouth obviously. He asks you to marry him ten minutes after you both just met.

-Kaigaku has known you for a few years longer than Zenitsu because he's older and came to train here before Zenitsu but you both have never been close before. He's short with you when you talk otherwise he's usually quiet. You talk to him anyways even if he never answers back. You're used to it.

-He hates how you just patiently laugh off any and all attempts Zenitsu makes to you. Why are you tolerating that idiot?!(Nevermind you also tolerate him and his stupid attitude.) He gets jealous of your interactions and how Zenitsu is just finding over you before he meets Nezuko. He barely sees you after his final selection and becoming a slayer but his furious mind boils over at the thought of you spending more time ALONE with Zenitsu before he too goes to his Final selection.

-With both Zenitsu and Kaigaku gone, and Jigoro insisting he can take care of himself, you're reassigned to a different residence where multiple slayers pass through. Ironically it's where Kaigaku is. All good and bad feelings punch him at once seeing your smiling face again as you stitch up his most recent wound.

-He likes you so much and how you treat him, but he's internally enraged when you share that kindness with anyone outside of him. Hearing you speaking to him about Zenitsu and your other patients only enrages that boiling point. However it only reaches that point when you inform the ever silent man about your own slayer fiance you met through your patients.

-You're sad when one day Kaigaku stops showing up for a long while. News of his betrayal and Jigoro's death really hadn't reached a lot of people with all the Haishira and slayers training for the final fight in the Infinity Castle. Your slayer fiance included.

-You do however receive news of your fiance's mysterious gruesome death at the hands of a demon. You're more heartbroken when you also hear of Jigoro's death. Devastated and crying your heart out over your loss. However those sobs turn to screams when you're face to face with blackened eyes of death as a sinister smile.

"What are you crying for? It's his own fault."

NAKIME:

SHARED INTEREST

-(Ok. Bare with me. Ive never written for her before and even researching her backstory this is probably not going to be very long and ooc. Take as platonic or romantic.) Let me start by saying that she does not get out much. Like at all. So you two really don't meet face to face.

-She discovers you by accident when she opened a door in a busy street and happened to see you sitting on the side of the road also playing a biwa for money.

-She hasn't seen another fellow biwa player for a while and decided to keep the doorway open for a while to listen.

-You are not very good with the biwa. Your playing isn't bad it's just not the best. Nakime knows this but considering she's never met another person or heard another instrument for a long time she can't help but get interested. Learns quickly that you are a lot better playing the shamisen than the biwa and always opens a small window or doorway on nights she knows you're gonna be sitting on your corner playing.

-She starts to think about teaching you how to play the biwa and doing a duet as you play your shamisen next to her biwa. Starts to really like the idea of permanently having your company in the castle.

-She doesn't really abduct you until after a show a drunk patron steals your instrument and smashes it on the ground laughing at your crying face.

-A loud strum of a biwa is heard as both you AND the drunk man is teleported. You're shocked to suddenly find yourself on a platform with a woman sitting right across from you. The drunk man was also teleported. She teleported him to where she knew a gang of newly turned hungry demons were.

"Apologies for the sudden introductions however it seems you need a change of residence."

GYOKKO:

CREATIVITY

-(I don't like him too much but ik there's a lot of people who do and can't find content for him same as those who like Nakime so I'll include him too for all you Gyokko fans.) Mans is a baby. Very sensitive to his projects being insulted even if they deserve to be called that, most either are 'too dumb to notice his great skills' or always insult him. When in reality his art is so gruesome that people can't help but he horrified by it or insult him. The only one who seems to get him is Douma which is why he gifted him the pot but they aren't really friends.

-He meets you by complete accident. He was out too late and ended up deciding to hide in a pottery worker's shop. He likes to sneak around and spy on other artists anyways. His pot was sun proof and all he had to do was duck inside and wait until night again. However he wasn't counting on being bought.

-You had come in looking for a new vase to decorate your table after your old one accidentally broke. You happened to spot Gyokko's and completely fell in love with how pretty it was! The purest white you've ever seen with beautifully perfectly painted flowers and leafy vines. The pottery worker doesn't even remember making this piece but a paying customer was a paying customer so he sold you Gyokko's vase.

-Gyokko is absolutely offended by the pottery worker claiming his vase as his own and plans to end him later...But he also is very intrigued by the bold compliments you gave so he decides not to end you yet.

-When night comes he sneaks out to find quite a sight. Turns out you are also an artist sorta. You make custom jewelry and clothing for people, and baskets on the side. He's intrigued and extends his body around to look closely at all of the fabrics laid about, and written patterns, and little pieces of jewels ready to be put together for a simple but pretty piece to wear.

-He ends up going from the back of your shop to the front finding a lot of finished pieces of yours displayed and ready for sale. He's very intrigued by the kimonos. All of the patterns are individually sewn on. Cherry blossoms, storks, flowers- All are sewn on thread after thread by hand. It's like a canvas but made of fabric with thread as the paint. He's seen a LOT of kimonos but the attention to detail and precision to the likeness of the real thing was truly remarkable. For a woman.

-He decides since you really hadn't been a nuisance and complimented his work then he'll not end you for taking his pot. Instead of taking his pot with him, he leaves it and teleports to a different pot that way he can still sneak into your home without a problem.

-This goes on for two years. He'll pop in every so while when you sleep and look around for an hour or two before leaving. There was always different dresses displayed with different beautiful scenes sewed into them or he'd see one you were working on on your workshop bench. The needle paused in sewing the stripes of a tiger or the veins of a leaf.

-One day he comes back but hides in the pot because you're working late and tending to a customer who needed a dress for a ceremony. As you both talk the customer compliments 'your pot' and asks why you never put flowers in it. You answer- "I don't want to damage it by filling it with water or having rose thorns scratch it's inside. Besides it's beautiful enough by itself."

-As if this man didn't have enough of a big ego- This happens around the start of the second year and he ends up fond of this fellow artist. He gets the idea of gifting you another case to gage your reaction. This time you find a deep blue pot with waves painted onto it. You're unsure of where it came from but you might up moving it by the first vase mumbling to yourself about how pretty it was! Man's ego skyrockets.

-You are confused when you thank your friends for the pretty gifts only to be told they didn't make any of the ones you have. You get more confused when you start finding pots left on your doorstep two or three times a month. You never see who leaves them but you're so taken by how each one is so pretty that you never complain. Just assuming it was a secret admirer. Gyokko's ego boosts higher when he sees you had gotten two big shelves and placed them up to be displayed. He loves seeing you light up when you look at them excited for when the next one arrives.

-You're happiness seems to be improving your work too as Gyokko ends up find you making full on landscapes on your dresses. He notices you've suddenly become happier and giddier lately and blushing even but he doesn't think it's anything other than your adoration for his craft.

-Confused when one day he finds no new dresses being made except for an absolutely beautiful shiromuku in the process of being made. He assumes you've been paid to make a bride her ceremonial dress. He has absolutely no idea of the real reason behind this behavior until he comes back earlier one night and is shocked to find YOU wearing the dress to try it out as another friend of yours does your makeup testing out what colors would look best with you in the dress.

-Seeing you in your own homemade bridal piece and your face dolled up is like he's looking upon living artwork. He's in awe as you both giddily talk about your wedding-..Wait. Wot? You're telling your friend all about how the pottery maker you had originally bought your first vase from had fallen for you and came forward to be your secret admirer leaving all of the vases as gifts.

W H A T?!

-Gyokko is ENRAGED!! How dare that lowlife claim his precious skills as his own!? More so how dare he use it to trick this beloved artist into letting him marry you?! He was claiming all his hard work!! He's becomes more enraged when you mentioned that your fiance wanted you to retire from your craft and be a stay at home wife after you marry. A mantra of "Oh over his dead body" is repeated over in his head as he temporarily disappears to take care of a problem.

-Soon after your friend leaves you're smiling at yourself in a mirror only to freeze in horror and shriek out as something monstrous comes clawing out of the first ever face you've ever gotten. People are horrified and shocked when they find your fiance dead and you no where to be found.

"Art is a beauty in of itself. However there are few people who can truly appreciate you as such."

Hoo boy that was a lot. I'm gonna do a part 2 with Hantengu since that guy needs to be tackled along with clones on his own post and a part 3 with the lower moons. Hope you all enjoyed this.

[suguwu]

this is messy but—

it’s been years since the flames dabi set in his father’s office turned on him. set their sparking teeth in his skin and refused to let go. it’s been years, but his scars never let him forget. 

he’s out of prison now, but for all his counselor talks a big game, he can’t find a job. so instead, when the noise is too much, he takes refuge at the little flower shop around the corner from his rehabilitation center. 

the mist in the air feels good on his scars and cools him off and the scent of earth is grounding. brings him back into his own skin. he lingers but never buys anything but you—the owner—never seems to chase him out.

you smile at him and bob your head in greeting before returning back to the bouquet you're making. it's like you trust him. maybe you do.

one day, he's running a finger over a leaf of a flower, one that blushes like the dawn, sweet, soft pink. he's afraid to touch a silken petal; thinks it will rot beneath his clumsy fingers, considering the way it ripples like a wave in the barest breeze.

"ranunculus."

he glances over his shoulder at you. "bless you."

you laugh.

"the flower," you explain. "it's called a ranunculus."

"oh."

"here," you say, picking one out of the bucket it's tucked into. the water sloshes; it gleams on the long, thick stem of the flower. "hold that for a second."

he blinks as you shove the flower into his hands. then you're plucking more flowers from nearby buckets, your hands moving like fluttering little birds. you gather more and more, until he can barely see you behind the greenery and the blooms. he recognizes some: proud, leggy irises; fluffy ball peonies, as white as driven snow; crimson tulips so dark they're almost black.

"c'mon," you say, heading towards your worktable. he follows, feeling a little ridiculous carrying a single bloom versus your meadow-like armful. you lay your wares out on the table and beckon him closer. he holds out the ranunculus. you flick off the end of the stem with your knife. he hovers, unsure.

"well?" you say. "are you gonna sit?"

he eyes you. you meet his gaze steadily, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips.

"feel bad for me?" he sneers. "that why you're being so nice?"

you hum.

"is putting you to work nice?" you ask, already on to the next flower. he watches the way you hold the knife, how it shines silver in the sunlight, how easily it slides through the thick stem. those hands of yours move with careful surety. he wonders if you do origami; he could see you creasing a thick piece of ornamental paper perfectly.

"i wouldn't call this work."

"no? then you shouldn't mind doing it."

he shoves his hands into his pockets. the misters turn on over the flower buckets; some of the spray settles against his skin, as if he's by the sea.

"fine," he says. "show me."

at the end of the day, you insist on paying him, despite the fact that he's cut a few of the stems too short—one of your bouquets is a little lopsided, but you have it displayed with all the others—and ruined a few blooms. there are petals stuck to his fingertips.

he goes home smelling of wet loam and your faint perfume. rei blinks her big doe eyes at his sudden appearance at the family dinner table, but she makes space for him all the same.

he goes back to your shop the next day. you smile at him, soft and pretty and a little bit sharp with knowing, and he ducks further into his hoodie so you can't see his scars.

"show me more," he tells you.

you tilt your head.

"alright," you say. "let's go."

and just like that, he has a job.

he makes it three weeks before he thinks about kissing you.

it's your hands, he thinks. they're careful and quick and fearless, despite getting pierced by thorns and clippers alike. you touch everything with a certain type of care.

including him.

he never had a chance against you. he thinks about your hands, about your lips, about the way you're so careful with him. not like he's breakable. he'd have left if you touched him like that.

no, you touch him the same way you touch your flowers: like he means something.

it's too much.

he stops going to your shop.

but he watches you, sometimes. you move like a dream, floating between the aisles, petals caught on your fingertips. you laugh with your customers; you chat with them as you roll their bouquets up tight in paper, tied off with a perfect bow. you smile at a man, as bright as the sun, and his hands tighten into fists. it pulls the scars tight enough to hurt, but he doesn't care.

he barges into the shop, shouldering the man aside as he tries to exit. ignores the disgruntled call from behind him. by the time he makes it to the register, you're watching him coolly.

he realizes he doesn't know what to say.

you reach out. he lets you slide that careful hand into the hood of his hoodie; lets you cup his cheek. your eyes don't widen at the rough texture of his scars against your skin. you simply smile at him.

"welcome back," you say, and he realizes he doesn't need to say anything at all.

[moodymisty]

Part 1

Author's note: I love him

Relationships: Mortarion/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mortarion's confession, NSFW flashback in the beginning with male masturbation, vomit (nonsexual and unrelated to NSFW scene), gross Morty body stuff, he has zero rizz

The repeated hiss of his respirator is heavy in the stagnant air of the hall, only occasionally losing its smooth crescendo and decline when his throat hitches. His breathing has never been normal- he stopped caring about that sort of thing long ago.

Pale eyes glance around again.

You should be here by now; But he spots nothing familiar.

Did you decide- to for the first time since he first cast his eyes on you- to disobey him? Did something else distract you?

His mind fills with imagery of you wandering off somewhere else, to someone else- and in an impulsive fit of doubt he decides that he would have one of his men drag you here if need be.

He could, and if anything the behavior would be expected of him. Encouraged. You don't make the Pale King wait.

But yet... He waits- patiently- eyes flicking to the entryway every twenty seconds or so. A primarch standing around like a beaten dog waiting for it's master.

Embarrassing.

Attempting to clear his throat Mortarion shifts beneath his clothes, feeling the way they almost stick to his skin. He bathed himself relatively recently by his standards- though instead of the stick of grime and dirt, it's the catch of dried sweat from no less than an hour ago.

He can still feel that sensation in the back of his head, the aftershocks of thoughts and actions forbidden. He hates how this one has lingered. They've all begun to.

His cock throbbed, leaking over his gaunt, pale fingers and making his shaft slicker- and the feeling even more pleasant.

He covered his face full of a warranted shame, grunting and huffing as he ground into his own hand like some sort of feral street dog. His knees cracked, his back ached- he imagined the callused give of his hand was warmer, wetter, tighter- squeezing around him. Pushing back. Trying to push him out; The difference in size too great. The way he was bent made the imagery more vivid, like you were pinned underneath him.

If he closed his eyes tight enough, he could just picture it, though the image was just out of reach- his fingertips ghosting the very edge but unable to grasp it.

He stained the fabric of his bed once he was done, shoving it into the fireplace to burn. No one will ever see the scattering of fabric that is yet burned, nor would they question it even if they did.

How much farther can he let himself fall? Enough that he's found himself overtaken by desires that he once thought were pointless- inconvenient and only satiated out of maintenance, desperate for something he knows he cannot have?

Maybe... Perhaps if he-

If you refuse him, he can abandon this entire pursuit- throw himself back into his work and give not a single thought to you again. You could leave The Endurance and he wouldn't even know you were gone, lost among an endless sea of pointless existences.

Because he can't... he can't keep doing this.

It's consuming his mind- You are consuming his mind.

You eat away at it like a disease bent on devouring him more than the poisons of Barbarus ever have; At least they never impeded with his mental capacity.

As you do right now- your soft eyes eat away at his dried, scarred skin like a flesh eating plague as you come to stand before him, and now his tongue feels as if it's made of lead.

He called you here- coming to you would seem too desperate- and your first words had been to apologize if you had offended him. A smart intuition, because you did offend him; You offended him by refusing to leave his mind, you offended him by refusing to leave him be in the sanctity of his warship, you offended him by offering him what he can only describe as pity.

But pity wears away; You've stayed, endured where your fellows left. For what reasons kept you going? Kept you here? He'd like to know.

"I," Mortarion hesitates for a moment. "I wish to speak to you about a particular matter."

This is it. He is just going to do it. Just get over this, and if you refuse? if you run away from him in fear or disgust? He's down his last remembrancer.

boo hoo. He never wanted them anyhow.

His rusty armor clunks against each other as he shifts. You watch him with expectancy, a soft look on your face that has Mortarion almost at a loss for words, if only for a moment.

He should take off his respirator for this.

It's clunky, gets in the way, he feels like it muffles his speech and baseline humans have trouble understanding him. Their paltry hearing, though it is fact. Though he's never remembered you having an issue with it.

He can feel your eyes watching keenly as he starts to unfasten in, accidentally tangling his hair a bit at the nape of his neck. He hears the hiss as it unseals, and he pulls it away from his face to fasten it to his belt. He feels ok, and takes on full breath of cool Terran air before opening his mouth to let the first unmuffled word pass.

But before a single word can leave his lips he instantly rips into a massive cough, covering his mouth with his hands. He feels spittle and blood from popped blood vessels hit his palms, and his ribs shift uncomfortably as he keels over. He can feel the way his lungs are ripping themselves apart, filling with blood and mucus. The next cough sends him to his knee, his leg plating hitting the ground hard enough to crack the tile beneath him.

He can barely make out your expression standing before him as tears prick the corners of his eyes, and another burst of coughs tear at his throat like the claws of a gauntlet.

You look horrified.

He tries with all his might to tense his throat and halt the hacking, but only manages to suck in just enough breath that it brushes the back of his throat and makes it all worse.

You take a step closer to him, but it's clear there's nothing you can do to help him.

"L-Lord Mortarion! Are you-"

From the incessant coughing his throat seizes up so much, his stomach muscles ache in pain, and he feels a familiar rising warmth in his face and mouth.

No. No no no no no-

Fulgrim's banquet feast from the night before suddenly rises in his throat, then his mouth, and before he can even try stopping it- it's running through his fingers and all over the floor with a disgusting splatter.

After harsh fit of coughing wracks his body, slowly feeling the ache in his chest of his lungs finally healing before it finally secedes; He wipes his eyes to see you standing and staring at him in shock, the primarch's dinner all over the floor in front of you.

Mortarion has had a long life; Longer that yours, by a decent margin. Embarrassment was never something he dealt with.

Now, he feels like he is quite literally going to explode. If the ground were to open up and swallow him, he would probably acquiesce to his fate with little complaint.

No one would miss him. Plus he's sure Garro and Typhon would manage just fine without him.

"Are..."

You look at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape. He can see your lips twitch as you try to find the words. He perhaps would understand if your little brain couldn't find any.

"...Are you ok?"

He doesn't quite know how to answer that question, honestly.

His lungs have degraded and rebuilt themselves enough to breathe this cool, poison-less air, and while he had anticipated some coughing, he failed to remember just how... Intense, it could get.

He should have known eating last night was a mistake.

You just seem worried, however- looking at him like he's going to fall right over hands outstretched towards him. You look at him like he's sick, but sick in a way that would could in theory help.

You take a step forward, much to his surprise; Though of course not close enough to risk slipping.

By the Throne- the half thought of that crosses his mind and he wants to cast his own head into his bedchamber's fireplace.

"I-" Mortarion lets out another brief cough; Of which thankfully doesn't lead into another fit. "I am fine."

He is fine- his lungs have adjusted and the air doesn't burn his throat, but you don't seem to take his words seriously. With the deftness of your thin fingers you unwrap the shawl around your shoulders, handing it to him.

"...Here."

He doesn't get what you mean by this at first, staring at the patterned fabric like it in some way offended him. You gesture it out to him again, and he then realizes you're offering it to him to clean up, of which he then begrudgingly grabs, before wiping the bile out of the corners of his mouth and fingers.

The soft fabric of your clothing now destroyed, he balls it up in his fist and holds onto it, discontent to ever dare try and return it to you soiled.

"Lets, lets get you something to drink. I would think you might need one right about now..."

You reach to grasp his hand- the clean one- and try to pull him along, of which he allows, surprisingly.

He lets himself get toted along by someone half his size; A pathetic sight.

He continues to let it happen until you find a serf you can order to get some water, and Mortarion can shirk off to clean his hand and face.

His mouth doesn't taste like bile anymore, at least.

When he sees you again after he's cleaned up, there's an odd look on your face. Your wring your wrists nervously.

"...You were going to say something?" You look at him expectantly, before clarifying. "Before you started coughing, you... You said you wanted to talk to me. What was it?"

He had.

He had wanted to tell you how he felt, and instead he had humiliated himself by coughing blood and vomit all over the floor. He displayed right in front of you that he is a broken, sick and decayed excuse for a man; He was built for death and war, not... this. The fact that he's even allowed himself to make a fool out of himself like this is an embarrassment to the entire legion and reputation he's crafted.

How you could ever look at him the way he so boldly, pathetically, desperately wishes when he- a primarch- just displayed what a vile excuse for a human he is?

Mortarion swallows thickly like there's a literal knot in his throat, before just turning around and walking away.