#SOMETHING. DON'T LET THEM ASSUME THEY AREN'T GOOD ENOUGH

[romantic-misty]

about this kind of posts... I finally have to say smth because I'm annoyed both ways:

(sorry OP, I don't wanna offend you - I wanna offend some sort of ppl)

you shouldn't tell people your (actually human's) basic needs, if you need to beg for bare minimum it's not your fault they don't show effort nor even ask anything because it doesn't cross their mind to do simplest things somehow, they're just egoistic non caring assholes and you repeating yourself won't help much

some ppl can't truly guess some stuff which means they also can not question you on the matter they have no idea about so sure! speak your mind - tell 'em what you like and hopefully they will understand and remember - nobody is a telepath and you should inform others about your thoughts from time to time instead of forcing them to always jump around you or else "they don't give a fuck about you" or smth as it's probably untrue

just because EVERYONE doesn't mean you also have to be like this - if someone is manipulating/forcing you to do things you don't wanna because it's "normal" - believe me, it's not and even if - you have a right to be "weird" so different

not everyone has to say YES forever to something, people have moods and change their mind, remember to explain or at least tell someone you aren't in the mood or changed your mind but also don't forget asking each other if someone is into smth at the current moment unless otherwise specified like "you always can hug me unless I tell you to stop" and such, mistakes and accidental crossing boundaries happen but most important thing are good intention and a lot of discussing, don't break someone's trust constantly proving it wasn't a one time thing

if you weren't assertive enough and someone took advantage of you - don't blame yourself for not saying NO (especially if they were constantly making you feel unsafe to actually stop them or brainwashed you into thinking you want this etc.) - they should check if you're fine with smth and not use the fact you froze and was unsure or didn't have time to set certain boundaries, topis should also continue after certain actions and you can go back to it anytime! no matter what others say - it's never too much for the right person <3

you doing something you hate or what even traumatises you to meet someone's needs because it's compromise... no, it's not - if you're not enough for someone doesn't mean smth is wrong with you - it's probably not a match and that is ok! you will be loved elsewhere by being yourself, if someone cares more about their needs than hurting you with them then they're not a good person (yes, it's mostly about sexual needs) - and no, cheating isn't a proof you didn't give them enough, they can always leave but they're cowards and want to have both :)

if you sh or have depression - don't assume no one gives a shit about you just because they don't question you when you say "I'm fine" - harsh truth - even tho I totally understand why you say that phrase still nobody has to do anything besides accepting it - they might feel like you don't wanna talk about it as it's either personal or you don't trust them enough and maybe just prefer to take your mind out of this as topic is triggering so they won't risk making you feel even worse, say the truth or tell them why you don't wanna talk about certain things because lying to people might make them truly believe you, they have their own issues too they can be occupied with, they can be simply tired and even feel hurt that you don't want to open up to them or show their respect in this way and let you have space - you don't know what's in their mind so if you assume smth about them then think how they feel when you decide to hide the truth from them - as I said, you still have reasons and maybe right to but it doesn't make them immediately evil for not doing more/what you want without you actually TELLING them, I know it's hard and scary and some don't even deserve to know but there are those who truly love you and will understand and will help/support you - you're not a burden! I am aware you don't wanna worry anyone but you can as it's part of being a friend/partner/family and if someone acts like an ass towards you by calling you an attention seeker - they are the problem, not you

silent treatment is manipulation and if you try to show you being offended by that instead of trying to talk things through first you are not good, sorry not sorry

balance is everything but ppl don't wanna meet half way EVER so...

your needs motherfucker do you speak them

[lvrsfilm]

contrary to popular belief, Simon Riley does not do casual.

Nothing about him is casual. Nothing about his dedication to his work and his team, the bullets he would disperse and receive for them. Nothing about his routine, the way he shines his boots or folds his uniforms every week like clockwork. He is a cut and dry man, or at least he tries to be.

You, on the other hand, are the opposite of him in so many ways that at a glance people would assume you're the kind of person he hates. (He wishes that was the case, it'd make his life simpler). You bounce around base like a lit firecracker, your fuse sizzling quietly even during missions, never burning out. You never seem to tire, even after the particularly hard ones that leave him mute and holed up in his quarters for hours every day after.

You are casual. Coming to his room whenever you feel like it, knocking in a way that lets him know it's you and no one else. Bringing him tea, or bourbon, the occasional meal if you can convince him. He doesn't see how you can think it's casual. Slipping off your boots, leaving them half laced at his door.

Slipping into his bed. Laying next to him in silence, just so he isn't alone. Bandaging any cuts that aren't severe enough to warrant him going to medical. The soft skin of your hands making practiced movements over his scarred skin that only you've seen. He is not a casual man. And you don't seem to have figured that out yet.

No other man on base interested in you would even entertain the thought of pursuing you, for fear of Simon somehow hearing their thoughts and stringing them up by their necks to show the others what happens if they touch what's his. Everyone else can see the way he looks at you, the way he lets you in.

Everyone except you, apparently.

You don't ask why he lets you in, and he doesn't ask why you keep coming back.

He doesn’t know how to tell you that you’re the first person to make him feel human in a long time. That every soft knock on his door chips away at the walls he’s built, cement crumbling under your touch, a feeling akin to warm liquid gold seeping through the cracks, running over his scar tissue. Like he's a victim of Midas. Exposing him to something he thought he’d buried years ago. You remind him what it’s like to be vulnerable, to crave something more than routine and mission reports.

And it terrifies him.

Because Simon Riley does not do messy, either.

But you? You’re a storm. Chaotic and unpredictable, rushing into his life like you’ve always belonged there. He doesn’t know what to do with you, how to keep you at arm’s length without losing the warmth you bring into his otherwise cold existence. So he lets you in, over and over, even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.

Tonight is no different.

The knock comes—a rhythm so familiar now that it’s practically a lullaby. He already knows it’s you before he opens the door. You’re standing there, as casual as ever in civvies, with that cheeky grin that makes his chest tighten in ways he refuses to name.

“Thought you could use some company,” you say, holding up a thermos of tea like a peace offering.

He steps aside, wordlessly, because what else is he supposed to do? Tell you to leave? Pretend he doesn’t want you here? He’s not that good a liar, not around you.

You slip past him, kicking off your boots, leaving them next to the doorway as always, and make yourself at home like you belong here. Like you belong with him. And maybe you do.

He watches as you set the thermos on his desk and plop onto his bed, laying on your back and stretching like a cat, looking at him expectantly. It’s a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes. An invitation. A promise.

He lays down, careful to leave just enough space between you to keep the illusion of distance. But then you lean into him, shoulder brushing his arm, and the illusion shatters. His resolve crumbles.

“You came straight here when we got back,” you say softly, tilting your head to look at him. “skipped dinner, I saved a plate for you from the mess.”

It’s such a simple statement, but it cuts through him like a blade.

He turns his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours. He looks at you like you're a puzzle he can't solve. Like he needs to figure put your angle, figure out why you're treating him so softly. For a second, the air between you feels impossibly fragile, as if even breathing too hard might shatter it.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says, his voice low, almost gruff, like the admission costs him something.

You tilt your head at him, your lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. “Do what?”

He exhales sharply, as though frustrated, though it’s unclear if it’s with you or himself. “This… whatever it is you’re doing. Looking out for me. Bringing me tea. Sitting here. I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know,” you reply simply, your tone disarming in its honesty. “I do it because I want to.”

The words hang in the air between you, unassuming yet weighty, like they’re daring him to refute them. He doesn’t, because he can’t. You've made up your mind. There’s a stubbornness in your voice that he knows too well—one that he’s realized he has no defense against.

“You shouldn’t,” he mutters after a moment, turning his gaze toward the ceiling. “It’s a waste.”

Your smile falters, just slightly, but it doesn’t vanish. “You’re not a waste.”

He flinches at that, so subtly you might have missed it if you weren’t so attuned to him. His fingers twitch on the mattress, his eyebrows furrowing beneath the mask. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t argue, but his silence says enough. You press your lips together, chewing the bottom corner slightly as you debate whether to push further. You decide to anyway, because that’s what you do.

You grin, a mischievous glint in your eyes, and he knows you’re about to say something cheeky. But instead, you surprise him again by reaching over to touch his hand—just a fleeting brush of your fingers, so brief he almost convinces himself it didn’t happen.

He closes his eyes, his jaw tightening, but he doesn’t pull away. That’s something, you think.

You turn onto your side, facing him fully now, your fingers brushing against the back of his hand. He doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch this time, so you let your touch linger—gentle, steady, unassuming.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you add quietly, almost as if it’s a promise.

When he finally opens his eyes again, there’s something raw and unguarded in his gaze, something that makes your chest ache. He doesn’t say anything—doesn’t thank you, doesn’t argue—but the way his fingers curl ever so slightly against yours feels like an answer.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

chocolate confession ♡

fem reader, part 2 for the ring pop proposal miniseries since yall were asking for it ! fem reader, soft n worried katsu, white day chocolates, katsu n reader r in highschool (ignore the no dorms blehh :P) in this one, this also reeks of my ocxcanon ship msorry yall lolololol, i dont think there are any warnings, but lemme know if i missed sum else !

the first person who realizes katsuki is trying to confess to you is his mom because he hasn't left the kitchen since he'd banished everyone from coming in as soon as the sun peeked through the curtains.

the older woman had no idea what the sounds of pots and pans clanging, mixed with not-so-quiet cursing meant, at first. but she figured it out quickly, call it mother's intuition, or the fact that she checked her calendar and realized tomorrow was white day.

mitsuki knew her son was going to confess to you when he came back from school with a cutely wrapped box of chocolates. her katsuki was still rowdy—if not rowdier and even less approachable than he was as a chubby cheeked little boy, so she guessed by the blush and barely suppressed smile on his face that—

"ouuu, got yourself some chocolates ? aren't you a heartthrob.." she teased "who'd you get those from ?"

katsuki scoffed at his mothers teasing. he rolled his eyes, but they wouldn't—or rather couldn't stray far away from the wrapped sweet treats. he runs his thumb over the ribbon tied in front.

"..yn gave 'em to me." he huffs proudly.

as she guessed, they came from you. of course.

katsuki is still—if not even more protective over everything that involves you, practically growling at his mom's not so sneaky attempts at trying to sneak a chocolate when he had opened the box "yn made 'em for me, so no touchin'." he snarled, stomping over to his room and ignoring his mom's knowing smirk when he made his way up the stairs.

this memory brings her back to now when she suddenly hears..nothing. absolute silence in contrast to all the ruckus from only a few seconds ago. and then the door creaks open just a bit and mitsuki sees her son's head peek out from the corner. she looks up from her magazine to raise a brow in question and the blond boy glares, jolting his head to the side in a silent plea for her to come over.

she saunters to the door, knowing smirk growing wider the more her son's grumpy face comes into view. she gets a peek of her kitchen through the small crack her son allowed her to see. she had to admit, though rowdy, katsuki was anything but messy. even though the dishes piled up, she knew he'd clean them up soon enough. she looks down at him and he avoids eye contact.

"can i come into my kitchen now ?" she smirks. katsuki scoffs at his feet. he grumbles something unintelligible before side stepping and telling her to 'just come in already.'

the woman is greeted with a batch of freshly made chocolates, which she assumes are one's you like if she knew how enamoured her katsuki was with you.

"ouu, who are these for, hm ?" she teased, but if she knew her son well enough she knew that these—

"sh-shut up !" katsuki snapped, cheeks turning red and eyes drifting around the room "you know who.." he challenges. mitsuki smirks wider, crossing her arms.

as she guessed, they're for you.

"okay.." she humors him, shifting her weight to her other leg " and what do you need me to do here ?"

katsuki inhales shortly to himself. he picks up one of the chocolates, not from your tray because those were for you and no one else, but from another tray she hadn't noticed of sloppier batches.

"try this." is all he says. handing her a little piece of deformed chocolate and she plops it into her mouth. she takes the time to let the sweet treat melt on her tongue before letting out a pleased hum. katsuki straightens up and his eyes shine and brighten the slightest bit.

"mhm, these are good." she acknowledged "but why don't i get one of the pretty ones ?" she teases. her katsuki all but scoffs in her face, simply stating that "these are for yn, not you."

and mitsuki realizes. he must've been working for hours trying to make these chocolates perfect for you, she guessed. her heart warms and her eyes soften at her son's adoration for you.

"but the one you gave me is good too, why can't you just give her one of those ?" at that, katsuki shoots her an incredulous look, like she had just told him something utterly unimaginable.

"i can't go around givin' her shitty chocolates ! 'specially not if i.." he trails off suddenly, grumbling with balled fists. he wipes at his cheek to try and wipe off his embarrassment. mitsuki feels her smile practically reach her ears. she's too good at this.

"if you what ?" she sings, leaning towards her son. he grumbles.

"if i—stop looking at me like that ! s'creepy so knock it off !" the blond snapped, face and ears a bright shade of pink and mitsuki can't help but bark out a loud laugh at her son's flustered state, her laugh drowns out the low growl he makes. she decides to spare him after a good giggle.

"okay, okay. i get it." she reassures. because she does, of course she does. but she sees something is wrong with the way her son seems satisfied for only a second before he's chewing at his lower lip and the way he wipes his hands against his pants. she knows her katsuki is extremely hard to handle. he could be quite the brat, but also extremely stubborn (she thinks she might know where he got that from.) so asking him simply what was wrong was out of the question. so she decides to coax him into it.

"you gonna give them to her tomorrow ?" he nods, hiding his eyes with his bangs.

"they're good. so i'm gonna give 'em to her tomorrow." her son nods at his mumbled pep talk, but the tension between his brows doesn't let up and after a moment, he sighs grumpily.

"what if i, like, fuck it up..?" mitsuki's eyes soften at her son's insecurities showing despite himself.

"how would you do that ? all you gotta do is hand them over." she asks softly. katsuki huffs.

"it's not that simple," he retorts "what if i make it weird ? what if i make things between us weird an' she doesn't wanna be with me anymore..." the sad tone of voice and the angry little puppy dog eyes make mitsuki melt, despite growing up a lot. despite being quippy and rowdy and a major brat, her katsuki will always be her little boy tugging at the bag of sweet ring pops he'd begged her to buy at the grocery store. her little boy who smiled a bright determined smile as the bag crinkled in his hand following his proud stomps to the car back home, ready for tomorrow.

a surprised throaty noise escapes katsuki when his mom places a hand in his hair, running her fingers through it. he makes a displeased noise, again, but doesn't try to stop her. mitsuki does realize her son is trying to confess to you with these chocolates, but she's a woman too and she knows you, she's known you since you were small and she knows how much you care about her son. she knows from the way katsuki kept the chocolates to himself, the barely supressed giddiness in all of his actions and the way he took his time enjoying every bite she knows and realizes that these chocolates were most definitely just for him.

and she guessed maybe you were trying to tell him something too.

she knew her katsuki had absolutely nothing to worry about, because you carried you empty ring pop container around with you in your bag and proudly explained it was 'your husband katsu' that gave it to you with a giggle. because you'd kiss his cheek without worrying about the ooh's and the kissy noises, only her son's cherry red cheeks but proud smile. because you'd giggle and laugh when he still called you his wife well into elementary school, and because you still smile so wide at the mention of his little ring pop proposal. and so, she smiled. startling katsuki by rubbing his hair fast like an almost noogie. he growls at the sudden shift, gripping his mother's arm and pulling away with a scowl, rubbing and trying to fix his hair. "the hell are you doin', hag ?!" her son seethed, and all she can do is smile.

"you got nothin' to worry about, katsuki." she says sincerely, the boy's arms drop and altough his barely there pout remains he tries to act tough, raising a brow at her "how do you know that ?"

"call it mother's intuition." her smile widens at his scoff and rolled eyes, he's better at it now and she laughs. " why do you wanna give these to her ?" she urges. he thinks for a moment, before his cheeks burn red again but his eyes go soft and warm and so much more enamoured with you than he was all those years ago in the car.

"cus..i like her.." he confesses "an' i don't want anybody else to do it before me." he finishes bitterly.

he's always been protective of you. any other boy you were paired up with or sat next to when the class seating order changed was considered public enemy number one for a while. of course, you had him on a leash, always being able to soothe him by saying that he was your number one best friend. and that was more than enough for him to throw smart glares and snarky smirks, grabbing your hand and dragging you off somewhere to show you something cool. something he knew you'd find cool because he prided himself in knowing exactly what you liked more than the other boys. your favorite ice cream, flowers, and chocolate flavor.

and mitsuki smiles. "right, you like her. so you can't let that scare you off, can you ?" mitsuki feels her heart soaring with pride, albeit with a little amusement when her son scoffs in response "course not. i ain't scared of shit." he states, she decides to ignore the irony of his statement for now.

"of course," she nods "and just between us, i think she likes you, too. i dunno how she does but.." katsuki's eyes widen like she'd just told him something ridiculous, completely ignoring her jab at him. she has to hold back a harsh laugh at how oblivious her son could be.

"that's just my guess though !" she shrugs nonchalantly "but there's only one way to find out if i'm right.."

after a beat, katsuki nods to himself with a grunt, grabbing the tray of chocolates and putting it in the fridge, ready for tomorrow, and wordlessly rolling up his sleeves and starting the dishes, as mitsuki guessed, and she smiles. she pets her son's head again briefly, ignoring his dissaproving grumbles, before giving him a pat on the back and wishing him good luck.

the next day, katsuki walks over to her, sat on the couch, immediately after coming back from school, with a proud smirk and gleaming red cheeks. and mitsuki knew she had nothing to worry about as she grins back.

taglist *if your name is pink i unfortunately couldn’t tag you :(( : @73isthebestnumber @gold24fish @m-inluv @katsuisbaby @teddiiursulas-ink @moonbabysstuff @brandydel @queenpiranhadon @chuugarettes @starieq @aishio14 @andysdrafts @hyunorue @touyasprettydoll @itsfiive @annoying-bitxh @h0nestly-though @atinytiredpanromantic @mikalame @itzjustj-1000 @deepressed @evam23 @erenstitanweave @m-0ona @chaoticgay13 @lotusstarr @koreluvsspring @giannitaa @waterstarz @nayeonsdoormat @the-crazy-star-12 @kovu-bunnbunn

tumblr is tweakin so if some of your tags don't work m'so sorry :(((

[survivalist-toons]

As someone with low self-esteem. It is... especially important to comment on fics from writers who you either know are new or haven't seen before. I am new to the writing game, I want so badly to write stories. Make characters. But struggle with feeling "good" at it that I end up struggling to make future chapters. Like everyone else re-posting this, comments. Heck, not even just comments. Signs of appreciation that aren't public are enough to show writers both new and old that you loved their work. Keeping stuff private leaves empty space for the writers to think... And from someone with low-self esteem issues, that space to think can be filled really quickly with thoughts like "Am I losing it?" "Maybe I should do something else" "I'm not good enough." I know I struggle to post on here partly because I don't think I'm good enough. COMMENT, FANART, FANFIC. Do all who stumble upon this reposting-post-thing. DO SOMETHING TO SHOW YOUR LOVE FOR SOMEONES' WORK. Don't leave the writer/drawer/animator/etc alone with their thoughts. A sign of appreciation goes a long way.

someone I follow on the bird app just announced they’re starting a very exclusive private fic server because they and a bunch of other people want to talk about how much they love the fics they’re reading, and as an author can I just say that a really great place to talk about a fic you love is in the comments for that fic

I understand that people are trying to create safe spaces, but as the number of comments that I get on my fics dwindles with each passing year, knowing these spaces exist where my fics are being discussed, places that I am excluded from, makes me want to write fic LESS

I mean I guess who cares, right, because if I stop writing, there’s 10,000 other people that will continue…but if you participate in a fic “book club” server and you say nice things there about a fic you loved, maybe copy and paste that into a comment on AO3?

the only thing fanfic writers are asking for in return for hours of hard work is attention. please don’t rob us of the one thing that we hope for when we hit “post”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

What about the Doors/Pressure shopkeepers trying to pretend they aren't giving their crush special treatment when in groups. Like, special inventory, discreet discounts, all that jazz

Jeff (Doors)

"Oye, I see what you're doin', Jeff. Thought you weren't one for giving out freebies."

*shrug*

"Don't play dumb! I saw you sneak the skeleton key into their bag! Even Bob's a witness!"

No matter what El Goblino says, Jeff will just wave off any accusations of him giving you "special treatment" whenever you stopped by the shop with your group.

While none of them donated to the tip jar, you were the only one who ever did...and even when you came back again and again, it was always you who showed him charity.

The rest of your group would just argue over what to spend their money on, try to rush ahead, mess with his radio, etc. etc.

But you trust Jeff, and he trusts you <3

So you get small discounts on his wares, and despite him not being able to speak, you could tell he's only looking after you.

The goblin jokes about Jeff's little "crush" on you...then he sees the entity's eyes widen and realizes "wait amigo,,I wasn't being serious do you actually like them?????"

He just shoos him away and will deny it to kingdom come, but it is true.

The moment you realized his feelings for you was when Rush attacked the shop once, and you thought you were done for-

When Jeff instinctively pulled you behind the counter and slammed the shutter down, keeping you uncomfortably close (yet somehow you've never felt safer).

When it's all over, he blushes and lets you go free.

You thank him with a small kiss on the forehead(?) and promise to see him again soon.

The next time you get duped by Dupe, or attacked by Eyes, Timothy, Screech, or a snare and need to heal...you discover a few bandaids in your pocket that weren't there previously...

Huh.

Wonder who gave you those?

Sebastian (Pressure)

Normally, Sebastian doesn't care to make personal connections with any of the expendables.

He's just there as their supplier before seeing them off on their journey, hoping they're putting his resources to good use.

But recently he's been seeing you more often, coming by with a new group or by yourself, trying your best to survive long enough to reach him.

Ofc, you've died to stupid things before (or maybe you're just trying to get all the monster documents..in which he's convinced you're some masochist), but you did have the most common sense out of your group and didn't try to annoy him.

The others just waste flash beacon charges on trying to blind the poor guy and stick the keycard in a medkit they couldn't afford...and for what?

Why do your "friends" do that? Are they stupid or something?

You tell them to stop, and it's...actually kinda nice to hear somebody willing to defend him.

People usually don't give a shit about the giant scary fish's feelings, yet for some reason you do.

Of course, Sebastian was reasonably suspicious about it.

"Are you acting this way just to get a freebie?" He assumes. "Because if you are, then you're definitely as stupid as-"

"No, I'd never do that to you." You shake your head. "You're here, helping us survive out there, risking a lot to get us those supplies...is it wrong for me to appreciate that?"

"......"

He goes quiet for a minute, but after the rest of your group leaves, he asks you to stay for a moment.

"You were looking at this Necrobloxicon for a while...you must reeeeally want it, huh?" He grins, flicking his tail where the book was strapped. "It's a rarity."

"I...can't afford that. I'm fine with this dingy flashlight-"

"It's yours for 70% off. Take it or leave it."

You do a double take. "Wait, wha-"

"70% off. Take it. Or leave it." He says through gritted teeth, impatient, only to smile when you accept the deal without further question. "Good. Now don't go telling anyone I'm offering discounts. That's your only one unless I feel generous. Capiche?"

"Gotcha. Thank you, Seb. This means a lot. I hope to see you again soon." You smile back, holding the spooky book tightly, and leave him alone with his thoughts.

And a warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest-

Wait.

"Oh no....what the fuck am I doing????? That's it! NO more discounts for anyone, Sebastian!" He scolds himself.

Little does he know, he's gonna keep giving them out, but only for you.

[bi-writes]

i'm a big fan of your writing! can i ask what made simon want to mail order a bride in the first place? thanks <3

mail-order bride

he's tired of staring across his dinner table and seeing nothing but empty space.

it isn't something he had thought about in the before. he's spent a long time shifting between different cots, collecting sand from faraway places and counting the bodies he dropped with tally marks against his boots.

there's a picture he keeps tucked into his vest, but he won't take it out. it sits heavy there, an invisible wall between himself and the outside world, a reality that he chooses not to believe. if he doesn't look at them, he won't think of them, and if he doesn't think of them, maybe he can pretend they were never even real.

they all have something outside of here. his sergeants are too pretty and too outgoing to stick around; they're social butterflies, and simon has seen the shuffle of pictures of some pretty girl that gaz can't stop staring at, and soap never shuts up--whenever they have a signal, he's somehow got a phone call with his cousin's stepfather's little sister, or it's his second cousin's brother-in-law's birthday, and he's got to wish him well since he missed his art exhibition last month.

even price has a pale circular shadow that is stained onto his ring finger.

it's not his fault, is it? it's not his fault he was dealt the worst fucking hand. it wasn't his fault he was born already two feet into the grave; it couldn't have been his fault that he can only get a good night's sleep when there's screaming in one ear or the rattle of a battlefield over his head.

it isn't his fault. it isn't his fault. it isn't his fault.

the cigarettes taste bland today. they're old, stale, and he can taste the bitterness already, but he lights it anyways, flicking ash into the ground, scrunching his nose until he gets used to the bite of it.

there's a shadow at his side, and he turns to snap at them, assuming it's johnny and his incessant nagging, but he holds his tongue when he realizes it's his captain.

he's got a warm cigar in one hand, and he leans against the concrete wall beside him, sighing deep, the kind of pensive weight that only a captain can bear.

price looks tired. he needs to go home.

"boys invited y'out, didn't they?" price asks, and simon chuckles lowly.

"'m olready 'ome," simon murmurs. "'n i can get piss drunk oll on my own 'ere."

price shrugs.

"ya haven't taken leave since you joined my team, simon," he says low. "can't have that. you know it."

simon shrugs.

"can try and make me go," simon tells him. "but y'know i won't leave."

"i'm not asking, simon," price says firmly. "'m telling."

"doesn't matter," simon takes a long drag of the cigarette, holding it in for a second too long before letting it out slow. "got nowhere ta go."

his captain is not blind. simon's on a one-way road, and the end of it stops at the end of someone else's gun. men like simon, the ones who have nothing to lose, they're dangerous. they clear rooms outnumbered thirty to one because no one thinks they can. they hit targets from thousands of yards away because it's the only place that never changes. they kill and sleep peacefully because the blood of a stranger is far cleaner than that of someone they know, of someone they love.

they'll never leave because war is familiar. they don't want to go home because home isn't something they know. they're nomads, taking with them only what they can carry, because the rest is baggage and an emotional weight that they aren't strong enough to carry.

but it doesn't mean men like simon don't want. it doesn't mean they don't wish for more. it doesn't mean they don't think about using their teeth for something other than baring them to show their dominance, their aggression, their insecurity.

simon's a protector. the way he shoves his men behind him says so. the steadiness of his voice over comms when the op goes to shit. the ease of his hand when he ties a tourniquet. the split second that simon never wastes, the way he uses his body as armor and the look he gives his men when they're scared. simon's died twice before, and the look in his eyes tells them that this isn't it, that this isn't death, because he'd fucking know--he'd recognize it if he saw it.

simon's unrelenting. his past, his trauma, it's tried to beat him into a shape that will bend and snap, but its obvious simon is not made of lead--fuck, he's an entire block of unmovable steel. he does not give when compressed, he does not crack when the strength of him is tested. simon's fought too hard to live to let a gun terrify him, he's endured too much torture to flinch when someone sinks a blade into his chest.

but he knows, simon knows, that there is something missing. he fought hard to live, but for what? he's endured, but what the fuck is there when he lays his head down at night?

simon's a lover. he tries so hard to convince himself that he's always been this way--alone, drifting, lost, but it's a lie. simon knows what it's like to want. he knows what it's like to look into a crowd and hope you see a familiar face. he understands wanting to pull that string taut, but he also understands what it can do to you. what it can take from you.

he understands what you can never get back.

he thinks this is a bad idea. he crumples the note paper in his hand that had the address scribbled onto it, tearing it, staring up at the house in front of him. it's quaint, a lovely little house in the outskirts of london, with a red chimney and overturned planters in the yard. there's a weathered wooden door, a porch step that needs fixing, and when he kicks open the door, he grimaces seeing a carpet that need's replacing.

"the fuck am i doin' 'ere?" he whispers to himself, sliding his mask off, running a hand over his face. his heart is pounding, but he's not sure why, but he catches his reflection in the window. what looks back at him terrifies him--he can't do this.

he makes his way back outside, rummaging through his pockets for a cigarette. he takes a seat on the steps, lighting it, and as he takes his first frantic drag, he sees the torn pages of the note still on the ground. he picks up one end of it, running his thumb over the crumpled paper there, smudging the pencil scribble there.

she needs you

it's written in price's ugly handwriting, letters all tilted to the side and barely legible, but he still can read what price didn't write--and you need her.

but simon doesn't need anyone. he barely needs himself, barely can take care of himself. this won't help him--he can't help anyone, he isn't the kind that can be this kind of thing for anyone. he's stayed in the service because at least this way, he can die with honor, he can prove them all wrong, he can at least be remembered for what he could do and not by what was done to him.

his touch is ice. his heart is buried too deep under his ribs; no one has seen it since he could finally register a memory. his face, the skin he wears--he's not a pretty man, he's a forgettable one. he isn't gentle, he isn't capable of it. he can't forgive. he's so quick to anger, likes to snap his teeth, and he cannot be the kind of thing that they all expect him to be.

he does not love himself. he will not love himself. so he cannot love another.

there is a certain kind of satisfaction he feels when he fixes the porch step. once abandoned, once a nuisance, and now it functions as intended. he feels the same kind of thing when he rips up the stained carpet, and he feels it again when he watches the seeds of the thyme leaves grow as they rest in a pot above the sink.

things once forgotten serve a purpose. with effort, they can be used again. they don't have to be replaced, they can be open anew, they can live again and breathe deeper and see through the lens of a different perspective.

when you climb the porch steps the first time, he thinks about the board that doesn't wobble any longer. when the door shuts behind you for the first time and you take off your boots, he thinks about the new carpet that warms your toes now.

and when you lay next to him for the first time, under the covers of the bed he's made, he reaches over and slips a few fingers around your wrist, thumbing at the base of it and swallowing hard when he feels the pulse of your heartbeat. it beats, warm and steady, to a beat familiar, one he knows. his heart has not been hiding under thick bone and the tar of his own blood.

it's here now. under your skin. and now it's home.

[bamfkeeper]

Imagine a jealous Kurt with me...got it? Minors dni, 18+ under cut.

A pouty, silent tantrum Kurt, but also a Kurt who wants everyone to know you're his and completely goes wild. Two varying reactions but two amazing scenarios because I think he can absolutely be either or.

Warnings: Jealous Kurttt, oral (reader receiving), unprotected sex, random mentions of religion, afab reader, my brief thoughts turned out longer than I thought they would, not editedddd ignore mistakes.

WC: 2.7k

Imagine Kurt sees one of the male mutants having a conversation with you, it's harmless enough. Nothing inappropriate is being said, you aren't being strange and the mutant seems interested in the topic. That is until he becomes more and more eager to talk to you.

It seems like a daily thing now, maybe you're too shy to tell him off or too naïve to realize he is flirting rather than just being very friendly. But Kurt notices instantly. He knows you wouldn't let this happen if you knew how it was affecting him, but he always tells you to speak to whomever you like, he isn't a jealous guy.

He pouts quietly as he sees the mutant giving you a flower because it 'reminded him of you' or something along those lines. only Kurt should be giving you flowers. Why did he think it was okay?

The blue mutant walked over to you, huffing under his breath. When he reaches you, his posture seems to relax in the closeness of your presence, his tail twitched behind him and instinctively wrapped itself around you. "Was ist das, liebe?" he pointed to the obvious flower you held, his voice soft and barely above a mutter. You just turn and give him a small smile, unaware of his inner turmoil.

"Warren gave me a flower, isn't it pretty?" you reply, giving Kurt a better view of the flower you held. Kurt bit his tongue and gave a small smile, nodding silently. When the other mutant left, you could tell something was dampening his mood. "What is it, baby...you don't seem yourself." you observed how he seemed to have the body language of a scolded child still mad he couldn't have a cookie.

"Nichts." he whispered, his tone having a hint of sharpness to it, not directed at you, but the other mutant who thought they could just come over here and charm you like that. However, you've dated Kurt for long enough to see through his little façade. "Don't give me that, Kurt. What's going on?" you pressed, your eyes scanning his body and taking in every little detail. You could feel his tail tighten around your ankle.

"Are you jealous?" you asked plainly, making him bristle, his tail whipped behind him. "N-Nein! I am not!" he insisted and turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing. His cheeks were tinted and you knew how he was feeling. Kurt had a hard time with himself every now and then, being around other mutants who looked different helped how he saw himself. But every so often, he does wish he wasn't blue and fuzzy and devilish.

"Kurt, precious...there's nothing to worry about. You think I'd ever leave you?" your hand brushed up his cheek, cradling it lovingly. "I love you, I adore you, no one is going to swoop in and take me away. I promise." you cooed. "Especially not Warren of all people." you added with a soft chuckle, trying to humor the situation a bit and ease the tension.

This, however, wasn't good enough for Kurt. He leaned in, his arms wrapped around you and he buried his face in your neck. You held him in return, assuming he just needed a close hug. You could feel his lips press into your neck, so you exposed it a little more to him. You tilted your head, letting out a content hum.

Kurt placed kisses along your neck and held you tighter, his tail wrapped tightly around you. "Kurt," you began, but your voice was lost when he bit a sweet spot on your sensitive flesh and suckled. Your eyes snapped open, the sudden suckling caught you off guard. Your lips art as a soft moan escapes them, you didn't expect this from Kurt at all.

"What are you...doing..." you managed, your fingers tangling into his curls, gently scratching the back of his head. It felt so good, and he kept sucking until it stung. When he pulled back, he groaned and looked at the dark mark he left on you. His golden eyes shooting you a quick glance.

"Du bist mein," he rasped, his lips grazing over your ear when he spoke. The way his voice sounded made you shiver, he sounded needy but he also had a gravelly pit that came out as he spoke. "Everyone will know it now." he pulled back, feeling proud of himself for leaving a dark mark on your neck.

You felt over it and smiled at him, "You were jealous." your voice was playful and teasing, making him pout a little. "That's okay, if it means you get like this, then I don't mind. Just remember what I said, okay?" you reassured and pressed your lips to his cheek.

He's pretty tame for the most part like that. But imagine a more possessive Kurt?? Not so much pouty and subtle. Imagine him pulling you off or teleporting you somewhere private where he could really let loose.

He grabs your hand, watching Warren walk away and he looked down at the flower you had. He felt ill to it, it wasn't the flower's fault, but he didn't like where it came from at all. "Liebe." he muttered, pushing you back onto the bed, his hands hooking into your bottoms and yanking them off in the process. His room was so cozy, he was a cleanly man. He learned to be in the circus, only having a few things that got lost easy, so he was pretty organized.

Your train of thought was interrupted when he crawled over you, his eyes glowing softly in the dark room as he stared down, his gaze raking over your body. He was breathing a little heavier, and you blinked up at him. Before you could speak, you felt his tail snake up your leg, coiling around you and jerking your leg to the side. His hand grabbed your other leg and pulled it so you were spread.

"Was denkt er wer er ist..." he grumbled to himself, "Du gehörst mir, Liebling, niemand sonst." he used his free hand to pull your underwear off, quickly spreading your legs again. With you exposed to him, you had no time to speak when his lips pressed into yours with a possessive need. His usual tender kisses contrasted to this new side of him you hadn't seen before.

"Mein." he growled against you, his tongue quickly slithering into your mouth and staked his claim. When he pulled back, he moved down your body, feeling your chest rise and fall. "Kurt, what's gotten into you..." you asked, almost breathless while he trailed down your body. His lips pressing against your neck, a hot trail left behind while his path lowered further.

He reaches your breasts, pausing long enough to give each nipple a hard suckle and swipe of his tongue. A gasp escapes your lips when you feel him suck on you before he continued his way down to where he wanted. He settled between your legs, staring at you. "I'd like to see him get this far." he muttered, almost bitterly.

His mouth connected to your core, his tongue immediately began lapping at you. His hands gripped your legs tightly, your eyes widened as he began to bury into your pussy like he was a starved man. He lapped and sucked, his tongue pushing inside you and feeling your inner walls.

You were a moaning mess, you tried to form a coherent sentence but found you were unable to. His tail moved from your leg and wrapped around your body, the slow coil making you shiver as goosebumps erupted from your skin. The tip of the spade rounded up between your breasts and played with one of your nipples. He could so expertly move his tail...you felt completely overwhelmed in such a good way.

"Oh my god...Kurt..." you finally managed to spit out something, and he just continued. His tongue pulled out of you, his eyes lifting to make contact with yours.

"Lord will forgive me..." he muttered to himself, his focus now on your clit, swollen and needy. His thumb lifted the skin slightly to expose it more to him, his finger tapping it gently. You whined loudly, each tiny touch sending shoots of pleasure up your spine.

"This is where you need me...isn't it, schatz?" he whispered, "You look like you do. It is swelling quite a bit...isn't it?" he let his tongue cup it before he let his tongue drag over it. When you let out a whine, he pulled back. "I know what you need. I always do, don't I?" he asked, pressing a kiss just above where you wanted him the most.

"Y-yes....please, Kurt..." you muttered between breaths, "I need you there, please," you mentally cursed him, he was doing this on purpose.

"You plead beautifully." he leaned down and he attached his lips to your clit, he began to suckle immediately and didn't bother letting you adjust this time. Your eyes shot open as he latched to it like a suction, his tongue swiping over it as he sucked on your bud.

The pressure from his suckling made you squirm, but his arms held you firmly as he continued to nurse on your clit. You could feel your pussy leaking arousal, getting wetter by the second from his behavior. His saliva trailed down your folds and soaked the sheets under you. He continued his ministrations, feeling you were getting close to your climax.

When you did cum, it felt white hot, and your back arched off the bed as you let out sinful noises. "Yesyesyes, Kurt! Don't stop, ooh fuck!" you spewed naughty words that were like a symphony to his ears. He made you feel that, and it made him swell with pride. He didn't stop, even when your climax was over, your bud became so, so sensitive. You squirmed as he kept himself glued to your clit.

"Ah, baby...please, nngh...fuck, I-I'm sensitive...AH!" you felt his tail tighten around you, and he popped off your clit. He licked his lips, his mouth and chin clearly glossy. That damned grin of his. He still hovered, his fingers spread you open so he could lay a sloppy kiss to your cunt, and he gave one last teasing suckle that made you yelp before he finally left your poor clit alone.

You were a mess, your hair all over the place, your cheeks flushed red and your legs remained spread open. Your chest heaved as you calmed down, now taking deeper breaths as you slowly recovered. "Kurt...wh...what was all that about...you've never been so..."

Before you could finish, you could feel something larger press against you, his swollen cock pulsing and rubbing up and down your folds. He kicked his leg out behind him, shaking off the rest of his suit as he positioned better. "Warren will never get this with you, he can give you as many flowers as he wants."

You whined and looked down, he pushed himself inside you with a single thrust, letting out a grunt as you squeezed his cock. You moaned loudly and gripped the bedsheets, the sudden feeling of being full was overwhelming. He pulled back and thrusted once, twice, then started his rhythm.

His cock thrusted in and out of you at a quick pace, his hips being driven hard into you as he grunted with each one. "Mine, you're mine," he growled against your skin, "Niemand außer mir kann dich haben." he groaned and sat up more, watching how his cock pushed into you.

"You swallow me...look at it. Look how you squeeze me, liebe...you love this, don't you?" he asked in a raspy tone, panting as his hair became a little more messy from the thrusts. "You are so warm, you feel like soft velvet." he praised as his hips jutted in again, his pace set on being hard.

You could feel his head brush that sweet, spongy spot inside that sent waves of hot pleasure through your entire body. You mewled out loudly, your arms clinging to him. "Nngh right there!" you managed through your moans.

"Is that the sweet spot? Right there?" he teased lightly, "Such sweet noises from you, you make me such a sinner, you know that?" he groaned in your ear and thrusted harder, his cock head brushed into that sweet spot every time, caressing it and coating it in his hot precum.

He felt himself grow close to his orgasm, he moved over you more and drove himself farther. His tail lashed behind him as he panted against your neck, his sharp teeth nipping your sensitive skin. He marked your neck up in bites and bruises while your cervix ached from his thrusts.

"Come for me again, I feel you getting closer. You are squeezing me tighter..." he whispered against you, "Does your pretty bud need my attention again?" he nipped your jaw and his thumb traveled down between your legs, lightly rubbing circles on your swollen clit.

You could barely even think. The way he was fogging your mind and making your body react was so intense, you clung onto him and spewed begging and moaning at him. "Please, Kurt, I'm s'close...need more, j-just a little more..." you bit his neck as you felt your eyes prickling with tears, it felt so damn good.

Your orgasm hit you and it felt like you jumped from a plane, it was a feeling of overwhelming adrenaline and ecstasy, you couldn't help but scream against his neck, your pussy gripped him like a vice and he held you even tighter. "That's it, liebling, let it out, come for me," he whispered encouragingly and he gave one more hard thrust, his cock twitched as it kissed your cervix and unloaded into you.

You felt his cum drizzling out, filling you up as his thrusts stopped, you both panted together and he sat up more, letting you go to lay down better on the bed. He gazed down at you, his mouth slightly agape as he panted, but quickly regained his breathing. You looked so beautiful blissed out like this, he wished he could keep this image in his mind forever.

"Was I too rough, liebling?" he asked softly, his brow knit with some worry, and his tail loosened around you. It uncoiled from your body and stroked up and down your leg. You shook your head, still somewhat in a daze and recovering from the orgasm he gave you.

"No...no, you just haven't ever been so...intense?" you tried to find the right word as you tried to regulate your breathing again, but it was clear he really wore you out. He was always so passionate but with a gentle intimacy to it. This time seemed that he was driven by something other than his love for you. You looked at him and smiled, "You were jealous~" you teased, making his tail halt.

"Nein..." he grumbled, crossing his arms. "Is it a crime to show more fire to my lover?" he tried to disguise his jealousy, but you knew better. His cheeks were only slightly blushed, but you could get him to lose it if you chose your words right. Your pussy ached at the thought of a jealous Kurt pounding into you. You love how sweet and sensual he is, but having him fuck you sounded so good right now.

"Did Warren upset you?" you cooed, sitting up and smiling at him. "Did you get jealous because he was talking to me? That he gave me a flower?"

"You are beautiful, liebling...I know you have admirers...but I guess seeing someone like Warren be one of them just made me feel...different." he said softly, "He knows you're mine, why would he give you a flower like that?" he looked back up at you.

"Sounds like you're still a bit jealous." you poked his belly teasingly. "How can I make you feel better?" you asked softly, "You know I'm only interested in you, don't you?"

"Ja, I do...sometimes I just don't feel too good." he shrugged. He felt a little more vulnerable, and the need for you only grew again. His hands held your hips and pushed you back on the bed. "I will make sure everyone here knows you are mine." he said confidently, "You will be screaming for me and we might get a noise complaint, but that is besides the point."

You braced for him again, and felt his lips collide with yours as you started all over again.

You did, in fact, get a noise complaint.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[luveline]

hi miss jade <3 if it hasn’t been done already, could you possibly write poly!marauders with a depressed reader? maybe she’s having a particularly hard time lately and she’s trying to hide it from them but they notice she’s been really quiet recently. then one day while they’re all just sitting together, one of them looks over and sees a tear rolling down her cheek and they comfort her </3 if this isn’t something you’re up to writing i understand! thank you nonetheless lovely <3

thank u for ur request lovely!

modern au 

“No,” Remus is whispering, “that's the other actor.” 

James leans into his side. You've successfully crammed yourselves onto the three seater sofa, all four of you. You're on one arm, Sirius the other. If Sirius and James sit together during a movie they won't stop talking, and if you and Remus sit together you'll spend the entire movie telling each other what other movies the actors have been in. 

James and Remus seem to have found a loophole. Sirius tries uselessly to reach over their shoulders to touch you, but James blocks him by accident, head tilting back in a laugh. 

You aren't in the mood for movies. Not their fault, not anyone's, but a melancholy has its hooks in you, and you'd excuse yourself to spend time alone with it if it didn't immediately draw their attention. You're not sure you want to be alone, either. 

James reaches for your hand even as he speaks to Remus excitedly, “He's Ryan Gosling, right?” 

“Yeah, James,” —said with love— “that's Ryan Gosling.” 

You hold James' hand. It's a very real, very gentle tether, but eventually the noise in the room turns white. You lay your cheek on the sofa arm and watch the movie pass by in colours. Dusky orange, pink, blue rain. Your hard times recently have felt longer, deeper, and you've floundered in them helplessly. 

Though the boys couldn't make it worse, their devotion tends to hurt. You feel like you're letting them down whenever you can't fight your lethargy. Even now when you're together for a normal night, you're stuck under the weight of it. You could be playing with James’ hair the way he loves, or telling Remus something interesting about the movie. You could crawl across the two chatterboxes and ask Sirius what he did at work today while he draws shapes into the back of your hand. But you're not. And everything begins to feel worse. 

The TV flickers. The room hums. The tear that slides down your cheek is hot as the drag of a pin. 

You shift down into the arm to hide it as more follow. James pulls his hand away, and you assume he's just getting comfortable, but he puts it on your shoulder, the sofa whining as he leans in. “Hey…” he whispers, nearly too soft to hear. He must've been watching you. They've been doing that more and more lately. 

Your shoulders shake as the first sob brews. They aren't overly loud, you aren't wound tightly enough to really cry, you're just defeated. Tired and scared that this feeling is forever. 

The contented atmosphere in the room drains quicker than snapped fingers. “What's wrong?” Sirius asks. 

You curl away from James. You can't pretend you aren't crying and you don't really want to, but something about his touch feels raw. He comes closer, leaning into you, hand chasing around to your front where it rests over your heart. “It's okay,” he says soundly. “Oh, honey, it's okay.” 

James isn't as heavy with the pet names as the other two. When he does use them, they're genuine but said in high spirits. Almost like a joke, his ever-present humour shining through. He's warm and steady behind you, his lips brushing your ear as he hugs you to his chest. “It's okay,” he whispers, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“Sorry.” 

Remus says your name unhappily. They know better than to converge on you, and James has always been good at comforting people. Maybe his solidness in both physicality and personality does him credit, but more likely it's his unending patience. He doesn't rush you into feeling better. He just stays right there at your side until you stop shaking. 

“Sorry,” you say again, voice in fractured layers, “I don't know…” 

“I know,” he says. “Let's sit up, okay? Sit up.”

Remus gives you a look with just enough heartbreak that when he holds out his hand, you raise yourself up, knowing James will take you by the waist and help you over his lap. You smush in between their legs as Remus wipes your face dry, and Sirius meets your eyes around his shoulder. It all works to lift the weight from your chest, not fully, but enough to breathe. 

“You don't have to explain.” 

“Just don't cry more,” Sirius begs. He really hates tears, doesn't know what to do with them. “You're too lovely for tears.” 

“Unless you need to,” James says. 

“Right,” Sirius agrees through a wince. 

“She's okay,” Remus says, rubbing your cheek with his knuckles, “hmm? You're alright.” 

He isn't pressuring you into pretending things are better than they are, he's encouraging, and he knows as you know that you're not very well, but you'll manage in the end. You sink back into James arms and smile at them weakly. 

“I'm okay. I just wanted James to rub my stomach, that's all.” 

“Theatrics in the name of attention,” Sirius says proudly. “As you should.” 

James wraps his arms around your front, giving your abdomen a squeeze as he leans down to say, “I'll rub your stomach all night if you want me to,” with a warmth so tender it escapes words. 

Remus drops back into Sirius rather aggressively. “Make haste.” 

“Make haste?” Sirius presses his nose into Remus’ curls, his voice dripping with a feigned contempt, “You make haste, you sick freak.” And then he raises his hand to cover Remus' stomach in mirror of James’ touch. 

You breathe out long and slow, eyes closing of their own accord. “I'm not going to sleep, okay? I'm just tired.” 

James gets comfortable underneath you. “Do what you want, babe. I'm here for the night. If I need to pee I'll just hoist you into Moony's lap for a bit.” 

“I can fit two, thanks,” Sirius interjects. 

“Fine. I'll hoist you into his lap. Though I've no clue why you'd want to spend any time with that bossy bastard.” 

[fellow-fandom-fruitifier]

AU where Edwin knows he's gay from the start would be fire me thinks.

Imagine if he thinks he deserved Hell but still wants to escape and feel so wrong and selfish for it. So he never tells Charles what actually happened between 1916-1989, Charles only knows whatever happened was very bad no good. Edwin would be horribly, painfully aware that he was falling for Charles. But that's wrong, isn't it? Boys can't like boys.

So he tries so hard to ignore it, tamp it down. He can't let Charles know. If he knows then he'll know why he's avoiding the afterlife, that he deserves to go to Hell.

Charles knows Edwin is scared of Death and the afterlife, he assumes that something happened from 1916-1989 that convinced Edwin he was damned but there's just no damn way someone as good as Edwin deserves Hell. But, selfishly, he never tries to convince Edwin to go. To leave for his beautiful afterlife.

Then Port Townsend happens.

Crystal is no idiot, she can tell Edwin's jealous from the start. She can tell Charles thinks it's because they're best friends, she can tell it's because Edwin's in love. That doesn't stop her though, she deserves one good thing after everything, doesn't she?

(I think Cat King would go very similar to canon, but it's less of "I'm not gay" and more of "I know what I am but these urges aren't okay".)

Niko loves love, she can tell Edwin loves Charles. She can tell Edwin doesn't know it's okay. Niko helps him through it, becomes his confidant, the first person he confesses everything to. I think they would have a huge conversation that ends in them both crying -- Edwin bemoaning his unrequited love, Niko mourning for him -- and cuddled up watching Scooby-Doo. (The sprites get teary eyed too but still mock them, Niko calls them out and they deny it. "It's dusty as shit in this old ass glass!" "Yeah, we're getting fucking pick eye in here!" "When's the last time you even washed this shit-ass jar?")

It all comes to a head with the Night Nurse. We all know her spiel, "I'm taking Edwin back to Hell and Charles to get processed." But Charles doesn't know Edwin's been processed. Charles doesn't know Edwin's assigned to Hell.

Niko is empathetic, not forcing Edwin to explain but not once thinking he did anything to deserve it. Crystal is up in arms, demanding to know what he did to deserve Hell, demanding to know why he hid it from Charles. Charles is confused, conflicted. Edwin's his best mate! There's no way he deserves Hell! But... but why didn't he tell Charles? Edwin is overwhelmed and panicked and no, no, no! Charles was never supposed to know!

Now, listen. Niko isn't one for confrontation, she doesn't like to fight. But hearing Crystal rip into an unresponsive Edwin while Charles lingers unsure on the back has her heart breaking, has her head hurting. So she steps in, shouts at them to stop, that they'll talk tomorrow when they've cooled off. And drags Edwin off to her room for the night. She doesn't demand answers and he doesn't give them.

The next day, everyone's off. The tension is high and only building. Crystal keeps sending Edwin pointed comments and Edwin is actively ignoring her existence. Charles is conflicted, caught between Crystal and Edwin; taking both their sides without taking either. And Niko doesn't know how to soothe any of it, so she sticks close to Edwin.

Eventually the four are leaving the graveyard, Crystal and Charles arguing when she rounds on Edwin. "And you! Don't think I forgot about you!" Niko tries to step in and stop it like she did last time but Edwin's tired, he's had enough, he breaks. "I was sacrificed! I was sacrificed and spent seventy-three gruelling years fighting to escape! There, happy? Might we please move on now?"

He storms past them all and for the first time since this dispute started, Niko is angry. She tells Crystal that wasn't okay, that it was cruel. And takes off after Edwin, leaving Charles and Crystal standing uselessly.

"I didn't know..." Neither remember who said that.

[cripplecharacters]

I was wondering: I noticed that in art I almost always see limb stumps that are, for the lack of a better word, thick and with a rounded end. But observing amputees around me, what I noticed is that their stumps are more tapered, they also are often uneven instead of perfectly round, and the rest of the limb is often thinner as a result of less muscle mass.

Is this coincidental, or do you think stumps are represented in a way that is assumed to be more aesthetically pleasing to abled folk? How common is the "perfect round muscular stump" thing, if at all??

Hi!

As an artist that seeks out art of disabled characters, it's 100% trying to make the character look "less disabled and more pretty". It's usually not a conscious decision, most people just have pretty=good and disabled=ugly ingrained into them and don't think about it ever. Positive depictions of disabled people will do everything to portray them as conventionally attractive as possible, and there is no disability that is exempt from this.

This applies to everything. Most art showing disabled people will try to keep the disability to the absolute minimum - it's not coincidence that positive disabled characters have to be white, thin, young, if they use a prosthetic it has to be really cool and/or unrealistic, if they use a wheelchair it has to be a manual that has to be really cool and/or unrealistic, and they have to look as abled as possible; an abled model who just happened to be holding a cane is preferable since gait disorders are ugly. Good luck trying to find a drawing of a character using an ostomy bag, with congenital skeletal conditions, with severe spasticity, in one of these big powerchairs, I won't mention facial differences and how non-existent realistic representation of them is. Hell, it can be hard to find art of blind characters who aren't wearing blindfolds and eyepatches (since disabled body part ugly), let alone using an aid like a cane or a brailler (since that's Disability, and not just a quirky character trait).

With stumps, it's the same thing. Most often you don't see them, since they are Clearly Disabled. Usually they're behind a cool prosthetic that's called something else that sounds less disabled. If they aren't, they're probably bandaged, since they are Surely Scary. If they aren't that, they will be perfectly round, scarless (or with that big "starburst" type scar for some reason), symmetrical to other limb, and essentially look like you just erased the rest of a model's leg or arm.

Again, I don't think this is done on purpose, I think artists just don't think enough about how they choose to portray minorities. No one is researching anything, everything is a game of telephone from how someone else draws it, who cares that that person didn't bother to check anything either.

[Disclaimer that we don't have amputee mods]

How common is the "perfect round muscular stump" thing?

Not very common, but someone with a disarticulation (much more rare than through-bone) will have their muscles still attached to something and thus may not have the kind of tissue atrophy like someone with an above the knee amputation will. Even weightlifters with an above/below amputation will have some degree of atrophy (you can look at guys like Max Okun, etc.) so it's not like you can just "exercise it out".

A residual limb can be fairly round, but it mostly depends on where it actually is. A lot of people will have excess skin from skin flaps + tissue atrophy which gives it a different shape, BE amputees can have the actual bone shapes visible on the stump, etc. And of course there is scar tissue (unless it's congenital) which can affect how the limb looks like beyond just the sew line being visible; it can leave the stump with an indent around it, etc.

But all of that is of course Disability and Different, so it gets omitted in art. It'd be cool if this wasn't the case, but what can you do.

mod Sasza

[prettynice8]

Kinkmas Day 5: Rimming

Choi Soobin x male reader

This guy

Stuff: Rimming DUH, some balls licking, you and Soobin are friends.

Word Count: 969

Notes: Happy birthday Soobin, please feel better soon

Soobin is like your best friend. You two get along incredibly well together and whenever you're around him it's always a good time, this hangout is just 'extra' special.

Right now, you both are just lying on your bed chilling. Having casual conversation while he's cuddled up to you all snuggled in, his head resting on your chest while you absentmindedly run your hand through his hair as you watch the TV. Friends stuff, dude boy shit.

"I'm kind of bored." He expressed into your chest, making his deep voice come out as groggy.

"Oh? What else would you rather do? Wait, don't answer that, you'll probably say something like blow me or rim me." You said jokingly, you guys did make an awful lot of sex jokes to each other. For two openly gay men who aren't actually dating to do this is... a little odd.

"Rimming you say..." He responds, jokingly putting his finger under his chin, as if he's actually considering it. Which he's not... right?

"Don't get any ideas Soo, I know my pussy is the bomb, but it'd ruin our friendship." You scolded him.

He takes his head off your chest and stands straight up, looking you dead in the eye.

"Come on Y/n... we're both attractive, both gay, both sexually active, and you have an ass that I've been wanting to dive into since the day I met you." He told you, his tone completely sincere, but he can't actually be considering this, can he? This bitch.

"Well yeah... but-" Before you can finish, Soobin cuts you off with a kiss, one that though unexpected, you instantly melt into and kiss him back.

You put your hand in the back of his head to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. Soobin rests his tongue directly on your lip, begging for entrance, which of course you offer. Man... you're kind of easy.

You moan into his mouth as his tongue meets yours, sliding and clashing with yours until he comes out victorious. The kiss is incredibly overwhelming, and it leaves you to pull back to catch your breath, thoughts, and sanity.

"No, don't pull away..." He said all whiny, giving you a pouty face with his bottom lip quivering, but his smile returns once he remembers the subject you two were discussing before the kiss.

"You can't just kiss me like that! I mean it was really good but still!" You loudly told him, your face in a deep blush and completely flushed from his kiss.

"Yeah yeah yeah, Can I rim you now?" He asked casually, totally ignoring your little rant at him.

You just sigh, realizing how much him, and you, both want this. So, you simply respond with a defeated but also excited, "Fine..."

Soobin goes right to work, manhandling you into place on your hands and knees and pulling your pants and underwear down to reveal your puckered hole to him.

The speed in which he does this is enough to give you whiplash, but you go along with it. Afterall, having a man with lips as good as his to eat your ass isn't exactly undesirable.

Once your pants are off and your hole is winking up at him, he dives right into it, taking a long lick along your ass, doing this multiple times until your crack is completely wet with his saliva.

"Fuck, it's already delicious." He said breathlessly.

Once Soobin has done that, takes a few more long licks with his tongue but this time, he gets your balls in there. Licking all the way from your balls to the top of your crack, giving them a little suck from here to there.

He assumes you're ready enough, so he goes right in, diving his tongue into your anus.

You let out a shrieked moan, which he responds with a little chuckle while his tongue is buried in your asshole, sending the most delightful shiver of pleasure to run up your spine.

He licks the hole, inserting his tongue in and out with every stroke of his tongue. He enjoys pleasuring you but it's also clear that he just really loves eating your ass. The way his tongue almost adoringly inserts itself inside you is absolutely orgasm worthy.

"You're so fucking delicious Y/n, new favorite meal." He let out into your ass, the vibrations sending more delightful shivers.

He inserts his hole tongue inside you, pushing the wet muscle in and out of your asshole, making your moan in what can only be described as, like a fucking homo.

Thank god you've rushed because this bitch is getting IN there. Soobin is fucking you with his tongue in the best way. He clearly knows and enjoys what he's doing, which you can tell from the way he moans into your asshole.

He pushes his tongue in and out faster, making your moans louder and your cock leak even more onto the bed. His hands tightly grip your ass cheeks, pulling your asshole even closer to his face, allowing his tongue to reach unfound heights, also allowing your moans to reach unfound decibels.

"Fuck Soo! I'm so close!" You moan out loudly. Soobin simply responds by doubling his efforts, somehow pushing his tongue in even deeper, even lightly touching your prostate.

That's more than enough to make you ejaculate all over the bed, shooting your cum and near covering the sheets. Soobin tongue fucks you through it until you're finally spent.

You collapse on the bed, none of your body being able to work after such a heart stopping orgasm. Soobin laughs lightly as he wraps his arms around you, cuddling you from behind.

"You eat ass like a pro." You started breathlessly.

"It's hard not to when an ass tastes as good as yours."

THE END

[evilminji]

Not my usual Fandom BUT...

You know what would be and always is fascinating/interesting/hilarious? For want of a nail type, "tiny change or little action spiral into great and sweeping change" type fics! ESPECIALLY when combined with my dearly beloved Self Insert troupe!

Because? I DO so love the Self Insert! Not so much for the "I can fix it" or power fantasy, as the ability to wander... a stranger in a strange land. Both familiar yet removed. Known to us yet... not. The major actors, major events, certainly. But the lives of the average person?

The noodle shop owner? The ship salesman? A janitor?

We know nothing about this strange new world from their point of view. What secrets can be found in this or that little shop, well off the common path. And it is FASCINATING! Especially if the Insert wasn't particularly FAMILIAR with the source material. Knew enough to get by, perhaps, too know they are in danger... but not enough to twist events to their favor. Assuming they even had the type of personality to TRY such things.

No, no...

What I? Want to see?

What I think would be FASCINATING?

Is a TRUE carry over. Adult mind to adult mind. Someone settled in their ways. Not bold and terribly adventurous, not willing to recklessly seek out danger and pain. No. They know they are going to die. They know they HAVE died. They are now a Jedi. And can feel the Force... and?

It just... helps.

They let go. Yes, perhaps some plans to protect the younglings. If they can. But their ultimately IS no death, only the Force. It is scary, they acknowledge, frightening even. But they... find calm. Acceptance.

They meditate. Open themselves up to the Force and give up their worry and fears, their regrets. All the terrible burdens they brought with them from their past life. It's honestly a bittersweet sort of relief. Ironic, that such a troubled age should be their most peaceful.

Of course... opening yourself up like that? Reaching out so deeply and with such conviction? It's like painting a "hey! I'm right here! I'm definitely going to listen if you say something to me!" Sign on your forehead, where the Force can see it.

So? It DOES.

But unlike Anikin? The Insert isn't a Fighter. So the Force doesn't tell them to fight. After all, every part has its place in the grand machine of Life. Every actor their place on the stage. Sometimes? To change the galaxy? All you need is someone to be on the right planet, at the right time, ready to hold a door open for the right person.

And that's it.

Not everything needs be grand sweeping actions. It can, instead, be the quiet drip drip drip of medicine applied behind a Sith Lord's back. To undo the damage he has wrought. So when comes the time for his plans to unfold? He does NOT find the support he was counting on to succeed. Instead he finds resistance.

But HOW? How would such a thing be DONE? By a YOUNGLING no less?

A youth with no power? Be it social, political, or physical? AND beneath the Sith Lord's very nose? Without being STOPPED? With said youngling being KILLED? Quite simply! Easily, in fact! By embracing the purest of the Light!

Fun.

Who among us, does NOT know of the parasocial relationship? The feeling of knowing someone, considering them "good" and "something like a friend" dispite never once having spoken to them? Being FOND of them? Wouldn't YOU not defend them? If someone sought to HURT them? KILL them? You KNOW them so very WELL don't you? This person speaks LIES about them!

And what of the Adorable Youngling? Small and Cute? Look at their little cheeks and tiny hands! How precious! Why, we have watched them GROW! They are practically family!

But where does the FUN I speak of come into this? Simple. The Holonet. Crechemaster's trying to corral an adult in the body of a child. The Insert is BORED. At peace, yes. But you can really only meditate so many hours of the day. Lessons only take up so much and class work the same. They aren't at an age where the SERIOUS lessons begin yet.

So they have too much free time.

..........have you heard about "Video Game #55? It's apparently got more Video AND Game then ever!" Intriguing~ But, oh. Playing it ALONE it BORING. And playing with... well, INFANTS, is... an exercise in patience. Plus it's probably not appropriate for them. Hmmmmm..... you KNOW.... Insert really DOES miss? Watching Let's Plays over breakfast/lunch...

They've never MADE one... but they know they general script and idea? And for Some Reason? It feels like a GREAT way to pass the time! Yeah! Let's do THAT! And so the Force nudges. Tiny. Seemingly inconsequential. The Master's try to shut it down, Insert is stubborn and refuses, they talk it out. Because they are Jedi and authoritarian force is not their way. Is it frustrating? Perhaps. But the only cure for ignorance is knowledge.

They ultimately compromise. Insert get to keep their little game thing, THEY make sure Insert is compromising Temple security, putting themselves in danger, talking to dubious strangers, or other such perils. It is? A FASCINATING view into the secretive world of the Mysterious Jedi for most of the galaxy. All lead by an adorable Youngling playing games.

Of course, such a silly, ridiculous thing is BENEATH Palpatine's concern. Fun and games? Not even formal or official ones? The child doesn't even represent the jedi. They represent no one. Clearly not a threat, right?

WRONG.

Because one game? Leads to another. Leads to being recommended another. Leads to "hey check out this music". Leads to "how was your day?" Leads to chatting about Jedi philosophy... as simplified for small children. Easy to understand and then complained over like it's maths homework. And... huh.

You guys really liked when I talked about X? Well, I don't know much about it... buuut? I could probably FIND someone or go to the archives? Make a video? I'll make a poll. Vote down below?

Untouchable and distant? Nah. Jedi play "Crafting Game 73" and whine about their Crechemates being JERKS for eating the last dessert. Jedi, in their head's, are small adorable younglings and the amused adults meditating the back ground who watch over them. EVERYONE knows the Jedi. The Jedi are on our datapads. Are our friends. We've totally met them.

Parasocial relationships.

Or maybe that's just me? I just... God I REALLY want to see how they'd react to a initiate who just? Won't stop fuckin making Let's Plays of all things. Just? WHY. HOW? WHY AND HOW?! No, NO don't you shrug at me and run of, youngling! Get back here! What "skill issue"? Which skill? Initiate!!!

@hdgnj @hypewinter @babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation @lolottes @leftnotright @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @spidori

[mypoorocs]

Thinking about a first time Whumper x veteran Whumpee...

When they first meet:

"You don't seem nearly scared enough. This isn't your first time is it?" "You seem weirdly nervous. Is it yours?"

"Ugh! Out of everyone in the city I could kidnap I had to get stuck with someone else's leftovers!"

"You used to belong to so-and-so, didn't you? Ah! They're my idol! Oh! This is exciting. I get to study their masterpiece up close!"

"WHY AREN'T YOU SCARED OF ME?!!!"

"Oh. You've never done this before." "Stop judging me. I have a knife."

"How is it you know exactly what I like?" "You torturers are all the same." "You've done this before??"

"I won't kill you, but I need you to cooperate. I am new to this, just so you know." "Yup. I'm going to die."

"Mmmm, I love how you move when you're in pain." "Thanks! I've been practicing for years."

"Who taught you to scream like this?"

Whumpee helping Whumper figure out the basics:

"Why are you on your knees?" "Oh sorry. Do you not like that? The last guy liked me that way. I just assumed…" "No, no. It's a good idea. Keep doing that. I just… never thought of it."

"So, what are the rules?" "Rules?" "Yeah, dumbass. Your rules for me. Do you want me to call you sir? Master? Or can I keep calling you jackass?"

"Do you want me to put up a fight or should we skip straight to the submissive stage?" "Oh... uhhh... don't fight too much. I don't trust myself not to accidentally kill you." "Oh, yeah. Good point."

"What kind of scream do you like?" "There are kinds of screams?" "Yeah. The last guy liked it when I ugly-cried. But I'm pretty good a bloodcurdling and whimpering like a kicked puppy. I can try to stay quiet but I can't make promises there..." "Hmmm... try all of them. I'll tell you which I like best."

"You cleaned??" "Yeah? Was I not supposed to?" "I didn't know you could make captives do that?!" "For the record, I didn't do it because I'm scared of you - your arm gets tired after giving me like three lashes. I did it because I'm going to be spending a lot of time bleeding on this table and I doubt it occurred to you to disinfect it."

Whumpee teaching Whumper how to whump:

"Show me what they used to do to you."

Whumper studying the scars on Whumpees body to learn the best places to cut/stab.

"Oh no! A knife? How original!" /s

"If you stab me right there you'll kill me. You have to go one inch to the right. Yeah, right there-AHHHHHH! …yup. Right there."

"I'll make you a deal. Let me have a solid eight hours of sleep and I'll show you where to pinch the nerve that will paralyze my left arm."

"You can't leave me tied up like this!" "I can do what I want!" "Yes. Okay. True. But like, you've either got to tie my knees to my chest or let my feet touch the ground. Otherwise I'm going to asphyxiate."

Whumper having an inferiority complex:

"I CAN DO ANYTHING THEY COULD DAMMIT!" (They = Whumpee's former Whumper)

"WHUMPEE! YOU'RE NOT BETTER THAN ME!" *Whumpee trying not to laugh when Whumper fucks up something really basic.*

"You must think I'm so pathetic." "NOo! Of course not! You're doing amazing! Really you are! I'm so fucking scared of you right now. I promise."

"I'll never be as good as the person who hurt you before." "You'll get there! I promise. I was like his fifth victim - I'm your first. Be kind to yourself!"

"How the fuck did your former Whumper do it?" "Yeah... you're not getting that out of me..."

Whumper being paranoid that Whumpee is manipulating them. Even though they hold the power they feel like Whumpee has more control over the situation because they know more.

Also...

Whumpee knowing just how to manage Whumper. They instinctively know when to be a little defiant and when to do exactly as they are told. They know just the right tone of voice to speak in, and just how to move, scream, to keep Whumper as pleased as possible. The sooner Whumper is satisfied the sooner it will stop.

Whumpee pretending it hurts worse than it does, lying about which places/tortures hurt most, acting more sick or tired than they really are to get rest/food, acting more scared than they really are… It's not like Whumper could know better.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

There is love in me, I swear (tell me there's something in you, too)

let me wrap my teeth around the world - series masterlist here

pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.3k

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: slytherin reader, they're all big partiers, reader has a bad attitude but in a nice lovable way

a/n: I warned everyone that I would be posting for someone new and now you all must suffer the consequences xoxo but also do please be nice abt it I beg

There's always an air of confidence amongst the three of them, the way they lounge on one of the larger couches in the Gryffindor common room, legs overlapping and shoulders pushed up against one another. They're completely at ease, your brain supplies as you step up to them, and you remember vaguely that people have said the same about you more times than you can count.

There's none of that from you now, though, as you perch on the armrest and look down at James's beaming smile.

"Hey lovely, what brings you here?" The way he lets an arm grip your waist is natural, pulling you closer so that your hip is against his shoulder.

"Finally needed to come up for air? Snake pit getting to be a bit much, hm?" Sirius's tone holds no real malice and neither does the glare you shoot him or Remus's chiding look. 

"Came up here for some peace and quiet. Guess I'm not getting that, though," you shoot back good-naturedly, a hand running through James's hair as he begins to let his thumb rub circles on your hip where his arm is anchored around you.

"You, uh, came up to the Gryffindor common room for peace and quiet, love?" says Remus, amusement tinting his voice. You let your bottom lip jut out slightly in response.

"Desperate times. They're getting ready to throw another rager tonight and I'm just too tired for that," you say, a long sigh leaving your lips as you speak. James pauses his soothing hands to pull away from you enough to look up at your face, his brows furrowed and eyes big in that worried way of his. Remus and Sirius have perked up as well, and you find yourself sitting straighter at the attention.

"...You feeling alright, sweet thing?" Sirius asks. Your mouth falls open in shock.

"I'm not - I'm not that much of an alcoholic. I don't need to go to every party - you three aren't there, either." You look back and forth between the three focused gazes.

"Yea, but… what's a Slytherin party without you there? That's like - there wouldn't be a Gryffindor party without us." James points out. You arch a brow at him.

"Maybe you three just think too highly of yourselves," you respond dryly. Sirius barks out a laugh from where he's lying across Remus' lap and James makes a big show of pretending to be offended.

"Wasn't it you who called us Gryffindor's golden boys last week, dove?" Remus points out, a smile stretching across his face. You glare back.

"Alright, you can all shut up now. I didn't come up here to be accosted." You say haughtily, but Remus's smile doesn't falter and Sirius coos at you the way you assume he'd coo at something rather small and fluffy. You sniff indignantly and plant yourself more firmly on the armrest while James makes some gentle attempts to pull you down onto the couch next to him.

"Come on, lovely," James tries to coax you. You look down at him indignantly. "You can relax. It's just us," he prompts, smoothing a hand over your back. You shoot him another withering glare and, when met by nothing but his beaming smile, let your stubbornness slacken just enough that he can haul you up off the armrest, manhandling him so that you're suddenly squished on the couch between him and Remus, Sirius still lounging on his lap.

Remus puts an arm around you, the weight familiar as it falls over your shoulders and you begin to slump into it despite your stubbornness. 

"Aw, your ice melts so fast for us, baby," Sirius teases, leaning to poke your cheek gently with his forefinger. 

"I'll break that finger, Black," you shoot back, but there's no fight left in your voice. Sirius just laughs, leaning even more to press a kiss to your cheek, instead. You deflate a bit more, relaxing into the cushions and the heat of James pressed against you. He visibly sweetens at that, leaning towards you to press his own kisses up and down the side of your neck as Remus's fingers tangle with the hair at the nape of your neck, massaging slightly. 

"Alright, alright," you murmur, voice breathy as you squirm under the attention. Remus eases up, his arm wrapping around your shoulders once more to let you relax against him, James pulling back to look at you fondly. 

"Sorry, lovely," he flashes another smile. "Don't mean to overwhelm you."

"I'm fine," you say stubbornly. Sirius giggles in a way that you're sure means he doesn't believe you, and the faces of the other two reflect that sentiment. They let the silence hang, though, letting you gather your bearings.

"It's not fair," is all you finally say, in a voice too small to be your own. "I always know exactly what I'm doing and what I'm saying and what I'm feeling - until you three show up. Then I don't - I don't know." No one responds immediately and you wince internally, as you're sure it's so that they can all choose their words carefully. Like you're some kind of timebomb, your mind prompts you. Like they're waiting for you to just explode.

"I do," Sirius supplies, his voice carrying a sombre air that it doesn't typically. "I know what you mean, love."

"No you don't," you murmur petulantly, but he takes it good-naturedly, his face softening with nothing but love. The other two stay quiet - it's like they've suddenly stepped into a private conversation, even though they've been there the whole time.

"Sometimes," Sirius begins carefully. Tick, tick, tick, your mind reminds you. You bite your lip at your own perceived volatility. "When we're not loved the way we should be, it just takes a while to get used to suddenly having it. I… I do know how that feels, love." Your shoulders tighten at his words, something that feels almost like guilt burning in the back of your throat.

"I'm sorry, Sirius - I didn't mean -"

"Don't apologize. There's nothing to forgive. You haven't done anything wrong here. You aren't doing anything wrong with us." You bite your lips harder at Siriuis' words, his gentleness, tasting a hint of copper in your mouth when you bite too hard. Remus steps in at this, clicking his tongue in that gentle, reprimanding way that you recognize as he uses his thumb to smooth over your lip.

"We love you," James reminds softly, his hand finding a home on your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin ever so slightly as he holds onto you firmly. "Never-ending bad mood and all." You open your mouth to snipe back but close it again quickly when you see the humour in James' eyes. "Sirius is the biggest drama queen alive and we still love him," James continues. Sirius makes an indignant, wounded sort of noise that goes ignored. 

"Well… that's alright, I suppose," you huff, your arms crossed as you sit sullenly. James coos at you in a way that you should hate as Remus slides one hand against your cheek, guiding you to look at him so that he can pass a long kiss to your lips. You make an embarrassingly needy sound somewhere in the back of your throat and grip onto the front of his shirt, but the only evidence that Remus has noticed is the way he smiles against you. That and Sirius's jealous huff as he watches, unsure of which place he'd rather be in.

The three of you settle in as you and Remus part, him smiling lazily and thumbing over your lips. You press a quick, delicate kiss to the pad of his thumb before letting yourself relax fully into the couch, the silence that blankets the three of you forming a soft, comforting sort of thing.

"So…" Sirius begins. "You're really not going to go down to the party? At all?" You sigh and tilt your head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Yea, alright, we should go. Come on."

"Knew you couldn't stay away."

[entitled-fangirl]

Chance. (P3)

Aemond Targaryen x reader; Aegon x Wife!reader

Summary: the people grow restless with no king. The reader is determined to find out Aemond's motives.

A/n: A short little chapter to get us to Sunday when the next episode releases!

Part 1, 2, 4

Masterlist

...........................................................

"Ser Hightower!" Y/n called out as she walked down the stairs to the courtyard. 

Gwayne looked away from Alicent, immediately moving his attention to her, "My queen. How may I be of assistance?"

"I wondered if, time permitting, we may speak?"

Alicent tilted her head, eyeing the girl closely. 

Gwayne nodded. "Even if time does not permit, I shan't leave the queen wanting. I am yours."

Alicent noted the smile that grazed her brother's face. She huffed and walked off, not bothering with a goodbye. 

Y/n sighed, "You were at the battle, fighting valiantly, I assume."

He nodded and spoke with his usual soft voice, "Indeed, I was."

"What happened?"

His head tilted and a curious look came to his eye, "I'm lost, I'm afraid.  Ask me plainly, my queen. I don't keep secrets, you know."

She looked over to Alicent and Cole speaking across the courtyard before looking back to the male Hightower. "Who truly harmed Aegon?"

His brows furrowed and he looked away for a moment, "I didn't get a look at it. I was too concerned with the fighting on the ground."

She sighed and nodded, "I had figured you would have been."

"You suspect foul play?"

She shrugged, "It's all foul play, ser."

He let out a soft chuckle, "You're right in that." He shifted his body weight in thought, "I know you're not looking for allies-"

"-I am, actually."

His brows furrowed again. "Ah. Well, I am not much, but I will be your eyes in the bannermen if you wish."

She smiled, "I'd like that very much, ser. I thank you, as does the crown."

"Your thanks is enough."

…

"You're really to go?" She asked with a frown. 

Aemond smirked, "I am needed to win this battle. Vhagar listens to no one else."

She sighed, "Aegon is furious with you, you know."

He shrugged, "So be it. I care not what he thinks anymore."

"That's your king, Aemond. Be careful with who you speak such things to."

"I am," he stated. "I'm speaking it to you, am I not?"

Her cheeks flushed, "Just don't get injured. Please. I wouldn't be able to sleep well at night if you did."

He grinned, "Promise."

…

"My queen, we must leave now!"

Her head shot up, "What? What's happened?"

…

"They mock me!" He growled.

"My love, they do not."

Aegon scoffed, "My brother and my hand makes plans without me. They do not ask me of anything."

"They mean it in good favor-"

"-What is good favor if it is not from your king!?"

She rubbed her forehead softly, "Perhaps let this one go, and reconvene when the battle is won."

"You've have me just let this go?"

"Drink some wine. Take a bath. Go see a whore. I dunno, Aegon."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, "I'm a lousy king, aren't I?"

"You're doing just fine."

"Why doesn't it feel like it then?"

She paused, unsure of what to say. 

Alicent walked in, and Y/n stood. She kissed Aegon's forehead, "Give it thought, my love. You're as fearsome as any of them."

She moved past Alicent with a glare.

…

"GET THE WOMEN TO THE WHEELHOUSE!"

Alicent grabbed Helaena's hand, helping drag her down the stairs. 

Y/n joined them not long after, leaving from a different door.

Surrounded by guards, the three were dragged through the rioting crowd, occasionally grabbed by the people.

"Tis the queen of fishes!"

Something was thrown, smacking Alicent in the face. She gasped, but was ushered further on.

Alicent's iron grip made her not lose Helaena, but Y/n was quickly lost. 

She disappeared in the crowd, pushed left and right in panic. 

She felt someone grab her chin and pull her forward. "You'll sleep with anyone with a crown, won't you, pretty girl?" The voice sneered. 

She whined out, closing her eyes as if it would will it away. 

Hands moved everywhere, one tugging at her dress, tearing it from her shoulder with a loud rip. 

Hot tears ran down her face, not stopping even when a guard found her again and pushed the others away. He paused for just a moment to access her, "My queen!"

Only then did she see the guard's wide eyes and a white hot pain moved to her cheek. 

She reached up, her fingers coming back with bright red blood. 

Black clouded her vision. 

..................................................

part 4

taglist: @p45510n4f4shi0n, @darktrashsoulbear, @vieenr0se, @pez-unicorn, @marlenees-world, @thatbabydeer

[domain-expand-me]

My work amount has finally lessened, so here I am.

Imagine being MILF/DILF and the different sorcerers and curses are obsessed with you.

Aged up characters, reader is in their 40s, because when I say milf/dilf, I mean it.

This is more of an introduction, let me know if you want something more about a specific character.

Imagine living in a small house you got for cheap, and on accident near the Jujutsu campus. You aren't a curse user, but you respect the spirits because you grew up with a superstitious parent or grandparent. And because you're hot and have a nice personality, the curses tend to leave you alone.

Maybe they just end up hanging around your place, because who wouldn't wanna stick around to watch a hot milf/dilf walking around in nothing but a pair of shorts and a too tight t-shirt.

After moving into your home, cursed energy started getting concentrated around your home, much to the worry of the sorcerers at the campus. They might assume you are an illegal curse user or somehow summoning curses. Imagine their surprise when Gojo and Nanami pull up to see curses clustered around the window, being peeping toms.

The curses are easy to get rid of, as it's nothing too extreme. Gojo being Gojo would want to see what they were so distracted by, and he almost ends up pulling his blindfold up to get a good look, because there you are. Walking around your home in a pair of way too small shorts and what was probably once a band t-shirt. It's so washed out that the print is gone, and the fabric is way too thin.

Nanami would grumble and be annoyed about Gojo being a creep, until he meets you too one day when you are bringing groceries in. Being the gentleman he is, he helps you carry it all inside, and he can't explain why he gets so red afterwards after you squeezed his bicep and complimented his muscles.

You don't really understand why these two handsome younger men, because they are much younger than you, keep hanging around your place. In your own eyes you don't think you are too attractive, if at all, maybe you're divorced, or you lost your last spouse somehow. Your kids are all grown up and out doing their own thing. You aren't as fit as you once were, having kids does that to a person.

If you're a dilf, maybe you have the blessed dad strength and dad bod, maybe you've worked a physically taxing job for most of your life, so now your body is worn down enough that you have to do something else. The muscle still lays there though, under the layer of chub on top.

If you're a milf, you would have given birth to your kids once upon a time, and the baby weight never truly went away. The stretch marks and other signs of age are one of the things you feel insecure about, but little do you know, it only makes you more attractive in the eyes of your admirers.

That is to say, in your own eyes, you aren't a catch. So you don't understand why Nanami shows up on your specified shopping days or gardening days, or why Gojo shows up almost begging for your attention. You end up just assuming they are being nice, and since your kids don't visit you much anymore, you let them(mainly Gojo) invade your home.

Imagine meeting their students, most likely a result of Gojo dragging them along. They're younger than your own kids, so you can't help but find yourself caring about them. When Yuji starts stuttering and sputtering when you hug him, or when Megumi goes bright red when you place a hand on his forehead to check it he has a cold, you fear you may have overstepped your boundaries.

In reality it's because when you hug Yuji, your breasts/pecs press up against him, especially if you are somehow taller than him and he ends up with his face in-between your chest. For Megumi it's because when you lean down, the collar of your shirt has a tendency of sliding down, showing off more cleavage than you realize.

When Todo gets dragged along you assume he's just another friendly young man, as he's going out of his way to be so helpful. You don't notice the way the other students glare when Todo shows you how to stretch your shoulders and legs because your muscles have been acting up.

If it's when Yuji still had Sukuna sealed inside him, poor Yuji won't hear the end of it. Sukuna would be saying the most lewd things about you, claiming you are teasing them on purpose with the clothes you wear or how you act. Yuji's had to grip his own wrist when Sukun tried to take over to grope you when you were bent over grabbing something.

If you end up meeting Choso, you immediately find yourself caring for him. He barely has to be introduced before you pull him inside, place him on your couch, wrap him in a blanket and bring him snacks. He just looks so sad and like he needs to be loved on. He wouldn't completely understand the deep attraction he has for you in the beginning, and it's only after he gets help from others that he understands. They all just sigh and pat him on the back all "welcome to the club brother"

I could go on, but this is already long.