#and i feel for them. i feel their pain and the emptiness of not knowing what's next or what you should do

[florencebirdsong]

Healer Knows Best

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Healer AU - Chapter 1/3

Summary: you have a problem you can’t ignore anymore. The local healer, Agatha Harkness, is more than happy to help.

Tags: naive reader, virgin reader, first time, fingering, medical play, good girl, R is horny and doesn't have the words for it, no pronouns used for R, R is told it doesn’t counts as sex but does says yes to Agatha’s fingers so dubious consent, manipulation

masterlist | ao3

Authors note: dark grey Agatha my beloved

You knock on the healer’s door and wring your hands nervously as you wait for her to answer. Half of you hopes she isn’t home and the other hopes she is. Your problem is embarrassing but you know if she isn’t here now you won’t find the courage to return. Which means the feeling will only get worse.

She opens the door and you struggle to bury the relief and anxiety. Her beauty is startling and you curse your affliction for noticing. Her hair is braided back out of her face, a few strands escaping. The sunlight brings out the detail in her blue eyes.

“Healing or ingredients?” she asks.

You force yourself to look at the ground instead of staring.

“Healing please,” you say, forcing some strength into your voice.

“Very well,” she opens the door wider. “What seems to be the problem?” she asks as she leads you inside the small cottage. 

It’s every surface is crowded with materials and ingredients and tools. You look around nervously. This is the first time you’ve been to see the healer by yourself. You haven’t even been inside before. She doesn’t offer you a seat. She stops in front of the bench that has the most space on it, a mortar and pestle front and centre.

“It’s…um a bit embarrassing,” you say.

“Now, now, dear, I’ve been doing this for decades. There’s nothing I haven’t heard. Or seen,” she adds with a wink.

Something flutters in your stomach and it only makes the feeling worse. 

“It’s about,” you hesitate and then gesture vaguely to your lower stomach.

“Is something wrong with your monthly? Pain worse than usual?” She begins to move items around on the table.  

You cross your arms around yourself. You knew you’d have to explain it for her to be able to help but that doesn’t mean you were able to make yourself prepare for it. 

“It’s not that,” you say. “But it’s-it’s the same thing.”

The word is too vulgar. She turns back around.

“Thing? If it’s not your monthly then how can it be the same thing?”

“I mean,” you fluster, “It’s the same area.”

“You mean your cunt?” she asks bluntly. You gape at her. “This is a medical environment. Use the proper terms.”  You continue to gape at her but she doesn’t seem phased.  “What’s happening to your cunt?”

You gather yourself as best as you can.

“It-“

“My cunt,” she cuts you off. You look at her, lost. “Say it. I told you to use the proper terms. Say my cunt,” she makes a continue gesture.

“M-my cunt,” you force out and the smile she gives you in return warms you and makes that feeling grow, “feels…,” you hadn’t thought this far ahead, “weird.” You settle on.

“Weird how?” Her eyes trail down your form. “Itchy. Hot. Tingling. Wet?” 

She steps closer with every word. You swallow harshly and look anywhere but at her.

“Um, tingling. And the last one,” you say quickly. 

“Is there a colour to this wetness?” She asks, close enough to accidentally brush against. 

You shake your head.

“I see,” she says and her eyebrows furrow a little.

“You see?” your ask worriedly at her expression. “You see what?”

“It’s probably nothing,” she tries to wave you off.

It doesn’t feel like nothing. It feels like you’re going to go crazy. 

“But if it isn’t nothing, then what would it be?” your hands twist anxiously in the skirt of your dress.

“I can’t be sure yet. Hop up,” she taps the empty batch. You hesitate before lifting yourself to sit on the edge. “Now, this can be a little awkward but I need to be sure.”

“What can be awkward?” you ask as she steps closer.

She taps the inside of your knees and you open them without really thinking. She steps between them and you stare up at her with wide eyes. She’s close. Close enough that she’s the only thing you can see. 

Her hand grasps the bottom of your dress and you stare up at her with wide eyes. She doesn’t look away as she lifts the skirt of your dress to your hips.

“What are you doing?” you ask, sounding breathless.

“I need to check for myself. There’s no point upsetting you if it’s nothing.”

“You’re going to…?” you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“I’m going to touch your cunt. Yes.”

You swallow harshly, your mouth suddenly dry. You don’t stop her when she pushes your legs further apart or when she begins to pull down your underwear. You try not to squirm. She’s a healer. Like she said, she’s seen everything. There’s nothing to be embarrassed or nervous about. It’s still hard not to be when she finally looks at you there. 

“There’s no visual indications, which is a good sign, but I won’t be able to know until I touch,” two fingers stop inches from where you’re dripping and she looks up at you, “May I?”

There’s a look on her face you don’t have the name for you. You nod and her fingers gently run through your soaking folds. You gasp at the unfamiliar feeling. You look up at the ceiling when you realise it feels good. You don’t want the healer to see it on your face. 

Her fingers run lower and your hips twitch as they run over that special spot you’re not meant to touch. She does it again with a bit more pressure and your hand flies to your mouth to stifle the embarrassing noise trying to escape it.

“Good,” she murmurs quietly to herself.

You think it’s over until she runs her finger higher and touches that thing. That sensitive something that you’ve only ever brushed. You can’t help gasping at the tingle it sparks. Agatha’s eyes lock onto you.

“Did that hurt?” she asks.

“No,” your voice cracks. “But it felt weird.”

“What about this?” Her finger circles and you cling to the table. “How does this feel?”

“I don’t-I don’t know. I-“ 

She presses down on that spot and the jolt it sends through you makes you close your legs. Her hips stop you. She sighs and pulls her hand away. You aren’t sure if you’re meant to be so upset about it.

“Did that make the feeling stronger?”

“Yes,” you manage to say.

“It’s not as bad as I thought.”

“It’s not?” you ask hopefully. 

“No pain crosses out a couple options. The treatment will be easier that way.”

You relax for the first time. An easy treatment means the thing happening to you will be over soon.

“Do I take something or is it a paste?” you ask, hoping you brought enough money. 

 “Have you ever been with someone, dear?” she asks, ignoring your question.

“Yes.” Of course you have, you aren’t a hermit. You have friends and there’s always those yearly family gatherings. You aren’t sure how a person can go through life without being with someone else. Wouldn’t you die as a baby?

Agatha raises an eyebrow and studies your expression. You shift uncomfortably.

“Let me put it a different way,” she says and her hands land on your thighs.  “Have you ever been fucked?”

“I-excuse me?” you stutter.

“It’s a simple question, dear. One I need answered as your healer.” 

“I’m not married,” you say.

“So? That doesn’t mean you’ve never snuck off with another girl and let her fool around under your skirts.”

You’re so embarrassed that you feel like you’re going to die.

“Only your spouse is allowed to touch you under there,” you murmur.  “And healers,” you quickly add on.  

The look she gives you is almost amused.

“So that’s a no?” she asks and you nod your head. “I didn’t think so,” she says.

You watch, confused, as she moves to the other side of the room and picks up a small purple jar. She returns to her spot between your thighs, you didn’t even think to close them. She takes off the lid and tilts the jar towards you.

You peer in curiously at the jar. The gel inside of it is clear and you can’t smell anything.

“You’ll need to apply this twice a day,” she says. When she doesn’t say where or how much you ask. “In your cunt, dear.”

“In?”

“It can be a little uncomfortable for someone who hasn’t been touched there before,” she says sympathetically.

She hands you the jar and you stare down at it with wide eyes.

“How far in?” Is the first thing you can think of. 

She snorts a little and you look up at her.

“All the way, dear.”

“How-how deep-“

She grasps your shaking hands. 

“How about I administer the first dose?”

Your stomach twists. The feeling that’s been haunting you grows.

“Yes, please,” you don’t want to do it wrong.

You watch, almost entranced, as she takes the jar and dips two fingers into the liquid. She swirls them around for a few moments before scooping some out. She runs her fingers over you the spot you aren’t allowed to touch and you gasp at the cool feeling. One finger gently circles your entrance.

“I’ll go easy on you,” she murmurs.

She begins to slowly push one finger inside of you and you cling desperately to the table. The feeling is new and strange and you feel a slight stretching sensation. You look up from the strange, exciting image of a finger entering you to find Agatha focused solely on your face, analysing your every reaction. Embarrassment runs through you but can’t bring yourself to look away. Your breathing is heavy and it’s hard to think about anything other than her.

She pulls out before she’s all the way inside of you and you whimper at the sudden empty feeling. You’re surprised at how heavily you’re breathing and how desperately you want her back inside of you. 

“You’re tighter than I thought,” Agatha says, her voice now has a rougher edge to it. “I’m going to need to use more fingers to properly coat your insides.” 

“More?” your voice cracks and you try to hide how eager you are.

“It’ll feel the same as before,” she reassures as her fingers return to your entrance. “Just a bit tighter.”

She doesn’t give you time to question, she pushes two wet fingers inside of you. She’s just as slow as the first time and you fight yourself to keep still as every inch makes that feeling inside of you grow.

“It’s making it worse,” you gasp. 

You thought the mixture was meant to stop this feeling inside of your cunt.

“Take it,” she says warningly and you whimper. “This won’t work if we can’t get it deep enough and you need to be wide open for me to do that.”

You don’t fight as she pushes deeper.  You cling to her shoulders and try to open your legs wider, hoping that will help with the stretch. You whimper when she gets to her second knuckle and you can feel the shiver that runs through her at the sound.

“Good girl, almost there,” she says. 

The name makes the tingling spread and you desperately hope she calls you it again.

Her fingers stop and you look down. They’re fully inside of you. It makes the feeling grow more and you have to focus on staying still to not embarrass yourself further.

“Is that it?” you ask, a slight whimper to your words.

“Not quite,” Agatha says, she’s got a smile on her face you haven’t seen before but it quickly transforms back into her professional mask. “We have to make sure it’s spread evenly.”

“How-”

She pulls her fingers half-way out before pushing back into you. A noise you’ve never made before escapes you. There’s a look on her face that you don’t have time to question as she does it again. And again and again. You try to count how many times she moves in and out of you to distract yourself from the wave of pleasure growing and growing inside of you. It doesn’t work. All you can concentrate on is the feeling of her fingers. How good it feels every time she thrusts back into you. How much you don’t want her to stop.

“I’m not deep enough,” she says and your confusion comes out in a whimper. It feels like she is. It feels like she’s reached the deepest part of you. “I’ll have to use another finger.”

“I-I can’t take that much,” you say with a slight whine.

Two fingers feel good, they feel so good but the idea of her adding another scares you. Two barely fit. Yet the memory of how the stretch turned into spine-tingling pleasure has you willing to take anything she gives you.

“You will,” she says and slips in her third finger without anymore warning. 

Your cry quickly turns to a moan as the feeling inside of you intensifies. Agatha makes a small sound when she looks down at her hand. She slows down and your hips buck in protest. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t feeling overwhelmingly good.

She curls her fingers and that feeling triples.

“Something’s happening,” you say in a high pitched voice.

“Let it,” Agatha says, the reassurance from before gone as she concentrates solely on her fingers. She curls them again and hits something deep inside of you. You throw your head back and moan as that feeling snaps and your body floods with pleasure. It pulses inside of you in a never ending loop.

 Agatha slows down but doesn’t stop until your exhausted body tilts forward and leans against her.

She gently pulls out and you make a protesting noise. The feeling of being so empty upsetting after being full for the first time. She chuckles quietly and wipes off her wet fingers on your thigh. 

She quietly lets you get your strength back. Hands firmly holding you but not caressing. Your breathing is steadier when you pull back but it hitches at the look on her face. Her pupils are blown and she almost seems to be drinking you in with her eyes.

“Good,” she says and steps back. You feel a little lost. Agatha wipes her hand on a clean rag before picking up the jar again. “Repeat every two days. Let’s say, six times.”

You nod mutely and take the jar. You don’t get up. You don’t think your legs can hold you just yet.

“What happened at the end…” you trail off hoping Agatha will fill in the rest. She doesn’t. “Was I-was it supposed to?”

Agatha huffs a laugh.

“Yes, dear,” she says, “You needed to for the mixture to take effect properly.”

“Oh,” the tight hold embarrassment has loosens. Then anxiety takes hold. “Does that mean I need to do that?”

“Yes,” Agatha says with a secret smile. 

You swallow nervously.

“Like how you did it?”

“There are a few other ways but I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

You nod and fiddle nervously with the jar as you try to imagine pushing your own fingers inside of you. The idea isn’t unpleasant. You’re more worried about someone discovering you. Will they believe that a healer has told you to? How are you meant to prove otherwise if they don’t? Drag them down to Agatha? If they really believe you’re breaking such a rule they won’t give you time to do so.

Agatha must see the look on your face.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. Lock the door, pull up your dress. It shouldn’t take too long with how sensitive you are,” she says and you fluster at her crassness. “Don’t be afraid to come back if you need some help with applying the mixture.”

You nod meekly and take the jar.

“I will.”

[missgenesis]

Ya know. I think this is a turning point for me.

I think I've seen enough of your world. I used to feel motivated and inspired by the mystery. Now there is only emptiness. I dont find it sad or scary and more. Just empty.

I don't want to know anymore. Not if I'm powerless like this. Until now I couldn't be anywhere else but now I see that all it does is drain from me.

I'll be better off forgetting about the floating city and all the pain it caused me, and focusing on my own growth.

I can't help them. It's out of my hands.

I'll go my own way.

There is nothing more I can learn in this place.

Life is never like that.

[rememberwren]

Dichotomy of Thought || 11

Past and further chapters here.

Simon and Johnny make up.

|| Chapter warnings: Anal fingering, anal sex, baby-trapping, medication tampering, medication control.

-

Your boyfriend manages your medications, a one-man pharmacy. 

Every morning the pills are waiting for you on the table in the foyer beside where you deposit your keys in the evening. There are two of them. 

The first is oblong, tan. Your boyfriend hoards and hides the bottle, but you’d fished the information pamphlet that came from the pharmacy out of the trash, and you know everything there is to know about it from that page jam-packed with text. Sertraline, 50mg. Otherwise known as Zoloft. Just swallowing the tasteless pill makes you remember the even darker days than the ones you’re living now, the ones that had led you to that waiting room with your boyfriend in the seat beside you waiting for a doctor to see you. How do I know if I’m depressed, you had asked the doctor, bold as anything even with your boyfriend’s hand on your knee, or if my life just isn’t worth living? 

You’d learned. By God, you’d learned. 

The other pill is your birth control. Round, sometimes blue, sometimes white, depending on where you are in your cycle. Today it is white and—

It looks—different. 

He wouldn’t, you think to yourself, thumb nudging at the pill in your palm, like seeing it from a different angle might jog your memory of it. He wouldn’t do that. A kid is the last thing he wants. He wouldn’t sacrifice his own freedom just to keep you trapped underneath his thumb. 

Except—wouldn’t he? 

“Hurry it up,” he says, yawning, like you kept him up late last night. “I want to go back to bed.” 

You try to take a picture of the pill in your mind before you drop it onto your tongue, taking a swig from your water tumbler, but your brain feels so scrambled that you forget it right away. You can’t even remember the color—had it truly been white, or had it been the pale sky blue of  robin’s egg?

It goes down like a lump of chalk. He makes you show him your empty mouth before he’s satisfied that you aren’t cheeking the pills, and then he kisses you and tells you to have a good day at work, honey. 

-

“Rooster wants you in his office,” Jackie says under her breath, helping you hurriedly clear one of your tables. You’re slow with the splint on your smallest finger, the throb of pain lancing all the way up your wrist each time you use the damaged hand. Jackie has been an angel in khakis picking up your slack. 

You wish that you had one of the pills that they’d given you in the emergency department. It hadn’t taken away all of the pain, but it’d made your head feel light and floaty and like you could care less if all your fingers were broken. Or maybe you wanted one of Johnny’s pills—the ones that put him in a peaceful sleep. You haven’t had such a thing in so long that you can’t remember when, even your moments of relaxation tainted until ���rest’ is just waiting for the next act of violence. 

“What does he want?” you ask. 

“Probably to tell you about the raise,” she says. She rolls her eyes and twirls a fingers, mouth set in a grim smile of comradery. “Fifty cents. Writing home about it as we speak. Or maybe he wants to grill you about who keeps stealing from the registers—like we all don’t know it’s Ruth.” 

Fifty cents. You can’t even turn up your nose at it. Every penny is one that brings you closer to that apartment across town. With a promise that you’ll return as quickly as you can, you step off the floor (avoiding making eye contact with any customers who would happily sideway you for refills or to complain) and into the back of the house. It’s quiet back here, cooler. Rapping your knuckles against Rooster’s door, you wait. 

There’s no response, and no sign of him in the hallway. Some of the line cooks are coming in, filtering toward the break room to start their shift. You feel their eyes on you as you stand impotently outside the door. One of them says something to the other, and there is laughter, too loud and boisterous for the enclosed space. Your heart has begun to pound, sweat breaking out at the nape of your neck. 

“Hey,” one of them says to you. 

“Hi,” you mutter, forcing a smile, unable to make eye contact. 

Still there is no sign of Rooster from either end of the hallway—never would you have considered the short man your savior. Heart racing, you crack the door open and see that the office is empty. You slip inside, shutting the door safely behind you. 

The room is as self-important as you might imagine: a desk that seems too large for the space, filing cabinets in the corner. There’s a corkboard pockmarked with holes after years of use, and you drift over to it, too anxious to take a seat in the chair on the other side of Rooster’s desk. A calendar is posted there, Rooster’s neat handwriting here and there. 

Something catches your eye: LOCKER CLEANOUT marked for two weeks from now. 

It seemed like the last locker cleanout had just happened. You had only collected five hundred dollars back then, but it was far too much to want to explain to Rooster, and you had nowhere else to stash it that was safe. In the end, it had sat in an envelope under the driver’s seat of your car while Rooster took the week and went through each of the lockers to ensure compliance with the restaurant’s rules (all because someone used to have a penchant for leaving snack cakes in their locker leading to a bad case of ants that almost led to the restaurant being shut down). It had been the longest week of your life, like driving around with a live bomb underneath the front seat. 

Now you have nearly two thousand dollars. Where the hell were you going to put it? 

The door opens. Rooster looks at you suspiciously, eyes flickering between you and the calendar. 

“Next time, wait outside,” he says, stepping in and shutting the door behind him. It makes your skin crawl to be alone with him, even if he’s never done anything slimier than asking you to pull a double shift. You know the darkness that lies inside men. All men. 

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, taking his seat in a squeaky rolling chair behind the desk. His smile is a dismal, strained thing, like interacting with you is just as painful for him as it is for you. “Next time, just wait.”  

-

Johnny and Simon spend the day in bed. 

Johnny’s knee is propped up on a pillow, red and swollen. Simon lets his fingers hover over it, gentle, feeling the warmth of Johnny’s skin. Johnny winces, like even the brush of air against his knee hurts. 

“It looks infected,” says Simon. 

“It’s not.” It can’t be. Johnny can’t handle that—can’t handle the idea of having to go through the surgery on his knee again, the recovery, the way recovery is just synonymous with pain. No, it isn’t infected. “Just looks like that because he hit it.” 

Simon leans down and brushes his mouth against Johnny’s thigh. It’s meant to be sweet but—well. It’s the closest his mouth has been to Johnny’s cock in more than six months, and just the sight of it has Johnny’s heart skipping a beat and picking up again in double-time, his face growing flush. Not privy to Johnny’s thoughts, all Simon does is press a chaste kiss to the skin a few inches above where Johnny’s swelling starts—nevermind what else might be swelling now, too. 

The two of them lay entwined together, Simon curling up around him. He plants a hand on Johnny’s clothed chest, right over his heart, like he’s trying to remind himself that Johnny’s here. That Johnny’s alive. The look in his eyes is far away, mouth drawn down into a tight frown. All at once, Johnny’s downright sick of it—sick of them not having anything to smile about. Sick of fighting. 

Johnny takes Simon’s hand, laces their fingers, and guides it down. Down over his slim, firm belly, watching from the corner of his eye as Simon’s brows climb up his forehead. Down until their hands cup his half-hard cock. Simon’s hand shifts straight away, fingers curling around the solid length, thumb stroking up the side, the gentle rasp of his calloused fingerpad loud against the cotton of Johnny’s boxers. 

“You’re hurt,” Simon reminds him. 

“Don’t care.” 

“I do.” 

“We don’t have to fuck. I just—” he doesn’t know how to explain, how badly he needs to feel something good. How badly he needs to know that his connection with Simon isn’t ruined. How badly he needs to see that they’re still lovers, that Simon isn’t just his live-in caretaker. How badly Johnny needs to feel like a human being—like a grown man. He finishes, a little lamely: “I just need it.” 

Simon’s grip goes firm. Johnny’s eyes shut, mouth falling open at the sensation. He hasn’t even touched himself like this in weeks, and while he hadn’t necessarily been keeping track, his cock clearly has been. Simon seems content to go on like this, mapping the shape of Johnny’s cock through his boxers, thumbing over the head until a wet sticky spot appears in the cotton fabric, his hand sometimes drifting down to cradle the warm heft of Johnny’s balls. 

Johnny, usually impatient, contents himself with this torture. Let Simon tease him all day, if he’d like, until Johnny is liable to go off at the whisper of a touch. The thought has his cock jerking toward the warmth of Simon’s palm, and Johnny groans when his grip tightens. 

“Fucking pretty, aren’t you?” Simon mutters, his eyes on Johnny’s face.

Johnny snorts. He tosses his arm over his eyes, but beneath his arm, he’s grinning. “Shuddup.” 

Simon clicks his tongue. “Be good, Johnny. Let me look at you.” 

Johnny moves his arm and gives his grin room to breathe. His head feels light and airy as Simon sits up and helps him work his boxers down his thighs just far enough to draw his cock out. The first touch of skin on skin has him hissing a breath in through his teeth. Fuck, it’s good. Just as good as it always was—maybe even better, because he needs it so bad. 

“Want you inside me,” Johnny says on a whim, feeling the truth of it in his chest. He doesn’t just want it—he needs it. 

Simon leans down and kisses him, just a little too hard to be mistaken as anything but desperate. How long has it been for him, Johnny wonders. He spends every waking moment with Johnny except his perfunctory showers. Does he indulge then, between soaping and rinsing off, holding his breath to hide his sounds while he strips his cock with one slick hand? 

It takes some maneuvering to get Johnny on his side, knee nicely cushioned. He can’t reach back and touch Simon, can’t grip his hip and pull him in closer, and it’s just another reason to miss his arm. Because there are a hundred thousand touches Simon deserves that Johnny can’t give him anymore. 

They’re lucky for the shelf life of the lube. It warms Simon’s fingers as he works them past Johnny’s rim. He takes his time, hands shaking where they touch him. 

“Need it bad, huh?” Johnny wonders. 

Simon snorts but doesn’t deny it. Just curls his fingers searching for that tender spot inside Johnny’s ass that makes him grit his teeth. His cock drools onto the bedspread, red and throbbing with his heartbeat. By the time Simon slips inside him, chest to Johnny’s back, Johnny feels liable to go off at a moment’s notice. 

For all the time they haven’t fucked, Simon remembers everything: the way to touch Johnny,wrapping a strong arm around his chest to make up for the one Johnny lacks, fingers playing with the whorls of Johnny’s chest hair or teasing one of his nipples; the way to angle his hips to nail Johnny’s prostate. 

“Quit,” Johnny groans, shifting until the stimulation isn’t so good, so dead-on. His cock aches, balls heavy and tight. “I don’t want to cum yet. Don’t want this to be over.” 

“Can’t miss Johnny; dick’s too big.” 

Johnny guffaws. The sound nearly startles him—when was the last time he fucking laughed? With you in the park—but he doesn’t need to be thinking about you now, not you with your small, soft hands and the curve of your mouth…

“Fuck—touch my cock, please touch my cock—“ Johnny whines, body trembling. He’s right there, right fucking there, too close to go back now, fuck it all, he wants to cum. Simon’s strong fingers curl around his cock and strip it firmly, and the pleasure inside him bubbles up and over, left too long to simmer. He nearly headbutts Simon in the face, his body shaking and jerking and cum splatters against his belly and the bedspread and down over Simon’s fingers. 

“Just like that—so good, Johnny,” Simon murmurs. His pale hand grips at Johnny’s sharp hipbone, cum smearing against Johnny’s skin. “My turn.” 

Afterwards, Simon gently helps him undress and goes to get them both fresh clothes. Johnny’s knee throbs freshly just from his muscles tensing, but he barely feels it. For the first time since his accident, he thinks that maybe things will be okay. He has no arm—but so what? There are many with a lot less. He’s John fucking MacTavish. He can do this.

Simon has gone still at their closet, holding something in his hands. Johnny leans up on his elbows. 

“What is it?” he asks. “Did you find my lighter?”

Simon holds up with no preamble a skull-embossed balaclava. It’s worn, the fabric gone gray at its most threadbare spots, but the image imprinted on the front hasn’t faded.

“Blast from the past,” Johnny says, throat uncomfortably tight with an emotion he can’t name. “Thought you threw those out.” 

“Thought so too.” He doesn’t look eager to throw this one out though, his fingers tracing over the teeth, like he’s tracing the lipless mouth of a lover. 

“You miss it,” Johnny says, the glow of their sex fading rapidly. Of course Simon misses it. The military had been his entire life—until Johnny’s accident. Until Simon had discharged with him, to take care of him. Johnny hadn’t just blown apart his own life by going down in the helo in Kazakhstan, he had blown apart Simon’s life too. 

“No,” Simon says simply. “It’s not that.” 

Johnny frowns. “What is it, then?” 

“The night of the poker party—I was Ghost again. It was the only way I could…compartmentalize. Stomach it. I’d forgotten.” 

“Forgotten?”

Simon glances toward him. “Forgotten how useful Ghost could be.” Reaching up, Simon slips the balaclava over his head, adjusting it on instinct until it rests just right against the bridge of his nose. His hair is getting long, little blond strands visible, curling at the ends. 

“Now I want to fuck you again,” says Johnny, just to fill the air between them, and because sex used to be such an easy way to fill it. 

Simon doesn’t smile. 

“Johnny.”

“I was just teasin’—“

“Not that,” Simon says. Even his manner of speaking seems different, words clipped, tone short and no-nonsense. “What if I wanted to go visit our neighbor?”

The question lingers in the silence between them. Johnny swallows, the sound of his throat an audible click in the tense air. 

“You,” Johnny wonders, when he can speak again, “or Ghost?” 

Beneath the balaclava, Ghost smiles. 

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 | 𝐞.𝐦.

This piece contains brief allusions to smut.

Pairing Eddie Munson x Female Reader [friends -> lovers] 

Summary It’s the morning after your first time with Eddie, and the two of you navigate the quiet intimacy of it all [fluff, 1.4k]. 

A/N This is the third installment to the little friends to lovers universe I created. They all work as standalone fics, but I clearly can’t get enough and keep adding onto their story. 

PART ONE | PART TWO 

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Eddie wakes up alone. It's a reality not unlike every other day of his life. Except, the sheets gathered at his waist aren’t black and no heavy metal posters adorn the walls. Everything is neat and airy and bright, softly screaming of you. The only anomaly in the room is his leather jacket hanging on the back of your desk chair. When he reaches out to run his hand over the empty space on the bed beside him, he’s unsure if it’s warm from your body heat or the pale streaks of sunlight streaming in through the flowy white curtains. 

After rolling onto his back, he stretches his arms with a satisfied groan as his muscles pull. That’s when the sound of your footsteps emerge from the hallway, growing closer and closer. As you push your bedroom door open, you catch him quickly shutting his eyes as if getting caught. The faint smile that pulls on his lips exposes his wakefulness. 

He’d been asleep when you first stirred. After a few minutes of combing through his hair and relishing the steady sound of his breaths, you’d slipped out of bed to check the voicemail box. But not before padding to your dresser to put on some clothes. There was a pleasant ache in the muscles of your thighs as you moved, your whole body alight with the memory of him. 

Last night, you’d been too preoccupied with the dizzying proximity of Eddie hovering over you to answer the phone when it rang. 

As you press the playback button, it comes as no surprise when your dad’s voice crackles to life to bid you goodnight and remind you to make sure the front door is locked. For their own sanity, you call your parents back to apologize and assure them that everything had been okay the previous night. 

Back in your room, the mattress dips as you crawl into bed, forcing Eddie to fight a smile. He continues to feign sleep as you settle beside him with a content sigh. Once you’re tucked beneath the sheets, you place your hand on his chest as if swearing an oath to a truth larger than yourselves. 

The tattoos on his skin are so bold and intricate that you can’t help but trace over them. Your featherlight touch makes him open his eyes and turn his head to look at you, blinking slowly. His hair is roused and his eyes are a little puffy and red from sleep. 

There’s a flutter in your stomach upon noticing the faint lines on his cheek. In the few years of your friendship, you’d never had the pleasure of waking up to each other. The intimacy of it all makes it feel like you're buzzing. 

“Sorry for leaving,” you murmur. “You didn’t feel any of that earlier?” 

“Any of what?” His brows furrow, voice a little rough from sleep. 

Before getting out of bed, you’d kissed him as well. Not once, but three times over his face. Admitting to such a tender thing feels harder than just having done it. 

Instead, you shake your head in a shy dismissal. Not the kind of shyness that’s brutal and consuming, but the type that cradles vulnerability gently. After baring yourselves to each other last night, you suppose there's nothing more to be shy about. It’s just that the way Eddie looks at you makes it seem like you’re worth being figured out. Like it’s worth knowing about all the little things you do. 

Everybody talks about the pain of being overlooked, but few consider how terrifying and wonderful it feels to be seen. 

He’s quiet for a moment, searching your eyes. “Tell me what I missed, angel.” It’d probably be better to show him.

When you scoot closer, he instinctively turns to face you, placing a gentle hand on your hip. The fabric of your pajama shorts is too soft to be straight-up cotton, he thinks to himself. Before he knows it, warmth blooms beneath his skin as you lean in to kiss his forehead, the tip of his nose, then the corner of his mouth. 

A hum vibrates in his throat as he runs his hand further down your leg, stopping as his palm reaches the bare skin of your thigh. All of this—your nearness, being kissed, touching you—seems like a luxury that should’ve expired after last night. At the risk of seeming pessimist, he isn’t unaware of how many good things in his life are fleeting. Except this. Except you. What the two have found feels more set in stone than anything else ever has. 

As you pull away, he smiles at you as easily as breathing. 

“How’d you sleep?” he asks. 

“Good. Really good,” you say. 

He begins to stroke your thigh. “Me too. I think you have that effect.” Even now, his body is pleasantly heavy with a bone-deep sense of refreshment. Like he was bearing the weight of being a new person in this morning light, with you. 

You open your mouth to say something, but stop yourself. 

“What’s up?” he insists because he somehow catches everything. 

“Nothing,” you huff a weak laugh. “I just feel…” you trail off, and Eddie keeps looking at you with those Bambi eyes. 

His chest shakes with a chuckle when you whine and tuck your face into your pillow. Even though you can’t see it, his gaze turns painfully soft. You peek at him just as he’s reaching out to touch your cheek. 

“You make me nervous.” It’s a quiet admission. “In the best possible way.”

Eddie doesn’t frown or insist you shouldn’t be, he just offers a small smile and strokes his thumb across the apple of your cheek. You press into his touch like you need it to survive. One thing he’ll never get over is how eternally fortunate you make him feel. He’ll spend the rest of his life either relishing the fact that you chose him or forever remembering these small moments. 

Your nerves don’t worry him and neither do his own. It’s how he knew all this meant something. The longer he thinks about it, the more he realizes “nervous” might not even be the right word. Surely, there was another way to describe the feeling of caring about someone and their thoughts so deeply that you didn’t want to risk disrupting a single thing. A care so great it rang true within the innermost parts of you. 

“We should probably get the day started before we end up stuck here,” he says. “I don’t know if you had any plans, but I can go if you want me out of your hair—” 

You take his hand from where he’s still stroking your cheek, and kiss over his knuckles. “Absolutely not,” you say into his skin. 

Eddie waits for you to continue. 

“Will you stay for breakfast?” you ask. “I make really good scrambled eggs.” He’d stay for breakfast even if you couldn’t. 

His eyes sparkle in amusement. “I’ll be the judge of that.” You can’t help the laughter that rises up your throat when he pushes you onto your back and props himself over you. 

Your attempts to stop him from nibbling down your neck are all in vain, and you halfheartedly push at his shoulders as your chest squeezes and flutters. When he pulls away, you’re still hiccuping over your giggles, and you pray you don’t look as silly as you feel. Eddie, however, gazes down at you with the most tender depth in his eyes.

“You’ve got the most killer smile ever, you know that?” he asks. 

You reach up to tuck his hair behind his ears, trying to distract yourself from the warmth rising to your cheeks. 

“Evidently not. It hasn’t killed you.”

With a dramatic inhale, Eddie grips his chest, rolling over to fall onto his back, feigning death. 

You prop your forearms on his chest. “Please don’t die, I need you around.” 

That makes him grin and tap your chin with a gentle knuckle. “Say that again, I didn’t quite hear you.” 

You roll your eyes with a shake of your head. “I need you around, Eddie Munson.” 

He grows a bit more sober. “I think I need you more.” 

You could get used to this feeling of needing and being needed. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see and appreciate them all. 

PART ONE | PART TWO 

MORE

[elixirina]

Hey! I saw your post about requests being open (and that you enjoy writing angst)! I humbly submit for consideration toward any of the following: Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Lexi Grey, or Kara Danvers.

Reader being discovered in the wee hours of the morning, unconscious or barely conscious, outside characters place of work or place they frequent (home, thinking spot, running path, etc etc) with a pretty serious wound. It's getting to the colder months of the year so them being out unsheltered seemingly all night makes the situation that much worse.

Tone of the ending and reason for them being in that situation I shall leave up to your preference. I hope this tickles your creative juices :)

hihi!! i really loved this request and i decided to make it a natasha fic!! i incorportated most of what you said and added some things and changed some but i love how this turned out. hope you enjoy !!

# here, kitty kitty — iron man!natasha romanoff x fem!blackcat!reader

synopsis — after a rather long day, natasha's met with a bloody surprise on her fire escape.

warnings — reader being a flirtatious mess, physical injury, mentions of blood, nat trying not to curse, angst, i don't think anything else

please please please reblog and like 🤍

© elixirina — all rights reserved. my work is never to be reposted, translated, modified, etc, even if i am credited.

the sky was a blanket of soft gray, heavy with clouds that spilled a steady drizzle onto the world below. raindrops danced against the windows, their rhythmic tapping filling the quiet air. the new york streets glistened with a mirror-like sheen, reflecting the blurred colors of the passing cars and neon street signs. luckily, most new york residents were used to this kind of weather this time of year, yourself included.

after a rather nasty fight with another vigilante, you found yourself roaming the dark, empty streets, bloodied and battered.

you contemplated going back to your apartment, but you knew these streets like the back of your hand; you knew you were at least 20 minutes away.

so, you looked for the next best thing: natasha’s apartment.

now, you’d only known the woman for a short amount of time, but to be completely honest, you felt safer going to her than anyone else. maybe you were just going soft. whatever.

a cool, damp breeze carried the fresh scent of rain-soaked earth and pavement, the rain blowing in your face as it did so. everything seemed to move slower, as though the rain had draped a calming hush over the bustling city.

as you walked, you could feel the blood gushing out of each and every one of your wounds. you knew it was a stupid idea, walking the one mile to her apartment but you would just have to pull through. though, there was no denying the unbearable agony you were in.

limping your way through the streets, the apartment complex natasha lived in, came into view. it was a tall, building with weathered bricks and fire escapes zigzagging down the sides.

knowing you couldn't enter the building because that would cause suspicion, you slowly made your way to the side of the building, where the fire escapes were lined on the walls. you did a quick check for cameras, which fortunately, there were none.

you look up, examining all six rows of windows. natasha was on the fourth floor. fourth row, fifth window. now, how the hell were you going to climb up that latter and all those stairs? shit.

you'd done this before, obviously, but with a burning sensation in your abdomen? definitely not.

with a resigned sigh, you gritted your teeth and reached for the cold metal of the fire escape ladder. the rain made everything slick, and your bloodied, gloved fingers slipped slightly, but you held on, determined. each movement sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through your body, but you pulled through on. you couldn’t risk being seen like this.

the first rung was the hardest, your muscles screaming in protest. it felt like every cell in your body wanted to quit, but the thought of natasha—of her calm, steady presence—propelled you upward. one rung. then another. the ladder creaked softly under your weight, blending with the hum of the rain.

by the time you reached the first platform, your breathing was ragged, your vision blurring slightly.

you paused, leaning against the railing as you gathered your strength. the rain continued to fall, drenching you completely now, but it dulled the sharp sting of your wounds, if only for a moment.

"come on," you muttered to yourself, wiping the rain from your eyes with the back of your hand. "just three more floors." you cracked your neck.

the climb was agonizing. every pull of your arms and push of your legs sent pain radiating through your body, but you couldn’t stop. Not now. not when you were so close. when you finally reached the fourth floor, you nearly collapsed against the railing. your hands trembled as you forced yourself to move toward natasha’s window.

fifth window, you reminded yourself, counting them out one by one. there it was. the faint glow of a lamp illuminated the room inside, but no on inside. let it be her who leaves her lights on all the time.

you cursed under your breath, the rain pouring down even harder than before. you sat down on the platform, though even that movement felt like fire in your body.

you were certainly hoping she was just in her bedroom. however, when you knocked on the glass of the window, there was no response.

"wow, the universe is really on my side today." you uttered sarcastically, rolling your eyes to the best of your ability.

minutes dragged on, and your patience wore thin. just as you contemplated dragging yourself back down the fire escape—a terrible idea, given your condition—you heard the faint click of heels on pavement below. you perked up, glancing over the edge, and there she was. natasha. walking toward the building with an umbrella in one hand and a paper bag in the other, completely unaware of the disaster waiting for her on the fire escape.

“nat,” you breathed in relief, your voice barely audible even to yourself.

she stopped by the front door, scanning her surroundings with the precision of someone who never let her guard down. her gaze darted upward, freezing the moment it landed on you. for a split second, her face was unreadable. then, her brows furrowed in a way that made your chest ache more than your wounds.

“are you freaking kidding me?” she called up, her voice sharp, though it cracked slightly at the end.

her umbrella clattered to the ground as she darted into the alley and grabbed the fire escape ladder. the metal groaned softly under her weight, but natasha moved fast, climbing with a precision that reminded you just how good she was at what she did.

“hey, red,” you rasped when she reached you, managing the ghost of a grin. “miss me?”

she crouched in front of you, her sharp green eyes scanning your face, then trailing down to the rest of you. the exasperation you expected was nowhere to be found. instead, her expression darkened as she took in the full extent of your injuries. blood soaked through the leather of your suit, and a nasty gash on your bicep had left a trail of crimson dripping onto the platform below.

her jaw tightened. “what the hell happened to you?”

“ran into someone who didn’t appreciate my charm,” you quipped, trying to lighten the mood. “jealous, maybe.”

natasha didn’t laugh. her eyes lingered on the wound on your abdomen, and when she reached out to inspect it, her fingers brushed against your side. you flinched, unable to hold back a sharp hiss of pain.

“god,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. she knelt closer, her hands hovering over the worst of the damage as though she wasn’t sure where to start. “why didn’t you go to your place and then a hospital?”

“c’mon, red,” you said, forcing a smirk despite the searing pain. “hospitals don’t let you flirt with their nurses like this. figured i'd wait here until i heard, 'here, kitty kitty'.” you chuckled, the sensation making your stomach ache.

“stop it,” she snapped, her voice suddenly harsh. her gaze shot up to meet yours, and for the first time, you saw something crack in her carefully composed exterior. “this isn’t funny.”

you blinked, your smirk faltering. “nat—”

“do you have any idea how bad this is?” she interrupted, her tone sharp but trembling. her hand pressed lightly against the wound on your abdomen, trying to stem the bleeding. “damn it, y/n, if i hadn’t come back just now…” she trailed off, her jaw clenching as she swallowed hard.

“hey,” you said softly, your voice weaker now. you lifted your hand to the best of your ability, placing it on her cheek. “i’m fine. i made it here, didn’t i?”

she shook her head, her lips pressing into a tight line as she helped you to your feet. “you’re an idiot,” she muttered, but the words lacked venom.

“yeah, but i’m your idiot,” you teased weakly, leaning on her as she guided you through the open window.

once inside, she eased you down onto the couch and crouched in front of you again. as she grabbed the first aid kit, you noticed her hands were shaking ever so slightly. she opened the kit with the kind of precision that spoke to how many times she’d done this before, but her silence hung heavy between you.

god, this pained you. the last thing you wanted to do was worry her, and you had done just that. “nat,” you started, but she cut you off.

“don’t,” she said sharply, not looking at you as she began to open your suit, cleaning the blood from your side. “just… don’t.”

the sting of antiseptic made you flinch, but you bit your tongue. her movements were firm but careful, her focus locked entirely on patching you up.

after a few moments, “you scared me,” she said finally, her voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. the words hung heavy in the air, and the sharp edge of anger was gone now, replaced by something raw and unguarded.

you blinked, caught off guard. “nat…”

“no,” she cut you off, setting the cloth down and sitting back on her heels. her eyes, now shimmering with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, met yours. “do you even get it? i come home, and I see you—half-dead, bleeding out on my fire escape like it’s just another...freaking tuesday.”

her voice cracked slightly, and she quickly looked away, as if embarrassed by the slip. she ran a hand through her damp hair, taking a steadying breath. “do you have any idea what went through my head when i saw you up there?”

“natasha,” you tried again, softer this time.

“i thought you were dead,” she continued, ignoring you. H=her fists clenched at her sides. “for a split second, I thought I was too late. and the worst part? the worst part is that you probably don’t even care. you’ll laugh it off, throw some stupid flirt my way, and act like it’s fine. like you didn’t just scare the hell out of me.”

her words hit you harder than you expected, the guilt settling deep in your chest. you just wanted to say sorry, even though you knew that wasn't enough. you wanted to tell her how much you felt for her and how you were never going anywhere. you opened your mouth to say something—anything—but she wasn’t done.

“do you know how many people i’ve lost because of this kind of stupidity? people who thought they were invincible, who thought they could take the hit and keep going?” she was looking at you again now, her green eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something that looked a lot like fear. “i can’t… i can’t do that again.”

your breath hitched. you’d seen natasha angry before, you’d seen her annoyed, amused, even borderline fond. but this? this was different. this made your stomach churn.

“natasha,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “i didn’t mean to—”

“i don’t care what you meant,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “you think it doesn’t matter, that you can just push through anything, but it matters to me, okay? you matter to me.”

the confession hit you like a punch to the gut. for a moment, the pain in your body was secondary to the ache in your chest. you’d always known natasha cared in her own way but hearing her say it—hearing the crack in her voice as she did—made it feel real in a way you hadn’t expected.

you swallowed hard, your usual bravado slipping away. you propped yourself up with your shoulders, despite the ache. “i didn’t mean to scare you,” you said softly, the teasing edge completely gone from your voice. “i swear, i didn’t.”

her shoulders slumped slightly, some of the fire in her expression dimming. she let out a shaky breath, her hands falling to her lap. “then stop doing this to me,” she whispered. “stop making me wonder if the next time you show up, it’ll be the last.”

the silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the soft patter of rain against the window. you reached out, your hand brushing against hers. “i’m sorry. i'm so fucking sorry. i know that's not enough, but i mean it.” you said, the apologies meaning more than they ever had before.

for a moment, she didn’t respond. then, finally, she squeezed your hand, her grip firm but trembling. “just don’t make me regret caring about you,” she said quietly.

you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “i won’t.”

neither of you spoke after that, but her hand stayed in yours, and in the quiet of the rain-soaked room, you promised yourself you wouldn’t let her down again.

[kinzhae]

Just Want To Talk PT. 2

Part 2 of this story: Part 1

Gojo Satoru

Gojo stood frozen in the middle of the room, his words echoing in his mind. The second the door slammed shut, regret hit him like a tidal wave. He sank onto the couch, running a trembling hand through his hair. He hadn’t meant any of it—not a single word.

He waited an hour. Then two. But you didn’t come back.

Panic set in as he grabbed his phone and dialed your number. It rang and rang, but you didn’t pick up. He called again, and again, his desperation growing with each unanswered call.

Finally, he grabbed his coat and headed out, searching the city for you. When he found you sitting on a park bench, your face buried in your hands, relief washed over him. But when you looked up at him, your tear-streaked face broke his heart all over again.

“Go away, Satoru,” you said, your voice hoarse. “I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses.”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, his usual arrogance nowhere to be seen. “I messed up,” he said, his voice trembling. “I didn’t mean it, Y/N. Any of it. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you, and it was wrong. You’re not a burden. You’re the only thing keeping me sane.”

You stared at him, the pain in your chest battling with the sincerity in his voice. “You made me feel worthless, Satoru. Like I didn’t matter to you at all.”

His hands reached for yours, shaking as he held them. “You matter more to me than anything. I just… I don’t know how to do this. To let someone in like this. I’m scared of losing you, and I messed up trying to protect myself.”

Your heart softened slightly at his words, but the pain was still there. “You can’t just push me away every time you’re scared.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I’ll spend every day proving to you that you matter to me. Please, Y/N, give me one more chance.”

You hesitated, but when he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, you let yourself lean into him, the warmth of his embrace finally melting the wall around your heart.

Geto Suguru

Hours passed before Suguru found you, sitting alone on the steps of the temple where you’d spent so many happy moments together. When he approached, you didn’t look up.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you said softly.

“I almost didn’t,” he admitted, sitting beside you. “But then I realized how much of an idiot I’ve been.”

You turned to him, your tear-streaked face filled with pain. “You called me weak, Suguru. How am I supposed to forgive that?”

“I don’t expect you to,” he said, his voice trembling. “But I need you to know that I didn’t mean it. I’m scared, Y/N. I’m scared of what I’ve become, and I pushed you away because I thought it’d be easier than letting you see me like this.”

“You hurt me,” you said, your voice breaking.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. “You’re the only light I have left, Y/N. Please don’t let me lose you.”

You hesitated, but as he reached for your hand, his grip gentle and desperate, you allowed yourself to believe him, leaning into his embrace as he held you tightly.

Nanami Kento

Nanami worked late into the night, the weight of his words gnawing at the back of his mind. He told himself he’d said what needed to be said, but as the hours passed, guilt began to creep in. When he finally went to bed, he found your side of the bed empty.

Panic set in as he searched the apartment, only to find you curled up on the couch, your face streaked with dried tears.

He crouched beside you, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Y/N,” he said softly, his voice filled with regret.

You stirred, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice still hoarse from crying. The exhaustion in your tone cut through him like a knife.

“I should be asking you that,” Nanami replied, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He sat beside you on the couch, looking at you with a mixture of guilt and sorrow. “I shouldn’t have said what I said earlier. I’ve been so caught up in everything that I didn’t even stop to think about how you were feeling.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his words lingering in the air between you. “You told me I was overthinking, that I was being insecure. But Kento… it’s not insecurity. I just want to feel like I matter to you. I’m not asking for you to drop everything for me, but… I need to know I’m important too.”

Nanami let out a shaky breath, his fingers gently brushing your arm. “You are important to me. I’m just… bad at expressing it. I’ve always been this way, focused on work, trying to make sure everything is in order. But I realize now that I’ve been neglecting the one thing that matters most.”

You shifted slightly, meeting his gaze. “What’s that?”

“You,” he whispered. “I’ve been so focused on my responsibilities that I’ve been blind to what you need from me. I’m sorry, Y/N. I was wrong, and I want to make it right. I don’t want to lose you over my own shortcomings.”

Your heart softened at his admission, but the hurt was still there, lingering. “I need time, Kento. You can’t just brush this off. You need to show me, not just tell me.”

He nodded, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable. “I will. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I don’t take you for granted.”

He pulled you into his arms, gently resting his chin on top of your head. “I know I’ve been distant. But I promise, I’ll try harder. I won’t let you feel this way again.”

The warmth of his embrace was comforting, but the scar from his words still burned deep inside you. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to trust that things could change.

For now, you let yourself rest in his arms, knowing that he was willing to try. But in the back of your mind, you knew that actions spoke louder than words.

Choso

Choso stood there, his eyes filled with an emotional turmoil that he struggled to control. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You don’t know what I’ve done. What I’ve become.”

“Then tell me,” you said gently, taking a step toward him. “Don’t shut me out. Let me in, Choso. I’m not going anywhere.”

The raw vulnerability in your voice cracked the wall he had so carefully built around himself. His breath hitched as he looked at you, the weight of his inner battle tearing him apart.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t deserve anyone. Not after everything I’ve done.”

You shook your head, reaching for his hand. “Choso, I don’t care about what you think you deserve. I care about you. I love you, and I’m not going to walk away because you think you’re too broken.”

He looked down at your hand in his, his throat tight with emotion. Slowly, he pulled you into an embrace, burying his face in your shoulder as he finally let his tears fall.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to push you away. I’m just so scared of dragging you down with me.”

You held him tightly, running your fingers through his hair. “I’m here, Choso. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

In that moment, as he clung to you, you knew that while the pain wasn’t gone, there was hope for healing. You would both find your way back to each other. Slowly, but surely.

Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna didn’t follow you immediately. He stayed on his throne, his expression unchanging, but the empty room suddenly felt heavier than usual. He told himself it didn’t matter, that you’d come back like you always did. But as the hours dragged on and the sound of your footsteps never returned, something began to stir inside him—a feeling he hadn’t allowed himself to name.

By the time he went looking for you, the sun had long since set. He found you in the palace garden, sitting on a cold stone bench with your knees pulled to your chest. Your cloak was wrapped tightly around you, but it wasn’t enough to hide the way your body trembled, either from the cold or from the weight of your grief.

For a long moment, he just stood there, watching you. You didn’t look up. Maybe you knew he was there, or maybe you were too lost in your thoughts to notice.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Still sulking, I see.”

Your head shot up, your tear-streaked face glaring at him with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “Go away, Sukuna.”

He ignored your words, stepping closer until he was standing directly in front of you. “You’ve been out here for hours. Are you trying to freeze to death?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Why do you care? I’m just a ‘distraction,’ remember?”

His jaw clenched, the faintest flicker of regret crossing his face. “I… misspoke.”

“Misspoke?” you repeated, standing up abruptly. Your voice cracked as the tears came rushing back. “You told me I was nothing, Sukuna! That I was weak and pathetic! How do you misspeak that?”

He flinched at the raw pain in your voice, his usual arrogance faltering. “I said those things because I’m a fool,” he admitted, his voice quieter than you had ever heard it. “Because I don’t know how to handle this—how to handle you. You make me feel things I don’t understand, and it terrifies me.”

You stared at him, your anger mingling with confusion. “And you thought hurting me was the answer?”

“I thought it would push you away,” he admitted, his voice filled with rare vulnerability. “That it would be easier if you hated me. But instead, all I’ve done is hurt the one person who matters most to me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the raw sincerity in his tone breaking through the walls you had built around your heart. “You broke me, Sukuna,” you whispered. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

He stepped closer, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to earn it. I can’t lose you, Y/N. You’re the only thing keeping me from becoming the monster everyone says I am.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Slowly, hesitantly, you let him pull you into his arms, his hold tight and protective. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you weren’t alone.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I see him in the back of my mind, all the time.

This fic came to me in a dream, woke up crying.

You couldn’t help but feel abandoned, left behind to deal with the onslaught of emotions all by yourself as your eyes remained firmly on where Viktor once was before the arcane consumed him whole.

The war was over but the hollow feeling within your chest only grew stronger when seeing loved ones reunite in fits of hysterical tears and bone crushing embraces, the lump in your throat got worse as the ache in your heart had something missing, someone missing that made it beat faster than normal. There was nothing Viktor left behind of his existence besides from his cane that you kept tightly clutched within your hand, mimicking the way he’d love tap the ground with it, as though you were trying to prove to no one in particular who cared that he still exists.

Silent tears seemed to flow endlessly down your cheeks as you wandered through the hallways of the Academy, and yet you felt numb, cold like you were already long dead and didn’t know it just yet as even your fingers felt cold to the touch, but you didn’t know whether that was from the biting cold wind or something else entirely. You didn’t care either as your reason for caring and for loving every aspect of life was taken away from you, taking your beating heart with him as he did and you didn’t know whether to hate him or love him even harder for giving you the best moments of your life, memories that seemed to all play out before you as you entered the now empty laboratory.

You could still hear the laughter and the scolding echo as though the walls with complex equations scrawled upon them had harboured the essence of the people who once worked diligently to the point of physical exhaustion. Your throat clenched again you delved deeper into the lab with one place in mind like you were being pulled towards it by an unseen force; Viktor’s workbench that had now upon closer inspection had a fine layer of dust settling over it, something he would’ve never let happen despite the tendency to leave his things scattered everywhere he pleased but still become cutely annoyed when he couldn’t find them.

However there seemed to be one thing that the dust refused to touch, a broach. Your brows furrowed as you looked at it confused, what was a broach doing in a place like this? It looked like it was made a while back but yet had a polish to it that made it seemed like it was made only recently. You knew Viktor didn’t wear broaches so seeing such an item on his workbench specifically was leaving you more questions then answers, questions that were soon answered when you noticed a small note underneath it, scrawled with Viktor’s usual chicken scratch writing;

‘For my dearest muse, for I will always be with you, always - Viktor.’

You clutched the cane tighter now as the pain within your chest almost made you collapse on the floor. This broach was for you. Viktor made it for you and never had the chance to give it to you, or perhaps he was waiting for the right moment to do so, but fate decided to be cruel and change the trajectory of your life for the worst; the common con when you happened to fall in love with a scientist determined to make a change. You sighed unevenly as you reach for the broach, your fingers closing over the cold metal of it while gingerly lifting it off the workbench, holding it up to your face so that you could take in the details of Viktor’s most beautiful creation.

The broach had a decent weight to it, not too light where you could easily crush it within your hand, but not too hard where it was proven difficult in your hand for prolonged periods of time. It was beautifully done as on the front of the broach was a an intricate design of a mechanical Blue Jay bird. You ran your thumb across the bird to feel the engravings that made it beneath your finger tips. The bird began to glow a vibrant blue, making you jolt a little, and the broach opened up to show it’s insides to you as a soft melody began to play from some hidden component within the broach.

The moment the first notes of the soft melody hits your ears the tears that had stilled in you moment of curiosity began to fall once more, this was the song that you had told Viktor once upon a time ago was your favourite, and so for him to make you this broach with your favourite bird on the front and your beloved song on the inside, you’ve never felt more loved by a man such as him. Yet you couldn’t run to him and kiss him senseless, not anymore, which made the broach itself a reminder that even if he was long gone you were the last thing on his mind.

‘Oh Viktor.’ Your voice came out weak as a sob broke from your lips as memories resurfaced as the melody continued its tune just for you.

…

‘Viktor!’ You burst in the lab, making him jolt as he looked over at you with what he wanted to be conveyed as annoyance but came across as a cute pout in your eyes.

‘My dear how often must I tell you not to burst in here so abruptly and without warning, what if something went wrong and you had gotten hurt.’ Viktor scolds as you merely shrug and moved over to his side to look over his shoulder, trying to see what he was working on, only for him to move it slightly away from your line of sight.

‘We’re both alive aren’t we?’ You said sarcastically and Viktor sighs as a small smile graced his lips as his amber eyes looked back at you with the warmth you always use to being greeted with. ‘You truly fear nothing my love but the next time you pull sometime like that you’re banned from entering the lab for the rest of the week.’ He says warningly as he points his wielding tool at you to emphasise his point.

You leaned over to kiss his forehead. ‘Duly noted my love but can I see what you’re working on? Or is it a secret for me to find later?’ You then ask as you once again tried to see what he was making, and once again Viktor move it away from your curious eyes, making you pout once more as you looked at him pleadingly.

Viktor sighs, your curiosity was never ending and while he would indulge you on his creations, he couldn’t do so for this one. This broach was his most ambitious project thus far and it was a project he has dedicated to you a long time ago the moment you both sat at the docks, hearing a harmonious melody within the wind as you admitted that it was your favourite.

It was that moment where Viktor decided to make something that you could keep on your being forever and thus project blue jay broach was underway. He was halfway done with it, all he had to do was finished wielding some components on the inside that would play the melody the moment the broach was opened, then he would move onto engraving the blue jay on the front as a final touch to a months long work in progress. ‘Practice your patience and you shall find out what it is soon enough my muse.’ He says softly as he kisses the back of your hand.

‘Alright keeps your secrets, I’ll find out sooner or later.’ You said as you crossed your arms over your chest.

Viktor raised a playful brow. ‘Is that a threat or a promise my muse?’ He asks.

You shrugged your shoulders. ‘Why not both.’ You said and Viktor laughs which makes you smile in response, feeling your chest warm as you looked at him, vowing to treasure this beautiful man for the rest of your life.

…

‘I know it’s not much but I wanted to make you something…I know it’s not the best but-‘

‘I love it my muse.’ Viktor starts as he takes the gift off of your hand, cradling it within his own as he looked over the amateur wielding and more so at the love and effort you’ve put into making this just for him.

You looked between him and the bird that you’ve made for him on a whim one day, wanting to repay him for loving you as he did in a way he’d recognise, even if you weren’t familiar with it you’d give it a try just to see him smile that gorgeous smile of his that made his amber eyes seem to brighten.

‘Really? You mean that?’ You asked and Viktor brushed his hand against your arm softly, stopping to hold your hand and squeeze it reassuringly.

‘Unequivocally my love. It possess a uniqueness that is undoubtedly yours and yours alone.’ He replies while pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

‘That’s a poetic way of saying that it’s made by an amateur who can barely wield shit without almost hurting themselves.’ You muttered under your breath as you rested your head against his shoulder. Viktor chuckles as he puts aside the mechanical bird on his workbench in order to hold you against him as he rests his head atop of yours.

‘If it’s any consolation it’s a well made creation for an amateur wielder.’ He says, smiling to himself when he hears you muffled groan. He wishes to stay like this forever if he could, just have you in his arms for all of eternity until that eternity fades to nothing, and it was just you two locked in the moment in the blanket of never ending darkness.

‘I hate you.’ You say.

‘I love you too my muse.’ Viktor replies as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

…

‘Viktor?’ You asked.

‘Yes my love?’ He replies, looking at you.

‘Do you think we’re together in every universe?’ You then looked at him, finding him more beautiful than any star that hung in the sky before you.

Viktor makes a face full of thought before letting his hand find yours, squeezing it as he presses a kiss to the back of it. ‘Of course my love, for what would I be without you to be my muse, my confidant and my anchor.’ His face then becomes one of seriousness as he leans so that his forehead touches yours. ‘Do you believe that we’re together in every universe?’

‘Without a doubt.’ You answered back, kissing his lips. ‘I don’t think I could live in a reality where you don’t exist my beautiful Viktor.’ You add as you started deeply into his amber eyes, watching them soften in relief as Viktor reciprocated your kiss with one of his own.

‘What a coincidence I was thinking the exact same thing my muse.’ Viktor whispers softly to you as he kisses you once more. You held the back of his head to keep him close as the stars watched you both display your love for one another in the most innocent way possible.

…

Mel wondered down the hallway but as she was about to pass the lab, she heard the soft melody coming from it and stopped to peek through the open doorway. Sat fast asleep on Viktor’s chair, body splayed uncomfortably across his dust covered workbench, was you and she couldn’t help but smile sympathetically for you, after all you had just lost the love of your life before your very eyes and with no plausible way of getting him back.

What was making the melody Mel did find as her eyes landed on the open broach within your hand, Viktor’s final gift to you as it hummed the melody for the fifth time. It was a beautiful song Mel thought to herself as she moved next to you, resting her hand over your shoulder as she heard you softly mutter in your sleep. ‘I’m sorry Viktor. I love you.’

‘I know he loves you too.’ Mel replied as she reached over and closed the broach in your hand, seeing the mechanical engraving on the cover as she did so before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, wanting nothing more then let you sleep and be with Viktor in the land of dreams as she moved to walk back out the door. Mel looks back at you once more and in a moment of nostalgia overcame her she saw Viktor sleeping in that very chair instead of you. He was clutching his cane the same way you did and in that moment it looked as though your hands were touching; together intertwined in the smallest of things.

Viktor would always be with you, always.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Could you do the Diamond sisters spilling Cater’s embarrassing childhood stories to his friends (either the other Heartslabyuls or the Pop Music Club)? I like to imagine the first thing they would do is wreak havoc on Cater’s carefully crafted persona, intentional or not.

Decided to combine these all and do headcanons instead of an interaction due to the high number of characters (Heartslabyul + Lilia and Kalim, Cater's clubmates)!

Please note that we don't know exactly how old Cater's sisters are, but here I'm headcanoning them as being only a few years older than Cater.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Oh, the Diamond sisters LOVE Riddle. They hang all over him and squeal about how cute he is, much to his dismay. He’s not used to this much… open affection. It makes him feel weird!

He clears his throat several times and tries to remind them that he is not a boy, he is a young man, and he would appreciate it if they treated him as such. It’s a useless effort anyway—his words fall on deaf ears.

The Diamond sisters love it even more when he gets all red in the face. “Aw, he’s like a little strawberry,” they gush, not realizing that Riddle is this close to snapping and flying into a rage-filled frenzy. (His dorm members marvel at him actually exercising his limited patience; they placed bets with one another to see how long Riddle's temper can hold out for.)

He doesn’t much care for hearing stories from the Diamonds, finding them very frivolous. What’s with this family’s obsession with aesthetics? Riddle wonders. Why don’t they dedicate their time to more worthwhile pursuits like academics? And yet… why does his chest thud with a dull pain when he thinks about Cater in a large, empty house, packing up his life away into cardboard boxes?

The Diamond sisters are all over Trey too—but for completely different reasons than they were with Riddle. They drone on and on about how Trey is “husband material” and needlessly feel up his (beefy) arms, cooing and fluttering their lashes at him.

Trey awkwardly laughs off their jokes and shies away from their touch as politely as he can, making it clear he isn’t interested. He tries to deflect by changing the subject or offering tea and cakes and, if worse comes to worse, asks Cater for a save. (… Unfortunately, this makes the Diamond sisters think he’s playing “hard to get”.)

Trey actually likes hearing stories about Cater’s childhood; clearly, Cater won’t be this open with others himself, so getting this lore from his sisters is Trey’s second best option. Back then, Cater seemed so real and so vulnerable. Mask entirely off. Trey only wishes that Cater could be this unguarded with him in present day.

He has to admit, it’s amusing how flustered Cater gets trying to act unfazed or to play off his most embarrassing moments. Little by little, Trey feels as though the Diamond sisters are whittling away at his peer’s facade. He can’t help but be a little mean about it, taking this opportunity to join the Diamond sisters in teasing Cater. “So that’s what you were like, huh…”

He thinks he’s hot stuff, he could toootally bag Cater’s sisters—just watch him! … And so Ace slicks back his hair and tries his darndest to flirt with them, but to no avail. (The mob students make fun of him for having no rizz, but he defends himself by going, “L-Like you guys could do any better!!”) Man, he’s so jealous of Trey! How come he’s such a chick magnet even though he’s not even actively trying?!

The Diamond sisters wrinkle their noses at him and whisper to one another about how Ace is sooo annoying and cringefail. Think like… mean girls gossiping about you to your face. Real blow to Ace’s ego here.

Though the flirting doesn’t work out, Ace did initially manage to dazzle the girls with a few of his card tricks. The Diamond sisters clap their hands and demand that he “do it again” or tell them how the trick is done. He’d just cheekily wink and say, “Sorry, ladies! I never give away my secrets.”

There’s tea about Cater-senpai’s childhood? Ace is one of the first in line to hear about it!! He’ll memorize the stories and reenact them (including a falsetto voice for young Cater) for the entire dorm later, earning him Cater’s ire. “Ne, Ace-chan~ Don’t you think you’re bullying poor old Cay-kun too hard?”

As the man of the household, Deuce is usually helping out his mom or the other older ladies in the neighborhood, so he thinks it’s only appropriate to maintain that formal, upright behavior when addressing Cater’s sisters! This leads to Deuce calling both of them “ma’am” very loudly, which attracts stares from everyone 💀

The Diamond sisters wail about the whole “ma’am” thing. Like, just what is Deuce insinuating about their ages?! Do they look that old to him?! Is he saying he think they’re hags?! He hurriedly assures them he doesn’t mean anything by it, it’s meant to be respectful (but in the process, he accidentally calls them “ma’am” again and reignites their shrieking).

Appalled by Ace's attempts to flirt with the Diamond sisters, insisting that Ace should "be more of a gentleman, like Clover-senpai!" (He's dense and not fully aware of how uncomfortable Trey is with the circumstances.)

Deuce profusely apologizes to Cater for “hearing something he shouldn’t have” (ie his embarrassing childhood stories). He promises that he’ll act like he didn’t hear anything at all! He wears it on his life!! (This doesn't reassure Cater in the slightest. "Eeeeh, the more Deuce-chan says it, the more concerned I get!")

If there's one thing the Diamond sisters love as much as cute things, it's clout! They fawn over Kalim--well, more specifically, his family's wealth and status. (Some might even call it ass kissing.) Kalim's pretty oblivious to it, though. He thinks Cater's sisters are just being friendly with him, so he's friendly right back to them!

The Diamond sisters start to chatter about all these luxurious items they've been ogling. Designer shoes, haute couture dresses, jewelry heavy with gemstones... Kalim very nearly indulges the Diamond sisters by offering to buy those things for them (as "gifts to commemorate their new friendship"), but Cater cuts in to stop him!! "K-Kalim-kun, put away your wallet! The last thing I need right now is Jamil-kun after my neck!"

Kalim's just as bad as the Diamond sisters when it comes to spilling the beans on Cater. While the Diamond sisters yammer on about little baby Cater's missteps, Kalim tells them about the dumb stuff he and Cater get up to in club! They take turns trading stories and dunking on the poor guy...

But the difference between the Diamond sisters and Kalim? Kalim actually puts a positive spin on many of his tales. No matter how bad a show goes or how big the screw up... "All that matters is that we were in it together and had fun doing it. Cater's great at coming up with creative ideas. It makes me really happy to be able to call him my friend and band mate!"

The complete opposite of Riddle. Lilia adores being told he's cute. In fact, he encourages the Diamond sisters to "keep the compliments coming", because adorable things should be seen and adored! (Riddle huffs; Lilia is so shameless about all of this, especially as an upperclassman!)

He gets super into talking with the Diamond sisters about fashion, hair, and even nail polish colors. Lilia mentions some of his favorite and goes on a long spiel about how fashion trends have evolved over the years, and even gets into giving tips and tricks to the Diamonds. Cater's impressed with how smoothly Lilia's handling his sisters!

Lilia listens attentively as the Diamond sisters share their best (worst) stories about little Cater. He coos and chuckles at how cute Cater was "as a wee lad" and pitches in with stories about his own child, phrasing it as though Silver was someone he babysat frequently rather than his own son to avoid confusing the sisters. They murmur approvingly--not only is Lilia inventive and fashion-forward, but he's also great with children!

The Diamond sisters decide that Lilia is their new bestie and exchange numbers with him. He later lets his online buddy, Gloomurai, know about how he got the numbers of two hot women, which Gloomurai pops off about. "gg man ur rizz is INSANE." (Idia can't believe that a single father like Crimson Muscle still has mad game like this!)

BONUS: Some of the Diamond sisters' stories!

(P.S. If you like Cater + Cinderella stuff, you should check out this Cinderella retelling featuring Twst characters ;9)

Apparently, Cater used to talk to the rats and birds before he got a phone (not that he understood them at that age). After moving around so much as a kid, it became difficult for him to make friends with the local children so he'd practice his personas on the vermin in the community.

Once, they were playing dress-up together using their mother's wardrobe and makeup drawer... but they started fighting over some things that Cater was wearing, and his sisters ended up tearing the dress they wanted into rags, as well as snapping many pieces of jewelry. Everyone got scolded and punished that day, even little Cater, who hadn't done anything wrong.

He didn't like lentils as a kid so he'd pretend to trip and fall, spilling them into the ashes in the fireplace. Cater would have to pick all of them out by hand, but the chore was honestly preferable to eating them.

They used to play a game where they'd try to balance various stuff on their heads while walking. Normally it was various numbers of books--seeing who could stack the most--but once Cater tried a tray with a teapot and cups on it. That... didn't go so well.

Cater liked to pretend he was a celebrity! He'd bounce around singing with his hairbrush as a microphone or act like he was MCing for a ball. He would sing a lot as he scrubbed the floors too, popping soap bubbles as he did so.

[yagirlwrites]

Make Me Proud | (Sub!Rafe)

Pairing: sub!Rafe x domme!Reader

Synopsys: Rafe and Reader finally get to release their pent up tension from the Halloween party. He wants to earn his prize so they explore a new way of pleasure together.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), anal play (m receiving), oral (f receiving), fluff

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Hii!!! I know it took me a while but it's finally finished! I hope you enjoy this smutty goodnes and that it was worth the wait! Let me know what you think! I'm excited for them exploring more ways to give/receive pleasure!

Series Masterlist

My work is my own; it's not to be copied, transferred or translated. Reblogs, comments, feedback are always welcome and appreciated❤️

Happy reading🥰

Make Me Proud

The harsh rays of sun pricked at his eyelids forcing him to awaken against his will, letting out a pained groan. Blinking his eyes open he slowly begun to gather his bearings and the first thing he noticed was the emptiness of the bed next to him.

There was a low pang in his chest at her absence. The second thing he noticed was the pounding in his head, no doubt attributed to the hangover bound to ruin his day. He made such a huge mistake downing all those shots last night. As the memories started flooding back he became aware of just how much of a fool he'd made of himself. In front of her, to make shit ten times worse. Just as he was beginning to wonder if his behavior caused her to leave, the door slowly opened and he watched her tiptoe inside, unaware of his inner turmoil.

Once her eyes landed on his sprawled out figure she realized he was finally awake. Had she been up for several hours, bored out of her mind but not wanting to wake him? Maybe. Did she sneak into the kitchen to make them both a cup of coffee when she finally got sick of laying motionless next to him? Perhaps.

"Morning, sunshine." She smirked at his response, an unamused grunt. He was definitely feeling the aftermath of those drinks. She felt kinda bad for him but it was his own fault he was in this state.

"What time is it?" His morning voice always got her tummy fluttering and today was no different. The ways in which this man drove her insane were unfathomable to her.

"Nine. I thought you'd sleep longer. The house is still dead." She made her way back to bed, giving him a generous view of her bare thighs as she shuffled in next to him. He barely noticed the coffee cup right in front of his face, too distracted by how soft and sexy her legs looked and how she still smelled so damn good even after a long night.

"Rafe..." her voice sounded half amused half exasperated, causing him to finally snap his attention back to her face and see the amused expression she bore. He blushed at being caught so blatantly ogling her, but he didn't try to play it off. There was no need to anyway, she knew just how attracted he was to her.

He took the cup with a small thank you, forcing himself into a somewhat upright position and downing half of it in one go. She scoffed out a laugh and rolled over to the bedside table to grab him a bottle of water she put there last night. Once she turned back she caught him staring at her ass, which had peeked out from under his shirt she was wearing. Raising her eyebrow at catching him, again, in under 2 minutes, he paid her back with a sheepish smile.

Those damn dimples always got to her. She was a sucker like that. He didn't need to know how quickly she got weak for him though, so she bit back her smile and decided to keep on a face of neutrality, knowing it drove him crazy when he couldn't tell what mood she was in.

"Are you hungry?" She casually posed the question while scrolling on her phone and he wished she'd just look at him instead. Pathetic. But hey, he was accepting it. She drove him insane every single day and he liked it.

"A little... The burger helped, though. Thanks." He gave her a cute smile almost causing her to break her act, but she perservered. He was just too fun to mess with, she couldn't help herself.

"You're welcome." She went back to her phone and he pouted. The throbbing in his head was making him more impatient than usual so he snapped and forced her into a bear hug, almost knocking the wind out of her.

"Rafe!" He laughed into her skin, enjoying the sound of her carefree giggle more than he thought possible.

"Get off!" Her words had no real bite to them, so he just pulled away slightly, just to look at her face.

"Thank you for taking care of me. And I'm sorry for getting drunk." He kissed her sweetly, almost making her lose her head completely. These moments of gentle affection always had both of their heads spiraling.

"You're lucky you're cute.." she sighed out a labourious breath and he laughed at the dramatics.

"I'm very lucky." He was looking at her with the most lovesick expression, she couldn't handle it. She had to break the moment before it broke her.

"Indeed. And quite desperate, based on all the begging you were doing last night." She was kinda mean for bringing that up. He was confused for all of 5 seconds before he realized what begging she was referring to. Once he did, his skin turned bright pink and the temperature of his body rose.

He had begged her to let him go down on her like a little bitch. Dear God, the embarrassment was about to eat him up, the blush not letting up for a moment.

She cracked a smile then, breaking the stoic act and he felt an immediate relief at that. He remembered what she'd told him - that he didn't need to be embarrassed about his desires. So he swallowed down his pride and awkwardness and decided to end this little game of hers. Instead of becoming sheepish he got serious.

"You still haven't told me how I can earn it." His words shook her. She was enjoying teasing him and then he flipped the switch. She could see the smirk begging to be let out at the corner of his lips, his eyes hungry and not hiding his arousal at all. She had a feeling that if she took the covers off he'd be packing a hard-on again. He was playing with fire.

"You really want to earn it?" Her eyes shifted and her domme voice returned. His skin was buzzing with excitement, hoping to finally get something out of her.

"Yes, ma'am." He smiled and she could feel her composure slipping away.

"Just wanna make you feel good." His voice dropped an octave and she could feel the dampness in her panties, the temperature in the room heating up.

"I feel good when I make you feel good, baby." Teasing, teasing, teasing. He knew she was playing him again. He swallowed, mouth feeling dry at the way she was looking at him.

"I want to taste you so bad." There it was. The honest response. She didn't want him pretending he was only interested in it for her benefit and now he was finally being truthful.

"Yeah?" She got on top of him, lips inches apart. His breath becoming her own as she stared deep into his eyes, testing his limits.

"Yes....please..." she kissed him then. A kiss so heated it could probably warm up an entire room. Little whines left his throat as she bit down on his lip, feeling his erection pressing into her ass. He was so gone.

"Please." It was a whisper, she barely heard it but she had. And boy did it have her losing her damn mind. The desperation he exhibited for her drove her wild. She had to pull away in order for both of them to catch their breaths again. God, was he testing her.

"I love the way you beg, baby." She whispered into his ear, leaving soft, wet kisses on his neck, causing him to groan... it was such a delicious torture.

"Fuck..." his whines got louder when she bit into that spot where his neck and shoulder meet, eyes rolling back. She was everything.

She had a whole scene in her mind then, clear as day. Trying to think of all the logistics was proving difficult when she was so damn turned on, causing her to pull away. He whined at the loss of contact, nearly shedding a tear. She'd built him up so high he didn't think he could survive her rejection now.

She took the water bottle and took a huge gulp, his lust filled eyes tracing her features, trying to figure out how to stop her from pulling away from him further. He thought he'd definitely cry if she did, too turned on to function. She tried getting up off of him, causing him to whine and wrap his hands around her, refusing to let her go. She nearly laughed seeing the desperation on his face, the sheer need to keep her there.

"Baby. Let go." He reluctantly loosened his grip, looking at her with big, sad eyes nearly breaking her heart.

"It's okay, sweet boy." She kissed his cheek and then shocked him by squirting water on his face. He gasped, looking at her in bewilderment. She couldn't help but laugh then.

"What..?" The confusion on his face made her laugh harder. She needed to cool them both down and this was the first thing she could think of. She can't have this conversation if she isn't thinking clearly.

"I'm sorry, I just needed you to snap out of it. Sorry, baby." She wiped the remaining water off his face. She kissed him again and pushed herself further away from him, so she can think.

"What the hell?" He was mumbling, still half in shock making her feel a bit guilty.

"Look if you're serious then we need to talk. I can't think when we're..." she drifted off then, causing him to realize what happened. She was having trouble controlling herself just as he was, so she did a silly thing to help herself think. He felt endeared, realizing that the moment had affected her just as strongly as it did him.

"Okay. Talk." He was nodding, sitting up, facing her, trying to ignore the painful boner she left him with.

"You want to be a good boy?" How was he supposed to stay calm when she says shit like that to him? Damn.

"Yes." He struggled to stay still, not to draw nearer, to feel her skin against him again. It was so hard.

"Remember when you said you were open to anal play?" Her words shook him to his core. She could see the shock in his eyes before he had a chance to mask it.

"Ye-yeah. I remember..." he wasn't sure where this was going anymore.

"Are you still? Or did you just say that cause you thought it's what I wanted to hear?" He was shaking his head before she even finished the question.

"No. I- I meant it. I want to try." She smiled at him then, a soft look on her face the polar opposite of how she looked just minutes ago.

"Yeah?" He nodded, urging her to believe him. He had no idea what she was planning but he wanted nothing more than to do whatever she wanted. Even if he was nervous.

"I want to be your good boy." His words nearly had her eyes roll back but she managed to control herself. He was so fucking hot when he gave himself to her completely.

"Okay. Well, we need to prepare, we can't do it now-"

"Why not?" The whine was louder and brattier than he intended causing her to cock a brow at him.

"Well for one I don't have lube here, and-"

"I do!" This took her by surprise. But he interrupted her twice now and that was not acceptable.

"Okay, that's good. But if you interrupt me one more time we're not having any sex at all in the forseeable future." Her voice was authoritative, making him feel embarrassed at how childish he was acting.

"I'm sorry." He looked it too, so she accepted it with a nod.

"Okay. Well, we still can't do it here. I'd like us to shower first and have privacy." She was listing things, looking so cute while she rationalized their sex life. It would have been comical if it weren't driving him insane.

He knew she didn't want to shower in his house, having offered her the option before and being met with a horrified look and a respectful decline. She claimed she liked his friends but she didn't trust their hygiene in the slightest, causing him to laugh and agree with her. He loved her shower though. He got to use her pretty smelling shampoo and he always felt extra clean and sated after showering at her apartment.

"Then lets go to your place." It was a no brainer to him. She thought of all the possible issues but given that her plans for his first time trying anal play were small, she figured it would be fine without all the usual prep. They'd build up to that eventually.

"Okay." He lit up like a christmas tree.

"Really?" She chuckled at his newfound enthusiasm.

"Yes, really. But if you change your mind at any point you need to tell me, okay?" He was nodding along quickly but she didn't forget the initial apprehension on his face and she'd be damned if she let him do something he isn't into to try and please her. Not on her watch.

They got dressed and packed up their stuff pretty quickly, the excitement in the air palpable. Some people finally started to wake up just as they were leaving the house, catching a few "screw you's" for running off before the clean up from last night began. They didn't care, too wrapped up in each other and the anticipation of what's to come to be bothered.

----------------------------

They picked up some sandwiches on the way back to her apartment, at her insistence. He was way too excited for what she had planned to think about food, but his stomach thanked her all the same when his hunger was sated.

They didn't waste any time taking their clothes off and getting in the shower. It was such a wonderful moment between them, soft and loving, he way they washed each other from all the sweat and grime from the night before. She handled him more delicately than anyone ever had in his life, and he always felt so damn safe and taken care of when she touched him like that. As the shower drew to an end, they shared some lingering, warm kisses, igniting the fire from earlier all over again in a slow burning flame.

Anticipation was killing him, driving him wild with every second that passed of them drying off and getting ready in her room. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous, but it was nothing compared to how excited he felt. The trust he had in her was so complete, he knew he was always safe with her to explore these kinks without danger or judgement. He knew she'd never force him to do anything he wasn't willing to do, and that opened up the door for him to get braver and more comfortable with trying new things.

They were on her bed, still naked from the shower, not feeling any need to prolong the inevitable. She kissed him slow and deep, tongues meeting in a teasing dance, driving them both wild. The little sounds he let out were going straight to her core. She was so excited about this, she had a feeling he'd love the sensation of having his ass played with and it made her proud that he was trusting her in this sensitive moment.

"Tell me the colors again." She ordered, kissing his neck, winding him up further. She always insisted he reminds himself of the colors, so there was no chance of a miscommunication in the heat of the moment.

"Green, yellow, red. I know the drill." He quickly listed the colors, exasperated and so turned on he could barely breathe.

"Don't get sassy." She warned, still kissing his skin, over his collar bones and shoulders. She loved to kiss the freckles on his body, finding them so damn beautiful.

He was struggling to breathe, forcing deep breaths into his lungs, while she worked him over, touching and kissing everywhere. His skin was flushed, muscles taut with restraint. It felt so good, her touch, he wondered how he didn't melt right into a puddle every time her skin was on his.

She kept exploring him with her fingerips and lips, nibbling on a nipple, lightly scratching down his abs, amping him up, every nerve ending so sensitive. His cock was hard as a rock and she couldn't help but smirk at his twitching, trying so hard to be good and not do anything she didn't tell him to.

She completely ignored his erection, instead focusing on massaging his balls causing moans to leave his lips. She loved the sounds he made, could get high on them.

"That feel good, huh?" She teased, kissing his thighs while she slowly moved one hand lower, barely touching his sensitive hole. He gasped as soon as her fingers brushed him there, finally grasping just how close she was to opening him up in a whole new way.

She laid kisses on his skin as her fingers slowly massaged around his hole, causing him to groan at the teasing tempo. He needed more, she was driving him nuts.

She could tell he was getting antsy, face flushed and little, desperate whines leaving his swollen lips. She reached for the bottle of lube she'd prepared, cracking it open and squeezing a generous amount on her fingers. Rubbing her fingers to warm them up, she looked at him, holding his breath in preparation.

"What's your color, baby?" She spread his legs wide open for better access, leaving him completely exposed in front of her.

"Green." The answer was immediate, a deep longing in his voice. He kept his eyes on her, eager to see every movement she made.

"I'm gonna go slow, okay? Nothing crazy. I promise." He was nodding, impatient yet grateful for the reassurance.

"Okay. Just please do something." She smiled at his little whine and decided to put him out of his mysery.

Her fingers finally made contact with the sensitive skin around his hole, massaging slowly, warming him up, making sure to put a decent amount of lube on his entrance. The massage felt so good he couldn't imagine how it could get better.

She kissed his tummy as she slowly eased the tip of her finger into his tight hole, causing a desperate gasp to leave him. She kept a watchful eye on his face, paying attention to every expression, every breath, twitch and sound that left him. She kissed his skin as she kept massaging and lightly slipping her finger into him deeper, going slowly not to overwhelm him. She was so damn turned on at how good he was being, proud of how brave he was to let her have him like this and eager to make him see stars.

Once she'd slowly eased a finger about half way, she checked in.

"How does it feel, baby?" She rubbed his thighs in a soothing motion which calmed his mind.

"Weird. But kinda good?" It was his first time ever having anything in his ass and the sensation was strange but at the same time he wanted more. He needed to know how good it could feel, because he knew she wouldn't do this if it wasn't going to make him feel great.

"You're doing so good for me, sweet boy." He whined at the praise, blushing profusely at the intimate situation.

"Still green?" He nodded quickly making her chuckle and continue her ministrations.

"Fuck..." he moaned as her finger went deeper, touching that sensitive spot inside him, causing his mind to go completely blank as she kept going. She started moving in and out slowly, grazing that magic spot with each thrust. The way he was responding was so fucking beautiful. He was letting out sounds she hadn't heard before, the brand new pleasure making him delirious.

"You're so tight around my finger, baby." The dirty talk had him whining in desperation, wanting more, wanting her to take him however she liked. This was so different to anything he'd experienced before and he really fucking liked it.

"Taking me so good." She kept talking him thought it as she gained speed, lightly curling her finger each time she grazed that spot, having him curling his toes in pleasure, gasps and moans leaving him without his knowledge. He was so wrapped up in how nice it felt he couldn't think of anything else but her finger, her touch, her voice overwhelming his senses.

"More." He whined out the most deperate little moan she'd ever heard in her life, her panties getting soaked seeing him like this.

"More?" She questioned, picking up the pace as his moans got louder, his head nodding, words escaping him.

She wasn't expecting to do more than one finger for the first time but the way he was reacting, taking it so well, so eager, begging for more? Yeah, she was losing her fucking mind. It was the hottest thing she'd ever witnessed.

"Think you can take another finger, baby boy?" His response an immediate, moaned out "yes, please". She could see his eyes getting teary and she didn't waste another moment before squirting more lube on him and easing another finger into his tight hole.

He was a mess of moans, grunts, whines, pleas and tears as she stretched him out, giving him a new level of pleasure as both fingers pumped into him. It was heaven. He couldn't believe he'd waited this long to do this. Though he couldn't imagine ever doing this with anyone else. She was it for him, he knew it. She blew his mind every fucking time they had sex, she introduced him to highs he never even imagined.

Fuck, it felt so good to have her on top of him, fucking him with her fingers, claiming him as hers. He was getting closer and closer, cock twitching on his stomach, leaking precum, red and throbbing without even being touched. It was insane.

"You look so beatiful, baby. Taking me so well. I'm so proud of you." His tears flowed freely at her words, overwhelmed at the pleasure and praise she was giving him. It was fucking perfect.

"I'm cl- so close." She could barely make out his words from the choked moan they escaped in.

"Yeah? You wanna cum, baby?" He was trashing under her now, losing all semblance of control as she worked him to his peak.

"Please..." his whines making her pussy throb with arousal, she picked up the pace, eager to see him fall apart for her.

"Be a good boy and cum for me." As she said those words she finally gripped his cock, squeezing him as he fell off the edge and into the most intense orgasm he'd ever had.

She got high off his desperate noises, the way he twitched as he orgasmed, clenching around her fingers, cock pulsing in her hand as his cum painted his stomach. It was so fucking beautiful, she couldn't look away even if she tried.

"Look at you. So pretty." She kissed his skin as the last of his aftershocks wore off. Her words were driving him insane, after everything that just happened, being flustered at a compliment seemed surreal but there he was.

It was the most intense experience of his life. And he couldn't be more grateful that he had her to guide him through it. He felt so sensitive and thoroughly wiped out, but in the best way possible.

"How you feeling, baby?" She posed the question as she gently cleaned up the mess he made all over his stomach using a tissue. He looked flushed and sated and she couldn't be more ecstatic about what just occured.

"Good." He let out a chuckle, meeting her gaze, melting at the way she was looking at him. So fondly, he couldn't cope.

"You did so good, angel. I'm so proud of you." Her words had him shook, the praise and approval making his insides feel like mush. If his skin wasn't already red from the intense scene he'd just been through, the blush would have been fierce.

"Thank you..." his soft whisper made the butterflies reappear in her tummy. He looked so fucking beautiful she couldn't handle it.

She made her way up his body, leaving soft kisses all over his skin, warming him up with each one. She kissed his face next, the salty remnant of the tears he'd shed from pleasure being washed away with soft pecks. It was so tender and sweet he almost cried all over again.

When her lips met his, he felt as though his heart just might burst at how full and happy he was. He had never felt this happy in his whole fucking life. How did he get so lucky?

"Holy shit, baby. That was the sexiest thing I've ever seen." He giggled at her words, making the smile on her face seem permanent. So fucking cute she couldn't handle it, leading her to smother his face in kisses, causing those giggles to come out again. She was in trouble.

"Alright, baby. Gonna go clean up, be right back." She laid a final peck on his lips before making her way to the bathroom. He felt cold as soon as her touch left him and he wondered how the hell he could miss someone who's only a room away.

She took her time washing her hands, making sure they were clean enough to touch him again. She wanted to run her fingers over his face and it killed her that she had to refrain. She knew he was feeling exhausted but she had one more thing in mind before they could relax. She was excited and hoped he had enough energy to handle it.

When she made her way back to the room she found him sleepily looking at her. He had a cute little smile on and her heart skipped a beat. She climbed back on top of him, warming him up all over again, making him release a relieved sigh. He wondered how healthy it was for him to need to be with her all the time, but he didn't have it in him to care too much. Her touch, her comfort, her care was addicting and he wouldn't want to change it for the world.

She kissed him softly, drawing out a satisfied moan from him as their tongues met. She cupped his face as she kissed him, taking his breath away once again. He slowly reached up to hold her closer, feeling relief he wasn't used to, once they were skin to skin.

"You were such a good boy for me." She kissed the corner of his mouth, leaving him to struggle with responding at how good it felt and how much he loved when she called him that.

"You up for more, baby?" The kisses travelled over his neck and his heart started racing once he processed her words.

"More? I don't know if I can..." he was all whiny and shy, not wanting to disappoint her but not feeling ready for another intense experience. He thought he was done.

"No?" She kissed under his ear making his eyes roll to the back of his head. She was driving him insane.

"You don't want your reward?" He gasped as she lightly bit into his shoulder, feeling like he'd float away any second. But then he realized what she'd said.

"What? You- Wh-" he was trying to force her to look at him, pulling her face gently up to meet her eyes as he stumbled over his words.

"Reward?" He was looking at her with wide eyes, confusion on his face obvious. She simply sat up and cocked a brow, waiting for him to figure it out. It took a minute for his brain to catch up with him but once it did he thought he'd lost it.

"You- Are you serious?" He was practically begging her to say yes with the way he was looking at her. Like if she said no, his heart would shatter.

"Mhm. If you think you can handle it." She shrugged and had to hold back a laugh when he started furiously nodding his head.

"Yes! I can. Please. Green. Yes, please. Please please please..." he was blushing at his desperation but couldn't hold it back. The though of finally getting to taste her was making every nerve in his body buzz in excitement. He was on the precipice of heaven and he couldn't handle rejection now.

"You sure? You weren't too excited earlier..." his stomach dropped at her words.

"No! I mean, yes! I am so sure, please. I just thought you meant more... of what happened earlier." He was blushing profusely as he tried to get her to understand he was serious about being able to handle eating her out.

The way he was acting all shy and sheepish and desperate was really tugging at her heartstrings.

"You mean when you came around my fingers?" His blush got fiercer as he shyly nodded. He hated how much she loved to tease him when he's so wound up. But the smile on her face in that moment almost made up for it.

"I don't know, it seemed like you were enjoying it..." She kept teasing him, running her fingers over his stomach causing him to squirm with the light tickles. She was playing with him and he knew it.

"You know I was. I just can't do more of that right now... But I can make you feel good. Please?" He was trying to hard not to let his frustration seep through in his words. He needed to stay on her good side if he wanted a chance to finally taste her tonight. But the eagerness which he felt was making him extra antsy, itching for a chance to have her in this new way.

"Since you asked so nicely and you took my fingers so well..." The blush on his face had no chance of leaving when she kept talking like that.

"I'm gonna ride your face. You okay with that, baby?" He was practically shaking with excitement, nodding his head an eager yes.

"Yes, please..." his whine had her tummy stirring again and the wetness from earlier returned.

Rafe thought he would pass out as he watched her straddling his chest, being so close to her heat he could almost smell it. He couldn't wait anymore, all his fantasies were coming alive in that moment. He thought he'd never craved anything more than to have her on his tongue. He knew once he tasted her he'd be addicted and he didn't care. He was so fucking close.

"If you want to stop or talk or anything, tap my thigh. Okay?" He was struggling to find words when he could see how pretty her pussy was up close and she was playing with his hair just right. A harsh tug broke his daze as he looked up at her and finally answered.

"Yes. Please sit on my face." She almost laughed at his eagerness but refrained, taking in the adorable little pout he had on his face.

"Okay, baby." She positioned herself above him and he felt like he'd explode in the few seconds it took for her to lower herself on his face. And then she was and it was paradise. He couldn't imagine anything in existence could ever be better than this moment.

Her scent, her taste, it was so fucking addicting right off the bat. He wasted no time exploring her with his mouth, savouring the new position he was lucky to end up in. His hands made home on her ass, feeling the plump skin, massaging it as his tongue licked at her warmth. He wasn't even aware of the noises he was making as he ate her, too consumed in her pussy and bringing her pleasure to hear the moans and groans leaving him. However, she could not only hear him, but feel the vibrations on her skin, making the pleasure of his whines that much stronger. It felt amazing. He was so good with his mouth, she had no doubt he would be but it was a whole other thing actually experiencing it firsthand.

She started to slowly grind on him and his moans only got louder, his movements more eager. He fucking loved this, loved having her ride his face. He could cum just from this, he'd swear. His cock was already fully hard again but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the woman on top of him, chasing her pleasure, using him - while he devoured his favorite meal of all time. He'd never enjoy the taste of anything more than her. He was a goner.

Her grinds got more intense, pressing her clit on his nose just right, causing his brain to go haywire at the way she was using him. His cock was twitching on his stomach at how hot this was. Moans finally left her lips and it was the most glorious of sounds. He squeezed her ass, wishing he could stay like this for an eternity.

He slipped his tongue inside her cunt and nearly wept when he felt her walls clench around the muscle. It was dirty and heavenly all at once. She reached back to tease his nipples, urging him on. He slurped and sucked on her clit, making sure to cherish every little moan and breath and clench she let out. It was the most erotic thing he'd ever witnessed. He wished he could see the look on her face when she came.

She was close, surprising herself at how quickly he managed to get her there. She buried her hand into his hair, riding his face just a little harder, chasing her high. She had never been this vocal in bed. He always brought out new experiences for her as well.

"I'm close, baby." He groaned into her pussy, hands urging her to go faster, to reach her orgasm. It only took a few more grinds of her hips for her to let go.

Then it was her juices, her taste and smell and sounds overwhelming all his senses. He lapped up every drop greedily, not wanting this moment to end. Her thighs closed around his head for a second but it was enough to have him almost reaching the end himself. He wouldn't do that though. Not again. Not without permission. This was about her. And God, was she incredible.

As the last of her shakes left her, she quickly pulled off of him, lowering herself down on his chest, eagerly checking on him. Her hands met his cheeks, his skin wet from her release and a big cheeky smile on his face when she met his eyes. He was so fucking high off of her coming in his mouth. The sexiest thing he'd ever experienced in his life.

"Thank you." Those were the first words that left him after he brought her to one of the most intense orgasms of her life. She wanted to curse at how pretty he looked all fucked out. The cheeky grin and the sparkling eyes driving her insane.

She hadn't let many people eat her out before, always focusing more on their pleasure, finding the act a bit too intimate for her liking. But damn if it didn't feel right with him. She could feel herself getting all soft and mushy inside, hoping he can't tell just how fucking smitten she was with him. She kissed him to hide her burning cheeks from his view, distracting them both, tasting herself on his tongue, swallowing up his moans, making them hers.

"If you're gonna reward me like that every time, I'm happy to do anal stuff any day now." She laughed at his words, running her fingers over his face gently, taking in the lovely moment of peace and contentment.

"You're telling me if I didn't let you eat me out, you wouldn't want me to fuck your ass?" He blushed at her words, letting her know just how much they affected him.

"No. I'd want it anyway." He was being honest and vulnerable, just like they talked about and it was doing funny things to her head.

"Thought so." She pretended to be serious for a moment but then let her guard down when she kissed all over his face again. His laugh made butterflies soar in her tummy. Fuck, if she didn't love that sound.

"I'm really glad you enjoyed it." She knew he had been apprehensive about trying anal play and she was honoured he trusted her enough to explore it with her for the first time.

"It was the best orgasm of my life." She chuckled and he looked at her so fondly she couldn't handle it.

"Nothing compared to how amazing it was having you ride my face, though." His cheeky smirk was back but she could hear the truth in his voice. He really did love eating her out. And she figured she'd let him to it more often since it was just so much fucking fun.

"You're a cheeky bastard, you know that?" He nuzzled into her skin, enjoying the playful banter they always ended up back in.

"Mhm. You like me, though." He kissed her shoulder, holding her that much closer, their naked bodies tangled together in the most wonderful mess of limbs.

"Sadly, I do. A frat guy, no less." He snorted a cute laugh and she couldn't help but laugh too.

"Luckiest frat guy in the world." His voice was so soft and he looked at her so fondly her breath caught in her throat.

He unhinged her. Every time she thought she finally stood on solid ground he went and said something sweet like that, honest like that, and shook her world to the ground again. The feelings that were bubbling inside her were way too serious and way to soon for her to entertain. So she did what she always did and shut him up with another kiss.

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Taglist: if anyone wants to be tagged in future work let me know; @torturedtypewritersdept @kinkyrafe @mentallynot-here @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess @clinelyn @magnificantmermaid @mannstarkey @harringtonstudios @totallynotkaibiased @popcrone818 @fangirlwithlou @rafesxgold @malfoytargaryen @theyluvmesblog @withbeautyandrage @sierrahhh @harrys-humble-housewife @piceous21 @ditzyballerina @xoxo3m1ly @jessmaybank @whore-4-drewstarkey @palmwinemami @dustbunniess @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @starkowswife @ietss @beansprout713 @starkeysbebe @miahxelizabeth

[anamericangirl]

One of the main justifications I’ve heard from pro-aborts over the years is that the fetus can’t feel pain. They’ve been using that as reasoning as to why the fetus isn’t a person.

But now that there is research suggesting babies can feel pain as early as the first trimester suddenly pro-aborts say whether or not they feel pain is “irrelevant.”

Like I know that was my argument all along. The only reason it’s ever brought up in these debates is because you, the pro-aborts, bring it up as an argument!

And it just proves how completely disingenuous every single argument they try to make is. Because their incorrect assumption on the absence of pain has been a major talking point of theirs they throw out all the time to try and prove the baby isn’t a person and abortion is ok because the baby “can’t feel pain.”

So now that there’s information out there showing they are wrong about yet another thing do they adjust their beliefs accordingly? Do they go “wow all this time I was convinced they couldn’t feel pain and that’s been one of my main arguments for abortion so maybe I need rethink some things or check out this information”? No. They don’t. They immediately dismiss it because since it doesn’t fit their narrative any longer it’s now “irrelevant information.”

Funny how that works isn’t it?

It just proves the justifications they use to try to argue that abortion is ok don’t even matter to them. They don’t even believe them. They’re just throwing out empty phrases they don’t even care about the accuracy of because all they are interested in is that at the end of the day the choice of killing a baby never goes away. They don’t care if all their information is inaccurate, they don’t care what the truth is, if the baby is a person, can feel pain, has rights, none of that matters to them. You can prove they are uneducated and shamefully ignorant on every aspect of the abortion debate all day long and they literally don’t care because knowing the truth isn’t what they’re interested in.

That’s why as soon as you prove them wrong on any of their own arguments suddenly that information doesn’t matter anymore and they’ll just move on to their next equally incorrect and ignorant argument until you prove that one wrong too because again, they aren’t actually giving you the reasons they believe abortion is ok. They’ve already decided killing babies is ok and they have to make up reason why it’s ok along the way.

And that is because people who are pro-abortion are only pro-abortion because they are uneducated. And they choose to be uneducated. Don’t ever take their arguments seriously because they don’t even take them seriously. All they care about is killing babies.

The more educated a person is on fetal development and human rights the more pro-life they will be.

[roxannepolice]

This popped up in my notes (still hoping JS will do sth similar for this year's DW day, but I understand if he's too busy playing uuhhh... a man who first had a lonesome and abusive childhood and then got so consumed by greed that he abandoned his love and turned objectively commendable tenacity for selfish gain, and then just went along with bitter sunk cost fallacy until supernatural forces had to intervene), and I just have to say: this song is just too. freaking. fitting. for the Master. Again, I'm just not the biggest fan of the Master being framed as just a poor little meow meow with abandonment issues, that's just not what they structurally are, at least not more than Beethoven's 9th is an ape advertising it's genes, and just in general... RTD's writing of thoschei is soooooo overflowing with rock and metal vibes from 70s and 80s (especially Pink Floyd! mr Waters I have a lot of problems with your political views but the way you projected your midlife crisis on a brilliant friend you lost is something else), but this song? This song in particular is insanely fitting the vibes Simm!Master gives.

Like, on the one hand you have lyrics that are as far away from emo showcasing of trauma as you get

Taste me, you will see More is all you need Dedicated to How I'm killing you

Needlework the way, never you betray Life of death becoming clearer Pain monopoly, ritual misery Chop your breakfast on a mirror [...]

Master, master, where's the dreams that I've been after? Master, master, you promised only lies Laughter, laughter, all I hear or see is laughter Laughter, laughter, laughing at my cries Fix me! [...]

Hell is worth all that, natural habitat Just a rhyme without a reason Never-ending maze, drift on numbered days Now your life is out of season

This here? This here is pure devilish overlord that lies and focuses on things being pretty rather than good. There is nothing more to this, it's just a craving for more, always more.

And then. Then is the freaking guitar bridge. Like. Fuck's sake, Kirk Hammet. What. is. that pure sorrow and emptiness turned into perfectly self controlled beauty, like a lonesome ballet dancer that you just know should have a partner to hold them up? How does it suddenly become so decisive, powerful and aggressive, and repetivtive as percussion rises before going into a full blown self-satisfied band play???? What is that descending almost desperate guitar wails before the final diabolical laughter sets in????

Like, this is exactly what mr Simm did in his performance as the Master. If you look at the text itself, it's just pure self-satisfied evil. But the music, the feel, the medium that conveys emotion in a way words just can't. You just know the depth is there.

Everyone go and check out John Simm's IG stories. The icon posted Vote Saxon poster with Metallica's Master of Puppets to celebrate Doctor Who Day. The obvious has been done, the universe is safe now, the order restored, my crops are cleaned and my skin is watered or wtv.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

Can I request platonic yandere jean grey x teen reader who is another telepathic like her

MOURNING SUN

Sinopsis. You had lost everything: your sister, your life, and your peace of mind. You felt empty, trapped by the guilt of a mutation that destroyed everything you once knew. There was nothing left, except the unbearable weight of what you had lost. But Jean was there, determined to show you that pain wasn’t everything, that your suffering didn’t define your existence. She would make you realize that there was still hope, that the sun would shine in your life again.

pairing ── Yandere! Jean Grey x Telepath! Reader (platonic fic)

Content. MDNI ── Dark themes, violence/death, blood, insolation, invasion of privacy, inavision of mind, kidnapping, delusion, Angst, murdering, suicide attempt, Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Gaslight, Mental Illness, Corruption, Isolation, Paranoia, Manipulation.

A/N ── English is not my first language—Spanish— First request from Jean! Thank you for presenting the situation. I don’t think I’ve developed it much, but I’ve tried to convey what I imagined based on your description. If you feel that it doesn’t fully reflect what you wanted or if any part doesn’t convince you, don’t hesitate to let me know. I can adjust it or redo it from scratch. I want to make sure the result is to your liking, so any suggestions you have will be more than welcome.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... met you on a day that seemed to her to be the most radiant. The sun was slowly rising, dyeing the cold sky with warm hues, as the city began to awaken, still immersed in the tranquil murmur of the morning. She had gone out to escape, to be alone, to distance herself from the emotional whirlwind of her life, especially from Scott, whose presence no longer comforted her and whose marriage was on the brink of collapse. It was not yet the time for city bustle, but as she turned a corner, an explosion of despair flooded her mind: a heartbreaking scream, followed by feverishly exalted thoughts. "She’s going to jump!" Who was going to jump?

Yandere! Jean Grey who... looking up, her clear eyes met a scene that paralyzed her heart. A young woman, standing on the edge of a luxurious skyscraper, on the brink of giving in to the fall. Jean knew it, her instinct told her she had to intervene, that she had to save you, to give you a chance you didn’t know you still had. And although she shouldn’t have done it since if it was your wish she had to respect it, something deep within her urged her to move, and before she could think further, she saw you slip from the edge, falling into the void. In the blink of an eye, Jean detached from the ground, extending her telekinetic power, and caught you in mid-air as if you were a feather carried by the wind.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... as she held you in her arms, not only saved you from the fall but also penetrated your thoughts, trying to calm you gently. "It’s okay, you’re safe now. There will always be a tomorrow," she thought, but her words met your horrified gaze, and what she least expected was your response. “Are you like me?” you asked, and at that moment, Jean understood with heartbreaking clarity what you had just gone through. You had tried to take your own life because of your mutation, due to the burden of a power you didn’t know how to control. Telepathy… strong, very strong. Like hers.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... when she finally touched the ground, she landed softly, but was met by a whirlwind of screams and insults. The young woman’s parents, an elderly couple with excessive elegance, looked at her with disdain. Jean had thought about explaining the situation to them, suggesting the option of sending you to Xavier’s School to learn how to manage your overflowing telepathy, but the reception was violent. “Y/N! Get away from that freak!” your mother shouted, pulling you away from her embrace, as if you were distancing yourself from her, as if Jean’s touch was a curse. “How dare you touch my little girl, monster!” your father exclaimed, raising his arms, horrified by what he saw.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... didn’t hear them. Her attention was fixed on you, on the growing storm in your mind, where your thoughts began to overflow, screaming inside. She couldn’t ignore it; desperation grew and grew, and in an instant, an explosion of destructive power was unleashed. The energy you emitted swept everything away: the crowd was knocked down, your parents were thrown to the ground, and Jean herself lost her balance, while nearby cars flipped over and windows of nearby buildings shattered in a rain of glass. At that moment, Jean knew: you had to get out of there. She couldn’t let you destroy yourself, she couldn’t let the world sink you further. Your pain had touched her deeply, and she could no longer walk away.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... had no choice but to leave due to the insistence of your parents, their words laden with hatred and rejection pushing her to retreat. But before she left, she connected directly with you, her telepathic voice resonating soft and firm in your mind. "Don’t worry, I’ll come back for you. I’ll get you out of here, I promise." It was a promise that didn’t need to be said out loud, but that imbued every fiber of her being as she walked away with a facade of feigned resignation. Back at the mansion, Jean couldn’t get you out of her mind. Even when the news showed her intervention, and her teammates began to question her, her mind remained with you. "Jean, you can’t be this reckless, you could have put yourself in danger, I—" Logan began, but her wild and distant gaze interrupted him, freezing him in place. "She needed my help, and I gave it to her," she replied with a coldness they had never seen before. "Don’t question my methods, and even less the consequences. Besides, what do you care what I do, Wolverine?" Her voice was calm, but charged with an intensity that left everyone, even Charles, completely stunned.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... could not contain herself for long before seeking you out again. The promise she had made burned in her mind like an unquenchable flame. Days had passed since the incident, and although your parents had tried to hide you, your thoughts were too loud for Jean not to find you. It didn’t take her long to track your location, sensing the repressed fear in your mind, the loneliness that suffocated you.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... appeared before you in the darkness of your room, her silhouette wrapped in an unsettling calm. You didn’t need to ask how she got there; you knew. "I told you," she thought, her voice resonating in your mind like a familiar whisper, "I came back for you." Without giving you time to respond, she extended a hand toward you, not physically, but through her telepathic connection. You could feel the security and determination in her thoughts, a beacon of protection wrapping around you. "You no longer have to stay here. You don’t deserve this. I will protect you."

Yandere! Jean Grey who... Without hesitation, she took you, gliding with surgical precision through the night. In her mind, there was no doubt: it wasn’t just to protect you, it was because no one else could understand you like she did. No one else could give you the peace you didn’t even know you were missing. Her connection with you was deeper than you could ever imagine, and in that moment, she decided that nothing and no one would come between you. She used her telekinesis to make you defy the laws of gravity, though she made sure that while you soared through the clouds with her, you wouldn’t let go of her firm protective grip.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... became furious when Charles reprimanded her for bringing you to the school without your parents' consent. His calm yet severe voice echoed in her mind like an irritating echo: "Jean, this not only affects the school, but the entire mutant community. Acting impulsively can have disastrous consequences." But Jean remained unfazed. Her response was firm, with an intensity that even made the mansion's founder falter. "If anything happens, I will take full responsibility. This is the right thing to do, Charles. She needed help, and I gave it to her." Before leaving the room, Jean returned to you, still shaken by the sudden change in your life. Her face softened her gestures as she leaned toward you, her lips brushing your forehead in a protective gesture. "Welcome to your new home," she thought, letting the warmth of her words settle in your mind.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... decided that no one else would have the privilege of teaching you. She assigned herself as your tutor, convinced that no one could understand your abilities and challenges like she could. The first days were difficult; your self-confidence was nonexistent, and your powers were overflowing. But Jean was patient, yet unyielding. "You are not weak," she thought one day while guiding you through a training session. You were sitting opposite each other, her hands brushing against yours to share the flow of telepathic energy. "You are stronger than you think. I know it, and soon you will too." Slowly, with her guidance, you began to control the echoes of the minds that tormented you, the chaos that you once thought was impossible to manage.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... made every moment together special. After each training session, she took you to meditate under the sun, often in the backyard of the mansion or even on the nearby hills. The wind caressed her hair as both of you closed your eyes, synchronizing your breaths and minds. Jean found peace in those moments, a calm she hadn’t felt in years. “Silence is not emptiness,” she thought, sharing her thoughts with you as you both felt the energy of the surroundings, “it is strength, and it is within you.”

Yandere! Jean Grey who... loved taking you flying. It was her favorite activity with you, her way of showing you that the world wasn’t as terrible as you believed. When she sensed your spirits dropping, she simply took your hand and, with a serene smile, ascended with you to the heights. The fresh air brushed against your face as you held onto her, her grip firm but filled with tenderness. “Look,” she thought, pointing to the horizon, “all of this can be yours. The world is bigger than your fears, and I will be with you to face it.” And in those moments, you felt that maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... became your safest refuge. Every night, before you fell asleep, she made sure you were okay. There was something in her embrace, in the way she wrapped you in her arms and whispered thoughts of comfort into your mind. The first time she did it, you felt uncomfortable; you weren’t used to such closeness. But over time, those hugs became a ritual you looked forward to. “Sleep peacefully,” she said, tucking your hair behind your ear as she watched you close your eyes. In her mind, you were not just a student. You were her sister, her best friend, and her daughter all at once. A connection that no one else would understand or share.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... felt the heartbreaking echo of your thoughts even before you uttered a single word. You were sitting together on a quiet afternoon, after one of your training sessions, when the sadness of your emotions began to seep through your mental connection. She didn’t ask. She knew you would eventually share it. And you did. Your voice was low, almost a whisper, as you described the story you had kept in the darkest corner of your heart. Your older sister had been the first to manifest her mutation: her bluish skin, her vibrant hair. You had admired her, although your parents saw it as a curse. Their rejection was swift and brutal. "They threw her out," you said, your voice trembling, "they kicked her out of the house like she was trash."

Yandere! Jean Grey who... shut her eyes tightly as you continued, each word like a knife plunging into her mind. Your parents' cruelty didn’t stop there. They didn’t just repudiate her; they called in an anti-mutant group, handing her over to their hands filled with hate. You saw it all, hidden behind the curtains, your small figure trembling with fear as those men dragged her in front of your house. "She screamed my name," you whispered with a broken tone. "She asked for help, but I... I did nothing. How could I? I was only eight."

Yandere! Jean Grey who... felt her fury grow as you mentioned how your parents closed the curtains, ignoring your sister’s screams as she was murdered. They didn’t let the horror of the world enter their home. But you saw it all. Every moment of her agony was etched in your memory, and since then, you knew you feared the day you would also develop a mutation.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... listened, motionless, as you continued. Your powers came suddenly, accompanied by the voices of strangers resonating in your mind. They tried to hide you, to keep you as an embarrassing secret. "They said they would pray for me," you said with a bitter attempt to laugh, "but all they did was ignore me." The voices never stopped, and over time, they began to overflow you. Desperate and alone, you decided to end it all. "But I love them," you murmured finally, your words like a dagger in Jean's heart. "They are my parents... the only ones I have... I can’t hate them, even after everything."

Yandere! Jean Grey who... felt her blood boil upon hearing that. How could you love those who had done you so much harm? Who had destroyed your sister and pretended to ignore your suffering? For Jean, that love was incomprehensible, unacceptable. But she didn’t say it. Instead, she pulled you close, embracing you with a tenderness that contradicted the fury burning inside her. "They don’t deserve you," she thought firmly, although she never shared it directly with you. But she felt it. That dark spark growing within her. An insatiable desire to completely remove you from them.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... from that day on, protected you even more fiercely. She made sure you never had to remember that past. She always found ways to keep you occupied, whether it was in training, flying together, or simply in silence, feeling her comforting presence. Every night before you went to sleep, she ensured you were safe, that no one would ever hurt you again.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... watched silently from the dining room window when your parents arrived at the mansion, accompanied by a pair of police officers. The X-Men were gathered in the hallway when they heard, and Charles quickly began to try to talk to them, but Jean interrupted him. "I need them to leave. This is my battle," Jean said telepathically, her words filtering through like a whisper. Although she said nothing out loud, everyone knew Jean would never allow them to take you back. Your parents, with their cold and haughty demeanor, didn’t even bother to greet the others. “We’ve been looking for you, Y/n,” your mother said, her tone relentless. “It’s time for you to come home.”

Yandere! Jean Grey who... tensed up. The air around her seemed to thicken, charged with dangerous energy. The conversation between the adults continued, but her mind was already consumed with thoughts she didn’t want to hear: “They don’t deserve you. You can’t go with them.”

Yandere! Jean Grey who... looked at you, knowing that, in that moment, your mind was starting to fill with doubts. "I can go with them, can’t I?" you thought, looking at the others. You had learned so much, you felt stronger, more in control of your telepathy. You had the feeling that you could face the world again, without needing to hide. But Jean, so certain that no one could interrupt what she had built, couldn’t bear the idea. "No. You can’t go with them." The words pierced your mind like lightning. Her control over the situation broke, and a fierce torrent of emotions overwhelmed her. Jealousy, despair, rage… Everything exploded at once.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... completely lost control. The feeling of losing you, even if just for a moment, pushed her to the limit. The police officers approached with intentions of taking you back, and in a single motion, Jean raised a mental barrier that disarmed everyone present. Effortlessly, her powers destroyed the police equipment, throwing the officers against the walls with devastating force. Your mother screamed, her face transformed by fear, but before she could react, Jean lifted her off the ground and slammed her against one of the columns.

Your father tried to run, but didn’t have time. Jean stopped him with a gesture, twisting his body until he fell to the ground lifeless, his life snatched away in the blink of an eye.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... felt no remorse. On the contrary. She was taking what she felt was hers. You. "You are no longer theirs," she thought, watching how your mind fragmented between horror and confusion, how you realized what had just happened.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... when she finally approached you, her eyes shone with fierce intensity. "You don’t have to go with them, Y/n," she said telepathically, every word deep and laden with a promise that, in that moment, you knew you could not break. "You are safe now. I am here to protect you." She took you firmly, guiding you toward the exit while the X-Men watched, paralyzed, unable to intervene. There was no one left who could stop her. "She is mine," Jean thought, her mind a torrent of possessive thoughts.

Yandere! Jean Grey who... didn’t return to the X-Men mansion, nor did she even try to explain herself. She simply took you away, to a place where nothing and no one could separate her from you.

A/N ── Really, Jean isn’t my favorite X-Men character, in any game, movie, or comic, but even though I have a personal issue with her, I have to admit that she’s a good character, and I enjoyed writing this. It was short, but I enjoyed it. There’s something fascinating about her complexity, how her power can be both a gift and a curse, and how her inner struggle with controlling her mind and emotions makes her a multidimensional character. It’s not easy to write about someone with so many layers, but despite my reservations, I found it a rewarding experience to explore her perspective. In the end, I think what I found most intriguing about this exercise was being able to understand a bit more of her troubled personality, and while I don’t always sympathize with her, I recognize that her story has a lot to offer.

Take a bath!

[daisymbin]

angst prompt #21. "you don’t get to walk back into my life like this." with female reader and mingyu

of course! 🫶

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // gyu's m.list

angst prompt #21: "you don't get to walk back into my life like this."

mingyu hadn’t expected to feel this much.

he’d thought he could handle it—seeing you again after all this time, just a chance encounter. but the moment he saw you, his heart had dropped, and all the walls he’d built around himself crumbled.

he hadn’t realized how much he missed you until now.

it had been months since he walked away from you, and the emptiness he tried so hard to fill never truly went away. he had convinced himself that leaving was the right thing to do, that you’d be better off without him, that you deserved someone who could give you more. but the truth was, he had been too scared to face his own feelings, and in the end, he left you behind.

but now, standing in front of your door, mingyu felt the weight of everything he had done.

he had to see you.

“hey,” mingyu said softly when you opened the door. your eyes went wide in recognition, and he felt a pang of guilt at the guarded look in them.

“mingyu?” you asked, the surprise quickly shifting into something harder, colder. “what are you doing here?”

he swallowed, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, feeling small under your gaze. “i just... i saw you earlier, and i couldn’t stop thinking about everything. about us.”

you raised an eyebrow, stepping back slightly, but not enough to invite him in. “us? you’ve got a funny way of showing it. you didn’t seem to care about ‘us’ when you walked out without a word. remember that?”

the words hit him like a punch to the gut.

“i know,” he whispered, his voice breaking as the weight of his regret crushed him. “i know i messed up. i didn’t mean to hurt you, but... i didn’t know how to fix it. i thought i was doing what was best for both of us, but i was wrong. i should’ve never left.”

you let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and almost mocking. “you think you can just come back and undo everything? you can’t just walk back into my life and act like nothing happened. you hurt me, mingyu. you hurt me more than you’ll ever understand.”

mingyu’s chest tightened as he watched the anger and pain in your eyes. the person standing before him wasn’t the one he remembered—the one he used to joke with, the one who smiled when he walked into the room. no, this was someone who had healed, someone who had moved on without him.

and it hurt.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, shaking his head. “i can’t take back what i did, but i want you to know how sorry i am. i wasn’t ready before, but i am now. i want to make things right between us.”

you shook your head, a sad smile curling on your lips. “you don’t get it, do you? i moved on, mingyu. i had to. i can’t just forget everything, and i can’t just let you back in because you finally decided you made a mistake. it’s too late for that.”

the words hit him harder than anything. too late.

“please,” he said, stepping forward, but you took a step back, closing the distance between you with an air of finality.

“no,” you said firmly, voice trembling but steady. “i can’t keep doing this. i can’t keep hoping for something that’s never going to happen. i’ve moved on. i’ve let go.”

mingyu felt like the ground had been ripped out from beneath him. he opened his mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. what could he say? how could he fix this when everything he had done was unforgivable?

he couldn’t.

“you don’t get to just walk back into my life, mingyu,” you repeated, this time quieter, but no less painful. “i can’t keep waiting for someone who’s never coming back.”

mingyu’s throat tightened as he stood there, watching you—the person he once thought he’d spend forever with—walk away from him, slipping behind the door with a final click.

he stood there for what felt like forever, frozen in place.

he thought he could change. he thought he could fix what he had broken. but some things couldn’t be fixed. some mistakes were too big to come back from.

and as he stood outside your door, the reality settled in.

it was too late.

[crepezinhos]

Has anyone ever noticed how most (if not all) soundtrack played when you’re in Tatarasuna resembles Scaramouche? I don’t even think it was intentional, but I need to rant about it down below:

This all started when I was some Nobushi at Inazuma and the game tracked some of them at Tatarasuna, and there I went with my Scaramouche on-field (named Kuni btw), and then out of nowhere this melody started playing:

And if you don’t have Spotify:

It wasn’t the first time I heard this playing in my game, but now that I was finally using my Scara, I genuinely started to feel horrible, no matter if my o jective was site acting me from it or not.

This song really sounds to me what would be the soundtrack playing when Scaramouche was still Kabukimono, wandering around Inazuma after his heartbreaks, trying to find a new home, or destiny while feeling empty and grief for his losses.

And specifically, when the beat ‘drops’ (because there’s no real anticipation in this music), it really sounds like the angry stage of grief, but still sounding soft and sweet just like Kabukimono was. The only moment of anger we saw coming from Kabukimono in the game was when that orphan kid died, and he was angry at that death, the world, his mother, the Archons, and himself. That’s why he immediately broke down in tears afterwards, he was in grief once again, just like this songs sounds like to my ears. But, since it does still sounds more error and negative rather than comforting to me, I interpret this music as Kabukimono deciding to transition from Inazuma to Snezhnaya and from Kabukimono to Kunikuzushi/Scaramouche.

That’s why I felt so horrible while playing with Wanderer there. All that grief and commotion in Tatarasuna, caused because of his existence, is now just a memory in the back of his mind. No one remembers it. No one remembers the beautiful, innocent puppet boy who roamed in search of a home and his own mother and attracted the eyes of the Fatui to that cursed land. Not even Ei remembers all the pain she unintentionally led Scaramouche to suffer, which hurts the most to me. She’ll walk through those toxic lands without any notion of the suffer her own son went through in there because of her neglect of him. And even if I have hopes that they’ll meet each other again, I don’t believe it would be a fair conversation (aka, Hoyoverse forgiving Ei’s actions and considerably-bad-writing in a blink just for the sake of her popularity in the fandom). And honestly, just imagining Wanderer walking my through the lands of Inazuma again, after so many years and traumas, makes me sick to the stomach, specifically one where he’d be in search of his mother again like Kabukimono used to do too.

Not that I think Scaramouche shouldn’t forgive Ei, but knowing how Hoyoverse glazes her, I’m pretty sure that he’d be just be like ‘Yeah, whatever’ and Ei still wouldn’t make any efforts to compensate him due to that approval.

But, going back to the point, I really do wonder if, by the time they were creating this and the other soundtracks for Tatarasuna, they had Scaramouche’s character in mind. I personally don’t believe that was their intention, but some people appear to believe on it. When I was reading the comments of the video, in search of anyone who felt the same way about that soundtrack and Scaramouche, I found this:

Another comment also pointed out that the ‘beat drop’ was a less intensified version of Scaramouche’s boss theme too (specifically in the Dominatus part). Do I personally see it? No, but both themes still sound a little similar to me in the end.

Anyway, I think this is end of my little rant about Scaramouche’s character and the sound representation of him. Hope this was somehow enjoyable to read about.

If you’re still unsure whether you understand me, I’d recommend do the same as me. Go to Tatarasuna (specifically in the forge), play the song and walk (no sprint) with Wanderer around it. Maybe that’ll make you understand, because there’s no way I’m the only who genuinely feels this emotional with Scaramouche’s lore.

Istg this man had a cultural and emotional impact on me…

[hungy-artist]

Bakudeku has become so important to me. I love them so much. It’s getting embarrassingly ridiculous.

Anyways, I think I’m gonna start writing mini fics and posting them here.

—I’ll Be There—

Izuku felt the embers slip away, this feeling of emptiness settling within him in an unnerving chill. He sat up in bed, his heart feeling tight and his eyes burning. One For All was gone and he was quirkless again.

*RING RING*

His phone went off on his bedside table, and he was shocked out of his head. His eyes landed on the caller id, and he fumbled to answer it.

“Kacchan?” He whispered, not wanting to wake his mother. “What’s up? You’re not usually up this late.”

He heard a little shuffling before Katsuki’s voice filled his ear. “I don’t know… I felt like I needed to call you.”

Izuku laid back down, staring up at the ceiling and feeling distraught all over again. He did not regret his decision, but feeling his quirk dissipate had his insides churning. Now what was there for him?

“They’re gone.” He whispered.

Katsuki was silent for a while, knowing exactly what that meant and Izuku could not help the tears that slipped from his eyes. His dream was over.

He understood why Kacchan had cried in that hospital room better now. A part of him felt like it was broken, thinking about not being able to chase Katsuki the same way ever again.

“…Are you okay?” Katsuki asked quietly.

“Y-Yes…” The word may have fell from his lips but he was not sure it was true. He heard more shuffling on the other end, and then silence. “How did you know?” He asked, reaching up and wiping the tears off his face.

“I don’t know… I just did.” Katsuki answered, sounding unsure himself.

Izuku frowned, his expression crumbling as his lip wobbled. He could not help the sad sound that trembled from him, turning on his side to curl into himself.

Katsuki let out a heavy breath, wishing he could do something for Izuku. Itching to blurt out his plans just to give his friend hope.

“Kacchan?”

“Yeah, Izuku?”

Izuku sobbed quietly, pressing his face harder against the phone. “I’m sorry.”

Those words hurt Katsuki’s chest, and he felt like his own eyes were starting to burn. “Don’t say that… You don’t need to be sorry.” He muttered, hating that Izuku felt the need to apologize.

“Can I ask you for something?” Came Izuku’s trembling question.

“Yes.”

“Will you promise to not leave me behind?”

Katsuki scoffed, as if the question offended him. “Are you dumb? As if you could get rid of me.” He snapped, quickly realizing Izuku wanted a real answer after he was met with a lingering silence. “…I promise.” He whispered.

Izuku sighed, feeling small. “I feel so weird.”

Katsuki faltered, not knowing how Izuku could be feeling at all. “Do you…” He hesitated, suddenly nervous like it was not his place to offer anything. He shoved past the discomfort. “Do you want me to come over?”

It was like the question tended to the pain inside Izuku. To have the blonde next to him, telling him face to face that things would be okay, that he would not be left behind, Izuku could not resist.

“Please.”

“Okay. I’ll be over in a few.” Came Katsuki’s quick reply, and Izuku could hear as he got out of his bed. “Do you need anything?”

“Just you.” Izuku muttered, not caring how hot his face felt as the words left his lips.

Katsuki paused for only a moment, feeling as his ears grew hot at the implication. He shook his head, needing to focus and be there for Izuku. He grabbed his jacket and pulled his keys from his pocket.

“Then I’ll be there.”

[beanarie]

one rough call

@stolemyhheart requested "first time buck comforts tommy after he loses someone on the job in an insane horrifying way since they've started dating (buck's never seen him be this vulnerable before 😊😔)"

tw: fetal death, pregnant person death, seizures

~

Tommy is a little drunk. Just a little.

His captain brought him into the office, poured him two fingers of whiskey, and repeated the gesture. At least now his hands have stopped shaking.

The patient was talking to them at first. She seemed nice. "Feel like a VIP," she rasped, pained gaze taking in the helicopter.

The husband gave a watery laugh. "Maybe we should name the baby Chopper."

Then she seized. And seized. Next he knew they lost her pulse.

The medic was still doing CPR when Tommy landed on the roof of First Presbyterian, but he could see in her eyes that she was just waiting for someone to tell her to stop. Tommy waited on the roof, the husband's helpless cries echoing in his head, and it wasn't long before the medic returned with a grim expression.

"They don't need us for anything else, right," he asked. The medic shook her head, and got back in the helicopter right after him.

"Needless to say," his captain rumbles, "you're grounded. Can I call you a cab?"

"I got it," Tommy says, taking out his phone. The first address on the Uber app isn't his but Evan's.

Fuck, he doesn't want to be alone.

Before pulling the trigger, he shoots off a quick text. Can I come over?

His answer arrives almost immediately. Yes please. I'm supposed to be cleaning, but I'm just procrastinating. Give me an excuse to not be productive.

It's so mundane he almost smiles.

Evan greets him with a wide, happy grin and a hug that ends too quickly for Tommy to cling.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, long legs all but vaulting him into the kitchen area.

Tommy shakes his head. If he opens his mouth, he doesn't know what will come out.

"I could heat up some of the leftover chili." Evan turns around, getting a good look at him for the first time. His smile dims. "Are you okay?"

Tommy shakes his head again, a burning sensation traveling from his chest to his throat.

"What's happened, Tommy?"

"Pregnant patient," he says, covering his mouth to stifle a sob. "She was barely showing." He watched as they both shook themselves to death. He watched that man lose his entire family. "Coded in the air. They couldn't get her back."

Evan is staring at him.

"Oh, no," Tommy says, looking away. "I'm sorry. I-" Right now it seems so stupid to say he couldn't go back to his empty house. Rough calls are just part of the job.

In three strides, Evan has taken Tommy's face in his hands and enveloped him in his arms. "What can I do?"

"This," Tommy says, squeezing back hard. "This is good."