#but my memory is so bad that this re-watch almost feels like seeing it all over again

[quodo-brainrot]

For those who haven't seen the show or don't remember this part, Odo has been framed for murder and temporarily relieved of duty here. That's why he's making the joke about joining Quark's organization.

And it's funny up until that heartbreaking downcast look as Odo realizes this might be the last time he jokes with Quark. His face becomes tragically blank as he remembers the gravity of the situation he's in.

This is episode THREE, by the way. This isn't some late-season episode that builds on weeks of information the audience already knows. They were Frenemies *long* before we came along, and the "-to-lovers" part of their arc doesn't even have to wait for The Ascent. It could start right here.

The only reason I don't think it could start any earlier than this is because Odo says earlier in the same episode that he's never understood the humanoid need to 'couple', but I like to think that it isn't long before Quark begins to prove him wrong.

[acourtofquestions]

Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.

[buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger]

Bucky and Touch Headcanons

Bucky x GN!Reader

Description: Just some Headcanons about Bucky and learning to trust human contact again

Warnings: fluff, a little angst, Bucky’s trauma, abuse at the hands of HYDRA, insecurities, self conscious Bucky, pet names, no y/n used, no pronouns used beyond "you"

A/N: if you haven't noticed I definitely have a type when it comes to fic and that fic is hurt/comfort with Bucky. I kinda feel like everything I've written is like the same thing in different fonts, but oh well 😅 anyways, Bucky re-learning that hands on his body doesn’t inherently mean pain and becoming super cuddly and touchy with someone he loves is my SHIT inject that into my VEINS man

((18+ only below the cut please and thank you!!))

It takes Bucky a really long time to get accustomed to human contact again, after you two got together it took him a while to even do something so innocent as hold your hand.

It’s not that Bucky hates it

He loves being close to you, he wants it so badly

And he’s touch-starved

He’s so touch-starved

But he went so long without positive human contact, and now that he’s free he wanted it so badly he could feel his chest aching for it

But it made him so nervous to want to try

After one night where you mindlessly reached up to casually touch his face and he flinched away hard, after all open hand coming towards his face had meant pain for so long, you two had a long conversation about his comfort levels

You two took things slow initially

You would sit on the couch together, watching a movie and talking with your fingers intertwined, your thumb stroking his knuckles.

Sometimes you’ll fall asleep on his shoulder, something he’s slowly started to accept

At the very least he’s stopped freezing when he feels your head droop to his arm

But now that he’s grown used to it and learned to love it? He wants to be touching you all the time

Bucky almost always has his arm around you, or a hand on your back, holding your hand, etc.

He would never admit it to anyone but you, but he’s SUCH a little spoon.

Bucky loves when you hold him, resting his head on your chest while you rub his back brings him a level of calm that he’s never felt before

Or when you hold him from behind and he curls into your body

You slip your hand under his shirt and run your hands along his tummy, gently stroking your fingers along his skin

You know he’s a lot larger than you, being a wall of muscle that has at least a head of height on you

But seeing him sleeping peacefully, wrapped in your arms with a little smile on his face he looks so small

He loves when you play with his hair.

It took him a long time to be okay with it (too many memories of handlers grabbing and/or dragging him by the hair), but now?

If he had it his way your hands would never leave it

Whenever you two are holding each other your hands always seem to find their way to his dark locks, brushing them out of his eyes or carding your fingers through it

You learned that the quickest way to get him to fall asleep is to stroke his hair, and put him to sleep like that every night

When it was long, Bucky loved when you combed it for him after a shower, or braided and unbraided it while he laid in your lap during a movie

Now that it’s cut short (thanks to you, he didn’t trust anyone else to do it) you’re pretty much always playing with it in some way

As much as you loved his long hair, his shorter cut is nice because it’s a bit more manageable and still just as soft

Bucky loves when you massage his scalp, feeling your nails gently scratching against his head makes him melt every time

He also loves when you bathe him or bathe with him

Bucky had a lot of anxiety around being naked in front of you, too many bad memories of being stripped and hosed down after missions or beaten within an inch of his life

But with lots of time and comfort and assurances he eventually opened up and got more comfortable

Long baths with you are his favorite thing.

Whether you get in with him or not, he loves how gentle you are with washing his body, massaging sore muscles and peppering his chest and back with little kisses

He especially loves when you wash his hair (I know, shocking).

Usually when you’re done washing him you’ll guide his head to lay in your lap while you stroke his hair.

When it’s time for him to get out you usually have to wake him up, it makes you smile

Peace looks so good on him, you just want to let him bask in it forever

And oh GOD he loves skin-on-skin contact so much

It took so long for Bucky to learn that he was allowed to want things

When he first started opening up with touch, he would wait until the aching in his chest got unbearable before asking if you would do some skin-on-skin with him

You never wanted to push him, but you tried to teach him that he was allowed to ask for things he didn't need immediately.

He didn't have to wait until he absolutely needed something to ask for it.

He was allowed to just want things.

Once he finally gets used to asking for things he wants skin-on-skin all the time.

Most every night you end up cuddled up in bed, sans clothing, Bucky pretty much on top of you, his head on your chest while you play with his hair.

He'll press little kisses to your chest, making you smile when his stubble tickles against your skin

“I love you,” he whispers into your neck, “how did I get so lucky, hm?”

You smile softly and kiss his forehead

“Believe me Buck, I'm the lucky one.”

[satxnsupreme666]

Let me help you: Agatha Harkness/Agnes x fem!reader

Masterlist

Requested by: @eddieboi23

Summary: You´re feeling under the weather but you try to hide it, Agatha/Agnes notices this and she takes care of you.

This is a romantic!Agatha Harkness/Agnes x fem!reader and mom!Wanda Maximoff x reader

Words: 3k+

Warnings: None, just pure fluff

Author´s notes: Hi, this was a requested story, I do not know if I should tag the people who requested at the time, I want to be respectful, so I am not sure if I should tag them, I will try and do it since it was their request and their idea and if any of the people who requested back at the time now feel uncomfortable being tagged, please let me know and I will delete the tag.

This was one of the first stories I wrote three years ago, I had posted them on Tumblr on my old account, but due to my mental health, I had to take a break from Tumblr and the toxicity and hate that had suddenly increased, I deleted all of my stories and my old account, now I have decided to upload them again here on Tumblr and also on Ao3.

Again, as this was one of the first stories I wrote for Agatha Harkness is a little bit short, I will be uploading the rest of the stories from time to time, I have to edit them and make sure they are legible enough and with not a lot of grammatical errors.

I hope you like it!

If you enjoy, could you comment, like or reblog? it would help a lot really ♥️

Taglist: @midnight-lestrange  @eliscannotdance

 Wanda dragged you with her to Eastview, which later she changed to Westview and you were grateful for the fact that she didn’t erase your memories or held you under her mind control, also this was a good change, you really didn’t have anyone else outside and you were really close to Wanda, so this was alright, you even liked being here, there was no pain nor sadness inside Westview, and finally you had a place to call home.

You have thought you were going to have your own residential house but you didn’t, Wanda just gave you your own room in her house, and if you were honest you were happy with that, if she had given you your own house you would have felt a little lonely and in the end you would have come to Wanda´s house almost daily, so, it was better this way, you were a family and Wanda loved to have you around all the time, she knew all the bad things you had passed through and she just wanted to give you some kind of family, the same thing she craved for.

The house was big enough and you really liked that the house felt warm, it was really funny to wake up to the boys entering your room just to wake you up to tell you that they were hungry and ask you if you could make chocolate pancakes, whenever they asked you that, you would laugh, and asked them why they didn’t wake Wanda up, and their answer was always that they really loved your pancakes, you knew they did, the extra chocolate chips were what made them so special.

It was really great, Tommy and Billy were like you little brothers and you loved them a lot, they were always asking you to play with them, it didn’t matter what, they always needed another person to play with and you were the best for that.

And the best part was your next-door neighbor, you had met her one day when you and the boys were playing in the front porch, you were laughing because Tommy was daring Billy to go over Dottie´s house to bring some flowers from her bushes and to paint with a can spray one of her walls, you were not sure why they didn’t like Dottie, she was not that bad, yes she could be a little full of herself but she was still nice to you from time to time, but it was funny to see Billy arguing that it would be better if they went together, you were the adult there and you should have told them that it would be wrong, but who where you to stop them? You were sure they weren’t going to do it anytime soon, so it was funny to watch them plot something.

“Planning on invading Dottie´s house? Did you know that she´s not in the evenings?” You heard a voice behind you and you turned yourself to look at the woman, her hair was straight and long, she was peeking through the border that separated your garden and hers.

“You shouldn’t give them ideas, we never know” You said to her while smiling, she was beautiful, you had already seen her before but you were a little too shy so you never really talked to her, she was all the time talking to Wanda and you really didn’t want to intrude or something so you better stayed behind.

“Maybe you could help us with this aunt Agnes” You heard Tommy talking to her while he was showing a can of spray paint, you really didn’t know where they had got them, maybe Wanda had bought them? You were not sure

“Oh, Tommy I would be more than happy to help you with that” You laughed at her answer, why did everybody seem not to like Dottie?

“You don´t like Dottie either? She´s not so annoying as everybody thinks” When you said that Billy went straight to you and he placed himself in front of you, you were sitting in the steps of the front porch so it was easy for him to put his hand on your shoulder.

“You failed us y/n” He said in a serious tone but the grin on his face let you know he was joking, you giggled and when you looked towards Tommy you could see he was sharing a look with Agnes, he was scrunching his nose just like his mother does all the time, and he kept looking at Agnes while he furrowed his brows, Agnes was raising one of her browns and she simpered, then the two of them looked back at you and after some seconds they went back to look at each other, then the two of them burst out laughing, you didn’t understand what was so funny but you couldn’t help to smile.

“What? All I´m saying is that maybe we don´t know her at all, that´s all” You said while raising your hands a little

“If you say so sweetheart” Agnes said with a smile on her face, Tommy and Billy both rolled their eyes a little with a giggle

“Alright, alright I will stop talking about that” You said while standing to hug the boys

“Would you like to come to my house? I just made lemonade, is already cold enough” They boys cheered up and they took each one of your hands to start walking towards Agnes´ house.

“It looks like we´re coming” Biting a little your lower lip you started to walk with the boys and Agnes smiled, you were really beautiful and this was the perfect time to get to know you better.

“Awesome” She walked towards her front porch and when you arrived, she had already opened her door and she let you in.

“Thank you” You said shyly and Agnes winked at you.

That was the first time you had a proper talk with her, and you loved it, you really liked Agnes, she was hilarious, her sense of humor was one of the many things you loved about her, you loved the way she would slightly touch you, little gestures like her brushing her fingers against your hand while you walked closer to her, or how she would put her hand on your shoulder or on your lower back when you walked side by side with her down the street.

They boys noticed this, they realized that whenever Agnes was near you, you would always blush and had a big smile whenever she talked to you.

Tommy was the one who noticed this, and it had been the day Wanda, the boys, Agnes and you went downtown to buy some new shoes for the boys, Wanda had asked if you would like to come and when you went outside you met Agnes halfway through your path, and she asked if she could stick to you, of course you were happy that she would come with you and you fluttered your eyelashes at her, Tommy could see how Agnes looked at you with the same expression you looked at her, so he elbowed his brother to make him look at Agnes and you, and they smirked.

After that Tommy and Billy started to ask if you could call Agnes over to go out with all of you, and you were really grateful that they seemed to like Agnes to the point of always making you call for her, lowkey you really loved that because it was a really awesome excuse to call her to come over to your house, you would call her and say “Hey Agnes, we´re going for a walk and the boys are asking for you, would you like to come with us?” She always said yes and all the times you felt excited for that. Wanda noticed how Agnes and you acted around each other and whenever she saw you talking to her with that dreamy look you had only for her she would smirk, she was sure you two would end up together but none of you seem to be ready to take a step, you were just wandering around each other hoping that the other one would notice how much in love you were, but you seemed so oblivious about her feelings for you just as well as she was oblivious about the way you felt for her.

A week later on Sunday the day had a scorching weather and the boys decided to use the water pistol to cool themselves a little, you were in your room and thinking about Agnes and her beautiful blue eyes, she was so beautiful and her voice, her voice was what you loved the most about her, the way she called you sweetheart, angel, or buttercup was always so cute, you loved the way she called you and of course Agnes knew that you liked it, she loved to seeing you the way you blushed.

A knock on your door woke you up from your daydreaming and you stopped looking at the ceiling to open the door, in front of you was Billy with a water gun on his hand.

“Hey would you like to come play with us? We have this” He said shaking the toy in his hand.

“Of course, can I have one too?” Billy nodded and he ran back to his room to take another one and when he came back next to you, he handed you the water gun.

Walking downstairs to go to the garden, Billy rushed to step outside first and when you first stepped outside the boys threw water at you.

“That´s not fair! That´s two against one” You said while laughing, the day passed with you and the boys throwing water at each other until you were completely soaked and after that you stayed outside sitting in one of the chairs to wait for your clothes to get dry.

Maybe that had been a bad idea, because the next day you felt your throat a little sore, but you thought it would be something that it would pass so you just shrugged it off.

Today Wanda and her sons wanted to go out for a quick walk in the park, and you felt worse than yesterday, you thought about saying it would be better but you didn’t want to let them down so you said you would be coming with them.

Going for a walk with Wanda and the boys had been a bad idea, if only you had stayed in your room with a warm and fluffy blanket over you and hugging a pillow, you wouldn’t feel so dizzy now, you felt as if everything around you was spinning, the headache wasn’t going away and you just wanted to lay on the lawn of the park because It looked so comfortable.

This time you didn’t want to call for Agnes because you really didn’t like when people see you like this, it made you feel weak, so you just out on a happy face and tried to act as if everything was alright. So, you just kept walking a little behind them.

“Are you alright y/n?” Wanda asked you when she saw how slowly you were walking; you looked a little tired.

“I´m alright Wanda, why do you ask?” You faked a smile and started to walk faster; Wanda knew you were not alright but decided not to keep pressuring you.

After thirty minutes of walking around the park they boys asked their mother if she could buy them a soda to what she said yes.

“Do you want something y/n?” Wanda asked watching you go to sit in one of the park benches

“No, thanks, I´m cool” You said while smiling and when the three of them started to walk away you put your hands on your head, you couldn’t stand the throbbing pain in your head it was too strong and you just wanted it to go away, you had a runny nose and you really wanted to go home.

“Hey sweetheart are you alright?” You quickly straightened yourself a little when you heard Agnes´ voice and you smiled, you didn’t know you were going to find her here.

“Yes, yes I´m fine” You told her and when you turned your head to look at her she frowned, you didn’t look fine, you looked paler and your eyes were a little puffy also your voice sounded a little raspy.

She noticed you were wearing a hoody but underneath you had another sweater, and due to the hot weather, she found this to be a little strange.

“Are you cold doll?” You felt your face heating at the endearment, you really didn’t want to hide from her

“To be honest, yes, I´m feeling a little cold” You said to her and Agnes sat herself down next to you in the bench, Agnes brought her hand to your forehead and her hand the back of her hand felt cold so you leant into her touch, but Agnes gasped at how hot you were, she was sure you had a fever.

“Baby girl, you´re burning” Agnes didn’t take her hand off your face and you appreciated that, her touch was so sweet

“Are you here alone? Did you come her by yourself?” Her voice had a worried tone and your heart warmed at her voice

“No, I came here with Wanda and the boys” You answered her with your eyes closed and your head still resting against her hand

Agnes found this really cute and she put her head on your cheek to caress it

The two of you were so immersed in the comfortable position you were that you didn’t notice Wanda and her sons were coming towards you.

“Hello Agnes, I can see you found y/n” Wanda said with a smirk on her face, the same smirk the boys had on their faces.

Agnes looked at Wanda and she threw a worried look to her

“She has a fever” Said Agnes with a serious look on her face, Wanda sighed and looked at you

“Why didn’t you say anything? We could have let you rest” Said Wanda kneeling in front of you

“I don´t know” You said in a whisper and Agnes stroked your hair a little

“I think it would be better if you come with me to rest” You nodded and Agatha stood up from the bench and she stretched her hand out for you to take it, you smiled and you happily took her hand, she helped you to stand out from the bench and Agnes pulled you closer to her body and her she put her free hand on your lower back to help you walk.

“Don´t worry Wanda I will take care of our girl” When you heard that you couldn’t help yourself from smiling and you leant a little onto her, you didn’t see the look Wanda gave to the two of you, she was sure this would be the perfect time for you to talk about your feelings for each other.

All the way to your house Agnes never left your hand, and you loved the feeling of her touch on you, she was so sweet with you.

“Doll, would you like me to take to your house or would you like to come to mine?” Agnes asked you when you two were close enough to the neighbourhood, you thought about that a little before answering

“I would like to go to your place Agnes” She smiled and took you to her house, Agnes opened her front door and she let you in first, you walked slowly into her house smelling the sweet essence coming from it, it smelled like vanilla and coffee, and it was the same sweet smell she had all the time, it felt good to be here with her. You turned yourself around to look at her but you did it so quickly that it didn’t help your diziness and you felt as if you were going to fall to the ground.

Agnes quickly moved towards you catching you before you could fall

“Are you ok angel?” She asked with her arms holding your waist and your hands grabbing her arms

“Yes, I´m sorry I felt dizzy and I felt the room just started to spin around, I think it was the sudden change of position” She helped you to stand a little and you she hugged you, you rested your head in the crook of her neck and she loved the feeling of your warm breath against her skin.

“Does your head hurt?” She asked you after moments of comforting silence

“Just a little, is not as bad as earlier” You lifted your head to look at Agnes.

“Let´s take you to bed darling, you need to rest” Agnes helped you to walk again and once again you felt her hand on your waist her grip was firm but soft at the same time.

“Careful with the steps hon” Agnes said when you were right in front of the stairs

“Thank you, Agnes” You said smiling with a little blush on your face

“I love when you blush darling” And that comment only helped you to increase the blush on your face.

When you arrived at the second floor, she took you to the room that was right to the left, Agnes opened the door and she let you in first again, you really liked what she was doing in and you bit your lip.

Agnes led you on the bed and she helped you to enter the bed, you took your shoes off and once you were in, Agnes put a blanket over you and you thanked her.

“Are you comfortable honey?” She was giving you all her attention and you felt so loved.

“I am, thank you so much Agnes really” You saw that she took out something from her nightstand and when you looked again, she already had a glass of water, you were confused, you never saw where she had got the glass of water, but maybe you just didn’t notice so you brushed the thought off.

“You don´t need to thank me darling, I want to help you feel better, here take this sweetheart, this will help with the headache and the fever” She gave you the  tiny pill and you put her on your tongue, swallowing it, then she gave you the water and you took a sip.

Agnes left the glass on her nightstand and she sat on the bed next to your, her hand automatically went to your hair and she stroked it.

“You´re so beautiful” She whispered, never taking her eyes off you and you felt a rush inside you, something started to grow inside you, it was as if you felt brave enough to act on your feelings, so you leant into her watching her lips, you saw Agnes getting closer to you, your heart beat faster and faster as your faces came closer, finally your lips met hers, her lips were soft, they felt like silk, you could feel the tickling sensation of her breath beneath your nose, a warm feeling blossomed in Agnes´ chest, as her lips brushed together with yours for the first time, the smell of her perfume mixed with the coffee scent of the house, it was amazing to have her this close to you.

Removing yourself a little from her you saw the look on her eyes, she was looking at you with so much love that you felt your chest getting warmer.

“That was amazing doll, you do not know how much I have wanted to do that” Agnes softly caressed your cheek with her thumb, her heart was beating fast, she felt excited.

“I love you y/n, I´ve loved you for a long time now” Agnes pressed her forehead against yours and she closed her eyes, feeling the warm of your skin against her own.

“I´m happy to know that you feel the same way I do, I love you too, I thought you didn’t like me that way, but now I´m really happy Agnes” Agnes left a soft peck on your lips again.

“Mind if we share my bed?” Agnes had a grin on her face and you nodded, she took her shoes off her feet and crawled on the bed next to yours, she passed her arm around your shoulder and you rested your head on her shoulders.

“I hope you dent get sick as well, we just kissed” Agnes laughed a little and she dropped a kiss on your forehead

“I won´t get sick darling, you can keep kissing me” You giggled and just rested your head against her, closing your eyes you left yourself succumb to your tiredness, you were safe with her and you knew that when you woke up again Agnes was going to be next to you, so you happily hugged Agnes, you could talk later, for now you were going to sleep a little next to her.

[luvrxbunny]

nightmare

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader 

Prompt: Knife Play(?)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, (uneducated description of) ptsd, dub-con(?), a bit of dry humping, piv, unprotected sex (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 2.5k

A/N: hi guys! woohoo! my first bucky fic! i’ve literally been in love with him since 5th grade- uh once again i don't think i’d call this knife play really..? the knife is there but no one is really turned on by it per se 

You can feel him thrashing beside you and your heart is breaking as you slowly wake. This happens once in a blue moon but it’s always bad when it does. You blink clarity into your eyes and look over at Bucky. His hands are gripping the sheets like his life depends on it, his shirt is almost soaked through with sweat and his hair is sticking to his forehead. You sit on your shins and watch him sadly for a little bit, you’re not supposed to wake him up but you still do, every time. He always remembers the dreams no matter what so you’d rather cut it short and deal with the consequences than let him suffer through the entire memory or terror he’s going through. 

You place your hand on the middle of his chest for a moment, feeling his heartbeat to try and gauge how bad the nightmare was but instead, he woke up. All you see is a blur of movements as Bucky grabs his knife from under his pillow and flips you both over, pinning you to the bed. You instantly straighten your legs, wrap them around his waist, and try to pull his hips away from yours, you try to twist him, squeeze hard enough to hurt him- something. But nothing happens, not a twitch in his features or even a grunt of pain. 

You scan his eyes and can tell he’s gone, he’s not in the room with you, you have no clue where he is but he looks so scared. He has his metal hand on your shoulder, pinning you to the bed and his flesh hand is holding the knife to your throat- but he looks more scared than you. “James?” His roaming eyes snap back to yours, and his grip on the knife tightens with a furrow of his brows. “Bucky?” You try, and his head tilts with fluttering eyes, he takes a shaky breath and adjusts his grip on the knife again. His breathing speeds up a bit and his eyes lose focus again, his hand starts to tighten on your shoulder and the knife is trembling at your neck. You lift the hand of the pinned shoulder to caress his forearm, hopefully soothing him and it pulls him from wherever he was with a gasp. The shoulder plates of his arm whir and re-adjust as his gaze zeros in on your touch. 

His gaze is confused and questioning, like he can’t figure out why he likes your touch. His eyes flicker to yours for a second and you see him flicker within them, seeing you for a moment before going blank and unfocused again. “Baby?” You try as your other hand reaches for his face slowly, he jerks the knife against your neck as a warning but there’s no fire behind his eyes, still that same scared gaze. You smile at him softly and continue your hand’s path to his cheek.  “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.”

You keep your gaze light, trying to drain all the love you have into this look, hoping he can see it, or feel it. He sucks in a quick and trembling breath of air and his body twitches into yours, pressing as much as he can against you. You can see an internal battle in his eyes as his body slowly relaxes against yours, tensing and twitching before he finally settles. The position is a bit… Your legs are spread under him, pinned open just by the size of his thighs and how his legs are spread. You try to ignore the fact that his dick is pressed into you because this isn’t the time. His face is still in front of you because he’s still holding himself up with the hand on your shoulder. You smile at him again and he breathes out a shaky breath and his face falls for a moment. His hand leaves your shoulder for the bed quickly and he tightens his grip on the knife before lowering himself to you, his head almost resting on your stomach as he keeps his gaze on you. 

His entire weight is on you now and you can’t help the sigh you let out, you’ve asked him to do this so many times, and your heart can’t help but flutter, that in a state like this- he still has you in his head, whether he realizes it or not. You beam at him and he gives you a soft, confused look. You try to reach for him, give him a kiss- at least on the cheek, but his hand reaches under you, shoots for your head, and grips your hair, stopping you from getting too close. His lips are twitching in a snarl, and he shakes his head at you stiffly. 

After you get over the initial shock and pain of his grip you smile at him again, genuine because he could’ve used the knife, he could’ve gotten up again and slammed you into the bed before you even blink, but he didn’t. You nod at him. “Okay, I’m sorry.” You slowly slide your hands to the top of his head, his eyes don't leave yours and you can watch the fear rise in them the closer your hands get. Once you bury your fingers in his hair- something you do quite often in the position- he moves his entire body closer, sliding up your body so his head is more resting on your chest, his hips are pushing your legs off the bed a bit and he breathes out a whisper of a whimper as he presses his head up to your hands. 

You smile and press your fingertips into his head, massaging his scalp until his head rests back on your chest. He still has his eyes on you, with his chin digging into you painfully but you can push it aside to give him what he needs. His eyes begin to look more like Bucky, like he’s slowly but surely returning to you. Your muscles get a bit tired from the massaging so you switch to scratching after a little while and he really likes it. He breathes in a comically large gasp and finally takes the knife away from your throat, dropping it on the ground before digging into the mattress beneath you and wrapping around your waist, pressing your body to his. 

You’re smiling fondly at his obvious struggle to keep his eyes open, something Bucky usually doesn’t fight. His eyebrows twitch as he fights his heavy lids, his hand tensing its grip on your hair when he relaxes into you a little too much. You’re content to do this, you can bring Bucky back like this, no matter how long it takes. Your smile widens further and he gives you that barely audible whimper before his eyes slip shut, finally giving himself over to the feelings you’re giving him. 

You watch him like that for a little bit, his features the most relaxed than you’d seen yet, and his breathing only stuttering every once in a while. You almost fell asleep, soothed by your motions in his hair but he tenses up again, his shaky breath shooting out of his nose and his arm tightens around you before his hips scoot up, pressing his fully hard cock into you. 

You whimper out a gasp at the feeling and his eyes shoot open. They look like Bucky but his hand is still firmly planted in your hair as his hips stutter a grind against yours. His eyes are apologetic and begging, his hips jerk into yours every time his tip catches on your clit and you have to hold back a moan. 

Is this okay? He’s not technically in his right state of mind… right?

He lets out a sound- somewhere between a sob and a moan before letting your hair go and pushing himself up to a hover above you, pulling his hips away from yours and you try to ignore the ache between your legs as he looks into your eyes. “Please.” He spits the words out like they burn in his mouth, strained and rushed with a pitiful expression, akin to one of a kicked puppy. His eyes unfocus for a moment before meeting yours again and they look like Bucky, they’re also overflowing with guilt.

He pulls away, sitting back on his calves and shaking his head, whispering apologies frantically. You’re not listening though, you gather all the strength you have, lock your legs around his waist, and tense your stomach, attempting a sit-up to get yourself close enough to kiss him. It stops his apologizing and his hands reflexively reach for you, helping you up without question. Once you’re in his lap, you assault his lips with yours, whimpering and moaning into them, appreciative that he’s back but also insanely worked up from the entire previous interaction. He pushes you away softly and you fight the urge to roll your eyes, already knowing he’s going to give you his whole martyr spiel. “No. Baby, you’re just hyped up on adrenaline. You’ll be upset la-”

You lean back in, groan against his lips, and cup the sides of his face before pulling back to look into his eyes. You give him the most pure, and honest tone you can when you speak. “I’m just happy you’re okay, my love.” His face crumples in a broken expression as he starts his apologies again only to be shushed softly by you as you reconnect your lips to his. He whimpers softly into it and places a hand behind your head, pressing you into him as your hips begin to rock over his bulge. You listen to his breathing pick up and his hand slides down to your hips, giving them a squeeze like a warning but you don’t listen. You continue your pace, slow and almost teasing as his cock rubs over your clit again.

His heavy breaths begin to border on moans before he pulls away, his hand moving from behind your head to the bed, behind you as he leans forward and begins to rock his hips into you. Your head falls back with a moan as you wrap your hands around his neck, both of your hips moving in sync. He can cum like this, you know he can, you plan for him too but he lays you on the bed slowly and kisses you. “I want- I want more.” He wants more, he knows he doesn’t need more but he wants it, and who are you to deny him?

You nod but your hips never stop moving, even as he takes his naked cock out of his pants you grind yourself into it with a moan that matches his as the fabric of your panties abuses his sensitive shaft. He uses his metal hand to pin your hips to the bed, a bit more roughly than he intended and his head snaps back to yours, you can see an apology forming on his lips but you silence it with a kiss and reach down to line him up with your entrance. He whines into your mouth as you work him in, his hand leaves his cock to cup your face as you kiss him, letting you guide his cock in all on your own. 

Once you’ve got him in he pulls away from your lips for the sight, he brings down the hand that was cupping your face to play with your clit so he can watch you clench around him. Luckily for him, the action turned you on so much that he also gets to watch your pussy push a load of your juices onto his cock. He takes a sharp but deep breath, his expression almost offended as arousal flares through his body. He meets your gaze before crawling up your body again, a pained expression on his face as his cock slides against your walls, already pulsing inside you. 

You reach out for him, digging your fingers into his hair again as you pull him to your face, wrapping your legs tightly around him and holding him as close as you can as he pumps into you. His arms are both beside your face, caging you in, giving you nowhere to turn your head so your eyes can’t leave his. His eyes stay on yours as his hips grind into yours, he’s panting against you, moaning when you can’t help but clench around him. You can feel his cock twitching inside you already and it helps the coil tighten in your stomach. 

You bite your lip behind your fond smile at him as one hand leaves his hair to toy with your clit. You clench around him with a moan once you start moving your fingers over the bud and he gives you a look of ‘how could you?’ before one hand grips your jaw and the other slides down to meet your hand and swats it away gently. His eyes get hazy and his jaw goes slack as he feels how your little button is pulsing under his thick fingers, his cock twitches inside you again and he gets to work. His fingers move over your clit so fast it almost feels like too much when paired with his cock plunging into you, teasing your G-Spot every time it does.

Your hands tighten in his hair painfully when he- as though he could read your mind- adjusts his hips, moving them so that his tip hits your G-Spot head-on every time he plunges into you. Your toes curl behind his back and you give a sobbing moan of his name against his lips, his eyes close and his head lowers to rest against yours as his cock throbs inside you. “You’re killing me, sugar.”

You squeeze around him at the pet name and he whimpers devastatingly. “M’gonna fuckin’ cum.” His hand leaves your jaw to cradle your head, resting on the top- a habit he acquired when you kept bumping your head into the headboard. “Please tell me you’re close.” He whines against your lips. His eyes are shut tight, his muscles tense and you can hear his arm groaning as he clenches his fist above your head while his hips stutter into you. You nod immediately, the coil in your stomach breaking at his obvious desperation. 

You flutter beautifully around him, his eyes roll back under his lids as you moan into each other. His other hand leaves your clit to frame your face again as he lowers his pelvis to yours, grinding his thick patch of hair against your pulsing clit. He groans and presses his lips to yours as his cock unloads inside you, filling you to the brim and just making his thrusts messier. His lips separate from yours and he mutters desperately against you. “I love you, I love you so much, sugar. S- So good t’me.” His voice pitches up into a whine as his body shudders against you before pushing another rope of cum into you. Your hips lift off the bed to grind into his the same time his hips jerk into you, intensifying both your orgasms. 

Your bodies are shaking against each other as you come down, letting little ripples of pleasure flow through the both of you as his cock softens inside you. Neither of you make any moves to reposition or remove him so you fall asleep like that. No nightmares take Bucky this time. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works, and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[senditcolton]

Request: Mean Marty smut. Because “we’re a bad idea” is completed (loved the character progression in that last chapter, by the way), there’s a good chance Lamoriello isn’t re-signing him and Clutter, and this entire off-season has hurt my heart. Dealer’s choice on the content.

- 💛

I'm Not Sentimental, but...

a/n: considering the way I managed to write all of this in a single night I feels just proves how much I kind of missed writing smut. why is it always this man to pull me back to smut writing? the world may never know. inspired by this moodboard by @smileysvech, this ask from a previous thirst night, and this proposal from @comphy-and-cozy, (not sure if you'll get the full epic, but here's a little taste)

Song Inspo: "Billie Bossa Nova" by Billie Eilish Word Count: 5k Warnings: smut. sugar daddy/baby dynamics, bondage, sensory deprivation, oral (m receiving), sex toys, overstimulation, dirty talk, and just general depravity... I'm going to hell, it's fine.

Aman. Premiere Suite. Ten o’clock. Sharp.

That was the four sentence text message Matt Martin had sent you earlier today. A text message that you had been repeating in your head almost religiously, as if being able to recite it from memory would make him forgive you for the fact that it was now 10:15 and you were still a block away.

Hell, being able to recite the message would most likely get you into even more trouble.

Instead of memorizing the now irrelevant text, you should’ve been practicing a rehearsed speech of excuses to tell him when you finally did arrive: your boss kept you at work for longer than expected, you had to stop at your house to get ready, dressing to the parameters that Matt had set in the text massage prior to the one rattling in your brain. Anything that would transfer the blame from you onto someone else. But you knew it would be pointless.

Matt loved reminding you that you were capable of anything. A reminder that was uplifting when brought up in conversations about the education he was helping pay for. A reminder that was shameful when he said it in that degrading tone that made you weak in the knees.

When the two of you had agreed to this dynamic all those months ago, you knew what you were signing up for. Being a sugar baby wasn’t for the meek. That statement was only amplified when you added Matt Martin to the equation.

After all, no sane person would willingly agree to trudge down New York City streets in a set of highly risqué lingerie, the only protection between you and indecent exposure being a long tan trench coat.

Yet… here you were.

A sigh of relief whooshes out of you when you see the neon sign of the hotel ahead, your pace quickening as if that would make up for lost time. You try to keep an air of confidence about you as you walk into the lobby, your heels clicking on the tile floor. The song-and-dance at the front desk is blissfully short – only the words ‘premiere suite’ needed to fall from your mouth before someone is escorting you to the private elevator. You step inside, the doors closing and you watch the LED numbers increase, your heartrate rising with it.

You were so late. You were in so much trouble. But, instead of the dread you should’ve felt at the thought of facing Matt’s disappointment, there was a thrum of excitement running through you.  

It wasn’t anything to lie about. In fact, Matt often liked to tease you, asking if you broke the rules on purpose because you liked the punishment. Whenever he asked, both you and he knew that there was no denying the truth.

It was a deliciously predictable game of cat-and-mouse. You knew exactly how far you could push and he knew exactly how much you could take. It was a transaction, like every other part of your arrangement. And while some might think that knowledge would dampen the mood, it actually just made it even more intoxicating.

The elevator finally stops, the doors opening directly into the suite – an elegantly decorated room decked in the blacks and beiges that screamed bougie. You step forward, out of the elevator, your heels sinking into the carpet as your eyes dart around the room, looking for Matt. You eventually spy the outline of his tall frame in front of the opened bay doors, the cool air streaming in from the balcony, fluttering the curtains. He has his back to you, his arms crossed and you see an empty whiskey glass dangling from his fingers.

He knew you were there. He had to have known that you were there, the elevator ding when you arrived being anything but subtle. Yet, he didn’t acknowledge you – just kept staring out at 5th Avenue.

Perhaps against your better judgement, you decide to break the silence with a gentle whisper of his name but before you could add another word to the single syllable sentence, his voice cuts you off.

“What time is it?”

It’s a somewhat rhetorical question but one that demands an answer nonetheless. He knew the time but more importantly, he knew that you knew the time. But he wanted you to acknowledge it – admit your failings – and that delectable shame causes the heat to rise in your cheeks.

“10:28,” you whisper out and your quiet admission has Matt turning to face you. He looks good, like always. The white button-down shirt is cut perfectly to his body, the black of his slacks and his tan tie making it seem like he belonged in this room. Everything about him screamed power and luxury, from the Windsor knot still snug below his throat, to the Rolex on his wrist, to his cufflinks glinting in the low lamplight.

“10:28,” he repeats. He moves forward, quickly abandoning his glass on a nearby table, his now empty hands coming to grip your chin and tilt your head back to lock your eyes with his. “It’s like you don’t want to see me,” he muses, the dangerous sparkle in his irises only hinting at what was to come.

“Of course, I do,” you rebut, the pleading edge to your voice sounding almost too sickly sweet to even your ears. “But –”

Whatever words you had poised to fall from your lips are silenced by Matt pulling your face towards him to crash his lips against yours. You should hate how much you melt under his touch, how willingly you open your mouth to allow his tongue to have access. But you don’t. It was nearly impossible to hate Matt Martin, even when his lips disappear from yours.

“No excuses, sweetheart. We both know any excuse you have could be resolved if you just let me take care of you entirely,” he whispers, his thumb brushing along your jawline.

The proposal isn’t new; it’s one that he had casually suggested almost every night since your arrangement started. It was also pointless to argue with him because he was telling the truth. He had enough money to make it so you could exist to only be on his arm and at his beck and call. But that wasn’t the life you had envisioned. He knew that. He respected that.

This was your boundary for him; one that he liked to toy at but you knew he would never cross.

“I know,” you whisper, having no other answer to give him. It seems to be enough, that lazy smug smile appearing on his face; the one that had Islander fans cheer and opponents sneer when he was playing. One that occasionally appeared in press conferences he attended as Assistant General Manager. It signals an end to the conversation and acts as a segue into the inevitable.

His hands fall from your face, moving to your coat as he deftly unties the long belt from its cinched position around your waist. The material slips from your frame with a surprising ease, leaving you clad in the lingerie he requested – the set he bought you a week ago. The undergarments are more for decoration than actual function, considering the only coverage on your chest was a pair of satin ribbons and the fabric around your hips disappeared when it came time to cover your core.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, his hands delicately tracing the lines of your body, toying with but not undoing the bows on your chest and hips. The sharp breath that he sucks in between his teeth at the sight of you makes the heat pool in your lower stomach.

“Wanted to make sure I looked perfect for you.”

“Think that will excuse you for being late?” he asks, that smirk reappearing as his head cocks to the side. You quickly shake your head in a negative (even though you hoped that flattery would get you out of whatever torture was to come), an action to which his only response is a deep chuckle.

He walks away from you for a moment, the space between Matt’s heat and your newly exposed body allowing the coolness of the night air to hit your skin. You watch him pick up the pale pink leather cuffs that you only now realized had been waiting for you on the table next to the whiskey glass he abandoned a few short minutes ago.

“Wrists.”

The single word is all it takes for you to present your hands to him, watching with baited breath as he wraps the material around your joints, buckling the hardware securely against your skin. You let him guide your arms behind your back, the click of the restraints locking together seemingly reverberating around your ribcage.

“Knees.”

It is somewhat ridiculous how single syllable words are all Matt needs to utter to have you obeying him perfectly. The descent to your knees is easy, the plush carpet forgiving, and your eyes glance up, tracking Matt’s movement as he walks back in front of you, towering over your body more than he usually did. His hands come to his neck, elegant fingers undoing his tie, allowing the material to now drape down either side of his collar. He continues to deconstruct the professional façade he was wearing like a mask, unbuttoning the top buttons of his dress shirt and removing the cufflinks to roll up his sleeves. His hands return to the silken material of his tie, pulling one side until it falls from his frame. It takes you an embarrassingly long time to realize his intentions with said material, a pout forming on your lips as he takes the fabric in both hands.

“Don’t give me that look, darling,” he coos as he moves the material towards your face, the stretch of fabric between his fists the perfect length to wrap around your head, the high-quality silk covering your eyes and plunging the room into darkness. You feel his adept fingers loop the material, careful not to get it tangled in your hair as he tugs a secure knot against the back of your skull.

“Felt like you didn’t want to see me tonight anyway,” he muses, his voice now becoming your only guide as he continues, “since you were almost a half-hour late.”

“I’m sorry,” you whine, knowing that the plea, no matter how pathetic, would fall onto deaf ears.

“I know, sweetheart.”

His reply is pitying but firm – a staple in the dynamic established between the two of you. Rules had been laid out and it was only befitting that when one was broken, a punishment followed.

Although, the sound of his belt buckle coming undone combined with the snap of the leather as it slipped from his belt loops didn’t sound like the beginnings of a punishment to you.

Your mouth opens with practiced ease, outstretching your tongue and submitting yourself to him in what you were sure looked like the most perfect bow-tied present. He chuckles and you feel his fingers grip your chin again before his thumb is pressing against the pink muscle of your tongue.

“That eager for me, aren’t you?”

You only response is to wrap your lips around the digit, gently suckling – just enough to tempt him into giving you the real thing. He laughs, his thumb slipping out of the wet cavern of your mouth before the sound of him unzipping of his dress pants causes your mouth to open again.

It is slight torture, waiting for him, not being able to see him and not being able to know what was coming and when it was coming. But that only heightened the excitement you felt when the delectable weight of his shaft came to rest on your outstretched tongue. You feel the appendage slide against you, the tip of it disappearing into your mouth – shallowly at first but slowly increasing its depth. You press your tongue against the bottom of his length, a silent indication that you were willing and ready to take all of him, one that Matt reads and responds to by holding the side of your head as his hips begin to move, thrusting into your mouth. You relax your throat, allowing him to slip deeper as he takes what he needs from your body, the filthy praise rolling from his lips while yours are otherwise occupied.

“Never get tired of this,” he groans from above you. “Never get tied of seeing your mouth wrapped around my cock. Of feeling your throat constrict around me. Such a good girl – such a pretty perfect slut for me.”

You can hear his words become stuttered, feel the steady rhythm of his thrusts turn staccato and it isn’t long until his climax comes, the feeling of his release filling your mouth almost as intoxicating as the taste of him. You suck, cleaning him with an eager deftness that has him groaning, a trill running through you. You wish you could see him – see the post-orgasm glow that alit his skin, see the way he pushes back the strands of hair that always fell over his forehead. For the first time since he took your sight away, it felt like a punishment.

He finally pushes back, the silky smoothness of his length removing itself from your mouth until a single string of silverly saliva is all that connects you. A laugh emanates from his chest as he takes you in, surely looking like a mess with the sheen of sweat on your skin, the spit on you lips, the track of tears escaping from underneath the makeshift blindfold.

“Y’look so beautiful. Gonna take a picture,” he mutters and you gently nod your head in consent.

You hear the click of a phone camera before Matt’s hands are back on your body, this time lifting you up off the ground before trailing down your arms to unclasp the restraints. He doesn’t remove the material from your eyes, leaving you still blind as he guides you further into the room. You allow him to manipulate your body, letting him push and turn you until he is gently pressing you back against the mattress of the king-sized bed, the sheets gliding against your skin. He guides your arms up over your head and your once again hear the click of the restraints although this time when you tug, the resistance you are met with is not your own wrists but a wooden bedframe.

Another whine escapes from you, the previous act of having him in your mouth only succeeding in making you even more desperate; something that Matt most likely knew, hence why he still prevented you from touching him or even seeing him. You are simply forced to wait in deprived silence, listening intently to every noise that hits your eardrums for indication on what was to come.

You hear the rustle of fabric, the zip of a zipper, and what you think is a small chuckle from Matt before you can feel his weight sink onto the mattress. Your thighs fall open of their own volition but Matt doesn’t tease you about it, instead happy to drink in the sight of your soaked core.

“Oh, that wet already, aren’t you sweetheart?” he asks and judging by the dampness you can feel on your skin, you can only imagine how lewd the display must appear. “Got this desperate from me fucking your face? Such a perfect slut, always ready for me.”

Another whimper falls from your lips, the rolling of your hips acting as both a confirmation that you wanted him and a silent plea for him to give you more than just his words. The sigh that escapes you when you feel him trace down your thigh is blissful, until you realize that it is not Matt’s rough calloused fingers slowly trailing towards your core, but instead a soft silicone.

“No, please,” you whimper out as Matt moves the toy closer to the apex of your thighs, the rounded head coming to glide against your slick folds. “Want you Matt. Want your cock.”

“You already got it tonight,” he whispers, the toy trailing up until the tip of it presses against your clit.

“Want your cock inside me.”

“You want me to fuck your perfect cunt? Want to feel me stretching that tight little pussy open?”

Your only response is a desperate whine as your hips buck, the action forcing the toy to bump against your bundle of nerves, causing your breathing to stutter. Matt holds the wand in place and you can feel him hovering over you, his breath fanning across your cheekbones.

“Then you should’ve been on time,” he whispers, his sentence punctuated by the click of the power button, the sudden vibrations forcing a downright pornographic moan to fall from your lips. He keeps the vibrator pressed firmly against you, the buzz of it filling the room.

Your already desperate state accompanied by the low and steady hum of the vibrator means that your climax hits you faster than expected, the warmth of it washing over your body as you whine and writhe against the sheets. Matt waits until your body is no longer trembling to remove the toy from your core before turning it off, returning the room to its former silence.

That should have been the end of it, the deprivation of touch, of sight, and of him, seeming to you like punishment enough. But when the head of the vibrator is pressed against your sensitive core again, your mind is left reeling.

Your confusion allows Matt to roughly grab your leg, pulling it closer until the firm length of the wand is pressed against the supple flesh of your inner thigh. The sensation is quickly followed by another, the feeling of a different material wrapping around the toy and your leg. It takes a minute to recognize the light scratch of the fabric as the belt that used to be looped around your trench coat.

“Wh- ” you begin to ask, the simple question not even being completed before Matt shushes you, his hands still working to wrap the belt around your skin.

His hand tugs at your other thigh until you can feel them press together, the sensation of your skin fully sticking to each other impeded only by the wand firmly held into place by your limbs. But the intention behind those registered touches doesn’t fully hit you until you feel the cinch of the belt tightening around both of your legs.

“Matt, please, don’t,” you beg, the understanding of what he was about to do hitting you like a freight train. Your wrists tug at your restraints, a mantra repeating in your brain that says he couldn’t possibly be this mean.

“What are you whining about, darling? I’m about to give you more pleasure than you probably deserve.”

You whimper, knowing that he had a point. He could’ve switched the entire script, going with the torture of edging you but never allowing you a release instead of the painful bliss of overstimulation. But you needed him. Not a toy, not an orgasm – him.

“I know you can take it, like the perfect whore you are,” he mutters, his fingers tracing over the ridges of your face, that depredating praise making another zing of desire flow through you, the arousal gushing from your core even more noticeable to you because of the bindings on your legs. “But if you don’t think you can, all you have to do is tell me.”

He is giving you a choice to end it here, to have him untie you and let him take care of you. But as much as you wanted him to coddle you, you wanted to earn it. Matt knew that – you were always looking to prove yourself to anyone – hence his phrasing. Another trick in his arsenal.

So, instead of the safe-word, another plea escapes your lips, your begging consent for him to continue. You can’t see it, but that grin pulls across Matt’s features once again, a smirk of both power and admiration aimed directly at you. His hand falls from your face, trailing a torturous path down your body before dancing across your bound thighs.

The vibrations that hit you are expected and yet somehow manage catch you entirely off-guard, your core still sensitive from your previous orgasm. A high-pitched moan crawls its way up your throat as your muscles clench, your back arching.

“There she is. There’s my good girl,” Matt whispers, his praise the only thing strong enough to cut through the haze that you felt slowly enveloping you. “Feels good, yeah?”

A pathetic whimper is the only response that you can give, the sensations assaulting your body rendering you essentially speechless. Usually, that was sufficient but Matt’s mean streak seems to be never-ending, the click of his tongue sounding throughout the room.

“No, sweetheart, I need your words.”

There is a proper answer – one that you learned quickly after you once said yes and that agreement led to even more discipline. Now, the words were caught in your throat, not because you didn’t know what to say but because it was difficult to even form a string of syllables that was in any way coherent.

“Not as good as you,” you manage to choke out, your sentence rendered choppy by the hiccups of gasps that you couldn’t hold back.

You feel the mattress shift, Matt’s weight disappearing and you have no shame in letting your protest be heard, a pitiful mewl ripping its way out of your throat. You can barely hear Matt’s chuckle before you register the mattress dipping again, this time on either side of your head. It’s the press of Matt’s lips against yours that has your second orgasm crashing over you, unabashed moans falling from your mouth into his, all of which Matt greedily swallows. The orgasm fades only briefly before your body writhes again, the restraints around your wrists and your legs holding you and the vibrator tight.

Matt’s lips disappear from yours, another strangled groan falling from your lips, the sound now only hindered by your dwindling sense of self-control.

“I’m going to take a shower,” you hear Matt explain. His voice is cruelly casual; it was as if he was discussing the weather, as if he wasn’t leaving you bound with the wand still humming between your thighs, abusing your oversensitive core. “I can see you trying to quiet all those pretty little noises you want to make. Let them out, sweetheart. I want to hear you – want all of New York to hear what a good little slut you are.”

You aren’t sure whether it is his encouragement or your own desire that erases any lingering shame you have in your body, your moans now falling freely. The only praise that Matt gives you is a quiet ‘there she is’ before you can sense his presence disappearing from the room, the confirmation coming in the sound of the showerhead turning on.

When your third orgasm thrums through your body, you realize that your current predicament was more of a challenge than anything else. Not just to have Matt hear you over the crash of the water but to even stay coherent enough to do so, a test you were starting to fail as you feel the weight of your sub-space prick at the corner of your eyes. You try to ground yourself by listing every sensation: the way the sheets dampen with sweat underneath you, the way the supple leather digs into your wrists, the cool breeze coming from the window dancing over your skin. But everything is slowly drowned out by the incessant buzz of the vibrator between your legs, still pressed against your clit, that constant stimulation forcing your body to writhe, your thighs to slicken, your chest to heave.

The noises that do manage to fall from you are a jumble compilation of sighs, moans, and curses, each less coherent with every orgasm that passes through you. It is the most delicious torture, the relief of a climax followed swiftly by the borderline pain of the vibrations still going. There is no quantifying anything: how long you’ve been here, how many orgasms had been ripped from your body, how tears you’ve shed from the overstimulation. You’ve lost all sense of anything else but the hum between your legs and the torturous pleasure it brings.

Finally – finally – after yet another orgasm has crashed into you, the vibrations stop and you can’t help the absolute half-sob, half-sigh of relief that huffs from your chest. That sub-space that you had been fighting off, you now give into with a sigh, allowing the haze to sink into your body. It encompasses you, making you feel as if you were floating in the vastness of space, as if you were being smothered in velvet. The only thing that keeps you somewhat tied to earth is Matt’s gentle voice, the quiet praise falling from his lips. It takes Matt lifting you off the mattress and cradling you in his arms for you to fully come back to the present moment. Only then do you realize all the fabric that was previously tied along your body was gone, leaving you naked. You don’t care, choosing instead to nuzzle deeper into Matt’s chest as he whisks you away, your eyelids fluttering open and readjusting to the low candlelight of the bathroom.

Matt gently places you down into the tub already filled with warm water, the temperature feeling heavenly as it penetrates your muscles. A soft kiss on your temple is what Matt leaves you with before he exits the room, closing the door firmly behind him. You swear you hear hushed voices emanating from underneath the door but you are still too dazed to even bother worrying yourself over it. Eventually, Matt returns, this time with a small cart carrying a bottle of champagne and a plate of chocolate covered strawberries.

“Drink this first,” he quietly demands, handing you an ice-cold water bottle. “All of it.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, the chilled liquid never feeling more refreshing against your tongue, coating your sore throat. You give the empty bottle back to him, the plastic being replaced by smooth glass as he hands you a champagne flute, before leaning against the side of the tub with his own glass. You take in his appearance, hair still damp from his shower, only a pair of sweatpants on his frame. His own blue eyes appraise you similarly, the quiet concern mixing with a pure devotion in his irises. You finally decide to break the silence, your voice sounding terribly hoarse as you whisper.

“’M hungry.”

Matt just smiles before grabbing the plate of strawberries, setting them down on the small stool next to the bathtub, making it easy for you to reach them. You happily munch on the fruit, feeling a modicum of energy return to you as you lean back and let Matt take care of you. His hands move beneath the water, massaging your tight muscles before grabbing the soft cotton washcloth, dampening the material in order to wipe away the sweat still clinging to your skin. You only protest once with a small hiss when he brushes against your oversensitive core, the sound quieted with a hush. The praise that fell from his mouth might have just been repeated from earlier but this time you could register it and every word made your body warm.

Sounded so pretty for me. I knew you could handle it, my perfect girl. You did so well.

He eventually lets the bath drain, helping you out of the porcelain tub and drying off the water from your body. The plush complimentary robe is thrown over your frame and Matt takes your arm, gently guiding you back to the bedroom. You can’t stop the breathy laugh that falls from your lips when you spy the shopping bags, designer labels on all of them, now piled up by one side of the bed – a bed that had been stripped and remade with fresh sheets.

“For you,” Matt whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss against your temple. You reply by turning your head towards him to press your lips onto his. It is gentler than any other kiss you shared tonight and you melt into his embrace. He helps you slip underneath the sheets, his broad body not far behind as he wraps his arms around you, pulling your back into his chest.

“I could make it so that you would never have to work again,” he whispers to you, reiterating the proposal that he postulated almost every time he saw you. You are about to retort, a sigh of his name falling from your lips before he silences your protest by continuing. “I know, you like to feel independent. And I admire that about you. I just like having you by my side.”

You rotate your body in the bed, turning to face him, the sharp angles of his face highlighted by the lights of the city that never sleeps.

“I like being by your side,” you whisper, your heart soaring at the sight of his smile.

“I don’t want you to give up your life – become some sort of trophy or anything. I respect you too much to ask you to do that. Just… promise me you’ll think about it.”

He doesn’t fully elaborate what it is: whether he meant allowing your dynamic to expand to every aspect of your life so you could do what you wanted without the pressure of making money or whether he meant becoming his completely, without any monetary value placed on the relationship you shared.

But, the silence of the hotel room, you come to realize that there is little difference between those two possibilities.

Matt wouldn’t just stop taking care of you if he wasn’t bound by a contract. He was more than that. What you shared was more than that; more than a number in your bank account, more than the amount of designer product in your closet, more than a simple transaction.

It was something real.

[softspace-fics]

Knowing

Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

A/N - I haven't posted in a few days but here's something I wrote in the midst of a bad mental night. Alot of my stories represent what I feel and there's times where I put it onto characters because it helps to know your not alone. If you ever feel alone please know you can always message me.

Masterlist - All my work!

This is not a age-re post!⚠️

On a separate note, Im currently working on a request! If any of you wouls like to request a story or work please ask!

Warnings ⚠️: Panic attacks, mentions of eating, bucky crying, Steve comforting bucky, mentions of hydra, mainly angst but some fluff, romantic duo, mentions of showering, mentions of what bucky endured being a hydra agent

Please read with caution!

_______

Bucky could tell something wasn't right. His ability to breathe and his brain felt as if they were working against each other the entire day. Nothing felt right, and nothing was fixing it.

He tried everything he could think of, he showered, he tried to sleep, he ate, he watched things he thought might help, nothing worked. But he tried.

Eventually he found himself on the corner of the couch in a ball with his knees to his chest. Every memory of his time at hydra flooding his head, and his mind attacking him. Every thing he had to endure, and everything he made others go through.

The murder, the harsh conditions, the making of his precious yet horrendous metal arm, attacking his own significant other, who he had been in love with since they were kids.

He didn't understand why Steve stayed, or forgave him. He didn't understand how he wasn't seen as a monster, and he didn't understand why he had people around him who still loved him so dearly.

"-cky, Bucky baby come back to me. Hey, look at me." Bucky looks up at Steve, confused, and almost lost. When did he start to cry? Why did everything ache?

Steve gently pulls bucky to his lap, cradling his head as he rocks his partner. Gently kissing the tears off his face and letting bucky soak his shirt with his tears.

Steve knew the moment the house was too quiet, that there was no sound of music or a show on, that something was wrong.

After living in his head for so long, Bucky would almost always be listening to music or watching something to help him be in the present instead of the past.

But there was always those days, where nothing he did would fix it. Nothing would change the ache and hurt, until Steve had him. Until he could smell, hear, see, touch and practically taste his cologne on his tounge.

The feeling of Steve holding him close for as long as Bucky needed, how he knew what Bucky needed more than he did.

Steve knew these days were going to end up happening for the rest of their lives. He knows that there will be days every so often where Bucky cant do anything without him there by his side.

Steve also knew that he would do absoloutely anything for him. He would reassure him until his last breath that it wasnt his fault. Steve would spill his love over and over again until the end if that meant that Bucky would smile.

Steve would give up all he owns to make sure that Bucky never has to go through what he once had to, to make sure that he could get to Bucky as soon as he could when these days hit him.

These two knew, in the moment where bucky could do nothing but cling to his lover in hope that the emotions and hurt will eventually subside for the minute, that there was endless love and care in the way they just knew.

[dufferpuffer]

I am re-reading OotP. I am so disappointed in Remus (it's ok he's still the loml and he could still get it).

Like this man constantly pulls the rug from under my feet. For one, he's so cute when he worries about Harry or comforts Molly for the 100th time in the book...or when he makes sure the kids are okay or sits with the werewolf at the hospital (although it was probably to avoid Molly's wrath lol).

But MAN, when Harry firecalls Sirius because he is so disgusted with his dad, Remus let me down.

P.618 "Then, Lupin sait quietly, 'I wouldn't like you to judge your father on what you saw there, Harry. He was only fifteen-'" EXCUSE ME WHAT?!?

Then Harry says "I'm fifteen!" Damn right he is and he is not nearly as vile as his dad was.

P.619 "'Was he playing with the Snitch?' said Lupin EAGERLY." My man is reminiscing of his teenage years watching James bully Snape. REMINISCING.

I struggle with this because I found "Snape's Worst Memory" very sad and painful to read and here it feels that, for a character who SEEMS to have so much empathy for others...makes me wonder how much of this is an act (both the laughing and being empathetic). I wonder if his reaction would have been the same had Sirius not been there? Remus is so fucking desperate to please. That's all he wants really, for people to like him. Sirius is one of his only friends left, so he was not going to start admonishing him in front of his godson, right?

Love you Remus but you suck man :( but i love you because you suck.

Both very tasty examples of Remus-isms. Thanks for sharing them. This man is a mess... his Lycanthropy is nothing compared to the small things he does that are unhealthy, mean and... Remus-y.

One of my favourites is when Harry is almost desperately 'joking' about how the Dursleys think of him, and Remus just keeps shrugging him off: Ch3 pg54

Lupin was sealing a letter addressed to the Dursleys. “Excellent,” said Lupin, looking up as Tonks and Harry entered. “We’ve got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we’re ready. Harry, I’ve left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry —” “They won’t,” said Harry. “That you’re safe —” “That’ll just depress them.” “— and you’ll see them next summer.” “Do I have to?” Lupin smiled but made no answer.

It is such a small thing. Ultimately he is just telling Harry he has written to his guardians - which isn't bad of him, necessarily. If Moody was telling harry he wrote the letter i'd say 'wow he's being gentle and polite today'. He is just doing his job as an adult...

...But Remus KNOWS Harry. Harry isn't just some kid he is acting responsible for: he adores him. Harry is desperate for role models. He needs emotional support. But Remus just does the bare minimum. He gives him nothing. he keeps him, emotionally, at arms length.

When people say Lupin is a good dad to Harry - absolutely not. He was barely an uncle. He was a bit scared of Harry, I think.

As you pointed out - he adores his memories of the past, when he felt free and happy and supported, when he had friends by his side every day and they had fun together. Rose-tinted glasses. When he could believe that he was a good werewolf.

But Harry is so much fucking better then all of them. He puts them to SHAME. Remus doesn't want to have his pristine past poisoned by facing the fact he wasn't a 'good werewolf' at all. He was a bloody irresponsible one, not in a 'silly boys' way either. They acted terribly and he continues to act so now, as an adult.

He knows all this in his heart... but those memories are all he has.

He is stuck in that past, he hasn't really ever grown up. He even 'plays' professor - the cool, fun teacher everyone likes. Sirius? Sirius looks to the future, generally. "What can I do next?" He has his own childishness and trauma, but the past is the past and the future is controlled by the present.

Remus wants to sit and sulk in the past. If he had a penseive like Albus he would be drowning himself in it, day in and day out. it takes Tonks, Harry and a fucktonne of support to grow him up. Which is cool! Sometimes people need it, and its worth it in the end.

I don't think Remus' reaction would have changed much without Sirius there. Maybe he would have just been a little quieter, but I think his feelings would remain largely the same: They are good memories. Perhaps they didn't act the best, but they were only kids, right...? (pointedly ignoring the fact that other kids, like Harry, act so much better than they did without even trying.)

[afrognamedfizzarolli]

Helluva Boss Season 2 trailer break down: Pt 4 Mastermind!

The C.H.E.R.U.B.'s and D.H.O.R.K's are back bitches!

These two shots seem to be fairly face value. The C.H.E.R.U.B.'s have been stuck on earth since we saw them last, and apparently have been spending their time trying to find I.M.P. and settle the score. They are captured by the D.H.O.R.K.S, the two realizing they have a common enemy team up.

Also notable is that the portal Blitzø is peaking his head out of is that of an Asmodian crystal. Meaning he did accept it from Stolas.

I think these four shots are a direct sequence of the crew porting back to the office after a successful hit, only for another portal that the D.H.O.R.K.S and C.H.E.R.U.B.'s have developed to be able to traverse to hell, presumably to capture the main crew.

(they are Stolas' grimore to portal in the first shot. Which is kinda weird to me if Blitzø has the crystal.)

I said previously in my post on Apology Tour that I think these two sequences are most likely in Mastermind. I believe what we are seeing is Blitzø being held, and either him having another nightmare sequence, or the D.H.O.R.K.S have somehow found a way to extract his memories, and are forcing him to re-watch some of the worst parts of his life.

Regardless as to why Blitzø is seeing these, its very interesting with a few. We were lead to believe in Oops that when the accident happened Blitzø didn't see Fizzarolli crawling towards him, the first frame suggests he did see him, but chose to still run to his moms tent to try to help her.

The next is the first time we've seen anything of Fizz during the 15 years between the accident and Ozzie's. This is almost directly directly post accident, we see Cash stopping Blitzø from going to see Fizz. Confirming the popular belief that Cash was the one to come between and lie to Blitzø and Fizz (father of the fucking year right here)

The next two frames are Blitzø's perspective of Fizzarolli and Veronika from Ozzie's.

We have another flashback, this one not seen through the screen though a screen like the others. Blitzø is crying while Tilla holds him, hes wearing the same outfit as we see him in the night of the accident. I have 3 theories on what this is.

The least likely in my opinion: This is a flashback to that night, before the accident, Blitzø confiding in her that he planned to confess to Fizz that night

This is when Tilla told him how sick she was and explaining that she probably didn't have much time left.

But my personal belief is that this is not really a flashback at all, this is a dreamlike scene where Blitzø is taken back to being a teen and sees her again. She comforts him and tells him that she is proud of how he has grown, and encourages him that he needs to work to escape and save his family from the situation they are in.

Another shots that are tricky to me, I have a strong feeling these two are connected, but not completely sure where they fit. This is honestly kinda a process of elimination guess for me.

I want to included these two clips from the Hells Belles short which reference the C.H.E.R.U.B.s episode, i assume as a hint to them coming back soon.

Again I am sorry for the shit photo quality, and possible bad grammar and spelling. I currently have the posts for the rest of the episodes nearly done so expect those in the next few hours ♡ I'd love to hear any other ideas or theories about the upcoming episodes, or anything I missed/got wrong!

Pt. 1: The Full Moon | Pt. 2 :Apology Tour | Pt. 3: Ghostfuckers | Pt. 4: Mastermind | Pt. 5: Sinsmas

[cerberus-new-owner]

Had this stuck in my head all day (I lied the past 2 months) but

how do the brothers deal with like ptsd and stuff after the fall and losing their sister (I'm pretty sure it is brought up in the games but idk)

ngl I almost didn't post this

TRIGGER WARNING/CONTENT WARNING - Big boy Spoilers (can't remember what lesson/s) and Topics, Angsty, Mentions of Antidepressants, Depression, Eating Disorders, PTSD (like everyone in this has it), Anxiety, Probably OOC (Please tell me if I need to add anything to this)

About 1476 words in this including the intro this part and the end notes

If you feel like you need help or are going to do something overly drastic that could potentially harm yourself or others please contact

lifeline: 13 11 14

beyond blue: 1300 22 4636

or any other services similar that can help that apply to your country, region or area I am unsure as to whether or not these numbers will work in countries outside of Australia

These are just my headcanons that I've formed over the course of the past few months. If you feel I should add something or edit a part that I didn't do well on I will gladly take on any constructive criticism and edit this as i do not personally have expreience when it comes to most of these topics.

Lucifer

after the fall and the whole having to see his sister on the brink of death and having to hide the truth from his brothers he 100% has PTSD he hates talking about anything to do with it and has done as much as he can to erase certain things about the war from his mind and he 100% feels guilty about dragging his brothers down with him this caused him to try avoid them making up excuses to not have to leave dias side or offering to take on extra work for dia (leading him to overwork himself like he does in the og and nb timelines) and domino-ed into mammon having to deal with the others. he does eventually get better at managing his feelings and talking to his brothers and the other characters (as seen in the games from what i remember) but it'll always be to a certain extent before his stubborn pride takes hold.

Mammon

medicated depression, lucifer was like never there seeing as he would've been busy with lord diavolo leaving mammon to try to look after his five younger brothers as they all grieved whilst he was also grieving and trying to control his sin he had to (somewhat) pull his shit together somehow and it wouldn't help that his brothers are constantly referring to him as a scumbag and blaming him for stuff disappearing suddenly, mams only choice was to get diagnosed officially and start taking the meds he was given so he could help look after his family, (and if i remember right mamon says multiple times that he does care about his brothers and wants to help them) he has blocked out as much from the celestial war as he can the main parts still stick with him but over time the affect the memories of the war had on him faded, it will forever hurt him to remember just not as much as it did in those first few months/year.

Levi

chronic social anxiety the amount of demons talking about the fall and not trusting the brothers caused him to become more cautious when talking to others he focused only on the good memories from when he was in the celestial realm like watching anime with his brothers and sister re-watching said anime for days on end eventually he'd branch out and try something new just not whilst he was grieving. he just wants to feel the nostalgia/feel like he's somewhat honoring his sisters memory by watching the shows they used to watch together, he likes reliving the good memories with his sister thnking of the good things that happened rather than the bad. he does take therapy sessions through chats and such when he feels he needs them (more so in the past than in the 'present' idk what to call it)

Satan

as much as he hates to admit it at the beginning of his existence he had separation anxiety. lucifer disappearing and reappearing being the main trigger purely because he would've been confused (imagine spawning with memories and a feeling of wrath that's not yours seeing the guy who you spawned from and watching as said guy disappears leaving you with his younger brothers who are trying to grieve) like he despises lucifer sure but i feel like it would've been something like a baby duck and its mother (aka the first thing it sees) so whilst tan was constantly trying to hurt luci in the early months of his existence underneath that hatred was some kind of f-ed up 'as long as i stay here with my brothers i am looked after and cared for' or some kind of 'if i stay here long enough i can put these memories to stories and experiences' it's also kind of a rebellious teenager type thing like sure he rebels against lu but it's not necessarily pure hate (if it were a pure hate he would be trying to kill lucifer instead of mildly inconvenience him daily) other than that i don't think he would have depression or anything just PTSD from how he came to creation.

Asmo

as much as i don't want to say it i feel like he had an ED at some point after the fall along with depression the ED mainly from the sudden shock of change from chastity to lust feeling the constant need for some form of connection causing self insecurity to sink itself into him making him feel a strong need to look good on the outside to find people/demons to help satisfy that need for 'connection' sure he had his charm but i don't think he would've really known how to use it properly (i don't think any of the brothers would've had control of their sins like they do in the present timeline) and he would've felt bad making someone he didn't know to do that sort of thing against their will (back then he felt a lot more guilty, now he's just a shameless flirt).

Beel

PTSD he blames himself for her death and binge eats from both his sin and guilt he did eventually find a healthier outlet most likely being exercise knowing his sister wouldn't want him to feel so upset he doesn't try to block out the memories knowing that nothing can be done instead he tries to ignore how guilty he feels when his sister is brought up in conversation, he does his best to go through his normal daily routines he is probably profesionally diagnosed for depression (mammon probably got at least him and maybe belphie get diagnosed, he figured if anyone out of the brothers is gonna have a depressive episode of sorts after the fall it would've been them).

Belphie

PTSD, and as much as he hates it he does partially blame beel for the death of lilith the first few months he spent seething silently occasionally killing a few humans to extract his 'revenge' on them and ignoring his brothers unless it was beel. i also think he has a bit of depression, he lost his best friend and sister, had to watch her pretty much die in front of him and then didn't even get to say goodbye to her body when he fell because her body was gone (from what i know/remember) and he was the youngest other than lilith (again from what i know/remember) who fought on lucifer and liliths side of the war thats 100% gonna fuck someone up (like i mentioned with beel's mams tried to get him diagnosed as well he probably either declined or slept through the appointment).

Holy sugar that was a lot to type, I don't think I was quite able to write as well/freely as I normally would between making sure my facts are straight about certain mental illnesses and such but I hope I did some good in writing about them.

These are just my headcanons that I've formed over the course of the past few months. If you feel I should add something or edit a part that I didn't do well on I will gladly take on any constructive criticism and edit this.

None of this is any sort of recommendation or saying 'you should do this to fix your mental health' as I do not have personal experience when it comes to a lot of the things I talked about here nor am I a professional (getting a diagnosis is probably a good thing to do but it is purely what you believe is best for you) I did as much research as possible on how they affect different people (and did my best to transfer that into demons).

I went a bit darker than I would on a regular day/months of writing/typing for a fandom and I thoroughly apologize if this made anyone uncomfortable in any way but there was a warning at the start.

Again, if you feel like you need help or are going to do something overly drastic that could potentially harm yourself or others please contact

Lifeline: 13 11 14

Beyond Blue: 1300 22 4636

or any other services similar that can help that apply to your country or area I am unsure as to whether or not these numbers will work in countries outside of Australia.

Have a good day/night/marshmallow (I promise the next thing I post isn't gonna be angsty)

its just a hop skip and a jump to the masterlist

[melpomenelamusa]

Something magical - Chimeras

~Original story~

Previous

CW: Mention of past kidnapping.

Warrick threw down the newspaper he had been reading to pass the time when he heard screams coming from the patio. He got up and ran, and his blood ran cold when he saw Elafi writhing on the grass, screaming and holding his head as if he feared an alien would break his skull and be born from it.

"What the hell happened here?!"

Lupita, a few feet away, watched him, stupefied and tense. There was confusion, and one could even say fear, in her gaze. She saw Warrick with his eyes wide open, not responding.

That wasn't a good sign at all.

"Elafi!"

Warrick threw himself to the ground, next to the deer boy. The latter squeezed his eyes shut and let out whimpers and gasps, as if he were in terrible pain.

"Elafi, can you hear me?"

The teenager let out another scream. His back arched and his eyes suddenly opened.

"Elafi!" Warrick called, shaking his shoulder and waiting for some kind of reaction; but the boy just stared up with his unfocused gaze, as if he were in some kind of trance. "Elafi, answer! Lupita, what did you do to him?!"

"Nothing!" the woman exclaimed. Her voice trembled with indignation but also with frustration.

Warrick figured that would be a talk for later. He looked back at Elafi, only to find the teen's eyes rolling back in his head and laying motionless on the ground. The man took a deep breath to try to control the emotions swirling inside him. As much as it hurt, he began to think that coming here had been a bad idea.

"You can lay him down on the couch," Lupita said cautiously, seeing the man carrying the unconscious boy in his arms.

"I think we're leaving now," Warrick said. His voice came out harsher than he would have liked.

"Please don't," the woman added. She put a hand to her chest and nervously twirled the beads on one of her necklaces. "I think I have a theory. We need to talk."

"I don't know if he wants to talk to you..."

"Warrick!"

At the woman's shout, Warrick turned completely to face her. She stood firm, frowning, arms at her sides. When she spoke, she pronounced each word loud and clear, as if she were taking an oath:

"I would never hurt a chimera child. I would cut off both my hands before I would voluntarily harm them, and you know that very well."

Warrick couldn't help but feel bad suddenly, as if he had been reprimanded.

"You´re right, I'm sorry," he said, embarrassed, as he entered the living room and settled Elafi on the couch.

He dropped onto the opposite armchair, letting out a long sigh. Lupita's hand caressed his shoulder affectionately.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. He felt very tired. "It's just that Elafi´s been through a lot of shit, you know? And thinking that he could continue to suffer drives me crazy…”

"I know, I understand," Lupita said.

"I still need you to give me an explanation."

"I know.

~

When Elafi regained consciousness, he found himself lying on a couch in a room he didn't know. For a moment, he thought he was back at his grandmother's house, whom he visited a lot during his early teens and whom he hadn't seen for a few years. He remembered that her house was also full of trinkets on the shelves of the walls, but he didn't remember his grandmother specifically having so many ornaments of... Wolves?

The memories slowly came back to his mind: the witch's house, the meditation, that strange dream... More than upset or scared, he just felt very confused.

As he sat up, he saw that Warrick was sitting on the armchair opposite him, with his arms on his knees, one of them bouncing anxiously against the tiled floor. Seeing that the boy was already awake, the man immediately stood up to help him up.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Elafi put a hand to his temple. There was still an uncomfortable pressure behind his eyeballs, but it was almost gone now.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Warrick closed his eyes in relief, before opening them again. There was sadness in his gaze. Lupita suddenly appeared from the kitchen. She looked tired and melancholy, and Elafi thought she almost seemed like a different person than the mysterious, charming woman who greeted them.

“We need to talk,” she said, disappearing behind the beaded curtain into the dining room. The other two followed her.

They found themselves sitting at the table again, in the same positions as before, except that now there was no tea or cookies and the atmosphere was tense.

“First of all, I wanted to apologize,” Lupita said. She placed both hands on the wooden surface and focused her gaze between her two guests. “I didn't imagine that my experiment would have such... strong consequences. I'm sorry you had a bad time, Elafi. I'm also sorry to worry you, Warrick.”

Elafi knew that those words were spoken with sincerity. The aura surrounding the woman was still not hostile at any time.

"It's okay," Elafi replied. "I didn't imagine something like that would happen either."

"I just want to know what it means," Warrick commented. His tone had a certain severity. He crossed his arms. "I need an explanation."

Lupita raised her eyebrows and tapped her acrylic nails once, without looking at his face.

"I don't have the definitive answers, so don't expect too much; but I can deduce this with certainty: Elafi has a very strong connection with nature, one that could be considered magical. The trees speak to him and he listens to them, although he doesn't always seem to understand them; but they do understand him and are even willing to protect him when he needs it.

At those words, Elafi remembered being upside down, hanging from a branch; he remembered the fear he felt when he thought Cazador had stabbed Warrick. His emotions exploded inside him at that moment. And the trees responded to them.

“How is that possible?” the teen asked. “I have never been able to do something like that.”

“Not all talents develop at the same time,” the woman explained.

“Is this something… chimera children do?” Elafi asked. “I have heard some of the most popular theories. There are those who say we are demons, monsters, genetic mutations. I have never met other chimera children, so I don’t know if this is normal…”

Lupita thought for a few seconds before answering.

"No, I don't think this is a chimera child thing. I think it's something about you. It must be related to your birth."

Elafi couldn't help but suddenly feel very exposed. He didn't even know the details of his birth, or why he was born a chimera child and didn't transform during adolescence, like everyone else; all he knew was that he was always like that and that his parents always loved him no matter what. He also knew that his birth and even his very existence had always been a secret.

"Elafi, don't be scared," Warrick said, in a soft voice. "I trust Lupita with my life, so don't worry. Any secrets will be safe with her."

Elafi settled back in his chair. His left ear twitched nervously.

"I'm sorry, I don't even know what to tell you, because I don't know anything either. My parents never told me anything particular about my birth, other than that I was born like this and that I wasn't born in the hospital.

"I've never heard of a chimera child who was born already a chimera child," Lupita said. "If this were common knowledge, Elafi's name would already be in scientific articles and on extremist fan forums. I don't want to even imagine those consequences. But my point is that it's clear that you're not a normal chimera child. The fact that you were born this way is related to your strong bond with nature. Was your mother a witch?"

Elafi shook his head. His mother always loved nature. She had a green thumb and grew a variety of flowers. She was a sensitive and sweet woman, an art lover; but there was nothing that Elafi could consider witch-like. At least, not that he knew of. He never saw her perform magic or any strange ritual in his presence. Doubt sowed in his heart and a wave of sadness overcame him when he remembered that he would never be able to ask his parents anything again, that he would never be able to get to know them again.

His eyes became moist and after a while he felt Lupita's hand gently squeeze his arm, in a comforting gesture.

"If you're interested in going deeper into this subject, we can continue investigating, little by little. You know you can come see me whenever you want."

Warrick looked at Elafi again. It was clear that he was going to let him decide. The teen wiped his eyes with his fingers, before adding:

"I do want to know. I want to know what I really am, what I can do and what all this means.”

"Okay, then we'll see each other soon." The woman stood up. "For now, rest, I think you need it. As homework I'll give you ten minutes a day of meditation. Try to feel the nature around you, feel the forest. And if the forest tries to talk to you, listen to it, it might tell you something interesting.”

Before Warrick and Elafi got into the pickup to return to the cabin, Lupita added: 

"By the way, Elafi, you said you'd never met other chimera children before."

The boy nodded.

"Have you ever 'dreamed' about them? Or had any recurring dreams?"

Elafi tried to remember. There was a time when he had a lot of nightmares, related to the death of his parents or his first capture. He also often dreamed about Roach. He saw him standing in the middle of a white room, motionless, with his back to him. The room became darker and darker, until he could barely see anything. And suddenly Roach would turn around, almost as if he could see him directly through his black goggles. Elafi always woke up at that point.

"I'll try to keep an eye out," was the only thing he said. A few seconds later, they were already on the road heading back home.

Elafi couldn't get all those thoughts out of his mind. The ideas moved like a carousel inside his memory, and although his head had stopped hurting, he felt that the discomfort would return soon if he didn't manage to stop all his thoughts.

Warrick kept his opinions to himself, and the deer boy couldn't guess what the man was thinking.

Am I so different from other chimera children?, he wondered. He had never been lucky enough to meet others like him... Well, not exactly like him. Never like him. Apparently, he was an anomaly in the anomaly.

If people found out, that would make me very valuable, he told himself. They're going to want to capture me...

The horrible sensation of his arms and legs tied, of the gag in his mouth, of complete vulnerability, came back to him vividly, causing him to shiver. He brought both hands up to hold his antlers, a gesture he made when he was frustrated, and felt his heart sink as his right hand closed in midair, forgetting that the space his antler once occupied was now an empty space.

It still amazed him to think that just forty-eight hours ago, an evil hunter had held him captive in his workshop. If he hadn't been able to use that strange "talent," as Lupita called it, related to nature and all that... No, Elafi didn't want to imagine what would have become of him and Warrick.

The man didn't comment on it either. He too seemed to be immersed in his own thoughts and worries.

After dinner, Elafi decided to go straight to sleep. Maybe Lupita was right and he could discover something in his dreams. He just hoped they weren't more nightmares.

He put on his pajamas and lay down, and it wasn't long before he was fast asleep.

That night, Elafi dreamed of a snake.

A snake trapped in a glass cage.

Next

Taglist: @scoundrelwithboba@morning-star-whump@lancedoncrimsonwings

And we've reached the end of Part 1! Thank you very much in advance to the people who have read this far, you've earned a star ⭐

Starting with the next chapter, "Chimeras" will take a very different direction. This story was planned to be a series of different experiences of different chimera children. Although in the end I decided to make Elafi the protagonist, there will be many other characters that I will also explore, with their own situations and traumas.

Next chapter we will meet our new main character.

[eurydicees]

so i’ve had a night to sleep on it and a full day of work and i still feel fucking deranged. so. thoughts on the haikyuu movie (*SPOILERS* + long post under the cut):

ok general impressions first—

oh my god it was so good. i’m inconsolable. it was really really good.

i was so strong and normal in the public movie theater until the start of the third set.

at which point i started trembling violently.

which turned to silent crying at the last like five points until the end of the movie.

i’m so sorry to the one other guy sitting in my row.

Anyways. i know we were all apprehensive abt it being a movie but i think it actually worked really well

pacing was good and iirc they managed to fit almost everything in there, which. is very impressive

plus the experience of getting to watch this game all at once in a theater was really fun

HUGEEEE props to the sound editing team oh my god. i could FEEL every spike in my chest and every breath was tangible and the cheering sections were phenomenally mixed and the squeaking of sneakers on the floor throughout….and then the CRAZY moments of pure silence…….man.

AND THE SOUNDTRACK. THE MUSIC. THE MUSICCCCCCC. there is one thing haikyuu will never do and that is miss with the music. oh my god even just the OPENING had me shaking. the music added SO MUCH and was SO well done.

the animation in general was REALLY good. especially that final point of the game which i will mention more later bc man. god. the animation was REALLY GOOD.

the characters were all so well done. like yeah ofc but. they were so good.

i walked in with an already deep love for nekoma and i walked out feeling like my heart had burst with how much love i have for them

kuroo and kenma in particular were REALLY good. there was a good amnt of childhood kuroken and when i tell you i was sobbing for half of it…

also very good was tsukishima!! he’s not one of my faves usually but he had me silently screaming in the movie theater during this game

and OF COURSE hinata. how could i not mention him. he was done so well. i watched it dubbed and the voice acting was VERY good.

no fukurodani game so. Sad. but also i do think if they had put that in there it would have broken the tension in a bad way, so i’m not actually upset about it. praying for an ova or smth

overall good blend of memory/flashback and realtime gameplay

re: flashbacks--a lot of them were to childhood kuroken and a lot of them were also just to training camps and scenes we've seen before but in a different pov....biting down on things rn

re: gameplay--saw some review that was like "gah they expect you to care about the characters/teams already and dont tell you who to root for" bitch YEAH and that's the POINT ! so yeah. if you care about the characters already and love both teams. *chef's kiss*

besides that they did NOT pull ANY punches. the game is REAL from the FIRST whistle, maybe only 10-15 minutes in

which like. that was the only way to do it. and they did not fucking hesitate

some stand out moments for me, in no particular order—

*disclaimer i have a rly bad memory so if im mixing some moments up i apologize. you shouldn't take this as an official source for anything.*

oh my god the last point was done BEAUTIFULLY. it’s already such an insane way to end the game and i swear the movie was just as insane.

they did the last few minutes of the game through kenma’s eyes, so you’re seeing his pov of the court and the ball, and that glimpse of the practice match moment, until the ball slips and it cuts to his eyes. oh my god. i went crazy i went crazy i am STILL going CRAZY.

kenma falling down and “that was fun” going into kuroo’s laugh……………changed LIVES !!!!!!

similarly, kenma’s last speech of the game oh my god oh my god oh my god

we KNEW it was one of my favorite speeches in any manga ever but they genuinely did it justice. the cuts between shots of the court and kuroo inviting kenma to play volleyball and kenma following him out the door and leaving behind a video game controller and a volleyball magazine……what if i went crazy forever and ever and ever !!!!!!!!

ALL of the childhood kuroken moments…..literally feeling deranged about them

TSUKISHIMA SOMETIMES ITS ACTUALLY FUN !!!!!!

everything about tsukishima and kuroo’s banter across the net was incredible

tsukishima laughing...... im EMOTIONAL !!!!

all of the little glimpses and montages they had to training camps and practices outside of actually playing, when they were just hanging out……sir im crying !!!!

they all reminded me a lot of the special one shot where kai has that moment of reflection on his volleyball career but all that came to mind were the breaks where he was hanging out with his friends…..i’m gonna cry thinking abt it.

HINATA’S CENTER BOOM JUMP. oh my god. oh my god. oh my god. i think i actually like. gasped. <<< knew it was going to happen

OOOOOOH. when kenma has his panic moment of oh what do i do and then kuroo comes up and it flashes between that spike and them learning to spike together as kids……what if i went ballistic right fucking now

the “we are each other’s teacher” moment jesus fucking christ. they didn’t say that line but. you’ll know it’s that scene when it happens. i think it broke something inside me.

that might've been around when the tears started coming but it's all kinda a blur lol

kurodai hug. yeah.

after the game kai's im glad i spent these three years with you...felt that scene in my bones

kenma "keep surprising me, shoyo. this is good" << lines that will live in me forever

getting to see kenma and hinata's first meeting again but from kenma and kuroo's pov.......killing biting kicking maiming sobbing

lmfao post-credit scene. daishou <3

the glimpses of tendou and goshiki watching together were rly funny. obsessed w tendou as always.

kenma "i thought kageyama would lose interest in hinata if he had no wings" kozume vs tobio "i will make you fly" kageyama.........showdown of the century

THE CAGE IMAGEERYYYYYYYYYY. THE CROW BREAKING FREE. IM NOT NORMAL ABT IT.

oh my god. fuck ok i can't forget this one, in that final “i never want this to end” scene youre in kenma’s pov and you fall down and all you can see is kenma’s reflection in his own sweat dripping onto the court i am SHAKING remembering it

speaking of, they wove the foreshadowing w the sweat on the court and the ball etc into the game really seamlessly and aghadlgkjahg;ajdgfkal. god. ok. this is fine.

anyways. the animation in that sequence goes SO HARD. the animation overall goes so hard. im in hysterics.

ok this got long but there's DEFINITELY more things that im missing...idk these are just my first thoughts. i want to see it again. i NEEEEED to see it again. oh my god i feel crazy. i love haikyuu so much. i love it so much. like so much. did you know i love haikyuu.

[moonyinpisces]

🥃 alternate reunion | post s2 good omens snippet

to celebrate finishing act 1 of my s3 fic how do we turn on the light? , here's the original snippet for aziraphale and crowley reuniting after s2. i had began writing this before chapter 1 was even posted, and if you've read hdwtotl, you can see how different the plot ended up along with a few key similarities. the tone of this scene for the story i was writing felt way off so i did away with 99% of it in the actual chapter, but i feel bad about it existing all lonely in my snippets doc, so. enjoy!

1.7k words. context: aziraphale has been supreme archangel for 3 years, and has received instructions from the metatron to meet with the grand duke of hell to negotiate sanctions for the second coming. aziraphale assumes that crowley's been asleep this entire time. he was wrong.

He approaches Marguerite’s, the ivy climbing the walls having died from the winter chill. He glimpses the outdoor seating, feels a flash of something—a memory of—

‘Smitten, I believe. You’re being silly—‘

Aziraphale shakes it away, blinks in rapid succession until the image fades. The interior is more or less as he remembers it, lightly Tuscan and dimly-lit enough that it made every conversation somewhat intimate. The server is unfamiliar, and Aziraphale is grateful that he’s not meant to have small-talk with someone who recognizes him. Someone that he may or may not end up recognizing back, all this time later. He requests the table up against the window at the far corner. 

He purposefully doesn’t look at his bookshop through the window, can remember—the last time he was there, when—when Crowley—Snap out of it, he thinks desperately. His memories are becoming too much to contain, fragmented as they are, and it’s enough to make him wary, intensely disoriented. Perhaps it can simply be attributed to his return to Earth, but, no, there’s a feeling in the air, something unfamiliarly evil but familiarly miserable. Almost as if there’s a… badness about London, now, something miserable seeping into the concrete, cloying the smoggy air. Either that means the end times somehow already began in his absence, or—

Crowley’s awake. 

The thought makes Aziraphale's unnecessary heartbeat falter, makes his hand flutter to his puff-tie and dig into the fabric. There’s no guarantee, of course, and three years is on the shorter side for the handful of times he’s slept a period of time away, but—

Through the window, Aziraphale can just see the building next door. Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death. There’s a woman—Nina, her name is Nina—wiping down the outdoor seating, stacking up the dishware following the lunch rush. He watches a familiar figure come out from inside, donned in an apron and a sunny dress, immediately reaching her arms forward to help Nina with the load. Maggie, he remembers with a rush of warmth. Nina says something to her with a crooked smile, and Maggie laughs, then tips forward to press their lips together over the stack of dirty plates between them. The gaping, dormant thing in Aziraphale’s chest lets out a slow, mournful whine. A flash of red and black passes his vision. 

It all happens rather quickly after that. 

First, something sharp and jagged slides between his ribs, buries into his organs, the celestial ones. He jolts, gasps, immediately pressing a hand low to his chest, grabbing at—nothing. He looks down and frowns, seeing no blood, golden or otherwise. A voice pulls him back up. 

“Are you ready to order?” The waitress asks him. 

“I—“ he starts, then smells it. Staticky, slight, but deep still, like—like the ocean before a storm, or the smoke after the incense has already burned off, like bourbon and he feels—he experiences it all again, every moment together in the past 6000 years, the things he poured futilely into ink and pressure to suppress, and—

When Crowley slides into the seat across from him, something fractures and mends at the same time, like re-breaking a bone. It’s all he can do to stare. 

Crowley’s looking at him evenly. Crowley’s there, he’s perched in front of him like a—a materialization. It feels impossible, Crowley being here on his own volition. And now he’s raising an expectant brow, and when nothing is forthcoming he looks to the waitress, then back to Aziraphale. “Erm,” he says awkwardly. “I’ll have a double Macallan, neat. He’ll take—“ Another look. “A dry vermouth, maybe. The sweetest one you’ve got.” 

His voice. Aziraphale’s fingers clench into the seat of his chair so tightly that the wood splinters. 

The waitress departs. Crowley crosses a leg over his knee, leans back casually in his chair like he’s going to fall right out of it. He’s wearing a black turtleneck and a thick, dark-gray blazer. A fine maroon scarf drapes untied around his neck. His hair is identical to how it was three years ago, only—wavier. Disheveled, maybe. It’s not the worst bedhead he’s been afflicted with, in comparison to all the others. There’s dark circles just visible beneath the bottom curve of his sunglasses. He’s tilting his head imperceptibly up and down, and it takes Aziraphale a moment to understand that he’s being scrutinized right back; if Crowley has an opinion over Aziraphale’s own change of wardrobe, though, he doesn’t voice it. 

“Hello,” Crowley says finally, almost politely. He has his hands folded at the curve of his knee, pulling his arms taut, and he says in a too-delighted tone of voice, “Been too long, hasn’t it?” 

Aziraphale blinks. That’s the only possible movement he could make. “I—“ 

“—Of course, maybe it wasn’t long enough, to you,” he acquiesces with a tilt of his head, as if Aziraphale had voiced anything of the sort. His ankle is bouncing in midair. “We’ve certainly gone longer, though, haven’t we, Oh Supreme Archangel of Heaven.” He announces each part of the title distinct from each other, lips curled into a frown that looks more like a barely-schooled smile. “Who would have thought it, truly? Not me. Especially not me. You could have given me thousands of years, and I’d never have guessed this is where we’d end up.” He leans over his crossed leg dangerously. “Do I need to call you some sort of—I dunno, special biblical thing? Bow my head? Bend the knee?” 

Breath rushes back into Aziraphale’s chest, and he dislodges his grip from the chair. He tries to look away from Crowley, back out the window unseeingly, but it’s as though his body can’t physically bear the absence, and his eyes snap back forward. He tries to form words that don’t exist. 

The waitress returns with their drinks. Crowley barks out what sounds to be a genuine laugh, takes his whiskey and throws it back like a shot. His throat ripples beneath his turtleneck. He drops his hand back to the table with a thud, but keeps his long neck tipped back. “Fuck,” he sighs, long and slow. “Been a long time since I’ve imbibed, to tell you the truth.” 

“You’re a demon,” are unfortunately the first words Aziraphale can find. They come out automatically, well-practiced. “You never tell the truth.” 

Crowley drops his head back down and grins. It’s entirely teeth. He gestures towards Aziraphale with his empty glass, and says conspiratorially, “Is that what you’ve been telling yourself, then?” 

Blinking rapidly, Aziraphale finally musters the ability to pull himself from his reverie. He looks down to the dry vermouth. Perfect guess, of course, though—he’s not sure he could swallow it without it coming back up. It’s been a while since he’s ingested anything. “What are you…” His voice softens. “What are you doing here, Crowley?” 

It’s a hard moment, the way Crowley looks at him. His eyes are only glints behind his glasses, somehow both dulled and intensely alive. Then he sniffs, clenches his jaw and snaps to refill his drink. “What do you think?” He says tiredly, as if he’s exhausted himself of whatever charade he was trying to put on, just now. “Where else would I be? You’re here. I’m waiting for you to tell me why, by the way, though I—hah, I have a sneaking suspicion I know what it is already.” 

“This isn’t—“ Aziraphale can’t look at him directly anymore, needs a moment to acclimate. “This isn’t a social call, Crowley. I’ve returned to Earth to—“ 

“—Make a deal with the devil?” asks Crowley, quirking a brow again. 

Aziraphale frowns. He knows Hell talks, just as Heaven does, but he’s under the impression—well, Crowley had said he’d given it all up, before. An independent agent, if an agent at all. A proper human. Aziraphale eyes him from the peripheral. “How do you know that?”

Crowley freezes. His glass is suspended halfway to his mouth. “You…” His expression does something complicated. “You don’t know?” 

Though he doesn’t know what Crowley’s referring to, these past three years has told Aziraphale that the answer to that question is usually ‘no’. Spending time aimlessly in Heaven has convinced him more than ever how little he truly knows. So he just shakes his head. Crowley watches him do it, eyes tracking the movement like he’s simultaneously a predator and an animal of prey. 

“They didn’t tell you?” A dramatic juxtaposition to the feigned pleasantries earlier, Crowley’s expression tightens into something hard and angry, a rarely-seen darkness slithering just beneath the surface, causing his nose to twitch, his jaw to tense impossible more. He slams the glass back to the table, whiskey splashing up and over his fingers. It sizzles at the contact. His skin flashes imperceptibly, makes dark clouds roll rapidly in outside, causes the light directly above them flicker—Aziraphale has only seen him like this a handful of times before, and usually he’s nearly discorporated in what comes next, so he leans back in his chair cautiously. 

But Crowley takes a deep breath. The light steadies, the sky clears. He looks away, out to the bookshop across the street, and laughs something humorlessly. There’s no clarification. 

Aziraphale starts carefully, “I was told—The Metatron told me that I’m to meet with the—the…” Crowley doesn’t move. Aziraphale trails off, and that feeling returns, the one that’s fear, but comes before it still, like—like—

Oh. Oh, no. 

Crowley’s still staring out of the window, tonguing at the inside of his bottom lip. His other lip is curled up, baring his bright, bright teeth. His crossed leg is now entirely flexing and unflexing with a rapid, inconsistent rhythm. And then something in his expression shutters, flattens, and he looks back to Aziraphale with his mouth pressed tightly together in a ghastly interpretation of a smile. 

“Oh yes,” he says slowly, sardonically, tipping his head up like he’s basking in the realization. He holds his hand out over the table, long fingers twitching, perhaps wanting to curl into a fist instead. “Grand Duke of Hell, at Lucifer’s service. Can we begin?” 

Dread, Aziraphale remembers weakly. The feeling is dread.

[zalrb]

PLL 1x09 Review - As Per Anon Request

Lol, them trying to make us think Emily wrecked the memorial.

"Someone decided to pay a visit to Alison's memorial and destroy it" or maybe just, "Someone destroyed Alison's memorial".

I hate this cop so much.

Emily, do you not own any other shoes? I hate her too.

Every time I see Spencer I just hear, "The devil has a name and his name is Toby" and I just chuckle because, girl.

Why is Aria mad at Piper. The dad is the one who cheated.

Haha Aria's dad and Hanna's mom. Just do it or almost do it already.

Just. Get. A Job.

I'm sorry, if I'm about to take my SATs and A hasn't actually DONE anything TO me then I'm focusing on my SATs.

I don't understand why it would be embarrassing for Mona to buy the bag that Hanna has to sell because she has no money because she simply won't work part-time and apparently her father doesn't pay child support or alimony.

What are you, poor now? Yes, Mona, turn it around.

Every teen show needs a library episode.

"Everything's just falling through the cracks" no, you're just terrible. Aria has no extracurricular activities nor does she work, and it seems like all your son does is lacrosse, and all of the ire is going to Piper. All you needed to do was sign a permission slip. It's not like you even needed to bake something for a bake sale.

Of course he plays a guitar.

And of course she sings.

Reading Emily's letter is the only time I've felt a little bad for her.

Ezra doesn't even look hot rain-slicked. Go away.

Yes, let's have this conversation with the door open. How have they not been caught yet.

Oh my god, I hate them.

"You should go with me, make sure I don't eat goat." Sometimes I think about when this girl asked me if I've ever eaten goat and I simply responded, "I'm Jamaican."

"You''re the one who needs a trip to Oz, to see if the wizard can get you a heart." The wizard was a fraud, Hanna.

Emily, why did you have a crush on her?

I'm starting to think that the season I watched and forgot was season 2 and not season 1.

"Where's the letter?" Jesus, Shay, you can't even be frantic?

Piper, the only one ACTING.

Ezra, you should feel SHAME talking with Piper.

Does Unprofessional Cop not have a partner?

Emily and those damn shoes. I refuse to believe she only has one pair.

I know I should really let go that a cop would not act like this but it's REALLY bothering me, lmao.

tElL tHeM AbOuT tHe LetTeR. WHO ARE YOU?

Stop. Making her. Try. To. CRY.

"Hold it. Hold it. You are questioning MINORS without an adult present?" YES. SPENCER'S MOTHER. COME THROUGH. BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK.

And legitimately if Spencer is supposed to be who they're telling me she is, she would've shut this down from the get go. Blair would've.

That man is not a cop.

If Spencer's mom got a lump removed the day she went to the club and "spilled her guts" to Alex she would've been under anaesthesia and you can't drink within 24 hours after coming out of it but whatever.

OH MY GOOOOOODDDDDD LUKE ALSO HAS MUDDY SHOES. Writers, seriously, you could've shown the different muddy shoes without having them WEAR the shoes to school.

[ekwallace]

Previous parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Have a love scene to take your mind off The Horrors!

Title: All My Forevers Fandom: Mononoke Pairing: Kusuriuri/Kayo Warnings for this part: Sex. And this installment's extra self-indulgent.

They used the same ruse as before to get a room at a ryōkan together without having to answer any awkward questions.

“Where do you think the scale’s taking us?” Kayo asked as they settled in for the night.

Kusuriuri shook his head. “I could not say. Nothing seems to spark any memories yet, but I think it must be leading us to someplace significant to me.”

“Or to a mononoke.”

“Or that,” he conceded.

There was an extra quilt folded at the bottom of the futon, and Kayo claimed it and a pillow and put them on the floor, only to turn back to see Kusuriuri watching her with his arms folded.

“Must we re-argue this every time we stop for the night?” he said.

“You tell me.”

He laughed, clearly delighted by her cheekiness. “All right. I won’t fight you. But if you have nightmares again, do not suffer them alone: wake me.”

“I will if you will.”

“Agreed.”

If Kayo’s bad dreams returned, they weren’t vivid enough for her to remember anything of them when she was awakened by a muffled sound from the futon. It was still full dark outside, but by the faint light of the banked fire, she could see Kusuriuri was still asleep, his expression tight with fear or pain.

To hell with not sharing a bed with him.

She knelt beside the futon and, very carefully, touched his shoulder.

In one motion, he sat up and pulled her into his arms, burying his face against her neck.

His cheeks were wet. She didn’t think she could bear it.

So she did the only thing that could make it bearable: she held him as tightly as she’d dreamed of being able to, stroking his hair and murmuring, “It’s just a dream. I’ve got you.”

“Kayo, I’m sorry.” His voice was steady but rough, and he didn’t lift his head.

“Don’t be silly. We had an agreement.”

“Mm, I know.” He was quiet for a moment, and he shifted closer, held onto her tighter, before he spoke again. “I remember. Not much, just a feeling… I lost everything, even though... I tried to save them. And then I chose my path. But I didn’t truly understand what I was choosing. I...” He sighed. “I felt like a weak, ignorant child for a long time.”

“Oh…” She could tell he’d never spoken of this before, not even before he forgot everything. This pain was still raw, buried but not healed. “I’m so sorry. It must’ve been awful.”

He drew a deep breath and lifted his head. “It didn’t stay awful. Can you tell me what it was like-- what I seemed like?”

Kayo took a moment to order her thoughts. “I always got the feeling you took pride in your work. You were right to: you were good at it. You seemed amused by people a lot. You even seemed amused by mononoke once or twice. I never would've guessed it had been so hard for you.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted you to know. But now I wish I had trusted you with my secrets.”

“Thank you for trusting me with this one.”

He bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Will you stay with me?”

“Of course.”

With only a little awkward shifting, they curled up in each other’s arms. Kayo felt her skin incandescently aware of everywhere they were touching, and she knew Kusuriuri did, too. She almost didn’t want to sleep and lose the feeling, though it wasn’t a comfortable one. It was nerve-racking and intense and real, and it warmed her to the core. But the long day of walking had taken its toll, and before long, she slipped into a dream of warmth and light.

***

To her embarrassment, but complete lack of surprise, she woke with her hands buried in Kusuriuri’s hair.

He leaned into her touch, making a sound low in his throat very much like a purr. “Kayo...” he murmured, still half-dreaming.

“No more nightmares?”

He opened his eyes, a sleepy smile lighting them, and Kayo watched, fascinated, as he came awake more fully, his attention sharpening on her.

Then he kissed her.

She pulled back, not sure if she was alarmed or just surprised, blushing desperately and embarrassingly close to tears.

“I’m sorry!” He was nearly as flushed as she, and at once made as if to scramble backward too.

“Wait!” She caught at the front of his tunic, her whole body already mourning the loss of his arms around her. “It’s not-- I want to, but... Kusuriuri... if you still remembered, I don’t think you would’ve--” She saw that, mercifully, he understood her babbling.

“I’ve never kissed you before?”

She shook her head.

“Then I am a fool. You are enchanting.” He lifted his hand, then went still. Kayo laughed, a little shakily, and nodded her permission. He cupped her cheek, fingers cool on her burning skin.

“I could’ve--” she started to say out of a sense of fairness, but that wasn’t really true, was it? She could have kissed him, but she never would’ve dared.

One thing that hadn’t changed was how much he heard of what she didn’t say. “But would you have?”

“That’s not your fault. I was in awe of you a little, I think.”

He considered this, fine pale eyebrows drawing together. “I think I would not wish you to be.”

“It’s hard not to be! You’re amazing.”

“I’m only a healer.”

“Now you sound like yourself.”

He smoothed her sleep-mussed hair back from her face, gently and seemingly absently, as if just for the sake of touching her. She reached for him halfway, and waited to see the same silent assent in his eyes that she’d given him, then traced along the lavender marking his upper lip. She knew he wouldn’t lean in again--he’d want to know she was sure.

She was. She wanted him desperately, but without any fear or uncertainty. Letting the wait draw out just this moment longer was delicious anticipation, the space between them growing charged with tension. Kusuriuri’s eyes seemed huge and very, very blue. He drew a breath that caught, and Kayo surged forward. He met her in a kiss that was all urgency and no finesse, a little awkwardly at first. But they learned they way of it together, letting the touch gentle after that first headlong clash, getting lost in each other until they finally broke apart, both breathless.

“Have you thought about this, too?” he whispered.

“Of course! More than once.”

“Have you… thought about more?”

“Yes!” Kayo almost laughed, but he seemed so serious that she held back.

“I don’t remember,” he began, and stopped.

“It’s all right.”

“Kayo, I mean I don’t remember being with anyone before.”

“Oh.” The feeling that hit her like lightning seemed equal parts heat and dismay.

“I want it to be you. As long as you’re sure, too.”

“Am I sure?” Now she did have to laugh. “I’ve wanted you from almost the first moment I saw you!”

He flushed beautifully again. Kayo didn’t think she’d ever get tired of it. “And I think I must have felt the same for you, the first time we met. I certainly did this time.” He saw something in her expression that made him go on. “Do you not believe it?”

“I never would’ve hoped...”

“I did not tell you how I felt then. I want to rectify that.”

“I think you were protecting me.” She’d thought about it, and she’d resigned herself--though not quickly, and not happily--to knowing that his being close to anyone would put them in harm’s way.

“I cannot be so noble this time around.”

“I don’t want you to! We’re in this together.” She set her hand against his face, brushed her thumb along his cheekbone, not feeling anymore the urge to trace along the markings, which had seemed for a while irresistible even after they’d vanished.

He turned his head and kissed her palm. The warmth and intimacy of the gesture sent a fresh thrill through her. They moved as one to kiss again, languid and sweet at first, but Kayo grew dizzy with desire and pressed as close as she could, nuzzling into Kusuriuri’s neck to breathe in his scent. He looked to her as if for guidance, and she almost laughed. “I’ve never done this before, either!”

They shed their clothes, fingers tangling together in their haste, as breathless from laughing as they were from need.

At last, they were both bare. Kayo savored her first look at Kusuriuri, laughter forgotten now and mouth gone dry. She had wondered if he were as extravagantly beautiful naked as he was clothed. He was. All of him radiated heat, especially his stiff member. Blushing at her own boldness, but too eager to let shyness stop her, she took him in hand and stroked.

What a strange thrill it was to be the one to show him this, to watch his expression as he woke to the pleasure of her touch, soft with desire and yet sharply focused on her. She never would’ve dreamed it would be like this for them, and an exultant possessiveness sang in her blood, heated her skin, urging her to make it as good for him as she could.

He bent his head to her neck, to her breasts, raining hot gasps and kisses on her skin. “Kayo... I cannot wait any longer.”

She’d never known, either, how much she would need this, how incomplete she would feel, a deep craving that could only be satisfied by joining together in love, nor how delicious her greed would feel in its waking, and in its sating. “Neither can I.”

The rest of the world fell away when he entered her, as if the long journey that had begun when she’d let a beautiful stranger selling medicine into the Sakai kitchen had finally, finally brought her home.

They moved in perfectly matched rhythm, and she arched even closer to him. He slipped a hand between them and found the center of her pleasure, and the jolt of heat all through her shook them both. Together they spiraled up and up, a connection so intense that Kayo could all but see it, not red thread but golden cords, enwrapping them and glowing as they both found their release.

I love you, she thought deliriously. I’ve loved you forever.

[geddy-leesbian]

HEYYYY !!!!! so i was just wondering a few things if that’s okay

1. what re games have you played?/which is ur fav

2. did u like luis the moment he was introduced or did knowing his full story really connect w you?

3. rare pairs!! i love rare pairs so please explain any of the ones u like with luis :-) not asking about any in particular i just like to see people talk abt stuff they like

TYSMMM BYEEEE

YAYYY ASK!! IT'S MORE THAN OKAY

1. so my RE pipeline was kinda wild. In 2020ish I watched my sibling play through RE4 on our wii, but didn't have any strong feelings, like nothing stuck with me. I literally forgot Luis existed, I had zero memory of what he was like in that game. Then last year they showed me this fantastic youtube video and I was hella interested in Leon/Luis so they replayed RE4R (they're insanely good and had already beaten it several times) and I became OBSESSED with Luis and Leon and RE generally. After RE4R they binged and replayed (with me watching ofc) some of REmake, RE2R, RE7, and Village. The games I've actually played myself are RE1 but only the DS port, Revelations, RE4R, both Chronicles games, and this obscure beauty that is incredibly noncanon but actually very dear to me:

(and I've at least read about/watched some cutscenes from all the other games)

This is insane of me, but honestly I fucking love Darkside Chronicles so much that I almost want to say it's my favorite, but I won't go that far and just say that RE4R is my favorite with an honorable mention to Darkside. 

2. My first real exposure to him was from that youtube video so like

yeah I was hooked immediately and then got deeper and deeper into RE lore and loved him even more 

3. Of course I love Winterserra. I just love that they're both what they need, that they save each other; Ethan needs saved from his infection/the corrupt part of the BSAA, Luis needs a malewife someone to save him from himself and his guilt, making him feel like he deserves to live and pulling him out of his depression. 

I'm also going to gush about a nonromantic pairing that I really love: Luis and Alfred Ashford.

It all goes back to Darkside Chronicles:

My brain worms honed in on "traitors to Umbrella" and went "ah yes so Luis Serra would have been in Rockfort if he'd tried to sabotage the Nemesis Project instead of quietly disappearing to Valdelobos. Interesting." That spawned a whole AU where Luis avoids execution by being charming as hell. Seeing as Alexia Ashford was a child prodigy, Alfred is 👀 when he finds out that a prisoner he received is also a child prodigy (I imagine Luis being the first and last child prodigy to end up in Rockfort, most would just be too brainwashed and manipulated to want to break away. I mean I guess technically Wesker and Birkin were child prodigies who broke away but Luis would still be the only one that ended up in Rockfort) and has Luis moved and treated better than other prisoners. Luis learns to roll with Alfred and stay on his good side, eventually managing to con him into believing that a) he did not betray Umbrella at all but got framed by his coworkers and b) an elaborate bullshit story about Luis actually being nobility.

... which Alfred REALLY likes and he gets to be the first non Ashford to enter the private residence, where he's supposed to be Alfred's companion until Alexia wakes up. I'm going to cut this ramble off here but being Alfred's BFF is actually hell on earth tbh (Alfred is genuinely very fond of Luis and tries to treat him well, but the problem is that Alfred Ashford is a mentally unstable absolute WEIRDO that has no idea what normal people enjoy and their basic needs so like. Yeah. It's better than being physically tortured/executed/a guinea pig, but still a very bad time!) but Luis hangs in there and eventually escapes back to Valdelobos, but as a very different person, a very bitter one who would really, really not want to help Leon and Ashley… but still would eventually.

My last Luis rare pair is Luis/Annette but there's not much to elaborate on really. Annette likes fucking him because she's trapped in a loveless marriage and William hasn't had sex with her in years and Luis is young and pretty, and a lot better in bed than William. Luis likes fucking her because he feels like a monster for his work and misses Leon (this is an AU where they knew each other as teenagers) and sneaking around with a blonde reminds him of sneaking around with Leon back in the day. There's nothing emotional, just two people using sex as a coping mechanism to distract themselves from how deeply unhappy they are. (i kinda lied it does get a bit more interesting with Annette entrusting Sherry to him when Everything Went Wrong, but up to that point the "relationship" is 100% physical, only sex, no feelings.)

AGAIN THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING I ALWAYS LOVE ANSWERING ASKS <3