#even if it's just out of ignorance it's not good because he has the tools to learn

[livetogether--diealone]

Maybe charles will only change when he is in his 30s like seb and lewis did lol

He can also start now though! No age limit for it

[beloveds-embrace]

Thinking about designationless reader...

Imagine how alone she must've been for all her life. It started since she was young, her parents pushing her to the corner of the home, away from the family, and naturally, her siblings would follow their parents' lead, pointedly ignoring her, and finding any excuse available to be out of her presence. She wouldn't understand them anyway, she can't tell the difference between noises nor could she even recognize scents. It just wouldn't work.

Reader thinks that maybe she could find someone, anyone in school, but kids are like sharks, except instead of smelling blood, they smell the lack of all scents on her. Most kids have a combination of their own and their family members' scents. Reader has nothing, so everyone continues the pattern, but now with more stares and jeers and hushed giggles. Reader knows that bullying is bad, but anything would be better than simply not existing to anyone. That's what the others say, at least, that she's nothing, nobody. Never to her face, though, just in the whispers shared between friends.

She eventually tries to find others like her through the wonders of the internet. There's maybe a handful more scattered in her country, but none are her age, and all have their own families who care about them. Was it just her who wasn't deserving of love, of connection? Reader reaches out to them, and they talk a little, but before long, through no one's fault, it falls through. She was bad at talking anyway, even if she doesn't have to worry about scents or sounds that aren't there, she never knew much about context or connotation. She never had the opportunity to learn about the intricacies in communication. Reader is back alone.

The military eventually scouts her, and it's the first time anyone has ever really looked at her. Sure, they look at her like a valuable tool, but a tool is better than nothing. Reader obviously joins, desperate for crumbs. She climbs the ranks, gets the job done. She is good at her job, so people respect her. She learns how to talk professionally, emails, texts, and so one, but no one talks to her on leave. No one invites her to the pub after a good mission. No one even talks to her in the mess. But people do talk to her when they have to, and that's enough. Maybe she even gets a callsign. Doe. After Jane Doe, the placeholder name for unknown individuals, and insult if anything.

Now there's the 141. They invite her to things. They talk to her. They touch her. Reader exists for them. She isn't just an unknown person stuck in the background and invisible to everyone else, and Reader doesn't know what to do. Her speech is awkward and overly professional, even in personal settings. How is she supposed to be friends with someone, multiple someones? How is she supposed to move? To act? To express? She doesn't know, but she really wants to learn. At least now she has good teachers.

ANON YOU GENIUSSSS okay but this? Perfect. AHHHH I ADORE THIS IDEA!! Esp the jane doe callsign omg yes

You weren’t used to being seen.

Growing up, you learned quickly how to make yourself small- how to exist quietly, without taking up space, without asking for too much. Because the few times you had asked- asked for a hug, asked to be let into the nest, asked why you felt so different- the answers had all been the same.

No.

Not now.

Not you.

It wasn’t that your parents didn’t love you. You were sure they did, in their own way. But love was hard to feel when your mother flinched at your touch like you were something disgusting, when your father sighed like he was tired every time you entered the room as if you were taking up space he was saving for his other children. When your siblings built their nests without you, curling into piles of warmth and safety while you sat outside the door, knees pulled to your chest and hands balled into fists to keep them from knocking, a cold ache burrowing itself in your chest.

You stopped knocking eventually.

You stopped trying.

You used to wonder if you’d done something wrong- if maybe you could fix yourself and everything would go back to normal. But it wasn’t something you could fix. It was just… you.

Scentless.

Designationless.

Invisible.

School had been worse, perhaps the worst. At least your family had pretended not to notice how different you were. The other kids didn’t bother pretending. They stared openly, whispered behind your back, laughed when you walked by. You’d caught bits and pieces of what they said- weird, wrong, broken, as if they hoped by having you hear their words, they’d convince you to leave at last.

You’d started keeping your head down after that, slipping through the halls like a shadow. No one talked to you unless they had to, and even then they either did it with a mocking, jeering tone that echoes in your nightmares or with a meek tone; as if your lack of everything is contagious. No one sat next to you at lunch, either. When partners were assigned, you always ended up working alone per your teachers’ instructions.

It was easier that way.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

By the time you joined the military, you’d gotten good at being alone. You didn’t need friends. Didn’t need packmates. You had work, and work didn’t care if you were quiet or awkward or too stiff to laugh at the right jokes. Work didn’t care if you flinched when people got too close or froze when someone raised their voice. Work demanded to be done, and you had nothing and no one to stop you from that.

But the military also has the same teens who used to bully you so consistently. Rookies all to ready and happy to lord over you. It’s how you get your despised callsign, Doe. Jane Doe. A cruel mockery, comedy wherein you are the joke that has the world laughing.

Still, you wear it. It’s still an acknowledgment and that will always be better than never being seen. You flit from team to team, unit to unit, always an observer from afar, watching everyone around you speak a language you can’t.

But the 141 was different, when you eventually end up working for them.

They cared.

They cared in ways you weren’t ready for.

Soap was relentless, dragging you into conversations even when you barely knew what to say. He filled the silences like it didn’t bother him, kept talking for the both of you, lounging against you unbothered, until you started talking back. Gaz was gentlest, steadier. He never pushed, just lingered close enough to remind you he was there, waiting, whenever you were ready. Quiet, silent acceptance you’d never been given before, and you were yet far too afraid to so easily cling to it.

And the Alphas- Price and Ghost- were worse.

Price had a way of looking at you that made your chest ache, like he saw you, really saw you, and didn’t mind what he found. Scentless, with no designation and all. Ghost was quieter, sharper, but his eyes tracked you everywhere, presence wrapping around you like he was staking a claim you didn’t understand, like he was teying to etch every part of you behind his eyelids.

You didn’t know what to do with it.

They didn’t give you space. They sat next to you at meals, tugged you along when they went out for drinks, called you over during breaks like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it felt natural- until it didn’t, because sometimes you still felt like an outsider.

Like you didn’t belong.

You tried to hide it, but they saw through you. They always did, and they never shied away.

When you started avoiding the mess hall, it was Gaz who caught you, shoving a plate of food into your hands and dragging you to sit with him like it wasn’t a big deal. When you hung back during missions, letting the others fall into their pack dynamics without you, Soap was the one who looped an arm around your shoulders and pulled.

And when you flinched, once, at the sharp sound of someone’s voice echoing down the hall- when you tensed so hard it made your fingers tremble- it was Price who closed the distance, standing in front of you like a wall and letting Ghost linger at your back. Neither of them said a word.

They didn’t have to.

You weren’t used to being protected. You weren’t used to belonging.

But they made it hard not to.

[kitteninabunker]

thinking about constructionworker!toji who's at your house, working on renovations for the first story flooring since he’s gotten hired by your father. though he had little to no knowledge about how to actually build anything, the money was good so he took the opportunity.

you're woken up by the sound of a drill and hammers banging nails into the walls. groggily, you raise yourself to sit up in your bed, rubbing your sore, puffy eyes as the piercing sound of tools makes your ears ring loudly from all of the noise. why the hell would they come so early to work on the house?

slamming your head back against your pillow, you pick your other pillow up and press it against your ear, trying to drown out some of the noise coming from downstairs, but it's no use.

instead, you roll of bed and slip on your silk robe, wearing nothing beneath it. you’re gonna give whoever’s making all the noise a piece of your mind. walking out of your bedroom and up to the railing of your upstairs balcony, you see a team of men in yellow hats and orange vest doing random handiwork as you look down. you spot the one black haired man placing wood tiles onto the floor, and doing a horrifc job at it—toji.

"do any of you know what time it is???" you yell over the noise of the men working, your voice is barely audible over the noise but some of them turn their heads toward you at the sound of your voice before turning their attention back to their work. toji lifts his head to see you standing above him, your arms folded across your chest with a scowl on your face. your disapproval is obvious which makes him chuckle.

"i can't hear you!" he yells back at you, waving you to come downstairs. "maybe you should come down here so we can talk!" you roll your eyes and sigh at his request, walking to the staircase to step onto the first stair as you descend down. you approach toji as you stand there above him, looking down at him as he raises his head, the corner of his scared lips curling up into a smirk as his green eyes meet your piercing stare.

"why so cold, little lady? i'm just doin' my job." he says, looking back down at the wooden tiles as he places them on the floor. it's not like you knew the first thing about construction, but you could tell his technique would definitely cause more issues with the floor than it already has. "8:00 o'clock in the morning is a perfect time to come over and do construction.” you barked, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you look down at your imaginary watch on your bare wrist.

toji stands up from his haunches, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with a gloved hand as if he's actually done anything worth sweating over. he places his hand on his hip as he looks over at you, his towering height looms over you which makes the scowl you have on your face even cuter. "your dad's out so i assumed the house was empty, let me apologize for waking you up." his voice is genuine, but you don’t catch it because you’re eyeing him up and down.

he's clad in a white thank top, speckled by dust and dirt from hours spent working on the floor. his tools hung from a worn, brown belt strap slung low around his beige work pants. maybe toji stood out to you the most because he's the only one half dressed for construction—not that you were complaining.

each time he raised his tank to wipe his face, the sharp cut of his abs and the trail of dark hair leading below his waistband became impossible to ignore. your eyes shamefully locked into the utter perfection he didn't bother hiding.

"w-well you see that i'm still here..." you whisper, your eyes glued to toji's frame as he tugs his tank back down, muscles rippling through the fabric. he runs a hand through his slick hair, his sharp eye catching the way you're eyeing him.

"you're staring." he says, his voice low and edged with amusement.

his voice breaks you out of your trance, and your eyes snap back to his face. heat crawls up your neck as you realize your expression had softened while you were ogling at the man's chest, so you scowl at him again. "whatever," you snap, quickly looking off to the side.

toji pivots on his heel to stand in your line of sight, forcing you to crane your head up at him to meet his gaze. his broad frame towers over you, casting a shadow over your face, and you swear his smirk grew wider as your breath catches in your throat.

"are you going to straighten up," he murmurs, his voice dropping, “or do i need to fuck that attitude out of you?"

before you know it, you're bent over on your bathroom countertop, legs trembling as your cunt gushes around toji's cock, slick dripping out in thick strings down your thighs. toji's hips snap against your ass with brutal precision, each trust feels like his dick is pushing into your stomach. "look at you," he growls, his voice dripping with mockery as he roughly cups your face with a large hand as he grips your slack jaw, forcing you to look up into the bathroom mirror at your face "all it takes is a good fuckin' to shut that dumbass mouth of yours, huh?"

your vision blurs as you keep staring at yourself—your hair sprawled out over your head, tears streaking your flushed cheeks and your nose red from crying—your lips are parted, trembling from the endless stream of broken moans and breathless gasps. toji leans in, his scared lips brushing the shell of your ear as his free hand slides up your belly and grabs your tits, rolling your nipple between his calloused fingers. "c'monnn, keep watchin', he sneers, his voice low and taunting. "see what you look like getting your slutty little pussy stretched out."

the guttural slap of skin fills the room, being drowned out by the muffled noises of the workers outside. the very sound you were cursing earlier now served as a shield for your shame, you thanked whatever force or luck was keeping the men oblivious—to the fact you're being fucked silly by a stranger in your own house before you even got a chance to eat breakfast, and toji's absence. though it's not enough to conceal the shameful squelch of your pussy taking him in so deep. you bite down on your lip, trying to stifle the soft whimpers spilling from your throat, but toji doesn't let up.

his fingers curl into the plush of your hips, his nails digging deeply into your skin, dragging you back to meet his trust. the tip of his cock kissing your sensitive and bruised cervix that has your legs shaking uncontrollably.

"you're so fuckin' tight," he groans, his eyes glued to the sight of his cock disappearing into you as your entrance flutters around his thick shaft. "shit, you're squeezin' me like you're beggin' me to fill you up." he lets out a low laugh, teeth scraping against the side of your neck before biting down hard enough to leave a mark. the sting makes you cry out, your walls clamping down on him like a vice. "oh, you like that, huh? filthy little thing—this the kinda shit you've been waitin' for?"

you can barely breathe, your vision blurring as tears keep spilling over. the pressure builds unbearably fast, heat pooling low in your stomach. "i-i…fuck, i can't," you gasp, shaking your head as the intensity of toji’s fast thrust overwhelm you.

"you can, and you will," toji growls, his hand snaking down to your clit, rough fingers circling the sensitive nub with just enough pressure to send you hurtling toward the edge. "ain't lettin' you off that easy."

your knees buckle, but he keeps you upright, his cock drilling into you mercilessly as you fall apart around him. the lewd squelch of your release gushes around his length, soaking his thighs and the counter beneath you. "shit, look at this mess," he mutters, gripping your ass with one hand to spread you open, his thrusts growing sloppier as he chases his own high.

"since your squirtin' on my dick—fuckkkk...—maybe your daddy doesn't have to pay me. he'd be horrified enough to know his daughter's got off on my dick." toji goans deeply into your ear as your pussy squirts out the rest of your cum, your slick coating his shaft as it bubbles in a ring around the base of his cock. your head dips to the side before toji roughly grabs your jaw again.

"keep that fuckin' pretty mouth open," he snarls, tilting your head toward the mirror again. "gonna make you watch when I fill this pussy up. that's what you want, isn't it? my cock buried so deep you feel me for days?"

you let out a loud, helpless whimper at the mere mention of toji cumming...inside of you? you'd really be carrying a stranger's baby without an ounce of shame, and the idea of him filling you up right now doesn't sound to bad, especially when his cock is spitting you open so good, fucking you so deep and hard you can hardly form a coherent sentence.

"talk to me, girl." toji growls, his voice sharp and commanding as his trust grow more punishing. the heavy slap of his swollen balls against your soaked pussy echo in the room, their weight tightening as his cock twitches inside of you.

"y-yesss, daddy—aaahh—fuck, i-i want your seed...!" your trembling words slip through your mouth. toji groans out as he feels your walls clamping down onto him tighter and tighter, milking him harder as he struggles to hold himself back.

toji's hand comes down hard on your ass, slapping the fat of your cheeks as he grips your ass, spreading you open wider so you can take him even deeper. "mmm, that's what i wanna hear." his pace turns sloppier than before, each pump of his dick pulls another nasty squelch from your soaked cunt. "gonna pump ya so full my cums' gonna be dripping outta ya for days."

your head lolls forward, lips parted in a daze. but toji's grip doesn't let up, you feel him wrapping both of his strong arms around your waist to keep you in place, fucking your vaccum of a pussy in long, drawn out strokes as he cums deeply inside of you. your walls clamp down on him violently, spasming around his pulsing cock, milking every last drop of his cum. he stays buried inside, groaning as his cock twitches, warmth spilling deep into your womb.

"shit, you're squeezing me dry." he groans, his cock pulsating violently inside of you as your body jolts in his arms. you can feel each squirt of his seed spilling out from his fat tip, his heavy chest vibrates against you as his lets out another throaty groan. "bet this load's gonna be leaking out of you for hours, isn't it?" you give him a shy nod, your head barely moving against his chest, your body too spent to do anything else.

he smirks, feeling the slight motion. one of his hands snakes down to your ass as he kneads it possessively. toji presses his nose against your hair, inhaling your sweet scent deeply as his cock gives you another lazy throb inside of your sensitive slit. "greedy little thing," he groans as he slowly pulls out, a lewd squelch fills the room as his thick cum begins to leak out of your tiny hole.

his hand gives your ass a sharp slap, making you wince as you pussy tightens from the sudden movement, pushing more of toji's cum out as it drips down your thighs. "now go take a shower," he demands, pulling his pants back up without cleaning your juices off of his dick.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic yandere shigaraki HCS with a younger sister who's the daughter of AFO? (Since he's readers adopted older brother since AFO adopted shigaraki)

Yandere Older Brother Shigaraki Tomura

“This is the little sibling I was telling you about. Would you like to hold them?”

“But my quirk–!”

“Not this time. Trust me.”

It was hard not to pull his cradled arms away when AFO unswaddled and slowly lowered the baby down

Visions of his past 

His quirk’s awakening flashed violent through his mind 

Tightly shutting his eyes in fear 

he feels the warmth and substantial weight in his arms

Opening his eyes to see a darling little baby cooing at him

Giving a gummy smile when he lets out a little chuckle in disbelief

“This is (Y/n). You’re little sibling.”

“My little-?”

“Yes. Will you protect them?

“YES!”

From then on it was history

It’s been him and his newfound family against the world 

Even with his old notfamily he wasn’t the oldest

And now you’re immune to his power letting him connect with you in a way he just can’t with others

All that being said he’s a doting big brother

“(Y/n). Are you giving the nanny trouble?”

“Psh! It was only a mud pie!”

“Really? That doesn’t sound so bad.” 

“They threw it in my face!!”

“It was meant for the pillow! Honest!”

“If (Y/n) said it was meant for the pillow then it was meant for the pillow I see no problem here.”

Because AFO is AFO the way you’re raised will really dictate how he watches over you

If he’s not the only one doting on you but your father dearest as well you can expect to always be miles away from the action

Kept in the boonies or shipped across the world

If AFO demands it you will see no such thing as a world he doesn’t create

But if you’re just another tool of his then you both will start to get competitive

“Awww heard about the little incident in Kamino! Heard you couldn’t get the job done!” “And I heard about your little excursion with the American division.”

“Pft! it was more so just a distraction.”

“Oh yeah? Is your enemy weakened and out of the game for good?”

“Grrrr.”

“That’s what I thought little Padawan!”

“Grrr shut up!”

If AFO completely ignores you and keeps you only because Tomura wants it 

Or because you have too many features like your late uncle

He’s dealing with a rebellious little sibling that he’s intent on tracking down

Whether you’ve decided to side with the heroes or strike out on your own

He will make it everyone’s problem that you’re not in his custody

“You seem to forget (Y/n) that as your older brother, I’m going to protect you…whether you like it or not.”

In whichever universe you are the apple of his eye

And he refuses to let you leave it

Whatever plan AFO has for him can wait if it doesn’t mean you safely within his grasp

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hey Gator can you write for Moon Knight with reader thats also an avatar but for Ra? Cuz duality

Moonboys x avatar of Ra male reader 

Headcanons 

“Kill them with kindness. WRONG, CURSE OF RA” my dream of a moon knight season 2 seems further and further away, and I fear it will never happen. How’s everyone doin? Viktor nation, how are we feeling? 

I'm trying out a new writing tool, so if there's spelling mistakes, that's why. It has been a while since I watched Moon Knight, so some of my canon might be off. 

If this was an oc, I would have to make the reader a Pharaoh, since they are seen as manifestations of Ra or so-called Sons of Ra. But this isn't an oc, so the reader won't be. 

Maybe you are a solar physicist instead, since that whole job is about studying the sun. Or you could be a writer who writes travel books, or history books, which allows you to travel the world. 

I'm not sure if you would be a shadow of the night like the moonboys. Ra is a god and has his worshippers, but I don't actually know if he's the one who punishes people or not. 

And since Ra is the god of the sun, you would act during the day for the most part. You can still move around during the night obviously, but you prefer the sun and so does your patron.  

I don't think Ra would be cruel in the way Khonshu is, but he is still a god with expectations and things he wants you to do. Instead of just hunting criminals, he might have you healing people or using the abilities of creation to do things. 

Don't get me wrong, I still think Ra would have you blast somebody with the power of the literal sun, but he might think about it first. Sometimes. 

I like to think you get to shoot sun lasers out of your eyes, and mouth. And like, anywhere you want. Who is gonna stop the sun of all things? You can kick major ass, and with a god that's mostly nicer than Khonshu, you have an easier time doing it too. 

Being the avatar of Ra doesn't mean you are all sunshine and rainbows obviously. That role goes to Steven. But you aren't as tense and ready for violence at all times, like Marc and Jake are. 

I like to think you are always warm to the touch, so depending on whose fronting, you find yourself getting cuddled.  

I like to think, even though they share a body, the boys have differences. Like, I think Steven struggles with always feeling cold, at least his fingers and toes. So, he slips his hands into your pockets, or stuffs his feet under you. 

Marc wouldn't struggle with feeling cold, but I think he would find a lot of comfort in how warm you are. You never get uncomfortably warm, like sure, it gets really hot, but he never feels clammy or sweaty.  

Marc would saddle up beside you when he's having rough days and just needs to... exist. Expect him to end up under your shirt somehow. It's not anything wild, he just shuffles up under it so he can lay his head on your chest and dissociate, using your warmth to ground himself. 

Jake wouldn't have much of an opinion about you always running hot, except for maybe grumbling a few comments about how you always wear shorts and tank tops, even when it's snowing outside. 

Jake will end up nuzzling against you when you guys are sleeping, though he doesn't like this admit it. This is just in general, as Jake struggles with showing affection or emotions that aren't negative. 

Controlling the sun also lets you give them the most comfortable massages they have ever experienced, since you can warm up your hands and then warm their aching muscles. 

It's a sure way to knock all three of them out, even if Marc and Jake try to act tough. They just become puddy in your hands. This might also be because they just know on a deep level, that they are safe with you, so they can relax. 

Going out and doing avatar work together is a must. Theres some differences on who's fronting there too. 

Steven, being Mr. knight, isn't as quick to murder and violence as Marc and Jake, so i imagine you guys spend a good chunk of time talking, ignoring your patrons since they like to argue. 

Marc is similar in his own way, he's not as violent or snappy when you come along. He might even jokingly call it a date, even if you guys are hunting someone who needs to be punished. 

Jake is the most quiet and deadly one, since he's used to hurting and hurting others. He would never hurt you though, and if you have a softer personality and like to crack jokes, you might even get him to laugh. 

Post missions are always for cuddling and checking up on each other. Gotta make sure your boys aren't hurt and all. Yeah, you guys might both have god given healing factors, but you still check them over, no matter who is fronting. 

This also means you end up getting checked over too, since all three of them are worrywarts in their own ways. Blame it on trauma, but they just need to physically see that you are okay. 

If it's been a hard patrol or target, you might have to work on getting them present and aware. I could see all three of them dissociating every now and then, leaving no one able to front, so as their boyfriend, you have to help them resurface. 

Heating your hands up, not enough to burn but enough to be felt, and placing them on their wrist, thigh, or face, depending on the situation, will help ground them. Sometimes they cling to you too, if you got really badly hurt. 

Your guy's patrons obviously also aren't welcome in the apartment when you guys take care of bruises and hurts after missions. Ra accepts it and just tells you to heal, and Khonshu will grumble about it, but the guys leaves you alone for the most part

[revelboo]

Maybe some optimus, metroplex, or tfp ratchet pretty please🙏 I have no special reason bc you always make sure we're fed regularly I'm just addicted to them💅 *looping around your legs like a cat and you're holding the treat bag*

Also I am floored over some(all tbh) of the other characters recent chapters and just how many different paths all these stories are on and how well they all flow like do you somehow have extra storage space in your brain??? Where can I get the update installed for myself😂how the hell are you sorting all these bc you may pump them out fast but thats still like a lot of things to track😅 plz tell me you have a comically large brick of sticky notes you're slowly going through bc otherwise real talk if youre just rawdogging this all by memory plz ignore the request and give your brain a rest🙏we ly but plz make sure to take breaks with lots of snacks and sleep💗

Nah, I just keep track of them in my head. I’m weird like that 😅 I’m doing better now. First day I’ve woken up without a headache in two weeks

I Can Feel You Pt 11

Metroplex x Reader

• Rasping softly, brows creasing in frustration that he can’t speak. Still. Keeps his head turned toward where you’re sitting on a table with Ratchet’s tools as the medic works to repair the drone’s damaged systems. To give him a voice again. Something pulls, hurts and there’s a burst of staticky noise. “Little one,” he says, not his voice, but his words. And you stand, little fingers fisted in the blanket Ratchet has given you. “I think everything should be back online now, but take it easy. This drone’s been inactive for centuries,” Ratchet says. But he’s not listening, focused on you as he mass shifts the drone to your size, the energy strain slamming through him in drowning pain. Crippling him and severing the connection to the drone. Hearing Ratchet’s frustrated, “What did I just say?”

• Visor dimming, the drone sags. “Metroplex?” Looking from him to Ratchet when the medic vents tiredly. “Is he gone again?” Nodding, the medic slams down a tool a bit rougher than necessary. “Can I sit with him until he comes back? Please,” you add as he frowns at you.

• “Probably not a good idea. Any involuntary movement could hurt you even at that size,” he mutters so you content yourself with sitting on the edge of the table, legs dangling. “We should at least get some answers,” he grumbles. “No matter how much damage we repair, he’s rerouting energy somewhere and staying critically low.” Hesitating as he begins cleaning his tools, he looks at you, expression critical. “Hound told me you’d said the Titan was speaking to you.”

• Face heating at the memory that speaking isn’t all you’d done, you shrug weakly. “He was lonely. I started talking to him first.” Because you’d been lonely, too. Overlooked a lot of the time by the Autobots just because you’re so small, an after thought most of the time. Easily forgotten. But Metroplex had heard you, seen you. Reached out in return. Echoing your loneliness and halving it.

• Again. Frustrated as he retreats deeper into himself, knows he needs to build energy again. Be patient. But the drone is there with you. It’s mass displaced. These are steps forward, not stumbles. He just has to remain on course. You’re waiting for him. You’ll be right there. He needs to believe it, desperate to hold you in his arms even if they’re borrowed. To recharge with your heartbeat against him, to hear your soft voice and to be able to answer. Wants to hear about your day, your dreams, everything. And he’s getting closer to that goal. Closer to you.

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Amusing myself all the way to Pier Park leaving notes

[timmydraker]

Tim hates Damian, but not for the reasons people think.

It did start as him thinking of Damian as rude, violent and unworthy of something as bright and joyful as the mantle of Robin. Tim might be better than most rich folk can be, but he’s still human and was very clearly ignorant of Damian’s lifestyle and culture, and I don’t just mean being an Assassin.

There’s no arguing against the arrogant way he sometimes talks about Damian and the League even if later adaptations are lighter with it, and the only reason it’s not a big thing is that he actually learns and pulls his head out.

Tim is an asshole but he’s not stupid, he’ll learn even when he doesn’t want to, it just takes some time.

But once he started to try and see Damian differently, around the time the younger Robin started to grow more into his role and adapt to the American world, Tim was confronted by something that make him almost insecure.

Because while Tim had to overcome some of his faults, Damian did something so mind numbingly difficult.

He overcame his entire childhood and taught nature.

Tim once used Damian’s blatant disregard for victims comfort as a reason he shouldn’t be Robin, and now as Damian is becoming an adult he’s going out of his way to learn how to help people and not shut save them.

Tim would often point out how Damian never trusted anyone no matter how much proof they gave to earn it, only really putting full faith in Dick and Bruce, but then he’s putting himself I situations that make him squirm just to give people a chance. But then it’s Tim who has the most contingency plans because he firmly believes even your most trusted allies can betray you.

Tim hated how Damian was so arrogant and self centred and then he’s catching himself lying to partners just because he doesn’t think he did anything wrong even though they are clearly upset.

Tim had to work against his own body to be able to fight, changing his untrained body into a tool to be used, but Damian didn’t have to do that because his body was ready to fight from the moment he was made.

Damian grows, he becomes someone dangerous and threatening but someone equally as kind and compassionate, strange ways of showing it be damned. Damian wants to be a doctor, wants to help people o ur side of the suit, which just doesn’t make sense because Tim said at the start that all Damian will ever be is violence and cruelty and yet-

Tim is admittedly jealous.

He wants to say he’s someone great and strong, and he is really, but Damian…

Damian is more of a Robin than Tim.

They both still did good, great things and Tim will always be a good Robin, it’s just that Damian has done so much more in regards to himself. He’s grown and changed and went from being someone Tim saw as just bad to someone more patient and willing to do the hard work big for the good and it just doesn’t make sense because Tim-

Tim has become bitter and angry and every internal monologue he has is filled with venomous words and irritation. He’s making plans he claims he won’t act on, but who thinks up so many ways to permanently stop someone with violent, unethical and just inhumane means without batting an eye?

Tim isn’t hesitating when making ‘world had ended’ plans, when making last ditch plans that involve killing people and he’s stop pulling punches with certain groups because they come back to life anyway so who cares if they die in a fight?

And it’s so ironic, because for a time when he was first introduced to the family, Damian saw Tim as the goal. It was Tim who was most trusted by Batman, who was allied with pretty much every hero team, who was given free reign and his own cases, and it was Tim who his mother warned him would be in his way of Robin.

But Damian stopped being so eager to replace and started to want to be his own person. His own Robin and eventually, his own everything entirely.

And now it’s Tim who is being told to calm down, to stand down, to not be so defensive.

It’s Damian whose defying Bruce now, whose moving on from Robin and spreading a whole new pair of wings when even Tim can’t let go be cause he has to do better, right? Because if Damian, cold blooded and aggravating Damian, can become someone else and good then he should be too.

Yet even with good friends and a good rep, he feels like something lesser.

And doesn’t that just suck.

[endlesslyhyperfixating]

Every time people try to pretend there’s no existence of racial bias in the way Sydcarmy is dismissed, an angel loses their wings.

You know what’s exhausting? Watching people bend over backward to insist that there are no racist or misogynoir undertones to the way Sydcarmy gets dismissed as a valid ship—let’s just be real for a second.

I understand people who don't ship it or believe in the ship because they prefer to take the show at face value, focus on different dynamics, or interpret relationships in other ways. However, the people who deny any validity to believing their relationship is more than meets the eye? That needs to be addressed.

People will swear up and down that their issue isn’t with Sydney, that they love her, and that they "just think Carmy should go to therapy first"—but then in the same breath, you'll catch them romanticizing the hell out of his dynamic with Claire, a relationship that was unhealthy, regressive, and rooted in avoidance rather than growth. @yannaryartside covers the very strong existence of the Oedipus complex and the fulfillment of Carmy’s mommy issues through Claire’s behavior and manipulation in their relationship, and I agree wholeheartedly.

Let’s talk about the “Carmen needs therapy before a girlfriend” argument. Let’s be real—Carmy needed therapy when he was with Claire too, but nobody seemed to mind that. In fact, everyone around him—Richie, the Faks, even the audience—enabled this idea of Claire as a “good” thing for him, as if she wasn’t feeding into his worst tendencies. And the most infuriating part? Claire was, in fact, manipulative. (Again, covered by @yannaryartside .)

She didn’t do it in an overt, villainous way but used **soft, socially acceptable manipulation**—the kind that gets ignored when it’s coming from a conventionally attractive, non-threatening, quirky white woman.

Claire’s Manipulation: The Softness of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl

People like to act like Claire was just a character who wasn’t well-written or worth the time for analysis, but that was the entire point of her: to feel underwhelming, to feel forced into place. In many ways this is true of course, she's under/not well-written in ways, and people think she was simply there, offering Carmy what she believed (and convinced him to believe) was love, when in reality, she inserted herself into his life in a way that preyed on his vulnerabilities and pre-existing issues.

And before anyone jumps in with "she didn’t do anything wrong!"—let’s actually look at how she operated.

- She sought him out when he wasn’t in a good place.

She made it a point to go out of her way to get his real number after being given a fake one. If course she uses that classic manipulative play it off as a joke move when she threatens him but not the best way to start. I know it's been said before, but can we imagine if the roles were reversed? Would we not think that creepy?

- She made it about her when he was struggling.

When Carmy tried to set a boundary, Claire framed it as him pulling away from her, rather than him dealing with his own issues. She encouraged his avoidance, gave him an easy escape from his problems, and then was surprised—and (validly) hurt—when reality came crashing down. Even when Carmy was harsh in breaking up with her, he was speaking from a place of truth for himself. To be with her, when he was so damaged and not really in a space of genuinely liking her, was bullshit.

- She used nostalgia as a tool.

Claire’s entire presence in Carmy’s life was based on a past version of him that no longer existed. Just as Carmy didn’t really see Claire, but rather a projected version of her shaped by his family (and a little bit of Sydney), Claire didn’t love him—she loved the idea of Carmy she had from childhood. And she expected him to fit back into that mold, to regress into a state where he could blow off work to hang out with her and forget his partnership with Sydney, someone he's meant to work with and has a responsibility to be with. That’s not love. That’s entitlement to a person’s growth—or lack thereof.

And yet, people ignore all this because Claire fits their idea of what a love interest should look like to them. She’s non-threatening, familiar, digestible. They don’t question why she feels right, - white - while Sydney—who actually challenges Carmy, who understands him in ways Claire never could—gets written off as “not romantic.”

Claire, for "clarity" or "peace" (ugh)—is simple. She's the painted picture of a woman who puts others before herself, the quirky manic pixie dream girl inching too close to the camera, sneaking her way into his life. People argue it feels like the same effect Sydney has on Carmy, but it's not the same at all. Claire is easy. For Carmy. He can fuck up, regress, and stay stagnant, and she’ll applaud him for it. "Never ever, ever apologize."

Sydney is the opposite. She calls him on his shit, and she sees him for who he really is. Sydney is the real peace for him (how many times do we need to bring up that damn panic attack, the table scene, and strange currencies? Thank you, @chefkids ).

Phew...

Moving on,

The Hypocrisy of the “Carmy Needs Therapy First" Argument

Back to the “Carmy needs therapy before a relationship” excuse—because wow, is that just selective. People only seem to apply it when Sydney is involved, not when Claire is around. It’s the most transparent double standard imaginable. I’ve seen one too many “I ship Carmy with therapy” memes, and I need to talk about it.😾.

When Carmy was with Claire, he was a mess—but people loved to romanticize it, acting like she was his “breath of fresh air,” even when she was just another distraction. Even he fell for it, tricking himself into believing the false sense of security she contrived for him.

When these people talk about Carmy and Sydney, suddenly it’s “he needs to work on himself first” as if the mere suggestion of them together is too high-stakes to even consider. It’s always “God forbid we have well-written female-male relationships without it being romantic.”

So we prefer shitty romantic relationships between the quirked-up white woman and our white male main character rather than the chemistry, character plot, and dynamic between Syd and Carm? Okay.

It’s not about Carmy’s emotional availability for these people. It’s about who people *want* to see him be available for, and it's not Sydney.

Why Do People Feel So Pressed About Sydcarmy, Anyways?

If Sydney were white—let’s be honest—this wouldn’t even be a conversation. The dynamic is already there. The intimacy, the trust, the undeniable chemistry. Their relationship fits the mold of that slow-burn, work-obsessed partners-to-lovers trope better than any other ship that actually makes it to canon.

But instead, people act like EVEN speculating about it is ridiculous, like the idea of Carmy feeling something deeper for Sydney is somehow beyond the realm of possibility. They’ll call it “forced,” “delusional,” or “just not where the story is going”—as if every single element of storytelling isn’t deliberately crafted to suggest something simmering under the surface. Whether platonic or romantic, it's there. It’s genuine soulmate energy.

They pretend their dismissal of this ship has nothing to do with race, but race is an integral part of the ship because Sydney is a black woman.

It's almost like erasure in itself when they deny it's importance, as if there isn’t a long history of Black women in media being sidelined, desexualized, and treated as expendable when it comes to romance. Sydney isn’t “just a coworker.” She’s not “just his business partner.” She is one of the most important people in his career—and even his life—whether people want to admit it or not.

So yeah, maybe people need to interrogate *why* they can believe in Claire—a character who offered Carmy nothing but regression—but not Sydney, who actually represents something real.

Because if the reason is "Carmy's growth," you're bullshitting.

---

Tags

@fairestbeard @chefkids @thoughtfulchaos773 @yannaryartside

[callmrmorrow]

mark v cecil debate is way too polarized for what it is

cecil is reacting exactly how he should react. omni-man pretty much deceived them all for 20 years to the point where cecil was actually “hurt” by his betrayal (yes he might’ve known he was lying, but had no clue what he was lying about — was his planet fake, was his government fake, was he here to protect him, was he even really a viltrumite). mark defenders saying “how many times does he have to save the world for cecil to think he’s good” ignore the fact that omni-man saved their world MULTIPLE times over, and still was intent on committing genocide. the inner-ear device is extreme, but so is the threat that mark poses. this guy disappeared to go help his father on a faraway planet, came back with another overpowered kid, and is talking shit about how “it’ll take a long time for anyone to forgive him,” which implies that mark thinks, on some level, his father should be forgiven.

wanting to forgive nolan for everything he did but refusing to forgive any of the murderers that cecil employs is… super hypocritical from mark, and is exactly what he scolds oliver for doing: prioritizing people he knows and cares for over the world at large. objectively, the reanimen (who aren’t even ALIVE, they’re donated corpses) and darkwing 2 will save more people than they hurt. mark is a killer. oliver is a killer. omni-man is a killer. mark has more compassion in his heart for killers that he loves than innocent people that he doesn’t know.

on the other hand, we the audience KNOW mark is a good guy. we know it’s his prerogative to be offended, even scared, at the idea of cecil having that kind of power over him, over ANYONE that he cares about. mark is 18, first and foremost, and he didn’t get much choice in the situation he’s in (though he does have choice in how he reacts to it, which he did badly because of how morally conflicted he is). it really is as simple as mark wanting to be a good person and cecil wanting to save the world. of course cecil sees his heroes as tools! it’s shocking that none of the new GOG understood that earlier. the guy isn’t lying and acting like he cares any more than he does. mark is very caught up in his own situation — reasonably so, it’s a really fucking nasty one — and can’t see things objectively, and has a sort of entitlement to him that is very normal for a guy his age, half-alien or not. it’s shown when he gets pissed at debbie for sharing his identity with paul, as if it isn’t debbie’s prerogative to talk about her kids, as if she hasn’t been through the same shit that he has regarding nolan. it’s shown when he’s berating oliver for ideas that he fostered when he killed angstrom (albeit accidentally), that it’s not okay to kill even if it’s to save others. no wonder oliver was confused — he’s just following his brother’s example.

on that note… why have a no-kill rule and then be anti-rehabilitation? mark won’t kill the bad guys, but he won’t accept cecil using them to save other people. there’s nuance to the situation, i’m sure, but mark’s flying off the handle because he thinks his might is right. it’s obvious from the pilot of the show, where the moment he realizes he has powers, he tells his own mom to “make him” go to bed. mark has always wanted to be like his father, and he’s trying to find a way to be LESS like him now that he knows the truth, and that’s confusing. his path is diverging unexpectedly in so many ways, and of course he’s gonna struggle. he’s holding onto the only stuff he knows for sure, which is that “good guys do not kill. i am a hero, and i don’t work with villains.” when something flies in the face of that, he freaks out, because he’s losing a moral foundation of his that he grew up on.

i would even go as far as to say the fact that they call him “invinciboy” in the news is kind of symbolic of a moral regression, where he’s just going back to what he knows to be true, and sticking to it even if the ideas clash with how the world has to be — because it isn’t all so black and white anymore, and mark has a hard time slotting himself into a world that isn’t clear-cut.

tl;dr cecil’s idea is right, but mark’s reaction is justified not for cecil’s handling of the situation, but due to mark’s difficulties with figuring out who “invincible” is.

[hugevanserrass]

reasons to hate cassian

Cassian saw that Azriel was romantically interested in Mor, felt jealous over it, and agreed to have sex with her knowing it would hurt Azriel.

The first time he meets Nesta, he immediately passes judgement on her for letting Feyre hunt as a child, despite the fact that she was a child herself.

Tells her he doesn't understand why her sisters love her

Bonds with feyre over their shared experiences living in poverty but treats nesta like she's a stuck up rich girl, despite her living in the same mf hovel as feyre (why does he do this ??)

He gropes her in her own home despite her not wanting him to touch her.

He sees her on the verge of tears due to anger and despair when the human queens won't send aid to the humans in Prythian, and then a scene later says "She barely seems to care about anyone other than Elain."

Will not take no for an answer when Nesta tells him to leave her alone.

When they are both clearly feeling something for each other, he still rips his hand out of Nesta's when Mor walks in. Wtf was this about anyways?

He buys Mor lingerie despite knowing Nesta is his mate. This is just weird in general. Also calls Mor his sister, despite having slept with her in the past.

Judges Nesta for not getting over her trauma in a way that is both quick and convenient to him and the inner circle.

Admits to ignoring her claim that she is enjoying the music while he drags her, against her will, out of a "seedy" tavern.

Supports Feyre and Rhys in their decision to forcibly remove Nesta from her home and relocate her to the House of Wind, on threat of deportation.

Drags her to Windhaven to "train" even when she makes it clear she has no intention of training. As a result, she is forced to sit on a rock in freezing cold temperatures.

When Mor basically tells Nesta she is just like her evil father and the rest of the Court of Nightmares because she is mean to Cassian, Cassian does not defend Nesta nor call Mor out on it.

He brings up Nesta's dead father at breakfast because she won't eat her oatmeal.

He tells her everyone hates her.

He watches her fall down a very steep flight of stairs, and then laughs at her. She was bruised and had a black eye from this fall. Cassian thinks this is funny.

Whines constantly about being a bastard nobody despite Nesta only using "bastard" as a direct insult to him one time, and in that same convo he called her a haughty witch.

He is rude to Lucien for no reason. (unforgivable)

Despite knowing Nesta is vulnerable, he fucks her at the first opportunity, even though he knows she uses sex as a coping mechanism.

Snarls and bitches at Nesta when she talks about Rhysand in a tone he doesn't like, even after telling her he can match whatever she throws at him. (He can't)

Sides with Rhysand over her constantly, even when he is in the wrong.

Every time they do engage in some sexual act, he immediately bolts, leaving her alone and confused. Refuses to communicate his feelings, acts like an asshole.

Keeps secrets from her, and agrees to participate in a vote on whether or not she deservers to know about the swords she created, which directly pertains to her powers. He whines a little, but ultimately does what he is told.

When she voices her fear that she is not good enough for him and will never deserve him, he does not correct her.

When he learns of Nesta’s love for dance and how her mother twisted it into a tool to find her a prince, Cassian turns himself into the victim. (this takes skill tbh)

He interrupts the only true canon Neris moment to shove in and dance with Nesta. Will not forgive him for this. Get off the dance floor.

When they finally admit their feelings on solstice and have a passionate and meaningful night together, he STILL leaves immediately the next morning to go hang with his homies and doesn't see her for a week. She is left alone AGAIN. (Begging him to stop doing this.)

When Nesta has finally had enough of being judged by the inner circle, she decides to tell Feyre the truth about her pregnancy. Cassian is furious with Nesta, takes no responsibility for lying to Feyre, and does not react in the slightest when Rhysand threatens to KILL Nesta. (His mate)

When Feyre tells him that she is angry with all of them and not Nesta, he does not tell Nesta, even though it would be comforting to her while she is at her absolute lowest.

When Feyre tells him Rhys is secretly happy Nesta is going to hate every second of the hike, he has a nice little laugh with Feyre at Nesta's expense.

He makes her endure a back-breaking death march in which she is forced to carry an extremely heavy backpack as punishment.

He sees that Nesta doesn't care if she dies, and does nothing to get her away from the steep cliffs. He snaps at her the entire time, even while she is clearly spiraling and about to have a mental breakdown.

She collapses at the end of each day and all he says is "at least remove the pack so I can cook myself dinner." She has not spoken in days.

He works her to the point of passing out. She literally faints, face first, onto the hard ground and he yells at her for not drinking water instead of trying to determine if she's alright.

When she finally breaks down and cries and tells him how much she hates herself, he tells her how much he loves Rhysand as an attempt to relate to her suffering. (fuck you dude seriously)

He does not correct her when she says she is unworthy of love.

He says "there is nothing broken to fix" despite forcing her to obey him and change her coping mechanisms and behave in the way he approves.

When she tells him the word mate doesn’t mean anything to her because she’s human at heart he dismisses her instantly and says "that's bullshit." No attempt to understand her feelings whatsoever as he tries to force her to admit they are mates before she is ready.

Tells her he didn't ask to be "shackled" to her after she says she didn’t get to choose to be fae, and it was forced on her. (it was)

When she calls in the bargain he immediately thinks of a way to get around it. He does not respect the boundaries she sets for herself. He thinks something like "Easy enough command to work around. I'll tell her to word her bargains more cleverly." She says she wants a week alone and the very next day he shows up to Windhaven in order to force her to speak to him.

When he learns she has been taken into the blood rite, after a lot of sulking and one feeble attempt to disobey Rhys, he thinks something like "even if I could rescue her I wouldn't, I wouldn't take away her opportunity to save herself." Meanwhile Nesta is hoping that he will be coming to rescue her.

When Nesta finally saves him, and tells him she loves him, he does not say it back. HE NEVER SAYS I LOVE YOU.

He calls Eris a coward immediately after learning he was tortured by his father, and likely has been his whole life. In the same thought, he acknowledges that Eris was willing to be tortured to protect their alliance and STILL calls him a coward.

When Rhysand is yelling at Nesta AGAIN for helping Bryce save the entire world, Cassian does not stick up for her. AGAIN! (I stg you bitch)

Amren says to Nesta, in front of Cassian, "Pray to the mother that your sister changes Rhysand's mind tonight" ABOUT WHAT? IS HE GONNA KILL HER? And Cassian does...nothing.

"Nesta's mate shifted an inch closer to her, his eyes darting between the two of them, torn. Like he didn't know who to side with in the brewing fight." I hate him so much for this !!!!

Nesta tells Ember that Cassian is "the most furious with me of anyone" WHY? Nesta even voices that she doesn't think they'll kill her. This implies Rhys has yet again threatened her life because he disagrees with her choices, and guess what: CASSIAN DOES NOTHING.

[noctiva]

(No worries! I was just checking haha diagnosed with OCD and in the process of getting an Autism assessment at the moment)

But could I maybe request how Toby would be with an OCD s/o?

Not necessarily the stereotypical clean freak way but more so a lot of obsessive/intrusive thoughts? For example I have episodes where I'm freaking out over inherenting my dads Schizophrenia and I am just a paranoid WRECK for a good couple days

But then again I know Toby also has neurodivergent issues so maybe he'd just ignore it? Would he make it worse? Haha just maybe your take on how he'd handle that please?

Catharsis

Toby Rogers x GN!Reader

-

Thank you for the request lovely!! I hope this is okayyyy 👉👈just some fluffy supportive bf toby i love him sm

-

WC: 2.5k

Summary: Toby finds you in the middle of a war within your own mind, and makes you a promise he won’t ever break

CW: mentions of mental illness (schizophrenia specifically), Toby using the phrases ‘crazy’ and ‘having a screw loose’ to allude to it (he has it himself and copes with humour), paranoia and intrusive thoughts, descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks

-

You’re not crazy. You’re not crazy.

You don’t know how many times you’ve repeated that phrase to yourself over the past few days. In vain, because it just never seems to stick. Your mind doesn’t want it to. Your mind wanted you to be scared, to be paranoid, because that was the safest option. The best way to protect yourself.

Because… what if you were? What if you were just being ignorant, because of how much you didn’t want it to be true? What if you were already too far gone, your brain transforming from a tool into a weapon within your skull?

You would swear you were already hearing voices. Seeing things out of the corner of your eye that would disappear when you faced them. Surely, your heightened anxiety couldn’t be making things any better, but that wasn’t a fact at the forefront of your mind. All you knew, what that you would swear you could feel it - your mind deteriorating. Everything just felt all wrong.

Stood in the bathroom of you and your boyfriend Toby’s shared home, you stand in front of the mirror - fingers gripping the counter, eyes fixated on your reflection.

Would you be able to see physical changes, if something was wrong with you? Would it manifest in that way? You lean in closer, peering into the frantic eyes that stare right back at you. Were your eye bags always that dark? And were the whites of your eyes bloodshot?

You looked skinnier, right? More gaunt. Sickly even.

(Which - though you weren’t able to come to this conclusion yourself - was definitely because you had been in a state of near paranoid catatonia for the past five days.)

It was hard to function. And it was frustrating because you had been fine. You had been having a good week before this, good month even, and all it took was one little thing to send you spiralling.

One night, while you and Toby sat together on your couch in the living room, you swore you saw something move just out of your line of sight. A flash of something, that disappeared the moment you turned your head to look at it.

Now, it could’ve been a myriad of things. Trick of the light, shadows bouncing from the light of the television, the curtain moving as a breeze floated in through the cracked window.

But those were too safe. Too easily believed. Perfect excuses to brush something worse under the rug.

And with your family’s predisposition to illnesses that would cause such a thing, was it really so wrong to be worried? Or at least… Cautious?

You reach your hands up and press them against your face. They’re trembling, and clammy - smearing sweat against your cheeks when you touch them. And you just can’t tear your eyes away from your reflection. You - that person - in the mirror… It was possible, right? That your mind was deteriorating without you even noticing.

You had done your research. Disorders like schizophrenia didn’t start showing signs until later in life. Late teens to early twenties, specifically, and you were nestled snugly in that age bracket. These thoughts were not unfounded. Maybe it was already happening.

You press your hands down firmer. Was it already happening?

Your eyes dart around the mirror’s reflection, trying to find something - anything - that looked out of place. Wrong. Anything that could prove you right.

It was definitely already happening.

“Th-There you are. Why’d you just g-go and disappear on me?”

The sound of Toby’s voice yanks you out of your focus so harshly that it makes you flinch. You snap your head towards him, immediately pulling your hands away from your face, trying to look completely put together though you know it can’t be working. You’re still shaking, and because you had completely forgotten to shut the door, he had definitely just caught you deep in the throughs of the mental war you were waging.

You watch as it happens, the way his eyes shift from confused to worried the moment your gazes meet. He takes a hesitant step forwards, watching you carefully - eyes flickering down to your trembling fingers every so often. “Are you… Okay?” He asks, voice soft and concerned.

And you hate it. Hate how you’ve worked yourself into such an anxious knot, that he was approaching you like you were a scared animal.

But at the end of the day, was that not what you were?

“I’m fine.” You answer back a little too quickly, a little too harshly. His eyebrows furrow together, a crease forming on the bridge of his freckled nose, and you let out a shaky sigh. “I’m fine, really. Just, uh… Thinking.”

“Uh oh. D-Don’t do that.” Toby jokes softly, but the concern on his face hadn’t dissipated. It was such a him thing to do, that it doesn’t faze you at all when he tries to force humour into the clearly tense situation. When he doesn’t get so much as a sarcastic snort of laughter out of you though, he quickly realizes that this wasn’t just a sour mood he had found you in the middle of.

He takes another step closer, then another, peering down at you with a frown on his face. You watch as his eyes search your expression, roaming over every square inch like he was trying to decode you.

Oh, god. Could he see it too? The changes?

You knew that Toby himself had schizophrenia, along with a slew of other disorders that he dealt with on a day to day basis. If anyone would be able to tell something was wrong with you, it would be him. And as he’s staring down at you, seemingly peering into your soul, you wonder if he sees himself in you.

And though you love him dearly, right now you really hope he doesn’t. “T-Talk to me.” He finally murmurs after a few moments. “Something’s d-definitely wrong.”

You swallow thickly, struggling to maintain his gaze as you shift in front of him. It’s not that you didn’t want to talk to him, it was just the anxiety coming back in to wash another wave over you. What if… What if he thought you were being annoying, and irrational? Or what if he was already growing tired of dealing with you, and this was the final straw?

It was the unknowns that were making your heart pound in your chest.

“I’m…” You shift from one foot to the other, eyes flicking around to avoid him. It was difficult to though, when he was so close - head tilted down to encroach on your space further. He wasn’t trying to make you squirm on purpose, you knew that, and yet your skin was still crawling. “I’m just… Worried.” You mutter, to which he raises an eyebrow.

“Worried?” He asks. “About w-what?” He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning to the side to rest his hip against the bathroom counter. “You’ve d-definitely been off lately. But I d-didn’t want to bring it up…” Your eyes flick upwards, and you watch as he gnaws at his bottom lip - already cracked a raw from this constant habit of his. “Y’know, didn’t wanna m-make things worse, if you were just trying t-to work through it on your own or whatever.”

So he had noticed. You suppose that shouldn’t have been a surprise, but Toby worked often, leaving you at home alone more often than not. You had been hoping that the time away had hidden the shift in your demeanour. Obviously, that hadn’t been the case. “But at the same time, y-you know I don’t like it when you hide stuff ff-from me.”

“I’m not trying to hide anything.” You shoot back immediately, lips twitched down into a frown. Your fingers, still trembling, curl into fists down at your sides. Your eyes catch his, and he looks so damn worried it makes your heart ache. So, you take a shaky breath in, and finally let it out. “I’m worried… That I might be becoming like my dad.”

You whisper the words out, soft and quiet like you’re hoping he may not hear them. You’re kind of hoping he didn’t, so that you could come up with some other excuse and brush all of this off. Figure this all out on your own. Go back to overanalyzing every little instance in your life.

But he did hear you. Of course he did.

“Your d-dad?” His face scrunches up in confusion for a moment, his eyebrows wrinkling together. He watches your face for a few moments while the words sink in, and then realization washes over him like a wave of frigid water. His entire expression melts, bewilderment swapped for a look of pity that made your chest feel tight. “O-Oh… Oh, baby, no.”

He reaches up gently, two calloused palms coming to cup each side of your face. He’s so warm, or are you just that cold? You can’t tell, but the comfort is immediate. His thumb smooths against your cheek, the roughness of his skin a soothing sensation for your brain to latch on to. “You’re not, I p-promise.”

“How would you know?” You ask, voice quivering as you look up at him. You would like to just take his word for it and believe him, but if you couldn’t even convince yourself - it was a lot harder to simply give in to an outside force.

“Law of n-nature?” He hums as he gently strokes your face, his one hand moving back to thread into your hair instead. A soft pressure against the back of your head, cradling you. An anchor. “There c-can’t be two crazies in the household r-right? That just wouldn’t be fair.” You purse your lips at his second attempt to lighten the mood, and he lets out a sheepish little chuckle. “Sorry, ss-sorry. Just joking.”

He draws you in closer, slowly. Permeating through the bubble of dread that had been encasing you, bringing with him a warmth that only he possessed. “Listen to me though, o-okay? You’re alright. You will b-be alright. I’m certain of that.”

The hand cupping your cheek slides down, and then he’s resting two fingers under your chin - lightly tilting it upwards to look at him properly. You frown a little at his words, and open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off. Seemingly knowing you were only going to launch another rebuttal in his direction. “And d-don’t say ‘you can’t know th-that for certain’ because yes I can.” He smiles down at you, even as your bottom lip starts to tremble. “No matter what ha-happens, you’ll be okay, b-because I will make sure of it.”

He tilts his head to the side, before pinching your chin gently. “Didn’t I tell you I’d a-always keep you safe?”

“Well, yeah.” You mutter back to him softly. “But this is different.”

“Maybe.” Toby hums. “But my p-point still stands.” He withdraws his hand minutely, then using it to brush a stray stand of hair out of your eyes. “If - and I said ‘if’,” He meets your eye before continuing, “Something did happen, I’d h-help you through it. I’m puh-pretty well versed on the topic of havin’ a screw loose, y’know.” This time, he actually does get a tiny snort out of you, but it’s enough to have his lips stretching into a grin. “But, I’m like 100% sure that you’re f-fine. I think your brain is just b-bullying you again.”

“Typical.” You mutter, to which Toby hums in agreement.

“H-Happens to the best of us.” He shrugs. “But letting it, is a whole ‘nother i-issue. G-Getting all anxious about it is probably just m-making it worse.”

You let out a reluctant little sigh, shoulders drooping as his words wash over you. You knew he was right, you really did, but it was just so difficult. It wasn’t like you wanted to be a nervous wreck, you just always felt like you didn’t stand a chance against your own mind. How could you? It was your brain, the thing that kept you ticking, was it even possible to fight it?

“I know.” You breathe out, leaning into his hand minutely. He notices this, and smiles softly as he tucks that strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s just hard.”

“Well of c-course it is.” He answers back softly. “But that’s why I’m h-here. To help.” He observes you for a moment, eyes warm and affectionate, before he ducks his head down to press a gentle kiss to the centre of your forehead.

And he had meant that, because that’s all he had ever wanted himself. Help. A shoulder to lean on. Someone to rub his temples when his thoughts got too loud.

He knew what it was like to not have that. To have to wade through the thicket all on your own, shrouded in darkness as your own mind works against you. It was something he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy, and so he definitely let it happen to you - the love of his life.

His eyes wander over your face, quickly fixating on the dark circles ringing your bloodshot eyes. His smile morphs into a little frown immediately. “Have you b-been sleeping?”

Your eyes flick away from him, before you sheepishly murmur;

“Not really.”

“Eating?” He presses on, his hand moving to trace the curve of your cheekbone before doing the same to your jawline.

“Also… Not really.” You mutter, looking back to him for a moment - which proved to be a mistake. God, he looked so distraught. You feel your stomach twist.

“That’s… An issue.” Toby frowns. You watch as his eyes as a multitude of different thoughts pass through his mind, before he’s reaching down and curling his fingers around your wrist. He gives it a tug as he turns and starts making his way out of the bathroom, bringing you with him. “C’mon. I’m g-gonna cook you somethin’, a-and then we’re going straight to bed.”

“It’s like, five pm.” You chuckle softly, but let him tug you along behind him anyway, working in speedwalk behind him to keep up with his longer strides.

“So w-what? You g-got somethin’ against n-naps?” He counters, turning his head to throw a raised eyebrow back at you. “Haven’t g-gotten to fall asleep with you much this p-past week. All these ss-stupid - tweet! - stupid late night missions.”

You round the corner into your kitchen, where he doesn’t let go of you for one second even as he starts searching through cupboards with his free hand. “W-What do you want? I’ll make you something r-real nice.”

He turns to look at you with a smile, and you feel your heart flutter. A warm, gentle feeling flowing through your veins and relaxing muscles you hadn’t even realized had been tensed.

And you think, he may be right. You’d be alright.

However the cards fell.

—————————————————————————☆

Again, thank you for the request!! It was nice to write something fluffy for once

I feel cleansed ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

[withering-bloom]

Arlecchino x Fem Reader Angst

Arlecchino angst because I hate myself and I’m incredibly depressed atm, listening to good luck, babe for the past four hours LMAO

arlecchino x fem Reader Angst ,internalised homophobia, reader marrying a man tw.

2.5k words

The ballroom was gilded in gold and excess, every chandelier a mockery of the weight crushing your chest. Guests danced in practiced elegance, their laughter ringing hollow in your ears. Your fingers clenched the fabric of your white dress as you stood at the edge of the festivities, trying to make yourself invisible. But no amount of opulence could dull the aching in your heart.

You shouldn’t have looked. You promised yourself you wouldn’t, but when her piercing gaze found yours from across the room, it was as though the ground beneath you disappeared. Arlecchino stood in the shadowed corner, her presence impossible to ignore despite her effort to blend into the background. The tailored suit she wore fit her perfectly, but it was her expression that broke you. Her normally unreadable face now bore something raw, something vulnerable.

You forced yourself to look away.You have a husband now you're supposed to give your undivided attention and support to him.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to fall in love with her.

But you had.

Your father’s voice lingered in your mind like a cruel shadow, a constant reminder of why you were here tonight. His words were sharp, not with pride but with practicality, as he justified your union with the Demoisters, the family you're now bearing your last name with. It wasn’t about love or your happiness—it never was. This marriage was nothing more than a transaction, a lifeline for your father to pull himself out of crippling debt, no matter the cost to you.

Sometimes, in the back of your mind where your unspoken dreams slowly die , you wished the weight of his failures would finally crush him. Maybe then, you could finally escape the invisible chains he had wrapped around you for as long as you could remember. Even now, as a grown woman, you were nothing more than a pawn to him, your life reduced to serving his needs, his ambitions, his mistakes.

You’d tried to tell yourself it wasn’t his fault, that he was only doing what he thought was necessary to save your family. But that excuse had grown thin, and now, standing in the midst of this charade, you couldn’t ignore the bitter truth. He would never see you as more than a tool. And you—despite everything you wanted to believe—were too afraid to break free.

The realisation sank deeper, heavier, like a stone tied to your soul. You weren’t living for yourself. You never had been.Marrying the heir of another family wasn’t just an expectation—it was a lifeline for your family’s survival. You couldn’t afford the luxury of choice, let alone the freedom to love someone as dangerous as Arlecchino.

She’d warned you.

All that rang through your mind was the night before all of this happened. The last encounter you had with Arlecchino before she called off things with you for good.

“Your father is just using you,” she said, her voice low but trembling with restrained anger. Her eyes, usually so piercing, now brimmed with raw pain and frustration. “He doesn’t care what you want. He never has.”

You flinched at her words, but it wasn’t because she was wrong. It was because she was right, and hearing the truth from her lips made it unbearable.

“I—he’s my father,” you mumbled, the excuse tasting bitter in your mouth. You couldn’t meet her gaze, your eyes fixed on the floor instead, where the shadows of candlelight danced—so fragile, so fleeting. “It’s not that simple. I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” she snapped, stepping closer, her voice growing more desperate. “But you’re too scared to take it. You’re scared of what they’ll say. What he’ll say. That’s why you’re going through with this farce of a marriage, isn’t it? Because it’s easier to let them decide your life for you than to fight for what you actually want.”

Her words hit like daggers, and you hated how well she could see through you. She always could.

“You don’t understand,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your own emotions. “I have to do this. It’s my family—”

“It’s not your family,” she interrupted, her voice sharp enough to cut through the air. “It’s him. It’s always been him. He doesn’t care about you, about what makes you happy. He’s doing this for himself—to save his business, to save his reputation. And he’s dragging you down with him, forcing you to live a life that isn’t yours.”

Tears burned in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now. “It’s not that simple,” you said again, but the words were hollow, and you knew she could hear it too.

“And for what?” she pressed, her voice softening but losing none of its intensity. “For a family that doesn’t see you for who you are? For a man who doesn’t love you—and never will? That’s why you’re marrying him and not me, isn’t it?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

She took a step back, her shoulders trembling as she let out a bitter scoff, the sound laced with heartbreak. “Because they’d rather see you miserable than happy with me. Because they’d rather you live a lie than accept the truth. And you’re letting them. You’re letting them steal everything from you, including me.”

Your chest tightened, and the tears finally fell, hot and unforgiving, streaking down your face. You wanted to tell her she was wrong, to reach out and beg her to stay, but your voice caught in your throat. Because deep down, you knew she was right.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice so quiet it was almost inaudible. “I can’t fight them. I’m not strong enough.”

Her expression crumbled, her mask of anger giving way to something far more devastating—grief. “Then that’s it, isn’t it?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re going to let them decide your life for you. And you’re going to lose me in the process.”

She turned away, and for a moment, you wanted to reach for her, to beg her to understand, to stay despite everything. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

“I love you,” you said, the words breaking on your lips.

She paused, her back still to you. “Then you should’ve chosen me.”

And with that, she walked away, leaving you alone in the suffocating quiet of your own cowardice, your heart shattering into pieces you would never put back together.

But you had no choice.

Now, the gilded ring on your finger felt heavier than lead. Every step you took toward the man you were bound to felt like another nail in the coffin of your happiness. He smiled at you, oblivious to the storm raging within you, as he held out his hand to guide you into the first dance.

You moved mechanically, your heart somewhere else entirely—across the room, where Arlecchino stood unmoving, watching.

When the music slowed, and the crowd dissolved into polite applause, you excused yourself under the guise of needing air. The garden was empty, the cool night breeze biting against your skin. But it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver.

“I shouldn’t have come.”

Her voice was low, cutting through the silence like a blade. You turned to see her standing there, her suit blending into the shadows.

“Then why are you here?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

She stepped closer, and for a moment, you thought she might touch you, but her hands stayed firmly at her sides. “Because I had to see it for myself,” she said, her voice cracking. “Had to see you give yourself to someone else.”

“I've told you a million times it wasn’t my choice,” you said, tears welling in your eyes.

“There’s always a choice,” she hissed, her calm veneer cracking to reveal the fury and heartbreak underneath. “But you’ve made yours.”

Her words stung, but they weren’t untrue. You had made a choice. A cruel, impossible choice.

“I love you,” you said, your voice breaking as the tears spilled freely now. “I love you more than I can put into words, but—”

“But it doesn’t matter,” she interrupted, her tone hollow and sharp. Her hands twitched at her sides, as if fighting the urge to reach for you, to pull you close one last time. “It never mattered, did it?”

“That’s not true,” you whispered, stepping closer, but she stepped back, the distance between you an unspoken barrier you knew you’d never cross again.

“You’ve already chosen,” she said bitterly, her voice trembling in a way you’d never heard before. “And I’m not going to stand here and beg for the scraps of your heart. Not when you’ve already handed it over to someone else—someone you don’t even love.”

Her words struck you like a physical blow, and you recoiled, clutching the fabric of your dress as though it could hold together the pieces of your breaking heart. “This isn’t fair, Arlecchino,” you choked out. “I’m doing this for my family—”

“For your family,” she repeated, the words dripping with venom. “What about you? What about what you want? Or does what we had mean so little that you can throw it away without a second thought?”

“It’s not that simple,” you pleaded, your voice barely audible.

“It is,” she snapped, her sharp eyes blazing with a mix of fury and heartbreak. “You just don’t want to admit it. You’re a coward, and you’re running from the one thing that’s real.” Your shoulders stiffened as you raised your head up to look her directly in the eyes.

“So what?” you snapped, the words spilling out before you could stop them, sharp and defensive, laced with fear you refused to acknowledge. “I’m doing what’s best for my mother and my sisters. They need this—they need me to do this.” You folded your arms tightly across your chest, trying to steady the tremble in your voice. “You don’t understand. They would never… they’d never look at me the same if they knew about—about us.”

Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, willing yourself not to cry. You hated how weak you sounded, how transparent. “They’d disown me,” you whispered, almost to yourself now, the words like broken glass in your throat. “They’d hate me. My own mother, my sisters—they’re the only family I have, and if I lose them, I’ll have nothing.”

Her silence stung, and when you finally looked up, the hurt in her eyes was unbearable.

“They wouldn’t hate you,” she said softly, but there was an edge of disbelief in her tone. “They’d come to understand. They love you. Isn’t that what family is supposed to do?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You don’t know them like I do. Love isn’t unconditional in my family. Love is earned. And if they found out about this, about me…” You trailed off, your chest tightening as the weight of it all pressed down on you,while fiddling with the ring chained around your finger, “They’d never forgive me for ruining everything.”

“You’re not ruining anything,” she argued, her voice rising with frustration. “You’re just too afraid to live your life—our life. You’re letting their expectations cage you, and for what? To keep their love? What about your own happiness? What about mine?”

You flinched, her words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. “You don’t get it,” you hissed, desperation creeping into your voice. “This isn’t just about me. This is about them, about saving them from losing everything. And—and being with you? It’s wrong, don’t you see that?”

Her face fell, her expression crumbling into something between anger and heartbreak. “Wrong?” she echoed, her voice barely audible. “You think this is wrong?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly, but the damage was already done.

“Yes, you did,” she shot back, her voice trembling. “You think being able to allow yourself to love me is wrong. You think you are wrong.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “You don’t understand,” you repeated, weaker this time. “It’s not about love. It’s about survival. And if that means I have to bury this—bury us—then so be it.”

Her shoulders sagged, and she let out a shaky breath. “I hope it’s worth it,” she said quietly, her voice devoid of the fire it once carried. “Giving up everything that matters to you. Including yourself.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. You reached out, desperate, but her cold, empty laugh froze you in place.

“Do me a favor,” she said softly, her voice cracking under the weight of her own words. “When you stand at that altar tomorrow and say your vows, don’t think of me. Don’t look at him and wish it was me standing there instead. Because I won’t be waiting for you, not now, not ever.”

Her words broke something in you, but before you could respond, she turned and walked away, her silhouette dissolving into the shadows.

You didn’t follow her.

You stood frozen in the cold garden, the echoes of her parting words wrapping around your throat like a noose. When you finally found the strength to move, your steps felt heavy, every movement dragging you closer to a future you no longer wanted.

As you re-entered the ballroom, the weight of the ring on your finger seemed to double, a gilded chain binding you to a life of pretense. Your fiancé greeted you with a warm smile, but you barely heard his words. You saw only Arlecchino’s back as she disappeared into the darkness, taking your heart with her.

And as the music swelled and the guests toasted to your impending marriage, the truth settled in your chest like a dagger:

You would love her for the rest of your life, but she would never forgive you.

And you would never forgive yourself.

Live,love,lesbian angst.

Me writing this fanfic:

[cornsmash]

Sinister came back from hunting

Sinister x male!reader

Warnings: Grapic? description of cannibalism, rough sex, EVERYTHING IS CONSENSUAL, reader has regeneration powers and on somewhat same power level

Authors Note: feel free to request x female!reader, ftm!reader or anything. Also first time writing smut I was to scared to post on ao3 cuz of it’s curse so I’m posting here

Your breath hung heavy, drops of sweat gliding down your body. And there was Mark seemingly hungry today as he licked his blood-ridden lips. His cape was soaked with blood, you weren’t even sure how; you were too absorbed with how corny you thought it looked. The yellow on his suit shone brightly, maybe that was symbolic; you didn’t know or necessarily care. Here he was hands and knees on your bed crawling towards you. A smile that came straight from a horror movie filled his face. Despite it all you were getting hard, you just prayed Mark wouldn’t notice. But of course he did, looking down and his eyes widened. Smirking, he crawled to cage your body in. You silently cursed your boner, his legs splayed right under your pecs. The tent in his pants, ever present. You groaned as shivers of electricity rang through your Body, Mark snickered, his pants growing more in pace.

“Fuck he probably got finished eating” You thought. For some reason Mark had grown an insatiable hunger for human flesh, he craved the taste of iron. The resistance the tendons and veins caused, the way the muscles came apart and ate them like sausages. Though funnily enough he avoided the intestines “I’m not eating shit” he once remarked. You had rolled your eyes at that statement, for some reason he enjoyed your company. Whether it was because you were somewhat in equal power to him and couldn’t exactly die, or Mark just found you amusing and a good stress relief. In all honesty you couldn’t care, there was no one close to you. Only ties to the government that were soon destroyed, you were only an assets, a tool to be called upon

You giggled recalling that was the same statement Mark had used on you to join his side. Not that you were resistant, whoever was winning is who you’d ally with. Your own survival was more important than anything the GDA could offer. Not that they had much in the first place. Mark’s eye twitched slightly at your laughter, quickly turning stoic and rubbing his groin. A noise caught in your throat which caused Mark to start panting and rubbing even harder. His arms were placed on your chest and you could feel the slight shiver within them. The room’s air got hotter and heavy each time he grinded onto you, pushing his body lower and lower until it almost reached your groin. Your hands gripped the fabric besides you, your knuckles turned white as you tried to restrain yourself.

Mark ripped his mask off and stared with half-lidded eyes, sweat dripped from your eyebrow. Your breathing, more labored as you shut your eyes. Mark scowled at this, ripping his cape off, lifting his hips as he learned towards you. Your faces were only centimeters apart, even as you felt his hungry breaths on your skin you didn’t open your eyes. Iron filled your nose, causing you to twitch, your knees slightly buckled, the fabric twisting in your hands even more. Mark licked the corner of your mouth, he licked all over your face purposefully ignoring your mouth. When he finally reached your bottom lip he took his time dragging his tongue along it. Only then did you let out a long groan. Mark joyfully sneered at this, raising his hips even higher and slamming them on your groin. Furiously grinding down, letting all sounds out.

Your body would betray you and let out a few groans, you tried to keep your hands contained but it was too much. You grabbed Mark’s hip and forced him to grind even harder, what sounded like almost a cry escaped his mouth as moans flowed from it. His body shook furiously as he screamed “yes… Yes! YES!!”

Your hips thrusted up, the instinct couldn’t be stopped. Your eyebrows squinted together, your entire body was fuming at this point, sparks of electricity flowed through your body. Your groin ached with each grind, the pleasure flowing down as you felt your balls fill. But then you stopped, shoved your arms by your side as you groaned. Mark whimpered… he fucking whimpered, wasn’t enough to break your resolve. Though it came very close to, so you turned your head to the side silently cursing. Mark tried grinding again to make you continue, but after a minute he saw no resolve. He grumbled, down right ready to bite you until he realized what you wanted. With that he grinned, gripping your chin and forcing you to face him. Mark forced one of your eyes open and his facial expression was compelling enough to keep them open. He looked so desperate, his mouth unable to close as he panted. The blood across his face dried but smeared.

There was something in his eyes, a thing you would never mention out loud but.

“God he’s fucking begging for it” You thought, keeping your giggle internal this time.

Mark’s expression changed to that of a pout, whining while grinding down. All you responded with was furrowed eyebrows. He huffed and you raised your eye in question. So he grabbed your hand allowing him to use it as he rubbed his body. Going over his neck, wrapping your fingers around it, giving a tight squeeze. Violent shakes ran through his body, you noticed the obvious stain within his suit growing. Once you noticed you quickly let go, almost bringing back to your side before he hastily grabbed it once more. Mark brought your hand to his pecs making sure you squeezed and rubbed his nipples. He rubbed his thighs together the more you rubbed and squeezed his nipples back and forth. The shake in his thighs was undeniable, your other free hand quickly gripped his knee keeping them apart. At that he let out a low whine.

‘Pleaseee….” Mark asked so softly. “Pretty pleaseeee”

As he dragged your hand lower and lower, just hovering over his bulging groin. You made eye contact with him; your expression darkened. While Mark’s filled with glee, then you squeezed, Mark choked on his breath incoherent mumbles escaped his mouth, his shivers almost seemed like he was convulsing. As you continued to rub and squeeze his groin. Taking pleasure in the way Mark’s body convulsed, red blush flushed his face as he rolled. Humping into your hand moaning like a dog. He was frantic in the way he moved, quickly chasing the pleasure filling his groin. Mark felt the sweat begin to form under his suit creating a damp sensation all over his body. He was so close, so fucking close as you gave him one final hard squeeze. Then he felt nothing, all the electricity that was flowing in his body was draining. Though his limbs couldn’t help but continue to shake.

He stared daggers at you; teeth bare ready to rip your throat out. All you did was smirk at him as your cock was hard as a rock at this point. Mark quickly grabbed your throat as pressure tightened.

“Nuh-uh Mark, you know I love to hear, and I’m not hearing nothing” You sneered with a grin, pointing to your ear. Mark’s expression furrowed with frustration, the ache in his groin becoming almost unbearable. His lips curled and you could almost make out the shine in his eyes.

Mark was starving.

His hands released from your neck, panting heavily as ever. Whines spilled out as he rubbed his thighs together. The need, ever present but unable to give himself the pleasure needed. He stared at you for a moment, sighing and leaning his body back. Slightly off your groin and putting his hands on your knees for support. You tilted your head waiting for Mark to make his next move.

“Ugh FINE!” Mark snarled, snatching your hand. You made an unamused noise which made him lessen his grip. He stared between your hand and face, contemplating. You swear his blush got even deeper at that point. Before he adjusted his hips so his ass was more directly facing you. Mark brought your hand flat against it, you could feel a slight ridge. Confused you felt more as he guided your finger to the end of it.

A zipper.

Or something of the sort all you could tell that it was an opening that would expose his cock and asshole. Your eyes widened at the realization, while Mark turned his face away. His lips curled and eyes averted from your gaze. A dark chuckle escaped your mouth which brought his attention back. You slowly unzipped him and grabbed on his cock hard pulling it out the suit.

“W-Wait- Wait! I-m I-I Ughhhh…” he moaned, head leaning back as if he was about to burst. Just as close as he was, you brought him back from release by letting go. Mark’s head jerked back to you, water brimming his eyes in desperation to get off. All you could do was shrug.

You yawned “I'm getting pretty tired, how about you?”

Mark snarled “Ok that’s it!”

Before you could tease, he grabbed your hand and shoved two of your fingers into his hold. He almost damn near cummed with the way he moaned. He wasted no time manually pumping your fingers back and forth. He was slick, apparently vilitramites could produce a substance that helped prevent friction from their holes for some reason. His legs started convulsing and the aching sensation in your groin became unbearable. Your nostrils flared and heartbeat quickened as you saw Mark use your hand as a personal dildo. Sweat pulled from your pores as you stared intently as your fingers would disappear into Mark’s hole. His head leaned back exposing his neck, as more incoherent mumbles and moans released from his body. Your legs shifted, trying to deal with the ache in your groin. Each moan coming from Mark’s mouth filled your ears, making you pant, your eyes furrowing as your eyesight locked onto his hole.

“Fuccckkk… Fuck me! God please fuck me!” Mark damn near screamed as his head lopped to the side. Pre-come and slick flowing out as it drenched your stomach. At that you bit your lip, flipping Mark onto his back while shoving all four of your fingers into him. His back arched legs bent up, a stream of precome flowed even more. You would’ve thought he’d come by now, but Mark’s biology was much different. He was now gripping the fabric on the bed as you slammed your fingers into his hole. Specifically aiming for his prostate, as you dug into it, moans and cries kept falling out of his mouth.

“Yes! F-finally! Ug..hhhh fuckkkk! YES G-GO ALL OUT! KEEP FUCKING ME UNTIL I FUCKING PASS OUT” He moaned, bitting his lip, blood spilling as he licked up. Your thrusts became even harsher as precome started staining your underwear. If you weren’t so horny, you’d call Mark weird for what he said. Once his precome became a consistent stream, that oh so familiar thick white fluid, you knew he was close. You quickly took your fingers out to which Mark growled. But quickly subsided as he saw you rip your underwear off and quickly shove your cock into his hole. He smiled, and let out a jittering laugh, his convulsions grew more as he wrapped his legs around your back. Locking you in a possessive hold, your pants were heavy as you dove your nose into his neck. Thrusts continuing to pummel into his hole at an animalistic rate.

Smelling the sweat and blood churned something within you, your lips started to curl exposing your teeth. Mark noticed this grabbing the back of your neck tight. And turned his head to fully expose his neck, especially the artery.

“B-Bite..’ He heaved out.

You bite down hard, puncturing his skin and deep into his flesh. Your thrusts, aggressive , stopped going so far back and became deep hard grinds. Blood seeped out Mark’s wound, he let out soft moans, his precome piling up onto his stomach. You didn’t just stop there, you bit every surface of his neck. Blood seeping from every cut, Mark’s neck and the bed underneath him soaked in blood. Shivers ran through your body, as you continued to grind, pleasure coursing through every vein. Mark shook as pleasure overtook him, he bit down on your shoulder. A moan left your body as his teeth teared through the layers of muscle. He kept chewing, finding any bare skin to feast upon as you held his body down with yours.

Mark was moaning like a dog, his legs shut tight around your waist as he chewed. His head fell back on the pillow seeing the massive sea of blood flowing from your neck and shoulders. The taste of your blood made him shiver, he quickly went back to lapping your neck with his tongue. Your thrusts continued as you shut your eyes, your wounds were quickly closing again as Mark lapped as much blood as he could.

“F-f-Fuck fuck.. fuck! FUCK!” He moaned his body convulsing for a final time as he cummed, it flowed out his penis and some hit his chin. His head flopped as he tried to regain his breath, but you weren’t done with him. You gave him a moment lapping up the blood seeping out his neck. While he giggled before slowing starting your thrusts again.

“I didn’t cum yet” you stated, Mark’s eyes widened as you continued an assault of thrusts. You ignored his cries, as you felt pleasure build up in you. Sweat dripped from your forehead, Mark’s moans filling your ears as you felt yourself convulse. His legs tightened even more around your waist, as your thrusts became more uneven. You loudly groaned and with one final slam, you felt your balls empty out, cum shooting into Mark’s asshole. The cum didn’t stop flowing for a good minute all while Mark grumbled and whined. As you finished, you flopped onto Mark, both of you panting. Neither of you said a word, it was strangely domestic, your eyes fluttered asleep as you saw Mark fall into slumber as well. You never understood why he ‘liked’ you so much, not that you cared to question. But there was no doubt he treated you better than a simple sex toy. Maybe a companion, or someone not be completely afraid of him just for the fun of it.

In the morning you felt yourself being pushed off the bed and falling onto the floor. You groaned and rubbed the back of your head.

“Seriously?” You asked annoyed.

“What? You're like a bear weight on top of me, plus I need to get cleaned up.” Mark stretched, itching the dried blood from his neck. You rolled your eyes taking the time to stretch your legs from where you sat. Mark walked towards you.

“I’ll keep your cum in me though.. for good luck” ;

[waliminium]

Tailored Encounters

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader Warnings: implied age gap, fluff, light romantic tension, no major triggers Word count: 659 Summary: As the daughter of Frank the tailor, you’ve always been surrounded by impeccable suits and high-end clients. But none quite as captivating as Harvey Specter. When he starts making regular visits for minor suit "adjustments," you begin to notice a pattern: it’s not just the clothes he’s interested in.

The bell above the door chimed softly, and you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. You’d recognize that confident stride anywhere.

 “Harvey,” you greeted, glancing up from the workbench where you were adjusting a hem. “Back so soon?” 

“Frank in?” he asked, his tone casual.

 You gestured toward the back room. “He’s on a delivery run. You’re early, though. The suit isn’t ready until Thursday.”

 “Actually…” Harvey adjusted his already-perfect tie, his gaze sweeping the shop. “I think the cuffs on my last suit might be a little tight. Thought I’d stop by and have them checked.”

 You raised an eyebrow. “Tight cuffs?” You’d measured that suit down to the millimeter, and you knew it was flawless. 

“Yeah,” he replied, with a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Snug.” 

“Uh-huh.” You fought back a grin, setting your tools down. “I’ll get the measuring tape.” 

He didn’t seem particularly concerned about the supposed cuff issue. Instead, he wandered around the shop, casually running a finger along the fabric bolts stacked neatly on the shelves. He lingered by the counter, watching as you prepared. 

“You’re good at this,” he said suddenly. 

You blinked, startled. “At tailoring?” 

“At everything,” he clarified, with a glint of something you couldn’t quite place in his eyes.

 The next day, the bell jingled again, and there he was—Harvey Specter, sharp as ever, holding an accessory box in his hand. 

“Forgot to pick up a tie pin yesterday,” he announced, setting the box on the counter. 

You gave him a look. “You don’t usually forget things.” 

He shrugged. “Even I’m not perfect.”

 You opened the box to inspect the pin. “This is the one you ordered last week. What’s wrong with it?” 

“Nothing.” He leaned against the counter, his smirk firmly in place. “But maybe you can suggest something better.”

 You rolled your eyes but humored him, pulling out a few alternatives. As you showed them, he asked, “So, are you always here, or do you take time off?” 

You tilted your head at the sudden change in topic. “Depends. Why?”

 “Just curious.” 

Later that evening, as you were locking up, Harvey strolled in again, no excuses this time. “You’re late,” you teased, holding the door open for him. 

“Had a meeting,” he replied smoothly. “I was hoping to catch you.” 

You let him in, flicking the lights back on. “Don’t tell me—another cuff issue?”

 “No,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual. “Just wanted to see how you’re doing.” 

You paused, caught off-guard by the sincerity in his tone. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?” 

“Because you’re always busy in here,” he said, gesturing to the shop. “Do you ever take time for yourself?” 

You shrugged, fiddling with a stray thread on your sleeve. “It’s a family business. There’s always something to do.” 

“Maybe you should let someone else handle it for a night.” 

“And do what instead?” 

He smiled, but this time it wasn’t his usual smug grin. It was softer, warmer. “Let me take you out to dinner.” 

The next day, he returned—because of course he did. This time, there were no pretenses, no accessories to inspect. 

“I meant what I said last night,” he began, leaning on the counter. “Dinner. Just you and me.”

You crossed your arms, feigning skepticism. “Is this another one of your deals? Butter up the tailor’s daughter for a discount?” 

He chuckled. “No deals. Just an honest invitation.” 

You hesitated, trying to ignore the way your heart raced. “I don’t know, Harvey. You seem like the kind of guy who always has an angle.”

 “Not this time,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ll even let you pick the place. No strings attached.” You studied him for a moment, searching for the catch, but all you saw was sincerity. Finally, you relented.

 “Fine,” you said. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, his grin widening.

[revelboo]

You works are awesome, but i also wanna remind you not to overwork yourself! :) Have a nice day/night! ;3

Honestly, considering this blog is only 24 days old, it’s you guys I’m a bit worried about. Y’all good? Cause holy crow…

The Weakends Pt 5

TFP Ratchet x Reader- argument

• Putting a tool away, Ratchet glances over at the empty counter, the medbay quiet around him. Who’d have thought he’d miss your questions and companionable chatter? Need it to work. That silence drives home the fact that you’re avoiding him. Have been for days now and it’s worming under his plating, a disquiet that sparks through him, because you belong here. Your loss making him snap at everyone, because it’d be one thing if you were just skulking about the base, but no. Since you got upset with him, you’ve kept far away. Sulking like a sparkling.

• Setting the little trowel aside, you drag one of the mums you’d bought closer and wiggle it free of its little plastic pot. It’s warmer today, sweat slicking your skin as you work. Really, you’re just keeping busy. Trying to distract yourself, because you’re so frustrated you want to scream. Mostly at a certain white and red moron. And yourself. You know you’re both too proud to bend now. Neither one of you willing to back down no matter how silly the argument actually was. Even if staying away feels like you’re punishing yourself more than him.

• The sound of gravel popping under tires lifts your head and you squint in the sun. Bumblebee and the kids back again to pester you into coming in? Lips pressing into a thin line when you spot the ambulance, you yank off your gloves. Surely, he isn’t going to actually apologize? Blowing out a breath, you stand and stretch the kinks out of your back. Your little house is far enough from town and the main road that Ratchet can transform without worrying about being spotted and he does, walking the rest of the way over with a scowl like he tastes something foul. Cocking a hip, you cross your arms and wait for the apology. “Well, you’re not dead or dying,” he growls, optics narrowing at you.

• “Yeah, doing great,” you say, tone tight with anger as your fingers dig into your upper arms. “So, I don’t need a medic.” The ‘I don’t need you’ coming across loud and clear. That open hostility in your stare ramping up his own irritation that you’re so petty you’d made him drive all the way out to retrieve you. And you turn your back to him, bending to roughly seize a potted plant. Ignoring him. After he came to get you? His servos close around your middle, hearing your startled gasp as he lifts you. And then you whip around, chucking that plant at his head. It bounces off, scattering dirt all over him as you glare at each other. “Put me down. Right now.”

• Your heart’s racing, the adrenaline souring inside you as you realize you just hit him with a mum. And he’s not just going to let that slide. His optics shutter, jaw clenching as he vents angrily and you tense for the yelling. The fury. Instead, one of his servos slides over your torso as he adjusts his grip. That servo settling against your breast where your frantic heart is pounding away. Grabbing that servo, you mean to shove at it, but just hold on. Slowly his venting evens out.

• He can feel your heart thumping against his servo, frantic with fear. Of him. He can’t move, snared by that rhythm, knowing he’s causing it. As he remains still, that too quick beat slows. Calming. Your little hands shift on his servo. “There’s work to do. I need my assistant,” he says. Can’t make himself apologize, but isn’t leaving without you either, even if he has to just take you. You’re coming home. And you whisper okay so low he almost misses it, that tension winding through him just unraveling.

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[thelastofmel]

It’s worth it…

(Jesse x f!reader)

Word count: 2343

Summary: Jesse sneaks around with his boss’s daughter.

Warnings: No warnings really; just fluff, kissing, sneaking around, sweaty!jesse, daddy!joel

A/N: Sorry this is short, I’m currently sick and I don’t know if there are any errors! Thank you for requesting it 🫶🏼 gif set: https://www.tumblr.com/watchbroken/782047651345645568/young-mazino-as-jesse-the-last-of-us-203-the

You followed the sound the power drill, it was the perfect indicator of where your father was. You bounced down the old creaky steps, hand gliding down the railing until you reached the bottom.

"Hello?" You called out as you wandered through the empty rooms. The drilling stopped and instead was replaced with the sound of wood smacking against the ground.

You stopped short at the fridge, grabbing two beers and moving toward the back door. The sticky summer air hit your face the second the door was opened, immediately making you wish you had stayed in the air conditioning.

He was stood a couple feet down on the grass, over a makeshift table, measuring it and then marking it with the pencil he always seemed to keep behind his ear.

He planned on extending the deck, you tried to talk him out of him, being that it was the dead of summer and too hot for him to be working out in the sun all day but, here he was.

"Whatcha doing?" You asked coming off the existing deck and walking across the plush grass toward him.

"Hey baby, figured I'd get a head start on the extension," he raised his head from his task and smiled, seeing that you came bearing drinks, "Thanks darlin' I was just about to grab one"

"Great minds think alike" You smiled, coming to stand beside him and handing him the beer. He cracked it open easily, taking a long sip.

You cracked the lid of the other beer in your hand ready to drink it just as you heard someone come through the back gate.

"Hey Jesse," Your dad called over, throwing his arm over your shoulder and kissing the top of your head, "Y/N grabbed us beer, why don't you take a break?"

You watched Jesse nod, dropping the wood near the side of the deck. His dark shirt was clinging to his biceps and when he turned to head over toward the table you noticed he has saw dust on his shirt.

"I didn't know Jesse was working today" You mumbled, glancing at the tools on the table in front of you.

"He wasn't. I gave him a call this morning to help me with the extension of the deck here, just got back from the lumber yard for me"

Interesting.

"Did they give ya any trouble?"

Jesse dug into his back pocket, fishing out a credit card and receipt before handing it to Joel. "No sir," he nodded your way when you held the beer out to him. He took it, squinting at you through the sun. "Hey, y/n"

"Jesse" You had to bite the inside of your cheek and look down at the grass. You had a hard time ignoring how good he looked with sweat glistening off his skin.

You wiggled out from under Joels arm, standing between them and feeling the hot sun heating your exposed shoulders while Joel explained his plans for the deck, moving his hands in the air.

"Sounds like a lot of work" You said, patting your dad on the back when he finished, "But I think it'll look great"

"Oh it'll just take the weekend, Jesse and I will tackle the job like we always do" He took a long sip from his beer before turning his attention to Jesse, "Right Jess?"

Oh right, Jesse was still standing there. You hadn't know because you refused to look at him, even when you felt his stare bore into the side of your head.

When you did finally look over to him again you saw him nodding, sipping on his beer and wiping the sweat from his forehead, not his usual talkative self.

"Oh–uh that reminds me, the lightbulb in my room blew" You moved your toes into the soft grass under you, "Think you have time to change it for me?"

"I'll do it" Jesse blurted out, a little too quickly and you rolled your eyes. "I mean, I can do that–if that's okay with you sir, it'll just take me a couple minutes"

Joel looked between the two of you before sitting his beer down on the table and taking his pencil from his ear again, "Yeah, that's fine, you know where I keep the bulbs?"

"Dad," You laughed, now walking backwards towards the house with Jesse in tow, "He practically lives here, of course he knows where you keep everything"

"Yeah, just make it quick Jesse. I wanna get this started soon"

"Yes sir" Jesse repeated, following you up the deck steps and through the back door.

"Yes sir" You mocked, once both of you were fully inside. He stopped short at the cabinet beside the kitchen and grabbed a bulb while you made your way to the stairs.

He was behind you on the stairs now, reaching out and pinching the back of your thigh that was exposed from your shorts. You squealed as he laughed, smacking his hand away and running up the stairs.

When you got into your room you immediately went to the window where the sun was shining through, seeing Joel down below—a perfect view to keep an eye on him.

"We have 5—maybe 10 minutes" Jesse said sitting the lightbulb down on your dresser. He knew it never needed changed.

You moved to where he was standing and shut the door behind him, pushing him up against it and kissing him hard.

He kissed you back moving his hands to your face, holding it in place to he could deepen it, but just as his tongue grazed yours, you were pulling back.

"Why didn't you tell me you were helping my dad today?" You kept your hands on his chest, moving your head back further when he tried to kiss you again. "It's supposed to be your day off—we had plans"

By plans you meant telling your dad you'd be going to your friends house but actually meeting Jesse at the end of the street and him driving the two of you to the next town over for a date.

"I know" He sighed, moving your hair back and kissing your neck, when he spoke again his voice was muffled, "But you know how your dad is–"

You nodded, eyes fluttering close at his mouth on you, "You do know you can tell him 'No' from time to time, it'd probably do him some good"

Jesse hummed against your skin, remembering what you'd told him about hickies before pulling back completely, "He'd ask why and you know I'm not a good liar. We both know he won't like what my actual plans are"

"Well you could've told me" You moved your arms around his neck as he looked down at you.

You were mad at Jesse. But you were more mad at your dad–even though he didn't know he was interfering with your love life.

If he actually knew that after all the years of him bringing Jesse around that the two of you began seeing each other he may have an aneurysm. It's not like it was illegal, you were both 18. But he trusted Jesse and he would never allow him to be sleeping with his daughter. You were sure it would jeopardize Jesse's position on Joel and Tommy's crew. It wasn't worth the risk.

You couldn't be too mad, you knew he was a people pleaser, especially when it came to your dad— constantly getting roped into random home improvement projects when they weren't working an actual site.

"I knew you'd be mad" He admitted, moving his thumb across your cheek, "I'm sorry"

"You're lucky you look good sweaty like this" You rolled your eyes, leaning up and kissing him.

He immediately melted into you again, this time grabbing at the back of your thighs and picking you up effortlessly. He moved away from the door as you wrapped your legs around him, hands finding his hair.

He took a couple of steps before laying you gently on the softness of your bed, lips never leaving yours as he moved his body on top of you.

You were lost in him, you always were. The two of you didn't get too much time together, usually having to sneak around and lie but it was worth it for moments like this.

You smiled against his mouth as he took your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged carefully. Your hands moved up his biceps, feeling his muscles as he supported himself above you.

You tapped his arm, breaking the kiss in a lusty haze, "Where's he at?"

Jesse groaned, moving to his knees and leaning over to the window. He looked for a second before coming back down and crashing his lips into yours, meaning you were still in the clear.

You moved your hand down his stomach until you came into contact with the waist band of his jeans. You smirked, beginning to play with the zipper when his hand caught yours, moving it away, "We can't start something we can't finish. He's right down there—"

You groaned, purposely bucking your body against him as you moved on the bed. "Well you took away my Jesse time today, I'm just trying to make up for it"

He sighed as he moved down your torso and lifted your tank top to expose your stomach, a place he learned he could leave all the hickies he wanted and never get caught. He pressed sloppy, wet kisses as he spoke, "Maybe we should just come clean"

"You know that's not an option" You whined, watching as he came back up to chest, resting his chin there and looking at you, "He might actually kill you"

"If it means I get to love you out in the open then it's worth it"

"Dude, you are so corny" You groaned throwing your head back to look at the ceiling but you weren't able to hide the blush that crept onto your cheeks. "How about you go down there and tell him you're going home? Then we can still go out and you know–"

You had moved your hand back towards his crotch. But he stopped you again, catching it and bringing it up to his mouth as he playfully bit at your fingers. 

"I already committed to helping him" He sighed, kissing your palm before dropping your hand, "Unfortunately, I'm a man of my word"

"You disappoint me" You chuckled, moving the same hand back to his hair, pushing the black locks off his forehead.

"I'm sorry baby" His body was pinning you to the bed, his voice a soft whisper against your skin. You could've combusted right then and there.

His lips found yours, gently pressing against your mouth with a sweetness that seemed almost tentative. His body molded against yours, drawing you impossibly closer. The kiss was deep and slow, his tongue moving against yours in a dance of desire.

He moved his hand under your shirt, cupping your breast, every touch left a trail of fire in its wake. You felt him moan against your mouth, making butterflies erupt in your stomach. That is until the sound of the creaky stair steps floated through the air and under the crack of your door.

"Fuck" You whisper, pushing Jesse off you and sitting up on the bed just as the door knob turned and your dad was walking in.

"How long does it take to change a damn lightbulb—"

The silence in the room was thick and you could hear the heartbeat pounding in your ears.

"Hi daddy" You squeaked as he took in the scene. Your top was lifted, exposing the bottom of your stomach and Jesse was sitting on the edge of your bed with his hair sticking up. Both of your lips were swollen in an unmistakable way.

"Did you change the bulb?" He asked Jesse, impatiently, moving his hands to his hips.

"Uh–yes sir I did"

Joel reached over and flipped the switch, of course, the never broken light switch turned right on. He looked around the room slowly before looking back at the two of you.

"Alright, well let's get back to work then"

Jesse nodded, stealing a look at you before moving from the bed. Just as he came to the doorframe, Joel reached out and stopped him, planting a rough hand on his shoulder.

No, no, no.

"Word to the wise—if you plan on seeing my daughter, you need to ask for permission"

From the bed your whole body tensed up, praying that your dad didn't hurt him. You were 18, he couldn't control who you dated but in this case you didn't say anything, too worried for Jesse's safety, "Dad, what are you talking about?"

"You guys think I don't know all the sneaking around you do?" He wasn't mad, at least from what you could tell. "Why do you think I've been keeping him busy?"

"Well," Jesse cleared his throat nervously wiping his hands against his pants, "Sir, can I date your daughter"

"No" Joel answered immediately, amused, smiling big and proud.

"Dad" You groaned, throwing a pillow at him. The fact that he hadn't already thrown Jesse into a wall was a good sign.

"Finish the deck and I'll think about it" Joel said, again amused at the look on your face as he slapped Jesse hard in the back.

"Yes sir" He smiled, feeling confident as Joel nearly pushed him out of the room. You heard the steps creaking as Jesse walked down the stairs.

Before your dad shut the door he peeked his head back in at you, where you were still on the bed, "For the record, the answer is yes—he's a good guy— but I want my deck finished first"

You laughed and smiled big at him, taking your pillow in your lap, giddy at the idea of no longer having to hide your feelings for your dad's employee.