#he always sticks to his morals and stands up for the right thing

[you-have-startled-the-witch]

btw this is a preston garvey love and appreciation blog. if you hate preston you will die by my blade.

MINUTEMAN BLAST

[jqyszn]

Like what you see?💤

paring: dom!bestfriend!sunghoon x sub!fem!reader

genre: smut, friends to lovers (mdni !!)

summary: in which you come home to find your best friend getting off, weird but it's natural right? not until you heard him calling out for you.

warnings: smut ofc, masturbating, unprotected sex (don’t be a prick, wrap your dick!!) , panty stealing… riding, body worship, fingering, biting, degradation, spitting, marking, squirting, profanity, dirty talk, pet names (slut, cum dump, princess), breeding kink, sunghoon is a perv,, this is honestly just pure filth too😭 (Imk if i missed anything!!)

wc: 1.5k (1,597)

a/n: this is my first fic (😭) i apologize in advance for the cringe wattpad like writing,, also english isn’t my first language so please ignore any grammar mistakes <3 i hope u guys enjoy and im so sorry for the wait like i don’t know why it took me like three weeks to make a 1.5k fic😭😭😭 i promise for my other works they will be more hastily written🩷🩷

taglist: @lelelelelelenim @iamkali @jjonghoonist @ramenoil @deobitifull @velathaheigeros @enhaz1 @thinaswreck @heeseungsslutt @cherriruto @yohanabanana @hvnyujiq @fightqueen @parkhonnie (some of the tags aren’t working so i’m so deeply sorry for everyone who asked and isn’t here </3)

“can i come over?” you read the writing on your phone as you best friend sunghoon messaged you. “yea, sure :) i’m still at work though but you have the extra key anyway.” you replied to him putting down your phone and typing away at your computer. your phone buzzes once again but desperate to rest, you ignore it and continue working.

on the other hand, sunghoon is at your door in a heartbeat. he unlocks the door with ease, walking in, the smell of you instantly hitting him. he inhaled your lingering scent as he closes his eyes imagining him nuzzling into your neck, pounding into you, taking in the smell of your natural perfume. “fuck.” sunghoon groans as his cock starts to feel heavy.

he makes his way towards your room, your scent growing more intense as he groans internally. “what are you doing to me y/n?” he thinks about his morals for a minute before diving into your laundry basket, picking up a used lace thong. he curses at himself but he doesn’t stop. instead he goes on your bed and propped himself up nice and pretty.

he holds your panty in his left hand bringing it closer to his face as he takes a fat whiff of you as he threw his head back. his other hand starts palming his refined boner as he continues sniffing at your undergarment. he pulls down his sweats down to his knees along with his boxers, freeing his hardened member. “oh god..” he grunts as he drapes your thong over his leaking, pink tip. staining it with his glossy precum.

unbeknownst to him, you’re already back home taking off you heels. “hoon?” you call out neatly tucking away your shoes as you make your way to your room. “fuck yes y/n, you’re taking my cock in so good~” did you hear that right? you stopped in your tracks thinking there must be someone else in your room. scared, you peep your head in your doorway, looking ahead into your room.

and to your surprise, it’s sunghoon. pumping his cock furiously, his eyebrows furrowed, lip bitten, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and your thong over his length. fuck he looked so hot. you always had a thing for sunghoon but not wanting to ruin your friendship, you kept it to yourself and your trusted diary. you can’t help but clamp your legs together, almost moaning at the sight.

you decided to test your faith, so you walked over infront of your bed. “shit y/n! your pussy is so fucking tight princess!” sunghoon whimpers out, he opens his eyes only to see you. standing infront of him, arms crossed and face flushed with a crimson tone. “like what you see doll?” sunghoon smirks not showing one bit of embarrassment. instead, a sense of pride.

“i.. uhm..” you stutter shocked by the lack of embarrassment he showed on his face. “you love it huh? watching your best friend fuck himself with your skimpy thong? huh? look at you. i bet you’re all soaking wet from watching me pump my cock for you isn’t that right, slut?” he whispered, walked over to you, leaning down into your ear moaning playfully as he nibble on your earlobe.

“ahh.. hoon..” you whimper at his words, his hands trailing up and down your body stopping where you wanted him the most. “shit. no panties? do you really are just a slutty whore aren’t you? practically begging any man to cream your pussy right? you better fucking stop. because this tight, wet, creamy cunt is all mine. understood?” he degrades as he slaps your warmth, making you jerk forward as you nod your head in response.

“use your words doll. you know i hate stupid little whores.” he orders rubbing circles into your clit making you moan and clinging onto sunghoon’s broad shoulders. “you’re gonna let me breed your sopping pussy yeah? fill you up with my babies to show everyone who you belong to right?” he mutters over your neck, sucking and biting marks all over your neck. “yes hoon.. i’m all yours.” you finally managed to moan out.

“good girl.. now come here.” sunghoon ordered as he picked you up effortlessly, slamming you down on his lap earning a yelp from you. “may i?” he asks for your consent before stripping you to which you consented. “oh fuck doll, you’re gorgeous.” sunghoon admires your soft skin, rolling his fingers over your nipples licking his lips. “feels good hoon~” you whine out bucking your hips into his. “i know pretty girl..” he coos a finger teasing at your wet hole, him waiting for a reaction.

“hoon please.. i want you.” you whimper grinding on his fingers as he smiles in satisfaction. “beg for it then. tell me how much you want me to fuck you dumb.” he grins looking down at you and watching your face contort from the feeling of his long and slender fingers sliding into your core. “i want you to fuck me until i can’t walk anymore.. i need your cum in me hoon. i need it so so bad!” you squeal at the sensation of his fingers going in and out of my sopping cunt. wet, gushing sounds reverberating around the room. “good girl..” he grunts, speeding up his pace.

you feel a familiar knot in your abdomen, panting uncontrollably as you arch your back, “fuck hoon i’m close..!” you whimper, him smirking back at your call as he continues to finger you in the ‘come here’ motion. “cum for me then slut.” he commands as you release on his fingers. the sight was so dirty, your squirt soaking his fingers and your sheets, his mouth sucking your juices off you and you arching your back, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape.

“fuck,, you’re such a slut huh?” he teases, pulling his digits out of you and shoves them in your mouth. “now suck.” he commands, to which you obey. swirling your tongue around his fingers coating them in your saliva. his cock twitches at the sight, sunghoon wanted to absolute ruin you.

sunghoon sat comfortably on the bed patting his bare thighs, “come here.” he commanded, smirking at you. “what are you waiting for? is it because i’m not heeseung?” he gritted his teeth, the flashback of you giving heeseung a lap dance engraved in his mind wishing it was him you were grinding all up on. “no.. it’s not that” you mutter out quietly, crawling to sunghoon straddling him.

“what is it then? hm?” he caressed your thighs softly, looking at you expectantly. “it’s just.. i’ve been waiting for this since we became friends hoon..” you ground your hips down on his throbbing length, smiling at him softly. His eyes darkened at your words as he tightened his grip on your hips, pushing you down onto his lap roughly, feeling your wet pussy sliding along his engorged cock. "oh is that so? enjoying yourself aren’t you?" he smirked at you once again.

He grabs you by the hair and pulls your face close to his, thrusting his tongue into your mouth, kissing you with a deep passion as his cock twitches against your slick hot cunt. you kiss him back passionately moaning into the kiss. “trust me doll, you’re gonna forget who heeseung even is after i fuck you dumb.” he growls as he grabbed onto your hips pulling you towards himself forcefully slamming his cock deep inside your tiny hole stretching it wide "fuck... yes.... fuck..!" he grunts.

“you’re so fucking big hoon~!” you whine out watching him slowly thrust in and out of you. “i know doll, i know.” he replies cockily while grunts he slams himself against you harder, grabbing your breasts roughly and squeezing them, feeling your nipples get rock hard under his fingers as he continued to slam into you, using you like a toy as he pounded you relentlessly. you moan his name like a mantra, completely fucked out.

“yeah that’s it. moan my name like a whore. you’re all mine understand?” he glared at you waiting for your answer. “yes hoon! i’m all yours!” you pant out, bouncing up and down on his girthy cock, your cunt convulsing around his length. he smirked proudly, thrusting himself deeper inside you until he was buried completely within you. "that's right, doll. cum all over my fucking dick." He whispered huskily, grabbing onto your hips tightly as he began pounding away at you mercilessly, driving you crazy with desire.

“shit hoon i’m cumming!” you scream, feeling yourself come undone. a thick, creamy gloss ring coats the base of his dick, dripping down onto his thighs. “can i cum in you doll?” he asks for permission as you nod your head, “yes yes yes! cum in me sunghoon! i want your load in me so bad!” you beg, your body shaking from the stimulation your yet receiving.

“so fucking good, all wet and creamy all just for me.” he grunts as he finally shoots his milky, thick load inside of you. guiding your hips as he rides out his high. he pulls out of you, you whining at the emptiness. “look. watch my seed drip out of you.” he orders as you watch his gooey cum trickle from your well fucked hole down onto the sheets.

“are you gonna give me aftercare or are you gonna be a dickhead?” you cocked an eyebrow

“only if you be mine forever.” he smirked jokingly, getting towels to clean you off.

“i’ve always been yours.”

[sphireath-wisp]

Hihi!!! I was just wondering if you could do just little cute scenarios with sae, yoichi, and rin (gn! reader + all individual)

im sorry if this isn't as detailed as you wish but I'm just really craving tooth rotting fluff+ take your time (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Sypnosis: In the busy hustle and bustle of life, it's sometimes hard to find time to spend together. When there's time, what are the hobbies/little things both of you do together?

Warning: My readers are always morally grey in some way because it's more realistic to me, not proofread

Author's note: Thank you so much for reaching out and giving me this ask! I'll try my best to weave my story together to match your request. I owe my friend a good favour, so I hope you don't mind me adding her BL favourite here. Thank you so much for your understanding ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕

Featuring: Sae Itoshi, Yoichi Isagi, Rin Itoshi x GN! reader

SAE ITOSHI... finds himself most at ease during late-night drives with you in the passenger seat. The windows are down, you're sticking your head out of the car despite his multiple warnings, and he can't stop smiling. His free hand is reaching for you and tugging your shirt down, and his eyes drift to your pouting face in the rearview mirror.

Usually, his late-night drives together with you have no real destination. Acting purely on a whim, Sae always drives you wherever feels right. Sometimes, it's the port right by the beach. Other times, he's driving you to an empty parking lot. Today, he decides to let you have the privilege of choosing where to go.

And when you ultimately decide to go to a playground out of all places, he scoffs but does a U-turn without hesitation.

Is it currently 11 a.m. and does he have a schedule he almost-religiously follows? Yes, and he has a feeling that he won't have enough time to drink his salted kombucha tomorrow morning. Is he tired? Absolutely. Why would he do all of this when he knows damn well he has practice tomorrow?

Hell, he's asking himself that as he opens the car door for you and helps you out.

With a cheeky peck on Sae's cheek, you wash away his thoughts and he returns the favour with a kiss on your forehead. "Let's go get a new car, yeah?" Sae shuts the car door behind you. You're bewildered, to say the least, "I'll let you pick a design this time."

"Look! It's here, it's here!" Your boyfriend, YOICHI ISAGI, geeks out in the manga section of your local bookstore. "Oh yeah, didn't they release figures already? Season 2 is being released soon, right?"

His smile only grows wider when you nod. He's crouching down beside you as you tower over him, leaning down slightly to watch him stare at the various covers. Standing back up on his feet with two in hand, Isagi seems to have reached a slight dilemma.

"Ah... should I get the latest chapter? Or should I..." Oh, isn't that the romance manga you recommended to him? The main couple was cheesy, but it reminded you a lot of how your relationship with Isagi is. Turning your head away, you find yourself stifling a giggle - how cute.

After a moment of deep thought, Isagi sulks. His shoulders slump and he kneels back down, placing both the mangas back on their shelves. Like a defeated puppy, he crouches there for a moment in silence.

"What's up?"

"I can't decide, so it's better if I don't get one or else I'll spend the rest of the day regretting it," He's solemn, your heart clenches when he forces an awkward smile. It's not a big deal, but... "You can borrow my copy y'know, don't be shy."

He perks up. It's a simple gesture, but the simplest things in life have always pleased Isagi the most. With a bashful laugh, he picks out the manga he wanted - he can indulge a little, he decides. "Right, I'm sorry. You didn't need to see how let down I was over something so small." Honestly, Isagi's a little shy. It's only been a few months into the relationship. He wants to respect you and your boundaries.

"I'll get you something in return, thank you."

RIN ITOSHI yelps when he stumbles out of your bedroom to the dimly lit living room of your apartment, sucking back a hiss from the base of his throat when something jabs at his foot. His disappointment only grows when he lifts his foot to see the imprint of a Lego brick on the sole. "What do you think you're doing? At 1 in the morning?" The once groggy Rin Itoshi is now wide awake, meeting your avoidant gaze. As you continue to piece together your Lego set, you mumble, "...couldn't sleep. I usually don't have trouble, but I don't know what's up with me today."

Despite his reluctance, he walks over to you and plops onto the carpet beside you. "Aren't you a little too old for this?" Rin begins while mindlessly piecing bricks together. His back is against your shoulder, partially leaning his weight onto you.

You scoff once he grabs the manual. "You're one to talk," you retort as you pull apart Lego pieces, "In case you haven't realized it, you happen to be playing with my Lego set."

"In case you haven't realized it, I'm helping you, idiot," There's no real malice in his voice. He crosses his legs and straightens his spine, turning to gather the pieces in a pile and redo everything from scratch. You clearly seem to be struggling. He'll never admit it, but he doesn't like the aching gap in his chest when you're not in bed with him.

It's a good excuse in his head. He's simply helping you out so you'll return to his embrace as soon as possible. It's just that. He's totally not enjoying playing with Legos with you - he convinces himself mentally with starry eyes when you both finish the overwhelming set at 2:30 a.m.

"Phew! Now to take it apart!"

"Hell no."

Taglist: @mikmwehehe, @saexy (while you did archive your old account, you are technically still on my list!! Please tell me if you want to get removed and I'll do it asap)

[velvetures]

could i request a ghost x “strawberry/cutecore/hello kitty” reader?! basically just everything is pink and they are super bubbly :>

pls and ty 🙏🏻

Simon "Ghost" Riley & Cutecore/Hyperfeminine Aesthetic

a/n: I loved this request... but it was my first attempt at the aesthetic/vibe as a whole and I'm not sure if I hit the mark. I used this pic as my inspo. ):( Summary: What it's like for Ghost to have an "everything in pink, please." gf, and what kind of feelings go along with it. TW's: suggestive content 18+ ONLY, established relationship, possessiveness?, def not proofread (the usual), fem!reader.

Of all the women that Simon ever entertained the thought of being, one like you didn’t initially even present itself as a remotely interesting option. The idea of someone such much different from himself sounded like nothing less than a good way of fucking up someone else’s -otherwise- normal life by inserting himself into it. You just always seemed so damn happy and excited about even the smallest of things; Practically amplifying the good feelings floating around in the air and blasting them right back at him. Never without something pink on and dressed up like you were minutes away from attending some kind of fairy party literally scared Ghost away from having anything to do with you.

You on the other hand, weren’t exactly sure what it was that made Ghost so averse to speaking to you more than a few words at a time. Yet made it your very private little mission of sorts to snoop and poke around until you found some kind of answer as to why such a massive and expertly lethal man couldn’t bear to stand within arms reach of you. He just intrigued you for some reason or another. Only getting glimpses of the man’s real self in his eyes -the only visible part of him- and having to make your next moves based off of nothing more than gut-feelings and the hope that you were reading his signals correctly.

At first, it crossed your mind that your preferred aesthetic of sorts could be a bit of the problem. For most people it might appear a bit too much, and when looking at Ghost dressed almost head to to in black with a skull painted on his masked face… there was good reason to assume it in the first place. What you didn’t know was that it was so much deeper than your affinity for lace-trimmed socks, Mary Jane’s, pearls, and practically anything hyper-feminine and in a shade of pink. Ghost didn’t believe you were weak or predisposed to acting childish. You held a massively significant job in journalism and worked harder than most people he knew at what you did. You just happened to enjoy everything around you looking like some damn cotton-candy tea party.

What bothered him was your sweet personality and an intrinsic value he held for just how fucking innocent you were towards him and everyone else around you. People could be utterly horrible right to your face, and you’d silently keep the hurt to yourself and never fight back against what they’d done. Revenge wasn’t something you cared for, while it was essential to Ghost’s motivation in his work and private life. For a long time he couldn’t balance his morals of being involved with you at all with the thoughts in the back of his mind about how much he might twist and form you into something unrecognizable. Something a lot less… pink. A person that didn’t enjoy such small little things like how a skirt had small pink flowers embroidered on it, or if the little bows you’d stick in your hair had a lace fringe on the edges.

Oh but how things changed when Ghost finally couldn’t stand looking at you without thinking about how nice it would be to have his arm wrapped around you, pulling you tight up against him to keep everyone from staring. The Lieutenant always had a weak spot for you and your sugar-sweet personality and looks. But goddamn did he start loving the color pink more than a professional murderer should. All the hues and tones of that fucking color began reminding him of you no matter where he was, or what he was doing. For the longest time, he’d been worried that he would be the one that changed you, all the while he was too deep inside his own mind to recognize that you were the one controlling the direction things were headed.

Just looking at you made him shudder with feelings of possessiveness and adoration. Standing there happy as could be with thigh-high white socks and a fluffy pink skirt, all dressed up just to go out to eat at a little late-night pub because he couldn’t stand the idea of having to show his face in the bright daylight. You knew to a certain extent that Ghost appreciated the way you lived your life just a bit more feminine than average… but the depths of his thoughts and ideas about you were surface level to say the least. He just knew what you looked like clinging to his arm walking down the street; His polar opposite and yet so happy to be close to him. A darling smile… pretty and glossed lips… frilly things on almost every piece of clothing you wore and just utterly adorable to him.

Knowing that gave him… fantasies.

Wanting to see all of the things he could buy for you to wear for him. Dress you up almost like his own little doll and get to show you off to anyone who’d look, only to have the pleasure of threatening them to do more than take one good glance. So delectable, squeezable; but for him and him alone. You were the princess Simon didn’t realize he wanted and unlocked this strange and insatiable urge to spoil the fuck out of you with every pretty pink or glittery thing you could wish for, just so he could take you home and watch you try it all on for him while sipping a bourbon on the couch.

Fuck… There wasn’t a better way to spend an evening. Well, almost.

Perfect didn’t count unless he got to see you under him, laying back on pink silk sheets you’d been adamant about buying for his house, watching your eyes roll back with every moment he made. Damn if he couldn’t make it more than fifteen minutes without needing to calm himself down, before needing to put you on your hands and knees so those pretty little fucking faces you made wouldn’t make him finish before he got started. If he was lucky he could leave hot and pink handprints on your ass for making him feel so good. Simon knew you weren’t sheltered. But to him you were still innocent. Kind in so many ways he didn’t comprehend or believe was humanly possible. For fuck’s sake, you allowed him to come into your life.

Him with his scarred hands, bullet holes, shitty disposition. A man who preferred destruction and death for it’s permanence and certainty. Simon, with his need to hide his own face and go by a name that lacked humanity. All of him starkly contrasted you in so many ways it made him spin with confusion and oftentimes guilt. Questioning why he’d been so weak as to touch you in the first place. Allow himself the chance at someone so full of life who could see the world -literally- through rose-colored lenses.

Yet you brought forth happiness and fulfillment that the soldier hadn’t found in his years of searching desperately for a purpose. He found someone he could visually see, and palpably touch who hadn’t been torn down or beaten into submission in one way or another. Sweet and innocent you had found such a simple yet powerful way of living life the way you wanted to. Ghost felt like he could protect you. Not only in the genuine aspect of loving you so much that he got physically ill at the thought of losing you to anything; but also because you were so full of life and love to give to everyone around you. He needed you. Selfishly. Then again, there needed to be more softness and genuine innocence and happiness too. And so long as he was alive and breathing, he’d always make sure you were safe.

Reblogs & Comments are Appreciated <3

[softspiderling]

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You rarely had a night by yourselves most days.

Majority of them, you were either hanging out with Rafe, yours or his place, didn’t really make a difference, or you were out with your friends.

This Saturday night, you were by yourself, a rare occasion.

Rafe and Sarah were in Charleston with their family for some charity that Rose was a part of. When Rafe first invited you to come, you declined, saying you’d rather stay home and hang with your friends or something (he was huffing and puffing about it for hours afterwards, until you made it up to him). When the weekend came around, you realized that all of your friends seemed to be busy: Cleo and Pope were driving out to fish with his parents and made a whole weekend out of it, John B and JJ went to Hatteras island for some surfing competition and Kie had to help her parents at the Wreck because they were hosting an event.

John B and JJ had invited you to tag along, but you a: you weren’t a good enough of a surfer to participate in the competition and b: you didn’t want to sit at the beach by yourself while the boys were in the water. You had half a mind to take up Rafe for the invitation to the charity but it was extremely last minute and you didn’t have anything to wear so you scratched that idea and came to terms with spending your Saturday night by yourself.

Since the event at the Wreck didn’t start until 7, you spent the day hanging out there with Kie, snacking on some fries, drinking your weight in iced tea and texting Rafe until you had to leave to let Kie prep for the event.

you: i’m actually so bored, i’m starting to regret not coming with you 😞

rafe❤️: told you to come, didn’t i?

rafe❤️: shows that you should always listen to me.

you: pfff, please, that is not the moral of the story.

you: maybe i’ll just go to a party 🤪

rafe❤️: funny.

You tossed your phone on the couch and ran your hand through your air, sighing in frustration. As you reached for your phone again for mindless scrolling, your eye caught onto your nails, and you paused. You hadn’t done your nails in a while, mostly because you were so busy. But now would be the perfect opportunity. So you got all your nail polishes and tools out of your closet and started on prep.

About four hours later you still weren’t done. You spent the first hour on looking for inspiration on Pinterest and then the next half hour booting up Netflix so you had something to watch while you were doing your nails. Your iced coke was chilling on the table, the UV lamp curing the last layer of polish on your right hand before you could finish with top coat. Your phone was long dead, but you were too lazy to get up from the table to plug it in, your back killing you from sitting hunched over your table for so long. Yawning, you put on the top coat on your last nail before sticking your hand under the lamp, ready to fall go to bed right after you were done. Now you remembered why you hadn’t done your nails for a while. After you were finished, you packed all the things away, plugged your phone into the charger and passed out in bed.

You woke up with a start, disoriented for a second. It felt like you’d been asleep for barely an hour, but you were unsure what woke you from the slumber, when the door bell rang again.

“What the hell,” you muttered to yourself, throwing a sweater over before you padded downstairs, hearing that the person at the door has begun to knock excessively.

“Jesus Christ, I’ll be right there!” you called, hurrying down the stairs. You glanced through the window, trying to see what psycho was ringing on your doorbell in the middle of the night, just to see Rafe standing in front of the door, clearly upset.

You opened the door, barely getting a word in before he rushed inside, grabbing your arms.

“Rafe, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked hotly, staring at you before looking you up and down. “Who have you been with? Why the fuck didn’t you text me back?”

You were starting to get anxious from his behavior and you cupped his face. “Rafe, stop. Breathe. What happened?”

Rafe took a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a second.

“You haven’t replied to a text since like before eight, and your last message was about going to a party. I thought something had happened,” he gritted out. “No one was able to reach you and my calls weren’t getting through to you.”

You exhaled deeply. “God, I thought something happened to Sarah. I’m fine, babe. I was doing my nails and my phone died,” you explained, lifting your hand to show off your nails. Rafe looked at him, his eyes narrowed.

“Pretty,” he grunted, before wrapping his arms around you. “Never do that again.”

As you hugged him, you could feel the tension bleed out from his limbs and you couldn’t help but smile into his shirt.

“You’re crazy, Rafe. As if I would ever go to a party by myself,” you huffed, pulling away to look up at him. “How did you even get here so fast? I thought you guys were supposed to spend the night in Charleston.”

Rafe clenched his jaw. “I took the boat. Ward is super pissed off because I left them stranded.”

You bit back a laugh, only shaking your head at your boyfriend.

“You’re such a worrier, I was asleep.”

“Yeah, well, how the fuck was I supposed to know that?” he muttered, pulling you back into his arms.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: quick lil drabble bc i thought of how unreachable i am when doing my nails

[strawbeelemonade]

ROMANTIC HEADCANNONS: Hobart Brown

i don't know much about Hobbie, just what i've seen of him in the trailer. i think he's fun! :D this was made before the movie's come out by the way, so we're going off the barebones research ive done on the wiki and my silly brain impulses.

🕷- If Hobart has a crush on you, you will probably not know about it.

🕷- But there will be signs.

🕷- He doesn’t project a lot of his feelings on the surface. He keeps his cool in most cases. But you WILL get little smiles and hums occasionally.

🕷- When you mention you liked one of his guitar picks, he’ll give it to you.

🕷- He’s not afraid of eye contact, especially with you.

🕷- While he randomly practices he might catch you watching him in awe, and when your eyes meet he won’t look away.

🕷- He starts playing faster.

🕷- He’ll greet you first out of anyone in a group every time. Even if he has to walk passed someone else to say hi.

🕷- He seeks you out first and gives you a little “hey.”

🕷- If he’s sat and you come over he’ll pat the spot next to him.

🕷- “C’mere.”

🕷- Is comfortable sitting in complete silence.

🕷- If you you don’t have any spider powers and you guys have to run he will grab you.

🕷- No questions asked. YOINK.

🕷- His outfits are full of sharp edges and spikes, so he’s mindful. But there’s a sweet spot tucked right at his side with a space between his collar and jaw for your head to rest.

🕷- He likes it. Keep your head there.

🕷- He’s always coloured his nails in with sharpie, but If your lucky he might even let you do it.

🕷- If you have nail polish on hand he’ll let you paint his nails instead, which he ends up preferring the look of and might make the switch.

🕷- Polish is way messier, though. So he was hoping you’d do it whenever he sees you.

🕷- He’ll do yours. Give him your hand.

🕷- No matter how tall you are, Hobart will almost certainly be taller.

🕷- while holding a conversation he’ll get closer to you then he would with other people.

🕷- He’ll greet you by locking your fingers with his in a high five format… if that makes sense

🕷- His hands are huge, and unusually warm. You tell him it’s nice.

🕷- His reaction time is crazy, if a projectile is headed your way, and he can stop it? Best believe he’s gonna catch that shit. And chances are he’ll be close enough to you to just stick his arm in front of your face and stop it.

🕷- He will opt to stay close to you.

🕷- If you give him any band pins or patches he will put that on the front of his jacket. If there’s no room he’ll make some.

🕷- He has an affect on the emotional environment in a room.

🕷- If someone tries to intimidate or square up to him chances are they are gonna look pretty stupid. He’s just unbothered.

🕷- If someone tries to bother you he’ll let his presence be all the message they need to get lost. He won’t budge, no matter what. He’ll look out for you, Dw.

🕷- He will stand behind you and just watch them with this foul, unimpressed look on his face.

🕷- Canonically Hobart is super politically active, so his moral compass is strong. he stands up for what’s right and defends what he believes in. If he defends you, it will mean a lot.

🕷- If you’re anxious, scared or stressed you can hang out with him for maybe like 5 minutes and you’ll immediately feel better. He likes that you come to him for things like that.

🕷- You make him relax easily. You’ll have no idea, but you have a huge affect on him.

🕷- I can imagine he writes music in his free time, he might play a song or two for you if your interested…

🕷- He’ll get a little shy, so make sure to tell him how cool you think it is!!

🕷- You make him go shy more than you realise.

🕷- In his universe Hobart has canonically experienced homelessness, so basic amenities that you might take for granted mean a lot to him. He’ll share what he has with you, no matter how small of a thing it is.

🕷- If you packed a little lunch or grabbed a snack from somewhere and share some with him then he will smile a bit.

[kiraman]

vi is so fucking fascinating to me, I am studying her like a bug in a jar

she was a CHILD putting on her father's gauntlets in spite of the fear gathered in her little body, in spite of just witnessing someone she's known all her life die in a HORRIFIC way (benzo), still she rises, still she says I HAVE TO DO THIS still she takes on men three times her size and fucks them up so bad that silco has to send his shimmered up fucked up monster to try to stop her and STILL she persists, indifferent to the worst happening because she’s survived the worst already. furious and unstoppable and determined to do whatever she has to survive and ensure those she loves survive, no matter the cost.

vi under all that debris, bruised, bleeding, screaming, watching her family die, staring at the monkey head in shock and crying because this can't be happening, they were so close...

sobbing in pain until her father saves her just to watch helpless as he dies protecting her. they were so SO CLOSE to surviving, so close to escaping and everything gets ripped away in a second

vi trapped in that prison cell for years and years on end with the ghosts of her family and her guilt for company, drowning in guilt, wondering if her sister's still alive, no doubt thinking about how she LET her slip right through her fingers

the last thing vander said to her was "take care of powder"

she's let the man who's her FATHER and loves more than anything down.

"whatever happens is on you" / "protect the family" / "take care of powder" .... but she can't, not anymore, she's fucked it up and let everyone down (re "I should have been there for you, for everyone") all she can do is sit in that shitty prison cell, on that freezing floor, hungry, bloody, counting the hours until she can somehow rescue powder

Vi is piercings and tats that no doubt got infected, she's a child becoming a woman too fast, she is a danger-zone high-risk disaster area and won't back down, won't give up.

Vi is soft!! self-sacrificing, protective, supportive. ("You wanna talk about today?", "We've all had bad days, but we learn, and we stick together") brave, SMART, witty. she's got a tongue sharp as her fists and a barbed, delicious sense of humour. she gives people nicknames (cupcake, pow pow, pretty boy) and fights with everything that she's got to protect what she loves!!!! she is her father's daughter!!!

she is idealistic and expects the world to see her reason, look at things through her eyes and wanna make a change ( "This is how things are, how they've always been. I was so stupid to think it could change. / "oil and water that's all there is" )

and yes! vi is not flawless. she's obsessive (re sevika. to her eyes she is the last thing standing between her and silco/getting to silco and saving jinx) and complicated, morally ambivalent because she makes mistakes, flies off the handle like a comet crashing through everything in her way, makes reckless choices because she has to. she is selfish when it comes to jinx and would do anything to keep her safe.

also

look at the way she hugs the people she cares about!!!

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about my current favorite thing is emphasising JUST how heartbroken Wade is over Nathan still but being fully understanding of it because he's surprised that he agreed to be an undefined relationship with him in the first place.

There's no "Well why don't you just bring your daughter here? I'm open to share you can bring your wife too" it's just... Acceptance.

Acceptance that Nathan is leaving him. "Oh... okay.."

"I had a great time with you, Wade. Don't think I didn't it's just... It's not the same."

".. I know.."

He wipes a tear off his face with his thumb. "It's not why you think.."

"Yeah.." but he clearly doesn't believe him.

"I'm really sorry.. I didn't mean to.. I thought I was going to stay. But I can't. I can't leave my daughter alone like my father did to me." He mutters this last part.

Wade gives a nod. Wow. Here, he was being dumped and abandoned, and still, he was doing it in the hottest way possible. By sticking to his family. Too bad Wade didn't have any family. He wanted one so badly, but it never felt complete. And even when it did, just briefly, he put them all in so much danger that its better to be alone.

But Cable didn't need protection. He could take care himself, and Wade didn't need to worry about him being kidnapped and held hostage.

His voices had begged him not to do it.

Told him to break the damned thing so Nathan could never leave... but he showed him the second he fixed it. Excitedly wrapped it up and gave it to him. He physically handed Nathan his own heartbreak. Presenting the wrist band to him like a proud cat who finally killed that annoying bird its owner complained about. He couldn't keep it hidden. Morally - pft. Yeah, those pesky things - Morally, he couldn't keep Nathan from seeing his daughter. He'd visit and come back. Back to Wade. And for some stupid reason? Wade thought it would stay like this. He thought that by doing the right thing, Nathan would see him as good and love him more..

That was the last time he litsened to that stupid cricket on his shoulder.

"...Bye, Wade." He told him. Even kissed his forehead goodbye. And then?

He left him standing there. Alone.

It's why he has such a hard time believing Logan when he comes around. For months, he paced and worried that once again he's done the right thing too well, Worried that by getting his suit repaired, once again excitedly presenting it to him, a nice little ribbon. Logan had cried when he got it. Hugging him and breaking his ribs.

He waits for him to leave. He waits for him to realize he's not happy here. He waits for him to give him the same speech, but it never comes.

Eventually, he tells him that if he doesn't have the balls to break up with him, then he can just leave. Logan has no fucking clue what hes talking about because he thought things were going well. He dosn't immediately jump to being upset and instead just tilts his head in that stupid little look he does.

"... what's wrong, Wade?"

Triple W. He hates it. Everyone is always asking this, and he can't ever explain why. He couldn't explain such complex emotions that he himself barely understands.

"Turns out.." he starts, looking almost defeated. Small. And tears come to his eyes. "When a guy says you remind him of his wife... it's not a good thing.."

Again, he's confused because Wade would rather not talk about him much. He hurts too much when thinking about it because none of his relationships ever end on respectful terms like that. They either die or dump him, call him nuts, run away. Or... They sit him down.. tell him they're leaving... and then leave.

He doesn't want Logan to be a third. Oh, it was ridiculous how much he loved him. How much he LIKED him. Sure, he had a great time with Nathan, but Logan felt different. He couldn't pinpoint why. He spent hours comparing the two in his head, trying to find WHY Logan was different.

The last person to do this to him, after Nathan, was Vanessa.

Yes, Logan can live forever LOVE him forever, but so could time travelers. Yeah, he could stab Logan and genuinely blow off some steam with him, and he'd be fine, but he was used to being gentle with partners, used to holding back with V. To make sure he didn't hurt her, Ever (well- unless, she asked - but that was different) So why with him did he feel so.. trusting? Was it his smell? Was it the fact that he could be pissed off at him and still make Wade his safe foods? Was it how he snored? How he sat there and endure his bullshit like now? With that pathetic pitiful smile with such big canines and beautiful eyes that he could swim in? WHAT WAS IT?

"...What if she's dead?"

"W-what?" He holds himself tight, stomach turning and hurting with worry, feeling nauseous.

"What if my wife is dead?"

He swallows "That dosn't help your case."

"What if.. You're nothing like my wife?"

Wade glances at him, semi perked up. "...What do you mean?"

"Well.." he starts. "What if this is real?"

Wade tilts his head like a puppy.

"What if... our entire marriage was fake because her power quite literally gave me false memories and forced me to believe all of it was real? What if... what we have IS real?" He mutters, putting his cheek in his hand.

He blinks, processing, smiling, immediately cringing, and crinkling his nose. "OH- Wolvie... ouch....ew." That didn't sound very consensual...

"... yeh.. well.. shit happens."

He hates it when Logan connects with him so much, having something very similar of his own happen.

"So.. we good?" Logan asks.

"Huh?"

"Are we good? Yknow... cleared up the whole... thing?"

"What thing?"

"God really gifted you the memory of a goldfish didnt he? You told me you wanted to break up."

He crosses his arms, pouting. "No! I said If you didn't have the balls to break up with me then leave. I-i can't handle it."

Logan sighs heavily. "Fine. Then Im breaking up with you."

The look of pure shock quickly turns to sadness as he looks away, voice breaking. "..Ok‐ay.."

He rolls his eyes. "What are you doing later?"

"G-gonna cry in my room and eat an ungodly amount of ice cream..."

"....But your lactose intolerant.."

"I said what I said! W-why!? Why do you even care!?" He snaps at him, tears running down his face, clearly having over upset himself with his own mind.

"Hm.. You wanna get dinner instead?"

This one line flips a switch In wades dumb little head as he stares at him with wide eyes. "...Y-you're asking me out? Again??"

"Mhm. Long as you dont have a secret power that brainwashes me into it."

He shakes his head. "I-i dont."

"Promise?" Logan smirks, raising a brow.

"Promise!!"

And just like that he's on his lap, nuzzling all over him and telling him how mad he was at him but also how hot it is, and if they could get pasta for dinner.

The point of this story is that you are loved and your brain is a bitch. You really gonna litsen to a little bitch?? Pssh no. You're stronger then that. Act like it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

girls just wanna have fun 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, blackmail, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your struggle to push back against your controlling father result in a misguided crush. (Silverfox AU)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself

Bucky emerges with a tray and you try not to break your cool demeanour. You don’t want to try too hard. You hear him before you see him, grumbling at Sam who as always, won’t shut up. 

Shelby’s bottle is already empty as she squeezes it between her hands. She sits upright on a chair, teetering on the edge as if she might flee. You wish she’d chill out. As Bucky puts down the tray, you sit up, letting the towel catch on the chair and pull down from your chest. 

“Mm, looks yummy,” you say, trying to look at the chocolate marshmallows and not Bucky. 

You ignore Sam’s scoff as Bucky faces you. You grab the towel and stand, “oops.” 

You open it before you readjust it, showing off your red bathing suit and how little it covers. You notice Bucky look but his reaction is less than you want. He looks away whereas Sam lets his tongue poke out like some stupid horny frat boy.

You roll your eyes and knot the towel firmly. You grab your bottle and drain it, catching up to Shelby as she lingers at the edge of the scene. 

“Another?” Sam offers. 

“Sam,” Bucky hisses. 

“What? Those things aren’t that strong. They're all sugar,” Sam is already reaching into the cooler, another grunt from his stoic friend. “Come on, ladies, help yourself to something sweet.” 

You hesitate and Shelby gulps loudly. 

“The smores,” Sam chuckles and offers both you and your friend a new drink.  

You take yours but give Shelby a long look as she accepts hers. She’s only supposed to be moral support, you can’t send her home blitzed. Oh well, your dad won’t care if she stays over. 

“More for me,” Bucky shrugs and turns his attention to the tray. 

Shelby peers over at you. She’s always waited for you to take the lead and you always did so reluctantly. Not anymore. You’re a woman and you’re making this world what you want. She could take a lesson or two. You take a drink then set your bottle down. 

You come up next to Bucky as he skewers a marshmallow and you do the same. He’s orderly in how he has his little sandwich. The graham crackers are placed neatly side by side and chocolate on top of one, waiting. 

“Did you fix your hose?” You ask, mustering some small talk that makes you want to cringe. 

He doesn’t answer right away. You poke a skewer through a marshmallow and he shrugs, “need a new one.” 

You repress a sigh as he goes to the fire. You hear Sam laughing. You look back but you can’t tell if it’s aimed at you or Shelby as he stands across from her. Oh well. 

You follow Bucky and put your marshmallow over the fire with him. 

“Like I said, you can borrow ours,” you smile. 

“Mm, should I ask your dad?” He challenges as he looks at you from the corner of his eye. 

“I’m an adult, it’s my house too,” you insist. 

“And he’s okay with you being here?” 

“Wow, you know, you’re sounding a lot like him. You two might get along if you tried.” 

“Hm,” he hums and retracts his skewer, “you weren’t always this mouthy.” 

He leaves you by the fire, stunned. You look over your shoulder and pull back the stick, your marshmallow a flame. You blow it out and hurry over to the table. You scramble to make your own sandwich as your host perfectly slides his marshmallow onto the chocolate. Your own is a skew and you burn yourself trying to get the marshmallow off the skewer. 

“Shoulda done that first,” he shakes his head. 

You give him a look. He is quickly breaking the fantasy. You don’t need another father, you need to fuck. Or at least, think about fucking. Ugh, this is a disaster. 

“Thanks, I’ll do better next time,” you smile again. His cheek ticks. 

He takes his sandwich and backs off. You look at yours. You don’t want it. You grab a napkin and put it under the melting stack and carry if over to Shelby. Sam is getting closer, looming over her. 

“Hey, Shel, I made you one,” you offer her the sticky mess. 

“Mm, definitely not the culinary type, are you?” Sam scoffs, “won’t make a housewife of you.” 

“It’s a smore,” you say defensively as you hand over the sandwich. 

“The top is cracked.” 

“Yeah, and? It’ll just break when she bites into it,” you put your hands on your hips as you face him, “like, mind your own business or whatever.” 

He chuckles, “God, you girls are fun.” Shelby slumps further down as Sam’s gross leer dips down in her direction, “not too late for a swim, you girls could come for a dip.” 

Shelby doesn’t say anything and you push your shoulders straight. You can tell she’s uncomfortable and you can only assume what he’s been saying to her. You expected as much but in the moment, you’re not so alright with it all. 

“She doesn’t have a suit and the water’s cold,” you deflect, “but thanks. You’re welcome to go dive in by yourself.” 

“Oh, I can do whatever I want,” he rebuffs, “but I know what you’re looking for, huh? You just wanna see me take my shirt off. All you have to do is ask, baby.” 

He peels off his tee shirts and your grimace. You look at Shelby as she holds the uneaten smore and her half-empty bottle. Oof, slow down, girl. 

You look back at Sam as he puffs his chest out. Ugh, this isn’t supposed to be about him. You look over as Bucky sits on the foot of a lounger and nibbles on his smore, staring into the fire. The flicker casts his features just perfectly. Goddamnit! 

“No one wants to see it--” 

“I know exactly what you want, baby,” he growls and steps closer. You can't deny that his chest is nice, even for his age. He still has a good amount of muscle, though a touch of softness in his stomach. “Don’t worry, I can handle two at a time. She’s kinda sexy, you know? That t-shirt with the turtles is getting me going--” 

You shove him, slapping his chest. That is not alright. Not just him, but you. You shouldn’t have brought her here. You might know what you’re getting into but she didn’t. You’re a lousy friend. 

“Come on, Shelby, let’s go home before my dad gets back.” 

“Oh, yes, run home, but daddy’s right here,” Sam taunts.  

You roll your eyes and wave at Shelby, “come on.” 

“Can I keep the smore?” She asks. She’s tipsy. 

“Sure,” you grab her elbow and take the bottle away from her. You give it to Sam and send him one last scowl. You turn and lift a hand, “bye, Mr. Barnes, see you around.” 

“Baby, you know I can get you what you really want. Just think about what I said,” Sam intones as he steps closer. 

You elbow him away and drag Shelby up the lawn muttering. Fuck. That was so stupid. What a fucking dud. You let yourself through the gate and circle around to your house. 

When you get Shelby through the front door, she has marshmallow and chocolate stuck around her lips. She chews a mouthful as she falls onto the bench by the shoe mat. 

“I’m sorry,” you lean against the wall across from her. She just munches. “I shouldn’t have taken you over there.” 

She looks at you and nods. She’s sleepy. She’s not going to forget any of this and even if she did, you won’t. 

“You don’t get it, Shel,” you push away from the wall and sit next to her. “I don’t know but I just... need to break out. I need something,” you put your elbows on your legs, “it’s not fair to bring you into it but I swear, Shel, by the end of the summer, I am going to fuck Mr. Barnes.” 

“What?” She croaks and chokes down her last bite. “You--” 

“It’s all I think about. I don’t know, I’m so fucking horny all the time. It’s like one day I just woke up and had this need--” 

“Oh?” Her eyes widen again. 

“Don’t look at me like that. Tell me you never got any sort of... urges.” 

“Well, yeah, I guess, but I just... deal with them. Play some switch and forget,” she shrugs, trying to wipe the stickiness from her mouth drunkenly. She seems so childish in tweaks doubt in your chest. Are you out of your depth? 

“I mean it, you know? I’m sorry,” you sit up and lean your head back. “I’m a shitty fucking friend.” 

“Mm,” she hums, “tonight you were, but not always.” 

You smile softly, “how about you kick my ass at some MarioKart?” 

[reynalovesfiction]

· 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖚𝖑𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖛𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖓 — Alexei Makarov

— “Try harder, dear. No one escapes from me. And the ones who do, their heads always end up on a goddamn stick.” —

.||° Gender: male

.||° Age: unknown (appears in his mid twenties)

.||° Ethnicity: Russian

.||° Species: Deity's Vessel [ SUCCESSFUL.]

.||° Yandere type: stoic worshipper

Appearance:

.||° Black, hunter eyes that used to be ocean blue. Suppose to represent his deity's eyes.

.||° he has skin paler than what a human suppose to be. Almost as if it was cold and dead.

.||° his hair is a dirty blonde in the hairstyle of a mullet. Though, his hair appears a bit thinner (not too thin) before he was chosen to be a vessel.

.||° He stands at 6'7 (200 cm), lean, and black arms fading from his skin with glowing white veins.

.||° Has a scar on his right cheekbone.

.||° Can shapeshift into a big mass of black liquid with eyes, mouths, hands, legs, and tentacles.

.||° Wears standard lobe piercings with long sliver rectangles earrings.

.||° mostly wearing suits, in a black colour scheme.

Personality:

.||° Ruthless, not afraid to show that to the world and let it burn in front of him.

.||° More serious when lost sanity. Prefer his work to be more professional.

.||° Despite his serious demonic demeanor, he does have some sarcasm and sass in him. But, it always felt unnatural. Like his human side wants his body back.

.||° humane. But too humane to the point people felt doubt to him.

.||° Has some sort of god complex. Happens due to the fact that he's the deity's vessel.

.||° despite his god complex, he has a sense of morals. Unlike his brother.

With a lover:

.||° A stoic worshipper, looks serious but would do anything for his lover.

.||° Would they want coffee? He would kill someone to steal their coffee for his lover. Would his love want new clothes? Say no more. He would kill and steal things just for his darling.

.||° Worships the ground their lover walk on.

.||° would force people to work with the both of them; him and his darling.

.||° oh, his darling want a seat? Use one of his men's back. It's more comfortable as a chair.

.||° Would be the only kind thing he tolerates.

.||° Is a wonderful baker. Would bake his darling sweets just to make them stay.

.||° doesn't share his darling.

.||° Let's hope his darling doesn't ignore his worshipping! Or else their friends are just a puddle of organs.

Strengths:

.||° Force manipulation (Human form)

→ ables him to use physical force fields to crush, twist, break, turn and chop people's bodies.

.||° Tendrils (True form)

→ Ables him to pull, snap, and pierce people with his tendrils.

.||° immortality

→ due to his duty as a vessel, he was cursed with immortality by the deity in him.

Weaknesses:

.||° Something kind (true form)

→ he feeds off of people's fear and hatred towards him. But, kindness disgusts him.

Story:

Living in a darker side of the villain governmental town, Alexei lived in a very dark cult with his brother, Roman. They were inseparable. But something happend at the age of 19.

The cult believes that the hero government were disobeying their deity because their deity is the true hero. So they needed their deity to kill all hero government personnel by in the body of a villain.

For their ritual, they needed two people just in case one of them fails to become one with the deity. And Dmitri was the first one to succeed after years of trying.

But, the human side of Alexei is fighting. Just for his brother.

He just want Roman to survive.

Trivia:

.||° Unlike his brother, he loves animals.

.||° His brother and Alexei shared most things to remind him of his human past; has trouble sharing darlings.

.||° loves to watch the stars.

.||° He likes his human meat ate in a gourmet, fancy way

.||° sometimes wished to disappear.

.||° Doesn't eat human food, but does eat pastries.

[telail]

☆ Go Where? [Crazy 4u] | YEOSANG

pairing: ateez k.y.s. x fem!reader tags: yandere, psycho boyfriend, poc friendly, established relationship wc: 914 warnings: language, threatening, weapons, yeosang is insane.

🎧- Arson by j-hope

note: "If i cant have you, no one can!" faceass masterlist

Yeosang was known for being quiet and calm, never really being too keen on attention and always in his own world. You'd think he was harmless, his angelic face serving as a mask for his more horrific thoughts and actions. He was far from what people on the outside assumed he was. An angel, the perfect boyfriend? Please.

It’d been clear to you since the start of your relationship that something was.. off in his head— morally, that is. The signs had been subtle, something you’d have easily missed if you didn’t pay him so much attention, whether it be the way he’d ‘jokingly’ make remarks about doing the unthinkable in his moments of possessiveness or the look he’d give you when you brought up leaving him in any manner, as if he was just daring you to.

He was a man of his word, most of the time sticking to his claims. In other words he was bark and bite. Yeosang was blunt with a rather logical state of mind, insanely and impressively strategic too.

One night you and Yeosang had gotten into a heated argument, about him being overbearing at times and how you were tired of him intimidating anyone that got close to you with his eerie silence and occasionally off-putting dead gazes. Which of course he retaliated against and one thing led to another and you were left packing your things as you cussed him out under your breath.

"You’re always tellin' me to fuckin' talk t'you and when I do, this is how you wanna act? I’m over this shit!" You complained throwing anything you saw that was yours into an oversized suitcase. "TaLk To Me aNgeEl" You mocked his previous words as you went into the bathroom to grab your tooth brush and a few other toiletries.

You were planning on staying at your best friend's place for a few days to give him a chance to get his shit together and for you to get some space and clear your head. Without him.

But the entire time you rambled on about the situation entirely Yeosang said nothing, having shut up the second he saw you start packing. He just stared blankly at the floor looking at nothing in particular, seemingly zoned out or so you assumed.

His hands were placed between his legs as he leaned over and continued to stare at nothing.

"So you’re just gonna act like you don't hear me fuckin' talkin’ to you? I hate when you do that shit-" Your ranting became background noise to him as he focused on your every move with his peripheral vision alone. Watching as you moved around the room knocking things over in the process in pure rage. Your words remained unheard until you decided you'd actually had enough of him tuning you out and made your way to the bedroom door.

"I should've been left your ass, you act like you don't care about anything. I'll just go." You said sharply, your tone strong but he could hear the hurt in it.

You snatched your bags up and went to leave the bedroom going straight for the front door.

You grabbed your keys and went to reach for the doorknob before hearing a faint click noise from the bedroom.

You stilled completely your heart stopping as you literally froze in place, a million thoughts racing through your head as you tried to figure out if what you'd just heard was what you thought you’d just heard.

By the time you realized and decided to turn around Yeosang was already in front of you. Standing too close for comfort as he loomed over you, you looked up at him about to say something before the feeling of cold metal met the underside of your jaw.

His gun, the one he kept in the nightstand- the same gun he said he'd use to protect you is the one he's holding steadily under your chin right now, not saying a word as he silently threatened to end your shit.

"Go where?" he mumbled, his tone neutral as he stared holes into your soul. The subtle craze in his eyes hardly noticeable but there.

"Y-Yeo I-" You stuttered, genuinely scared for your life. You knew Yeosang was crazy, that he might’ve been a bit off- but not to this extent. This was an entire different ball game from the usual threatening comment here and there.

"Gonna leave me yeah?" He mumbled, mocking your slightly spooked expression before cracking a smirk and pushing the cold gun a little harder against your skin. "You take a single step out that damn door and i'll blow your damn brains out." He whispered calmly, his voice dangerously low as he kept his words sharp, meeting your eyes before gently kissing your jawline and cheek as if he wasn't threatening your life.

"Unpack, and i'll run you a warm bath, calm your nerves a little hm?" He said, the ends of his lips curling up into a smile of faux empathy as he brushed a stray curl from your face with the weapon in his hold.

You nodded, every word you had to say nowhere to be found as a single tear trickled its way down your cheek. You dropped your bags and let your arms hang limply on your sides as the tears began to flow one after another.

"Ssshh.. y'know how much I love you right? You can't just leave me angel.. nobody else is out there for you but me." Yeosang said, kissing the shell of your ear and wrapping his arms around you as he did so.

"You’re…you’re insane." You choked out between tears, your head dropping into the crook of his neck.

He stayed silent, not responding to your remark immediately as he rubbed your back in comfort. After a few more seconds he finally spoke.

"Only when I need to be my love."

Excuse any mistakes. :P

[skyeslittlecorner]

If you’re able to do a tiny bit of spicy: I’ll be real with you, after reading the romantic head canons post, I’m going to need a continuation of the Foras. Little 1 on 1 private after party if you know what I mean…. 👀

I'll be honest, too. I'm glad you asked because I really wanted to write it~ I actually already started writing this but I didn't know whether to post it or not. Now I know, lol.

As always, while I generally know how to put letters together, I'm still learning how to write spice. So, experimenting and testing out. I hope you like it anyway!

For those who didn't see: here is first part!

Words: ~1000

Afterparty | Foras

The ball was wonderful. Dresses and suits in dark, smoky colors, tables full of snacks, dim lighting resembling moonlight. A mystical aura radiated from whispering couples and classical music. You should feel calm and enjoy this extraordinary place. Still, instead of taking in the atmosphere, you scanned the room for your silent desire.

Since you and Foras had separated, you had only exchanged a few words and many glances. Something was still keeping you apart. You saw him looking at you as you twirled and danced with Barbatos, didn't want to disturb him when he was talking to the Tartaros magnate, and neither of you dared to get within five meters of each other when, for a moment, Leviathan graced the ball with its presence.

On the one hand, you missed Avisos. Their loose rules would allow you to pull Foras onto the table and demand a quickie right then and there. But it was Hades. Strict rules, ancient traditions and general distrust mixed with secrecy prohibited you from doing such things in public. It wasn't a rule, but you wanted to avoid the judging eyes and the king's jealousy. But with every glance, with every passing and random brush of arms and fingers, your longing for each other only grew.

You needed a moment to yourself, needed to cool down. All you could think about was his warm touch and his quick breathing as you tugged at his horns… In a most tamed scenario. Standing with champagne on one of the terraces, you wanted to pour it on your face just to avoid thinking about Foras. As you raised the glass, you felt warmth on your hand. First on the fingertips, it moved to the palm and then to the wrist. A gentle pressure guided your hand to place the alcohol far away on the stone railing. Warm breath tickled the back of your neck, and a hot shiver ran through your spine. You knew who it was.

Finally.

You tilted your head back, a devil's hand brushing the hair from the nape of your neck, followed by hot lips. That chaste kiss sent electricity throughout your body. Too slow. Too little.

"I missed you." Foras whispered into the back of your neck, sliding his hand through the slit on your hip, and ran his fingers up the inside of your thigh. Through the huge, milky terrace window, people could only see your blurry silhouette. If only they knew… knowing you were breaking the rules made you feel even hotter.

“Come on, please, I need you…” You didn't finish. His hand pressed your entrance through your underwear and moved to your clit. Slender fingers massaged you in small circles. A step back was enough for you to lean against his chest, and to feel him shudder as you pressed your ass to his hips. He was harder than you thought; you wondered if he wet you, what the other devils would think. You were in such a state that you found it funny. 

Fuck morals. You turned around and sat on the railing with your legs spread wide. You were already wet and trembling, wanted more, wanted him deep here and now. This time he was visible, and his red face and sticking out tongue told you he wanted the same thing. Is he no longer invisible? Blunt. You liked it.

He stood between your legs and leaned down. The kiss was hurried, so deep that you were breathless, tongues dancing but not letting you forget what you were waiting for. You quickly unbuttoned his pants and felt the demon moan in your mouth as you cupped his throbbing penis. He bit your lip until you tasted blood. In a fit of sobriety he tried to step back, but you pulled him to another kiss just to keep him silent. He was always so loud.

The music from the ballroom was calm and smooth, quite different from your quick, longing movements. The last of your consciousness hoped that no one would come out to catch you two. Just a moment. A little more. You had to enjoy him as much as you could. His moves were quick, and you felt it hard as he entered you. Hard dick almost ripped you inside. Wet sound of him fucking you in the middle of party disturbed the silence of the terrace. He was almost too much to handle; you buried your face in his shoulder to silence yourself this time. Even thought he tried, you heard how small moans escaped his lips. 

It was as intensive as quick. There was not much time left. Opalescent horn you grabbed was already wet and surprisingly hot. Foras moved in you even faster as you were tugging him down. Hands hurriedly wandering over your body, lips nibbling at your neck, hard dick pushing your tight hole, already wet and dripping. The stars in the sky danced before your eyes as you both reached climax. 

If you weren't in his arms, you would have fallen off the railing, but he held you tight and safe. His breathing was just as loud and ragged. Your heart was pounding in your chest as if you had at least broken the rules... oops? A soft laugh escaped from your chest. You folded your arms over his neck and reached up to kiss him. That was enough for you to see the patio doors open.

You looked speechless at the pair of men who passed you by, calmly exchanging gossip, down the stairs and disappeared down the path through the hedge. None of them paid you any attention. Foras smiled, pulled your head to his chest and stroked you affectionately.

“Do you think I would risk getting you punished?” His heart was racing, his breathing still hasty. “We, the devils of Hades, know how to reduce risk. Take a breath, no one can see us. I wouldn't let anyone see you so beautiful, so mine.” He added quietly.

You would have preferred to snuggle directly into his chest, but his shirt had his scent on it too. Caressing hands continued to stroke your hair.

“Those two old men were wondering where we were… they must have noticed our absence.” He laughed. “I'll help you get ready and we'll go back to the ball, what do you say?”

"I don't want. I want you. Again."

"Trust me, I would prefer it that way too."

You didn't know if you stayed in his embrace for minutes or an eternity before you had to go back to the ball. First you improved your appearance anyway; it's easier to explain an absence than disheveled hair and a disturbed dress. Especially when you walk back arm in arm with your partner in crime.

[drdemonprince]

what made you choose a deer for your fursona?

It's a long story that I am all too happy to tell!

I first attended Midwest Furfest in 2018, after years of being curious about it. My boyfriend at the time was a member of the Neo-Futurists Theater, and the Neo's had a longstanding relationship with the MFF community. They perform their flagship show (Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind, later rebranded as The Infinite Whale) there every year, and when the theater company's former founder attempted to steal their show name/copyright following his ousting due to sexual assault allegations, MFF really came through to offer considerable moral support.

There was lots of goodhearted joking about the furry community within that theater space, and I'd always been curious about furries and a supporter of them in heart if not in fact, and so I finally decided one year to tag along, see my boyfriend performing there, and walk around the convention floor and visit the dealer's den during my down time.

I absolutely LOVED IT. I was completely blown away by the artistry of the suits and the playful spirit of the suiters. I ran into a few friends there, outing them as furries to me, and we grew closer. I also took notice of some teal, sparkly resin antlers while I was in the Dealer's Den:

I snapped those things up and put them on immediately. Some stranger started to pet me right away (which is technically a convention consent violation, and should *not* be done, but I personally was the opposite of troubled by being treated in this way) and I was hooked.

I had always had a "thing" for antlers and horns since playing the PS2 game Ico back in the early 2000's. The young male protagonists horns representing an unwanted appendage and a visible "curse" was very appealing to me... as a boy who had been saddled with two very unwanted appendages of my own. (trangsender). I also have had many very magical encounters with deer in Ohio and Pennsylvania where I grew up. As a skiddish bottomy freak whose caused a lot of car accidents, a prey animal that also has the power to kill people in vehicles seemed plenty apt. So when I found some antlers to wear, it seemed like a natural enough fit for a potential fursona.

Then my friend @jettvector designed my fursona, using the teal antlers as a jumping off point. (this art has his old watermark on it, but he goes by jettvector now. commission him!):

Now that I had a friend-assigned fursona and was officially a furry, I ran with it, and began commissioning some art that further refined my image of the character:

this is from 9inko on Instagram

this one is from @heresvix, who specializes in deer

and this one is from @murgzt . I am currently having a partial fursuit of this iteration of the character made by Daring Duck Designs!! :0

A few things that I love about my sona's design: I love that his ears are big and really stick out, as my ears do the same, I love that he has a spot reflecting my monroe piercing, I love that deers are spotted in general, which can allow me to recast my own bacne scars in a more positive light, and i love that his greenish teal skin reflects my own olive complection (which I used to get a lot of weird comments about as a kid and felt self conscious about).

I also accumulated some gear in the meantime that allowed me to better embody my deersona, who I now call DD (which stands for Deer Devon, Docile Deer, Devon Dawn, my former DD tits, or any numer of potential things haha)

Hood by Miss Kinky Latex UK, photo by @photopotamus.

I have become a little bit more of a furry with each passing year, and it wouldn't have been possible without the hard work and creativity of so many people within the fandom, many of whom are beloved friends. <3 That's part of what makes it so special. Thanks for asking!

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm

CHAPTER SIX: "You Deserve To Be Happy"

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Foggy has a bone to pick with his best friend, and you decide to call Matt later that night.

Warnings for this chapter: attempt at humor, slight (very slight) angst, Matt's POV, mentions of sex, suggestive language, flirting, Matt being Matt

Word Count: 3.2k

A/n: I finally finished this chapter. I had more planned, but that would have made the whole thing too confusing. I also realized that I suck at finding the right chapter titles, but oh well. Enjoy this little fluff piece!

Read Chapter 6: "You Deserve To Be Happy" here on AO3

The air is brisk when Foggy and Matt step out of Metro General and into the night. Pieces of gravel stick to Matt’s shoes, and he can feel them digging into his skin through the thin soles protecting his feet from the wet asphalt. The wind resembles a leather whip as it brushes his heated cheeks. He can smell the odor of the city in every breath he takes.

Matt may hate hospitals, but every time he talks to you, the world turns a little quieter. All he has to do was focus on your heartbeat, the faintest hint of vanilla and salt that always lingers on your skin, and listen to the gentle melody of your breathing—your voice builds a bubble of safety around him, but now that he is no longer standing right in front of you, reality begins to seep back in. 

Foggy, whose arm he’s clutching as they make their way across the street, stares at Matt with eyes the size of dinner plates. Matt can feel his gaze burning through the skin protecting his skull, right into his brain. His friend is trying to decipher what he’s thinking, but he struggles to process what happened in the past thirty minutes and what on earth caused him to behave the way he did. 

The thought of you must have possessed him, he’s sure of that. You, and you alone. You were right there in front of him, and the part of him that craved some sense of normal took over when all he wanted was to stay away and forget this day ever happened. 

Does he regret it? Matt wants to, but his chest hasn’t felt this light in a very long time. The truth is that the tiniest selfish part of him, the part of him that is a born masochist, wants to see you again. He wants to see you again because he knows that it will inevitably hurt him in the long run. Good things don’t happen to him without a cost. Though, when he thinks about it, he might as well end up hurting you, and he would never forgive himself if that were to happen. 

He’s conflicted, but he’s also oddly happy. He’s excited. He feels… giddy. It’s a feeling he isn’t too familiar with, and he still has to decide whether or not he likes it. It is a contrast to the constant self-loathing and the darkness that surrounds him. 

Foggy finally finds his voice again on the other side of the sidewalk. “Dude!” he says. 

Matt flinches at his voice in his ear. “Foggy,” he warns. 

“Dude!” he repeats, stopping to grab his friend’s arm. 

“Foggy, don’t,” says Matt. 

He can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. If he sees him blush like a schoolboy with a crush, he will never hear the end of it. But after what Foggy witnessed back at the hospital, he is already one step ahead of his desperate attempts to prevent a tirade of endless teasing.

Foggy shakes his head. “What the hell was that?!” 

“Listen–”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a hot doctor friend that you met while I was dying?”

“Okay, Foggy, you weren’t dying, you dislocated your shoulder. And besides, how would I even know if she’s hot?”

“You always know! I don’t know if you can smell it, or–or if you have a built-in radar for attractive women with questionable morals, or if you just attract them because you’re a very good-looking guy. Either way, it’s not fair.” Foggy groans. “God, if you could’ve seen how she looked at you, Matt,” he says. “I don’t know if I should be jealous or impressed.”

Matt opens his mouth to respond, but he breaks off into an awkward chuckle instead. The blood in his cheeks has spread, and he knows for a fact that his entire face is red. Thankfully, it’s too dark for Foggy to notice. His ears perked up when he mentioned the way you looked at him, even though it shouldn’t matter to him. He knows you are beautiful because he sees you in a way someone with functioning eyesight could never, but he can’t explain that to anyone. He knows, and that’s enough. 

“She stepped in front of a gun for a stranger who was high off his ass,” Foggy adds. “Who does that other than people with a death wish? Oh, and did I mention that you literally made her swoon after someone punched her in the face? She couldn’t take her eyes off you.”

“Foggy,” Matt tries to stop him again. 

“No,” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought I was your best friend. Your wingman. The Maverick to your Goose. I deserve to hear all about your crazy love life! Especially if it’s a hot doctor who jumps in front of guns.”

“I–uh–” One hand clutches his cane while the other reaches to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Look, she patched up that bump on my head last week while you were getting your shoulder X-rayed, alright? We talked, but that’s it. I didn’t think it was important.”

“And you didn’t think a stranger offering to patch the reminder of your clumsiness up for free would be worth mentioning to your best friend?”

“She’s a doctor, Foggy.”

“A hot doctor who looked like she was undressing you with her eyes,” Foggy retorts. 

Matt groans. “And how was I supposed to know that?”

“I don’t know. I told you, you always know. It’s fucking creepy.”

His groan turns into an exasperated sigh. “Can we just… walk?” he asks. 

Foggy nods. He offers his arm, and Matt takes it gladly. His cane taps in a steady rhythm against the asphalt. The gravel underneath his shoes is still stuck there. 

He’s not sure why it agitates him so much that Foggy is talking about you as if you are comparable to other women. You’re not. You’re in a league of your own, one that Matt isn’t sure he could ever reach. And you’re different. 

Everywhere he goes, Matt encounters a variety of personalities, a lot of which he comes across often. While that’s not a bad thing, he tends to tune out those who overwhelm him for the sake of his sanity. Your personality can’t be sorted into a category. You’re unique enough to stand out from a crowd. Matt can’t put his finger on it. 

Foggy can think of you what he wants, but he will never experience you the way Matt does.

“You think she’s gonna call?” Foggy asks into the silence that had settled in between the two of them. 

Matt shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. 

“Do you want her to?”

For a moment, he’s rendered speechless. That’s the dilemma, isn’t it? Whether he wants you to call or not? It would be so much easier if he could just be honest. 

“I don’t know,” Matt says again. 

“I think you do,” Foggy answers. “You two would make a hot couple.” Sometimes, his mouth is faster than his brain. “Not in an “I want a threesome” kinda way, of course. That’s not—I mean, you’re a very good-looking guy. I’d think that if I were, you know, a woman or- or into you, which I’m not, but... I meant ‘cause she’s hot and you two together—well, you know what I mean.”

“If I say yes, can we talk about something else?”

“No, dude. I’m invested.”

“Liv isn’t… it’s not like that.”

“It’s never like that with you, Matt. Until two days later, and I walk in on you two naked with a bottle of whipped cream on your nightstand, and her name written in melted chocolate on your back.”

“Okay,” Matt interrupts him, “that was–” He tries hard not to smirk, but he fails miserably, “that was one time!” 

Foggy shakes his head. “One too many, my friend. One too freakin’ many.”

“To be fair, I couldn’t see what she was doing.”

“I’m just saying,” Foggy says, “if you decide to go for it with Miss I-Jump-In-Front-Of-Guns-For-Fun, I wanna know so I can hype you up and make sure that I don’t barge into your apartment unannounced on a Friday night, at least not without a bottle of bleach to burn the pictures out of my head.”

His chuckle resembles a giggle when he opens his mouth to respond, “Alright, I can, uh, live with that.”

“Hey.” Matt can feel Foggy’s eyes on him. “You deserve to be happy, man.”

That wipes the smile off his face. Happy. He can’t remember a time when he was truly happy. The few times he was can be counted on one hand, and every time he found himself in a place of happiness, it ended up shattering like a fragile wine glass, spilling the maroon contents everywhere and scarring him for life. 

Matt isn’t sure if he can believe Foggy. In his mind, deserving happiness is equal to walking the path of redemption until God decides to forgive him for his sins. He repents every day. He has prayed until his knees are bloody, and still, it is never enough. 

Foggy continues, as if that one display of his never-ending devotion to his best friend wasn’t enough, “If this Olivia chick makes you happy, I think it’s worth pursuing. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Off the top of his head, there are several scenarios Matt has played with, and none of them have a happy ending. There are a lot of bad things that could happen, each worse than the other. But he can’t tell Foggy that. To him, Matt’s disdain toward being happy stems from a desperate need to self-sabotage because of his childhood trauma, and while that is true for the most part, he doesn’t know about the dangers of the second life he’s leading.

He indeed sabotages himself because it’s all he’s ever known, but there is a lot more that Foggy doesn’t know about. Matt has to protect him from the truth. He’s one of the few people Matt can’t stand the thought of losing. If Foggy knows, Karen will know, too, and that is not bound to end well for any of them. 

His phone rings with the name of an unknown number later that night, long after Matt has returned home. He just laced up his boots when the silence in his apartment suddenly gets disturbed by his ringtone. 

“Unknown number,” the automatic voice tells him. 

Adjusting the tight black shirt that has seen better days, Matt walks over to the dining table to grab his phone. His fingertips search along the tabletop for the device. When he’s finally found it, he taps the screen twice before lifting it to his ear. 

“Yeah, this is Matt,” he answers. 

It takes him not even a second to realize who’s on the other end. Something about the way you breathe when you’re nervous strikes him every time. He can hear the faint sound of your heartbeat on the other end of the line. His eyes widen, and he drops the leather gloves he was about to put on.

“Hi,” you finally say. “It’s… it’s Liv. Olivia. From the hospital? You, uh, gave me your number earlier for the, uh, second time. I don’t know if you remember. I’m the girl who got hit in the nose.”

You’re cute when you’re nervous, he notices. He can tell that you probably don’t do this often, calling strangers who have given you their number. There is something oddly endearing about how awkwardly you act around people who aren’t your patients, but behavior like that often derives from a much darker secret. Matt knows all about that. For him, it was the day he lost his sight, his father’s death, and Stick’s relentless conditioning before he left him behind, and then years of self-loathing and wondering, “What if?”. What it has been for you, he can’t help but wonder. 

He snaps out of it when he hears the uptick in your heartbeat. You’re anxious, and he’s been quiet for longer than he should have. He can’t stop his lips from curling into a soft smile. 

“Yeah, I–I remember,” he says, his voice slightly breathless. The things you do to him without even trying… it’s not fair.

Foggy’s words come back to his mind. You deserve to be happy. He still isn’t too sure about that, but you make him feel things he can’t remember the last time he felt them, and it’s… exciting, almost.

You let out a little sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God,” you say. 

Matt chuckles. “I wasn’t sure you’d call.”

“Yeah, me… me neither, to be honest.”

He appreciates your honesty. 

“I’m sorry for not calling the first time. And, um, sorry for today,” you say. “I don’t usually get into that much trouble in one day.”

“Not in one day, huh?” He smirks.

Your laugh reminds him of honey. You laugh, and warmth spreads through his chest, wrapping its comforting hand around his heart and squeezing as tightly as it can. 

“You’re my lawyer. Shouldn’t you advise me to plead the fifth?”

“That depends,” Matt answers, “Would your answer incriminate yourself?”

“Yes, very much so,” you say.

“Then you should plead the fifth in front of a judge, not in front of your lawyer.”

You laugh again. “I still choose to plead the fifth, counselor.”

You may be a threat to yourself, but that’s what he sparks his curiosity, and maybe a little bit of misplaced overprotectiveness. He doesn’t own you, but God, he wishes he did. Matt pushes that thought aside as quickly as it pops up. 

You got into trouble not for the sake of getting into trouble; you got into trouble because that is just who you are. It’s an admirable quality that he can’t disagree with. 

Matt chuckles, directing his unfocused gaze toward the ceiling. “Someone should teach you about the correct use of the amendments, Miss Clarke.”

“I’m well aware of my rights, sir,” your voice drops to an octave, resembling a sultry murmur.

It rolls over him like an avalanche, and the use of the honorific darkens his eyes. A fire starts to burn deep within his soul. The candle tips over, setting everything around it on fire. Matt feels on fire.

“Also,” you add, “It’s not Miss Clarke, it’s Doctor.”

You’ve got him. Hook, line, and sinker. You’ve got him trapped in a chokehold that he can’t escape from. Your foot is on his neck, but he doesn’t care. He would gladly get on his knees before you. Whatever is happening in his body, it’s the brightest inferno the universe has ever seen, and you’re holding the torch. 

Matt exhales a hot puff of air. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “Doctor.”

“That’s better.” 

“I didn’t mean to downplay your achievements.”

“I forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

A moment of silence follows. Matt realizes that he dug his nails into his palms. When he unclenches his fist, the sharp pain brings him back to reality. 

You take a deep breath. If he closes his eyes, he thinks, he might be able to feel it brush against his skin. He’s dangerously and thoroughly obsessed with you. 

He can hear the banging of metal in the background. The sound reminds him of an old, rusty locker in a locker room. You must still be at the hospital. Your hand brushes against the metal, he can hear it, and you take another breath. 

“I, uhm–” you cut yourself off. The question on your tongue seems hard to utter. 

Matt doesn’t think much. He opens his mouth, and he asks what he hopes you have been thinking about. He throws all rationality out the window, even though reality is urging him not to. “Would you like to grab some coffee with me?” he asks. 

Your breathing stutters. Instead of your hand, your back is the next part of you that brushes against the metal of your locker. “I was trying to ask you the same thing,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I know,” he says with a smile. “So, would you?”

“Tomorrow?” you ask.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m free tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you shouldn’t rest your head?”

You shake your head. The softest brush of air moves against your phone’s speaker. “So far, I haven’t had any complaints about my head,” you answer.

The words go through his ears, through his enhanced hearing into his brain. They take a few seconds to process. Matt isn’t stupid, but this is a side of you not even he expected to experience. Not so soon, maybe not ever. You’re flirting with him. The way you do it is so exceptionally smart yet almost cliché in a way, but your uniqueness makes it so much more attractive.

He’s sweating, and it’s not even warm in his apartment. The blood rushes to his head. He’s drowning, but this time it isn’t because his senses are overwhelmed. He’s drowning because you’re holding his head underwater. 

Matt’s lips part in a chuckle. It’s as dark as it is flustered. “You’re a dangerously intelligent woman, Doctor Clarke,” he murmurs. 

“So I’ve heard,” you retort. 

“Well, does three work for you?”

“Two-thirty and I pick the place.”

He’s about to have a heart attack. His plans for the night momentarily move into the background. “If that’s what you want.”

“Yes, that is what I want,” you say. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow then?” The slight crack of your voice tells him that it isn’t leaving you cold either, and that makes him feel a little better. 

Matt nods and says, “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Tomorrow.”

“Take care, Liv.”

He can hear you swallow. “I will,” you answer. “You too, Matthew.”

The way you say his name sends a shiver down his spine. “I will. Bye,” is the last thing he manages to say before the line clicks, and you disappear. 

You came into his life without warning, and you started messing with his head. Matt is aware that you’re not doing it on purpose—how could you? Still, he can’t get you out of his head, and the phone call didn’t put him out of his misery. If anything, he has fallen into the deep end with nowhere to go. And it’s your fault. 

You deserve to be happy. Sometimes, Foggy’s caring nature becomes a nuisance. He doesn’t want to hear the same statement over and over again, but it’s the only excuse he can tell himself to somehow explain what is happening to him. 

Reaching for his gloves, Matt stretches his aching fingers. The crescent moon indentations on his palms only remind him of the smooth sound of your voice. It’s like a symphony that has a constant residency in his brain. 

He wonders if he could be your muse. He made you laugh. He made you smile. He could do that every day. If he were normal, he could do it and not feel guilty. He doesn’t want to feel guilty for wanting this. Wanting you. And he doesn’t want to feel guilty for falling down the rabbit hole. It feels as if he found Wonderland in a world that also feels like a dystopian drama, but Matt doesn’t go to the movies, and he doesn’t know much about them either. He just knows that you are the closest thing to heaven that he could touch. 

And maybe, after he has figured out what is happening in his city, he can learn how to lead a somewhat normal life with someone like you by his side–and maybe then, he can achieve the happiness Foggy always claims that he deserves but denies himself time and time again. 

Matt Murdock is a masochist, after all. Self-sabotage is the only way of life he has ever known. 

He slides the gloves onto his fingers. His phone lands in the backpocket of his jeans. The billboard in front of his window projects a luminescent disarray of colors onto his skin. He can still feel the blood rushing in his cheeks. 

Going out now feels like the wrong thing to do after that phone call, but he can’t leave Hell’s Kitchen hanging. If he doesn’t go out, Claire will remain in danger, and she has already sacrificed so much for someone she barely knows. If he doesn’t go out, he’s not sure if he will ever be able to stop whatever it is that is keeping his city in shambles. 

So, he pulls the thin layer of fabric of his mask over the upper half of his face, makes his way up the stairs to the rooftop exit that connects directly to his apartment, and steps out into the night, not as Matt Murdock but the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41 @kiwwia-wiwwia

[shallowseeker]

The Exodus convo between Lucifer and Gabe was so good, really.

You see, I think the conversation between Gabriel and Lucifer in Exodus 13x22 was good because they were both right, and they were both wrong!

Gabriel is leaning too far into Chuck's POV, blaming the victim, blaming Lucifer for the things that happened TO him.

GABRIEL: (incredulous at Lucifer’s gall) Okay, you think Dad was the ‘bad guy,’ and you were a victim? You were not a victim. That was just your excuse. LUCIFER: My excuse for what? GABRIEL: For it all, Lucifer. For it all.

It's great because Gabriels is a little bit wrong here. We've seen the Mark up-close and we've seen how it takes away free will. The fact of the matter is that, even in Chuck's own words, Lucifer was a victim. Chuck's line about "Lucifer always casting a jaundiced eye" is a rationalization—Chuck sidestepping his own culpability.

Because even if Lucifer had those undercurrents, the Mark, as we saw, eradicates impulse control. Choosing not to act on ugly thoughts is an essential component of free well.

Lucifer was both a victim AND a perpetrator.

///

Responsibility, wants, and needs:

But Gabe's also right, that at some point Lucifer has to take responsibility for his own actions instead of blaming everything on "a bad childhood." (See Vince!Lucifer's words: "And because being Lucifer? So much Judeo-Christian baggage. But Vince? He's famous. Everybody loves him. And I need love. I had a really jacked childhood.")

(((Aside/// Ah, yes. The two SPN character archetypes: "I need/deserve love" and "I'm unworthy of love."))))

Anyway, It's a bit of a thematic warning that everything Sam and Dean do can't be laid at the feet of John Winchester. At some point, as an adult, you have to stand up and take responsibility for your actions.

GABRIEL: (amused at Lucifer’s frustration) It is really killing you, you’re not out there impressing your kid, huh? Lucifer, do you really see a version here where he sticks by you? LUCIFER: (shrugging) I think the kid is pretty blown away by his old man, so... Yeah. I do. GABRIEL: He’s a kid. He likes shiny objects and magic tricks. But he’s not like you. I can see it in his eyes. His mother’s bloodline, the Winchesters’ influence... LUCIFER: I can be an influence.

Lucifer wants.

But Jack's humanness, his human-centered locus of morality, separates the two of them utterly.

///

Redemption for thee but not for me?

It's interesting a little bit because we see all sorts of evil characters get redemption. Amara spends an entire season sucking out souls and bringing on immense destruction to earth (see: TVss filled with storms, fires, and destruction), and yet... characters like John Winchester, like Lucifer, when it comes to the faintest whiff of redemption, we balk.

I'm not saying they necessarily should get redemption, but our instinctive reaction to the idea is interesting to me. Certain characters' symbolism with respect to evil is so deeply embedded that we cling to our own revenge against them.

And when we care more about who they hurt, we tend to be less forgiving.

///

Too late for Lucifer // Too late for Chuck?

LUCIFER: I’ve changed. [Gabriel stands and walks over to Lucifer.] GABRIEL: Dude, it’s me. I’ve known you since the stars were made. You can’t change. You’re incapable of empathy or love. You live to be worshiped or feared. Or both. LUCIFER: Okay. I--I see that you’ve -- you’ve drunk the Kool-Aid. Fine. [Lucifer pouts, shooing Gabriel way as he turns back towards the truck.] GABRIEL (sarcastically): Oh, is this the part where you tell me that, uh, Dad made up all those so-called lies about you? Got it. LUCIFER (getting angry): Yeah! Yeah, Pop locked me up, okay? GABRIEL (also getting angry): Don’t you get it? Humans were innocent and beautiful. But you...you couldn’t stand that the old man loved them more than He loved you. So you tempted them and corrupted them just to prove how flawed they were. LUCIFER (threateningly) You better be careful, man. GABRIEL: Dad saw that your evil was like the first few cells of cancer...that it would spread like the disease unless He cut it out. That is why He locked you up, to stop the cancer. But it was too late then. And guess what? It’s too late for you now. [Gabriel turns away, leaning on the truck bed and looking back at the camp. Lucifer stares at Gabriel, a lone tear falling from his eye, before he too turns the other way and stares off into the darkness.]

Is it ever too late? I think that's the biggest question of all. And it sticks out to me too that while Gabriel blames Lucifer for his own corruption (the Mark), he gives humans a pass. In Gabe's mind, they're not responsible for their own corruption! Bit of a conundrum, isn't it? Because it's hypocritical to Gabe's overarching point about being responsible for your own actions...

For that matter, what was the "cancer" Lucifer corrupted them with? Was it evil... or was it free will?

Aside/// It's also interesting to me... After Gabriel pronounces his judgment, he turns away so as not to be moved by Lucifer's tears, but note: he is moved by them—he doesn't leave Lucifer's side.

///

Anyway, Lucifer may have killed Gabe, but simultaneously, Gabe is one of the people Lucifer still loves and who still loves Lucifer. It's why the conversation actually hurts.

It's perhaps one of the reasons Lucifer steps up to face off again against AU Michael, even when he's already lost so badly to him, because we have to remember Cas's words: Lucifer’s deeply, deeply afraid of this Michael, too.

It's...hm. It's something. Lucifer has purpose when he's fighting, and however selfish his motivations were, Jack gave him something to fight for. He stepped in front of Gabe to fight Michael, at first.

That's. Hm.... it's something.

///

Cas and Gabe... the only people who seem to be able to put up with Lucifer somewhat effectively, lol.

///

Anyhoo, speaking of redemption...

This conversation reminds me just a little bit of the deleted conversation between Chuck and Metatron in 11x20. Metatron shows his humanity to Chuck, who chops it up and conceptualizes those emotions as "story." It's a bit of flagrant, writerly dehumanization, and Metatron's reaction to Chuck's lack of humanity is so interesting to me:

METATRON: I did. (gets up) But Cas-hat... he spared me. He showed mercy. (sits down opposite CHUCK) And do you know what was the first thing I heard when I woke up in my cold hospital bed? It was hands-down the sweetest, loveliest song I ever heard in my whole, long, sad bottom-feeder existence... My heartbeat. I was still alive. The joy of knowing that you're still alive, and the simultaneous panic of knowing that someday that heart is going to stop beating, that's humanity. It's frail and it's flawed, but damn it, it's worth fighting for. CHUCK: That's a really sweet story, Metatron. Good details, nice balance, and a healthy dose of truth. But it's a little late for a redemption arc, don't you think? METATRON: For me, or for you?

That's...hm. It's definitely something.

Maybe it's easier to get redemption when you haven't irrevocably hurt the people we love... When their victims are... more distant.

[commissionspartybus]

I (politely) demand more batman stuff, this idea sounds great

S2 ending, they grab a briefcase and set it correctly to go back home. Hand in hand, ready to fix their lives once again and finally avoid the apocalypse.

Out of hundreds of briefcases, they grab the one missing a wire.

Using it should have killed them but stabilization came from Viktor, and not ending up stranded in space time is thanks to Five. Instead they hit the right year, right time, completely wrong universe.

They scare the shit out of the family living in the house they landed in, but otherwise are fine. Grabbing a newspaper - which was frankly ridiculously harder than expected - and realizing that they are in the world of a comic series? Less of a shock, more of a yelling match of whose fault this is.

Three factions emerge: those who want to go to the JL for help, those who rather fix this by themselves, and those who Do Not Fucking Care As Long As Something Is Done.

Diego and Luther belong to the first camp, Five and Viktor in the second. Allison and Klaus firmly in the third. So they do what they do best and split up, because this family cannot agree on a Single Goddamn Thing.

Ben, meanwhile, remembered a little girl on a tricycle who made fun of him and said without a box set he was boring. Ben then woke up again in a body in some mad scientists basement who apparently is trying to make people out of clay and science because some woman apparently was made that way. Ben is having a Shit Fucking Time.

Luther and Diego go off together to do their plan, but argue about who to approach. Viktor, who came with them purely because he happened to be in the same room during this, is displeased. Diego throws a fit and goes to Gotham while Luther, who also throws a fit, goes to Metropolis. Viktor also goes to metropolis because there really is an excellent program there for newfound metas run by some guy named Lex Luthor and he might as well get a head start on the whole powers thing.

Lex actually stops by once or twice and is really nice to Viktor, offers him additional resources and even employment. Hopefully not something he'll have to worry about but it's nice to see actual rich people be kind.

Luther drops Viktor off to these meetings though and remembers lex luthor. Luther goes to the library to double check this lex luthor is The Lex Luthor and discovers The Internent. Luther cannot believe what people are saying about his childhood hero online. Who has the gall to disrespect Superman? This cannot stand. This will not stand. Luther will make people realize how great superman is.

Diego on the other hand has a plan. He was thrown in a asylum before and has no interest in doing that again, which he's sure will happen if he just says the truth. No, he has to impress Batman. Only then will he be considered Sane and Truthful. This has nothing to do with wanting Actual Batman to think he's cool, no way. He needs to become a vigilante in Gotham and Become A Bat.

Five and Allison stick together- well, more like Allison sticks to Five because she'll be damned If it takes another fifty years to get back home. No, anytime he's out of her sight he does dumb shit that always has an apocalypse attached to it. Her morals are also starting to slip and she wants both an enabler and support beam in Five. Road trip to all the notable places in America harboring Magical and Scientific Shit to speed up the process.

Klaus originally joined roadtrip duo but upon a stop he noticed the most gorgeous man who was also the ugliest fucking thing he'd seen all weak. Like two malformed cats having an orgy. It was instantaneous, he Needs to either fuck that guy or find out what his deal is. This is his destiny. This Is Who He Is Meant To Find.

The justice league, meanwhile, have not gone blind to the families antics. Their main concern is the two metas going around and swiping objects of high value and power- the woman with her power to make anyone do as she says and the boys spatial jumps are unnerving. With no idea on their reasoning and the potential of the boy being an unwillingly accomplice (they are, after all, very clearly not related and with the woman's power she could just be using the boy to achieve her own ends through his) it is in their highest priority to finish this through.

Except it Is hard to focus due to extenuating circumstances.

Clark Kent thinks he's dealing with a stalker and is completely unprepared on how to actually. Deal With That. Luthor keeps taunting about how humans will reign superior and shit about legacy - will he have to keep a closer eye on Conner? Will his clone/son/brother/science gone wrong even accept it? Who Fucking Knows.

Bruce's kids keep sending him tiktoks about the newest wannabe vigilante getting his shit rocked near constantly, which isn't distracting enough to quiet the thoughts in his head that the mystery boy stealing artifacts has enough features reminiscent of his grandfather (Thomas Wayne's father) to be suspicious. And that Azrael has gone missing, again.

John Constantine is on the run from the amalgamation of gods regrets personified, and he interested in finding out what it wants with him, personally. Having some murderous church kid tag along with him because "through you (John) will lead me to what God has tasked me to find" doesn't make this shit worse at all, nope.