#he was actually older but he didn't know it

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 9 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: He shows you a softer side of him. Until he doesn’t.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, smut, rough sex, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, knife, over-stimulation, bondage, degradation kink, dom/sub dynamics, daddy, age gap, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

"How old are you, actually?"

He raised a brow, but didn't yet look up from his newspaper. You could tell you had piqued his interest by the way his eyes crinkled into a smile. It even seemed genuine to a certain degree.

You sat beside him and watched him with a keen eye, not hiding that you were staring at him.

"Is there a reason why you want to know?"

You shook your head. "You won't tell me your name or anything else about you that matters. At least give me that."

He hummed softly. "I'm forty-five." He finally looked up from the paper and regarded you with mild amusement. "Is that a problem?"

You shook your head again. It indeed wasn't. You had long guessed that he was quite a bit older than you, but to you he didn't come off like a lecherous old man who was after young women to keep him young and moist.

He was simply...older.

Not old.

"No, I guess not."

He looked back down at the paper, while you kept shifting on the couch beside him restlessly.

He managed to successfully ignore your restlessness for a minute, before he sighed and set the paper down.

"I know I will regret this, but what is going on?"

"Have you been with many women before?"

The ridiculousness of the question didn't just surprise him. To your own ears, the question sounded even sillier spoken out loud. But you couldn't help it.

The question kept tormenting your mind and it had been doing so for days. You had to ask or you would go insane. Even more so than you already were.

You couldn't tell why the thought of him with someone else made you feel like you were in the worst humanly possible pain, but it did.

It made you feel like you were slowly suffocating under the weight of a thousand stones.

And how pointless was it?

It was in the past. You were the future, right?

Good God, what were you even thinking about?

"Are you jealous?"

He didn't even try to mask the amusement in his voice. For some reason that made everything even worse. Of course you were being fucking ridiculous.

Your face flushed a deep shade of crimson and you looked down at your hands. "I'm not jealous." You murmured.

Despite not even looking at him, you could sense the wide, unhinged grin that took possession of his face.

"You are." He said victoriously. "You're jealous over me."

You narrowed your eyes and tried to come up with something sharp and witty, but the truth was simply that.

You were jealous.

More so, your body stood in flames of wild, raging jealousy.

"Aw, come on. I was just teasing you." He tipped your chin up. "Don't pout."

You forced yourself to keep your eyes on him. His expression had softened somewhat, but there was still a hint of amusement and satisfaction in his eyes. You hated him.

Especially did you hate his eyes.

Even more so when they softened.

You hated everything about him. The way he moved and looked so effortlessly sexy when he did. The way he looked whenever he stood in the kitchen, flipping the pan around like a professional chef. You had once caught yourself staring at him when he tossed a grape in the air and tried to catch it with his mouth. He had failed miserably. At first it hit his cheek and then it landed on the ground, before it rolled under the fridge. Something rather inelegant, coming from such a dashing man.  The way he looked at the grape and then at you, looking caught in the act. The way his lips curved into that delicious smile. Almost sheepishly.

Almost innocent.

“It’s your fault. Your presence is distracting to me.”

Your heart ached when you realized it.

You didn’t hate him. You couldn’t. But you tried to. God, how hard you tried.

“Can you just answer the question?” You murmured.

He hummed and looked to the side in thought. “I’m not sure how many it were. I didn’t exactly keep count.”

Awful.

“Were all of them victims to your incomparable abduction skills?”

He smirked. Your relationship had come a long way. Now you were allowed to tease him, without having to expect a punishment in return.

Sometimes.

It depended on his mood. And by now, you had gotten pretty good at telling when he was in a good mood and when he was to be avoided and obeyed.

It was easier to be attentive when your health was at stake.

Or your life.

“No”, he mused with a strange sense of sincerity, “and also you came along willingly.”

You scoffed. “You’re even crazier than I thought. Or just fairly ignorant.”

He laughed. God, you hated when he laughed.

It was so easy to lose yourself in the sound of it.

“Whatever it was, you’re here now. And as for these other women…It doesn’t matter how many they were, none of them held any meaning to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. But you did? You meant something to him?

You couldn’t ask him that. As much as you wanted, your lips couldn’t form those words. Your fear of being mocked or rejected was far too great. The thought of him making fun of you for so obviously falling in love with him, him, your tormentor, him, your bane, your curse, your horror. It  was terrifying to you.

He would never love you. He was incapable of having these kind of feelings. Of course, he had never said that. But you could tell. People like him had obsessions. No more. No less.

You were just something pretty for him, something to put on his shelf and look at with a satisfied smile. Something to use when he got bored or excited. And then you’d go on the shelf again. And by the time you became boring to him, by the time your beauty would begin to fade and signs of age and life would show on your face or the color of your hair, you’d be gone.

Gone like the wind or the ocean breeze. You’d be gone and he’d obsess over something else.

The thought made your heart ache with such fervor, it nearly made you cry, then and there. And what was the worst about it? The thought of him killing you, it didn’t hurt you half as much as the thought of him replacing you.

You had always known you had a weakness within you. Something that might accept when things got worse, something that refused to fight at some point and simply gave up. You had experienced it with your mother.

You just didn’t know how deep this weakness ran.

When he saw the distant look in your eyes, his amusement faded and was replaced by something softer. He frowned slightly and held out his hand to you.

“Come.” He murmured. “Come, sit on my lap.”

Reluctantly you took his hand and let him pull you on his lap. You straddled his thigh and faced him, but the expression on your face was still one of silent sadness.

He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, before he cupped your cheek in his palm. The softness. There was the softness again. You swallowed the lump in your throat.

You hated him the most when he was gentle.

“But you’re not like that.” He said quietly.

When your brows furrowed in a mixture of quiet disbelief and uncertainty, he shook his head and gently trailed his thumb down your cheek. His touch was so gentle, it made something in your chest ache. Your heart, most likely.

His eyes glowed in that soft brown and you felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He whispered. “I know that I’m deranged, sweet girl. I know I’m probably not what you ever anticipated for your life. But one thing about me is steadfast and true. I’m honest.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you inhaled a shaky breath. “So?” You murmured.

“So…” He murmured back as he gently placed his free on your hip to steady you. “I don’t think about anyone else. I don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking.

“Because, sweet girl”, he purred and leaned closer to brush a soft kiss along your cheek, “Because I say so.”

Your eyes slowly fell shut and you felt yourself lean into his embrace. It felt good to be held by him. It felt safe, which was ironic enough.

He slowly slid his fingertips under your shirt and up your spine. It was one of the best things about him. He never ran them up your waist. He always skipped your waist.

The word mouse was as dead as Latin in these halls.

And he always asked if you had eaten already and when you lied, he could tell.

Never before had you met someone so attentive. When he wasn’t angry with you or angry because of anything else, he was the perfect man.

The way he looked at you was enough to make you swoon. The way he touched you enough to make you shiver.

The way he kissed his way from your cheek down to your neck made you gasp every time. And even when he ravaged you, he somehow always made sure to check if you were still there. You never got the chance to detach and stare at the ceiling, stare at the wall, stare at the floor. He caught your gaze, tipped your chin up and made sure that you were there.

That you wanted to be there.

And you didn’t have to say when you didn’t. He caught on that, too.

And then he’d let you sleep.

Or read.

“Are you tired?” He whispered with a soft nip to your earlobe.

The sigh that came over your lips was involuntary. A part of your mind was still hung up on the women. The women who had been there before you.

Were they prettier? Probably.

Were they normal? Most likely.

Did they make him happy?

Was he ever happy?

Was he even able to be happy? Did deranged people get a happy ending? Or even a happy middle? Maybe a very happy start?

There was something dead inside of him. You couldn’t tell if it was his heart, his soul or something else. But it was there. Just like there was something dead inside of you.

But sometimes you asked yourself if it was really dead or if maybe, just maybe, it had simply been asleep up until then.

You nodded slowly. You were always tired. That was part of being depressed and he caught on that, as well.

“I could run you a bath, sweet girl.” He murmured against your skin as he slowly rubbed his palms against your bare back under your shirt. It made you shiver and only ever press closer to him. “Or I could cook something for you.”

You shook your head.

“Are you still sad?” He whispered in your ear.

You swallowed again and nodded. Were you ever not sad?

He hummed thoughtfully. “Go get daddy your favorite book.”

The way your heart skipped a beat was almost audible. It always caught you off-guard when he did that. To refer to himself as daddy was bad enough in the bedroom, but when he did it like that, just out of nowhere, it made your skin flush in embarrassment. Yet at the same time, your heart raced. He wasn’t the only one deranged.

“My favorite book?” You whispered, sounding more breathless than anticipated.

He nodded. “Your favorite book from the shelf.”

With a slow, deliberate movement you climbed off of his lap and slowly moved towards the book shelf. You felt his gaze burn into your back. As much as it made you shiver and shudder, it also had something comforting about it. The way he sat leaned back against the couch, one arm draped over it and his ankle resting on his knee. God, he was perfect.

You swallowed and your eyes slowly raked over the rows of books until they stopped on Jane Eyre. It wasn’t your favorite book in the world, but it gave you comfort. All Bronte-sisters did. Getting a glimpse of their mind always made you feel like you weren’t the only sad and complicated person in the world. There had been others before and there’d be more long after you were gone.

You slowly picked it up and made your way back to him. He took the book from you and patted his lap.

“Lay your head here.”

Your eye brows rose, but you didn’t protest. Instead you curled up on the couch and carefully rested your head on his thigh. Before you even fully settled down, he buried his fingers in your hair and gently threaded them through the length of it. You suppressed a quiet, contented sigh. And when you heard his soft voice as he began to read, so gentle and composed, it made your eyes snap shut.

“There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning, but since dinner the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so…”

You couldn’t even properly focus on his words. All you could think about were his hands in your hair, his soft voice and the warmth radiating off of him.

You lay like that, listening to the soft sounds of him reading Jane Eyre to you, until you felt like you might fall asleep any second. Which was exactly what you did.

It didn’t even take all too long.

There was a part of your mind that expected to wake up with a blade against your throat or Hell – not even wake up at all.

But you couldn’t help it. The trust came on its own. It was hard not to trust him when he was like that. Caring and gentle and concerned.

You had a dreamless sleep and by the time your eyes fluttered open, you felt better rested than you had in forever. You slowly blinked and tilted your head up to see where you were and what was going on. What you saw was him, the book tightly shut beside him and you found he was staring down at you. His expression was still soft and his hand still in your hair. You blinked slowly.

“How long did I sleep?” You murmured hoarsely.

He glanced down at his watch. “About an hour and a half.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Why?” He mused. “You needed it.”

“But wasn’t that uncomfortable?” You yawned softly and rubbed your eyes, something that made him smile.

“No, sweetness. You look endearing when you sleep. I could watch you all day.”

A soft flush crept up your cheeks and you averted your gaze. You felt as embarrassed as you felt in love.

You were sure by now. There was no point in lying to yourself. You were in love with him.

And you were certain, given enough time, he’d break your heart.

Or your bones.

Whatever came first.

The rest of the evening was just as peaceful. You sat at the kitchen table and watched as he cooked something you couldn’t even come close to pronouncing. When he still tried to teach you and you made a fool of yourself, he smiled in amusement and something akin to pride.

“You’ll learn it one day.”

He was so patient at times. And at other times…

You finished dinner and stood in the bathroom, brushing your teeth. It was such a normal thing. A normal Sunday. Brushing your teeth to go to bed, a silken nightgown kissing your skin while you did.

He spoiled you. You knew that. He brought home more and more and more clothes. One piece more beautiful than the other. And as much you always assumed you’d look like an idiot wearing them, because you just weren’t the kind of girl for silk and beautiful things, you ended up loving them all. It made you feel beautiful.

He made you feel beautiful.

You rinsed your mouth and washed your face, pat dried it with a fluffy towel and shot a last glance at yourself in the mirror. You looked nothing like the girl who had begged her mother to stop being so cruel. And at the same time, you looked just like her.

Like a girl playing dress-up, but her sad eyes stayed the same.

The faint mark on your cheek was still there, reminding you subtly of what he was capable of. Not even close to what he was supposedly capable of. You sighed and turned off the lights, before you quietly tiptoed through the dark hallway. You were already on your way to your bedroom, when you saw that his door stood slightly open. There was a faint light that illuminated through the hallway and you couldn’t help yourself. You stopped and stared at the door, unsure what to do. Should you go in? Or should you go to your own room and loose yourself in your thoughts?

But before you could think about it, the door opened and revealed his form in no more than his boxers. God, he was perfect.

You were certain you had never seen a more handsome man in your life. Even when he was angry and when you hated him. He was still so fucking perfect.

“Join me.” He purred. You knew what that meant. And even though he didn’t say it, you still knew. You had a choice. Even though he had made abundantly clear, he’d fuck you even when you didn’t feel like it (something that hadn’t happened so far), today you had the choice.

You could go to your own bed and sleep in peace. His soft voice revealed that.

Instead you slowly stepped forward until you stood in the middle of his bedroom. The red notebook on the bed caught your attention and immediately you felt a knot form in your stomach. The cruel reminder of the day he cut your hair and attempted to give you a new name. You swallowed and slowly looked up at him. He caught your gaze and his own landed on the book. Something in his eyes hardened briefly, but he quickly concealed it. He closed the door and went over to the bed, where he picked up the notebook and tossed it under the bed, where it landed with a soft thud.

He was still angry. You had snuck in his room and invaded his privacy.

You had disobeyed him.

He didn’t care that so many things had changed since then.

You had disobeyed him. And he hadn’t forgotten. He probably never would.

He forced a soft sigh over his lips, obviously trying to calm himself down.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. Probably a stupid thing to do, but to you, it felt right.

He shook his head. “Don’t.” His voice was firm and measured, as he stepped closer. The lion walk.

He stopped when his chest nearly touched yours and you were forced to look up at him.

The memory of the gentle reading and your nap in the living room wavered in your head. You were sure he was going to make you forget about it real soon.

As if on cue, he wrapped a hand around your throat and made you gasp. With a low growl, he leaned in and captured your lips in a rough kiss, forcing your mouth open and his tongue inside.

An involuntary moan slipped out of your mouth and against his. And when his hand squeezed tighter, you moaned again. He pushed you back until you hit the wall.

“Get on your fucking knees and crawl over to the bed.” He gritted out.

Your chest heaved rapidly. You couldn’t tell if he was still angry about the notebook or if his outburst had another reason. A more carnal one. Whatever it was, you slowly slid to your hands and knees and began to crawl over to the bed. By the time you reached it, he appeared behind you and put a hand on the back of your neck, pushing your face down against the mattress.

You gasped again and rolled your head over, so he wouldn’t smother you. To your surprise, he let you.

He used his free hand to push two of his fingers in your mouth, making you gag by the sudden intrusion and the intensity of it. This time, he didn’t use them to bruise your throat. Instead he pulled them out and swiftly slid them between your legs from behind.

You whimpered softly as he forced your legs apart and ran his fingers along your already damp panties.

“What is this?” He growled. “Didn’t I tell you not to fucking wear these at night?”

You swallowed. Uh-oh.

“I-“

“No.” He hissed out and spun you around, so that the back of your head landed on the mattress and you sat down on the floor. “Take them off.”

You swallowed and moved quickly to slide the panties off of you. You held them in your hand awkwardly, unsure what the hell to do. He looked so furious, it made you nervous.

He yanked them away from you. Then he used one hand to roughly grasp your chin and force your mouth open and the other one he used to force the soaked panties into your mouth.

You inhaled sharply and stared up at him with wide eyes. Of course it was degrading. And yet you felt yourself grow more and more wet.

“On your stomach.” He gritted out. “Now.”

You took a shaky breath and quickly scurried around to lay on your stomach.

“Good girl. You’re finally listening.”

He went over to the wardrobe and rummaged through it, until he found what he was looking for. His belt. Oh, you had a bad feeling yet again.

“P-please.” You gasped out, but it was muffled against the fabric in your mouth.

“Shut up.” He said sharply.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God-

You had a strange and unpleasant Deja-vu, thinking about your mother and her creative ways of punishment.

But he didn’t use the belt to hit you. Instead he used it to tie up your wrists. You nearly sighed in relief, but you knew better than to do that. You knew what that might bring.

So you simply lay still and let him tie you up like that.

You felt incredibly helpless in this position, but the thrill of it was strong enough to make you drip. You closed your eyes.

“You’re such a bad girl.” He murmured. “Always sneaking around, doing things you shouldn’t, huh? Is that how you’re trying to please me? With disobedience?” He scoffed. “You just never learn, do you?”

He crouched down before you and regarded you with a long, scrutinizing look. You almost expected him to slap you. But instead you witnessed how he slowly sucked on his fingers, the ones he had pushed in your mouth just a minute ago. The sight stirred something deep within you and you shifted on the bed.

“Bad girl needs to learn her lesson.” He purred.

Before you even knew it, he was already rubbing his fingers over your wetness and circling your clit in a way that made you moan. Again, he knew just where to touch you. A thought that filled you with as much jealousy as it did pleasure. But somehow, the jealousy always won.

“Does that feel good?” He murmured. You nodded eagerly, squirming and arching against his hand, desperately seeking the friction that would bring you to oblivion.

He hummed softly and kept moving his fingers, only ever picking up the pace. “Like that, baby? Do you like that, hm?”

You moaned again and buried your face in the pillow, not even caring about the piece of clothing in your mouth, until he sharply removed his hand. You let out a whine and raised your head just enough to see the satisfied smirk on his lips.

“You didn’t think I’d make it that easy, huh? Oh, you’re severely mistaken, princess.”

And just like that his hand was back, resuming the movement and having you writhe in a mixture of agony and pleasure.

“Please.” You muffled out again. You were more than ready to cum, your hips twitching treacherously. And he withdrew his hand again, a mock pout on his face.

“Sweet girl is so desperate for me to let her cum.” He hummed. “Be a good girl and beg daddy to let you cum.”

You swallowed thickly, which wasn’t too easy with your panties still in your mouth. “Please let me cum, daddy.”

The embarrassment was still there, your face still flushed, but you didn’t care one bit. You needed this, needed him.

“I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Please”, you begged again, “please let me cum, daddy.”

He smirked. “I don’t think you deserve that yet. First you’ll be a good girl for me.”

Your hands strained against the leather of the belt against your own will, but it didn’t help anything. You were still tied and helpless. So you simply nodded.

You licked your lips which had dried out, when he finally freed your mouth.

“Who are you?”

You slowly looked up at him. “Your girl.” You whispered.

He hummed in agreement. “What else are you?”

Your face flushed deeply when you thought about what he wanted to hear. “I…”

“Say it.” He said in a more demanding tone and grasped your chin in a bruising grip again.

“Your cumslut.” You said quietly, but it was barely audible. It seemed good enough for him, because he didn’t insist you repeated it.

“Good girl.” He whispered and gently ran his thumb over your lips. “Spread your legs for me, my good girl. I want to fuck you. Make space for daddy.”

Your face flushed even more, but you obeyed. You slowly parted your thighs, making space for him. You took a shaky breath when you felt him settle behind you on the bed, one hand grasping at your wrists, the other one pressed into the mattress next to your face, so he wouldn’t crush you under his weight.

You hadn’t even realized when he’d stripped off his boxers, until you felt the tip of his cock rub along your entrance. A needy whine came over your lips and you closed your eyes.

“Beg me for it, baby.” He whispered in your ear from behind. A shiver ran down your spine and you held back a moan, when he began to rub his cock over your core in a torturously slow movement. You were so wet and ready and yet he held himself back.

“Please fuck me, daddy.” You whispered, unable to open your eyes. You were so ashamed and embarrassed that it nearly choked the words silent on your tongue, but you still forced them out.

“Louder.”

You swallowed thickly. “Please.” You managed. “Please fuck me, daddy. Please, let me feel you.” You were surprised by how desperate you sounded.

Even more so by how desperate you felt.

“That’s my good girl.” In a swift movement, he thrusted forward and filled you to the brim, not giving you a moment to adjust to his size, before he began to fuck into you. You head fell forward and you released a breathless moan against the pillow.

It was a mixture of pleasure and pain, but the pain subsided quickly, when he began to hit the sweet spot inside of you as if he was desperate to make you cum as quickly as possible. He had never taken you from behind before and you had no idea how incredible it felt. Every thrust hit the right spot and it didn’t take you longer than a few seconds until you felt the need inside you build up intensely.

“Oh God.” You breathed out. “Oh God, please.”

He grunted in your ear, a sound that made you all the more aroused. The sound of his quick breaths and the way they hit your ear was almost too much. And when he bit down on your earlobe hard enough to make you cry out in pain, it was too much and you came.

You came with an intensity that made it impossible for you to stay quiet. You cried out in a way that sounded surprising to your own ears. You had never been much of a moaning girl, but that was too good. Too hard.

Too much.

The pleasure quickly shifted into over-stimulation when he didn’t stop thrusting into you, even after your walls clenched around him. He moaned again and you bit down on the pillow, your legs trembling furiously.

“Please.” You gasped out. “Please. Too much-“

“Good.” He growled and began to fuck into with even more intensity. You were close to crying, it felt almost painful, but at the same time you could tell you were almost getting there again.

“I beg you.” You cried out. “I’m begging you. Please.”

“Yes, beg me, my little cumslut.” He groaned in your ear as he kept moving furiously. “It won’t make me stop.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head and your hips twitched again, desperate to get away. You strained against the binds again, but he just held your wrists tighter. Until he released them and instead pushed two fingers in your mouth.

“Spit.” He hissed.

You moaned against him and tried to obey, but it was hard with someone thrusting his fingers in your mouth as if trying to hit the back of your throat. You spat down on them and coated them in your saliva, until you felt him pull them out and instead rub your clit with his slick fingers again.

You nearly screamed when he did and you felt the excitement burn up again, until you were almost ready to cum. But you were afraid, afraid that he’d keep going until you couldn’t take any more, until you’d start crying and even bleeding maybe.

“Please.” You cried out again, your voice breaking with every thrust.

“Shut up.” He hissed as he rubbed your clit in a way that made it impossible for you to shut up.

“What are you?”

“Your cumslut.” You cried out.

“My cumslut.” He gritted out again. He was so furious. So angry. And he was keen on taking it out on you. Before you knew it, his hand wrapped around your throat tightly again. “I’ll punish if you cum before I tell you to.”

Your eyes shot open and you nearly choked. You gasped for air. He wasn’t kidding. You knew he would. You tried your best not to, but it was near impossible.

“Please-“

Your body betrayed you. And you came. With his hand around your throat and a loud, shuddery gasp, you came.

Your walls clenched around him again, something that made him moan out and the sound only intensified the feeling inside of you.

When your body stopped trembling, his movements stilled and he pulled his hand away.

“You disobeyed. Stupid girl.”

“Please, I didn’t want-“

He pulled back roughly and stood up, standing beside the bed and staring down at you with wide, crazed eyes.

“Gun or knife. Choose.”

Oh God.

You felt the way the blood seemed to leave your face and your brain. You opened your mouth and closed it several times. Was he going to kill you? Was this the end?

Did he make you cum, just to kill you?

Had he only read to you, because this was your last day on earth?

When he said you meant something to him, was that a lie?

Were you just his to torment, his to get rid of?

You felt tears sting your eyes. You wanted to cry and beg and plead. You immediately missed the man he had been three hours ago. The man you fell in love with. The husband type of guy. The silly man, who didn’t catch the grape.

“Please.” You whispered and your voice cracked.

“If you don’t choose”, he gritted out, “I will.”

A tear rolled down your cheek and you rolled over just enough to face him fully. Suddenly you were more than thankful that he didn’t rip your pretty nightdress off when he began to fuck you. Dying naked sounded even more horrifying to you. Dying was bad enough. But naked?

“I-“

“Too late.” He bit out.

He rummaged through the wardrobe again and came back with a kitchen knife. He kept a fucking knife in his wardrobe?

You let out a horrified gasp and tried to back away against the wall, but it wasn’t easy. You struggled against the belt that kept your wrists tied up desperately, but it didn’t work. Nothing worked.

And suddenly you were sure.

This was the end of you.

The end of a miserable life with an even more miserable ending.

He slammed down the knife beside your head and rolled you onto your back.

You stared at him with wide eyes and wet lashes.

“Please.” You whispered again, against the sound of a choked sob. What could you say to convince him not to kill you? What could you do? Nothing. Nothing at all. You were done for.

This was it.

“Spread your legs.”

You swallowed thickly. He would really kill you, while he was inside you?

The thought brought even more tears to your eyes.

“Please. I-“

“Now.”

Against your better judgement, you obeyed. You slowly parted your legs again, letting him in. Your arms hurt terribly, with your weight on them and now his was added.

He picked up the knife and pressed the blade against your throat hard enough for you to feel it, but not enough to cut you. And you let out a sharp gasp, when he pushed forward and suddenly he was fucking you again.

“My good girl.” He murmured and let out a soft moan. “Oh, my good girl, you trust me, don’t you?”

He began to move faster and harder, causing you to moan, despite yourself. You were still crying. The feel of the cold blade against your skin was enough to make sure of it.

But the pleasure rolled over you in waves, despite your fear.

You released a sob and nodded.

“My good girl. My darling girl. My sweet girl.” He whispered and pressed the knife down slightly tighter, but still not enough to cut you.

His other hand wandered up and he pressed his fingers into your cheeks, enough to make you moan out again.

“Say it.” He growled.

“I’m your girl.” You whispered shakily.

“Again.”

He was growing closer, you could tell. His movements, once controlled, became more and more reckless and his moans grew louder.

“I- I’m your girl.” Your insides twitched.

“Fuck, yes, you are. My girl. My good girl.”

He gave a particularly hard thrust and you were sure. You would…

Oh, fuck.

You came in a way you never had before. You clenched around him yet again and moaned desperately, gasping for air and not caring a bit about the cold metal pressed against your throat.

Instead, you felt it seemed to intensify the feeling somehow.

You were so helpless.

The moment you came, you heard him moan louder than before and his body tensed. With a low groan, he came deep inside you, twitching and throbbing.

A moment later, he let the knife slip from his hand and it rolled off the bed with a loud click. His head dipped forward and he buried his face in your neck as he rode out his release. He opened his mouth and pressed a hot, wet kiss to your neck.

And suddenly you were sure.

He wouldn’t let you go and you were special.

But was that really a good thing?

“Oh God.” He breathed out when he slowly came down from his high. Your hips twitched in exhaustion and over-stimulation. You had never felt so worn-out and satisfied at the same time.

You didn’t even realize how you were still crying, until he pulled his head back to look at you. The fury was gone. He was much more calm now and the softness was back.

Just like that.

His brows furrowed and he gently cupped your face in his hands.

“Did I hurt you?” He whispered.

Your eyes fell shut and you nodded. You sniffled softly.

His head fell forward aagain nd he pressed a soft kiss against your forehead. Then your nose, and then your cheek. Kissing away your tears. A moment later, you felt the salt on your lips when he brushed his over them, kissing you softly.

“I would never kill you. You know that, right?”

You swallowed thickly. Just a minute earlier you had been sure he would stab you to death.

But you forced yourself to nod.

“Good.” He whispered. “Because I would never kill you, my sweet, darling girl.”

He smiled and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“At least not unless you gave me a reason to.”

___________________________________________________

Tag list: @mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q @whitefeathers @ennvfv @heartzxx @yourpointbreak @hell0kittt @salesmanlover08 @pascalislove @nina357 @ing9449myu @vamplivivi @tvbais @ilovenana00 @misswannadiesworld @glads-stuff @chunkzdeluluwife @estreiiuh @lokis-lovely-muse @zaimeskuna @lalalaa2210 @i-might-be-vanny @cupidzslvt @k1rapark3r @vyladsgirl @jayyourbabe @yeaiamme2 @babyscilence @abcde-12345dorito @madzpm @o9sessions @dilfismz @idenack @sunburngal @prettysatoru @newtscreatures347269 @4j4ax @yru3xme @rafecamsgirlll @recordofragnarokfan2 @hayakamis-blog @kttb @fictionalmen-dilflover @puddingknows @wanderlustingcastaway @magicseahorse

If I forgot anyone, please let me know and I'll fix it!

Author's note: Sorry guys, his insanity won over this one. But I'm positive he'll show us another side of him in the future!

[nanenna]

Some headcanons I didn't manage to fit in, for those curious.

Vlad was also in the facility in just as bad shape, I know I forgot him during that and edited it a little for AO3 so he's also there getting rescued. Just... all the halfas living and recovering together. Since this is post Glitch (even if we have no idea what's going to happen after that cliffhanger yet as of writing this) Vlad had actually been well on his redemption arc when this happened.

Dan and Danny are twins (what with the cloning), and were in their early 20s when they got captured. Dani, being 4 years younger, was near the end of high school. But everyone's ghost forms still look the age they were when they died (and I HC that halfas only age when they're not ghosts so everyone looks younger than they are legally). So Plasmius looks 20, Dan Phasmius (not his actual name) looks 18-ish (half way between his two ghost "parents"), Danny Phantom looks 14, and Dani Phantom looks 10. Forever. It certainly makes for better secret identities once they got older (more on that later). After they start their recovery and get new IDs the kids instead become triplets because why not?

For Jazz to be there and get shot with the Drs Fenton I'm thinking everyone was home for probably the holidays so... you know... more holiday trauma for the Fenton boys! 8D

The halfas are healing, but it's a slow process. Most of the healing actually happens in ghost form, but they need to be in human form to get all the nutrients they need to literally rebuild parts of their bodies. It's kind of a hack, actually. Their ghost and physical bodies do mirror each other... kinda (see age HC above). So as ghosts they gather ecto and build back their bodies, but when they turn human there's only so much protein and calcium to go around so they gotta eat while humans because the normal human body doesn't regrow nerves. Like I said: relatively slow process.

Obviously laying around regrowing missing body parts is really boring, and since going ghost is part of the healing process all four spend time hanging out in ghost form and just... getting out and spending time with anyone else. So even before their human bodies are up for leaving bed the Phantoms and Plasmius are already sparring and getting to know their rescuers and meeting other JL members. The moment someone even hints at talking to them about taking up cape work Clark punches that person right in the face. Gently (for a Kryptonian). These people lived his nightmare, the one J'onn barely escaped, he's so very protective of these children. He doesn't care if they only look like children, no one is going to pressure them into cape work. They've more than earned retirement.

I do think after they fully recover probably everyone would go on the "reserve" list for when world ending threats happen, and the kids would probably step in for anything they see happening near them where ever they live, but I don't think any of them would do well out in the trenches with all that ✨CPTSD✨

But those are just my thoughts, I'm not planning on writing more. Anyone else who's inspired is more than welcome to do their own thing with this. I know I left their recovery pretty open in the epilogue.

DP x DC Prompt/Plotbunny #6

After days? weeks? months? years? in this mercy-forsaken lab, Danny finds himself slipping; his core straining under the weight of what he's been subjected to. In a last ditch effort to save his fracturing soul, his brain simply stops processing the pain and allows his mind to escape into a waking dream.

Danny knows it's a dream. If he thinks about it; he can still hear, see, feel the scientists at work. He doesn't think about it; instead embraces whatever false world his mind decides to concoct for him.

.

Several states away, a young boy opens his eyes to the inside of a strange pod in an abandoned lab. Though he cannot see it yet, a strange metal tag dangles from his ear, stamped on one side with the word 'CADMUS' and on the other with 'R-13'.

[deansbeer]

★ SUNSETS, SOMBREROS, & SURPRISES // birthday boy edition.

SYNOPSIS. you surprise dean with a getaway to mexico for his birthday, complete with heartfelt gifts, a sunset stroll, and life-changing news.

WARNING(S). birthday fluff | f!reader | implied sex | post-sex cuddles | alcohol consumption | heartfelt declarations of love I mild strong language I dean's fear of flying (related to S1 EP4 of supernatural).

-> if i missed a warning, please do let me know !

KARI'S NOTES. happy bday to baby boy <3 he deserves everything in the entire world, and i believe (in my head) he is very much alive + living his best life after giving up hunting because S15 never happened. anyway! i hope u enjoy this, which was just sitting there in my notes all day <333

DEAN WINCHESTER'S birthday had always been a quiet affair—if it was celebrated at all. most years, it was just a beer, maybe a piece of pie if he was lucky, and maybe sam would remember to say something. it wasn't that he didn't appreciate the effort when it happened; it just wasn't something he was used to. birthdays were just days, right? another year older, another year spent fighting the good fight.

but this year, you weren't having it.

you'd been planning this trip for weeks, keeping everything under wraps as best as you could. it wasn't easy; dean had a way of sniffing out surprises, especially when it came to you. but somehow, you managed to keep him in the dark.

so when you told him—casually, over breakfast—that you had booked a trip for the two of you, his fork froze halfway to his mouth.

"a trip?" he repeated, brows furrowing.

you smiled, taking a sip of your coffee. "yep. two weeks, just you and me. no cases, no monsters, no bunker. just… us."

he gave you a suspicious look. "where?"

"mexico," you said, watching his reaction carefully.

dean blinked. "mexico?"

"mexico," you confirmed, grinning.

he set his fork down, leaning back in his chair. "and how exactly are we getting there? because i know baby's not built for that kinda trip."

you tried not to laugh. "we're flying."

his face immediately twisted into a grimace. "oh, hell no."

"dean—"

"nope. not happening. i'm not getting on a plane."

you sighed, reaching across the table to take his hand. "you survived it once, didn't you? besides, this isn't a hunt. it's a vacation. you have me with you the whole time, and i promise, nothing's gonna happen."

he stared at you, his jaw clenching like he was trying to come up with another excuse. but you gave him that look—the one that always made him cave—and he finally sighed, muttering, "fine. but if i die, i'm haunting your ass."

you laughed, squeezing his hand. "deal."

the flight itself was… tense. dean was on edge the entire time, gripping the armrests like the plane was about to fall out of the sky. you spent most of the flight holding his hand, rubbing soothing circles into his palm, and distracting him with small talk. by the time you landed, he seemed a little less tense, but he still muttered something about never doing this again as you grabbed your bags.

but once you stepped outside and felt the warm sun on your face, all of his complaints seemed to melt away. the two of you made your way to the hotel, checked in, and by the time you reached your room, dean was actually beaming.

the room was beautiful—large windows overlooking the ocean, a king-sized bed, and a balcony where you could hear the waves crashing in the distance. it was perfect.

"damn, sweetheart," dean said, dropping his bag and whistling low. "you really went all out, huh?"

"only the best for you, birthday boy," you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

he turned in your arms, pulling you close. "you didn't have to do all this."

"i wanted to," you said simply, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him.

the rest of the evening you both spent it enjoying each other. after some steamy sex that left both of you tangled in the sheets, you laid together, the warm breeze from the open balcony door cooling your skin. dean had an arm draped over you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your shoulder as you rested your head on his chest.

"this is nice," he murmured, his voice low and content.

"yeah," you agreed, your fingers brushing over the ridges of his abs.

you had two surprises planned for him, but you decided to start with the one you knew he'd love.

the next evening, after a lazy morning spent in bed and a quick swim in the hotel pool, you and dean got ready to head out to a restaurant you'd researched weeks ago.

dean had noticed you staying up late in the bunker, your laptop open and your brow furrowed in concentration. he'd assumed it was for a hunt, maybe some research sam had roped you into. but now, he realized it had all been for this.

as you stepped into the restaurant, dean was immediately greeted by a group of staff who placed a large, brightly decorated sombrero on his head. you'd called ahead, asking if they could do something special for his birthday, and they'd certainly delivered.

he looked ridiculous, but the grin on his face was worth it.

"you planned this too?" he asked, glancing at you as he adjusted the sombrero.

"of course," you said, smiling. "it's your birthday, baby. i wanted it to be special."

the two of you spent the evening laughing, eating some of the best food dean had ever tasted, and him having a few drinks. you even ordered for him in spanish, your fluency leaving him both impressed and—if the look in his eyes was anything to go by—more than a little turned on.

"damn," he said after you helped him pronounce something on the menu. "never thought i'd find spanish sexy, but here we are."

you laughed, shaking your head. "glad i could surprise you."

later, as the two of you walked along the beach, the sun dipping below the horizon in a blaze of orange and pink, dean seemed more relaxed than you'd seen him in years. he was barefoot, his flip-flops dangling from his fingers, and his other hand was firmly clasped in yours.

you wore a long white summer dress, the fabric fluttering in the breeze, and dean couldn't stop stealing glances at you.

"you look beautiful, darlin'," he said softly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

you smiled, your cheeks warming. "you don't look so bad yourself, my love."

when you reached a pair of deck chairs, you both sat down, dean immediately pulling his closer to yours. his hands rested on your thighs, his touch warm and grounding as he stared out at the ocean.

you took the opportunity to pull out the first gift—a small envelope with his name written on the front in your neat cursive.

"what's this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as you handed it to him.

"open it and find out," you said, grinning.

he carefully tore it open, pulling out the letter and saw tickets inside. his eyes widened as he read the letter, and by the time he got to the tickets, his jaw had dropped.

"no fucking way," he breathed, staring at the words 'Metallica VIP' printed on the tickets.

"yes way," you said, laughing.

"you're serious?" he asked, looking at you like he couldn't believe it.

"dead serious. we're going as soon as we get back."

he was quiet for a moment, his eyes misting over as he looked back at the tickets. then he set them down and pulled you into his arms, kissing you all over your face.

"you're amazing, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

you laughed, brushing a tear from his cheek. "you deserve it, dean. you deserve everything."

he shook his head, his smile soft. "i don't know what i did to deserve you."

you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "you're you. that's enough."

after a moment, you pulled back, reaching behind you for the second gift.

"there's one more thing," you said, your voice growing a little shaky.

dean frowned slightly, his brows furrowing. "what more could you possibly—"

you held out the pregnancy test, your hands trembling slightly.

"i'm pregnant, baby," you said softly, your eyes searching his face.

for a moment, he just stared at you, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to find the right words. then a slow smile spread across his face, and he let out a choked laugh.

"you're serious?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

you nodded, tears streaming down your face. "yeah. i'm serious."

he let out a shaky breath, pulling you into his arms and spinning you around. you squealed, clinging to him as he laughed, his joy infectious.

when he finally set you down, he cupped your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your nose, and finally your lips.

"thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "thank you for… everything."

you smiled, resting your forehead against his. "happy birthday, my love."

that night, you celebrated with champagne — he drank one for you and himself — laughter, and the quiet promise of a future filled with love.

SPECIAL TAGS. @figthoughts @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @deanswidow @lacydollette @fallbhind @beausling @frosttbitessam @bluestrd @florchids @ultravi0lence14 @starzify @honeyryewhiskey @bluemerakis @deansbite @rafespreciosa @voidsuites . . . ☆

[luvybun]

i can't stop thinking about joshua as your sugar daddy who just can't say no to you... like, yes, he'll buy whatever you ask him to buy, but ALSO he'll fuck you wherever you want

(cue exhibitionism heheheheh)

౨ৎ anything for you, sweetheart - sugar daddy!hong joshua x fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 genre: pure smut, slight fluff ᡣ𐭩 cw: use of pet names (princess, baby, my baby, etc), reader calls joshua daddy, a lot of dirty talk about joshua being older than reader, implies power imbalance, cream pie, piv sex without protection (don't do this), fingering, exhibitionism, almost getting caught, mirror sex, fucking in a bathroom ᡣ𐭩 words: 1.2k ᡣ𐭩 notes: omg you get me anon

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. any names, images, or references to real individuals are purely fictional and do not portray or represent their real-life counterparts in any way.

꒰୨୧꒱ 18+ content, MDNI ꒰୨୧꒱

"are you sure you don't want anything else, sweetheart?"

you could think of a couple things you want, none of which you can say in such a public space, so you end up just shaking your head to the man beside you in line. the two of you didn't go out shopping a lot, but whenever you did joshua always splurged on you. to be fair, he splurged on you even if you weren't physically going out shopping.

joshua pays for your new bracelet, and the two of you leave the store. he carries your bags for you as you walk around, looking for your next store. you know that people are staring - a young woman hanging onto the arm of a handsome older gentleman is bound to make people stare - but you've been through this for long enough to stop caring. actually, it's a bit of a turn-on for you now.

while joshua is innocently unaware, you've been rubbing your legs together since the car drive here. your panties are completely soaked through, and you can feel them sticking to your skin. all because of the thought of joshua taking you somewhere in the mall you're in right now.

joshua pulls you to another store, excitedly pointing out a cute dress. "this would be gorgeous on you, wouldn't it?"

it's a shorter sundress. all you can think about is how easily he can flip the skirt of it over your ass while he's pounding you in the changing rooms.

"you think so?" you ask innocently, but the grip you have on his bicep is growing stronger.

he looks at you for a moment, no doubt studying your flushed face, and then he smiles and leans down to press a kiss on your temple.

"i'm not embarrassing you, am i?" he asks softly.

"why would you be?" you glance up at him with a twinge of worry in your heart.

joshua carefully brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. "because such a beautiful girl like you is with an older man like me. i know that people are staring, does it bother you?"

"you're handsome, shua. that's why they're staring," you assure him.

he smiles, and it sends butterflies through your stomach. the ache in your core is growing more and more unbearable. so, when he goes to hold your waist, you jump slightly.

"are you sure you're okay?" he murmurs in your ear.

"i'm..." you trail off as joshua's fingers gently start massaging your hip... he knew what he was doing. "daddy... i need you."

joshua smiles as soon as he hears your pleading whispers, immediately leading you to the nearest bathroom. the walk is quick, but excruciating. he sneaks you in through the bathroom door before following you, locking the door behind him.

his lips are immediately on yours, as he's pushing you up against the wall and working quickly to get his hand under your skirt and into your panties. his other hand pulls up your top over your chest, revealing the lacy bra he bought you last week. as his fingers slip in between your folds, his lips move to kiss the swell of your breasts.

"naughty girl," he murmurs against your skin. "getting this wet in public... does daddy turn you on this much?"

"yes, god yes!" you whine as one of his fingers easily slips inside your pussy. "more, daddy, please!"

joshua chuckles as he plunges in a second finger, and your hands go to stable yourself against his shoulders. he's working you open quickly, scissoring his fingers as he's pulling them out of you.

"did my princess work herself up? did you think about me fucking you in the car earlier? maybe in the changing room?" he whispers in your ear and you nod and whine. "such a good little slut, always thinking about the next way to get my cock inside her."

"i really want your cock, daddy, please, please, please-"

he pulls his fingers out of you, but before you could complain he turns you around and presses your chest against the wall. you hear him unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants before you feel him start to line up his thick cock with your aching hole.

"my baby gets what she wants, right?" he grunts as he pushes inside you.

a moan slips out of your mouth, and joshua quickly goes to cover it with his hands - shushing you as you whine about it. "it's okay, baby... sshh... we just need to keep quiet, don't we? wouldn't want anyone trying to come in here to see me fucking your pretty, young pussy."

"daddy-" your moan is muffled by his hand, but joshua takes the opportunity to slip one of his fingers into your mouth. you can taste yourself on him.

his hard cock is ramming into you relentlessly, and if it weren't for his finger, that you were so eagerly sucking on, you wouldn't be able to keep your mouth shut. he was hitting you in all the right places, right where you needed him. which is why you got so whiny when he stopped his movements. suddenly, joshua grabs your arms and hooks both of your elbow-bends under one of his arms - keeping you up from the wall. without pulling out, he turns you around to face the mirror.

your mascara is smudged, and so is your lipgloss. your tits are hanging out of the bra, and your legs are visibly shaky. "look at how pretty you are, princess. taking my cock so well..."

"th-thank you, daddy." you give him your best fucked-out smile before he starts pounding into you again.

your tits are violently bouncing with each movement, and joshua's free hand goes to grab one of them. he squeezes them roughly, and pinches your nipples, making you gasp. you bite down on your bottom lip hard to try to contain your noises - but the noises of his balls slapping against your wet pussy are loud enough.

you hear a sharp knock on the door, and your heart drops - but your pussy clenches. "almost done!" joshua responds in a matter-of-fact tone.

he doesn't stop fucking you, and you're growing closer and closer to your orgasm. "daddy- we're gonna get caught-"

"thought that's what you wanted, baby, wasn't it? didn't you want everyone to see how good i fuck you? how perverted you are for sleeping with an older man?"

you moan out loud, and joshua doesn't stop you. you can hear footsteps echoing away from the door - but you don't care. the only thing you care about now, is cumming. as if reading your mind, joshua brings his hand down to your clit and starts rubbing tight circles over the bud.

"want you to cum with me, princess," he murmurs. "cum around my cock so that i can cum inside that pretty pussy of yours."

"yes, yes! cum inside me, daddy!" you whimper.

the coil in your stomach snaps as you take a final look at yourself, completely at joshua's mercy. at the way you were spasming, joshua came soon after you - burying his cock deep inside you to make sure that not a drop spilled out.

your head went fuzzy after that. but you know that joshua pulled your panties back to their place, that he cleaned up your face, adjusted your clothes, and that he carefully but quickly led you back to the car. in the car, he put his jacket over you as you practically sank into the passenger seat.

"thank you, daddy," you repeated with a pout, and pulled the jacket closer around you.

joshua started the car and started driving. "anything for you, sweetheart."

[impish-baby]

A few glimpses into 'both arms cradle you now' reader's childhood in no particular order

"Why do birds suddenly appear evertime you are near.." The wet tears running down your cheeks are gently brushed away, whatever nightmare plaguing your sleep seems so far away now that your dad is here. "Just like me, they long to be close to you.." Damien hoists you into his arms, still humming that familiar lullaby as he carries you to the kitchen.

"Why do stars fall from the sky every time you walk by.." You're set on top of the counter, Damien ruffling your hair softly before walking over to the fridge to fetch a carton of milk. "Just like me.. they long to be.. close to you.." The warm glow of the stove makes the quiet night more cozy, the shadows along the walls retreating as well as any lingering fear.

You can feel you eyes start to droop, a small yawn leaving your lips making the man chuckle fondly. "One sec, ok? Daddy has some angel milk for you so you don't have anymore bad dreams, then we'll get you tucked back into bed."

-

"Do you want to hold him, sweetie?" Not really, but a nudge to your shoulder has you taking a reluctant step forward anyway. You're not sure how to feel about him, he's your dad's but not your mom's.

Mary scoots over a little so you can climb up on the hospital bed next to her, a tired but kind smile on her face. "Here, it's ok, you just need to make sure you're supporting his head.." She helps guide your arms into the right position, placing the tiny buddle into them, a pair of equally tiny disgruntled blue eyes soon staring up at you.

When you were first told that your stepmom was pregnant, you tried really really hard to just be happy for them. You promise. The sinking dread never went away though, no matter how much you berated yourself for feeling that way.

Babies are a blessing, but the announcement only cemented the fact that the world as you knew it was ending. Your dad isn't just your dad anymore. Even then, he hasn't acted like one to you in a while. Maybe you were just denying the inevitable.

"Ohh, I think he likes you.." Mary's head rests on your shoulder suddenly, distracting you from your sullen thoughts. "See? You're a natural with little ones!"

"He's glaring at me.."

She laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek as she sits up. "No, he's just getting used to the world, darling. He loves you, he knows he has the best older sibling he could ask for."

-

"What's even the point?" You're both supposed to be sleeping even though it isn't a school night, Aunt Lisa is strict when it comes to things like that. What she doesn't know won't hurt her though.

"Because they look cool," Avery shrugs, carful of the fact you're currently snuggled under one of his arms. "And you get bragging points for catching them." You still don't get it, they're the same thing just a different color. "You've watched me play for like an hour, and now you're bored?"

"You were actually doing stuff before.." You huff, "You've been going around in a circle for fifteen minutes."

You scoff at his comment, now filled with spite to actually beat the game. You've barely moved an inch before the battle music plays, a black and purple pumpkaboo greeting you. "Oh, um..

"I

Well, excuse me," Avery sniffs playfully, "You play since I'm not entertaining enough." The console is handed over to you, the older boy simply holding you closer. "I bet you lose the first match you try."

"Huh?" Avery sighs, quickly pouting when he looks back at the screen. "Seriously? Damm, you're lucky." He pokes your cheek, "You catch it for me and I'll buy you some fries tomorrow."

-

"You're so annoying!"

With how hard you hit the ground, you know you're going to bruise. You weren't even talking, you just wanted to hang out with them.

"Seriously, who even wanted you to come over? I sure didn't!" No matter what you do, Lizzie doesn't like you. Doesn't matter if you're as friendly as can be or give her some space, you're always doing something wrong. "You're wasting good air, you know?"

"M' sorry, didn't mean to bother you." You won't cry, you're too old for that. "Liz-"

"You didn't mean to? Yeah, right!" Lizzie scoffs, kicking dirt into your face. Dust immediately stings your eyes. "You're a pest! No wonder everyone calls you bug, you're clingy like a tick, a parasite."

Your feeble attempt to rub the dirt away isn't really helping, you can barely hold your eyes open enough to look up at her. Miles isn't going to do anything to help either, silently supporting his sister.

"No wonder your dad left you! And your mom, she must be insufferable if you're her kid-"

You don't know when you managed to get up on your feet or when you grabbed a handful of Lizzie's hair. On the bright side, it makes her shut up.

"Hey!"

Your dad emerges from the house, miles trailing behind him. Of course.

"What has gotten into you?" You've let the older girl go at this point, she wasn't even crying until he came outside.

"Ow, dad.." Lizzie hides behind Damien, flashing you a smirk. "I wasn't even doing anything and they decided to be mean.."

Any inking of doubt you had evaporates in an instant. You don't have a dad anymore, you haven't in years.

"God.." He crosses his arms, the stern look would have made you wince if you weren't already shaking. "Don't even try to give me any excuses, Miles told me what happened. You can wait out here for your mom to pick you up since you can't behave yourself. I thought you knew better."

-

"Can you at least try to eat half, please?"

Your plate sits almost entirely untouched, having just been picked at over the course of dinner. Your mom's worried frown won't leave her face. "You're still a growing kid, I don't like how many meals you've tried to skip."

"I'm not hungry." You really aren't, there's always a nauseous feeling in your gut these days. "I'll eat a snack later, don't worry, mom."

"Baby.." She pinches the bridge of her nose and you feel a pang of guilt for how stressed she must be. "Please? For mommy? Or at least talk to me about what's going on.. i- it hurts seeing you so sad all the time."

What are you supposed to say to that?

Against your will, there's tears starting to drip down your cheeks. You don't think you've ever seen the women move so fast, her chair clattering to the floor in her rush to go to your side. "Oh, my baby.."

"I- I'm sorry.." For what you don't know, maybe the fact that she's stuck with you. "I- I'm so sorry, mom-"

"Oh, hush.." You're too big for her to carry, you both know, but she still scoops you into her arms. "There's nothing in the world you need to apologize to me for."

You sniffle, tucking your head under her chin. "I- I don't want to see dad anymore.. or.. or hear about him or-"

"Shhh.." She runs a hand through your hair in an attempt to soothe you, "you don't have to, alright? We'll figure it out. If that's what you want, you won't ever have to see him again."

(a/n: some ramblings while I start writing the second part to the series..reader will continue to go through it)

[unpretty]

in sorrowverse he didn't get invulnerable until he was older but she didn't know how his alien physiology would react to a vaccine. maybe it would be the trigger that finally turned him into a giant crab. he seemed like he got the flu sometimes but never when anyone else had the flu and he always got better on his own. she took her chances and said she couldn't consent on his behalf. like getting baptized. he'd have to do it himself when he was older. compared to the guy who said his religious exemption was for his own religion he invented run out of his carpenter shop (because jesus was a carpenter) which was why his shop was actually a church and should be tax exempt, she seemed harmless.

Do u think Clark has like. Weird organs. Does he have lungs. Is his heart on the right.

has weird organs. lungs too big. some extras that humans don't seem to have. he doesn't know either and refuses to let anyone look if he can help it. martha avoided a lot of uncomfortable questions when he was a kid by saying she didn't believe in various medical procedures because she was a unitarian. she really coasted on no one in smallville knowing what a unitarian was. when an actual unitarian moved to smallville there was a lot of confusion until martha told everyone she'd been lying because she was actually in a cult at the time. no one had a problem with this because it seemed like it explained a lot.

[ippipo]

self aware caleb

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

it was crazy. but it was fun. every weekday as soon as you were back home, you would call him and go about your day. doing the laundry, making dinner, cleaning the house, it just came to you naturally with caleb. it was all so domestic.

"yeah, and she was deranged the entire summer," you gossip with him. "and he kept spreading rumours that he was being abused by his ex to get her attention."

"weird way to get a girl," he remarks. "so fucking weird," you add.

"anyway, how's life in your gameland?" you ask, earning a sigh in response. "it's alright, playing out of script is so much better," he replies.

"i wish you were here," you let it out, the longing for a companion getting to you. "me too," he frowns.

the weekend was slow and slightly relieving because you got all the time in the world to relax. holidays were on their way in a bit, and you were so excited to spend it by doing nothing with caleb.

caleb would sometimes monitor your phone, using it to listen to music from your world and play games. sometimes he would search random things about humans on earth on google just for the sake of it. he couldn't care less about anyone except you.

but one day, he stumbled upon your notes app. he didn't know you used it as a journal, and accidentally opened a note of yours.

it was a note from when you were 13. the language wasn't too advanced but for a 13 year old, it was pretty great. he felt bad for invading your privacy, but he noticed the word 'boyfriend' and became curious.

p.s. this is an actual entry of mine from when i was 13 lmao

"dear notes (idk what to call you lol),

i finally got a boyfriend after a thousand years of waiting. he's a little ugly but he's funny, so it's okay. he is shorter than me but he looks pretty, so plus point. we nearly kissed today but i wanted to wait until i turned 16. but in case i end up realising he's too boring for me, this is what i want in a boy.

he should be taller, hotter, stronger, and waaaay more intelligent than these bozos at my school. please make him rich and fancy. i want generational wealth, not trauma. but even if he isn't rich, don't make him ugly and boring, guys at school already do that. if the spirits can see this, i swear to never kiss anyone until i turn 18,

thank you."

he was giggling like a school girl after reading it. he was so invested in reading some of your other notes until he heard your voice. you were arguing with someone, and he couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"no, i told you that i don't like her. she gives me the heebie jeebies," your voice booms in the room. "but she taught you in 6th grade, be nice and just meet her. her son is your age too, maybe you'll finally find someone to date!" an older woman's voice spoke.

caleb felt uncomfortable with the idea of you looking for someone to date. it didn't sit right with him. he shakes the thoughts away and focuses back on the conversation.

"her son is literally dating my friend," you deadpan. your mom, as he assumes her to be, is dumbfounded. "but be respectful and meet her for the love of god," your mom snaps at you. "she used to literally pick on me, if she died, i would wish everyone a happy new year," this remark of yours makes him snort.

".....y/n, do you have a pig in your house?" your mom questions you suspiciously, making caleb freeze. "no? uh...that was just- i farted!" you immediately cover up. caleb was trying so hard not to laugh. "i keep telling you to exercise to control gas but you never listen. did you know how happy i felt when you left for college because i didn't have to bear with the constant farting at home?" your mom nags.

you panic internally, not wanting caleb to hear about this part of your life. you wanted to crawl into a coffin and bury yourself alive. "it's just a natural process, mom. please, just go home now. i need to complete some work."

as soon as your mom leaves, you pick up your phone. "now listen here you piece of shit, you heard nothing, not even a single damn word," you aggressively tell him. "yes, ma'am," he responds from the other side. "but, i recently heard about someone having a farting problem, although i don't know who."

"caleb!" you warn him. you bury your head in your hands from the shame. he laughs out loud at this.

a few minutes later, he remembers what he did, guilty consuming him. "hey, uh, listen," he nervously calls out. "i might have accidentally read your notes, i didn't mean to. i'm so sorry," he frantically apologizes. great, another reason to kill yourself today.

"...what did you read?" you ask helplessly. "just something from when you were thirteen, about your boyfriend and stuff," he replies casually, as if he didn't just read about your inner demons. "it was cute," he remarks.

"caleb, my love, snoop around the notes app again and i'll make sure you don't see the light of day," you threaten him. he apologizes again, but was slightly amused. "i just hope nothing more embarrassing happens after this or i might just jump off the terrace," you groan.

later that night while caleb was once again, unfortunately curious, snooping around your phone. he was just finding out about different apps. he was about to listen to some music when he heard a gasp. alarmed, he began paying attention to the sound, thinking you were in trouble.

"oh, fuck!" you moan out loud when your vibrator's intensity increases. your body convulsing at the stimulation your clit was receiving. your soft gasps were ever so clear to him. his entire body begins warming up, his pants making him uncomfortable.

he intently listens to your whimpers and whines, imagining how it would be to eat you out. devour you fully and deeply till you're nothing but a beautiful mess, all because of him. his boner getting more painful as time passes by, but he just can't stop listening.

it gets worse when he hears your moans getting louder, indicating your climax. good lord, he was so in trouble right now.

if you knew he could hear every little sound you were making, you might have just gone along your earlier statement.

[oh-no-its-bird]

You are making me EMOTIONAL thinking about baby kakashi losing his teeth and not having his dad around to ask about things now, not even specifically for fang reasons either 😭😭

I think I was late and lost my first took when I was almost seven and idk exactly when Sakumo died officially but. Idk. Something something the tragedy of potentially not even having a parent around to explain what is going on when you lose a tooth for the first time

I'm so glad u sent this actually bc I was thinking ab wanting to write a post ab this premise but wasn't sure how to phrase or start it

Kid Kakashi struggling through starting to lose his baby teeth after his father dies <33

Google tells me that children start losing their baby teeth around 6, and the general age I've seen for Kakashi when Sakumo kills himself is usually around that same number, so, it works out!!

You bring up such a good and fun point actually in just. Does Kakashi know what's happening to him? Has anyone explained to him that your teeth just naturally fall out when you're little?

One day, Kakashi goes to class and sees Obito, who's a few years older than him, bragging about how he "just lost my tooth the other day"

And Kakashi quietly goes to himself, "wow this guy is so bad at fighting, he got his tooth knocked out and he's happy about it. What a weirdo."

Obito is IGNORING the judgmental stares coming from Kakashi's direction, assuming Kakashi is just jealous of his super cool milestone of growing up

Thinking maybe Obito even comes over to try to brag about it, but Kakashi just goes "??? Why are you bragging about losing your teeth ??? God, you're such a freak"

And Obito is like, "I know ur just jealous BAKASHI. Because you are still a BABY while I am on my way to being a MAN"

And inside Kakashi, still deeply confused and weirded out, is like, 'why the fuck would I be jealous' but outloud he just glares and goes, "I've never lost any of my teeth because I never lose."

To which Obito loses his mind because he's like 9 and to a 9 year old that sounded kind of sick and how DARE Kakashi try and be cool about this

(In the background, Minato is well on his way to losing his mind trying not to laugh. Rin meanwhile is squinting and doing mental math as she tries to tell if Kakashi is joking or not)

But anyways like. Kakashi later losing his own teeth and freaking the fuck out about it. Is he sick? Is he dying? Should he go to the doctor?

Oh my god wait ok but Kakashi cornering Rin after a training session and demands she help diagnose him bc he doesn't want to go to the actual doctor or ask Sensei for help. And Kakashi admitting she's a "good med nin" and Rin is kinda going omg Kakashi conpliment,,,, life goals,,

But also like Kakashi thinks he's dying and she's SUPER flattered he thinks she can help but she's like. 10. And a med nin in training.

So she's kind of sweating like "omg what are ur symptoms, why do u think ur dying?"

And Kakashi is like my "fucking teeth are falling out !!!!!!"

And Rin is like "woah that sounds super scary and seriou— Hold on a second."

Kakashi goes as far as to take off his mask to show her, which goes to show how desperate he is rn because he'd usually never do that.

And Rin is torn between being tempted to pinch his cheek and pull at it like it's Mochi and also like. She's struggling SO hard not to laugh at this point because she knows if she does Kakashi will literally never forgive her

So Rin has to break it to Kakashi as gently as she can (and without laughing or cooing at his cute kid naivety) that don't worry, you aren't dying, this is normal

Kakashi doesn't believe her at first. But when he does he's suddenly overwhelmed by embarrassment. He will never recover. Hes so fucking glad he didn't actually go to the doctor or to sensei because at least Rin he can swear to secrecy FOREVER

Kakashi has to deal with his suddenly too big for his mouth adult fangs and keeps going to Rin to help heal the cuts they keep leaving on his lips ,,,,

Somehow Obito catches wind of this, and hears "Rin + helping with Kakashi's lips (???)" And thinks they're kissing and loses his goddamn mind in spectacular fashion.

Toddler drama....

Idk where Im really going with this, it ended up taking a life of its own

Uhhh anyways. Moving this conversation entirely:

You can copy pasted this exact concept onto Naruto for a really funny (and kind of awful) au where Naruto loses his first tooth and becomes convinced he's dying

He does actually try to go to the hospital but they try to turn him away, but when he blurts out that he's scared he's dying a particularly mean spirited doctor pretends to examine him then goes "oh no. You really are dying and have a week to live. Boohoo."

Naruto loses his fucking mind and makes a "things I want to do before I die" bucket list and then spends the next week desperatley trying to complete it bc hes convinced he's gonna die on the final day

This list includes but is not limited to:

- become Hokage

- start a family

- eat every single different kind of ramen on Ichiraku's menu

Idk how to make the first and third especially funny but like.

"Starting a family" ending up somehow leading to Naruto very aggressively trying to get literally anyone to hold his hand in a similar fashion to "Uchiha Sasuke's 10 step plan to get revenge" where Sasuke tries to get Shikamaru to marry him in his quest to "live a good life" to get revenge on Itachi, while Naruto hears Sasuke is looking for a husband and very loudly tries to get him to pick him instead

Which is actually a really fucking funny one on its own and now I'm just thinking about that instead, so I'll leave this post here

I got a little distracted, but. Thank you for ur ask !!!

[memnennemu]

akitoya zombie AU designs

Toya

Although he looks like an injured human, he's a zombie. Due to certain circumstances the virus didn't fully afect his brain, resulting in his body processing the decomposing of itself slower than the average living dead.

When he was attacked, zombies ate part of his face and other parts of his body. None of the wounds affected how he moved but required some bandages and stitches in order to not expose his body to dirt and bugs. The clean clothes are thanks to Akito, since his old ones were destroyed and covered in dried blood.

Akito

A human survivor trying to find his older sister, or at the very least traces of her. They weren't together when the virus started spreading rapidly through Shibuya and when he came back home he couldn't find her. He does know some other survivors in different camps but doesn't actually work in group due to his constant searching.

Scavenging for food in an abandoned convinience store he finds Toya on the ground. There, Akito realizes, not only he might know who that is; but also that he is a zombie. A peculiar one.

Author notes!

• Akito and Toya don't know each other like in canon. Akito can recognize Toya because they went to the same junior high school.

• This is an akty focused AU but other characters are here too! (Gestures towards Vivids)

• Poor Toya only has his wallet because that's what he had at the time of his dead. (House keys? What are those? It's not like I forgot to draw them or anything...)

• I thought I could also share the first full design I did of them in my sketchbook lol.

[lovelykil]

baby—

ᯓ killua (older ver.)

short oneshot

note; no proof read whoopsiesss

theres no denying the personality shift Killua has gone through over the years while being with you. Compared to his sixteen-year-old self, he was much more confident and open to things he usually wouldn't be open to.

maybe it was thanks to you, he didn't know. Although he's matured deliciously, growing out his fluffy silver hair like his father... his sarcasm and teasing never changed in fact, grew worse due to his rising confidence.

which brings us to now, after a day of babysitting Gon's sweet children, who all 4 of them surprisingly take after their energetic father... you and Killua plop straight onto the bed once the two of you get home. There was a comfortable silence that fell as both of you collected your thoughts from today. A few seconds later you retrieved your phone from your pocket and began to scroll.

"what a day hu-"

"I think I want kids." You immediately sprang up from your spot. You turned to Killua wide-eyed and full of concern. "I'm sorry WHAT?" You yelled. Killua's curious eyes landed on you as he laid on his back, he slowly sat up. "what?" he innocently questioned your response.

you continue to stare at him like he just said the most INSANE thing ever, well he actually did.

"you want KIDS??"

"yeah."

"how can you say that so CAUSALLY?" you yell once again, voice filled with utter disbelief. Killua looked away to ponder then shrugged. He laid back down but a little closer to your legs this time, "I just think little me's running around would be cute, you know?" He stated, nonchalantly. You looked down at him, hair dangling.

"as if I need another sarcastic asshole in my life."

Killua frowned, you grinned.

you laid back down in your spot, sighing in relief as your head hit the soft pillow. You grabbed your phone once again and ignored the conversation. Killua sat up and scooted closer toward you then laid next to your warm figure.

you feel a sudden weight on your shoulder and hands wrapping around your torso to move you. "why not just one, huh? His voice low and pleading rang in your ears. You felt butterflies in your tummy. Bad sign.

you attempt to shake him off with a groan, "not even one.." you respond. Seemed like he gave up for a few seconds, or was just planning something stupid to convice you in the few moments of silence.

he turned back on his side after lying down in thought and began messing with your hair, twirling your curls more with his finger. "can you atleast give me a reason why you dont want one?" he mumbled. You place your phone down, processing his question.

your eyes move around the room slowly in thought before answering. "we're to young." you flip over, facing him. He raises his brow, "I'm the same age as Gon and he has three kids we JUST looked after."

your brow also rose, "well go and break up Gon and his wife and take care of his kids." you smirk. The silverette was now the one looking at you like you were crazy, his judging expression made your laugh die out, quick.

you clear your throat, "sorry."

he decides to ignore your idiotic comment and contiune on about this topic, "we're financially stable. I don't see why we can't try."

you rub your face, groaing. "we try alot of times just with a condom."

you snicker at the 'joke' as you rub your eyes. when you placed your hands down you were met with an annoyed Killua. You clicked your tongue, shocked he didn't find your joke at least a little funny...

"c'mon that was funny."

"no, you're an idiot." he rolled his eyes.

you sighed loudly, turning on your back. You looked up at the white ceiling "I don't know Kil, this is a pretty big responsibility... I'm gonna need some time to think about it." Finally taking this seriously, you respond solemnly.

Killua sat up and crawled onto you, sitting on your lap with his legs trapping your sides. You blushed staring at him in a confused manner. He leaned down to your face, "you promise?" he whispered, softly.

you nod slowly. The boy smiles and proceeds to inch closer, soon you could feel his soft lips only inches away from yours. He noticed the way your lips curled into the cute smile he always adored when he leaned closer to you. It was then he knew if you two had a girl,

she would surely get your goregous smile.

you soon felt his lips crash into yours.

[quandledlngle69]

"EVEN IF IT FEELS RIGHT, IT'S WRONG."

☆ CONTENT:  An office AU where olderfem!reader is the secretary to Reo's father in the Mikage corporation, and she finds herself battling with morals and professionalism when Reo takes over as the CEO and confesses to reader in an elevator. ☆ GENRE/THEMES/WARNING: Office AU, trapped/forced proximity, confession, age-gap, reader and Reo almost kiss, reader is in her early 30's, Reo is in his mid 20's. Reader is abit cold and snobbish to Reo at first. Reader is a older female woman, implied that reader is black, reader wears a lace front. ☆ PAIRING: Olderfem!reader x CEO!ReoMikage ☆ W.C. 3.2K ☆ NOTE: This fanfic is based on the results of this poll–enjoy!

You have been with the Mikage Corporation for over seven years.

A loyal employee, one might say.

But you know it's because it couldn’t get any better than this.

When you were younger, you found it suspicious you had been handed the job on somewhat of a silver platter, but you never questioned it. You were fresh out of uni with a business management degree, bubbly as a cluster of bubbles, nothing could stop you. Younger you assumed it had been given to you so easily because you were fully qualified for the job. Which–was a factor, but if you asked your grumpy self now, you were still angry about the fact you didn't see the painfully obvious reason–that you were just a fresh object they could wear out until you needed to be discarded. And boy were you more worn out then a fucking used cloth.

You wanted to punch your past self for having this bright and colourful expectation of the world you were about to get into. A comfortable, easy life. Yet seven years later, all you had gotten out of this job was a reality slap in the face, chronic lower back pain, and the constant pressure and expectations from those around you made the outcome of your work feel personally worthless.

Working as Mr Masamune Mikage’s secretary was a hell you didn’t even want your worst enemies to experience. It was workload after workload, planning events after events, calls after calls. After a while of picking up the phone desk with slightly whitened knuckles, you had noticed fingerprints indented on the sides. 

And his wife was the most, no, thee most insufferable person on this planet to try and please. She was never happy with how you were dressed, your shirt was never the right length, and your makeup was never right for her. (god forbid you caked your face with pounds of makeup.) And who needs to host a party for the company getting another deal? They get three of those each week, doesn’t the woman get tired being in those six inch heels all day? Or talking to other egotistical trophy wives?

You pride yourself on being the sole person who ordered those around, who filled out the important paperwork on behalf of the CEO, who made sure the project's deadlines were met, who answered all the calls from other professional and expecting businessmen–who sneered as they asked you to specifically get a male representative on the phone.

You clawed your way to your place as secretary, you sacrificed the person you once were, and became a shell of yourself to gain this basically top–of–the–hierarchy through blood, sweat and tears.

And then, his son takes over his position. 

Yes, the Reo Mikage. 

You admittedly didn’t have high hopes with him first refusing to take the position from his father, you started with the prejudgment that it wouldn't be surprising if half of the company ran into the ground the first month of him even stepping in his fathers office.

It irked you.

The fact he didn't seem to take the job as seriously as you did, and his father did. 

One could say he was childish.

For a man in his mid twenties, and had seemingly been trained his whole life to take over his fathers company, he sure lacked the experience of actually being in an office and taking charge. He doesn’t run on excessive ice coffee and redbull like you–oh no, one matcha latte from the coffee shop downtown, and it's like he's energised for the entire day.

And you? Well, you just felt like a grumpy, slow slug the seven out of the eight hours you have to work.

It ruffled your feathers when he would ask if you needed help with your large workload, or constantly scolding you like some child for ‘pushing yourself too hard’. You had to bite back the glare you were barely holding back, if only it wouldn’t get you written up. In spite of that, there were–other things that would puzzle you. Supposedly like how he remembered it was standard routine for you to have a can of redbull after lunch, and how he would slightly chuckle at your surprised and confused expression as he placed the cool can on your desk. Because–who does that?

The way almost everyone in the office automatically liked him, like a magnet to metal, made your eye twitch. As a grown adult, you grasp the sense that you should restrain yourself, but it undoubtedly drives you up the wall when your openly cold attitude or sneering side remarks bounce off him and are instead met with an unwavering politeness. Despite that, you had found yourself subconsciously putting in…extra effort to look nice. Making sure your makeup was never cakey, your lace was laid, your edges were perfect.

You espied it too. The subtle glances and staring he thought you couldn’t see in your peripheral vision. You could almost kick yourself for subconsciously recognising the pattern of times he would do it, too. Such as when you are preoccupied with typing documents, speaking to other co workers, speaking in private meetings–

It's humiliating how many times you've almost stuttered in your speech, or your fingers pausing, hovering just above your keyboard. Just from his piercing amethyst irises alone.

Talking about his eyes—

They're very piercing, a beautiful mulberry when you're up close. And they seem to hold a certain sparkle of ‘capitalism hasn’t crushed my spirit yet.’

...

Fine. You admit it, he’s attractive. Conventionally attractive. The only funny part of your job was entering the empty printing room to begin shredding many love letters that somehow manage to find their way into his office daily. Filthy rich, intelligent, handsome, tall, and a CEO? Either he’s God's favourite or you're in a cheesy fantasy book. 

But he’s way too young, even for you. Not only is it almost over half a decade age gap, but you had been called a hag too many times from middle aged drunk men when you rejected them. (Only after you had told them your age.) And not that you would admit it outloud, but it hurt your self–esteem enough to not even look in a slightly younger man's direction or seek out any relationships.(Not as if you had been in many.) You didn’t even have any wrinkles!

But these days, you quite frankly push those thoughts away and just bury your head in your work and avoid Reo–Mr. Mikage, now you mean–as much as you can. 

It had been a long day, the overtime was almost overkill for your brainpower and body, but at least you would be paid for the two hours of overtime.

Your heels echoed ever so subtly on the dark grey carpet.The floor–to–ceiling windows on the left allowed the warm tangerine light to be poured like paint in the long stretched corridor, stretching out to every sharp shadowed corner and exposing itself. Everyone on the floor had already packed up and respectively went home, they did good work, finishing the project a day early from the deadline. Your brief gaze out the window had turned into a long take in of the world below you. The city buildings were also getting licks from the orange light, slivering its way onto streets and reflecting windows, passing civilians dipping in and out of the shadows and into the light to bask in its warmth. Your eyes flickered up slightly to the sky, overwhelmed by the smear of crimson and cantaloupe orange, leaving little of the sky blue that dominated the sky only a few hours earlier. The amber–tinted clouds flew by lazily, painting the perfect picture of a sunset over the city of Tokyo.

You snapped out of your smooth train of thought as your phone beeped, it was a message from your mother. 

“Mommy misses you lots, hope you can visit again in the summer!”

You smiled sheepishly to yourself at the message, taking in the photo she sent you soon after, her and your siblings sitting on the couch, seemingly doing their traditional Friday movie night. There was a melancholy feeling that blossomed in your chest at the empty space at the end, where you would sit.

You quickly brushed it off, knowing that summer wasn’t as far away, and then you would be back at your childhood home again. You put your phone in the pocket of your black blazer dress, continuing to walk towards the end of the halfway. You approached the glass elevator.

Gently pressing the button with a down arrow with your acrylic nail, you stepped back at a respectable distance, thinking if someone were to come out so you wouldn’t be in their way.

You were pleasantly surprised as the heavy elevator doors opened to reveal an empty box, the glass from ceiling to floor allowing an in depth view of the city below. It was a relief knowing you were way too socially drained to have idle chit chat with a coworker. You settled comfortably in the corner after pressing the button to ground level, you silently appreciated the warmth of the sun's light penetrating from all sides of the glass. Watching the light split into its many spectacles of colours on the floor, you didn’t even notice the hand that stopped the elevator doors from shutting at the last second until it creaked, opening back up again. 

You braced yourself for the onslaught of small talk you would have to have with a coworker, yet your heart dropped as you made eye contact with a familiar face, your body tensing immediately before you forced yourself to bow. 

Reo Mikage.

“Oh please, you don’t need to bow, {name}.” His voice abashedly replied to your polite gesture, waving his hand casually as you stood up straight again, before he joined you in the elevator. 

The atmosphere instantly felt heavier, to you anyway. There was this tension that was lingering in your chest, oppressive and clingy. The scent of his cologne only made it worse, Dior sauvage. It was a scent that was so signature, you would know if Reo had been in the room only moments prior, because it lingered. You swallowed dryly, trying not to inhale what you deemed to be the most heavenly masculine scent on this earth.

“Ground floor?” He questions politely, like he always does, looking back at you.

“Yeah,” you replied, not trusting yourself to say anything more than one word.

He presses the button once again before taking a step back, standing right next to you, his shoulder practically brushing yours. You felt the small sway of the elevator before it began to descend. You were on the top floor, and it would take a few good minutes to reach the ground floor without stopping on the other floors. You had basically stopped breathing by this point. He’s doing it on purpose, you swear. There was too much room to be touching shoulders at all, and his next words broke your train of thought. 

“Congrats on finishing the project early, it's nice to know I can rely on you.” 

‘Rely on you.’

It's the slight praise in his words and voice that makes your chest tighten, and you could see his head twisting towards you, his stare piercing your side profile, yet you stared straight ahead.

You laughed nervously, although his words struck a nerve in you. “Ah thank you sir, it was nothing, really.”

There was a beat of silence for a moment, and you watched his expression shift into something you couldn’t read. By this point, you were wondering if he was gonna drop the small talk here, but you felt an air of disappointment radiating from him.

“That's good, I'm glad you have no pressure on you for a while.” he admits honestly. Your lips pursed, and his voice grew quieter with his next words, as if he was hesitating. “I'm lucky to have you by my side, your company is a real treat.” 

The way he said it, it was almost as if he was tiptoeing around his words, as if he was…testing something with you, like he was hoping you would pick up on some casual hint he was throwing. And you did. It was too intimate for your comfort, and when you finally found the courage to turn to look at him, he was already looking at you, and your chest tightened with a certain sense of panic. The boyish smile and charm had faded completely, only leaving a serious and almost desperate look on his face. 

His voice was deeper, way deeper than it was before, it took you off guard, almost like he reminded you he really was a man. His voice was smooth and steady, and hauntingly calm.

“Why do you hate me?”

His question took you completely off guard, like a rug had been yanked from under your feet. He didn’t take his eyes off your face even once, your mouth opened and closed like a fish, pathetically trying to scramble for an answer in your brain. But before you could find one, he continued going on a rant.

“You never seem to hold a decent conversation with me, you're almost always tense and on guard when I'm around, and you seem to be even more annoyed when I try to make your life a little easier. Did I do something to offend you?” He questioned.

His accusations were so fast, and so many points were made that all you could do was look at him like a deer in headlights. He leaned ever closer, his gaze searching yours for some sort of answer.

“Did you hit your head?” Was all you could blurt out, but there was no hint of malice in your tone.

It seemed your choice of words surprised both yourself and Reo, as his eyes widening in shock. You felt your neck and face heat up in embarrassment, this was your superior! And you were damn nearly calling him stupid.

“Mr. Mikage,” Your voice cracking slightly, betraying your composed professionalism. “I’m so sorry–”

You were interrupted with a laugh, a loud, authentic laugh that left your apologises dying in your throat, your head reeling at his unexpected reaction. It left your heart stuttering at the break of professionalism he showed in front of you. He was doubled over in a carefree manner, your body still frozen from shock as he composed himself, letting out a loud sigh before he shook his head, turning towards you.

“See? I knew you weren't so stone faced.” 

His boyish smile faltered after a moment, as if he was remembering the start of this whole conversation. It made your stomach twist for some reason. Why did you care about his emotions so much? His voice was steadier than expected for someone who was chuckling heavily only moments ago. 

“You still didn’t answer my question, do you hate me?” 

“Well–of course not sir.” You stuttered, cursing yourself as you looked anywhere but his face. 

He stepped closer, his whole frame forcing itself to fill your full vision, making it almost impossible to look anywhere else but him. “Is it because you know I find you attractive? Is that why?” 

You would have laughed at his words if they weren’t so full of firmness, a severe boldness you didn’t think he would have had yesterday.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. “Me?" you answered dumbly. “You think I’m attractive?” 

“I do,” he said simply. “I find you extremely attractive.” 

Reo Mikage, liking his secretary? You? Just someone who works under him five days a week? This must be a prank–but, there's no playfulness in his tone, none of the light teasing he usually did. Just pure, raw, sincerity. 

And you couldn’t handle that.

“No.” You said calmly, your eyes fluttering shut. “No Reo, we're not doing this, not now, not ever.” His eyes squinted at the use of his first name, his gaze not wavering.

“I'm not lying. Do you think I'm joking? I’m dead serious, I promise you.” Before you could shoot down another one of his overthinking questions and thoughts he continued, “Is it because you think I'm spoiled? Or too childish, too young?–” 

“Reo,” you said sternly, interrupting him more harshly than you wished. “We are not doing this here.” 

Not only was he technically your boss, and your past boss's son, he was younger than you. You were old enough to be with his mother at social gatherings. And this wasn’t a fleeting confession you could just brush off with a lame excuse like you usually could do–he was your boss, and you were his secretary. You saw him mostly every minute of the day and there was nothing you could do about it. 

“Please,” he begged. Suddenly feeling his warm breath on your face, your eyes snapped open to see him looming over you, his amethyst eyes had lost their once confident spark it always had, only leaving desperation and softness. “I promise, I'll take care of you.”

“I-I can take care of myself.” Your voice trembled, yet you couldn’t even hear it from the magnitude of your heart beating in your ears. 

“You know that's not what I mean.” He whispered, his voice sounding more husky than before as he took a half–step closer to you, and his face was somewhat inches from yours. Your mouth was as dry as a desert, even more when his large hands came to gently rest on your shoulders. You could feel the searing heat emitting through his palms, through your blazered dress, making a lasting impression on your skin. It made your senses go on full alert, your head automatically tilting up to meet his eyes. 

A deep part of your brain didn’t want him to take his hands off. 

“I can take care, of you.” 

His frame is so much larger compared to yours, and the faint smell of his cologne surrounds you again and envelopes your senses. You wanted to scream, lash out and pull him closer all at the same time. 

“I know,” you declared finally, your voice hoarse and vulnerable. Your resolve was crashing down faster than you could think logically about the consequences. “I know you would.”

“Right.” he stated quietly, his eyes shifting to the side of your face; his right hand gradually sliding up, his rough fingers wrapping themselves loosely around a loc of your hair. “Your beautiful, {name}. Just give me one chance. Please.” 

He pleaded like a schoolboy begging to be let off an after school detention. And by the time you realised his lips were centimetres away from yours, the manifestation of your desire had severely beaten the logical side of your brain black and blue. 

“Okay,” you answered with a croak, voice barely audible, “one dinner.”

He smiled, hope–filled. Before he could get another word out, the doors to the elevators abruptly opened, making Reo scramble back to a safe distance as you were both exposed back to the hearty filled reception. He stepped out before you and walked away with an air of confidence and triumph in his steps, but not before mouthing a few words to you. 

“Meet at the Lapérouse, 8pm. Wear red.” 

･ﾟ★ credits for dividers!: @anitalenia @enchanthings-a

  Quandaledlngle69 © 2025

[marauder-misprint]

Hi! I don't know if you'd be comfortable writing this and if you aren't feel free to disregard this request lol but I was wondering if you could write a sirius black x plus sized reader hurt/comfort? Like maybe she's comparing herself to the people he's usually seen with and thinks he'd never be interested in her only for him to confront her after a bit of avoidance on her part and tell her that he doesn't think that way at all and that she's perfect and beautiful and he wants to be with her

Again if this is uncomfy or weird it's okay to ignore me- I've just been in a bad place recently and figured I'd try my luck haha

thank you for taking the time to read this! I adore your work ( ´∀｀)

Thank you so much for the request! I really hope I did it justice. I'm sorry that you're in a bad place and I hope it passes quickly ❤︎ I didn't go as deep into negative self talk as I could've - I know how mean we can be to ourselves.

Sending my love ❤︎

Boys like Sirius

Sirius Black x Plus size reader

2k words

cw: hurt/comfort, body issues, Happy Ending

It started in third year. Professor Slughorn grew tired of the Marauders interrupting every single lesson so he assigned them seats with different partners on different sides of the room. Remus in the back, Peter in the front, James on the left and Sirius on the right. It only sort of helped. Some days, it made the chaos that followed those boys fill the entire classroom, rather than their two stations. Other days, it meant that the boys talked to and worked with students they otherwise would’ve ignored. In Sirius’ case, that was you. 

The two of you ran in completely different circles. You had never been partnered together before and when given the choice, Sirius always sat with another member of the Marauders. The first few lessons sat next to each other were filled with plenty of awkward silences, mostly because Sirius was grumpy that he was separated from his best friends during a subject he didn’t particularly care for. But slowly, he opened up and once he actually talked to you, he found that he was enjoying Potions, if not looking forward to it. You were also enjoying Potions, because who wouldn’t want the gorgeous and charming Sirius Black as their partner? 

Your new friendship with Sirius spilled out of the Potions classroom. He’d wave to you in the corridor and talk to you in between classes. You were invited to study and go to Hogsmeade with all of his other friends. There were times when you felt out of place with his friends but Sirius made an effort to make sure you were included and listened to when you talked. In the end, you usually said yes to any invite because you got to spend more time with him.

The more time you spent with Sirius and the older you got, the bigger your crush on him got. You tried to play it cool. You tried to pretend that you weren’t absolutely head-over-heels in love with him, just like half of the girls at Hogwarts. Every time he flashed his trademark grin your way, you believed you had a chance with him, that maybe the stars were aligning and you’d get your guy. Every time he gave you a cheeky compliment or let his hand linger longer than a moment on yours, your heart would flutter with hope. Every invite was accompanied with hopeful eyes and excited chatter when you accepted. How could you not read into it? 

However, with half the girls at Hogwarts in love with him, you knew your chances with Sirius were slim. It was painfully obvious in your sixth year. Girls got more brazen with their flirting. He was single and they wanted to change that. It seemed like in between every lesson and at every meal, there was a different girl twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes at Sirius. And to make it all worse, it felt like every girl was skinnier than you. 

These were the thinnest girls with teeny tiny waists. Sirius could have easily lifted any of them up without struggle. And, well, putting it lightly, you had curves. You had thighs, a stomach, a butt, arms, breasts, a body. Someone once said you just had big bones, like that actually meant something. 

Every time Sirius flirted back with one of those girls who looked like the opposite of you, you felt a knife twist in your chest. It was hard to watch the boy you love flirt endlessly with those girls. It was a cruel reminder that boys like Sirius didn’t love girls like you. You felt doomed to a life without love. At least, without his love.

To lessen your pain, you began to distance yourself from Sirius. He had continued to partner with you in Potions every since third year. You talked less during Potions, knowing you couldn’t switch partners. You still waved back to Sirius when you passed in the corridors, but only if he waved first, and if he stopped to try to talk to you, you made an excuse to keep walking. You stopped finding him in the library to study with him and his friends, you stopped going to Hogsmeade with them. If you were barely friends with him, surely it would hurt less when the girls swarmed him. 

It didn’t. 

If anything, it made it hurt more. 

Those girls had it all, and they got his attention. They got his love. 

---

After a particularly quiet Potions lesson, Sirius couldn’t take the silent treatment anymore.

“Oi, lovely, what’s happened?”

You froze as you were putting your things away. You cleared your throat as his words sunk in.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Sirius,” you said slowly. You hoped to Merlin that you sounded confused and not guilty. 

“Feels like you’ve been avoiding me,” he clarified. “Only ever see you in this class… and even then, you’re… you’re not you. You’re quiet. You won’t even look at me.”

You pursed your lips together. So, he noticed. 

“I’m just paying attention, that’s all,” you lied. 

He scoffed. “Paying attention so much you won’t study with me, ahem, us anymore? You won’t come to Hogsmeade?”

You felt the insecurities rising in you like bile in your throat. You didn’t want to talk about this. You knew it would only lead to you admitting your crush on him and his inevitable rejection of you. You could practically hear him saying already ‘I don’t feel the same about you… maybe it’s better you’ve been avoiding me if that’s how you feel.’ Boys like Sirius don’t fall for girls that look like you, you reminded yourself. 

You don’t look at Sirius. Instead, you quickly finished putting your things away.

“I need to get to my next class,” you muttered before disappearing out of the classroom.

Sirius watched you go. He ran his hand down his face. He missed you, your presence, your smile and laugh, everything. And here he was, wondering what he had done to make you avoid him so desperately. 

He found you after classes were over for the day; he knew he had to minimize your available excuses. He was going to talk to you. Sirius would be damned if he had to go another day without knowing you were acting this way. 

“Hey! Love, can we talk?” he said, grabbing your wrist gently.

“Sirius, I have to-”

“Please, I need to know what I did,” he said, beautiful grey eyes filled with worry.

“What you did?” you repeated. 

Your hesitation, although it was only a slight pause, was enough to allow Sirius to pull you down the hall and into an empty classroom. He closed the door behind you. 

“Yes, what I did. What did I do to make you avoid me? I thought we had a good thing going, you know?” 

You looked anywhere but at him. Even without seeing him, you felt yourself getting choked up. You could see his worried eyes in your mind and it was paired with the butterflies you got from him holding onto your wrist. 

“You didn’t do anything,” you managed to say, although your voice is tight, the obvious sound of someone about to cry. 

He walked toward you, putting his things down on the desk behind you and then taking your things out of your arms to put next to his. Then he held the sides of your arms. You had no choice but to look at him.

“Then why? Why have I lost you?” 

Why have I lost you? You wanted to scoff at him. You wanted to laugh dryly. Like you were ever his to lose. Could you tell him that you were just making space for all the girls that fawned over him? Could you tell him that it hurt too much to be that close to him and knowing he’d never look at you like you look at him?

“I-I… I’m protecting myself,” you decided on saying. “At least, I'm trying to.”

“Protecting yourself from what?” he asked earnestly. He paused as he looked into your eyes which were getting glassier by the second. “You know the boys would never prank you, right? I’d never let them.”

“No, not that.” You shrugged off his hands so you could turn away from him. You couldn’t bear to see him when he rejected you for what you looked like. “From… I’m protecting myself from heartbreak.”

“Heart… break…” There was a moment of silence. Then you felt his hand on your arm again. “Love, please explain what you mean.”

His voice made your heart break more than it already was. He was going to make you spell it out for him. He was going to make you say how much you loved him and that you knew he would never reciprocate it. It made your next words come out more angry than you had ever spoken to him before.

“I thought that if I put space between us, that I could stop loving you and it would hurt less to see every girl flirt with you, to see you flirt with every girl who… who doesn’t look like… like me.” Your words came out scathing like fire. It didn’t help that you could feel the hot tears streaming down your face. 

His hand dropped from your arm and you felt your stomach drop. Here it came. Here came the rejection.

“You think I’m flirting with them?” 

His voice was soft. It sounded almost insulted? It was followed by a soft disbelieving chuckle.

“Love, I may have… partaken in banter, but if I flirted, I never meant to.” His hand found your shoulder and turned you back toward him. “The only girl I’ve flirted with is in front of me.”

His other hand raised to wipe the tears from your face.

“I suppose my intentions could have been more clear, if you’re feeling this way. You should know I don’t invite just anyone to Hogsmeade.” 

You couldn’t find the words to respond. His words didn’t feel real. It felt like the world’s cruelest prank. Your uncertainty must’ve been written on your face because Sirius kept talking.

“Love, I’m gone for you. You’re the most perfect person I have ever seen and had the pleasure of knowing and spending time with. Slughorn pairing us together in third year? The biggest blessing, even if I didn’t know it at first.” 

He gave you a moment to process what he was saying, seeing if you had a response yet. You opened your mouth to try to say something but all that came out was a squeak.

“Let me be clear, I really, really, really like you. I want to take you on dates and spoil you like you deserve. I want to spend more time with you. I want to go to Hogsmeade with you and just you. I want to study with you, even if it ends up with you actually studying and me watching you… which is what usually happens when I’ve invited you in the past, in case you never noticed.”

You were beginning to smile, so he continued. 

“I want to hear you laugh. I want to talk to you in the corridors. I want to sit next to you during meals and be with you in the common room. I want to kiss you. I want to snuggle with you and hug you and hold you. I really mean it when I say you’re perfect. You’re so bloody gorgeous and if I have to blatantly flirt with you every day so that you believe it, I will. You just have to say the word.”

“Okay,” you said quietly in a shaky breath.

“Can… can I kiss you?”

You nodded and Sirius took a confident step toward you. He held your face with both of his hands before bringing your face to his. All of your insecurities don’t disappear in that moment like you’d want them to, but you felt more confident than you had in a while. You felt like you were on top of the world though. The boy you love likes you back; and you know this because you can’t fake a kiss like this.

[coraniaid]

Anyway, I do think you can preserve almost all of the core of Faith's arc in Season 3 and still present Giles in a much more favorable light than canon with only a very few minor tweaks.

At some point, in one of the early season episodes that Faith doesn't otherwise appear in -- Band Candy, say -- in a scene featuring just Buffy and Giles together, have Buffy comment on Faith's absence, wonder out loud if being alone in her motel room is good for her, and have Giles say something to the effect of "Perhaps you're right to be concerned, but we must respect Faith's wishes. In fact I offered to arrange for more salubrious lodgings when it became clear she would be staying with us for a while, but she assured me she was quite all right where she is." Because, look, of course if an older man she didn't really know offered to set Faith up with a nicer place to stay for free she was going to say no. Of course that doesn't mean she's actually happy living in a motel in the bad part of town, and of course she's still impressed when the Mayor gets her an apartment and clearly doesn't want anything from her in return (or, at least, he's only looking for wholesome family-friendly murder and torture and treason, not what she'd expect him to want). But at least this way we can point to evidence Giles actually tried to do the right thing. The thing that he explicitly volunteered to do.

In Helpless, when Buffy complains about Faith being "off on one of her unannounced walkabouts", don't have Giles -- who at this very moment is not interested in training Buffy but instead setting her up for the events of Cruciamentum -- remark snidely that "Faith is not interested in proper training", but instead explicitly link back to the events of Revelations. Have him remind Buffy that Faith took Mrs Post's betrayal very badly and say that he's deliberately letting her take a break from training for a bit because he thinks it will give her some time to recover emotionally. And, again, Giles wouldn't be right to think this -- Faith would be better off if she was spending time with other people -- but at least we'd get less of an impression that, after Post arrived, Giles decided he was done being Faith's temporary replacement Watcher and that he didn't really care what happened to her afterwards (even after Post was exposed as a fraud).

The key things you need to have happen in Consequences are (a) Faith lies to Giles and says Buffy killed Finch; (b) Giles talks to Buffy privately and they both acknowledge that actually Faith killed Finch; (c) Wesley overhears this conversation and calls in the Council to take Faith back to England. You don't actually need Giles to suggest he was only pretending to be on Faith's side to humor her; you don't need him to be so skeptical when Buffy talks about helping Faith. You could instead have Giles remind Buffy that he himself killed somebody by accident when he was not much older than Faith, and have him say that he pretended to believe her simply because -- knowing what she had to be going through -- he thought it would be better to humor her than provoke a confrontation. Rather than just have him dismiss her as "unstable" and "unwilling to accept responsibility", make the parallels with Giles's own backstory explicit. "In Faith's shoes, I would be -- I was -- unstable. Unpredictable. I needed time to accept responsibility." When Buffy suggests she could talk to her, rather than just sigh and look skeptical, Giles could apolgetically reference his own role in the Cruciamentum a few episodes earlier, and use that as a reason why Faith might not be willing to trust him yet. Instead of just ... nobody suggesting Giles talk to her, even when agreeing that perhaps somebody other than Buffy should.

And really, none of what Buffy and Giles plan at this point really even matters, because all we need to happen next is for Xander to admit that he slept with Faith and that he assumes this means they have "a connection", Buffy and Willow to react to that, and then for Xander to decide to go talk to her alone to prove his point. And then we proceed as before to Faith attacking him, Angel coming to the rescue, and then the rest of the episode as normal (including with Faith going off to tell the Mayor she heard he had a job opening).

In fact arguably I think this version of events actually works better, because after Consequences (and before the reveal in Enemies) the show actually does proceed on the basis that Giles is willing to help Faith and supervize her post-manslaughter evaluation and recovery. It has to, because if he insists she's a lost cause and can't be trusted from the beginning there's no Enemies and no chance for her to betray Buffy and the gang. So there wasn't really any actual story-driven need for Giles to seem so reluctant about trying to help Faith in the first place, was there?

I mean, in the actual show I think nobody knew at the time what Faith's arc was going to be, and that era of the show wasn't quite as dedicated to continuity as it would be later and didn't like throwing in so many references to past episodes. And the show never actually does take Giles's role in the Cruciamentum seriously after Helpless, or have Giles mention Randall's death after season 2 (Ted is the last time he's mentioned, right?). But in hindsight I think something like this -- even if it couldn't have happened -- would better balance the actual story that you want to tell about Faith with the goal of having Giles seem rather more admirable and sympathetic than his treatment of Faith ends up making him look.

[answer2jeff]

beneath the ashes //

a carmen berzatto x reader series.

chapter 0, prologue.

warnings : 18+!!!! drug abuse, suicide, smoking, uncomfortable and gut-wrenching situations, familial trauma, mentions of domestic violence, angst, carmen is cold and judgmental, Richie serves as a father figure and Claire is not a romantic interest.

word count: 1.6k

⁠disclaimer : if you can't understand the complexity and true excruciating nature of these topics outside of internet fiction, that's YOUR problem. writing about these things IS romanticizing them and i do understand that. i don't advise reading this fic if you're a recovering addict or are triggered by drug abuse, or literally anything else mentioned. reader in this fic is a complicated, messy, but deeply kind human being. reader is not in active addiction!!!!

addicts are not monsters. this is FICTION.

also, this series js going to take a LONG time to finish. real ones will stick around 💔💯

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Street lights, rain, more rain, ashes.

Ashes, ashes, ashes. The ones on the street wet with precipitation that slowly dissolve. The ones scattered on the tongue of your shoes, and the ones accumulating underneath your fingernails and coating your breath in a thick, sickly film of burnt tobacco. Your jaw is shaking. You're absolutely sick with shame. If you could bottle up this feeling and sell it for just a measly 25 cents a pop, you'd be in the islands right now. A margarita in hand, your skin supple and tanned. But no, you're back here at Mikey's place. Actually, you're not even in his place. You're out in the moist cold, sitting here on the porch, your ass numbing from the hard wood and your jeans soaking up the mucky rainwater. This time, you've been thrown out. Mikey can't keep you here forever. He has to get better, even if that means doing it without you. It didn't matter he'd taken you in last year. You're no longer a "kid." You're "a fucking mess." The sun is gone, and a part of you has left with it. Crumbs of powdery Xanax hide in the ridges of your teeth. Your 3rd cigarette trembles in your boney fingers. His final straw was when you told him his dope was better for him than you ever will be. The way you talked about yourself angered him to no end, and it wasn't because he cared. A victim, he saw you as. A coward, he took you for. Mikey has a family to impress. You know he'll go back to hiding the drain of heroin all of his money flows down to in just a few days. He can't accept it. He has to get better, right? Mikey wants out, and you can't wait to get in even deeper.

It's been 16 days since then. Faces of grieving siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins cloud your mind...but one of them is missing. That one particular makes you feel an unfamiliar sensation of guilt. Carmen. Mikey is dead and Carmen isn't here. Denial clouds your judgment. There was no possible way Mikey could really be dead and Carmen isn't here, right? He's the only one who knows that you were the last person Mikey called before his body was found with his gun in hand on February 22nd, 2022. His phone and wallet were left untouched on the bridge. It's February 24th now. How quickly funerals occur has always bothered you. The tension headache that wraps around your forehead and trails to the back of your skull has put unbearable weight on your sinuses. Your nose is bleeding, and your once soft hands are growing calluses from your nails digging into the flesh of your palms every time you wish you could drag Micheal Berzatto out of the goddamn ground yourself. The abyss of silence as you sit alone in a continuous row of the pew is broken by the scratch of Sugar clearing her throat, that will soon close with disbelief that her older brother is lifeless beside her. Her hands shake as she grounds herself on the podium. There's a small piece of white copy paper in her hand. She glances from the hidden words to the microphone. Seconds pass and she says nothing. Instead, she gags from feeling so utterly abandoned she could projectile vomit all over the podium. You can't bare to watch. With closed eyes, you let the world unravel before you.

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Richie wipes the dried drool of sleep from the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb, his facial hair absorbing most of the crusted saliva. His lanky arm supports his body weight against the door frame. Of course, instead of inviting you in, he keeps you in the cold morning dew. You've been standing here, your shoes scuffing over the doormat and your hair slowly getting frizzier from the humidity since 7:15. It's now 7:45, and all you've talked about is Richie's new life plan. He's really turning around. Y'know—he doesn't smell like a thrift store anymore. His breath is minty, but still has that twinge of tobacco. He finally says something so far underneath his raspy voice that you nearly missed it as you yawned with a hand over your mouth.

"I think you should come to friends and family night."

The invitation makes you nervous. You wonder if Carmen has changed at all, because you sure have. After all, you're sober now. Your eyes are no longer sunken in with grief and longing for acceptance outside of what substances gave you. You can actually fucking think now. The brain fog has cleared.

"Yeah?" you tilt your head, Richie nodding in response. He reaches for a pack of camels from his back pocket. He shuffles a cigarette from the pack, holding it between two dry fingers, giving you the 'you want?' look. Richie hasn't offered you a smoke since the day he found out you were using. It was, coincidentally, the day you decided to get sober. Which just so happened to be hours before Mikey's death. Nonetheless, you nodded. It feels nice to not be treated like a little girl in a candy store who can't be reasoned with, let alone control herself. While nicotine wasn't the drug that controlled every aspect of your life for nearly 3 years—it still felt wrong to Richie.

Lovingly, he attempts to light it for you, fumbling with the guard of the lighter. The constant clicking sound. Fuck, it fills you with dread. Finally the cigarette is set aflame.

"Okay, I'll see you then."

"You're gonna love it, kid."

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While you're sitting at the glossy marble table watching bubbles of carbonated alcohol rise to the mid section of the glass, Carmen is pacing. He pretends he can sees the faces of the dozens of people waiting on their meal. They're angry. They're dissatisfied. It's no surprise to him that he is in fact projecting, and no one is angrier than Carmen Berzatto in this very moment. Sydney is a close second. She's no longer willing to babysit him, she says. Richie is a fool. Fak is a klutz. None of this is new. Oh, how receptive this has all become. You're with friends who don't know a thing about you, your appetite has disappeared, and you picture Richie keeping roll as you hear his voice through the frosted glass. Carmen shouts as he walks through the doors into the kitchen, the air so thick with flavor and heat he could choke. It's almost unintelligible. No one else seems to notice but you.

"Fuck!" He roars, but he's drowned in the sound of kitchen clogs squeaking and fires caramelizing food. For a minute, he's thankful no one can hear him. That is until he arrives with a bottle of Rosé your table ordered from Richie moments before. Carmen knows he's being watched, sure. This is his restaurant. Claire-Bear, the girl who's been like his little sister since middle school, is staring with worried eyes as her boyfriend talks her ear off about his software job. She'd rather be cooked alive than listen to another wave of his voice. Needless to say, he moves past her swiftly. The closer he gets to your table the faster your heart beats against your tight chest. Finally, he sees you. His mouth gapes open just a few centimeters, his grip on the bottle barely loosening. Eyebrows all around the table are raising with excitement, and yours are still drawn together in worry.

"Good evening guys, uh—here is the bottle of La Belle—best of 2022, actually. Who's up for a first taste?" Carmen asks the table, secretly hoping you'll volunteer.

As if your friends can read his mind, Diane tilts your head your direction.

"Sure," you croak. "Hit me."

Carmen's tattooed hand unscrews the cap. The peachy pink wine slugs out like a waterfall from the lid, stopping just so you get a few drops of the liquid gold. His eyes are glued to the glass, but you watch him intently through the whole affair. He's oddly beautiful. With curls that have grown too long and his blue eyes have only filled with more determination, it hurts to look away. And yet, he is worried that if his eyes meet yours, you could somehow disappear.

But again, you just can't look away.

By the time his head rises again to hand you the glass, your eyes are already gleaming with wonder and questions. His heart fucking aches with not a clue in the world as to why. You haven't spoken in months. Maybe this is an apology. Not that he felt that you deserved one, no. It would just lift it from his thoughts. But he's lying. Of course you deserved to hear the words "I'm sorry." His own mind races with ideas of you, hating you. Hating what you dragged Mikey into, hating how easily you hid it, hating how much he wished he could reverse time and just fucking be there for him. For you. You always felt so close and yet so, so far away from Carmen. So detached, just like him.

You're aware that he's watching you now. You look tired. Carefully, you swish the wine around, soaking in the aromatic scent before you give it a taste. Of course, the Rosé is delicious. You blink slowly, nodding in approval.

"It's perfect."

"I'm glad," Carmen smiles.

The tension grows stronger. Finally, he looks away to Diane, Kyler, and Sophie. Not because he wants to be of hospitality, but because he just can't bare to feel this way any longer.

You place your orders with a heavy heart. Carmen walks away for the last time that night, and you're once again worried you may never see him again, the way you worried all those years ago.

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[harukamitsuki]

So I was looking around the bnha subreddit and found a forum asking who everyone's least favorite hero (besides endeavor because that would be too obvious). One comment talked about how uwabami wasted momo and itsukas potential, and one of the replies said this about momo:

live suchusoid reaction:

I'd tear this argument down myself, but I'm to tired and hungry, so I was wondering what your thoughts on this were.

Ugghhhh, it's 1 AM. I was gonna leave the rest of my asks for a more motivated me.

This has, officially, motivated me. For this ask specifically, the rest of y'all will have to wait.

So!

Momo's quirk is insanely powerful. Her quirk is creating objects out of her lipids, though the measure is never really clear.

She isn't even fazed by creating a canon. Which! By the way! A canon is roughly 600kg. Six. Hundred.

That is over 10 times her weight. And that isn't even the limit.

All we know is that she cannot create living organisms, but it's also not clear if this includes things such as bacteria. Because it's unclear, I'll only look at inanimate objects.

Momo is literally only held back by her creativity, and thus Horikoshi's creativity.

She's insanely powerful and versatile.

Oh, the villain has a fire quirk? Time to make a fite extinguisher!

Oh, the villain has a wood-based quirk? Time to make a flamethrower!

Oh, a civillian is bleeding out? Time to create a medkit!

Oh, someone's drowning? Time to make an oxygen tank!

Her quirk is only limited by what she knows and her ability to think on the fly. That is all. Because there is no known limit to how much she can make.

It isn't that her quirk isn't OP, it's that Horikoshi didn't allow Momo to use her quirk to her full capacity.

Like, against Tokoyami, she could have easily created flashbombs to weaken him, or a flamethrower to keep a consistent amount of light.

She could destroy Bakugou simply by creating gunpowder and throwing it at him - he'd blow himself up. Or making a hose and spraying him.

Most of all: she could make a gun. Like, it's so weird that so many mangakas forget that guns exist, because so many people in MHA could be beaten by a gun.

Momo has the ability to create anything she needs to beat her opponent. It's literally just her ability to adapt and her (or Horikoshi's) creativity.

Fucking– LOOK AT FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST!

Ed is far more limited in his alchemy than Momo is with her quirk, in that he can only transmute things if the cost is equivalent. But he's still far more creative than Momo is in the use of his abilities.

Heck, even Senkuu from Dr. Stone has more creativity than Momo, and he doesn't have any supernatural abilities.

Momo's quirk is OP, and she would be awful as plain fanservice.

I'm not against fanservice. Heck, I love both One Piece and Fairy Tail - fan service is not unwelcome. But, fan service should be done in moderation and some series just don't need it. Also, the context does matter.

Bringing up FMA again, the only fan service we get is from Lust who, shocker, is the personification of lust. Her entire being is lustful, so it makes complete sense for her to be fan service. But she also serves other purposes, and doesn't exist solely for fan service.

In MHA, it's fine to include fan service if it has a point.

Mount Lady is introduced via fan service to show how female heroines have to act in order to gain fame. Uwabami emphasises this, as does Midnight.

However, a theme that was (attempted to be) shown was 'Old vs New Generation'. All those heroines showcasing their fan service were part of the older generation, and the new one was supposed to change the status quo.

Momo and Kendou were both shown to be disgruntled at the idea of using their sexuality to gain fame, and were far more focused on actually becoming heroes and bettering their abilities.

To say that Momo should have only existed for fan service is completely missing the point and invalidating her character.

If anything, she should have been able to show skin without it being sexualised. In the same way male fan service was used to show strength, Momo (and other female characters) should have had fan service to show their strength, rather than being sexualised.

People like the person in that image frustrate me, because they have no idea what they're talking about.

"At best, a canon that doesn't move," NO!

At best, a fucking hydrogen bomb. She could create nuclear weapons. She could do so much, it's Horikoshi who limits her.

[em-harlsnow]

the "hit my husband again i'll fucking kill you" and "mickey's family" scenes have me thinking that mickey and carl (or debbie) would prank ian with insulting mickey just to get his reaction

I'm back on these! I have dearly missed doing asks and TikTok trends.

Carl knows a few things about his brother and Mickey. The first is that Mickey's heavily protective over Ian. But the second is something that a lot of people overlook, and it's that Ian's the same way about Mickey. It's always been that way, ever since Carl can remember.

They'd all been fighting for days about what to do with the house, mainly Lip and Debbie, but clearly Mickey's gotten himself involved now. Carl didn't catch how the fight started, but he sees Mickey and Lip wrestling and then Ian rushing to separate them. Carl wished it would have lasted longer, because it's been a long time since he saw a proper scrappy fight. He misses the fight nights they used to do in summer.

He'd mostly been staying out of everyone's business to avoid getting stepped on. Debbie tried to get him involved, and he was lucky to sidestep it. Carl sneaks upstairs to see Mickey as annoyed with Ian as he is with Lip, which never happens. Mickey gets more annoyed with Lip than anyone else. He watches Mickey close their bedroom door in Ian's face and tell him to go fuck himself. He also hears Ian say 'come on, baby’ to the shut door, which is far too soft for Carl and he thinks he might throw up. Carl averts his eyes and slides into his own bedroom when Ian turns back around.

Ian goes outside after that, and like the nosy fucker he is, Carl listens to Lip and Ian's conversation at the window.

'Hit my husband again and I'll fucking kill you' he hears. It seemed like a shock to Lip, for Ian to be defending Mickey, on his side, but it isn't to Carl. It's always been like that, they're just more honest about it now.

Once the house problems have settled, and Carl has a place of his own, there are fewer arguments. Ian and Mickey seem to be in a much happier place than they were the night Ian said that to Lip. They're doing better than Lip and Tami, but then again, they don't deal with a screaming infant.

And it’s not like they don’t see each other. They all see each other all the time. Everyone has a key to Ian and Mickey’s place, much to Mickey’s chagrin. It was just in case. Just in case and only for emergencies.

Carl’s abusing that ‘just in case and only for emergencies’ rule right now, as he sits on their couch and steals their crisps. He was bored, and watching ian and mickey is like his own private personal comedy special. Until they start to get all soft and touchy and giving each other looks like they’d be totally fine with fucking in front of him if he doesn’t get the fuck out.

But it’s good to spend time with Ian, just them, when Mickey goes out to pick up some tacos from a place a few blocks down. It’s calm, sitting on their sofa and talking like they did when they were kids. Well, when Carl was a kid and Ian was a teenager. He missed his older brother.

What he missed even more than that, though, was pissing him off. Ian’s a stubborn fucker and he’s undeniably funny when he’s wound up. He sticks his chin out and gets extremely exasperated very quickly. Incredibly funny.

So when Carl’s pulled back to that night when Ian said he’d kill Lip if he hit Mickey again, he wonders if Ian would have the same reaction if it were him. Carl’s younger than Lip, has always been able to get away with more.

It seems only logical to try it out.

“Mickey’s always been kind of annoying, huh?” Carl drops in when their conversation dies down. He doesn’t agree the statement at all - he thinks Mickey’s pretty cool, actually. He did find their loud sex annoying, endlessly so, but he doesn’t deal with that anymore since he got his own place.

Ian looks confused, wrinkles forming in his forehead. “What? Why d’you say that?”

Carl shrugs, sort of lost for reason. “I dunno. He’s just an asshole, right?”

Ian narrows his eyes suddenly, and it’s startling to see the switch up happen so fast. “No. Don’t talk about him like that.”

“You call him an asshole all the time, Ian.” Carl points out, which is true but it’s not usually said with venom. Sure, when they’re arguing, but there are much worse things to call someone.

“Not the same thing. By any fucking means.” Ian mumbles, but he doesn’t seem too concerned with Carl’s opinion. He started off light, so fine, he can understand why Ian’s not flying off the handle. “Is this because he beat you at Mario Kart last week?”

Carl rolls his eyes. “No. I just think, y’know.” What does he think? He doesn’t know what he thinks. Definitely something. “You never thought you deserved better?”

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Ian’s snapping back.

“Because- I don’t know.” He doesn’t know, shit. Carl’s poor planning skills are really showing. “I was just curious.”

“You got girl trouble or something?” Ian checks, clearly more confused than annoyed.

“Nah. It must be hard to live with someone who flies off the handle all the time, is all I was saying.” Carl thinks it’s funny when mickey gets in a strop about something, but he also really wants to test how annoyed Ian can get. “And all the shit-talking. I mean, that’s all he does, right?”

Ian scowls. "No. He talks about plenty of shit. Right now I wish he talked more shit about you instead of Lip."

Carl's trying not to cross the line between a genuinely hurtful thing to say but something that will get Ian pissed. It comes to him like a message from the heavens.

So Carl shrugs, casually adding, "I dunno, man. I just think that if I were gay, I'd probably go for someone more attractive."

Carl is endlessly pleased by the reaction from Ian.

First, Ian's eyebrows raise in a move that is comically similar to how Mickey moves his eyebrows. Then, his face sort of crumples into a clash between disgust and horror. His mouth gapes for a few seconds, as if he really can't fathom how someone would think such a thing about Mickey. His chin starts to jut out.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about." Ian mutters, glaring and lowering his voice a few octaves. "Mickey's attractive, and if you had more than one fucking brain cell, you would know that."

Carl grins at him. "You're such a fucking sap, Ian."

Ian furrows his brows again, lost for words.

"I was only kidding. You get so mad when anyone says anything about Mick. S'funny."

Ian half-pushes and half-smacks the back of Carl's head in the way only a big brother can, in a way that's reminiscent of his childhood.

"You're an idiot."

--> I hope this was okay, im sorry it took me so long to get to it

-> also sorry if they're out of character, I was struggling not to make Carl be too harsh lol

-> send me asks for TikTok trends that they could do!