#i hope this makes it easier for you all to find my stuff in the future

[astracora]

Turning Point - Part 1

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc (MC POV/Sylus-centric POV)

Warnings: Lots of hurt/tiny bit of comfort, Injuries, Angst, Loss of Arm, Lots of emotional struggle with disability.

Word Count: 3517

Written: 3rd January 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. I find Sylus easier to write, but all LADs are present. Don't ask me if I'm working through some stuff... I can't say I'm not. This is Pre-Cat Curse. I'll try to do the more comfort, actual communication part sometime soon.

Now Playing: The Foundations of Decay, by My Chemical Romance

Masterlist AO3

Next ->

When you close your eyes it's all you can see. The metal bar through your shoulder. The debris crushing your arm.

You can't feel it anymore.

But you can see it.

You hate Mysts. You hate EVER. You hate that you fucked up and let your guard down. Falling for a trap you're not even sure was for you, or just some fucked up experiment they'd been carrying out with their new toys.

You hate that you woke up changed, you hate that when you'd seen hospital walls you'd expected to see Caleb there like he was throughout your teen years. Or Zayne, clipboard in hand, ready to lecture you on being more careful, on taking care of yourself.

You hate that Jenna sent you home, for the foreseeable future, to recover. To do your stupid physical therapy. To sit at home and stare at yourself in the mirror. Aches and pains and phantoms lurking over your limbs, your shoulder.

You hate having to lock Mephisto out, drawing your curtains. You hate pretending you're not in, whenever Xavier comes knocking. You hate switching off your phone so Rafayel can't contact you.

You hate being this weak, useless creature.

You hate the core in your chest.

You hate what made you like this.

You hate that your instinct is to run away and hide.

A wounded cat in an alleyway, lying down in a corner, hoping the heat of your fur doesn't fade.

Hoping you don't freeze to death where no one thinks to look for you.

You hate that even when you wish someone would find you, only one person ever made sure to look, and he's gone.

You feel like you did when you watched your home disappear into flames, you feel that horrible acrid disgust in your stomach. The feeling that if you could kill what made you feel like this, you'd be alright again. You'd be able to breathe again.

The feeling that dropped you into The Nest with no concern for yourself, just a goal in mind.

The feeling that put you into Sylus' lap, gun in hand, snarling.

You feel like you did when you were told by Dr Noah that there was no cure for what lurked in your heart, that it could kill you, that no one could tell you when.

The feeling that had you abandoning any vision of a future.

The feeling that sat you in front of Caleb, wounds bleeding over his hands, because then you felt something else.

You don't have the name for them, they have been constant companions throughout your life, but you don't even know their names. You're so very tired of them, though. Wishing that they would leave you be, to let something lighter and warmer settle where they once sat.

Choosing your family, however, is often difficult.

The room is dark around you, every curtain drawn, all the lights turned off. Huddling in the corner of your bedroom, blanket wrapped firmly over your body so you can't see. Can't look and see every mottled bruise, every uneven harsh scar, every bloody bandage that you can't bear to change.

The place your arm used to be.

If you look away, if you don't stare at it, if you focus really hard, you can feel it.

You can pretend…

Even if the pain bites at your shoulder.

Even when the medication you can't make yourself take without throwing up, stares at you across the room. Where you'd thrown it in your trembling hand. Limbs so weak, walking aches every step.

You'd fallen to the floor, curled up and stayed.

You think you should be crying, but you can't seem to feel anything other than those old feelings and the pain. Like they're keeping you tethered to this reality. Chains around you, digging into your throat, tearing at soft skin.

Part of you is aware you have to keep moving, if you don't take care of yourself… you'll see Caleb sooner than you should. That he'd be sad that you stopped trying. That moving forwards is important. That there's still good you can do, meaning to be found.

It's the last logical strain of your mind that reminds you people will eventually find you, if you fade to nothing here. That they'll be hurt.

Even worse if it's Tara… Zayne… Xavier… Rafayel… Sylus…

It's only a small voice, easily ignored, in favour of fighting against the chains around your neck. Trying to keep you here, in a world you don't want to be in. In a reality that keeps ripping at you.

So you shrink in on yourself, flinching when you try to tighten a hand you've lost around the soft wool of the blanket, and curl inwards.

It has to get better. Quieter.

It has to.

—-----

Sylus stands outside the apartment door, staring at it. His knocks have gone ignored, his messages unread. Mephisto hasn't been able to even spot a hair on your head. He's not used to not knowing where you are, to not being able to keep track of you. Even if you don't respond, he at least knows if you're safe.

You've made no indication that you don't want him around, ever since that moment you'd rushed across a crossing to demand he never disappear on you, you'd not pushed him away.

He can't think of anything he's done that will have changed that. At least, he's almost sure he hasn't… The idea that he has sinks into his gut, twisting and biting like an agitated snake.

If he's to be devoured by any snake, it needs to be you and your EVOL link.

He's staring at the handle, wondering whether to snap the thing, or break into your security system. There's other hunters in the apartment block, the longer he stands out here the bigger the risk.

Of course, if he's caught breaking in… that would be another thing.

Perhaps if your balcony is unlocked, he can use his EVOL to get to you that way.

Why did he never register himself into your security system before now?

"Oi."

He's surprised that someone could sneak up on him, he's less surprised when he sees the wanted Lemurian standing behind him. Turning, the bright eyed fish is staring, "You here for any particular reason, or are you staring at doors for fun?"

Sylus can read the wariness in his eyes, he knows of your companions, he's got a good database of information about them, this one is the one with the most amount of secrets. Even parts he can't dig up. There's a small flicker of recognition in the fish's eyes as he looks at him, an acknowledgment that means Sylus has been figured out.

Though he doesn't feel a threat from it. There's recognition and then there's being made. Whatever the fish wants, it's nothing to do with him. He wonders if you've talked about him at all.

He wants to test it. "Skye." Hand extended, "I'm looking for the little kitten who lives here."

There's another flicker, and this one he doesn't understand, but it softens the glare a little bit, "Rafayel. So you're that friend of Cuties. I'm here looking for them too." This time his glare turns into a frown, disgruntled, agitated.

There's a lot Sylus can read. The fish, Rafayel, is struggling to balance all the feelings he's drowning with.

"So, have they responded to you at all?"

"No."

The frown on Rafayel's face is familiar, Sylus has seen it in his mirror, after staring at all the unread messages, after finding Mephisto without information yet again.

It's been days, and he knows he can't give you space anymore. While he respects your boundaries, he knows there's always a very real risk you could disappear. It might not always be a conscious choice you make. He doesn't want you dying in an alley alone.

If you're going to die, you're going to die with him, in his arms, with company.

He imagines those around you, feel much the same.

"Me too." This time he does hear the approach. Two sets of footsteps. When he turns, he picks out your hunter partner, and your doctor. The two look frazzled. Like they've run here.

The doctor wipes his forehead, as he looks over at Sylus and Rafayel, he doesn't have the same reaction to him that Rafayel did, but his sharp features are not welcoming. The hunter on the other hand, stops, hand flashing in light, and Sylus gets a jolt of 'danger', before it fades.

Bright blue eyes widen a little bit, and then the hand relaxes, looking at the little crow phone charm dangling from Sylus' phone that sits in his hand. Quiet. Lonely.

"Why are you here?" The edge doesn't leave the hunters voice, but the words are aimed specifically at Sylus.

He lets himself laugh, a huff of air, rather than any real humour, "Now, now Crown Prince. I'm not the enemy. I'm… a friend."

He watches the hand tense, light flickering again, blue sharpening into ice. Ah, Philos. Always did make the most easily tormented creatures.

"Crown Prince?" The doctor turns his head to the hunter, who huffs, turning his head away.

"We have more important things to think about now, don't we?" Sylus offers, somewhat a truce. If he can get to his kitten, he doesn't really care if he has to tolerate the prince. Or the fish… or the doctor with the pretty forest eyes.

There's bigger problems. The door.

The hunter wavers, looking at the door, protective, ready to fight if he has to. Sylus thinks he resembles a knight, more than a prince. Perhaps they all are in some way. Rushing to the door of their reckless little hunter.

"Are you-"

"Friends." Sylus interrupts the doctor, "Skye."

"Rafayel."

The prince stays quiet, introductions clearly done in the past.

The doctor nods, "Zayne, I've heard of you all. Very well." He indicates the files he's holding, "We have returned from the Association. They were injured in the line of duty, they were sent to a specialist, and have since returned and been taken off active duty until they have fully recovered."

Injured.

Taken off active duty.

Sylus tries to take the information in, but he gets distracted by the tense line of the doctor's jaw.

"You're angry."

The doctor blinks, turning his head away a little, "I don't know what you mean."

Rafayel peeks over, head tilted, "I'd be angry too, if as their doctor, cutie didn't come to me."

Ah, he watches Zayne glare at the fish, before he straightens himself out, so that's it. The doctor feels unwanted.

Helpless.

Sylus is familiar with the feeling, even if he hates it. He has to defeat it. He has to make sure this does not happen again.

"Well, best go greet kitten then."

He hears someone mutter, "Kitten?" behind him, but he's buoyed by the information that his kitten isn't just running away from him needlessly. You need help, you need support. You're hurt.

So he reaches over to the security lock on your door, and with his EVOL, crushes it inside out. Pushing the door open.

"Well shit." The fish speaks, "You really are him, huh?"

"The one and only, fish." Sylus shoots back, but doesn't stop. Pushing through the door and entering the apartment.

He makes a note to fix your door as soon as this is over.

It's no surprise Mephisto can't see you, the place is dark. His eyes flicker around the room, he hears the doctor knock into something, and the prince uses his EVOL to give them a floating star to illuminate.

Sylus feels like he should be making notes, these people are the closest people to his kitten, other than the other hunters you're closest to. Every bit of information he has about you, builds that puzzle up, but he notices blood on the floor.

Bandages torn and ripped.

Things knocked off sides, scattered to the floor.

"Cutie?" The fishes voice rises in concern, moving ahead of them, to walk over to the bedroom.

There's a twitch to Sylus' fingers that is unfamiliar. Fear making his EVOL flicker and flare, ready. He thinks it's close to fury.

Whoever did this, he'll find, and he'll make sure they can never do it again.

When they enter the bedroom, you're there. Curled on your side, blanket soaked through with sweat and blood. Eyes flickering around you weakly. Zayne stops walking, picking up a prosthetic from where it's been thrown across the room. Hands shaking as he turns it, then turns his gaze back to you.

Sylus is hard to throw off, he's not used to seeing you hurting. You have often hidden your wounds from him, he's always had to follow you, or chase you down to be there when you need a hand. You push him away if he gives you the choice, when it comes to support. You fiercely lick your own wounds, and pretend you're fine.

He remembers the snarl in your throat when you pressed a gun to his head, demanding absolution and justice for the death of those you cared about.

Despite his aching heart for the way you hissed 'Monster' at him, your fire was always delicious to taste. Even if it scorched his mouth.

You were never this. This small, shivering kitten, huddling further away from him when he steps forwards. A hurt, broken mewl out of your mouth.

The light flicks on, and you cry out, covering yourself fully with the blanket. Struggling in the process.

It gives him a chance to really take everything in, and he wishes the light had stayed off.

A bloody handprint is on the floor, before it drags away, like a claw. There are old bandages, caked in blood and dried up, around you. Medication packets thrown across the room. Your blanket is dirty and the smell indicates you haven't moved, or showered, or done anything but ache and bleed.

He wants to approach you, but the shivering… he looks at the doctor, "Do something." His voice isn't as hard as he wants it to be, it's fragile and… weak, and he doesn't want it to be weak. He needs to be strong, he has to be strong. You need him to be strong.

Zayne doesn't need urging, he approaches you carefully, a hand settles gently on your blanketed form. You jerk away, a dry sob ripping its way out of your misused voice.

"Darling. Come on, let me see."

Rafayel and Xavier hover on the edges. Sylus thinks he might look like them. Unsure, worried, trembling. Fear in their gut.

So this is what love can do, when it hurts.

You always bring new things into his life, he just wishes it was not at your expense.

At your pain.

Sylus grabs the prince's wrist, "Come."

Xavier tenses, but nods stiffly, following him. Rafayel looks at you, as Zayne coaxes you from the blanket to check on you, and though his feet struggle to move, he follows as well.

When he has led them into another room, he begins to pick things up off the floor. "Help me." He doesn't offer anything else, this is too much even for him. He doesn't want to open his feelings up to them, no matter how important they are to you. He needs to do something, though, and until he can get information out of you, he can't deal with who hurt you.

He can't do what he wants to do. Bleed, and rip, and tear, and destroy.

He can't burn whatever touched you.

Sylus is relieved when they follow him, the hunter knows where things are in your home. The fish busies himself with looking through your fridge for anything that past its best by date. He doesn't find anything, so orders from his phone.

They have to eat, he'd muttered to himself.

Sylus has never heard a siren's voice break before.

He wonders if you sound as beautiful when you cry, and let him hear.

The cleaning is methodical, though the scent of your blood doesn't ease away. He has to open a window, to air the place out, before it stops suffocating him. He's irritated by the hunger it incites in his stomach. Like he wants to bury his face into the bloody bandages and taste them.

A feeling of greed and hunger he doesn't seem able to fully get rid of. No matter how much he wants to need you in every other way than this.

When food arrives, Rafayel takes it into the kitchen, easing himself into cooking basic fish soup. The smell replaces the scent of blood, and Sylus can breathe easier.

While the fish and the prince are busy, and the worst of the mess is cleaned. Including broken shards of glass, and smashed photo frames. Sylus walks closer to the bedroom. He wants to just clean up the mess in there, so you can exist, and not see blood everywhere. Instead, he finds you, blanket pulled down, while the doctor wipes blood from around your shoulder.

His feet pause, and he meets your mismatched eyes. Scars ripping through the side of your face.

"Kitten." He exhales, and watches as you flinch, trying to bury yourself back in the blanket. The doctor takes your face in his hands, breathes with you, and soothes the hackles rising.

"It's alright."

"Don't look." You croak out, pleading at Sylus, both of them. Begging them not to see you.

He sighs, and he approaches, kneeling in front of you, hand reaching out to take your one. Soothing the flinch, the hair raising, with a steady pressure of his thumb against your skin. "Now kitten, I always want to look at you. You know that."

Your eyes glisten with tears, before you look back at Zayne, sniffling through the pain, "Hurts."

The doctor nods, "I'll need to resuture some of your wounds, I brought my tools with me, but you will need to go back into the hospital for checkups." When you try to pull away, both he and Zayne keep a handle on you. So you can't escape, so you can't fall back. So you can't stumble.

"You also need to start your therapy, if you avoid it, you will struggle even more."

"No." You snap, biting at the bit. Sylus thinks if you had a dragon's teeth, you'd sharpen them against their flesh. "I don't want it, I don't need it."

"You do need it." The doctor's brow furrows, frustration coming through his face. At himself? At you? At this situation? Sylus' couldn't tell, maybe all of it. "You need to take care of yourself."

They're both surprised when you hiccup, when your sob lets itself out. When you fall forwards. He watches your shoulder flinch, and your hand pulls out of his to cover your face, and you shatter.

Sobbings, breaking, choking on air.

He isn't sure what he's supposed to do, but he doesn't get much time to think. You're pulled forward by the doctor, into both of their arms, due to how close they are. His arm hooks around you, balancing you, so they both can hold you. The smell of blood tickles his nose again, but this time, he buries his nose in your neck. You smell like they've pulled you back from decaying, and it hurts the heart he gave to you so many years ago.

Eventually you settle, breathing again for them, fingers trembling where your hand is trapped between their bodies.

When you pull away, tears have streaked down your face, smearing dirt across your cheeks. Zayne reaches his hand out to wipe away some of it, but he lets out a soft sigh, "We need to get you cleaned up so I can take care of you."

Your eyes downcast, staring at the floor. You look ashamed, and it bites at Sylus' heels, so he presses a kiss against your cheek. Which makes the look morph to shock. "We can get the fish if that helps, I'm sure he'll make sure you don't drown."

The nod is weak, tired and worn, even though he watches your eyes flicker to your wounds, to your shoulder, back to him. Like you're realising it means someone else seeing you.

He wishes you'd see yourself the way he sees you. The way he can tell the doctor sees you. The way he's sure the prince and the fish see you.

It's not enough to tell you, though, you have to learn it yourself. So he stands, stopping momentarily when your hand tightens against his shirt, eyes widening. He watches the scar tissue tug, he watches the hand tremble where its grasping him. So he puts his over it, "I'm not leaving, kitten. When you're clean, when you're stitched back up, we'll talk, and eat. Alright?"

Sylus feels the heat settle around his heart, like your hand is holding it, when you nod. A tiny bit of fire returning to you.

To the tenacious light of your eyes.

[cherie-doll]

Helloo >_< I hope ur having a good dayy, I was just wondering if you could do like a curly-haired reader with the cod men? :p stuff like helping reader w their routines, if the reader straightens it, or like just how they feel abt it? wtv you find easier to write!

- 🦇 (reserving an anon, hope thats all good! :3)

yay another anon reserved! ...wish i hadn't damaged my curly hair with three keratin treatments and straightening it like daily, it thinned out and the curls aren't consistent :/

⋆⋆Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Curly-Haired!Reader x COD Men

« Price...

he adores your hair in its natural state, even if you've constantly fried it by straightening it and think it's too frizzy now, there's nothing more that he loves than settling into bed after a long and hard day and spooning you, nuzzling his face into your neck and smelling the oil you've massaged into your hair

you mention how your curls seem to scratch at his face instead of caressing but he doesn't care, he's happy this way, on mornings he sleeps in and wakes up to immediately feel you still close to him and play with your hair

he doesn't care if it's messy, having slipped out of your bonnet, he loves the unruliness of it even if you don't, you complain about how you don't wake up to luscious locks or smooth straight hair, how constantly you have to hydrate it, but he just nods listening to you because he really does love it

« Ghost...

you think he couldn't care less about your hair but secretly he's admired it,

one day when you're tired of the routine of dealing with your hair you say you're going to cut it all off, get a really short haircut because you just can't deal with it anymore, Simon turns around real fast when he hears that

firmly says no, he doesn't want you cutting your hair, you have no idea how comforting it so for him to feel it when he's sitting on the living room couch, fast asleep and feeling your breath on his face as you lean over to place a kiss on his cheek

and those rare moments when your curls turn out nice he's the first to notice it, he doesn't really say much about it and you're wondering why he keeps staring at you; he's silently admiring them

« Soap...

the one who might be a little obnoxious about it, like he's the first one to notice when you straighten it, or of you leave it natural or do anything with it

since you're active and like to be busy doing things, you tie your hair up or keep it from falling onto your face with a hair bandana, he prefers to see you with your hair loose and will go pulling at your hair tie or whatever is keeping it together just to see it come down, he's able to get away before you can catch him

will stare at you with hearts in his eyes as you're fighting your hair, trying to get it to stay in a specific style but those difficult stands just won't keep down

« Gaz...

man is the one you yell for when it's hair wash day and you're already in the shower but forgot to bring your comb, it's a very specific one out of the set you own

you yell for him to hand you the brush but you own a ton, so he's holding up a different brush and every time you say it's not the one you need he has to go back to looking for another one and guessing which of the two he found could be the one

he also helps you apply cream to your hair, making sure it's evenly applied and hydrated, helps you untangle the knots in the back

« Roach...

he can't help but feel a little disappointed when he wanders into the bedroom to see you on the floor with a mirror, two different brushes/combs, hair claws and a straightener

you've been at it for almost two hours and you still need to apply oil to make the ends look less dry, all that and your arms hurt, soon as you see him you're making him help you divide your hair into sections to make sure you don't miss any curls that get away

it irks you when someone asks about your hair type and you can't say curly because they expect kinky, tightly coiled from root to end and don't understand that there's different types so you always respond with "damaged" lol

« Alejandro...

his hair gel seems to hold up better than yours does, so every time you do your hair you steal some of his and he wonders why he's having to go to the store so often to buy new gel

you probably shed a lot of hair, which often makes you question as to if you're finally going bald but that's just new hair coming in, Alejandro has to frequently shake out the blankets for any more knots of hair

he knows how insecure you can sometimes get when your hair doesn't curl perfectly but he reminds you how beautiful you really look, he also knows you being very particular about your routine so he tries to work around that, making plans for days you're likely to be less stressed about your hair

« Rudy...

knows how adamant you are to sticking to your washing routine, he knows the entire ritual you do every morning and night when styling your hair and then getting ready for bed, he won't move or change any products sitting on the bathroom counter or in the shower knowing you'll be using them

he's even changed out the pillowcases for silk ones instead because he read somewhere that those are just sm better for any hair type, he keeps your bonnets, hair claws and stuff you use for your hair organized and tidy, he cleans your brushes frequently and will go to pick up more hair product, just make sure you send him a pic or else he might get the wrong one

loves smelling your hair right after you've washed it because you apply the best smelling oils and creams and he can't resist doing so

« Phillip Graves...

he sometimes walks in to find you applying strange things into your hair... like the time he found you putting chia seeds on your hair after you had just washed it and was still wet, "you just washed it, why are-" "it's good for my hair"

the thing is when you apply some of these you have to let your hair sit and dry naturally, so it can be well past midnight and it's still not dry yet and he'll come get you looking all sleepy, squinting his eyes at the light you have turned on nagging for you to come to bed with him already

he loves it when you grow out your hair, despite it taking a lot longer to wash and such, likes to run his hair over your hair, careful not to tangle his fingers in because he'd disrupt it

whenever he sees an ad or commercial for something advertised towards those with curly hair he asks if you'd like to have it

« Makarov...

you never realized it but he goes into the bathroom after you're done doing your hair and looks at the products and stuff you've used, he keeps a tab on how much product you have left

so when you run out one morning he comes in and places a new bottle of that hair cream you so desperately need in your hand; how convenient

he lets you do whatever you want with your hair but he's prefer id you let it be, not that he hates to see you straighten your hair but you can notice him smiling a little when your curls turn out perfect, but you know how difficult that is

so he reluctantly hands over his card when you tell him you're going to a hair salon to get it straightened, he just tells you to make sure you booked the appointment with the nicest hairstylist you could find, he doesn't want them ruining your hair

« Keegan...

would it be funny if i told you he didn't know your hair was curly because you always straightened it until once he knocked on your door late at night when you hadn't styled it and he was taken slightly aback at the sight of your hair curling and framing your face

he says he wants to see you with your natural hair more often, but he doesn't know how long that'll take, with how long you've been straightening your hair there's a lot of damage to deal with before you get your curl pattern back, sometimes you get really frustrated but you remember how expensive those keratin treatments are and get right back to applying another hair mask

but he likes pulling at your hair watching if it'll coil again even if it annoys you

« König...

you've doted on him so much before he'd love to do the same for you, you don't like him messing around the kitchen much but he knows how much time it takes you to wash, comb, and dry your hair so he'd like to help you for once

he doesn't always know how to handle your hair so he sticks to massaging your scalp which does help you relax a lot, he used to want curls when he was younger, or at least some sort of wave in his hair but now he keeps his hair pretty short so he doesn't really think about that anymore like he used to

when cuddling in bed or sitting with you on the couch he always gets the temptation of just grabbing a fistful of your hair and scrunching the curls like he sees you do, instead he gently plays with a curl, twirling it around his finger

« Horangi...

couples taking showers together is always romanticized until you're cursing in there while trying to get the comb though a difficult knot, and while he's done washing in what seems like five or ten minutes it takes you much longer than that just to shampoo and condition your hair

he looks at you weirdly for using dish soap to really work that grease and oil buildup out of your hair before rinsing it off and washing again with shampoo, you recommend he try it especially since he's got fine hair and he ends up using it now

you tell him you're going out to get your hair cut and when you come back it looks the same... he asks if you even went to the hair salon and you say you did but it was only a trim and then you mention how much they charged you for snipping off a couple of inches...

« Nikto...

you're always complaining about how late it is and your hair hasn't dried yet, he doesn't understand why you don't just use the hair dryer, it still works after all

how to explain to him that drying it RIGHT after you've washed it will make it look like a lion's mane and have the texture of a horse's mane, "just brush it" URGHGHRH you wanna strangle him, the amount of hair cream and oil you'd have to apply will make you run out of product

and when you finally decide to go dry it and he's wondering why it's been 20 mins and you're still in there, he walks in to see you still drying it, he asks why you're not done yet and you tell him it's not fully dry, "looks dry to me" you have to take his hand and shove it to where your nape/back of your head is because that's still really damp

[stil-lindigo]

Comics Masterpost (organised by collection)

Please heed relevant content warnings on each post. Completed collections have physical and digital copies available for purchase on my store.

Soliloquy Down to Three [COMPLETED]

Soliloquy down to Three is an anthology of dark sapphic comics, all of which are a mix of both old and new inspiration. Its title is a line from 'craters', indicating that the phrase "I love you" manages to fit a whole monologue worth of feeling into three words.

The compiled version contains exclusive illustrations for each couple, as well as a secret ending to 'craters'.

1. fishing twine 2. hook, line and sinker (sequel to 'fishing twine) cw: suggestive imagery 3. RED cw: suggestive imagery, blood, murder with an axe 4. RED - epilogue cw: blood 5. patchwork canary cw: mouth + neck mutilation, blood 6. craters cw: implications of suicide

♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢

10PM [COMPLETED]

10pm is a collection of introspective comics that covers feelings of aimlessness, alienation and finding joy in creativity again. Its full title is "It's 10pm. Do you know who you are?" which is a twist on the old PSAs that used to play on American TVs reminding parents to check up on their children.

1. the parade

2. the elevator

3. the machine

4. the candle

5. the stone

6. the dredger

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Hearteaters [COMPLETED]

Heart-eaters is an anthology about the ugliest, gory-est, most heartfelt and most brutal parts of love. Sitting at a whopping 180 pages, Heart-eaters is the longest anthology I've made yet, and took over a year to finish in full.

The compiled books available for purchase on my store contain an exclusive joint-comic to "Shallow Grave" and poem named "Laozi's bowl", as well as 9 original full-page art splashes unique to their assigned stories.

1. the sunset cw: gun violence, death, blood 2. the calamity cw: eye scarring, blood, eye mutilation, gore (minimal) 3. seeing clearer (epilogue to 'the calamity') cw: biblical references 4. shallow grave cw: gravestone imagery 5. bite of winter (joint comic to 'scorched earth') cw: gore, blood, death, cannibalism, dismemberment 6. scorched earth (joint comic to 'bite of winter') cw: blood, death, burning alive, beheading 7. ashes to ashes (prequel comic to 'scorched earth') 8. little dove (prequel comic to 'scorched earth') 9. warmth 10. the fox god cw: emotional manipulation, animal abuse 11. the fields cw: blood, animal death, mild gore and blood

[icewindandboringhorror]

recent lounging babey images

[yeleltaan]

// Happy New Year everyone! I hope this year treats you kindly, that you find fulfillment in the fruit of your efforts and that you feel very loved!

[photocheer]

Intro

I,@emily-mooon, am back at it again with another sideblog!

After making one for another rarepair I love, I thought I’d do the same with photocheer!

This will mostly just be a blog for reblogging any photocheer stuff I find. It’ll be like an archive for this pairing so none of the posts get lost in this hellsite’s terrible search system

There might also be original posts here, but I have a feeling all my stuff for photocheer will be posted on my main, which I’ll then immediately reblog here

At some point in the future, it might be nice trying to host a ship week or weekend for them if there’s a enough people interested. If not, then that’s okay! I’ll do my best to reblog any ST or fandom wide rarepair events that are happening so if any of you are interested in writing a fic or drawing fan art for them for an event, there’s one you can go to!

Same important rules as on my main. I don’t condone any bigoted behaviour! All of my blogs are safe spaces. Always try to be kind to people no matter who they are <3

Extras

Here’s the Spotify playlist I made for them. Feel free to suggest any songs for it if you have any!

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Whoever’s reading this, I hope you are doing well and if not, here’s a free hug!-> 🫂

[souenkun]

I am today years old when I learned that some ao3 tags, whether it only gained 3 separate uses or has a ton of people using them, can't be filtered because the volunteers haven't wrangled them yet (made them filterable, or "canonize" the tags, according ao3's support and feedback page)... I'm kinda mind-blown by the whole process and how they still need humans to gather every tags before squeezing them into a single term, ngl :o

[thebigqueer]

Your breakup really really reminds me of my first (and only) wlw relationship/breakup everything you're saying hits home a lot. You will get through it but tbh it's so hard to heal and it still grinds my gears when I think about her and how we broke up. Idk if that helps but I understand what you're going though

YEAH MAN ITS TOUGH OUT HERE FR!!! its not my first queer relationship but like something about this is genuilnely the most world-shattering romantic experience ive had cuz we went into this soooo head over heels for each other like we were literally moving SO fast. and at the time i was like is it ok for us to even be moving this fast (probs tmi but we were literally making out shirtless by like 2nd time we even made out) (probs not a big deal to most people but i experienced a LOT of new things with her that id never experienced befoer & the fact that i was so WILLING to do it so fast was what surprised me the most) but then i was like okk whateverrr i really like how fast we're moving. and i was like 'damn if were moving this fast & if im feeling so good it has to end soon right like theres no way life is going to let me just be happy w this' and then i was like 'no elts not think about it' and then what do you know 5 months later she brekas up w me. and neither of us did anything wrong but it was so random??? like i dont understand how one moment shes telling me how excited she is to spend the entire semester with me and then literally 36 hours later tell me shes not feeling an emotional connection but wont even give us the chance to work it out. i know she also broke it off for personal reasons but its like... this was something we could have TRIED to work out you know!!! maybe it wouldnt have worked in the end but literally nothing felt off to me at all & if id known she was feeling this way i wouldve done my best to make things better. the entire breakup was so sudden and honestly im really not mad at her because i know how nerve-wracking it is to be in your first relationship. i think its just that im really dispapointed she gave up on us so easily you know??? didnt even give us a chance to figure it out

[arolesbianism]

Just wanted to drop in and say thank you for finding and posting the ONI logs that you do! As someone who loves the story of the game but absolutely would not have the energy to find all of the logs that aren’t on the wiki legitimately its nice to be able to see some of them. The one w/ nails in it is especially interesting! Nails was already one of my favorite dupes but that log made me like them even more tbh. Everyone say thank you to Human Nails™️ for making dupes like actually cognizant.

Also, saw your ONI stuff on artfight! I am absolutely not plotting and scheming anything at all i swear :]

Oghhhh tysm :')!!!! I've been feeling a bit self conscious abt my oni obsession lately so this means a lot! I still need to get around to making my oni story catalogue actually readable, I started a while back but ran out of steam after the like 50th incident with said one with Nails in it lol. And I actually recognized you from artfight! Saw your oni guys a few days ago and I'm honestly obsessed with them, it would be a shame if I had my hand forced and had to draw them :3c

[solelifauna]

So this NOT to imply the writing is bad

But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser

Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?

Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used

Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael

(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)

Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.

Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.

Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.

Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.

He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.

Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.

Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.

He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.

Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.

"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.

It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.

For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”

The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.

Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.

With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.

You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.

Finally, one of your spells strikes true.

The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.

You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.

But the celebration is short-lived.

Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.

“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”

With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.

You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.

The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.

You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.

Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.

“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.

You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.

You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”

His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”

You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”

“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.

The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.

“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”

“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.

“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”

Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.

“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.

You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.

“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?

Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.

Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”

You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.

Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.

The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.

You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.

“We’re not done here.”

And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.

Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.

“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.

He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”

His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”

His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?

“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”

Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”

“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.

“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.

You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”

Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just… doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”

You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”

Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.

“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”

Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.

For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.

-

As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.

Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.

What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?

Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.

How did you get so far away?

He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.

Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.

But the moment is fleeting.

He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.

“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.

Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.

"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”

Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.

"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"

Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"

"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”

That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.

"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."

"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"

A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.

"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”

Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”

“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.

Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.

Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”

With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.

Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.

He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.

Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.

[sixosix]

wanderer can fly; you cannot. he makes it his problem.

“What? Giving up already?”

“Shut—” heaving, you barely have the energy to flip him off, “shut the fuck up. Fuck off.”

Wanderer chuckles, all low and mean, as if his entire purpose in life is to ridicule you. He continues ascending overhead, moving and looking like an angel, but the words that come out of his mouth are far from angelic. “Careful, now. I know you overestimate yourself, but I won’t save you if you continue to scale a mountain with one hand.”

“Stop agitating me on purpose then!” You nearly slip from the intensity of your yell, but thankfully, it isn’t your time yet.

“How can I? You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Grumbling, you focus back on the mountain. Cute when mad. He must think he’s goddamn adorable, then.

You’re starting to lose sight of dents or protruding surfaces to get a hold of, and the mountain is getting steeper. You curse under your breath. If only you had Geo or Dendro—that’d help a lot much more. Maybe even Anemo, but that would be admitting defeat to the man who’s currently watching you intently.

Wanderer scoffs when your breath hitches, the surface you’re holding onto crumbling. He descends until you’re eye level. “Idiot, I told you that it’d be safer if we didn’t climb this all the way.”

“I know my limit.” Maybe. You may or may not have gotten a little over-competitive and jumped a few times, but that shouldn’t be a problem.

“Not more than I do,” he says.

“Don’t say it like that, weirdo.” You appraise the mountain overhead and, with a sunken stomach, realize that he’s right. There’s still a long way to go, and it’s a long fall back.

“Damn,” you say. You turn to Wanderer and blink up at him with wide eyes, hoping he would take the hint without having to say it outright.

Wanderer sighs, holding out his arms. “Jump.”

“Are you serious?”

“I won’t let you fall—of course I’m fucking serious.”

You grit your teeth, wondering if it’s easier to humiliate yourself and jump into his arms or to let gravity do its work.

“Hey,” Wanderer says, gliding closer and hovering an arm behind your waist. “No stupid ideas. Just jump and hold onto me.”

It’s always unsettling when Wanderer is not acting all bratty, like you’re not quite sure if you should goad him back to being mean or watch him bristle when you point it out. It’s been happening too often recently. That must be saying something about him if his soft moments are scarier than his jabs.

Wordlessly, you reach out for his shoulder with one hand and hold back a yelp when the lack of balance causes you to slip. You hold on tight around his neck, eyes wide and heart jittery. Wanderer secures his arms, moving in one swift motion. Before you even know it, he has one arm on your back and the other under your knees.

“How convenient it must be to have a ride as your companion,” Wanderer mutters in amusement at your relieved face.

“Yeah. That’s why I keep you around,” you say as he glides upward, barely straining from your weight. He looks as unaffected as ever.

He looks as infuriatingly and devastatingly beautiful as ever.

“Ha,” his smile is all sharp, “and not because you have a little crush on me?”

“You follow me around because you do. Don’t get it twisted.”

He snorts, tipping on something a little more genuine. You wisely decide to stop ogling at his face and enjoy the view of the sky instead. The blue of his clothes and the shade of his eyes are much prettier, but you’d rather lose that than start squirming in his arms. Not when he’s carrying you bridal style and all.

Finally, he descends, hardly disturbing the grass with his grace. He sets you down, arms crossed, as you pat yourself off from dirt and stuff.

“Well?”

You eye him warily. “What do you want?”

“Some semblance of manners will do,” he says, then leans close as if he’s baring his face for you. He’s been less and less subtle recently, too.

Nonetheless, you find yourself smiling. The things he’d do just to get a kiss—it nearly makes you laugh out loud. But then he’d start getting all irritated like a cat, and you much prefer when he’s sweet like this. Sweet in his very Wanderer way, you mean.

You kiss him on the cheek. He puffs up like some proud peacock. He calls you adorable all the time, but he’s the one who’s acting like this. It’s no wonder you keep him around.

[rafey-baby]

sweet treat 3

construction worker!rafe is very grateful when shy!reader offers to help with his tense shoulders...

c/w: rafe in a desperate need of a massage, fluff, some heavy making out, slight dry humping, suggestive, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.4k

meant to write something cute but knowing them it turned into something filthy (who's surprised) hope you enjoy xx

part 2 & part 4 part 5

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

Rafe has had a tedious workday on the construction site. The ardent sun making him melt like ice under the searing yellow rays and the clock ticking as if it was an ancient turtle not helping one bit.

Even after he’s washed the sweat and the dirt off and changed into a clean pair of clothes, his shoulders are strained; muscles aching and legs hurting.   

Every time he tries to move his limbs into a more comfortable position on his couch his face scrunches up into a pained expression. It makes her furrow her brows, asking what’s wrong with worry painting over her features.  

“Nothing, just a bit tense,” he dismisses her, rolling his shoulders back, trying to alleviate the soreness that’s tormenting him; disturbing him from the movie they’re trying to watch as they wait for the casserole he’s made to bake in the oven. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you— do you want me to give you a massage or something?” She suggests, wanting to make him feel better.  

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, Sweetheart,” he murmurs, turning his attention back to the television.  

“No, but Rafe you’re hurting…I wanna help,” there’s a slight pout forming on her mouth as she takes the remote, pausing the film.  

He turns the sapphires of his eyes to face her. The look she’s giving him tugs at his heartstrings and for a moment he wonders what he did to deserve such an angel wanting to take care of him.  

“Yeah? Wanna help me?”  

She nods. 

Then he’s turning around and bending his legs to sit cross-legged on the sofa; presenting his solid back and broad shoulders to her.  

“Also, I’ve had some practice but I’m no masseuse, so don’t get your hopes up too much,” she says as she scoots closer, raising on her knees behind him in order to reach his tall frame. 

“You give massages to a lot of people?” He asks, teasing, seemingly nonchalant but there’s a part of him that’s eager to find out whether he’s getting special treatment from her. 

“No, I just meant when I was little me and my friends used to do these massage therapy circles and we’d take turns. But now I’m a little rusty since it’s obviously been a while,” she explains.  

“Good,” is all he offers in response, making something abstruse in her tummy flutter.  

She then settles her hands on his wide shoulder blades that lie underneath the white fabric of his t shirt, digging into his skin; feeling the sturdy muscle under her fingertips.  

“You want me to take my shirt off? So it’s easier?” He casually suggests and her cheeks heat up. 

“Oh— um…yeah, if you want,” her voice does not sound as indifferent as his which makes the corners of his strawberry mouth curl up as he plucks at the collar of his shirt, exposing solid back muscles and soft skin to stare back at her.  

She blinks.  

Hesitantly, she rests her hands on top of his shoulders once again and begins kneading her fingers into his brawny structure.  

A heartfelt groan rumbles from his chest, making her swallow at the lewd sound as she continues to press into the parts that feel the most strained.  

“Just tell me if something feels bad or if you want me to focus on a specific spot and stuff,” she murmurs as her thumbs sink into his tense flesh, feeling him beginning to unspool under her ministrations.  

He hums out a soft agreement, contentment coating his tone.  

However, when she presses into a particularly taut part of muscle tissue, he suddenly lets out a low-pitched noise from the back of his throat, sounding almost obscene to her ears; reminding her of the night they shared a few days ago.  

It makes her squeeze her thighs together, trying to drag her head out of the gutter.  

“Fuck, that feels nice,” he grunts out, closing his eyes in ecstasy. He thinks she lied when she said that she wasn’t too good because he’s not sure if his shoulders have ever felt this mellow.  

He’s practically muddy clay under her tender fingertips and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be right now. He feels so relaxed he could almost fall asleep. 

She continues digging her thumbs into his achy flesh for some time until her fingers begin to feel so sore, she thinks they’ll fall off if she doesn’t stop.  

“Sorry, my fingers hurt, can’t anymore,” she softly apologizes and he turns around to face her again; a lazy grin coating his grateful countenance.  

“It’s all good, feels so much better now. Thanks, Sweetheart,” he says while he rolls his shoulders back for emphasis; no hint of any sort of agony in sight.  

“Of course, if um— if you need me to do that again, just ask, okay?”  

“You’re so good to me, you know that?” Carolina blue is peering down at her with a certain tenderness that makes her feel all fuzzy and tingly inside.  

“That was nothing. I mean, it was the least I could do after all the times you’ve driven me home and stuff.” 

“I’m serious, you just spent almost an hour turning my muscles into jelly. Let me thank you properly,” he murmurs.  

“What— what do you mean?” Her breath hitches.  

“What I’m saying is, haven’t been able to stop thinking about you grinding yourself on top of me, you know?” He says as he lifts his left arm in order to tuck a loose strand of her behind her ear; fingers lingering on her jawline. 

She freezes, not sure how to respond as his thumb strokes along her cheekbone and he tips her face up with an index finger tucked under her chin.  

“Was so caught up in it all, forgot to kiss you…” he drifts off, clouded gaze flitting over her features. “You want me to?” 

“You mean…right now?” Her eyes round out, barely managing to shove the words out from the gaps of her teeth.  

“Unless, you have somewhere else to be?” The edges of his mouth tilt and when she shakes her head, he leans closer, pressing his lips on hers in a tender kiss.  

However, when a faint noise of surprise escapes her, he deepens it; warm tongue prodding at the seam of her mouth, coaxing her to open.  

When she eventually does, he slips his tongue in, groaning when he can taste the muted sweetness of the vanilla chapstick she’s wearing.  

Something that was meant to be soft and sweet turns into something heated and primal as she holds his face in her palms. He paws at her waist, bringing her closer and lifting her to sit on his lap with a steady grip on her hips.  

She’s straddling his thighs as his hands travel down to squeeze at the flesh of her ass, forcing her to let out fragile whimpers into his mouth as he continues to swallow her up.  

“There we go, Sweetheart. That’s a lot better, yeah?” He murmurs between soft pecks and sloppy kisses.  

Their spit-slick lips lock together again and again; her thighs becoming sticky and mind wandering in a hazy vapor.  

“Rafe…” she nearly whispers and she doesn’t even realize she’s rutting against the bulge in his pants until he’s grunting, blunt nails denting her skin.  

The slight pain makes her whine and then he’s pushing her against his hardening cock firmer, pillowy lips smearing on hers all wet and messy; turning her into a moaning jumble, trying her best to keep up with his hungry mouth.  

All of a sudden, completely out of the blue, the timer of the oven begins ringing. It makes her jump in surprise; nearly falling off his lap, if not for his beefy arms holding her upright, not missing a beat.  

He lets out an airy chuckle against her swollen lips and presses a few sweetened pecks on them, reluctantly pulling away. His heavy panting fills her ears for a few seconds as she tries to even out her own rickety respiration.  

Then he’s gently setting her on top of the couch cushions and standing up on his feet; a disconcerted pout following his movements.  

“Shit, better go check on the food so it doesn’t burn, yeah?” He’s sporting a lazy, taunting smile as he offers his right palm to her; lifting her up on unsteady legs that try their best to follow him like a needy kitten as he disappears into the kitchen that bathes under the burnt orange of the setting sun.  

[srslylini]

what made season 1 so stunningly good was that every scene could be explained with stuff that happened on screen.

Why did Vi know where to find Vander after Silco took him? well of course because of Ekko who was established in the first few minutes of the first episode to be the character to be on look out.

Why did Powder follow the others to the abandoned building? why because she wanted to feel useful, she wanted for her stuff to work and she wanted to help. She wanted to not be the Jinx. This was all established through character moments that were natural and normal human interactions.

Why did Mel invest in Jayce? Why because first of all her own mother sent her away so seeing Jayce's mother stand up for her son must've hit her. And we see her talking about having to find new investments. Of course she would. He sounds interesting enough. Why not try it? If it doesn't work banishment is still on the table.

Why did Viktor help Jayce? Because he didn't want to stand in Heimerdingers shadow as just an assistant anymore. He was sick and knew the problems of the undercity first hand, he wanted to help. Of course he would, if there was a chance hextech could do it.

Why did Marcus continue to help Silco even after Graysons death? Why, because of his daughter or course. He could be threatened, molded and used. He wanted to establish big things, and was hasty in his youth, and we see 1. Silco exploit that and 2. Marcus regret that.

Why did a shimmer induced Huck help Caitlyn out? Why because as early as the very first episode in Vanders first speaking scene he gets help from Vander and well why wouldn't he then show that help for Vi, knowing he can?

literally every scene makes sense, everything can be explained with stuff that we SEE in the show. There isn't anything "off screen" or just not there.

Now tell me

Why did Caitlyn suddenly switch sides again in season 2 act 2? Why and how did Mel know that her brother wasn't actually her brother? Why did she know how to solve the puzzle? Why is Viktor suddenly floating in the universe? Why does Ambessa just ignore her daughter being abscent outside of that one throw away line? Why do Maddie, Loris and Isha exist? Every chatacter existed for a reason that wasn't just Plot even if they sometimes were just for Plot in season 1. But Maddie, Loris and even ISHA for gods sake, really are just Plot. Isha not as much as Maddie and Loris and thank god for that but still, her character, while I still hope it isn't true, existed to die and further Jinx's pain.

it's just so ugh

Edit: A lot (and I mean a LOT) of people have told me how Kino did make sense and I agree with that now. Though I stand firm with my opinion that we should've gotten to know him before so we could have figured it out even easier with Mel, there were actually signs I didn't notice myself before. Thank's for that.

Plus I will not back down on the fact that Mel just knowing the solution to the puzzle "makes sense cause sHe WaS ShOwn TO Be gOoD WiTh PuZZLes" is stupid. Yes, I know she is smart and good with that. But that's like a whole different thing. It's such a leap I don't know how some of you don't see it.

[defmaybe]

Anatomy of a Farewell

12 Days of Christmas: Day 7, December 31st, 2024

fromis_9’s Park Jiwon x Male Reader

3.6k words

Christmas Masterlist

All good things must come to an end.

So is fromis_9 and your time with them, especially Jiwon.

“Cheers to us!” Saerom shouts, as she lifts her glass up for a toast. Everyone at the table joins in. It’s sad, really. It’s your last day to be officially together—the New Year’s Eve of 2024—and you can only hope that the wind of fate will somehow make your paths cross again.

So, what’s next?

You’ve been here for a few years already, from an intern to a boss. It has been a great experience for you, and now it’s coming to an end. Your future is uncertain again. Maybe Woollim? Maybe WakeOne? Maybe HYBE again? You aren’t so sure, and thinking about it only puts a burden on you.

You’re sitting on the outside of the bar, contemplating your life choices with a glass of beer in your hand. The December wind blows through the air, so—cold, dry, like every December before it.

“Hey.” A sound comes from your back. It’s Jiwon, a glass of beer in her hand. A faint smile is painted on her face.

“Hey,” you reply, taking a sip of your beer. It’s so quiet out here.

“You good?” she asks, sitting down beside you. Her right arm brushes slightly against yours.

“Well, you know, farewell sorrow and stuff,” you answer, chuckling softly at your predicament. You’ll have to find a new job after this, but for the last few years here, it has been worth it.

“Me too,” she says. It must be sad for her, suddenly saying goodbye to the women who’ve been with her for the last half decade or so.

You two let the silence linger in the air for a few more heartbeats, unsure of what to say next. You glance around you. There’s Jiwon. There’s a parking van, your company’s van, to be exact. There are trees. There's sadness building up inside you. There’s–

“I’ll miss them a lot, like, a fucking lot.”

You look at Jiwon again, your chin resting on your fist, trying to be her solace. It has been working so far.

“Yeah, it’s–hard,” you say. That’s the best sequence of words you could come up with, and it’s not bad, really. “You might still see them around, at least.”

Jiwon chuckles. “Yeah, I might.”

The concept of departure isn’t exactly new to you. You’ve had people leave you in the past before. It takes a few times to get used to it, really. But after that? It’s so much, much easier for you to accept your fate.

“So, what are you going to do next?” you ask, trying to continue the conversation. You want it to go on, at least you do. Despite how you’re so used to people’s departure, with Jiwon, it feels–different.

“Hmm.” She contemplates. You think she can easily have an acting career after this. You’ve seen her act before. She does it pretty well. Maybe she might star along Gyuri, one day.

“Modelling, maybe?” she says. That also works. Yeah, with a body like her, she definitely can do that.

“Seems sensible for you.”

She chuckles softly. “Thanks. What about you? Are you staying at HYBE?”

“Uh, I don’t know, really. I got the offer from a few places already, but I don’t know where I should go next,” you reply, shrugging. That WakeOne offer seems lucrative, could help your family.

“Where is it? Tell me!” she asks, smiling. She nudges you gently with her arm. But under this intoxication, you almost fall over. She’s stronger than she looks.

“Haiya!” you utter.

“Oh my god, sorry!” Jiwon holds you back in time. You’re not losing your balance yet.

“Well–” you pick yourself straight up again, brushing off the dust on your coat “–there’s Woollim, there’s WakeOne, and uh–there’s HYBE.”

Jiwon raises her eyebrows. “I can see someone like you working with Kep1er, though. HYBE sucks, like–look at us.”

You and Jiwon share a laugh in your predicaments. Yeah, HYBE sucks for you two—too few comebacks, too little promotions.

It has always been fun talking to Jiwon like this. You’d argue that Jiheon has been the closest to you, same age and all, but with Jiwon, it feels–different. It’s something you can’t quite describe.

The laughter then transitions into the silence lingers on for a few seconds more. The two of you don’t know what to say next. It happens sometimes. Still, with her, you feel safe, you feel happy.

“Maybe I should head back inside,” she finally says, smiling softly. “Wanna come?”

“Sure.”

—

The night rolls on. One beer, two beers, three beers. Every single one of you is getting more and more intoxicated, so are you and Jiwon. 

Your eyes keep making contact with each other. With each time, you swear that attraction starts to build up. You’ve felt nothing like this towards her. She has never been more than a co-worker to you.

Is there something going on?

You excuse yourself to the bathroom for the umpteenth time tonight, hoping to make the intoxication subside (it won’t subside). You open the bathroom door, wash your face, and set your hair. Then, as you look up from the sink, Jiwon appears in the mirror from behind you.

“Fuck, you’re scaring me, Jiwon,” you say, as Jiwon appears to be chuckling behind you.

“Sorry,” she replies. “Just wanna ask you something.”

“Oh, sure.”

Jiwon looks away from you, trying to form the right words. “So, I’d like to ask you–if I could stay at your place–tonight.”

Aren’t they supposed to have a driver? What is happening?

“Uh, I thought you guys had a driver?” you ask, puzzled, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Well, the problem is that–” she pauses, giving way to the silence as she moves closer to you, her breath is on your neck. Her right hand touches the small of your back softly, making you shudder “–except for Saerom, I can’t let anyone know I’m staying with you.”

“Oh.”

—

“Hmmph, you smell–hmm–so fucking good,” she says, peppering kisses on your neck. Her lips feel so soft. Her thighs are locking your body in your place. You can’t move, but you’re more than happy being under her restraints like this.

“It’s Yves Saint’s Libre.”

She retreats from peppering kisses on your neck with a puzzled expression. “Women’s perfume, really?”

You chuckle. “I mean–it smells good. You even said that!”

“Fair.” She shrugs dismissively before diving onto your neck again. Your body shudders in response from the pleasure and the low temperature of the room. Her hands wander around your body possessively, trying to claim you as hers (you’re already hers). She smells so good. It’s probably La Vie Est Belle, the same one your sister uses. There’s a bit of alcohol in her scent.

“Mmm, y–you also smell g–good, Jiwon,” you mutter, struggling to get the words out under this immense pleasure.

“Mmph, thanks! It’s–”

“La Vie Est Belle. Yeah, my sister uses it.”

Jiwon lets out a chuckle, clearly satisfied with your knowledge. She then pushes you onto the bed, making you land with a soft thud. It’s game time for her.

“Would you mind turning on the heater?” she asks, slightly shivering, as she dives onto your neck to plant the kisses.

“S–Sure.”

You reach for the remote on your nightstand, turning on the heater. Her lips remain busy, placing kisses on your neck. She starts to strip herself of the restrictive clothes, embracing the warmth from your heater. She unbuttons her coat (it’s a little too big for her, if you’d have to add), revealing the red blouse under. Her cleavage is showing off nicely by the collar. God, she looks so great.

“Can I?” you ask her for permission to touch her chest. She looks so damn tempting, and you just couldn’t resist it.

“Go ahead,” she allows, mouth still busy on your neck somehow.

You reach out to touch her small, firm breasts that are hanging in front of you. You figure that they’re soft to the touch. They just fit in your hand. She’s perfect, and you decide to give her breasts a squeeze.

“Hmm, just like that,” she whimpers, pulling back from your neck to allow you easier access to her confined tits. Her body arches back slightly. Her blouse lifts a little to show the small of her toned tummy. 

You give her breasts the treatment they deserve—grab, squeeze, knead. You’re making her moan in pure pleasure. She loves this.

“Mmm, fuckkk~” she groans. Her body vibrates under your touch. You’re revelling in the way she’s becoming undone like this. You’re revelling in the way her breasts feel in your hands. She’s so pliant, so yours.

“Baby,” Jiwon says, voice all airy from the bliss.

“Yes?” Your hands are still kneading her breasts softly

“I want–no–I need you inside me. Now.”

You giggle, quickly taking off your coat to make it equal. “No foreplay?”

“Me kissing your neck and you grabbing my tits are enough foreplay, baby,” she answers. Her voice is so light, so airy, so diluted. “I’m already fucking wet.”

You look into her eyes. They’re gleaming with unbridled desire. She wants this. She needs this. She needs you.

“Oh, s–sure,” you answer awkwardly before hastily unbuckling your belt. Your pants come off easily, and then there’s only your tight boxers left.

“Would you mind?” you ask, wanting her to be your guest in taking the last barrier off.

“Sure, why not?” she scoffs, before she grabs the edge of your underwear, teasing you, making you want more. She runs her thumbs along your waist, making you groan in the looming disappointment.

“God, thought you want me inside you,” you moan. She’s such a fucking cocktease.

“Just wanna hear you moan first” she replies, snaking her right hand under the piece of cloth. She brushes against your throbbing cock softly, making you moan to her wish.

“G–Goddd~” Your eyes flutter in ecstasy. Pleasure is coursing through you. It’s electric.

Jiwon giggles, before finally pulling your boxers down to your ankles, freeing your cock from its confinement. Your legs shiver from the still-cold air of the room. It hasn’t gotten much warmer yet.

“Already hard?” she playfully asks, softly flicking your shaft.

“Just for you.”

Jiwon lets out another laugh, clearly satisfied with your witty response. “Good answer.”

A smile escapes your lips, as Jiwon is still watching your cock with wonder. She really loves it, doesn’t she?

“So–” you reach out for her chin, tilting her face up slightly to meet your eyes. She looks nothing short of ethereal tonight under your dim room light. What a woman “–what are you going to do with me?”

Jiwon smiles. “Wait a second, dumbass. Can’t I just admire him for a bit?” Her eyes go back to watching your cock intently.

“Not after you promised me a ride, Jiwon,” you reply. You have needs too, and it’s currently not being sated.

“I’m not good with promise,” she says, giggling, and you can’t help but smile at her response. She then gets up into a sitting position again, tying her hair into a bun. Holy fuck, she looks so hot with that hair. 

“Please,” you utter. You really want this. You really want her.

“Please what, baby?” she playfully asks, drawing a line on your shirt. You’re quivering under her touch.

“J–Just fuck me already, Jiwon,” you answer shakenly. You’re in dire need of her pussy now.

Jiwon smiles before unbuttoning her jeans and sliding it down, revealing her drenched panties underneath. She looks so tantalizing.

“Fuck, this is cold,” she says, crossing her arms.

“Want me to be on top?”

“But you’ll get cold!” she says, concerned about your wellbeing. What a kind woman.

“I have to be a good host.”

“And I have to be a good guest!” she replies sternly. She’s so adamant about this, isn’t she?

“Get down here then, Jiwon,” you say, gesturing to her to lie on your bed. She reluctantly complies, hesitating, still worrying if you’d feel cold.

But you already have other plans.

You carefully have her lying down on your bed next to you, on her side. You take off her wet panties, slowly, rewarding you with a light, small moan and the view of her wet pussy. You then lift her leg to rest on your thighs. It’s for easy access to her cunt.

“You really are a good host,” she says, a smile forms on her gorgeous face.

“Thanks.”

You line up your needy cock with her puffy cunt, ready to fuck her properly. You look into her eyes, and there’s nothing but desire. No anxiety. No apprehension. No second thoughts. She’s ready.

“Fuck me.”

With that, you thrust your hips into her wanton pussy. Her body shrieks in pleasure and a slight tinge of pain. Your cock is stretching her out wide. She feels great, so tight, so right. Her inner walls are grazing your cock, making you moan in unbridled joy.

“Goddd~” you moan. You’re feeling so ecstatic with her pussy wrapping around you. Then, there’s the clapping of your thighs. There’s her airy moans. There’s her gleeful expression. You love this. You love the way you make her moan. You love the way you’re feeling right now.

“You feel so good, baby. So big, so thick,” Jiwon groans, eyes closed with the boiling pleasure. Her hands hug around you ever so tightly, not wanting to lose you into the cold of the night. 

“Ha–th–thanks, Jiwon,” you reply, stuttering. You just cannot handle the feeling that’s coursing through you right now.

Jiwon’s expression is nothing short of pure bliss—the closed eyes, the smile, the slightly arched eyebrows. She’s enjoying this. She’s enjoying your cock inside her.

You continue to slowly slide in and out of her needy pussy, enamored in the feeling of her walls hugging around your cock. Electricity shoots through your body. It feels great. She feels great—the warmth, the smell, the sound. She’s perfect.

You finally catch the tempo of fucking her folds, so you start to quicken your pace by a little. Her moans become shorter and shorter. She’s losing herself around your cock.

Jiwon bites her lip, finally opens her eyes. She looks up at you with pure lust in her pupils, and you swear that this is the most beautiful she has ever looked—in your tight embrace, on your bed, biting her own soft lip.

“Mmm, fucking love this cock,” she utters without any shame, leaning in to plant a soft peck on your forehead. Warmth emanates from the spot. It feels good.

“Love your pussy too, baby,” you say, making her laugh in your embrace. 

She then leans in slightly closer, staring into your eyes. Is she going to–

“I–I–” Jiwon stutters. Her train of thoughts are derailed under the pleasure you’re giving her. You feel too good.

“What is it?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You let the question hang in the air for a few seconds, drawing the tension, dragging the answer, making her restless.

“I’m already inside you, so–make that what you will,” you reply to her with a soft chuckle. Your hips are rocking into her pussy gently, trying not to hurt her.

Jiwon laughs. “No, I mean–fucking just doesn’t have enough emotions as kissing!”

“Kissing is just tongue though,” you deflect, protecting your point. She does have a point, at least, just not as strong as yours.

“Look at doggy,” she brings up her point. “You don’t have to look at each other, making it less intimate, a lot less.”

That makes sense. She just won her debate against you.

“Well, it seems that you’ve won, Miss Park.” You giggle, nibbling her chin softly. “Guess you can kiss me on the lips.”

Jiwon’s face lights up with a smile, before latching her lips on yours. The kiss is fervent. The kiss is passionate. She invades your mouth aggressively, a contradiction to the slow love making below your belts. Her grip on your face is tight. She doesn’t want to let you go.

Her lips taste like beer. It still lingers inside her mouth as you pierce her mouth with your tongue. You suppose yours probably taste the same. The kiss still feels electric, indeed. Jiwon lets out soft moans and whimpers into the kiss. God, what a feeling.

Her right hand then travels below your belt, smacking your plump ass. Your body jolts in response to the violent hit. She lets out a giggle.

Finally, she pulls back from the kiss. Your hips are still rocking down below, pounding her cunt with softness. Her face is all flushed, so enamored in the kiss.

“That felt great,” she says, a smile painting on her ethereal face.

“Me too, baby,”

Jiwon chuckles at the pet name, before starting to moan again. Her mouth is agape. Her eyes are barely open.

“Y–You’re so big, baby,” she utters.

“I–I’d argue that it’s p–pretty average, Jiwon.”

She shoots you a warm smile. “Don’t downplay yourself! Be proud of your size, alright?” Jiwon encourages you, and you can’t help but laugh at her words.

“O–Okay, Jiwon.”

You up your tempo into another ante. It has become a hammering session now. The sounds of smacking flesh echoes through your room. Sweat starts to form on both of your foreheads. Jiwon’s eyes are fluttering. She’s enjoying this.

“F–Fuckkk~” Jiwon moans, airy, diluted. Your hands wander down to her caged pert breasts, feeling them bounce in your hand. Jiwon lets out stuttered whimpers at your touch. She still feels so soft, so perfect in your hands.

“S–So good, baby,” she whimpers. She’s loving this.

“Glad I can be of help, babe,” you reply, eliciting a shaken laugh out of her lips.

The feeling around your cock is nothing short of ecstatic. Your moans are full of unpacked joy. Your cock fits into her pussy so perfectly. Her tight walls are trying to coax that white, viscous nectar out of your slit.

Her grips on your face grow tighter. Her moans become more frantic. Her breathing becomes ragged. Her muscles tense. She’s going to cum.

“Nghhh~ gonna cum, baby,” Jiwon moans, as you pound her pussy with reckless abandon.

You realized that your grips on her face also become tighter and tighter as seconds go by. Your motion becomes more and more erratic down there. You’re chasing your own orgasm. You’re going to cum.

“M–Me too, babe,” you utter, so lost in the boiling pleasure.

Jiwon then pulls you into another fiery kiss. Her lips still taste like beer, but you swear that it’s like an aphrodisiac to you. Her tongue finds its way into your mouth dextrously, sweeping the insides of your mouth. Her right hand gives your ass another slap, making your whole body shudder in response. Your hands wander towards her small, firm chest, giving them a light squeeze. She moans as a reply to your touch.

Her breathing becomes faster and faster. You figure that she’s going to cum, and so are you. The all-too-familiar feeling is building up inside your loins. You’re going to cum inside her.

“G–Gonna cum,” Jiwon utters into the kiss. Her tongue fights yours for dominance.

“Can I–Can I cum inside you?” you ask, slightly hoping for a yes.

“I–I’m on the p–pill, go ahead, baby,” she answers, and that’s a go for you to ram into her cunt with reckless abandon. The sound of your fleshes smacking rings through the room. The room reeks of sex in this December air.

You pull back from the sensual kiss to watch her flushed face. She’s moaning. Her eyes are barely opening, fluttering in ecstasy. She loves this. She loves having your cock pounding her pussy like this.

“Th–Thanks for e–everything,” you say. Your orgasm draws near.

“M–Me too, baby.”

She’s the first to let go. Gushes of torrent are discharged out of her pussy onto you, dripping onto your bed. Her walls contract around your cock. She cries out in pure bliss. Good thing that these walls are thick.

You follow suit. Your cock shoots spurts of cum into her wanton cavern, painting her insides white. Your hips buck harshly into her. You take a deep breath as you cum. Fuck, what a feeling.

Jiwon pulls you into another kiss, invading your mouth with adeptness. Her right hand presses onto your ass, wanting you to bury your cock inside her. She moans and moans into the kiss. The sound of the wet smooches and your moans ring inside your ears.

Inevitably, your orgasms die down. Violent shots of cum turn into drizzles out of your slit. Your sheets are all wet from her nectar. Both of you are panting—tired.

The two of you lie down on the bed on your sides—exhausted, spent, satisfied. Your bodies are all flushed with red. You’re watching her glowing in the post-debauchery bliss. She looks so good. You can’t let this go. You just can’t.

“Wanna do this again?” It’s one of the best sex you’ve ever had, and you can’t just let it slip past your hands so easily.

“Well–” she tucks her hair behind her ear, looking at you as she chuckles “–definitely, maybe.”

“What do you mean, ‘Definitely, maybe’?”

Jiwon laughs, covering her mouth. “Just a movie reference, don’t worry,” she says, patting your shoulder. She looks so gorgeous like this.

“We’re definitely fucking again, no maybes.”

—

[catsukkii]

hi!!! im new on here and ive been binge reading all of ur stuff 😭 im not sure if this is where you send reqs but if it is in begging for an older brother’s best friend trope w katsuki 🙏 i absolutely adore this trope and i js imagine katsuki pretending to be so annoying w picking you up or ‘babysitting you’ for his friend bur he secretly rlly likes it. thank u sm! <3

OMG HELLLOOO!! THANK YOU FOR BINGE READING MY STUFF!! this is where u send requests and I’m totally inlove with this idea you just opened my eyes. 2 POSTS IN 1 DAYYY?? I’m spoiling all 50 of my followers 🙏

Off-limits, Right? — katsuki bakugo

IN WHICH…katsuki was your older brothers bestfriend, you hated him, he hated you, I mean why else would he constantly tease you? so yeah, you guys hated eachother. right…?

Pairing; Katsuki bakugo x Afab!reader

Content contains; fem!reader, SUGGESTIVE! mdni, swearing, corny scenarios, katsuki uses ‘princess’ in a mocking way, reader is 19, katsuki is 21, and brother is 22, swearing.

Word count; smth over 1k

A/N; this was a wonderful request I’m sorry I couldn’t do it justice !! 😩 I hope ur happy with the result nonetheless!! <3

he was insufferable, he just couldn’t leave you alone. everytime he comes over to hang out with your brother, you avoid him and stay in your room at pretty much all costs; yet he always finds a way to still get under your nerves.

the stupid calls behind the door as they make their way to your brothers room,

“aww princess, you don’t miss me?” he yells behind the door, you can hear the cocky bastards smirk. you groan and just ignore him as he laughs with your brother. stupid boys.

it doesn’t stop there though, if you ever decide to come out of your room you better prayyyy hes not down there because he’s teasing you to absolutely no end.

“oh the beast has awoken I see?” he smirks and rests his elbows on the kitchen island, eyeing you up and down like you were a piece of meat. you roll your eyes and continue to open your fridge and get a drink.

“would you just shut up for once katsuki?” you bite back and he lets out an airy mocking laugh, putting his hands up in fake defense.

“easy there, just playin around sleeping beauty.” that stupid smirk never leaving his lips, you groan and grab your drink before descending up the stairs back to your room.

and you see, it would be a lot easier to avoid katsuki if him and your brother weren’t constantly in eachothers back pocket. It was frustrating, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone!

and then the worst possible thing happened.

“yoo, y/n.” your brothers voice speaks, tapping you on the shoulder, you tilt your head to look over your shoulder and hum a response. “okay don’t kill me but..memomanddadaregoingtoabarandkatsukihastobabysityou.” you stare at him blankly.

“okay what the actual fuck did you just say to me.” he takes in a deep breath and repeats himself slower. “me mom and dad are going to a bar and katsuki has to babysit you.” he has an anxious scrunch plastered on his face, prepared for you to blow up.

“what the HELL?” you slam the book you were reading closed, the sound echoed through the house. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter! I’m 19!” he sighs and attempts to calm you down.

“I know, i know, I agree! I tried to tell mom and dad that but I guess they just didn’t trust you…” you scoff at this and slouch in your seat with another loud groan rumbling past your lips.

“so they decide to have fucking katsuki babysit me? you know how much I hate him.” you glare up at him and he sighs for you.

“yeah I know..look it’s only for one night! I’m sure you’ll survive right?” you scoff at him and slam yourself up from the couch and reach your room, spending the rest of your time there before katsuki shows up.

‘ding dong’ you hear the doorbell and immediately plant your face in your pillow, mentally preparing for the night you’re about to have. you can hear him buttering up your parents, talking about how their ‘precious daughter’ is in wonderful hands. what a fucking joke. the minute everybody left, he sighs before yelling up the stairs.

“you gonna sit up in your room the whole time?” you can hear the cockiness dripping in his tone even through a whole staircase and your door. you sigh, bouncing off your bed and opening your door walking down the stairs with the least pleasant expression on your face.

“ah there’s the princess, wipe that look off your face. I’m not any happier about this.” you scoff and continue your walking down the stairs, reaching him at the bottom and glaring into his eyes. “yeah right.” you remark sarcastically and push past his shoulder and walk back to your spot on the couch. he sighs to himself and grouchily walks over to sit next to you, creating a respective distance.

“the tv remotes right here,” you toss it at him and he catches with no problems, gosh fucking loser has to be good at everything. “put whatever you want on, I don’t care.” you dismiss him and open your book again, deciding that’s the best way to drown him out.

“oh so the princess isn’t always cold hearted?” he bit his lip partially with a slight smirk, you couldn’t help but shy away from his gaze back onto your book and stutter out a ‘yeah whatever..’ he put on some creepy ass movie, you weren’t even watching it but the noises and jumpscares were kind of getting to you, you put the book down for one second and then got invested into the movie, katsuki took notice of this but decided to not say anything to scare you off just yet.

a certain jumpscare got to you, and you flinched with a high pitched ‘eek!’ he only laughed at you and looked at you with a faux mocking pout.

“aww princess you scared?” his pout turned into a smirk, and he licked his lips slightly. “s-shut up katsuki.” you roll your eyes and attempt to play it off before he just has to open his mouth again.

“cmon you want me to hold you so the monsters won’t get you?” he opens his arms and laughs when you immediately protest. “ew, katsuki! quit!” he nonetheless throws your ‘stupid’ book across the room and before you even have time to think he’s grabbing you by the shoulders and planting you on his lap.

“katsuki— eugh— let me go!” you whine trying to wiggle out of his grasp, he sighs before speaking, “keep movin like that on me and you’re definitely not going.” you gasp at his comment and hit him on the arm.

“gross katsuki!” he just laughs and you eventually accept your fate on his lap, trying to avoid the fact you’re on your older brothers bestfriends lap. You continue on with the movie, eventually relaxing into katsukis hold when another jumpscare causes you to jump in his hold, he mocks you with a laugh and suddenly his mouth is very close to your ear, you can feel his hot breath trickling down your neck and it causes you to stiffen. “you scared, princess?” he whispers deeply into your ear, you try to shake off the flustered feeling and shake your head no.

“are you sure? maybe this will help take your mind off things.” and before you can even think to protest, your being spinned around on his lap, face to face with him. your legs were straddling either side of his now and he rests his hand on your lower back, pushing you closer to him.

“katsuki— mm!” you were cut off to him pressing a kiss to your lips, even though your mind was telling you ‘no, no, back away!’ your body seemed to have a different idea, leaning into his touch and kissing right back causing his signature smirk to envelop his face, smiling into the kiss.

it turned into a heated makeout session, your hands resting on his neck, one of his hands rubbing down your back and the other behind your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. the only thing that could be heard was the movie you had both long forgotten about and the smacks of your lips colliding.

“you don’t know—“ he breathes out before planting another kiss to you, “—how long I’ve wanted this.” you continue your assault to his lips and only pull away for a short response back. “yeah?” he hums an agreement into the kiss, at this point you’re practically grinding on eachother, your brows furrowing and mouth parting slightly, and suddenly it all hits you.

you pull away abruptly, his lips chasing yours before a look of confusion wipes over his face. “we shouldn’t be doing this.” you speak and nervously tuck your hair behind your ears. “well it’s a little late for that princess…” you groan and bury your head in your hands, what were you thinking?

“I mean we don’t really have to stop now—“ you shush him quickly, he rolls his eyes but listens nonetheless, as if on que you can here the doorknob jiggle, you spring off his lap and back onto your designated place on the couch, katsuki grabs a pillow to cover his crotch which you gave him a disgusted look for, as if you werent practically leaking through your panties right now.

they walk through the door, everybody greeting their hellos before your mother speaks up at the sight, “aw look at you two! finally getting along I see?” you grumble at her words but katsuki speaks up with a sly grin, “you could say that.” she gushes over this fact, katsuki was always her favorite friend of your brothers. only you and him knew the true meaning behind his words, eventually everybody gets ready to part their goodbyes, and you’re about to ascend up the stairs again before katsuki calls your name.

you spin around to face him, and stride over he unexpectedly hugs you, which your mother ‘awe’s’ at, little did she know he just whispered ‘call me.’ in your ear, leaving you a flustered mess, you say your quick goodbye and rush up to your room.

what we’re you gonna do.

a/n; if this does well I’ll do part 2 but prolly not

[starkeyslibrary]

FALLING OUT OF FRAME | Part 1

pairing: you x drew starkey

The sound of Drew’s laugh filled the cozy apartment as you scrolled through your phone, settling deeper into the plush couch. It was a laugh you’d heard a thousand times – warm, genuine and utterly infectious. You glanced up to see him standing in the kitchen, stirring pasta sauce in a hoodie that he’d stolen from your side of the closet weeks ago. The sigh made your heart swell.

“How’s it going?” you asked, setting your phone aside.

“Almost done,” Drew said, flashing you a grin over his shoulder. “Hope you’re ready to be impressed by my gourmet skills.”

You chuckled, pulling your knees to your chest. “If it’s anything like last time, I should probably have the takeout app ready.”

Drew pretended to be offended, clutching his chest dramatically. “That was one time! And in my defense, the oven was possessed.”

Moments like this had become your favorite part of life with Drew – quiet, intimate evenings that felt words away from the chaos of Hollywood. For all the glitz and glam of his career, Drew was just Drew with you.

As you watched him carefully plate the pasta, you couldn’t help but feel proud of everything he’d accomplished. His latest role in the Hellraiser reboot was shaping up to be a major career move. And while you knew the spotlights came with challenges, you’d always been his biggest cheerleader.

Later that night, as the two of you lounged on the couch, Drew’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. He glanced at the screen, then sighed.

“It’s my manager,” he said, sitting up. “Give me a sec?”

“Of course,” you said, reaching for the remote to find something to watch.

Drew stepped into the next room, his voice low but audible enough for snippets to carry over.

“…. Press tours…. Odessa …. Chemistry angle?”

You tried to focus on the TV, but your curiosity got the better of you. Odessa A’Zion – Drew’s new co-star. You’d seen her name pop up recently in articles about the movie, paired with glowing reviews of her talent and personality. She seemed nice enough in interviews – bold and charming in a way that made you feel a little plain by comparison.

“Everything okay?” you asked, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

“Yeah,” he said, but his tone wasn’t convincing. “Just.. movie stuff. Our team thinks Odessa and I need to lean into the whole co-star chemistry thing for the press.”

“Chemistry thing?” you echoed, your brow furrowing.

“It’s all PR,” Drew said quickly, his hands finding yours. “They’re talking about a few staged photo ops, maybe some friendly banter during interviews. You know how it goes.”

You nodded slowly, even as an uneasy feeling settled in your chest. You did know how it went – Hollywood loved its narratives, and the lines between fiction and reality often blurred.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Drew added, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’re the one I love, Y/N. Not Odessa. Never Odessa.”

You smiled softly, but the words didn’t erase the knot in your stomach.

The first set of paparazzi photos hit the internet like a wildfire: Drew and Odessa at a café, leaning across the table as if sharing a secret. Her laugh was captured mid-burst, her hand grazing his arm.

The headlines were just as dramatic as you’d feared: Drew Starkey and Odessa A ‘Zion’s Off-Screen Chemistry is Off the Charts!

You scrolled through the photos on your phone, bile rising in your throat. They were clearly staged, every angle too perfect to be a coincidence. But that didn’t make it easier to stomach.

The worst part was the comments. Fans fawned over the “new power couple”, dissecting every detail of their interactions. People who had once rooted for you and Drew now seemed eager to erase you from the narrative entirely.

When Drew came home that night, you tried to play it cool, but your unease must’ve shown.

“Hey” he said, dropping his bag by the door and crossing the room to kiss your forehead. “You okay?”

“Mmm, fine” you said, forcing a smile.

Drew studied you for a moment before glancing at your phone. His face fell as he recognized the photos.

“Y/N, I –“

“It’s okay,” you interrupted, setting the phone aside. “I know it’s just PR. It’s your job.”

Drew sat beside you, his hands wrapping around yours. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said firmly. “You’re the one I come home to. You’re the one I love.”

You wanted to believe him. But as Drew kissed your temple and pulled you into his arms, the unease lingered, whispering doubts you weren’t ready to face.

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