#i am there with you arm in arm in the middle of the battle. THAT is who i am.

[kinzhae]

Just Want To Talk PT. 2

Part 2 of this story: Part 1

Gojo Satoru

Gojo stood frozen in the middle of the room, his words echoing in his mind. The second the door slammed shut, regret hit him like a tidal wave. He sank onto the couch, running a trembling hand through his hair. He hadn’t meant any of it—not a single word.

He waited an hour. Then two. But you didn’t come back.

Panic set in as he grabbed his phone and dialed your number. It rang and rang, but you didn’t pick up. He called again, and again, his desperation growing with each unanswered call.

Finally, he grabbed his coat and headed out, searching the city for you. When he found you sitting on a park bench, your face buried in your hands, relief washed over him. But when you looked up at him, your tear-streaked face broke his heart all over again.

“Go away, Satoru,” you said, your voice hoarse. “I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses.”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, his usual arrogance nowhere to be seen. “I messed up,” he said, his voice trembling. “I didn’t mean it, Y/N. Any of it. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you, and it was wrong. You’re not a burden. You’re the only thing keeping me sane.”

You stared at him, the pain in your chest battling with the sincerity in his voice. “You made me feel worthless, Satoru. Like I didn’t matter to you at all.”

His hands reached for yours, shaking as he held them. “You matter more to me than anything. I just… I don’t know how to do this. To let someone in like this. I’m scared of losing you, and I messed up trying to protect myself.”

Your heart softened slightly at his words, but the pain was still there. “You can’t just push me away every time you’re scared.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I’ll spend every day proving to you that you matter to me. Please, Y/N, give me one more chance.”

You hesitated, but when he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, you let yourself lean into him, the warmth of his embrace finally melting the wall around your heart.

Geto Suguru

Hours passed before Suguru found you, sitting alone on the steps of the temple where you’d spent so many happy moments together. When he approached, you didn’t look up.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you said softly.

“I almost didn’t,” he admitted, sitting beside you. “But then I realized how much of an idiot I’ve been.”

You turned to him, your tear-streaked face filled with pain. “You called me weak, Suguru. How am I supposed to forgive that?”

“I don’t expect you to,” he said, his voice trembling. “But I need you to know that I didn’t mean it. I’m scared, Y/N. I’m scared of what I’ve become, and I pushed you away because I thought it’d be easier than letting you see me like this.”

“You hurt me,” you said, your voice breaking.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. “You’re the only light I have left, Y/N. Please don’t let me lose you.”

You hesitated, but as he reached for your hand, his grip gentle and desperate, you allowed yourself to believe him, leaning into his embrace as he held you tightly.

Nanami Kento

Nanami worked late into the night, the weight of his words gnawing at the back of his mind. He told himself he’d said what needed to be said, but as the hours passed, guilt began to creep in. When he finally went to bed, he found your side of the bed empty.

Panic set in as he searched the apartment, only to find you curled up on the couch, your face streaked with dried tears.

He crouched beside you, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Y/N,” he said softly, his voice filled with regret.

You stirred, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice still hoarse from crying. The exhaustion in your tone cut through him like a knife.

“I should be asking you that,” Nanami replied, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He sat beside you on the couch, looking at you with a mixture of guilt and sorrow. “I shouldn’t have said what I said earlier. I’ve been so caught up in everything that I didn’t even stop to think about how you were feeling.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his words lingering in the air between you. “You told me I was overthinking, that I was being insecure. But Kento… it’s not insecurity. I just want to feel like I matter to you. I’m not asking for you to drop everything for me, but… I need to know I’m important too.”

Nanami let out a shaky breath, his fingers gently brushing your arm. “You are important to me. I’m just… bad at expressing it. I’ve always been this way, focused on work, trying to make sure everything is in order. But I realize now that I’ve been neglecting the one thing that matters most.”

You shifted slightly, meeting his gaze. “What’s that?”

“You,” he whispered. “I’ve been so focused on my responsibilities that I’ve been blind to what you need from me. I’m sorry, Y/N. I was wrong, and I want to make it right. I don’t want to lose you over my own shortcomings.”

Your heart softened at his admission, but the hurt was still there, lingering. “I need time, Kento. You can’t just brush this off. You need to show me, not just tell me.”

He nodded, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable. “I will. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I don’t take you for granted.”

He pulled you into his arms, gently resting his chin on top of your head. “I know I’ve been distant. But I promise, I’ll try harder. I won’t let you feel this way again.”

The warmth of his embrace was comforting, but the scar from his words still burned deep inside you. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to trust that things could change.

For now, you let yourself rest in his arms, knowing that he was willing to try. But in the back of your mind, you knew that actions spoke louder than words.

Choso

Choso stood there, his eyes filled with an emotional turmoil that he struggled to control. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You don’t know what I’ve done. What I’ve become.”

“Then tell me,” you said gently, taking a step toward him. “Don’t shut me out. Let me in, Choso. I’m not going anywhere.”

The raw vulnerability in your voice cracked the wall he had so carefully built around himself. His breath hitched as he looked at you, the weight of his inner battle tearing him apart.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t deserve anyone. Not after everything I’ve done.”

You shook your head, reaching for his hand. “Choso, I don’t care about what you think you deserve. I care about you. I love you, and I’m not going to walk away because you think you’re too broken.”

He looked down at your hand in his, his throat tight with emotion. Slowly, he pulled you into an embrace, burying his face in your shoulder as he finally let his tears fall.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to push you away. I’m just so scared of dragging you down with me.”

You held him tightly, running your fingers through his hair. “I’m here, Choso. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

In that moment, as he clung to you, you knew that while the pain wasn’t gone, there was hope for healing. You would both find your way back to each other. Slowly, but surely.

Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna didn’t follow you immediately. He stayed on his throne, his expression unchanging, but the empty room suddenly felt heavier than usual. He told himself it didn’t matter, that you’d come back like you always did. But as the hours dragged on and the sound of your footsteps never returned, something began to stir inside him—a feeling he hadn’t allowed himself to name.

By the time he went looking for you, the sun had long since set. He found you in the palace garden, sitting on a cold stone bench with your knees pulled to your chest. Your cloak was wrapped tightly around you, but it wasn’t enough to hide the way your body trembled, either from the cold or from the weight of your grief.

For a long moment, he just stood there, watching you. You didn’t look up. Maybe you knew he was there, or maybe you were too lost in your thoughts to notice.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Still sulking, I see.”

Your head shot up, your tear-streaked face glaring at him with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “Go away, Sukuna.”

He ignored your words, stepping closer until he was standing directly in front of you. “You’ve been out here for hours. Are you trying to freeze to death?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Why do you care? I’m just a ‘distraction,’ remember?”

His jaw clenched, the faintest flicker of regret crossing his face. “I… misspoke.”

“Misspoke?” you repeated, standing up abruptly. Your voice cracked as the tears came rushing back. “You told me I was nothing, Sukuna! That I was weak and pathetic! How do you misspeak that?”

He flinched at the raw pain in your voice, his usual arrogance faltering. “I said those things because I’m a fool,” he admitted, his voice quieter than you had ever heard it. “Because I don’t know how to handle this—how to handle you. You make me feel things I don’t understand, and it terrifies me.”

You stared at him, your anger mingling with confusion. “And you thought hurting me was the answer?”

“I thought it would push you away,” he admitted, his voice filled with rare vulnerability. “That it would be easier if you hated me. But instead, all I’ve done is hurt the one person who matters most to me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the raw sincerity in his tone breaking through the walls you had built around your heart. “You broke me, Sukuna,” you whispered. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

He stepped closer, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to earn it. I can’t lose you, Y/N. You’re the only thing keeping me from becoming the monster everyone says I am.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Slowly, hesitantly, you let him pull you into his arms, his hold tight and protective. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you weren’t alone.

[dark-night-hero]

"So it's true! You and her- Guizhong were a thing. Then what the hell does that make me Morax?!" "Can you just drop it of? We're in a hurry." He was tired. And their friend was in danger. "No! Knowing you'll be out there to save your other lover, tell me the truth Morax! Is it true?!" It was the same topic of argument for some time now. He had been denying it over and over again, he just cannot seem to understand why you kept insisting even after hearing him say that was not the case. And he was getting tired of it.

Guizhong was just a friend and that very same friend is now in danger if they do not arrive at rhe right time and here he is getting hold up because of your questions. And knowing you would not let him go even if he were to deny it because that was the truth. Maybe he should give in for now to avoid further more questioning and leave as fast as he can so he could come back to you in now time, knowing that he could easily resolve the misunderstanding and his lies. "You know what. It's true. Now if you just get out of the way, I need to save her." "Wha-what? Wa-wait! Morax-!"

He did not mean to be harsh than he already is. He was just mad, mad because he saw no reason why you should get jealous of a friend, a common friend of yours. Mad because he was running late and a little more than to it could possibly result the death of a dear friend. At the same time, he was mad at himself for leaving that way. But he knew he could always explain when he came back into you. The two of you could always sort it out after the battle like you two always does.

So why? So why in the world- celestia were everything was on fire. And you were in the middle of it, leaning on your weapon for support, blood running down all the way from your temple into your chin. It was not just that. You are bleeding, bleeding all over. Why. Why why why why why? Just what the hell happened in here?

"Don't come." You utter, despite the fact that you could barely stand, you painfully look forward to your lover... heh, can he still be called a lover when he already admitted that he betrayed you? "Some..." you pant. "Some beings came into the city while you were away... hahh, I manage to defend the city until all the people manage to flee but- cough! Hahh, the god manage to escape."

"No. No no no no no." It was getting hard to breathe, nevertheless you should see Morax from afar, running towards you. "Bastard- I told you not to come he-!" You stagger forward, for a moment losing consciousness, still, you embrace yourself with the thought of you hitting the ground. But you never did.

"Let go." "It was a lie. There was no one else." "Morax- I said-" "I was in a hurry, I did not mean to say those words. Guizhong was only a friend. Believe me. God- Celestia. There is no one else. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't leave me." He was hugging, cradling you in his arms. His tears rolling down his cheeks, into your own but you were feeling quite numb to notice that.

"It's..." You tried to hold up a hand but you could only feel the pain and the more it drains you. In the end you could only hold on into his arm. "It's okay... you don't have to lie to make me... feel better." You tried to smile to make him feel better, so why does it look like he was about to lose his whole world? "No. No please. It's nothing like that. I was a fool, I am a fool. Please believe me there is no one else but you. (First name). Please."

You knew he was talking, you can see him talking despite how things were slowly starting to go blurr, you can hear a few words but cannot seemed to focus on it when there is a high pitched ring that makes you unable to focus on what he was saying. Also, "It's cold." You mumble, fighting everything you can to stay conscious.

"Fuck!" Morax can feel your body slowly but surely cooling down. Suddenly his heart dropped as he panicked, he was getting anxious. He felt fear for the first time in his life. "Hold on, please hold on." He tried, he tried his best to fix you with his powers but it was no avail. You have so many wounds, you have already lost a lot of blood. You were dying all ago. "Fuck." He cursed once again. "Fuck, fuck! I told you to hold on (First name)!" He was getting mad again.

Morax felt like he was going mad, he felt like he was about to get crazy. Specially when he saw you starting to close your eyes. He felt a shiver down his spine. "Don't you dare close your eyes (First name)!" Not like this, not when you seemed to sure that he never loved- love you. "Fuck!" His amber iris were glowing with that presence of a dragon. "Don't you dare fell asleep (First name). I'm begging you please-?" He felt a light squeeze on his arm.

"Its.. okay." Taking your last breath, Morax felt the heavy weight of your now dead body in his arms. Your hand falling to your side as your head rest in his chest. At that very moment a rain drop fell from the sky, Morax arms were trembling yet still manage to pull you closer to him as if trying to find a little warmth. "Hah, hahaha. HAHAHAHAHAHA."

That day, the dragon lost his mate. His one and only mate as his anguish cries were heard all throughout their land.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

: bye, may klase pa ko ng alas quatro sa hapon.

: Also, why is it always zhongli who become the victim of my angst ideas. Tho I might make a same promt with ???

[aamircoeur]

just distressed (not a damsel) - ultraman, ken sato.

getting familiar with your robot-like saviour after his nth time of saving your life.

PART 2.

cw: brief mention of blood. sfw, female reader. UNEDITED

"hello again, little ma'am." the huge character looked down on you, his glowing eyes acting as a spotlight as he held you on his palms. a purple-colored, lizard-like kaiju had destroyed the top of the apartment building that you were staying at, and luckily, ultraman was there to save you.

only for, like, the sixth time this month.

"not causing trouble again, are you?" ultraman teased, and you just rolled your eyes, making the being laugh.

the first time was when you were on your first (and after that incident, also the last) date with a guy you met at a bar. he took you to sumida river for some sight-seeing, and a kaiju appeared from underneath the waters, targeting those who were at the bridge. out of fright, the people screamed and scattered like ants, including your date who left you to flee for his own safety.

upset, you took a moment to process the happenings around you while you stared at the back of the guy as he ran. without noticing, the kaiju creeped from behind you in an attempt to catch you off-guard and eat you for its lunch (you assumed). fortunately, ultraman was there in the nick of time, blasting the kaiju with his powers that came from the moon or something, you thought. you really didn't understand how he or his powers worked, and you really couldn't bother learning either.

being the only person to stay on the bridge, ultraman approached you after sending the kaiju back to where it emerged from. "uhm, hi," he said, looking down on you as he was wiping debris off of his shoulder. "you okay?" he tilted his head.

"yes, i am. thank you!" you shouted at him, hands cupped to both sides of your cheeks.

he nodded. "okay, get home safe, little ma'am." he said before walking away. you looked at him as he made his way through the water. you thought about the weird nickname and shrugged, thinking that everyone must be little to him when he's that big.

upon arriving home at your apartment, you saw a series of messages of apologies and excuses from the guy you went on a date with. you scoffed and blocked him without responding.

the second time that you were saved by ultraman was when you unfortunately got in the crossfire between him and a kaiju that looked like a dinosaur. you were underneath a separated car door after trying to run to safety, your left leg and forehead dripping with blood, and you were too light-headed from the blood loss to help yourself out of your current position.

after the shaking of the ground has stopped, assuming that the battle has ended, you opened your eyes only to reveal that everything was blurry. an elderly woman was crouched in front of you, slightly tapping your face before wiping the blood off of your forehead. "oh, you poor thing," she said. a tear made its way across your cheek, finally feeling the pain after the numbness had faded away. "you'll be okay," the woman said before standing up and walking into the middle of the street, and it was the last thing you saw before passing out.

the elderly woman had called for ultraman, waving her arms out as high as she could. seeing her from a few streets over, ultraman rushed to her, careful with his steps to avoid stepping on a car. "hello! is something the matter?" ultraman greeted.

"here, here!" the woman called and led her to where you were. shocked, ultraman knelt down and lifted the car door, placing it down on the sidewalk before scooping you up into his palms. "poor girl has been bleeding since i saw her." she added, her hands cupped together, worriedness heard in her voice. "if you rush, we might save her!" she exclaimed.

ultraman nodded and stood up on his feet, slowly moving covering you with his other hand. "thank you, madame. please, go home to where you'll be safe." he said before flying off.

hearing a constant beep woke you up from the hospital bed that you stayed in. you squinted your eyes as you adjusted to the light on the ceiling, you then saw your right leg with a cast. groaning, you took a deep breath before looking around more. there was a desk beside you with a folded piece of paper.

you reached for it and unfolded it, and there was a note in blue ink that said, "the bills have been covered. please, get well soon."

the third time of being saved by ultraman was when a kaiju attack has been reported near you once again and ultraman took you to safety via his palm because you couldn't walk properly with your cast.

by the fourth time, you simply greeted the character with a simple hello despite having yet another kaiju attack near you. ultraman greeted you back, laughing after realizing that he was getting used to seeing you when there's a kaiju attack and saying, "hello, little ma'am."

for the fifth time, you were in a restaurant for dinner that had unfortunately caught on fire because of a flame-spitting kaiju. although you had the opportunity to leave early the moment smoke was seen to guarantee your safety, you helped every person you could to leave the restaurant instead before helping the staff control the growing fire.

the fire department in the city was handling the fire in a hospital which led to their lateness in handling the one in the restaurant you were staying at. fortunately, the five million meters tall (your exaggeration) superhero was there, helping the humans put out the fire and successfully doing so.

as the staff were being interviewed by news reporters, you went on your way to a different restaurant instead to continue your dinner. a few streets down from where the restaurant was, you walked downtown to where the road was quiet and empty, and you just casually bumped into ultraman.

by casually, you meant that he almost stepped on you after not looking before taking a sharp turn. "woah there!" the huge being exclaimed, his robotic voice echoing throughout the evening. you had your hands in the pockets of your jacket as you looked up at him.

"wait, i know you." he said before going down on his knees and lowering his body to take a better look at you. "little ma'am!" he exclaimed, his bright eyes widening.

you squinted your eyes at the brightness and smiled sheepishly. "hey, ultraman."

ultraman sat up and held out his palm for you, which you accepted. you stepped on his finger before making your way towards his palm, and he then lifted you up before holding you in front of him as he looked at you.

"what brings you here?" you asked, crossing your legs on his palm, making yourself comfortable.

he let out a small chuckle at how used you were to stay on his palms. "uh, fire, in the uptown," he explained. your eyes widened as your eyebrows lifted. "woah, were you there?" he asked, worried.

you nodded. "yeah, i was supposed to have dinner but then the ceiling started burning. i tried to help some elderly people to head outside." you explained.

ultraman smiled down at you, happiness obvious in his robotic facial expression. "you've helped greatly." he said.

you laughed and swatted your hands in front of him. "nah, the cook and waitresses helped control the fire before you got there." you said.

"no way," ultraman shook his head. "don't undermine what you've done, because you've done great. i never would've dumped the bucket of water if i had known that there were people inside, and it would have been hard for me to help them out with my big size." he said. "really, thank you for the help."

you just smiled at him and scoffed playfully. "just another day for a super human," you joked.

you and him shared a laugh and continued your talk. "so, what're you gonna do now?" he asked you, now leaning on the office building behind him as he got more comfortable throughout the conversation.

"ah, i wanted to continue my dinner, but there's this big bug that just wouldn't stop pestering me," you joked, referring to him which made him drop his jaw playfully as if he was offended.

the two of you laughed. "what about you?" you asked.

ultraman tilted his head to the side and rested it on his shoulder. "oh, man, i am beat. i might nap for weeks after tonight, so i'm leaving the city-saving to the new superhero called "little lady". ever heard of her?" ultraman said.

"nah, never. she sounds cool though, probably pretty with big muscles, i assume?" you rode along with his joke, making him laugh.

"oh, yeah, definitely. really pretty thing," he said casually.

your laughter halted upon hearing what he said, making your cheeks and ears flush at the compliment. when he finally realized the words that came out of his mouth, ultraman fixed his posture and stuttered an excuse. you laughed and patted his palm. "don't worry, hypnotizing people to make 'em think i'm good-looking is part of my one hundred and three superpowers."

ultraman let out a hearty laugh at this, making your stomach warm by hearing it. "yeah? better get started to knowing each one."

you smiled at him and took a deep breath. your conversation had finally stopped, the two of you thinking about your own things. after a few more small talk, ultraman had decided to call it a night to let his body rest after the fight with the kaiju. you agreed and he let you down from his palm before standing up to his height that surpassed the building's.

"also, if you want dinner, tonkatsu tonki is the place to go." he said before waving off and flying off.

and the sixth time was now. "hey." you greeted, a tired expression visible on your face.

"always in the centre of the tornado, huh, little ma'am?" he said as he had you in his palms once more, walking you towards the evacuation center.

"lucky me," you sarcastically said.

"lucky you, my personal damsel in distress." he echoed you jokingly.

you rolled your eyes.

taglist: @ttulipwritezz @c-losur3 @saeyari @luvly-writer

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Valentine's day spirit. Superbat edition.

When Phantom sets foot on the Justice League base many years later, he expects anything but not Flash pointing finger at him and screaming about "legendary child who made Superbat canon".

~~~~

Being in Metropolis because of a ghost hunt right in the middle of a battle between Lex Luthor and Superman was not the best outcome, especially considering that Jack had his three-year-old son with him. But without such a combination of circumstances, they would never have found out that "Ghost!" "Daddy, no!" Ectoblast that Jack shot at the target of their hunt touches Superman and..really hurts him.

There were two sides to Danny-the ghostbuster's son and the astronerd. It is clear which half of him did not have a chance to win.

Danny threw his space rocket toy aside and grabbed father's arm. In the next second, boy had already sunk his teeth into Jack's fingers, forcing him to drop weapon. Youngling quickly jumped off and picked up ectoblast and then ran towards Superman. "Fly away! I'll hold him!" Danny stood up to try to cover up ghost (or alien?) in case Dad took not one but a whole bunch of shooting things with him again.

Jack: Get away from my son, ghost. Superman: Sir, I'm sure this is some kind of misunderstanding, I'm not a ghost. Jack: Danny, come to me, he's trying to hide his identity and manipulate us. Danny: No. If the heroes are being attacked, then someone must protect them too. Jack: But he's a ghost.. Danny: Alien or ghost is not so important, Daddy. He's in pain, and he's protecting this city, not haunting it. It's wrong to try to catch him for experiments. I forbid you to do that. Jack: Danny, champ, you're wrong.

Lex: Hah, what an interesting substance. Despite the other aggregate state, or rather its absence, it is so similar to kryptonite. Superman: Lex, is this a portable lab? Now is not the time, in case you haven't noticed. Lex: There is always time for science. I think my colleague will agree, right? "Similar to kryptonite?" Jack muttered to himself.

Jack: So Superman wasn't my target. And we are not colleagues. There is only one insanely rich man with questionable moral values with whom I am ready to do work, and your surname is clearly not Masters. Lex: It's a pity, but still, if you want to carry out the delivery of your wonderful weapons or exchange experiences, then call this number. Luther quickly shoves a business card into Fenton's hand. Jack*throws it away*: Come on, son, let's go back to the hotel, you've skinned your knees.

~~~The Evening. The Roof of the mentioned hotel~~~

"My friend Sam is also very frightening. And she also likes dark.“ The boy paused for a minute of thinking. “You want to kiss your goth friend?" "W-What makes you think that, kid. We’re colleagues, I respect him very much and.." "So you want to. It’s okay, I’d like to kiss Sam too but I’m afraid she’s gonna hit me. You have the same problem?" "It’s a little more complicated for adults." Kal begins to explain but stumbles upon Danny’s completely unimpressed look. Yeah, this boy apparently has heard 'kids would understand when they grow up' lectures at least thousand times. "But you’re basically right."

~~~~

When Batman himself comes to their hotel the next day as a representative of the Justice League to make sure that Mr. Fenton has no desire to harm Superman in the future and to tell that Superman is not going to press charges because of the ectoblast that injured him, Danny refuses to leave the room.

Jack: Oh, Danny, I thought you dropped your space rocket yesterday, it's a good that Alicia's Christmas present isn't lost. Danny: Well, dad, I left it on the roof of a bad bad man, yeah, but Uncle Kal returned it last night and we talked for a while. Jack: About what? Space, my little star? *Father immediately assumes that Danny would like to ask about everything real alien*. Boy*blushes and shakes his head negatively*: No, not about it.

Jack: Then what it was about? Danny: Secret superhero things. I can't tell you. I agreed to withhold that information as part of a pinky swear. Batman: And what about me, young man? You can tell me, right? Batman couldn't resist talking with such a cute kid. The boy thinks only for a second before hurriedly trying to push his father out of the room. Danny: Dad, come out for a minute and don't eavesdrop. I'll tell you when you can come in. The big man laughingly obeys. Lil child checks the reliability of the closed door and runs up to Batman. Danny: And so, Mr. Batman, first promise not to laugh or hit Uncle Kal. Batman: I promise? Danny: Good. This is very important information. Batman: I'm listening.

Danny: He thinks you're terrifying and wants to kiss you. And since he is afraid that you will hit him for this, I recommended him to appease you with a pie cooked according to his mother's recipe. Well, you know, since you love sweets and his parents' farm has the most wonderful apples in all states. He rarely cooks himself, but he will try for you, so even if he doesn't succeed, pretend that you liked it, please. Batman:...

Batman: Would you like to work in intelligence for the Justice League when you grow up? Danny: Actually, I want to be an astronaut. Batman: Our base is located in space. Danny:

Danny: Hmm, then I'll think about your offer.

Batman: Great. It's a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Fenton. You can count on a job recommendation from me. Do you want anything as compensation for your consultation? Danny: Actually, yes. Mr. Batman, tell me honestly, are you a bat on a frugivorous diet like Giant golden-crowned flying fox or you are a Vampire Bat? Sam says that such a big bat can only be a vegetarian and uncle Kal said your son was more than happy to steal strawberries from his garden with Superboy but..

~~~

Batman tries to behave naturally for a week. However, the sweet tooth inside him still makes him clamp Superman in the corner and question him. "Where the hell are the pies you promised to cook for me, Clark?"

[suzannahnatters]

So here's one of the coolest things that has happened to me as a Tolkien nut and an amateur medievalist. It's also impacted my view of the way Tolkien writes women. Here's Carl Stephenson in MEDIEVAL FEUDALISM, explaining the roots of the ceremony of knighthood: "In the second century after Christ the Roman historian Tacitus wrote an essay which he called Germania, and which has remained justly famous. He declares that the Germans, though divided into numerous tribes, constitute a single people characterised by common traits and a common mode of life. The typical German is a warrior. [...] Except when armed, they perform no business, either private or public. But it is not their custom that any one should assume arms without the formal approval of the tribe. Before the assembly the youth receives a shield and spear from his father, some other relative, or one of the chief men, and this gift corresponds to the toga virilis among the Romans--making him a citizen rather than a member of a household" (pp 2-3). Got it?

Remember how Tolkien was a medievalist who based his Rohirrim on Anglo-Saxon England, which came from those Germanic tribes Tacitus was talking about? Stephenson argues that the customs described by Tacitus continued into the early middle ages eventually giving rise to the medieval feudal system. One of these customs was the gift of arms, which transformed into the ceremony of knighthood: "Tacitus, it will be remembered, describes the ancient German custom by which a youth was presented with a shield and a spear to mark his attainment of man's estate. What seems to the be same ceremony reappears under the Carolingians. In 791, we are told, Charlemagne caused Prince Louis to be girded with a sword in celebration of his adolescence; and forty-seven years later Louis in turn decorated his fifteen-year-old son Charles "with the arms of manhood, i.e., a sword." Here, obviously, we may see the origin of the later adoubement, which long remained a formal investiture with arms, or with some one of them as a symbol. Thus the Bayeux Tapestry represents the knighting of Earl Harold by William of Normandy under the legend: Hic Willelmus dedit Haroldo arma (Here William gave arms to Harold). [...] Scores of other examples are to be found in the French chronicles and chansons de geste, which, despite much variation of detail, agree on the essentials. And whatever the derivation of the words, the English expression "dubbing to knighthood" must have been closely related to the French adoubement" (pp 47-48.)

In its simplest form, according to Stephenson, the ceremony of knighthood included "at most the presentation of a sword, a few words of admonition, and the accolade." OK. So what does this have to do with Tolkien and his women? AHAHAHAHA I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED. First of all, let's agree that Tolkien, a medievalist, undoubtedly was aware of all the above. Second, turn with me in your copy of The Lord of the Rings to chapter 6 of The Two Towers, "The King of the Golden Hall", when Theoden and his councillors agree that Eowyn should lead the people while the men are away at war. (This, of course, was something that medieval noblewomen regularly did: one small example is an 1178 letter from a Hospitaller knight serving in the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem which records that before marching out to the battle of Montgisard, "We put the defence of the Tower of David and the whole city in the hands of our women".) But in The Lord of the Rings, there's a little ceremony.

"'Let her be as lord to the Eorlingas, while we are gone.' 'It shall be so,' said Theoden. 'Let the heralds announce to the folk that the Lady Eowyn will lead them!' Then the king sat upon a seat before his doors and Eowyn knelt before him and received from him a sword and a fair corselet."

I YELLED when I realised what I was reading right there. You see, the king doesn't just have the heralds announce that Eowyn is in charge. He gives her weapons.

Theoden makes Eowyn a knight of the Riddermark.

Not only that, but I think this is a huge deal for several reasons. That is, Tolkien knew what he was doing here.

From my reading in medieval history, I'm aware of women choosing to fight and bear arms, as well as becoming military leaders while the men are away at some war or as prisoners. What I haven't seen is women actually receiving knighthood. Anyone could fight as a knight if they could afford the (very pricy) horse and armour, and anyone could lead a nation as long as they were accepted by the leaders. But you just don't see women getting knighted like this.

Tolkien therefore chose to write a medieval-coded society, Rohan, where women arguably had greater equality with men than they did in actual medieval societies.

I think that should tell us something about who Tolkien was as a person and how he viewed women - perhaps he didn't write them with equal parity to men (there are undeniably more prominent male characters in The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, at least, than female) but compared to the medieval societies that were his life's work, and arguably even compared to the society he lived in, he was remarkably egalitarian.

I think it should also tell us something about the craft of writing fantasy.

No, you don't have to include gut wrenching misogyny and violence against women in order to write "realistic" medieval-inspired fantasy.

Tolkien's fantasy worlds are DEEPLY informed by medieval history to an extent most laypeople will never fully appreciate. The attitudes, the language, the ABSOLUTELY FLAWLESS use of medieval military tactics...heck, even just the way that people travel long distances on foot...all of it is brilliantly medieval.

The fact that Theoden bestows arms on Eowyn is just one tiny detail that is deeply rooted in medieval history. Even though he's giving those arms to a woman in a fantasy land full of elves and hobbits and wizards, it's still a wonderfully historically accurate detail.

Of course, I've ranted before about how misogyny and sexism wasn't actually as bad in medieval times as a lot of people today think. But from the way SOME fantasy authors talk, you'd think that historical accuracy will disappear in a puff of smoke if every woman in the dragon-infested fantasy land isn't being traumatised on the regular.

Tolkien did better. Be like Tolkien.

[catcze]

「 ### : 」 Modern AU ish !! Reader’s weight/size/etc. is not mentioned !! Imo Wrio is strong as fuck, so it literally doesn’t matter how much you weigh because this mf will have you sit on his back while he does push ups and will come out invigorated and wanting to do like 20 more, but this is a warning just in case it breaks your immersion !!

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

Wriothesley wraps his arms around your middle, tugging you in close so you’re pressed up against his chest. You fight back the urge to melt into his warmth and give in to his ridiculous request. The cheeky smile he wears —undoubtedly aware of the effect he has on you— makes you grit your teeth and steel yourself out of pure spite.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, honey sweet and trying to be convincing.

“Wriothesley. No.”

“Sweetheart, baby,” he tries again, leaning to murmur it in your ear— the unfair, cheating shit. You’re not sure if you want to punch him or kiss his stupid face. “Love of my life. Person I’m gonna marry. Apple of my eye. Snookums—“

“Shut your mouth.” But he does not, and you’re on the verge of strangling him.

“Honey. Pookie bear.“ He grins, holding you tighter so you’re subject to listening to all the stupid ass nicknames he can call you. “My little discord kitten—“

At the sheer cringe and secondhand embarrassment, you slap a hand over his mouth with a grimace. It works, kind of. Wriothesley’s barrage of nicknames is silenced, but you can practically feel his smirk against your palm. You’re painfully aware of the firm but gentle hold he still keeps on you— painfully aware of how you’re probably fighting a losing battle when he’s this dead set on something.

“I am not going to sit on your back while you do push ups,” you say, and that smirk melts into a pouty little frown. “I already told you it’s dangerous. You could get hurt or something.”

He pulls your hand off his mouth by the wrist, expression looking less-than-pleased. “Sweetheart, if you think that I can’t lift you, then I must be doing something terribly, terribly wrong.”

“But if you’re worried about me, then how about this—“ he presses your hand to his cheek, holding it there with his own so he can lean into your touch and peck a quick kiss to your palm. “You sit on my back while I do my routine, but if you ever think that I’m pushing myself or I’m getting tired, then you can hop off and go back to what you were doing, okay?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, but in the end you’re weak to him when he’s this sweet to you, and all you can do is sigh a small, ‘fine.’ If it makes him happy, then why the hell not—

And later, with Wriothesley in that unfairly flattering black compression shirt and you sat on his back, you absolutely eat your words. You can only sit in silent shock and hardly hidden appreciation when the man goes through more than half of the reps for his first set.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, watching in astonishment how he easily pushes up with your combined weight, not a single muscle trembling in overexertion. He’s not at all rushed, taking his time with each upwards lift so as to not jostle you. Wriothesley can hear the awe in your voice, and has the audacity to chuckle. He’s not even breathless.

“What did I say, sweetheart?” He sounds smug, proud— undoubtedly delighted to be able to show off in front of you. Like a puppy who was told he did a good job. You kind of want to kiss him. “So, want to help me out tomorrow, too?”

[inbabylontheywept]

Weird Grandpa Dale Story #1

The day started with me digging up cactus. Grandpa Dale had a weird beef with cactuses, bad enough to pay me 10 cents for every pound I turned in. Looking back at it, I think they offended him because they could exist without his consent: They didn't need his water, they didn't need his fertilizer, and they certainly didn't need his permission. 

And that, he simply could not abide. 

Grandpa Dale had been doing something weird that whole morning. I knew because I'd been able to watch him since sunrise. Every time I took a break from digging cactus to look back at the house, I saw him doing something with the gopher holes. 

That made me nervous. Things never went well when he started messing with the gophers.  Earlier that month he'd tried gassing them out, and all he got from that effort was nasty looking blisters up both arms. He almost never complained about anything, but he griped all day about how bad those blisters hurt. When his wife suggested that he go to the hospital he said No, what am I gonna tell them? That my trench got overrun? They wouldn't buy that. They'd think I was cooking meth. 

Which was funny to hear, but also, true, and also, enough for me to know better than to get involved in future gopher battles. 

Which is to admit that I did get involved. But I should've known better. A few hours in, he invited me over, gave me a cold soda, and showed me what he had set up: Two camping chairs, a wicked sharp shovel, a car battery, and a long length of copper wire leading to a pit he'd dug in the middle of the yard. Told me that if I stayed a bit and took a break, cooled down there with a soda in the shade, I'd see something amazing. I asked him if there was even a chance I could get hurt by this "something amazing", and he said "no," which I knew was a bald faced lie. But I believed him because I wanted to believe him. Because I wanted to know what he'd done, and I wanted to sit there in the shade with my grandpa. I also figured, hey, maybe getting gassed taught him a lesson. 

(Never, ever assume that the kind of person willing to break out chemical weapons against gophers is capable of being taught a lesson.) 

So I sat down in my chair and he beamed at that. He loved having an audience. Then I watched him lean forward and tap the ends of the wire against the battery terminals.

And that's where everything went wrong.  

The first thing that hit me was the yard itself. Little bits of sand and grit flying fast enough to hit my skin and bite. It took a year and change for all the little bits to work their way out. But I didn't even feel it at the time, because of what happened after. 

I genuinely think he'd imagined the gophers getting launched out of the holes, disoriented but alive. I think that shovel was there to finish them off afterwards. Which also would've been traumatizing, but probably less so than watching each of those cute little gopher holes projectile vomit bloody piles of tattered critter all over the lawn. 

Which, spoiler alert, is exactly what happened. The sky fell down, and the ground flew up, and the gophers found themselves with nowhere to go. So they did the next best thing and went a little bit everywhere.

I don't think it was actually silent afterwards, but I couldn't hear shit. There was just this long, ringing period of us looking at each other, then the meat piles, then the lawn crater, then the big buckled section of yard that looked oddly like Rockies just behind us, then back to each other. 

I think I did that two or three times before I felt my shoulders start to shake a little. I was crying. Felt weird to cry and not be able to hear it. Like a tic almost, or the way your body seizes up right before you puke. 

And then I looked at his face, and I saw him mouth a single soundless word: 

Shit.

[rotthepoet]

Come Home (Dark!Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

Notes; DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Matty has been plaguing my mind and I need an outlet omg. I lowkey rewrote some lore for this, so essentially the battle of Hogwarts takes place but Voldemort's influence still lives on through Mattheo, who basically runs the new Knights of Walpurgis(The slytherin boys). Everyone is evil, all good business. 

Warnings; again, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Mattheo, Murder/death/gore, stalking, kidnapping, mattheo might highkey be ooc but its fine, dubcon(reader REALLY wants him but like.. morals?), oral(F! And M!), mention of fem masturbation, predator/prey dynamic, spitting, degradation, lowkey breeding kink?, piv, lowkey porn with plot, Stockholm syndrome if you squint, at least he kinda gets a redemption arc

This one goes out to my beautiful @nottswitch i hope dark!mattheo comes to life and fucks us both <3

Word count; 6.3k

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

The bitter breeze in the frigid air pricks through my thin shirt as the diner door swings open and shut again as a customer disappears into the icky black of our winter night. I stare out after him, a farewell unspoken on my lips as I cast my gaze towards an orange, flickering lamp post lining the parallel street, and I realize how truly cold it is inside the shabby eatery. 

As I tug the embarrassingly short, mandated skirt I'm forced to wear, I can only think of the comforting and safe walls of Hogwarts, my home only months ago, yearning for the soft crackle of a fireplace and the ambient chatter of portraits lining the walls. The muggles had nothing as interesting, nothing as familiar as the light of the silver moon passing through the large windows of the great hall. Nothing as comfortable as my own home back in England, with my mother and fathers smiling faces. Nothing as comfortable as the safe, unscarred arms of the once-kind boy I loved what feels like so long ago. 

Being on the lam for about a month now, I've been skipping towns and laying low where I can. It’s not often, but when I'm able to stay in a town for longer than a week, I take pitiful muggle jobs, my current being to take orders at a local diner, “famous for their milkshakes”, although fame must mean four regular visitors in this nowhere town. 

Jean, the gray-haired woman who owns the diner I work at, leans over the counter and points at the analog clock hanging on the wall. It reads almost 1:30, and it finally sets in how tired I am. She hums and looks me up and down, standing in the middle of the floor, standing stiff as a board while holding a broom. She clicks her tongue and shakes her head, a small smile gracing her aged face. 

“I’m sorry, I zoned out.” I apologize, leaning the non-flying broom against a nearby booth, and smooth out my wind-swept hair. 

Jean just shakes her head, “Go on and head home. You did good today.” she hums in approvement, tossing me my room key that was previously hanging on a hook in the kitchen. “Be careful out there, the papers said another storm is coming.” she warned, but a storm is the furthest thing from my mind as I push open the door. Silver light flashes across the street and my heart nearly stops beating, a pit forms in the bottom of my stomach. My eyes squint, finally adjusting to the lack of light, catch the face of a mannequin in the window of a shop. I let out a breath I don’t realize I’m holding and relax as I realize the moon had simply caught the silver details on the faux person. I turn on my heel and carry on down the dimly lit pavement towards my motel. 

It’s just as run down as everything else in this town, water stains stretching across the ceiling like swatches of muddy paint, and the hideous carpet crunches underneath my feet. It isn’t much. It is nothing, in fact, but a roof over my head and sanctuary from the ruthless dangers outside. 

I drop each article of clothing from my body onto the yellowing tile of the bathroom floor, stepping into the freezing cold water of the shower. I shudder, goosebumps racking through my body as I allow the water to wash away the grease and sweat, I collected today. I run a baby blue loofa over my skin, suds washing away with the now lukewarm stream. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, and the smell of metallic rust from the old pipes fills my nostrils. 

Blood. So much blood. It covers my hands, and my knees, my face, and my clothes. I practically wade through a pool of it, the dark hallways of that god awful manor stretch on infinitely, and the smell of rot and decay suffocates my senses. My heart nearly beats out of my chest as his strong arms wrap around me as I collapse to the floor, and I'm hyper aware of the many motionless bodies lying at my feet. His lips brush against my neck, rough and wet, and I wonder if they have blood on them too. I wouldn’t put it past him. Malicious is not a word I thought I would ever use to describe my lover, the man I thought I was going to marry one day, but like many other things before, he proved me wrong. His warm hands caress the soft fat of my thighs, slipping underneath the loose fabric of my shorts, and he leans into my ear. “They’re all gone now… Let’s go take a shower.” 

I release a shaky breath and turn off the water, letting it drip from my head and down my face, mingling with salty tears. Wiping my face with my wet palms, which did nothing in retrospect, I sigh. I can’t go back there; I can never go back there. It isn’t safe anymore. He isn’t safe anymore. Come on, I can’t keep feeling bad for myself. This is ridiculous, and as I step out of the shower and dress myself, I feel a newfound sense of determination. Sleep, for the first time in months, finds me easily with her warm embrace. 

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

As most things in my life do, my high spirits came to an abrupt end. Smoke fills my lungs, but there's a strange taste to it. It’s not a fire, no, it was tobacco. A smell I was all too familiar with. I sat up in bed, and my eyes met the inky black eyes of his silver, skull mask. My breath catches in my throat, only for me to cough out the smoke from his cigarette.

He couldn’t have found me this easily. It’s a bad dream, it has to be. Merlin forgive me, God save me, tell me this is just a dream! The mask on his face shifts a little, clearly amused at my coughing fit. “Have anything to say?”

Say anything. Stop gaping at him like a fish, you are a powerful witch, almost top of your class in DADA. Almost. Second place, notably. Right behind him.

Mattheo Riddle.

A sob racks through my body, tears falling down my cheeks before I even realize, and I’m paralyzed in place. Half of me wants to crawl into his arms, to beg for forgiveness, to beg for him to take me home. Home to that wretched, dark house, with blood seeped into the wood. With blood-stained grout on the kitchen tile. With blood-stained walls. So, so much blood. The other half of me screams at me to run. To run, to run, run, run, RUN! For god's sake, run! 

I push myself out of bed, fast enough to catch Mattheo by surprise. He flicks his cigarette to the side, letting it roll along the carpet floor. My hand reaches for my wand resting on a table beside the door as I duck out of his reaching arms, and I stumble to my feet as he lunges after me. I throw open the door, pulling it shut in his face as he screams for me.

“You bitch! Come back here!” he screams through the wood, struggling with the now sweat-slick doorknob. 

The door splinters open with the blast of, “Bombarda!”, but I scramble down the wet, cold streets, my bare feet scratch against the rough pavement as I sprint, thankful that it had been just warm enough to not freeze. I duck down another street, pulling out my wand to apparate elsewhere. I rack my brain for a safe location. Hogwarts? I might be able to, but I don’t want to risk splinching. My job? It might separate me long enough to get my shit together. 

Air is knocked out of me as a heavy body slams into mine, knocking my wand out of my hand. A heavy, black boot pins my wrist to the ground, and a silver mask that was not Riddle’s leans over me. He laughs under the mask, but I can’t tell which of his mentally fucked goons had caught me. I reach for my wand, but another set of boots kicks it out of my reach. Leather gloved hands grab my hair and lift me up to face the group now circling me. 

“She looks pitiful, really. Like an angry kitten.” An Italian accent draws next to my ear with a mocking snicker, and I thrash to kick Theodore Nott anywhere I can, luckily landing a solid blow to his shin. He curses in pain, and hisses something inaudible underneath his mask as he throws me back to the ground. The rough concrete scratches against my exposed skin, drawing blood from the soft flesh. I yelp in pain, landing at the feet of someone else. A black, steel-toed boot presses against my cheek, pushing my head to the side as I watch another figure ominously approach. I would recognize my Mattheo’s casual amble anywhere, and he peered down at my stray wand laying at his feet.

I don’t even have time to protest as he steps his boot onto the wood, sparks fizzing out around the magic object as it snaps under his weight. A choked sob escapes me as he approaches, my eyes wide with horror and betrayal.

“Enough of this, love. It’s time to come home,” He drawls, kneeling down to my level and lifting my chin to meet his empty gaze. “Be a good girl and come back to me, I’m tired of this little game of yours.”

“Fuck. You.” I spat on the silver of his skull-like mask, noting the wild look in my own eyes as the saliva slips down its reflective surface.

Mattheo groaned and tugged off his mask, and my breath caught in my throat. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t think this awful man who betrayed me, threatened me, hunted me down, can still be attractive. Then again, he was still the man I had loved–part of me still does love– all those years ago. The handsome face I fell asleep looking at, the doe eyes I found comfort in. He looked roguish now, his brown curls were longer than the last time I had seen him, and he had a new scar running across his cheek from our last encounter. My mouth goes dry as he leans into my face, his breath hot against my lips. 

“I’ve missed you, love,” He practically purred, pressing his dry lips against my trembling ones. I whine against him, wriggling my body underneath the heavy weight of whoever was holding me. 

Mattheo groaned, gripping my chin harder, “You used to be so obedient, pet, but don’t worry. I’ll fix you.” he mumbled, kissing my forehead as I felt his wand pressed to my temple. He mumbled an incantation against my skin, and I felt my body go limp before my eyes closed themselves, and sleep consumed me. 

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

It was cold, damp, and reeked of copper and mold. My body laid on the floor, sore and unresponsive to my will to move. As my senses came back to me, I tried climbing to my feet, but a chain tugged my ankle back to the floor. I tumbled to the stone floor, scraping my hands against its rough surface. I whimper in pain, and only as I go to wipe my hands on my pants do I realize I’m completely nude. Horror racks through my body as I take in my surrounding and own appearance. I know I'm back in that old house, that old, disgusting, horrible house of horrors, and tears fall from my stinging eyes again.

I don’t know how long I laid on that floor, shaking from the cold as I sob into the air, screaming and cursing with conviction, damning Riddle’s name to an eternity in hell. I scream, and wail, and cry until I tire myself out, my voice breaking into nothing but a hushed plea for freedom. 

I fight sleep, sitting myself against a wall near my chain, breathing deep into my burning lungs. My eyes drift closed, but I will them open as the loud creak of a door alerts me. It’s only then that I notice a stairwell, casted in a white light with the newly opened door, and my heart nervously skips a beat as a tall shadow approaches the stairwell. The stairs creak under his weight as he descends to what I can only infer is a basement, and I stare up at his form.

Mattheo wasn’t nearly as scary like this, dressed in black slacks and a loose white shirt. Had he not been so threatening, and the reason I was chained to the basement floor, I would have swooned over the top buttons being undone. Perhaps I still do get butterflies in my stomach, but that may just be nausea. 

He looks down at me with an expression I can only describe as mock sympathy, clicking his tongue softly. “Down here for less than three hours and you’ve already managed to hurt yourself,” he scolded me, shaking his head in disappointment, “My clumsy girl, what am I going to do with you?” 

The smile he cracked made me want to claw his eyes out, or kiss him, and I worry that he may have slipped me a love potion. My ears ring, and my head suddenly aches with a mild pain, and Mattheo smirks.

“Like the shirt, do you?” He teased, kneeling down to my level. I curse under my breath, face heating up with anger (Or embarrassment, I can’t really tell), of course I forget he’s a legilimens. “Drop the act darling, I know you’re going to crack eventually. Save us both the trouble so I can finally bring you back to bed.” His warm hand tenderly caressed my cold cheek, and I fought the urge to lean into the comforting touch. “I hate seeing you down here like this, but you need to remember your place.”

My eyes snap back to his, and I whip my head to the side to bite his hand. He scowls and rips his hand away, reeling it back and back-handing me across the face. It knocks my breath out of my chest, and the rings on his fingers cut my cheek. Metallic blood drips to the floor. 

“Fine. Stay down here and bleed out for all I care.” He snaps, rubbing his sore hand as he turns on his heel and storms up the stairs. The door slams loudly behind him, and I’m engulfed in sudden darkness.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

My cheek and hands had long stopped bleeding the next time he came back, staining my skin red with its slick. My head lifts as the door opens again, and light makes my eyes dilate painfully. Mattheo trudges down the stairs, his head hanging low, and a small white box hanging from his hand. He approaches me and kneels at my level. I meet his gaze, glaring into his soft eyes.

“Darling, you know I didn’t mean to hit you, right?” He mumbled, holding my chin to twist my cheek towards him, his rough actions bringing tears to my eyes. “I was just so worked up, and you were pushing too many buttons, you’ll forgive me, right?” He asks hopefully, but I don’t answer him.

He sighs in defeat, opening the little box and retrieving a cloth and bottle full of a clear liquid. My eyes go wide, and I scramble backwards as far as the chain allows me to. “No, No, Mattheo please don’t-” I plead, heart racing as he looks at me with confusion.

A smile breaks across his face, “Oh darling, no, no, it’s just alcohol.” he laughs a bit, a deep sound that makes pleasant shivers run down my spine and too an embarrassing heat between my legs. What the fuck is wrong with me? He approaches me again, dousing the cloth with the solution before taking my hands. He shushes my soft whines as he presses it to my scraped palms, which makes me hiss at the burning sensation. “Good girl, there we go. That’s much better, isn’t it?” he asks as he takes a roll of gauze from the box and wraps each of my hands. He lifts my palms to his lips, pressing a storm of soft pecks and kisses to the gauze and skin. My face heats up at the gesture, and I force myself to look away. He was always so chivalrous for a monster, though it hurt to call him that even after everything.

He presses the cloth to my cheek next, his thumb tracing calming circles into the opposite cheek. “Such a pretty girl, my pretty girl.” He whispered, placing a bandage over my skin. Just like my palms, he kisses my cheek, though much slower and intimate this time. “I don’t want to hurt you, you know?” he promised, leaning over my trembling body. He looked down at me, eyes drifting past my collarbone, and he whistled softly. “A sight for sore eyes… and It’s all mine.” He smirked, leaning down as he supported his weight on his forearms. His chapped lips press suspiciously soft kisses to my neck. A loud thud coming from upstairs makes Mattheo groan and pull away. He looks down at me, wide eyed beneath him, “I’ll be right back, love, don’t worry your pretty little head.” He hummed, patting my cheek as he stood up. 

He casts me one last yearning glance before he shuts the door again, much softer this time. I lean back against the stone, releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and try to ignore the wetness between my thighs as I drift off to sleep.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I’m startled awake as the basement door slams shut, and heavy footsteps descend to my prison. Mattheo storms into view, and before I can even get a word out, he grabs me by the hair and pulls me up to my knees. He sneers down at me, and my head is spinning from the sudden switch up.

“Incompetent assholes. Have to do everything myself around here,” He mumbled, not really speaking to me rather than himself. He doesn’t loosen his grip on my hair as his other hand tugs apart the button of his slacks. 

My eyes go wide with shock, and he pulls my hair, forcing my chin up to look at him. “Open your mouth,” He demands, his voice lacking his previous warmth, and I'm reminded that this is not my Matty. My lip quivers and I shake my head slightly. Mattheo pulls his half-hard cock from the confines of his black briefs and pulls me by the hair to his tip. “I don’t have time for this attitude, I said open your mouth.”

I don’t even have a moment to react before his leaking tip is pressed against my mouth. He pushes his way past, groaning as my wet lips engulf his mushroomed tip. He pulls on my hair again, forcing himself further into my warm hole. “There you go, not so hard, was it? Now suck.” He orders in a tone I’ve never heard him use in bed before, and as he bucks his hips towards my face, I whine in protest while the ache returns to my lower stomach. My jaw relaxes on its own, familiar with the girth of his hung cock. An almost inaudible whine slips through my throat, and he groans at the tightness. One more tug lets me know his patience is running thin, and I reach my bandaged hand up to stroke the rest of him while I focus on his tip.

Mattheo bites back a moan, his hips stuttering as I descend further down onto his length. His leaky tip presses against the back of my throat, and he holds my head in place while he rocks his hips further into me. My nose presses against his groin as he slips down the back of my throat, and his grip moves from my hair to my throat, feeling my neck bulge with every movement. Saliva drips past him and down my chin, dribbling to the floor in thick droplets. He shudders as my throat tightens around him, nearly swallowing the head. 

“Yeah, yeah… Fuck baby. Keep going for me, almost there,” He mumbles, rocking his hips faster than before. I whine around him, my own hand slipping down to the ache at my core. My fingers gingerly brush against my clit, and the soft moan I try to let out makes Mattheo’s head roll back. Hot spurts of his seed shoot down my throat and my glossy eyes go wide at the feeling.

“Swallow,” Is all he says, and obediently, I do. He pulls my head off of him, his cum mixing with the drool in my mouth when it drips down my chin. He grips my face between his index finger and thumb, collecting the mess with a swipe of his finger and pushing it back into my sore mouth. “All of it.” 

When I satisfied him, he pushed me back to the ground, and I yelped in pain as I collided against the stone surface. “When I come down here, I want you on your knees waiting for my dick. Understand?”

I nod weakly, and he smirks down at me. “Good girl. Keep it up and maybe I’ll bring you back upstairs.” He says, before pulling back up his pants and running a hand through his hair. 

When he leaves again, I’m left with an unbearable, wet mess.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

With nothing else to do in my makeshift prison, I sleep a lot. And when I wake up, I force myself to sleep again. I sleep God knows how long before the door opens again, and Mattheo trudges down the stairs. I scramble to my knees, honestly fearing what might happen if I disobey him, and when Mattheo catches sight of me, he smiles. 

“There’s my pretty girl.” He hums, holding a platter with a bowl of something steaming, a slice of some sort of bread, and a bottle of water. My stomach growls as its divine aroma fills my senses, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten. 

Mattheo sits down in front of me and puts the tray between up. He rests his elbow on his knee and leans into his palm. “Eat,” he orders me, gesturing to the platter with the wave of his free hand. “Or would you prefer I feed you myself?” He asks with a smirk, watching how I shift from my knees to rest on my hip. I grab the water bottle first, chugging half of it in one go, before I subconsciously offer him a sip. What’s mine is his. Was his. Was. I look up at him, taking the water and sipping from it. I tore my gaze away before he noticed.

“I don’t want to stay in the basement anymore,” I mumble, dipping the bread into the soup before taking a bite, shivering at its deliciousness. Mattheo sighed and shook his head. “You know I can’t do that yet. You ran away, darling. I can’t trust you won’t do that again,” He explained, reaching his hand across the way to rub my knee soothingly. I sigh and push the tray away, my appetite gone. Mattheo frowned and moved the tray away, leaning over me. “Princess, c’mon, don’t be this way.” he hummed, pushing me onto my back. My heart rate quickened, and he definitely noticed. “But you’re right. I’ve been neglecting you… That’s why you ran away right? My poor girl was lonely and scared.” he hummed, pressing his lips to my collar bone. “Not anymore. My attention is solely on you, I promise.” 

My head rolled back a little, lolling onto the floor as he trailed his kisses down my sternum, stopping at my breasts to gently knead them. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I reached for his hair, tugging gently on his loose curls. He groaned in response, his lips finding my perked nipple and taking it into his warm mouth. His other hand slipped down my soft stomach, dipping between my thighs. Out of reflex, I squeezed them together, and Mattheo parted from my tit. He sat back on his haunches, using his strong, scarred hands to pull apart my thighs and admire my glistening, needy cunt.

“It’s been all about me, huh? Need to show my girls some love.” He mumbled, before dipping his head down. His warm breath fanned across my puffy lips, and I shivered at the breeze. He didn’t waste a second more, drawing a long, needy moan from my lips as he licked a long strip from my hole to my clit. My hands tangle into his hair again, and my mouth falls open with pleasure. “Fuck, Matty–” the nickname fell from my lips without a second thought, and he practically purrs against me. His hands grip my thighs, pulling them over his shoulders as he dives nose deep into my pussy. My back arches off the floor as a string of curses flies from my lips. I feel his wet appendage push against my hole, and I clench at the feeling as his nose brushes against my sensitive bud. I tug on his hair again, “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” I mewl, my edge fast approaching as Mattheo swirls his tongue over my clit. He sloppily makes out with my lower lips, pulling me closer to the edge with each passing second, and I’m in near tears when there's a loud crash up above us. 

Mattheo practically roars in anger, pulling his soaked face away from my aching cunt, the knot in my stomach loosening at the sudden separation. I whine and sit up, trying to pull him back down, but he stops me with a firm hold on my wrist. “Stay here and don’t make a sound.” he ordered, “I need to take care of this, and I promise as soon as I’m done, I’ll come right back.”

Anger flashes through me, and I bite back my cries. “Don’t you dare leave me like this, Riddle.” I snap, and he gives me a warning look that makes goosebumps prick at my skin. He leans in, pressing a wet kiss to my lips, and I can feel him shiver as I lick my own arousal from his lips. “I’ll be right back, princess. Be good for me, and we can talk about a reward.”

And with that, he left yet again.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I was starting to get sick of his mind games, switching up his attitude, finally giving me relief before ripping it away from me. Fuck. What am I saying? I watched him murder dozens of people; I watched lives being taken right in front of me. I shiver at the memory and try to focus on anything else before it becomes too much to bear. 

I hate how he makes me feel. Sometimes he’s my Mattheo, and sometimes he’s nothing but a parasite attached to a face I can’t help but love. My back hits a wall, and I can’t count how long he’s been gone. I miss his warm, familiar touch, but anything was better than the cold, dark basement. I close my eyes, my lip trembling as I reach my hand down, fingers hesitantly spreading my folds. Cold air hit my wet lips, and I gasp at the feeling. I brush my fingertips against my hole, whining softly at the pleasure that coursed through my body. Maybe I'm sick in the head, maybe I hit my head too hard one day on the run and never recovered. Maybe I never really hated Mattheo. 

What is wrong with me?

I don’t move when the door opens again. I glare at him, anger coursing through my veins. This was not ‘right back’. As Mattheo’s black boot lands on the stone floor, my mouth goes dry. He’s weaning that stupid mask again, and that stupid costume, tilting his head stupidly at me. He approaches me in a way that makes my heart race in fear, like I'm nothing but cowardly prey between the jaws of a large wolf. 

He knees down, retrieving his hand from his pocket. Wordlessly, he unlocks the chain around my ankle, and he looks up at me. With another wave of his wand, I’m dressed in a loose tank top and shorts. It’s not much at all, but it’s better than naked. A rush of emotions rushes through my chest, and I almost gratefully throw my arms around Mattheo, but he stops me. 

“Go. Run,” He orders, stepping aside. I stare up at him in confusion, mounted to my spot on the ground. “I said run, little pet, like you want to.” He pulls me from the ground, pressing my cold body up against his comforting warmth. “Run, and if I catch you,” he leaned down into my ear, and through the skull mouth of his mask I could feel his breath fanning across my ear. “Well, I think you know what’s going to happen.”

I still don’t move, wondering if he would be less harsh if I stayed with him, but he only laughed. “Such a good girl, don’t worry,” he pulled his mask up just enough to expose his pearly white teeth. They sunk into the soft flesh just beneath my ear, “I’ll always find you. Go, now.”

I don’t know what possessed me, but my feet started moving on their own. I raced up the stairs of the basement and pushed past the door. The house was just as I remembered, dark with walls that were too tall, black cloths hung over the complaining portraits. I was disoriented in the dark, but my feet carried me through the house until I found the overtly large entrance. I pushed open the doors and ran out into the cold, snowy night. 

Frost nipped at each of my limps, and my lungs found it harder to breathe the frigid air. I ran anyway, out towards the woods surrounding the manor. I cast a glance over my shoulder, finding Mattheo staring back at me through the blacked-out eyes of his mask. I ducked into the tree line, just as he started his casual stroll towards me. Cocky bastard. 

I run for as long as I can before my lungs give out. I leaned against a tree, walking slowly into a clearing. I take a deep breath, pulling my arms behind my head to breathe deeper. Just as I find a moment of peace, a branch snaps behind me. I whip my head around, my heart racing as Mattheo approaches me. He doesn’t run, only walks towards me with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He ditched that awful mask, and I can see the smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. I stumble backwards, falling into the fresh snow. He continues his pace, unbothered by my racing heart as I scramble away from him and finally back to my feet. I don’t get one leg in front of the other before strong arms are wrapped around my waist, slipping under the loose fabric of my shirt.

“I win,” He mumbles in my ear, voice dark and raspy. It sends a chill down my spine that pools in my underwear. 

Mattheo throws me over his shoulder, ignoring my flailing lips as he walks back to the manor. “Didn’t even get a mile, love. Lost your talent it seems, or maybe you knew you’d miss me too much.” he teased, running his warm hands up my thigh, pressing a kiss to my exposed skin. 

It isn’t long before we’re back at the manor, and I thank every god I'm in good ties with when he walks past the basement. He takes me to his room instead, our room, the room where I've fallen apart under his touch more times than I can count. 

I breathe in his familiar scent as he deposits me on the bed, and I roll over to bury my burning face in the pillows. Mattheo chuckles at me and grabs my hips, pulling me back against him as he grinds his hardening bulge against the plushness of my ass. 

“You’ve been extra obedient, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice dripping with a tone I could quite place. Lust? Possession? Love? It all blurred together as he rutted his hips against me. “Good girls deserve a reward, don’t they?” he asked, before hooking his fingers at the hem of my shorts. He pulled them down to expose my glistening cunt. He spread me out along his fingers, admiring the way my pussy pulsed around nothing. He leaned in, pressing a possessive kiss to my clit, holding my hips as I try to buck away from him. 

His warm fingers trace along my thighs, sleeping between my legs and collecting the arousal that pooled there. I release a shaky breath into the pillow as his finger circles my clit, and I arch my back to present myself further. He hums in appreciation, trailing his finger further up to my dripping hole, slowly pushing his middle finger inside of me. I gasp at the intrusion, not being able to remember the last time something so long had been inside of me. I keen under his touch, gripping the sheets for stability as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of me. A moan escapes me as he curls his finger, and his thumb brushes against my needy pearl again. Mattheo adds a second finger, spreading out my tight, gummy walls. I crumble under his touch, mouth falling open and eyes going half lidded as he pulls his fingers from me. 

I hear him dropping his pants, and the bed dips behind me yet again as he leans his body completely over mine. His arm wraps around my neck, pressing me close to his chest while his breath fans across my face. The tip of his cock presses against me, and I whine at the sensation, pushing my hips back against him.

“Needy girl, thought you didn’t need me anymore.” He teased, pushing just the bulbous tip into my hole. It’s enough to make the knot in my stomach tighten, and I shake my head. “Need you, Matty, Need you so bad.” I admit, face flushed with embarrassment as he smirks. “Gonna run away again?”

He doesn’t let me get an answer out before he’s pressing further inside of me, the stretch burning pleasantly while my eyes roll back. His arm around my throat tightens, “I asked you a question, darling.” He teased, licking away the stray tear that fell from my eyes. I gasp as his cock brushes against a gummy bundle of nerves, and my head drops to the pillows. He tugs me back against him, pushing even further until he balls slapped against me. “No! No, never gonna leave again,” I promised, involuntary whines spilling from my throat. 

Mattheo pulls his hips back before drilling them back into me, “Good girl,” He grins as he sets a punishing pace, watching my face contort into pleasure underneath him. “Who owns you?” he asks, and I push back against his hips desperately. “You! You do, God, you do!” I moan, feeling my head go light from the lack of airflow. 

“God isn’t here, Love, It’s just me now.”

He drills into my pulsating hole, my back arching at his every thrust as my brain goes mushy from the pleasure. The arm around my throat pulls away, slipping down my stomach to find my pearl. His fingers are just as fast as his pace, and I can’t fight back the whorish moans in my throat. His lips attach to my shoulder, biting a possessive mark into my skin as he fucks me good, better than he ever had before. 

Tears fall from my eyes, and my hand grips his desperately as I’m worked to my edge. “Matty, Matty please…” I trail off into a string of moans, and Mattheo adjusts himself behind me. He bucks his hips into me once more, and I fall apart all over him. My pussy flutters around his cock, and he rides out my orgasm with a few last thrusts of his hips, before he spills his hot seed deep into my womb. Mattheo collapses on top of me, still deep inside as he pins my body to the bed. He hums into my neck, burying himself in my skin. 

“That’s my good girl. Let’s go take a shower.”

[vaspider]

Last year I wrote about what happened at Pride when a couple of kids didn't understand why us older folx were so bitter about Reagan.

This year, I have something a little softer.

Someone who looked a little older than me came up to the booth wearing a pink t-shirt proclaiming him one of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, San Francisco chapter. As I was ringing him up, I asked if he'd been involved for a while.

"Yes," he said, "for a bit," in that way us middle-aged people do when we're sort of wincing and feeling old.

"Okay, well," I said, sitting at my register in my queer booth full of queer clothes and patches and pins, topless in public for the first time. (I had pasties on for my own comfort bc I was working, but I live in the city of the Naked Bike Ride, and I took full advantage). My baby brother and both of my partners ran around behind me, my brother wearing a loose tank top that makes his scars visible.

"I need to tell you that you all helped keep me alive."

He blinked at me as I continued, "I was a kid in high school in the early 90s. I lived in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania, and what you all were doing was so loud and so out there that even I heard about your work. It was one of the things that kept me alive. So thank you, and please thank the rest of the Sisters."

I heard about them through people in my parents' church complaining about them, and then I sought more information through the beginning of the internet, through newspapers, through anything I could find. I found the cover of Newsweek that one of the Sisters was on. I read about their "exorcism" of fundamentalist preachers whose books sat on the shelf in my parents' basement and probably still do. I saw how loud and colorful and unapologetically queer they were.

The knowledge that someone was out there, so full of defiant joy, refusing the shame that people kept trying to put on them? Oh, that kept me alive. I saw them, and I knew I could make it through. I wrapped my hands around that knowledge, and I held on so tight.

It took me a long time - a long, long time - to unwind most of it for myself and get to the point where my fat butch ass was sitting bare-chested in the July breeze, looking up at him as he held out his arms and said "you're actually giving me chills." I answered, "I mean every word. You helped keep me alive. So thank you."

I never know what to say when people come up to me in public and tell me that I helped them or changed their life in some way. I appreciate it, and I genuinely love the people who apologized for "fanpersoning" at me last weekend, I just never know what to say. I'm incredibly grateful that the Sister I spoke to was incredibly gracious, saying "usually we give blessings, but I feel like you blessed me." Another member of the party let me pet their tiny dog, who was not very interested in me, and that's okay. It was an overwhelming day. Then, they moved on.

Me? I'm still sitting with the fact that I looked last weekend into the faces of people who didn't know they were holding my head above water, and that I got to tell them the work they do matters. It's a rare thing to get to tell someone, "You saved me," and I'm treasuring it.

Last weekend, I wore my new battle vest with nothing underneath it, unless it was too hot, and then I just sat in my chair, chatting and ringing ppl out with my skin free to the air. I decided last year that top surgery isn't for me, but that also I'm going to love this body unapologetically, and it's no less a transmasculine body because the soft new dark hair on my belly isn't accompanied by pink scars along my ribs.

I didn't get here on my own. I got here because someone else cut through the undergrowth ahead of me so I could take another step forward. Here I am, decades later, still taking step after step, one at a time, and trying to lay paving stones behind me.

Last weekend was another step along that way, another step through unwinding the fear and shame and sadness that my parents and their church built into me. Another step out of hating myself for hiding parts of myself for so long, for acting out in other ways to distract people from my queerness, for feeling so much guilt when other people tell me I'm brave, because I know how much of myself I hid for how long because I was a coward, because I was afraid.

Another step into expiating stigmatic guilt.

[okwonyo]

（ 标题 ） MIDNIGHT WISHES.

PREC𝒾S ⠀⟡​⠀something wakes you up in the middle of the night.

( 엔하이픈 제이크 ) ୨୧ f .. r 7OO fluff established relationship ── flirting kissing skinship not proofread ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ recue𝒾l

jiah says ⠀⦂ ⠀because it is mine, and i am sure, someone else’s birthday today ! happy birthday to us 💌

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

the darkness of your room welcomes you as your eyelids get less and less heavy. you try to blink away your tiredness, fighting to keep consciousness although your bed is begging for you to go back to your dreaming state.

you groan, sitting down. the relaxing feeling taking over your body for a minute when you stretch your neck ends up being the thing fully waking you up. 

there is a song coming from your window. like something is tapping against it and if you felt like being paranoid you could swear your name is being called out there.

your gaze makes out the numbers on your numeric clock, “mid—” you start and with a sigh you finish, “—night.”

the sound outside gets louder while you reach for the lamp on your nightstand. your heart jumps in your chest when you see a shadow in front of your window. you have to close your eyes tight and open them again to realize it is real and is also—

“jake?” you say your boyfriend’s name in disbelief, jumping out of your bed to walk quickly to the window. opening it, you ask, “what are you doing he—”

hot lips collapse on yours as soon as the window is fully opened, he stumbles on his feet as he gets in but he would rather fall face flat on the floor while kissing you than letting you go.

after he gets in your room, he embraces your waist with one arm as his free hand holds the back of your head.

you kiss him back, of course, because you are completely sick. cupping his face, you let him tilt your head to the side to have a better access to your neck. he walks you both to your bed and when the back of your leg hits, your body falls on it, his falls on yours. 

he goes to kiss your cheek, leaving several pecks on the same spot. you smile while biting down your cheek, you already know you are looking like an idiot.

the ghost of his kisses remains as he holds himself on his forearms, “happy birthday,” he whispers. he kisses your nose, “my beautiful girl.” 

you open your mouth to say something; right, this is why he is here. the realization hits you like the sun on a summer day, it makes you tear up like when you stare at ir’s ray’s for too long. you close your mouth, smiling shyly. 

your knuckles brush against his cheek, “thank you,” you say. 

the tears in your eyes get heavier as you hold his gaze. you end up looking away, this is not a battle you can win, you accepted that a while ago. you have never heard your voice being so soft before,  “did you stay awake just to tell me that?”

he kisses your cheek again, “of course,” he goes to the opposite one, “i’ll give you your guft after school today, m’kay?”

you nod, eyes dragging over his form. jake is well dressed, as always. his hair is perfect and he smells nice, which would feel like the usual if it wasn’t the crack of dawn. which contrasts with you being dressed up in pink pajamas (what can you say? pink never goes wrong!). 

“were you dressed like that today?” you question him, fidgeting with the cole of his button up shirt.

and as if his only presence wasn’t making you lose your sanity enough, he has the audacity to blush when he answers your question. 

 “ah, no, i dressed for classes already because i assumed i would…” his voice gets progressively quieter as he speaks. to the point you don’t hear him anymore. 

“you thought you would stay for the night,”  you intended to turn that sentence into a question but it ended as an affirmation. your cheeks heart from how hard you are cheesing when your boyfriend shyly nods. 

he avoids your gaze for a while before your palm finds the back of his neck, “good,” you tell him before kissing him.

[wordbunch]

healer's healer [Elrond x reader]

a/n: WELL! look at that. the people want ROP Elrond and of course I give them Elrond ♡ it's short but bear with me - I haven't done creative writing in ages and I feel very rusty, but he deserves good things. 🥹

I didn't watch the S2 trailer bc I never do that, but I did see screenshots of baby El after some battle 😭😭😭 so this vaguely goes off of that. Enjoy! 💞

Your breath hitched in your throat as you hurried down the spiraling staircase from your chambers, having noticed a familiar (and beloved) figure on the horizon. Though he was approaching uncharacteristically slowly, without mistake it was your spouse in the distance, returning from his latest task along with his companions. As fast as your legs carried you, you ran out to meet them - well, Elrond - and your heart clenched at his disheveled and evidently injured state. Immediately you scurried to the horse he was on, all drawn into himself and with scars etched into his handsome face.

“Meleth nín,” you breathed out, helping him down as gently as you could muster. Elrond clung onto you as soon as you came in contact, as he held one arm protectively over his middle.

“Beloved,” he replied, fatigue dripping from his words. “I have returned to you… as promised.” His attempt at a soft smile turned into a painful grimace as you slowly walked to somewhere he could at least sit down comfortably. You helped lower him onto the nearest settee you could find and began anxiously examining his wounded form.

“I knew you would keep your promise, always,” you whispered to him, cradling his face in your hands with a feathery touch. The way he was looking at you was shaking you to the bone - in his storm-colored eyes you could see an echo of many a thing he had seen, found, and been through, and you could all but hear your heart crack. “Breathe,” you attempted to soothe him. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere,” he winced, meeting your eyes once again, shakily reaching for your hand laid across his scarred cheek. It was easy to notice his breaths were heavy and uneven. “I love you,” he added hastily, stopping your thoughts in their tracks, as if he was afraid he wouldn’t get many more chances to lavish you in his feelings. “I-I did not know whether… whether I would have another opportunity t-to… tell you that… one more time.”

“My brightest star,” you breathed out, leaning your forehead against his and reveling in his presence after the agonizing weeks of uncertainty. Elrond soaked in your warmth and softly nudged his nose against yours. “We will not speak of such things, ever. You are home now, you are safe, and I am here.  We are going to get you healed, I promise. Neither of us is going anywhere, ever” 

“Until the whole Middle-earth is no more than a distant memory,” he quietly echoed the vows you had exchanged quite a few moons ago. You were hoping you could actually sense, and not that you were just deceiving yourself, that he was beginning to feel more at ease (if not less in pain) only through being in your arms once again.

“Meleth nín,” you inched back only slightly to look at his state, “do you think you could be strong enough to get up with me and walk to our chambers? I will hold you the whole time,” you squeezed his chilly hands in encouragement, eliciting a subtle nod from your spouse. “Then we will make you comfortable, warm, and I will do everything in my power to heal you. From the things you are able to tell me, just as much as from the things you cannot speak of yet.”

Immediately his arm was around your shoulders as he reluctantly rose to his feet. You heard him breathe through his teeth, but you knew he could do it. He was as strong as he was kind, and you were more than willing to bring back his joyous laugh and twinkling eyes.

“How strong have you gotten in these weeks, my dove,” he quipped, doing his best to lighten the somber atmosphere. “I have got a true elven warrior by my side.”

“I have only tried to match you, I admit.”

♡

I should try to somehow revamp my taglist too :/

[nyctoaerah]

★ TAKING CARE OF YOU!

CONTENT: Fluff, Crack, Domestic Life, Timeline was two years after the final battle, Sexual Themes, Sanemi’s vulgar mouth (lmao)

PAIRINGS: Sanemi Shinazugawa x Fem! Reader

Sanemi hummed deeply as his calloused fingers tossed the pale yellow rice in the hot skillet.

You nuzzled your worn body against his back and inhaling the comforting scents of ginger and soy that rose from the pan. Wrapping your lone arm tightly around his waist, you pressed a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades and let out a contented sigh.

“You alright, love?”

Sanemi questioned upon hearing your weary exhale..

“A little bit tired...” Sluggishly, you tried squeezing him closer to convey your meaning, but your grip had slackened.

Concern rippled through Sanemi’s frame at your words. “Rest then,” he replied gruffly.

“But I wanna help,” you protested weakly, lifting your head with effort. Shifting to peer over his shoulder, you pulled your best pouting expression, though your exhaustion likely dulled the effect.

Sanemi huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes at your attempt.

“I’ve got this covered. You need to recover your strength,” he insisted, free hand rising to card through your disheveled hair in a rare gentle gesture, he frowned slightly as he saw that your usual radiance was muted, lovely eyes dull with exhaustion.

His eyes swept to your leaning form with a inspecting gaze that lingered on the space where your other arm had been.

“You can’t just expect me to let you cook and clean the house on your own when you only have one hand,” Sanemi muttered gruffly, turning back to the yakimeshi.

“Rest. You need it.” His voice was gentle as he tenderly ran his fingers through your hair, planting a soft kiss on your temple.

You furrowed your brows, a mix of exhaustion and defiance in your eyes as you stared at him. Your protest was on the tip of your tongue, but as Sanemi shot you a firm look, the words died down in your throat.

“Now.” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a defeated sigh, you begrudgingly pulled away from him, elbowing him lightly in the side as you did so. Sanemi let out a grunt of irritation, his eyes rolling in response to your brattiness.

“Just go rest, for me, darling...”

“Say please first.”

Sanemi shot you an exasperated glare, the lines on his forehead deepening in irritation.

“Just go and rest, for fuck’s sake, woman,” he grumbled, shaking his head in frustration and fondness.

“Nuh-uh. Say pretty please f’me, Nemi~” 

You couldn't help but taunt him further, a sly smile curling at the corners of your mouth.

“Say pretty please or you have no balls” you quipped, knowing exactly how to push his buttons.

He deadpanned at you.

“My darling [Name], my love, my soul, you let me fuck you senseless most of the time and you have the audacity to say that?” Sanemi’s voice was laced with disbelief, his narrowed eyes locking onto yours.

“what even is the connect of you having no balls to that...”

You muttered, weirded out at his bluntness as your smug facade crumbled under his scrutiny, a sudden rush of uncertainty creeping into your mind.

Before you could come up with a retort, frustration bubbled up within you, culminating in a defiant gesture as you raised your middle finger and stuck your tongue out petulantly.

“Rest now.” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. You opened your mouth to shoot back a snarky remark, but his next words stopped you in your tracks.

“Or maybe I'll just fuck that attitude right out of you, and make you beg for rest,” he declared bluntly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes despite his bold words.

“You disgusting freak.”

A frown marred your features. You knew all too well that he wasn't one to make empty threats, his actions always speaking louder than words.

“Yeah, yeah, i am a disgusting freak. Now go.” He shooed you away.

“Fine,” you grumbled under your breath, not really in the mood for it, and casting a final eye-roll his way before reluctantly making your way back to your shared room.

“Hmph.” Sanemi scoffed.

As you left, Sanemi’s gaze lingered on you for a while before he went back to cooking again.

It has been two years since the demon slayer corps was disbanded.

And you and Sanemi now found solace in each other, joined as one in marriage — Just like the two of you had always dreamt off in the past — getting married together and making a family.

It was a bit tough for you two, since the both of you are technically amputees because of the final battle, but you two managed to make it work.

Though Sanemi had lost several fingers in the battle, your wounds ran far deeper — your left eye was gone, as was your left hand — it got sliced when you were fighting with the uppermoon one on the infinity fortress

It was tough being like this, but with you, he was happy.

After finishing cooking and preparing the fragrant yakimeshi, Sanemi hurried to your shared room and carefully placed the steaming tray of food on the polished wooden table, the aroma wafting through the air.

As he expected, you were not peacefully resting but reclining on the bed with a pout on your face — still seemingly bitter about him previously telling you to let him do all the work.

“Hey... Food is ready,” Sanemi announced, observing your reaction as you turned towards him, a hint of irritation in your expression.

“Are you forgetting something?” you questioned, arching an eyebrow expectantly.

What did you mean by that..?

Oh.

Oh..

Sanemi rolled his eyes before gracefully picking up the tray and lowering himself to his knees, presenting the delicious meal to you in a humble gesture.

“Here you go, your majesty. Your feast awaits,” he declared playfully, a smile tugging at his lips as you couldn’t help but giggle at the theatrical display. “Good, you may rise now,” you commanded in a regal tone, attempting to sound majestic, which only made him chuckle at how stupid you sound.

You curled your fingers around the smooth porcelain bowl, feeling its cold edges press into your skin as you lifted it from the tray.

Sanemi took the tray and placed it back on the table, as he kneeled before you once again.

“Can you eat it alone?” 

he asked, purple eyes searching your face.

“Of course I can,” you replied, feeling a small twist of irritation.

“I’m not paralyzed.”

“Just because I’m missing one hand doesn’t make me helpless.”

“I know that,” he grumbled, voice low. Reaching out, he cupped your thigh in one hand, calloused fingers brushing your skin in idle circles.

“But let me care for you, just this once,” He continued.

“Let your husband take care of you, just for once, hm?”

©𝐍𝐲𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐡 || 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚��𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.♡

[notanactressyayy]

₊˚⊹♡ 𝐚 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

— ₊⊹ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 . WandaNat x fem! virgin! reader

— ₊⊹ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 . [based on this request.] Natasha and Wanda's relationship was going well... when talking generally. — they completed each other. but something was still missing. and there was no better person to reach out to, other than you, their closest friend. will you allow them to show you a whole new concept of.. love?

— ₊⊹ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — established relationship, soft doms WandaNat, subby reader, little bit of angst on the begining if you look very closely, swearing, reader's first time, threesome, making out, Wanda's enchanted strap, breast play (r receives), penetration (r receives), oral (N receives), multiple orgasms, cum eating, pet names, aftercare.

— ₊⊹ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 . english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors! feedback is highly appreciated!! <3

never thought it was so hard to write a threesome 😭

divider credits: @anitalenia . ݁₊

small droplets of sweat started to build on Wanda's hairline, ready to roll down — soft pants and huffs leaving her mouth as she desperately tries to increase the pace, the pace that was already fast — she tries to accelerate even more. to get Natasha there, like she always did. but for some reason, it wasn't working. it wasn't being of any use. no matter how she tried to change positions, or angles.. Natasha just breathed heavily, with no result.

"stop, stop.." Natasha pants out and pats Wanda's shoulder, multiple times. "stop, baby. 'ts okay."

the woman reluctantly slows down her movements and groans, a mixture of tiredness and frustration.. and a little bit of sadness. right now, she was feeling so, so incapable, worthless. since when did that happen? since when a woman couldn't even bring her girlfriend an orgasm?

eventually, she pulls the strap out of her, making Natasha hiss quietly due sensitivity. she turns on her back and removes the strap off herself, waving her hand to disenchant it. her hand reaches out and puts the toy on the nightstand. the witch's eyes squeeze tight, clearing her throat as she does her best to catch her breath again.

Natasha of course, didn't need Wanda to tell her how she was feeling. as a spy, and like anybody else in this situation, she knew it. the russian weakly turns on her side and wraps her arm around Wanda's waist, placing her head on her shoulder and looking up into her eyes. deep down, both of them knew this wasn't physical.. it was phychological. lately, whenever it came to sex, both their minds couldn't completely focus on each other — and it wasn't fault of either of them. their toughts always wandered to her, that girl.. you.

"i'm sorry," Wanda whispers, wrapping her arms around Natasha and pulling her to herself. she sighs heavily and nuzzles into her soft red locks. "i'm sorry."

her heart was at war. battling to decide between giving into her desires, or holding back, in respect to Natasha. she just didn't know that the russian felt the same way. both of them did towards you. you're their closest friend, not an avenger, but an ordinary girl. thinking about that, it made sense — two people with a fucked up past, heavy emotional baggage, needed someone like you in their lives. someone soft, gentle, almost innocent, to say at least. the way you dressed, the way you smelled. always captivated the redheads. in the middle of all the chaos they called life, you were their beautiful, sweet escape of routine.

"don't apologize." Natasha replies, voice low and husky as she traces imaginary patterns on Wanda's chest. "i can't read minds like you do, so why don't you tell me what you're thinking about?"

Wanda chuckles at the remark, and turns her head to look at her girlfriend. she takes a slow, shaky breath again. she knows she can't hide anything from Natasha, and wouldn't try to. "look. can you listen to everything i got to say, before making any conclusions or saying anything else?"

Natasha nods, giving her a small, genuine smile, that showed patience. so Wanda started talking again.

"it's.. it's not easy to talk about this, i admit. it's like a taboo, and stuff.. we've been together for three years now, and i love you. i love you so much. i always tell you that and i always mean it. we help each other, we work together, you're the perfect fit for me, Nat. but.. lately, i've been thinking a lot about.."

"i know." Natasha interrupts anyway, and her smile doesn't vanish. "i know you have. i see it. and god, I think about her too."

surprise immediately shows in Wanda's wide eyes, and she exhales the air she was holding. relief washed over her being, even if Natasha hadn't elaborated yet.

"Wanda, darling." she chuckles, nuzzling closer and placing her hand on the woman's cheek. "we struggle sometimes. and it's not our fault. she's a ray of sunshine. it's everything we need, don't you think?"

"are you saying that we should consider.." Wanda says, in a softer tone.. her hand finds it's way to Natasha's back, nails tracing her spine. the mere thought already got her in a better mood. "inviting.. her.. in?"

"yeah." Natasha bits on her bottom lip. both of them had never tried a threesome before, but it seemed like a good idea. it felt like a good idea. if they both had thoughts and maybe even feelings for you, why don't act on them? "let's invite her tomorrow. tomorrow night."

"oh, Natasha." Wanda chuckles, understanding the implication. she leans down to peck Natasha's lips, and looks at her with a new sparkle in her eyes. "are you sure? completely sure about this? i never, ever want to hurt you, or make things weird between us—"

"we trust her. and basically, the only reason that we've been failing is because we want her and don't act on it." Natasha raises her eyebrows and pokes Wanda's nose, then wraps her arms around her neck. "and also. she's not a child. we'll talk about everything, and if it doesn't work out, we'll just seek another solution."

they both stay silent for a moment, and Wanda agrees. she giggles to herself, pulling the blankets over them and snuggling against Natasha, their legs tangling. they went to sleep happily, the tension from before eased because of you. they would just wait for the next day, and hope for the best.

₊˚⊹♡

the word to describe what you were feeling in that moment was: anticipation.

Natasha and Wanda had never invited you over to their place like this: at night, with no special occasion. they had told you they wanted to see you again, and to talk about a few things. you had absolutely no clue about what it was, so jumping to the most probable conclusion was what you did: a casual catch up.

yeah, for sure.

Wanda was the one to open the door after you knocked, and she shamelessly looked at you from head to toe, which got your eyes to snap open. you cleared your throat as she took in the sight of you, in a small, pink dress that covered just a little more than your ass — hair falling down your shoulders, a light makeup.

"Natasha," she calls out, tilting her head towards you. "you gotta see this,"

okay, you were so confused. first, one of your friends that was taken, clearly looks at you in a not so friendly way, and now, she's calling her girlfriend to do the same? you stand there, flustered, a little disoriented.

the other redhead comes. she opens the door wider so she could see you better, and stops in track when her eyes land on your figure. they exchange looks, and silently communicate — as if saying, why didn't we think of this before?

"come in, sweetheart." the russian says and allows you inside the house, closing the door right after.

you observe as the two of them talk between themselves, quickly finishing so they could return their attention to you. they notice how nervous the greeting had made you, and decide to get straight to the business. they sit on the couch, letting a little space between them and patting on it, so you could sit. you place your purse on the entrance counter and chuckle nervously, then walk towards them and sit where they wanted you to.

"so... hi!" you finally speak, still feeling a little awkward. "uhm.. is everything okay with you two?"

"absolutely." Wanda nods, shifting on her seat. her knee brushes against yours as she places her hand on your cheek, thumb caressing your jawline. "you just look so beautiful right now, we couldn't resist."

as she speaks, Natasha's hand lands on your thigh, and you were absolutely sure you looked redder than a tomato right now. but it still felt wrong. you gently placed your hand above both of theirs to still their touches.

"i don't get it."

"alright, dorogaya. that's the whole reason we invited you over." Natasha says and Wanda nods, allowing the russian to explain. "first, we want you to know that is absolutely alright if you don't feel comfortable with this. you can just say 'no' and leave, we're not forcing you into something you don't want to."

by this moment, just with those vague words, combined with their previous actions, you had a slight idea of what this was about, and it made you shiver. ever since you met them, you had a little crush on both, but they were avengers. superheroes, powerful, and older than you. they're gorgeous women that unfortunately were taken— well, you felt lucky just for having their friendship.

"we've been thinking about you. a lot." Natasha admits with a deep breath and purposefully scoots closer, making you almost a little sandwich with them. "the way you talk to us.. the way you look at us whenever we're together."

"like right now. the way your eyes are sparkling." Wanda breathes, her arms sneaking around your waist and her chin on your shoulder.

"you're so perfect.. so precious to us, detka." Natasha whispers and wraps her arms around you too, tilting her head and pressing a kiss on Wanda's forehead, then on yours. "so we want to know, if you're okay with trying out with us."

a deep sigh leaves you, and you melt like a puddle between the women. your weight leans on Wanda's body, and your eyes travel from one to the other. your defenses vanished, completely, and the thought of this being.. uncommon, was buried deep down in your mind.

"trying out?" your voice sounds more like a whimper, and your hand grabs Natasha's wrist, that still rested on your thigh.

"yeah.. trying out." Wanda whispers on your ear, her hand turning your hair into a makeshift ponytail, exposing your neck for them. "just for tonight.. then we'll give you time to think."

"but i never.." you stutter, feeling Natasha's warm breath on your neck, as her lips began trailing kisses there — right above your pulse. "i-i've never.."

"it's okay." Wanda breathes in your ear, watching as Natasha took her sweet time to taste you, feel the softness of your skin. "we're gonna take care of you."

"i never.. i never had.." you continue, voice becoming weaker and weaker. "i never went beyond kisses.."

that was new information. Natasha slowly pulled away from your neck and exchanged a look with Wanda. so you were still a virgin. that just turned them on even more. they'd be the first ones to play with you, make you their good girl.

"god, sweetheart." the witch purrs, her hands cupping your waist and giving it a little squeeze. "you have no idea what you're doing to us."

the action coaxes a soft, needy sound out your throat, head lolling backwards against her shoulder.

"please, baby. let us have you." Natasha begs. you don't gotta be asked twice.

₊˚⊹♡

the room was dark — burgundy walls, the yellow light of the dim lamp casting on the furniture and being the only source of illumination. you couldn't put in words the way you felt. Natasha, naked, the freckles on her pale skin on display for you. toned breasts, muscular arms. red hair naturally wavy, not straightened like she usually had it. she looked like a true goddess. her gaze, hungry yet tender, had you frozen in place.

Wanda's hands guided you towards the bed — her chest against your back, an amused chuckle leaving her. you looked so innocent. it was clear you never even thought of the possibility of that.

"look at her," Wanda coos. Natasha's eyes remain glued on you, but travel to your body as Wanda starts to slowly get that dress off you. her pointer and thumb pull the zipper down and the straps fall down your shoulders, revealing your bra. she kisses your shoulder and places her palms flat on your stomach, letting them roam downwards, to your hips, and pulling the pink fabric of the dress down, as it pools around your feet. the woman hum together in satisfaction, being allowed to see your half-naked body. "such a precious little thing. now go with Nat and watch me strip."

you couldn't help but blush a little bit under their gaze, and the way they were addressing to you. doing as you're told, you climb on the bed, and Nat spreads her legs. your heart hammers against your ribcage. she only did that so you could lay against her chest, but accidentally — or not — your eyes landed on her intimacy, and the slick arousal that was almost dripping down her thighs.

"oh my god, Natasha." you moan, allowing her to pull your back against her chest. she smirks, unclasping your bra and tossing it aside.

now, it's Wanda's turn to get the unnecessary clothes off her. she firstly discard her blouse, then her jeans, and lingerie — she uses her foot to kick the pile of clothes away, and walks to the nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling out the.. toy. it does get you a little tense. but they had a way of showing you there was no reason to be. with a wave of her hand, the strap is enchanted, and she will be able to feel everything. everything she dreamed of with you.

"we will take good care of you, kotenok." Natasha whispers and grabs your chin, tilting your head up — and kissing you.

a kiss never felt so good. throughout your whole life, you never had a kiss like this one — warm, slow, needed. her tongue mingled with yours, slender fingers tangling in your hair to keep you in place. Wanda watches with a hungry, almost predatory gaze as she sees her two favourite women making out. she climbs on the bed with you and hooks her fingers on the waistband of your panties, pulling them down — your hips instinctively lifting to make her work easier. you were slowly letting yourself go.

Natasha releases your lips, panting. her hands pull you back even more against herself, pressing your body against hers and go to your breasts, kneading the skin, slowly, massaging them, knowing exactly how to pleasure you. you moan sweetly, throwing your head back against her shoulder as her fingers pinch your hard nipples.

"that's it, baby." Wanda hums, satisfied with the scene. she liked that you were comfortable with them, which meant she could do everything she wanted.

you don't even realize as they start to adjust your body, the positions — Natasha brings her knees up and spread them a little, Wanda bringing your legs around Natasha's, so you were completely spread and open.

"oh, fuck." she says, knees digging into the mattress as she takes a good look between your legs. "such a beautiful pussy. can't believe we're the only ones to have it."

her words make you gasp, and your back arches a little — but before you could do anything, her cock was already stretching you out, with little effort. the woman groans, placing her hands on your waist and hovering you. she leans up and kisses Natasha, a low chuckle leaving her as she whispers. "so warm and wet. she's a perfect girl."

"we're not gonna let you go," Natasha whispers in your ear. her arms wrap around your waist, securing you, and with that, Wanda starts moving.

her movements are gentle — not too slow, not too fast, showing you how it was to be deliciously filled up. the new, foreign sensations consume you, breath coming out in soft gasps. your eyes look at the redhead who was fucking you, half-lidded, in pure bliss, adoration. the strap drags up your sensitive walls, until the tip was the only thing inside of you, then pushes back in, discovering spots you had never found before with your own fingers.

"oh my god," you grip Wanda's shoulder with one hand, and intertwine your fingers of the free hand with one of Natasha's that held your waist. your hips buck upwards, matching the movements with Wanda's cock pounding inside you. "feel so good,"

"you're so tight, detka," Wanda mutters, feeling her climax starting to build up. she had to speed up, had to feel you more, clenching around her so perfectly.

"s-shit... ah.." you moan and arch your back, doing your best not to fall apart that quickly. but Natasha doesn't allow you to hold back.

her hand slides down your stomach, to where Wanda was connected with you, and starts to rub lazy circles on your clitoris, looking up at her girlfriend with a satisfied smirk. "you can come for us,"

"i'm close too," Wanda moans, head lolling back as she grips your hips tighter, chasing after her so needed release, which doesn't take long to come.

your vision starts to blur a little, not being able to focus on anything specific. your eyelids fall shut, and all the sounds around fade — the first real orgasm you ever had washing over you. an almost pornographic moan echoes on the room, coming from your throat, and your legs tremble around Natasha's — cum coating Wanda's strap, juices rolling down your legs and mixing with Natasha's who was under you. Wanda's climax comes right after and she quickly pulls out, painting your stomach white as you laid there, dumb and cute, drained.

Wanda rolls on her back and closes her eyes, the high still present. she hadn't felt that good in so, so long, she had missed it so much. now it's Natasha's turn to take control.

she carefully lays you down next to her and licks Wanda's release from your stomach, missing the taste of it. she takes some on her fingers and point them at your mouth. "open up,"

you blush softly, opening your mouth and welcoming Natasha's fingers in. your tongue swirls around her digits, swallowing obediently.

"good job, malyshka." she praises, cradling the side of your head and pressing a kiss on your forehead. you look at her up and down, then weakly sits up on the bed.

"wanna taste you too, Natty," you say, and it drives her crazy.

undoubtedly, Natasha was more than dripping, and yes, she wanted you to teach you how to eat a woman out. she leans back against the headboard of the bed and intertwines her fingers with her tired girlfriend, winking down at her. she spreads her legs. "come over here, princess."

your legs, still shakily, dig into the mattress and you settle yourself on your knees, hands holding Natasha's thighs apart as your face approaches her core. she was so sensitive and achy.. and you'd repay her, for everything she had done. it shocked her, you didn't show inexperience — your tongue licked a long strip, slipping between her folds and brushing inside her, stimulating her g-spot and making her mouth agape. her fingers gently tug on your hair, pulling you closer, pressing your face against her cunt. your nose brushes her clit, and it doesn't take long for Natasha to cum too.

"oh, malyshka.." she stutters out between moans and whimpers, hips bucking upwards as she released. "s-such a.. perfect.. mhm.. girl.."

you swallow her sweet juices, pressing a kiss on her inner thigh and pulling your face back. just by watching both of their expressions, a tired and proud expression showed on your face, knowing you did a great job.

₊˚⊹♡

now, the digital clock on the nightstand showed 2AM. the sheets were crumpled, blankets all over the floor, long forgotten. you laid there, naked and vulnerable on the bed, waiting for Wanda and Natasha to come back to the room.

when they did, they were both wearing silky robes — Natasha held aspirin and a bottle of water, and Wanda, a cloth, and an additional robe that they hoped would fit you.

they walk towards you and Natasha places the items on the nightstand, sitting on the edge of the bed. she carefully handles your body and pulls you onto her lap, holding you closely, your side against her chest. you felt warm again, fuzzy, happy.

"you were perfect, sweetheart." Wanda smiles, carefully spreading your legs and using the cloth to clean the sticky cum still there. you whimper, feeling a little stingy and sore.

"we got aspirin for tomorrow, in case you need it." Natasha grabs the water bottle and opens it, bringing it up to your lips, helping you sip on it. "there you go..."

"now, we'll sleep. and tomorrow we are gonna prepare you a nice warm bath." Wanda chuckles and puts away the cloth, closing your legs afterwards.

you all settle on the bed comfortably again, having to grab the blanket from the floor and cover you up. you sigh softly, lying between them and gathering courage to speak.

"was this just... a playtime?"

that question was expected, and they were ready for it. they sweetly smile and replied in sync.

"you are our missing piece."

para o anon que fez o pedido: mto mto obrigada!! eu sei que adicionei várias coisas, porém eu precisava de um contexto para encaixar o seu pedido. espero que tenha ficado bom! 🥹

[awkward-tension-art]

Clones as expectant fathers

I am an actual nero-cancer researcher. I have a job and a degree. And my ADHD brain saw sad military men and went “I want that one”

Clones: Rex, Wolffe, Fox, Cody and Fives

CW: pregnancy, the clones all have a ‘secret’ SO, They are expecting a baby, A little angsty with Fox, there's slight mentions of smut with Fives (if you squint), swearing, this is just supposed to be a good time, its not reader insert

Minors do not interact!

Rex

Terrified. Also overjoyed. But mostly terrified. 

He’s a soldier. Captain of the 501st, the most….adventurous of the GAR. His chances of dying on the battlefield and leaving his SO behind are higher than the average clone

And now he may leave behind his child? His kid may grow up without a father

He gets nervous. Anxious and antsy, and it's very VERY easy for Anakin to figure out Rex isn’t entire OK

Rex doesn’t even need to tell Anakin.

Skywalker takes one look at him and just KNOWS.

“Congrats, Rex.” “...on what, sir?” “If it's a boy, name him after me.” “WHAT!?”

Ahsoka needs to be told and she’s more excited than Rex when she finds out. 

“Come on Rex! Name them after me! The republic needs an Ahsoka jr!” “And if the baby is a boy?” “Don’t name them after skyguy, please!”

Most of the 501st don't know. Too many people knowing raises the chance of less accepting individuals knowing. And if that happens, Rex, his SO and his baby may be in danger.

It’s forbidden for the clones to have SO’s, not to mention babies. It could end with Rex being decommissioned or reconditioned if it was found out he had both

Rex will visit and help as much as he can every chance he gets. He feels terrible for leaving his SO for long stretches of time during the pregnancy. 

He WANTS to be there…he just can’t. Not while the war was going on

Despite his terror, Rex is…overjoyed

He didn’t think children were possible for him. He knew it could happen, but he didn’t think HE would ever know this happiness

The first time he feels his baby move in his SO, he’d get this sweetest smile on his face. He’ll kiss the baby bump and just murmur words of love in mando’a

He falls head-over-heels in love all over again

As the due date approaches, Anakin asks an important question

“Captain, I need to know when your baby might be born.” “...why, sir?” “Because I need to know when to take extended leave.”

Anakin tells Padme, and she is beyond sweet. Even visits Rex’s SO and the two have a wonderful friendship

All in all, Rex is both excited and anxious. But having so much support from Anakin, Ahsoka and Padme (and his other brothers who find out much later) helps him a lot

Wolffe

More relaxed. And by relaxed I mean he hides his anxiety better. And it doesn’t exactly hit him as hard

Partly because Plo Koon and the entire Wolfpack knows about his relationship already. 

So you bet your ass the pack celebrates when Wolffe tells them he's going to be a father

Plo Koon especially is excited

“How wonderful, new life being born during times of war” “I’m not naming my child after you, general Plo.” “Nonsense! The child will be a girl.”

During battle, Wolffe finds himself being protected by his brothers and General a tad more

At first he writes it off as a coincidence, but then Boost lets slip during a battle “You gotta get back to your little one!”

He gives his men a bit of a lecture. He’s not incapable of fighting or defending himself. He thinks the message gets across but Plo chimes in with, “Ah yes, the stern words of a father already!”

Wolffe would probably see his SO more frequently than Rex. Just because Plo would more than likely spend more time on Coruscant.

He’s definitely protective. As in, waking up in the middle of the night to check all the windows, protective. Keeping an arm around his SO, protective. Every symptom or sign of discomfort he calls a medical droid, protective.

He’s not stupid, he is well aware that by having an SO and a child on the way he's in violation of several rules. All of which, when broken, would have him decommissioned

But dammit, he's not letting that happen. Wolffe will be there for his SO and his baby, no matter what

Since he’s able to spend more time with his SO, he’s there to feel the first movements of his baby.

It sort of causes him to short-circuit for a second. It hits him that yes, this is a life that he and his SO both created. Out of love.

Wolffe makes a swear that he’s going to protect his baby at all costs

Grandpa Plo does as well, but the Wolfpack doesn’t know that

Fox (kinda angst)

First of all congratulations to the SO for actually managing to be Fox’s SO

They got to be something special for the head of Palpatine’s personal guard to break rules and regulations and find himself an SO

Speaking of Palpatine, congratulations to Fox! Your SO is now in even more danger!

No, seriously. Palpatine knows before Fox. No one knows how, but he knows.

And he absolutely will use Fox’s SO as leverage to keep him under control

And Fox knows this, so he behaves. More so than usual.

He’s not blind. Hes fiercely loyal to the republic, but one step out of line and the (very few) things he cares about will be killed

Which…is why Fox may come across as cold or uninterested when his SO informs him of their pregnancy

A part of him is terrified, he just won’t show it

He’s not going to be more affectionate or anything. He actually acts pretty normal. Which is standoffish.

Despite his…demeanor, he actually manages to be present for the entirety of the pregnancy. It helps being a Coruscant guard, which means he’s more present than all the other clones.

He’s not moving mountains or anything, but he’ll get snacks in the middle of the night in case of cravings

No one else knows about Fox and his SO. not even his own men. He refuses to tell anyone. 

Its for his SO’s protection

But Palpatine, the sick fuck, slips some words to get Fox’s nerves into overdrive

“This war is taking such a toll. So many dead children…so many grief stricken parents” “Sir?” “Oh nothing. Just stating the fact that the loss of an innocent life, such as…a baby, is always a tragedy. Wouldn’t you agree, commander?”

He found himself walking home a bit faster that day and hugs his SO a little tighter that night

Fox cares, in his own way. He’s just beyond stressed and anxious. But you wouldn’t know. He hides it behind a mask. 

It's actually Padme that finds out. And she feels somewhat bad for Fox. She thinks his anxiety comes from the fact that clones aren't allowed SO’s or children

Which, it is, but theres the added threat of fucking Palpatine.

She ends up getting him to tell her the truth and she swears to secrecy. Even offers to hire his SO as some sort of assistant, if only so Fox can be closer to his SO

Hear me out, he actually breaks down when he feels the baby move. He can’t fully handle it anymore and shuts down. 

This is a baby. His baby. They're alive and already so loved.

Something in him clicks and he accepts Padme’s help. 

His terror gets easier, ever so slightly. But he keeps his collected and calm front.

Cody

“General Kenobi-” “Ah! Commander Cody! Congratulations!”

goddamnit.exe

Cody is a tad more relaxed than Rex, but more tense than Wolffe

He knows Kenobi isn’t going to punish him or force him back to Kamino for decommissioning, he’s still a little on guard.

But, since Kenobi knows, Anakin does. So does Ahsoka. Which means Rex knows.

goddamnit2.exe

More people in the 501st know than in the 212th which gives him the biggest headache

Waxer knows though. Cody had to tell someone that wasn’t a sarcastic general

He does a good job hiding his worry though

Cody is able to spend about the same amount of time as Rex with his SO

He doesn’t feel as bad as Rex when it comes to the lack of presence he has during the pregnancy

It's war. It sucks and he’d prefer to be there for his SO, but he’d also prefer SO and child have freedom from the separatists

I will say, he is pretty attentive when he isn’t off in space.

Foot rubs, shoulders massages, helping with cravings

One thing Cody does is that he’ll wrap his arms under his SO’s baby bump and lift it slightly, giving his SO’s back some relief

He really loves to do this because his SO just melts

Hear me out, Cody gets giggly when he feels the baby move/kick the first time

His palm is on the bump and he feels that first little flutter against his hand

404 Commander Cody has his amygdala broken from joy. Reboot?

He’ll actually tell Kenobi about it because he’s so happy.

“That's wonderful Cody, but I still question one thing.” “What is it, sir?” “How you managed to get laid to begin with.”

Goddamnit3.exe

Fives

“Hey everyone! I’m gonna be a dad!”

Ecstatic is not a strong enough word

Also not subtle at all

There is a solid 3 hours until everyone in the 501st knows

He’s told Echo before the first hour. Rex knew within 2 hours.

Fives is BEYOND over the moon

He gets this small smile on his face that just doesn’t go away

Whenever he’s not with his SO, he definitely calls them every day. He wants updates on the little one

Also, seeing his SO with a baby bump? Unlocks something inside his brain.

Fives is incredibly horny when he’s with his SO. He’ll be rubbing their middle and getting a puppy dog look in his eye.

Only if his SO is in the mood of course! He’d never try and be forceful

He’s probably the clone that takes the distance the hardest. He debates taking a ship and making a run for Coruscant on more than one occasion.

In the end he settles to ask Anakin for extended leave.

Anakin is also extremely happy for Fives. Like with Rex, he makes a “name the baby after me” joke

Fives brings that up to his SO and nearly gets smacked. He also makes a “Fives jr.” joke and actually does get smacked.

When Fives feels the baby kick, he gets high on happiness. Actual mumbling incoherent words of love and affection in Mando’a

Lots and lots of “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum”

He also gets very VERY affectionate with his SO

Kisses his SO’s face a lot. Even as a greeting, he’ll just start peppering their cheeks with pecks

Also probably the only one ballsy enough to ASK his general for extended leave

“Excuse me, general Skywalker? I’ll need to take leave at this date.” “Oh, yea sure. You know what? That seems like a good time for all the men to take a break. Thanks, Fives.”

He’s also probably the only one ballsy enough to actually take his new born baby onto a fucking battleship to introduce everyone.

“This is your uncle Rex. This is your uncle Echo and your uncle Tup. That's your auntie Ahsoka!” “Fives what the FUCK are you doing?!” “Introducing the family, captain.”

[shybluebirdninja]

Sleep Striker

Summary: You discover that Bucky sleepwalks—and it’s not the calm, peaceful kind of sleepwalking. You wake up to find him in full-on combat mode with the couch.

Pairing            : Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Note ��              : fluff

The night was supposed to be peaceful. You’d spent the entire evening watching Netflix with Bucky, eating popcorn, and joking around like any normal couple. By the time you both hit the sack, you were expecting nothing but a quiet night’s sleep, maybe punctuated by Bucky’s usual snores.

But no.

Around 2 AM, you woke up to the sound of something crashing in the living room. Your heart leapt into your throat, thinking for a second that maybe someone had broken in. Instinctively, you reached for the baseball bat you kept beside the bed (Bucky insisted on keeping a knife there, but you’d settled on a less dramatic weapon). Slowly, you tiptoed toward the door, already mentally preparing yourself for some horror-movie showdown with a burglar.

But what you found was so much worse.

There, in the dim glow of the living room lamp, was Bucky Barnes—your sweet, grumpy, 100-year-old boyfriend—throwing punches at thin air like he was in the middle of a battle.

“What the hell…” you whispered, blinking in disbelief.

Bucky, still completely asleep, ducked and weaved as if he were dodging invisible enemies, his fists flying through the air with lethal precision. His face was set in that intense, focused expression he wore when he was in full-on Winter Soldier mode, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of fear and… laughter? This was ridiculous. Your boyfriend was sleep-fighting in the living room.

You set the bat down carefully, still trying to process the situation, when Bucky suddenly spun around and landed a full-force punch on the couch.

The couch.

It made a sad thud as the cushions absorbed the blow, but Bucky didn’t stop. He kicked out at the coffee table next, sending it skidding a few inches across the floor.

“Bucky!” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low but urgent. “Hey, babe, wake up!”

He didn’t hear you. Instead, he crouched low, as if he were avoiding gunfire, and rolled behind the armchair, his metal arm glinting faintly in the darkness. You bit your lip, trying so hard not to laugh, but it was impossible. This was like watching an overgrown toddler reenact an action movie in his sleep.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “how the hell do I handle this?”

You’d heard about sleepwalkers before, and you were pretty sure you weren’t supposed to wake them up. But you couldn’t just let Bucky wage war against your furniture all night. The man had already drop-kicked the coffee table, and at this rate, he’d be suplexing the bookshelf by sunrise.

You crept a little closer, careful not to startle him. “Bucky, babe, it’s just me. You’re, uh, safe. There’s no Hydra agents in the apartment, I promise.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he launched himself toward the couch again, this time pulling off a move that looked like it came straight out of a Captain America fight scene. He tackled the poor couch as if it had personally offended him, his arms wrapping around the back cushions in a chokehold.

“Bucky, stop! The couch isn’t the enemy!” you half-whispered, half-yelled, trying to stifle your laughter. “Oh my god, you’re gonna kill the couch…”

He grunted, still deep in his dream, and threw a wild punch that just barely missed the coffee table. You winced at the near miss. That could’ve been bad. Like, broken furniture and a pissed-off Bucky kind of bad.

At this point, you realized you had to do something before your apartment looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Slowly, cautiously, you approached Bucky like you were approaching a wild animal—because, let’s be real, that’s kind of what he was right now.

“Bucky…” you said softly, reaching out a hand. “Come back to bed, babe. You don’t have to fight the couch anymore. You won. It’s dead.”

He hesitated for a moment, his muscles twitching like he was on the verge of launching another attack. But instead of another round of couch-punching, he slowly stood up, blinking groggily as if he was coming out of a fog.

You let out a breath of relief. “Thank God.”

But your relief was short-lived. Because as soon as Bucky turned around, he spotted the kitchen chairs—lined up perfectly in a row by the table—and apparently, in his half-asleep mind, they were the next Hydra targets.

“No,” you groaned, as Bucky lunged toward the chairs. “Not the chairs! I like those chairs!”

He grabbed one, flipping it over like it was an enemy combatant, and before you could stop him, he had another chair in a headlock. You stood there, watching in sheer disbelief as Bucky Barnes—the most feared assassin in the world—battled a set of IKEA furniture like it was the final boss fight of his life.

“Bucky, babe, please!” you shouted, a mix of panic and laughter bubbling out. “I can’t explain this to the landlord!”

Finally, in a last-ditch effort, you ran over and grabbed his arm—his metal arm, because that seemed like the safer bet. “Bucky, it’s me! You’re sleepwalking!”

At first, he didn’t respond. His eyes were still glazed over, lost in whatever dream battlefield he was trapped in. But then, slowly, he blinked. His metal arm relaxed under your grip, and he looked down at you, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“...What the hell?” he muttered, blinking again.

You let out the biggest sigh of relief. “Oh my god, thank you. I thought you were gonna destroy the whole apartment.”

Bucky glanced around, still looking dazed. “What… what happened?”

“You, uh… kinda went to war with the furniture,” you said, biting your lip to keep from laughing again. “You were sleepwalking.”

His eyes widened. “I did what?”

“You attacked the couch. And the coffee table. And, um, the chairs,” you explained, gesturing to the wreckage around the living room. “It was… a lot.”

Bucky groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Shit. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no,” you reassured him quickly. “I’m fine. But the couch… not so much.”

He looked over at the couch, which was now sagging slightly from the multiple punches it had taken. “Damn,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Guess I really went at it, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Babe, you suplexed the couch. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Bucky winced. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, grinning up at him. “It was kind of… impressive, honestly. I mean, you took out an entire living room while asleep. That’s some next-level stuff.”

He gave you a sheepish look, still clearly embarrassed. “I’ll fix it in the morning.”

“You better,” you teased. “But for now, can we please go back to bed before you decide to fight the fridge or something?”

Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll… I’ll stay away from the appliances.”

You wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him back toward the bedroom. “Good idea, soldier. Let’s just stick to sleeping from now on.”

As you both crawled back into bed, you couldn’t help but steal one last glance at the wrecked living room, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Bucky?” you whispered, snuggling up next to him.

“Yeah?”

“If you ever get the urge to fight the couch again, maybe, like, wake me up first?”

He groaned, pulling the covers over his head. “Don’t remind me.”

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Goodnight, Super Soldier Sleepwalker.”

“Goodnight,” he muttered, already halfway back to sleep.

But this time, thankfully, without the couch-wrestling.

[lidiasloca]

headcanons for azriel with witch reader?

azriel with witch reader

azriel x reader

fluff

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

It always felt like a curse more than a gift – being a witch. You were neglected by everyone, everywhere.

But not quite anymore.

Now the High Lord had asked you to join his court, to work for him. He had seen the usefulness in your magic. But that was not what made you stop hating being who you were. No – Rhys, no matter how good of a male he was, he was using you for your powers.

But Azriel – that mysterious shadowsinger – he liked you. He didn’t want your powers or to gain something from you. He just wanted you.

And that had been enough for you to give him a chance the night he asked you to join the Valkyrie training.

“I – well – Cassian and I thought it may be good for you to know how to defend yourself,” he said nervously, and you knew it was a poor excuse for you to get closer. And you also knew you couldn’t say no. You had grown to like him from a distance.

He happened to be a great teacher, just as he had been a good friend to you among the Inner Circle dinners and parties. As you suspected, he started trying to get closer to you during the trainings.

“Just so you know. I’ve never seen him like this. With anyone. Ever,” Cassian had told you one night as you sipped wine from the glass Azriel had just offered you before storming away.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked, curious.

“He sees something in you – something he had never seen in anyone before.” At your silent answer, Cassian continued, “Someone worth fighting for.”

“Fighting for?” you repeated in question.

“I think fighting, for Azriel, is very similar to loving.”  

You looked away then, the sound of Cassian’s words still rumbling in your head.

Fighting is very similar to loving for you too. They had always walked together in your life. Never had love come to you easily, without obstacles. You had always blamed your curse for that. Being a witch turned eyes away every time you walked, talked, or breathed.

Your mind went to the shadowsinger. Did he too feel neglected by love? Did he too feel the need to fight to have an inch of someone else’s love, even if it was a battle against oneself?

So now you found yourself walking to him. He was isolated from the middle of the party, where friends danced and laughed.

“Hi,” you said, but he had already seen you coming, or at least his shadows had.

“Are you alright?” he asked with restrained worry. Had you been so distant he was now surprised that you merely spoke to him?

Maybe the hate you had for yourself really had gotten the worst of you.

“I am. Better than ever – even.” And it’s true. Finding him and Cassian and your newfound friends had cured a broken piece of you. And it all had been thanks to him.

His smile was genuine. He truly was happy to hear that. He truly was happy for making you happy.

“Thank you, Azriel.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “For what?”

“For everything. For being my friend.”

A blush crept up his cheeks, and some of his shadows ran to your arm, as if trying to distract you. A soft chuckle escaped your lips at that. The shadowsinger, flushed so easily.

“You’re welcome,” he coughed, trying to act nonchalant. “I like being your friend.”

You beamed, fighting off a laugh for how easily your next words made him even redder. “Do you?”

He coughed again nervously as his shadows danced frantically from right to left. You did something you never though you would. You used your magic in front of Azriel – you created a copy of his shadows, yours appearing lighter, like clouds. You found yourself smiling as these danced with his.

He was lost in the scene as you were, but then, he looked down at you with incredulous eyes. You didn’t flinch – didn’t stop your magic as you would have with someone else.

“That’s amazing,” he breathed.

You smiled shyly at him; now you were the one flustered.

“What else can you do?” he asked, and the wonder in his voice, as if your magic was the best thing he had seen – it healed you wholly. 

-Characters by Sarah J Maas

a/n: more of a short fic, rather than headcanons. hope you like this nonetheless anon. and sorry for taking so long, i really didn't know how to write it.