#i wonder how many people know this is where 'he would not fucking say that' comes from now

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 24 & 26: Against A Wall/Exhibitionism

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Against A Wall/Exhibitionism(✨)

Summary: You and Matt can't wait to have each other.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), dom!Matt, public sex, slight exhibitionism (the window is open, and someone’s behind the door, but no one actively watches; it’s mentioned to be a turn-on though), wall sex, established relationship, use of "good girl", unprotected p in v, no foreplay, not proofread

Word Count: 1.5k

A/n: This was originally going to be two separate fics, but I decided to put them together because it works best like this. I didn't want to duplicate the plot, so I just merged them.

Read Me On AO3! (Coming soon)

The bar is bustling around you, but he is the only thing you can focus on. 

His tight jaw, the beard that used to be only a stubble a mere week ago, those hazel eyes hiding behind his red glasses that reflect the neon lights of the many signs Josie has hanging around the place—he looks sinful like this, and you want nothing more than to get on your knees and suck the life out of his cock. 

The condensation from his beer bottle trickles down the back of his hand. Your pussy has memorized the feeling of those thick fingers inside you, your neck yearning to feel them wrapped around your pulse point until you forget how to breathe.

He’s been wound up for weeks. It is rather selfish of you to think that it’s hot when he’s like this, but you can’t help it; this man does unspeakable things to you even when he’s not touching you. 

They won their case today—he and Foggy. He should be enthusiastic, but the tension in his shoulders has yet to fade. He would have said no to his best friend’s offer to get drinks, too, if you hadn’t said yes before he could form a coherent thought. 

He needs you. And you need him, too. He can smell the slick soaking through your lace panties. He can hear your walls clench around nothing as you cross your legs for some friction, and your heart starts to beat faster every time you look at him. 

He knows you are praying to a God you don’t believe in, praying for his hands on you, praying that he will fuck you hard and fast and soon because if he doesn’t, you will lose your mind. 

The glass almost shatters against the table when he sets it down more forcefully than intended. “I, uh, have to use the bathroom,” he says. 

You look up at him. He tilts his head in your direction. As he gets up, his hand brushes over your thigh. It is only a breath, but the contact shoots straight to your weeping core.

Oh. 

Oh.

“Excuse me,” and with his cane clutched tightly, he makes his way through the crowd. 

You empty your glass in one big gulp, giving your friends a strained smile. “I better make sure he gets there,” you say.

“You really think Matt’s gonna get lost?” Foggy retorts with a laugh. “Matt? Come on. Guy’s like a bat.”

You shrug. “Better safe than sorry.”

You can’t wait for another second. Paving your way through the crowd, you make your way to where the bathrooms are.

Only one of the doors is ajar, which you take as your cue to slip in and lock it behind you. For a moment, you wonder if this is even a good idea; people might need this bathroom, but then your back hits the wall, and one look at Matt is enough for you to throw caution to the fucking wind. 

“I missed you,” Matt growls, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. 

You melt under the force of his fire. Greedy hands tear at your dress. Teeth clash in a fight for dominance. No fabric on your body is safe, his hands too eager, too desperate to care about your appearance. If you have to walk around with his cum dripping down your thighs because your panties are too ripped to cover your swollen cunt after this, he will gladly take it. He will take it for just a chance to have you. 

“Jump,” he says, and you’re quick to wrap your legs around his waist as he hoists you up. “You know how much I love to hear you moan, but I need you to be quiet this time. Can you do that?”

Your moan comes in the form of a strangled breath, getting caught on your sealed lips before it can escape. 

“Use your words.”

“Yes,” you choke out.

“Good girl.” 

No matter how badly you think he needs you, it is worse. Much worse. His nerves are alight with a near animalistic craving beyond rational thought or reason. His need for you is branded forever into his weary bones, and they continue to ache until he finally has you right where he wants you. 

Until he can finally thrust his cock into your tight pussy and listen to the way your walls grip him so tightly. 

Until he can finally swallow your moans with the force of his lips. 

Until he can drown in the force of your orgasm like a man stuck in the desert for too long. 

Matt unbuckles his belt, freeing his aching cock from the confines of his underwear. Your panties are a long-forgotten afterthought. He pushes the lace aside with two fingers, exposing you to the cold air streaming in from the open window.

“Need you,” he grunts. 

You’re so wet to the touch.

You gasp when his tip bumps against your clit. He misses once, then twice again. His impatience is written into the crease between his brows. Beyond frustrated, you reach for his cock, sliding the thick head between your folds. 

This stoic, assertive force of a man you wanted to maul in the courtroom earlier as the jury gave their verdict of ‘not guilty’ has never looked more like a pathetic mess than he does in the flickering light of the bar bathroom.

He doesn’t give you time to adjust. Matt pushes his hips into yours, burying his cock in your cunt, and the wall almost caves in behind you. The force at which he pounds into you threatens to split your skull open, but oh, you have never felt more alive. 

His face is buried in your neck. You’re all there is. The ghastly smell, the noise, the vibrations of the old water lines, he tunes it all out. His senses zero in on you, the sole object of all his desires. Now that he doesn’t have to focus on anything but you, he can finally breathe again. He can smell your perfume, taste the salt of your sweat trickling down your neck; you consume him.

Matt thrusts into you for just a little more of this intoxicating feeling—the way you’re clenching around him, and how your heart races for him. He aims his cock toward the spot that makes your toes curl in your heels, and he knows before you even feel it. 

A cry threatens to break free from your soul. Matt clasps his hand over your swollen lips to silence you. You choke on it, rumbling like thunder in your chest. 

It takes everything in you not to scream anyway. Not to moan. Not to cry out how good he feels. Right there, you want to say. Right there, don’t fucking stop. He drags his cock in and out of your pussy, though he never really pulls all the way out before he’s lost himself in you again.

The doorhandle rattles. He doesn’t stop. 

You whimper. “Matthew…”

“Shh,” Matt coos.  

Another rattle. “Is someone in there?” someone asks from the other side. 

You look at the door, but before you can tell him to stop—stop because you don’t want anyone seeing you this way—his cock brushes against your G-spot. Your eyes roll back into your skull. Your words melt like candle wax on your tongue.

He pulls you down to meet him, your clit dragging deliciously over his skin. You’re losing it. 

Only a few inches away, a stranger is trying to get into the bathroom, waiting, and it only spurs him on. 

You bite into his palm. 

You are so close, and even if someone were to break down this stupid door, you would probably still fall apart. Because the thought of getting caught being fucked so perfectly by the man of your dreams turns you on more than it should.

He puts his lips to your ear. “Ignore them,” he says. “Focus on me.”

Your walls clamp around his cock. 

“Good girl. I want you to come for me. Can you do that?”

He thrusts harder. Faster. Deeper. Deeper. 

You can’t stop yourself from moaning his name as the wave crashes into you, and Matt does the only thing he can think of that won’t give you away; he captures your lips in a bruising kiss that splits your bottom lip in two. 

He drinks your blood like a vampire, drowning out his own grunt as his hips stutter and he spills into you. You’ve missed him so much. 

Your orgasm has barely subsided when he pulls out of you, placing you back on your own two feet. The world is spinning. 

“Wh–” you stutter. 

He shushes you, index finger against your lips as he pulls your panties back on. His cum trickles out of your pussy into the fabric. You can still feel him so deep inside you. 

“We’re going home,” he says. 

“But–”

“I’m not done with you. We’re gonna take a cab,” he cups your face, “I’m gonna take you home, and I’m not gonna stop touching you until you’re covered in my cum.”

Your knees buckle. 

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe. 

He has the audacity to look smug about it. “That’s my girl.”

Walking through Josie’s stuffed to the brim with his cum is a strangely erotic thought, but you know that the night has only just begun, and by the time he is done with you, you won’t even be able to remember your name. 

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @steve-chandler @lucienofthelakes @xnatyx @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @zomtart @ethereal-blaze

[scurvgirl]

Learning about my Rook through banter. Just a little self-indulgent writing.

-

Bellara: So...you're Dalish, right?

Rook: Yep.

Bellara: But...you don't have Vallaslin.

Rook: I don't.

Bellara: Did you leave before you could get it?

Rook: No. My father isn't Dalish, and I was born in a city - I joined my mother's clan later. Didn't feel like the Vallaslin would suit me at the time.

Bellara: Oh.

-

Lucanis: Rook, what foods would you like prepared?

Rook: Anything really. Dalish, Free Marches, Tevinter, any kind of sea food.

Lucanis: Good to know.

-

Rook: You know, Taash, you don't have to choose to be Qunari or Rivaini.

Taash: What, you think I don't know that?

Rook: Hold your dragons. I'm saying - I'm Dalish and from a city. I respect the Vhenadahl and the halla. I sang prayers to Andraste and to the creators...before, you know, we knew shit.

Taash: Okay.

Rook: It's all important, and...you're all of it, put together into a unique experience of yourself.

Taash: I'll think about it.

-

Neve: Alright, your accent is not Tevinter, Antivan, Fereldan, or Orlesian. You're a Marcher.

Rook: She's found me out!

Neve: Now to figure out where.

Rook: Do you want me to tell you or is it more fun for you to put the clues together?

Neve: Don't tell me.

-

Rook: Fucking Venatori!

Harding: You really hate them.

Rook: Assholes kill people and use my gods as a fucking excuse.

Harding: You made that one explode.

Rook: Yeah, well, sometimes we deal with personal shit by exploding an evil shithead.

-

Neve: I've got it.

Rook: Oh do tell!

Neve: Kirkwall - Varric recruited you, told you to keep where you're from a secret.

Rook: Good thought but nope. Not from Kirkwall, and thank goodness for that.

Neve: Dammit.

-

Lucanis: You're quite good with that blade Rook. Who taught you?

Rook: My mother. She's a very skilled swordswoman. All of her kids are mages but she insisted we all learn how to defend ourselves with weaponry against Templars.

Lucanis: Smart woman. You have siblings?

Rook: Yeah, two older brothers.

Lucanis: Why am I not surprised you're the baby?

Rook: Because I am baby.

-

Bellara: I don't understand. Why not get the Vallaslin?

Rook: My clan was informed of its true meaning. My keeper started offering everyone a choice.

Bellara: True meaning?

Rook: Slave markings, apparently. Makes sense now with what we know of the gods.

Bellara: That's horrible!

Rook: My brother decided to get his despite that. He said "Whatever they were, they are now how we find each other. How we take pride in who we are." I didn't feel ready. I don't know if I will ever feel ready.

Bellara: That...makes a lot of sense, actually. Thank you.

-

Davrin: You saw the Inquisitor, right?

Rook: Yeah. For someone who has been fighting for so long, she looked great.

Davrin: She's like you - Dalish but no Vallaslin.

Rook: There's a few of us out there.

Davrin: I wonder how she got rid of it.

Rook: Ah. Don't like Ghilan'nain's design upon you?

Davrin: Most days it doesn't bother me, but some days...it makes my skin crawl.

Rook: I'll try to ask her next time I see her.

-

Neve: Alright. You don't have Vallaslin because your clan found out information about them from ancient times. You showed an odd familiarity with the inquisitor. You said you are both Dalish and from a city. You hate the Venatori. You're from Wycome.

Rook: Huzzah! You discovered it!

Neve: You were there when the Venatori tried to take over.

Rook: They poisoned our wells. Blamed the elves in the alienage. They killed so many.

Neve: That means your mother was from clan Lavellan - the same clan the Inquisitor was from.

Rook: That would be my clan.

Neve: No wonder Varric gave you a code name and made it so hard to find anything out about you.

Rook: I was twelve when Miriel, I mean, the Inquisitor, left the clan. We were so proud of her, and so worried for her. When she came back...without her Vallaslin...there was a lot of heartbreak that day.

-

Solas: You knew the Inquisitor.

Rook: I did. And you broke her heart.

Solas: I didn't have a choice.

Rook: From what she's said - you did. You just chose wrong.

[randomthefox]

Why do so many Sonic fans hate the developers? Why do they think they are stupid? "Uuuh why is Chaos island here? It takes place in the future! Are they stupid!. Why are they trying to piss me off!?" Dude. These are Japanese people. The second country with the highest IQ in the world. Whatever the reason may be, it was was not done out of stupidity. At first, Sonic x Gen 'saved the franchise' but one week later it sucks because it didn't feature levels or elements that you SPECIFICALLY wanted to see? Wtf is wrong with you???

Oh but when Ian Flynn does something similar to this, it's not his fault. He's peak, and everyone that disagrees is stupid. Because SEGA ARE THE BAD GUYS

Wtf

"They're japanese people, they have a high IQ" is a bit much, but I understand where you're coming from and what you're trying to articulate. People have a bad habit of seeing something they don't like or agree with in a piece of art, and then jumping to the worst possible explanation they can think of for why it was included. Just being as bad faith as they possibly can, imposing malice or ignorance onto someone because of a personal subjective feeling they have to what was included in the artwork.

It's not unique to Sonic but since it's trendy to hate on the Sonic video games and Sonic Team and SEGA, it is amplified through that filter of culty mass hysteria.

I don't normally resort to doyalist explanations but in this case it really is the only one you can use - there weren't levels from Sonic Forces and Sonic Frontiers in the original Sonic Generations because those games hadn't been made yet. It's not like it makes any sense whatsoever to lump Sonic 2006, Sonic Unleashed, and Sonic Colors together as if they're a coherent era of Sonic. But that's a retroactive conclusion. Sonic Generations was made in 2011 (probably under a VERY short development time) and they worked with what they had. Shadow Generations was made in 2024 (also probably a short development time) and there were three whole new games worth to pull from in the time inbetween.

The idea of people being upset about its inclusion is so dumb and silly to me x3 For reference, this was my initial reaction to that level

When people ask why was Chaos Island included from Frontiers, they're asking the question wrong. They're asking "Why was a level from Frontiers included?" When the more interesting question is "why was THIS level from Frontiers included?" Why Chaos Island instead of any of the other Islands? There's probably multiple answers to that. I find it very conspicuous that they included the volcano erupting in the background during the level.

Meaning that during Shadow's level, Sonic was playing pinball. So the question of "why didn't Sonic see Shadow on Chaos Island?" is answered because we know where Sonic was during this part of Shadow's game. There's no lingering wonder about it. They didn't just throw Chaos Island into the game willy nilly, they spared the time to think about how they would make it make sense to say that Shadow was running around in that location during the events of Frontiers without causing a time paradox or contradicting what happened during that game. They didn't just throw an erupting volcano in as a set piece for no reason. They were not thoughtless in how they implemented this level.

The idea that Chaos Island being included took away a spot that could have gone to another level from Shadow 2005 or something like that is just silly. It reminds me of when people would get angry at Piranha Plant being added to Smash Bros. "THEY'RE TAKING AWAY A SLOT THAT COULD HAVE GONE TO DANTE!" That's not how it fucking works bro. This isn't the divine lottery. They're MAKING the game. Chaos Island being cut from Shadow Generations wouldn't mean that it would be replaced with a level from Shadow 2005 that you would want to be in the game. It would just mean the game woulda had one less level, lol.

But yeah I predicted people turning on Shadow Generations. I gave them too much time if anything, I predicted it would take at least a couple months. They didn't even make it one. Like I said and have said and will keep saying: these people HATE Sonic. The people who were saying "I've never been this excited for New Sonic stuff before! We are so back!" during the preview hype around Shadow Generations? They HATE Sonic. They are tourists. Scavengers who will pick daintily at the game and then leave it bleeding and gaping, unsatisfied.

And yeah naturally they are blatant hypocrites. More than half the reason they were initially so slavish about the game was because of Ian Flynn's name being in the credits. These people are absolute fucking cultists.

lunatics.

I have no doubt that the reason they're starting to sour on Shadow Generations is because Katie made a tweet which basically said "dude, this game isn't bloom fully formed from the singular mind of Ian Flynn alone" and then ABT had to latch on like a male anglerfish being absorbed into a disembodied pair of gonads saying that Ian Flynn didn't do nuffin and everything bad about the games writing is everyone elses fault and comparing Flynn to Jesus.

As soon as the memo started getting passed around that Shadow Generations isn't Ian Flynn's Sonic game after all, that's when the wave started to turn. It's very transparent.

They are a cult of haters pretending to be fans. Wolves in sheeps clothing. Naturally everything they say and do it insincere and psychotic.

[weedle-testaburger]

'i'm not fat, i'm just shamed for my body in a world where white men decide what's beautiful! ...WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? WHY WOULD I SAY THAT? I DON'T SAY THAT!'

holy shit this came true:

[suhkusa]

TO THE TOP.

PAIRING. Sakusa Kiyoomi x f!Reader

SUMMARY. Sakusa Kiyoomi was ranked #1 in his class. Was, at least until you came along. After this revelation, he makes it a (personal) challenge to overtake you. Sakusa Kiyoomi is a genius at everything he does, but for once he finds it a challenge when it comes to you.

CW. hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, rivals to lovers except kiyoomi is the only one competing, idiots in love (but theyre actually geniuses), high school setting, ~3k words

A/N. Got inspired from a tiktok and came up with this word vom hope u enjoy

Everything came easy for Kiyoomi. Academically, at least.

While all his classmates found themselves struggling to take tests or study, it was as natural as breathing for Kiyoomi. There were some cons to being as incredibly intelligent as him, but he found himself drowning in the gratification of being #1. 

At least until the 2nd semester of his third year. At least until you.

———

Class Rank: 2

Sakusa finds himself staring at the transcript in his hand, as if his ogling would have an effect in changing the number presented before him.

His eyes scan through his class history, looking for any clues as to how he might’ve dropped in ranking. But there was nothing. All A’s, and as many extra classes stuffed into each year as possible. 

Kiyoomi’s home room was rowdy as students caught up with one another, as winter break had just ended. While in his own little world, his ears catch onto a couple of words his classmates threw around.

“I heard Sakusa isn’t the top in our class anymore, is that true?”

“Woah, hasn’t he been the top of our class since the 1st year? I wonder who was able to catch up,”

His eye twitched a bit at that one.

“It was that new girl, Y/N,”

The paper crumbled slightly under his grasp. Y/N?

The ring of the bell, signifying the start of class, caused him to slightly jump in his seat. Kiyoomi crumbles his transcript before tossing it in his bag, it’s going to change soon anyways.

He would just have to step up his game.

———

It was ironic really. The world really loved to test Sakusa Kiyoomi, and not only at his school subjects. Of course, you were his desk partner in his math class. Only he had the amazing luck of being seated next to his new self-declared rival.

Kiyoomi knows it’s rude to stare, but he can’t himself because you’re the number one student? You?!

Honestly, you don’t seem like the academic type. You seem too pretty to be caring about stuff like that. At first, he considers the fact that you could be using your looks to get people to do the dirty work for you. But he witnesses first-hand as you write down every math equation, answer every question correctly, and even check your work not once, but twice.

His hyperfixation on you is bad. So bad, he missed the whole introduction lesson and is trying to rapidly copy down what’s on the whiteboard as the teacher is erasing it. Fuck-

“Would you like to see my notes?”

Kiyoomi’s pencil comes to a halt as he looks back at you, your papers are being pushed towards him on the desk. He watches as your eyes widen, as if you suddenly became self conscious. 

“I-Is there something on my face? You were staring at me so I wasn’t sure…”

Shit. 

“No,” he tries to make up something, but what comes out of his mouth is stupid, “I was just looking past you,” it appears it’s sufficient though, as you nod in response.

“I see, well, did you want to see them?” you gestured to the notes between the two of you.

Kiyoomi tells himself that if you hadn’t offered, he wouldn’t have asked. But since you oh so kindly offered them up, who was he to say no? He doesn’t need them. He could always ask his cousin, though his handwriting resembles chicken scratch more than human writing.

“Sure,” he takes the papers and positions them in a way where he could just look between them and his own.

In his head, Kiyoomi is scolding himself over and over again for not paying attention. This cannot be a regular thing. If he was going to take back his rank, he needed to be on his A-Game. 

His pencil slaps against his desk as he finishes, quickly sliding your papers back towards you.

“Thanks,” Kiyoomi offers.

He watches from his peripheral vision as you smile and give back an “Anytime,” before gathering your things and getting up to go to your next class.

Kiyoomi doesn’t know what it was about you, but he could tell he was going to need to up his game. This was war.

———

By the second week of sitting by you, he decides you’re annoying. More annoying than the people who talk while the teacher is talking. Which, in his book, is hard to beat.

Maybe you weren’t as smart as he pinned you to be, since you kept helping Kiyoomi with his work when he did not need it. 

Though, you were only able to backseat his work because you somehow finished before him. He’s used to being the only one who sits back and relaxes as the rest of his class struggles to complete the practice problems. 

It’s weird though. Because as much as Sakusa hates your yapping, he doesn’t find himself putting an end to it. Instead your voice plays in the background as he completes his work.

He hates it, or at least that’s what he tells himself, the way you praise him like a little kid when he finally completes the work sheet. 

“Nice job!” you smile at him, “but, how come you don’t check your work to make sure you’re right?”

“Because I’m always right,” he replies with a slight roll of his eyes.

You laugh at that, I’m not joking, he thinks.

“You’re funny, you know that?” you tell him. 

Kiyoomi gives you a shrug, “Whatever,”

———

A month in, he begins to indulge in your shenanigans. But only because he had felt bad.

During the third week of sitting by each other, you had taken his short and dry responses personally. You halted your chatter and no longer offered to help like you usually did. The way the classroom felt quiet without your talking was eerie, so Sakusa reluctantly decided that he’d rather hear your voice instead of nothing at all. 

So a month in is when your friendship, or whatever you called it, began with him.

“Why do you use erasable pens? Just use a pencil,” he questions you, eyes peering down at your pen.

You look taken aback as you respond, “I don’t know, is there something wrong with it?” you examine your pen, “I just found it on the floor and stuck with it,”

First of all, gross, remind him not to touch you or your belongings ever. “It’s just a hassle, sometimes it doesn’t erase,”

“Well, it hasn’t given me any problems, so!” you exclaim as you get back to write on your practice quiz. “This is kind of challenging, huh?”

“Nah,” he lies, “You’re just stupid,”

You laugh in his face, “Rude,” Kiyoomi watches as you glimpse at his paper before going back to yours, “That’s why you got the first problem wrong and I didn’t say anything,” 

Sakusa can feel his eyebrows scrunch up, he’s quick as he glances at it and then yours. Fuck. He’s mumbling something under his breath and he begrudgingly erases the circle around his answer. 

“Told ya,” you smile before moving onto the last problem, “you know, we should hangout or something,”

“No,” he’s quick to cut you off, catching you by surprise.

“Whaaat, it doesn’t have to be like that, weirdo,” it seems like you’re going back on what you meant, “Like to study,”

“Still, no,”

“C’mon, don’t knock it till you try it,” you nudge at him, and to be honest, if you were anyone else he might’ve punched you, “please, just once,”

You’re annoying and pushy. But he supposes that if saying yes to you would get you to leave him alone, he’d say, “Fine, whatever, it has to be my house, though. Your house is probably messy,”

Kiyoomi watches as your face slowly brightens before silently celebrating to yourself as you get your way with him once again.

———

“Wow,” you’re amazed as you walk through Sakusa’s house, “your house is so nice, do you have a maid to keep it clean or something?”

“No, just me,” he says before leading you into his room, “please don’t make a mess,”

“I won’t, I won’t,” you say before settling down on his rug, playing with the soft threads, “Okay, I was hoping to review the practice quiz, I know the teacher said I got it right but I feel like there were some parts that had me second guessing myself,”

You’re quick to open up your textbook and blab about whatever problem you were having trouble with. You actually came over to study. Kiyoomi was under the impression that once you got over to his house you’d make him do whatever silly shit you usually have in mind. But no, you actually respected his wishes. Which in turn, earned you some respect from him as well.

“So you’re number one, huh?” He asks, looking up from his textbook to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s surprising that all my credits from my old school carried over,” you mindlessly say as you continue to write on your sheet of paper.

The sound of the pencils scribbling on paper fills the room before you interrupt it, “You were rank one before I came, right?”

His pencil stills, “Mhm,” It was a touchy subject, though he never thought he’d hear it from you.

“I’m sorry,” you surprised him, “When I found out I took your ranking spot, I was nervous because people are serious about that stuff. And then, when I got seated by you and you stared me down, I thought you hated my guts,”

Well, you had it down to the T, but he wouldn’t tell you that. 

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s out of your control,” you smile at his words.

“Thank you,”

It’s then, in his room, when he realizes he’s losing sight of his goal. To overtake your position. As he watched you look back down at your textbook, he found himself locking in as well. 

He needed to get serious, now.

———

These hangouts, or study dates, or study hangouts, whatever, became basically practice. Always at his house, though. Since he couldn’t fathom the idea of how dirty your room might be. 

“I don’t know how you balance volleyball and school, Omi,” you say from your position lying on his floor.

“Don’t call me that,”

You laugh before continuing, “All I do is school and I’m always exhausted. I had to quit my shifts at the cafe down the road because I would fall asleep before making it to my room,”

“Dangerous, Y/N,” he says, frantically writing down practice problem after practice problem. 

Picking yourself off the ground, “Wow, you’re serious about this final, huh, Omi,”

He glares at you, causing you to laugh again, “Sorry, sorry,” your eyes meet his for a brief second before he looks back at his paper, “but you know it’s okay to take a break, right, that’s all you’ve been doing. We haven’t even gotten to try to compete for today’s Wordle yet,”

“Mhm,” is all he offers you.

You sigh in response to that, “Boring, so boring,” you say as you lay back down

“You can go home if you’re bored,”

“Ugh, rude,” you roll around to make yourself comfortable, “I would but sadly I like being in your presence,”

“Whatever you say,”

“Do you like being in mine?” you question, causing Sakusa to hesitate on the problem he was on.

“You’re tolerable,”

You find yourself cheesing, “That’s a yes in my book,”

———

Finals are coming up. There’s so much on your mind, that you finally decide to let one of the thoughts that have been driving you crazy go. The fact that you like Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

It’s nerve wracking. Not only because you’re basically confessing your feelings, but also because he’s your only friend you’ve made since being here. A lot of people think he’s rude and condescending, but to you he’s different. 

He lets you talk your head off about whatever your brain decides fits best. And while he gives you short responses, they show you that he’s listening and observant. He’s on your level regarding academics and can keep up to your train of thought. He just cares.

And while you hope he might feel the same despite only knowing you for the past couple of months, you chalk it up to fate as to whether or not your intuition is correct.

As you approach the gymnasium, you slow and quiet your steps as you hear familiar voices by the entrance.

“You’ve been hanging out with Y/N quite a bit, huh, cous’? Your mom told mines,” you assume is Komori based on his words.

“Yes. It’s not like that, though,” you recognize as Sakusa. 

You assume he might be fronting since it is his cousin, and feelings are embarrassing at times.

“C’mon, you can’t tell me you don’t like her, she’s like one of the prettiest girls in class and she’s smart. So like, your type,” Komori pushes. And while part of you likes that he said that, you soon take it back after Kiyoomi’s words.

“I don’t like her. I only put up with her because she’s so pushy and always hovers over me while I try to do my work. Plus, she took my ranking spot,”

The world feels silent for a second, the only sound audible to you is the sound of your heart slowly breaking.

“She’s just a nuance, honestly,”

Your feet are moving before you realize. Slowly backing away before running the opposite direction.

He doesn’t like you? You were right that he hates you because you’re number one? He let you into his house but only because you pushed him? Your thoughts are running faster than your own legs, you don’t even realize the drips of water slowly running down your cheeks. 

If number one was what he wanted, then you were going to give it to him.

———

Kiyoomi finds it weird. Finds you weird. Well, he’s always found you weird, but particularly as of recent. But only because you’re quiet. And have been for the past couple of days. 

At first, he assumes it’s because the finals had finally arrived and you wanted to focus on your work. Which, respect, because it also allowed him to focus on his own. 

But even after the finals had passed, you were still quiet. You opted for doodling in your notebook instead of talking to him about a new video game you’ve hyper fixated on or this new show you started to watch. 

It’s even weirder when the teacher is going around passing out the graded math finals, that he stops by your desk, letting out a whispered, “I’m disappointed in you, Y/N,” 

Kiyoomi hears, and it calls his attention towards your paper before even his own. His eyes widened.

A big, fat, red 0 marked at the top of your quiz.

“Y/N-”

“Are you happy now, Number 1?” you ask, still looking down at your paper.

He’s about to ask you what the hell you’re talking about before the bells conveniently cut him off, allowing you to take off without a second glance back at him.

His mind is caught up on your words, Number 1. Kiyoomi has never brought up his disdain regarding the rankings to you, ever. Yes, it bothered him at first. But eventually he didn’t mind it, since the only person he’d ever allow to be above him is you. 

Kiyoomi thinks back on any time he’s ever mentioned it before he remembers the one time he had ever verbally brought it up to anyone. But there was no way… unless.

Fuck, Sakusa thinks as the bright red 100 on his paper stares back at him. It mocked him, poking at his head uncomfortably. Without a second thought, he crumbles the paper before stuffing it into his bag. Kiyoomi had finally gotten back what he’s been working for this whole time, so why does he feel empty?

Kiyoomi realizes then that while you may have lost your Rank 1 position, he was the true loser. Because he didn’t have you.

———

He finds himself at your door before he even knows it. He’s giving an excuse of “she left her notebook,” to your parents as they direct him to where your room is. 

When he finally walks in, he’s shocked. Your room is clean. 

Even as you lay in your bed so peacefully, the space around you is clean, and he feels like it’s safe to walk in. 

“Y/N,” is his first attempt at waking you up, before he’s walking closer to your bed, crouching down a bit to pat your back, “Y/N,” again.

It’s by the fourth or fifth time that he calls your name that you finally look up at him, and you look heavenly.

He’s always known you were pretty, but even more so now you were gorgeous, hair messy, eyes droopy with sleepiness. You were perfect.

Your eyes blink a couple times before you look like you’ve processed who is standing before you. Quickly sitting up, hands moving every which way to fix your appearance, “Omi- I mean Sakusa what are- what do you want?”

Ouch.

“You need to leave, I-I don’t want to see you,” your voice is beginning to tremble and it hurts him, “You finally got what you wanted, I don’t know what more you want,”

“You, I want you,”

Your face drops in disbelief, “No, you don’t. I heard you, what you said,”

“Y/N-”

“No, you hurt me, Kiyoomi. I like you,” you cry, “You can’t just say all of that and then show up out of nowhere claiming otherwise,”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he’s kneeling now, allowing him to be the same height as you as you sit in your bed, weeping, “I-I’m sorry,”

His rough thumb smoothes away your tears as they fall, “I didn’t mean it, I was frustrated- and that’s no excuse for what I said, I fucked up really bad,” with every word another sob breaks loose from you, “And I’m sorry,”

“At first, all I ever wanted was to be rank #1, but then you came along and changed everything… Then I realized that it wasn’t being #1 I wanted, it was you,” he continues, “and that’s scary, because my ranking was all I’ve known all these years,”

“But even so, you made it okay. I was okay with being #2, I was so caught up in you that I forgot I ever wanted to be #1 in the first place,” your eyes finally meet behind the thick tears in your lashes, “I like you, Y/N,”

He can tell you’re at a loss for words. And for once he can finally say he has out-talked you. 

Until finally, you decide words aren’t sufficient in this situation. Before he knows it, you’re leaning forward, and your lips are on his. The kiss is short, but definitely more than a peck. But it felt infinite to Kiyoomi. He never wanted the moment to end, and found himself sad as you finally pulled away.

You stared him down for a brief second before tackling him down to the ground in a big hug, “I hate you, Omi,” you laugh angrily.

“Sure,” he smugly replies, watching as you smile into his shirt.

“My number one,” you sarcastically mutter as you fake pout at him.

He cringes, “Ugh, don’t. I feel guilty, why would you even do that? You’re crazy,”

“Because I don’t care about the ranking. I never did. Plus it somehow only dropped me to #2 since the rest of our class failed and I’ve taken too many extra classes,” you say, “I only cared about you,” 

Kiyoomi smiles at you before crushing you in his hug. 

Everything came easy for Kiyoomi. Especially now, his feelings for you.

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[strawbeerossi]

Taking Calls

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Whenever a man who makes you feel uncomfortable asks for your number, you give him your boyfriend’s number instead. Whenever he texts him all day and finally decides to call, Spencer plans on taking care of it.

Content/Warnings: Minor case details (nothing explicit), creep officer, loving boyfriend Spencer, intimidation mention, kissing, unprotected sex, Spencer answers a phone call in the middle of sex (I didn’t know how to word that so it works lmao.)

Word Count: 1.2K

Anon Request: I had a spicy idea where a creepy cop tries to get readers number for “work purposes” and instead she gives him Spencer’s number and the cop happens to call Spencer and reader while he’s in the middle of fucking reader or the reader is in the middle of giving him a blowjob and the cop sort of hears her in the background? I just thought you’d be the perfect person to write this 😍

Navigation || Criminal Minds Masterlist || Request

🏷️ @kr-1-sta @iluvreid @nervousmoongiver @multifandom-on-the-side @ferrjulie @lov1ngreid @sobbingcryingattsizzles @doriantomybasil @thegluesong @rosiehale23

Spencer had his number given out before due to a prank on Derek’s end that had so many people blowing up his phone. It was something he vowed that he would get the man back for and specifically state that it could never happen again.

The team was on a case in Manhattan, a standard killer who had an awakened blood lust was terrorizing the city. After six victims, the NYPD felt it was best to invite the BAU onto the case, which seemed to be too little too late due to the man going dormant.

Every lead was buried so deep that you’d need an excavator to dig them up, still the team persisted. You were currently on day three, staying back at the police precinct along with Dave to interview the families of the deceased, hoping to dig up any leads.

You had currently stepped out for a brief break, standing by the coffee machine as you were getting one of the disposable cups, filling it to the brim with a healthy mixture of coffee and sugar. “Hey, Y/L/N, correct?” A voice came from behind you, making you turn to look over the person addressing you. Officer Laslow. “Hi, yes. That’s me. How can I help you?” You asked, eyebrows raising.

You didn’t like to judge people, however you had a very uneasy feeling around him. The way he was looking at you was a good enough reason to be uncomfortable, the man seeming to mentally undress you as he stared into your soul. “I was just wondering if your team had any leads? I mean, I’m sure the families know something,” He spoke, making you sigh as your shoulders slumped. “Nothing, unfortunately.” You spoke while sipping from the coffee cup in your hands.

“Nothing? What a shame. I was actually wondering if you and I could exchange numbers? No funny business, I’m just wanting to make sure we can stay in communication throughout this case. You know, share intel.”

He could’ve just asked Aaron for updates. However, in the moment of being uncomfortable and not knowing what to say, you were clearing your throat. “Well. Okay.. Just for intel though.” You murmured, slowly taking the device from his hands to put in Spencer’s number instead of your own. You’d explain things to your boyfriend later. Until then, you were doing the next best option. Spencer could handle this. You were sure of it.

As another day passed and there was no leads, the team was retreating to the hotel for the night to try and get some rest, even if they were overly focused on trying to catch the murderer running around freely. “Honey, I have a question.” Spencer began as he was walking from the bathroom, a pair of flannel pyjama pants and a white t-shirt clinging to his lanky frame. “I’ve just had a lot of texts today. The person is addressing you by name. Wanna talk about who you gave my number to?” He asked softly. He knew it had to be a big deal if you wouldn’t give someone your number.

“Some creep on the NYPD team. You should’ve seen the way he looked at me, Spencer. It made me so uncomfortable.” You shivered while looking over at your boyfriend. “I’m sorry that I gave him your number. I didn’t know what else to do.” The feeling of his hand rubbing your shoulder caused your body to relax, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

“I’m not upset with you by any means. I just wanted to ask. He didn’t try and touch you or force himself on you, right?” He asked, slowly letting his arm wrap around your shoulders as you shook your head. “No. Nothing like that. He was just twice my size and intimidating. I mean, he could’ve hurt me if I rejected him.” In this job, Spencer saw cases like that far too much, so he believed it.

“Come here.” He spoke while slowly pressing a few kisses against your cheek. “It’ll be okay. I’ll speak with Hotch about it tomorrow. It’ll get taken care of.” He smiled, the back of his knuckle gently caressing your cheek. “How did I get so lucky to be with you?” You asked softly, offering a smile as you leaned against his touch. “I’m the lucky one.” He mused, now moving to press a sweet kiss against your lips.

However, the kiss was only cut short whenever he could hear the ringtone on his phone designated for texts. “This guy is a real piece of work.” Your boyfriend muttered against your lips, opting to ignore the incessant sounds coming from his phone as he carried on your shared kiss. As the kids deepened, his hands were working to push your shirt over your head before his hands were working on your work pants. You hadn’t changed just yet, so he felt like he was definitely helping you out in the grand scheme of things.

Once you were undressed to his liking, it wasn’t long until your own hands were pushing at his clothes to bring him to the same level of unclothed as you were. “Lay down.” Spencer breathed as he broke the kiss, watching you push yourself back in bed before he was crawling on top of you to attach your lips once more. You were both eager, a lot of stress from this case as well as your own yearning for pleasure making things go just a little faster than usual. He used one hand to bring one of your legs around his waist, which prompted you to mirror your actions with your other leg.

Pushing your panties to the side, your boyfriend wasted no time pushing his cock inside of your eager cunt, a low groan leaving his lips as the hand propping him up was gripping the sheets. “Fuck. I love you.” He whispered, pressing a few sweet kisses to your lips. For once today, you felt like you could forget the officer from earlier, to enjoy the moment. Until Spencer was getting a call. “Are you kidding?” He huffed out of frustration, hips still thrusting at a slow pace as he was reaching over to take his cellphone from the bedside table.

“W-we should stop.” You breathed, knowing he had to take the call judging by the look on his face. “No. No, just lay there and take it, pretty girl. I’m gonna settle this once and for all.” He murmured. Before you could object, he was swiping to answer the call. “I don’t appreciate being ignored.” The male on the other end of the phone huffed. Just hearing his slimy voice had Spencer cringing. Using his shoulder to hold the phone up to his ear, he let out a soft breath. His hips thrusted into you at a faster speed, your lip tucked between your teeth as you really did try to keep quiet.

“She’s busy but I can take a message.” Spencer answered as if he wasn’t jackhammering you into the mattress right now, whines and moans slipping from your lips as you couldn’t hold them back anymore. “Who is this?” The officer asked, now his annoyance being clear as day. “Spencer!” You gasped out, answering his question without even being aware of it.

“You heard her. Tell the nice man on the phone who has the pleasure of fucking you.” Spencer grunted, making you red in the face as you gripped his upper arms. “You!”

“My name, baby. Tell him who gets to take you home every night.”

“Spencer!” You panted, head tossed back as he was pounding into your sweet spot.

“Now. If you’ll excuse me, I have important matters to attend to. I hope you get the hint.” He murmured.

[ifwebefriends]

My thoughts during “The Sign” [SPOILERS!!!!!]

ID in ALT

More thoughts under the cut

So I think most of us can agree that this is the best episode of Bluey so far. It was so emotional and satisfying in ways that are kinda new for Bluey. It answered so many questions while giving us a few new ones. I’ve been waiting for this episode for months and it did not disappoint in any way.

This is just a Chekov’s firing squad of an episode. As in a lot of stuff that was set up in earlier episodes all pay off in this episode. I kinda understand why people love soap operas now lol. I will say that this episode was a tad overwhelming for me in the best way possible. As in I had to pause and rewind every 30 seconds or so so I could emotionally process what was happening before moving forward (but that’s a me thing). There was just so much going on and I’m happy about that.

Now onto individual thoughts about specific things:

The callback to Baby Race (“you took your first steps in that house!”) really got to me because Baby Race was the first episode of Bluey that I watched and it immediately made me fall in love with it so it just got to me.

When Chilli said “Frisky and I came up here as teenagers to…um…think,” my mind started racing immediately with “what the FUCK happened at the Lookout?” “Who hurt Frisky and/or Chilli?” And I’m just so curious about what made Chilli say that line like that but we’ll probably never know what happened.

So yeah that scene at the end when the music was playing and Bandit ripped the sign out of the ground and Chilli tackled him to the ground ABSOLUTELY CHANGED my brain chemistry y’all. I can’t articulate my feelings any more than that.

I know some people were upset that Brandy ended up getting pregnant but I thought it was great for her! I’m happy for her! And I think that even though she got what she wanted in the end doesn’t negate the feelings she had about her infertility earlier. But I think we’re all wondering who the father is and I don’t know if the show really needs to answer that.

The whole message of “we’ll see” in terms of if something is good or bad is such a mature message that I never really thought of like that so I will be taking that philosophy forward in life. Congratulations Bluey, you managed to teach a 22-year-old childless person something new and insightful about life that I don’t think I’ve learned from another show.

I want to know more about what Bob was going through and feeling and why he went to India, but again, we’ll probably never know.

I just love how the wedding photos were beautiful but imperfect. Like of course we’re not perfect and nothing will ever be perfect but it’s beautiful and worth remembering anyway.

So many little jokes and moments were so funny in a mature way (I.e. “are we allowed to do that?” And Nana thinking there was about to be a baby announcement) were just so funny and memorable.

I think some people would say it’s a cop-out to end up not selling the house after building it up for 2 episodes but I don’t know, I think it works. I think Bluey and Bingo learned a valuable lesson and Bandit (and Chilli kinda) learned it’s not always about making their kids lives “perfect” in their eyes. Also I’m just personally glad they didn’t end up selling the house and I also kinda like that it wasn’t entirely their choice to keep it.

On a more serious note I think this episode has some interesting commentary on like gender roles and gender relations in straight relationships. In this episode Chilli and Frisky (both women) have to deal with their male significant others pressuring them to move with them far away from what they know and love. In the end they don’t end up moving and the men didn’t seem to have like malicious or selfish intent with it, they were just kinda basing their choices off their jobs instead of what’s best emotionally for their loved ones. But I think it’s interesting to have this conflict where gender is kinda brought up in a way (“because your husband is making you”). It kinda plays into the traditional idea of like men are the breadwinners and the family has to move with them regardless of what they actually want. And this episode kinda like deconstructs that and says “no, it’s not always about the job or money, it’s also sometimes about connections and emotional attachment.” And I’m not saying that you should never move or whatever, but really weigh your options. I just thought that it was interesting that this episode kinda touched on that.

So yeah that’s kinda the main thoughts I had on this episode if you made it this far thank you for reading my rambles and have a good one!

[sleepy-steve]

steve "dies but doesn't stay dead" harrington and eddie "ferryman of the river styx" munson // 1.5k // inspired by this post ♡

—

november 1983

It wasn’t a bad gig, as far as eternal work in the Underworld went. Eddie didn’t even have to row the boat. He was more of a figurehead. Someone for the souls to follow. Someone to guide them. Seemed like an odd thing to entrust to a dead eighteen year old from the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere USA, but Eddie wasn’t going to argue. Didn’t even know if he could. It had all gone very smoothly. All the souls doing exactly what they were supposed to be doing. Until Steve appears.

Eddie spots him sitting on the riverbank, knees pulled up. Looking a little too casual, in Eddie’s opinion, but he didn’t know the guy’s life. Some souls were more prepared than others.

“Hey, man, time to uh, get moving,” Eddie says, and cringes at himself. He’d already been spoken to about his boat-side manner. But how were you supposed to talk to people that had just died? Eddie still hadn’t quite worked it out. Was supposed to find his own words, instead of working off a script.

“Hm?” The soul looks up in mild surprise. He looks to be about Eddie’s age, and has a black eye, a split lip, and a nasty cut across his nose. Jesus, wonder what happened to him. It wasn’t polite to ask, Eddie’d been taught.

Eddie gestures vaguely at the boat. “C’mon. I’m taking you to the next part.”

“What happened to the last guy?” The guy tilts his head to the side, hair flopping with the movement.

“What?”

“The last guy who was on the boat?” The soul asks, waving a hand in the general direction of the boat. Even from where he stands, Eddie can see the bruises on the guy’s knuckles. “It used to be an older guy, tallish, beard…?”

“I… I don’t know, man.” Eddie flounders. He’d had some chatty souls before, but none that asked questions he wasn’t trained to answer.

“Hm…” The guy hums thoughtfully, nodding to himself. Shifting slightly, he settles into a more comfortable position.

“So…” Eddie stares at him with wide eyes, brows raised expectantly. “You gonna get on the boat or…?”

“Nah.”

“…What do you mean, nah?” Eddie asks incredulously. Was that even allowed? What would happen if a soul didn’t get on the boat? Would Eddie get in trouble for not collecting him?

“Not getting on the boat.” The guy smiles at him, a little crooked from the scar across his lip. “I won’t be here long, don’t worry.”

“What…?” Eddie trails off, before recognition drops into his mind. It was that smile, it reminded him of… “Steve? Steve Harrington?”

“Yeah?” Steve confirms, brows pulled together in confusion. “Wait… holy shit… Eddie, right?”

“Yeah!” Eddie leans over the edge of the boat, bringing him as close as he dares. Close enough to see the blues fade into purples in the bruises on his face. The trail of dry blood still under his nose.

“You died, like, not that long ago, right?” Steve asks, not making any moves to get closer.

“Yeah, yeah, house fire.” Eddie waves him off, not wanting to dwell on the memories of his shitty father and those last moments where Eddie tried to save the few good things he had left. “Fuck, man, I’m sorry you’re here though.” Professionalism is out the window in favour of familiarity.

“Ah, it’s okay,” Steve waves him off back. “Like I said, won’t be here long.”

Eddie knows what this is. Denial. He’d seen it many times since starting this job. “Steve…” He keeps his tone soft, just like he was taught. “I know it can be hard to accept, but you’re dead. That’s why you’re here. You have to get on the boat in order to move on.” Steve is giving him a bemused smile, and Eddie feels a twinge of irritation. He’s doing his best. “I’ll be with you the entire time, I promise.”

“That’s… nice, man,” Steve says, slight grin still on his lips. “But I’m not getting on the boat.”

“Steve. You have to get on the boat.” Eddie throws his hands down to gesture at said boat, exasperated.

“No, I don’t.” Steve gives a little shake of his head.

“Get…” Eddie loses steam for a second before gearing up again. “Get on the boat, man.”

Steve just blinks at him. “I don’t need to.”

“Get on the fucking boat, Steve!” Exasperation is in each word now, Eddie losing his patience. If it wasn’t completely against the rules, Eddie would have jumped off the boat and dragged him on by the collar of his stupid sweater. The souls had to choose to move on.

With a glint in his eye and a half smile, like they’re in on some joke together, Steve still doesn’t move. “No.”

“You’re dead, man,” Eddie snaps. Fuck, he’s losing his cool and is gonna get told off for it. “The sooner you accept that, the better.”

“Woah, woah, Eddie.” Steve holds his hands up. Placating. Another ripple of annoyance runs through Eddie. “Okay, just—I know I’m dead. But I don’t stay dead. This isn’t the first time this has happened.”

Oh, okay. So Harrington is delusional. Eddie briefly wonders just how hard he’d been hit, looking over Steve’s bruises. Was this what killed him? Eddie holds back a grimace. “Just… get on the fucking boat, man. I know it’s hard, but you have to move on. Also, I might get my ass handed to me if you don’t, so like, maybe do it for me?”

Steve laughs good-naturedly. Hopeful that he’s finally gotten through to him, Eddie can’t help but crack a smile at the sound. “So, s’that a yes?” he asks, keeping his tone light.

“Sorry, man,” Steve laughs. “Still a no.” Eddie slumps over the side of the boat dramatically, hair almost dipping into the black water. “But don’t worry. Last guy never got in trouble for not collecting me, so you should be fine.”

Pulling himself back up with an exaggerated sigh, Eddie settles with his forearms on the edge of the boat. “Okay, Harrington. I’m choosing to trust you,” he says, giving Steve a pointed look. “Can I ask…” Steve raises a brow. “What, uh… what happened? To you?” Eddie gestures vaguely at Steve’s overall appearance. The black eye, the cut across his nose, the split lip.

“Oh, this?” Steve points to the bruise. “This isn’t what killed me. Got into it with Byers. Not important, really, anymore…” He trails off before shaking himself. “This, though…” Lowering his knees, dropping his denim-clad legs to the grass, Steve reveals several deep wounds to his chest and stomach.

Eddie lets out a low whistle at them. “Christ, Harrington. You get attacked by a bear or something? We even have bears in Hawkins?”

Steve snorts. “Nah, I don’t know what this thing was. Some kind of alien-monster-creature. Face opened up all…” Steve holds his hands around his face, wiggling his fingers in a fan. “…creepy.”

Looking at him with furrowed brows, Eddie isn’t sure if Steve is messing with him, or genuinely believes that a monster killed him and that he’s not going to stay dead. Eddie stays silent, assessing him.

“Anyway,” Steve clears his throat, awkward under Eddie’s stare. “Nancy and Jonathan are probably freaking out right now, I’ll have to explain when I wake up.” He’s rambling, Eddie notices with slight amusement. “Which should be soon, though this might be the longest I’ve spent down here. Last time was quicker for sure.”

“Last time?” Eddie asks, unable to stop his curiosity.

“Yeah, the, uh, car accident,” Steve says. “Got t-boned at an intersection, died on the spot. Woke up with a broken arm, three broken ribs, and this crazy head wound.” He waves a hand around the side of his head. “Got lucky, all things considered.”

“Right…” Eddie vaguely recalls hearing about Harrington’s car wreck from last year. But surely he hadn’t died. It wasn’t impossible, but highly unlikely.

“You don’t believe me.” Steve grins at him, and Eddie feels his cheeks warm at it.

“Can you blame me?”

Steve considers him for a moment. “No, I guess not.” His head turns sharply, as though he hears something that Eddie doesn’t. “Time’s up.” Steve stands, brushing blades of dry grass off his jeans. He gives Eddie a two-finger wave. “Until next time, Munson.”

“Wait, what?” Eddie leans over the side of the boat again as Steve turns to walk away. “Where are you going?”

Throwing a thumb over his shoulder, Steve huffs a laugh. “Back.”

“Steve!” Leaning dangerously far over the edge of the boat, Eddie calls after his retreating form. He watches with wide eyes as Steve quite literally fades from view, figure growing more translucent until finally disappearing completely. Unable to pull his gaze away from the empty grass field where Steve stood just a moment ago, Eddie only has one thought in his mind:

What the fuck?

[a-hazbin-reader]

OK SO WHAT ABOUT ALASTOR X FEM READER EXCEPT READER DOESNT KNOW HOW TO REACT TO HIS CHIVALRY

So this takes place before they start dating and the beginning of the relationship. Reader basically has never met a guy who has chivalry(or is respectful) like ALASTOR, so when Alastor’s mannerisms come out, reader just looks at him like “wtf are you doing?” BUT NOT IN A MEAN WAY, more like in a confused way because they’re from a time where chivalry isn’t as popular(especially to women in general) and reader was raised to be tough(but it’s still nice to get treated like a lady). So whenever alastor acts like that reader just gets awkward and shy.

IM ASKING FOR THIS CUZ LIKE THE GUYS NOW HAVE NO RESPECT OR CHIVALRY like alastor😔😒 (ik not ALL guys but most guys now and days are jackasses)

Hnnng I fucking love this ✨️

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Harassment, Men being nasty

Description: ☝️⬆️

Back when you were alive, men never did the sort of things that Alastor does unless they wanted to get laid

Most of the men you knew had tendencies to act like frat boys or old perverts

Only having one goal in mind and if they got rejected then they got fucking nasty as hell with you

On top of that, you didn't have the luxury of growing up to be soft and helpless like some people

You had to be strong and look out for yourself, you rarely looked to others for help

Not even your own family

Some people didn't even look at you as a woman, just as some tough badass who didn't need anyone's helping hand

At least you hoped that how they looked at you

Not that you would've rejected the offer if anyone actually tried to help you out, everyone needs a hand now and then

The only people who ever offered any sort of help were horny guys who offered to help you let off some steam with them

Fuck off

But Alastor grew up in a very different time than you and his way of treating you always gave you whiplash

He would never dream of asking you to fuck within the first few days of knowing each other, or even the first month wtf kind of animals have men turned into??

You don't even wanna know, Alastor

His little pet names alone made you flustered but his actions??? A whole other monster in itself

When you first met him this crazy guy kissed your hand like you were in some regency movie

You were so shy afterwards that you couldn't look him in the eyes, your cheeks hot and pink

One time, Alastor actually took off his coat and put it over a puddle for you step on

Didn't you just beat up some guy for ripping it???

You could've just stepped over the puddle in the first place??? Why did you do that??

"I did what any proper gentleman would do for a lady such as yourself, Y/N..!"

You gotta look away at that point or else he would see how hot your face is getting, feeling flustered

Alastor actually asked you to dance to a song that wasn't meant for grinding and sweating on each other??

You blush and mumble something about not knowing how to dance to music like this and instead of making fun of you Alastor teaches you how

He's a wonderful dancer and leads the entire time, not letting you make a fool of yourself in front of everyone

You've never felt your heart do skip so many beats before

You're trying to ignore what some random lecherous demon is saying about your body and the things he would do to it??

Guess what-

"Now that is not the way to start a proper conversation with a lady of Y/N's status, or any lady for that matter."

Alastor scares him off for you and won't even accept your thanks in return, making your legs wobbly

Once your suffering with feelings for Alastor then every little thing he does makes you turn into a gooey puddle

It doesn't stop when he's suddenly courting you, only getting worse with each romantic act

He brings you flowers, dedicates entire broadcasts to you, asks you to take evening strolls with him

He does all this and never even expects a parting kiss from you, simply happy to be in your presence

When/why the fuck did men stop acting like this?? This is so much better than how they were back when you were alive-

You get flustered just at the sight of him now, wondering just how he's going to make you swoon today

Alastor is slowly getting you accustomed to how he believes you should always be treated, happy that you're no longer confused by his actions

This motherfucker just Pavlov-ed you into falling for him

This was so fun to write!! I hope I did a good enough job!!

[lady-lauren]

❥ SATORU GOJO X FEM! READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 2.1k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: incest (big brother/little sister), hatefucking, degradation, Satoru's hand smothering your mouth, some dub-con tones but really you both want this fucked up situation, semi-public sex (the door isn't closed and it really should be), creampie

Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Read those warnings again.

→ Kinktober Masterlist ←

You’ve always eclipsed his light. A stain on his legacy, a re-shifting of the scales when you were born.

Always on his heels, nipping at his skin. 

Satoru wonders how many times the two of you have tangled like this—fury and jealousy, adults carrying the bitterness of spoiled children.

“Are you even trying?” 

You’re pinned beneath him, both of you wild and uncoordinated, driven more by emotion than immeasurable skills. 

“Fighting dirty isn’t fair, ‘Toru,” your tits are heaving as you try to catch your breath, hips squirming and bucking to keep mean fingers from playing with the one toy he was never allowed to have.

“Excuses, excuses,” he tuts, bicep flexing as he catches your wrist in an attempt to scratch his cheek, “you like when I play dirty, little whore.”

One step away from a tense family dinner had him cornering you in some tucked away office with your dress bunched around your hips on the floor.

Satoru thought fucking you would depredate you, make you take on the burden of his sins. Instead it’s only wrecked him further. Now he tastes you in the back of his cheeks whenever he looks in the mirror.

God he hates you. Because you make him sick, make him do sick, nasty things and you barely try to fight back. 

“It’s like you want to get fucked by your brother, hm?” he thinks aloud before pressing his mouth against yours. He cups your neck, pulls you closer, pays attention to how you grunt and tug at his shirt. Your nails catch buttons, scratch into skin. 

He shouldn’t kiss you here, where any roaming maid or distant cousin could catch a glimpse of what the Gojos do when no one is looking. 

But he’s at a point where he wants people to look, wants people to see just how fucked up you both are.

“Toru,” you hiss, “stop, get off—”

“Oh shut the fuck up. We don’t have time for the but ~Satoru~ we shouldn’t song and dance. You always let me have you, so be quiet and take it.” 

Still, you fight, like you always do. Your toned muscles push and shove, one leg nearly smashing air from his lungs. He catches your calf in time, insatiably mean fingers digging into your soft flesh and forcing your thighs apart. He can tell you bite back a whine of pain, too prideful to let him know when he hurts you.

“You cannot do this here in the fucking floor of—” 

“Really? Would you rather me take you to your old bedroom so you can cuddle your stuffies while big brother fucks you stupid? Hm? Is that what you want?” 

“What I want,” you try to pull his hair like a child, “is for you to find someone else to be obsessed with. What about Sugu? Oh, that’s right you—”

Just the sound of that name makes him want to rip you apart, smash you to such small pieces that he’ll never have to think of you again. Satoru clamps his hand over your babbling mouth, squeezing until his knuckles turn white and you actually whimper.

He’s going to fuck you into the floor, into oblivion, until all you can think about is him. It’s only fair. 

Satoru keeps the pressure on your mouth, forcing his free hand between your spread thighs so he can shove two long fingers into your cunt. Your panties are soaked around the edges of his knuckles, pussy drooling and squishy as he thrusts and scissors in the way he knows will make your eyes roll. 

“You sure are wet for someone who doesn’t want this.” 

He knows you do. You don’t have to tell him—you probably never will say the exact words aloud. He won’t either. 

You roll your hips back as he fingers you, the dress around your hips falling open like wilting petals against your skin. 

The palm of his hand eats your moans, still small and breathy, desperate to feel more than just the squelching spread of his fingers. 

He wants to punish you, wants to bruise your pussy with his knuckles and make you scream. But he doesn’t have that kind of patience. His cock is smothered in his pants, straining and thumping against the floor. Pre is already leaking into threads; he feels another drop bead against his cockhead as your cunt squeezes when he curls his fingers into a spongy spot that makes you buck.

It’s so wrong and fucked up that he knows that soft spot within you, knows that if he rubs it a few more times it might actually make you cum in his hand.

“God, is your slutty cunt this messy for other guys? Such a fucking pain in the ass—you’re gonna stain the rug.”

Only he loves how easy access your slick makes you. Just a few movements—glossy hand down his pants, shoving the waistband down over his ass, plugging his tip into your hole—and he can thrust his cock all the way to the back of your pussy. 

You manage to bite into the side of his palm, canines pressing into sinew as you weep for him.

Fuck you feel so good, too good, tight and full with the most familiar, decadent squeeze around his thick shaft.

“Pull your tits out,” white lashes flutter as he pushes in, out, “lemme see ‘em.” 

Like always, your fight is gone the moment he’s buried in your cunt. Your hands scramble to obey him, nearly ripping the delicate straps of your dress so you can pull it down, breasts falling on display. Satoru keeps his eyes on the bouncing fat, biting his tongue when your nipples harden into the most delicious looking buds.

You muffle a cry at a particular cruel thrust, legs starting to burn and shake from the weight of his hips between them. Your lips are swelling behind his hand, sloppy with drool. 

Satoru shifts back, getting on his knees so he can curl your leg against your bare chest and worm his way to the very depths of your pussy. The sound is lewd, all wet and gushing, each push of skin on skin making him prickle.

His keen senses perk—footsteps in the hallway, voices through the wall. Dinner guests shuffling about in the absence of the prodigal siblings. 

Your eyes flash toward the cracked door, yet the little ah, ah, ah~ behind his palm won’t quit.

“Yeah? You want someone to find us? Want them to see how your big brother pounds into your guts because he can? Because you’re a little fucking slut who lets me?”

The annoyance that flares to life as your gaze returns to him has his balls tightening. You hate that he gets the best of you. This is the one way he can, by making you weak and wet and willing for his cock.

Satoru presses his hand to your belly, presses in deep and hard until the heel of his hand meets the outline of his dick. 

“Feel that? Feel how fucking full you are with my cock?” 

He uses strength he couldn’t on anyone else, barreling his hips until you’re moving back on the floor, rug scrunching beneath your bodies as he pounds into you so recklessly. 

You whine, actively try to bite his hand, to suck his skin, to hurt him. 

“Oh please, you can take it. You’re a Gojo.”

That reminder makes you both groan, your cunt sucking as his cock swells. 

He wonders for a split moment what really draws you together. Lust? Failed parenting? Some mutual sense of rebellion? All of it, probably, and some other sick, twisted shit laced in between. 

Your little fingers start prying at his over your mouth, clawing and plucking his knuckles. 

He shows a little mercy and releases his hold on you, only to clamp both hands down on your hips so he can fix your pace and build a faster rhythm. 

You suck in a deep breath, “Kiss me.” 

A pale brow quirks at your request, smirk tugging at his cheek. 

“Really? And why should I? Thought you didn’t like me.” 

“Oh my, ah, god, Toru, I ask for one nice thing. Just,” you reach for him, gripping onto his flexing biceps and pulling him down, “just do it, for me.”

He was always going to oblige you. He hates admitting it, but he’d kiss you all the time, if you’d let him. 

Satoru’s lips meet yours with a bruising fervor. 

Your hand tugs in his snowy hair, drags him closer. Your mouth moves against his, eyes closed, suddenly greedy and hungry; for what, neither of you really know. All he does know is that you still taste the same, like home, and he wants your breath in his lungs.

He is a snake, wrapping around you, suffocating, crushing until you can’t breathe anything but the poison he spits.

Your mouth slants for him, a hum resounding from both your throats as your stomach starts to get tight, tell-tell pulls and sucks like you’re begging him to keep stroking the flames.

“You’re so spoiled, aren’t you,” he groans into your mouth, lips messy with spit, “you gonna cum just from my cock? Do I fuck you that good?”

“God, sh-shove that fat cock deep and cum inside me—”

Your demand makes his blood run hot. 

Satoru throws his head back and laughs, maniacal and oh so satisfied. “You’re spoiled fucking rotten. That’s what mommy and daddy did to you, spoiled you so fucking much you think you deserve everything. Even me.”

Because you started this, didn’t you? When you got old enough to be so fucking tempting in your twenties, started flirting with his friends and batting your pretty eyes at all the higher-ups. When you got strong enough to match him, to take up space in his light.

“Fuck you,” you purr like you’re trying to mean it, like you’re trying to deny him. “Hate you so fucking, ah, god–shit—” he’s got your clit pinched between his fingers now, pressing until he knows it hurts, “make me cum and let me go.”

White hair spreads into the sweat of your skin as he buries his face in your neck. He’s so close to losing it, to being done with this.

“I’ll do one of those things. Let you figure out which one.”

Satoru grinds his cock into your gummy walls, cock strangled in your suction. His pelvis is rolling against your clit, coarse curls making your legs twitch. 

The moment he gets his thumb over your clit, it’s like dropping a match into gasoline. You both burn so hot, melting into one another as he explodes and you convulse. No matter how many times he feels you cum, hears you whisper his name and choke on the three little words you never say, he will never get used to it. 

So familiar and foreign and fucked up, the kind of drug that scratches at his brain and begs from more. 

He empties his balls into you, creaming into a cunt he should never touch let alone fill to the brim. 

You’ve never told him he can’t, that he shouldn’t. You both know it’s abhorrent, disgusting, but maybe that’s why you keep letting him do it. 

He’ll still watch you take your morning pill, though, just to make sure.

Your bodies lie panting in a forgotten corner of the home you both hate, the scent of sex rolling in the air like smoke.

“Get off me and go.” 

Shame is wavering in your voice, it always does. He can understand why you feel it—he does too, he just morphs it into some kind of wicked hatred so he can still sleep at night. 

“One last ~kiss~?” He mocks your voice and revels in how you claw your way out from under him, trying to pull yourself back together and catch the cum dribbling down your thigh. 

“Fuck you. Fuck this. It won’t happen again.” 

And it shouldn’t. But it does. It always happens again. 

Because he wants to hurt you, shame you, make you feel weak in his arms when you shatter and cum. Because he hates how much he loves you. So he wants to crush you, wrap around you like a viper and pop you out of existence. 

His life would be so much easier if he didn’t have a spoiled brat of a sister. 

You make him want to eat his fist when you swipe his cum from between your legs and put your fingers in your mouth, smiling because you know he’ll return to dinner with a tent in his pants. 

You live to torture him, he’s sure of it. 

[bakugoushotwife]

in my opinion, gojo’s storyline has been handled so so poorly i can’t help but think it’s intentional. it is not bad writing to kill a character—even a beloved character. i know most people will dismiss my criticisms because gojo is so beloved to me and so many others. i’ve said before that i don’t mind if he died. does it hurt? of course, and i would still cry and be sad about it. but there is a beautiful way to do it. with respect and honor for his legacy—for what he has done for your manga, the characters in it, and audiences worldwide. but no…gege chose the path of horror and disrespect. at certain points i’d say to myself, well. this is a dark manga. but essentially gojo is the only character that receives this treatment. since the beginning—since suguru left him, he’s been wondering if he mattered because he was a person, or if he only mattered because he was powerful and useable. we certainly fucking answered that question. he is a weapon and nobody ever cared about him at all!!!

and we knew he was being used—he knew he was being used, but he is selfless. so he did it for his kids. for megumi and yuuji and yuuta—he wanted them to be safe. in these flashbacks it’s exceedingly clear that he knew he would die. again—that’s not my issue. gojo dying to sukuna makes plenty of sense and it would hurt to leave it there. but to give us an afterlife scene where he’s presented a choice—north and south—that concept lead nowhere, that’s truly fucked up. to leave all the subtle clues and hints for no reason but to keep people reading and theorizing his return is fucked up. to continue to use his imagery to promote your manga when you know he’s not even honored in your manga is fucked up. we don’t get a funeral or a grave for him. no one’s spoken about him in chapters despite him fighting for hours against sukuna and damaging him so much that yuuji could win, nothing. yuuta wearing him like a costume and no one is horrified about it. i thought his students WERE different. they weren’t jujutsu society yet. that’s why gojo was their teacher—shaping them into better human beings. how am i supposed to trust in their future when it seems they’re just as cold and heartless as everyone before them? no one has honored gojo in any way since the moment he died. and they’ve forgotten about him. he spent his entire life fighting and no one can even say thank you. gege intentionally used gojo to promote the end of his manga because he knows that gojo fans make up at least half of his fanbase so had we stopped reading when he died, he would have lost a lot of traction. he baited us intentionally, cruelly, and something that transcends storytelling. i’ve truly never seen a mangaka have this sort of vitriol for one of their characters and the people that love him.

we spent the entire last chapter talking about some random fucking mission when we have several unanswered questions and concerns. i thought gege said he wanted this ending to be shocking and something you didn’t see in shonen? tying everything up neatly where no one has any trauma or grief for what they’ve experienced, everyone comes back to life except the one character you hate specifically and choso, defying your own power structures and having everyone laughing into the sunset is exactly how shonen ends so what in the fuck is he talking about??

let me disclaim, this is not megumi hate at all. i love him very much and i am so happy he’s back with the group but like. he shouldn’t be able to even walk. he tanked unlimited void for over 6 minutes whenever that length caused irreversible damage to sukuna himself. not to mention the countless black flashes. so what the fuck? he doesn’t mention gojo at all?? the first time he laughs in this manga is after he reads a note written by his dead fucking caretaker about his dead fucking father? like i don’t believe. random open ended kenjaku/suguru mention just to piss me off, an absolutely no mention of gojos sacrifice or how they’ll miss him. i’m sick to my stomach. gege defiled his memory both in the story and outside of it. wow.

P.S. SUKUNA CARED MORE ABOUT GOJO THAN ANYONE ELSE (SUGURU IS NOT INCLUDED IN THIS I MEAN HIS STUDENTS AND SOCIETY)

[nadvs]

bittersweet (one-shot)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning alcohol use

summary rafe both loves and hates that you’re his sister’s best friend. he gets to see you all the time, but it’s a constant reminder of what he can’t have… until one night, when his jealousy takes over and he can’t keep himself from you any longer.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe wonders if you know that he can hear you. It’s just false hope, but maybe you’re trying to make him jealous.

You’re in the bathroom getting ready for tonight’s party with Sarah, your pretty laugh reverberating through him as if he’s right next to you.

But he’s not. He’s never been as close to you as he would like to be.

His bedroom is right next door, where he’s sitting in bed, wasting time scrolling on his phone, eavesdropping.

“You’re lying,” Sarah says.

“I’m dead serious,” you reply. “I’ll read it to you.”

Rafe overhears you reading out a text you got from your ex last night… he loves you, he misses you, he shouldn’t have ever broken up with you.

He remembers seeing you in tears a few weeks ago when you visited his sister. Admittedly, he lingered by Sarah’s closed door, hearing you sniffle through your words about how he had dumped you out of no where.

It made his blood boil knowing someone did that to you. But like always, he pretended like you have no effect on him, later passing you by in the hallway without a single word exchanged.

“Do you think you’ll get back together with him?” Sarah asks after you finish reading the message.

“No way,” you reply. This makes Rafe’s heart feel a little lighter. Until he hears your next words. “I hope that guy I was talking to last weekend shows up tonight.”

Rafe fucking hates hearing you talking about guys you like. His crush on you is too big to not let it rattle him. And tonight, he might have to watch you flirt with someone that’s not him in his own fucking house?

He can’t take it anymore, rushing to the bathroom to see you standing by the mirror, your makeup halfway done.

“Do you have to be so loud?” Rafe snaps.

The only way he can talk to you without throwing any flags up is by being a dick. And admittedly, it kind of feels good getting his sexual frustration over you out like this, even though it’s severely misguided.

Sarah only rolls her eyes, having fully resorted to ignoring him at this point, but you smile at him in that way that makes his heart jump.

“Okay, grumpy,” you laugh. You’re in baggy sweats and big t-shirt and still manage to look fucking stunning. “You’re one to talk.”

Rafe knows you’re referring to the many fights of his that you’ve witnessed, both with his family and with people at parties.

He hates that your smile and your teasing make him want you even more.

He scowls at you but before he steps away, his eyes linger on you a little longer than you think they should. Wishful thinking, you tell yourself. You gave up on the fantasy that Rafe will look at you as anything more than his sister’s annoying best friend a long time ago.

“Sorry,” Sarah says, apologizing on behalf of her brother like always.

“Don’t worry about it,” he hears you respond. “I know what he’s like.”

Rafe shuts his door. What he’s like. You don’t fucking know what he’s like at all.

If you knew that you’re his first thought in the morning and his last thought at night, you’d realize he’s so fucking grumpy because he doesn’t get to talk to you how he wants to. Or touch you how he wants to.

He’ll have to avoid you at his party tonight. He’s not interested in seeing you flirt with some jackass.

That night, Rafe is halfway into a beer, zoning out of the conversation his friends are having around him.

You’re on the other side of the room, arm linked with Sarah’s. You’ve changed out of your comfortable clothes, wearing a dress that leaves little to the imagination. Man, what he’d do to you if he had the chance.

But he knows he doesn’t. You’ve seen him at his worst. Who in their right mind would want him?

As you chat with Sarah, your eyes drift to Rafe every so often. You can’t help it.

There’s something about his presence that’s so magnetic and dominant. And why is it when he’s wearing his hat backwards like that, your stomach does somersaults?

You need to get your mind off of him. It’s never gonna happen.

Then your eyes land on your ex-boyfriend, who just entered the room.

Rafe watches your face drop and your eyes lose their light. You turn to look at Sarah, whispering something to her, then disappear into the crowd. When he realizes your idiot of an ex just showed up, it takes everything in him not to crush the solo cup he’s holding.

He told himself he’d avoid you. He needs to keep his own promise.

Later in the night, you’re filling up your cup at the keg when you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“Don’t hog it,” he says, a joking tone to his voice. You turn to see your ex standing behind you. You only furrow your brows, in disbelief that he thinks he can speak to you so casually.

You don’t respond and he awkwardly shuffles in place.

“Did you get my text?” he asks.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you say. It’s been weeks, but being with him again brings it all back, the way he told you he doesn’t see a future with you anymore. Instead of sorrow, though, you just feel anger.

“Can you just… can you give me five minutes?” he asks.

“Leave me alone,” you tell him. Rafe appears behind your ex, his blue eyes fixed on you. He’s angry like he always is, his jaw clenched.

You figure he’s annoyed that you’re using the keg when he wants to top up his own drink.

“I don’t get why we can’t just-” he continues, but is interrupted.

“She said to leave her alone,” Rafe mutters. Your ex turns around to face him.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks.

“This is my house.” Rafe has to duck to talk to him. The image stirs something in you. “Either stop bothering her or get the fuck out.”

Your ex turns to look at you, shaking his head in confusion.

“This your new boyfriend?” he asks, voice thick with envy.

“What? No,” you reply. The way you look almost appalled by the prospect makes Rafe feel like his heart is being wrung out.

You almost laugh. As if Rafe would want you.

Your ex turns to face Rafe again. In the tension of the moment, you feel a lump form in your throat. Anger from what your ex did to you. Embarrassment that he won’t leave you alone. Excitement that Rafe is defending you, followed by a sharp sadness that he’ll never see you the way you see him.

Rafe is about to swing at him. But then he sees the look on your face and his anger dissolves.

“Fuck off,” Rafe says sternly.

Your ex looks at you incredulously. You’re sure he knows Rafe would take him down in a second.

When he walks away, leaving you and Rafe just a foot apart, you flatten your lips as you look up at him.

“Thanks,” you say quietly. You never thought you’d thank him for anything.

Rafe’s eyes soften when he realizes your eyes are wet with the threat of tears. You feel mortified to be crying in front of him, so you leave your drink on the table behind you and brush past him, stalking upstairs to the same bathroom you did your makeup in.

Your hands grip the counter as you look at your reflection. You managed to swallow down your tears, determined to have a good night.

Three knocks thud against the door.

“Someone’s in here!” you say, weak voice echoing through the small room.

“It’s Rafe,” you hear.

Your heart leaps. What the hell could he have to say to you?

You swing open the door to meet his gaze. He’s wearing an expression you haven’t seen before.

Rafe can’t fucking take it anymore. He steps inside, shutting the door behind him, boxing you in between his body and the wall. His arms are crossed to keep himself from touching you.

“Why were you with him?” he demands.

“What?” you ask. He’s mad. Of course he’s mad. This is Rafe. Mad is his default setting.

“He’s obviously a fucking idiot,” he snaps. “And an asshole.” You’re not sure if this is some cruel display of annoyance, but you don’t have the patience for it.

Still, a part of you is buzzing to be alone with him.

“Why are you giving me shit right now?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose. He brings his hand up to yours, pushing it away from your face.

It’s the first time his skin has ever touched yours.

“Why were you with him?” Rafe repeats. He’s so close to you that you can smell him. His aroma is earthy, like a comforting campfire. But nothing about him is warm. Never has been.

“How do you even know…” you mumble in confusion. You realize you have no clue how he knows that the guy he almost fought downstairs was your ex. “You don’t know anything about the situation.”

“I heard you,” he says. “I heard you crying over him. Why were you with someone who said that shit to you?”

Rafe recalls the way you told his sister that your ex called you names during your last fight. It made him sick.

You freeze for a moment. He heard you? Why the hell would he care to listen?

“Well, sorry I was being loud,” you say, still a little bitter about how he talked to you earlier tonight even though you had laughed it off in front of him. “Can you just… give me a break? It’s been a shitty night. I don’t need you judging me on top of it.”

“God, that’s…” Rafe steps back, taking off his hat just to smooth his hair back and put it back on again. “I’m not judging you.”

“Then what are you doing?”

A few heavy, tense seconds pass between you. Rafe is looking down at you, at how pretty you are, at how badly you need to be appreciated.

Then he leans down to press his lips against yours.

You were wrong. Rafe does have warmth to him. He’s nothing but warmth right now. The way his hot mouth captures yours and the way his hands cradle your cheeks fill you with need and happiness and a whirling sensation of unsteadiness.

Is this actually happening?

Rafe’s whole body buzzes when you kiss him back, your hands hooking up around his arms, palms on his shoulder blades. He’s pressed up against you, deepening the kiss, his tongue running over yours.

He wasn’t annoyed. He was jealous. You feel dizzy from the revelation.

Your back is flush against the wall, Rafe’s body curved against yours. He bites on your bottom lip for a second, sending an arousing pinch of pain through you, as if he’s punishing you for making him yearn for you.

The contradiction between your mind and your body is jarring - you thought he was annoyed by you, but he’s kissing you like he was annoyed at the fact that he couldn’t kiss you before.

Tasting and touching you like this makes Rafe harden, and he perches his hips back, unsure if this is too much for you. When your hands slide down to roughly pull his hips back towards you, he doesn’t need any more signals. You want him just as bad and it makes every inch of his skin burn.

Rafe shifts back, forehead pressed against yours, unable to open his eyes for a second.

“I need…” His voice is hoarse. He can’t do it like this. Not with you against a wall in the bathroom. “Let’s go to my room.”

You nod and follow him, letting him lead you onto his bed.

Your eyelashes overlap as Rafe hovers over you in his dark room, kissing you again. Tucked away from the crowds and music downstairs, all you can hear is the sounds of your lips smacking together and his fast breaths.

You spread your knees apart so he can settle between your legs. Desire consumes you as he grinds his cock against you. The sensation awakens the need you’ve had for him for so long but always told yourself you’re not allowed to feel.

You can’t help but feel a gnawing fear that this is just a meaningless encounter to him. You’re not equipped to deal with being just a piece of ass to Rafe. Sex with him will change everything. It needs to be worth it.

You gently push against his chest and worry floods through Rafe that he did something to make you uncomfortable.

He’s looking down at you in the shadows of his bedroom, his breaths shallow and fast.

“We shouldn’t…” you begin, and he nods quickly, arms straightening to sit up. Shit. He fucked up by kissing you. He’s not worth the risk to you.

But again, you pull him back in, this time with your hands cupped on his shoulders.

“Rafe, wait,” you breathe. “I’m saying… we shouldn’t if you don’t…” You take a beat to gain some courage. “I like you. For real. I’m not doing this if I’m just a hook-up to you.”

Rafe didn’t realize how heavy his heart sat in his chest until he hears you say that. He looks at you with wonder.

“You’re not just a hook-up,” he says, as if it’s obvious to you. “I like you so fucking much. I have for so long.”

“You mean it?” you ask. You realize this man has the power to break your heart.

He kisses you like you’re so damn delicate, like you could break in a second. The way you just said that, the edge and fragility of your voice, makes him feel like the luckiest man alive. You feel it, too. It’s not just him.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I mean it.”

Your lips meet again with even more heat this time. He grinds against you with more pressure than before, his erection hard and big.

The fact that you’re the reason he’s so turned on is unreal.

Rafe’s hands dip under the hemline of your dress, fingers ghosting over your thighs. You tilt your hips up off the bed to offer him the space to pull your dress up. He immediately takes the invitation, watching you in awe as the fabric slides over your chest, your shoulders, finally off your body.

His open mouth attaches to the flesh of your breast, kissing and sucking. He pulls the cup of your bra down to close his lips over your nipple. The sensation makes you tremble and moan.

Your pretty sounds are better than anything he has ever heard.

His tongue flicks and wriggles over your nipple, then he moves to your other breast, eager to give all of you the attention you deserve.

“Let me eat you out,” he stammers. “Please.”

“Yes,” you whisper.

For so long. He said that he’s liked you for so long. Your mind is rustling with excitement and disbelief, your thoughts tangling together as you think back to every time he looked at you. Every time he spoke to you.

It’s crazy to think you can now reframe all those memories, knowing what you know now.

Rafe pulls your panties down and wishes his lights weren’t off so he could see you better. But what he does see in the dimness confirms what he always knew - that every part of you is beautiful.

You feel his fingers spread you apart, the cool air pressing against your core. The image makes his stomach numb with infatuation.

“Fuck,” he says, nearly whining. “Fuck… I can’t tell you how many times I wished I could do this.”

“Me, too,” you admit breathlessly. “I never thought you… wanted me.”

“Of course I do,” he half-chuckles. He regrets ever making you feel like you’re not desirable. You’re perfect.

Rafe dips his head. You’re like sugar on his tongue. You gasp when he presses his mouth against your clit. He can’t believe how much arousal is pooling between your legs as he starts to lap at you.

“You’re so wet for me,” he praises, planting a kiss on your cunt. His tongue twists and curls and when it dips inside of you, you feel like you’re on another planet.

He readjusts his hands to spread you even wider, wanting to pamper every fucking inch of you.

You bunch his hat between your fingers and throw it off of him to feel his hair. You dreamed of touching his hair for so damn long. You can’t help but tug at his roots as he gifts you with the best feeling you’ve ever had.

The thick, wet sounds of him slurping fill you with bliss. His mouth is giving you so much damn pleasure, the same mouth that would snap at you and frown at you and make you wonder why he disliked you so much.

It was all an act. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

You felt how big he is when he was grinding against you. You need him to fuck you. Now.

“Rafe,” you moan.

“Hmm?” he says, mouth still closed around your clit, sending a vibration through you.

“Get inside me,” you whisper. “I can’t wait anymore.”

His heart is thrumming with exhilaration. He still can’t believe that you want him.

He pulls off his t-shirt and unbuttons his jeans with such fever that you smile in endearment. He’s moving like you’ll change your mind or come to your senses or something.

He sits over you on his knees, holding his cock at the base. It’s big and curved so fucking perfectly that you start to ache for him even more.

This will change everything and you’re so glad it will.

Rafe slowly drops to rest on his elbow on top of you, his other hand guiding him into your soaked entrance. You shudder in near unison as he pushes into you slowly, every inch feeling better than the last.

“Damn,” he groans, unrestrained. “You feel so fucking good.”

“What you expected?” you ask, a small hint of insecurity in your tone.

“Baby,” he laughs. The nickname makes your body tingle. “Even better.”

He pulls back slowly, then buries into you again, a deep, languid exhale leaving his lips. He ducks to kiss you as he fucks you slowly and lovingly, stretching you out, your chests pressed together.

His pace begins to quicken, the curve of his cock hitting deep inside you so perfectly.

“Can I go harder?” he asks against your mouth.

“As hard as you can,” you request. He shudders as he pulls back and slams into you with all his force. Your body jolts, his bed squeaking.

“Be mine,” he says between thrusts. “I need you to be mine.”

“I am,” you say. “I always was.”

This sends him over the edge. He’s about to cum, but he needs to get you there first.

To your disappointment, he pulls out, but when his mouth is back on you and his fingers are scissoring into you, you lift your feet off the bed and throw your head back.

Your walls start to flutter around him as you cum and he quickly shifts to stuff his cock back into you so you’ll finish around him. He feels his gut tighten and he explodes into you with a string of oh, fuck’s, your pussy squeezing around him in pulses as he spasms through his orgasm.

Rafe loves the way your arms and legs are wrapped around him. He feels so needed by you. It’s like a drug.

He collapses on top of you, holding himself up the best he can so not to crush you.

You’re both sweaty and breathless and smiling. He dips his head to press his warm cheek against yours as you remain wrapped up in each other.

“So was I,” he mutters against your ear.

“What?” you breathe, your legs numb from pleasure.

“I was always yours, too,” he says. He kisses the side of your neck, wishing he could never leave this moment. You let out a sweet laugh, squeezing his big, hard body tighter.

He’s never going to make you doubt if he really likes you ever again. He’s sure of it. He silently vows it as he kisses your neck countless more times.

inspired by this anon! if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[inkskinned]

she's three years younger than i am, and i put on cascada as a throwback, cackling - before your time! i've been borrowing my brother's car, and it's older than dirt, so the trunk is like, maybe permanently locked. when the sun comes through the window to frame her cheekbones, i feel like i'm 16 again. i shake when i'm kissing her, worried i won't get it right.

in 2003, my state made gay marriage legal. where she grew up, it wasn't legal until 11 years later - 10 years ago. if legal protections for gay marriage were a person, that person would be entering 5th grade. online, a white gay man calls the fight for legal marriage boring, which isn't kind of him but it is a common enough opinion.

it has only been 9 years since gay marriage was nationally official. it is already boring to have gay people in your tv. it is already boring to mention being gay - "why make it your entire personality?" i know siblings that have a larger age gap than the amount of time it's been legally protected. i recently saw a grown man record himself crying about how evil gay people are. he was begging us, red in the face - just do better.

i am absolutely ruined any time my girlfriend talks about being 27 (i know!! a child!), but we actually attended undergrad at the same time since i had taken off time to work between high school and college. while walking through the city, we drop our hands, try not to look too often at each other. the other day i went to an open mic in a basement. the headlining comedian said being lesbian isn't interesting, but i am a lesbian, if you care. as a joke, she had any lesbian raise their hand if present. i raised mine, weirdly embarrassed at being the single hand in a sea of other faces. she had everyone give me a round of applause. i felt something between pride and also throwing up.

sometimes one thing is also another thing. i keep thinking about my uncle. he died in the hospital without his husband of 35 years - they were not legally wed, so his husband could not enter. this sounds like it should be from 1950. it happened in 2007. harassment and abuse and financial hardship still follow any person who is trying to get married while disabled. marriage equality isn't really equal yet.

and i don't know that i can ever put a name to what i'm experiencing. sometimes it just feels... so odd to watch the balance. people are fundamentally uninterested in your identity, but also - like, there's a whole fucking bastion of rabid men and women who want to kill you. your friends roll their eyes you're gay we get it and that is funny but like. when you asked your father do you still love me? he just said go to your room. you haven't told your grandmother. disney is on their 390th "first" gay representation, but also cancelled owl house and censored the fuck out of gravity falls. you actively got bullied for being gay, but your advisor told you to find a different gimmick for your college essay - everyone says they're gay these days.

once while you were having a hard day you cried about the fact that the reason our story is so fucking boring to so many people is that it is so similar. that it is rare for one of us to just, like, have a good experience across the board. that our stories often have very parallel bends - the dehumanization, the trauma, the trouble with trusting again. these become rote instead of disgusting. how bad could it be if it is happening to so many people?

i kiss my girlfriend when nobody is looking. i like her jawline and how her hands splay when she's making a joke. there is nothing new about this story, sappho. i love her like opening up the sun. like folding peace between the layers of my life, a buttercream of euphoria, freckles and laughter and wonder.

my dad knows about her. i've been out to him since i was 18 - roughly four years before the supreme court would protect us. the other day he flipped down the sun visor while driving me to the eye doctor. "you need to accept that your body was made for a husband. you want to be a mother because you were made for men, not women." he wants me to date my old high school boyfriend. i gagged about it, and he shook his head. he said - "don't be so dramatic. you can get used to anything."

the other day a straight friend of mine snorted down her nose about it, accidentally echoing him - she said there are bigger problems in this world than planning a wedding.

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 23

Miguel x F!Reader (Bondage)

Summary: Miguel is tired of you running around the Spider Society and needs you to sit down and listen for five minutes.

Warning: MINOR DNI, SMUT, bondage, webs being used in ways they shouldn't be used, overstimulation

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There a good number of things that drove Miguel up a wall. Many of them were due to either his job at Alchemax, or his position at the Spider Society.

Apart from those two, another thing that made Miguel crazy was you.

You were pretty much the hyper active child of the Spider Society. Always swinging around, making a fuss where ever you go. Miguel was getting tired of having to find you and sit you down for even five minutes.

"(Y/N), come to my office," Miguel said with a heavy sigh as he called you via watch.

"Can't right now, Miggy! I'm having a race!"

"Where?!"

"Uhhhhh....can't....bzzz....you..."

Miguel felt his eye twitch as you hung up on him. As he pinched the bridge of his nose, Lyla ever so happily showed him the footage of you racing with some other Spider people. The group of you bumping into pillars left and right.

Honestly, Miguel loved the hyper go-energy you had. He just wished you stood still enough for him to admire you. Watching your body twist and turn made Miguel's mind wander. What did he have to do to keep you still?

Miguel slumped in his seat wondering if you would still try to move if he ever fucked you.

"Hehe, okay, I won! What did you need, Miggy? I have like...three people to meet soon!" You chirped as you swung into his office.

"You're going to have to cancel," Miguel groaned softly, wanting to hide his erection.

"Awe! No fair, you know~ I'll just come bac-"

You gasped as Miguel fired his webbing towards you. With ease, you legs were bound and you had fallen onto the floor. Right when you were going to break free, Miguel swung over and webbed your hands together. Like a fish, you flopped over to face him.

"Fine! Fine, I'll listen." You pouted. Miguel hovered over you, his breathe against your neck,

"Why do you have to make things so difficult?" He asked, causing your heart to race a bit, "Is this how I have to get you to stay still?"

"I guess,"

Miguel was so close to you. Having both your hands and legs tied was making both your mind and heart race. As you looked into his crimson eyes, you couldn't help but lean towards Miguel. You had always found Miguel handsome.

As if he read your mind, Miguel captured your lips in a kiss. His hands rested against your knees, slowly breaking the binding. As you melted into the kiss, you didn't realize that Miguel had positioned himself between your legs, webbing your already bonded hands to the unmovable object.

"Mhm~ Mig-" You gasped between kisses, squirming slightly as you felt his body against yours.

"Shh, you were doing so well," Miguel groaned.

You wanted to whine. You wanted to move, but Miguel was making it difficult. Perhaps if you kept moving, you would get out of his webbing?

--------

"Ah~ Hn~"

"What's wrong, (Y/N)? Don't wanna move now?"

You had become a moaning mess as Miguel pounded your pussy with his dick. Every time you tried to move, Miguel would change positions, keeping you bounded.

"Mhm~" You flinched as you felt your orgasm approaching.

"No moving remember?" Miguel chuckled.

Webbing your legs up, Miguel leaned into you even deeper than before. His breathing getting heavier as you came upon change. You weren't sure how much more your body could take. Drool was rolling down your cheek as your body kept asking for more.

Your pussy was twitching with every slap of his dick. Your body felt like it was on fire as you started to lose your sense of reason. You wanted to say that it hurt, but you couldn't. Miguel was making a mess of you and felt so damn good.

"Shit, I'm going to cum, (Y/N)." Miguel groaned lowly.

Hearing those words again made your brain spin. You whined and moaned in response as Miguel's pace picked up again. His thick cock pounding against your cervix, ready to unload inside you again.

"Stay still and drink up," Miguel hummed.

Your body arched forward, moaning as you felt him cum inside you. The two of you took a moment to rest before Miguel undid his webs. Your arms and legs flopped to the ground as you breathed heavily.

"You moved again, (Y/N). I have so much to teach you still," Miguel chuckled as he lifted you up against his chest.

"Lemme....rest first."

"But then you haven't learned."

You whined softly as Miguel webbed your hands behind your back as he sat you against his lap. Your pussy swallowed his dick with ease as you let your body rest against him.

"Another round should teach you, right?" Miguel questioned with a kiss.

Needless to say, another round was not enough to keep you still.

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Hope you enjoyed!!!

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

[sleepdeprivedartboi]

One thing I appreciate star wars for always showing consistently is that 95% of all Jedi can't help but be good.

Like this isn't a matter of just being a good person or being trained to be a good person. They literally cannot help but be compassionate and caring. Even when they are doing wrong things, like in acolyte, it is still out of good intentions. It was a huge misunderstanding of course, but they just want everything to be good, which is an unrealistic goal and sometimes that results in bad things because of point of views.

But I can appreciate the fact that not a single fucking Jedi in the entirety of star wars wasn't good when presented with the opportunity. (Pong krell does not count and he can suck my dick) They simply couldn't help it, as the grand inquisitor says in Kenobi. The smart thing would be to not be involved, but even when they are being ACTIVELY HUNTED, They cannot stop themselves from butting in and helping others. Obi wan tried , but ended up helping, Cal tried to hide, ended up exposing himself to save someone, Ezra and Kanan, Ahsoka, Quinlan voss, and these are just the main people , who knows how many other survivors tried to help and ended up sacrificing themselves just so like 3-4 innocents could live. They didn't do anything on a grand scale, but those little acts of kindness probably helped hope from dying out completely.

The Jedi are the literal embodiment of hope and goodness and I fucking love that. Despite everything, and all the defamation palpatine did, the people still considered Jedi good.

Like you know shit is bad when even the criminals are like "the empire is had for business, the Jedi were better"

And i appreciate it. The galaxy is a harsh place, and so is the real world. So it's wonderful seeing a faction that is just good. Sure they made mistakes with Anakin and some other times but like that's upto the people imo, not them as a whole. Where there is pong krell, there is also mace windu, there is also obi wan and Yoda .

And I appreciate them for showing this consistently. Do they make mistakes, yes everyone does. But they were completely finessed by palpatine into losing their way and they STILL managed to do their best.

I am a proud Jedi sympathiser and will probably be executed for that in the empire.

[pippin-katz]

In Defense Of Edwin

Something that has bothered me is that there's a significant amount of people who talk about Edwin being unaware of Charles' pain as if he's oblivious, or like he did something wrong; that is simply unfair to Edwin.

Charles is happy, friendly, and wonderful. That is his personality. That is not all forced.

People are quick to jump on the line that Charles has been hiding his pain from Edwin, but a line people are ignoring from that argument is: "He's probably been hiding it from himself!"

His behavior indicates that he doesn't talk or think about trauma or negativity unless it's relevant to the situation. I doubt Charles even realized how bad his trauma was until the Devlin Murders. His pain was so repressed that he wasn't "feeling" it anymore.

Charles’ Triggers

While I'm not going to say that Charles did not hide his pain from Edwin at all, I am going to point out that this may have been the first time, in a very long time or ever, that they encountered something this close to home for him.

The only real reason Charles discusses his trauma now is because the Devlin House triggers him, genuinely in a psychological way. It's not just the "crazy dad" that gets to him. There are so many details that fit Charles personally. That whole situation is too fucking much for him.

The song Owner Of A Lonely Heart playing in the background; a song that he says he liked enough to get the cassette tape but that it was smashed by his father.

The controlling and restrictive behaviors of the father on his daughters. The eldest daughter writing about walking on eggshells and looking forward to graduation.

The way that the father kills them; he doesn't shoot them, or poison them, or whatever, he butchers them. His attacks are physically direct. He swings an axe, so his movement is the root of the violence. If it had been a gun, it would've been his finger on the trigger, but the bullets hitting them. Charles was abused by his father through the means of a belt, which is physically direct.

The loop, having to watch it over, and over, and over again with no break, no relief, and not being able to do anything, no matter how many times he sees it happen. Charles' abuse seemed to be regular and constant, no matter what he did. It always ended the same way.

All of that is then exacerbated by the Night Nurse forcing him to reexperience his trauma the very next day. That's a lot of specific details and events that lead to his complete breakdown.

Charles hasn't been consciously choosing to hide all of that pain from Edwin. It had been buried to the point where even he couldn't see it anymore, but the Devlin House uprooted it from his subconscious.

Charles’ Parents

Now, he does hide his habit of checking on his parents from Edwin, but that's not fully about his abuse. Charles misses his family, his life, being alive.

It's worth noting that he only shows Crystal his parents because he's trying to connect with her about not being able to go home. He didn't bring that up on a whim. It was relevant to help Crystal feel understood. She's not special; if someone completely different from her did the exact same thing, Charles would've shown them too.

Now, let's talk about him not telling Edwin. Charles may not have a full comprehension of Edwin's experiences, but he knows he's different from "normal" people. Hiding his parents from him is likely just as much about not wanting to hurt Edwin as it is protecting himself.

Edwin does not show any type of longing for his life. Everything he knew about the world from his time is gone or been changed beyond recognition. He doesn't have a family to miss, not that he was close to them in the first place; even if he did have an emotional connection to them, they've been long dead.

And Edwin seems unbothered, but there’s no way for Charles to know that for certain. Watching his parents weekly would remind Edwin constantly that he does not have anyone. He’s worried about being insensitive; he feels like he would be unintentionally taunting Edwin and rubbing salt into the wound.

Edwin has been dead for over 100 years and spent 70 of those years being torn apart by a demon in Hell; how could he even remember physical sensations other than pain and exhaustion? How could he remember the taste of food while running through Gluttony, watching its inhabitants vomit profusely? He never saw the appeal of romance or sex prior to his death, and then he witnesses the bloody masses of people in Lust; how could he be anything other than repulsed?

Charles tells him that pain is not a contest, but he almost without a doubt compares his own experiences to Edwin's. It's something people with low self-esteem do more than others. He feels guilty, like he’s selfish for being upset; Edwin has it so much worse.

How does being abused by his dad compare to being dragged to Hell? He got hit with a belt; Edwin was ripped apart. Who is he to whine about his life to a boy who has died more times than days Charles has existed?

He may not have had the specific details before, but the knowledge of it being Hell was enough. When you don't put your own needs on your priority list, that's one of the first "justifications" your brain comes up with. They already have enough on their plate, and you don't need to talk about it. You're totally fine! So yes, hiding his parents from Edwin makes sense from his perspective.

But his abuse? Charles doesn't even realize how much pain he's in; how could Edwin have realized?

My point is that Charles wasn't actively choosing to hide all of his pain from Edwin for thirty years, so to blame Edwin for not noticing is like blaming a blind person for picking up a red ball instead of a blue one. He couldn't have noticed; there was nothing for him to notice. Charles wasn't wearing a full mask.

The second Charles shows any indication that something is wrong, Edwin does notice!

Edwin may have trouble with people, but he's not oblivious, and he knows Charles. If he's ever been upset like this before, he would've noticed. He notices Charles' change in behavior after Crystal joined in only a day, and he doesn't deny it when Edwin calls him out.

Edwin also follows up on asking if he needs to talk about his father. Charles brushes him off, but Crystal and Niko show up before Edwin has a chance to press a little more, which I think he would've. I don't think Charles would've opened up, but it would've shown that Edwin is aware that all is not well. He is aware, but on top of being in the dark about it, he's got his own shit he's working out and cases to solve. His attention is divided.

I think it's important to remember this fact that has been driving me mental for months now:

Charles and Edwin’s dynamic during the show is a completely different dynamic than the one they've had for the past thirty years.

The introduction of Crystal, going to Port Townsend, meeting Niko, Monty, fighting Esther, the Cat King, etc. etc. etc. Everything about their relationship gets shaken up from the start of the show. They're both acting differently in all sorts of ways, and some they even acknowledge to each other.

What we saw of them in Port Townsend is not what Charles and Edwin were during those thirty years. It's unfair to pass judgement on something we don't actually know about.

I guess what I'm saying is that I'm getting really tired of fics/posts making a commentary about Edwin not noticing being something he has failed at. Does Edwin feel guilty for not realizing it sooner? Absolutely, but please, at least acknowledge that it wasn't his fault if you're sticking to canon. If you want to twist some shit into it to make it more complicated, make it more angsty, go right ahead! I'm absolutely not stopping you!

But canonically, at least I feel after studying these characters under a microscope, Edwin could not have known sooner.

(ko-fi)