#like just because its sounds happy doesn't mean it IS

[bisnes-socks]

i said i might do more in depth thoughts of stephanie and so i did.

the first post was a bit rushed but many of the points very much still stand, this post i guess is just trying to make the same points a bit better and deeper. so idk how much of a musical analysis this is, and how much i'm just trying to put vibes and feelings into words, but here goes.

i said in the first post how i like that the structure isn't the usual verse chorus verse chorus - well, actually it kind of is that, but the chorus doesn't feel like an obvious chorus, because they only play it twice and it's not the same those times. there is almost a pre-chorus like feeling to it, and then the song ends in what could have been a bridge, if the song was longer. this song to me feels like a part of something bigger, and that's why i'm super excited to hear in the context of the full album. with that being said, i still think it works super well on its own as well, i really love the vibes.

the early 2000's brit rock and indie rock influence, such as arctic monkeys or black kids, is still quite obvious to me, but so is the 80's influence as well, like orchestral manoeuvers in the dark was the first one that came to my mind. then again, the 80's influence on early 2000's brit rock and indie rock in general is also pretty obvious, so i think influences in music in general should always be seen as a spectrum, rather than fixed, separate points. everything is always influenced by things that came before it, and what we can name as an influence on something will always depend on where we've heard a specific style or flavour or spice in music first.

it's a different sound than what we've heard from them before. i don't know if this makes any sense to anyone other than myself, but to me, the sound on this song is the sound of a collective more than the sound of the band. what i mean by that is that there are so many elements in the song that are not straight forward band instruments, or instruments that are in their usual line up. this sound is produced by five professinal musicians working as a collective, rather than five band members playing their respective instruments simultaniously. does that make any sense? i don't know, but it's how i feel - like there could be more people on this song than there are. but i think the best songs always do sound like all of the people who made it, not just one or two.

like i said in my first post, the drums are super interesting in this one. the drum machineness of it all, the super 80's style drum fills, the percussive details of little pings and pangs that decorate the track, that's all something that hasn't been super typical in pop or rock music recently, and harkens back to the 70's, 80's and also the early 2000's indie scene. it's super interesting to listen to, and i can genuenly recommend taking the time to listen to the track a couple of times focusing on just the drums and percussion.

in fact, i'd recommend listening to the track (this track and honestly just songs in general) several times, always choosing a different instrument or element to focus on, because there is a lot of cool stuff going on in this song! vocals and lyrics often take the main focus, but i always find it worth it to carefully listen beyond the lyrics.

the drum parts are also just genuenly fun. the drums and the bass make it a very dancable song, which again, it's both very 80's and very early 2000's to make super bop-y, dancable songs with sad or dark lyrics. the contrast is quite yummy to me. it also brings a vibe to the song i really really love. it reminds me of a quote about movies, about how drama movies should always have a little bit of comedy in them, because that's how real life is. there is always always both light and dark, sadness and happiness present in everything. crying and laughing all at once. that's the vibe of the song to me, and it's brilliant.

the song has so many layers to it, it's honestly brilliantly mixed: there's something happening in almost every direction, every distance, so to speak. and so many different synth sounds! sharp strikes here, notes held there, runs here, backround walls there. take a moment to find them all, it's super rewarding and again, genuenly fun!

the vocal delivery is also a cool contrast with the musical aspects. the voice doesn't convey a lot of emotion, on purpose i think. he sounds a bit numb and detached, and the music being so whimsical with all of its details and decorations, it's just a really cool juxtaposition.

and at the end, repeating the lines about love and happiness not being built for people like me, with the guitar playing the same melody, when the vocal line and the guitar line go out of sync and he starts repeating the lines to a different rythm, i think it highlights the juxtaposition even more, it's like.. it's like he's not even listening to the whimsy of the music anymore, but getting carried away in his own head by the lines. and repeating them in an almost monotoe way.. i just think it's a brilliant way to deliver the emotion behind the lyric.

but the song ends in the major key whimsical runs on the keyboard with a very fun percussion rythm, and so i think ultimately the mood left behind by the song is quite positive. it's melancholic sure, a bit angsty yes, but at the same time it's not a depressing feeling. 

like i don't know how else to put it, but the whole song is like. everything is going to shit in your life, but you're on a walk and the leaves are super pretty colours and the weather is just perfect, and you breathe in fresh air and it's like. yeah everything is kinda fucked but right in this moment, right at this minute, it's all kind of.. okay. and for a split second you can imagine a future where things are less shit. where maybe happiness and love are built for people like you.

[batcavescolony]

Music Artist: so I wrote this song and it sounds pretty but if you look into the words it's actually really messed up. I wrote it to make people think about looking past the surfa-

Some of y'all: OMG 🥰 this song is so PRETTY 🌸🌼 IT'S SO HAPPY!

[jils-things]

2024 is probably not my best year now that i think about it

[timewontwait]

honestly at this rate, i’m considering going back to fic writing/drawing fan works full swing

[snekdood]

i just struggle to believe theres any ethical way to harvest meat. farm animal dying of old age? yeah. ok. sure. but farm animals aren't going to be perpetually dying of old age enough to fulfill the demand for their meats. you can make better and more convincing arguments to me for ethically harvesting eggs, wool and milk rather than meat.

[quimichi]

NSFW - MDNI

He's obsessed with your voice. He loves the way you whimper and just struggle your words out. He loves to to tease, he LIVES to tease you. He's so mean whe he asks what you want, just so he can deny it and command you to beg for it.

He's buried deep inside of you, barely able to hold himself up, panting heavily. He looks down at the pretty face you're making and he can't help but think that the only thing that would make it better is the sound of your beautiful voice.

"Tell me what you want, baby" he breathes in your ear, dropping his head down to your neck. He stopped moving. His hot breath hitting your heated skin. "I asked you somethin'~" he hums leaning back down to press kiss over your shoulder. You can practically feel his smirk in his voice.

"Please-" is all you're able to stutter out at first and it makes him grin onto your skin as he lifts his head to shake it at you. "Naw, I couldn't quite hear you princess,.. you should use bigger words for your needs?" there's this pout on his face, he's mocking you. Out of desperation you kiss him, in hopes that he could possibly forget about your loss of words.

He indulges you for a few seconds before pulling away and raising his eyebrow at you. That's when you realise he's serious; he really won't move an inch until you tell him exactly what you want. "Please-, just.. fuck me" you whine, you know it won't be enough for him but you hope it is because if he doesn't move in the next thirty seconds you feel you might combust. You honestly don't know what will combust, but something is definitely blowing up and its also gonna be you.

"Good start, baby, but it's not enough" he chuckles at your responding whine and buries his head into you neck chuckling. Although this is more than entertaining, he also has to hide the fact this is just as agonizing for him like it is for you. "How do you want it, hm? Tell me how you want me to fuck you." "Please, just fuck me. Fuck me hard. Fuck me dumb. Fuck me so hard you break me, the bed or the wall. I don't care just please fuck me" you desperately shout out in embarrassment.

He lets out an elated laugh, this is exactly what he wants to hear. He leans in to kiss you and ends up muffling the happy whine you let out when he finally starts moving. But quickly you feel dizzy, you're beyond coherent words at this point. You can't even think straight. He feels so good inside you that you almost go crazy. You instinctively grab at his skin, raking your nails over his shoulder blades. He loves being able to get you like this, he loves listen to you break like this. You and the pretty noises you make are all his to enjoy....

Kageyama, Tsukishima, Matsukawa, Kuroo, Atsumu, Suna, Tendou, Terushima (haikyuu)

Kaeya, Al-Haitham, Ayato, Itto, Scaramouche, Wriothesley, Dottore, Pantalone (genshin)

Geto, Nanami, Gojo, Toji (JJK)

Hisoka, Chrollo, Feitan, Phinks (HxH)

Rafayel (love and deepspace)

Leona, Lilia, Jade, Floyd, Ace, Trey (twst wonderland)

[4rafe]

rafe cameron

setting down the perfect shade of a baby pink louis vuitton backpack onto rafes messy bed. he had got you a full set of louis vuitton luggage for your birthday just a couple of weeks ago, personalized it with such a beautiful pink and your name embroidered on.

opening your bag, mindlessly going through the couple of pairs of brandy melville pajama sets you packed with you and choosing which one you wanted to wear more. choosing between one and the other was so complicated but when all else fails, you can always rely on the opinion from a man with the name, rafe cameron!

you picked up both sets, making sure the cute design showed perfectly with a huge giggly smile on your face. the sounds of your feet hitting the wood floor as you were walking up to him to ask the big question, "rafey, which one" you smiled big, only your eyes peeking over the pj sets as you held them up for his decision. even though you gave him two options, there was one you 'picked out' in specific. insisting he answer 'correctly' with the tone in your voice.

he turned around to look at you when you called his name following with a question. his eyebrows furrowed from the petty little design that covered the sets of your clothing. raising his pointer finger to choose which set even as the words came out of his mouth, "that one, bunny." he answered as his phone dinged and he pulled it out of his pocket to answer.

you squealed to yourself with a big happy smile on your face, you were ecstatic that he choose the one you wanted him to even though you knew either one would have been just.. fine. you thought to yourself about your silliness to ask whenever you knew what you wanted to wear but it was much better having rafey pick for you.

when he choose, you stood up on your tippy toes as far as you could to reach rafes cheek as he held his phone up to his ear on the other side, giving him a sloppy kiss for his decision before having to come back down as you couldn't stand on them for very long. being in a talking stage with a man who stood at 6'1" came with its many different challenges, romantic ones included but, in all ends, you really liked it.

making your way back to rafes bed where your backpack still laid you heard him mumble something to you. hearing his mumbles made you turn back around, looking at him, "hm?" you questioned. notifying to rafe that you don't know what he had asked of you the first time but now he had your attention.

rafe brought his hand up to chin, rubbing slowly as if he was in a trance of thought, "why do you bring that backpack with you every time you stay, princess?" he had asked of you. you turned around to face him, placing the backpack onto the ground after all decisions were made. "its my spend-the-night bag!" you smiled big at him and giggled in response.

"what the hell is a spend-the-night bag, that's fuckin stupid." he said to you and your smile dropped instantly which was so weird because you knew how rafe was, mean. but he never really meant it "mean" towards you it still doesn't mean it didn't hurt.

he saw as your smile dropped, knowing his words hurt you tremendously. he waved his hand at you, telling you to come to him. he took a seat on the bench that was placed in his room, as you walked towards him. as you stood in front of him, he wrapped his fingers around your thigh, pulling you forward as he guided your legs around his. as you sat down on his lap you let down your head, feeling embarrassed that he saw his words effect you so much. he brought his hand up to your chin, feeling his cold golden rings on your skin, lifting it up so you were looking at his eyes and he started to explain to you,

"bunny.. all im saying is, everyone in this shitty town knows you're mine. there's no need to keep bringing your stuff back and forth. just move all your stuff in with me." hearing his sweet words made a big smile appear on your face again which made rafey smile as well. he made you so happy, it was silly, you were head over heels for him and you wanted everyone to know it.

later that week, you were all moved in. so so in love.

[satowooo]

A DAY IN THE LIFE... WITH A CAT

Wherein Sukuna takes care of your cat for a day, despite his indifferences with it.

warning: animal cruelty

Your boyfriend, Ryomen Sukuna, is obviously not very fond of cats. Or to any living and breathing creature at all. But most especially your cat.

Sukuna hates it. Despise it even. He wishes it to be gone with just one flick of his finger just so the silly furball wouldn't take his time away from you. He hopes it'll get tired of you and run away someday because why are you always up on its face?

But then, that would make you sad. So he won't actually do anything to harm it, as much as he can.

To Sukuna, your cat is the most unearthly being that has ever walked on earth. Always tailing you around like a constant shadow, a menacing shadow. He dislikes it so much that it gets more of your attention than his.

“So cute!”

Sukuna watches the way your eyes glint in delight, squealing and feet kicking in the air while you're turned to your stomach right by the floor, playing with the little kitten you adopted. You had the most beautiful and widest grin spread on your face, and all because of an animal.

You can't seriously be so happy over that?

It has been a month since that kitten entered your life, and you hadn't been the same since. Well, you are the same, it's just Sukuna being exaggerated.

Why wouldn't he? You barely even look at him anymore because you're too focused on doting and feeding that animal, to the point that he's already making it a silent competition between him and the kitten about who wins your affections. And the cat wins every time. Every fucking time.

You're so head over heels about the white-furred kitten and he will never understand why. It's just another responsibility for you, another creature that will just distract you from your daily living, the daily living in question being the time that you're supposed to be doing with him instead.

“Look, Kuna!” You cheered, holding the cat by its arms to show the kitten to him, the said animal wearing small little glasses that would fit its little face.

Sukuna could only sneer, a frown obviously etched in his lip. “He looks pathetic. Get him out.”

“That's mean. Don't listen to him.” You turned the cat to face you and covered its ears, as if it'll understand what Sukuna says. The cat in return hisses at Sukuna, which made him scoff in disbelief.

Why are you even treating the kitten like a real baby? It looks so ugly!

But despite his inner thoughts, he actually finds himself caring for the cat, begrudgingly.

It's a furry dirty cat. He would only bring chaos all around your shared apartment. It probably doesn't even know how to clean itself. Sukuna would always think.

But he never really had a choice whenever you're gone at home, and he's left tending to the cat’s crazy needs.

“Will you fucking stay still?” Sukuna holds the cat by its scruff, not too tight though, just enough to hold him up to meet his gaze. The white kitten was all wet after Sukuna just gave him a bath. It meowed at him helplessly, making him smirk to finally see it in distress. “You're a handful, kitten. Why does she like you so much?”

This must've been the longest day for him yet, with you leaving Sukuna with the task to shower the kitten in your place because you'll be out the whole day. Who's he to disobey you anyway?

He wrapped the kitten in a towel, then took him by the counter. He let it sit there for a moment while it was licking its paws, while he rummaged through the cabinets to look for the hair dryer that you always used for the cat. Once he had it in hand, he faced the kitten again, his eyes glaring at the small creature who's just looking at him curiously.

This? This is the cat that you fawn over? He looks even ugly when he's drenched.

He could only shake his head at the thought, before plugging in the hair dryer so he could do his work. The cat tried to run away when he pulled him close, the hair dryer making a loud blowing sound as he fanned it all over the cat's body. A smile would tug on Sukuna's lips, finding the cat's helpless state funny whenever it meows in discomfort at his presence.

Well, let's just say it wasn't a very pleasant experience for the poor animal. As much as it is for Sukuna.

“Yeah, you look horrible. I know.” He chuckled darkly, gazing at the now dried-and-furry-again cat, all thanks to him.

He carried the cat and put it down the floor, letting it run away. He sighs, brushing a tired hand on his nape before he goes over to slump on the couch, resting his eyes for a moment. He could hear the thumps of the kitten running around, stumbling over who knows what, but he couldn't care less. Right now, Sukuna needs to have a moment. It was surely a new experience for him, and something that he will never do again.

It didn't take long for the kitten to go back to him though. It easily jumped on the couch, climbing straight to his lap. He groaned, feeling the cat tapping its little paws on his skin, opening his eyes to see it looking at him, expecting, or perhaps, asking for something?

“What do you want now?”

The kitten meowed, before jumping off his lap and heading straight to a little cabinet by the wall, where his cat food was hidden.

Oh, it's smart. He'll give him that.

“You're hungry?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at it. “Go starve yourself.”

Which wouldn't happen really, because the kitten started meowing furiously at him, which jolted all his senses awake. He cursed underneath his breath, letting out a grunt, standing up so he could give whatever the thing that the creature needed.

It was a very long and tiring day for him indeed. But at the end of the day, he's got the cat settled right above his chest, and he's petting its head softly as it lets out a purr. The cat’s tail would brush across his wrist, a sign that the cat must've been pleased with the gesture.

“I'll let you live longer.” He frowned, a low huff escaping from his lips as the cat only looked at him. “Just remember your place in this house.” Flicking the cat’s forehead softly as a finality, before he pushes it off and lets it fall on the floor, the cat swiftly landing on its feet.

After all, his pleasure is not his top priority, but yours. So, if keeping you happy would mean having this little cat between the two of you, then he might just let it for a while. For a while. Maybe. Depends if the cat crosses a line.

[myfandomrealitea]

I know there's a lot of advice for handling things like depression and its so fucking easy for people to say "just do this and you'll feel better!" and I hate that, I fucking despise it, but I'm also gonna throw in my two cents about what is personally helping me get out of bed some days and genuinely, not kill myself.

Its taking care of nature.

Seriously. It sounds stupid and some days it feels stupid, but I put up bird feeders because I live in a semi-rural area where human activity is decimating the local bird population and options for safe feeding. So I put up bird feeders. And now I have like 83 different birds flocking to my garden on the daily and screaming at my window if the feeders are empty. And I've seen generations of baby birds brought to my garden by their parents because this is where the food is.

And I researched what plants and flowers were native to my area and I spent like $5 on a few different seed packets and sprinkled them around the grass and the sad empty flowerbeds and the lawn because the bees have nothing to eat and that's awful and it turns out wildflowers will fucking GROW the moment you look away, but now every spring and summer my lawn is a pretty little multi-colored bug haven.

And I've even gotten the chance to save a few little bug lives because of it. I've taken in cold-shocked bees and given them a warm little tupperware to recover in. I've fed bugs sugar water to get their energy back to take their food home. I've given dying bugs a sheltered, safe place to spend their last moments.

I planted a veggie garden. And I know I'm very lucky in that I have the space to do that, but also, you can grow a lot of things indoors. My friend has literally the smallest apartment you can imagine but she grows chives in her bathroom and grows five radishes at a time in a pot in the kitchen. Literally five. But it makes her so happy every single time she pulls them up or trots off to the bathroom to snip some chives.

I pick trash up every two weeks. The pick stick was like $4 online and I just put the bag out with my bi-weekly trash pick-up and its disgusting but but nobody else is gonna do it and I've only got finite time on this earth. If nobody else is going to pick up that can, I will. Because some innocent wild animal doesn't deserve to get hurt by human ignorance, and I deserve to walk home and see pretty flourishing nature instead of depressing discarded trash like I feel like most days.

I've left water out for the wildlife and watched hedgehogs, local dogs on their walks, squirrels and all sorts stop by to take a drink, because humans are fucking selfish and we're making something as basic as water so hard to access for anyone but ourselves, but I can fix a little bit of that just by putting out a bowl. Sometimes I don't even have to remember to fill it because the rain will fill it for me, and its kind of like nature's way of saying "you're helping me so I'm going to help you out too." Which is neat.

Like most days I do not want to be living on this earth but my god earth did not get a choice about us living here, and we're ruining it, and it actually feels so good to help stop and un-do a little bit of that destruction.

And you don't even have to try everything I do. If the only thing you've got the spoons to do is buy one bird feeder and you only remember to fill it once a month, its still something. That once a month could mean the difference between starvation and a full belly to a bird.

Again, none of this is obligatory and I'm not saying at all this is some magical cure for depression, but personally these things are things which are helping me slowly find things to keep getting out of bed for and things to feel a sense of self worth and satisfaction over. I feel better both in and about myself when I feed the birds, when I see the bugs in the garden, when I pick up the trash.

If its something you haven't considered yet, it might be worth a try.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

HEAR ME OUT

“Don’t you think I’m scary?”

“Scary? My god you’re divine”

AHHHHH

FuskqosnisisbssbjHWISNSKSOAOAKWAJ 😭😭🤭🤭😋😋

I love two lovestruck idiots who don’t know they’re in love w each other and it’s grumpy German shepherd x golden retriever 😻😻

PLEAAASEE german shepherd x golden retriever is one of my faaavvv tropes OAT !! it’s so so adorable and especially with katsuki cus i know he just thinks he’s so scary ! i got a lil idea after the recent manga chap that just came out, so this might be a liiiiiittle super small spoiler but i think its so cute ! hope you enjoy anon tysm for the ask ! much luv xxx

fem reader, super duper minooor spoiler but katsuki has stitches !, mutual pining, idiots in love, soft katsu (cus he has to be but also cus he’s whipped) (but hes still a little piece of shit) reader is a lil sweetie, short lil fluffy fic, touchy katsuki bc i cannot help myself, lmk if i missed anything else !

before the war, bakugou had made a lot of new little habits.

he’s made it a habit of waiting for you to head out of class so you could walk together. he’s made it a habit of sharing just a portion of his lunch with you, because apparently he’s constantly been making too much, ignore the fact that he only let’s you have those ‘extra’s’ that doesn’t mean anything.

he’s made it a habit of carrying around an extra water bottle with him because you always forget to keep yourself hydrated after training, he’s also made it a habit to scold you for it endlessly. he’s ruthless even as you whine about how mean he is, saying that “he wouldn’t need to be on your ass so much if you just remembered to grab your damn bottle.” he ignores the fluffy feeling in his heart and tells you to shut up when you tell him that he always has your back anyway, swiftly looking away from you and cheeks turning red.

and since you're on the way to his house, he's made it a habit of walking you home. you call it hanging out after school, he calls it 'just making sure you don't get lost somehow..hah ?! don't ask me how ! your dumbass would probably find a way to !'

anyway, he's made it his mission to grace you with his presence every day after school. you always bid him a cheery goodbye, "see you tommorow !" you say, and he always looks forward to it, even when he turns away, nonchalantly throwing you a quick wave over his shoulder.

usually you wake up at completely different hours, so he doesn't pick you up the morning. you always wished you could see him first thing in the morning, but seeing him waiting by the school gate's was more than enough to make your heart soar, you were more than happy with that.

but today you can finally go back to school. after dealing with non stop fighting for what felt, and probably was, hours and hours on end during the events of the war. and being stuck in the hospital for a few weeks, it feels nice to wear your school uniform and feel somewhat normal again. you'd get to see all your friends again and you'd official be a second year. you smile softly to yourself in the mirror.

katsuki had sent you a text a few minutes ago. he'd asked if you were almost ready, and you'd responded that you were only for him to leave you on read. you didn't mind much and shrugged it off.

but today, when you walk out the door, you see katsuki waiting for you on the sidewalk.

you blink twice, eyes widening. katsuki turns and looks up from his phone screen at the sound of the door he also blinks, although he's more unbothered then you as he simply stands up, pushing himself off his knees with a groan "took you long enough." he drawls. his eyes are warm and his lip twitch just the slightest bit at your expression "thought you'd keep me waiting forever."

"katsuki !" you exclaim, eyes still wide "what're you doing here ?!" you quickly walk to him, standing close enough to see the marks on his face, and the unmistakable stitches on his cheek.

he raises a brow like you're crazy, tilting his head "m'walking you to school."

"bwuh-are you even allowed to go to school ?" you sputter, realising he had his school uniform on, you liked it when he started making it a habit of wearing his tie more often. katsuki grumbles at your worries "shouldn't you be in the hospital ?" he scoffs at your fretting, but his eyes soften as he leans in closer to you. you see his battle scars better that way. you gulp at the sudden proximity, he's never been shy about getting in people's faces, although it was never meant to be intimidating when he did it with you, if the pink tint of his cheeks meant anything.

"doc said it's fine as long as i keep quiet.." he scoffs after finishing the sentence, rolling his eyes and causing you to giggle. hearing the sound he hadn't heard in what felt like ages made him sniff in amusement. you reach for his hand then, and he doesn't take his eyes off you while intertwining his fingers with yours. both your eyes shining with longing and affection for the other. you smile brightly at him and even though the doctors had told him to be careful with his heart, it seemed you were gonna make that hard for him. it didn't matter though, he was always up for a challenge.

pulling him along, you decide to tease him "guess that means you're gonna have to be on your best behaviour today, huh ? so you can't go gettin' mad at kaminari for no reason !" you playfully scold.

he rolls his eyes at the mention of your friend, though he doesn't hold back his smirk, he's definitely more open then he was compared to when you'd first started school. thinking about how far you've come together makes you happy, but it also feels bittersweet. "dunce face s'the who keeps pissin' me off, not my fault he can't handle it." you snicker and he snorts in amusement, squeezing your hand and making butterflies squirm around in your stomach. you don't mention the tight grip he has on your hand, probably because you're gripping his just as tight with no intention of letting go anytime soon. you probably look like a couple to the people walking by, you realise. and the thought does not displease you at all, far from it. it makes you a little too happy.

"behave." you squeeze his hand.

"i do." he growls, squeezing back, "he keeps trying me." you respond with a snort. your eyes occasionally fly towards his face, to the stitches on it more specifically. he's caught you looking multiple times on the way to the bus stop, not like you were exactly being subtle. your stare makes him nervous and he decides to finally confront you about it when you get to the bus stop.

"spit it out." he says, hands clammy in your grip, he hopes and prays you don't notice because it's so unbearably embarrassing to have to admit he was worried about what you'd think about his new look. he'd been anxious on your doorstep but you didn't give him much of a reaction, too shocked to even see him at the time, but your constant shifty glances made all the anxiety crawl back up again. so he speaks, keeping these distracting and frankly irritating thoughts to himself just irritated him.

you blink, humming curiously. katsuki grumbles to himself, keeping his eyes from yours. "ya keep staring at me, so what's up ?"

"it's strange seeing you with stitches." you answer bluntly. usually, he likes how honest you are, but right now it does nothing but stress him out. "i heard you messed your face up pretty bad, but i'm glad it didn't leave too much of a nasty scar." you muse. katsuki hums but his eyebrows furrow as he catches your last words, he's a little pissed off that you'd heard about what happened during the war. he'd wanted you to know as little as possible to keep from worrying you, or at the very least he'd wanted to tell you himself. he'll make sure to thoroughly question his fuckass friends later. of course, it also could've been her.

"..how'd you-"

"your mom told me."

he grunts. of course, it was his mom.

that damn hag..

"of course." he mutters bitterly. you don't respond, and to him that's all the answer he needs. a pit settles in his stomach.

"yeah, it's weird, isn't it ?" he agrees bitterly, unconsciously tightnening his grip on your hand. "it looks kinda creepy, right ?"

"what do you mean ?" his jaw tightens " i mean..like, on my face..." he sputter and mutters to himself, unable to properly say what he wants. you understand him though and immediately you turn till your face to face with him. your expression determined as you grab his other hand, both of his scarred hands now in your grip. his eyes widen in shock, embarrassment creeping up on him.

"there's nothing wrong with your face, katsu." you reassure, you'd made it a habit of calling him all those stupidly endearing nicknames, and it doesn't help taming the blush on his face slowly bleeding onto his cheeks. he pouts, fixing his gaze onto you and towards the floor.

"but doesn't it look..i dunno," he mutters, suddenly feeling self conscious "scary ?"

"scary ?" you tilt your head, he squints and looks away.

"i guess." he grunts with a nod, trying to save face. obviously it doesn't work by the look on yours. you're always so bubbly and sweet, he hates seeing such a pained expression on your face. you tug at his arms to get him to look at you "scary ? there's nothing scary about you.." you say sweetly, shaking your head. "i personally think you look really cool.." you mutter. katsuki feels his face heat, but his heart soars nonetheless. his eyes have been stuck wide for a second.

cool.

you think he looks cool.

"i was just wondering if they hurt ?" he tilts his head back in thought at that. instictively running his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

"nah, just felt weird when they were numbing it. but i didn't feel a thing." he shrugs, he suddenly smirks, the stitches being pulled up by the movement "wanna touch em ?" he teases, pulling you closer by the grip he still has on your hands. your eyebrows shoot to your hairline and he barks out a laugh.

"i-i can't do that ! what if i touch them and they come loose or something !" katsuki rolls his eyes at your jittering, using the hand still in his grip to bring it near his cheek, you desperately pull back and his evil smirk widens.

"katsuki, no !" you protest. he cackles meanly.

"it's fine." he insists, your pointer finger grazes his cheek and you turn your head away.

"i don't wanna !" you shake your head, your shoulders shaking as you hold back a giggle.

"yn. you're fine." he insists. he'd made it a habit of calling you by your first name after you'd started hanging out more. you called most of your friends by their first names pretty quickly into the year, your cheeriness making it easy for you to get along with everyone but you always were a little on guard with katsuki at first. he'll never admit it, but he was a little jealous that you'd call everyone in your shared friend group by their first name except for him. the sweet bubbly tone in your voice when you called for sero or kirishima made a nasty feeling bubble up in the pits of his stomach he'd desperately tried to push away. until one day he'd snapped during your group outing at the mall (outing he was coerced into going to by kirishima after finding out you where going too)

he'd regretted how whiney and bitter he sounded at the time, but he thinks it was worth it every time you'd look at him and say his name so sweetly, definitely worth it, as embarrassing as it was. and he'd started calling you by your first name too shortly after. all your friends do, but it felt so, so different with him.

finally your fingers make contact with the staples on his cheek. you peek up to look at him then. you run your fingers across them ever so softly, making sure not to hurt him. katsuki slowly let's go of your hand. unmoving and unnervingly still as you take your time scanning his face.

"so ?" he raises a brow, smirk slowly melting into a softer smile as he sees you smile to yourself.

"it's..not bad.." you tentatively start, still too worried to move too suddenly. he hums playfully. "and you don't feel it at all ?" you ask

"at all." he softly shakes his head. you don't realise you've gotten closer to his face but he sure has, and you end up realizing a little too late, but neither of you move away. you try to, but katsuki pulls you back in before you can get far. "do i still look cool up close ?" he jests, but there's some seriousness and vulnerability in his gaze. you smile warmly.

"yup," you say softly, you hear katsuki inhale sharpy, eyes never leaving yours "definitely still the coolest. not scary at all" you giggle, he rolls his eyes but chuckles. before you can question your positition or move away (or closer) to him you see the bus arriving in the distance. he notices it too and you share a look before you take a step back, smiling shyly at the floor while he keeps his gaze on the bus on the way.

until—

"OW, fuck !!"

your eyes snap up to see katsuki holding his cheek in his hand, your heart hammers and your eyes widen. you're next to him in two steps. "what, what—why-what happened ??!" you stammer, your hands reaching up to grab ahold of his face though you stutter, maybe it was your fault ?!

until—katsuki bursts out laughing. mean, but undeniably cute watery cackles that have you furrowing your brows in confusion until your jaw drops in realization.

the. asshole.

"you're not funny !" you whine, pushing at his arm although pushing might be the overstatement of the century. it could be more comparable to a nudge because even though he is an asshole, you wouldn't want to hurt him. even if he deserves it, you're better than that. you'll just think about hurting him.

katsuk chuckles breathelessly, grabbing your arm while you walk closer and stretch your arm out to signal the bus to stop. "it was funny, admit it !"

"you suck. you're the worst." scanning your bus ticket and walking ahead ignoring him, katsuki quickly scans his ticket and follows diligently behind you.

"you thought it was hilarious." he smirks.

"the absolute worst, the lowest of the low." you huff, ignoring the persistant heat of his eyes on you. he only snickers.

"i see you laughing."

today, you arrive to school with katsuki not at the school gates waiting for you, but walking together with you to start your new school year as second years. and you both hope you can make a habit out of this.

[prettyboykatsuki]

mindfuck. | sunday (hsr)

𖤓 tags ; afab + gn!reader, established relationship, established d/s dynamic (implied to be 24/7), extremely submissive!reader, soft dom!sunday, mindfucking in a sense, extremely horny telepathic communication, sensation play (pain + pleasure), intesne, overstimulation, oral (f!recieving), penetration, misuse of aeonly abilities, very lovey-dovey in an insane way, lowk mutually codependent lol, 18+

𖤓 wc ; 4k. (this is.. wow)

𖤓 a/n ; this was not written with canon in mind. this was written with heart-eyes and wet pussy. if it does not make sense with his canon abilities, it is not my business !

everything in this dynamic is very consensual but sunday pushes reader a lot so it gets intense for them. they have aftercare !! but they are both insane so please be cautious!! i dont think it warrants dark content but it is . wild.

He won't put on airs in front of you.

Maybe it's because your lovers, as he describes it. Not partners because that implies equal control, not something so juvenile as your boyfriend. Lovers. Sunday refers to you unilaterally as his lover. As his.

As his lover, he remains ruthless. He doesn't lie though. He's frank with you to the point you wonder how he lies so easily with everyone else. He shows you the vulnerability of his grip strength, the intensity of his feelings for you. Sunday loves you. He won't put on airs about this.

Sunday loves you, so there's no need to worry about anything. Don't worry about the bed you sleep in, the clothes you wear, the things you eat. Sunday won't put on airs about wanting to let you have freedom. He doesn't even pretend like he'd be happy if something caused you to leave. He wouldn't tell you to find someone else should you grow sick of him.

Be with him. Let him love you. He'll carve something out of his heart and keep you there - conform to his ribs and listen to the sound of its beat. You're his lover. All his. Bone, blood, faith, religions - all his, always.

When Sunday is in a bad mood, you can always tell. Though his face remains indifferent - he's harder on you than he is usually. He's not often in a bad mood and the difference might look minor to anyone else. And identifying the source of his mood is arduous, because often it's him thinking himself into a corner. The worst of it comes when he convinces himself you want to leave him, even when you assure you have no such intentions.

Sunday is twisted. You know that. But you willingly handed him the chain to your leash. It's no doubt you're just as rotten.

His mood, though usually magnanimous - can become cold and ruthless and brutal on days like that.

There are three things that tell you that Sunday is in a bad mood when he visits your room today.

First, that he's meeting you in the real world and not in the dreamscape. Sunday doesn't like reality. If he's meeting you there - it means that he is wanting affirmation you are real despite everything, which is not a sign of him being very level-headed.

The second is that he's being affectionate. He comes to your door and kisses you on the lips before making you greet him. A deep kind of kiss, shared between average people. Lacking control and precision - all want.

The third is that he takes off his clothes when he closes the door behind. He makes you sit on the bed like always, but doesn't join you in his full attire. He doesn't make you get naked and come sit in his lap while he still has his suit on.

You have a routine about this after all. Sunday comes, makes you sit at his feet until he's pleased with your begging - makes you cum to the point of delirium than murmurs softly until you've sobered again. He'll talk to you afterwards. Lays in bed next to you and strokes your hair with absent fondness only after affording you pleasure. Only after paying him your worship.

But he skips the step entirely today and undresses. He's never undressed without you asking him. Always a reward.

You want to ask what exactly has him this desperate, but you're almost afraid to know. It's so unusual it jars you.

He has his back turned away from you on the bed where you sit. You're naked with the exception of a choker. Sunday is undressing in front of you, all without you asking. It feels like something you shouldn't look at, though he hasn't forbidden you from it explicitly.

You peek anyway, pushing away the guilt.

He undresses himself neatly. Slides the silk of his gloves off and lays them flat on the armchair nearby. He shrugs his white coat off, follows it. His fingers are beautiful and soft outside of their confines, and they unbutton his shirt dexterously. Off with his vest and his other attire - once his top half is bare he turns to you.

Despite yourself, you try to level your enthusiasm. You look down at the bed underneath you, only listening for his footsteps. Instead you find the hardness of your heartbeat, rising into your throat.

Your skin feels hot. He hasn't even touched you but you're wet, albeit afraid of what any of it means.

You feel your pulse quicken impossible when his hand brushes along your cheek. His fingers are long and slender, his nails as pristine as the rest of him.

"Look at me."

And so you do, picking your head up to gaze at him. His expression is unreadable, but different. "Is everything okay?"

That seems to shock him. He smiles that time, comfortably. "Everything is fine. Something came up. I thought I'd come see you."

"Oh well, I'm glad you came to see me," You say quickly and he smiles again even softer. "But, well. It's different."

"It is. Is that a problem?"

"No, no - I just. Are you upset?"

"Not with you," He's quick to assure. You love him, you think. It's things like that that make you love him. "Something annoyed me."

"Is that right," You look up at him and look closer. "Can I help you?"

You feel it then. There's a shift in his demeanor. He's pleased with the question, with your attitude. You feel his hand nearly tremble as he strokes you fondly. "You want to make me feel better?"

You feel strange. Skittish. "Y-yes. If that's alright."

"Aren't you very generous?" He replies. It sounds like praise, makes your stomach turn. "There's something I'd like to do with you. Will you allow me?"

You're not sure why he's asking. "You don't need to ask my permission for anything."

He shivers at that. You think he does. It's brief enough that you miss it. His eyes lid, thumb smoothing across your lower lip. "That's right. You're all mine, aren't you?"

You nod. "Uh-huh."

He smiles at you. Laughs, pleasant and warm and rich. It's an unfamiliar sound - almost carefree. It makes you happy to hear but you try not to let it show so he doesn't get conscious of it. Still, you smile. Stare down at the space underneath and glance at his naked torso and flush all over again.

"Then, allow me," He sits next to you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He grabs your hand tender and guides you into his lap. The amount of contact is so much unprepared, your knees feel weak. He allows you to straddle him, guides your arms around his neck. You can feel his gaze on you and you squirm but don't move.

"You're very nervous." He points out.

"You're," You feel like the Penacony will fall from underneath your feet "...touching me."

"You're so ruined already, over that?"

You nod. Of course you are. It's Sunday's body you're touching. He never allows you this much unless you've done something to please him greatly. Unless his mood is good. You're used to the silky cloth of his gloves even when he fucks you on his fingers, your cunt dripping onto his nice suit even when he's pleasuring you for hours. He reminds you of the miles between you doing that. A show of power.

So of course the sudden change in that distancing is alarming. Arousal keeps spiking every time you remember. It makes you feel stupid. You're touching his warm skin, seeing the sinew of his shoulders and the way he's built. His core soft and stable, everything dusted with rosy hues. He's slender and beautiful and elegant all over so of course you're wet between your legs, achy and unnerved by just how much your pussy seems to pine after his touch.

Your brain feels like it'll pour out of your ears, the words barely forming to speak.

"It's too much."

He doesn't say anything in reply. His fingers snake between your legs where you're stood on your knees - sliding down slick folds, tentative and amused. "You're so much wetter than usual," Then, with a breathlessness to his voice "Is it really making you feel this way to see me half naked?"

You lock eyes with him. You can't make yourself out in the reflection of his eyes but his face changes. It doesn't matter what you can see, because you know you look desperate. You can never hide how you feel from Sunday, but especially not like this. Vulnerable, you nod curtly - mouth fallen open.

"It's okay," He coos, which are not the words he normally chooses. He normally says that you'll be alright - which is different from this. Restlessness makes your skin prick. "Do you want to know why I'm in a bad mood?"

You nod.

"I thought of you running away," He says, which is typical. But it's too much for it to be just that so you wait. "Going back to your home planet to never return. It wasn't pleasant but I couldn't stop imagining it."

"...Was that really all?"

"Really all? Do you think there's something that would displease me more than that?"

"You really want me to stay with you." You say, less than ask.

"I treasure you," He murmurs, his voice is low. Cold, even - underneath layers of possession. "You are mine to treasure."

"Of course but," You want to look away from his eyes but you find that you cannot. "So much? Do you really?"

He smiles again. It doesn't reach his eyes. "More than you'll ever know." He reaches for your hand and holds them, smiles as you gasp. His lips brush along your knuckles. "So you'll trust me, won't you?"

"Yes. Whatever you want."

"Such dangerous words."

You don't ask he means by that. It wouldn't matter. Wouldn't make it any less true. The tight space that Sunday has carved for you is yours no matter how suffocating. It's yours and you would do so much to please him.

Sunday lets his fingers walk up the curve of your spine. You shiver, watching him. He's pleased somehow, and that's good you think. It's better than him being angry. His hand stops at the nape of your neck, cupping it and rubbing his thumb along your pulse.

"Let me in,"

You don't know what that means until you feel it. Two sensations press against you at the same time. Sunday's abilities - halovian and not. Your eyes close tight at the pressure in your skull, but Sunday's hand in the physical world soothes you. He's reaching you in two ways - two different ways. You know them now.

His powers feel different from his halovian abilities. His powers (or THEIR powers, you suppose) are piercing and needlepoint - never completely pleasant or intended to relieve. He uses them only occasion, and never for too long. The invocation is usually a test of some kind. Even as he mutters the words against your neck now, they illicit that kind of response. It makes your body pulsate. It's pain that only he can deliver and heal - pain that he gives to you, that is yours. It's not harsh enough to incapacitate.

But it's strong enough that the back of your teeth chatter. Your muscles pull, lurching forward to collapse in his arms. Like a hot iron searing your tongue - like a needle going through the softest part of it. Your first are closed into tightly as you allow him inside of your very being. Penetration that outweigh physical, violates you to the core and carves you out tenderly. You're awake and alive and ruined beyond whats mortal. It's not so intense usually. Allowing him to sink in the hollow blankness of your mind and dig his sharp claws into the soft matter. Jolts of electricity spatter along your insides - your mouth open with drool sliding down both end. HE is inside of you. HE intends to control you until he decides to stop.

You open your mouth to speak but the pressure is too strong. Another sensation follows you, then - just after you get used to the first. It's different. It's the gift he was born with, the pleasant throb of halovian telepathy.

You feel your jaw go slack at the overwhelming difference between pain. Complete, unyielding euphoria.

You moan. Your physical body reacts - your clit throbbing so hard it stings, making your entire lower body like it will melt off of you. With a shaky inhale, you feel the full breadth of Sunday's internal emotions. Possession and adoration knit themselves together and move like a caress over every inch of your body. Lightheaded from the pressure, your breathing strains.

There's not a single part of you Sunday is not touching intimately - fingers and palms and tongues. His physical hands, soft and placating rub your pussy and drive you to hysteria. His voice is whispering you words of comfort - to trust and hold on. His emotions twist and dominate yours and everything in you sings back in obedience. You want to cry. And you think you will after your adjusted enough to remember where you end and Sunday begins. If that ever happens. If it's possible experiencing the weight of this.

You're boneless underneath his touch. Your physical body and sensations reach heights far beyond and in true, utter desperation you call his name. You're not usually so spoiled but it's too much and you need him. "Sunday. Kiss me."

You can see yourself almost in third person. His laugh is smooth but breathy, as he lays you down on the mattress and leans over you. He kisses you as you've asked, long and deep - and doesn't pull away even as you lick desperately at his lips. Your nails are clenched into your hand, making them bleed.

He speaks to you clearly.

"You love me don't you?"

The words barely make it out of your mouth. Your heart is pounding. It's not like you can lie like this anyway, but you never would. "Yes. Yes, I love you."

He must feel it. Feels you as much as you feel him because he laughs near jovial and kisses you again. His soft lips slide against your shoulder, your collarbones. "Yes. I love you too. But you know that."

Yes. You do know. There's no way you couldn't.

Your entire body feels weak as Sunday lowers himself further and further. His mouth, warm and inviting - leaves open mouth kisses across the entire expanse of your body. Your nerves feel fried, like they're getting pulled like weeds and laid out.

You know what Sunday's mouth feels like well, but like this is too much. Too much to fast, your spine arches off the back of your bed as his breath ghosts over bare cunt. Gasping, you reach for the sheets behind you. No awareness of your surroundings can save you from it.

Ruthless as always, you feel his tongue slip against your folds and lose sight of the remaining threads of your consciousness. Sunday uses his abilities to stabilize you, says something about how you can't pass out yet. You whine at the back of throat but don't tell him to stop. He praises you for that with another long stripe against your clit.

Sunday is good at knowing your body. Pristine and precise to the point of being scary. He lays his tongue flat and latches himself on you, angular in leading you to your orgasm. Your body is so impossibly sensitive that he barely goes for a minute before you feel yourself shuddering in that familiar desperate way. His feelings come in a wave after that, a pink hue in your eyelids as he expresses his unending praise even after your incredibly premature orgasm.

"Sorry," You mutter, barely breathing as everything swirls inside of you. Your stomach flips. He puts his hand up to hold yours. "Didn't ask for permission."

He laughs at that, bright and pretty. He's pleased with you. You're practically vibrating from need. It's alright. You don't have to ask today."

"Are you...aah...sure?"

"Yes. It was polite of you to ask." He praises, and kisses the inside of your thigh. He licks your pussy again this time with deliberate slowness and you cry out his name. "You're so wet for me. So sweet. Should I use my hands at all or do you think you can take me as is, hm, my love?"

"Give it to me," You slur, unsure if you can hold out on it much longer. "Please, please, please."

"No need to beg. I do like to hear it though." He says, mostly to himself. He kisses you as another wave of sensation enraptures you and leave you limp. You feel it all again, strong to the point of feeling numb. Piercing pain followed by overwhelming, lovesick euphoria. Your body goes limp against the bed, fingers curling into the sheets.

Sunday coos at you. He guides your arms around his neck and guides your hands to his shoulders. "You can hurt me a little."

"Don't want to hurt you."

"I want you too," He says, and you think if you were sober enough it'd feel like a confession. "It's alright. You'll never be sharper than I can handle."

You whimper but concede, letting your nails dig into his flesh hard to keep yourself together. Sunday whispers praise against your neck as you go through the impossible motions of it. It's so much longer than he'd normally put you through his and your body is pushed to it's limits. You know that but he seems pleased with you. You want to please him.

"You're doing well." He praises, softer than ever. "A little more. Just a bit."

The world could be ending outside around you, but you would be completely clueless to it. The only thing, the only thought, the only consideration you can make towards Sunday. His adoration does not feel like the flicker of a candle, but like ball of light curling around itself. It is tight, and hot, and always at risk of exploding itself into something cosmic and unreachable. You wonder if it is possible to love too much, but tell yourself that isn't true.

Even as love makes a mess of you in the physical and metaphysical and all else. Even as it flays you open and guts you and licks you until you are all but hollow yearning, you don't think he loves you too much. You just think that he loves you. If Sunday is all the concentrated light in the universe, you are the eternal darkness meant to make him whole. Your love for him just as deep, like a void that never ends - certain, inevitable darkness.

Your tongue feels heave in your mouth as you kiss Sunday again. A lonesomeness comes every minute you spend apart, even brief. Sunday does not leave you alone for long.

Even as he prepares himself to feel you deeper, he whispers and talks to you. Placating praise leaves tears welling at the corners of your eyes but you nod and listen anyway. You wait for him.

"Take a deep breath." He tells you. He positions himself over you again - though you can barely see or understand as you open your eyes. You blink rapidly, trying to get a sense of his expression even as your mind is gripped at the corners and pulled taut at every edge. Color clouds your vision - hazy making your eyes glass over as you attempt to pry them open. Sunday appears before you like an Aeon in all their glory, beautiful and divine. You sniffle at the sight of him, whimpering at the sensation of his hands on your thighs.

"I love you," You whimper at the touch of his cool hands on your hot skin. "Love you,"

"I know," He says, sliding his cock along your folds with such unwavering affection it makes you gasp. The tip throbs along your clit, sticky with need and you whine. "Shh. I'm here."

You allow him whatever he wants. Your head feels full. Nodding, drunk and floating - you squeeze your eyes close as you feel the tip of Sunday's cock push through you. You wish you could see it better, though you've seen it before. Long and pretty, red tip and neat hair at the base. The sensation makes your tummy flutter, your hands up to his shoulders.

Your pussy weeps at the feeling of him finally entering you, something deep in your body begging for him. Your throat closes, eyes watering at the sensation of being so full as he starts to move. Slow but sure, not intended to pain you - restrained. Everything is full. Heart, body, mind - every inch of you harbors Sunday like he's made you in his image. Your lower half throbs and thrums, a euphoric outpour making your legs wrap around his waist. You don't want him to move. You want him to carve himself in you and stay forever.

Tears fall helplessly as he bottoms out. His waist is pretty, you think - as you see where his meets yours. You see his cock sheathed inside and your mouth drops open. Sunday grinds against you, hot as it touches your sweet spot. Never-ending in his chase to please you.

"Sunday," Your voice is hoarse as he moves his hands to rest between your bodies, thumb brushing along your clit. "I'll cum."

It's more than that. You think if you start, there's no way you're going to be able to stop. The thought frightens you almost. Sunday is quick to assure you.

"It's okay," He tells you, and keeps moving and touching to bring you to the very precipice without any mercy at all. "I know. Your body is mine and it's what I wanted. So," He glances up at you with as mile. "Give me what I ask of you."

Your lips form into a pout because you know you can't say no to that. You wonder why this is what he wants from you, but your brain is too scrambled to even try to deduce it.

Feeling an orgasm this way isn't something you've ever experienced in your life. You can't imagine you ever will again. That much pleasure and sensation, life-ruining - feels like falling through space with no assurance of when you'll crash. Just knowing it will come eventually. Your entire body lurches forward at the full sensation, bursting at the seams. Everything around you melts until you're left with nothing but hot white pleasure racketing along each of your exposed, frayed nerves. You fall away and into nothing. It feels so good you can't speak, can't think, can't do anything but let that nasty sob leave your lips in complete and utter ruin. You cry for Sunday - teary, snotty, pathetic, and you want to beg him for something though you aren't sure it's mercy.

He fucks you through it. The repetitive sensation of your body being fucked while you're lifeless makes your ears ring but Sunday fucks you anyway. Fucks you meaner than you though he was capable of, fucks you precise. Lets his cock fuck into you with such force your cunt is forced to remember him until death do you part. You can only feel Sunday. Every atom of you his, his his.

You spend so much time in that high, you barely know when it stops. Sunday fucks you to his own orgasm and you feel that inside of you too, which only makes you cry longer.

You know it's over when Sunday starts to pull away and you feel unimaginably hollow. Even though it was so hard on your body for the entire duration, you find yourself exhausted when you start to sober up and open your eyes. You see Sunday before closing them again. He is as beautiful as always.

__

You think you must pass out for a bit, because a breach of time comes where you see nothing but darkness. When you're awake - you're in a bath in the hotel bathroom.

Sunday has not left your side when you're awake again. He looks worried as he sits on the edge of the tub and waits for you.

The water is warm and comfortable. You are tired and very, very hungry. Sunday looks at you but doesn't realize you're awake even as you gaze at him. He seems sad and that saddens you.

"Sunday? Everything okay?"

His eyes open wide when he hears you speak. Your voice is barely there. He's still naked. You blink. "You're not wearing clothes."

He stares at you for a long, long time. And then, afterwards, his bare hand comes up to your cheek and cups your neck. He kisses you deeply, tenderly and it makes you sigh a little to feel. It's unusual. He laughs against your lips.

"I wanted to bathe with you," He says after a long while. You widen your eyes. "Is that okay?"

"Oh, uhm," You nod feeling self conscious. "That's fine."

"And," he holds your hand in the soapy water and lets his thumb smooth against your finger. "Let's eat together. After. Okay?"

You smile to yourself. "Uh-huh. Okay."

You love him you think. There's no such thing as too much. No matter how it would look to anyone else. You think Sunday loves you too. Enough to ruin you completely and put you back together again.

[luveline]

anything bombshell reader I would adore!!!

Oh my god, Spencer thinks desperately, could she give me a break? 

You waltz into the conference room wearing a smile (your smile, as heartbreakingly perfect as always) and a motorcycle jacket buttoned to the chin. There's something about it. Spencer doesn't know what it is, just that it makes you even more attractive than usual. He toys with the word sexy, and sure, you are when you want to be, but he thinks about it long and hard. You're a fucking bombshell, and you're going to kill him one day. 

“What's with the outfit?” Morgan asks immediately. 

“You can't wear that to the precinct,” Hotch says, though he sounds curious rather than annoyed. 

“You called us in unexpectedly,” you defend, holding up two perfect hands. Calluses from shooting practice line the palm of your dominant hand and you've a cut down the side of the other, and they're still perfect. Everything about you compliments everything else. “I was out.” 

“What, on your motorcycle?” JJ asks. 

“Your motorcycle?” Emily asks. 

“I didn't know you had a motorcycle,” Garcia says.

“You're ganging up on me. Spencer, honey, would you save me?” you ask, though the tone you use doesn't express much urgency as you unzip your thick jacket and toss it aside, its logos and sponsorships crumpling over the back of your chair. “You're the only one who looks pleased to see me.” 

“I am pleased to see you,” he says honestly. 

You don't make it to cases every time; you're on a different type of leasing, you always say. He doesn't have the subtlety to pretend he isn't happy you're here. You flirt with him, sure, and he enjoys it even while being out of his depths, but he likes you. You're fun and smart and good to be around. You listen. 

“They couldn't keep me away from you if they tried,” you say, head dipped gently to one side, smile far from teasing.. 

“Since when do you ride a motorcycle?” Emily asks. 

“If we could get back to the case at hand,” Hotch says, and for a moment everyone looks rightly chastised, until he adds, “we can discuss Y/N's choices afterwards.” 

What's worse than your jacket is the quickness of your brain, the connections you make, your endless suggestions. You're so good at your job it makes Spencer feel funny. Rossi, who'd been mostly silent during the exchange, sends Spencer a pitying look. 

When the case has been introduced and everyone sent to make preparations for another trip, you and Spencer remain in the conference room. You, because your go bag is already here and you don't have much to do, and Spencer, because you're here.

“Do you really have a motorcycle?” 

You tap your nose. “Need to know, babe.” 

“I sort of do need to know. If you have a motorcycle, I should probably be spending more time worrying about you.”

“Well, it's not mine.” 

He feels a crushing wave of rejection descend on him. “Right,” he says. He knew this would happen. He knew you were just being nice—

“I'm borrowing it from a friend. Mostly to see if I still knew how.” You put your chin in your hand, smiling knowingly. “Who's did you think it was, Dr. Reid?” 

“Don't do that,” he says. 

“Or what?” You ease up anyhow. “If you don't like being flirted with, Spence, I won't do it.” 

“I didn't say that, just don't– don't look at me like that.” 

You sigh morosely, but your dramatics are unconvincing, and a smile plays on your painted lips. “Alright, I won't. But it's how you were looking at me, you realise? How's that fair?” 

Spencer is about to say you know how, but do you really? Why is it fair for him to ogle you (albeit without meaning to) when you walk in, but when you make your soft googly eyes at him, he tells you to stop? Maybe because his are real, and yours are… questionable in authenticity. 

You're smart enough to see that debate before it forms. “I have less choice over it all than you think, you know?” you ask, softer than before. 

“I know,” he says. He doesn't, obviously, because the idea that you flirt with him accidentally is hard to accept, because who is Spencer to you? Your nerdy, socially clueless coworker who very clearly has a crush on you. Why would you like that? So he doesn't know about that, but he knows about having little choice in the manner; he sees you and he trips over himself trying to get you to see him. 

“I say it every time, but I've missed you, handsome. How have you been?” you ask. 

Spencer forgets the depth of his crush in the face of a friend. “I'm good, I've been reading all this Russian existentialist literature–” 

“Yeah? Anything good?” 

Spencer beams. “Actually, yeah. There's this one writer, you've probably read him already, Dostoevsky…”

[pearlzier]

︵︵ DAY THREE ﹐ MIRROR SEX ☆

ᰍִ ꒰ KINKTOBER. ִ✧ㅤㅤ masterlist.

WARNINGS .ᐣ mirror sex. pwp. dirty talk. kinda mean!dean. afab!reader. p in v. dean doesn't pull out, dean cums in reader LMFAO.

NOTES .ᐣ uhhh what do u guys think of the layout, do u like it??? :3 tried somethin new!!!

"Y'CAN KEEP WHININ' ALL Y'WANT, but i told you to keep your eyes on the mirror, didn't i?" you whine and whimper when you feel dean's thrusts come to a stop. he'd been pistoning his hips against yours roughly, bucking them against your ass as his cock slid in and out of you in a steady pace. he would've kept going, if only you could just follow instructions and keep looking at yourself. he wanted you to see how good he could wreck you, make you a fuzzy mess by the time he was done.

and he couldn't make that point if you weren't even looking at yourself, could he? "s'not that hard to listen to me," he mutters, scoffing at the fact being full made you incapable of thinking properly. you let out a pathetic sound as his hand slides over your shoulder to grasp your jaw, your lips parting instantly with the squeeze and flex of his fingers that follows. it draws your attention up to the mirror and your eyes meet his green ones through the glass.

you look like a mess, hair mussed from being grabbed and tugged on by his hands—your legs trembling from having to hold yourself up. you don't have to worry about that one for much longer however, he's practically holding you up with his other hand whilst the other grasps at your jaw. "but, it's embarrassing—" you try to protest, voice whiny and weak. dean's eyes only darken more at that, and a soft smirk finds its way onto his lips.

"embarassin'?" he tuts quietly, thumb tracing over your bottom lip before he pulls on it a little and tugs it down, his head tilting. leaning his head in closer, he murmurs, "could make this a lot more embarassin' for you, baby, so i'd listen if i were you." forcing your head up, he coos, "that's better, let me see those pretty eyes. that's it." he thinks you look perfect like this, a mess because of him.

you scoff quietly, bottom lip trembling a little. your cunt clenches around nothing needily, missing the feel of him inside you. "mmh, i'm looking now, happy?" dean hums behind you, biting back a full on grin knowing you can see him in the mirror now that you're looking up. he rolls his shoulders in a shrug, lining himself back up with your cunt and sliding back inside with relative ease. you take him with no resistance, having grown used to being stuffed full of him.

"real happy," dean murmurs with a little roll of his hips, dragging his cock down your walls before pushing back up again. he repeats this a little, feeling your arousal start to drip down the length of him. with how he's propped the mirror up and how he's got the two of you positioned, he can see the way the head of his cock breaches your hole when he pulls back only to be buried to the hilt when he thrusts forward again. "looks like i ain't the only one," he grunts, shifting a little closer so the back of your thighs are flush against the front of his own.

all you can think, hear, see, is dean. he's right behind you, his hands are on you. he'd moved his hand from your jaw to grasp at your hips, so he could gain the leverage he needed to pound into you. you would've closed your eyes and felt the pleasure if it wasn't for the fact he'd stop if you weren't looking. now, you have to focus on the way his biceps flex from the pressure of holding you up or listen to the way he grunts and growls with every rock of his body up into yours.

it's embarassing for you, the way you whine and make loud noises because his dick is ramming into you and making your legs tremble. with ease, his hand slips down to circle your clit. "actin' like you don't get off on lookin' like a whore," he murmurs quietly, seeing the way you immediately squeal at the touch. you can't deny the fact you're just as into his as he is. even if using a mirror was completely his idea, you'd loved it from the moment he'd even brought it up once. needless to say, you didn't need much convincing to be bent over like this.

even still, you don't want to admit it. because that'll give him serious satisfaction to know that you like this as much as he does. the embarassment isn't all that awful, if anything, it makes you clench around him and coat his shaft with your juices. "i do—don't," you mumble, despite the fact you're sure you're about to cum from his movements and touches to your clit. he's practically drilling into you, considering the fact you hadn't looked away from the mirror for a whole now.

"yeah? you don't?" he asks, brow furrowing. he knows full well you're lying, because one, you're a shit liar when it comes to dean, and two, he can call your bluff from how you've been whining his name this whole time.

he reaches a hand out, leaving the one on your clit to continue circling and applying pressure to the bundle of nerves whilst the other grasps at your hair to tilt your head down to look further down at yourself in the mirror. it's a mixture of mess on your thighs, his pre-cum having oozed down the inside of the flesh and mixed with your wetness. your eyes widen a little and once again, you clench around him making him groan. "thinkin' y'can lie to me," for that, he only picks up the brutal pace further, the sound of skin against skin getting louder and practically bouncing off the thin walls of the motel.

the people in the other room can most definitely hear the two of you, but neither of you could, or would actually care. both of you are so close, he's sure he only needs a couple more strokes inside you 'til he's painting your thighs white with his cum—and you're sure you only need a few more thrusts till you're making a mess on him. "dean, nngh, oh.." and besides, you'd been relatively good for him this entire time, you're sure he won't make you hold off on your climax like he usually does when you've been acting up.

he's panting as he speaks, "look at yourself, baby," his hand moving off your clit whilst the other moves from your head to grasp at your hips again and drag you back down on him to meet his thrusts. "c'mon, that's it, look at yourself. lookin' so pretty takin' my cock like that. so warm, could stay here forever," you know he's close from how he keeps talking, needs to focus his mind on anything other than how his body tenses with the impending release.

"feels so good, looks so good," his hum that follows your words is a self assured sound. he knows how good it feels, looks, he gets to see you like this everytime he fucks you. but he's glad you get to see just how pretty you are when you're on the verge of climax like this. so, so pretty, whimpering and begging for him to go harder and make you cum. "gonna.. fuck, gonna come," you stammer, unable to hold off any longer. "can i? ca—can.. please," dean can't help but smile when you ask for permission like that, and he nods.

"yeah, sweetheart, go on," his eyes shut for a moment, breaking a rule he'd set for you. but really, neither of you care at the moment. you're both far too distracted at the moment to be paying attention to whether rules are being followed. "want you to watch how you look when you gush on my dick though, can you do that for me? for me?" he asks, his own tone the faintest bit begging. dean doesn't whine, or beg, don't get him wrong, but to watch you watch yourself as you come around him would get him that little bit over the edge.

"mmh, yeah, yeah—shit, nnh, like that.. gonna.." you gasp, thighs trembling and shaking as you have to grasp at the mirror to steady yourself. quickly, your eyes dart upwards to the glass to watch yourself too and you let out the prettiest moan at the sight. so fucked out, so dishevelled and messy. it's a perfect look on you. dean knows it too, he's grunting and growling the moment you lock eyes with yourself and eventually his thrusts start to stutter and become uneven.

"come with me, dean, please," you don't have ask twice, he's burying his head by the crook of your neck and biting, muffling his sounds as he rocks his hips forward that little bit more and gets over the edge. a warmth floods you, both from your orgasm and his own, and you feel so warm, his cock pulsing as his cum oozes out and fills you. the two of you stay like that for a moment, and you finally get to close your eyes, feeling the bliss and pleasure.

you hear a quiet murmur of his voice muffled against your skin, and you shift a little, his softening length still inside of you. "i said," dean speaks up a little, "we gotta do that again," and he means it. god, he'd do it again and again just to see the way you reacted to seeing yourself ruined by him. honestly? he was ready to go again right now.

ִ ֹ ★ @blue-d, @gibson-g1rl , @stevelacylovebot, @psychicnatural , @funkycoloured, @lovesickgrlsrh0t, @soldierboycunt, @hrtsoldierboy, @beetlejenna, @venusiers , @v3nusasagrl , @imwetforyourmom, @pr3ttyf4wn, @pillwebb, @beridollie, @sl33pylilbunny , @sincerebabydoll, @angelicjackles, @deansbite, @beausling, @jasvtsc, @mattsdolll, @angelicp0etry, @cherrynflowergarden, @goofygooberspidey, @spookyysinsanity, @chrissdollie, @mgchaser, @yummycement, @gxldenlush, @morganwrites12672, @dayzeandhaze, @fallbhind, @jackleslvr. ꒱

[louiseolivier]

08x06 Delulu

Tevan are at the Italian restaurant. The Hot Waiter flirts with Buck. Buck's kinda oblivious. He unintentionally flirts back. Buck pays this time, and inside the folder with his card and receipt is Hot Waiter's phone number. Buck is a little weirded out because he feels like it's obvious he and Tommy are on a date.

For the most part, Tommy watches Buck and Hot Waiter's interaction in amusement. He jokes whether Buck is he's going to call him, and Buck is taken aback. Then Tommy gets serious.

"We haven't really talked about the kind of relationship you want."

Buck's confused. "What does that mean?"

"Just that there's more than one way to be in a relationship. I've been in a couple that were open."

"Open?"

"We were allowed to sleep with other people."

"I know what it means, Tommy. Is that what you want?"

"I want you to be happy. I want you to know I'm amenable to that if you're interested. Truth be told, Evan, the most important thing is that you're in my life, whether we’re together or not. 

Suddenly, the Ironside siren goes off in Buck’s head, and he’s spiraling.  

Tommy clasps his hand and looks at him like he’s the goddamn sun, moon, and stars. “Think about it. It’s not like it’s something you have to decide today.”

Cue Buck, going to Bobby. “I don’t know what to tell you, Buck, but I’ve seen you two together. I don’t think breaking up is something Tommy is even thinking about. The other stuff...you should talk to Tommy. Be upfront. Be honest. 

Cue Buck, going to Maddie. “Buck, he kissed you while you were still covered in boils. I saw that with my own eyes and wished I hadn’t. I don’t want to put words in his mouth, but he does seem very committed to you. And to be perfectly honest, the open relationship doesn’t sound like something he’d suggest out of thin air. Maybe you said something...”

“You’re blaming me? Come on, Maddie! You know damn well that’s not how I roll. I slept around, yeah, but not while I was in a relationship - and don’t you dare bring up Taylor! Besides, an agreed upon “open” means consensual. I just - how did I miss that this was something he was interested in? Why would he wait six months to bring it up?”

A sound of disgust emanates from the corner of the call center's breakroom, and the Buckley siblings' heads swivel to its location. Josh is sitting at a table, sipping his coffee and rolling his eyes. “You sweet naive baby bi.” He gets up from his chair, sidles up to Buck, and eyes the donuts he brought for Maddie. “I don’t suppose there's a Bavarian cream in there?”

“There’s a jelly,” Buck says. 

“But jellies are my favorite,” Maddie complains. 

“Too bad. I’m about to help your chaotic brother out, so I deserve it.” Josh bites into the donut and gives an appreciative moan. “Oh god, I haven’t had refined sugar in three days. How I missed you.”

“Back to me, please,” Buck says with a whine.

“Look, it’s pretty simple. There are only two types of guys who want to open up a relationship after the six-month mark. Assholes carrying multiple red flags or..”

“Tommy’s not an asshole,” Buck tells him firmly. 

“Considering he’d whittle a rocking chair if you asked him to, I’d agree. Buck, my guess is he’s scared. He's worried that if he doesn't give you a free pass, that you'll get bored with him and leave.”

“That’s so stupid,” Buck cries in dismay. 

Maddie lays a supportive hand on his bicep. 

“It is,” Josh agrees. “But just because your man is a solid L.A. nine doesn’t mean he’s not carrying around a lot of insecurities. Talk to him. Tell him. And hey, if it all blows up on you, send him my way. I’d love to be that man’s shoulder to cry on.”

Buck shows up at Tommy’s door. Tommy is supposed to come to his after finishing his laundry, but Buck doesn’t want to wait that long. “Hey,” Tommy greets him with that scrunchy smile Buck loves so much. 

“I don’t want to have sex with anyone else,” Buck tells him as he barges through the door. 

“Oh-kay,” Tommy says, closing the door behind Buck. 

“Do you want to have sex with other men?”

Tommy crosses his arms, and his head tilts towards the ground. “No. I’ve come to learn that’s not an ideal situation for me.”

Buck scoffs. “Then why suggest it?”

The buzzer on the washer goes off, and Tommy moves towards it to switch out the load. “I don’t know. I’m pretty used to you flirting with everyone.”

“You think I flirt?” 

“Evan, you told the waiter you liked his chinos while eyeing his ass. Most of the time, I think it’s cute how you rile people up without realizing it, but then I have a thought like, what if Hot Waiter would be a better match for you? So I panicked and threw out that suggestion.” 

“Jesus, Tommy. For the past six months, my brain has been consumed by nothing but you. Yet you think I can be swayed by some guy in a comfortable pair of pants? I only want you.”

“I know. I do. You prove that to me every day. I didn’t suggest it because I don’t trust you.” Tommy tosses one of Buck’s hoodies into the dryer and starts it. He can’t keep eye contact with Buck for more than a few seconds, and he looks paler than when Buck first arrived. Tommy’s also picking his middle fingernail with his thumb, and that’s Tommy’s tell that he’s feeling overwhelmed. “Uh, so like, I’m in this for the long haul. I think you’re it for me, Evan, and I don’t want you to ever feel like you’ve settled or...”

“I love you,” Buck tells him with a certainty he doesn’t think he felt even eight hours ago, but it’s the god’s honest truth. “Just seeing you makes me feel so full I could combust. ”

Tommy’s eyes are glossy and he blinks rapidly to keep the tears at bay. He finally locks eyes with Buck. “Loving you has been living in the back of my mind since...I honestly don’t know how long. I’ve been trying to temper my expectations because I haven’t been super successful in relationships. But then you started leaving clothes here, and suddenly you’ve infiltrated my life like no one else has been willing to. Next thing I know, I’m at a funeral for a long dead cowboy. I watched you embrace the memory of a forgotten man, and I realized I couldn’t love you more, Evan. Boils and all.”

Aaaaand that’s it. I’m tapped out.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

A Golden Chain

Part Three of A Gilded Cage. Thank you @batchilla for workshopping with me and sharing your ideas! ~2.3k words

Jason isn't there when you wake up. It's something you expected, but it still makes something in your heart feel unsettled. Bean bats at your nose, and it motivates you enough to get out of bed.

Your life just sort of falls into a routine from there. Krystal, Destini, and Robbi fill your days with entertainment, in and out of the penthouse. Bean finds out that his favorite place in the world is on your shoulder or in your lap.

And Jason, Jason, he fills your nights. The notepad goes unused, but you see him every time the moon rises.

He starts to eat dinners with you. He starts to talk to you, never about what he's doing or why you're here. Even if you try to bring it up, he's quick to distract you or to change the topic. It's almost infuriating.

But, sometimes, sometimes, when he smiles at you and his eyes flicker, he almost feels like the boy he was before he disappeared.

You start to fall asleep at night with him at your side, hunched over and watchful in the chair next to your bed. It should be unnerving, should make you want to run and fight, and try to escape. But it doesn't.

You try to bury the part of you that feels safe at his side. Try to remind yourself that he kidnapped you to get you here. That all the military gear he's wearing isn't for show, that he must have some sort of plan.

It's not until Gotham falls into panic that you discover what those plans are. It's worse, that it's not him that tells you.

Krystal, Destini, and Robbi practically break down your door, it's not unusual for them to be excited, but their shared fear is.

They tell you about Scarecrow's threats, tell you about the deaths that occurred at Pauli's Diner. Krystal takes your hand at the end of it all nearly begs for you to go with them.

"It won't be safe, sugar," she says and her voice only shakes a little. The look in her eyes tells you that she knows it's a risk to ask, that whoever payrolls them to keep you company is dangerous.

"You should get out of town. Come with us, if you have nowhere to go. We can look after you till this all blows over," Robbi murmurs, voice low to avoid the prying ears of your 'bodyguards' stationed outside.

"I'm safe here," You tell them, and your voice sounds hollow to your own ears.

You haven't been so confused and lost, and shattered since you found out Jason was alive. You can't explain it, you don't have any proof, but your instincts are screaming that The Arkham Knight– that Jason has something to do with this.

"Honey, whoever–" Destini starts, before cutting herself off with a sigh, "We both know that's not true."

For a moment you want to go with them. To leave Gotham and all its claws and teeth behind. But you know, you know so deeply that he wouldn't let you go.

You shake your head and pull your hand from Krystal's, "Be safe," You say instead, "Get as far away as you can."

They're halfway out the door when you stop them, you hate crushing the hopeful look that crosses their faces. But you silently place Bean in Destinis hands.

You think it breaks their hearts and yours. And then they're gone.

Your well-meaning intentions don't get very far. This is clear because Jason doesn't show up for dinner. It's crystal clear, because as Gotham empties of civilians, Jason walks through the door of your prison with Bean under his arm.

You don't get to react before he drops the kitten in your lap, and Bean is more than happy to cuddle into your thighs.

"He's yours," Jason tells you as he tugs off his helmet, "not something to give away."

"Are they okay," You ask quickly, worry clear on your face and in your voice.

His lips twitch at your question, "They left Gotham unharmed."

You think it's the truth. You hope that he wouldn't lie about that. You don't have it in you to press.

"I just wanted him to be safe," You murmur, petting Bean as he nuzzles your stomach.

"He is safe. You're safe," Jason tells you firmly, standing rigid over your place on the couch.

You look up to meet his gaze, and your accusation slips out thoughtlessly, "Even if Scarecrow goes through with his plan? Even if– even if you go through with this."

You hope he denies what you're asking, tell you that he's not doing something so obviously wrong. He doesn't.

He stiffens more, eyes sharpening, "You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me," You plead, "tell me how working with Scarecrow is what you need to do."

He frowns, and tilts his head down as if to really look at you. His voice comes out hard, flat and nothing like the Jason you've grown used to, "I don't have time to explain it to you. All you need to do is stay here. It's safe."

"But, Jason," You protest, standing quickly as he turns to march back out the door, already tugging his helmet back on.

If his voice betrays how he's feeling, it's hidden behind the helmet's modulator, "This will all be over by tomorrow."

It sends shivers down your spine, how ominous his words feel. You don't get to ask anymore questions before he's tugging the door closed behind him.

He's left you, kitten meowing from the couch and the apartment feeling more like a cage than ever. It makes you want to scream, to cry, to break down the door and chase after him and demand to know why.

Why are you really here? Why can't you leave? Why is he working with Scarecrow?

There's no answer from the locked door. Frustration wells in your throat, and there's nothing, not a thing you can do.

So you sit. Listen to sirens sounding throughout a nearly empty Gotham. Watch smoke rise from a city abandoned by its people to the thugs and rouges of Gotham.

You sit and ache and hurt until you have to move. Until you find yourself out on the balcony overlooking the vacant buildings of the Diamond District.

It helps some. Jason had removed the glass at your request, and the cool night air is almost soothing.

You close your eyes, and for a moment it's almost peaceful. It's peaceful until a thump knocks you out of your thoughts, and you open your eyes.

Robin is perched on the railing two feet away from you. Robin is two feet away from you and every cell in your body is screaming that this is bad.

He says your name like he knows who you are, and you imagine he actually does, even if you've never met.

"I need you to come with me, you're in danger here," he says, extending his hand to you.

A part of you wants to. If anyone could help you, if anyone could get you freedom, wouldn't it be one of Gotham's vigilantes?

But you can't help but hesitate. Leaving means leaving Jason. No matter what he's done, why he's keeping you here, Jason wouldn't hurt you. He's been good to you. He's– he cares. He wants you safe.

"I'm not in danger," You tell Robin, and it sounds weak to your own ears. Your eyes dart between him and the city. It's wrong. You know it's wrong. But your hand won't move.

He looks like he pities you. It almost makes you sick. And then he tells you what The Arkham Knight is really planning.

The canisters of gas filled with enough fear toxin to cover the entire eastern seaboard. The nearly suicidal, revenge mission that ends in Batman's death.

That does make you feel sick.

"You have to come with me," Robin half-pleads, "You'll be safe."

You swallow thickly. It always comes down to that, doesn't it? Where people think you'll be safest. But you can't help but think that Robin is right. That Jason The Arkham Knight is out of control.

You reach for his hand. He helps you up onto the railing.

All hell breaks loose.

A gunshot fires. Robin makes a noise of pain and loses his footing.

The Arkham Knight barrels into you and sends you both falling over the railing and towards the pavement below.

There's screaming. There's– you're screaming. You're falling and screaming, and Jason tackled you over the edge of a building.

Your heart is pounding, and you're going to die, and you've never been so terrified in your life. The wind whips past your ears, the cold air bites at your skin. And the Arkham Knight has you in a death grip as he barks out orders for you to follow.

"Hold onto me– c'mon, you know how, move your legs," he demands, his grasp on your never faltering.

It's mechanical, a shadow of a memory that reminds you you do know how. You wrap your arms around his neck, hook your legs around his waist.

You think you hear him sigh in relief when you do, his arm clutching you all the more closer as he shoots his grappling gun for the nearest building.

Your stomach swoops as the momentum tosses you both onto a nearby roof, and you nearly sob when his feet hit the ground.

You're quick to untangle yourself from him, feet dropping to the concrete. He only wraps both arms around you to keep you tucked against his chest.

You want to let go of him, want to stop hugging him like he's the only lifeline you have, but you can't. The adrenaline coursing through your veins makes you feel dizzy and sick. The fear of nearly dying makes your knees weak and tears prick your eyes.

Jason just strokes the back of your head, murmuring soft reassurances, "You're okay. You're okay. I got you. I won't let them take you away."

You think you let out another sob, all but collapsing against him. You feel like a mess, head spinning and throat tight. You'd almost died.

"Sorry, doll, we've got company," he says, voice going hard.

You don't get to process his words before he's dipping down, and hoisting you over his shoulder.

"Jason–" You choke out, adrenaline and fear spiking as you scramble for something to grab onto, fingers digging into the straps of his armor.

He doesn't answer, only breaks into a run, his arm wrapped around the back of thighs to keep you steady.

Gotham passed by in the blur of colors as you try not to throw up. You register Robin chasing after you. It's the only relief you've felt all night to know he's alive.

The relief disappears when The Arkham Knight shouts an order for drones, and the shots they fire at the vigilante following you makes your ears ring.

You wince as Jason jumps from roof to roof, jostling you and digging your body into the hard plates of his armor. It doesn't seem to slow him down, especially when he lets out a frustrated curse.

You'd be more confused if you weren't so panicked and overwhelmed. That is until, you catch sight of a black figure gaining ground across the rooftops behind you.

Batman. Batman is here. Batman can– you cut your train of thought off. Batman can't save you. It feels cold when the truth becomes clearer than day. Nothing can get you away from The Arkham Knight.

Dots dance in your vision, and bile rises in your throat. It passes in a haze, the way Jason drops down onto the streets, the way he shoves you into one of the armored cars lining the streets. The way the tank takes so many twists and turns it makes the urge to throw up that much stronger.

It's clear you've lost your tail. Either they followed the wrong tank, or they decided you weren't worth the trouble. The second thought makes you retch.

The Arkham Knight doesn't hesitate to rub your back, to try and comfort you. A small part of you is comforted. A bigger part of you wants to scream and cry and hit him.

He continues to order the men driving the tank, his touch never faltering in its rhythmic movements.

Your vision swims, the drive passes in a sickening, adrenaline crashed fueled blur.

You think you might be crying. But it doesn't really matter. Jason hooks his arms under your knees and cradles you to his chest just the same. He carries you out of the armored tank.

You only vaguely take in your new surroundings. The rush of militia soldiers around you, the tables and boxes of weapons and ammo, the shouts and laughs over another one of Batman's failures.

None of that matters either. All that matters is Jason's gloves digging into your skin, the way you can feel his heart pound even through the armor.

He carries you into a room. You think it's some kind of office. That doesn't matter either. He sets you on a couch. It's surprisingly soft. The leather feels cool against your skin. It eases the sick feeling in your stomach, the spinning of your head.

"Get some rest," he murmurs, and fingers trace your jaw for a moment, soft, gentle, and almost apologetic.

Then he walks to the desk. You watch in dazed horror when he pulls out a shiny, gold colored chain. You freeze in shock and betrayal when he attaches a cuff to your ankle and the other to the leg of the couch.

You think he murmurs that he's sorry it came to this.

But then he leaves, and you think he isn't sorry at all.

You break down into the leather cushions. Half you wishes you were still with Bean in that stupid penthouse. The other half of you wishes you had taken Robin's hand sooner.

But that doesn't matter. Nothing does. Because you're still trapped, stuck in some base that screams danger.

And you can't quite convince yourself this time, that Jason Todd wouldn't hurt you.

[a-hazbin-reader]

Okay we also see Alastor go ham and how wifey swoons over him but now what if wifey let lose, like someone threatens him or the hotel and before anyone could react she dashes forward killing them brutally and mercilessly?

🥵

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Violence, Blood, Wifey is crazy, Suggestive

Description: ☝️⬆️

Not many people know that Alastor's wife is a badass, mostly because you're content to watch and support your husband on the sidelines

But that doesn't mean you aren't your own kind of terrifying, you're a bad bitch and that's how you pulled your husband

He knows you can take care of yourself and loves it when you put someone in their place, he even likes it when you put him in his place 😏

Everyone is so used to Alastor protecting you that they never consider what you're capable of, your husband is just being a gentleman

But Alastor knows this and looks forward to the times you want to handle things yourself

Someone is harassing you on the street? Being crude and disgusting to you because they assume you're just some random dame?

Your husband simply looks at you to see if you want him to handle it or not, he would love to teach this punk a lesson for you

But he gets excited when you shake your head and start taking off your jewelry, holding his hand out to hold it for you

"Oh? Do come back dirty for me, I'll lick you clean~"

"Promise?"

He just watches you pummel the street urchin with a satisfied smile on his face, letting out a lovesick sigh at the sound of your victim's screams

"Isn't she a vision, Husker? Look at the way the blood drips down her body~ Absolute poetry in motion~"

Husk just sighs and chugs a bottle of booze, already so done with the two of you

"Yeah, uh, she's really somethin'..."

Alastor lets out a happy hum and turns back to watch you, completely enamored by the sight of you

"She really is~"

You try to help your husband in a fight? Well suddenly its just you figuring because Alastor stops to watch the show

"Alastor, aren't you going to help her..?"

He almost doesn't hear Charlie speaking to him, a cloud of hearts practically fluttering around him as he stares at you, frozen in place

"And deprive myself of this beautiful sight? Now, that would be a true sin... Look to your left, my dear!"

He actually has to cover his mouth with his hand to hide his blush when you spin around and impale them, blowing your husband a kiss

"Thank you, darling~"

His tail is wiggling with happiness, dramatically catching the kiss and keeping it close to his heart

Charlie thinks at some point she hears him whistling at you but she doesn't want to look and confirm

Or when someone tries to hurt your family, Alastor has seen you lose your shit because you caught someone trying to assassinate him

One moment, he's relaxed and snuggling with his darling wife and the next, he hears a crash and sees you throwing the attacker across the room

And he'll be damned if he doesn't say that it does something to him to see you like that

You're practically feral as you tear apart the screaming demon, a blinding rage taking you over

"How dare you come into MY HOME! Try to hurt MY HUSBAND!"

Alastor is nearly blushing, flustered and pulling on his collar as he watches you defend him like he's some helpless little demon

"Darling, you sure do know how to make your husband hot under the collar, don't you~?"

He catches one of your hands mid strike and takes you out of your rage, unable to stop himself from kissing your blood covered face

He can't help it, seeing you so angry and violent reminds him of when he first met you-

The would-be-attacker is still alive, a weak hand coming up to grab at your ankle when you suddenly use your own powers to finish him off

You're too busy being kissed and fondled by your husband to devote any more attention to them

He hoists you up suddenly, your legs wrapping around him as he steps over the body of your victim, leaving the room to take you upstairs instead

He nuzzles his face against your neck, distracting you from glaring at the corpse in the other room

"Do you think you could toss me like that, darling?"

"Alastor~!"

Wifey is just a doll 😍