#minor infinity war spoilers

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。so this is what it means to be in love | gojo satoru

wc: 8.9k

summary: gojo finds out what it really means to be in love. 

contains: f!reader in mind, friends to lovers (prev. slowburn), suggestive scenes, might be mature/mildly explicit? (i only mention ‘butt’ once though…), ‘being in love’ as a journey, almost like a falls in love first (you) vs. falls in love harder (gojo), they fight, they swear, character death/s mentioned, shibuya onwards spoilers, lots and lots and lots of love

a/n: this is better read after the other parts in the collection but can work as a stand alone too!, there’s a jump between this and tell me about love (show me how) so gojo would have developed a lot in the relationship since then! 

collection masterlist: conversations on love  +02 (extra). look my way, you're what i crave <- you are here + (extended scene) too good to be mine -> 3.5a. this feeling inside of me—

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

this is a re-upload! (because i accidentally deleted the original one!)

Gojo catches onto love slowly.

He takes the hand you leave open just for him, and closes the space between your palms, reducing infinity. 

Maybe he’s felt it all this time without knowing; after all, love looks a lot less profound as friends in your early 20’s. 

But being in it—being in love? That’s uncharted territory. 

Gojo’s been to a lot of places, has travelled back and forth from point-to-point endlessly. He’s survived battles, a war, near-death, and cursed spirits reincarnate; he’s got eyes—two bright blue and an extra four hidden, ones that see beyond human comprehension. Unearthing this simple truth shouldn’t shake him, shouldn’t even faze him. If anything, he should have seen it coming—

Except, he doesn’t. 

It sneaks up on him, bit by bit, until he finds that being in love means getting to experience you all over again, just differently.

.

.

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It starts with the little things. 

Gojo has known you for so long (a decade and a few years more), but has only recently begun to notice everything: how your baby hairs stick out in the humidity of summer, the way you purse your lips in thought before finally deciding on a drink to order. You play with your fingernails subconsciously, out of habit, the soft taps on your nail beds an accompaniment of anxious conversations you’ve had since you were 23. 

He knows you always blink twice before focusing on him, and it’s a mystery whether this is a recent development or something he’s just never noticed, but if you’re trying to enchant him by the flutter of your eyelashes, he wants to let you know that it’s working—except, he knows that you aren’t, because you’re just like that: a daydream without even trying. 

These aren’t new things; he’s sure he’s probably encountered them all before, but lately they’ve evolved into cute things, and there’s no hiding the slight curve of his lips every time he spots them. 

.

The sun is beaming brighter this summer, the ocean a faraway blur from the beach towel you set up under the shade. Going to the beach is never your go-to when you think of an extremely hot afternoon, but Yuuji’s been eyeing a weekend getaway since sorcerer work’s lessened significantly. 

‘It’s a good effort,’ Gojo convinces you, ‘to get everyone together again.’

And it is—you see it now: Yuuji and Megumi preparing to fling Yuuta into the water while Nobara and Maki race along the shoreline. Toge stays close to Panda but he watches fondly, eyes crinkling every now and then, happy. 

When you blink, the image of them softens—a captured memory in the heat haze. 

The only older ones here are you and Gojo; Shoko’s always disliked the stickiness of sunblock on her skin, and Ijichi’s new position has made him constantly busy. Somewhere in the distance, you can maybe envision Nanami. He wouldn’t come if you or Gojo asked, but if it were Yuuji—

You rub at your eye, resting your chin on your hand as you will your tear ducts to please, don’t cry. 

Yuuji's been smiling a lot more lately, an observation you note from the way his ears are perked up every time you look his way. It’ll never be the same as it used to be but it’s relieving to know that he can exist living as himself now. Just Yuuji. 

You hug your knees tighter to your chest, wrapping your arms around it. Your place under the coconut tree provides ample enough shade but your back still burns from Gojo haphazardly slathering sunscreen on it after hearing an ice cream stand from miles away. 

The mind is a weird place to be at times like this—split into bittersweet reminiscing and telling yourself to just take this moment and breathe, to live in it. You think about Megumi, and how you hurt for him, always will, for all that he’s lost despite every attempt to avoid it.

You should have been there for Tsumiki, you could have been there for both of them. 

Your guilt never leaves you even on days that shine as vividly as this, but perhaps that’s the silver lining—that they’re still with you, always. You can carry pieces of them to these places, and scatter them to the wind, to the sand, to the sea, and maybe to the ice cream stand Gojo’s waiting in line of, surrounded entirely by kids. They all rise to half his size, but if you squint, you think the bounce in his step makes him blend right in. 

A chuckle escapes you. 

You could sort through your memories and land on one where he looks just like this—freakishly large limbs towering over a tiny, excited Tsumiki. Back then, an ice cream stop after school consisted of your pseudo-family of four, with Megumi on your hand and Tsumiki on his leg, both gripping tightly to combat a chilly 10°C.

Things are different now, evidently. Megumi’s outgrown it, and Tsumiki is no longer here. But Gojo has stayed the same, and it’s comforting to know that he will continue to be this Satoru, your Satoru, even when some things are gone. 

You don’t realize you’ve spaced out until he waves the ice cream cone while walking towards you.  

Gojo is a sight in trunks the color of his eyes, with seahorses and starfishes in an alternating pattern of peachy-pink against cerulean blue. 

You could have sworn you asked for your own cone, but he plops down beside you holding only one. For the both of you. The side-eye you give him is almost criminal, if not deadly, but your lips twitch from the smile you’re hiding (terribly). 

He raises an eyebrow and you break character, shaking your head while laughing. 

“Did you eat the other one on the way here?” you tease, craning your neck to lick at the bottom scoop (vanilla-strawberry-vanilla, Gojo’s signature order). 

Your tongue lands dangerously close to his fingers, and he feels it, but his eyes only land on you—your lips, how they part for your tongue to glide smoothly on his–both of your–dessert. You look every bit of an angel in the soft, pale hues of your bikini, but Gojo’s thoughts are anything but saintly. 

He blushes furiously, the tips of his ears and nose bright red as he turns away from you quickly. 

“I’m fulfilling your dream of sharing an ice cream cone with me.” he tilts his chin up, proud, smirking slightly. He jokes about it knowing full well that this is his dream come true, just by the look of you. 

You stay quiet, rolling your eyes but never meanly, no. You only ever do it fondly—he knows, being on the receiving end of it one too many times. 

The beach towel scrunches when you scoot closer, looping your arm around his as you both rest your elbows on your knees. Gojo holds the cone between you two, tipping it towards you when it’s your turn to lick. 

He shouldn’t stare, shouldn’t hyperfixate, but it’s so cute how you get the tiniest bit of ice cream on the tip of your nose—as if it belongs there, soft and sweet just like the rest of you. 

You look up to find Gojo gazing at you, eyes glimmering like sunlight on the ocean, and a tiny smile that only widens when he realizes you’ve caught him red-handed. Your eyes narrow suspiciously, scrunching your nose in an effort to stop yourself from grinning. 

When Gojo looks at you this way, as if you are his favorite place rediscovered, your heart thumps furiously against your ribcage. 

“What…” you drawl, your smile impossible to hide in the lilt of your voice. 

Gojo thinks he can count every eyelash, every speck of sand dotting your face, and stil not be bored of you. He can’t stop beaming. 

Is this what it means to be in love with you? 

“Nothing.” he replies, almost giggling, a little bashful but with every inch of sincerity. You know that smile, the only one that holds every ounce of Satoru. Gojo smiles big and wide to everyone else, but this small one you know, is reserved just for you. 

He leans in, lips coming closer to brush against the tip of your nose. Your eyes fall shut, instinctively, and the pink dot is wiped clean, a hint of strawberry dancing on his palate. He’s done this more times than he can count, has gotten this near to know that close will never be close enough, but you still jolt a bit—PDA has never been your thing. 

When he pulls away, you continue to stare at each other, locked in a gaze until the ice cream begins to drip down his fingers and onto the beach towel. It misses his trunks by a hair and you both laugh at how he belatedly tries to escape it even though it’s already there. 

It’s indescribable, this moment, seeing you in slow motion, laughing as bright as the sun—the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. It takes every bit of him to look away so he can wipe his hands clean from the dripping dessert.

You hand him a packet of wipes and beckon him to sit in front of you after. Squeezed onto the palm of your hand is a copious amount of sunscreen you plan to slather all over him. A touch-up, if you will. 

Gojo has sensitive skin, pale as bond paper and burns just as quickly. The high points of his face are already reddening, warm to the touch when you dab at them with sunscreen. 

You’re so near, so close, sitting cross-legged in front of him with your knees touching his. The tip of your tongue sticks out just slightly as you focus on his skin. 

Even though he knows, he still wonders what your lips would taste like, SPF chapstick and crumbly bits from the wafer cone. He wonders what your eyelashes would feel like, fluttering over his own. 

The light casts a halo around you and he thinks it’s fitting for all that you do. You pamper him like this, slather love all over his chest and back, massage it in so it dissolves into him—and he feels it so deep that he tastes it.

How can your love be so sweet? He thinks, sighing as your fingers work sunscreen up his neck from his collarbone. You always apply his skincare like this: upwards, gently—‘no tugging, please!’—something about keeping his baby face even when he’s old. 

“You should join them,” you mumble, rubbing more product onto the nape of his neck. You’re leaning over his shoulder, neck brushed against his cheek. 

Gojo hums, watching everyone from a distance. It’s been a while since he’s had a day like this. 

“But maybe after 30 minutes, so the sunblock doesn’t wash off. You’re already burning.” you note, coming back to sit. 

Of course, he’s already burning. How can he not when the sun is right in front of him? 

.

You join everyone for a game of beach volleyball in the sunset of the afternoon. You’re transported back to high school, the last time you did this—you and Satoru against Shoko and Suguru, with Haibara keeping score. 

From the way Gojo’s eyes are glossed over, you can tell he’s thinking about it too, the memory having seared itself into your brains forever, it seems. 

Being paired together should feel familiar—the same, but it doesn’t—isn’t, because Gojo can’t concentrate, sneaking glances to notice all the little things about you that he never used to. Your skin shines from the combination of sweat and sunscreen, and when you crash into him it’s both sticky and slippery. He should really ask for a time-out before you blind him completely. 

You look unfairly good in your bikini, too good he can barely hear you calling for him; between the ocean and his blood rushing, any other sound is drowned out into nothing. 

Maki and Yuuji absolutely demolish the both of you, reaching 15 first in the final set. Gojo blames the loss on you of course, even though he’s missed every pass you’ve sent his way and netted 60% of his spikes. 

And maybe it technically is your fault—you and your (very distracting) little things. But it’s entirely on him that he’s fallen for it, fallen for you as much as this. 

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.

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Gojo thinks of love differently when he sees a picture of himself and all it does is remind him of you.

There’s a photo tucked safely in his wallet (saved and set as his homescreen too). Shoko snorts when she walks in on him printing it, all six-foot-three of him hunched over the small inkjet printer in the faculty room. 

“It’s all digital now, Satoru,” she scoffs, taking a puff on her cigarette. 

Gojo doesn’t say anything even though he knows it’s true, too focused on watching the printer push out the two-by-three inch image he’s about to cut into. 

Print photos aren’t as important anymore when cloud storage spaces are just as–if not more–accessible, but Gojo is admittedly sentimental despite every front he puts up to hide it. 

He’s kept every single gift you’ve given him and camouflaged it as decoration in his office, and the family drawing 10-year-old Tsumiki made is still folded between the pages of a self-help book Yaga had given him when he first decided to teach. 

When every moment is experienced so vividly, seen through a muddle of infinite energies, there are those he wishes could stay still—ones that take up space to remind him: ‘this is real, it happened, and here is proof that it did’. 

He already has one of all of you, fresh-faced and barely pushing the peaks of youth at 16. A tangle of arms wrapped around each other—one of his gripping tightly on Suguru, and the other hanging loosely over you. Utahime is crouched in front, holding the hand you’ve placed on her shoulder while pulling Shoko into a semi-squish-semi-hug (because out of the four of you, Shoko is her favorite—completely valid; if given the choice, she’d be your favorite too). Nanami and Haibara stay close to Suguru, squatting low to balance the photo, and Haibara is smiling, the ever cheery grin Suguru loves to dote on, while Nanami is Nanami—sharp features and a serious gaze that you all know he’ll grow into someday, handsome with age. 

For the longest time, Gojo has kept that photo hidden, locked away in the drawer of his bedside table as if keeping it there means the memory will stay guarded forever—untouched, unspoiled, unruined. 

It would have stayed there if you didn’t stumble upon it while looking for his painkillers during another one of his skull-crushing migraines. 

You approach him with the image hesitantly, eyes damp and glossy. Years have faded the colors ever so slightly, but the corners remain crisp from being stowed away neatly. You say sorry, that you shouldn’t have looked through his things, but you remember the moment it was taken so fondly: a visit to the Kyoto campus on a one-day break to train with other students. 

Gojo has many theories about time and the multitude of spaces it takes—like how a person can exist at different points in time, disparate at each instance, and still take up the same big chunk of space. The opposite can be true too, that someone can live finitely (just once) and occupy spaces in every place you look: the face of a passerby down the road, a sign at the corner of the street, or even a photograph that immortalizes people you once knew. 

He only shares when you ask, aware that he tends to be a bit of a nerd about it whenever it’s brought up, but you don't mind. You like listening to it all, no matter how insightful or confusing they are for you to make sense—a version of him not many get to witness. His explanations are comprehensible for the most part, except—

When Gojo tells you that he’s kept the image in his drawer, hidden, because exposing it to the space-time that exists now will erase every reminder that it ever happened, you hug him tightly. 

Your sniffles are heard from the way his head is tucked into the crook of your neck, your fingers gripping strands of his hair in empathy. 

He considers your near-tears as a sign that the memory is long gone, decayed into the brittling tragedy of reality. But you smile, the corners of your lips bittersweet as you express disbelief that he’s kept it all this time. 

You tell him delicately that some precious things are meant to be celebrated, put out to be remembered—to be experienced. 

And it becomes clearer to him then, by the look in your eyes and remembrance soft-spoken, that what good is a photo unseen? 

What good is a love unwitnessed?

When you gift him a frame a year after finding the photo, he hangs it by the wall next to his office door. The image is painful to look at, always has been (even when it was hidden in his drawer)—during Suguru’s defection, and death anniversaries especially. 

The recent one for Nanami was heavy; the first time he’s ever been able to process grief fully. 

Gojo can argue that it grows more difficult every time he catches a glimpse of it from his desk, but you have a way of honoring pain that doesn’t make it sting as bad—that turns it into a reminder of a love that was once there, of feelings that hurt as evidence that someone cared. 

Now, he wants another photo printed, one of just the two of you. Not because it hurts, but because he wants this precious thing to be remembered and seen—for this love to be witnessed too. 

It’s self-timered, snapped under the shade of a cherry blossom tree in full bloom. The picture is far from perfect: your eyes bright and mouth open mid-fear of his phone falling off the bridge railing. 

You may look a teensy bit funny, but Gojo will always find it cute. Anyone can see it, at how he looks at you in that moment—like you are every bit worthy of the distance travelled and seasons waited. He gazes at you fondly, eyes holding clear skies and pink lips curling into a small smile. 

It’s cheesy, but if you ask him what he thinks about this year’s flowers, he’ll tell you none of them (not even any of them combined) could compare to you. The cherry blossoms could be gone and he’d still see them everywhere (in the softness of your lips, the fullness of your cheeks, the radiance you emit when you are truly, solely content and happy). 

He remembers that afternoon well: the spring breeze that jolts his phone sideways, his hand resting on your lower back, unseen in the image. There’s no real reason for visiting the blossoms on this day of all days, but Gojo doesn’t believe in coincidences, and he’s counted down exactly to a year since you both had your first kiss.

It’s so silly, because he’s never thought of things like this before. He knows you probably don’t think much of it either considering that neither of you have made anything official yet since. 

And he feels a little stupid for that, honestly. 

You have a drawer of his clothes for the nights he stays over (more often than not), and even though you go on these little trips that are so obviously dates, you both still just tell everyone you’re ‘hanging out’.

He’s not fooling anyone here, not when he looks at you then with the feeling of his chest expanding, stretching to accommodate the overflows of his affection since learning the ways to love you—tenderness caught in little pixels of eternity.  

When Gojo goes through all 179 photos from that afternoon, he filters out the ones to delete and picks this one out especially—favorites and resizes it to fit his home screen and his wallet too. 

There’s something about the look on his face that reminds him of every time he’s caught the same one on you. 

He slides the photo into the little sleeve behind his credit card, catching himself smiling—this must be because of you, he thinks, and the bits and pieces of yourself that have somehow become part of him slowly, sneaking into him unknowingly.

If this is what it means to be in love, with you, then he’s fucked. 

Don’t you know that he’s insatiable? These traces of you will only make him want the whole of you. 

.

You find the photo while he rushes to the restaurant restroom. On ‘hang out’s like this, you insist on splitting the bill, but Gojo has always been stubborn and you’ve learned that you can never argue. 

He hands you his wallet to pay with his card, and when you slide it out, the photo falls. It’s face down on the floor when you pick it up, fully expecting it to be a photocard of some idol you know Gojo follows. 

But it isn’t, and your smile widens. 

When Gojo comes back, you’re looking up at him affectionately, biting your lips as if to stop yourself from speaking—the same way he always does. 

It’s funny because, slotted between your two fingers is the photo he’s kind of flustered you found, but he has no time to be embarrassed when he sees a little bit of himself in the way you’re staring at him right now.

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.

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“So, Yuuji asked if we were together.” 

You quirk an eyebrow, looking up at Gojo from the pile of laundry you’ve begun folding on your bed. He emerges from the bathroom, ruffling his hair with a towel. 

Over the past year, Gojo has spent his weekends off with you, sleeping over and traipsing around your room in his pajama set as if he’s lived here just as long as you. 

You snort as you fold, amused that this is even a question to begin with. Yuuji’s always been known for being exceptionally dense, but you didn’t think it was this bad. Gojo was especially touchy with you during that beach trip, and you’re sure Megumi and Nobara have caught up to let him know by now, somehow. 

“What made him ask?” 

“I think he wants to take you away.” Gojo teases, wiggling his eyebrows as he throws the towel on the chair across your vanity. 

You roll your eyes, still sweetly, indulging him, “Sure.” 

It’s now a running joke that Gojo’s threatened about Yuuji stealing you; you’ve always had a soft spot for bright eyes and even brighter souls and Yuuji is as close to that as anyone can get.

It’s not like that though, it could never be; Yuuji is just like your Megumi—the two boys you want to protect and care for in hopes of treating them better than their lives have ever. 

Gojo feels the same, you know, otherwise he wouldn’t have guided them as much as he has (despite his... questionable ways). Still, your hands have always been gentler, kinder—and though shorter, have always outstretched much farther than his. 

You have a way of inching yourself into people’s lives that just fits. He’s experienced it first-hand, can’t even dare to imagine what his life would be like if you didn’t. 

He walks across the room to you, bed dipping as he steadies a knee before draping his entire body over your shoulders. 

Now that you think about it, it makes sense that Yuuji’s confused, because Gojo has always been extremely touchy to everyone, just never when the feelings mattered, with you. Kiss him once, though, and it snowballs into an avalanche of firsts. And what he’s about to do right now, he thinks, might just trigger another one to form all together. 

“As if I’d let him.” he mumbles right by your ear, chin tucked by the crook of your neck. It tickles when he speaks, his nose poking at your cheeks. 

“Who put you in charge?” you scoff jokingly, unfazed. 

He moves away from you in disbelief, mouth open as he stares at you mindlessly folding.

To be fair, he can’t fault you. You aren’t technically official even though you have kind-of-been for a little over a year. There’s no particular reason, just that you haven’t talked about it—part because you wanted him to approach it whenever he was ready, and also, because it just never seemed like a priority.

You laugh as he stares at you, stunned into silence, the pout on his face borrowed from all the versions of yours. 

There’s no point of contention because you’ve only ever loved Gojo since you were 17. 

“Kidding,” you kiss his cheek as an apology. 

“Don’t even joke about that.” he huffs, you’re starting to take after him a little too much.

“You’re mine.” he murmurs after, arms wrapped around your waist and legs stretched out wide to encase you. 

He says it as if it is the simplest truth. 

Your heartbeat quickens, too loud and pounding; this is the first time you’ve ever heard this from him, and a part of you thinks this is just another one of those flirty side-comments he makes on a whim.

“You tell him that?” you hope he can’t hear your voice shake as he nuzzles your neck, your fingers trembling on the pair of socks you have yet to roll. 

He hums, hugging you tighter. He waits for you to finish folding before letting you lean against him, offering his fingers for you to fiddle with. They’re cold, long and slender, veiny just by a bit, and he always gives them to you like they’re yours, you like to think. 

There’s an inhale, a breath of hesitation, before he exhales.  

“Something like it.” 

You don’t say anything, only nod, and it’s nerve-wracking. He’s so nervous even though he knows he doesn’t have to be because it’s just you. And there’s no need to doubt what you’re feeling. But—

“You are though,” he pauses, “right?” 

He has to be sure. This is a testament to you more than himself that he’s learned to ask instead of bulldozing you like he does with everyone else. Who else will he pick that up from but you? 

There’s hesitation you hear that you think shouldn’t be there anymore; the fact that you’ve given so much of yourself to this man and he still thinks you’re unsure—

“‘Cause I’m yours.” he speaks, clearly, definitively, before you can even answer. And you know—you’ve known ever since that party years ago. A simple admittance: ‘I’m taken’. 

You turn around to face him, eyes shimmering. 

Can he see? You’re meant for him only. 

All you’ve ever wanted was to love him; everything else he’s done up until this point is already more than you could ever imagine. The labels can only do so much to capture the gravity of what you are to one another: years of history unpacked into a mishmash of feelings overlapping—it’s a lot.

You sit cross legged in front of him, your knees touching his. He’s biting his lips again, an anxious habit you want to kiss away. 

Gojo has proven far too much of himself already that he’s serious with you—your kind-of-confession, that confrontation, and the days after, all the ways you’ve both learned to love each other. 

You cup his cheeks. 

A single word cannot possibly define what he is to you.

“I mean, o-only if you want me to be.” he adds on, blue eyes darting back and forth.

Gojo runs his mouth almost all the time and you’ve never heard him stutter once in his life. Except now. 

He’s endearing like this—a version of him you are slowly discovering. 

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” you finally say, and it’s a relief. 

He feels good, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His arms pull you closer, hugging you tighter as you both smile. 

He kisses you once, twice, maybe a million times all over, travelling across your eyelids, the center of your forehead, down to the corners of your mouth before landing a real one right on your lips. 

Gojo always looks pretty but he looks prettiest like this, worry-free, with love in his eyes and nothing but pure happiness in the way he holds you. 

He won’t tell you that Yuuji asked about your anniversary, not if you were together. 

At least now he has an answer.

Gojo stares at you like he wants to say something, a thank you maybe, but he bites his lips instead. No words will ever amount to this feeling, he thinks, of his chest expanding and heart hammering. So he kisses you with all of it, trailing soft smacks of his lips down your neck, tickling. The tips of his hair are still wet from his shower, leaving droplets on your skin as he nips. 

You laugh—sprinkled in love. 

“S-stop!” you push him away, “Satoru,” giggling, “tickles!” 

“We have to consummate it now.” he whispers, grabbing you by the waist to place you on his lap, squeezing your sides while nibbling at your neck playfully. 

You roll your eyes at his antics, “It’s not–” you laugh out loud when he pinches your hips, “–marriage, Satoru.” 

Oh, if only you knew, he thinks. 

The image you’ve planted in his head is dangerous when he’s this drunk on love right now. 

More decades, more years spent with you? In another life, or maybe even in this one, if time permits, he wouldn’t mind making that come true. 

.

It’s crazy how much things can change—for all his life, he’s ruled out the possibility of love ever taking root in his ribcage. 

You’ve managed to make it feel so easy, so good, even when he was shit-terrified not knowing how to love you like he should. 

Now, he thinks, how could he ever miss out on love this way? A love this good, with you? 

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For all of Gojo’s life, he’s never had to be anyone else—always the strongest, the only one. He’s never had to change anything about himself, because what’s there to improve when you’re already the best?

In a way, this is why it works with you. You’ve taken him as he is, all the good and ugly and never asked for anything more than what he can give. 

But being this in love with you—it’s foreign. There are pieces within him shifting, all on their own without him knowing. 

How he wants to be better, for you. To be good enough to deserve all of it, and give back more of it too. 

Gojo doesn’t realize how much love has changed him until he feels it uprooting every insecurity he never even knew existed, pulling it all up to the surface. 

When things are going great, it’s hard to imagine them ever going the other way. 

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“You don’t mean that.” you mumble, voice trembling.

Gojo stares at you, at your lips quivering and the fists clenched to your sides. There are tears collecting in pools by your eyes, and if there’s anything else he hates in this world, it’s seeing you cry. 

So why?

Why couldn’t he just shut up? 

“Please tell me you don’t mean that,” you take a step closer, gripping the edge of his jacket, “Satoru.” your voice cracks, begging. 

It’s an out-of-body experience when Gojo registers that he’s fucked up, and he sees himself now, bird’s-eye-view, and thinks this is the worst thing he could do to you after all you’ve been through. 

“I need some time to think,” he says, finally, the only words coming out of his mouth—but he can’t hear himself speaking. 

He should have said sorry, taken it all back, he thinks, not make it worse by leaving. 

He heads for the door, heart crunching under each footstep away from you. 

Is this what being in love’s supposed to do? Break his heart while yours is bleeding?

.

You’re too good for Gojo, in every sense of the word—and he knows it.

You are far too kind, far too generous, far too patient with him. You give him more love than he deserves, definitely, and admittedly enough, with how he is, you have been settling for the bare minimum but that’s on him, not on you. 

He had no right speaking to you the way he did, hurting you with accusations born from insecurities he’s never before had to deal with. 

He knows it. 

Who accuses you of ‘meddling’ as if everything out of you doesn’t come from the goodness of your heart? Of provoking you with ‘chasing the bare minimum’ as if he isn’t aware that that’s all he’s given you to work with? 

Utahime was right in telling you to be careful with him, and he doesn’t blame her for it. He would have done the same. 

He should have told you there was something brewing inside of him already—should have talked to you instead of bursting from all the things people have been saying lately.

Gojo hasn’t spoken to you in three days and the feeling this compares to is worse than anything else he’s ever had to face. 

.

He knocks on your door at night, a little past dinner and too early for bedtime. They echo loudly within the walls of your apartment, and you drag yourself up despite your obvious look of heartbreak. 

Gojo hears your footsteps and everything moves entirely too slowly; the lock, taking far too long to turn, the gap between the door and the door frame widening incrementally. Even your face comes into view as if in stop motion, frame-by-frame, gradually.

His hands are in his pockets, lips bitten to bleed. He’s pretty sure he isn’t breathing when he takes you in—puffy eyes and a sweater that belongs to him. 

(Is it sick of him to say that he still finds you beautiful this way? Even when you look every bit the part of heartache?) 

Gojo didn’t have a plan coming here, didn’t have a list of things to say, just the feeling that he needed to talk to you, see you, even just be around you today. 

When your eyes meet, it’s quiet. You stare into him for one–two–three– (Can you tell that they’re watery? Can you see they’re puffed up too?) and then open the door wider to let him in. You head straight to the kitchen, never once looking back while dragging your feet. 

He stands outside a few seconds more, waiting for you to take it back—but you don’t, so he walks in and closes the door.

He’s been in your apartment plenty of times before, has practically lived in it by how often he stays over. But this is the first time he’s felt wholly out of place, not knowing where to put himself, just standing in the space between your kitchen counter and the living room awkwardly.

You push a glass of water towards him and he can’t stop staring at it—at you, at your fingers that he wants nothing more now but to hold. 

Even with all his faults, all his wrongs, you open your arms for him to walk into, allow him in as if he didn’t just hurt you. 

And he wants to cry, at the fact that this place still feels like home, at how it’ll always feel that way wherever you go. 

How are you still treating him so kindly? Still taking care of him? A glass of water is one too many for someone like him. 

You turn away from him to pour yourself your own then he speaks—

“You should be angry with me.” Gojo says softly, but you hear it. 

You pause, tilting the pitcher back upright. 

“Why aren’t you angry at me?” he says, a little louder this time, more desperate, more pleading.

Why are you never angry at me? he wants to ask. 

You turn around to face him, putting the pitcher down.

Under your kitchen lights, his eyes shine like sunlight on the ocean, waves lapping on the shore. You think it might be a trick of the light, but his lips tremble when he closes them, as if he can’t speak any more. 

It’s just as you’ve said, there’s no point being angry with him when your heart can never take it. 

You always give Gojo the benefit of the doubt, and though he’s hurt you—though this might be the most painful thing he’s told you yet, you know that he’s been under immense pressure lately. Stressed beyond belief from negotiating with the government on policies for jujutsu society. 

It’s not an excuse, you know, but Gojo always has his reasons. He'll tell you eventually, you believe that much. 

You give him a sad smile, struggling to stop your tears from spilling. His fists are clenched too tightly, nails digging in hard enough to bleed. He hasn’t moved since coming in, so you push yourself off the kitchen sink towards him. 

You take his hands first, unfurl each finger pressed upon his palm and rub gently. He cries quietly for a love so pure that only you would attempt to ease his hurt despite the pain he’s dealt you. 

You tiptoe second, pulling the sleeves of your (his) sweater before reaching up to wipe his eyes—beautiful and blue just like you’ve always known, droplets of the ocean at your fingertips. 

“Be mad,” he whispers, “please.” squeezing his eyes tightly. 

It hurts more when you aren’t, he thinks. 

His hand comes up to grip your wrist, bringing it down to cup his cheek. You stroke your thumb across his skin, soothing, loving, and that’s all it takes for him to pull you in. He hugs you tight, arms wrapped around you, clutching. 

He wouldn’t deserve you. In any life.

Gojo’s never cried this much before, head pressed to your neck as you rub circles along his back, shushing him softly. You start sniffling too, small at first until it turns into soft hiccups when you finally cry. 

Your grip on him tightens. 

“‘M sorry.” he mumbles, lips moving against your neck. 

“‘S–” you hiccup, “–okay.” 

“Stop saying that when it’s not,” he presses against you, nuzzling your neck, “I hurt you.”

“Then don’t–” another hiccup, “–call yourself–” hic, “–bare minimum.” you cry harder. 

Gojo knows your heart and the tears that leak out of your eyes; he knows they hold pain for more than just yourself but every single person in your life. You, crying now, is evidence of that truth—shedding tears for him not just because of him when he thinks he’s the bare minimum. 

This must be what it means to be truly, deeply loved, he thinks, to have someone know what you mean without even having to speak it—to know your heart, and all the good and bad parts of it. 

“I don’t think I’m good enough to you,” he admits, pulling himself away from you.

When he sees your face, wet, with your nose and eyes puffed up from crying, he decides that he hates it more than anything else. Makes it sick to his stomach, even. 

He cradles your cheeks, thumbs wiping away your tears. A whole hand of his could cover your face entirely, but he always, without fail, holds you delicately. 

“That’s not–” hic, “–true.” you gather your breathing, holding him by the wrists as he presses his forehead against yours. “Only I get to decide that. Not anyone, not you.” 

You kiss his lips, a small peck before nudging his nose with yours. You soothe each other this way—in the quiet, swaying to your own tune. 

“You’re good to me plenty, Satoru.” you whisper, once both of you have settled. 

He opens his eyes to look at you, smiling sadly as he cradles your face, “I didn’t mean it.” 

Whatever he told you that day, taking it all out on you.

“I know.” you mumble, nodding. 

You always do. 

.

.

.

Gojo has always loved you, in some type of way—as friends, colleagues, a-little-bit-more-but-less-than what you are today. 

But how he feels right now? It’s kind of ridiculous, borderline out-of-hand, and it’s driving him insane. 

It’s such a simple, ordinary thing for you to do: you rush up to him, phone in hand and scroll to some video you found online. You’re so excited, a bounce in your step as if he’s the first and only person you want to show this to. Your eyes shine bright with a megawatt smile to match, and you’re talking so, so fast, completely lit up like fireworks in the making. 

He knows you think that he’s listening but, he couldn’t care less about it honestly. Sorry. Not when the words go in one ear and out the other, because all that registers is how adorable you are, giddy and everything. 

He makes a joke—completely unrelated, but you find it so funny. Then you’re laughing, full on smacking his arm, doubled over, arms hugging your stomach, guffawing. Your feet are kicking the air as you sink deeper into your couch. Gojo’s standing in front of you, post-enactment of some impression he made, and he’s frozen in place but warm all over. 

Seeing you laugh like this, smile like this, being so pretty when you’re happy, the pounding in his chest goes crazy. 

This isn’t the first time he’s made you laugh; he does it all the time. You almost always roll your eyes and chuckle, sometimes giggle with your eyes squinting and laugh lines creasing. But it might be the first time it’s like this: with you so bright, more than the sun and every other star in the sky. 

And he thinks, this is all he could ever want—to make you happy for the rest of his life. 

There’s too much of this feeling inside of him, clawing at his throat, itching to get out. He’s filled with it, has been filled with it for so long that it’s starting to overflow and if he doesn’t say this now he might just—

“I’m so in love with you.” 

Gojo breathes it out, as if finally releasing it after all this time. You don’t think he processes it because he just stands there, in the middle of your living room, staring at you. 

Your laughter dies with maybe a little part of you too (in a good way). 

He looks so sweet, so sincere, and you see his heart, so big, so honest and pure. You get flashbacks of every Satoru you have ever known, at 15, 17, 23, to now. 

It’s not like either of you don’t know; it’s plain as day, how you feel about each other—and you would have been fine going on without ever having to hear him speak of love this way.

But hearing it now, it’s far better than anything you could have imagined. 

You stare at him. He stares at you. 

He’s shocked too. 

You don’t want to embarrass him, especially if he didn’t mean to say it, so you chuckle, moving on to break the quiet.

“I can unhear it if you want,” you offer shyly, genuinely. 

Gojo looks at you, confused, before a pout makes its way onto his face. You sit up on your couch, playing with your fingers as you look up at him.

Sure, he practically blurted it out, maybe in the heat of the moment, or something, but it doesn’t make it any less true. And he’s realizing that the only thing he really wants from this—

“Though…” you continue, biting your lips, “I think I’m pretty in love with you too.” 

The little laugh you make has him, completely. 

The grin that breaks on his face is infectious. Gojo, who is normally so pale, is now pink all over—red by his ears and down his neck. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that can be found in yours too. 

This moment right here feels like first loves—teens first saying ‘I love you’. 

“You think?” he asks incredulously, joking, “So you’re not sure?” he walks closer to you. 

You laugh, candy for his cravings, and take his hand to kiss each knuckle before guiding it to your cheek. He runs a thumb across your skin, affection on his fingertips. His index finger hooks itself under your chin, tilting it to rest on his stomach as you look up at him. 

A kiss to your forehead, tenderly, gently. 

The best part about being in love? 

He gets to be in it with you. 

.

.

.

Gojo can’t sleep. 

It’s not anything new—4 hours on average, maybe 6 on a good night. He doesn’t remember a time when sleep ever came easily.

Sleeping with you, beside you, has helped, but it’s never solved the problem. You’ve gotten him to a full 8 hours before, but never consecutively, and he’s starting to think that if you can’t do it, nothing ever will. 

Your sleeping positions change every night, but they always come out as some variation of hugging. Gojo firmly believes that he might as well sleep alone if you aren’t touching. 

Tonight, you’re spooning, arm slung over his waist and palm right on his chest, fingers interlaced with his. Your legs stay tangled together with soft puffs of air blowing at the back of his neck. 

He opens his eyes and checks the clock by his bedside. 3:24 a.m. 

He sighs deeply, carefully maneuvering his body to slip away from you. You used to wake up the first few times this happened, worried about an emergency or some kind of accident. Being a sorcerer trains you for things like that. 

You’ve always known Gojo had bad sleep, just not the severity of it. 

You don’t wake up to it as much as you used to, having grown accustomed to it after more nights together, but on the off-chance that you do, Gojo always kisses your forehead gently as if to tell you that it’s okay, you can go back to sleep.

You don’t wake up now, thankfully, so he grabs his phone and heads for the kitchen. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest tonight, far heavier than others he’s woken up from. He pours himself a glass of water before hopping on the kitchen counter, ready to sort through the bowl of candy sitting on the island. 

The date today is October 31. Halloween. It’s been a few years since Shibuya but he still feels like he’s suffocating. 

In the train station. In the box.

In front of Suguru—or Kenjaku, both, whatever. 

He’s gone to therapy, just like you wanted, for the both of you, and grieving has been an interesting concept to wrap his head around since.

But no matter how much he trains his mind to deal with it, his body will always remember the feeling. 

He snaps out of it when he hears your footsteps padding on the floorboards. Your figure emerges from the hallway, bed hair and eyes still sleepy, squinting. 

“Satoru?” you rub at your eyes, his sleep shirt entirely too long as the sleeves extend past your fingertips. The extra fabric swings in the air. “You okay?” you whisper, approaching him. 

Waking you up is the last thing he could ever want right now, but it’s hard when you’re also the only one he can talk about this with. When you know what it’s like to grieve everyone too.  

He has every intention of brushing it off, of telling you to go to sleep, but one look at you—one look at him and it’s like you just know. He doesn’t even need to explain. 

It isn’t hard to piece together, knowing what today is and seeing him choked up the way he is. You tell Gojo it’s your intuition, but he has a tell, and maybe you’re the only one who knows it. 

His eyes—they’ve always given him away. There’s the Satoru you know, then a Satoru that’s far removed, gone away. You can spot it though, the moment it loses its sparkle, the moment it turns from blue to gray. 

He feels a little selfish sharing this with you; he’s not the only one who’s lost people. You have too. 

You stand in front of him and offer a sad smile, outstretching your arms as an invite, as if to tell him: you can stay here for as long as you’d like. 

He moves into your space slowly, hopping off the kitchen island to slump against you. 

He doesn’t hug you yet, not immediately, hands still shaky at the memory. You rub his back, hooking your chin on his shoulder as he bends down to rest his head by your cheek. 

You take his hand delicately, bringing them to your lips so you can kiss every fingertip gently. When you finish, he wraps his arms around you, squeezing tightly. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” you whisper, like a hushed secret. 

And he wants to, but also, there isn’t anything else to say that you don’t know already. You were there the first few times he had therapy, and when he felt comfortable enough to go alone, he told you all about it anyway right after. 

If there’s a secret to fighting the Gojo Satoru with guaranteed victory, they’d only have to get to you—he’d be gone, entirely. You know too much of him, own too many parts of him already. 

He chuckles dryly, vibrating by your neck. A step back and he’s leaning against the counter, bringing you closer by the hip, thumb stroking. He tucks away strands of your hair behind your ear, flattening down the bird’s nest that it is from your sleep. 

“Nothing you haven’t heard before, pretty.”

Gojo’s been more tender lately, especially in the night when his piercing eyes turn soft, gazing. 

You pout, the same one since you were 16. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to it, the way he calls you such sweet, honeyed things; you’ve only recently begun to call him ‘baby’ and that alone has been enough to make your head spin. 

Still, he wouldn’t be your Satoru if he didn’t surprise you. With how he is now, it’s hard to imagine a time when this was all so difficult for him, when even the slightest bit of your hands touching was challenging. 

It’s hard to imagine that both of you are here now, living in the same space, by the kitchen at night, with the contents of your hearts memorized—the sorrow, the pain, the joy, all the love, every single one. 

He kisses your nose, and that’s comfort alone. 

This is his reality now, with you, and it’s safe.

It’s good. 

“Do you want to make waffles?” he hears you mumble, running your hands over his chest, soothing.  

The clock reads 3:56 a.m. Early breakfast doesn’t sound so bad, could also be a midnight snack.

(But he knows what you’re doing). 

You don’t tell him to try to go back to sleep, never forcing anything you know he can’t do. Instead, you offer yourself to stay up with him, keep him company. Whatever he needs. 

(And he loves that about you). 

.

.

.

Gojo will forever argue that you might have fallen first, but he’s definitely fallen harder. 

He could map out every single location he’s laid his love on—your eyes, the flutter of your eyelashes, the curve of your nose, and your lips, the same ones he’s kissed and nipped, bitten until he gets his fill. 

Your neck and chest—a canvas for his desires. He glides a finger across your collarbone before lightly tapping on it thrice. 

There’s the little dip at the base of your spine, and your thighs—

Oh, he could get lost in them. 

He knows. 

He has. Many times.

There’s an animal inside of him that only answers to you. 

When you kiss his neck and grip his back, soft moans by his ear—short and sweet. He’s a gone man, wholly devoted to you, and you only. 

You breathe his name out, “Satoru,” raspily, and he sinks into you—everything, all that he has spilling in the depths of you. 

How can he possibly contain all this love?

It’s scary how so much of him already belongs to you, all these years—how you’ve been carrying pieces of him, all versions of him throughout every birthday, every moment you’ve touched his life and have it irrevocably changed. 

.

“Are you happy?” he mumbles by your ear, voice deep and lazy. 

It’s the morning, sunlight barely peeking through your curtains. Gojo hugs you from behind, arms caging you as he traces little hearts on your sides. 

“Right now?” you whisper back, chuckling, “That’s not fair.” 

He nips at your ear, a small bite, before you turn to face him.

He supposes you’re right, it isn’t fair to ask that now; both your bodies are sore, well-exhausted, and littered with conversations on love. 

Gojo is pretty in the mornings just like he is all the time, his hair lending well to sunlight as much as it does to the moonlight. And his eyes—they shine a different shade during the day compared to the night. 

You though, you’re an entirely different creature of your own: a goddess in bedsheets and pillows, wrapped in immaculate white.  

You giggle when you face him, nose-to-nose, and he pulls you in tighter, grips you by the butt to slot you in right where you belong. 

Are you happy with me? 

He wonders, and you can read it—his eyes his greatest tell. You kiss him tenderly, lips moving gently against his. Then you smile, sincerely, before whispering—

“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

this is a re-upload! (because i accidentally deleted the original one!) thank you notes: to @stellamancer for being there since the very start!! col wouldn’t even exist without you!! you’re every much part of the creation of this as i am :'), to @crysugu for being so ever supportive, cheering me on all the time!! and for loving col reader as much as i do!! and to you reading this and everyone else who has loved this collection so far!!  of course!! a credit to all the writers whose works have inspired the way i view and write gojo: to @seravphs for teen dad!gojo and cruel summer influences, i draw so much of the way i understand these characters and their dynamics from you and your beautiful way of writing them and i hope my interpretation gives justice to that!!, to @augustinewrites for keeping up with the fushigojos, this series and the way you write them, with so much love, has always pushed for me to view gojo that way!! you’ve inspired so much of my understanding that gojo does believe in love and that when he falls in it, he falls in it hard!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[jscrawls]

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, brief mentions of violence, hospitals, poor writing, possible ooc,

Part 8: happy home

🔹🔹🔹

You're officially going ‘home’ today, the doctors have decided that you're well enough to get the boot. It's a little strange to think about, as much as you hate this place it's also the only point of this world you actually know. You have no other base here, no aliases, no hidden safehouse, no Natalia, just you and some strangers. There's been a tension in your shoulders all day, thankfully no one's commented on it yet.

“Are you ready mx Wayne? I've prepared one of the more subtle cars today.” The older man comments respectfully, he's tall, thin, almost haggardly so. yet he carries himself like a military general. Mr pennyworth is an odd one for sure, he eyes the clothes he brought you critically, like he's nitpicking the minute details of you while speaking in respectful deference. It's almost amusing.

“One of the - do you think we'll be attacked or something.” Your tone is flat, yet your words are meant in jest. Though you are curious just how much your husband wastes on cars if there's a selection to pick from.

“If the paparazzi got a sniff of you, then yeah. Might as well count as an attack.” The tall kid mutters as he grabs your bag off the bed, you should probably start calling him Jason instead of the tall one, but eh.

You briefly eye the bag, the only things of ‘yours’ in it is your phone, your medication, and the syringe you managed to keep all this time. You'd tucked that under a layer when you were changing out of the stupid hospital clothes in the bathroom.

“…why would they care about someone leaving a hospital? Isn't Bruce the famous one of the two of us?” The thought annoys and baffles you, most of your experience with press was them accusing you of various assassinations and demanding you be locked away so you're not exactly too keen to run into issue here.

“Mx Wayne, you are a minor celebrity, whether you remember it or not. Being ‘just the spouse’ doesn't mean you're completely hidden in Bruce's shadow.” Mr pennyworth says firmly, his posture straightening slightly, his chin tilting up, he's trying to be firm, He clearly wants to get the message through you.

“…alright, point taken. Shall we?” You start towards the door to your room, both relieved and pissed to leave this place.

“Ahem, are you forgetting doctor's orders?” The tall one- Jason grabs the handles of your wheelchair in the corner, in that moment you want to grab it and throw it off the rooftop.

🔹🔹🔹

You slide the sunglasses a little higher up your nose as you approach the doors, Jason pushing your chair and holding your bag on his arm while Alfred walks in front of you both towards the back exit. Your thoughts drifting towards the next steps, planning your next move…. But why? what exactly are you doing? Playing pretend out of habit, no real mission here. No loyalty or fealty to uphold. No goal in mind. It's a strange train in thought to hit you right as your bathing wheeled out the door by your supposed kid.

You nearly swing an elbow when something is suddenly shoved in your face, a microphone hitting your chin while Jason curses loudly behind you and body blocks the reporter, the duo had been hiding in the bushes like a couple of wild animals.

“Mx Wayne! A word! A word please!” The dark haired woman persists, flailing around Jason while shouting at you, waving her microphone like she's wielding a weapon. “Any comment on your hospital stay? What did you think of your attackers trial? Are the rumors true that you're splitting from Mr Wayne due to your injuries?”

“No comment, don't you people have anyone else to harass?” Jason barks at them, now it's clear to you why he insisted on coming today, he's practically a shield with his stature.

The cameraman tries to slip past Jason, practically kicking at him as he tries to get a close-up of your face. Alfred all but shoves past him as he quickly takes over Jason's job of pushing your chair, grumbling quietly so only you can hear him.

“dear Lord above, no manners these days…”

You're tense, even that small interaction has you feeling put off and unsettled, you're secretive by nature, feeling at odds with yourself already, and now someone's trying to plaster your face on a channel or magazine? Treating you like the press treats Stark? It feels like your skin is crawling, a deeply unsettled feeling nestles in your stomach as you're quickly helped into a car.

🔹🔹🔹

You stare up at the mansion with a neutral expression as you drive up to it, well as the butler drives. Him and Jason have been discussing your physical therapy schedule for a few minutes now while you quietly stare up the long driveway, something about attending every week and needing shots every few days, you really should pay more attention. Gather Intel while you can, yet you're more focused on your newfound freedom.

…Though with the way this place is built, you're still not so free. The manor could pass for a sanitarium, large gates surround the property and you think you can see evidence of security cameras on key points, you agreed to come to this place for appearance sake, but now you kinda wish you'd demanded your own apartment instead. Something private where you wouldn't be locked in a house full of strangers calling you their parent.

“…do you recall anything about this place? Anything…reminding you of anything or…” the butler questions you when he notices your focus elsewhere, Jason glances from the passenger seat back at you with what you can only call a hopeful look in his eyes.

You shake your head slowly, watching as you wheel closer to your next lock-in. “No…nothing at all…tell me a little about it?” Your response is automatic, tone shifting to curiosity and meekness as you meet their stares, though inside you feel hollow as the car parks.

🔹🔹🔹

“-and this is one of your favorite rooms, the library.” Alfred gestures broadly as he opens the double doors, just like with every other room he's shown you.

“Alright…”

You step inside with Jason grabbing your arm like you'll fall on your face, and take it in, the room could pass as part of a public library. It smells musty and old, aging paper and real leather furniture apparent, you walk towards a random shelf and slowly trail your fingers across the spines as you read the titles, Austen, Dickens, Hemingway, Woolf, brontë, the Wayne's are big collectors of the classics it seems.

You glance over your shoulder, catching Jason settling on an armchair with a book in hand, Alfred stands at the door and just…watches you. The old fellow is quite observant you've noticed.

“Something wrong, Mr pennyworth?” your voice is gentle, watching him as closely as he watches you. He shifts just slightly, expression not changing even as Jason looks up from his book to watch.

“Not at all, master Wayne. Are you feeling up for more of the tour? There's still the sitting rooms and the sleeping areas, oh, and the cellars. Silly me.” He's equally gentle, yet you get the feeling this is suddenly a game of some sort. Something telling you to keep a lid on around him.

You fully turn to face him, hand dropping back at your side. “I'm surprisingly tired, to be frank. As little as I've done today…” you don't need to put on an act for that, you're actually exhausted, have been since the paparazzi incident as you left the hospital.

It's silent for a beat, Jason looks between the two of you with a confused furrow on his brow. You and the butler staring at each other like this is a game of cat and mouse. Finally the butler speaks.

“Yes that would happen, being hospitalized for as long as you were can have…. Strange effects on one. Come along if you're able.” He turns on his heel and leaves without waiting to see if you'll follow.

Your brow furrows just a second as you walk after him, was he implying something?

🔹🔹🔹

M.list | prev | next

A/n: we're finally out of the hospital! It only took *checks notes* eight chapters. Lol the interactions are gonna be a lot more interesting now hopefully 😉

Taglist: @cxcilla @mercuryathens @dind1n @redsakura101 @ninihrtss @let-me-dance @ladykamos @one-piecelover @cuntiesweet

[scoonsalicious]

Unbroken Masterlist - Coming At Some Point

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: An Unwanted sequel, following Pocket and Bucky through the events after Unwanted, through Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame.

Warnings: 18+ Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here.

"*" indicates explicit sexual content (each chapter will feature its own warnings as needed), language, canon-level violence, alcohol consumption.

More will be added as the story progresses, and some chapters may have specific warnings that I will keep under wraps to avoid spoilers. When we get to those sections, I will let you know, so if there is a specific trigger that you absolutely cannot handle, let me know and I will tell you if the section is safe. As always, please let me know if I miss any warnings.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

[thedevilsoftruth]

All I Have ~ Loki x Fem!reader

Warning; MAJOR,MAJOR,MAJOR, INFINITY WAR AND THOR RAGNAROK SPOILERS PLEASE DONT READ IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THEM!!!! Smut, Alcohol mentions, Ragnarok/ dom Loki, loss of virginity, major character death, oral ( f receiving ) Minors dni

Summary: After the fall of Asgard, you and Loki get to mourn the people you lost.

Notes; I watched Infinity war and endgame for the first time a few nights ago and I am depression, so I thought what better way to cope with that than to make a really sad smutshot!? Enjoy!!!

Loki had been your best friend for centuries, you both fought by each others side and often trained a lot together. You two were thick as thieves, and a lot of your good memories were with him. But little had you known that tonight your way of viewing one of the closest people to you would change forever.

But finally you were able to get to sit down with your friends after a long day of trying to save the people of Asgard. Althought Asgard was completely destroyed, at least you still had the people. You, Thor and Loki were sitting on a couch together in the ship and drinking booze to try to think happy after everything that happened.

“ and then he turned back and was like, “ aha it’s me! “ and then he stabbed me— do you remember that, brother? “ Thor wheezed, smacking Lokis shoulder in the process. Thor had already told this story today, but he had to admit it was great. Loki’s lips twitched a bit like he were trying to hold in the laugh. You laughed along with them, your mind a bit fuzzy from the booze. Loki hadn’t been drinking much, which was surprising since he loved it as much as Thor did.

“ how about that time you tried to push me off the roof, brother!? yeah? “ Thor wheezed again, Loki couldn’t hold it in anymore and hollered with laughter. The small room was filled with the sounds of you three laughing like all was good. Soon the laughter died out and Thor stood up.

“ I’m going to try and get a little nap in. “ he sighed. you had to admit, the man needed it. You and Loki smiled at him and nodded.

“ Have fun, you two. “ he said with a slight smile before walkig out of the room and closing the door behind himself.

Loki turned to look at you and smiled.

“ Shall we continue the party, darling? “ he asked with a wicked grin. You knew that meant he had something Mischievous in mind. Oh but you didn’t know if you could stay any longer, you were getting tired as well.You simply shook your head.

“ Oh, I’m not so sure. I should probably leave “ You raised yourself from the couch but he put his hand on top of yours, taking you off guard.

“ Stay with me. “ He pulled you back down on the couch with him and looked at you with somber eyes. His hand brushed your cheek gently, his eyes staring into yours. He leaned in with you, his lips brushing against yours ever so lightly. At first you didn’t feel anything until you begun to follow along into the kiss. You had never felt feelings for him, but maybe he felt for you. He pulled away slowly, his thumb caressing your cheekbone softly.Your face was flushed red. His eyes were watery now, his hand falling back down to his side.

“ please. “ the words came out of his mouth under his breath so lightly it was like the cold breeze on a warm summer day. You nodded your head and got comfortable in your seat again.

“ Very well. I guess I don’t really have anywhere else to go. “ You said, feeling your tears building back up again. Loki nodded, knowing what you were feeling and rubbing your hand comfortingly.

“ you know, we never really had our time to truly grieve for the ones we lost today. “ he said, still smiling despite shedding a tear himself. Your head felt heavy, tears streaming down your cheeks like a waterfall.

“ I just— I saw my whole family die before my eyes today. “ You spoke through sobs, your nose burning as you recalled the memories you wished weren���t true. Loki’s hand went to your back and pulled you into his warm embrace. He gave the top of your head a kiss and he sniffed quietly.

“ Thors all I have left. “ he said with a shaky laugh. You felt tears rushing harder. Your chest felt like it was being blocked off and you could barely breathe.

“ I don’t have anything left. “ you sobbed into his chest. You were probably getting his shirt wet from your snot and tears but you didn’t care. Loki hummed and sniffed again.

“ That’s not entirely true, love. “ he spoke, running his hand through your hair gently. You looked up at him with a raised brow.

“ You have me. I’m here for you. “ he said, looking down at you with the kindest eyes you had ever seen. something deep inside those eyes were filled with such loss and sadness, it made you want to cry even more of that was possible. It was odd because you had never seen Loki genuinely cry.

You chortled through your sobs and buried your face in his chest again. His hand ran up and down your back soothingly, making you melt further into his embrace.

“ Thank you, Loki. “you choked out, your voice muffled by his armored chest. He chuckled and pressed another kiss to your forehead.

“ it’s obvious but… “ He took his hand off yours and used it to lift your chin to force your gaze up to him. “ I love you, y/n. “ and with that his lips crashed with yours again, except this time more rough. His hands wrapped around your waist and moved your body backwards, making you lay down on your back as he hovered above you. His tongue slid into your mouth, dancing with yours like some somber tango. His hands reached underneath your long layered skirt and moved it down to your waist so he could position himself between you nicely. He pulled his mouth away from your so you both could catch your breaths.

“ I l- love you too, Loki. “ you panted, your cheeks sticky and wet from the dried tears. His lips curled back into that familiar smile.

“ watch this. “ he said lowly, the with the flash of green he was magicked out of his clothes. You chuckled, of course he was going to do that. Your eyes wondered every part of his naked form, admiring his every curve and muscle. His hand then went on your chest and his lips pecked yours once again.

“ and this. “ he spoke with a grin. you opened your eyes to see that you were naked as well. You whimpered at the sudden coldness hitting your bare body.

“ Loki what if someone comes in? “ you asked, covering your chest at the thought of it. Loki shook his head and laughed.

“ we’re fine, darling. the door is locked. “ Loki said nonchalantly, lowering his head in between your thighs, making you blush madly. Loki smirked and kissed your lower abdomen gently. His warm breath on your skin was sending shocks through your body.

“ do you want to see real magic though? “ Loki’s voice was low and gravely as he looked at your through his brows. You looked at him curiously, tilting your head a bit. He chuckled, his lips trailing from your stomach to the wet mess in between your thighs. You gasped and clasped your hand to your mouth as his greedy mouth made contact with your mound. His warm tongue explored your folds as his hands rested comfortably on the back of your thighs. You started to buck your hips up a little as he kissed you deeper, making you moan louder and louder with each blissful movement. His lips sucked and licked your clit with his oh so talented tongue, making you feel pleasure like no other. Having this happen after all the tears put everything off your mind, which is just what the both of you needed. Maybe Loki was the one who you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with. You had hoped this would be something more taht just one night and he truly meant he loved you. His tongue was certainly saying so.

He lifted your leg and placed it across his shoulders and continued to eat at you hungrily, moving the tip of his tongue in circles around your throbbing bud. You gripped his hair curly as the waves of ecstasy washed over you like a tsunami. The tips of his lips pecked your clit, his tongue peeking out again to dance with your wet folds. He gave your wetness one last kiss before rising himself back up to kiss your lips.

“ Are you sure you want me to take you? “ Loki said breathless as he pulled away. His head dropped into your neck and begun pecking at it lightly.

“ I am certain. Please be my first, Loki. “ You whispered, tugging at his long inky curls. He leaned in to kiss your lips again, you could feel his smile through the kiss like this moment was all he had wanted. He groaned into your mouth his hands pulled yours out of his hair, intertwining your fingers with his in the process. His lips trailed back down to your neck again as his erect length came into contact with your aching entrance. His pace started off a bit slow and leisured, his hips rocking against yours like a beautiful tempo. Moans escaped your lips, your hips bucking upwards in anticipation as he gave you just what you needed. Pleasure was washing over you intensely, your fingers were curling into Lokis skin as a way to cling onto something. The room was beginning to get hot and your bodies rubbed together passionately.

Loki moaned into your neck, both of your breaths beginning to get ragged. He rose up and grabbed the top cushion of the white couch, his pace increasing and becoming rougher with each thrust.

“ oh f-fuck, min kjære.. “ he moaned, his head cranked back and his eyes shut tight while pumping wildly into you. You cried loudly and arched your back, feeling him inching closer to the spot you so needed him to hit. He let go of your hand and gripped the cushion beneath you both, propelling his memeber into you briskly. Your lips met his again, but this time it was sloppy and needy while your fingernails dug into the skin of his back. You clung onto him like he was your only support, your legs wrapping around his waist to deepen his thrusts. The feeling was pure bliss. This was nothing like you had felt before, nothing you had ever experienced. But you felt lucky. making love with a Prince who you not only didn’t know you loved into now, but who also loves you and knows you better than anyone else in this world. Your bond with him was strong and now you felt closer to him than ever.

“ Loki, I’m so- ah! c-close! “ you moaned, your head toy lying back and your eyes rolling to the back of you head as he brought you closer to heaven. You didn’t think you could take it anymore. You grabbed his shoulders and flipped your positions so you were on top. Loki chuckled, his hands going to your hips as you frantically rolled them forward and back on his waist.

“ oh, y/n… “ he sighed out in ecstasy as you bounced and rocked against his pulsating length. His hands slipped down to your ass and grabbed it firmly as you rode him like it was the last thing you could do. He moaned and flipped you back on the bottom, his hardness hitting your sweet spot repeatedly and making you scream in elation. Your chest heaved up and down rapidly, your body shaking as a burning sensation grew inside you. Loki felt it too.

“ Come for me, min kjære. Drip all over me as much as you need to. “ he groaned, kissing your lips hungrily while his blistering pumps never tried out. And just like that, your orgasm hit and shocks of pleasure went through your whole body and made you quiver. You shuddered while the warm liquid discharged your sopping cunt, staring into Loki’s eyes while doing so. The release made you felt empty, yet so complete. But Loki wasn’t entirely finished. He smirked and patted your thighs.

“ Legs up, baby. “ He panted with a smile on his face, his voice low and laced with desire. You whimpered and weakly moved your legs in the air. He grabbed the back of your calf’s and pulled them over his broad shoulders, his length still buried deep within you. With just one simple move of his cock, he was able to make you scream louder than before. Your cunt was stretched and dripping, sensitive and prone to relase again if he continued to push you over the edge. Your eyes didn’t want to open, but you knew he was staring at you with a mischievous smirk.

“ oh gods, look at you. “ he chuckled as he began rocking his hips again. You moaned loudly and cried out as he hit that spot again. You gripped his forearms, your nails digging into his skin while his pace built back up. Your chest was shaking as it heaved up in down, you felt like you couldn’t breathe from the intensity of the moment. His name left your mouth like a soft melody to his ears, his skin smacking against yours and his memeber rubbing against your cunt and creating loud wet noises.

“ keep moaning like that, baby. “ he breathed, clenching your soft thig harshly while he thrashed against you. You cried, feeling that burning sensation again as he drove recurrently into your sweet spot.

“ ha— L-Loki I’m gonna cum again! D-don’t stooop..“ You moaned, your head tilting back as you screamed and cried in orgasmic bliss. Loki growled and with one final thrust, he came undone into your soaking cunt, filling you up and coating your cunt from deep within your core. You also reached your second peak around his shaft, adding to the mess. The second you came, your body fell limp and he let go of your legs.

“ good girl. “ he praised, pecking your trembling lips. Your legs were shaking and your body was convulsing from the intensity. You looked at him with wide eyes, still trying to comprehend everything that had just happened. He slowly pulled out, making more of your mixed orgasms spill out if you. You both panted and laid there for a moment, kissing and holding hands silently. You felt your nose burning and you started crying again. As much as you were happy, you were also still very sad from earlier.

“ I love you, Loki. Please don’t leave me too, just promise me you’ll stay with me until death parts us. “ You whimpered softly, tears rolling down your soft cheeks again. Loki looked at you with wide eyes, feeling a tight sensation in his chest that he had never felt before. He nodded with a warm smile, his pale nose now red as he felt his eyes getting watery as well.

“ yes, yes, of course. I profoundly promise you from the bottom of my heart, that I will never leave you no matter the circumstances. “ he said, pulling your hand in and giving your skin a gentle kiss. With a flash of green, he used his magic to clothe your bodies. Loki had never genuinely fallen in love with someone, he had dated multiple people in his very long life but he had never fallen this hard. But those eyes he gave you. He looked at you a way he never looked at anyone, those soft and kind green eyes that looked at you with a smile despite seeing everything that it had seen in the past.

You sniffed and your thumb brushed his cheek gently.

“ My prince, “ you whispered through a smile. He sniffed and chuckled, leaning down to kiss your lips again.

“ My queen, “ he responded with a chuckle, knowing he had done better than you. You chuckled and rolled your eyes, your fingers moving to tangle around his dark hair as his head lowered down to peck your sternum. His warm breath tickled your skin, his soft lips abrading your breasts. You made a small noise as his lips sucked on your skin harsh enough it was sure to leave a mark. But the passion of the moment was quickly broken up when there was a loud crash from afar followed by the sounds of screaming. Lokis head shot up from your chest, his eyes filled with terror and confusion.

“ Loki, what was that? “ you asked, your head looking around the room as if you would find the answers there. He shook his head, but it all happened too quickly. There was a loud frantic pound at the door.

“ Brother! Asgards under attack, Brother! “ Thors panicked voice yelled from the other side of the door. You stared at Loki in horror as he immediately got off you and rushed to the door. You had never seen him so scared in his life, it was almost like he knew why and how this was happening. He gave you once last glance as you stood up and rushed for him.

“ Loki what’s going on? “ you asked, utterly terrified as you grabbed his arm and tried to stop him. A tear ran down his cheek and he wiped away your own tears with his thumb.

“ I don’t know, darling but I need you to stay here. “ He said, his voice strong but with an undertone of fear. You felt your heart racing, you didn’t want anything happening to him or your people. You shook your head and sobbed.

“ no, no, no let me go with you! “ you said, holding his hand in your own while as he stared at the door and then back at you.

“ no, I can’t have anything happening to you. please just stay here. “ he said, giving your forehead a quick kiss as his hand pulled on the door handle.

“ Loki, don’t leave me— “ He kissed your lips one last time before quickly turning away.

“ I promise you I will come back for you. Please just stay here, darling. “ But that promise would never be fulfilled, Loki wouldn’t be coming back for you.

~~~~~~~~

min kjære ~ my dear or my love

[exoid-the-locomotive-monarch]

Some Minor or possibly major spoilers for Homestuck: Beyond Canon

Heya! I have been keeping up with Beyond Canon by generally staying in orbit of the Homestuck fandom!

Now I’m caught up with the recent upd8 as well as Vriska’s new ascended form of “helltier”

Now while people think it’s cool (and to be honest it is) I have to ask here… “why helltier?” It’s an alright title but I’d expect more from the language mastery that comes from Hussie-isms. And now we’re confirming hell is real in Homestuck?

So this got some people- well really one person discussing the celestial planes.

@davekat-sucks started thinking about how the aspect wheel could tie into the wheel of the 16 celestial planes from Dungeons and Dragons, and I noticed the symbol for the abyss uses an infinity symbol with an arrow pointing down.

Of course this is pictography for “the bottomless pit” but considering the motif of infinity on Vriska’s helltier design, this gives me an idea.

The abyss is a deep dark chasm where what is gone is lost and what is hidden is never found. I can tie the aspect of secrets and the hidden into the void, especially since Vriska’s time in the plot point made the plot point seem like an abyss of sorts.

The abyss liked to stare back, and it reminisced of Vriska’s personal issues, and her ego rendered in a symbolic manner.

The while scenario seems self-ish, insulated, introspective, and private.

And then I got it. Private.

I elect to name Vriska’s new form a nickname of “privatetier”

Privatetier is a pun and a reference to Vriska’s upbringing from the abyss. Not only was her ascension caused by a private therapy session, but was hidden away from the rest of the Earth C crew minus the sprites.

Privatetier is also a pun on privateer, a naval mercanary who is called to fight for pay in times of war. It’s also a synonym for pirates.

And privatetier especially correlates well to Vriska’s adult form inevitably taking on the traits of Mindfang, as Karkat’s maturity made him take on the traits of the signless. Neither especially look up to or want to be their ancestor, it’s just a curse and a blessing for trolls to inevitably take up the physical form and sometimes personality of their ancestor.

[the-haunted-star]

My Humble Thoughts On Captain America: Brave New World:

(Minor Spoilers)

A solid, entertaining and action packed solo outing for Sam Wilson’s Captain America! I thoroughly enjoyed it! For whatever reason this film received a lot of bad press during its production cycle concerning various issues ranging from story rewrites, filming reshoots, to rumored poor test screenings. Even now after its release the critics have not been kind either. I’m not sure why there was so much ill will toward this movie or why a certain section of the fandom seems to want Marvel to fail but despite whatever difficulties the film may have gone through, I think much of the perceived issues were unwarranted and some of the harsh criticism unfair.

Is this a perfect film? No of course not but I’m not sure what people want from these movies anymore. They can’t all be “Infinity War” levels of stakes, action and epic scope. For me if these movies provide an interesting story simple or complex that keeps me engaged, has good character dynamics with emotional development mixed with the right amount of humor and thrilling superhero style action I usually walk out of the theater happy.

Brave New World may not have the best script and it can be a bit exposition heavy at times but I thought it had an interesting plot with a mix of elements including mystery, conspiracy, espionage

and even some “Manchurian Candidate” type machinations. I would compare the feel of this film to that of CA: The Winter Soldier. I’m not saying this is as good as that film was but its grounded-ness and serious tone definitely reminded me of CA:TWS which I very much liked and

appreciated. The cast involved were all on point and each brought their “A” games. Anthony Mackie and Harrison Ford especially deliver standout emotional performances. While in smaller roles Giancarlo Esposito and Tim Blake Nelson both shined in menacing fashion as the film’s villains.

The action meanwhile was very high caliber. The fights were fast, hard hitting and easy to follow. An aspect of the fights I’m glad they included is that they showed that Sam could and often did get injured reiterating the fact that Sam is a hero with no super powers or super soldier type serums. He’s human and can be hurt. The set pieces were equally as thrilling with the highlight coming of course when the Incredible (Red) Hulk finally emerges causing all sorts of brutal carnage and destruction. If you watched every piece of preview footage before seeing the film, I feel sorry that you probably had most of Red Hulk’s awesomeness spoiled for you beforehand.

If I had any complaints it would simply be with The Leader’s (Tim Blake Nelson’s character) physical appearance/design. Early reports, leaked promo art and even the Funko Pop figure depicted a much more comic accurate looking design with the elongated head and goatee beard. For whatever reason this was changed to a different look, with him now having more of a mutated exposed brain instead of the giant, elongated head. He still looked pretty cool however and perhaps the redesign did fit in a bit better with the film’s grounded aesthetic. (Edit: Upon browsing through some older comic book material, the redesign is actually a bit more evocative of how The Leader appeared in Peter David's early Hulk run specifically Incredible Hulk #342 where Leader's head was more bulbous and brain textured than the (up to that point) classic elongated forehead look. Whether the final movie design was intentionally referencing that alternative comic book appearance or not is anyone's guess, I just had completely forgotten about it.)

Lastly, the film’s other shortcoming would have to be its music score. Unfortunately nothing of it really stood out for me. It was more of an atmospheric, moody type score. No memorable themes that I can recall and I don’t think Sam got a theme of his own. If he did I just didn’t notice it. No reprise of the original Cap theme either (which would have fit well in a couple scenes) unless I missed it. To be fair I also thought CA:TWS score was kind of lackluster the first time I saw that movie too but I gained a better appreciation for it after repeat viewings. Perhaps I will with BNW’s as well hopefully. So all in all I was very happy with this movie! Once again, don’t let the negative press and critic’s reviews get you down. Go see it and just have a fun time at the movies! ⭐⭐⭐½

[master-of-the-mystic-arts-inc]

[ NOTE: This Blog Contains Spoilers For Multiverse Of Madness ]

`` ARE YOU HAPPY, STEPHEN? ``

Testing.. Testing...

Alright, greetings interweb. As you all probably already know, my name is Stephen Strange. (Dr. Strange to all of you, Stephen's just for buds.) I've saved the world countless times, traveled the Multiverse, and have neutralized the all-powerful Scarlet Witch .. not to say I'm bragging, but those are braggable feats. You'd think I'd be free to do as I pleased, however, winning is such a fickle and complicated bag of worms, one that doesn't come without consequences. The Scarlet Witch destroyed the Darkhold across every dimension, but the essence is.. sticky. I did what I had to to defeat someone who threatened the Multiverse, should I have not used the wretched book to do so? Probably. Am I willing to admit that to the ones I'm closest to? ..Not so much. The power of Darkhold is safe, believe me. There would be no one better to keep this gif-curse with.

With that out of the way, I'll be using this odd forum as a journal of sorts, hard to keep track of my thoughts these days. If you stumble upon this blog, use my words as newfound knowledge, but tread lightly.

[ Mod, RP Info, & Character Bio Below Cut !! ]

Mod Notes

Sup! Welcome to yet another pathetic man's blog. I'm Randy, I use he/him pronouns, I'm twenty, and I'm So Normal about Marvel. So So Normal.

RP Info

I've been hooked on the idea of Strange slowly turning evil for quite some time now, but now seems like a great time to bring out the ol' warlock. Completely open to plots, character dynamics, random asks, and rp memes! Crossovers as well as (over 18) ocs may interact, of course :3c. As the man told y'all, Steven has been 'infected' by the Darkhold, since he was the last to technically use it before it was destroyed. You'll see his morals start to spiral downwards, and a villain begin to appear.. I'm so excited guys.

DNI

This blog will contain alcohol, substances, unbased opinions, and nsfw material*, so minors begone! Bigots, proshippers, and other such weirdos are not welcome either, hate will be taunted and giggled at! Drama-makers can look elsewhere, I want none of that!

*NSFW will be put underneath a cut with the tag #[ nsfwrp ]

Tags

#[ the holder's ramblings ] - Stephen's textposts

#[ watchful eyes & chattering voices ] - Strange answering asks

#[ a shattering dimension] - Roleplays, open ones as well as threads

#[ a potential follower ] - Stephen interacting with other blogs

Universes

Untagged - Main Universe; His descent is slow but adamant, journeying to acquaintances to tame his rotting being. He's pleasant to be around, for the most part- as time goes on, this might not be the case.

[ vrs; the time anomaly ] - Made with @/starredshield; Stephen accidentally transported Steve Rogers out of the 40's a year before the events of Infinity War, staring out at eachother's throats, but growing softer as Strange realizes he has deeper feelings. Having to let him go, he goes back to normal life- going through the Darkhold events before finally reconnecting with Rogers in a much worse headspace. [ !! DARKER THEMES WARNING !! ]

A Holder Of Ancient Magic

Name: Stephen Strange

Age: Currently Forty-Six

Gender & Pronouns: Cisman, He/Him

Sexuality: Strange is far too busy with the possible incursion he caused to be worried about labels. (Evil Bisexual </3)

Home Universe: 616 Adjacent (If your character died during End Game, no they didn't /hj)

Relationships: Stephen has a couple of close friendships, one being Wong, the Sorcerer Supreme. He hadn't been the most open about his new-found powers after the events with the Scarlet Witch. He's cut contact with Christine entirely, far too upset about how their relationship ended, how happy she seems with someone else. Him and the Avengers are on good terms, though he tends to keep quiet about the Darkhold.

Current Appearance: Strange looks a bit more disheveled than he did in Multiverse Of Madness, eyes sunken as if he'd been spending far too much time in the Sanctum's library. Occasionally, there seems to be an odd slit in the center of the Doctor's forehead- mentioning will make the line disappear. He looks more akin to Sinister Strange at this point.

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

Jo Explains with Tarot : Solomon's Unforgettable Past

Incoming long winded explanation/analyzation about the Festival of Flowers from Solomon's "Unforgettable Past" Devilgram, but doing it with tarot cards. So, spoilers ahead and lots of nonsense beyond this point if this isn't your thing :) I broke this into sections so it'd be easier to read...hopefully.

Please note: these are my interpretations of the cards. Your interpretations may be different, and that's okay! That's great even. That just means there's more to learn from the cards than just one perspective. So neither of us are wrong, we just see things in different ways. Don't be afraid to expand with your own thoughts if you want!

So, I realized something recently. One of the days on the Obey Me calendar was the Devildom Flower Festival, held annually on June 20th. And I think it's safe to say it's the same festival you visit with Solomon in his card "Unforgettable Past."

In that, he explains the war the Devildom commemorates every year and the legend behind it. The timespan of the war was 7 days. So...from June 20th (not counting it) we'd see that the war started on June 13th.

Why does any of this matter? Well, it probably doesn't to anyone but me, but here I'm going to explain the significance of those dates with...tarot cards!

How this works is how you would calculate your personal birth cards. It's really simple. Just add up all the numbers in the date, but not before making each digit a single digit, to get your results. Usually you get two cards, though there are special instances where some might get three, but's not as common. (I'll use a random date as an example: 8/10/1983 - 8+1+0+1+9+8+3 = 30. There's only 21 major arcana cards that are applicable, so you'd break the 30 down as well to get 3 - the Empress. To get the second card from 3, you use what adds to make 3 which would be 1+2, put those together and you get 12 - the Hanged Man. It's kind of like the reversal of what we did to get the first card. I hope I explained that well enough.

---

June 13th

With that out of the way, let's start with June 13, 6/13. This would give us 10. The tenth card in the major arcana is the Wheel of Fortune. Break down 10, and we get 1. The first card of the major arcana (ignoring the Fool since it's the zeroth card) is, ironically, the Magician.

The Magician card focuses on what you already have and expanding on those skills. Pictured in the card, there is one of each suit from the minor arcana laying on a table (one wand, cup, sword, and pentacle). Those represent the ace cards of those suits, which usually indicate beginnings or starting points. Essentially, the Magician already has novice level skills to help him navigate through his journeys, and as he experiences more his knowledge will grow and he'll "collect" more of each suit. He's an innovator, a go-getter, and as long as he keeps his head on his shoulders and doesn't get ahead of himself, he'll progress just fine. Also pictured is the Magician holding a candle in the air while pointing downwards with his free hand. To me, this could represent a guiding light, a symbol of the fifth element: spirit (as above, so below), a eureka! moment (the lightbulb over someone's head), or that he's declaring his own start - like charging into something with vigor. He's also got an infinity sign above his head, but that'll come in later...

The Wheel of Fortune focuses on chance and opportunity. Sometimes it's an indication of reigning in a new future or era, whether it's within our personal lives or seeing it unfold through society. A few things to note in the illustration is the little red guy??, the sphinx, and the snake surrounding the wheel. To me, I see the red guy kind of fox-like, or even devilish. Regardless, he's sneaky, cunning, willing to take risks to see himself come out at the top in the end. The sphinx is holding a sword, reminding me of the Justice card, or the suit of swords. The sphinx is logical, wielding rationale as a weapon should taking the risk turn to be less than ideal or difficult. A sharp intellect, if you will. And the snake, to me, represents the temptation of wanting to go along with something for the sake of knowledge or curiosity. There's also the three animals and one angel in the corners of the card, but I won't go into detail on them for the sake of brevity. But to me, they represent higher wisdom, or that the fate of the wheel is divinely guided.

-

According to his Devilgram story, he'd spoken to a demon in the human realm, which sparked the brazen idea that he could convince the Demon King and his citizens to work under him. It was an opportunity, a risk he was willing to take if it meant a more favorable fate/outcome for the human realm. Obviously, Solomon thought that he had what it took to get the king to see reason, whether it be through charm and wit alone, or through more brutal means. By that point, he was already able to subjugate demons to his will, so why not go father when the opportunity presents itself? Perhaps even doing so to test his own strength and power.

So, he had the skill, he had the charisma, but he also had the arrogance of the Magician in reverse. All he had to do was take matters into his own hands for the sake of "furthering human kind's development," find an opening, show just how powerful humans could be, and strike. And he struck hard. Solomon took his risk and fought with everything he had in him. Alone. That day, he held the destiny of the human realm in his hands.

---

June 20th

Onto the eighth day, June 20, 6/20. Adding this gives us 8, which is the eighth card - Strength. And then 1+7 = 8, so put those together to get the number 17 - the Star.

The Strength card is just about that: strength. Strength doesn't have to be physical. More often than not, our inner courage defines our true strength. In this card, we see a woman who looks to be petting a lion. Whether she's attempting to befriend him or trying to soothe him, she's showing great bravery by approaching the situation with calmness and gentility. In the face of what could be a problematic situation, if not dealt with swiftly/correctly, this card reminds us that we have the option to fight with fearlessness, approach with a silent confidence, or we can choose to walk away altogether. Then that leads us to either being the bigger person or being cowardly, depending on the issue at hand. So, remember I mentioned the infinity symbol above the Magician's head? The lady in this card has one above her head as well. This, to me, is a call back that we have the skills to handle any problem that arises. We are equipped with strength and courage and any learned tricks we may have up our sleeve to give us the upper hand.

The Star is one of the more positive cards in the tarot deck (aside from the Sun of course). Maybe uplifting is a better way to describe it. This card holds hope for a brighter future, a better tomorrow. The Star reminds us that it's okay to heal, breathe, and wish upon hope that things can get better. The sky is the limit. In this illustration, there's a woman pouring water back into what looks to be a river with her foot hovering over it. It's almost like she'd lost hope to the cruelty of life, but she's ready try again and slowly dip her toes back in. She's allowing herself time to do so, reflecting on why she wants to and why she's ready, like affirmations. The ripples in the water remind me of both the ripple effect and of manifestations. By taking the initiative, good things may come her way or she may make change within the world around her. Also, in her other hand she's got another pitcher that's pouring out water onto the ground. We can take this either that she's unknowingly nurturing something in the midst of her finding herself, or that by enveloping herself in this new hope, she's actively pouring out the old.

-

On the eighth day, Solomon vanishes, ultimately putting a stop to the fighting. What led up to this decision, we don't know. Although, you can ask Solomon if "the sorcerer" just threw in the towel, to which he stills for a moment, almost as if he were offended or caught of guard by our question. He doesn't elaborate on that further, only responding with- "maybe. We'll never know for sure." It's telling that to him it obviously wasn't a matter of giving up. There was more at stake than just his pride or lust for power. And he made the decision to walk away when he probably could've went on for much longer.

And why would he leave a field of flowers as a "parting gift" if it meant nothing? He's a pretty cryptic guy, after all. But again, we don't know why exactly he did so. It could've been a promise that humanity would further on its own and they'd one day see he was right. Maybe it was the hope that the realms could coincide someday and that he recognized the Devildom's power. Or simply, it was his version of a "white flag." No matter what he originally meant by them, the flowers would go on to be the focus of the festival to commemorate the Devildom's victory. In Solomon's words, "it's a day to hope for peace and prosperity throughout the land."

[randomshyperson]

So I finally watched The Marvels.

~SPOILERS AHEAD~

They missed the opportunity to actually say Wanda's name but it's totally fine 'cause this is not about her, but also, excuse me Miss Rambeau??? Monica is that powerful now and all because she visited Wanda's little Sims city a couple of times, like what? I love it. That old theory that Wanda was the one who gave Pietro's power is coming back stronger now

I strongly believe misogyny and racism are behind the flop of this movie, I had an amazing time watching it, whole thing was genuinely funny with relevant marvel lore and characters plots (the aliens are still fighting each other and blaming humans, but hey, colonialism and exploit of resources are the main reason we have to protect planets). Everyone loves when Peter Quill explores the galaxy but if three women do the same it's suddenly a problem.

A lot of people saying how tired they are of Marvel, were only tired of women doing the Marvel formula, don't believe those haters. Just like every other Marvel project, we have the hero journey and their blockbusters cliches, a lot of visual effects and jokes, LIKE EVERY OTHER MARVEL PROJECT, but sure, let's blame the girls for the failure. To me, it was really refreshing just to see women having fun and supporting each other and throwing little energy balls every now and then.

Also, the fact that Princess Carol is a fucking Star now? Pretty sure that got her killed in the What if series but good to know she's more powerful than that.

Kamala is the star of this movie, she's so funny and charming but also Monica and Carol angst got me crying and it was not enough!! I need more of their pain

I almost forgot, Miss Carol Danvers is all by herself in space just using a god damn TORTURE DEVICE to try to get her memories back, EXCUSE ME??? Someone gives this woman a hug, or idk, sent her to therapy with Bucky cause jesus Christ that's not healthy lady.

For the things I didn't like, the rhythm for sure. Such a quick movie, a lot of things happening, one minute I was crying the next I was giggling then crying again and then thinking about politics like slow down a little. I wanna digest the dialogues for a second.

THE SINGING PLANET I CANNOT-

Really funny movie, kamala's parents, the cats, everything was so easy going and cheerful even with the little angst moments, I had such a good time.

The best thing about this movie, as fanfic writer who gets truly frustrated with plot holes and stuff like that, it's that I will be able to watch it again. Movies from the first phases I used to love before I start writing, I can no longer enjoy the same 'cause I keep seeing how they don't make a fucking sense or have unbearable characters storylines and personality changes (yes I'm talking about Civil War and Age of Ultron or Ultimate, maybe STEVE ROGERS LEAVING BUCKY in a specific matter). This and also the fact they lack all kinds of minorities. Doctor Strange had like 2 women in the cast?? And don't even get me started on talking about what the sequel did to Wanda's character development.

The Marvels, Ragnarok, Black Widow, Captain Marvel, Captain America (1&2), Infinity War and Guardians of The Galaxy (all three), Black Panther (both), Ten Rings, Eternals, are still the only Marvel movies I actually enjoy rewatching, because they are projects that respect the characters established personalities and history and for origins ones like Eternals or Ten Rings, they are simply fun, what a crime for a movie to be just fun huh

All of the shows are worth rewatching (even Fury's one that I hated it), 'cause they were given time to develop into stuff and as a writer there's a lot for us to work it.

Btw, I'm not talking about Kate Bishop'cause I'm simply unable to process my happiness over seeing her again. I do think I might have a stroke once Yelena is back.

[romancomicsblog]

5 Non-MCU Characters I'd love to see in Deadpool & Wolverine

Superbowl Sunday saw the return of everyones favorite Merc with a Mouth Deadpool in the trailer for his upcoming new movie Deadpool & Wolverine.

And as usual, Marvel hooked me.

Some fans have seen it as a return to form for the MCU, others as business as usual for Ryan Reynolds, and some just couldn't get over the little bit of Wolverine we got.

Myself, I was mainly focused on one thing. Aaron Stanford.

For those not in the know, this clip from the trailer shows Aaron Stanford returning as minor villain and asshole Pyro from the original X-Men Films. He was a sidekick to Magneto, and has a rivalry with Iceman in those movies.

The return of Pyro from the X-Men films confirms what most fans expected: we will see old heroes and villains from the Fox era, not just Wolverine.

And while a few have been already revealed through casting news or set photos, there are plenty more in store for us, I'm sure.

This got my head gears turning, so I decided I'd look back on the old Fox films to see who I want to return, even for the briefest moment or cameo.

None of these have been confirmed officially, so you are spoiler free from here on out. But I must warn, once I put this ideas in your head, you may be mad if they don't show up.

5. Animated Deadpool Voiced by Donald Glover

*sigh* The project I wish existed.

In 2017, Donald Glover was in development and given the green light on an animated Deadpool show. The show was to premiere on FX in 2018. However, for unknown reasons it was cancelled, and never debuted, leaving fans and Donald Glover displeased.

After the success of films like Spider-Verse, and Glovers involvement with Marvel, having him come in for a scene where he fights with or against Ryan Reynolds Deadpool could be a fun nod to the fans and maybe give the project the boost it needs to somehow come back.

But alas, I'm still hoping Spider-Verse will bring back Spectacular Spider-Man, so what do I know?

4. X-23

If there is a character ripe for a spin-off from the old X-Men universe, it was definitely X-23.

It's surprising to me she hasn't been revealed as a main member of the cast. She's a character I think few people talk about anymore, but was a crucial part of the film. I'd say Logan is up there and one of the best superhero movies.

Dafne Keen and Hugh Jackman made Logan such an impactful moving film. I'd love to see where the character has gone since Logan, and see how them reuniting effects the film.

Not to mention if she fought Deadpool, it would be one hell of a good (and kind of funny ) fight.

3. Apocalypse

Do I like this character? Absolutely not.

Do I want him here just for the Moon Knight jokes? Yes.

I actually think theres a good Apocalypse in Oscar Isaac somewhere. Having Deadpool and Wolverine at one point face the X-Men's Thanos sounds pretty cool, and Isaac is a great comedic and dramatic performer who deserves another shot.

I wouldn't mind a CGI version that looks more comic accurate, like Beast in the Marvels.

But again. I really just want Deadpool to say "So are you Steven or Marc?"

2. The Human Torch

Similarly, I want the Captain America jokes.

But if there's one thing we can all agree on, it's that Human Torch was by far the best part of those Fantastic Four movies.

There's just so many things you can do with it!

We can have him in the frosted tips, in a new Fantastic Four uniform. Maybe even have him fight Pyro, stop a fire guy with a fire guy. Or have him come out from behind a train like Captain America in Infinity War, but it's Johnny.

Having Evans play across Reynolds even for a bit would make so many fans happy and get more cheers then No Way Home.

Besides Evans has done a cameo in a Shawn Levy film starring Ryan Reynolds once. He can do it again.

1. Legion

The rumored main villain of this film tends to have a very particular vendetta with Charles Xavier. So why not use his son to acquire power?

Legion is the acclaimed show from Noah Hawley starring Dan Stevens as David Haller, a mutant with schizophrenia and basically unlimited power.

Dan Stevens is incredible in this show, and I think bringing in such a powerful X-Men character would make for some fun interactions and extreme stakes. Not to mention the insane visuals, all while delving deep into the psyche of both are protagonists.

While I doubt all of these characters show up, if one or two do, I'd be extremely happy. We'll just have to wait and see.

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider following, and check out my socials and other sites here! And let me know: Who do you want to see in Deadpool and Wolverine?

[shiorimakibawrites]

Idea: Legacy (Spider-Man)

These are rough notes and therefore subject to change. Any thoughts or suggestions are welcome.

Warnings: Spoilers for Avengers: Infinity War, Alternate Universe, Temporary Death of Canon Characters

Legacy

Peter Parker / Spider-Man x Reader

You are the daughter of Matt Murdock, born when he was 17, inherited his superhuman senses. You have trained in martial arts but strictly as exercise – your father is very clear that he’d rather you not be fighting crime.

MOTHER is either died or left when you were very young:

(1) protect you from some shady organization like Hydra

(2) having severe postpartum depression

(3) pressure to pretend she never had a child out of wedlock – maternal family is wealthy, devoutly Catholic . . . wanted to have you adopted far away to some couple but MOTHER gave you to your father.

STEP-MOTHER meet Matt sometime during university or law school, married sometime before BROTHER was born. BROTHER is about ten years younger than you and about 7 years old.

Matt and STEP-MOTHER are dusted during the Snap.

(1) Wilson Fisk and some other enemies of Daredevil did not.

(2) Uncertain if Foggy or Karen are dusted.

(3) BEST FRIEND and BROTHER might have also been dusted but leaning toward not – what your situation to be similar but not identical to Peter’s.

Elektra didn’t die (again) in Midland Circle but never bothered getting herself legally alive again. She had left everything she inherited from the Natchois family to Matt in her will . . .and maybe Matt hasn’t found out that she isn’t dead before the Snap . . . we’ll say that is enough of a fortunate that you can easily cover your rent and other expenses, pay for school, etc. Maybe not Tony Stark level of money but qualify as rich? Part of it is business interests or real estate that that regularly brings in money?

Marci or Foggy (if he’s not dusted) might be the executor of Matt’s estate since you being still a minor can’t yet. And would have no idea what happen all you needed to do anyway.

You want to uphold Matt’s legacy. The part that has Foggy and/or Karen enthusiastic support is the lawyer idea but that will take several years to accomplish – you haven’t even finished high school yet.

You can hear how bad things are getting – the streets your father bled to make safe have become dangerous and maybe there are rumors that Fisk and others might be released or paroled early due to resource constraints or some other indicators that all of your father’s hard work is going to be flushed down the drain. All of which you hate.

If BROTHER wasn’t dusted, maybe BROTHER is frightened by all the bad stuff he can hear (“I want Daddy . . . he made the monsters stay away!”).

You decide that Hell’s Kitchen needs a Devil and make your own version of the black suit – Matt’s red suit would be more protective but it doesn’t fit. Eventually get your own version of it that actually fits you.

Inspiration pictures on Pinterest are mostly Elektra when she was Daredevil so maybe you use sais instead of billy clubs? Probably need to use different tactics – at 17, you are smaller and lighter than Matt.

Meanwhile Peter isn’t doing so great. He lost his girlfriend, best friend, Aunt May, and both of his mentors. One is Tony Stark with the added trauma of seeing him dusted right in front of him. Also for the purposes of this fic, Spider-Man has been taught a little fighting by Daredevil (mostly because Matt found Spider-Man’s attempts at hand-to-hand painful . . . maybe they were teamed-up and Peter broke his hand because he doesn’t really know how to throw a punch, yes it healed by morning that wasn’t the point).

Peter is trying handle everything on his own – he doesn’t want bother Ms. Potts while she’s grieving Tony, the Avengers have their own stuff to deal with . . . he can handle this.

Peter might have problems because Aunt May didn’t have much an estate – maybe Tony named something in his will, maybe not – and there is only so much work a high school senior can do without quitting school . . . and daring-do doesn’t make him the most reliable employee . . .

Hears about the new Devil and decides to check this person out.

Vigilante team-ups at first but start doing other things to support each other. Like patching each other up, food . . . then you are friends. Romance is slow-burn – MJ being dusted doesn’t mean Peter’s feelings for her disappeared.

Those who were not dusted and aware of Matt’s identity are not enthusiastic about you becoming Daredevil. But also become aware that you are just as determined and stubborn about it as your father. Eventually stop fighting you about it but acknowledge that if Matt ever comes back, he is going to be so mad . . .

Claire might make some comment that Matt would richly deserve to be on the other side of his ‘no hospitals, I’m going to fight with my broken ribs’ nonsense. Like see how infuriating that is, Matthew?

Question!

One thing mentioned in Into the Spider-verse films is that all Spider People have certain things in common. Like there is always a spider involved in getting their powers (generally they are bitten by a weird spider). All of them have an Uncle Ben moment (where the death of a beloved paternal figure teaches the 'great power, great responsibility' lesson).

So for the Daredevils out there across the multiverse, what are the repeating elements that always seem to happen if you already are or become Daredevil? The lost of your dad? Being blind?

It might be cliche or something to have Reader is this story lose her eyesight but sighted Daredevil just doesn't sound right . . .

Maybe you were on the fence until blind and you take the loss of your vision as a sign from God that He wants you to continue your father's work as the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

Or you lose your eyesight as part of the side-effects of The Snap - drivers suddenly disappearing from the trucks, etc would cause a lot of deaths and injuries . . .

Thoughts?

[milkytheholy1]

Marvel Masterlist

Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch

Dream, Dream, Dream - Wanda x GN Reader

You're eyes flew open, your back hunched over and your breathing heavy. You continued to pant as you regained your sense of awareness, feeling your chest tighten with every deep inhale.

America was by you in a second, a calming hand placed onto your shoulder and soothing words like "It's ok" and "You're ok now."

Are you happy? - Wanda x Female Reader

Minor spoilers for Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness

Apple pie - Wanda x GN Reader

Wanda Maximoff x GNReader. Set during Wandavision, I hope you get confused!

Peter Maximoff/Quicksilver

Adventures in parenting 101 - Peter x Female Reader

Could we get some peter maximoff x reader being new parents and raising a kid in the mansion?

A typical sitcom - Peter x Female Reader

Hey everyone, so I was really in a debate to post this since it doesn't feature much interaction between Peter and the reader, however, some of you said you still wanted to read it so here we go. This oneshot is set during the 80s era of Wandavision and is mainly just a normal sitcom. And sorry, I know it's not gender-neutral like most of my oneshots but it's very rare now, unless it's a request, where I don't do a gender-neutral reader. Sorry if that cause an inconvenience for anyone, but the gender isn't that much of the story save for a few words. Enjoy!

I want a date - Peter x GN Reader

Howdy! So like everyone I've been obsessed with Wandavision, especially in the last two eps (5, 6). So recently I went back and binged the last few X-Men movies and had to write something for my boy Peter Maximoff, please bear with me this is the first time I've ever written for this character and I'm not that well inversed with the X-Men franchise. I'll most definitely write more of Peter in the future as well as all the TMNT requests that I need to get through. Thanks for your patience though, I promise I'll get through all the requests! Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Yelena Belova

Another failed mission - Yelena X GN Reader

Just a quick little oneshot, all fluff, never written for Yelena before but I've been dying to for a while, hope you enjoy!

Kate Bishop

Lodger on the couch - Kate x Female Reader

There's a lodger in the apartment and it's about time he left, but who will do it? The reader, Kate or the lodger himself?

Peter Parker/Spider-Man

Is this the only reason you dropped by? - Peter x Female Reader

Summary: Spiderman visits his favourite civilian.

Meet the parents - Peter x Female Reader

Summary: A meet the parents dinner gets interrupted.

Loki

Not even if you bribe me - Loki x Female Reader

Set during Avengers 2012 ending battle.

Peter Quill/Starlord

I'm Not In Love - Peter x Female Reader

A song brings up memories for Quill as the reader tries to help him though it.

Infinity - Peter x Female Reader

Based on Avengers Infinity War when the Guardians are introduced.

Bucky Barnes/The Winter Solider

I want to learn more - Bucky x Female Reader

The glint of silver shone brightly through the midnight gloom, the raindrops pattering down onto the metal slowly trailing off and dripping onto the hard concrete beneath him. His gun was placed by his side, his hand hovering over it in case they shot first.

Do you regret it? - Bucky x Female Reader

Short story, Bucky and the reader broke up on mutual terms but sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants the question is does Bucky regret it?

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Do you regret it Final

Prom 2.0 - Bucky x Female Reader

The readers prom was a complete disaster so Bucky and the others try to make it up to them.

Part of the beginning is the end - Bucky x Female Reader

Endgame spoilers beware!!!

Date night - Bucky x Female Reader

I don't know where I'm gonna be five years from now, but I pray to god it's somewhere with a beautiful view and beside you.

Last longer - Bucky x Female Reader

Reader takes a shower, Bucky’s at the door and someone loses a bet.

Hurt - Bucky x Female Reader

May I suggest one? When Bucky recently joined the avengers, he starts getting small panic attacks. One day, it’s so bad, (y/n) has to help him out of it before he hurts himself.

Dreams - Bucky x Female Reader

Bucky's mind is plagued with nightmares of his former allies and friends what happens when he isn't alone this time to deal with it all.

[paracosmic-murdock]

vigilante like me

chapter nine: with your boots beneath my bed

pairing: matt murdock x black widow!vigilante!reader

summary: nights and nights of playing the hero as if that could redeem you that easily ended up taking you to new york, where you accidentally met the man who would turn your world upside down. a vigilante like you.

warnings/tags: (this chapter contains smut, matt virgin-shames reader /j, blowjobs, matt's oral fixation, exhibitionism, sex against the window, demonstrative sex education masterclass by mr. murdock, minors dni), angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries, violence, phd in applied flirting and ma in yearning studies, some smut (minors dni), takes place sometime during the blip, when born again comes out we might find out if my decisions of who were gone were right, spoilers/references of stuff and themes from daredevil (2015); avengers: infinity war (2018); avengers: endgame (2019) black widow (2021); and hawkeye (2021), but y'all must've watched all of those already so idc, yelena belova and the themes and events from the black widow (2021) movie are very relevant in this plot, song: cowboy like me (taylor swift)

word count: 3.9K

a/n: don't talk to me about ddba for any reason whatsoever, please. this one is as self-indulgent as it gets from the first sentence to the last.

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

✰ chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight

A month had passed and you were still living with Matt. Truth be told, you loved living with him but knew that you had to go back to your apartment eventually.

You have hinted at it, but Matt always found an excuse so you would drop the topic.

For all we know, they could have people still looking for you. Us, even.

Let's talk about it tomorrow. It's been a few tomorrows since then.

I need you to patch me up tonight, please. He has been out less time each day and comes back almost intact for the most part.

Fogwell's is closer to my place than yours, it's easier if you stay here until you're well enough to walk more to work. True, actually.

“Let's talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

You hummed, taking the last sip of your beer. “You said that yesterday. And two days ago. And a week ago.”

“Your point?” Matt questioned you amusedly, softly caressing the skin of your legs.

“My point is that I've been here for a long time and maybe it's time to return to my place,” you answered, kicking him slightly. “I'm invading your space.”

“I put curtains for you, you can't just abandon me like this.” he joked, holding your legs in place on his lap.

“This is so not me abandoning you, Matt,” You laughed. “And the curtains are important for you too because there's people out there who can see you shirtless all the time.”

“Does it bother you that other people can see me shirtless?” Matt asked, cocky.

“Of course, darling boy. Poor them having to see your ugly ass.”

“You're lying. You love my ass,” He smiled. “And it is praised often, you know? People love this ass that's not ugly, mind you.”

You scoffed. “Yeah? Many ladies got close enough to admire it before I did?”

“Not at all!”

“Say that again, asshole,” you ordered, getting closer to put your hand on his chest.

“Quantities are relative.”

“With this they're not,” Your eyes widened, annoyed. At the same time, your face approached him until your noses brushed against each other. “Spill, Matthew.”

“Only a fair amount,” he replied, using his hand free of the fork to move your face so he could kiss you. Matt hummed. “Not many?”

His heart beat faster when he spoke. “Liar!”

Matt laughed. “There won't be anymore ladies, okay? I'm done. It's been enough now.”

“Yeah?” You raised your brows, kissing him again. “Why is that?”

“Because now there's this one lady,” he replied with a smile, putting the empty plate somewhere else. “And even though she doesn't like my fantastic ass, I like her enough to endure her apathy.”

You smiled. “Only one lady from now on, then?”

“Just the one,” Matt pecked your lips and made you sit on top of him. “But she wants to leave and I don't want her to.”

“I have a feeling that she likes you a lot, too,” You nodded. “But do you know her enough for her to move in with you, or what?”

“I know enough,” Matt kissed you, this time for longer and leaving his hands on your hips. “And there's so much left to learn about her. There are so many things I could teach her.”

He played with the hem of your t-shirt, slipping his hands inside of it to touch your skin. Still bruised and scarred, but hot to the touch. To his touch.

“What kind of things are you gonna teach her?”

Matt clicked his tongue. “I'll teach her how I like my coffee. And how good I can make her feel.”

“How do you like your coffee?”

“Strong. No sugar. Hot,” He lifted your t-shirt, almost shyly. “Just like I like her.”

“So you don't like her sweet?”

“Not tonight, I don't.”

You chuckled, letting him take your t-shirt off to reveal your bare upper half.

“Did you like what we did in the shower the other day?” Matt kissed your neck, leaving tiny bites all around.

“I did.”

“How about I show you how it's done on the couch? And the kitchen counter? And my bed?”

You whimpered in anticipation. “Okay.”

Matt smirked and drove his lips to your breasts, avoiding the injuries. You found it incredible as he ended with his lips around your right nipple, and thought that you should've read something about sex before the opportunity to do it again arised. That way, you would've been more ready and could keep lying to Matt about your experience, or the lack thereof.

It's not like you hadn't made out everyday in his bed before going to sleep, leaving each other wanting more. Something always stopped you, but now it is not one of those times.

You noticed he was holding back. You could feel the impatience in his touch, the way his hands trembled before creating contact.

“You have any idea of everything I've gone through, Matt?” you questioned him, almost an accusation. “Go for it. I can take it, and you know that.”

“Is that what you want?”

“You said there wouldn't be any more ladies,” you noted. “It's only fair that I show you it's worth it.”

“I'm sure you're worth it,” Matt smirked when he noticed how you loosened his tie between whimpers at his touch. “You know what's the best thing?”

“What?” You threw his tie away, not caring for it at all.

“That you're all mine,” Matt grunted, finding the space between you and your loose pajama shorts, touring your skin with his hands. “You've only ever been mine.”

He found the seam and ripped it open with his bare hands. The act cast such a spell on you that you didn't process his words to deny the virginity allegations.

As retaliation, perhaps, you undid the first, second, third button of his white dress shirt and, once he was distracted enough to not expect it, you ripped it open.

Matt gasped in surprise, lost in the feeling of you taking off the shirt, undoing his belt and unbuttoning his pants.

You looked at him as if he was the greatest landscape of this generation. He was to you, all his scars were harshly painted in red acrylics on white linen once. It was so long ago that the color faded to a glorious shade of pink.

He threw his head back, giving you access to touch him like he knew you wanted.

“I need you, sweetheart,” Matt confessed, his voice hoarse and almost falling short to be audible when your mouth met his neck and bit. “Jesus-”

“Did it hurt?” you asked, kissing the same spot, making your lips a relaxing balm.

“It was perfect,” he replied, using one of his hands to grip your ass and pull you as close as he physically could. You flinched at the sudden contact and moaned when he grabbed a handful of your hair to pull your head back and kiss you.

It was like a fight.

Matt bit your lip, you bit his, and your bodies crashed against the other almost violently, though following a perfect rhythm—like those rock songs you hear and can't help but dance to because they're universal, a classic. Both your injuries in the process of healing relapsed at the brusque collision; neither of you cared at all.

For him, the smell of blood blending with your arousal was just right. They were both intoxicating, almost too much for him to handle, but driving him absolutely crazy anyway. Matt was hard like he's never been, some je ne sais quoi about you caused excitement and fear both, a thing that makes him feel stupid for not being able to understand. He was illiterate in the secret language of you, it was a whole other alphabet his fingers can't perceive, an accent he can't place, and words he can't quite figure. He found himself delighted despite that ignorance he so much dreaded.

The first way to learn it was to feel you… Matt's fingers traced each and every one of the scars he could find on his way. A special emphasis on the one below your belly button. It meant a lot. It meant lack and vulnerability. It meant losing the privilege of choice. It meant perspective, one he yearned to learn. How do you feel about it? That's a secret of yours, and Matt wants to know it, to share his respect… to navigate into your points of view and every way they could enrich his own.

Another way to learn was to smell you… The path of his fingers ended on your panties. A hint of sweat in them was almost completely shadowed by the heavy dampness. Matt used his other hand to rip them, too, to get rid of them. There was already something that leaked through your panties to his skin, and now that he lowered your body to feel you directly on him, it was worse. Better. Matt could smell you with no interruptions, no barriers, all of you only for himself. With your panties still in his hand, he pressed them on his face. You could only stare as he filled his cheeks and his lips of you, as his nostrils felt the slightest wet, warmth of your arousal. Your panties now rested beside him on the couch, and he knew your scent would linger on the leather for days —he won't let it fade for any reason: he'll replace it—. Matt sighed in muted agony, depriving himself of your taste as punishment. Both God and the Devil know he deserves that despair.

The third way to learn was to hear you… His fingers wasted no more time and reached your cunt. You flinched and a loud moan escaped from your lips. He moaned even louder than you. Matt kept moving his fingers, eliciting moans and gasps from you, and causing that wet sound of you being taken care of. Matt felt himself go harder, to the point it even hurt. It only made you wetter, louder. You soon picked out the speed and pattern of his movements: slow, counterclockwise for you. Your hips mimicked it. Sometimes, he pressed once, twice, and you groaned and almost jumped. He was about to pass out from your smell on himself and the sounds of your body… they were too much.

The fourth way, probably his most favorite one, was to taste you… His middle finger entered you while his thumb kept on caressing your clit. You wondered how he managed to master the level of coordination needed to press a specific spot in you that made you say his name out loud each time while still drawing circles from outside. Each move made you tighter and wetter; Matt felt you oh, so close, so he retrieved his fingers to put them in his mouth. You couldn't even complain about the emptiness because seeing him suck and lick all that there was of you from his hand made you dizzy. Matt changed your positions fastly, like a speedster, and suddenly, he was on his knees in front of you. You, sitting completely naked on his sofa and him, kneeling before you only in his absolutely ruined grey—now with a notorious damp, black spot— pants. Matt's head went up, as if asking for God's blessing to do what he was about to do, or maybe to ask for forgiveness in advance. Lust, his favorite from all seven deaths… the words of God, ricocheting in his mind like the first time he ever read them: for all that is in the world, the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride of life, is not from the Father but is from the world; that very chant resounded in his head now that he was feeling so ungodly about you.

So his head went down now.

“Matt!” you screamed. The neighbors, oh, poor them. “Oh, Lord… fuck, fuck me. Matt… God!”

He just hummed in delight.

So many moons he has walked in the desert until he reached the oasis of you. It was all worth it now.

You cried out when you felt how he sucked on you, like a starved vampire. It was… indescribable.

“Matt! Please, please, please, please…” you shrieked, your despair thick in the air.

Your hands gripped your own breasts, seeking some sort of relief, but the only thing you got were bloody crescents all over them. Matt took your hands and left them on his shoulders. Soon after, you had matching marks.

“Please, what, baby?”

You exhaled with difficulty. “I don't know.”

Matt chuckled, all smug and cocky. “You want to come, sweetheart. This whole thing is to get you worked up, to make you feel so good, and I can tell you are.”

You exhaled harshly.

“Sure you are,” He licked you again, and you felt a chill running down your spine. Matt stopped for a second to put one finger inside so he could replace his tongue with it whenever he speaks to you. “There's a moment where it's all just too much for you. You'll see something and you're so curious you just follow it. The closer you get, the more you hear its voice calling for you. And you'll run but you can't reach it just like that, can you? The path grows and grows until it shrinks, and you stop right there before that rabbit hole. You hesitate before it, but then... you fall face first. But the crash is just what you needed, isn't it, baby?”

You nodded, knowing you were right there.

“And I know you're close because you're tighter than you ever were… I just have to keep going, I have to push you, all that until…” he continued, speaking one last time before giving you a final suck that pushed you where he wanted you. “... you fall.”

And you fell and screamed, because one doesn't fall in silence. Ever.

“When you crash, you roll to the sea… feel its waves washing over you, healing you, until you're put together again,” Matt whispered. He kept on taking all of you, making sure there was nothing left. “When you rise from the water, you're in the field once again. And, sooner or later, the rabbit will call for you again.”

Matt rose and faced you. He stayed silent for a moment, and then kissed you softly.

“Confession:” you mumbled, feeling like your throat was too worn out to produce a functional sound. He sat next to you. “That one time in the shower… Well, that was my first time.”

“Yeah, I know that,” he smirked, so cocky it was almost annoying.

“You're unbelievable,” you complained, suppressing a laugh. “Sorry if I sucked at it.”

“You didn't suck, sweetheart,” he replied, and you knew he was going to say something unexpected. “But don't worry, I can show you something you can suck at.”

You stared at him. “I don't think I'm supposed to suck at anything.”

“You don't know anything about sex, do you?” he mocked you, but not quite in an amused tone. One ragged, frustrated, and a groan fell from his lips at his own need of release.

“It's not like there was porn to watch at the Red Room, Matt,” You rolled your eyes, purposely ignoring the state he was in. “And I've never even had a date, I've just watched some movies and there is not that much sucking in those.”

“Okay, maybe I'll tell you next time.” He chuckled, despair underneath his tongue, as he thought that you must be too tired to help him out.

“Next time? Are you kidding me?” You wrinkled your nose, faking disdain. “I'm back in the field, Mr. Murdock.”

He laughed, a warm relief at the thought of him not needing to take care of himself anymore. The same thought, the one of your mouth on him, made him ache for it; relief long gone. “Oh, are you, Miss Volkova?”

“You bet,” You winked. He knew. “Now, what am I supposed to suck? Not feet, please.”

“No feet, I promise,” he replied, a weak smile on his face.

“What is it?” you asked, and Matt felt as though he could melt at your naivety. How fucking ironic that you, of all people, were ignorant when it comes to something as natural as sex.

He pointed at his dress pants with his head, and you saw it.

Fuck.

You gasped softly. “Oh.”

“Do you wanna help me out?” Matt took your hand and his, driving it to his thighs lazily, giving you the space to back off if you wanted.

But you didn't. “Yeah, I'd like to help you out.”

“Okay, take them off,” He groaned, not wasting a single second.

“Not here,” you stated, retrieving your hands. You pointed to the window with your head. “I want them to see.”

“You want people outside to see my naked ass through the window?”

You hummed, making him stand up slowly. “And I want the neighbors to learn my name.”

“Such a filthy mouth for a virgin.”

A smirk shone on your lips, accompanying the way you pushed him through his living room until his back hit the glass of the window. Matt moaned and smiled, cocky, at the coldness of the material and of the weather outside against his burning hot skin, at the idea of you right then and there for him.

“I've been told I'm above average,” he announced. Matt realized how hearing about the women before you made you jealous, mad. Mad enough to bump your forehead against his and kiss him mercilessly. You bit his lip, re-opening a cut that had healed not too long ago. He groaned and put his hand on your hips, pulling you in until your cunt met his cock over the damn fabric of his pants.

“Oh, you don't want me to tell you what I think about that.” You broke the kiss, moaning at how sweet the pressure of him on you felt.

“I'm sure I want to know.” He replied, grinding against you.

“That won't be very feminist of me,”

“Do you have a reputation you want to keep?” Matt buried his hand in your hair to move your head to the side and bite your jaw and neck. You used your hands for support by pressing them against the window. “Because I sure can keep a secret.”

You hummed and allowed him to take your thigh and raise it enough to get better access. “I'd rather not risk it.”

Matt kissed you again, feeling the way your hands were on him, soon going where he so much needed you. You slipped your hand inside his pants, feeling the fabric of his briefs against your fingers. With the tip of them, you softly traced his silhouette, making Matt squirm between loud, desperate moans of your name.

Like a prayer, the one creed he has to learn before taking his first communion.

He broke the kiss. “God, I think I'll come any second now, so… how about you take these off and kneel for me, baby, will you?”

Instead of giving him a vocal answer, you obeyed him. Show, don't tell.

You didn't waste time, eager to please him, to be good for him.

His pants and briefs were gone together, both at the same time, you didn't even tease him. Not yet, at least… You needed time to take in the sight of him, tall and proud just for you. Goodness. The other time you didn't even have time to look at it, but now, there he was. All yours to please.

“Pl- please.”

Returning to reality, you looked up at him. “What am I supposed to do?”

Matt looked like he was agonizing. Even more so as you exhaled, breath hot and shaky, against his cock. “Touch me.”

You did as he told you, as softly as you could. Fingers grazing ever so slightly, so delicately that you could feel every relief of his veins. You hummed. “Like this?”

“More,” he indicated.

“How?” you asked, acting as if you didn't know what he meant. “Show me.”

Matt took your hand in his, wrapping both around him. He moaned, moving your hand up and down, up and down, soaking you of him.

“I can't-”

“Sure you can, baby boy,” You smirked, retrieving your hand and licking it clean. He jerked suddenly. He knew what you were doing very well. “Hold it.”

Your tone, demanding and extremely sensual, made Matt groan. It was grotesque and visceral, and you knew he was suffering.

“Okay.” He nodded, bracing himself for more and more teasing. Instead, you carefully took his cock into your mouth, doing your best to have all of him in you. You physically couldn't, but thought there may be ways to make up for it.

Like pulling away slowly, using your tongue to tease him more. You heard him crying out your name, which gave you enough encouragement to voice your thoughts. “Matt?”

“Sw- sweetheart?” He talked fastly, surprised he was able to make out a complete word.

You put your mouth on him again for a brief second and pulled away again, swallowing his pre-cum, oh, so gladly.

Matt's hands were gripping the curtains, and you rose slightly to take them in yours and leave them on your head. He frowned, not knowing how to feel about the theory running in his mind. “Use me.”

“Are you-” He sighed heavily. “Are you sure?”

You licked his tip, a mischievous move that made him close his eyes shut and press himself against the window. “You know damn well I can take that and everything you give me.”

“Jesus Christ,” he almost screamed, holding you by your chin before making you open your mouth with his fingers. “Open up. Wide and ready for me, sweetheart.”

“For you?” You let out a wicked laugh. “Anything.”

Once your mouth was just as open as he wanted it to be, Matt pulled you in before you could even register what he was doing. As unprepared as you thought you were, you found yourself surprised at how decently you were taking in his sharp moves. At this point, he was so worked up and needy that his moves grew sloppy. It wasn't easy for you, you had to be honest: you gagged at least thrice, but it all sure was worth it when he faced you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whined. An angry, shameless gloom invaded his eyes, all his sinful nature coming to surface with a piercing, shout of your name as he came in your mouth.

He kept you in place, meaning you had to swallow it. You did not hesitate, not even a second, and made sure not an ounce went to waste.

Matt let go of you, and you pulled away. The taste of him was intoxicating in your mouth, and you knew you could grow to enjoy it just as much as Matt enjoyed yours.

As he steadied his breath, the two of you came back to the real world where, suddenly, everything was twice as overwhelming as it usually is whenever he finishes anything that stimulating.

“Okay, what the fuck-”

Matt flinched at the sudden presence in his apartment, covering both him and you with the curtains.

“Foggy?”

taglist: @wh1sp @ateliefloresdaprimavera

[starlightreign]

WELCOME TO MY BLOG

Level : 27

DNI : antis, yansim fans

Full 18+ art an Bluesky under the same user name. Writing Requests are open Only available for series listed below with exceptions being male reader stuff and things I don't think I'm qualified to write like POC reader or Trans reader cause I'm not either of those and don't want to offend people. The fics will be posted on AO3 under the same username. I mostly write NSFW but will do SFW.

NO MINORS

📝Fandoms I write for 📝 :

Ace attorney (Manfred,Gant and Blaise only)

DC comics (Slade, David Cain and Roman only)

Arrow (Malcolm, Ra's, Jeremy Tell, Slade and Deadshot only)

The Flash (Original Harrison Wells, Eowells,HR Wells, Sherloque Wells,Mick and Leonard only) [I only just started e1 of season 5 so no spoilers]

Debt Valley 2021

RWBY (No Jaune)

Persona 5

Resident Evil (Wesker and Glenn Arias only)

Far cry 5 (Dutch, Joseph, John and Faith only)

Red vs Blue

Life is strange 1 (Max, Mark and Frank only)

Detroit become human (Elijah and Hank only)

Fire emblem (mostly three houses,three hopes, fates, awakening and engage)

Borderlands (presequel and 2)

Jojo's bizarre adventure (Kira and Hol Horse only)

Karneval (Akari only)

Call of duty (Original modern warfare trilogy only. No shitty reboot.)

Genshin Impact (Fatui only)

Mass Effect (Legion only)

Skyrim

The Boys (No soldier boy, Deep or A-Train)

JJK (Anime only)

The walking dead (Philip, Rick, Negan,Daryl and Dwight only)

Marvel (Tony Stark pre infinity war and endgame only)

Black Butler (Sebaciel. Any character from season 1 and 2, book of circus, book of murder, book of atlantic and season 4. As well as Hannah x Alois and Claude x Alois)

[gravitywhatgravity]

watched spiderverse in England (where I live) and notably (minor spoilers!!):

British stealing stuff line got a big self depreciating laugh

"haven't got a scooby doo" got no reaction, but a delayed laugh and scoff at the translation note

people??? clapped?? at the end??? I don't think u understand, we don't do that here!! like even at infinity war/endgame people cheered and clapped at cap getting the hammer but nobody clapped at the end?? not even at star wars??? genuinely shocked me

a guy 4 seats down from me worked on the film and recorded his name in the credits and I'm so mad I didn't find out until he left

[scarletphantom1704]

Scarlet Vision Playlist

Click here to listen to the playlist on Spotify!

Most of these are probably based off of the fanfictions and headcanons the Scarlet Vision has come up with but the songs remind me of Vision and Wanda so! I used a few songs from previous Scarlet Vision posts and I also incorporated my own songs.

Keep reading to understand my reasoning behind picking these particular songs on the playlist.

Fire N Gold by Bea Miller (Vision’s POV)

There is something different about you and I

And I feel like I have known you my whole life

There is beauty behind every tear you've cried

Sometimes it's just hard to realize

There is love inside this madness

We are walking on the moon

Reminds me of when he comforted her (or so headcanons and fanfics say) after Pietro’s death. Also the line saying, “I feel like I have known you my whole life,” can relate to the whole Mind Stone connection.

Fumes by EDEN (Both)

If all we have is time, then we'll be alright

It's not much, but it's better than nothing

All these dreams and all these plans

We shared under the moonlight

Relates to time that Vizh and Wanda spent together before IW and how they don’t have enough time, it always seems to be their greatest enemy.

The Scientist by Coldplay (Vision’s POV)

Come up to meet you

Tell you I'm sorry

You don't know how lovely you are

I had to find you

Tell you I need you

Tell you I set you apart

Nobody said it was easy

It's such a shame for us to part

Nobody said it was easy

No one ever said it would be this hard

Oh take me back to the start

Reminds me of what could’ve happened when Vision meets up with Wanda after the RAFT incident. It also kinda relates back to the whole Sokovia Accords thing when it says, “No one ever said it would be this hard.”

Unconditionally by Katy Perry (Wanda’s POV)

Unconditional, unconditionally

I will love you unconditionally

There is no fear now

Let go and just be free

I will love you unconditionally

Come just as you are to me

Don't need apologies

Know that you are worthy

I'll take your bad days with your good

Walk through the storm I would

I do it all because I love you

I love you

I have an idea in my head (that is universal, I think, to most ScarletVision shippers) that Vision is, and has always been, hesitant because he is not a true man but Wanda accepts him just as he is.

Please Don’t Go by Joel Adams (Wanda’s POV)

Most nights I pray for you to come home

Praying to the lord

Praying for my soul

Now please don't go

Most nights I hardly sleep when I'm alone

Now please don't go, oh no

I think of you whenever I'm alone

Wanda not wanting Vision to leave when he returns for the first time after CA:CW.

Sign of the Times by Harry Styles (Vision’s POV)

We never learn, we been here before

Why are we always stuck and running from

The bullets? The bullets?

Just stop your crying, have the time of your life

Breaking through the atmosphere

And things are pretty good from here

Remember everything will be alright

We can meet again somewhere

Somewhere far away from here

This reminds me of Vision’s final scene in IW when he keeps saying, “It’s alright.” And when it says, “We can meet again somewhere, somewhere far away from here,” I feel like that is Vision saying that they will meet again, whether that be in some sort of afterlife or they do revive him.

Make It To Me by Sam Smith (Vision’s POV)

My mind runs away to you

With a thought I hope you'll see

Can't see where it's wandered to

But I know where it wants to be

I know you're out there, we're meant to be

So keep your head up, and make it to me

So sick of this lonely air

It seems such a waste of breath

So much that I need to share

So much to get off my chest

This reminds me of how Vision must’ve felt when Wanda was on the run and he hadn’t found her yet. I feel like when he was searching to find her, he would try to reach out his mind and get her, with use of her telepathic abilities, to find him, hence the first few verses.

This Town by Niall Horan (Vision’s POV)

Waking up to kiss you and nobody’s there

The smell of your perfume still stuck in the air

It’s hard

Yesterday I thought I saw your shadow running round

And I want to tell you everything

The words I never got to say the first time around

And I remember everything

Similar to Make It To Me, this reminds me of when Vision was still looking for Wanda.

Over and Over Again by Nathan Sykes (Both)

From the way you smile

To the way you look

You capture me

Unlike no other

From the first hello

So don’t ever think I need more

I’ve got the one to live for

No one else will do

I’m telling you

Just put your heart in my hands

I promise it won’t get broken

From the heat of night

To the break of day

I’ll keep you safe

And hold you forever

And the sparks will fly

They will never fade

Just an adorable love song that shows the love between our OTP.

Here Without You by 3 Doors Down (Vision’s POV)

A thousand lies have made me colder

And I don't think I can look at this the same

But all the miles that separate

Disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face

I'm here without you baby

But you're still on my lonely mind

I think about you baby

And I dream about you all the time

I'm here without you baby

But you're still with me in my dreams

And tonight it's only you and me, yeah

Again, another about Vision missing Wanda. When it says, “A thousand lies have made me colder,” I think that is Vision being furious about how the government had treated Wanda at the RAFT. Then the next line would be him not trusting the government as much anymore.

If you have any other songs that would be good for the playlist, message me!