#once again Link knows what he's doing I think

[amethystheartsx]

SCATTERED ACROSS THE STARS

Sylus Angst

After years of yearning, eons of loyalty what does a man do when all he gets is pieces, uneven and unfair.

Warnings: angst, slight mentions of chaos murder, drug addiction, and suicide (all mild)

AN: I often think all LIs and MC deserve better. A happiness of their own, not the kind tainted with curses and what not. If you don't like it don't read (°∀°)

Contains reference of another fic I wrote of zayne. I'll add link in case you wanna read.

Sylus was pissed.

No, that's not the right word, it portrays nothing but mere annoyance and anger. Sylus was beyond that.

Sylus was hurt.

No, that's not the right word as well, he wished he was just hurt. He wished it was only pain he felt every time he saw her with them.

Sylus was broken.

Tsk, incorrect yet again. How can one be broken when they were never whole to begin with.

For someone known to have everything worldly in the palm of his hand, Sylus lacked the most essential of his being. His soul, torn and used to bring life into another, one supposed to be his one true companion. His beloved. But Alas! 

Universe played a dirty trick.

For a dragon who owned the treasures of many fallen kings, the one who Never shared any of his possessions, even the one he did not care for, was forced to share the most precious one.

How ironic.

He thought his love was the purest, a beautiful yet tragic legend woven into the ancient ruins only for it to soar once again when they reunited.

He thought none like him existed, one who dared to love so fervently. A valiant display of ardent affection despite the curse that eventually killed him.

Sylus prided himself in his ability to love after the cosmos banned together to refrain it from happening, he prided himself to make a place for himself just so he could, for once, live out his fairy tale with her.

He deserved it right? After everything they went through. He still stands tall after that ever-longing suffering; her warm embrace should be his reward, right?!?.

Wrong.

Ah yes, wrong. Sylus felt wronged.

For the one whom he loved the most, was not his, at least not entirely.

Not the way he belonged to her. No. He longed for her, kept all of his love, his softness, his laughter reserved for her, made it so sacred so that when he laid it bare in front of her it would be nothing the eldest star in the ever-growing galaxy had ever witnessed before.

That's until he learned of them, their desires, their history.

A messenger who betrayed his god.

A god who led down his people.

A royal who left his own planet in ruins.

A fallen soldier who didn't let even death restrain him.

Each of them bared down their lives, people, treasures, and sanity. Over and over again. From gardens of jasmines to bonds of eternal. From past to future and across multiple timelines in between, tangled web, whispered myths and many fostered anecdotes.

Each of their feats rivaled the other, a grandeur display of Romance, that seeps through the galaxies and into her heart.

Wherever it beats, it finds her. They all find her, Love her, and then inevitably lose her.

Yes. The eternal cosmic affairs that have rattled the divine always end in the same way.

Heartbreak.

Tragic.

Unfulfilled.

Tsk. What a waste.

—--

Knowledge is power only some can bear, and Sylus would know. He had spied on them, all of them. Learned about them trying to find the flaws he could use to pry her away from their grasp. All for it to turn into failures.

Not just because they were clean slate, no like him they had their own fallouts.

But because of how happy she looked with them, so happy, just as she did with him. Not more, not less.

Just as much.

How unfair.

For he wanted her all for himself, blame his dragon roots but sylus don't share, how could he do it with the one who owns half his soul.

Is it so wrong he wants it all to himself? To get back the loyalty he had shown for eons?

He wasn't asking for much was he?

Everyday he will see her with one of them.

Under the starlight, along the oceans, in cozziness of duvets or the serenity of the night sky.

And she would dazzle for them just like she dazzles for him.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Nothing special.

__

His beloved was scattered across the stars, and he too only got the crumbs. The spared affections she had to offer, and sylus had enough.

He deserved to have something sacred. Something all for him. Just him.

And as the time went on he noticed…

So did she.

She deserved to have love that doesn't demand her being, her life, her blood, her heart.

She deserved to love as easy as breathing, not one suffocated with unseen linkages that burned with cosmic mischief.

She deserved to love and be loved with free will. Not because she was designed to, programmed to, and especially not with those picked by forces beyond her kin.

And so sylus decided to let her go, it wasnt easy, nor was it gentle but it did happen.

He pulled apart the string of fate, to let her free. It wasn't clean, certainly not smooth at edges but now she could breath. 

Soulmates can be platonic, romance isn't mandatory and besides, Kittens thrive better untethered, untamed.

—

After the “breakup”, if you can even call it that, a word far too trivial to define the undoing bond burned within the constellation, Sylus threw himself into work. Even more than before, going as far as taking Down the cheap underling, spreading chaos on the streets of the N-109 zone.

He was a ruthless killer before now he was a reckless one as well. His strategic movements and calculated attacks roughed up with insatiable need to wreak havoc.

He barely used his henchmen; why should he when he could do it better than them and also get the thrill of it?

Getting his own hands dirty in the hopes of removing the traces she left behind. He had learned the art of letting go, didnt mean he doesn’t get to process his grievance on his own accord, no matter how bloody it is.

Turns out he wasn't the first one to do so, it was the doctor. He, too, had to de-tangle himself from bushes full of thorns that had given him scars to last a lifetime, to plant a whole new garden with another flower just as fragrant, just as pretty. Even though it was small, it was still beautiful because it was entirely in bloom, not just the scraps he had to lose so much for.

Though Sylus was not looking for one, too tired by the charade to bother himself with it. He lived this long he would live out the rest of it as well.

Or so he thought.

---

During a hunt for a specific rat that had infiltrated the base, Sylus was not pleased when his carefully laid out trap was outsmarted by the traitor, fleeing the spot after tricking someone else into it.

“Looks like the rat trap ended up catching a little mouse” he spoke up approaching the bird cage that held just a sweet little thing, at least compared to him. 

He is displeased red eyes were now on,

You.

your pretty big eyes on him as well as crimson shades dust your cheek. “I- I am not supposed to be here…” you spoke, rightfully scared as the man in front of you approached the bird cage, his veiny hand reaching out to hold a bar, still studying, still weary.

“Obviously” he says in a bored tone “you do not fit the description. It was supposed to be a large burly man and not a, well…a fragile little thing too easy to break” he says.

You couldn't help but giggle and that caught him off guard. “Sorry, it's just- your voice is just as deep as I imagined,” you say, making the man in front of you give you a questioning glare. “Excuse me?” he asked. Of course, she wasn't the first to say something like that to him. Many had tried to tempt the man who runs the city to no real outcome.

“You are sylus right? I- am a huge fan!” You say looking up from your place nearing the bars of the cage.

Many had claimed to be his nemesis, his rivals, even admirers, but a fan? That was a first. “A fan? A fan of what?” he asked, his low voice not portraying the hint of curiosity he felt.

“You know, like your achievements and stuff” you reply simply, matter-of-factly.

There was a beat of silence.

“You mean my criminal record?”

“A mighty impressive one”.

His devilishly handsome face contorts into a slightly puzzled expression as he refuses to look away at the shorter person in front of him who continued to look at him….like that.

Sylus was aware how blessed he was aesthetically but he couldn't help but be drawn to her eyes and how she looked at him. They brimmed with admiration, respect and slight fear that didn't aim towards him. Now it isn't that no one ever looked at him like that before, no. What made it different was how pure it was, how easy it came to her when it really shouldn't. Her desires were sated and she didn't require anything of him. Not his favor, not his hate. She was so contant in the moment just being present here, with him.

Sylus had to step back and look away. An unfamiliar weight unfolded in his chest

“Enough with this charade whatever this is” he says “how did you end up here? Because with what you have said so far I believe you are some kind of stalker? Is that what it is?” He speaks with accusations directed towards you.

“Oh no! No” you to quickly step back, panic drips your demeanor “There is a misunderstanding, I have been played to be accurate”.

“Oh? Why tell me more about it little mouse” he says crossing his arm, his tone was sarcastic yet sincere. “I am all ears”.

With a deep breath you begin “that big and burly man you mentioned vaguely, were you talking about daryl? Also known as the bishop?” When he nods cautiously you continue “right! So what happened was, I owed Daryl a favor and he cashed it in and told me to make this delivery for him and well I had no clue that delivery will bring me here” you breath out seemingly calm but that slight shakiness in your voice didn't miss him. “I assume he somehow knew it was a trap then set me up as an escape goat” 

Once you were finished sylus ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. It doesn't happen often that one of his strategically laid out traps doesn't work or catch someone innocent, but even in this moment after his failed attempt his mind was more interested in you “And why would a small thing like you owe a man like bishop a favor” his eyes narrows down at you with suspicion laced with intrigue. Just who are you? First, you claim to be a fan and then turn out to have some sort of connection with a rat that Infiltrated his base.

The question made you chuckle “ah so funny story” you begin, now having sylus’s full attention because how would it be funny to know a man like The Bishop.

“So my dad killed his dad, and then like kind of adopted him because of guilt since his mom was a druggie, she ended her life subscription after like 4 to 5 years or so anyway” You wave it off like it was no big deal and the red-eyed man could only just listen to you stunned. “So yeah Daryl kind of came and went never really stayed, got in the wrong g crowd and found out the truth so he obviously tried to kill us all but thankfully couldn't” you rambled, sylus felt they were losing the plot “If he tried to kill you all why would you owe him….anything?” He tried hiding how absurd he found it, but she could see it as “that's the funny part of having a dysfunctional family.” she leaned on the bars of the cage. “Can't live with them, can't live without them. After nearly burning down our house and running away for good, or so I thought, he returned again remorseful because, well, my dad did take him in, and we were nice enough to him.” She shrugs. Sylus shifted on his feet, impatient “Still doesn't explain why-”

“I am getting there jeez” you giggle, “though we did not really forgive him and cut off our ties I had to reach out to him because” you take another deep breath and sylus holds his.

“I needed the money, we were in ruins, and all kinds of bills were stacking up my books, not making enough. It- it was rough,” You chuckle, but there is no humor in it; the sparkles in your eyes dim down, replaced by the pain of the past that still seems to haunt you. “It was a good chunk I borrowed and was paying him back bit by bit after I started doing well till out of the blue he called in and asked a favor in exchange for forgiving the rest of the loan and- well, rest is history” she stands straighter arms crossed “that answered all your questions?”

Sylus stares you up and down. He knows, of course, that you are not lying or deceiving him, that your heart is pure even after all you've been through, and it is only what you tell him; he wonders what else you hide behind that flowery smile.

“even if you are saying the truth you have seen too much now, and given your…complicated relationship with the bishop I suppose letting you go so freely won't be an option,” he says, his voice dropping low to that cold tone that can make anyone succumb to their knees, the one you had in your eyes right now. That's the look Sylus was used to, not that mellow one you have been giving him.

“No! No wait, don't kill me” you grabbed onto the bar's desperate pleas falling from your lips making him smirk “I-I can be useful I can help you find him! everything I know I'll tell you. Please” the last word falling much softly.

“mhm is that so then maybe you can be spared” sylus says knowing damn well he was never planning on killing her in the first place.

“Well then” he smirks “I am expecting your full corporation little miss”.

AN: This was supposed to be long lol, but I figured I'd make it a whole part 2 later. It is almost written but I have so many ideas I need to arrange it all first

Anywho, let me know if I should write it or not.

Also here is the link.

[charliedawn]

The Miracle Part 4

Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Big revelation ahah ! 😂

Link for Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/779019325976821760/the-miracle-part-3

Tag list: @like-a-clock @decaffeinatedtreewitch @slasherstories123

The door clicked open, and you turned, suddenly feeling a weight settle back into your chest. There, standing in the doorway, was All Might—or, at least, the towering figure of the hero you'd met once before. The source for all hell broke loose. All that because you had decided to give him a gift for saving you…all those problems. And yet, you didn’t believe any of this was his fault. Not really.

"I’m sorry," you muttered, your eyes lowering as a small flush of embarrassment crept up your neck. "For asking for you. I didn’t mean for this to be so…complicated. I didn’t know it would go this far. I just…didn’t want everyone to see the final step. But I trust you, as you saved me before."

All Might, always the bright and positive force, gave you a warm smile, though there was a bit of concern behind his usual enthusiasm. "It’s alright ! You’ve been more than helpful, you don’t have to apologize."

You hesitated for a moment, looking up at him with a mix of nervousness and uncertainty. You took a deep breath, knowing you had to explain everything before you went any further. "The last ingredient…it’s something most would find odd or even disgusting. But…it’s necessary."

All Might raised an eyebrow, but he didn't speak, simply watching you as he waited for you to continue.

With a shaky breath, you spoke again, slower this time. "My Quirk...It's called Recovery Fangs. I've always had snake-like fangs hidden in my mouth. When I was younger, I thought they were just part of me and that much like regular snakes they produced poison—until I realized that instead of poison...I could inject a substance that heals people."

You paused for a moment, watching his reaction. All Might didn't seem grossed out, but you knew he had to be thinking about it. It was hard for most people to accept something like that, something that made people afraid or disgusted. You had hidden it for years, trying to find ways to make it less unsettling.

"I used to just let people think they were venomous," you continued, looking up to meet his gaze. "Because whenever I showed anyone what my Quirk could really do, they either recoiled in fear or got angry—like I was some sort of monster."

You looked down again, your fingers twitching as if the bad memories still clung to you. "So…I started hiding the recovery substance in things like donuts. It made people more willing to accept them, and I could still help without feeling judged."

For the first time, you looked at All Might with genuine fear in your eyes. "I know it sounds strange. But that’s what I’ve been doing. The final ingredient is me—my Quirk—and it works best when it’s delivered like this."

There was a long moment of silence between you, as you expected him to recoil, maybe to turn away in disgust. But All Might didn’t do that. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his expression serious yet compassionate.

"That’s incredible," he said with a big grin. "You managed to find out the best part of your Quirk ! It means that you are a good person. You were afraid of doing the wrong thing, but you took the right decision and found the BEST use of what makes you unique ! Remarkable !"

You nodded, still unsure whether to feel relieved or anxious about his response. You stepped back slightly, ready to show him what you meant. "I’ve kept them hidden…but I guess I can show you now."

With a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, you allowed your Quirk to take effect. You shifted, your teeth sharp and snake-like, fangs springing out from your gums with a sharp click. It wasn’t painful for you, but you knew how unsettling it could be for others.

All Might’s eyes were wide, but there was no horror or disgust in them. His gaze was filled with curiosity, and even a bit of awe.

"Impressive. But…" He tilted his head quizzically at you. "Do you really think it necessary to hide it ? Why not just tell people what you can do ? I am sure they would understand and you would be able to help a lot of people."

You swallowed, looking down again. "I was afraid of being rejected…of being seen as a monster. I didn’t want to be the kind of person everyone would avoid just because of my Quirk. It was easier to hide it in baked goods. To use it in small ways like this, with something people already love."

For a moment, All Might just stood there, processing your words. Then, he placed a hand on your shoulder.

"I get it now," he said and smiled. "You are scared. You are scared because you care about others’ reactions to your Quirk. I understand. It mustn’t be easy."

You nodded, feeling grateful that at least he understood. All Might’s words of reassurance settled in your chest like a balm, and you finally allowed yourself to feel just a little bit more at ease. You smiled back and All Might seemed to be genuinely glad that you would at least open up to him.

"Thank you," he said, smiling warmly at you. "For trusting me with this. And for everything you’ve done. You trusted me with your secret. So maybe…it’s time I shared one of my own. I suppose…it is only fair."

You blinked, confused. "What do you mean ?"

Toshinori hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. His massive frame seemed to tense for a second—before suddenly, he began to shrink. It wasn’t gradual. One moment, he was the towering, muscular All Might, standing tall with broad shoulders and a powerful presence. And the next, he had withered into a much thinner, frail-looking man. His muscles were gone, his posture slightly slumped, and his face, which had once been sharp and strong, now had deep shadows under his eyes and a much softer expression.

You gasped, staggering back in shock.

"What—what just happened ?!"

Toshinori—because this was clearly not All Might anymore—gave you a small, tired smile. "This is my true form," he admitted. "The one I hide from the world."

You stared, your mind racing to make sense of what you had just seen. "But—you’re All Might !"

"I was," he corrected gently. "But not in the way people think. The truth is…my real name is Toshinori Yagi. And this ?" He gestured to his current form. "This is what I actually look like. The All Might that everyone sees—the strong, invincible hero—is something I can only maintain for short periods of time."

Your breath caught in your throat. This was huge. This was a secret that could shake the entire world if it got out.

"You…" You swallowed hard, looking at him with new eyes. "You trusted me with this ?"

Toshinori nodded. "Like I said. You shared your truth with me. It only seemed right that I do the same."

Your head was still spinning, but a part of you felt…honored. Toshinori Yagi, the Symbol of Peace, had chosen to share one of the biggest secrets of his life with you.

Taking a deep breath, you turned back to the fresh batch of donuts you had just finished making. "Alright," you breathed out, rolling up your sleeves. "Let me show you how my Quirk works."

Without hesitation, you lifted one of the donuts and brought it to your lips. Then, with a soft click, your snake-like fangs extended further, gleaming slightly in the light. You could feel Toshinori’s eyes on you, but you ignored it for now. Carefully, you bit down on the donut—your fangs piercing the soft dough. A small shudder ran through your body as you activated your Quirk, releasing the healing liquid into the pastry. It was a process you had done countless times before, but this time, under Toshinori’s watchful gaze, it felt…different.

Once you were finished, you withdrew your fangs and examined the donut, making sure the liquid had properly infused into the filling. Satisfied, you placed it back on the tray and turned to Toshinori.

"That’s it," you explained. "The healing liquid I produce works best when absorbed through food—it helps the body accept it more naturally. If injected directly, the effects can be…overwhelming."

Toshinori gave a small hum of understanding before his gaze flickered toward you.

"And you hide it in donuts because…?"

Your lips pressed into a thin line. "Because people freak out when they hear I basically spit into their food," you muttered, looking away. "Even if it’s harmless, even if it helps… most people get grossed out. Some even got angry when they found out."

Toshinori was quiet for a long moment. Then, to your surprise, he chuckled—a warm, genuine sound.

"People can be ridiculous," he told you, shaking his head in disbelief. "They worship heroes with explosive sweat and frog-like tongues, but healing fangs ? Too far."

You blinked, then let out a small laugh. "Yeah. Pretty much."

After a brief pause, you cleared your throat and grew serious again.

"Now…" you hesitated. "I’ll need to see your injury. Just so I can evaluate how many donuts you’ll need."

Toshinori tensed for a second, his smile fading slightly. You could tell he wasn’t used to showing his injury—it was something he kept hidden, just like his true form.

But after a moment, he gave a small nod.

"Alright," he said, reaching for the hem of his shirt. "I trust you."

And with that, he lifted his shirt—revealing the damage that had nearly cost him everything.

The moment Toshinori lifted his shirt, your breath hitched. You had expected an injury—maybe a bad scar, something deep, something painful. But this…This was worse than you ever could have imagined.

A massive, purplish swirl of scar tissue stretched across his abdomen, jagged and uneven, as if his very flesh had been shattered and barely stitched back together. Even now, you could feel the remnants of damage radiating from it—the kind of deep, internal wounds that never truly healed.

You took an instinctive step back, eyes wide in shock.

That…That would take a lot of donuts.

Toshinori noticed your reaction and gave a wry smile, though there was no amusement in it.

"I take it the damage is worse than you thought ?" he asked lightly.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to regain composure. "Yeah," you admitted. "A lot worse."

For a moment, you considered telling him the faster method—direct injection. If you used your fangs on him instead of the donuts, the healing process would accelerate significantly. But…You hesitated.

"The process would be quicker if I injected you directly," you finally admitted, eyes flickering up to his. "But it would also be a lot more painful. And even then, a single bite wouldn’t be enough—you’d have to go through that pain multiple times before we got anywhere."

Toshinori nodded understandingly, but you shook your head.

"I still think the donuts are the better option," you continued. "They’ll take longer, but it’ll be a lot easier on you and your body—especially with how serious the injury is and the toll it took on your body…"

Toshinori nodded, as if considering his options. "And how long are we talking ?"

You let out a slow breath.

"At least three months," you confessed. "You’ll need to eat one of my donuts every day—no exceptions. Over time, the healing liquid will rebuild the damaged tissue and restore some of what was lost."

Toshinori’s eyes widened slightly. "Three months...?"

You shrugged. You assumed he was disappointed. "It’s not a miracle cure. Your injury is severe—it’ll take time."

For a moment, Toshinori was silent, staring down at his exposed scar. Then, after what felt like forever, he let out a soft chuckle.

"You know," he mused, pulling his shirt back down, "I was expecting you to say something like ‘several years’ or ‘it’s impossible.’ But three months ?" He grinned. "That sounds like nothing."

You huffed. "It won’t be easy."

"But it’s possible."

You smiled and nodded.

Toshinori’s grin turned hopeful—grateful even.

"Then I’ll do it," he assured you and stood up. "Every day. No exceptions."

And from the way he said it—from the conviction in his voice—you knew he meant it.

You let out a sigh and stretched your arms. "Alright, I think that’s enough for today. Can you walk me out, Toshinori ?"

He blinked. "Oh, of course."

You turned toward the door, but the moment Toshinori opened it—

"SO, DOES IT WORK ?!"

You jumped back at the sudden loud voice, nearly stumbling back into the counter. Standing right outside the door was Hizashi Yamada, grinning ear to ear, arms crossed. Behind him, Aizawa was leaning against the wall, looking only mildly guilty, while a few other teachers tried (and failed) to look innocent.

You squinted your eyes suspiciously at them.

"…Were you eavesdropping ?"

Hizashi threw his hands up. "Hey, it’s not eavesdropping if we were already worried !"

You huffed, crossing your arms. "Sure."

Toshinori sighed beside you. "Yamada-sensei…"

But Hizashi wasn’t letting up. He turned back to you, practically buzzing with energy. "So ? Does it work ?"

You stared at him, debating whether to even answer. But you could already see the anticipation in his eyes—he wasn’t leaving without one.

Finally, you rolled your eyes. "Yes, it works."

Hizashi whooped, pumping his fist. "HA ! I knew it !" He spun to Aizawa. "You owe me dinner, dude !"

Aizawa merely sighed, rubbing his temples.

You narrowed your eyes. "Wait. You bet on this ?"

"Uh—" Hizashi froze.

Aizawa immediately turned and walked away. "I’m going back to my nap."

Hizashi gawked. "Dude !"

You shook your head, exasperated, while Toshinori chuckled beside you. It seemed like this wasn’t the first time they pulled something like this.

"Alright, I’m going now," you muttered, walking past them toward the gates. Toshinori followed close behind, but Hizashi wasn’t done yet.

"Hey, wait! Before you go—" Hizashi jogged beside you, flashing you a grin. "Can I try one of those donuts ?"

You stared at him and Toshinori sighed.

Aizawa, from a few steps away, muttered, "Just let him get punched so we’ll have an actual reason to use them."

You chuckled. But, you were also kind of worried. Were they all going to follow you to the gates ?

"You know," Recovery Girl stepped forward, hands on her hips, "we could really use someone like you here at UA."

You blinked, caught off guard. "Wait—what ?"

She smiled. "How would you feel about becoming a nurse here ?"

Your mouth fell open slightly. That was not what you had expected. A job ? At UA ?

Without thinking, you instinctively turned to look at the three men standing nearby—Toshinori, Aizawa, and Hizashi. Toshinori looked pleasantly surprised, like he thought it was a wonderful idea. Aizawa was unreadable at first, but after a moment, he gave you a slow nod, as if acknowledging that it made sense.

And Hizashi ? Hizashi grinned and clasped his hand together. "Oh, you should totally do it."

You chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck. "I dunno…I appreciate the offer but I never went to any medical school."

Recovery Girl waved a hand dismissively. "Bah ! You have a healing Quirk that works better than most medicines we have access to. That alone makes you more than qualified. Besides, you’d be working under my supervision. I wouldn’t just throw you in without guidance."

You hesitated, glancing at the three men again. Toshinori still looked encouraging, Aizawa remained unreadable, and Hizashi… well, Hizashi looked way too excited about the idea.

"Come on !" Hizashi grinned. "That’d be so cool ! You’d get to hang out with us all the time !"

Aizawa sighed. "That’s not exactly the selling point here."

"But it’s a bonus," Hizashi shot back.

You bit your lip, thinking. The idea of working at UA, being surrounded by Pro Heroes every day, was intimidating—but at the same time… the thought of being able to use your Quirk to actually help people like Toshinori without being judged for it ? That was tempting.

Still, you weren’t sure.

"I…" You took a deep breath. "Can I have some time to think about it ?"

Recovery Girl nodded. "Of course, dear. But don’t take too long—we could use you sooner rather than later."

You exhaled, nodding understandingly. "Alright. I’ll think about it this weekend and give you my answer on Monday."

Toshinori smiled. "Whatever you decide, I’m grateful for everything you’ve already done."

Hizashi gave you a thumbs-up. "And hey, if you do say yes, we can throw you a welcome party !"

Aizawa sighed again, but you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward.

You laughed softly. This was definitely not how you expected your day to go…

You waved goodbye to them before finally stepping out of UA. As soon as you were past the gates, you let out a deep breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

That had been…a lot.

You pulled your coat tighter around yourself and hurried home, your mind buzzing with everything that had happened. But the moment you stepped inside your home, you froze. Haru was sitting on your couch, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently against the floor. Their sharp gaze locked onto you the second you walked in.

"Well ?" they demanded. "Did everything go well,? What did you find out ? And—" They narrowed their eyes. "Are you in trouble ?"

You blinked, still processing everything, before sighing and flopping onto the couch beside them.

"Depends on your definition of trouble," you muttered.

Haru groaned. "That’s not reassuring.”

You rubbed your temples. "Long story short ? They think I’m some kind of miracle worker, they want me to work at UA, and I may have just agreed to heal All Might for the next three months."

Silence.

Then—

"You WHAT ?!"

[ohnomyhooves]

So in an au where rosi never took the undercover mission he makes the mistake about complaining about a coworker in earshot of doffy exactly once. It wasn’t even a big gripe, the guy just called rosi some names and made it clear he though rosi was useless for how clumsy he was, nothing he hasn’t heard before. It’s just annoying because how often does rosi have to prove he’s skilled as a sniper before his close combat abilities mean little.

Well he regrets it not long after when that poor insulting moron dies brutally on a mission publicly slowly and humiliatingly with no way to link the death to doffy or rosi. (Though if rosi is right about his suspicion that vergo is doffys mole given how Weird and protective that guy is every time they’re on the same mission…. Or maybe that vergo guy just has a crush, who knows). All in all rosi who likes handling his own issues his own way thank you will not make the mistake of idly complaining near his brother again.

He ALSO makes the mistake of idly complaining about jerks to law approximately once, the little tattle tale. Which is hypocritical because law mentioned trebol being too rough on him once and rosi near demanded doffy to punish him for it.

I completely agree with this, anon 🎊

I think this AU's Doffy would have some kind of complex about showing off what a great brother he is, his way of doing that being pulling stunts like this that Rosi most definitely does NOT approve of. Think about it, since he's a Warlord and Rosi's a Marine whom he only gets to see on official ocassions or if he tailors a specific situation himself for their paths to cross, Rosi's attention is a rare gift. He IS going to do the most to get that attention. I think he knows that despite not leaving any traces that can be followed back to him, Rosi won't miss the possibility that he did it, and that's gonna make Rosi think of him ✊️commander rosinante's mind is a prime real estate that doflamingo is gonna be the highest bidder for, damn it.

I can see Law naturally tattling on this kind of thing to Doffy, but I'm sure Doffy also actively encourages it. Using this little kid as a gossip conduit. Free news. Rosi is far more likely to let his guard down around Law and say something he would be careful not to say in front of Doffy 🥰🥰

Of course, Rosinante would not stand for anyone hurting Law even a little bit, even if it's Trebol in the name of training!

[teddybarebones]

There is little I love more than when Obi-wan gets to date the 212th, and Anakin remains incredibly oblivious to the most obvious of things. (Partially due to the fact that he thinks his master would NEVER form attachments for another person, let alone a whole battalion)

It goes like this:

Anakin is on call with Obi-wan, it’s nearing the night cycle and Anakin can hear another voice over the comm.

“Come to bed, General.” Anakin assumes it’s Cody, and he’s just worried about Obi-wan’s sleep schedule (not that the others were waiting for him to join the pile).

Then Anakin visits the Negotiator and trains with Obi-wan, noticing how a large audience of troops have gathered to watch. He thinks nothing of it, they’re looking for a show (not that they find Obi-wan’s duelling abilities extremely attractive, especially when they don’t have to worry about his safety).

Next comes from his own men, some seem nervous around the man, he’s heard a sigh or two when Obi-wan leaves after a joint mission, where Anakin assumes they’re a bit scared of his master (not that they are longing to be loved by the man like he loves the 212th).

He’s seen Obi-wan linking arms with a number of his men as they traverse the ship, each happy to chat with their General about anything and everything, but Anakin thinks of it as nothing more than a close friendship (like the one Obi-wan shared with Bail Organa).

It is Rex who spells it out to him, Anakin had complained that none of his men ever picked flowers to place in his hair, or collected pretty rocks for him to keep, or slept next to him when he was stuck in medical. It was then that he noticed Rex giving him an odd look.

“What?” He asked, feeling judged.

“Sir, you’re married.” Rex stated, as if that had anything to do with the conversation.

“So?”

Clearing his throat, Rex continued, confused.

“Sir, you’re not the type to cheat…”

Anakin was now equally confused as the Captain.

“It’s not romantic or anything, it’s just friendly gestures.” He struggled his shoulders, not liking even the implication that he was interested in cheating on Padmé.

Rex stared at the General a moment longer, before it clicked in his head. His General is really not the most observant person.

“Sir,” he began, “The 212th is dating General Kenobi, those gestures are done out of love.” He said as clearly as possible, speaking a bit slower than necessary.

Anakin’s bafflement was obvious on his face, eyes wide, facial muscles frozen in place. Rex gave him some time to digest the information.

His master’s flirty nature was well known, but Anakin had never really imagined him in a real relationship, being the code-abiding Jedi that he is…It was…mind blowing.

“Umm,” began the General, “How is he— uh…all of them?”

Rex was already beginning to feel awkward.

“I don’t know exactly how, sir, but it works for them.” He said with finality, he knew General Skywalker loved his men, but Rex was not so sure how he’d feel about so many clones dating his master.

“Oh.” Was the only response from the man.

Seconds passed in silence, before the knight spoke up again.

“The—uh, the attraction to Obi-wan, is it—uh,” the General waved his hand around vaguely, searching for the words. “Is the attraction like a clone thing?” He asked, confused, but being careful trying to not cause offence.

Sighing internally, Rex was forced to answer.

“It is not biological, sir, but we were raised to value good tacticians, the Jedi, and competence in general. So it is really no surprise why so many of us find him attractive.”

As he said it, he realized his mistake.

Anakin whipped his head to look at the blonde, incredulous once more.

“So many of us?”

Whoops.

He was really not looking forward to explaining this chaos to Cody, but it would provide a good opening for inquiring about General Kenobi’s availability.

[m1ndp4rty]

Irving

There's really no way to say what will happen with Irving.

Again I've seen some hand wringing on whether this is the end of Irving's character or role in the story. I'm of two minds. On one hand Irving's innie died. He makes a sacrifice and scores a hit against Lumon with revealing Helena. He plays foil to innie Marks position in the finale in that he does step out of the exit hallway in chase of who he loves in the outside world, fulfilling his initial desire to non-exist together with Burt. (Versus Dylan who chooses a more symbiotic coexistence and Mark choosing to go full innie)

I also kind of love that death has real stakes here. Some people may see this as Irving getting put on a bus but it speaks to the fact that there are real consequences to defying Lumon, and that fundamentally if Irving B "died" as an Innie he can't come back. He is lost to the MDR, and to his friends because he quite literally "died." It's just as traumatic and consequential as if his outtie were to die.

It would be quite different I think for the show to make the argument of the equivalency of severed and un-severed existence if they bring Irving B. back. it means there are less narrative stakes for the innies when they're being threatened.

Also like with Gemma I'm fundamentally rooting for the Innies to be free or to "escape" Lumon and the severed floor. Maybe that is disrespecting their autonomy but to me it's a poor argument that their existence as Lumon intends it and whatever agenda their work serves for Lumon is something we should be championing.

Like with Gemma freedom from Lumon and the ability to choose what comes next is a win for Irving. Like with Gemma it comes at the cost of his "love" but (for the last time) like with Gemma it may not be the end of Irving's story. As I wonder what or where they might take the character if they decide to bring him back I'm more hopeful for the possibilities than angry with the choices they made.

Irving was in some ways the best of them, his experience, his compassion for his fellow severed selves and his laser focus on the goal echoes a lot great qualities that we see emulated in the remaining members. Narratively he's the Obi-wan, you strike him down and he could become more powerful than ever before. He also as the old wise mentor figure needs to be removed so that Dylan, Mark, and Helly can make mistakes or decisions without his guidance and wisdom. He's the Gandalf and he is too much of a stabilizing voice of reason with the ability to suss out what the problems are to be left alive. His absence hurts because he's a great character that we do want to see come back which is why I'm glad he's gone. It meant something that he lived, and it means something that he's "dead."

Time will tell if like the mentor figures mentioned he can come back in glory in a time of great need. I could certainly see Devon, Gemma, and Harmony tracking him down to link up with whatever organization or individual he was plotting with to get the scoop on Lumon.

For now Irving gets my favorite track on the original score for season 2. A sendoff that hints at better things, and someone who is more whole for having lived a severed life. Someone who's ready now for whatever comes next.

*Pure speculation time:

Like with Burt there is room I think to make Irving antagonistic in the next season. For one the nuance of him wanting to wreck Burt's marriage and not fundamentally caring if Fields gets hurt puts him neatly alongside the rest of the crew in terms of chasing love for good or bad regardless of who they "hurt".

If Irving is trying to take down Lumon or get to the testing floor there is a good chance that the served floor as we know it will end or the people in it removed. That once again puts him at odds with the innies who desire to stay alive.

If I were to speculate at Irving's backstory two roads that I think would be interesting to go down would be to follow the millitary angle: the government's role and thoughts on Lumon and severance as a technology are nebulous. I think many of us can imagine some fairly nefarious use cases for a perfected or imperfect severed technology e.g. agents for black ops or spying as gimmies. Or to flip it there was an incident with a severed spy/agent that they're trying to track down and prove now.

Irving being some kind of terrorist cell or deep cover agent trying to investigate in service of a government? would be a fairly reasonable path. It would bring higher stakes but would move a little away from the work/life corpo angle by bringing in the military-industrial complex. That being said big pharma and big tech in bed with the gov/millitary is almost sci fi show 101. It feels almost redundant to say Lumon must have gov/military contracts already.

I feel like if anything it's more likely he serves as a private contractor type with his ex navy/military background and discipline on a long sting operation and he's one of many attempts to get a handle on Lumon by a rival corp. That would make him similar to Burt as a hatchet man or enforcer type.

Irving as a kind of deep plant of a company that we saw Lumon fencing with like in the Lexington Letter. It would give Irving less of a squeaky clean motivation and reveal that he like Burt may have a fair few skeletons in his closet.

What was his goal? It seems that it's tied to whatever floors lie below the severed floor. We've seen testing now and with the rate of turnover I suspect it's not a specific person like with Mark and Gemma that Irving was trying to find. He's certainly been with Lumon for too long for me to think that's the case.

The end product of the testing, and the Manchurian candidate Lexington Letter innie bots though, however those are shipped (be it the chip or the person) I could see being of interest. If I had to guess that's what I'd put money on.

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Bergamot

Now with art by @laur-rants !

I wrote this one not to long ago so you may have seen it already, but I am posting it again because LOOK AT THE BEAUTIFUL ART!!! Aieeeeeee! Here is the story that goes with it. Link to the story on Ao3 if you prefer to read it there.

It is a time between... a time both before and after periods of great loss and grief, a rare interval of calm and quiet.

Eris Morn is in her apartment in the Last City. She is sitting at her reading table in the centre of her rooms. Her eyes are unbound. She is wearing simple comfortable civilian clothes in earthen tones. Sunlight spills in through the stained glass window, splashing geometric colours on the wooden floor. A cup of tea steams on the table beside the book she is inscribing with elongated spidery writing.

On the floor near one leg of the table, not far from Eris' feet, is another teacup containing one third whiskey, two thirds tea.

The Drifter, cross-legged on the floor in ripped jeans and a stained light grey t-shirt, is seated in front of a thin blanket. He is slowly reassembling a machine gun. Each piece of the gun is neatly positioned on the blanket in the order in which it was removed. Each component has been individually cleaned and oiled.

There is a soft clicking sound as the Drifter ratchets another bolt into position.

"Somethin' I always wondered..." he says, breaking their comfortable silence in a way that is gentle and not jarring.

"Yes?" Eris' voice is warm. The interruption is mildly irksome, but the source of it, the reminder of another person in the room, is welcome.

"This tea we're drinkin' right now. It's called Earl Grey."

Eris cocks her head and leans back in her chair, looking down at him. "It is. I am… surprised you know this."

He grins up at her. "And earl is a title, right? Like king or kell or warlord."

"Yes, it was."

"What do you think happened to the other colours of earls?"

Eris blinks all three of her eyes at the inanity of the question. "There have been multiple apocalypses which have afflicted humanity." She leans back over her book. "That information is lost."

The Drifter returns to his assembly. "I wonder if they fought each other." There is a soft clink of metal on metal in his hands.

Eris pauses, confused. "Who fought each other?"

"The other earls. Like Earl Blue and Earl Red and Earl Yellow. I wonder if they had wars over tea." He holds up part of a gun barrel and examines it carefully, closing one eye and turning it slowly.

"I do believe… in the small bits of history which remain… that tea was at one point a valuable commodity enough for wars to have been fought over it, economically." Eris dips her pen into the inkwell beside her and begins once more to write upon the page.

"Yeah," he laughs. "I seen how grumpy you get when you ain't got your tea… no shit wars would be fought over that."

"Tsch."

"I wonder if Earl Grey tea won out because he killed all the other colours of earls and took their tea." The Drifter snaps two metallic components together and examines the fit.

"Hmmm…" Eris continues writing.

"Maybe it's all the other earls teas combined?"

Eris looks up from the book, her three eyes staring straight ahead at the wall on the other side of the room. "As far as I am aware…" There is only the slightest hint of annoyance in her voice. "It is one specific genus of plant and the particular flavour is not actually the tea at all, it is engendered by the additive of another plant."

"Berg-a-mott." The Drifter says the word as though it were three separate words as he twists the barrel, screwing it into the chamber.

Eris turns her head sharply to look down at him again, her attention fully focused on him once more. "You know of it."

The Drifter smiles, not looking at her as he fits a small metal ring into a larger one. "It's a terrible tasting bitter and sour orange… that only still exists because of arcologies off Earth. It's entirely extinct on Earth right now."

"Is it? I did not know this. That explains why it is so difficult to find Earl Grey tea now." Eris places her quill down on one of the Drifter's coins, using the slight height difference between the coin and the table as a pen rest .

"Yeah. I asked Devrim. That man's amazing. He knows so much shit about tea."

Eris takes up her cup in both hands and sips the steaming liquid. "He does."

"So yeah… " He glances up at her briefly and his smile widens at having caught her attention enough to pull her away from her book. "Apparently Earl Grey tea used to be super common in the time before the Golden Age. It was a normal boring tea to people. But after the first collapse when like three quarters of all life on Earth got wiped out? No one bothered keepin' the bad tastin' oranges. They kept the tea, mind you. But not the berg-a-mott. But, before that, tea drinkers got out in all the remote pockets of humanity in this system and, like a lot of things, shit that people kept for comfort in the distant parts ended up being the only ones of those things left."

"Hmmm…" Eris inhales the vapour from the tea.

"But…" The Drifter puts down the half-assembled weapon and twirls a socket wrench in the fingers of his right hand before twisting his wrist so it seems to disappear. "That ain't the best part." His eyes sparkle as he reaches back and picks up his own cup of tea, extending it out toward hers.

Eris gives him a small smile and humors him, clinking her teacup against his in a toast.

"What is the best part?" She sips her tea again as he sips his.

He pulls one leg out from under himself and stretches it out, gesturing with his teacup as he speaks. "The fruit of the berg-a-mott orange tree…the bergamot orange?"

"Yes?"

He leans forward conspiratorially. "It isn't orange."

Eris blinks. "What?"

"It's green."

Eris leans on the armrest of her chair closest to him, resting her chin on her fist and fixes him with a dismissive gaze. "All oranges are green before they turn orange."

He leans forward even more, his elbow on one knee, his eyes filled with amusement as he looks up at her. "It never turns orange. It stays green. The orange isn't orange in the grey tea that isn't grey."

"Hmmm…" Eris sips her tea pensively at this information. "How do you know?"

"Because I found some in the Arcology on Titan and they were green."

"Maybe they just weren't ripe when you looked at them…" She says, her voice slightly condescending.

The Drifter licks his lips as he looks up at her, his grin widening as he drinks more from his cup.

Eris' three eyes narrow. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"No reason." His eyes glitter and his smirk widens, telling her there absolutely is a reason.

"You only smile like that when you're right and you know it."

He licks his lips again, places his teacup back into the saucer at her feet, and slides closer to her along the floor. "I might be right… and I might know it, yeah."

Eris frowns. "But… the only way you would know you are right about the bitter oranges being green is…"

"Hehehe." He looks away from her as he chuckles, his head near her elbow.

"You are growing them yourself."

He turns his face back to her, his expression smug. "Something that rare? Hell yeah. That's gonna be worth something to someone someday. They taste so bad they're inedible, but they sure do go nice in tea. If nothin' else, Devrim appreciates it, and apparently…" He reaches out a finger, slowly and gently brushing it along her arm. "...so do you."

Eris regards him closely.

"That is... wait…" She puts her teacup down and leans down to see his face. "Did you go on an entire expedition… to a nexus of one of the most dangerous infestations of Wrathborn and Taken in this system… just to obtain an obscure inedible orange… in order to replicate a type of tea for me?"

"Hehehe." He looks away again, his expression almost but not quite shy.

"You did."

He looks back at her, his breath quickening as she reaches down with one hand to bury her fingertips in his beard.

The Drifter leans against Eris' hand like a cat, rubbing her fingertips deeper into his beard, delighting in her touch.

Eris curls her hand tugging him slightly closer.

"I didn't do it just for you." He looks lovingly up at her, his eyes telling her the exact opposite. "Rare shit has value," he continues to justify. "I got all kinds of plants that ain't growin' nowhere no more. Soon as I started keeping a garden on the Derelict I realized bein' mobile and able to visit all these places on Earth, and off Earth, means I can keep shit alive that's long since died off."

She turns in her chair and reaches down with her other hand, cradling his face, beckoning him closer.

He rises to his knees, placing his own hands on the armrest next to her elbows.

Eris' three green eyes shift within the scarring on her face, strange yet also beautiful as she stares at him intently, studying his face.

"For someone who has refused to hope for so long… you have saved… and cultivated… and maintained… life. Life which otherwise would be extinguished. Something which both traditionally, and metaphorically, is… often seen as a symbol of hope itself."

"For completely selfish reasons, I assure you." The Drifter turns his head and softly kisses the palm of her left hand, his eyes closing as his lips linger on her skin.

"Hmmm…" The corner of Eris' mouth forms a wry smile at his obvious lie.

"And cuz I don't like starving," he continues, trying to add more evidence to his claim as he looks back up into her eyes. "That's the thing about always bein' hungry, Makes ya start payin' attention to where your food's gonna come from tomorrow, in addition to today."

She continues to look down at the devoted man on his knees in front of her while he continues to insist he is selfish.

"You just said they are so bitter they are inedible."

"Oh I think we both know from experience, Moondust, that damn near anything's edible if you're hungry enou-."

Eris silences his deceitful lips with a kiss.

[thesadpuffin]

Zelda Reacts Part 6

this has been about 90% finished for such a long time lmao, but hopefully the wait was worth it!! omg it was so fun drawing Link in this armour, it's one of my top faves for sure - HE JUST LOOKS SO GOOD ASFJGHDK

Part 5: Snowquill <<< >>> Part 7: Dark Link

[gifti3]

the goverment is definitely figuring out this alien situation asap right?? cause whats happening currently is not feasible in the long run is it not??

im sure they are trying to maybe figure it out...probably, but part of me feels like it is not being treated with the seriousness it should be by them, which ig is in character LOL

pretty much relying on one guy (who doesnt even wanna be doing this) is actually scary

and the mc still has to like 'encourage' him to do it, tho its much easier in the 'ray ending' for sure. that man just wants to live a regular life with mc (unfortunately for him that means continuing to be binary star and dealing with aliens)

and if i was a citizen and knew this id be panicking

like yea u have these other heroes helping and stuff which im sure looks comforting from an outside point of view! but like the actuality is that its ray keeping things afloat

AND ON THE TOPIC OF THE MC, i was definitely in my head like....wouldnt rays superiors (managers??) get like curious about them? like no way theyre not being nosy about it after a certain amount of time passes. it really feels like something that could be leveraged against him,,, (if there is fic about this pls send it to me lol)

honestly i feel like mc and rays relationship would have moments of high stress. like there will be good times but also the bad times will also be there and its sometimes gonna be because of outside factors they cant control

[leenfiend]

i would trust my instincts but they lie to me like i lie to you

[longagoitwastuesday]

That one fic with the sunrises and the heartbreaking descriptions of the six eyes also gave me the six eyes being eaten and really truly the real JJK could never live up to that for me

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

cw rape but im listening to sic transit gloria by brand new and like,,,,fic idea

[thegempage]

thinking a lot about. how gameplay creates personality within characters. the link i play in tears of the kingdom is not quite the same link as the ones my friends play. what does it mean to experience the world differently through the same eyes.

[freakied]

guys im new to tumblr but i just had a thought about pornstar!gojo that i had to share. plsss can i sit at the gojofucker table for lunch plsss ^^

pornstar!satoru who just so happens to live in the apartment next to yours. sharing a wall means you don't get to be blissfully ignorant about his profession, because he just has to be a workaholic... or sex addict if you look at it in a different light. some nights you get no sleep because of the banging of a headboard against the wall and the long drawn out moans that sound a little too real for porn. if satoru wasn't such a good neighbor (or so attractive) you'd make a noise complaint by now.

but of course you get curious one night when one of the 'co-stars' he has over is crying joyous climax. surely he's not that good, right? you don't even register your actions as you open up your laptop and search up his name.

of course you click the first link that comes up. and of course you hold your breath as the first video loads up and you find out he's a whole lot bigger than you had imagined he was. then, of course, you scold yourself for thinking about his dick size in the first place as you dip your fingers beneath the waistband of your pyjama pants to touch yourself in time to the thrusts of his cock into someone else.

you have him on full view in the video in front of you, and the sounds of him fucking some girl into her third or fourth orgasm of the night just beyond the thin walls of your apartment. but the video in front of you ends and so you click on his profile and press play on the first thing that comes up because you're horny and in need of visual stimulation.

but you realize once the video starts up that it isn't a recorded porn video, it's a livestream: a cam show. you're watching your neighbor fuck some girl stupid while you're on the other side of the decorated wall in his background fucking yourself dumb on your fingers wishing it was him.

hundreds of people are watching, too, but none of them are hearing it in real time. feeling the walls vibrate each time the headboard hits it. none of them are going to wake up in the morning and bump into him in the hallway. he'll tell you good morning and get that sheepish look on his face because he knows he's loud when he cums and you look too tired to have slept through his orgasm.

you time your climax with his. release all over your sticky fingers when he cums deep in the girl he's got pinned into a mating press beneath him. you then realize, of course, that you'll never be able to look your neighbor in the eyes ever again now that you've watched him drain his balls into someone else, and you close your laptop lid to sleep.

you swear it will never happen again.

until it does.

the next night you're sitting on your couch with your laptop open. sitting in the waiting room of his cam show, a little 'thehonoredone will be live soon!' notification lighting up your screen as you make sure your toy is charged.

when there's a knock on your door, and you get up to answer it in your horny-brain-fog state just to swing the door open to satoru gojo, who is asking if he can borrow a laptop charger because his broke and he really can't have his laptop die in the middle of his... work meeting.

and you're so bashful seeing him, especially after what you did to yourself whilst thinking of him the night prior, that you don't even think about it, you just let him in! and the man you've now seen cum ropes is stepping into your apartment just to see your laptop (and vibrator) left laying on the couch. with his camshow waiting room open.

you'd be mortified if you had the time to be. because you don't know how or why it happens, but within minutes satoru's scheduled solo show turns into a marathon sex stream. 'SEEING HOW MANY TIMES I CAN MAKE MY NEIGHBOR CUM' is streamed live to hundreds of people who are all doing what you did last night, as they watch you get folded in half and fucked mean.

the screen doesn't even do it justice. he's big and rough but gentle in a way you can't think of the words to describe because the tip of his cock keeps kissing your cervix over and over again. the hands that you've only felt once when you shook his hand in greeting are now physically holding your thighs up so he can get deeper inside of you.

you learn a few things about your neighbor that night: like how he loves it when you say his name. and how he bites when he cums, sinks his teeth into your neck or shoulder or your chest when he spills into you just to fuck it deep and keep going. he also points out to you, when he whispers low in your ear so none of his viewers can hear, that every single person he's brought over to fuck, resembles you in some way or another.

you learn that they're all so loud because he really is just that good, but also because he wanted them to be loud. he wanted you to hear them get fucked mindless so that you'd get all hot and bothered at the thought of it happening to you too!

you also learn, as he fucks you through your last orgasm (sixth, by the way), that stumbling in on you gearingup to watch his pornm wasn't a mistake. he saw your name in his audience list... plus, he heard you time your orgasm with his lat night.

the walls are thin, after all.

i made a part 2!!!!

[xavierfan]

more bre3ding/cr3amp1e p-links pls 🫣

warnings: sexual content below! p-links and sexually explicit descriptions are in this post

i genuinely don't know what to say anymore but this is sylus. on everyone's soul, THIS IS SYLUS

this one too

this too

sylus likes to fuck his seed back into you himself, he does so quite softly. it's an extremely intimate act when he does it, he's gentle and slow, and it's really not about possession to him. he just likes it— the warmth, the slickness, the sound, and the lewdness of it all.

> heavy breeding kink with no hints of possessiveness, he straight up just wants you to have his kid idfk. he would definitely say stuff like, "you're going to make a wonderful mother to our kids." / "kitten, one day you're going to get pregnant and i'm going to be so lucky." / "fuck, kitten, you want me to fuck my cum back into you, right? you want me to get you pregnant, right?"

idk why but this one gives me a caleb vibes

this one is also him

this one too

this too 😭😭😭

i keep adding caleb links im tweaking

caleb really enjoys watching his cum leak out of you. he would tease you, "pipsqueak, you're wasting it", as he just watches you squirm. to him, this is something akin to 'marking' you, walking up behind you later while out talking about, "think you're still leaky, pip."

> he's also probably got a crazy breeding kink mixed with a little —or a lot— bit of crazy obsession idfk, shit like "when your belly gets big, everyone's going to know who you belong to" / "one day i'm gonna get you pregnant" / "you'd look so good carrying my child, pips" / "if you let it all out, you'll hurt my feelings pips."

i think rafayel kind of goes feral once you let him cum in you... like he just keeps going idk

teasing him

rafayel is less breeding kink more crazy about you. loves anything to do with you, sex is not an exception, and he puts you on a pedestal a little differently to the rest of the boys. a bit like a mutt, you let him cum in you and suddenly he can't stop rutting into you, trying to chase another high.

> less breeding kink, more pathetic subby male who is so fucking excited to be fucking you. "fuck. fuck. fuck. 'm gonna cum again, please? please let me keep going?" / "princess, you feel soo good, please." / "princess, i'm sorry, let's keep going..." / "i'll be so good for you, princess, let me keep going."

sorry i know you specifically asked for breeding and i know this isn't but it still has cum ...

this is also zayne idk

zayne....

zayne rarely ever finishes inside of you, citing that it's not good for you, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to. idk how to explain it, he doesn't let himself finish inside of you because he's worried he'll lose self control.

> heavily likes the idea of breeding, like it probably takes everything in his body to not ram into you as he feels his balls squeeze, probably in your ear talking about "you'd look so beautiful pregnant." / "want to start a family with you." / "one day i'm going to get you pregnant, no need to worry." / "if you keep asking me to cum in you, i just might one day..."

i think xavier would like you fucking yourself with his cum... like shoving anything that comes out back inside

this one too

anotha one

xavier just wants to watch your fingers plug your hole up to prevent any more spillage. it brings a smile to his face to see how desperate you are to keep all of his seed inside of you, it probably gets him hard all over again prompting him to say something like, "don't worry, there's more where that came from."

> no specific breeding kink per say but likes the possessive element of pregnancy like caleb, "they'll know what we get up to at night." / "maybe when you're pregnant he'll stop coming up to you" / "want everyone to know how good you make me feel every night"

notes : i couldnt find that many links 😭😭😭 i've been searching all day so i'm sorry anon... pls forgive me... i hope the little blurbs makeup for the lack of links :(

[bongo-clash]

TWs for: Death, mentions of illness/poison, implied panic attack/flashbacks, and extremely botched ecto-science

-

The Justice League has known Phantom for a while, now. They’ve fought beside him in several battles in the year, and he’s handled every one of them with an inhuman efficiency and grace. His power-set is strange and extensive, but he’s taught them more about the Infinite Realms than any of Constantine’s tomes ever could. About its history, its cultures; about a particular kind of ectoplasmic corruption that only comes with exposure to oxygen.

It’s this particular detail that Batman remembers, when—after years in sort-of remission—Jason’s eyes glow lurid green, and the tidal wave of the Pit’s rage returns. 

It’s hard, to express that level trust, especially with his kid’s safety on the line (one he’s already lost before, that he can’t lose again. Can’t, can’t, can’t). But really, it’s either Phantom or the League of Assassin’s—a group that certainly doesn’t have a great track record of doing right by his children—so Bruce bucks up the most difficult kind of courage, and approaches the other hero after a debriefing. 

“Phantom,” He calls out, just as everyone’s leaving. His hands are clasping the back of the chair he’s risen from; one of his older tactics for preventing visible tremors. “Stay behind for a moment. We need to talk.”

Phantom’s shoulders draw in on themselves just slightly as he waves goodbye to the rest of the group, drifting back towards the meeting table with a sheepish smile on his face. He crosses his legs in the air as he says “Man, I feel like I’ve just been sent to the principal’s office. Am I in trouble?”

Despite the tension lining Bruce’s heart, he almost finds it funny. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Phantom. I just wanted to ask for your input on something.”

“Wait, really?” The hero perks up, neon-sign eyes shining. “The big ol’ Batman wants my help with something? I mean—sure, Bats, what’s up?”

Batman doesn’t allow himself the luxury of hesitance, and speaks before he can even think of sighing. “A few weeks ago, you mentioned your belief in the presence of large sources of corrupted ectoplasm on earth. I want your input on the potential effects of this ectoplasm on a living being.”

Even before Phantom replies, it’s obvious the answer isn’t a good one—based purely on the way the ghost’s eyes turn wide and nervous. “A- a living being? Well, um, I don’t—look, ectoplasm in its most basic form is an obligate anaerobe, right? And corrupted ectoplasm comes from a natural portal destabilising, and oxygen breaking through the initial protective layer. So, you’ve got a sort-of-maybe-sentient—kind of depends—oxygen-poisoned anaerobe getting—what, absorbed into a fully living being? If they’ve had no prior exposure to ectoplasm, then best case scenario’s probably death, Bats.” 

But Jason isn’t dead. And Jason won’t be. 

“…What about a living being who has had prior ectoplasmic exposure?”

He looks at Bruce like he’s hoping this is a hypothetical, but knows with Batman it never is. “So, like, a medium, or…?” Batman only stares. The sigh the ghost gives says more than it should, given he doesn’t need to breathe. “It’s… Batman, if you’re telling me right now that there’s someone out there with even a little bit of a dependancy on ectoplasm, with corrupted ectoplasm in their system—then you need to take me to them. I can’t have any idea how serious this is without more context.”

This isn’t what Bruce had wanted to hear at all. He’d wanted everything to be okay; he’d wanted Phantom to wave him away with a laugh and say it’ll filter itself out on its own in a couple years’ time- and sure, fine, he’d have pushed to the ends of the earth for evidence of that claim, but at least it would have been a little bit reassuring. Jason could be—

No. Jason will be fine. Phantom just needs more context. 

“Friday, 10pm.” Batman finally bites out, and sweeps out of the room with all the steel and confidence of a man who will not be losing his son. 

-

To his credit, Phantom does actually show up on Friday, despite the fact that Bruce hadn’t actually confirmed that Friday would be okay. He’s shuffling his feet like they’re touching the ground hands fiddling with the straps of the backpack he’s wearing, and when he looks up, says nothing at all. Taking the silence for what it is, Batman leads him to the Zeta.

Surprisingly, it hadn’t been all that difficult to convince Jason to show up. Though he tried to hide it, he was worried about Pit, too; he’d described it to them, a few times, that sludge-like haze that took him over, nausea in places that couldn’t be nauseous—he wanted it gone just as much as they did. More than they did, probably. When Bruce had told him someone in the Justice League might know what to do, he’d barely even complained about clearing his schedule for the night.

Phantom takes one look at Bruce’s son, and promptly blanches. 

“Holy shit. Dude, that has to hurt so bad.” Seeming stuck between getting closer and coiling away, Phantom looks at Batman, and then at the Red Hood, back forth. 

Bruce can’t take his eyes off Jason, for all that he can’t see an expression from beneath the helmet. “What is that supposed to mean?” Batman asks, barely refraining from a growl. 

“It’s—you’re like, the closest thing to a revenant a guy can get without being a revenant and, y’know, forming a core. You’ve got some natural ecto in you, but it’s completely swamped by the corruption trying to breach it.”

Jason doesn’t move, but Bruce can see the way his fists clench and unclench at his sides, trying to look relaxed and perhaps succeeding to Phantom, but not his father. “Right, yeah, cool. That’s great,” Red Hood replies, voice made forcibly neutral by the helmet’s modulator. “Laymen’s terms, if you’d be so obliged?”

Phantom shrugs, also trying to look causal- but, unlike Jason, both of them can tell he’s uncomfortable. “Okay, so we’ll call the ectoplasm death energy. You’ve got some of your own—which means you’ve either died, got really close, or you were exposed to natural death energy some other way—and you had that before you came into contact with a corrupted source of death energy. But then you came intocontact with this corrupted death energy, and it got absorbed into your system. If you had a core, which is this thing that ghosts have, that would be, like, urgently bad. It’d basically rot your core once the corruption reached it and you’d cease to exist without intervention.”

He pauses for a second there, just to let them absorb that information before continuing. “As it is, you don’t have a core, so the corrupted ectoplasm- sorry, death energy- isn’t going to kill you or anything. But it’s definitely not good for you. You need oxygen to live, obviously—the natural energy makes you kind of a microaerophile, but we don’t need to worry about that right now, because the corrupted energy is an obligate anaerobe that’s already been poisoned by oxygen contact, and it’s trying to take over the energy you already have to save itself. But… it can’t save itself. All it can do is just keep clinging on so it doesn’t rot away completely. Your energy is renewing itself enough that the corruption isn’t going to rot you by extension, but you can probably feel it doing something, can’t you?”

Jason, apparently, decides this is a ‘helmet-off’ kind of conversation now (he only does that when he finds it hard to breathe; Bruce wishes he could make this easier on his boy—), and releases the catches on the back of his hood with a mechanical hiss. 

“I get angry.” He admits carefully, trying to keep his expression blank. “It feels like somethin’ in me starts rebelling against itself, and I end up lashing out at everything. It… yeah, it does hurt.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t know about this sooner.” Phantom says, tone soft. 

Red Hood waves him off immediately. “Not your fault. But, you’re here now; can you do anything about it, or is this just somethin’ that’s gonna have to run its course, or whatever?”

“I can separate it,” Phantom answers quickly, reassuring. “It’s trying to cling, but it isn’t actually part of you. The corruption can be removed. The only thing is just, y’know…”

“Know what?” Batman says, suddenly nervous; thrilled beyond beliefto hear that his son won’t have to suffer anymore, but dreading getting his hopes up. Dreading the but.

The ghost looks back at him. “I think I mentioned that normal ectoplasm can be a little bit sentient? Or, well, gain sentience?” Batman nods stiffly, Jason’s glitch between stilling and fidgeting. “Yeah, it’s been clinging to you for a while; this stuff’s probably going to come out as a ghost of its own, and I highly doubt it’s going to be friendly.”

Jason stares. “But you said the stuff can’t exist without leeching off me?”

“Yeah,” Phantom nods, something unpleasant on the tip of his tongue. “It won’t last long without you, but it might try to attack, or reabsorb. You can’t let it reabsorb.”

“Figured that, yeah.” Red Hood scoffs. “We doing this now, or what?”

Phantom hesitates, but assents. “I’ve got some gear in my bag. We can do it as soon as you’re ready.”

…

It takes them a few minutes to get kitted up. Phantom shows them the spectre-deflectors—explaining how he’ll separate the corrupted ectoplasm from Jason, and how he’ll have to put the deflector on immediately after to prevent the corruption from reabsorbing—with Batman wearing one too, just in case. Phantom can defend himself just fine, and the corruption will likely only take a few minutes to completely fade. They don’t even need anything else.

Jason is looking around like he can barely believe what’s about to happen and, quite frankly, Bruce can hardly comprehend it himself. Jason’s struggled with the Pit Madness for years, and to have an option to get rid of it, once and for all? It’s like a dream Bruce never wants to wake up from; he’s wished for this for years. He’s wanted so desperately for his son to be happy without something looming in the shadows, and all at once, it’ll finally be over.

When Phantom asks if they’re both ready, it takes only half a moment to push past the surreality of it all and say yes. Red Hood readies his deflector, and with one crack of his knuckles, Phantom reaches through the man’s chest, and pulls something out. 

…Someone. Phantom pulls someone out of Jason’s chest. 

Someone red, and yellow, and green, and crying. 

Oh God. Oh God.

Jason doesn’t even look up until his deflector’s secured, and Bruce is so, so glad his own was fastened long beforehand, because it’d have dropped from his hands the moment his eyes fell on white-out domino. He’d expected the corruption to look like a monster; Batman had been prepared to steel himself in the face of an incorrigible beast trying its damnedest to cling to his son. He hadn’t expected, not even for a moment, that the leech poisoning his kid would look like a little boy. 

The one he lost in a warehouse five years ago. 

He wants to call out to Jason not to lift his gaze, but like a film in slow motion, his son’s head raises, and his whole body freezes, twitching back like he’s been doused in cold water. He stares like he’s seeing everything, and nothing at all.

Robin—the corruption, turns to Phantom with a snarl on his lips (Its lips. Its. He cannot think of this like his son. He cannot think of this like his son when Jason is right there in front of him). 

“YOU!”It roars, in Jason’s scratchy fifteen-year-old pitch, shooting over to Phantom with its tiny, green-gloved fists clenched tight enough to creak. He hadn’t known it would be able to speak. “What did you do?!”

Phantom looks as if he’s about to say something, but the corruption’s attention has already been diverted. His (its, its, its) eyes are set on Jason. 

“Why did you-?” It cries out, choking on its own tears, face contorting into a grief and an anger Bruce had never seen on his son’s face until it was too late, rushing towards him. Jason takes a stumbling few steps back—and he isn’t fast enough to avoid the corruption’s reach—but it doesn’t matter anyway, because the spectre deflector lights up, and the ghost wails as the shock reaches it. The electricity seems to destabilise it, too; its form glitches and seems to melt a little. 

Bruce feels sick. This corruption that was trying to kill his son is heaving huge, gasping sobs, falling apart at the seams, and Bruce feels like he’s about to throw up. “What’s happening?” He croaks. “It-it hurts, I don’t understand.”

And then it turns its see-through little head to Bruce, teardrops rolling down splotchy cheeks still round with baby fat, and his heart drops right through his stomach and out to the other side of the earth.

“…Dad?”

No.

Bruce stumbles backwards, whole body trembling like his chest’s the epicentre of a personal earthquake, barely saved from falling by a weak grip on the Batcomputer chair. He wants to look away, but all he can see is his baby’s crestfallen face, dying all over again, and he doesn’t want to see this but he can’t stop watching.

The ghost lurches forward again and this time, Phantom silently flicks a hand out, and some kind of green forcefield forms around it. The silhouette of his fifteen-year-old son beats at the shield. His cries are muffled by it, but Bruce can still hear them. He can’t help but think that this is what Jason sounded like in Ethiopia, crying out for a father than would never get there in time. His son’s dying all over again, and he’s just standing there.

“Let him out.” Bruce pleads, voice rasping. “We have to save him.” He can see it through the green tinge of the barrier: Jason’s fading fast. The tips of his fingers and pixie boots are disappearing into thin air. 

Phantom turns to him with utter devastation in his eyes. “Bats, that’s not Jason.” He says, just as the twenty-year-old son that came back tumbles knees-first onto the floor, head leaning forward until his forehead touches stone. It’s the smallest he’s ever seen him in the last five years. 

That’s what snaps him out of it, if only for a moment. He falls over himself reaching for Jason, curling around him like a blanket of kevlar and heartbreak. This close to his son’s head, he can hear the quiet hiccuping of tears. 

They sit there, for the world’s most unbearable two minutes, as a version of his son pretending to be his son sobs and screams and falls apart. Bruce’s surroundings blur between the cave and a warehouse on the horizon, shimmering like a mirage under a hot African sun—his son is right here, safe in his hold, but he’s dying over and over, infinitely again, and Bruce can never stop it. 

Two minutes later, the world rings out with “Dad, I’m sorry!” and a muted scream, before silence is the only thing that’s left. 

…

Phantom gives his boy a completely clean bill of health, promises that his uncorrupted ectoplasm will sustain itself just fine without any further intervention, and leaves the moment Batman asks him to. 

Jason is free from the corruption that had been draining him like a leech for the last five years, and so long as he doesn’t go back to the Pit, he’ll be free of it for the rest of his life. He won’t have to hurt people with an anger he can’t control anymore; Bruce will no longer have to watch his son suffer from a rot welling deep within him ever again. 

This should be one of the happiest days of his life. But that night, he and his second oldest walk to a hill with a tombstone at its peak, hiding beneath the shade of a yew tree; neither of them acknowledge that the other is crying beyond the barest glimpse of fingertips ghosting together. 

In time, this will be a good day, but the relief comes later. For now, they sit down beside each other, worlds away, and don’t move until the sun rises the next morning.

(Jason apologises to a boy he will never be again—that he left in a coffin and never took with him—and Bruce apologises to son he could never save in time. In the end, the only evidence they have of their grief at all is a phantom scream in the wells of their ears, and a stone on the top of a hill with nothing underneath it at all.)

Short DPXDC Prompts #770

Danny cures Jason’s pit madness.. only issue is the pit madness reforms as an evil ghost

[rafesangelita]

♡ standing in front of rafe’s door after everything that transpired was the last thing you thought you’d do.. yet here you were. luckily for you, rafe has no intentions of ever letting you leave him again.

warnings: enemies to lovers, unprotected sex, rough sex, marathon sex (these two have a lot to catch up on), oral (m. and f. receiving), fingering, choking, face fucking, cum eating, cum play (they are sooo gross), multiple orgasms, rough handling, hair pulling, biting, slapping, overstimulation, crying, degradation, dirty talk, humiliation kink (?), praise, fluff, soft aftercare

a/n: aaaand this is the end ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ this series was something i thought of on a whim, and i couldn’t be any more happier with the way everything came out. to everyone who showed sm love and gave me your thoughts and feedback, thank you so much!! reading your comments and your theories made me smile <3 wrote this while listening to ‘hotel’ by montell fish, i highly recommend listening to it, it’s what inspired this chapter!!

links: previous | mini series masterlist

wc: 3.8k

it’s been four days since rafe’s been blowing up your phone with every second he could spare, all of his calls and messages being either dismissed or ignored. you had fabricated a lie the next morning and told chanel that you and rafe just weren’t compatible with each other, and even though she could see the solemn look on your face, she knew not to dig any further. “you call me if you need anything, okay?” she hugged you tightly before leaving, using her own key to lock the door to your house as you stayed laying in bed.

as much as you wanted to give in to rafe, you just couldn’t find it in you to overlook the fact that he held back from telling you what he knew. sure, now that you look back on it, it was obvious, but to continue feeding into your fantasies, receiving your pictures, and talking to you on the phone as if he didn’t know who you were made you feel like you had been played in a way. since that night, you went to your tumblr and deleted everything, along with deactivating your account and uninstalling the app as a whole.

once rafe saw that your blog was gone, he went ahead and decided to delete his as well. it was pointless for him to be active if you were no longer on there anymore. he had been checking his phone religiously, hoping for any kind of reply, but each time his phone screen illuminated with a notification that wasn’t from you it was just a blow to his chest. he hated not hearing from you, especially because he had grown so used to listening to your voice everyday. now that was all gone. he no longer had that balance that he needed to keep him from going insane.

rafe didn’t view you any differently once he found out his dream girl behind the screen was you. if anything, it just made him want you even more. to know that the same girl that never put up with anyone’s shit was the same girl that wanted to be told what to do was nothing short of gratifying. he loved being the man that did that for you. both of you needed each other, and that was something you were slowly starting to realize as the days went on. finally folding, you had turned your read receipts off so rafe wouldn’t know that you opened up the plethora of paragraphs he had been sending you.

you scrolled down from the very top, only reading the messages that stuck out to you the most.

[Sunday - 10:11 AM] rafe: i just checked into my room, please text me back.

[Sunday - 11:00 AM] rafe: i don’t blame you for not wanting to talk to me but we’re gonna have to settle this now or when i get home. either way, you’re still mine. whether you like it or not.

[Sunday - 11:09 AM] rafe: has it ever occurred to you that you know things about me that nobody else knows either? i knew who you were and i still didn’t hold back from being vulnerable with you. i care about you y/n, i think about you all the fucking time. after opening up to me last night, i really just want to make sure that you never feel alone again. let me be there. please.

[Sunday - 10:17 PM] rafe: this is the first night in months that i’m going to bed without hearing your voice. please consider talking to me again.

[Monday - 8:20 PM] rafe: not that it matters anymore but for the entire time that we were texting each other, i never saw anyone else. i wasn’t interested in anybody and then once i found out that you were closer than i thought, you’re the only thing that i could think about. phone sex aside, i truly believe that we see each other and understand one another— at least for me, you do. this isn’t a sunken ship, and i won’t let you turn it into one.

[Monday - 8:27 PM] rafe: i’ll do whatever it takes to be back in your good graces, but leaving you alone isn’t an option. i don’t think it ever was.

[Tuesday - 3:55 PM] rafe: well i finished up all the deals i needed to make, but i want to give you the time that you need, so i’ll be staying here for the rest of the week. i’ve put your name on the visitor’s list for my room number, i know it’s far fetched to think you’ll show up, but i’ll be here.

and then the most recent ones from this afternoon..

[Today - 1:09 PM] rafe: #501

[Today - 1:10 PM] rafe: that’s my room number.

you bit your lip. you couldn’t believe you were really considering going over there. you spent the rest of the afternoon pacing the halls, trying to come up with excuses as to why you shouldn’t pack a bag and give in to the man that undeniably has you in a chokehold. by the sounds of his texts, it’s not like you can just get out of not communicating with him, he has made that abundantly clear. by the time it was seven o’clock you were cursing under your breath as your car parked onto the ferry headed towards the mainland. “you better not embarrass me, asshole..” you whispered, swallowing your pride as the minutes counted down to your destination.

you were hesitant when it came time to go into the lobby, your chest rising and falling as you got off the car on shaky legs. you knew that coming over here meant more than just ‘talking it out’, this was you allowing rafe to prove himself worthy enough for something to grow out of this; something serious. “good evening! are you a guest or a visitor?” the receptionist smiled at you brightly as you answered. “visitor. for rafe cameron.” she clicked away on her computer for a few moments before humming pleasantly. “y/n?” she confirmed. with a curt nod, she motioned towards the elevators, “enjoy your night.”

adjusting the pink bag on your shoulder, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding once the elevator dinged on rafe’s floor. no matter how much you were trying to downplay the situation, you couldn’t help the violent thumping of your heart with every step you took towards the end of the long hallway. standing in front of his door made everything feel like it was closing in on you, like suddenly you couldn’t get out of this and you hated the feeling of losing control. before you could successfully talk yourself out of facing him and running away, you knocked and waited with a bated breath for rafe to answer.

the man on the other side of the door was sitting at the edge of his bed in deep thought when he heard the small sound against the thick hardwood. eyebrows twisting in confusion, rafe got up and looked through the peep hole. he felt relief wash over him as soon as he saw you standing there with your arms crossed over your chest without a word, he opened the door, your eyes finding his. his gaze said just as much as your own, both of you sharing a mutual understanding without having to say anything.

pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, rafe nodded understandingly before dragging you inside, your heart fluttering in your chest at his display of strength. “rafe—” you didn’t even get a chance to say anything before he grabbed your bag and tossed it to the side, his hands cupping your face before he backed you into the wall. “just shut up.” he whispered, both of you moaning once you felt each other’s lips finally press into your own. he tasted like mint with a hint of alcohol and you knew right then and there that you’d never be able to get enough of it.

snaking your hands underneath his shirt, you raked your nails down his toned stomach before tugging at the waistline of his jeans, a small gasp leaving your lips once he inserted a thigh between your legs and pressed into where you needed him most. “fuck,” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck, “please, i need you.” hearing you say that you needed him made rafe’s head spin in the best possible way. “yeah? i’m not really convinced..” he leaned in, licking a stripe across your bottom lip. rolling your eyes, you dug your nails into his neck until he groaned, pushing you into the wall with a thud.

narrowing your gaze at him, rafe smiled once he saw what looked like a hint of a challenge dancing in your orbs. picking you up off of your feet, you yelped when rafe slammed you onto his bed, wasting no time in slotting himself between your thighs. “it’s gonna take a lot more than some pathetic begging to get me inside you.” he said through gritted teeth. you refrained from saying something smart, your stare faltering as you swallowed thickly. he was going to make this difficult for you. stroking the back of his neck, you pulled him down so your lips were next to his ear.

he shuddered at the feeling of your breath fanning against his skin, a sigh falling from his lips as you trailed your foot along the side of his hip up to his torso. “please, rafe? i might cry if i have to my own fingers again..it’s been too long,” you whispered, “what will it take for you to fill me up with your cock instead?” rafe cursed under his breath as soon as he heard your lewd words, his hands working to get you out of your clothes so he could give both of you some kind of relief. you shivered once you were left in your bra and panties, your eyes beaming up at the man in front of you as you slowly removed the lacey material.

maybe it was because rafe was still fully dressed, but you couldn’t help but feel overexposed as he ogled your chest, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing up and down as he took your tits in the palms of his hands. “holy fuck,” he laid you back, letting his touch roam your body as you squirmed with anticipation, “the camera doesn’t do you justice, baby, you’re fucking gorgeous.” your stomach erupted in a fit of butterflies at the nickname. “and these..” he tugged at your underwears, his jaw clenching once he caught a glimpse of your glossy folds.

in no time, rafe had your thighs shaking around his head, your back arching off of the plush mattress as you clawed at his hands in a desperate attempt to ground yourself from the pure, white hot pleasure coursing through your tummy. “rafe!” you squealed, your entire body buzzing with need as you felt his fingers prod at your entrance. “you taste so good, ‘pretty, m’gonna have to keep you on your back for me all fucking day from now on.” he cursed, flicking his tongue against your overstimulated clit. you felt like a puddle of nothing once he had his digits curled inside of you, his fingertips continuously hitting that sweet spot that made you jolt with each stroke.

“t-too much!” you shook your head, your hips drawing away from his mouth. he chuckled, his strong grip on the curves of your waist making you hiss in pain. “this can’t be too much for you already, i’m just getting started..” you whined helplessly, feeling the band in your stomach snap for the second time already, the motions of his digits eliciting wet squelches from your cunt as you writhed uncontrollably beneath him.

with your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, rafe removed the hand he had inbetween your thighs and slipped his fingers inside your mouth, his tongue still working skillfully on your sensitive bud as he forced you to taste yourself. you moaned, sucking on his digits without a second thought. “you’re so fucking hot, i love it.” he grumbled, grinding his clothed erection into the sheets, desperate for any kind of friction he could get as he leaked precum from merely giving you pleasure.

he brought you down from your high until your breathing slowed and you were dragging him up to kiss you once again. rafe’s lips molded to yours so perfectly, you cupped his chin and pecked the tip of his nose before slipping out from under his body. rafe didn’t ask any questions as you grabbed his hand and guided him back up to his feet. how you managed to stand up after being overstimulated into oblivion? you don’t know, but you were determined to get rafe out of his clothes one way or another.

rafe watched as you lifted his shirt above his head, the thin material of his t-shirt getting lost on the floor somewhere as you stared at his glorious build. “as much i hated you, i always thought you were stupidly hot.” rafe snorted at your words, his eyes following the way your fingertips trailed down his pecs to his v-line. “hated?” he repeated, noting the past-tense of your statement. meeting his eyes, you blinked softly before pressing another kiss to the corner of his lips. “yeah, hated.”

within seconds, you had dropped to your knees, biting your lip at the sight of rafe bulging out of the denim material of his jeans. looking up at him with sultry eyes, you palmed him through his pants, his nostrils flaring slightly as you took your time getting him out of his boxers. oh and once you did, you were gobsmacked. you’ve spent so much time daydreaming about this cock, just wishing it was the one thing putting you to sleep instead of your fingers, and now that it was standing in front of you, you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together at the sight.

you smiled sweetly before placing your hands on the back of his knees, the man above you already fisting your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you licked a long stripe up the underside of his cock, his hips bucking at the pleasure shooting into his core. “o-oh, fuck..” he swallowed thickly, watching as your sparkly lips enveloped the head of his cock, your tongue swirling around his aching tip with ease. you moaned around his length, taking him inch by inch until your nose nudged his pubic bone.

blinking up at him through your eyelashes, you slowly pulled off of him, holding him at the base as he watched you trace your lips with a mix of spit and precum. “you’re gonna get it.” was the last thing rafe said before he pulled your head back down on his cock, a muffled whine sounding from your mouth before you felt his tip hit the back of your throat. rafe’s head rolled to the side, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. your grip tightened around his legs, your eyebrows pinching together as rafe groaned, his muscles constricting underneath his skin.

“i imagined this for so long..” he said through gritted teeth, “..since way before we even started texting.” you moaned at the revelation, grateful that he took the hint and let you slide off of him for a moment so you could breathe. gasping once you were able to get a full breath, rafe cursed when his eyes landed on the thick string of saliva still connecting your lips to his cock. “why didn’t you do something about it, then?” rafe shook his head, letting go of your hair before landing a playful smack across your cheek. “you know what? that’s a really good question, ‘think you would’ve been okay with me stuffing your mouth back then?”

you giggled, licking your lips before getting up and pushing him down on the bed. rafe brought you down with him, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you kissed him sloppily. feeling him like this, skin to skin, made a weight that you didn’t even know was there lift from your heart, your soft hands stroking his chest as he held you in his big arms. snaking down his torso, you pressed a trail of kisses down his stomach until you reached his length, wrapping a hand around his base.

“tell me, rafe,” you scooted down so you were straddling his thighs, “would you have even had the balls to take me the way you wanted?” rafe’s chest rose and fell as you stroked him languidly, his eyes struggling to stay open as you watched him with that dark gaze of yours. “nah, i didn’t think you’d be able to take it.” you smiled, taking your bottom lip between your teeth before you picked up your pace, the action making rafe’s hips buck. “ah, fuck!” he heaved, his jaw falling slack as he felt himself teetering the edge of euphoria.

“already gonna cum?” you teased, “so fucking pathetic.” rafe blinked, his jaw tightening at your words. he couldn’t let you win this easily. despite it feeling impossible, he mustered up the strength to stop your ministrations, grabbing your shoulders and pinning you down beneath him. “you might be royalty out there, but in here? with me? you don’t get to have your fucking way. you’re nothing.” you gasped, your heart beating in your ears as he threw your legs over his shoulders.

suddenly you didn’t have the same confidence from earlier now that rafe had you right where he wanted you, his cock sitting snuggly between your folds. your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of him teasing your clit, a shaky breath leaving your lips as he entered you slowly. rafe buried his face in your neck, his teeth nipping the sensitive flesh there. your eyes watered at the stretch, a small cry emitting from your throat. rafe looked down at you and made sure you were okay before thrusting into you, both of you moaning in unison.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he praised you, “better than what i could’ve ever imagined.” he pressed a kiss to your calf, pressing a large palm over your lower stomach. you squeaked at the pressure, your toes curling as he fucked into you with vigor. “i wonder what people would think of you if they knew you were a cock hungry slut,” he started thumbing your clit, your hands shooting up to dig crescents into his biceps, “i should mark you up, ‘show everyone who the fuck you belong to when they see us out.”

you don’t know why, but the idea of walking around with rafe, everyone’s eyes falling on you two in every room you enter, turned you on beyond belief, especially at the prospect of being littered with bruises and hickeys from none other than the man on top of you. “i want that,” you whimpered, “want’ everyone to know you’re mine too.” rafe groaned. all he’s wanted to hear since you two started this whole thing. that he was yours.. that you wanted him the way he wanted you.

rafe wished so badly that he didn’t refrain from letting himself cum over the course of these last few months, because then maybe he wouldn’t be close to blowing his load this soon. “still think i’m pathetic if i cum right now?” rafe trailed his lips across your collarbone, his forehead nudging your chin as you nodded breathlessly. “oh, totally.” you laughed, the smile from your face being wiped off as soon as rafe picked up his speed on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“i guess that’s gonna make two of us then..” you had heavy tears rolling down your cheeks when your high washed over you in waves of pure ecstasy, your legs trembling as you thrashed against him. you lost all ability to speak or think, rafe’s hips coming to a stop as he pulled out, still stroking his length as he emptied himself over your drenched folds. rafe shuddered, watching the way his cum painted your pretty cunt. you were left clenching around nothing, a pout forming on your lips.

“w-why didn’t you just cum inside me?” you stuttered, rafe’s eyes widening at your display of offense. “well i wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with that—” you cut him off, clamping a hand over his mouth before reaching down and guided his tip over the mess he made. “put it in me.” your had seen plenty of gazes turn dark before, but rafe’s was just incomparable. he was distraught, the look on your face sending him into overdrive. he did as you said, his mind churning with a thousand thoughts at once.

you took every drop like a champ, his eyes hanging low as he collapsed next to you, pulling you into his side. cradling his head to your chest, you reveled in the feeling of his arms being wrapped around you, both of you panting softly in an attempt to catch your breaths. staying in this position for what seemed like forever, you blinked once rafe’s voice broke you out of your post-sex bliss. “what made you change your mind?” he asked, running his fingertips up and down the column of your spine.

“my mind was already made up..” you whispered, “i just needed to put my ego away and finally choose something for myself.”

at your words, rafe pulled you into a heated kiss, which only then lead to round two and three and so on until you were barely able to hold yourself up in the shower. you and rafe slept in the next morning, both of you spending the rest of the week seemingly catching up with all of the pent up sexual frustration you two shared until it was time to go back home and do it all overs again. your phone had been blowing up with unanswered calls and texts from chanel, your best friend worried sick about you and your sudden disappearance. “where the fuck have you been?! i was starting to think i should file a missing persons report!” she shouted.

“i promise i’m going to explain everything. meet me at our brunch spot in ten minutes.. and feel free to bring topper..”

“how did this happen?!” chanel squealed excitedly, looking between you and rafe as he draped an arm across your shoulders, your lips finding his. oh, god, where could you even start? “it’s a really interesting story, but trust me when i say you’ll thank me for sparing the details.” you laughed. topper was also mildly confused at his best friend’s sudden attitude change towards you. “blink twice if you need help, bro.” he chuckled nervously, both you and chanel shooting him a glare. “nah, no cries for help over here. i’m right where i wanna be..”

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