#so most of the tears are just related to them in general)

[mishkakagehishka]

Hate being forgetful actually

[noxtivagus]

hdflkjasdklf i'm just thinking of certain characters n stories hehe

[sokosmic]

Astro Observations #8

📧 Scorpio placements love to probe people for information. This is actually something that comes very natural to them and is often an unconscious behavior. Often the Scorpio doesn't even have to do anything. People tend to reveal themselves willingly and unwillingly. This is the nature of Pluto. It naturally uncovers whatever is hidden. Planets in the 8th House can behave this way as well.

📧 The sign in your 3rd House can give clues about the type of work you may be involved in. Because a theme of the 3rd House includes short distance trips, such as your day-to-day commute, the sign ruling this house often goes hand-in-hand with your work. For instance, I have Leo in the 3H. Leo rules government (source: the rulership book by rex e. bills). I have worked in government for almost 20 yrs.

📧 Mutable Signs/Placements move on their own time. Even if they are punctual, their desire to do things when they want takes priority. It's the nature of scattered energy.

📧 Saturn in the 4th House can indicate karma with the mother or native's family. This placement often requires a lot of obligation to the mother/family . The native feels bound by the obligations and often wishes to escape, but may also feel a sense of duty and embrace their role as the glue in the family. Capricorn ruling the 4th House may also manifest this way.

📧 A 1st House Lilith may attract unsolicited sexual energy. These people have a very natural sex appeal that they may or may not be aware of. And it may not be because of what you would identify as things that are overtly sexy

📧 I've noticed a theme among women with Capricorn in 5th House or Ruler of the 10th in the 4th House is they are often stay at home mothers.

📧 People with Pluto square Mercury have a real tendency to try and tear you down with their words. This isn't always the case, but if threatened or feel they need to gain the upper hand in a conversation, they are very likely to lash out with viscous words. Mars square Mercury can behave similarly, but they are usually the folks that tend to cut others off in conversation.

📧 Cancer placements would much rather purchase you an item than to share that item of their own. It's not that they are necessarily stingy, they just like the security of knowing something belongs to them and exactly when they may need to replace it.

📧 Mars in Libra people can be big procrastinators because they have a tendency towards indecisiveness. These are people who sometimes ride the fence because Libra energy can see all sides.

📧 If you've ever had a terrible experience with a supervisor that goes overboard with micro-managing, it is very likely they are Pluto in Virgo generation. These folks thrive off of getting down to the details, and having some sort of control over outcomes, so nothing goes unnoticed...including EVERYTHING you do lol.

📧 People with Cancer in the 6th House or Aquarius Risings may be annoyingly anal, but in a kinda good way, about taking care of their coworkers or things in the workplace. They may tend to stress over things being out of place or generally keeping up with how things should be "taken care of" in the work environment. This stress can lead to gut and stomach issues, such as ulcers or indigestion. Their daily routines often involves them taking care of things to ensure security for themselves and others.

📧 My studies have shown that the North Node sign and placement, often correlates to the native's Life Path number!

📧 Pisces Mercury / Pisces 3rd House folks are some of the most difficult people [for me] to understand at times! Their minds and mode of communication can be very abstract, which isn't hard to follow (especially if you are Mutable/Mercurial like me), but at times it's like you think they are saying one thing, but their theory isn't translating into a relatable, concrete concept. And there's nothing wrong with that. Pisces Mercury people are HIGHLY creative and artistic. These are your fashionistas, makeup artists, musicians, and poets. They also make great actors.

📧 Moon in Gemini folks can be some of the best storytellers! They use lots of funny words and phrases to express their emotions through their stories. They often get a bad rap for switching up often, but to me, they have an impressive way of intertwining emotions and intellect. If I had to describe them in 2 words, it would be plot twist lol.

📧 Neptune in the 5th House can cause pregnancies to be elusive or deceptive in some form, such as false signs of pregnancy or having difficulty carrying pregnancies to term.

These are my observations and opinions. Take what resonates and leave what doesn't!

-So.Kosmic 👽💜💫

[fantastic-nonsense]

I think people who genuinely wanted Percy to rebel against the gods and overthrow the system kind of...miss the whole point of the series

The question is not whether or not the gods deserve to rule; the books are kind of unambiguous that they don't! That the gods are generally undeserving of their children's loyalty is the one thing that Percy and Luke both agree on! But PJO is less about divine right to rule vs. ruling via consent of the governed and more about improving dysfunctional family systems. It's not about whether unfair rulers deserve to continue ruling; it's about forcing the gods to be better, fairer rulers and a better, fairer family given limited alternatives.

Because what are the alternatives, as presented to us within the scope of the original PJO series?

Option 1: allow Kronos to topple Olympus and take over. Clearly not a viable alternative for all of the reasons the books show us.

Option 2: the demigods overthrow the Olympians and rule the world themselves. Okay. How's that going to work out long-term, given demigods are mortal and cannot control or protect their parents' domains? Demigods will die out within a generation or two, so that's potentially a one-generation short-term solution, and then everyone's right back where they started. Except worse, because now the world has been out of divine balance for a century and the gods have a completely legitimate bone to pick with all demigods. Materially worse outcome.

Option 3: demigods ignore the gods and their will entirely. They integrate into the mortal world, refuse to participate in quests or talk to their parents, and pretend prophecies don't exist. Except that's clearly not a viable option, since we see that demigods usually can't safely exist in the mortal world without monsters coming after them, the gods are cruel enough to use blackmail and engage in hostage situations to get demigods to act as heroes, and prophecies have a way of coming true regardless of everyone's best attempts to circumvent them. Again: materially worse outcome.

And for Percy, for the demigods at Camp Half-Blood, for Luke and for everyone else who defected....for the most part, they don't actually have an inherent problem with the gods ruling them. They just want to be acknowledged, valued, and loved by their families, to be treated as more than a tool for their parents to wield whenever their services are needed. That was the core thesis of the demigod rebellion, which was wholly separate from Kronos' specific motivations for overthrowing the Olympians, and it's why Percy's asks at the end of TLO were what they were.

The point was always that had Percy grown up in a slightly more dysfunctional family environment...had he grown up with Frederick Chase's seemingly conditional love or May Castellan's madness instead of Sally Jackson's steady, quiet, unconditional love...he could have turned out like Luke. Like Ethan. Like the dozens of demigods who defected from camp to join Luke's cause. Percy could have turned out just as a bitter and angry and vengeful. Just as ready to tear down the system. Just as willing to betray and kill his own family for the sake of making a point.

But instead, Percy openly reprimands the gods for abandoning their families and using them as cannon fodder in their own petty disagreements. He forces them to acknowledge and claim their children. He demands that everyone who is part of the godly family be recognized and accepted, not just those related to the Twelve Olympians. He asks for those unjustly punished (like Calypso) to be set free and accepted back into the family. Because that's the point at the end of the day: not forcing bad rulers to step down, but changing an insanely dysfunctional family system that the gods and demigods are all members of into a better, safer, and more accepting environment for demigods to grow up and live in.

Overthrowing the gods wouldn't solve the problem at the heart of the series, which is the gods' shitty parenting and family management skills. It would only exacerbate the massive familial fault-lines that Kronos exploited and leave the demigods open to more godly manipulation. Which is why the series ends as it does, with Percy using his wish to tangibly improve the lives of his family instead of selfishly improving his own life (via accepting immortality/godhood) or overthrowing the gods. Because the conflict isn't about the gods as rulers. It's about the gods as parents.

PJO's core thesis is Percy, who grew up knowing unconditional familial love, looking at this whole world of children who didn't and saying "that's not fair. Gods should be better than this!" But instead of destroying them the way Luke wants to, instead of overthrowing them and putting himself on the throne, he instead challenges them to be better parents and family members. To be part of the solution instead of the problem. And Percy's demands don't solve everything, but they were necessary first steps! Without forcing the gods to acknowledge a bare minimum floor of inclusion, the cycle would simply begin all over again the next time a major conflict popped up.

So that's the problem Percy solves and how he successfully fulfills the prophecy: by believing that the gods had the capacity to change and forcing them to break the cycle of familial abandonment, he preserves Olympus and takes the first steps towards a new status quo, one that is objectively better for demigods than the one he grew up in. That's why he succeeds, and it's why Percy overthrowing the gods would have made for a much less satisfying ending than what actually happened.

[loveemagicpeace]

🩵Ace of Cups Part 2🩵

✨People with 5th house placements or leo placements want someone who will give them a feeling of childhood and can do childhood things with them. Many times people they know from the past / childhood are closer to them. Because they really want to be able to share their childhood with someone or have someone who knows that side of them.

🎸Mars it has to do with your body parts and what people find most attractive about your body. Mars in Sagittarius - people will find your legs and butt very attractive on you. Mars in Capricorn- people will love your bone shape. Mars and Leo -people will find your hair attractive.

🧜🏽‍♀️Planets in your 1st house are related to your body and how you look. Each planet in the 1st house gives you something that others then see in you as physically attractive. And you also get the most compliments with it. For ex.: Pluto in 1st house-people are attracted to your sexual body, eyes. Moon in 1st house- many times people find your face beautiful, dimples in your face and many times these people have a moon face. Neptune in 1st house - many times people find your eyes attractive (they are usually mystical, dreamy). Uranus in the 1st house - people tend to find you as a unique, different person who has a rare beauty. Mercury in 1st house - people find very beautiful skin on you. Many times they find attractive hands on you. Jupiter in 1st house-people often give you compliments about your figure (in general), many times they find attractive hips on you - these people always have well-shaped hips and ass + belly. Venus in the 1st house - many times people see you as naturally beautiful. Maybe a lot of people like you without makeup. Mars in 1st house- many times you can get compliments on your eyebrows or muscles also neck. Saturn in the 1st house - these people have beautiful teeth, bone shape, often have an attractive collarbone and facial features in general. Sun in 1st house- many times they find beautiful hair on you.

🪴4th house placements / cancer placements differ in that when someone has planets in the 4th house, he will pay more attention to family, family life. He will have more of a feeling for people, and privacy will be very important to them.

🎶Cancer moon feels so many emotions -like every thing. Because this moon is subject to being able to express emotions, it is even more subject to feeling everything. They feel so much but they don’t talk much about it.

🌙Moon in synastry best placements in my opinion: moon in 1st house- because you can express yourself and show emotions to a person. Everything is seen from the outside and at the same time the person knows what you need emotionally. Moon in 4th house - the person gives you a sense of home and comfort. You feel that she will accept all your feelings and somehow you have a feeling of familiarity. There is a lot of connection that is emotional and intuitive. Moon in 7th house - because you feel that this person fulfills you romantically and gives you what you want. We rely a lot on the relationship they have.

🌊When you have 9th house placements places make you cry. When you leave some place you have tears in your eyes. Also you bond with people when you travel with them.

🦋Water/fire combination can make a person very intense and emotional. You feel a lot, but at the same time you want to put your emotions into something or through something (for example: sports, music, dance). Because the fire in you doesn't let you just exist, but forces you to do something.

🐚I personally think that people who have a lot of fire are not so emotionally cold, but just hide it with humor and fun. They look for entertainment to escape the emotions burning inside them. Sometimes it's hard to put all these emotions that burn inside you.

-Rebekah🦋🐚🩵

[theloveinc]

any hobie and/or miguel icks? 😟

whoever sent this: thank you + i ADORE you. i hope you don't mind i'm switching up the formatting/style a it in comparison to my older icks... shorter list, more detailed <3

(warning: some fem terms used at the end, such as “mama!”)

-

Miguel O'Hara

- This guy... has some long ass toenails. Type of toenails that poke you at night in bed, and tear holes in his socks.

It's maybe somewhat related to the claw thing he's got going on? Has a lot stronger and faster-growing nails than the average person... but the real problem here is that he's TERRIBLE about clipping them. Claims it doesn't bother him even remotely and that you're the one overreacting when you ask him to... but hardly anything gets through to him about it. You probably even offer to do it for him one day, thinking the offer of a foot massage would sway his thinking and that it'd actually work... but he fought you on that just as easy...!!!

...which is how you came to the conclusion that you have a man who'll even argue w/ you over toenails. Petty boy.

- Miguel is also tired 24/7. AND yeah, it's pretty hard to be un-sympathetic towards that, but he's tired in the... I'm-gonna-prioritize-this-one-last-email-over-saying-goodnight-to-you way. Which gets real irritating when you're asking him to help you out w/ anything, like cleaning up or answering a question or JUST HAVING A DAMN CONVERSATION W/ YOU and he's using "I'm tired" as an excuse when his response is shitty or distracted.

Like one of those stupid guys whose always squinting at their damn iPad when you ask what he wants for dinner... which is ironic given that he'll get snippy at you for not giving him your full, entire attention whenever he wants it. Type of man to start picking imaginary lint off your head when you're simply trying to finish up a text before engaging him so that you aren't distracted.

- Odd about Lyla. Not that he loves her or anything, but she'll like pop up to give him updates about whatever even if you're MID-MAKEOUT session and he won't change that setting. Pulling away from your lips all pouty and squinty only to glare at his watch for thirty seconds before trying to go right back into kissing you.

No. No sir.

(Lyla will also always say something to or-but-usually-and about you, which... Okay, she's an AI and doesn't Get It... but it's still weird because it feels like someone you don't know just walked into the room.)

- Picks his nose when he's too busy to find a tissue, and forgets to sanitize his hands after. Denies this when you tell him.. but you've witnessed this multiple times (he's weirdly kind of whiney for a dude and lazy for a workaholic LOL).

Hobie Brown

- Lovely boyfriend because he doesn't give a crap about your appearance or the idea of needing to "look nice" for a man... but also stupid, nuisance boyfriend because this means he doesn't give one hoot if you try to get all gussied up for him. Nags you about wasting time getting ready because he doesn't need you to do all that instead of just saying "THANK YOU, YOU LOOK NICE." Even probably complains about you feeding into gender stereotypes or w/e when you do something like shave your legs or pluck your eyebrows😭

You try to talk to him about this, ask if he even cares that you tried to look nice, and he skirts around admitting it because he has an argument for everything. "'oughta know I think you're pretty either way"-ass when you just spent an hour trying to look all good for him.

- Tries to share the most obscure music with you... which is like, sweet in concept, but weird when it actually happens since it's never like a generic love song but an eleven minute underground jam session.

Which isn't to say he has bad taste in music, usually it's fine if not fantastic... but you try to tell him you don't want to listen to some dude's first draft of himself banging on a drum set for a full album and he's like: "tsk."

HOBIE. TSK??? FUCKING TSK????????? WHAT ABOUT WHAT OTHER PEOPLE LIKE????????

(He'll also use his to get out of listening to your music. Claiming his "inconsistency" is why he liked your playlist yesterday but not today. Stop!!!)

- And you know I gotta say it, he's a punk, after all: absolutely refuses to clean his favorite leather jacket, and it smells RANK. He's genuinely sentimental about it, though... and if you even try to bring up cleaning it somehow (even if very gently), he's acting like you betrayed him. Goes through the five stages of grief over you asking him not to wear it on one of your dates, and teases you by TALKING to it:

"Mumma didn't mean that, jackie. She just doesn't understand our lifestyle, does she?" while giving you a (lighthearted) stink eye.

[dfortrafalgar]

hihi

I hope you're doing well :>

Can I request a law x reader period comfort fic that's just pure fluff. with the back rubs and all the good stuff??

Thanks!!

thank you so much for your request anon! I actually got two period-related requests, so i decided to combine them into one fic, i hope that's alright! im currently under the onslaught of the red devil myself as of right now, so writing this was perfect for me. i hope its perfect for you both as well!!!

Warm Away the Pain

Law x Fem Reader

Heat pads, chocolates, and painkillers are nice, but nothing helps your period more than being in the presence of the Surgeon of Death.

Warnings: some suggestive language, mild descriptions of period symptoms, menstruation in general! lots of fluff with our favorite surgeon <3

“Just take this thing out of me!”  Your tears were streaming rapidly down your puffy cheeks as you forced open the door to the medical bay, clutching your abdomen and hunching over with the agony ripping through your gut.  Your cramps had days where they were better or worse, but today seemed to be the most awful they had ever been.  You had barely been able to walk from the Captain’s quarters to the medical ward, the force of each step against the cold metal floors of the Polar Tang sending another stabbing burn directly through your uterus.  It wasn’t like you were new to experiencing menstruation aboard a deep-sea submarine, either, but today seemed particularly keen on making you as miserable as humanly possible.  

Law was caught by surprise when you entered, your voice cracking as you sobbed.  His golden eyes were wide with shock as he turned in his chair to face you, ignoring the stack of paperwork he was previously fixated on and immediately standing, crossing the floor in broad steps to capture your face in his hands.  His thin eyebrows were scrunched in concern, a prominent crease in the skin above his nose.  “Hey, baby, breathe for me,” he coaxed, rubbing your swollen, tear-stricken skin with the pad of his thumb.  “Breathe.  Tell me what’s wrong.”

You knew you were being irrational.  You had dealt with cramps for years before you met Law, but when you had spent the better part of six hours with nonstop scorching irons being driven through your uterus, rationality was the furthest thing from your mind.  You sunk into your boyfriend’s shoulder, his lanky arms looping around you to support your weary form, carefully guiding you to the hard examination table in the corner of the medical room.

“My cramps…” you heaved.  “They’re so bad.  I’m in so much pain.  I just want you to take this damn thing out of me.  Put me out of my misery, even.”

Law’s tiny smile was sympathetic as he gazed down at you, one hand stroking your forehead and the other placed gently above your lower abdomen, providing fleeting touches over where your shirt covered your skin.  Your muscles definitely felt tender, and you were certainly bloated, all tell-tale symptoms of a particularly bad menstruation cycle.

“How about we start with painkillers and some external remedies,” he offered, his usually stoic, cold voice now soft and soothing as he placed a fleeting kiss over your nose.  The privacy that the medical bay provided allowed him to comfortably litter you with tender affection away from the prying eyes of your crewmates.  “When you start to feel better, and you still want a hysterectomy, we can discuss it.”

Your eyes slowly opened, darting to meet him.  “A hysterectomy?”

“The surgical removal of your uterus,” he clarified.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows slightly.  “Maybe not…” you muttered.  “Let’s go with your painkiller idea.”

Your sudden attitude switch made a small chuckle bubble from Law’s lips as he turned away from you and paced toward the medicine cabinet, procuring a decently sized pill and a small metal cup of water.  The white capsule was in the palm of his hand when he returned to your front, holding the items out for you to take.  Despite the uncomfortable size of the medicine, you swallowed it with no issue helped by a generous gulp of the lukewarm water from the Tang’s filtration tap.  The mild, salty aftertaste of the refined liquid lingered on the back of your tongue.

“That should take about 30 minutes to kick in,” Law muttered, taking the cup from your hand once more to sanitize it.  “In the meantime, we can try some other remedies.”

“What do you have?” you asked, gazing skeptically around the dark, sterile room.

“We have a few heat pads that Ikkaku brought with her when she joined, a bath, cinnamon or ginger tea…” he rambled, cleaning out and drying the cup, turning around to lean against the counter to face you.  “Massages can help relieve the tension in your muscles.  Or you can orgasm.”

Heat rushed to your face.  “How do you know that?”

Law’s own cheeks tinted with a very faint blush.  “Reading,” he stated bluntly.

The gaze he directed toward you told you everything you needed to know- he had done more than his fair share of research on feminine health as soon as the two of you solidified your relationship.  But as much as the idea of being swept off your feet by your doting captain and carried to your shared quarters for some time under the sheets sounded tempting, the rippling cramps flowing through your lower belly silenced the sultry thought almost instantaneously.

“A massage sounds pretty nice… and a hot bath…” you muttered, awkwardly fiddling with your fingers.

You were half expecting Law to simply nod and tell you to run yourself a bath, leaving him alone to continue his work in peace and quiet.  The surprise that jolted you from your quiet demeanor was more than welcome, however, when he stepped across the room to plant a swift kiss against your soft lips.  His own were curled in a small grin, reserved yet still so genuine that it made your heart flutter within the confines of your ribcage.

“If you give me about 10 minutes to clean up here,” he began, nodding his head in the direction of his paperwork left on the counter from when you originally entered, “... then I’ll meet you in the washroom.  Alright?”

With heat thrumming through your veins, your boyfriend’s proximity so close you could feel the way his scent practically blanketed around you, you meekly nodded, barely uttering a peep.  He helped you down from the examination table, his calloused hand firmly holding yours, and placed one more kiss against the back of your neck as you exited the medical bay and began your trek to the Polar Tang’s washroom.  The entire submarine only had one designated bathing area, with a few shower stalls and a toilet and sink, along with a deep, metal bathtub in the corner.  While the crew usually followed a strict schedule for bathing time, it was very rare that anyone would be using the space in the middle of the day.

A grin tugged on your lips as you walked through the narrow corridors.

—

You were already submerged in the bathtub when Law entered, steam rising off the surface of the water as you sunk yourself up to your neck in the hot liquid, a thin layer of lavender-scented bubbles floating around the surface of the water and covering bits of your glistening skin.  Your eyes were closed in bliss as the sweet, herbal scent decompressed you from the inside out, but Law’s delicate chuckle broke you from your trance.  He had a small, unlabeled bag in his hands which he placed on the sink counter.

“Looks like you barely need a massage,” he hummed, slipping his shirt over his head and folding it neatly on top of your clothes.  He had absolutely zero need to remove his shirt if he didn’t plan on sitting in the tub with you, but you weren’t about to complain against the wonderful view presented to your sight.

“I still need a massage,” you quickly quipped back, sitting up straighter in the hot water.  You leaned your arms out over the side, hands flexing in a motion to encourage your beloved to come closer and grace your taught skin with the presence of his deft fingers.  Your eyes found the bag Law had entered the bathing room with.  “What’s in the bag?”

Law took the parcel and, after slipping off his socks, knelt beside the bathtub next to you.  He opened the paper container and held it out in front of you.  “Milk chocolates.”

Your eyes lit up, a sopping wet hand dipping into the bag to procure one of the bite-sized morsels, an aluminum wrapping surrounding the sweet.  You carefully unwrapped it with eager hands and glittering eyes as Law watched, the corners of his eyes creased with his smile.  When the chocolate finally passed your lips and sat on your tongue, you melted further into the bathtub, the sweetness of the candy flowing and mixing effortlessly with the supple scent of lavender floating through the air.  Law almost dropped the bag to grab your shoulders, afraid you would slip under the water.

“Law, you’re too good to me,” you mumbled, your eyes closed and your lips pursed as you sucked on the chocolate, savoring the sweetness on your tongue.

“No such thing as ‘too good’ in my eyes,” he retorted, a playful lilt in his voice.  He returned the bag to the sink counter before taking his place behind your shoulders, stretching his hands before they found purchase against your skin.

Law was good at many things, but the way his fingers worked the knots out of your back and shoulders was a level of bliss unlike any other.  Sure, food, bathing, and sex were great, but the feeling of your muscles pulling apart and relaxing with each rotation of his wrists and press of his thumb pads into your soft skin was euphoric.  He worked out taught portions you didn’t even know you had, your shoulders slowly sinking downward as he rubbed you into oblivion.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice low, reverberating off of the metal walls surrounding you.

“Like I could die happily at any moment,” you replied, the chocolate in your mouth now fully melted and gone down your throat.  “Has anyone ever told you you’re a god with those hands of yours?”

Law chuckled, the feeling of his shoulders bouncing coming through his hands on your skin.  “Once or twice.  This girl on my crew likes to tell me that.  Not sure if you’ve ever met her.”

Your lips curling into a smirk, you happily played along with his banter.  “Hmm… can’t say I have.  Describe her for me?”

“She’s really over dramatic.  She came into my office this morning complaining about some period cramps.  I’ve seen her take hits from swords and bullets on the battlefield with less griping.”  A laugh bubbled from his chest as you swiftly pivoted below the water, splashing his bare skin with the warm bath water.

“Well I think she was being perfectly rational!” you retorted, leaning back against the tub and allowing your boyfriend to resume his ministrations against a particularly rough not off to the left side of your spine.  “Period cramps are no laughing matter.”

“So I’ve heard…” he mumbled back, his smirk remaining on his face as he worked.  “It’s alright, though.  She’s cute when she whines.”

More heat flowed through your arteries, unrelated to the temperature of the bath you were submerged in.  If you stayed in here any longer, you were convinced you might pass out by overheating.  Wouldn’t be the first time, the water heater in the Tang’s boiler room was no joke.

Law leaned forward once more and placed a smattering of kisses along your damp shoulders.  “Really, though, how are you feeling?  Has the bath helped?”

You nodded, leaning your head back against his tattooed chest, your eyes closed.  “I’m feeling a whole lot better… still pretty achy, but I think the pain medicine has finally kicked in.  My cramps aren’t nearly as bad as they were this morning.”  

Law’s hands traveled from your shoulders to your arms, basically draping his body over you to rub tender circles against your inner wrists, submerging his own hands under the water.  “As much as I hate to ruin the moment, it’s not good to stay in a hot bath for too long.”  He took your hands from below the surface, holding your palms inward to face you.  “You’re pruning.”

Indeed, the pads of your fingers had become incredibly wrinkled with how long you had been bathing.  Your palms were showing prominent ridges in your skin.  “All good things must come to an end,” you uttered wistfully, leaning forward to pull the plug on the bath drain.

“Not necessarily,” Law stated back firmly, standing up and stretching his lean back.  “I have the rest of the day free thanks to Uni and Clione’s watch shift.  Whatever you want to do to make you feel better, I’m here.”

You turned toward your boyfriend, eyes widened with pure shock.  “Are you serious?”

An affirmative nod and a sly smile answered you.  As the water drained from the basin, you gingerly stepped out of the tub and enveloped the Surgeon of Death in your arms, now desperate for another source of warmth as your skin pierced against the contrasting cold air of the surrounding bathroom.  “The entire day?” you asked, reaffirming what you had just heard.

“The next 13 or so hours,” he replied, his hands taking up their usual perch against the small of your back, rubbing small circles into the tiny knots situated near your rump just as he had been doing to your shoulders.

“You mean you have time to cuddle?  And read Sora?  Or make me something good to eat for dinner?”  Your eyes were practically shimmering as you gazed up at the captain.

“Well I can’t promise any good food, but the cuddling and Sora I can guarantee,” he offered, releasing you from his grasp long enough to snatch a towel from the nearby linen shelf and drape it around your goosebump-riddled shoulders.  “I grabbed one of the heat packs from Ikkaku and put it in our room.  I can see who’s on cooking duty tonight to make you a good meal.”

You grinned from ear to ear, your skin thrumming with the bountiful affection your beloved showered you in.  You carefully tucked the corner of the towel that wrapped around your body under your armpit to hold it in place, Law’s hands dropping from your shoulders to your hips, thumbs rubbing small circles into your pelvic bone through the rough fibers of the aged towel.

“Go get dressed into something comfy,” he uttered, his voice low.  “I’ll meet you back in bed, hopefully with some food that you’ll like.”

You leaned forward, trying to ignore the subdued throbbing in your abdomen that returned once out of the warm, soothing bath, and placed a kiss on the tip of Law’s pointed nose.  “Aye aye, captain.”

—

The feeling of soft cotton surrounding your skin was beyond blissful as you sprawled out on the bed you shared with Law, almost taking up the entire space with your outstretched limbs.  The heat pack from Ikkaku was laid across your belly above the sweatshirt you stole from your boyfriend, providing a comforting heat that relaxed the muscles contracting in your abdomen with every movement.  If this was how bad your cramps could get, you didn’t even want to imagine how awful childbirth could feel.  You shoved that worrying thought to the back of your mind and let the heat from the fabric pack on your body flow through your veins, leaving pleasant electric tingles on the tips of your fingers and toes.  On the nightstand beside your head was a tall glass of water, a bottle of painkillers, and the same bag of chocolates Law had brought into the bathroom with you.  Three discarded chocolate wrappers also dotted the tiny table.  When Law finally entered your room again, his hands carrying a small tray of food from the galley, you barely had the energy to pick your head up to greet him.  Instead, you lazily raised your hand in a small wave before flopping it back down on the blanket beside you.

“How’re you doing?” he asked yet again, moving aside some of the items on the bedside table to place the metal tray down.  The smell of some sort of vegetable soup filled your nose- Hakugan must have cooked tonight.

You simply grumbled, resisting the urge to turn your head.  Every movement seemed to respark the cramps deep in your belly.  “Waiting for the painkillers to kick in again.”

“Is the heat pack helping?” he asked, running his hand gently over the soft skin of your forehead.

“Mhm… kinda,” you whispered.  You slowly opened your eyes, finally meeting the golden ones that gazed back down at you.  “Did you bring soup?”

“Yeah,” he replied, removing his hand from your hairline and crawling onto the bed beside you, slipping his arm carefully over your waist to hold you close to him.  “You don’t have to eat it right now if you don’t have an appetite, but it’s there when you’re ready.”

“Thank you, baby…” you muttered, shimmying closer to his body despite the ache in your legs.  “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me today… honestly.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Law mumbled into your hair.  “I love doting on you.  I just wish I could do it more often.”  His hand idly stroked your abdomen up and down over your heat pack, applying a gentle, calming pressure over the parts of your skin that weren’t as close to your uterus and wouldn’t hurt as much to touch.  “As much as I hate seeing you suffering and in pain, I like days like this.”

“Where you can just relax?” you asked, turning your head to hide your nose in the warmth of his neck.

“Yup,” Law replied.  “Relax with you, more specifically.”

The two of you laid in a calm, peaceful silence, the thrumming of the Polar Tang’s engine reverberating through the walls and the steady cadence of your synchronized breathing lulling your muscles into a deep state of relaxation.  As the ache in your belly diminished with the onslaught of a peaceful slumber, you felt Law press one last kiss to the crown of your head as your body dozed off, ready to sleep off the rest of your aches for the day.

[chvoswxtch]

you gonna let me be good to you?

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: your little slip up forces you and frank to come to terms with your feelings for one another.

warnings: cursing, fluffy frank, mentions of blood (its frank babes), explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 9.7k

a/n: this one goes out to all my frankie lovers <3 I promised this a long time ago and i've literally been working on it for weeks but it didn't feel ~right~ until now. i'm a slut for soft frank, and frank in general, so here's 22 pages of just that. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

Frank Castle was not a man who was easily taken by surprise. He was used to having the upper hand, normally several steps ahead of everyone else, but even in a tight unexpected situation he was able to come out on top. There were very few things left in this world that shocked him anymore. After his time in the marines, and the reputation that preceded him as The Punisher, he had seen and done things most people couldn’t fathom in their wildest imaginations. 

Yet, here he was, staring down at his phone absolutely and completely dumbfounded. As much as he knew he should, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the picture displayed on the screen. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The longer he stared at it, the more he felt his jeans becoming increasingly too tight. His eyes anxiously flickered between the photo, and the door he knew you were just on the other side of. For the first time in a long time, Frank didn’t know what to do. He was completely in shock..because you had just accidentally sent him a photo of yourself in lingerie.

Frank had stopped by your office and asked if you could send him some photos of a few documents that you had found at the library that contained confidential information related to a “case” he was working on. You opted to take photos instead of printing the documents, not wanting it to be tracked back to you or him. Frank had met you through Karen, you were her best friend, and you graciously helped him out from time to time. 

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. He shouldn’t be staring. He should delete the photo and lie through his teeth saying he never got anything. He didn’t want you to be embarrassed. You two were friends, in a way he supposed. As much as anyone could really be Frank Castle’s friend. As soon as the door to your office swung open, Frank whipped his head up in the direction of your voice.

“Hey, did you get the photos? Sorry, I have terrible signal in here. I wanted to make sure you got them before you took off.”

Frank felt frozen. There was no doubt a light shade of pink coated the tops of his cheeks, which he knew he could easily blame on the heat in the building. But if he didn’t get the hell out of there fast, there would be little to no ignoring the effect the photo had on him. He could already feel all the blood in his body rushing straight downwards. Frank cleared his throat awkwardly, looking anywhere but at you, turning his phone over in his hands timidly.

“I uh..think you sent me the wrong thing.”

The furrow of confusion in your brows and the adorable pout that formed on your lips made his cock twitch in his jeans. He let his mind wander for a moment as he thought about how pretty those full lips of yours would look wrapped around the head of his cock. He couldn’t stop his eyes from traveling down your body, now that he knew what was hiding underneath. He paid extra attention to how the fabric of your pencil skirt clung to your curvy hips, and the little taste of cleavage he caught from your blouse that dived into a v-shape just above the swell of your breasts. Fuck. Stop it.

“I didn’t send you the photos of documents?”

“No..you uh..sent me somethin’ else. Somethin’ that uh..wasn’t..meant for me.”

Frank should’ve stopped you from checking your phone to see just what he was talking about. He should’ve brushed it off, told you not to worry and to just send the photos when you had a minute, and gotten the hell out of there. But another part of him was curious about your reaction to your mishap. As you unlocked your phone to check your previous messages with Frank, a sharp gasp suddenly left your lips and your hand flew up to cover your mouth. Your doe eyes were blown wide open as you stared down at Frank in panic. 

“Oh my god, Frank..I-I’m so sorry. Oh my god, I can’t believe I sent you that. I..I’m so..I’m so sorry.”

“S’alright. Honest mistake. I just uh..knew it wasn't for me. Thought you should..be aware, I guess.”

He had to look away. He couldn’t handle the sight of you biting your lip, even if it was innocent. All it did was fuel the sinful thoughts berating around in his head. Sure, he’d always thought you were pretty, even from the moment you two first met. But he never thought more of it. He never thought about you like that until now. Now that he had seen what your body looked like covered in thin black lace. You weren’t exactly naked in the photo, but it damn sure left nothing to the imagination. It awoke something within Frank he was having difficulty taming.

“It..it wasn’t for anyone really.”

You weren’t sure why you said that. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. You knew why. You wanted him to know those photos weren’t for anyone in particular. That no other man had seen that. Frank’s head cocked to the side at your confession, eager for you to continue but staying quiet.

“I..um..that was for Karen.”

If Frank’s cock wasn’t throbbing before, it definitely was now. His eyes widened in surprise, and you must have been able to read his thoughts at that very moment, because you rolled your eyes playfully and giggled as your full lips split into a playful grin.

“Not..not like that, Castle. We just..got drunk one night and somehow got on the topic of lingerie and..I told her I’d never owned any before and..um..wanted to know what it felt like..to wear it. So, she talked me into buying some. We actually bought the same set, hers is pink. But we didn’t remember any of that. So when it came in, Karen sent me a picture of hers and asked how mine looked so I um..sent her one back.”

Frank was thanking any God that was listening that he had brought a backpack today, and that it was currently conveniently placed over his prominent bulge. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was about what you had just said that was driving him absolutely mad. He couldn’t pinpoint if it was the fact that you had taken a photo like that to send to Karen, or the fact that he was the only person besides Karen that had ever seen that photo. That he was the only man that had seen you all dressed up like that. A sudden wave of possessiveness washed over him, and he knew he had to snap out of it. The room felt like it was shrinking and he could feel sweat starting to form along his hairline. He had to get the fuck out of that office. Away from you.

“Oh..well..uh..again, no worries. It..looks nice. Just uh, send me the photos when ya get a minute? Gotta..go meet a guy. Thanks again.”

Frank was on his feet in a flash and bolting out the door without another word, leaving you there stunned by his reply. His boots thudded heavily against the steps with every furious step he took, swearing at himself along the way.

“Fuckin’ idiot. ‘Looks nice’? Seriously? That’s the best you could fuckin’ come up with? You dumb motherfucker.”

Frank paused at the bottom of the steps, waging an internal moral war within himself. Part of him wanted to turn around, march right back up to your office, tell you what he really thought about the picture, then bend you over your desk and fuck you six ways from Sunday. But he knew better. He couldn’t get involved with you. He couldn’t get involved with anyone. 

»»———　　———««

It had been two weeks since you had heard from Frank. That wasn’t totally unusual. Frank was known to disappear for weeks, even months at a time, then would show back up when he needed something. You had met him several months ago through Karen. You had drunkenly confessed your crush on the big, bad Punisher to her. You knew she had a weird, complicated friendship with Frank. Karen was your best friend, and you two shared a lot of familiar trauma and a complicated moral compass. You both felt like you could understand Frank’s motives, subtly justifying his actions to no one but each other. That was why she knew she could trust you with him.

Seven months ago, Frank had showed up at your door at one-thirty in the morning, completely covered in blood. To say you were surprised was an understatement. Your shock must have been clearly written all over your features when you answered the door to find none other than Frank Castle leaning against the doorway, face covered in fresh bruises and gashes that were dripping with molasses of deep crimson. After what felt like an eternity of silence, he grunted and nodded his head towards you.

“Karen said you were a friend. Knew your way ‘round a first aid kit.”

All the pieces started to slowly come together in your head. Karen was out of town for a conference with the Bulletin. Frank must have come looking for her, and she had most likely redirected him to you in her absence, knowing that you would help him. Frank looked somewhat..nervous? His dark eyes trailed over you with uncertainty, clearly still unsure how trustworthy you were. He must have either been desperate or in a lot of pain to bite the bullet and follow Karen’s instructions to find you. Blinking away your stunned expression, you willed your foggy brain to clear up as you swung your door open wider and held your trembling hand out towards him.

“Oh..yeah, sorry. I..I wasn’t expecting anyone. Um..come in. What uh..what do you need?”

That was the first time you had patched up Frank. Your hands shook slightly with trepidation, due to the fact that Frank was hurt badly and you didn’t want to make it worse, but also due to the fact that you were face to face with the Frank Castle for the first time. Pictures didn’t do him justice. He didn’t make small talk, not that you really expected him to. He sat there silently, grunting every now and then as you stitched him back together and cleaned his various wounds, all the while watching you with complete scrutiny. When he finally passed out from either blood loss or exhaustion, you stayed up all night curled up in the chair across from the small couch his body had completely overtaken. If you hadn’t been so stressed, you might have laughed at the sight of his large body dangling off your tiny couch. 

You checked his breathing every twenty minutes, only stopping after two hours when his large hand darted out to grab onto your wrist carefully. His touch was rough and warm, a juxtaposition you welcomed eagerly. Your eyes widened slightly at just how large his hand was compared to your own, completely covering your fingertips up to the beginning of your forearm. Your breath hitched in your throat as he opened his eyes to look up at you, the moonlight filtering through your curtains illuminating a sliver of his hardened features. An achingly beautiful mosaic of purples and blues were scattered over his face where bruises had begun to bloom like the first day of spring. There was a tiny glint of reverence in his obsidian eyes that nearly knocked the breath out of you.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re hurt, and I really don’t want you to die in my living room.”

“You doubtin’ your own work, doc?”

“I..I’m not a doctor, Frank. Nor any version of a licensed medical professional. I’m an editor for fucks sake. I read manuscripts for a living. I just happen to know my way around a first aid kit because I have three fearless and extremely reckless younger brothers.”

That was the first time, and one of the only times, you ever saw Frank Castle smile. The corners of his mouth curved upwards into the ghost of a miniscule grin. You wanted it to last forever. But as most things with Frank, it was fleeting, and as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished. His large hand gently squeezed at your wrist before letting go. You hated how quickly you already missed the brief contact.

“I ain’t gonna die. Trust me, I’ve had worse. Get some sleep.”

“Frank-”

“Karen trusts you. So do I.”

»»———　　———««

And that was typically how it went over the next few months. If Karen was out of town or busy with a deadline, Frank came to you. Sometimes, he came straight to you anyway, grumbling some excuse about Karen being wrapped up in something. It made your heart swell with pride that you had won Frank’s trust, and that sometimes he came to you just because he wanted to. That he considered you two something along the lines of friends. There were moments that made you question if there was room for more than that. Frank always guided you to the opposite side of the sidewalk when you were out, taking the spot closest to the street himself. Sometimes he placed his large hand carefully on your lower back to usher you in the correct direction if you weren’t paying enough attention to where you were walking, the gentle act sending your brain into a frenzy. He even memorized your coffee order, although he would always insult it and scoff before giving it to you. “You ever try gettin’ any actual coffee with all that sweet shit?” You had tried several times to work up the courage to flirt with him in a way that was light enough it could be played off as banter, but you were never brave enough.

You supposed you could chalk all those little moments up to him just being a gentleman, and anything else you had derived had been a figment of your own imagination. Frank was a stoic, broody, incredibly intimidating man. He was never mean to you, of course. He had never been anything but gentle with you. Still, you were afraid. You could never gauge what he was feeling unless it was anger. He was extremely difficult to read, and he didn’t talk more than he had to. Frank was also a very complicated man, still very clearly in mourning of what he had lost. It felt wrong to invade on that. 

You thought you would eventually get used to the sight of him shirtless, or only in boxers. But unfortunately for you, that day never came. As a matter of fact, every time you saw him begin to shred his torn and bloodied clothes, it only made the ache between your thighs that much more unbearable. He was absolutely captivating. Every inch of muscle was defined perfectly, from his broad shoulders down to the delicious v lines that disappeared beneath the waistband of his briefs. Frank’s arms were bigger than your head, and his hands..God you loved his hands. You wanted to know what they felt like wrapped around your throat, digging into your hips, palming at your chest. You didn’t turn your eyes away from the scars that were scattered across his skin, but they did send fresh cracks throughout your heart every time they were on display. You wanted to trace your fingertips over them, and gently kiss every single one of them away. You knew the scars that covered his skin were nothing compared to the ones you couldn’t see.

There was one night you thought you had finally been caught. Your hands were shaking, not because you were nervous or because the gash on Frank’s hip was really bad, but because he was so close to you, closer than he had ever been. You were on your knees right beside him while he laid back on the couch, arm propped up behind his head showcasing his bulging bicep. Your palm was flat against his lower abdomen, right above the waistband of his briefs, as your other carefully stitched his torn flesh back together.

His dick was essentially staring you in the face beneath the thin fabric and it made it hard to focus. Everytime you moved in closer to Frank, your heart pounded so hard against your ribcage you were certain he could hear it in the silence. Feeling the warmth radiating from the proximity to his skin, skimming the taut muscle under your fingertips, smelling the scent of his musky cologne that filled your small apartment for days even after he left, it drove you wild. Frank chuckled deeply as he placed his large hand completely over yours, tearing your unfiltered attention back to his face.

“You keep shakin’ like that, you’re gonna stab me. I’ve had my fill of bein’ stabbed for one evenin’.”

“I..Sorry.”

“S’alright. I just need ya to relax for me, can ya do that?”

Your mouth went dry at his words. You knew he hadn’t meant for them to sound so suggestive, but it stirred something deep within you. You would do fucking anything that man asked. Letting out a deep breath, you pushed your selfish thoughts to the back of your mind and licked your lips, nodding your head slowly.

“Yeah..yeah, I-I’m sorry. This one’s just..it’s pretty bad, Frank.”

“I’ll live. Take your time, darlin’.”

Oh. That was new. The tone of Frank’s voice was so soft and gentle in comparison to the usual gruffness of it that it made you almost wanna cry. You had never heard him talk to anyone that way, not even Karen. Frank was never aggressive or demanding with you, but he usually wasn’t so soft spoken either. He had certainly never called you anything other than your name before. Frank’s voice was another thing you loved. It was so rough and coarse, the deep bass of it traveled straight to your core every time he spoke.

“Ya’know, we were trained to do this shit. Never know when you gotta piece someone back together while shit’s explodin’ around ya. We were trained for months, ya’know?. I tell ya, first time I ever had to stitch one of my guys up, I was scared shitless. It’s easy to prepare to do somethin’, but ya never actually know what it’s gonna be like ‘til you do.”

That was one of the few times Frank had ever opened up about his past to you, clueing you in to the Frank that might still be there under all the jagged layers of pain and trauma. It made you smile, that he felt comfortable enough to share that with you, like you had won over another small piece of him. A tiny victory. 

“It’s really hard for me to imagine you being scared.”

“I’m still human. Sure, I get scared sometimes. Not as much these days, ya’know. Not as much to lose.”

»»———　　———««

Unbeknownst to you, Frank had spent every single night of the past two weeks with one hand wrapped viciously around his cock and the other death gripped onto his phone with your risque picture on display. He knew it was wrong. He knew he should feel bad about it. Frank really did try to get that picture out of his head. He took cold shower after cold shower, cleaned every single gun in his collection twice, and even tried to take his frustrations out on the unlucky fucks that dared to get in his way. But it was no use. The swell of his cock refused to go down until he paid it some attention. It was relentless and Frank was desperate.

It was supposed to just happen once. Frank was supposed to get it out of his system, delete the picture, and move on. But every night he found a reason not to get rid of it. Every night, he had an excuse. He felt like a raging, horny teenager all over again, fucking his hand into the mattress of the motel bed every night to the sight of you in the barely there black lace, imagining what you would feel like wrapped around him. Frank hadn’t touched himself in weeks, had been too busy and focused to cater to his own needs. But wild imaginations of you had him feeling like he was going to fucking explode if he couldn’t give himself some relief. Throughout the day he was ansty, even more irritable than usual, hardly able to fucking sit still as he thought about what was waiting for him once he got back to his room.

It wasn’t just the picture that preoccupied his mind. Frank felt like he was fucking consumed with you. He found himself thinking about you constantly, wondering how your day at work was, if you were safe, what book you had your nose in this week, what latest bakery treat you were trying your hand at. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, you had grown on him immensely. He made excuses for himself when he would opt to visit you instead of Karen. He tricked himself into believing that Karen was busy instead of facing the truth that he just wanted to see you. Just wanted to hear your laugh when he said something you thought was funny. Just wanted to borrow another book from your collection to get a glimpse into your mind. Just wanted to pretend to be a burden when you offered to let him stay for dinner because it was the only fucking sense of normalcy he had these days. Just wanted to feel your soft touch on his skin as you carefully mended all of the parts of him that were torn and broken, even the parts you couldn’t see.

That picture shed a light on something that Frank had been desperately trying to ignore since the moment he met you and experienced your undeserved kindness. A feeling Frank swore he would never, and could never, encounter again. Part of him felt guilty. How could he be infatuated with another woman when he was still waist deep in revenge for the one he lost? The other part of him could no longer deny how badly he wanted you. That curtain had been pulled back, a glaring spotlight on everything Frank had tried to hide from these past few months. There was no more pretending.

Frank had a choice to make. It was either give in, or let you go. For good. His struggles with his feelings for you were beginning to get in the way of his work and if he wasn’t careful, he was gonna make a mistake in a big way. He had to make a choice, and fast, consequences be damned.

»»———　　———««

You had just finished getting out of a steamy shower, humming softly to yourself as you rubbed your favorite velvet amber and patchouli scented lotion all over your damp skin. After letting your hair down from the messy knot on top of your head, you put on a pair of silky sleep shorts and a tank top, slipping a pair of fuzzy socks onto your feet. You continued to hum as you padded through the open living room to the kitchen that was connected, not even noticing the dark figure sitting in the corner that was silently observing you. As you reached for a wine glass from the cabinet, a deep voice cut through the quiet and burst your blissful ignorance. 

“You really need a security system.”

You jumped with a squeal at the sound of the voice, instantly whipping around to face the dark figure with widened eyes. You had a few candles burning on the coffee table that cast an ambient golden glow over your apartment. You had planned a relaxing evening for yourself and decided not to run up your electricity bill when you had so many candles that you had been excited to burn. Your heart beat frantically in your chest as you squinted your eyes, trying to make out the silhouette in the corner.

“S’just me, darlin’. Don’t freak out.”

“Frank?”

“Didn’t even reach for a knife or nothin’. Thought I taught you better than that.”

A deep, breathy sigh of relief sounded from you as Frank slowly stood and took a few steps forward into the dim light, his large frame finally coming into view. You rubbed your palms over your face slowly, feeling your nerves start to settle now that there was not in fact an intruder in your apartment.

“Jesus, Frank. You nearly sent me into cardiac arrest. Why didn’t you make any noise when you came in?”

Frank stared at you silently, an unreadable expression plastered over his face. For a moment, he heavily regrets not alerting you that he was here while you were in the shower. Maybe you wouldn’t be wearing those tiny little shorts and a tank top with no bra. He grinds his teeth as he takes in your appearance. He can still see little droplets of water gliding down your collarbones, soaking into the fabric of your tank top. Your hair cascaded over your shoulders in loose waves, and your cheeks were still twinged pink from the heat of the shower. He can smell the scent of your lotion over all the burning candles, and it made his fingers twitch at his sides. 

“Sorry. Tried to holler, but don’t think ya heard me over the shower.”

That was a lie. He had knocked though, and then began to panic when you didn’t answer. It was late on a Saturday, so he knew you weren’t at work. The thought briefly crossed his mind that you could be on a date, but he furiously pushed that to the back of his mind as he fished for his spare key to your place and shoved the door open. His right hand flew to the gun tucked into the belt of his jeans, ready to shoot at whoever as his eyes darted rapidly around your apartment. He only stilled when he heard the sound of running water and the melodic tune of your voice as you sang some fucking pop song he didn’t recognize.

Frank had quietly shut the door, securing both locks into place before taking a seat in the chair in the corner of the room. He closed his eyes and relaxed back against the chair as he listened to you sing in the shower. It was a complete invasion of privacy, but definitely not the worst one he had committed when it came to you. Frank thought you sounded like an angel. He wanted to hear you sing more. Maybe he’d play guitar for you, if you’d sing along. Your voice caused a wave of calm to wash over him that he hadn’t felt in weeks. Although, it was short lived when he heard the water cut off and quickly had to come up with an excuse as to why he was sitting in the dark waiting for you.

You hadn’t noticed the way Frank was looking at you since your eyes were too busy scanning over his entire body for injuries. You tilted your head to the side, brows knit together quizzically as you made your way over to stand in front of him. Normally when Frank showed up like this, he was bloody, and there were wounds to be cleaned or stitched. But you didn’t see anything. No cuts. No scrapes. No bruises. No gashes or bullet holes from what you could tell. Not a single piece of his hair was even out of place. You dipped your head back to stare up at Frank in bemusement.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? I..I don’t see any holes.”

You smiled at your own little stupid joke, but it quickly faltered when you took in the look on his face. Frank had begun to give in a little to your lame attempts to make him laugh, granting you mercy and offering the faintest of smiles or chuckles in response. But he wasn’t smiling, or laughing. His strong jaw was set in a hard line, and his expression was stony. There was something in his eyes though..something unfamiliar you had never seen before.

“I’m fine.”

Both of you stared at one another silently for what felt like hours. You began to feel uneasiness seep into your bones, feeling suddenly even smaller under his harsh gaze. Frank was huge, physically and height-wise. He always towered a good foot over you, which never made you feel unsettled until right now. He looked almost..mad? In that moment, you felt for everyone that had ever been on the receiving end of this menacing look. They didn’t have the luxury of knowing Frank Castle wouldn’t hurt them. Not like you did. Swallowing thickly, you took a shaky breath and spoke softly.

“So..if you don’t need patching up..what do you need, Frank?”

“To confess.”

Frank’s voice had dipped an impossible octave deeper and it caused you to shiver along with sending a flood of wetness between your thighs. You tried not to focus so much on his voice and instead on his words, feeling even more perplexed as they settled in your ears. You tilted your head slightly to the side as you stared up at him curiously.

“I..I’m not sure I’m the best person for the job. I’m not religious, Frank. You know that.”

“Yeah, but you’re the closest thing to an angel I’ve ever seen. Besides, it ain’t that kinda confession.”

Your heart thudded loudly in your ears and you felt warmth creeping onto your face, settling into a deep rosy tint that covered the expanse of your cheekbones. Your lips parted in surprise at his words. Frank had never said anything to you like that before. You had no idea where this was coming from, but you desperately wanted to find out.

“Oh..well..I’m not a cop either.”

“I know that, smartass.”

There was an edge to Frank’s voice that submissed you into silence. He wasn’t in the mood for games or playful banter. This was uncharted territory for you. Frank hadn’t been so impassive since the first night you met him, but he had also never spoken in such a harsh tone to you. It caused you to take a step back, and some kind of recognition flashed in Frank’s eyes about his slip. He wasn’t angry with you. He was angry with himself. He dipped his head for a moment, letting out a deep sigh through his nose before meeting your gaze again with a slightly softer expression.

“I need to confess somethin’ to you, personally.”

You didn’t know whether to speak or not, so you kept quiet, staring up into his dark ebony eyes and trying to find something, anything you could use to decipher his cryptic words. But he gave nothing away. Frank had an excellent poker face. There was nothing there but the emotion that was burning brightly in his stare that you still couldn’t identify. Frank squared his shoulders, bracing himself for whatever reaction you were about to have. It was now or never.

“I didn’t delete it.”

You blinked a few times as you tried to process his words, racking your brain for anything that would make them make sense. Confusion settled onto your features as you waited for Frank to continue, but he didn’t. He just stared at you in anticipation.

“What?”

“The picture. I didn’t delete it.”

It felt like your brain was swiveling back and forth as you tried to keep up. You had been so busy with work the past few weeks, and worrying about Frank, that you had almost forgotten about the photo you had accidentally sent him. Once that lightbulb went off in your head, your eyes widened slightly, lips parting to form an “o” shape, but you still didn’t speak. You had no idea what to say. You were still trying to process what he just said. Why did he say that? What did he mean?

“Oh.”

Frank’s hard stare shifted from your eyes to your full lips, trying to get a reading on what was going through your head. You typically wore all of your emotions, and normally that always helped clue him in to what you were feeling, but right now he couldn’t fucking tell. He could see the scarlet coating your cheeks, but he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment, anger or..something else. But that one simple word you uttered had completely taken him by surprise. His dark brows furrowed as they knit in the middle of his forehead, staring down at you in bewilderment.

“That’s it?”

“I..don’t really know what to say.”

“You ain’t mad?”

“Why?”

Frank cocked his head to the side as he stared down at you. He had prepared himself for a million different reactions from you. He had rehearsed an apology speech, was gonna let you use him as your own personal punching bag, nearly wore a goddamn bulletproof vest just in case. But this..was not in the realm of his expectations.

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“Why did you keep it?”

Frank paused for a moment. Maybe there was a chance to salvage this. He could lie. He could say he just forgot about it, realized his mistake, and wanted to apologize. But you didn’t look mad that he kept it. You looked..intrigued. You weren’t yelling at him, calling him a pervert and tossing him out of your apartment, so he decided to press his luck and take it a step further. Fuck it.

“Because I thought you looked fucking beautiful in it.”

Frank’s words nearly knocked the breath right out of your lungs. You were having a hard time processing them, even as they echoed loudly in your ears over and over again. That fire that was burning in his predatory gaze was now roaring loudly, setting you ablaze along with it once realization set in. It wasn’t anger swirling around in Frank’s eyes, it was lust. 

You had to be dreaming. This had to be a dream. There was no way Frank Castle himself was here, standing in front of you, telling you he thought you were beautiful. Your brain wouldn’t accept it. This had to be some sick, twisted trick your mind was playing on you. Warmth spread between your thighs like wildfire at his admission, the wetness already there doing nothing to put it out. Frank’s stare was unwavering. He wouldn’t tear his eyes away from you. As if he could sense your apprehension, he took a bold step forward and hooked his index finger under your chin, tilting your head back so that you had to look up at him.

“C’mon, darlin. Talk to me. Tell me what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours. ”

“I..I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“You think I’m pretty.”

Frank chuckled lightly, brushing the calloused pad of his thumb experimentally over your cheekbone in a soothing manner. 

“No, I said I think you’re beautiful.”

“Why?”

“The hell you mean ‘why’?”

You couldn’t think of an answer. You couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of Frank lightly dragging his thumb slowly along the edge of your bottom lip, his gaze dropping just for a moment to linger on your mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed at the contact, reveling in the sensation of his touch on you for once. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

Your eyes instantly flew open at his gruff words, and a tiny smirk curled onto the corner of his mouth at your obedience. Cupping your cheek gently, he took a slight step forward to close the gap between you, placing his other hand gingerly on your lower back. He pulled you in languidly until you were flush against him, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort, but he didn’t find any. You melted into his touch, leaning your face into his rough palm like you had dreamed of so many nights before. You weren’t pulling away. You weren’t telling him to leave. You weren’t angry. You wanted this too.

“Atta girl. You been so damn good to me these past few months, sweetheart. You gonna let me be good to you?”

You sighed softly at his words, nodding your head eagerly as your hands flew up to grip tightly onto the collar of his black denim jacket. As you stood up on your tiptoes to capture his lips, both of his large hands grasped onto your waist to keep you in place as he stared down into your eyes with a shake of his head.

“I need words, sweet girl. C’mon, needa hear it. Tell me you want this too.”

“I want it, Frank. Please..please.”

That was all the affirmation Frank needed to crash his lips onto yours like violent waves in a perilous storm. The kiss was hungry and desperate, and you found yourself getting lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. He was everywhere but you felt like you couldn’t be close enough. You fervently shoved the worn denim down his shoulders, letting it fall carelessly onto the floor beneath as your fingers attempted to work on the buttons on his shirt. Frank chuckled against your mouth as he broke the kiss, grabbing both of your wrists in one of his large hands.

“Easy baby, we got all night.”

“But-”

“Shh. Let me take care of you for once, yeah?”

Before you could register what was happening, Frank had wrapped his strong arms around your waist and lifted you as if you weighed nothing, crossing the small space of your apartment in short strides towards your bedroom. You half expected him to toss you down onto the mattress, and were pleasantly surprised when he carefully sat you down on the edge of your bed. You dipped your head back to stare up at him in wonder.

Anticipation buzzed throughout your veins and you felt your breath hitch in your throat when Frank slowly kneeled down in front of you to be eye level with you. His large hands came down to rest on your bare thighs, squeezing gently to get your attention.

“The second I do somethin’ you don’t like, you let me know. At any point you change your mind, or wanna stop, tell me. I won’t be mad. Understand?”

Nodding your head fervently, you surged forward and grasped Frank’s face in your hands, hungrily chasing the taste of his lips. He chuckled against your mouth, tearing himself away which caused you to whine softly as he gently grabbed your wrists.

“C’mon, honey. What’d I tell ya? Need your words. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand Frank just..please..kiss me.”

You didn’t care how needy and desperate you sounded. Months and months of built up frustration were making you more impatient than usual. You had been dreaming about this for so long, and it was finally happening. You found yourself momentarily suspended in belief that Frank actually thought there was anything he could do that you wouldn’t absolutely love. 

“Yes ma’am.”

Frank settled on his knees in between your thighs, grabbing onto the back of your head as his other hand found its home on your waist. Your lips were incredibly soft and tasted of that pink grapefruit chapstick that you were always wearing. As he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, you meekly whined, and the sound went straight to his cock. Frank was caught in tandem between wanting to take his time and worship every inch of you and wanting to be selfish and finally bury himself to the hilt inside of you.

This time when your timid fingers went to work on the buttons of his shirt, he didn’t stop you. He decided to let you set the pace, and would only go as far as you wanted. He tore his hands away from you only for a brief moment as you pushed the shirt over his broad shoulders, instantly returning his touch to every spare expanse of your skin he could find to ground himself to reality. You were here, and you wanted him. 

Your fingertips brushed against every curve of muscle, every raised and indented scar like you had done so many times before, but this time with renewed vigor. Frank’s skin was always so warm and you savored every ember of his heat. His fingertips cautiously slipped under the hem of your tank top, dancing over the exposed skin of your hips as he brought his lips near your ear.

“Can I take this off, honey?”

“Yes.”

You were surprised at how quickly you were able to answer. Lifting your arms above your head, you let Frank tug the soft fabric upwards, letting out a soft hiss when the chill in the room nipped at your exposed chest. Frank’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of you nearly naked before him, a low groan emitting in the back of his throat. He didn’t hesitate to lean in and latch his mouth around one of your peaked nipples causing a soft moan to tumble from your lips. The warmth of his mouth contrasted so sharply with your cold bedroom that it had your head spinning. You arched your back to grant your chest fully to Frank, becoming a whimpering mess as his large hand fondled your breast and played with your other nipple. You gripped onto the back of his neck, growing wetter by the second from his delectable assault on your chest.

“Frank..please..”

“What is it baby? What do ya need, hm? Tell me what ya need, I’ll give you anything. Anything you fuckin’ want.”

“Please touch me.”

You should be embarrassed at how breathy you sounded, already so worked up from so little. But that was just the effect Frank had on you, and he fucking loved it. He loved how responsive you were to his touch, and his words. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your little shorts and panties, giving the elastic on both a faint tug.

“Gotta take these off. Gonna let me do that, hm?”

“Please.”

Frank thought he was gonna cum in his pants just from the way you were already begging for him. He had barely even touched you yet, and his excitement only grew for how you would react when he finally did. In a flash, you were completely bare before him, and Frank thought you were the most beautiful fucking thing he had ever seen. Leaning in closer, his broad shoulders spread your thighs further apart to give him a better view of your glistening cunt, and he was fucking done for.

“Fuck sweetheart. You been like this the whole fuckin’ time?”

You shuddered at the ravenous look in Frank’s eyes as he zeroed in on your soaked pussy. The wetness that had accumulated since his confession had grown unbearable, and you just needed him to do something. Anything. 

“Everytime you’re around.”

Frank’s eyes darkened considerably as they flickered up towards your face, a wicked glint dancing around in his irises. 

“That right?”

Capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, you nodded your head quickly, feeling heat spreading even further throughout your thighs.

“My poor girl. That’s just fuckin’ mean of me, ain’t it? You take such good care of me, and I leave you like this. Fuckin’ cruel of me. You gonna let me take care of you now?”

Frank's large hands slowly inched up your thighs, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the tops of them. He stared you down intently as he braced his palms on your inner thighs, spreading you open completely for him. Raising his hand up slowly, he hovered his thumb over your clit as he waited for your answer. 

“Please, Frank.”

“Atta girl.”

The contact of his rough thumb pressing against your clit had you jolting upwards, a surprised gasp leaving your mouth without warning. Frank gripped onto your hip to keep you steady, using his index finger to collect some of your slick before starting to rub slow, purposeful circles around your clit. You moaned at the relief you felt when he touched you, grabbing onto one of his shoulders to tug him in closer. Frank fucking loved the way you sounded, and he wanted more of it. He slowly increased his speed, applying more pressure here and there before slowly slipping his index finger inside of you. He took a moment to gather himself at how tight you felt around just his finger, his cock twitching in his jeans at the thought of how easily he could ruin you for any other man.

“There we go, that’s my good girl. Go on, move those hips. Just like that baby. C’mon sweetheart, take what you need.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your hips against Frank’s hand, watching the way his arm flexed everytime he pushed his finger back inside your greedy pussy. He followed your movements like the tide chasing the moon, pushing back wherever you pulled. A louder moan rang throughout your otherwise silent apartment when he added a second finger, curling them both upon exit in a beckoning manner that had your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head. He hadn’t even fucked you, and you were ruined. You would never be able to touch yourself again. You would never be as good as Frank. No one would.

“Doin’ so fuckin’ well for me, baby. Knew you would. Look so beautiful like this. Gonna let me taste you, hm? Bet you taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

Frank didn’t bother to wait for you to answer this time. The alluring noises you made were enough for him to pull you further to the edge of the bed by your hips, diving in to devour you completely. A silent cry hung in your throat when he wrapped his lips around your swollen clit and began to suckle, all the while still driving his thick fingers inside you at unexplored depths. You were hanging on the edge by a thread, trying your hardest to will away your orgasm so he would keep his head between your thighs forever. Your fingers weaved through his dark tresses, loving how good he looked with his hair slightly grown out, but loving even more that you had something to pull on. 

Frank hummed at your taste. He fucking growled against your pussy and the vibrations had your thighs shaking around his head. You tried to give him a warning, but there was no time. You couldn’t find your voice. The second he started flicking his tongue over your sensitive nub at an inhuman pace while curling his fingers against that spongy spot inside you, you were coming apart and Frank was there to collect every drop. Your inner thighs burned from the abrasiveness of his stubble, but you welcomed it eagerly. If anything, it was at least one reminder that tonight had been real.

Frank didn’t stop his assault on your clit as you rode out your high on his fingers, continuing to lap up everything that you had to offer. You whimpered due to the sensitivity from your commanding orgasm, trying to push at Frank’s broad shoulders to get him to budge, but the stubborn fucker wouldn’t move. You could feel him grinning against your core, hear him chuckling softly at your whines and pleas. He was enjoying this. 

“God Frank, please. Please..I need a minute.”

Reluctantly, Frank leaned back and licked the rest of your release from his lips. You stared down at him breathlessly, wanting to commit every single detail of the sight before you to memory. His mouth and chin were still gleaming with your release, dark eyes wild and blown out, hair disheveled from your incessant tugging, and broad chest rising and falling quickly as he attempted to catch his breath. But the thing that stole the breath right out of your lungs was that Frank was smiling. Not a crooked one that took up the corner of his mouth, not his usual cocky smirk. A full on, mouth split wide open, all teeth on display, eyes crinkling at the corners, smile. If you hadn’t been so dazed out in bliss, you might have cried at the sight of it.

“You alright?”

“You’re smiling.”

“Hell yeah I’m smilin’. Just made my pretty girl come, and she tastes like fuckin’ heaven. What’s not to smile about?”

A blush crept on your cheeks at his words, causing you to mirror the grin that had taken over his mouth. 

“I’ve never seen you smile like that before.”

Frank raised up off his knees, leaning over the bed and placing both of his large hands on either side of your head as he looked down at you so tenderly, it made your stomach flip and nervousness settle in your ribcage. The look in his eyes felt so..intimate. 

“Ain’t had a reason to. Until you.”

Grabbing onto the back of Frank’s neck, you pulled him down to mold your lips together in a passionate kiss. You wanted him to feel everything. You wanted more. This kiss was different from the ones before. It was more patient and evocative, a silent understanding between you and Frank. Your fingertips trailed down the expanse of his chest until you reached the buckle of his belt, pulling the leather from the confinements and popping open the button of his jeans. His lips migrated along your jaw and down your neck, sucking softly at the juncture just above your collarbone.

His large hand wrapped around your throat, not tightly, but just to keep you close. His teeth skimmed along your neck as you tugged down his zipper, pushing his jeans and briefs down his hips to set him free. Frank let out a grateful groan when his cock slapped against his stomach, pulling back just for a moment to shred the layers of fabric completely. You clenched around nothing at the sight of him naked above you. God, he was beautiful. You greedily accepted his kiss once again when he settled his hips between yours, reaching between your bodies to carefully wrap your hand around his base, eliciting a delicious moan from his throat.

Frank was hard, and looked painfully so. You smoothed your thumb over the leaking tip of his cock, causing his hips to jerk forward slightly. He was incredibly thick and long, feeling unbelievably heavy in your small hand.

“Shit. Feels even better than I imagined.”

Your eyes darted up to meet Frank’s at his quiet confession, searching the midnight pools intently as a tiny smirk tugged at your lips.

“Frank Castle. You’ve thought about me touching you like this?”

There wasn’t even a shred of shame in Frank’s eyes as he stared down at you with a wolfish grin, leaning in to brush his nose along yours as you continued to stroke him slowly.

“Might’ve left out the part where I’ve been gettin’ off to that picture you sent me every night the past couple weeks.”

Your mouth dropped open and your eyes went wide, a hearty laugh rumbling deep within Frank’s chest.

“And you’re just telling me this now?”

“I thought you’d be mad.”

“Do I look mad?”

“No, and I’m so fuckin’ glad you’re not. Thought I was gonna have to say goodbye to you tonight.”

Frank carefully pried your hand off of him and replaced it with his own, rubbing the head of his cock between your slick folds and teasing your clit every time he did so. Your brows furrowed at his words, but the second you felt the weight of him rubbing against your still sensitive clit, you gasped sharply. Gripping onto his bicep, you struggled through the pleasure to keep your eyes open. You weren’t letting those words go so easily.

“Why would you say that Frank?”

Frank hated that he could hear the hurt that laced your question, leaning in to press his forehead against yours as he sighed deeply. His hips moved at a tedious pace to keep you both placated, but not enough to satisfy what either of you really wanted.

“Thought you’d be mad, never wanna see me again. Thought..fuck, that I couldn’t have you. Shouldn’t have you. You’re too good to me, sweetheart. Too good for me. Didn’t think I deserved somethin’ so..fuck, so good.”

Frank’s face was twisted up in a concoction of hedonism and self deprecation. You knew what he thought of himself. You knew you would never be able to get him to see what you saw in him. But that didn’t mean that you were going to stop trying. You lifted your hands to cradle his face, parted lips stretching into the best smile you could offer when he was dragging his cock lazily through your folds.

“You didn’t think to ask me what I wanted?”

At that, you lifted your hips slightly, signaling that you were ready for more. That you wanted more. Frank took the hint and slipped the head of his cock into your entrance, watching the way your eyes lulled shut at the feeling. It took every ounce of will power he had not to dive inside your body. He took his time, moving inch by inch, allowing you to adjust to his size. It felt like you were fucking suffocating him, and for a minute he was genuinely worried he wouldn’t be able to last. Once he had finally bottomed out, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck and let a strangled moan escape. You dug your fingertips into his shoulders as he stretched your walls to their limits, sucking in a breath at the burning trail he created.

Frank pulled your legs up to wrap around his hips, snaking one of his arms beneath you and around your waist to keep your chest flush to his. He was fucking terrified that at any moment you would disappear. Frank remained as patient as possible, awaiting with bated breath for you to tell him he could move. He couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted something so fucking badly.

Turning your head slightly, you pressed the gentlest kiss to the skin beneath his ear. Frank lifted his head slightly so he could get a good look at you, feeling his heart race at the sight of you beneath him.

“I want you, Frank. All of you. If you want me too, then have me. Please.”

Frank stared down at you in disbelief, trying to figure out what the fuck he had done so right that had led him to this moment right here, with you. But who was he to say no to you? Without another word, he retracted his hips slightly just to bring them flush with yours again. He marveled at the sight of you under him, kiss-bitten lips red and swollen and parted, his name falling in breathy pants and moans from them over and over every time he reached that peak inside you. He could fucking die like this.

“Feel too fuckin’ good sweetheart, not gonna make it much longer. Need ya to let go with me. Can you do that for me, sweet girl? Hm?”

You weren’t sure if you nodded or even spoke. You weren’t sure if you gave any indication at all to Frank that you were coherent and understood what he asked. 

“Look at me, baby. Wanna see those pretty eyes when you fall apart.”

The second his fingers found your clit, you were seeing stars. This orgasm was so much fucking stronger than the last one, it suckerpunched every bit of oxygen out of you and you found yourself struggling to breathe. Violent tremors shook throughout your body and you fought so hard to keep your eyes open just long enough to watch Frank fall apart just as hard above you. Your legs tightened around his waist and you gripped onto the back of his neck, holding on as much as he could as his hips stuttered against yours roughly when he finally spilled into you. The loud moan that ripped through his chest was like music to your ears and it nearly sent you over the edge again.

The room felt like a sauna, sweltering and sticky with Frank’s body heat and the combination of your releases hanging heavily in the air. Frank’s panting breaths and your desperate whimpers were the only things your ears could register. Your brain had seemingly shut off and your vision became incredibly fuzzy while you were coming down. You weren’t sure how long that lasted, but the feeling of a calloused finger stroking your cheek seemed to tether you back to reality.

Frank beamed down at you when you slowly opened your eyes, taking in the completely blissful, fucked out look on your face. You nuzzled into his palm, finding your lips maneuvering into a smile of their own accord. 

“There’s my girl. Thought I lost you for a second there. Was worried I broke you.”

A symphonious giggle fell from your lips and Frank couldn’t help but grin even wider at the sound. You hummed softly as you looked up at him, shaking your head slowly.

“I don’t break so easily, Castle. Guess you’ll just have to keep trying.”

“That right?”

Lightly gripping onto the chain around his neck, you pulled him down to meet you in a head-spinning kiss. His large hand grabbed your face gently, and you giggled when you felt him nip at your bottom lip.

“That’s right.”

“Well, practice does make perfect.”

[jymwahuwu]

Have you ever had the thought of like.. fem reader that's the same height as Fu Xuan, qingque and Pela? And their height compared to Jing yuan..

LIKE THEY'RE FR SHORT and I got the thought of like.. wait a minute, what if reader had the same height as those three characters? Like.. when I used fu Xuan next to Jing yuan npc. THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE???

now imagine Jing yuan having size kink, seeing his s/o so short. She doesn't even need to bend down.. neither does she have to get on her knees for a blowjob, she's so short! Meanwhile reader just awkwardly standing there 🧍‍♀️

Jing Yuan: “Your hand is so small compared to mind ;) ”

Reader: “what the f--k..”

😹 have considered this!! I'm much shorter than Jing Yuan, so relatable... also recorded a related video in the game, Jing Yuan has to lower his head to look at me 😽

CW: yandere, non-con/dub-con, forced oral sex, size kink, reader is clearly described as being much shorter than Jing Yuan. no other specific description of the reader's body shape.

Oh Size Kink! Jing Yuan absolutely regard you as one of the most lovable things in the world. This has nothing to do with your identity. You may have a high position, be able to participate in the discussion and management of Luofu, interstellar business affairs, and have your own reputation and achievements.

But none of this matters. No matter what you say, you are not being treated like an independent adult. You are so short that you are always frightened by the general's burly figure and height, and you take a few steps back unconsciously. He noticed. Jing Yuan turned around with a leisurely smile. He didn't even need to be arrogant, but he looked down at you like he was condescending. After you stated your intentions for business cooperation, the general patted you on the head. Such humiliation. You pushed his hand away, irritated. "I'm discussing a business plan with you, General!"

"Business plan huh? I get it. You did a great job." He casually slipped his hand between your fingers, interlocking them with yours, and explained some apparently simple concepts to you. He's worried that your little brain doesn't understand that.

And oral sex. Looking at the erect and thick cock, the pre-ejaculation fluid is seeping out. You're already freaking out...how could this be...appropriate? You don't even need to bend down!! You stand there, embarrassed and overwhelmed. Jing Yuan stretched out his muscular arms to pull your hair. Your face pressed against his cock and scrotum, "ka...mm..." Your choked tears splashed on his cock, and the glans against your throat. Realizing that it was too rough, Jing Yuan relaxed his control on you a little, and gently stroked the back of your neck, purring and urging you to suck his cock. You hold his cock, licking and stroking it with your tongue. His seed spurts into your smooth mouth.

And Jing Yuan. He could lift you into his arms, pull you onto the bed, push you onto the table, pick you up, spread your legs like you were a weapon he wielded with ease. His embrace is one of the strongest webs in the world. When Jing Yuan's two arms wrap around your waist and chest, you can't even move an inch or two (and take advantage of these opportunities to rub your areolas on both sides).

He was buried between your legs, his white hair spread across your thighs, feeling how soft you were. After your waist bounced and you squirted several times, he slowly squeezed his own cock between your thighs.

He likes the way you look.

[crisiscutie]

Since we have Father Sephiroth do you think we can have Biological Mother darling with son Sephiroth? Especially a possesive son Sephiroth?

This is a super interesting idea! I have so many ways of how this dynamic could work out... Consider the following to be experimental musings since nothing is set in stone yet. In general though, I imagine this Sephiroth would start out as fluffy but turn into a yandere as his insecurities surface and he reverts to his true self; a lost, broken boy.

Content Warning: Emotional abuse. Yandere Sephiroth. Unhealthy and unsettling family dynamics.

Counterpart to Yandere Father Sephiroth Musings.

༻❁༺ You should've seen this coming. From the constant visits to the persistence of staying with you longer than necessary...

༻❁༺ You thought it was just his way of making amends for the lost time since he was stolen from you as a baby.

༻❁༺You reunited with your dear son here in Mideel a year ago, when he left Shinra for good. He recognized you from a distance when he saw you gardening.

༻❁༺ After he finished crying into your neck for what felt like an eternity, he told you about how he always wanted to find you, to be with you at every single he spent in that hell.

༻❁༺ And the poor thing thought your name was JENOVA. When you corrected him, he raised his palm to his face, an eerie, broken chuckle escaping his lips. A single last tear cascaded down his cheek.

༻❁༺ It concerned you, but you overlooked it, realizing that it likely came from his painful and traumatizing childhood. At least you both can now confront it and handle it together.

༻❁༺ His gorgeous slit eyes lit up as you rubbed his shoulder and caressed his cheek.

༻❁༺ "You're as radiant as I imagined you to be, mother..."

༻❁༺ From that point onwards, he was practically attached to your hip, observing how you handled domestic chores and attempting to do them himself. He was worried sick that he would mess up, as he had never done things like this before.

༻❁༺ Yet his ability to pick up things quickly always impressed you. He learned so fast... In fact, he seemed a little too eager to please you and relate to you. This worried you, so you reassured him he didn't need to change himself. You wanted him to express his true self.

༻❁༺ And so he did. He especially never hid the amount of love he had for you, his precious Mother. Each time he hugged you, his grip was so tight that you could sense his hesitation to release you, even if he didn't verbally express it.

༻❁༺ It doesn't matter if he was busy with an important task like hunting beasts. If you needed him for anything, he'd drop whatever he was doing, just for you. Even if it was something small, like getting fruits from the town's market.

༻❁༺ But he was poor at interacting with others, especially whenever other men came around you.

༻❁༺ He would lurk behind you, his seething eyes darkened toward anyone who dared to disturb his bonding time with you. He treasures each moment spent with you as if it were a precious currency. Even when your eyes are not on him, he became restless and antsy.

༻❁༺ Most were scared off whenever he gave them that intense stare. However, there was one time where he had gone too far and nearly beheaded a lone traveler. His crime? The traveler had simply asked you for directions while you were gardening with Sephiroth.

༻❁༺ Even Sephiroth himself didn't know what had driven to do that. Perhaps it was the seething jealousy that consumed him as he watched you playing with and caring for the children at the local orphanage, even though it was merely your job. Or maybe it was the way you stared at that man in the market earlier. Or maybe he was antsy from the lack of quality sleep.

༻❁༺ Usually, your sweet son tried to disguise his possessiveness around you, but this time, he couldn't hide it.

༻❁༺ Thankfully, you screaming at him and grabbing his arm, just as he was about to deliver the killing blow to the poor traveler, seemed to snap him out of his dark trance.

༻❁༺ With his eyes like a guilty kitten, he stared at the ground. He wasn't sorry for the man he almost killed, but for the minor crime of upsetting you.

༻❁༺ His powerful, deep voice had the pace of a child caught in the act.

༻❁༺ "Mother," he choked out, unable to meet your gaze, his shame clear. "I-I didn't mean it..." The thought of you leaving him, like others before, crossed his mind, nearly pushing him to another breakdown.

༻❁༺ You stared at him solemnly, before wrapping your arms around him in a loving, soothing hug.

༻❁༺ Later that night, his murderous rage surfaced again, not directed toward you, but towards the world. It wasn't fair that he had to spend a lonely, painful childhood and early adulthood as a glorified hunting dog. It wasn't fair that he had lost the few friends he had. And it certainly wasn't fair that, after finally reuniting with his precious mother, she had already built a life for herself, taking care of OTHER children.

༻❁༺The only thing he felt ashamed of was his jealousy of your interaction with the orphans. But it was too triggering for him to fully accept it.

༻❁༺ While you were busy making dinner for yourself and a small group of friends, he easily slipped into your house without being seen. You felt your heart leap at the sound of his deep, velvety voice, his muscular body pressing against yours as he stood uncomfortably close, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

༻❁༺ "...You're having a feast tonight, aren't you, mother?" your son whispered ominously in your ear. As you turned around to face him, you suddenly realized how imposing he truly was. Your first meeting with him was a stark contrast to now. Gone was the tall, shy boy; in his place stood a terrifying killing machine. It felt as if you were talking to an entirely different being altogether.

༻❁༺ "Yes. I will have company over later... What's wrong, Sephiroth?" You asked. You don't know how you kept a tough act. The doubt consumed him as his eyes narrowed at you and a frown replaced his smirk.

༻❁༺ "So this is what you were doing over years... While I spent my life as Shinra's monster!" His hands hovered around your hips, almost wanting to grab them, but he grabbed the marble counter behind you instead, causing it to crack with ease.

༻❁༺ You gasped. You were sure that he didn't even mean to do that, but it was hard for him to control his strength at the moment.

༻❁༺ And you've already told him what you've been doing these past years, but now it's time to prove it. You took his hand and led him to your bedroom. You revealed your involvement with AVALANCHE by showing him files of classified documents from underneath your bed.

༻❁༺ Each document revealed a different side of Shinra's operations - the meticulously gathered area survey information about Mideel and Shinra's dealings here, the closely guarded company secrets you knew, and even other corrupt dealings that had plagued them for years. This was the best way you could strike back at Shinra, but you had to keep your identity a secret.

༻❁༺ You've seen the Turks around this town a handful of times. You knew it was their job to find you and silence you, so you had to lie low. But you still wanted to reunite with Sephiroth, which is why you started to work with AVALANCHE under a persona, relaying to them what you can aside from your identity as Sephiroth's mother and going out on missions to get closer to him.

༻❁༺ He was dead silent as you went through the documents. Then he apologized to you, his kitten eyes resurfacing. They always made you so weak at the knees. He wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled his face into your chest.

༻❁༺ Although you didn't see it, a small sneer formed on his lips while you were calling off dinner with your friends, all to spend the night comforting your sweet son.

༻❁༺ You eventually fell asleep on your bed, but Sephiroth was still wide awake, still too high from your motherly touch and the thoughts of vengeance. He'd take away everything Shinra cherished. They will feel his despair.

So making something clear, Mother Darling is NOT Lucrecia. But I guess she could be an AU version of her if you want to see her that way. It's your imagination 🤷. Her past and the reason behind Sephiroth being stolen from her are different. Much of yet to be discovered.

And these musings are experimental, so nothing is set in stone yet. I had other ways how a Mother Darling/Son Sephiroth dynamic could be explored, but I decided to write this one to see how it flows.

A NSFW follow-up here.

[houserautha]

Feyd is the type to go on and on about getting his wife/partner pregnant but when it comes to actually raising a child? The dramaaaaaa(and unhealed trauma) Ideally Feyd wants to raise a strong and ruthless warrior worthy of succeeding him when the time comes but like what if the little guy(probably a boy bc the prophecy and all that)just got real unlucky in the genetics lottery all the crazy and bloodthirsty-ness his parents have just skips a generation and he's the most sensitive and shy creature to ever be born on geidi prime the most un-harkonen harkonen Feyd getting frustrated his child doesn't have the strength to pick up a sword without trembling,to shed blood without wincing,to take a life without crying canonically I think he'd just throw the kid in the woods to fend for himself Sparta style and hope they die or return and be "normal" thinks he's been coddled for far too long because he just can't accept his son is so different from him sorry to dump all this on you dude I just had to talk to this to somebody!😭💀

Wait don’t apologize I actually really love this

Feyd would be incredibly insecure about fatherhood. He would struggle to connect with a newborn and swear that his son hates him because he always bursts into tears whenever Feyd picks him up. And as a toddler?? Feyd is already as volatile as a toddler so his son would infuriate him😂 I feel like he would snap and be impatient and frustrated. And maybe because he feels so insecure about his parenting/relationship with his son, he throws himself into work so that he doesn’t have to interact with his son as much

So his son grows up with a pretty explosive, absent father. Now he’s a child, and Feyd shows an interest in him again — it’s time to learn how to fight. Feyd spars with his son until his body is mottled with bruises and snot dries on his upper lip; Feyd is appalled by his son’s “weakness” and so shocked that he lashes out at him. Feyd definitely does not understand how to regulate his emotions or disguise his thoughts.

(Now, feel free to disregard this part because it’s related to TDE) Reader knows what it’s like to have your parents disappointed in you and your capabilities, so she nurtures her son and encourages him to do what he likes. I think it would be especially funny if their son is like naturally very tall and strong but is like Ferdinand and just wants to sit in the sun and read all day😂

So reader allows their son to pursue his interests — reading and politics and academics, which he excels in. He grows into a teenager. Other children his age mock him because he is so unlike any other Harkonnen, tease him that his mother must’ve been unfaithful. Their son, in turn, keeps to himself and doesn’t have any friends.

At this point I think Feyd (sadly) would’ve given up on his son. He would occasionally force him to take up a dagger or throw a punch, claiming that no son of his would be so weak. Now, as much as the son loathes these training sessions and his father’s cruelty, he desperately wants his approval. Which is the only reason he continues to agree to let Feyd push him to the dirt over and over again, to draw blood; to belittle him.

And this would drive a wedge in between Feyd and reader’s relationship. She understands Feyd’s own unresolved trauma and the Harkonnen battle culture, but she doesn’t understand how her husband could be so unkind to their son — who looks like a combination of them both, with Feyd’s plush lips but your distinct Atreides nose, brows always pulled down in concentration over his dark eyes.

“He will never survive here,” Feyd snarls at you one evening, when the conversation naturally drifts to your son as it always does. Feyd is shaking with his heightened emotions. “I just want him to be successful.”

And you push back, “He is successful.“

“His achievements mean nothing to the other Harkonnens. They demand brutality and blood, not his…weakness.”

And maybe as their son turns eighteen (or whatever age Harkonnens are deemed an adult, maybe younger because they don’t live very long lives) Feyd sends their son on the ceremonial journey into the Giedi Prime wilderness. Reader is unable to prevent this. Their son is expected to forge his own way home or perish. Now, their son takes an abnormally long time to return but he does — half dead because he refused to kill any wildlife or steal from others, surviving only on his wit and his knowledge of survival.

Feyd is not impressed.

And maybe this strenuous relationship continues well their son’s adulthood. It’s not until a political rival challenges Feyd that he discovers just how strong his son is. The rival is peaceful and refuses to fight or draw a weapon, and Feyd knows he can’t initiate an attack without suffering the consequences. He entirely has no idea how to handle this. But his son does.

His son knows all about this rival’s culture and history, how to appeal to them, how to navigate their political court and ultimately subdue the threat that they pose. For the first time, Feyd is proud of his son.

And thus begins the turn around of their relationship and Feyd realizing that strength does not always have to be physical. His son is probably in his late twenties/early thirties by now and Feyd takes to teaching his son less aggressive ways to fight — poison and pressure points and defensive measure — and allows his son to teach him about what he knows.

It certainly doesn’t blossom and thrive overnight. They are staunchly opposed to each other’s beliefs but somewhat begrudgingly begin to trust one another and build respect and admiration.

Feyd doesn’t know how to apologize or how to express his guilt over his son’s wasted childhood, but you bet your ass he leaps to his son’s defense whenever he gets the chance and defends him relentlessly.

And, oh, just wait until he becomes a grandfather.

Finally he feels he can rectify his wrongs.

[moralesmilesanhour]

Ooo hi, can you write something with gamer/streamer Miles G? Maybe he and the reader just chill and play games talking about life or whatever.

streamer miles!

Ok this went in a sliiightly different direction but the general premise is the same i hope that's ok lmao (also lowkey trying a new writing style/approach)

A/N: comment which animal crossing villager you think miles would like if u want 🫶🏾

You only really see a fraction of a person online. 

The messy, disagreeable thoughts that don’t fit into a neat little post, every time you’ve ever tripped over something and ate shit, all of your worst outfits - none of it exists if you don’t make it known. If you decide you’ve never stumbled over your own feet a day in your life, then it’s so. No one’s gonna claw their way through your screen and check.

For example, you had never seen Miles Morales smile with his teeth before until you clicked on his livestream, and none of his viewers would ever be able to guess.

He was laughing at some joke being made in the chat. 

“Y’all are terrible,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye.

Miles’ stream had been recommended to you by the ever-mysterious, totally-not-creepy algorithm ‘based on your location’, and the thumbnail with his dimples on full display piqued your curiosity.

He’d been passing by once when you accidentally dropped your books and folders while rushing to class. He knelt down and picked them up without a word, dropping them into your hands in a much neater stack than they had originally been in, from largest to smallest. 

Your eyes met for less than two seconds, but you could’ve sworn that there was a softness to them that couldn’t be caught from a distance. 

“Thanks!” you called out as the late bell rang. He only nodded before turning away, not bothering to walk any faster.

You never spoke to him again, having no idea what you’d even say. He rarely spoke outside of class, but you had assumed that based on the way he skulked down the hallway and the permanent ‘I’m bored’ look on his face, that he’d be playing something a little more…serious? ‘God of War’ maybe, or ‘Last of Us’. Or some sports-related game that you couldn’t understand.

Certainly not ‘Animal Crossing’.

Tentatively, your fingers hovered over the keyboard as the stream of comments began to slow, and you wondered if he’d be more likely to see it if you commented this instant.

–Who’s ur favorite villager?

There, nice and simple. Inoffensive.

Miles squinted his eyes at what was presumably a second monitor.

“Who’s my favorite villager?” His brows furrowed in confusion for a moment before he put two and two together. “Oh! You mean the li’l animals and shit. Um, the blue penguin? Ace? I like him.”

You sat back and watched him play for another fifteen minutes, most of which were spent figuring out what direction a couch sitting inside his virtual home should face. His voice was low and almost raspy, but…muted. As if someone had turned the volume down on it like you would the radio. He was fortunate to own a decent microphone.

–You got your own PC? 

It seems you got lucky a second time, and Miles paused to read your comment aloud once again.

“Yyup,” he answered proudly. “Put it together myself. I’ll do a tour one day. My setup is wavy, you’ll see!”

He continued going back and forth with the comments in chat, occasionally thanking some for making small donations. The fact of him making anything at all just from playing a video game was impressive. 

Miles remarked on the ‘classical style’ of one of the buildings on his island, and you snorted. Nerd.

–bro thinks he’s an architect

This made him giggle. A light, breathy sound that you would hardly expect to come out of him.

“You’re a hater, man. Watch me get hired as soon as I’m outta college and build yo’ next apartment building.”

You looked down at your phone and realized it was nearly one in the morning. With a yawn, you said your goodbyes in the comments and left the stream.

-

The cafeteria was full by the time you got downstairs, leaving not a single space on the white benches save for two completely empty ones near the back. 

Well, not completely empty.

As you weaved in between students carrying trays of slop with milk cartons, a familiar pair of cornrows came into view.

It’s now or never.

Timidly, you slid onto the bench right beside Miles. Focused on his meal and the tattered sketchbook he carried around, he looked up at you with just his eyes.

“Hey,” you tried to greet him casually with an awkward smile. “I saw you ye–I mean, I…I saw you. In general.”

His blinked slowly. “We all go to the same school.”

You cleared your throat.

“...Right. We-uh, met in the hallway.”

“You dropped all your books on the floor.”

“Yeah!” you replied a little too loudly. “I just, um, wanted to say hi.”

“...hi.”

There was a stretch of silence as you sifted through a list of topics to rescue the conversation, and a lightbulb went off.

“Do you have any hobbies? Other than drawing, I mean.”

Miles gave up on sketching and answered, “Video games.”

“Which ones you been playing recently?”

“Uh, Mortal Kombat, 2K,” he counted on his fingers, “and Animal Crossing, just to see what it was about–”

“Oh, you’re really good at that one!”

You both froze. Uh-oh.

“And how exactly do you know that?”

“I-I mean, you just…look…like the type?” 

You started frantically chipping away at the remaining nail polish on your fingers. Not even you could believe that one.

A tiny grin played on his lips. 

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

Soon the bell rang, saving you from making any further incriminating comments.

“See you in class?”

“Yeah, see you in class,” Miles replied, before tilting his head. “Or wherever I see you.”

[tennessoui]

it's been so long since i did a sith obi-wan au so like - how about an au where the sith are almost as established as the jedi (a temple, an order, followers numbering in the hundreds/thousands) but things are a bit more diplomatic in the galaxy (it's definitely tense but not all out war just yet)

so both the sith and jedi orders are alerted to a new rising power in the outer rim.....on tatooine of all places. a slave rebellion, led by shmi skywalker, has toppled the hutts. it's said that this new leader, queen of tatooine, has the Force's favor....but more importantly than that, shmi skywalker is a new galactic player, with a lot of money and a lot of support.....and a son of marriageable age.

cue both the jedi and the sith sending a delegation to tatooine - ostensibly to nurture galactic relations between their orders and the new power, but also to lowkey seduce shmi skywalker's son into marriage/a relationship because everyone knows that a parent's heart follows their children's happiness.

sith!obi-wan aka darth solence is selected to lead the sith seduction attempt. he's pretty confident - after all, he's led hundreds of seduction missions at this point, and he'd suffer a thousand different humiliations for the sake of the order of the sith who took him in after the jedi sent him to the agricorps.

the only problem is that he arrives on tatooine and shmi skywalker's son, anakin, is the most bland, boring, two-dimensional boy to ever breathe. he's completely uninterested in politics, in history, in the Force---he'd rather talk about pod-racing and--and Coruscanti daytime holo shows than anything of actual interest!

good thing the prince's manservant, kitster, is almost always hanging around. he's wrong about many things, obi-wan finds, but he's passionate. passionate and beautiful. oh, he loves pod-racing just as much as the prince, but he's fascinated by the Force and ready to tear obi-wan's eyes out over a passing negative observation on a droid. and did obi-wan mention that he's beautiful? with his golden curls and sky blue eyes and fierce scowl and broad shoulders and prominent eyebrows and even more prominent lips? the sith, as a general rule, appreciate passion, anger. beauty. obi-wan adores them as well.

but kitster the man servant isn't the person obi-wan has been flown to tatooine to seduce--he's duty-bound to seduce prince anakin. even if being around him feels like pulling his teeth out with rusty pliers.

if only obi-wan knew that shmi skywalker is more suspicious about the galaxy than she lets on. more protective of her son, too. if only he knew that her son, anakin, had a best friend growing up named kitster, who owed them both just enough life-debts to convince him to trade places with shmi's son for the length of the delegations' visit.

it's an easy sell after all -- who doesn't want to be a prince for a few weeks, no harm done?

[ab4eva]

‘Ain’t That Loving You Baby’

Summary: Reader is out of sorts all day - grumpy, petulant, rude and just plain bitchy. Elvis takes it upon himself to set her straight.

Warnings: NFSW 18+, spanking, non-con spanking, established relationship, time period related ideas about marriage/relationships, copious use of pet names, use of the term “daddy”, fingering, aftercare, fluff. Please let me know if I missed anything.

Authors note: Y’all, sometimes inspiration for a fic strikes in the most unexpected of ways, as with this one. I know this isn’t everyone’s cuppa, so if I’ve tagged you and you aren’t into it, apologies and please just keep right on scrolling. Now please enjoy one of my top Elvis fantasies that I will write in as many different ways as humanly possible until the day I die.

Word count: 3.6k

-

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it - why you were so out of sorts today. One minute you were close to tears, feeling sensitive and tender if anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way or seemed the least bit careless with you. The next minute you were blowing up at some poor member of the Memphis Mafia, Vernon or even Elvis himself. You were grumpy, combative, and just generally in a very bad mood. It was as if a black cloud were hanging over your head, following your every step, raining on your own personal parade just to piss you off. The worst part was you knew you were being a brat but you were powerless to stop it. You felt itchy and irritated, on edge from the moment you stepped out the front doors of Graceland that morning to run your errands.

It didn’t help that when you returned, Elvis and the boys were lounging in the living room, making a right mess of things - beer bottles littering every surface, ash trays full to the brim with cigar ash, dirty plates covering the floor - it looked like a literal bomb had gone off. You’d just cleaned the entire house yesterday from top to bottom. Elvis had begged you to hire a housekeeper after you’d gotten married, but you were old fashioned, you saw it as the wife’s job to keep a clean house. And so you did…until all of these beastly men came and messed it up again. You surveyed the mess, a look of displeasure coloring your pretty face, your hands clenched into tight fists. Your heart pounded as you dug your fingernails into the soft flesh of your palm and tried very hard not to scream.

“Oh hey Y/N,” Red said lazily, the first of them to notice you standing in the doorway. “These cookies are damn delicious.” Your eyes zeroed in on his hand and you saw he held one of your freshly baked chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, the ones you’d painstakingly made dozens of last night. They were meant for the cookie exchange your book club was having tomorrow. Your eyes slowly surveyed the rest of the men in the living room, all of them perched here and there on the furniture or the floor… and all of them with cookies in their hands. The big platter heaped with cookies you had carefully placed on top of the fridge now sat almost empty in the middle of the coffee table. Your eyes found Elvis’s as you inhaled sharply and gave him a look that could kill. He had the good grace to look abashed as he quickly dropped the cookie he was holding, standing up slowly from where he sat on the couch as he moved towards you, holding both hands in front of him in a gesture meant to placate you but it only enraged you further.

“Now baby, we didn’t mean to eat all these here cookies, but you know they’re my favorite and I-I-I couldn’t resist. And I had to share with the guys, otherwise what kind of host would I be?” His blue eyes were sparkling with something close to amusement and his voice dripped honey, soft and low, soothing. He knew the look you were giving him, knew he had to tread carefully.

“Elvis…baby,” you said in a dangerous and mocking whisper, “those cookies were for my book club.” You spat the words out through gritted teeth, barely containing your rage. The thing is, you were usually so easygoing, so even-keeled, the very definition of hospitable to guests in your home. Normally, this wouldn’t even phase you. But today? It made you so angry you could barely speak. Poor Jerry had the unfortunate thought at that moment to try and smooth the situation over by offering to clean up the mess they’d made only to have you snap at him (“Don’t bother! None of you had the bright idea to even think before turning my living room into a pigsty!”) as you stomped out of the room.

Things didn’t end there as your rampage continued for the rest of the day, cutting down anyone and anything daring to cross your path. Vernon made the mistake of asking you about a shopping bill for some new dresses you purchased last week, innocently wanting to know the total so he could add it to the monthly expense account. You almost wrung his neck - the sheer audacity of the man! The Colonel came sweeping in cheerily in the late afternoon, trying to pull one of his old carney tricks on you, thinking it would lighten your mood. It had the opposite effect and you told him off so completely that even Elvis had to chuckle at it with a bemused smile. But the final straw came that evening, as you and Elvis sat peacefully (for his part, at least) in the living room, quietly reading after a rather tense dinner. You made some snide, off the cuff remark aimed at the way your husband’s business was being run and in an instant, you knew you’d stepped over the line, pushed Elvis past the limit of what he’s willing to take.

As soon as the words fly out of your mouth you wish you could pull them back in, gather the broken pieces of them and keep them inside. You suck in a gasp, your eyes flying to his face, realizing your mistake too late, realizing your bad mood has landed you here, in uncharted territory. Only once before had you taken things too far - two weeks after your wedding - Elvis had stormed out of the house in a barely suppressed rage only to return the next morning, acting as if nothing had even happened. You see his body still and his blue eyes widen in surprise before they darken, anger and annoyance flashing across his face before being replaced with a look of willful determination. You know that look, it’s the one he gets when he has an idea in his head, and like a dog with a bone, won’t let go until he gets what he wants. Your heart speeds up in your chest, pounding almost painfully, you feel a little lightheaded and your mouth goes dry. You swallow thickly, opening your mouth to apologize, to take back the words you’ve already said, anything at all to stop this train from hurtling off the cliff. “Elvis, I-,” the words start to tumble from your mouth in a rush before he cuts you off angrily.

“That’s enough!” he yells, his voice booming loud and firm, your ears ringing with the force of it. “Now listen here, girl, I don’t know what’s gotten into you today, but that’s. Enough.” His voice is now dangerously low as he punctuates each word with a stab of his finger in your direction, his gold rings glittering wildly in the soft light of the room. He stands abruptly and strides towards you, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly and holding you there. You struggle against him, beating his solid chest with your closed fists like a child, not wanting to be held.

“Lemme go…let me go!” you practically scream in his face. Something inside you refuses to be comforted in this moment, you feel as if he’s suffocating you. You don’t want him to touch you, don’t want him near you. And yet, it’s all you want, to be here, in his arms. His deliciously musky scent fills your nostrils as he presses your head into his shirt in an attempt to calm you. His chest is heaving with restrained emotion and his wiry chest hairs tickle your nose through his unbuttoned collar. Confusion swirls in your brain, you’re too upset to sort through the emotions that have been tormenting you all day as you thrash against him. His lip curls up in an annoyed smirk as he grabs your flailing fists, pinning them to your side as his jaw clenches, his strong arms vise-like as he clutches you tightly to his chest.

“Now, you’re gonna tell me why ya got a bee in your britches, darlin. Why ya been a goddamn brat all goddamn day… or I’m gonna make ya tell me,” he commands, his voice rough and low. His eyes search yours and his nostrils flair slightly as he breathes heavily, trying to keep you in check as you still struggle against him. You can see the vein in his neck, the one that drives you wild, popping out - which means he’s excited or angry - or both.

“I’d like to see you try,” you spit at him scornfully, your bright eyes challenging him, your lip turning up into a slight sneer as you wriggle some more.

“Don’t test me, little one. I think someone needs an attitude adjustment and I’m just the one to give it to ya.” He squeezes you tighter in his arms as you squirm, still trying to break free, and suddenly you’re having a little trouble breathing. You stop moving for a moment and his grip loosens just a little as you gulp in a breath of air. “As your husband, it’s my job to set you right when you’re misbehaving. So I’m gonna ask ya again, darlin - why are ya so outta sorts today?”

You stare at him, at a loss for words. Truthfully, you don’t know what’s gotten into you. It’s just a bad day. You remember waking up and feeling fine, maybe a little tired. Elvis was already gone, his side of the bed cold and empty. He’d been distracted with contract negotiations when you found him in the kitchen, already eating breakfast. Without you. You had wanted to tell him a story about something that happened yesterday that made you think of him. But just as you were about to he was up and out for a meeting, without ever kissing you good morning. Or goodbye. All of these little things, you suddenly realize, subconsciously added up to you feeling neglected and uncared for by him. They had curled inside your belly without you knowing, sending sad thoughts to your brain all day long. You bite your lip as it all comes rushing in and you feel yourself close to tears.

You can’t tell him these things. They’re all too silly, too small, too insignificant in the grand scheme of it all. You just stare at him, your chest heaving, your eyes silently pleading with him to understand as a tear slips down your cheek unbidden. He softens for a moment, a dozen different thoughts flashing across his readable face. He gently wipes your tear with his thumb and presses a kiss to your cheek where it fell. Then he nods once, as if making up his mind about something. He releases you, grabbing your wrist again, practically dragging you over to the big, comfy chair at the edge of the living room. You go rather willingly, unsure of what his plan is. His other hand settles on the back of your neck, gently, as he starts to push you down over the back of the chair. You suddenly understand that something you have no control over is about to happen and you start to fight him again. But he keeps a firm grasp on your wrist as he keeps pushing your head down until you are bent almost in two over the back of the chair. If his iron grip on you didn’t entirely prevent you from moving, his strong, lean body standing behind you and pressing you into the chair does.

“Stop squirming, or I’ll have to tie you down.” His voice in your ear is breathy, somewhere between amused and annoyed. “Don’t think I won’t, honey. You’ve been ornery all day and you don’t get a say in what happens now, ya hear me? Just remember, this is for your own good. And I love you.” You stop moving, knowing he’ll do whatever he deems necessary to see this through. He releases his grip on you and steps to the side, his left arm settling heavily across your back to hold you down as he rucks your short dress up around your hips. You feel him run a hand across your round ass, cupping it and squeezing softly. You hear what can only be described as a delighted breath escaping his lips behind you, the soft huff of a chuckle, his ribcage expanding against your arm as he breathes deeply. The pressure as he grips your ass gets harder and harder before he suddenly stops and his cool fingers toy with the edge of your panties around your waist before he unceremoniously yanks them down to your ankles.

“Last chance, baby,” he says through gritted teeth, his tone stern as he pins you to the chair. You start to squirm again, panic rising in your chest. He’s about to spank you. He…he’s never done that before. Not even for fun. Your body starts to tremble and you shake your head, refusing to speak. You feel him raise his right hand and a ghost of a breeze whispers across your bare bottom. You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath, your heart banging painfully in your chest, preparing as best you know how. You haven’t been spanked since you were a little girl and there’s something wrong, and slightly exciting, about it.

He delivers the first slap to your bottom with a firm, open palm, the impact of it echoing throughout the living room, the only other noise that can be heard is the ticking of a clock, your gasp and Elvis’s heavy breathing. You inhale sharply at the sting of it, but it isn’t as terrible as you were expecting and it dissipates quickly. You let out the breath you’d been holding, if this is all it is you can handle it. All is quiet and still behind you, and you wonder if that’s it…until you feel him lean down to speak in your ear again.

“That was just a warm up, little girl, ain’t gonna go that easy on ya for the rest of ‘em,” he murmurs, and you hear the love in his stern voice as you try and process what he’s saying. The rest of them? That was going easy? You start to wiggle, trying to break free once again and realize the whimpering noise filling the room is coming from your mouth. Before you can get too worked up he swats you again, twice in quick succession, a little harder than before.

“Ow!” you yell, incensed by your situation, kicking your feet a little. “That hurt!” You spit out through gritted teeth, angry now. “Elvis Aaron Presley, you let me go this instant!” Your demands are met with an amused laugh, and you let out a frustrated growl, trying and failing to twist out of his grasp.

“I see I haven’t sorted you out yet, honey. Still got some of that brattiness left in ya that needs to be broken. Your choice, little girl.” Elvis lets a small laugh slip, his eyes on your body as he slowly and deliberately brings his hand down on your ass again. It’s strong and forceful, but not cruel. It leaves you breathless, speechless. Finally the stinging has permeated your skin and refuses to leave. It’s starting to be uncomfortable and you can tell that if he doesn’t quit soon you’re going to have a hard time sitting tomorrow.

“You’ve been petulant, rude, acting like a damn child all day. And that’s not the woman I know and love, the woman I married. No wife of mine is gonna act that like that and get away with it - not to my friends, not to my father, and especially not to me. Do you understand?” His hand gently cups you as he lectures, rubbing softly over what must be your quickly reddening ass. You hiss and grip the the pillow in front of you. “Answer me, girl. Do you understand?”

You’re not done pouting…if he thinks he can break you, sort you out, punish you - let him try. You stay willfully silent, refusing to speak. You hear him sigh as he removes his hand from you and you brace yourself for another round.

“Have it your way, darlin’…I’m gonna give you six more and if you’re still in a state, then we’re gonna have to have a serious talk, you and me," Elvis says, suddenly quiet and solemn and your heart drops in your chest. Maybe this isn’t some game he’s playing? You didn’t realize it was as important as he’s now letting on. You know you were a total bitch today and you do regret your words and actions… You cry out as he spanks you again without warning, his palm landing with more force than he’s given you so far. He continues and the spanking is relentless, but there's also something almost hypnotic about it. It feels like his hand is on your skin forever, but before you know it, it's almost over. And unexpectedly you realize the last couple of swats have sent lightening straight to your core, your nipples are tight buds rubbing deliciously against the coarse fabric of the chair through your thin dress and you’re surprised to feel slickness gathering on your thighs. You don’t know when your cries turned to breathy moans but he stops abruptly as he hears you, still two spankings left to give.

You’re breathing heavily, still clutching the decorative pillow adorning the chair as you clench around nothing, surprising yourself and Elvis as an obscene squelching noise echoes across the now quiet living room. You let out a breathless laugh, flushing a deep red, thankful he can’t see the embarrassment written across your face. You feel Elvis laughing silently as well, quiet little snorts as he tries and fails to keep from giggling.

“Well now, this is a development I wasn’t expecting,” he murmurs in your ear, leaning over you, his warm breath floating across your cheek. You turn your face towards his, your glassy eyes trying to focus on him as you blink slowly. “Now that it seems I’ve sorted you out, what kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t also take care of my baby?” His right hand squeezes your bottom lightly as his left arm finally releases you and his hand slips underneath your hips, his long, cool fingers gently sliding up your soaking folds. Your breath hitches at his touch, letting out a whimper as he reaches your aching clit, circling it deftly with calloused fingers, once, twice, before dipping two of them into your wet heat.

“Goddamn, mama, so needy for me? Maybe I oughta spank ya more often,” he says breathlessly, his voice taut with desire. You know your husband well - it’s the way he sounds when his cock is hard and straining against his pants, aching to be set free. He’s probably already starting to leak, you think dimly, and the thought has you fluttering around him.

“Oh…” you manage to breathe out as he starts to pump his fingers into you agonizingly slow, his thumb finding your clit and applying light pressure. You rock your hips, already so close to the edge you can almost taste it. His right hand smacks your ass hard and you jolt forward, the feeling of his fingers inside you and his punishing hand on your backside has you starting to whine, unable to stop. He speeds up the movement of his hand, curling his digits just so into that sensitive and spongy part of you just as he delivers the final slap to your ass that has you clenching tightly around his fingers nestled inside you, coming harder than you have in a while, your high-pitched whine turning silent as you stop breathing for a moment. He groans above you and you feel him shaking slightly as he bends over your body - you know it’s taking everything in him to hold it together. After a few moments, he slowly releases you, helping you stand and your legs immediately buckle underneath you. Elvis grabs you under your arms to try and keep you from falling but you’re both so weak with spent energy and desire - yours fulfilled, his aching - that you both tumble to the ground in a heap.

"There. All sorted out, sweetheart?" Elvis smiles down at you as your head rests against his shoulder, his arm encircling your waist. His voice is rough but tender as he smoothes the hair back from your face. "How did daddy do?" he asks, a smirk pulling his lush lips up into a lopsided grin. You blink dazedly, trying to form a coherent thought.

“Daddy?” you finally say, rolling the unfamiliar word around on your tongue. “Hmm, I could get used to that, I think.” You smile softly as your hand reaches up to cup his face, your thumb brushing the scratchy stubble across his jaw as your eyes turn serious. “I am sorry, Elvis. For all of it,” you whisper, blinking back tears.

“Shh, little one, I know,” he says, kissing your forehead softly and pulling you closer into himself, cradling you on his chest as your hand nestles in his chest hair, right above his heart that beats only for you.

And at book club the next day, when you’re settled on a mountain of pillows, no one even bats an eye.

-

Tags - I don’t have a general tag list so I’m just tagging some lovies who have enjoyed my previous fics: @jelliedonut @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel @butlersxbirdy @missmaywemeetagain @headfullofpresley @powerofelvis @notstefaniepresley @amydarcimarie @prompted-wordsmith @dkayfixates @sillybookmarks @melancholicbutterflies @thatbanditqueen @eliseinmemphis @godlypresley @ccab @richardslady121 @rjmartin11 @claire-elvisgirl @literally-just-elvis-fics

[the-defendery-189]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS #1

Venus & Neptune square and aspects in general, especially negative ones - lazy, creative, and inspirational, yet so delusional and preferring their fantasies to the relatity in their relationships and often not even realise they're doing that.

Capricorn and Virgo and Aquarius suns are imo the ones to hate astrology the most, like once they learn there are also bad things about their signs, wow!!!, they immediately hate it and GOOOD, astrology is so TERRIBLE and UNREAL and FAKE... 🙄🙄🙄

Scorpio suns are very hypocritical. Once they say some things but when it's suddenly against them, you're just making it up, it never happened! Also gaslight people and are just generally very proud and irrational when hurt a lot. Blame others a lot. Get all defensive and icky when people actually try to accuse them of something they have done.

Geminis can use fake tears to make you pity them and then act like it's all your fault, anyways.

Also sags use their feelings to try to gaslight people and make them feel sad for them and excuse themselves when they just don't care about them anymore, and just make them seem like it's all the other persons fault, when they'll still go like "its not you, it's me" in the end.

Cancer suns are very quirky in a kind of disgusting way, personally I get very annoyed by them and they still think I think they're oh so cute.

Also cancer men are very manipulative and might want to seem like the prince charming and saviour of all the women. Often matriarchal and want women to have all the power. Also submissive to them in sex and generally want women to be the dominant ones in a relationship. Often grew up in a home without a father, who left them as a child, their mother ruling the household. Might be the youngest sibling. Bullied in school and bullying others, hiding behind the "but I'm a soft boy uwu 😩😣💖💖💖🫀🫀🫀❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥💔💔💔👈👈👈" excuse and trauma that have happened to them. Either metalheads or soft boys uwu discord kittens. Often joke about furries and cringe weird communities and their obsessions. Very chronically online and may have grew up as a YouTube creepy pasta or smth else child.

Also Cancer men - Will pretend to listen to a girl because they know this is what they want --- because of that mother relationship they grew up with. But seriously just not give a fuck for real in their heads, they just know how to be smart and manipulate women. Don't feel comfortable around men BCS of their too-much-comfortable being they happen to switch on when are with women. Often put on a mask in front of men and pretend to be someone who they aren't. Men might think they're cool then, which j really don't understand. Like what???

Also cancer men and women - mommy issues, if it wasn't obvious. Can be very backstabbing and distrustful and think of themselves as mega hot and the best. Often boring texters and talkers. Rant a lot and talk about their hyperfixations and how the world is cruel and shit towards them, but really sometimes you can't help but wonder if they don't deserve it.

Saturn in 7th - Abusive relationships, getting married later in life, husband/wife popular and maybe rich, so if they abuse you, nobody might believe you and everybody will be on their side because they might be just more charismstic than you.

My parents both have this placement and it is HELL.

Lilith in 10th, 1th - Women envy you, hate you and sabotage you, men think you're too dark and edgy for them. People thinking you think you're better then them, this hating you. Being too charismatic for your own good.

Leo Venus - again, as it is with the Saturn in 7th. Could be more popular and overall likeable so if they do terrible things to you, nobody will believe you. Might just be nobody believing me cuz of crazy people around me tho.

Neptune in 1st - people might find you very attractive and ethereal, but also project on you A LOT. Meaning connections and relationships with you are just really difficult to even happen BCS people are always so judging and mean towards you.

Chiron in 1st - Body image issues, partners might abuse you and body shame you, people thinking less of you and in childhood parents often telling you you look ugly. I'm sorry people, I have this placement too tho so its not like I'm shaming you too, just I can feel your pain.

Scorpio ascendant - Too assertive and proud of your uniqueness and too opinionated for your own good. You guys are so clear with your speaking and always speak your mind and aren't fearful to express yourself how you feel and how your think and are always so like colorful with the things you say if you know what I mean. People will despise you for that and try to shut you up. And as somebody who did this to my scorp rising friend before subconsciously,,, yep. It happens even from your trusted friends.

If your moon is in the same sign as your friends/anyone's ascendant... You might feel instantly understood by them. Like I have this with my friend and it's an absolutely great and fantastic relationship, I love her. She absolutely understands me and gets me on a spiritual level - maybe caused by the fact that we have this with Scorpio - like no one else. It's a great relationship, savour this.

If you have a moon sign same as somebody's sun sign, you might enjoy their cooking.

If you have a sun sign same as somebody else's rising, you might try to be more like them and adore them for no reason.

[kaeyas-beloved]

Class 1-A with a fem! Quirkless reader! Cold, reserved, yet polite and soft spoken when talking, S/O may as well be an Ice Queen. Growing up alone with no love in exchange for massive training and tons of combat experience in illegal underground rings, making her one of the strongest students. Also, she has countless scars and burn marks all over her body from neck to toe, which she conceals by wearing scarfs, gloves, winter clothes. Class 1-A and some teachers reactions?

Characters: Class 1-A, All Might and Aizawa (really brief Recovery Girl and Nezu)

Genre: General, Minor h/c if you really squint, minor angst if you squint really hard + HCs

CW: Abuse (briefly stated but no in-depth descriptions + physical aftermath talked about), F!Reader (uses the girl's change room but other than that nothing else), all relations are platonic

a/n: Hi anon! Thanks for the request (only took me forever lol), hope you like it :)

Honestly, everyone thought that you were either cold or that the extra layers had something to do with your quirk. Both were plausible conclusions and there had been no other indication it could be some other reason. However, within the first week, the quirk theory was debunked.

Of course, this bred questions upon questions. How the hell did you pass the entrance exam quirkless? And just what are you capable of doing out of the field?

When the opportunity was presented, many not so subtly hinted at you to join the first round of the exercise. Finally, they’d get to see what you can do! Come the end of your round let’s just say they easily understood why you passed the entrance exam and never questioned it again.

This also left them with their final - and only - conclusion that the bundle of clothes you wear is due to you being cold. A few ask if you’d like them to turn the heat up so you could take off an article or two, though you always decline. So be it, they don’t push.

Midoriya has tremendous respect, adoration and idolization for you. Whether he lets it be known or not really just depends on the day. After all, you made it to UA quirkless, the one thing he thought was unachievable. Hell, the whole class may have some ounce of respect for you, seeing as the achievement is inspiring.

They all care very little about your personality or how you first come off. Deep down you’re nice and kind and polite and that's all that mattered to them. You’ll come around eventually, most do.

It's the girls that find out about your little secrets first. Concealing 101 and you trip up; a rookie mistake while changing after class. Shocked and horrified gasps are all you need to hear to know you've let one of the nastier scars show.

Whether you tell them the truth, just some of it or none at all, most will be on the verge of tears. No matter what you say though, they all know that tremendous pain is linked to that mark and insist on reporting it to the police. No accident would leave those scars. And if not the police then at least Mr. Aizawa or All Might (of course, none force you to take this step. They know it's not their place).

Regardless of how much your story was told the ladies all silently agreed to never let slip what they saw that evening. Unfortunately, everyone else knows by the end of the week; another, similar mistake regarding a looser shirt on a warm day slipping down just right being the cause.

It’s more wide-eyed looks than a verbal reaction. You're tossing between running or letting things play out naturally. However, given how your body is locked in freeze mode you don't think you have much of a say. Only when the looks of understanding, curiosity and sympathy (or is it pity?) register are you able to get to your feet. You're making a beeline down the hall and to the safety of your room where no one can see the darker parts of yourself. Unfortunately, it all comes to a crashing halt (literally) when you run into Mr. Aizawa.

Even though he was able to stop you both from falling over the wind is still knocked from his lungs. There’s a quick scolding on the tip of his tongue, something about no running or watching where you’re going, but it quickly dies off when he sees what’s got everyone silent.

The scars are one thing, they’re marks he’s seen often on both himself and others. No, what really has his heart dropping to the pits of his stomach is the branded insignia etched into your skin. He knows it far too well but it’s also something he never thought to see again.

Coming to his senses a mumbled, “…be careful next time," is what leaves his mouth instead, carefully letting you go to walk off to your room. Whatever the Pro Hero was going to say to everyone before doesn't come, instead, he too turns back the way he came. There are some things he has to think about about.

Sleep didn't come easy that night, Aizawa's mind plagued with memories from years ago. He knows that you can't save everyone, it's not always possible, but he could have sworn he and a few others rescued all the victims from the underground ring case. If you slipped under the radar then just how many others did he and his team miss?

There’s a mix of rage and guilt swirling in his chest as he finally drifts off. Aizawa knows what went on in that illegal organization and to think you went through more than you had to because of his negligence? He’ll be kicking himself for it for a while.

Come morning - a weekend thankfully - there were a few ways Aizawa thought to approach this. One was to relay this information to the other Pro Heroes, the ring could still be happening for all they know. The second option was to call you into his office in the dorms and talk with you. Of course, the second option was what he went with.

The room was thick with awkwardness; you, unsure why you'd been called in, and Aizawa was unsure where to begin exactly.

"That symbol... I know, (L/N)." Your teacher didn't have to say much more for you to get where the conversation was heading. He asked if there were others still out there and if there were if you would share their location and any names you might know. Though, he paused in his onslaught upon seeing you curl into yourself.

"Sorry. I just..." want to help. To stop the monsters that do these things to the innocent.

He gives you a moment to calm down before asking if it was alright to continue. Aizawa went slower with his questions, fetching you some water to sip on throughout and staying quiet as you spoke until you were done.

He's a man that gets straight to the point, and at times a man of few words, but he knew that no words would be able to convey how grateful he is or how proud he is that you told him all you could. Even if you couldn't or didn't tell much, it doesn't erase how brave you are for trying.

You have yet to gain your hero license but already you're saving lives. "Thank you."

With your permission, Aizawa told the other Pros that he felt should know. All Might was one of them. He took the news harder than Aizawa did, having worked on the case as well, but he was the one that proudly and confidently stated that all victims had been saved. That every villain was apprehended and that no one else was to be harmed because of them. What a joke - he sees now what a liar he was.

The former number one apologies to you. Full on “I’m sorry... for failing you...” because that’s what he believes he’s done. And in some ways, that's what he did. While others got to go home to whatever families they had or live better lives, you sat chained to a cold and lonely routine, unable to leave the side of the group who used you for their own personal monetary gain and sick entertainment. But perhaps, another part of you wants to forgive, because you too know that the operation was huge and that there are always those few that aren't found. Who are you to hold it against them when they obviously did all they could? Besides, it's not their fault for being deceived - told by those they caught that they had everyone, that there was no one else to catch.

When you were advised that Recovery Girl might be able to patch up and ease the more prominent scars, you weren't sure what to do or say. Still, you figured it wouldn't hurt to go and see her. The moment the little old lady peeked at your skin her smile faded. Before, she had kept a conversation going with you but now she continued her examination in silence. She'd been told what to roughly expect but she couldn't be prepared for the sheer volume of it all.

As soon as the old woman finished she told it to you straight: "I'm sorry dear. At best I can give you something to allow them to fade but I make no guarantee that any would disappear." Despite the news, you thank her and leave with the cream and ointment she prescribed.

Nezu asked for you to visit him a few days later. While keeping his cheery tone he told you that if at any point you couldn't complete an assignment, accommodations would be made for you. After all, he wishes for all UA students to be safe and succeed - you included. (And perhaps it's because he too understood a fraction at least of what you'd gone through. He knew the trials it takes to get back on your feet and that there is no easy, straightforward path.)

Your friends encourage you at times to shed the scarf or jacket you wear around the dorm, assuring you that your scars don't scare them and that they won't judge you for them. While old habits are very hard to break (especially when tied to something traumatic, something that each of your classmates understands is hard to unravel) there are times when you can let yourself breathe just a little easier and stay cool during the warmer months. In these times, it's the little achievements that go a long way.

The whole class makes it so that they watch their tones and movements - they don't want to accidentally bring forth a memory. Half the class already was pretty quiet but it's students like Bakugou that you can really see the change in. Anyone can see that if you're around his voice isn't as loud compared to before, or that there are fewer and fewer times his hands will pop with mini explosions. Midoriya, Mina, Ida, Uraraka, Denki and Kirishima become more aware to tone down their own voices as well, knowing that they can get pretty loud at times. Shouji watched where his extra limbs were and Tokoyami instructed Dark Shadow to not creep up on you.

Todoroki will sometimes randomly come up to you and share a tip or two on how to care for your burns (both long-term and for any more recent ones should there be any) while Midoriya tells you how he personally maintains his scarring.

There was only once that everyone collectively told you that you could talk to them if you'd like. A few pointed out that if you were told repeatedly then you might be inclined to not reach out, hence their decision. Teachers, classmates, whoever, you could talk to them if you want or need to. Each of them would be there for you no matter what and they want to make that clear. Whether you reached out or not is up to you.

Tag list: @tickotaku // @dorkylittleweirdo // @thylocalcrackhead //@unidentifiedzombie // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @lordbugs // @akiria12167

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