#the body starts to reject the ghost

[socialmediasocrates]

the endless struggle of "she's such a weird asshole i don't even like her and i wrote her" and "she's the product of a conga line of trauma and dysfunction" with the character of mayeari as i write her for fic purposes discussed under the cut broad cw for discussion of a wide range of unsavory themes including child death and the character herself having a hazy understanding of boundaries regarding physical contact (specifically non-sexual touching)

she's different in fic bc i didn't decide i wanted to do a play through with her until after i'd invented the character (maybe in hopes of working out some characterization inconsistencies) so her actual play through is uncanonical so that's a choice i made to complicate things for myself specifically

and on one hand even i sit here going "damn bitch how many times does someone have to tell you they don't like you constantly touching them before you get it" but on the other one i'm the one that gave her a backstory that made her need physical touch as a reminder that she is, in fact, a real, existing person who experiences real, actual sensations in the right now. she died as a child, and she's subsequently "lived" longer as a facsimile of a living woman than her own mother ever lived at all. sometimes i have to remind myself that my dislike of the personality i wrote her having doesn't just give me a free pass to completely flanderize the character. she's never been able to assert hard boundaries about people touching her, and she always feels like she isn't real in between physical contact with someone, so it simultaneously feels melodramatic and pointedly cruel to her when others get angry or annoyed about her touchy-feelyness. the line of thinking makes sense even if she makes me personally incredibly uncomfortable when i'm writing her

she's a ghost haunting her own body, and i have to remind myself of that like all the time

i'm planning on her being my dark urge play through and it'll be interesting to see what i can pull from that in order to round out her characterization a little more as i move forward

[lymtw]

Lazy days with Toji where you're sitting between his legs, just basking in his presence. You're laid back against his chest, scrolling through your socials, while he attempts to focus on whatever is playing on the TV screen. His arms are wrapped around your waist, securely, and his chin rests on your shoulder as he watches the movie you put on.

It's practically background noise for you because you're not paying attention, but when you're the one not focused, Toji takes the hit for it too because you constantly interrupt him by showing him videos of food with the promise of making it for him someday. You're also feeding him your broken humor in the form of memes, and though he doesn't find the actual images you show him funny, he cracks up at the way you laugh so hard that you squirm uncontrollably against him in your fit of laughter. He rolls his eyes with a sly smirk on his face at your giggles in the aftermath of your laughter, but still, he can't help but wonder how he got you.

You settle against him again, allowing him to keep watching the movie in peace, only now he sees no point in it. He's lost on the plot, and it's not as interesting without you going 'You like tomatoes, right? Or... at least tomato sauce, right?' or something food related every three minutes. His hands are moving now, his arms still around your lower stomach. You pay no mind to it because he's probably doing it mindlessly.

You're no stranger to him placing his hands on you while completing other tasks. You see his nonchalant front as he makes his way towards you but as soon as he rounds the corner, you can feel the wolfish grin radiating as he comes up behind you. He's there for a mug, but he'll do extra to show you that he's there behind you. He'll grab your hips and pull you back until your ass is against his crotch. Sometimes you resist the pull to mess with him, but he always manages to pull your body into his, a bite to your shoulder following as "punishment" for rejecting him.

For the strangest reason, his advances shook you this time. One hand felt up your bare outter thigh, following the expanse of it until he couldn't reach anymore. Then he went to the underside of it, squeezing the flesh a couple times. Your heart was pounding, but you stayed focused on your phone, or attempted to once his other hand started teasing the knot of the bow tied above your waistband.

He slowly unraveled the knot, allowing the elastic band of your shorts to loosen and give his hand more space. You think he's watching the movie, but really, he's watching you react through his peripheral vision. His hand travels further down your shorts, his middle finger ghosting your slit through your underwear. The touch is barely there, but it has your stomach doing cartwheels. He sighs, his fingers going back up to the lace trimming of your underwear. The sound just barely reached your ears, but it had a lasting effect as he continued to let his hands roam your lower body. He puts his fingers through the left leg hole of your underwear, the digits snapping the elastic against your hip.

You found another video to show him, but you saved it instead to show him later. You don't know exactly what is running through his mind, but it's completely welcome if it involves him continuing to touch you this way.

His fingers drag back down to your slit, this time applying more pressure. You twitch against him, earning that sly grin that appears when he knows he's working you up. You try to ground yourself and keep it together a little longer by putting your leg up, only for Toji to push it back down onto the couch.

"What's wrong, mama?" He mumbles into your shoulder. "Getting real fidgety outta nowhere."

"I'm okay," you assure, turning to give him a kind smile.

He takes it up a notch, allowing his hand to go under your sweater. He uses the privilege he has on your body so adeptly that even his hand placements are enough to force heat to run through you. The feeling of his hand grazing your skin fuels the fire that is kindled within you. He lets his blunt nails drag along the left side of your waist, slowly merging toward your midriff and upwards, before reaching the bottom of your bra. It's no restriction to him, he can just go under it.

He hums, feeling the blood rush down to his dick at the feeling of your warm breast in his hand. It only takes one brush of his finger to make your nipple quickly harden, a feeling that makes you feel like you're buzzing with electricity.

Toji is so well versed in your anatomy, it kind of embarrasses you sometimes that he doesn't have to try so hard to soften you up. He did so well at memorizing your body that he doesn't really have to look anymore to know that his touch is affecting you. That is not to be mistaken for him not wanting to watch his effects take a toll on you, because he would gladly watch you submissively fall apart for hours.

Your stomach tenses as he combines both forms of stimulation, a muffled moan coming from you as fall back on Toji's chest, your sleeve over your mouth.

He laughs at the way your eyes flutter shut, your brows pinching when he doesn't let up even after you waved your white flag. You know better than to think he'd let you walk away without making you cum on his fingers at least once.

"Why are you muting yourself, ma?" He breathes against your ear. "Don't you know it gets me hard when you whine and moan for me?"

You sigh, your phone shaking in your grip. "O-Okay, Toji. Won't do it again," you say in the most delicate tone. You turn your phone screen off and give your undivided attention to Toji and his torturous touch.

"Right. You wanna cum, don't you?"

"Mhm," you mumble, setting your hands down on his thighs.

"Oh, you can do better than that. Tell me you want to cum." His lips find the side of your neck, nudging the material of your sweater aside so that he can ghost the slope that leads to your shoulder. The urge to bite the exposed skin is almost unbearable.

Your hips roll slightly against his crotch, earning a slight groan from him. His cock is rock hard, but he's gonna get you off first since he was the one who got you all riled up in the first place. "Please make me cum, Toji. Please? Pretty please?"

Your words go straight to his dick. You've always been so well mannered—so good at begging for what you want. Being Toji's lover turned you even more politely submissive. Does this mean you deserve to cum quickly every time? Not in Toji's reality because he loves to see the feral look in your bleary eyes when he leaves you hanging.

He chuckles, quickening the movements of the hand teasing your drooling pussy. "Taught you how to beg real good, huh? Who knows what the bratty side of you would bring out of me."

"F-Fuck, fuck Toji," you inhale, exhaling shakily as his hands pause to switch positions.

"I could tame that side of you, too," he says in a taunting tone, as if daring you to rebel against him someday. "I'd get you in this exact position, even if you wanna be a stuck up little princess." His right hand snakes up your sweater, repeating the same process as before of exploring your skin before getting to your breast.

"Mm-mm, no," you whine, squirming in his hold. "'M only good for you, T-Toji."

"Yeah? I'll hold you accountable if it turns out otherwise," he murmurs into your shoulder, his voice like drizzling honey in contrast to the threat. He can feel you gushing even more, his fingers collecting more slick with every up and down of his fingers. "Fuck, you considering it now?"

"N-No I wouldn't... Toji, I wouldn't." Your hands squeeze his thighs, refraining from using your nails.

"Then why'd your cunt start drooling even more when I told you what would happen?"

"Toji..." you whine, your cheeks burning up.

He chuckles, "S'all good, ma. I got you."

"T-Toji, I- Can I cum? Please, please, Toji?"

"Already? I just started, princess. Can you hold it?" He asks, slowing his strokes.

"I don't t-think so... 'm sorry, please..."

He sighs, no trace of disappointment in the sound, rather pride for turning you into a sloppy mess in such a short span of time.

"You'll have to make it up to me. Didn't last very long, you know?" He rolls your nipple between his fingers, amused by the way your body vibrates at the overwhelming stimulation.

"Mhm... yes, Toji. Whatever you want."

He can't hold back the wicked grin that forms at your thoughtless, pleading words for mercy.

"'Kay, mama. Make it worth it."

His fingers make direct contact with your pussy for the first time since he started playing with you. His thumb focused on your clit, while his middle and index finger tease your entrance. His lips go for your neck again, planting wet kisses on the warm skin. He's so overwhelming in every aspect when he makes you cum. You're entirely suffocated by him and you love it.

You don't last another five seconds before completely falling apart on Toji, crying out his name followed by a barrage of moans. Your back arched and your legs came up to assist you in squeezing the life out of Toji's hand. Had he not braced you with the one arm he had up your sweater, you would have completely slid down his body and laid there curled up in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

"Up, mama. Stay up," he instructs. His hand goes flat on your chest, pressing you against him to keep you as steady as possible as you writhe in soul crushing pleasure.

Eventually, you go limp, laying your legs flat on the couch again. Toji chuckles, sadistically, at the broken down husk that remains of you. He attempts to bring you back to life by prodding at your overstimulated cunt and you react the way he expected, pushing at his arm to stop it.

He pulls his hands out of their designated areas, wiping your cum off on his sweatpants. "Hey," he calls, poking your forehead when he notices you dozed off.

"Mm..." you hum, in response. You roll your eyes open with a lazy grin etched on your face, an expression that added pressure to the brick in Toji's pants.

"Let's go to the bed. Fucking is not gonna be comfortable here." He traces your jaw with his fingers.

"I can't walk," you mumble, exaggerating to get him to carry you.

"Oh, you poor baby," he mocks. "That won't be a lie once i'm done with you."

You use every ounce of effort to push yourself forward to try and crawl away from him, but he pulls you back by the arm and secures you in his hold again. You giggle as he wraps your legs around his waist.

"Trynna pull a fast one on me?" He chuckles. "Well, aren't you precious?" He pushes off the couch using his foot to boost his momentum, a groan leaving him as he adjusts to standing after sitting for so long.

You surrender yourself to him willingly. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, getting drunk off his scent, and watch as the light that illuminates the living room disappears out of sight when you reach the bedroom.

[greystend]

When Jason die, he becomes a ghost in the Infinite Realms.

A ghost kid, with a literature obsession and a Justice core, a big smile and robin's wings.

At first, his memory is a little blury and confusing, but by fulfilling his core's needs, he gains it back bit by bit.

He stills can't remember how he died, but he can't let Batman (who's also perhaps his dad ?) fight alone ! It's not like this other guy (who's such a dick he can't even remember calling him by any other name) will help the hero, so Jason needs to go back !

Except... apparently, ghosts don't have a lot of power, in the living world. And even if Jason's pretty powerful for a new dead, it's not enought without a ectoplasm source. The only way he will be able to interact is by possessing someone.

And even that is limited, at some point his host body will reject his spirit.

But there still a body, out there, that's perfect for him and won't reject him : his own cadaver.

So he decides to learn how to heal, to heal his body back in living condition. Or at least, in apparence.

He goes to the Far Frozen and apprentice under FrostBit. Even helping a few times with Phantom's half human part, so he can practice on a living body !

And he feeds his core by going after the people who hurted his patients, so he keeps gaining his memory back.

The day he remembers his death, he has a mental break down and execute his plan without waiting to be really prepared.

He goes to his tombstone (Jason Todd ? Why not Jason Todd-Wayne ? Why in the cimeter, with that disgrace of a biological mother and not in the Wayne family plot ?), heal all the damages and the decay he can find, and possess the body.

Except, in his state, he forgets something really important.

He healed all the things he could see, yes, but brain damage isn't visually detectable.

Once in his body, he's really confused, having barely enought consciousness to realize he needs to get out of the tomb and how.

From there, it's the canon, except the Lazarus Water is normal extoplasm and helps him regain a few memories so he start instinctively healing his brain. But so much ectoplasm after so much time starving intensify a lot all the ghost traits, and his Justice Core makes him completly unhinged at the idea of his murderer still free and runing around.

Years later, Danny & co needs a healer, but can't go to the Far Frozen because they destroyed the portal to stop the GIW from starting a war.

Danny can remember one of Frosbit's apprentices talking a lot about Ghotam, before disappearing. He can only hope he's right and the apprentice succeded in coming to the living realm.

It's his only chance.

[lipglossanon]

Dirty Little Secret

Stepson!Leon S. Kennedy x Stepmom!Reader <one shot>

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, pseudo incest, cheating, loveless marriage? lol, mommy kink, breeding kink, mentions of lactation kink, dirty talk, noncon, slight somno, mention of a rape play scenario, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread ✍️ just smut

title from Dirty Little Secret by The All American Rejects

You thought it was love. This guy wined and dined you then showed you the world. So when he proposes to you only three months into your relationship, you’re so smitten that you agree before he even finishes asking. 

It must’ve been the honeymoon phase because a year later, you’re stuck at home while he galivants around the globe for his business. It’s not like you have a hard time, but you’re lonely, done begging for attention from a man who apparently just wanted someone to live in his empty house while he’s gone. 

Then after months of stilted phone calls and cut short video chats, he drops by only to surprise you with a son from a previous marriage. Something you knew nothing about. After introducing Leon to you, he leaves him there—some flimsy excuse of letting you two get to know each other—and is off again once more. 

Leon smiles at you as his dad leaves, “Sorry to drop in like this.”

Your frown smooths out as you take a deep breath, “Not your fault, sorry if I’m off kilter. He didn’t even tell me about you til now.”

You wince after saying the words out loud but Leon only laughs. 

“It’s okay. I’ll stay out of your hair as much as possible.”

You wave your hand, “Don’t be silly, it’ll be nice to have company again.”

He smiles again but this one makes you feel a little more on edge, something about the way it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“Well then, I’m sure we’ll get on like a house on fire.”

You settle into a new routine, Leon fitting into your day to day pretty easily. He’s sarcastic and mouthy, but it beats only having yourself for company. Your husband dropped off his son in late January and it’s now early May; it’s like you blinked and realized you haven’t even had anyone else visit except for Leon’s actual mom. (She’s surprisingly a sweetheart and quite helpful even if she makes Leon all moody to have her in your shared space). 

It’s after one such visit that left Leon in an irritable mood where you decide to have a little movie night in order to cheer him up. You’re unsure as to what started it this time, but the ex missus just gave you a quick smile and wave goodbye as Leon stormed off upstairs. Taking in a deep breath, you rap your knuckles on his closed door and listen for any movement.

Half a minute passes by before you hear him walk over and open the door. You take in his sweats and loose white tee. Good, it doesn’t look like he's headed out—you tilt your head before looking back up into his face. 

“Yes?” He raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms, a corner of his lips ticking up into a half smile. 

“Wanna watch some shitty horror movies and order pizza?” You smile, pleased with yourself when he drops his arms. 

“Sure,” he shrugs, tossing his phone back onto his bedspread and pushing you away from his door, closing it behind him, “w’nna order a cheese pizza?”

“Sounds good,” you lead him back downstairs, flopping down on the couch and grabbing your phone. 

Leon sits on the cushion next to you, leaning over to watch as you scroll through the app. 

“Want any sides or anything?” You ask, attention still on your phone. 

“Pizza’s plenty.”

You feel his breath ghost across your neck and it sends a chill down your spine. Scrunching your shoulders up, you laugh and bump against his side. 

“That tickles, Leon,” you shift a little and you feel him move to face the television. 

Once you place the order, you lock your phone and sink into the couch. Leon’s close enough you can feel his body heat, but you know if you move he’ll end up next to you again. It’s something you’ve noticed over the time that he’s stayed here; you’ve only brought it up once and he admitted he likes being close since he misses his mom. 

You frown to yourself as Leon channel surfs, not wanting to start any movies only for it to be interrupted by the delivery guy. For him to miss his mom so much, he’s always pissy when she visits. Maybe he’s just salty that she let him end up living here with you? Glancing over at him, he notices you looking and shoots you a grin. 

“Have any idea on what movie we start with?”

You return his grin and drum your fingers against your thigh, “Hmmm, you ever watch Spookies?”

He shakes his head, “I’m assuming it’s bad?”

“The worst but in the best way,” you laugh.

He studies you for a moment. 

“Thanks for trying to cheer me up.”

Giddy warmth bubbles in your chest, “Of course, Leon. I know the situation probably isn’t ideal, but I’ll take care of you.”

He laughs low in his throat, “We’re nearly the same age.”

You wave him off, “Yeah, yeah, but I’m still older though.”

Lapsing into a companionable silence, you mindlessly watch as Leon zips through different shows until the doorbell rings. After stuffing your faces with pizza, you settle in comfortably on the couch, feet laying over Leon’s lap after he tugged your legs away from you. 

“No reason to stay curled up like that,” he pats your calf. 

Unsure how to feel, you eventually relax into him. If it doesn’t bother him, then why should it bother you? The heat from his lap must lull you to sleep because the next thing you know is blinking your eyes open to some random movie playing on the tv. Another beat and you groggily glance down your body at the new weight pressing you into the cushions. 

Sandy blonde hair fills your vision as you feel Leon softly suck a nipple into his mouth. Without you noticing, he has pushed your flimsy shirt up and tugged your bra cups down. Squirming under him only leads to him sighing softly, eyes fluttering shut as he licks around your stiff peaks. 

“Stop, stop,” you pant, feeling sluggish and out of sorts, arms and legs feeling wooden as sleep tries to cling to your senses.

Leon only laughs and goes back to softly sucking on your nipples, mouth drifting from one hard bud to the other with quick swipes of his tongue. 

“But mommy, you said you’d take care of me,” his low voice raises the hair on your arms, “mmm, and what I really need is to suck your sexy tits.”

There’s no denying the rush of slick that fills the gusset of your panties. 

“S’wrong, Leon,” you counter, weakly crying out when he gently bites your nipple. 

“Maybe, but I think you need this, need me to take care of you. After all, my dad’s not going to,” he growls and roughly sucks the puckered skin around your stiff bud, “you need a husband who wants to stuff your hot little pussy.”

A loud keening moan leaves your mouth before you can clamp your lips shut.

His eyes are bright as a grin lights up his face, “See? C’mon, no one has to know that you let your stepson dick you down on the couch.”

Hips jumping, you mewl as he goes back to lapping at your nipples, hands coming up to grope the soft fat of your breasts. 

“Been waiting for this,” he murmurs into your sternum, mouth leaving a trail of hot kisses across your skin, “fuck, I’ve wanted you so bad, mommy.”

The condescension in that one word makes you drip, pussy throbbing for more than just words. 

“W-we shouldn’t though,” you try to get a grip on yourself, hands hovering over his hair, “god, I’m married to your father.”

“Is he here? Is he ever here?” He raises up and sneers at you, “never around when you need’em huh?”

Raising up onto his haunches he gives you a nasty smirk, “But that’s why you have me now. I’m gonna pound your hot little pussy day and night. Maybe it’ll even make you a real mommy.”

“Leon!” You gasp, nipples tightening at the thought, hands digging into the couch.

But he’s telling the truth. Your husband is never home— hasn’t called you back and barely replies to texts. You’ve been lonely and neglected even before Leon got here; so what if it’s wrong? It won’t kill anyone just to go along with him this one time. So that’s what you decide to tell him. 

“This one time,” you whisper, biting your lip as you give in to him, “just once.”

He laughs, “Sure, I can work with that.”

Once turns into twice. 

“It’s still just the one time,” you pant as he fucks into your squelching pussy, face mashed against the armrest of the couch, “it’s still the same round.”

“Sure, mommy,” he murmurs in your ear and you clamp down on him tighter, “whatever you say.”

Which turns into three and four and then five…

By the next afternoon, you're bouncing on your stepson’s fat cock in your own marriage bed. 

“Fuck, fuck, I need it, please, I wanna cum,” you whimper, grinding down onto Leon’s dick, “please.”

“Take it then, mommy, take your son’s cock deep in that little pussy,” he growls, thumb rubbing your clit in tight rough circles. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, eyes rolling back as Leon’s fat tip kisses your cervix, “god, it’s so good.”

“Yeah? Better than dad’s?” Leon asks, flashing you a smug little smile. 

“Uh huh,” you whine, hands pressing on his broad chest so you can ride him harder, “you’re the best fuck I’ve ever had.”

“Goddamn,” he growls, grabbing your waist and flipping you onto your back. 

Pulling halfway out, he bullies his cock back into your sopping wet hole, pace fast and hard making you wail as he rams against your g-spot. 

“Tell me mommy, tell me who’s making this fat pussy feel so good,” he pinches your nipples, “c’mon mommy, say it.”

“You,” you whimper, tears clumping your lashes, “you’re making mommy’s pussy feel so good.”

“Who?”

“My son,” you cry out as he tugs your nipples roughly, “my son’s filling my pussy and making me cum.”

“Good girl, mommy,” he coos mockingly and you squeeze his cock, pussy walls snug and wet around his thick length. 

“I’ve given you so many creampies,” he sighs, “fuck, I hope one of them takes. Wanna drink your milk.”

You shudder, hips stilling, “That’s so—”

“Hot?” He slaps your thigh and you start grinding on his cock again, “these tits leaking milk for me would be a dream come true. Let me breed you, mommy.”

“I can’t,” you mewl, clit throbbing as you rock your hips into his thrusts, “can’t get knocked up by my stepson.”

Leon groans, “It’ll just be the one time. Besides, I’ve been dumping load after load into this tight little cunt. We both know you want it, mommy. Making that pussy crave to have me stuffing her to the brim.”

You lean forward, face pressing against his neck as you moan brokenly. 

“I shouldn’t,” you hiccup, hips writhing as Leon reaches underneath you to grip your ass. 

“It’ll be our little secret,” he humps your pussy, cock knocking against your cervix and making you squeal, “let me breed you, mommy. Let your son breed your fat pussy.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you slur, mouth panting and drooling against his skin, “oh god, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Next time, I want you to fight me,” he whispers in your ear and you moan, “fight me so when I pin you down, I’ll be raping your hot wet pussy until you cream all over my cock, mommy.”

Your nails dig into his back and you scream, orgasm wiping out your thoughts as your body thrashes under Leon.

“I’m cumming, fuck, mommy, gonna fill you up again,” he rambles, hips pistoning his cock in and out of your pussy as you continue to orgasm. 

The last thing you see is Leon’s blue eyes staring down at you as your pussy milks his cock while he spurts rope after rope of thick cum inside your clenching hole. 

You wake up sometime later with Leon running his fingers along your arm and shoulder. 

“You okay?”

You hum and nod, stretching out along the bed, feeling a slight twinge in your hips. 

“May’ve over done it,” you mumble, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands. 

Leon laughs and drops a kiss to your head. 

“Yeah I got that after you passed out.”

Giggling, you turn on your side to face him. 

“Need to drink more water I guess.”

He nods, a funny sort of smile overtaking his features. 

“You’re not gonna tell anyone right?”

You scoff and roll your eyes, “Why would I? Even if we’re both adults, I don’t think anyone’s gonna be happy it happened.”

Sighing, you push up until you can swing your legs over the side of the bed. 

“I’m gonna take a shower.”

Standing up, your thighs shake but you’re able to walk over to the en-suite bathroom. At the doorway, you turn back to see Leon staring at you, a hungry look in his eyes. You bite your lip knowing what you’re about to say isn’t a good idea, but what the hell. You’re already in it this far. 

“If you wash my back, I’ll wash yours,” tone flirty as you smile at him. 

Not waiting for an answer, you walk into the bathroom, listening as the sheets ruffle from Leon climbing out of bed to follow you.  

[hgfictionwriter]

Discovery - Part Four

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie's feeling the lowest she has in a long time. Things are at the tipping point and she needs to choose to either confront things head on or lose you forever.

Warnings: G!P content. Heavy angst. Body image issues or even dysphoria; mental and emotional anxiety; internal conflicts; themes of rejection and self-loathing; self-sabotaging behaviours. Language.

A/N: Chapters one, two and three.

“I can’t believe you. I’ve waited all day to hear from you - and nothing. After everything that happened, you just leave in the middle of the night and just dead silence. Are you kidding me, Jess?”

“First you give me the cold shoulder all evening without any explanation as to why. Started by a conversation you began, might I add. I tell you I love you. We kiss and you literally throw me off of you.”

“Yes, I was upset and I didn’t want to talk. But you just ghost me all day? I know you withdraw when you’re upset or overwhelmed, but you don’t even have the decency to check in with me or give me some kind of an explanation?”

Jessie sunk into her seat on the couch as she read your messages again. She’d been staring at them on and off for the past hour and felt paralyzed, unable to act.

She’d managed to make it to training this morning, but she was certainly worse for wear. Her eyes were bloodshot and she had dark circles under them from a mix of sleep deprivation and the time she’d spent crying. Her teammates immediately clocked her upset and some fawned over her trying to suss things out and help, but she was largely unresponsive.

She just wanted to do her drills to keep her mind off of you and the absolute disaster she’d created.

Coach recommended she talk to the sports therapist, and while she nodded her agreement, she had no intention of rushing. She already knew what they’d say and she wasn’t interested right now. If she was willing to do those things, guess what, she wouldn’t be in the fucking predicament in the first place.

So here she sat at home this evening, in self-imposed solitude and catatonic. The apartment was dead quiet as she flipped between scrolling distractedly through her phone and re-reading messages with you and looking at pictures of the two of you.

She needed to respond. But it seemed no matter how much she thought about it, she couldn’t figure out what to say. Nothing was remotely adequate. She let out a shuddering breath as she continued to remain inert.

Her heart raced as another message came in from you.

“I’d like to think we’d built enough of a connection and you have enough respect for me to at least acknowledge me and respond. I’ve been sitting here making up excuses in my head for you all day, but reality is, you just choose not to talk to me.”

She let her head fall heavily back against the wall with a dull thud. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists as she felt herself start to tear up yet again.

The end felt inevitable, but underneath all of her fear and anxiety it isn’t what she wanted. It would be easier perhaps. Just close herself off again. Be single again for god knows how long. She was exceptional at pushing people away and pretending it didn’t matter.

Then, maybe, when it felt safe again and the hardship she was currently experiencing was just a distant memory, she would hope to meet someone as incredible as you again. But for what? So she could compare them to you? Miss you? To fuck it all up again?

She released a slow, steady breath and brought her phone back up to reply.

“I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner. I was at training earlier and I guess I just didn’t know what to say.”

“She lives. Well, thank you for replying... So. Do you know what you want to say now?”

She sighed in frustration.

“No.”

She shouldn’t be so curt.

“I wish I did.”

“Well. That’s very helpful.”

“I have some things I want to say. But if you’re not interested in hearing them or trying to resolve anything, I suppose there’s no point.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek.

“I want to know.”

“Do you actually? Because, frankly, even if I told you how I feel last night, I’m not that interested in humiliating myself further or wasting my time if we’re not on the same page.”

Jessie’s chest constricted painfully as she read your message. She never used to consider herself a selfish person, but seeing the toll she’d taken on you, she couldn’t deny it. She wiped angrily at a stray tear at the corner of her eye.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. You shouldn’t have to feel that way and I’m sorry I’ve caused it. I do want to hear what you have to say.”

“I don’t want to do this through text. It’s going to fucking suck but I want to talk in person.”

Jessie sat forward to the edge of the couch and leaned her forearms heavily against her thighs as she studied your message.

She was scared. She didn’t want to do that. Still, she owed you that, the truth, and so much more. And even if you left hating her, she had to make sure you knew it really was all her - you’d been perfect and all of this rot branched from her.

And if it really was the end, she couldn’t resist seeing you one more time.

“Okay. Where and when?”

—————

Jessie’s hands were cold and clammy as she walked down the hall to your apartment. She breathed heavily before catching herself and steadying them. She compulsively opened and closed her fists as she waited for you to answer.

When you opened the door, your expression was a far cry from the one she was used to seeing greet her. Instead of seeing a bright or warm smile, you looked tired and weary.

Guilt radiated through Jessie; she caused this single-handedly. She was supposed to make you happy, bring you comfort, make you feel safe and loved. Instead, she left you looking like a shell of yourself. Slowly at first, small nicks here and there, before a catastrophic and now lingering blow.

“Come in,” you said with only the slightest inflection in your voice. You stepped aside but didn’t make eye contact as Jessie entered.

“I, um, got you this,” Jessie said after she set her shoes aside and took off her backpack. She pulled a vinyl record out of it and handed it to you. She met your discerning gaze briefly before dropping it to the record in her hand. “I know you’ve been looking for it, so…”

You tentatively took it from her, a frown on your face as you examined it.

“Thanks,” you said flatly.

She knew it wouldn’t fix things or make things up to you - not by a long shot - but she had the faintest hope you would be more receptive.

When she forced herself to look up at you again, she saw you still studying the record. Eventually, your frown deepened and you looked at her almost accusingly.

“I don’t get you,” you said. “You barely talk to me these past couple of days and you act all cagey but then you do this? It doesn’t make sense.”

Your face faltered briefly before you grew stoic once more. “Some days you seem to really like me. Really care for me and understand me and we connect so well. And then others it feels like you can hardly stand to look at me.” A flash of emotion appeared on your face and disappeared just as fast. Your voice strained vaguely before you steadied it. “Never mind touch me.”

Jessie swallowed and dropped her gaze in shame. You went on, your voice cracking.

“I’ve tried to be really patient. But after the other night…I’ve done a lot of thinking and I can’t help but admit how hard it’s been.”

You sighed heavily and set the record down on a nearby table before returning and folding your arms tightly against yourself and leaning back against the wall. Your brow was heavy with a frown.

“And I know you've been trying." Your voice grew taut. "Prior anyway. And that's probably what makes it the worst. It's been hard for you, too - to be with me." Your face fell and your lip trembled briefly as you looked away.

Jessie's heart ached as she watched you battle with your emotions. All of the fear and worry she'd let dominate her fell away, replaced with an overwhelming need to hold you and make you feel better.

"It hasn't been," Jessie beseeched, taking a step forward but stopping when your gaze flicked back to her, warning.

"Do you think I’m stupid?" You said sharply. "I know you can’t stand to touch me. At first, I kept trying to give myself, and you, the benefit of the doubt - but the other night really proved that not only do you most definitely not find me attractive,” you laughed acerbically, “I think I might actually even repulse you.” You stared at her a moment, letting your words hang in the air and feigning amusement before choking back a sob. You visibly clenched your jaw before you forced another empty laugh. “That’s a fun one. My therapist’s about to get a ton of business from me.”

You took a shuddering breath and your voice cracked as you spoke. "I already know how this ends.”

“That’s not at all what’s happening or how I feel,” Jessie protested. She pressed the heels of her palms firmly into her eyes and grit her teeth. Her voice strained with burgeoning emotion. “Jesus Christ. That’s not it at all."

Your face screwed up and you gave a sad shake of your head as you stared her down.

“Stop. Just stop with the vague excuses. Just be honest with me. I don’t need you to confirm it, but don’t lie and tell me otherwise. I can tell,” voice breaking at the end. “Every time you pull away. How uncomfortable you can be when we’re even remotely physical. You can’t stand to kiss me for any length of time. I can feel you just waiting to pull away, like you’re fucking counting down the seconds until it’s over.” You started sobbing. “It’s horrible. Knowing you don’t want me like I want you.”

Jessie took a step toward you and you recoiled. She couldn’t help but think - maybe much like how she had with you times before.

“And don’t give me this whole ‘you’re shy’ or ‘you’re awkward’ thing again. I deserve more than your excuses.” Your voice grew softer. “And it’s not your fault you feel the way you do. You can’t control who you’re attracted to. Sometimes there can be an emotional connection and the physical just isn’t there. I don’t blame you. But I do blame you for dragging this out." You sniffled, wiping agitatedly at a tear that rolled down your cheek before giving her a defiant stare. "So just do what you should’ve done from the beginning.”

“It’s not you,” Jessie started and immediately saw the way you tensed up, ready to argue. She spoke quickly and urgently, her voice pleading for mercy and understanding. “It’s not you. I promise. It’s me - and I know how that sounds. But you were never the problem. I need you to know that.”

You looked ready to explode and Jessie knew it was now or never.

"It's me. I-it's my body. And I've been terrified that you won't accept me," she stammered through, hands to her chest as her gaze remained rooted to the floor. Her lips parted and her shoulders rose and fell as her breathing began to quicken. She swallowed and found the courage to look up at you to see a scrutinizing, but perplexed expression on your face.

"I'm not like you," Jessie said softly, "or most girls. Physically." She held your gaze for a second, to let you begin to process, but to give her time to think as well. She could see you were confused, but you waited quietly for her to go on. "I-I," she started, before stopping to take a steadying breath, her shoulders relaxing as she did so. "I've always been different."

She was slow to proceed and you spoke tentatively, all accusations and harshness now gone.

"What do you mean? How so?"

Jessie swallowed, eyes transfixed on the floor once more. She scratched at the back of her neck so harshly that it hurt.

"The reason I can't be physical with you is because what you would see, and feel," she looked up at you as she exhaled, "isn't what you would expect." She studied you as you processed her words. "That's why I asked you if you'd slept with guys," she finished timidly, embarrassment and shame creeping in despite her efforts.

Your mouth fell open to speak, but nothing came out. You frowned and visibly struggled with what to say next. Jessie's mouth was dry, but she had to take the next step.

"Even though I'm a girl, I have...what a guy has," she said quietly.

Your mouth opened wider to speak, but still nothing came out. You held up a poised finger, cuing her to wait. Eventually you found your words. Jessie held your gaze despite how difficult it was.

"Are you telling me that you have...," you trailed off, your gaze settling on her crotch momentarily before looking up at her, a tinge of pink already on your cheeks, "...a cock?"

Jessie released a slow, shuddering breath through her nose as she continued to hold your gaze. She nodded.

"Yes."

She saw your eyebrows raise as you looked away and her words and emotions just came out in a torrent.

"So if you think I've been struggling, you're right, but that's why," she said bitterly, tears in her eyes already. "It really had nothing to do with you. You've been so perfect. And it's been killing me to lie to you. And to hurt you. But I've been so scared - and I just," she took a shaky breath, "I know I'm not what you signed up for. You didn't deserve any of this, but I was being selfish. I wanted you. And I didn't want to risk losing you, so I just kept lying and the longer I waited, the more impossible it felt to tell you." Jessie's voice broke and she wiped her nose before pulling her arms in tightly against herself.

"And in the end I fucked it all up. And I hate myself for hurting you the way I have. Hearing how I...," she trailed off, gesturing vaguely at you before clenching her jaw tightly. "Hurting you is probably the worst thing I've ever done." Her voice grew high as she fought through her emotions. "And I don't deserve your forgiveness. I would gladly take it, but I know I don't deserve it. You deserve far better than someone who would hurt someone they love the way I've hurt you."

Your brow furrowed as she finished and Jessie swallowed once more, clearing her throat before speaking. "I'm sorry I couldn't say it back the other night. I really wanted to." She gave you a desperate look. "I know it must seem like I have zero integrity, but, I couldn't tell you I love you without telling you," she paused, gaze falling briefly, "all of this." She looked back at you, taking in a slow breath. "I really do love you. And I want so much more for us, but I realize now that even if you were okay...with me...well, with the way I've gone about everything, I've probably ruined any chance for us."

Her face fell as more tears pooled at the corners of her eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I just need you to know that you shouldn't feel badly about yourself, because you were never the problem. It was always me."

"This is a lot for me to process," you said slowly, thumb grazing idly along your arm. You glanced over at the couch for a moment before glancing back at her. "Um, why don't we sit down."

Jessie sniffled, overcome with surprise that you'd invite her in further. It took her a moment to comprehend it, but soon nodded eagerly. She followed you wordlessly to the couch, remaining standing as you took a seat. You looked at her expectantly before gesturing to the spot next to you.

She was mindful of the space between you. She didn't want to sit too close and inadvertently imply that things were suddenly fine. She sat stiffly, back straight, hands on the tops of her thighs as she deferred to you on how to proceed. She glanced at you in trepidation, waiting, but when you didn't say anything for several moments she spoke again.

"I completely understand that this is a lot to process," she validated with a fleeting glance. "While I've been thinking about nothing but this for months, this is all new to you."

"Yeah," you said quietly, still very much in your thoughts.

"And I want you to know that you don't owe me anything," she said. "I completely understand if this is too much for you or not what you want. No hard feelings." She almost laughed at the last statement as she sat here, congested and teary-eyed. There would be a lot of feelings, but not hard feelings. She rubbed her forehead. "And I understand if there are hard feelings towards me. I'm sorry I was such a coward. I just-" she shook her head quickly, dismissing the thought. "Never mind."

She heard you exhale gently and she peeked over at you. You were initially still, but soon shifted, surprising Jessie as you turned subtly towards her.

"Don't get me wrong. I have a lot of questions. And I still have a lot of confusing feelings and hurt. But - I meant it when I said I love you. So it's hard to see you hurting like this." You scratched at your temple before looking up at her. "Did I do something to make it harder for you to tell me?"

Jessie turned to you fully, a stern look on her face. "No," she said adamantly. "You were," she shrugged listlessly, "you really were - are - amazing. I guess I just let old fears and baggage control me."

"What do you mean?" You asked tentatively before holding up your hands and speaking quickly. "And if I ask something that's too much - just say so. I don't want to make you more uncomfortable."

Jessie frowned deeper. "You're too good for me," she said simply. "You shouldn't give a shit about whether I'm uncomfortable or not. But, let me be clear - for once - I will answer any question you have for me. Some will be easier to answer than others, but I want you to know everything. If you want. That's what I wanted all along, but I was just too scared."

"Well, if you love someone - you care about their boundaries and how they feel," you said plainly. Jessie looked at you and you looked away nervously, clearing your throat before turning back. "And. Backtracking. You...love me?"

Jessie smiled for the first time today. It was an emotional, watery, sad smile. But it was a smile. "Yes. I really do. And it's been absolute torture the past couple of days not talking to you - I know it's all my fault though."

You frowned, thoughts almost visibly churning before you set your gaze on her again.

"Wait. But I'm not your first girlfriend. So...was it like this every time?"

Jessie's posture slumped slightly at your question; more-so, the reminder it triggered. That you were the best and she'd treated you the worst.

"No. No, it hasn't been," she admitted as she picked at the fabric of her pants. "I, um, was more open before. And, uh, I guess it backfired. And I've been pretty reserved and nervous about it since."

"Oh," you said quietly, still deep in thought. "But your teammates know, right?"

"Yeah, they all do. Hard for them not to. And they're cool with it, thank God. But otherwise I keep it quiet. It doesn't seem like it, but I'm actually pretty comfortable with that aspect of myself these days. It caused a lot of angst for me for years, but I'm happy with who I am. Relationships though...that's a different matter altogether."

"I'm sorry, Jess," you said gently, pulling a confused look out of her. Again, you shouldn't be worried about her. "That sounds really difficult. That said, do you mind telling me more?"

Jessie turned to you more fully, your knees nearly brushing now. "I'll tell you anything you want to know. You were right that I was far from an open book, but I don't want to be like that anymore. I want you to know everything, if you'd like." She shrunk into herself a bit and waved a hand aimlessly. "And just because I tell you these things, it doesn't mean that I think you'll forgive me or something. I understand that, you know, things could end. But I still want you to know."

Surprise flooded Jessie's system as you took her hand and gave it the faintest squeeze, continuing to hold it after.

"Jess. It's okay. I want to know."

She mustered up a tight smile for you and squeezed your hand.

She proceeded to tell you her story. Filling the gaps she'd craftily navigated during previous conversations. The embarrassment she'd felt. The otherness. The ridicule she'd experienced over the years. The rejection. The objectification. And the eventual defeat; of feeling like no one would get her or love her the way she wanted to be loved.

By the time she finished, a new set of tears had finished falling, but what she noted most of all was how you now held her hand in both of yours.

"Baby," you said softly, as you lifted her hand and kissed it tenderly. Jessie looked at you in surprise as she sniffled.

She'd expected the worst, so when you looked at her with warmth and compassion, it caught her off-guard to not see disgust or rejection.

"I'm so sorry you were made to feel like that. You didn't deserve that at all. Some people are so fucking close-minded and terrible. I'm so sorry you had to experience that," you told her.

Her shoulders hitched as she rode out the dying waves of her emotion.

"Thanks," she managed, her voice still congested and strained. "Now you know how hypocritical and truly horrible it was of me to make you feel the way those girls made me feel."

You tilted your head slightly and gave it a slow shake. "No. It's not the same. I mean, yes, I felt terrible, but you weren't trying to hurt me. And now I can understand where you were coming from."

Jessie shook her head in return. "It doesn't make it right though. So...if you let me, I'll do everything I can to try to make it up to you and try to rebuild the trust I've broken. Totally understand if that's off the table though."

"I," you started, chest rising as you took a large breath before relaxing once more, "still love you. So...no, it's not off the table. I still have to process a lot of this and reconcile some things. And, yes, reality is you hurt me, but everything makes so much more sense now. So. Thank you. For finally telling me."

Jessie nodded. "Thank you for hearing me out."

You fidgeted slightly and she watched you carefully. You felt her eyes on you and spoke hesitantly.

"We, um. Didn't exactly address my initial issue though. I mean, I understand now why you've been so closed off and flighty. But, you know, none of this necessarily means that you, um, find me attractive. Because that could still be a problem."

Jessie gave you a disbelieving look. "Of course I find you attractive. Well, okay," she slowed herself down, "I understand why you thought I didn't. But, now that you know everything else, my attraction to you is exactly why I couldn't be remotely physical with you. It was...a bit too much for me. Let's put it that way," Jessie finished as she looked away sheepishly. When she braved a look back your face was tinged pink.

"Oh. Okay. Well..., um. That's nice to know, I guess," you responded awkwardly.

"I'm sorry. That was probably too much information," Jessie mumbled. She cleared her throat before speaking more confidently. "So, no, you have nothing - at all - to worry about there. I think the bigger question now is if you would find me attractive. Now that you know that my, um, anatomy is different."

You blushed deeper and cleared your throat as well.

"Oh. I mean, you're still you. And, I'm curious-" you held up your hands quickly in defense, eyes closing as you corrected yourself, "-not like those other girls. No. I would never use you like that." You opened your eyes once again, calming yourself. "What I mean is. I'm still interested."

Jessie felt an ember of hope flickering in her chest. You were still blushing, giving her fleeting glances until you fully faced her, now serious and prim.

"You get one more chance," you told her firmly, holding up a finger. "I know a lot will be new and there'll be things to navigate, but I won't put up with you being distant and cagey again. Do not lie to me again."

Jessie nearly beamed. She straightened up eagerly and nodded her head rapidly in agreement.

"I won't," she promised before she took a second look at you. "Are you sure you want to try again?"

Your face scrunched up adorably as you shot her a look.

"Are you trying to talk me out of it?" You asked, affronted.

"No," she refuted, shaking her head adamantly. "I just want to make sure this is what you truly want. I know I dumped a lot on you just now, so...you are more than welcome to take your time to think. And I definitely don't want you to feel guilty in any way."

"I don't feel guilty," you told her. "And," you exhaled quickly, "as you were telling me about all of your experiences and how you've been treated, all I could really think throughout all of it is that I wished there was some way I or someone could go back and protect you from all of that." You picked at your nails idly. "And, I don't know, that I just wanted to hold you. And kiss you." You gave her another stern look, but it was mild at best. "You're not entirely forgiven yet. But I understand you so much better now. So, I do want to try again."

That heavy, horrible ache in her chest she'd been carrying with her the past while was replaced with a sensation of warmth and lightness.

"You're the most incredible woman I've ever met," she told you unwaveringly. "I promise I'll do everything in my power to make things up to you. I'll make sure you never have a doubt about me, or you, or us, again."

"That's a bold promise," you warned with a hint of a smirk.

Jessie smiled at you undeterred. She gently cupped the side of your face and leaned in, stopping momentarily to speak before giving you a soft, slow kiss.

"And it's one I intend to keep."

A/N: Next up…smut.

Tag requests: @multifandomlesbianic @marvelwomen-simp @kathleenmikaelson

[bet-on-me-13]

Desperate Villain Danny AU

(this is a 17 yr old danny)

It started out slowly.

First, a few of Danny's less active Rouges stopped showing up at all. He didn't really notice, and just assumed that they had finally had their Fill of their Obsession for a while and would simmer down for a bit.

Then, some more of his Rouges stopped showing up. No big deal, but he is getting a little concerned for them. They had definitely not had their fill of their Obsessions yet, why did they stop?

Then, the worst started happen. All of his actual Ghost Friends start to disappear. Ember, Kitty, Johnny, even Amorpho, they all start to not show up at all in the Living World.

He goes looking for them in Realms, but he can't find any of them whatsoever. He tries asking around, but everybody else noticed the disappearances much earlier than him and began to hide away from whatever was taking all of the strong Ghosts. He can't find anybody, and the ones he does find won't tell him anything (or don't know themselves)

It takes weeks of searching, but eventually he gets his answer.

The GIW show up in Amity again after a period of absolutely no activity. They have stepped up their operations HARD. Advanced Ghost Hunting Equipment, Much more Competent Agents, and most worrying of all, they seem to know that Phantom is friends with Sam, Tucker, and Danny Fenton.

The GIW comes to his house for a Meeting with his parents, where he overhears them offering his parents a position in their Organization as Head Scientists. While there they also manage to plant Bugs in Danny's room somehow. Although he finds them quickly enough and destroys them.

And then, one night during dinner while his parents are ranting about the GIWs Labs, they mention something that cinches it for Danny.

"And today we even got to Dissect one of the Spooks! It was that Mind Controlly one, you know the one with the blue firey hair stuff that sang a bunch! We're going back tomorrow to continue our Study, this time we'll see how long it'll pretend to experience pain before it decides to give up on tricking us!"

That night, Danny packed up all his things, destroyed the Ghost Portal alongside everything else in his parents Lab, and left his house.

He tracked down the GIW Base, saved Ember from her Cell, and decimated the surrounding Area. No survivors, none of the research is preserved, and he left the Site Director alive to question him.

Turns out, the GIW had managed to Reverse Engineer the Ghost Portal from that brief period of time where they had taken control of Fenton Works. They had been using their own Portal to kidnap any Ghost they could get their hands on. Using the research from those subjects, they perfected their Ghost Hunting Tech and started going after the bigger fish.

"But good luck finding it, Ecto Scum! The Portals location was hidden to everybody, even me!" He said.

"Where are the others!" Danny cried. He was losing control of his appearance by this point. After seeing what they had done to Ember, he was too angry to maintain his Humanoid Form successfully. Even now, with most of his control, he could hear the Static in the air around him, and see the Glitching of his hands as they clenched this Monsters clothes.

"Scattered!" He said with a crazed laugh, "We knew we couldn't contain all of them, so we send them to all of our sites across the Country! You'll never find them!"

Without another word, Danny plowed his arm through the man's chest.

He turned around, picking up Embers weakened Body, before beginning his long flight to Wisconsin. Vlad still owed him a few Favors after all, and honestly his mentorship offers seemed VERY Tempting right now.

(Why reject him if you don't care about keeping your dad alive anymore?)

...

The JLA had recently received a distress signal from somewhere in the middle of some random Forest in Illinois, but when they got to the location, all they found was a crater filled with the ruins of some kind of Military Base, and so so many Bodies.

They had managed to figure out that this was a Government Site owned by an organization called the GIW. A Paranormal Investigation Wing of the Government focused on the study and capture of Supernatural Beings called Ecto-Entities, otherwise referred to as Ghosts.

As it turns out, an Ecto-Entity that had been terrorizing the local town for a few years now had made a drastic change in normal behavior and had attacked the GIW Base that had been posted there.

They would have destroyed it years ago, but this one was unnaturally powerful. It had eluded their capture and terrorized the Town for years, but they had too much pride to contact the JLA and admit that they needed help. And honestly until now, they didn't really need it. The Entity had been entirely confined to the singular town, and had not strayed from that behavioral Pattern in the 3 years since it's inital sighting. They had made the difficult choice to leave it there, sacrificing one town in exchange for the rest of the country.

But now they did need their help. This Entity, this Phantom, was one of the most powerful beings that had ever recorded, maybe even The Most Powerful. The fact that it had left the Secluded town it usually frequented meant that it was loose to wreak havoc across the rest of the world.

The JLA Needed to Find this thing, and Fast.

[thatsthat24]

Sanderstober 2024

SANDERSTOBER IS HERE! Once again, my friends and I are creating art prompts for you all to try your hand at for every day of this month, if you'd like! Try one, try some, try all! If you miss a day but still want to do a prompt from a day you missed, please go ahead! This is all just for fun. If you'd like to share your creations, you can use #Sanderstober2024. I'd love to see! Hope you enjoy them! 🍁

October 1: Always gotta start out this day with the traditional prompt! take a character from media or OC and draw how they look on September 30th vs. how they look on October 1st!

October 2: Create a sheet ghost, but featuring the pattern of a sheet/blanket you own or maybe used to own when you were younger. - This idea came from my friend, Andrea!

October 3: A quick Google search of “keyblade designs” (the weapon from Kingdom Hearts) would show you how the weapon changes based off the property the character goes to! Design a keyblade based around any piece of media, as if the main character from Kingdom Hearts traveled there… - This idea came from my friend, Rene!

October 4: There’s a lot of fast food and cereal mascots out there… I think you know where I’m going with this. Take any of those mascots and turn them into a MONSTER or KILLER.

October 5: This one’s a play off a prompt from last year AND it’s a writing prompt! Take any famous character from a horror film, and create a nursery rhyme about them. You can make it completely innocent, or, like many nursery rhymes, remain dark but disguised in pretty language.

October 6: Take your favorite animal… and dress it as your dream profession. - This idea came from my friend, Talyn!

October 7: Take one of your favorite movies and reimagine if it had been marketed as a different genre (e.g. Hellraiser as a family comedy, Goodfellas as a romance, etc.) - This idea came from my friend, Joan!

October 8: Turning things into Pokemon tends to be a favorite prompt of mine, and this year, the category is… fast food! Take any fast food of your choice, create a Pokemon, and name it!

October 9: Take any foreign animation cartoon and draw them in the style of a western animation! - This idea from my friend, Dominic!

October 10: Definitely a sucker for fall fashion and aesthetic, so take any character or group of characters from one of your favorite pieces of content and give them a fall aesthetic makeover.

October 11: Crows collect shiny things… what things might the nest of a crow contain from one of your favorite fictional universes? - This idea came from my friend, Lev!

October 12: Take any color and ONLY use that color in order to depict a Halloween, horror movie, or fall scene.

October 13: A very expressionistic vibe for this prompt: draw the aura which you hope to be walking in during fall or Halloween. - This idea came from my friend, Valerie!

October 14: There’s LOTS of new words and sayings out there (skibidi, rizz, Ohio, ick, etc.). Google some, you’ll learn a couple new ones. I want you to create a Halloween monster/creature/cryptid based off one of these new words, as if they were the names of the creatures themself (Oh my gosh… it’s the legendary Los Angeles Ick…)

October 15: Sure, people are scared of Halloween monsters… but are there things that would be scary to those monsters? Get creative and depict some things/scenarios that would be terrifying to a typical Halloween creature! - This idea came from my friend, Jackie!

October 16: Those new horror-fied versions of fast food/cereal monsters from October 4 need weapons… take a meal or the cereal from the brand you got your mascot from, and create a weapon inspired by it!

October 17: There has been lots of theorizing in the fields of science on how the human body may evolve in order to either perform modern tasks better or survive… SO, imagine up a human evolution that has adapted to survive some environment (fire, spider bites, rejection), or one that has adapted to perform a certain task (tennis, gaming, folding clothes). - This idea comes from my friend, Joan!

October 18: So, Toy Story 5 has been announced… draw the next toy that’s gonna be introduced as a character in it.

October 19: Returning to an annual favorite of mine… take any character(s) from a piece of media and depict them in the style of a Tim Burton character.

October 20: As a play off of Dominic’s suggestion from an earlier day, take any western animation’s characters and depict them in the style of a foreign animation!

October 21: Taking inspiration from the movie, Hocus Pocus, take any character from a piece of media and depict them riding what *they* would probably bewitch into a broomstick if they had to in a pinch!

October 22: They’re giving your favorite background character a spin-off series. What does the poster for it look like? - This idea is from my friend, Dominic!

October 23: Ok… that monster/killer mascot you made on October 4th? The movie has to have a setting. Maybe an appropriate building? Maybe an entire town… Depict that setting…

October24: Take a character from your favorite movie/tv show and depict them as if they were a character in a fighting game like Smash Bros. or Street Fighter! What does their special/ultimate move look like? - This idea came from my friend, David!

October 25: Take any fun/special memory from your life and create a children’s book cover inspired by it. - This idea came from my friend, Stephanie!

October 26: Take your favorite classic Halloween monster and use them as inspiration for a new species of insect… - This idea came from my friend, Dahlia!

October 27: This feels like a classic for any time of year: take any favorite piece of media and cast the Sanders Sides in it.

October 28: [Any of your favorite pieces of media] … and Zombies

October 29: Think of a very important key object from one of your favorite movies or tv shows that the protagonist(s) finds. Now imagine they never stumbled upon it. What would it look like 100 years later? What else may have happened to it if the protagonist never found it? - This idea came from my friend, Chantz!

October 30: Now… we combine the ideas together to make the ultimate new Halloween villain! Take your creations from October 4th, 8th, 16th, and 23rd, and place them all together to create a scene of them terrorizing the main protagonists!

October 31: And, as a classic end-of-the-month tradition, today’s prompt is about celebrating the reason for the season, Halloween! Imagine if Halloween was like New Year’s Eve for Halloween creatures/characters. What would they look like, dressed all fancy for the occasion and celebrating?

Got the list fully completed! Looking forward to whatever you all create! 

[bluegekk0]

Finally decided to work on the designs for all the side characters in the FPK AU, mostly residents of Dirtmouth as that's where the main portion of the AU takes place

Here's the full height chart including the FPK family members

(short bios for each of the characters under the cut)

Vyrm (alternate spelling of "Wyrm") - once the king of Hallownest, now a simple resident of Dirtmouth tormented by the guilt of his past actions and his own emotional trauma. Following the return of the infection, he disappeared in a self-manifested realm where he hibernated for years until he was woken up by Little Ghost. He woke up without his powers and completely alone, which forced him to hunt animals for food in order to survive. That was until he was found by Hornet and taken to Dirtmouth, where he reunited with Holly and Grimm, who would later become his partner and husband. He embraces his instincts by hunting animals and eating raw meat, though he is far from a dangerous beast. He owns a small tinkerer's shop in Dirtmouth, where he sells his creations.

Grimm - the exiled god of nightmares, banished from Godhome by his sister, The Radiance many years ago. A very alluring type with a past of promiscuous endeavors. He travels with his Troupe to perform and complete rituals, through which he replaces his physical body. He spent hundreds of years feeling loneliness, unable to find love due to his immortality, until he met Vyrm. They became close friends, though they were not able to confess their love and start a relationship until after Vyrm’s hibernation. Grimm and his Troupe now permanently reside in Dirtmouth, from which they travel to other kingdoms to perform their shows and the ritual. He drinks blood to prolong the lifespan of each physical body, and he has a fondness for fruits.

Hornet - the beloved daughter of Vyrm and the Deepnest queen Herrah. She grew up showered with her father’s love and formed a very close bond with him. Unfortunately, following her father's disappearance, she was forced to spend years all on her own, which turned her bitter and difficult to approach. She now struggles with anger issues and intense fear of getting attached, but deep down she cares a lot about her family. She moved to Dirtmouth following the end of the infection and now works as a hunter and gatherer..

Holly - the child of Vyrm and The White Lady, and the only known surviving vessel. A very gentle soul who finds joy in art of many forms. Now that The Radiance is gone, they enjoy a quiet and peaceful life living in the Vyrm family home in Dirtmouth. With their arm missing and their body weakened, they are unable to hold their nail, instead they focus on more relaxing activities to pass their time. They wear a prosthetic arm made by their father.

Lewk - Vyrm and Grimm's first child, a very curious and kind pup who attends Dirtmouth's school and constantly looks for ways to help others. Unlike his siblings, he shares some physical traits with the Grimmchild form of Grimm's ritual cycle, which is how he got his wings.

Milo and Asta - twins, the newest addition to the family. Milo, technically the youngest member of the family, is weak and sickly compared to his twin sister, struggling to keep up with his peers, which makes him very grumpy. Asta is stronger than her brother, full of energy and mischief, though underneath all of that there is a very compassionate individual who is very protective of her little brother.

Zote - a self proclaimed knight of great renown, in reality a lonely young bug living in a world of delusions. He was rejected by his hometown and his family, and so he traveled until he reached Hallownest. After the end of the infection, he found himself “adopted” by Vyrm’s family, and is on a slow journey of becoming less arrogant and mean.

Ogrim - one of the great knights of the Pale King, the last one that remained in Hallownest, best friends with Vyrm and a close friend of the family. Found by Hornet following Vyrm's return from hibernation, and invited to live in Dirtmouth alongside them. Leaving his duty as the knight behind, he put away his armor in favor of more comfortable clothing. He eventually embraced his long forgotten hobby of cooking and opened a small diner in the town. Liked by everyone thanks to his contagious optimism and supportive attitude.

Brumm - Grimm's right-hand man and trusted friend. Runs the Troupe in Grimm's absence and assists him during the rituals, and in his spare time directs the Troupe's music crew. He is a quiet individual focused on his job. In the past he had one-sided feelings for Grimm, now years later his eyes are set on one of the Nailmaster brothers, Mato.

Divine - Grimm's closest friend, she and her team are responsible for the costumes in the Troupe, and later also clothes for the Dirtmouth community. Once a lady from a distant land, she was invited to the Troupe following a war that destroyed her home. She's chatty and glamorous, and loves advising Vyrm on romantic matters.

The White Lady - Vyrm's former life and once the Queen of Hallownest. Cold and emotionally distant, often comes off as self-absorbed. She was blind to Vyrm's needs during their time together, and ended up neglecting and hurting him. Before the marriage, she was the Lady of the Queen's Gardens Mansion, and this is where she resides following the end of the infection. Years spent in the cocoon made her reflect on her past behavior, and while her interactions with Vyrm these days are rare, she puts effort into being more thoughtful towards him and his family.

Mato - one of the Nailmaster brothers, he got attached to Ghost of Hallownest after briefly teaching them. Following the end of the infection, he traveled from the Howling Cliffs to Dirtmouth to find out what happened to them, and after discovering that the town was now full of life, he began visiting it more often.

Bretta - a young writer and a hopeless romantic, she used to be infatuated by Zote before finding out he was full of lies, though she ended up forgiving him. She writes short stories and poems under an alias, and shares Holly's interest in plush sewing. She has a crush on Hornet, and finds both her and Grimm to be very inspiring to write about.

Iselda - the owner of Dirtmouth's cartography shop, Cornifer's wife. She is a close friend of Vyrm after helping treat his wounds following the Grimmkin incident. After the end of the infection, she began joining her husband on his map marking adventures. She can be a little intimidating, at times she sounds perpetually annoyed, but she always proves to be very caring about others.

Cornifer - Iselda's husband, co-owns the cartography shop. Frequently travels around Hallownest, mapping each location thoroughly. He is good friends with Vyrm, whom he enjoys discussing the Hallownest architecture and geography with. He's extremely detail focused which sometimes makes him miss the bigger picture, though he more than makes up for it with his very approachable personality.

Elderbug - one of the older residents of the town and a respected figure. He's very pessimistic and grumpy, and is especially annoyed by public displays of affection, suggesting that something in his past might have made him sensitive to it. He can usually be found in the town centre or in his little garden.

Tiso - an arrogant troublemaker and Hornet's self-proclaimed rival. Lives in the City of Tears but frequently visits Dirtmouth to challenge her to fights. He planned to battle in the Colosseum but changed his mind last minute out of cowardice. He's extremely sensitive about this subject and reacts with anger anytime it's brought up.

Quirrel - a curious wanderer and once an apprentice to Monomon the Teacher, tasked with protecting her dreamer mask. Holding the mask halted his aging process, and after her death, he aged visibly. With no purpose left, he planted his nail by the Blue Lake, but continued his life of wandering and exploration until he reached Dirtmouth, where he would become a teacher to the town's youth. He's very patient and understanding, though he can be a little absent-minded, likely due to his age and his struggles with memory.

Lemm - owner of the relic shop in the City of Tears. Following the end of the infection and the city's consequent revival, he became a respected shop owner, which made him quite wealthy. After Vyrm's return, he quickly realized his true identity, and began pestering him about his past in hopes of learning more about the kingdom, until Grimm's threats stopped him. He's very abrasive and unpleasant, though his passion for history and the relics in his possession is remarkable.

Lurien - the last of the Dreamers, who managed to survive after Ghost of Hallownest chose to unite the void and become the Shade Lord before reaching his spire. He holds the position of the highest authority in the City of Tears, willing to do anything to bring it back to its former glory and reclaim all of its districts from the criminals that plague it since the end of the infection. He struck a deal with Grimm, thanks to which he is able to keep the criminal population in check.

[yawnderu]

Had the sudden thought of Pimp!Ghost right after waking up efjbefjhb

cw: prostitution, brief mentions of SA (not done by Ghost), mentions of violence.

Pimp!Ghost, who is so damn nice to you. How can he not be nice if you're the one bringing in most of the money compared to the other girls? You're a prime example of pure perfection in his eyes, always keeping you by his side when you're not working.

Pimp!Ghost, who handpicked a pair of older women to help you clean up and take care of you, keeping it a secret from the other prostitutes so they don't treat you differently. You're his special girl, but he doesn't want to cause tension despite how obvious his preference for you is.

Pimp!Ghost, who is fully aware of how tired and detached you must be from sex, so he never expects it from you. He likes letting you sit on his office and takes you shopping, using his free time to go around the city with you, shopping for new things for your apartment.

Pimp!Ghost, who surprisingly never tried making a move on you no matter how much time you both spend alone. He doesn't enjoy his job and is thinking about switching paths, but he has to make sure he can take you with him once he leaves the business.

Pimp!Ghost, who you saw fuming for the first time when you came to him crying with messy clothes and a busted lip, telling him how one of your clients tried to cross a line and got angry when you rejected him.

Pimp!Ghost, who disappeared for two days straight after that, only seeing him again when he knocked on your apartment's door. He looked like a mess, eye black smeared all over his cheeks and eyes, as well as bruised knuckles that you couldn't ignore.

Pimp!Ghost, who refuses to tell you what happened but convinces you to leave your life behind and start anew with him, promises of you never having to sell your body ever again.

Boyfriend!Ghost, who kept his promise, buying a small cottage in the British countryside. You convince him to adopt a few farm animals to take full advantage of all the free space you have and before you both realize, you're raising 20 chickens, a goat, and two baby cows who seem to be attached to your hip. A new stray cat appears soon, and Simon is unable to say no when you ask if you can keep it.

[granddaughterogg]

Simon Ghost Riley crying

Yes, we'd all love to know Simon "Ghost" Riley in a biblical sense.

But may I also offer you:

Simon kneeling down and pressing his masked face firmly into your chest, those huge arms enclosing you in a desperate, ironclad embrace. You two stay this way until that hulky body of his actually remembers how to motherfuckin' cry. And longer still, until he gets it all out. Until your T-shirt gets all soaked with tears and snot. How very Romantic.

Once he starts, he can't stop. It's pouring from him like from a broken faucet, wide shoulders heaving and low, raspy sobs constricting his throat. He shudders and gasps as if he's regurgitating broken glass, one jagged shard after another. That's what it probably feels like anyway.

You'll never talk about this after. Yet unbeknownst to you, some key has been turned in the obscure lock that is Simon Riley's tortured mind, and for him there is no going back.

I can dissolve into a fuckin' puddle right in front of her and she still won't reject me.

I am safe.

[p0ssym1lker]

So ra's wants to see if he can slowly make tim a bit more immortal so he starts diluting some ectoplasm from his least favorite pit and starts putting him into tims drink and sometimes just straight up injects him

Problem, the reason why he doesn't like the pit is because it's too close to real ectoplasm and it rejects the bad ectoplasm in his body

So tim slowly becomes more liminal until Danny, who was taking a road trip through universes, sees him and picks him up

Like, actually picks him up and takes him with him for a bit

Normally Tim would freak but all his ectoplasm just cheers because ghost king is a soothing balm and Tim just takes a long nap

Even when he wakes up he is just feels content and listens to dannys rambles, whenever he gets agitated Danny chirps and calms him down

He is slightly worried when Danny explains that he needs to drink some actual ectoplasm to not die and it will have certain effects on him

But when he finds out it means it will also help with jasons pit rage? Sign him up

So about two months after he shows back up in the batcave mid argument and when he sees Jason he chirps loudly

It instantly calms him

So now the bats gotta deal with whatever happened to Tim, a ghost king (Constantine nearly passes away when he hears) and Jason clinging to Tim cause it helps his pit rage

Tim can't wait to tell them that he and Danny are going on a date soon

[hom3landr]

Tea with Honey

Bakerverse

Every relationship has its firsts. Homelander’s budding romance with his Baker is no different. But not all firsts are pleasant.

Homelander can’t wait any longer to visit her. His heart stings and aches from the weight of rejection. There is a hole inside him that he hoped the promise of family would heal. He has no experience with Fatherhood but he’d figured that it would be natural; instinctual. But one can’t learn love in a lab. Even his best intentions came up lacking, a fall from a roof seemed like such a necessary harmless casualty. He doesn’t know how to handle things that were raised soft. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, so he spits it out and seeks reassurance from the hands of a ghost.

Deep deep down, he can’t forget. But that’s ok. The Madelyn in front of him lifts two milk covered fingers to his mouth and he willingly takes the offering given. If she is a ghost then she is one with a warm body, an eager mouth, and a soft lap. She is one with assurances and words he needs to hear. She is one that he can keep on a leash and who won’t disappear into smoke. This is a ghost who knows his sins and lets him sigh them into her skin.

He can’t forget but he can control the memory left behind.

He tells her about you and she eagerly responds to his tales of your softness. She urges him to take you. If he could watch from outside himself, he would see it as the plea it is. For Doppelganger is willing to feed you to the lion, toss you like a piece of meat to a snarling dog, wave you like a flag in front of a bull. Homelander hears Madelyn’s voice as a kindness and doesn’t see it for the desperate distraction that it is.

“What are you waiting for?” She coos. “You’ve shown her that you can be good but have you considered that she longs for the raw power you hold? Once she has experienced your strength then she will beg you to take her.”

It’s what he wants to hear. He’s proven that he can be good yet still your kisses remain sweet and your touches light. The beast within him is growing more difficult to quiet when it howls for that sweet heat between your legs. Your gentility is starting to feel like rejection. The hunger inside him is an empty ache. He needs to take up space in you.

———-

He grins at the fat raindrops that dampen his hair as he leaves the cabin. The ozone is a pleasant scent that lingers in the back of his throat and on his tongue. It tastes like power. He can relate to the wild fury of a thunderstorm. He wishes that his rage could also be seen as something natural and not some sort of flaw. Thunderstorms can rain hail and destruction without consequence and people will still find comfort in the rumble of thunder. Perhaps that is another reason why Stormfront makes him so bitter, he envies that she takes on the characteristics of the storms he loves so much. How dare she show her edges and still be adored?

But Stormfront can’t have you. You’ve told him as much. You admitted how much she gets under your skin. You told him that you don’t trust her and that the very sound of her voice makes your flesh crawl.

The only storm you’ll know is him.

————

Homelander’s hunger for you clouds his judgment and the cracks of thunder echo the hot pounding of his arousal as he contemplates his plan. He can’t wait to surprise you and finally show you what he’s capable of. He’s on autopilot as he flies to your apartment, mind busy with fantasies. He intends to make you scream so loud that even the fiercest weather would be deafened by your pleasure.

He lands on your fire escape and knocks cheerfully on your window. He can hear you startle through the walls, your heartbeat fluttering with surprise. He leans back on his heels and crosses his arms under his cape. He has to suppress a grin when he sees your distorted face through the rain smeared glass. You’re a watercolor painting and Monet can go fuck himself cause your beauty makes his works no more than trash. He longs to keep you hidden away so only he can appreciate you.

You open the window wide so he can climb inside. His wet cape drips puddles all over your floor and your brow furrows briefly at the mess before meeting his gaze with a quizzical smile. He takes a brief glance behind you to inspect your place. He hasn’t been inside since that perfect Christmas night and without the decor it’s painfully obvious that your apartment is in a poor state. He huffs a tiny laugh to himself. It wouldn’t take much to convince you of structural damage. He’ll make sure you have a place to stay.

“I didn’t know you were coming over! I’d have made dinner.” You lament, flustered at being caught in such an unprepared state. He waves your concern away. As pleasant as your cooking sounds, he still fully intends to eat.

“I wanna show you something.” He replies with a smile, gesturing to the open window behind him. He’s surprised that he hasn’t done this sooner. What better way to wow you than to give you a practical application. He’s been good but now he’s starving for you to see behind the gentleman’s mask he wears. He takes a closer look at you. You’re wearing nothing more than an old white t-shirt and some sleep shorts. He thinks if he looks close enough he can see the shadow of your nipples through the material. With the way it’s pouring, he’s bound to get an even better look soon.

Madelyn’s voice still echoes in his ear.

He’s so excited that he doesn’t notice things he’d usually be laser focused on. He doesn’t register the shiftiness of your eyes or the anxious way you fidget every time the thunder rumbles. Your heart is racing because you must still be surprised by his arrival. The scent of fear can’t be because of him. You were probably watching something scary. He can hear the strains of a true crime podcast that you’d turned down playing on the tv.

It’s not because of him.

“Right now?” You ask, nervously scratching your arm as a streak of lightning briefly lights up the sky. His hackles instantly rise at your apparent lack of enthusiasm.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” He replies sharply, sharper than he usually is with you. The instant rejection is a fierce sting to his ego. His fantasy already isn’t working out how he planned and he’s starting to feel annoyed and out of sorts. He was so sure you’d be wowed but apparently you’re feeling prissy tonight.

You wince at his tone. You glance anxiously out the window and bite your lip. He begins to tap his foot in impatience. You exhale roughly as though you’re preparing yourself for some great trial.

“I’m sorry you came all this way. I’m not feeling well so maybe we should reschedule. You’re welcome to stay and watch a movie! I can order us some takeou…” You don’t get to finish your sentence.

“I didn’t come here to watch a fucking movie!” He snaps and he hates the way you flinch. It makes his throat tighten up and his chest ache with hurt. You’re making him feel mean and foolish, needy in the way he seeks your attention.

This is all wrong. You’re not being you.

“We don’t have to watch a movie! I have some board games and I know I have a deck of cards somewhere.” You try to do damage control but your continuous deflections only make him more frustrated. Your gaze is wary now; it’s the first time you’ve been wary around him.

He stomps over and grabs your arm firmly. It’s not tight enough to bruise but you can’t pry him off as he guides you over to the window. You struggle and try to stutter out excuses and explanations but he doesn’t want to hear it. He scoops you up in his arms and is out on the fire escape in the blink of an eye. The rain immediately drenches you and he’s so frustrated that he doesn’t even register the way your clothes cling to your form.

“Stop whining. You’re gonna fucking love this. Don’t worry.” He attempts to soothe you. You have to like it. You have to like him. You’re frozen solid in his arms but he knows you’ll relax once you’ve adapted. Without a warning he shoots up into the air like a rocket.

It’s beautiful up in the storm clouds. Despite the flashes of lightning, Homelander knows you are safe even up in the sky. He can sense the sizzle in the air and smell the ozone before electricity splits the sky. He’d never let you be harmed. He wants to share this with you. He wants you to know this part of him. This is what you hold in your hands when you kiss him.

He looks down at you, anxious to see the awe on your face. He wants to smell your need for him mixed with the heady smell of ozone. But instead he’s met with your pounding heart and trembling form. Your hands are curled into icy claws and your breathing is rapid and shallow. Tiny pained noises escape your mouth with every panicked heave. You’re fucking terrified.

“It’s not that bad. I’ve got you.” He reassures you but he’s not even sure you can hear him right now. You shake your head jerkily and a wail escapes you as lightning flashes in the distance.

His heart drops and shatters on the ground far below as he realizes that this isn’t some passing anxiety.

Homelander wants to fucking shake you in anger. How come you’re overreacting now? This is him. You’re supposed to share this with him. He’s giving you this privilege and you’re spitting it back in his face.

You’re supposed to love (him) this. Why don’t you?

“P…please,” You manage to stutter out weakly. “Can we go back now?”

He should fucking drop you.

His fingers twitch with temptation. Of course he’d catch you, but you’d learn there are things worth crying about.

You anxiously paw at his chest.

“I want to go down now!” You sob. His fingers twitch again. You don’t smell like brown sugar anymore.

He startles as he feels a sharp sting across his cheek. You’ve grown wild in your terror now. While he lacks the capacity to bruise, the shock of the impact still has him rattled. Your chest heaves.

“PutmedownPutmedownPutmedown!” You repeat in a furious panic as you pound on his chest with your hands. Your fight response is fully activated and logic is clearly no longer in the picture as you lash out at the very thing keeping you in the air.

He almost lets go.

But instead he slowly glides back down, drawing out your torment out of spite. He drops you coldly onto the slick metal of the fire escape. You grasp the bars like a lifeline and Homelander’s nose wrinkles as you spit bile. You still haven’t ceased wailing.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” He hisses. His mood is blacker than the stormy sky. You don’t even look wounded. You might as well still be stuck in the air as you tremble and wheeze.

He wants to put his hands over his ears to block out your cries. He wants to fly away to safety. He wants to crush your skull. He wants to pull you into his arms and kiss you senseless till you calm. He wants to hold you. He wants to kill you. He wants to beg your forgiveness.

He wants. He wants. He wants.

As if on autopilot himself, he scoops you back up into your arms to carry you inside. He deposits you on the couch, gentler this time despite his whole body shaking with restraint. You curl up into a ball and hide your face from him.

This is like Ryan all over again.

He clenches his fists and storms into your kitchen in a rage. He needs distance from you before he does something rash. He paces like a caged animal in the small space. His reflection in the glass cabinets is judgemental but he refuses to acknowledge them. He ignores the soft calls of his name itching at the back of his consciousness.

“Look at me, Tiger.”

“You need to calm down John.”

“Pathetic! She’s gonna fucking hate you just like everyone else does.”

He slams his fists down on your counter and he hears a crack.

FUCK

His eyes land on a lone mug on your counter. It’s colorful and chipped and so you that the unexpected rush of endearment he feels helps direct him out of his rage. His brow furrows as an idea begins to form. He can fix this. He just needs to do what you would do. He looks around, pointedly avoiding the cabinets. He sees a box of tea bags. He exhales sharply. He opens the fridge and fills the mug with water from your filter. He heats it with his vision till it's bubbling. He dips the tea bag in it and with one last flourish because he’s not sure if it’s safe to face you yet, he locates a container of honey that he gives a generous squeeze.

He takes a deep breath as he exits the kitchen.

You’ve calmed down considerably although your head is still buried in your knees. Your breathing is a little steadier and your agonized wails have quieted into soft sniffles. You’re still shivering as the fading adrenaline and damp clothes send chills through your body. He grabs a blanket from a nearby basket as he tentatively walks over. He sets the tea down on the coffee table in front of your spot on the couch and wraps the blanket around your shoulders. It feels strange, taking care of somebody else. Especially someone he’s still angry at.

“I’m sorry,” Your words are shaky and muffled. You sound so sad. “I’m so so so sorry. I ruined everything”

Homelander freezes, his brow furrowed in confusion. You’re apologizing?

“I have a phobia and I should have said something but it happened so fast. I was so scared and I lost control and panicked. I shouldn't have hit you.” Your voice is thick with guilt.

“Please,” He scoffs, weirdly amused and a little unsettled by your concern. “You couldn’t have hurt me if you tried. Now c’mon and look at me.”

You lift your head. Your eyes are red and swollen.

“I shouldn’t have hit you.” You reiterate and Homelander’s chest tightens. “I’m sorry. It was wrong.”

For a moment the silence is deafening. The sincerity in your gaze unsettles him. You reach out and your fingers tenderly brush the area of impact. It’s not tender. It barely even hurt

Shocked hysterical laughter starts to build in Homelander’s throat at the solemn look on your face.

Well fuck.

Isn’t that a fucking first.

You watch him quietly as he doubles over and holds his stomach. It’s not a laugh of amusement and if he was an outside observer he’d realize just how wounded it sounds. It’s pure emotional release.

You’d barely even given him a love tap. You’re sitting over there with your big wide weepy eyes as though you’d fucking beat him senseless. You’re acting as if you’d thrown him into a fucking oven.

He wheezes until his chest hurts. All the repressed anger and anxiety now flooding out in sheer astonishment. He was so sure you’d hate him.

He feels something warm wrap around his shoulders and his giggles begin to quiet. He looks over to you only to startle for a second at how close you are. You’ve wrapped the other end of the blanket around him. Your expression is soft but unreadable. You rest your forehead against him and he shudders.

“I…” He pauses. He can’t quite articulate what he wants to say. It’s not your fault. He didn’t pay attention. He didn’t listen. But admitting such feels like a weakness. It chokes him.

“I made you some tea.” He says instead, pulling back to hand you the mug. His voice barely shakes.

You smile and as you cradle the mug and take a sip, he notices that you smell like brown sugar again.

“Tea with honey is my favorite.” You reply sweetly, after giving a pleased hum at the taste. He may not have said it out loud but he can tell you understood with the way you look at him. Things are so easy with you. He turns to bury his face in your wet shoulder as you sip.

“I forgive you.” He mumbles, half hoping you don’t catch it.

“I forgive you too” You reply.

He doesn’t sleep with you that night…at least in the primal sense. But it doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep on his chest once the two of you decide that a movie might be just the thing for a stormy night after all. Lounging on the couch, while dressed in some soft sweatpants, and with you warm and sleepy on his chest, he comes to the conclusion that this is just as good as fucking anyway. You make soft noise in your sleep and snuggle further into the whorls of hair on his bare chest. (Something you’re absolutely delighted by if your physical response at the reveal was any indication)

In fact, it might even be better than fucking.

He lazily decides that he can love storms enough for the both of you.

[yunietunie]

Soft Spot.

[nsfw]

Ghost was feared throughout the unit, however he had caught the eye of someone. Constant thoughts ran through as he offered to buy drinks, only to be met with a blunt rejection. It wouldn't go further... would it?

fem!reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, eating out, rough, cum shots, unprotected!sex, strangers to lovers?

Ghost was a fearful soldier in your unit, always parading around as some brooding villain. No one would ever cross the thought of pissing him off. You were a new recruit, barely any training done. After work or during his free time, he’d scurry off to some hiding spot, leaving you bewildered on what he would be doing.

Occasionally you two would cross paths but his responses were always, “Yeah” or “no” or “Guess so”. He never gave you a full sentence, making your interactions dry and distasteful. Or if he did, it was to “correct” your mistakes in training in a harsh way. You kind of gave up on talking to him, just giving him small smiles as a way to show you were friendly.

It was sort of fair, only because of the rank difference. You were given no leisure in training or work in general.

You felt drawn to him, subconsciously staring at him when he was in meetings or passing by near him in hallways. In a recent meeting however, you saw his eyes bore into yours for a good while, making you curious as to why he suddenly took notice of you. Was he annoyed? Has he finally had enough of your ogling? All these questions would shimmer down your hope.

That was until he was next to you in the shooting range, seemingly releasing stress while practicing his aim. You took notice of how easy it was for him, then looked back at your barely damaged paper target. You sigh slightly at the sight, a punch of disappointment in your chest just before you start taking your pistol back to the weapon’s case.

“You’re tense. You need to be relaxed.” A gravelly voice said behind you, your head whipping over to it. Your eyes filled with bewilderment once again. Was he talking to you? His brown irises were interlocking with your eyes, he motioned you to walk back with your pistol. “You’re also holding it wrong.”

There it was, the mistake you awaited for him to point out eventually, as he did with everything. Ghost’s jaw slightly tensed as you began to walk over back into your firing lane. Ghost would place his pistol down with the safety on. The gruffly man stepped behind you, his weight slightly behind you, his hands gripped around your wrists to correct your position.

The second you felt his warm breath in your ear, your face grew hot. “Right…” You respond to his corrective action, not able to form a sentence. How the tables have turned. HIs fingertips were somewhat gentle when he helped you fix your grip on the gun. Your eyes would blink for a few moments, trying to pull back some of the color rising in your face.

“Relax.” He murmured to you again.

You took a deep breath in, and exhaled slowly out. Ghost lowered the pistol back into your hands, his grasp on your wrists loosened when you began to untense your body.

“Better.” He said with a hint of approval, turning around to place himself against the wall just behind you. Ghost crossed his arms and observed your stance for a moment, before tilting his head to the side to get a better view. “Now, try again.”

The close proximity drove you up a fucking wall. LIttle or no words spoken between you two to him helping you in your aim. Trying to decipher that man was a crisis itself and one you wouldn’t figure out until much, much later. A simple nod came from your head fearful that you’d blurt out something stupid if you spoke. You take your aim, lining down the target with the small sights on the pistol, shooting almost perfectly. You turn to look at him, attempting to read his expression under the mask.

Ghost glanced up from the firing range, his gaze wandering over to you as he took a few steps over to inspect your target.

“Good,” He praised you quietly, still observing your stance. You could hear a small airy huff as he looked at you. It almost sounded like a small smirk? “You’re a trained killer already.”

“You’re teasing me.” You responded to his comment, rolling your eyes with a playful grin tugging at your lips. Turning your sight back to the target in front of you, impressed by your own work. Ghost scoffed, his eyes wandering over to you as he watched you in silence.

“Just because you’re getting better doesn't mean you're good.” That was true, at least looking at your previous attempts on the poor target from before. Although what he said was right, he didn’t have to say it like that. It almost made you feel a bit dismantled in his choice of words. A sigh escaped his mouth. He seemed to pause before he looked back at the target.

“If you hit the center three times, I’ll take you out for drinks.” Ghost suddenly added to his statement. He? Take you out for drinks? His eyes remained on you as some sort of challenge to his own words. You were baffled at the offer, confused as to why he suddenly wanted to be around you, let alone share drinks. You’d smile at the idea of liquor, especially since it was free. Shaking off the anxiety, then looking back at the target with more focus behind your eyes, a clear shot.

You take your stance once more, to be even cockier, you only use a singular hand instead of two. Tap, Tap, Tap. Bullets flying sharply through the distance, you somehow, probably by the grace of god, landed three nearly perfect shots. Swiveling your head over to him, a smug expression plastered over your face. “Rounds are on you.”

Ghost’s eye expression widened in surprise, but he quickly disguised it with another gruff scoff. His gaze meets over to the target in front of you where you had hit the center of, then glanced back to you with furrowed brows. If he had to be honest, he was 100% sure you were going to hit the floor or the wall.

He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would normally bet, however Ghost was a man of his word. After a few moments and some pondering, he nodded. “I guess they are.” His sight lowered to the floor as he considered his offer.

You knew he wasn’t one to socialize. He’d always run off at the start of your conversations or flat out ignore people around him wanting his attention. You thought Ghost viewed you as annoying or even incomprehensible in some way, but maybe… Maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad.

A smug grin twitched to the corner of your lips for a moment, but you quickly hid it and cleared your throat. You begin to walk over to the weapon’s case where you had placed your pistol into, finishing your practice for the day. “Well… I guess I’ll see you after work..?” You’d ask hesitantly, furrowing your brows in a sort of confusion while looking at his taller build in front of you.

His expression was difficult to dissect, even more so with the mask that covered his face. He’d give a small, exhausted sigh when he turned his gaze towards you once again. With a small nod, he titled his head down to look at you better, studying you.

“After work it is.” He said quietly before turning away from you, then walking out of the shooting range. Probably to go hide until he saw you. Would he keep his word?

A few hours after some excruciating training with your Drill Sergeant, you found yourself waiting just outside of the base entrance, cleaned up of course. Your mind was occupied with how your outing with Ghost would go, your head racing with questions and scenarios. Ghost would eventually show up to where you were standing, surprisingly on time, which was another rare occurrence from him. Ghost’s gaze traveled up and down your appearance before tapping you on the shoulder, signaling that he was there.

“Ready to go?” He’d ask dryly.

“Oh, yeah. Ready to go.” You responded quietly, unsure of what else to do or say. Ghost would start walking ahead of you, not worrying if you’d catch up to him or not. The walk was slightly awkward and silence would fall between the two of you. Your legs stammered behind him for a few blocks just off base, enough to keep to his fast pace.

Finally arriving at the bar, a bright neon sign read “Ginny’s”. He’d head in first, sitting on a barstool. The bar was a hole-in-the wall kind of vibe, some music playing in the background and slight chattering. You follow behind him and sit in the stool next to him, looking at the area.

Ghost tapped his fingers against the counter twice to grab the bartender’s attention. He’d order himself a glass of whisky over rocks, and you whatever you told him. As the bartender prepared the drinks, Ghost’s eyes fell on you again. He wanted to ask a question.

“Why did you join?” The brits man asked you in a stern yet curious tone. He was attempting to have a conversation with you. Your body swiveled in the chair to give your attention to him, attempting to figure out your wording.

“I wanted to do something with my life, I guess.” You said to him in a quiet manner, giving him a half assed answer. His expression was unreadable from the half mask he wore. Ghost was trying to understand why you had joined, or what made you join, but he seemed a tad bit uninterested as he kept fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Something else clearly on his running mind.

“My turn.” You spoke as your irises matched with his for a split second. “Why were you so harsh on me when I first joined?” You asked him with an eyebrow raised, hoping to get some answer back from him. Yet, Ghost only drummed his fingers against the counter top before rolling his mask slightly over his lips to take a sip of his drink.He’d give you another exhausted sigh as he thinks about what he’d say next.

“You needed to learn, not to be coddled. It made you better, didn’t it?” He replied back to your question. You drift your gaze to your glass, thinking about what he had said. It was true, it had made you better.

“Plus… I saw potential.” Ghost added while looking at you with a much softer expression than his more stoic one.

You raised an eyebrow at his word choice. He was looking out for you? Actively? Wow, now if that didn’t make your stomach do flips, then what did?

“Didn’t know you had a soft spot for me, lieutenant.” You joked, a teasing tone leaving your lips before sipping on your glass again. Ghost only looked at you for a moment, his gaze observing the way your lips moved while you spoke.

“I wouldn’t say that.” He’d muttered, his eye expression impassive. Before this whole interaction, you couldn’t get his attention, now it was all on you, constantly. He was thinking about something, yet you couldn’t place your finger on it. He was suddenly interested in you and he placed a bet offering to get drinks. You thought of your next question when the conversation died the next few minutes.

This was your chance to ask him for coffee sometime, maybe even dinner. “Would you be interested to grab coffee sometime with me?” You reluctantly asked, hoping for the answer you desired. You felt giddy after you asked the question. Another blank stare as he stood up from the barstool. “No.” The word leaves his mouth bluntly.

“I’m not interested.” Ghost continued, leaving a twenty at the counter and exiting the bar abruptly. His voice seemed unsure? Unsure of what he said. How was he not interested if he had his undivided attention on you since the shooting range.

Well, that was a painful rejection. Maybe you got the wrong idea when he offered going to the bar? Maybe you read his hidden expressions poorly? You watched him leave, another punch of disappointment, this one hitting your heart.

Soon after the whole scene, you finish your drink and sulk all the way back to the base and into your barracks. You kept thinking about the interaction. His eyes and mask sprayed across your memory on full blast, your brain making sure you never forgot.

The next few days were boring, your head bending around the situation that happened a while ago at the bar. A small sadness twinged on your face while you trained. Your assumptions wrapped around the clumsy words you said.

You had zero idea why you were so hell bent on this man.

It was noticeable, but you thought it through. You’d ignore it and continue doing your job and getting better at your mistakes. Everytime when you crossed paths with Ghost, he refused to look in your direction, another stab to your chest. After a week, you still hadn’t gotten over the fact that Ghost rejected you.

You’d do things on the side such as more aiming practice or intelligence collection. Anything at this point.

Although Ghost had seemed like he’d cut you off, you catch him now and again staring at you, watching you, his mind and face undecipherable.

The days stretched and became more and more of the same routine, except you didn’t have Ghost on your radar. He seemed to be avoiding you and wouldn’t even look in your direction. Did he have to be so rude about it? All he could’ve said was that he wasn’t interested politely and you would’ve moved on. Why was this so difficult? This whole situation just made you frustrated.

Your eyes fluttered open when you heard a hard knock on your barrack door. A small groan escapes your mouth, attempting to tune out the sound. A louder knock comes from the door, resulting in you turning to your side to see two shadows from feet in the light under it.

You shuffle out of your bed and stammer your way towards it, wondering who could be bothering you at this hour. Unlocking the door, your hazy eyes meet with someone's chest. The sound of someone clearing their throat makes your gaze focus on their face, or mask as you now noticed.

You crossed your arms, confused and a bit taken aback as to why he was here in the first place. A remembrance of a memory where he rejected you coming across as well, a sour expression falling to your face.

“What do you want?” You asked bluntly, wanting to get this over with.

You thought he was here to berate you about your offer or to tell you that you’re in trouble for saying something of that sort. You huff at the stance and look he gave you in your own door way.

Ghost let out a small frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry.” He said quietly to you. You raise an eyebrow to what he replied with. “Look, if you have some guilt after all, save it. You rejected me, I'll get over it eventually.” You rant once again, bluntly. You begin to close the door to your room, a strong hand stopping it. Your patience was growing thin. Another sigh coming from his nostrils.

“I know. And–I’m sorry.” He repeated with a defeated eye expression.

Your body loosens again, your gaze darting a few times, as you don’t know what to do or say back to him.. “I do have guilt for just leaving you at the bar like that.” Ghost admitted, looking at your smaller frame.

You were flabbergasted. “I know what I said, but I am interested. It was a mistake at the time.” He added, his eyes searching for your reaction. You were taken aback. You wanted to pinch yourself at this because you thought you were dreaming.

“But because of the rank difference, I was distant. Hesitant to pursue you.”

Your lips were parted slightly as you took in the information. You didn’t know what to say or think, you were left speechless. He took a step further, now in the threshold of your barrack doorway. You take a step back, your stomach beginning to wave off pressure.

Your heart wanted to rip itself out of your chest while you stared at him with blank eyes. You hesitate, wondering if this was dangerous or not, but reluctantly agree with your brain. Your body was less defensive as you looked at him with a forgiven breath. “Really?” You question him.

“This isn’t some joke or something is it?”

Ghost shook his head. “I’m being completely honest.” His hands stuffed into his pockets while looking down at your smaller frame. “I’d like to take you up on your offer.”

“Does… sometime this week fit in your schedule..?”

A smile spreads across your face and you flush slightly at the thought, your heart mending itself, completely forgetting about the original rejection. You had that familiar giddy feeling again. “Yeah, we can go down the street to a new cafe that opened.” You eagerly respond to him. A quietness fell over the two of you again. Ghost’s eyes would wander over your body, taking in your tank top and shorts that you were sleeping in.

Ghost shifted his weight. “Can I come in?” He’d ask in a husky voice while searching for your approval. You nod, giving him simple permission to enter. You moved aside from your door and he swiftly came inside your room. Ghost would close the door behind himself, locking it afterwards. Your eyes had to readjust to the darkness before you turned on a lamp on your small desk.

Ghost took a few small steps towards you, inspecting your body language before he rolled up his mask past his lips slightly. His eyes asked for your approval to kiss you, you gave another nod. He leans down and places his warm lips atop of yours, a hand moving to your waist. His mouth had an accent of whisky, a small yet noticeable amount.

A free hand glides to your head, lacing fingers in your hair to pull you forward to deepen the kiss. Your hands found themselves pressed firmly against his chest, your body slightly slumped at the feeling. He breaks apart from your tender lips and looks down at you, his hand brushing against the fabric of the tank top you wore.

“Let me help you.” Ghost would say, his calloused fingers coming under your tank top, grazing over your skin. Both of you strip away the article of clothing, a cool breeze hitting your tits. Now both of his hands glide over your skin, then cup your breast. He seemed pleased, at least from what you could tell. With a small flick to your nipple, it grew hard. The pain sensation of your skin made you jolt. “All mine.”

Mind you, his eyes never left your face while he touched you. He leans down to kiss you again, a groan against your mouth when he caresses your breasts. One of his knees propped itself between your thighs, making your pussy tighten around nothing at the feeling. The kiss between the two of you becomes more rough as his tongue slips in with ease, fighting for dominance over yours. Ghost would continue to play with your chest, while his knee pressed even further against your clit. Your hips moved slightly against his thigh through the fabric of your shorts.

You let out a sigh at the feeling of your body pulsating against him, making your head spin. It wasn’t long before he had you pinned up to a wall, still with his knee between your messy thighs. Your cunt was beginning to seep from your own juices, creating a wet spot in your panties.

His knee left from your needy hole for just a moment as he had you backed up. “Take them off.” You didn’t even hesitate with that demand, you took off your shorts, pushing them down until they fell to the floor. Ghost would kick them to the side,his eyes settling at the damp mess between your inner thighs.

“Such a fucking naughty one, huh?” Ghost murmured, a finger slipping under the hem of your panties, sliding them off down to your ankles. As he smoothly disregarded them, he dropped to his knees. His hands landed themselves on the outside of your upper thighs, holding you in place. A small smirk toyed on his lips before he licked at your clit, a whine escaping your mouth from anticipation. His hot breath against your pussy was just enough to send you over the wall.

He sucked and nibbled at your sensitive skin before his tongue would slide into your cunt, pumping you with it. Your body squirmed, your knees wanting to buckle from under you, which only made Ghost’s hands on your thighs tighten. For a man as asocial as he was, he knew what he was doing. It was almost unfair. Your eyes met with the ceiling of your room, giving Ghost a sign that he was doing his work correctly.

His tongue would hit the sweet spot from within you. Bingo. He’d continue to work on you, making sure to use his tongue to hear your singing voice. Ghost would still look up at your facial expressions, your mouth agape, a small hint of drool leaking from it. “Don’t stop, please.” a cry exiting your lips. Your legs trembled at the feeling of your body getting close to climaxing. It was almost embarrassing how close you were already.

“Don’t—I'm so close.” A whispering plea coming from your mouth, begging for him to do whatever he was doing.

A few more moans left your throat as you came into his. Ghost would lap up every drop from your pussy, as if he was some dog quenching its thirst, releasing soft groans against your sensitive cunt. You were panting during the time it took him to slowly guide his hands back up to your waist, holding you in place again. One of his hands breaking away to slide his own pants down, alongside his boxers, tossing them to the side when he stripped himself of his clothing.

Ghost gently wrapped his rough hand around his own cock, slowly pumping it a few times while he looked at you. Before lingering himself near you, he spit in his hand, smothering it over your throbbing pussy to prepare you. You raised yourself by your tiptoes to make it easier for him to push himself into. Guiding his cock to your entrance, his tip slipped in with ease.

He then put a hand back onto your waist, using his foot to nudge your thighs a little bit more apart. Ghost would move inch by inch, slithering himself slowly inside you to adjust to his size. He’d pull almost all the way in but not before he slid back in, stuffing you full.

“Taking me so well.” He’d whisper near your ear, ensuring you’d hear his compliment. A bulge appears from within you on your lower abdomen.

“Fuck.” He’d groan quietly while filling you.

His hips would repeat this as a way to split you open from the inside, making sure you could feel every inch of him. You could feel your eyes wanting to meet with the ceiling again. Your sounds of pleasure filling the room for a split second. That was before Ghost removed one of his hands from your waist and placed it over your mouth, silencing you.

He was anticipating how loud you’d be, hence why he covered your dirty mouth. No one could figure out what was happening between a lieutenant and a recruit. Both of you would be chewed out and probably thrown out if anyone did. You were bending the rules for your own desires, and now his. How far would it take you?

“Shhh… Try and stay quiet for me, love.” He asked in a quiet manner, hoping you’d oblige. But you knew you couldn’t keep by that promise.

Your back pushes off the wall slightly, making his cock push further into you. A muffled moan escaping from your voicebox. He’d start off slow for a minute or two then he would start fastening his thrusts within you, hitting and bruising every part. Your insides clenching down on his already sensitive cock as he fucked up into you.

Ghost would mutter things to himself as he felt himself losing it within you. The whole thing of “having what you’re not supposed’ only makes him move his hips into you more, plunging your needy hole.

The only sounds to fall into your room were his ragged fast pace breathing, the slapping of both of your bodies and your quieted moans. Your body continued to writhe and wriggle under him. His hand on your waist tightened, making sure to keep you in place.

His eyes never left yours, watching your eyebrows furrow from the pleasure. His breathing was becoming heavier, his cock pounding you deeply, abusing your body.

Your eyes threatened to release the tears that watered them while this played out. Your second orgasm on the rise to finish, you can feel him move with a more vigorous pace. It was almost too good to be true.

As you were getting closer and closer to finishing, he placed a hot kiss on your lips, pushing his tongue in to meet yours. You’d moan into his mouth while he grunted into yours. Your walls clenched around his cock, releasing yourself all over it. One last mewl escaping your mouth yet muffled by his, making it quieter.

Nothing has ever made you feel like this, especially your own fingers. This was definitely something else, something better than you imagined.

Ghost placed his hand back to your mouth after tearing away from the kiss, his eyes eager to climax himself. More forcible thrusts would enter and exit your body while you ride your orgasm out

“So good. Fuck, so good.” Ghost would say behind gritted teeth as he too, was holding back his own voice now.

His grasp on your waist tightening, bruising the supple flesh from under his textured hands. A few more movements, he pulled his throbbing cock out from your clenching walls. Pumping it again, this time coated with the sleek shine of your juices covering it.

He cums over the skin on your thighs, letting out a closed mouth grunt from it, a sort of growl. He pants slightly from all the movement. The liquid dribbled down your weakened legs.

Your legs trembled, shook even at the pressure from within your own pulsating body. Removing his hand from your mouth, he looked at your ecstasy filled body, satisfied grin placed on his lips. He moves away from your body and heads towards the bathroom where he tosses a towel over his shoulder. As you still stood against the wall, your back touching it, he began to clean the mess between your legs.

Your body ached, it was sore, and definitely bruised in several places. Ghost would carefully lead you over to your bed where he sat you on the edge to continue to clean you.

“You have a soft spot for me after all.” You teased with a weary and exhausted voice.

“I do. Only for you.”

[uzurimisery]

the space between two bodies. / satosugu x reader / part 1

Warnings: MDNI, happy ending, angst, cheating (not really this is explained in part 2), unhealthy relationships/coping mechanisms, suicidal ideation, depression, smut, no sorcery au, unedited

A/N: I started thinking about Gojo with anxiety and nihilist Geto and then what that looks like in a poly relationship with someone as flawed as they are

part two

“We’re sorry but we’ve decided to go with another candidate now. We will retain your information on file should a more suitable role open up.” 

The email stared back at you, the words on your phone screen blurring as droplets of rain hit it as you read it over for the hundredth time. Today was just another shitty fucked up day in the endless string of shitty fucked up days that had become your life. The third consecutive month of unemployment in a row. At least previously you could get temp jobs but now each day that passed just ate away at you with how useless you felt. 

Pocketing your phone, you pull out a 100 yen coin and put it in the vending machine.

You didn’t even like your old job but Jesus it was like no one was actually hiring. And when you did get an interview, you’d get ghosted afterward. On the rare occasion they didn’t ghost you, you’d receive a rejection letter like this one. It was preferable, you supposed, that your existence and effort were at least acknowledged, no matter how much it stung. Still hurt like a bitch to be told you weren’t good enough. 

Anything would be better than this, fuck you’d take being overworked and underpaid if it felt like you were doing something. This endless cycle of gnawing uncertainty and applications, interviews, followed by rejections. Worse than that you were out of deodorant and trying to find some in Japan was a Herculean effort. 

Yeah, it’s been a shit go and you’re fucking exhausted.

Maybe you’d go be an English teacher like everyone else who moves to Japan. You wouldn’t need a co-teacher so the pay would be better if you were just starting out. Not that you wanted to teach again dear god that was less than ideal. Thank god you had settled status. The thought of having to deal with visa issues at the same time made you feel sick. 

Maybe you could work at a host club. You turned, staring at your reflection in the glass. Your boobs weren’t half bad as you pushed them up from the underside like a push-up bra would. Or sell feet pictures. The market was probably oversaturated at this point but maybe there would be some interest.

Wait Jesus had your hair looked like that all day? Fuck. No wonder that girl kept staring at you on the train she thought you were a lunatic.

Sighing you press the button for 4H. It wasn’t like you’d always been this way, sort of drifting in a sea of uncertainty abroad your boat of doubt with no wind to guide your sails. There was a period of time, maybe a five-year stretch after you had graduated from university where your life was on track. An entry-level job in your degree field, a long-term boyfriend turned fiance, wedding planning, and a great group of friends. Shit, you had it all. 

The fiance was the first to go. 

As it turns out, finding your fiance in bed with the girl he swore you didn’t have to worry about, his tongue halfway down her throat like he’s trying to do an endoscopy, is a terrible way to find out you’re being cheated on. When he noticed you standing in the doorway he had the gall to sputter some bullshit about how it was your fault it happened. You were too focused on your work, you didn’t give him attention, blah, blah, blah. It was you who broke the relationship up by working so much and being married to your job. And as he paid for the overpriced four-bedroom apartment in an area of Tokyo that you didn’t even like, you lost the apartment in the breakup. 

You couldn’t slum dog millionaire your life away on Shoko and Utahime’s couch forever eating tubs of ice cream and binging TV after that, so everyone told you, or rather forced you, to move in with Suguru and Satoru. Bouncing around from couple to couple. It did give you some stability and just as things go up so must they come down. 

The company you were working for was liquidated after an investigation by the federal government found years of tax fraud. Luckily they got bought out, and you thought maybe if you put in work you could still climb the ladder. But all those late nights in the office, conbini dinners, and unpaid overtime, you were just another name on a severance list.

It felt like waves were crashing over you, each one larger than the rest. Almost like you were tied to a dock during a hurricane, a tsunami, or some fucking natural disaster that threatened to drown you if you didn’t hold onto something but there wasn’t much to hold on to. You could hold onto the minuscule amount of friendships that you had at least. It was far too awkward and messy to keep up with anyone else other than your main four since the rest were so tied to your ex-fiance and his life. Stupid fucking lawyer. 

The four of you were close-ish. Less close since Shoko had gone on rotation at a university on the other side of Tokyo. It meant she and Utahime had moved nearer to it since Utahime was willing to commute. But Suguru and Satoru were still close with you and still dating.  Biting as that felt at times. 

You met Geto first in a shared philosophy lecture. One of those run-of-the-mill ones, but the content that really got the two of you talking was nihilism. It was the seminar groups after class you shared where he really saw you. Stripped away of pretenses and your nerves laid bare. Not just another face in a lecture hall but something more, something human. The deep indents of nails in your palms and the rubbing of your hands together under the table. He had seen right through you, recognized the darker parts of himself in you- it made you feel understood.

The machine made a mechanical noise and the lights flickered. Sighing you kick the machine lightly to see if anything happens, if life could give you this one thing today that you so desperately needed. Just like everything else, nothing goes your way and your stupid drink stays logged on the shelf. So like every reasonable person you kick the machine again. 

“Stupid fucking piece of shit machine,” you murmur a growing string of profanities under your breath as you repeatedly kick the machine

.

All you wanted was one of those ¥100 coffee drinks that were loaded with caffeine to keep going through your slog of a day was that so hard? Maybe it would be best if you just packed it up and called it quits. Move back home with your parents and be berated daily. Why aren’t you married? Why did you and Kosuke break up? When are they going to get some grandchildren? They aren’t getting any younger you know. Face the cutting shame of fucking up another opportunity, another chance. 

What was the point in trying anymore when you couldn’t even get a stupid drink that you don't honestly even want at this point out of a vending machine so you can go home and masturbate to audio porn before you cry yourself to fucking sleep? 

Suguru’s voice cut through the spiral of thoughts, your name on his lips. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you had an interview and you’d be home late?” 

Of course, he’d catch you like this. 

“Hey Sugs,” it came out as a groan as you kicked the machine again, a loud clang following as your drink hit the bottom of the dispenser. Bending down, you grab the can before turning and facing him. “I did.” 

“How’d it go?”

“Like shit.” Maybe you should work on your delivery. This flat effect is really making you should like a bitch. Are you a bitch? 

Geto’s eyes raked over you, infuriatingly calm and measured. He was always so carefully disheveled, the type of person to look effortlessly put together no matter the occasion. Stupid name-brand black sweater over a white button-down half tucked into chinos with a chain on the belt. His hair, shiny and perfect, was neatly tucked into his signature half-up-hald-down look to keep the strand out of his eyes, minus the one for style. Notably, he was wearing his glasses for once, sleek frames perks on a tall nose. Oh, he smelt nice too, his sandalwood and bergamot cologne hitting you as he stepped closer, extending his umbrella to cover the two of you. Fuck he was so handsome it wasn’t fair.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Geto replied softly.

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. “ It is what it is.”

But the reality of it clung to you and drug you down, down, down into the depths of your psyche. That small, scared feeling you tried so hard to suppress started bubbling up again, twisting your insides into knots. It made you feel sick, so much like a lost little child in a world that had grown far too big and complex. Here it was, rearing its ugly head, in front of one of the top ten people you never wanted to see in such a shit state.

But that's all Gojo and Geto do at this point. They pick up the broken, crumbling pieces of yourself that slip between your fingers. You feel like a cracked vase leaking water all over the place no matter how desperately they try and patch up the ceramic. Each day the gap between you and them grows more apparent. They were both soaring and you were falling to the ground and rolling around in the mud. 

Geto had just done a four-page spread in Architects Digest, even though he was a pretentious motherfucker who hated the magazine. And Gojo… God, he’d just opened for Prada at Paris Fashion Week. They went viral on every social media platform a while back for how hot and gay they were. You’d been caught in the crossfire of your accounts being tagged and gained a social media boost, but that also meant a bunch of people DMing you telling you to take pictures of them. 

The most fucked up thing about it all was the gnawing feeling that chewing on your bones that you were being dragged around like an accessory to remind them how good they had it. A permanent third wheel they’ve been stuck with since university. Two talented lovers on the brink of permanent importance and their weird little friend who follows them along like a lost puppy. It wasn’t even true and that's why it hurt so much. You knew they believed in you, thought that you could be a successful artist, and supported you in it even, but the jealousy rotted inside you like a festering wound. You weren’t even jealous of their success, only just partial, but it was like you weren’t good enough to be around them. 

Maybe you were better off as wall decor in the life they were building together. Something quiet and serene that didn’t demand anything from them. Better that than the bitter, jealous mess you were every time you saw them succeed.

He starts, the same spiel he goes to when you get like this. “You can always-”

“No.” your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but you don’t care. 

“I don’t know why you act like it’s such a bad off,” Suguru presses, his calm demeanor only pissing you off more.  

“I don’t want to work for you.” 

“Why not.” 

You snap. “Because I don’t want to, Suguru! Is that so hard to understand?”

Fuck, you wanted to storm off, go back to the house, and slam the door behind you as you went. But it didn’t matter if you stormed off, you lived in one of his guest bedrooms. Both of you were just headed to the same place. Sad little rescue that you were.

Suguru assessed, his eyes softened, breaking you down. He picked out every one of your insecurities as he stared at you. Microscopic inspection, each of your cells was being assessed for your state of being. Have you eaten? Was it enough? Had you slept? Are you even capable of taking care of yourself in this state? 

The weight of his gaze made your chest tighten, and before you could control it, try and reel it back in, tears welled up in your eyes. Blinking them back, you swallowed hard, the lump in your throat bobbing as you did. You hated this. Hated the way his care, his pity, felt like a knife twisting in the last remaining shred of pride you clung to. 

Pity was the killy of pride and you should accept that your pride was already decomposing in the septic tank in the backyard. 

Fuck up, fuck up, fuck up. All you ever were, all you’d ever be. Every loose thread of your shirt feels like it's cutting against your skin. The hem of your trousers drowns your feet like you're wearing your parents' clothes. Shabby. Uncouth. Inept. 

Wordlessly, you turned on your heel and fled, rushing out of the side street as the tears spilled past your lash line. You couldn’t do this anymore--no more questions, no more pity. No matter how hard you tried, how hard you struggled, clawed your way through the fucking dirt, you could never be like them. Never be good like theme, never right like them, never fit like them. They had these perfect little lives that they could boast to everyone about. When they spoke, people listened. People cared what they had to say. The world parted for them, it was the Red Sea and they were Moses, making space. There’d always be room for them to shine. 

But you were screaming into a void, your throat raw, bloody, and you were aching from the endless effort to be seen, to be heard. You wanted to be looked at like your own person, your own successes. Hard to be noticed for something that rarely happened. No matter how loud you screamed, how much you begged, your voice was just lost in the noise. 

You knew Suguru would follow. He always did. Even if you didn’t live in the same house, he’d have followed you. His voice was muffled by the pressure in your ears but you could hear him trying to talk to you. He let you get all the way home and inside the gate of the house before he grabbed your wrist and yanked you backward. 

Trying to pull away, your shoulder wrenched painfully as you trashed in his grip. 

“Calm down,” Suguru spoke firmly, pulling you into his chest. His sweater was soft, and your face smushed against the fabric as sobs wrecked your body, trembling like the earth in an earthquake.

It was hard to speak through the tears, so all you could do was try and slip out of his hold as you sobbed. You didn’t want this comfort. You wanted to run from your failure. From how suffocating life felt and that no matter what you'd never be enough. Worse than that, the sweet sickly feeling that trickled down your throat that when he held your life this, it made the world feel just a little bit more bearable. As if somewhere you could survive another day if he kept touching you. It wasn’t yours to feel and he wasn’t yours to hold. 

Suguru lets you wiggle around. You hit his torso a few times, your strength fading as you cry. When your sobs turned to hiccups and gasps for breaths, he gently cupped your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that still spilled from your eyes. 

“Talk to me,” he said softly, barely above a whisper. The songs of a city nearly eclipsing it. 

What could you say? How could you explain this feeling? This horrible guilt, pain, and jealousy ate away at you every single day. The tears came harder now, speeding up as if to help drown you in your misery and take you out of it for good. Hiccuping you drew breath, sharp and quick, hoping to speak but nothing comes out. Words claw at your throat, digging it with sharpened points. It hurts the way they hang onto you.

“Is it all too much again?” His voice is so soft, warm like fleece pajamas fresh out of the dryer as he holds you so delicately.

This wasn’t the first time that one of the three of you had been so consumed by dread, suffocated by the weight of life itself. Suguru knew it all too well himself, from high school to know he held it tightly in his hands. It never went away from him, he just learned to live with it, let it fade into the background, and let a constant hum of despair serve as the baseline for the day-to-day. 

His thumbs brush over the apex of your cheekbones again and the tenderness shatters you, another wave of sobs tearing through you. They pull you under, out into the open ocean, and through their rip current.

“I just..” you start, it scratches your throat, thick with phlegm. “ I can’t do this anymore.” 

His voice remained steady. “Do what?” 

“Any of it. I can’t do it.” 

“You’re capable of it. You can do it.” 

Jarring, rough, whipping across your skin as the rubber band pulls too tight and snaps. You lash out, and it stings where it hits. The anger cuts through your skin like your fingernails leave crescent moons in your palms. 

“No, I fucking can’t!” It's ripped out of you as you stalk away like a wounded animal. “I can’t okay. I can’t do shit. I can’t keep a relationship without being cheated on. I can’t manage to get my own place. I can’t get a fucking job. I can’t sit here and pretend like I’m not fucking wasting away in my own misery watching you and Gojo and Shoko all succeed and be the only one of us still shooting for the stars and coming crashing down to earth every single fucking time. You and Gojo with your perfect little lives look at me like a charity case to be fixed.”

“We have never looked at you like a charity case.” His tone was firm.

“Really? Then what the fuck do you look at me like, huh?” You press the question circling back around. “Is it pity? Did the two of you see some poor stray that you wanted to take in and keep like a pet when we met at university? Is that it?” 

His eyes were hard, unreadable.

“It is that. You pity me.”

“Jesus, no! We don’t pity you- I don’t pity you! Is it so hard to believe that I care about you?”

“Yes, it is! There’s no reason for you to care,” 

“What the hell wouldn’t I care?” Suguru’s voice raised to a shout, frustration cracking his facade. 

“Because I’m just like everyone you hate!” Your chest heaves as you let out a flood of emotions. “ No ambitions, contributing nothing to society, just leeching off others.” 

“You’re not like them.” 

“I am. On paper, I’m exactly like them. The only reason that you’d keep me around is because it makes you feel good to watch me suffer or you pity me.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t pity you?” His voice cracked with emotion, but you didn’t stop.

“Then tell me why you care!” It comes out so desperately. You're begging him for understanding, to know why he stays. To know why he lets you in.

For once he looked uncertain. His mask slipped, revealing the cracks in his facade. It’s been so long since you’ve seen underneath it you’d almost forgotten how he looked when he wasn’t pretending to be happy. 

“Or is it that you don’t care?” 

Something flashed in his eyes, flickerings of things you only saw when he looked at Gojo. He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. There's a fear in his eyes, like if he acts in this moment something may crack and crumble like the foundation of a house that leaves him crumpled in a pile of wood. He doesn’t, or won’t, give you an answer. 

So you turn on your heel, the conversation over in your mind, and head to the front door. You’ll go up and pack a bag before heading across town and crashing on Shoko and Utahime’s couch before calling your parents and groveling to them. 

But as you reach the door, Suguru reaches you. His arm wraps around your waist and he spins you around and pushes your back against it. He’s got you pinned. 

“It’s because I love you.” It’s the faintest breeze that passes from his lips, like a car driving past on a hot day, sweat making your shirt stick to you. “I care because I love you.”

Everything is frozen in a still frame. Neither one of you moves, neither one of you breathes. A still moment that holds you tight, threatens to squeeze you so tightly your heart bursts. 

“What do you mean by that?” You swallow as you speak, like pebbles in your throat. 

Suguru blinks back tears, looking up and then back at you. “That I love you. Fuck! I’m in love with you.” 

Disbelief makes your voice shake. “No, you’re not not. You’re with Satoru.” 

“And? I can’t love both of you?” 

“No, you can’t,” Hypocrisy tastes acrid on your tongue. You know damn well you could never pick between the two of them, that this blighted jealousy you feel towards them is more the fact they have the other rather than their success. It’s something you don’t admit but it’s there. “Besides, you’re lying to me.”

“No.” His response was firm and immediate. The whole time you’d known them, their worlds had revolved around each other. They’d been the only thing for each other for so long. It was an unspoken truth that they were made for each other in a way that could only be sewn by the fabric of the universe itself. Something so profoundly and divinely created it had been written in the fabric of life at the moment of the Big Bang. 

“I’ve seen you watching.” Suguru’s tone is low, cutting, it vibrates through you as he has you pinned. 

A sick, icy dread wraps around your spine. It starts in your toes and crawls up your body. Your muscles lock in place as it climbs up until it's all the way in your head. Paralyzing fear grips you.

“I don't…” The lie is transparent before it comes to fruition. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s brittle, cracking on your teeth as it passes through them.

“Don’t play innocent.” Suguru’s voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. The tension between you tightens and winds up to pitch, but there's a current that punctuates it. One that feels heady and warm. One that excites you in the same way it embarrasses you. “I’ve seen you watching. I’ve seen you for years. The first time, maybe it was a mistake. But last week? Three weeks before that?”

Your mouth went dry, choking on the excuse that tried to bubble up. Like finely ground chalk powder coasted every surface of it. “I—”

He cuts you off before you can even try to defend yourself. “I know you get off on it too. Leave your curtains open while you touch yourself. Saying his name, my name.”

Horror twists inside you like a knife, your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach. You’d always been so careful, never acting when you thought they were home. Never want to risk exactly this happening. Your face burned like you drank half a liter of vodka in a go. Maybe you’d wake up and realize this was a nightmare. The humiliation was unbearable. 

“Imagine my surprise,” Suguru continues in a low chuckle, left hand slotting perfectly against your waist, “when I came home early one day and saw that.” 

The tears that had stopped in your flash of anger spill hot and fast down your cheeks. The raw, hot shame and embarrassment muddle you. It makes you want a sinkhole to open up beneath you and swallow you whole. You can’t meet his gaze, your vision blurry. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll move out.” you stammer out, the words falling in a chopping spiccato, desperate to create space between the two of you. You’d never be able to face him again. 

“Who said anything about moving out?” Suguru comes, pulling you closer to him till you're flush against his chest. He bends down, breath tickling your ear. You feel the sharp pressure of his teeth grazing the shell of it, a jolt going through your body. “You don’t get to leave now.” Pulling back, he meets your eyes in a half-lidded gaze. 

Both of you are playing the game again. Looking for something unspoken, some cryptic clue you need to decipher. He was searching for discomfort, disgust, anything to make him draw back and stop. You searched for understanding, dissecting how it got to this point. Every moment, every glance, every touch from him that you had ever overlooked. 

He always held a soft glint in his eyes when he looked at you. Something subtle, normally reserved for Satoru. It warmed the edge of his voice when he spoke and crinkled the corners of his eyes when he smiled. There was that softness for Shoko, but it was different. The one he had for you was a more reserved, pulled-back, and dialled-down version of what gripped him when he looked at Satoru. He had always viewed you this way.

The times you sat sandwiched between him and Gojo, your legs brushing against him, his arm slung around your shoulders to reach Satoru. Pulling you against him on the train, in clubs, at parties, the bump of your hips against his own. Compliments when you wore flattering, his pushing Satoru to dress you up. He liked it best when you were in shorter dresses and skirts with tights. 

Suguru had always wanted you, but you had failed to notice. 

Instinct took over before reason could temper it. You pushed off the door, your hands flying to the loose part of his hair at the nape of his neck. The strands feelt just as silky an shiny as they look between your fingers. Without hesitation, the space between you two diminishes. You aren’t sure who closes the distance first, but your lips lock hungry. Teeth knocking against each other as you both desperately cling to the other. It's rough and aggressive, both of you starved animals feasting on flesh. The taste of copper spreading in your mouth as he bit down on your lip making you whine. His breathing becomes your own, heady mix of desire and dark, primal urge..

His tongue pushes against yours, taking advantage of your now open mouth, wet and warm brushing against the back of your teeth, laying claim to your mouth. Geto was dominating in all aspects of his life so it was unsurprising that he set the pace and led you to where he wanted to be. He moved your legs up, patting your ass to jump, to then wrap around his waist as he pressed you against the door. You grind your hips against his growing erection as he holds you there, and you can feel the heat of him even through his pants.

Suguru pulls away panting. His eyes are half closed, lips blushed a beautiful red and damp with saliva. He moves in again, this time to your neck, where he bites down hard. You squirm as he sucks a dark and angry mark, his mark, on your skin. The bite of his teeth against your skin feels right. It eats away at the jealous monster inside you every second he’s latched onto you.

Fed up with the door, Suguru opens it and carries you through the threshold. He moves the two of you through the genkan, toeing off his shoes while you kick your own off, and into the living room where he drops you on the couch. There’s an air about him, so intense it’s nearly oppressive, as his fingers inch up underneath your sweater, sliding it off of you. It’s a predator circling their prey, the success of a hunt now that he’s got you on your back against the soft fabric of the couch. He’d been waiting for this far longer than you thought and it spurs you on.

Suguru moves in tandem with you, tugging off his sweater and button-up shirt, exposing his happy trail. The dark dusting of hair makes your mouth water. Once his shirt is off, his hands cover your chest through your bra, palming your tits like stress balls. It's unpadded and lacey, and it lets him feel as if your nipples get hard. He pushes the cups down, leaving them to rest under your breasts, and pushes them up slightly, accentuated by your being on your back.

His fingertips close around your nipples as he pinches and pulls at them. You knew how much of a sadist he could be. One night you watched him edge Satoru for an hour straight. Seen how hot he looked with Gojo in his mouth as he writhed around. A sweet moan escaped you as he played with your nipples and rolled his hips against yours. It makes your head feel fuzzy, thoughts focusing purely on him. His weight presses down on you, so heavy and right it makes you ache.

You lunge forward, propping yourself up on your elbows to kiss him again. It’s just as messy and hungry as before, years of built-up desire between the two of you saturating your every pore. It settles in your bones that pulses in time with your heart. 

Suguru doesn’t separate from you, but he slides your trousers and underwear off in one go as you kick your socks off. He tugs his own off hastily, boxer briefs following in turn. His public hair is trimmed, a close crop like you’ve seen it before. Like every other aspect of him, it’s neatly maintained, put into its place, and kept there. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he pulls your hips up by his head. Your back is half off the sofa as he places your legs over his shoulders and parts your core with his fingers. He blows cold air onto your clit that makes you squirm before he licks your clit. Moaning, you try to grind yourself against his face but his hands tighten on your hips, holding them firm. You’d get what he wanted to give you. Fight against it and get nothing, or accept it. 

He was slow to start. His tongue lazily explores you, getting familiar with your taste. It pushed against your clit, wide and flat, before swirling his tongue around it. The ball of his tongue piercing rubbed against the most sensitive part of you. Your hips jerk forward and he looks up, a warning in his eyes, but he doesn’t stop. Suguru curls his tongue again, this time moving it side to side, letting his piercing catch on your clit purposefully.  Every action he takes is measured as he picks up speed while latching his lips around it to add delicious suction. Two of his fingers slide inside you, reaching far deeper than your own ever could. He pumps them in and out of you, driving you closer to the edge.

You felt your pussy drooling, liquid gushing out and covering his chin. The muscles in your abdomen tightened with each passing second until you swore they'd cramp. It was all too much as you came, jerking and contracting in on yourself. Black spots dot your vision as your world shakes on this axis. 

Sugru watched as you came, pulling back from your pussy to stare at your face. His eyes never left yours as he rubbed soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. He could cover nearly all of you with how big his hands were, warm and calloused. Minus a cold spot on his left hand. 

His engagement ring. 

The silver felt like it burned your skin as he smiled at you and planted a kiss on your inner thigh. It glimmers in the low light, bouncing light off like a homing beacon. Bubbling sickness, bile rising in your throat, disgust palming at your skin. What had you just done? You’ve just violated a boundary so gigantic with Suguru. Let your own selfish need for intimacy lead you to this. He was engaged to your best friend. They were getting married next year.

You rushed to grab your clothes, panic surging through you. The world spins around you. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“We shouldn’t have done that,” you buttoned up your trousers, throwing your sweater on. Your hair is a mess and your skin feels clammy and flushed. The need to vomit is overwhelming. “This was a mistake.”

Suguru’s rising from the couch, trying to grab you, stopping you from moving but you dodge his hand. “A mistake?” 

Your left hand meets your mouth as you bite the nail of your thumb. It clicks against your front teeth. 

“Satoru won’t mind-” 

“A mistake Suguru,” You shake your head, bending down and grabbing the rest of your stuff. “Please. Just forget this.” Without waiting for his reply, you run up the stairs and slam the door behind you. 

You really are a bitch.

©️ uzuzrimisery

[kindslut]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐃

╰ SHOW ﹕ ARCANE !

︵ WARNING(S) ﹕╰ swearing ⸝ violence ﹕ sex

︵ relationship ﹕ Vi x fem!fragile!reader x Caitlyn

⟣・S2・HEAVY IS THE CROWN︰

THE SOUND OF screaming could be heard when you had awoken from being on the ground, your hair in a messy style as you couldn’t see your surroundings. was Jayce and viktor okay? was everyone alright? mel..? of course you wouldn’t know, everything in your body hurt, it felt like some sort of piece of metal lodged in your side.

Being a well trained solider had its many perks but you weren’t prepared for this. Of course you weren’t. like they say, the most unexpected things come.

For you though it felt a little far fetched whenever your mom would tell you the stories about the ghost and salem. Where the witch would be haunted down and hunted but towards the end they found her having did no wrong doing.

Sad tale it was. really.

Everything on your body hurt like hell, the only voice you could hear was Jayce’s. was he carrying you and viktor? probably.

That dude had some incredible strength.

JAYCE SITS IN a chair with his head in his hand, looking over at viktor who lays inside the hextech. seeing you and viktor in this condition was tearing him limb from limb, not in a gruesome way but a much more sadder way.

He had hated not being able to protect the both of you, it felt like hell. But you know, some things just come and go…you lay there on a bed with a bunch of iv’s attached to your arms and lower half, your hair was in a messy bun since Jayce had tried thing it himself.

Mel walks inside his office as she takes a look around, her eyes landing on Jayce. “How are they?” She questioned.

“Same as before. They’re both breathing.” Jayce answers in reply, a distressed look on his face. “Their pluses are consistent. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mines.”

Mel walks over to viktor, her eyes landing on the hextech as she starts reaching her hand out with curiosity. When she goes to touch it, it reacts differently with her making her gasp and step back.

“What’s it doing to him?” Mel questions.

“The hexcore has been evolving.” Jayce explains, “shifting through runic patters faster than I can keep up. All I know for certain is that it’s keeping him and her alive.”

Jayce eyes land on where you laid, his heart aching with devastation as he sees you reacting differently to the hextech aside from viktor, your body was rejecting it but also accepting it at the same time.

If it was the only thing keeping you alive he wasn’t gonna mess with it.

“It should be me up there instead of him. I should be laying in that bed instead of her,” Jayce grumbled, gesturing to an unconscious you on the bed barely breathing. “Vi and cait are gonna lose it.”

“Don’t say that.” Mel placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “They’ll both come back to us.”

“I still don’t understand.” Jayce replies. “They were both right next to me. How does the explosion do that to them, and I just…? I just walk out without a scratch? [name] almost lost a hand, my god.”

Mel sighs. “There’s no sense to these things, Jayce.”

The male was quiet for a while before speaking again, “how’d it go with the council?” he asks.

Mel scoffs. “My mother’s entered the game. She’s already gotten her hooks into salo. Using his grief to make a play for hextech.”

“Mel, I promised viktor, never again.” Jayce tells the woman.

Mel places her hand over his. “It’s all right. I handled it. I won’t let them corrupt your dream.”

Jayce looks over at an unconscious you again, before laying his head on mel’s thighs, tears threaten to fall down his eyes but he holds them back.

He just wanted you and viktor back, that’s all.

You were very important to caitlyn and vi after all.

“I should get going now.” Mel says, “you might want to spend some alone time with them.”

With that, she stood up and patted his shoulder one last time before walking out the door. The door slams shut behind her by itself, making Jayce flinch a little.

He feels you stir, his head perks up immediately.

When it does, he saw you already staring at him, a confused look on your gaze.

“What was that about?” You questioned, sitting up with your back pressed against the pillows. It was a little hard to breathe but it was manageable with the breathing machine.

“I don’t even care-- i just-- you’re--?” Jayce launches forward and pulls you into a huge, a huge so tight you had gasped. He wasn’t hugging you too tight as though you couldn’t breathe— he just hugged you with desperation and worry.

“Woah! hey, hey, it’s okay.” You reassured, patting his back. “I’m okay.”

He was so happy to hear your voice.

“ONE OF THE MANY PRIVILEGES OF SERVING AS YOUR COUNCILOR IS HAVING THE OCCASION NOW AND AGAIN TO STAND BEHIND THIS PODIUM TO BEHOLD SO MANY JOINED TOGETHER NOT BY BIRTH OR DICTUM BUT BY ALL THAT WE SHARE.” MEL SPOKE as you stood by the other guards to keep watch, your back was leaned against the wall as the wound with the patch on your side was being healed. Your biceps flexing under the light as your toned abs still hurting from the explosion, but the wounds would heal, you were sure.

You glanced down at the tattoo on your hip and let your thumb graze over it, remembering when it was given.

You see one of the enforcers walk past you, you look them up and down by their attire before your brows furrowed— something felt wrong.

Heading into the crowd you lock gazes with vi, the both of you nodding towards one another before following the enforcer. But another person caught your attention as well, making you turn around and face the other way.

“The hell..?” You whisper lowly.

You push past the crowd of civilians as your hips sway when walking, and you walked with a purpose.

To figure out who the hell these people were.

Walking over to the other enforcers you climbed over the railing, your thighs still hurting but of course you forgot to bring your crutches for support. But it’s whatever.

“Wait, wait, ma’am you can’t--“

“Excuse me, I’m an enforcer too.” You say firmly as your eyes narrowed at the man. “So I can get pass, just like the rest of you.”

“We can’t even go in, so we can’t let you in either.”one of the enforcers replies. “Plus, you’re still injured from the attack so…”

Your piercing (e/c) eyes looked into the man’s brown ones, making his eyes widen a little— least to say, he was intimidated.

“Move, please,” you pleaded this time. “I feel like something is very wrong.”

Caitlyn looks over her shoulder and noticed the panicked look on your face— you would never randomly fuss about anything.

She knew something was wrong.

“Awful, isn’t it?”

Jayce looks over his shoulder when he hears a woman’s voice.

“Losing a loved one.”

When Jayce slowly turns around, the woman slips off her mask as she grabs her chainsaw, swining it at Jayce who barely dodged out of the way quickly.

Everyone starts screaming and shouting, rushing off to find somewhere safe.

“Get all the civilians to safety.” You told the enforcers before turning around to go and find Jayce, your leg still hurting from the explosion. you couldn’t walk around with a weak and injured leg but you thought against it.

“Jayce!” You shouted, searching for him. “Where are you? Jayce?!”

Someone suddenly slams you into a wall, making you hit the solid platform hard. A weak cry of pain escapes past your lips as you slid down the wall, clutching your arm.

Staggering to your knees, you rushed to get away from whatever was chasing you.

Get away, get away, get away

That was just going through your mind.

Something slashes in your back through your coat, “ah!” You shriek as you collapsed to your knees and hit the ground. Back arched as you tried crawling away from whatever had attacked you.

They grab onto your hair, arm wrapping around your neck once they finally got the chance to turn you around, the air in your lungs seemed to have collapsed the second they tighten their large hand around your throat.

You kick and flail your legs around as you gasped for air, eyes heavy and face turning blue as you choked— the breath you were now trying to breathe was very toxic seeping into your nostrils and throat.

You use your fists to hit at the man’s hands, he watched with a sadistic grin on his lips as the life in your eyes were starting to fade.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the life in your eyes seemed to have been fading.

“Get the fuck away from her!” Vi shouted as she rushed towards the much bigger man and knocked him in the face with her knee.

You collapsed to the ground, gasping for air as you clutched at your own throat.

Vi rushed over to you with concern, cupping your cheek as she leaned over you. “Are you okay? does anything hurt?”

“Vi?” You croaked weakly, grasping at her wrist.

Vi presses your hand against her fast beating chest, concern wiping her features. “It’s me. It’s me. you’re okay.”

She helps you up, “I’ll be right back. go and try to find cait, okay?”

You nodded before rushing off to find caitlyn.

“Cait!” You called out.

You couldn’t even get as far before you hit the ground, passing out.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

[glossysoap]

*crashes through your wall like the fuckin cool aid man* (is that even how you spell the drink? idk i’m australian)

YOU AND SOAP GANGING UP ON GHOST IN THE MORNING TO KEEP IN HIM BED AND PEPPERING HIS SHOJLDERS AND BACK AND CHEST WITH KISSES TO LULL HIM BACK INTO COSY AND SLEEPY

i love them both and want them both and want to pepper them both with kisses and tell them they’re loved

- @vgilantee (it’s not a crime to want two boyfriends. two muscular, strong, sweet, handsome boyfriends… i’m coping so well with being rejected by the guy who i thought liked me lmao)

AHHHH YES i’m sorry i’m so not used to writing something without smut and that probably shows 😭 literally the only fucking piece of fluff on this damn blog. posting this then going to bed 👍

you have him sandwiched in bed, you pressed against his front and soap hugging him from behind.

the light filters in through the window, fanning across the three of you as the sun rises. your bodies are all sleep warm and your arms that are slipped under simon’s heavy body have long fallen asleep.

both you and johnny are cherishing this. it’s unbelievably rare that they’re on leave and able to enjoy sleeping in. you're usually stuck with sleeping by yourself in an empty bed, that suddenly felt way too big. both sides were cold when they were gone, where they usually lay just empty and waiting for them to return.

you couldn't stop yourself from snuggling into simon's big, hairy chest as you thought of your usual circumstances - which only served to make you even more grateful for what precious moments like this one you could get.

johnny definitely shared in these sentiments. when him and simon were deployed, they both ached to have you next to them. they ached to have you cuddled up in between them at night and wake up with you in their arms in the morning. they felt that cold space of emptiness just like you did when they were gone.

so as you and johnny sandwiched simon as he slept, the two of you were intent on keeping your boyfriend in bed with you as long as you could. even when simon started groaning awake, stretching where he lay in between you two.

"g' mornin', love." johnny whispers in simon's ear, his hands caressing simon's sides before resting on his waist - where your hands already lay. you and johnny linked hands over simon's waist, which also let you two trap him in even more.

"morning, baby." you mumble into simon's chest, towards both simon and johnny. you and johnny stroked his waist as your hands remained linked.

simon peeks his head up a bit to scan the room as he mumbles out a confused and sleepy, "morning, you two." he feels strangely rested, at least more than he usually does. did his alarm go off and he missed it somehow? no, unbeknownst to him, you had disabled this morning's alarm on simon's phone.

"should get up." simon says, with not much determination behind it. he wants to relax, deep down. he just feels guilty actually doing it. he tries to prop himself up on his elbows, to drag himself out of the sweet slumber that clings to his bones like honey. but neither of you relent. you keep your weight against him, your arms wrapped around him.

"no, love." johnny murmurs against simon's shoulder, pressing a kiss to the scarred skin. he breathed simon in, wanting to inhale his very being. he settled on kissing any freckle or scar on his shoulder or back that he could reach. "none o'that. yer gonna stay n' relax."

"mmhmm." you agree, your voice all muffled into his chest as you nuzzle your head against him. “go back to bed, si.”

"the world won't fall apart if you actually relax for once." you start kissing down his chest, going over his scars.

johnny mirrored your actions, kissing down his back. you peek up at simon while you pressed kissed down his chest, using your hands to massage him as you did. you watched as the tension in his face slowly melted away.

you and johnny worked on rubbing his muscles, focusing on any knots that might be giving him trouble.

you and johnny kept leaving open mouthed kisses along his skin, humming against him as you heard simon let out groans and grunts of pleasure. not even like the full throttled pleasure that the three of you are usually in the throes in. but instead just.. contentment. no stress, all just lax and pliant as he melts into you both.

“mmm, that’s it, honey.” johnny croons the praise into his shoulder. “just relax.”

“don’t worry about a thing, baby. everything’ll be just fine.” you whisper into his chest, reaching down to pull a blanket over the three of you once more.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission.