#the both die at the end but if i did i would replace what if its us with that because i dknt even like that one

[the-stove-is-divorced]

Truly the grief for shows with 20+ eps a season is so indescribable, not everything needs to be 8-10 eps with 45+ min each episode!

And honestly, so true? Agree heavily here. I love the drama of the scene (mostly), Cecil v. Mark, ex. Mark thinking Cecil would outright try to kill him, b/c Mark's prob seeing the Nolan in Cecil, who takes the rejection of obedience into outright violence (presumably?). But still! Lacking! This would hit harder if there was more built up to Mark's trust in Cecil, any mentor-like advice, or paralleled Nolan in Cecil as it did Mark! But, Mark's difficulty in vocalizing his own morality, like you mention, just kinda leaves me a little confused on this whole conflict between them. It retracts from scenes with Oliver, too, it retracts the drama of A LOT, if it just leaves same outright squinting at the screen, 'cause the very foundation, what Mark knows and thinks is right, isn't exactly solid and established.

Like, why doesn't Mark vocalize the importance the HELPING people? Some classic spidey "great power, great responsibility", why is my guy going through the motions, and clearly STILL struggling? I feel like s1 does make some point to highlight Mark does want to help people, or trying to prod at his idea of what helping people means, even if it ends up going terribly wrong. Him failing to rescue a dying woman, him roped into fighting Machine Head, does prod at his ideas of what his job can/doesn't mean, but it feels like they never dive back into that properly? Which is strange, 'cause that's another potential Eve, Mark tie-in, as Eve realizes she can't do everything yet, Mark tries to figure out what he can do. Then they're both learning! Even supporting each other while pushing character growth! But it seems his only goal posts are Don't Be Dad (somehow? vaguely? no sub-goals, here), and Punch Bad Guy...? It's so strange.

Rewatching clips of s1's Mark vs Nolan fight rn, and Mark's weirdly unspecific morality is even weirder? He was trying to save ppl in that battle, desperately, no? I would think post-Nolan fight, he'd want to work real hard in gaining public trust again, and getting real emotional when ANY civilians die. Nolan outright tells him it's his fault ppl died, and Mark, later, learns Nolan is dead ass serious (pun intended lol) about replacing him, why wouldn't that message sink in further? Make him try to saving people first, over fight? Why not show Mark struggling with taking out the bad guy to stop threat, OR saving people whole the threat lingers, unable to choose a higher priority or outright choosing the wrong one, ultimately taking any mistake as proof the s1 fight was his fault.

Truly, some good ol' flashbacks into Guardian dynamics would be so thrilling, because yeah, it seems they were all in good terms! I also just want it so bad. How dare you gimme bootleg Justice League and then don't give me the dynamics. Outright entertainment robbery. YES TEAM DYNAMICS MY BELOVED FOR REAL. The deprivation of small, but so TELLING character moments make me so ill, because it's SO NEEEDED!!! Same brain waves, because the outright visual communication of these characters is NEEDED and would make me so ill in a good way. The budget issue limiting this show will never NOT drive me insane because Amazon HAS THE MONEY FOR SURE, but refuses to make this show something that, even if the writing isn't exactly fantastic, the FIGHTS could be legendary, if not playful. Also WHY did all of them go fr????? That's such a stupid decision? Especially if limiting it down further could have more character moments, even if small visual cues the show lacks!

I feel I violently check out when it comes to romantic focused media to not fully click this trope is so persistent and so ODD? Like HELLO? That's such a backhanded gift at best, inpersonal and one-sided, and outright cruel if I really wanna go there 'cause like you said, you don't know them. Even making a JOKE out of what's supposed to be a meal meaning gift is crazy??? Like this is fiction, a gift is GREAT way to demonstrate intentionally who these characters are and their relationship to each other. Don't remember the episode or if you're there already, but Justice League has an episode where Wonder Woman + Batman get Superman a bday gift before plot happens, (tho it's strange tbh, in the comics WW's gift is actually Batman's? But they switch it for the show if I'm not mistaken???) and GREAT moment!

Kate and Immortal piss me off so bad but we've already discussed why, like this girl isn't a character istg, EXPLORE HER DAMMIT, but seriously! We got a secret identity plotline BRIEFLY before dropping it and then just straight up functioning on how it's not a thing at all like hello????? Can this have any consequences or impact, even if it's people just look the other way? Which is so odd when it's a common staple for the hero genre, too, but I suppose they don't want to explore it? Perhaps too much of a staple to be interesting for them?

AND TRULY i am so tired of mark getting kicked around, bro, what the heck? Do something before the eleventh hour? But characters being genre savvy would be so funny, imagine somebody just pretends to be hurt to get Mark to actually focus lol.

THE ROGUE GALLERY IS SO SAD AND IT MAKES ME SO UPSET. How we get a bootleg JL and no actually good rogue gallery????? CRAZY WORK. Like part of the WHOLE FUN of superhero media is the villains, like, batman villains are crazy interesting or always just entertaining to SOMEONE, poison ivy, harley quin, penguin, etc, which usually reflect back on batman's character in some way if ya wanna dig into it, or just enjoy a good villain! Instead... it's just sad and empty. Currently foaming at the mouth for ANY super villain to be a mark parallel (like a former villain sidekick trying to step out the shadows of their mentor), or straight up used to be Nolan's nemesis and just tries to keep it up with Mark, insisting they're the same for example IDK. Villains are also good at establishing the world!!

ALSO SO TRUE? I don't think it's ever been actually acknowledged??? Ever?? Why doesn't he explore being mixed raced???? My guy is mixed race AND half human, there is SOMETHING to say here. ALSO SO FUCKING TRUE? WHY CAN'T OLIVER AND MARK BOND ABOUT BEING HYBRIDS? ABOUT HOW OLIVER CAN'T PASS AS EASILY?? My guy can't even go to school 'cause he grows up too fast, like can we talk about this??? Can Oliver be a person??? That could put some conflict / added conflict in the relationship?? Can Mark think about what it's like be HALF ALIEN? Can this mf have some unique oddness because of being a hybrid, I BEG. This is why the lack of self introspection in the desert makes me utterly insane. IT WAS RIGHT THERE.

Also you're telling me we got demons, billion dollar teleporters, cursed family lines, aliens, but nothing to instantly make Oliver look human so he can walk around? Easy way for Mark to feel indebted to Cecil, or Oliver trusting Cecil, something???

Cecil is so fucking interesting because he truly must be Like This. Which is even funnier because you'd think he'd be easier to guess with a focus on his, like, trajectory but no???? At least to me. I am squinting, personally. One would think you'd want needed allies close by and endeared to you, control 'em better, but Mark threatens, and he threatens back even harder, like I GET WHY but also DAMN. Instant escalation. Never threaten this mf, he'd take you AND himself out. It's also funny because like Oliver kills and Mark struggles articulating why it's bad, but also Cecil is presumably A-OK with killing (now) but only when he says so (assumingly). Like, don't kill because we could use them, isn't a because it's bad :( argument???

So, I'd imagine if he had to tackle training/mentoring Mark and Oliver it'd be a challenges in the opposite direction. Like No, Oliver you can't kill them ALL. Yes, Mark you DO have to kill sometimes. I'd kill to know what that looks like. Does Oliver get a whole team dedicated to training him, and Cecil check-ins?

But back to his side of things, I just wanna shake him furiously. Like, you point out, you're telling him to stand down WHY inducing pain AND beating him the fuck up like HELLO? You did not make Mark seem dangerous, now YOU look unhinged in dangerous in a desperate power grab/for control. You're basically tazing someone and telling them to calm down LMAO. Which also like did you try calling them off or is this legit an error here? Which yes, yes, characters can make wrong decisions or have flaws and ruin things despite their best intentions, paved roads and all that, but also it so funny if you tilt your head. Cecil why. I get it yes, but also Cecil, no, Cecil no.

Also exactly, when it's TOO vague I just stare the doc. There's no jumping point to push it's anything goes and how hard do I want to overthink it?

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[pathsofoak]

I just realized that in the movies Teresa died without knowing that the cure would never reach Newt

(discussion of death and brief mention of suicide in the tags)

[girls4etho]

ok here ^_^ bookshelves. i took a bunch id never read or been interested in out so i could finally fit in most of the books that before had just been sitting on the shelves (like new irish race still is. but that deserves pride of place anyway). not pictured is the shelf full of books i dont have thr courage/will to throw out but also dont want to look at (ie. um. my cassandra clare collection and a few others)

[foldingfittedsheets]

When deciding who to work for there is a sliding scale of employers that goes from lil mom and pop shops up to corporate monoliths. I have worked at both ends of the spectrum and I can pretty definitively say that tiny businesses are hands down the most insane employers.

The sweet spot is a place that has like 10-20 stores; that’s the best possible work environment. They’ll be polished enough to have protocols that make work structured, but not so bogged down with bureaucracy that nothing can ever get done.

This story is not from that sweet spot. This story is from my time working at Oil and Vinegar. Now, like many little franchise stores, the idea was solid. There was on tap imported olive oil and vinegar and it was really delicious. Top shelf. Unfortunately, each location was like the Wild West because owners varied wildly.

My owner was the human embodiment of Mr. Krabbs. His eyes were just constant dollar signs. Throughout my training he informed me of the price of every single piece of equipment I touched and how much it cost to replace it.

He had cameras set up to watch us, and an app on his phone to access the live feed. He’d call us to ask what we were doing when he’d just checked a camera to make sure we were being honest.

Now, the trouble was he had two locations. His location further south did amazing. It was way more centrally located and got three times the foot traffic. The one I worked in was in the snottiest mall possible in Arizona and consequently the rent was through the roof.

It was not going well for my store. We didn’t get as much traffic, so there was only so much I could do in a day. I could dust, sweep, and wait for customers. I read a lot and was frank when he called to interrogate me. I always asked for additional tasks but he never had any. What could I do to prop up a failing business?

But this man was convinced there was some Secret Reason that the store I was in was doing worse. He crunched numbers, looked at staff, and eventually hit upon the most insane possible solution.

We used too much toilet paper.

We were probably stealing toilet paper! Bleeding him dry one single ply square at a time! How dare we need to use the bathroom?! His south location used half as much toilet paper as we did, we must be thieving little monsters!!!!

Friends. The south location was populated entirely by men. My location had three people on staff who had to sit to pee. It was so blindly transparently the source of the discrepancy but this man was convinced we were making off with toilet paper to bankrupt him.

So he implemented what he believed to be an entirely reasonable response to this base treachery. We were allowed to have one roll of toilet paper. At any given time, one roll was permitted to us. This was so transparently unhinged that we protested but he insisted. If we were low on toilet paper we needed to call him to drop off a roll that he brought from his home. Smiling jovially, he assured us he lived so close by that it would be no problem!

When we needed to call him often for more he started tearing his hair out. What were we using toilet paper for?! Why wasn’t his genius plan to stop our scandalous waste working??!

Finally, the manager, the only man on staff had to pull the owner aside and be like, “Look, man, their bladders are smaller. They need to wipe every time they pee. They need to pee even more on their period. Is this really the hill you want to die on?”

Yes. It was. The manager was fired unrelated reasons and denounced as a traitor. The toilet paper ration lasted until I quit and probably until the store closed six months later.

[writingwisterias]

Okay so hear me out ( hello first, where are my manners )

but rly hear me out : Leon and the reader, the reader is pregnant, and the baby is born on September 30th. Like I can’t be the only one who thought about it ? Anyway, please don’t die I love your stories.

stay hydrated folks

Hello!

I actually love this, I could feel the angst and fluff. I will try not to die 🫡 I hope you enjoy and have a good day! And everyone that sees this is your reminder to drink water or anything please (Not proof Read I'm sorry it posted before I got the chance!)

I'm so sorry for how late this is please forgive me! I wanted to flesh it out a bit

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Pregnancy, Child birth (Not graphic), PTSD, Establsihed Relationship

ID!Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader

The red circle on the calendar was just a constant reminder to him. Not only because of the impending arrival of his child. But also of that one fateful night -- the day that changed his life. He would spend the entire year trying to forget about it and think of anything other than this. It was the devil's work he swore in that doctor's office when the date was announced. He watched you freeze, a fake smile now replacing the real one you had when you entered the office. Leon hated that one date could still have so much effect on the two of you. 

You grasped his hand during the rest of the appointment, and you watched as he sunk into himself, his eyes turning hazy as he dissociated. Your fingers squeezing his desperately trying to get him to come back. You would never blame him, the horrors he had been through were enough to break a thousand men and he was still here. You had asked him years ago to explain everything to allow the secret he had kept so long to be heard by someone he trusted to help him heal. Since then the pregnancy had turned into a nine-month countdown to the date. The small kicks he felt every night fought desperately against the feeling, the reminder. The life you were carrying to involve him in a never-ending circle of happiness was already trying to heal their dad. Leon was too good of a man to let this affect the relationship with the child, besides due dates can be wrong all the time. Sometimes the baby will come later, he might be lucky.

You watched him become nervous as the countdown began as you were in the final weeks of the pregnancy. It became a routine for Leon to stare at the red circle every morning as he made breakfast and coffee. Only getting worse since the date was only a few days away at this point. The nursery was completely decorated with things you had both collected yourselves and had been given in the baby shower. All of the baby grows were washed and put away, a large stockpile of diapers in the changing table ready to be used up. You were both just waiting on the baby. 

“Good morning” You spoke softly as you entered the room. Your voice is now the only thing taking his attention away from the calendar. Leon smiled at you, his oversized shirt draped over your body. “Morning” He mumbled, hand instantly smoothing the fabric smiling at the little kicks that greeted him. It wasn’t unusual for him to be awake early, his military timer being one of the things that never left him. Despite your attempts to train it out of him in favour for a few more hours in bed. “What’s for breakfast today? It smells good” You hummed sweetly looking over at the hob. 

You tried to hide it, you really did but Leon didn’t miss the twinge of pain in your face. The small adjustment you gave yourself as pain washed over you. “Are you alright?” He asked ignoring your previous question entirely. His touch was gentle a simple reminder of his support. You nodded muttering a small ‘yes’ despite your features clenched together displaying otherwise. His hand moved gently on your lower back, the movements distracting you from the pain. You knew what the date was but you also knew what the pain meant. You just didn’t have the heart to tell him yet. After spending the whole night hoping that maybe it was just a Braxton hix and they would fade away eventually. However, the world wasn’t that kind. “Love, please don’t lie to me. Not when you are this close” 

“The date-”

“I know the date…I don’t care not right now. Tell me what’s happening” 

You turned to him, finally able to stand up straighter now the pain had subsided. Leon knew what you were getting at, he’d read all the books and leaflets the doctor recommended. All to be able to recognise the signs. Leon ensured that he was as prepared as he could be but now it was happening he froze. Panic rose in his system as you had yet another contraction in front of him. The timings were too close together, you had waited for hours as he slept. Hoping it won’t fall on this date. For his sake. 

“Do we need to leave?” He asked, his voice catching in his throat. You nodded a soft chuckle leaving your lips as you held onto him, fingers digging in his arm as you let the pain subside. To his credit he worked quickly, gathering the bag and items you had prepared and putting them into the car. He was careful as he led you towards the car. One eye on the road and the other on you, pride swelling in his chest at how well you were handling yourself. He thought he would be more lost today, that the date would distract him from being present with you. It did occasionally, every time someone would remind you both of the fact the baby was arriving on your due date he would go silent. Get lost in his mind again. Only to be brought back by a softer comment from you or your touch. The same way you would normally bring him back after spending years with him.  

When getting himself coffee or ice chips for you; he would make sure to avoid the ER, the screams triggering his flashbacks. You were proud of him, he never let it show. Despite the circumstances, you knew he would be the best partner you could get in this situation. 

You tried to hold back from making any sound but the more you needed to push the louder you got. He didn’t blame you, he could see that you were trying for his sake. The hospital was already proving to be challenging with all of the other mothers throughout the day going through the same process just a few rooms down. Leon could feel your attempts to be silent in the way you gripped his hand. You saw Leon wince at every moan and flinch at every scream you made. It didn’t help the baby was progressing slowly meaning the process was dragged out. It seemed like the entire day was attempting to make this harder for him. 

Yet despite everything he still helped you through it, complimenting your progress and how well you were doing. “You can do it, You are doing so good” He whispered in your hair, placing kisses not caring for the sweat that coated your skin. His kisses were cold and welcomed against your sweaty skin. You shook your head exhaustion lingering in the corner ready to take over. The final moments were the hardest for him. Leon tried so hard not to let it affect him but the room was suddenly too loud as it now filled with the baby’s cries, the nurses praising you as you also cried. The wails reminded him of all the distant ones he heard as he ran around the police station, of all the people he couldn’t save as he was trapped inside. Your deeper groans of pain sounded similar to Marvin’s as he spoke helping Leon out of the station. 

You felt his presence, but he wasn’t there, his eyes watching over you with that hazed look again. You wouldn’t hold it against him; it was enough that he was here physically. You knew he hated the hospital, the sounds of everyone injured and in pain. You’ve spent countless times trying to force him to get his sickness checked out by doctors instead of googling the symptoms. However, you knew that once the noise reduced, he would come back, and he would enjoy the moment. 

Guilt washed over him as he held the baby the small bundle watching him with curious eyes. You were asleep, having some well-deserved rest. The machines beeped around him, the noise of the hospital fading as he looked back into those blue eyes. They were so small in his arms, their head cradled perfectly in the palm of his hand. This is what he endured and fought for that night, the chance to have a life at the end of it. To have happiness and love surround him in even the smallest ways. Leon didn’t know he was going to be tracked down and blacked mailed by the government for just surviving the events of Raccoon City. Neither did he know that he was going to have to sign his life away putting what he assumed as pure luck into training. He had just watched you champion this for 9 months, endure days of morning sickness, all of the growing pains without a complaint. Looking forward to the future when you can finally hold the baby. He supposed in his own long-winded way he did the same. 

All the nightmares suddenly didn’t matter anymore, not when a positive thing overtook them. Soon to be interrupted by softer cries in the night. The small bundle he held in his arms wasn’t just a new birthday to celebrate for them but for him as well. For the new Leon that wouldn’t let that one night dictate the rest of his life, haunt him forever. It was his chance at a rebirth, at a new beginning. Not only as a husband and father but just as himself. 

[simmplerussiangirl]

The Fugitive

Ambessa Medarda x The Reader

Synopsis: It's very simple. You're Ambressa's wife and you were afraid you could kill her with your magic. So you ran away from the capital. It's about what happened after that

Word count: 1.2k

Author: Sorry, I'm really crazy about magic and Ambessa.

Three weeks ago during your training with Ambressa, you couldn't do anything. Your magic, your legs, your arms weren't working, it was like someone had replaced you. And so when you were once again working with a new spell, you couldn't hold the magic in your hands, and a large ball of pure energy exploded in your hands. It didn't hurt you, because your magic is an extension of you and it can't hurt you.

 But Ambresse... The woman managed to cover herself with her shield and didn't get badly wounded. But the magic hit her arm. You instantly ran over to her as you recovered from the shock. Her left arm was bleeding, and the cuts were in the shape of the runes you'd drawn so diligently in the air a couple minutes before.

« It's okay, Witchy « the girl wheezed and leaned on her other arm to stand up, drops of blood falling from her hand to the floor. « It's okay, I'm not going to die from these scratches. Don't worry, you didn't hurt me badly and the runes didn't go deep under my skin. You just cut my skin. Don't worry.»

 But I just watched in silence, unable to say anything. The thought flashed through your mind of what would have happened if Ambressa had been standing there without her shield as usual. Would you have killed her? Most likely.

 That night you fled the capital, hoping to shield your beloved wife from yourself and your magic. But, of course, you were found and brought back.

Now you enter Ambressa's office, where she has been negotiating with her people about the war. Your heart sinks as she throws the warriors out of the room she was talking to in a cold and menacing voice. As the men left the room not forgetting to bow to you and Ambessa, the woman stood up from the table and walked around it. Leaning her hips against it in front of you, she folded her arms across her chest. You could feel waves of displeasure from the girl, and she didn't even try to hide it. For a while, you were both silent. You because you were insanely ashamed of what you had done. She because she was waiting for your excuses.

 You looked at the hand you'd wounded and saw the scattering of rune scars and breathed heavily, raising your gaze to her eyes.

« I was scared» you swallowed and hugged yourself to your shoulders, trying to pull yourself together «scared that I might accidentally kill you with my magic. You're very lucky you had your shield on that day. If you hadn't, it probably would have ended very badly.»

 I lowered my eyes to the floor, unable to find the strength to look into her eyes, where you could see the depths of worry and boundless love.

« Villains can't have family and happiness. I knew that, but I hoped it wouldn't affect us, but it did.»

«You're not a villain» Ambressa said in a steady voice, not trying to comfort, but rather stating it as a fact.

« I almost killed you!»

«But you didn't.»

«But I could» I cringed even more at the thought of it «that's why I left, because I don't want to. I can't live with the idea that I've done you irreparable harm. Now you've led with your hand, but what if.... If next time it doesn't work out.»

 Ambressa was silent and only watched you standing by the door like a little battered kitten who doesn't know what to do.

«You can run around as long as you like. But I'm gonna find you wherever you are. I'll find you and I'll bring you back home to me. You're my wife, my responsibility and I won't let you think you're evil. Even if you destroy the entire Earth, I'll find a million excuses for you and make everyone believe it. Let alone the fact that you hurt me a little while you were practicing. It's just a scratch and you couldn't have hurt me worse.”

 Ambressa moved around the room like a predator. Her steps were slow and measured. Her arms were folded across her chest as she sat down on the couch near the fireplace. The fire danced across her face, making her features look more and more menacing. The girl didn't look at me, which made my heart whimper.

 She certainly was not angry now. She was never angry with you. Was displeased or pissed off, but not angry. At the moment her heart was gripped by anxiety. A vice gripping her heart at even the phantom possibility of losing you. She was terrified that one morning she would wake up and realize you were gone again. The thought alone made her clench her eyes, trying to push such a thing away from her.

«But...»

« No buts.»  Ambressa said it in a tone after which there could be no arguments. She cut off any doubts, causing a flame of hope and boundless love to erupt inside you. Seeing you slump your tense shoulders, the girl smiled and spread her arms, inviting you into her strong, warm embrace. «Come to me, my Witch.»

 And you came. Of course you did. Almost running, you threw yourself into her arms, wrapping both arms around her waist and hiding from the world in her neck. You greedily inhaled the pleasant scent of the girl's perfume mixing with her natural odor. It was such a familiar scent that you had missed so much in a couple of weeks that it seemed that if you hadn't heard it for a couple more days, you would have gone crazy.

 Ambressa's hand stroked your back in a soothing gesture. She kissed the top of your head a couple times and turned back to the fire, glad to have you around again. The demons inside her calmed down, no longer lashing out, wanting to kill anyone who looked at her the wrong way. The creatures quieted, and Ambressa sank into the long-awaited calm, clutching you to her.

 You, in turn, clutched her clothes in your hands, afraid to open your eyes and not see your beloved. At such an action on your part, Ambressa laughed a little, admiring your childish behavior.

«Have you had enough of running?» she whispered into the top of your head between kisses.

 You didn't say a word, but nodded affirmatively, drew your legs closer, and turned to the fire.

«You won't run away again?»  Ambressa's hand gently tousled your disheveled hair.

«Never again in your life.» You whispered, and rested your head on her shoulder, moving it slightly, like a cat wanting to be petted. « I thought I was going to die without you... I missed you so much. Waking up every day and not seeing you, not hearing your voice, not feeling your touch - it's my hell...»

« I love you.» You continued after a little silence. «More than anyone else in this world.»

 The clan head moved her hand to your shoulder and pressed you against her. Her heart ached pleasantly at your warm words, she literally melted when you told her how you felt.

«Me too, Witchy, me too.»

Thanks for reading. If there are any comments I accept criticism in a mild form. Don't break my heart :)

[witchesverse]

my happiness is all of your misery

pairing: dark!agathario x fem!reader

summary: you hadn't seen your kidnappers in centuries, but of course, you just had to be summoned right to them.

content: noncon, mentions of physical/mental/sexual abuse, mentions of suicide, manipulation, mentions of death, pain (slapping), spitting, praise, HEAVY TOPICS, crying, fingering (r receiving), blood licking, kidnapping, orgasm control/ruining, cum eating.

a/n: just pretend the others don't exist on the witches road pls. only agatha and rio here.

masterlist

"Oh, I mean. No complaints from me."

Your skin crawled at the sound of a voice you hadn't heard in centuries. Agatha Harkness.

You felt like you would be sick at the sound of the second voice.

"Interesting."

Rio Vidal.

Without a second thought, you were on your feet and sprinting away from them. You dodged through trees and bushes, cursing when you heard footsteps following.

It had been centuries since you last saw the pair, and you wanted to get far away from them.

When you first met them, you were dead. Death had come to reap your soul but she didn't. She resurrected you and kept you as her pet. You met Agatha a few weeks after that.

They were awful and cruel owners. Your body never healed, even after you escaped. You hated thinking about what they did to you. But you hated even more that you loved them for it.

Rio slammed into you and sent you flying to the ground. She buried her hand in your hair and sat on your stomach, pinning your arms down with her legs.

"You can't run from us, idiot." She laughed her wicked laugh. "We're on the Witches' Road."

Agatha appeared by her side.

"Let me die, please." You begged.

"I'd never let you die," Rio whispered.

You sniffled. She had never let you die. Multiple times you had killed yourself to end their torture but she brought you back each time. Your death doesn't exist when Death does.

Her lips connected with yours and you hated how perfectly they morphed together. Her hand drifted down to your pants and you made a noise of discomfort.

She hushed you and tugged your pants down enough to reveal your panties to her. She ignored cries as she pushed them to the side and collected your slick on two fingers.

"All we've done is kiss and you're already wet. Looks like someone missed me." Rio grinned.

"I hate you."

Rio and Agatha rolled their eyes in sync. Their synchronisation was something you always loved about them.

Agatha crouched next to you. She lovingly caressed your cheek with a small smile. Then the smile was replaced by an angered frown and she slapped you.

"We gave you everything and you left us for two centuries. You're such an ungrateful little bitch." She snarled.

You flinched. The pain from her slap was somewhat comforting.

"I hate you. I hate you both." You fought against Rio's hold. "I wish you both would die. You don't deserve to live."

"That's ironic telling Death that you wish she was dead," Rio said.

Agatha grabbed your jaw and squeezed until it dropped open. You cringed as her spit hit your tongue, but held it obediently until she told you to swallow.

"Good girl. It looks like you haven't forgotten your training after all this time."

You wanted to roll your eyes and snap back the question about how you could forget their training. It was still so drilled into your mind that you caught yourself still acting how they trained you to act even when they weren't there.

Tears prickled in your eyes as Rio pushed a single finger inside of you and pumped a slow, steady pace. You kept eye contact with Agatha, afraid she would get angry if you looked away.

"You should know that crying doesn't get you anywhere," Agatha said, wiping your tears away with her thumb.

"I can't control it," You meekly replied.

They laughed.

Rio added two more fingers, stretching you out perfectly. Your walls clenched around her fingers and you whimpered from the pain. Her thumb pressed against your clit and you squirmed in her hold.

Agatha pulled Rio into a heated kiss. There was a small fight for dominance that Agatha won. When they pulled apart, you saw that Rio's lip was bleeding. Agatha cupped her jaw and licked the blood away.

Your whimper pulled their attention to you.

"Feeling left out, huh?" Rio asked.

Her thumb rubbed circles on your clit and she pumped her fingers faster. She curled her fingers upwards and pressed against your g-spot.

The familiar feeling started to build in your stomach.

You bit your tongue. You weren't going to beg, not this time.

"Don't get fucking bratty." Rio snapped. "Beg for it."

You ignored Rio.

"Come on, sweetheart." Agatha cooed.

You ignored Agatha, too.

Rio ripped her fingers from you and slapped your cunt, making you cry out. She stood and licked her fingers clean, disappointment painted on her face.

Your ruined orgasm made you want to cry.

"Get up." She said in a monotone voice. "We have a road to walk."

You pulled your pants up and cringed at the uncomfortable wet feeling as you scrambled to your feet.

"And don't you dare think you're going to escape." Agatha shoved you towards Rio, who was walking ahead. Agatha walked behind you, keeping you caged between them.

You stifled a sob.

You would never be free from them. They owned you and you couldn't do anything about it.

All you can do is accept it.

[spider-stark]

A BOY'S FIRST PEST

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary - Kaz Brekker thinks Per Haskell's daughter is a (very lovely) pest

Warnings - fem!reader, traumatraumatrauma, the woes of troubled youth, light mentions of blood and death, these bitches trauma bonded yo, could deviate some from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, NOT EDITED WE DIE LIKE MEN

Word Count - 2.0k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

Everyone knows Kaz Brekker put his own money into fixing up the Slat. 

He hired men to patch the leaky roof (though it still drips during a heavy rain) and put proper insulation in the walls (which keeps the house warm enough, even if it does nothing to muffle the noise of its occupants). He had all the doors fitted with working knobs (but easily picked locks) and ensured the kitchen was capable of making a warm meal (even if seriously doubted any of the Dregs knew how to cook). 

And while he would never admit it aloud, Kaz was also the one who made sure there were always clean linens in every room (albeit the cheapest Ketterdam has to offer) and spare clothes in every closet (sizes ranging from wafer-thin to barrel-chested). In keeping, he also takes it upon himself to keep the bathing room stocked with a steady supply of toiletries (because if someone uses his toothbrush again, he’s going to kill everyone in this place and then himself). 

Because of Kaz Brekker, the Slat was more than just a safe place to hole up. It was a haven, the closest thing many of the Dregs had to a home. 

But it did, of course, have one enduring problem. 

The pests.

Or, namely, the one pest—one that he could never quite exterminate (though the spider privy to the inner-workings of Kaz Brekker’s mind might argue the merit of replacing ‘could never’ with ‘would never’). 

Per Haskell’s very annoying (and very lovely) daughter. 

In the midst of Ketterdam’s hottest season, you find yourself lying sprawled on your back atop the dark sheets, clad in the skimpiest nightclothes you own: a matching set of black silk shorts and flowy, thin-strapped camisole. The air is thick and near stifling in the attic-bedroom, but you don’t mind it. You prefer being hot to cold, if only because the heavy weight of winter clothes makes you feel trapped, eliciting the urge to crawl straight from your skin. 

When the door finally swings open, you eagerly push up onto your elbows. 

Kaz doesn’t so much as spare a glance in your direction. He’s got one hand on his cane, the other shoving the door shut behind him as he limps toward his desk, guided by the bright moonlight spilling in from the muggy window. 

Your shoulders slump, huffing out a breath. “Seriously? You’re not even gonna greet me?” 

With his back turned to you, Kaz removes his hat and places it on the desk. He doesn’t look at you. “You’re in my room.” 

“Yeah—so I was actually thinking something more along the lines of hello,” you drone, lips pursed. “Y’know, that thing normal people say when they see their friends.” 

“We’re not friends.” 

A hand flies to your chest, as if struck by his words. “Um, ouch? Rude. For your sake, I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.” 

Kaz tugs off his signature gloves and tosses them next to his hat. “I can always repeat it,” he says, so impassive you can’t tell if it’s a joke. 

Knowing Kaz, you’re pretty sure it’s not. 

You push up the rest of the way, scooting down to sit cross-legged at the end of his bed. It’s so much nicer than yours—the sheets softer, the mattress plusher, the smell so familiar and warm. 

If it were up to you, you’d sleep in here every night. 

And most nights, that’s exactly what you do. 

“Would it kill you to be nice sometimes?” you ask. 

“Not usually, no.” Kaz faces you, his weight leaned back against the desk, his cane propped against it. “But we both know you’re a special case.” 

“Is that a compliment?” 

“Not at all.” 

Your bottom lip juts into a pout. “Has anyone ever told you you’re an asshole?” 

Aside from the subtlest lift of his brows, Kaz’s expression remains vague and disinterested. “Regularly,” he deadpans, looking the image of austere melancholy. 

Your laugh comes so sudden it sounds like a snort. “I should’ve guessed,” you nod, forever unphased by Kaz’s forbidding attitude. 

This is the way things have always been between you. Ever since a surly twelve year old marched head-high into your father’s office to see if the Dregs needed a new grunt, oblivious to the girl beaming up at him from a lonely corner, weaving colorful scraps of thread into bracelets for the friends you’d yet to make. 

Kaz Brekker is dark and foreboding while you’re bright and bubbly; he’s rude and standoffish while you’re sweet and flirtatious. Some may liken your relationship to oil and water, but you prefer thinking of it as a carefully crafted balance—a yin and yang sort of thing. 

Kaz, on the other hand, would simply say you’re a thorn in his side. 

Fortunately for yourself, you’re not an easily offended thorn. 

The rickety floorboards creak as Kaz starts around the desk. His bare fingers trail along the varnished edge for support. His limp is always at its worst by this time of night, so you’re not surprised to see the flicker of relief that slips over him when he finally sinks into the chair. 

“Have you ever considered that maybe you work too hard?” Your voice teeters on the edge of concern, tracing idle shapes against the sheets with your nails. 

His answer is curt, and contradictory to the purple smudges beneath his eyes. “No.” 

Fumbling with his cufflinks—simple, unadorned things—Kaz rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. Afterwards, he flips open the thick ledger laid before him, plucking up a pen and dipping it into an awaiting pot of ink. 

Kaz keeps track of the Dregs expenses in his head—a skill you’ve always found most impressive, since you can hardly do a simple equation without scratch paper. Still, he keeps the physical record for the sake of having something to point to in case someone’s ever stupid enough to claim Dirtyhands flubbed the numbers. 

As he works, boredom quickly becomes a chip on your shoulder. 

Your legs unfurl, bare feet stretching toward the floor as you slip off the edge of the bed. Every step is purposeful, traipsing toward him with a look that’s not so unlike a cat readying to toy with its favorite mouse. 

“Maybe we should take a holiday,” you suggest, your voice a soft trill. 

One part of you expects to be ignored, the other to be shot down. 

He lands somewhere in the middle. 

“And go where? His eyes remain focused on the ledger, dark brows drawn tight in concentration. You envision numbers flashing before him, adding and subtracting at the steady pass of the nib scratching against parchment. 

“I don’t know. Ravka, maybe?” 

“Ravka?” It’s like the word tastes sour on his tongue. “Why?” 

You stop just short of his desk, an answer instantly rapping at your mind. You quickly replace it with one that’s far less tragic. “I wouldn’t mind seeing Nikolai Lantsov with my own eyes,” you drawl. “Nina says he’s quite the looker, y’know.” 

Kaz sits up a little straighter, shoulders pinned with newfound tension. 

“Of course he is.” He seems to press the nib down harder, his disinterested tone bordering close to resentful. “He’s a prince—looking pretty is all they’re good for.” 

Your head tilts. “Well, he’s actually a king now, so…” 

There’s the briefest falter in the smooth motion of his jotting wrist. “I’m not taking you to Ravka so you can seduce the Lantsov bastard.” 

“And why not?” You reach for the tip of his cane, still propped against the desk, skimming a finger over the crow’s head. “You think I can’t do it?” 

The pen keeps on scratching, accented by the dull hum of the Slat’s perpetual motion—doors slamming, voices cackling. Your ego grows larger for every second Kaz stays silent, your satisfaction settling into a feline smirk. 

Simply, yet firmly, Kaz eventually maintains, “We’re not going to Ravka.” 

Your exhale is something over dramatic, laden with feigned disappointment as you huff, “Fine!” Kaz never looks up, continuing with the ledger. 

Abandoning the crow’s head, you swipe one of Kaz’s abandoned gloves off the desk, fiddling with the smooth leather. Still recovering from their civil war, you imagine Ravka isn’t an ideal travel spot right now, anyway. Not unless someone has a morbid desire to tour the sites where Saints met their often-grisly ends, that is… Besides, for all Nina’s praise of the Lantsov king, you’ve never actually had a thing for blondes. 

And yet— 

“I really would like to go someday.” Your voice is hardly a whisper. Your other answer—tragic and rapping—crawls up your throat in a hoarse admission, “My mother was Ravkan.” 

That persistent scratching finally comes to a sudden halt. 

For the first time since he entered the room, Kaz looks up. There’s not a hint of pity in his eyes, though they gleam with solemn understanding. Your lips thin, pressing his glove tight to your chest. 

In the winter of your fourteen birthday, you snuck into your father’s office and stole a full bottle of kvas. Dressed in clothes too light for the frigid weather, you sped up the crooked stairs to Kaz’s attic-bedroom, pleading until he begrudgingly agreed to join you on the moonlit roof. For a boy who claimed such an aversion to you, he was always doing things you asked—even if he’d griped the whole time. You both gagged after the first sip of hard liquor. After an hour or so, the full bottle had dwindled to just a drop, your tongues seeming to move with more freedom. 

Neither of you had been prepared for the way the carbonated joy in your chests fizzled to something stagnant. 

I don’t like being alone, you told him, fiddling with the frayed strings tied around your wrist, the friendship bracelets no one ever wanted. If I’m alone, it means I’m thinking, and if I’m thinking, it means my mother won’t stop dying. 

You told him of the endless montage in your head. How at six years old, a walk along the Stave in your favorite winter coat ended with getting crushed beneath the weight of your mother’s last act of devotion, shielded by a body crumpled and crimson, shorn in the crossfire of unexpected gang violence. When you fell silent, Kaz drained the last drop of kvas and told you about a coffee shop near the Exchange. About a sickboat and a boy named Jordie, about a frosty harbor and an impossible swim that left him unable to bear the touch of another’s skin. 

When neither of you had any soul left to bear, Kaz chucked the bottle off the roof. You don’t remember hearing it shatter, and maybe it never did. Maybe it hit some hapless pigeon and fractured his skull. Maybe it ceased to exist the moment it went over the edge. The bottle didn’t matter. Not to you. Not when Kaz Brekker reached for your wrist, leather-clad fingers gently tugging the bracelets off your wrist. 

Don’t make a thing of this, he told you, stuffing them in his pocket. You’re still a pest.

But it was a thing. A strange, beautiful thing—and both of you knew it. 

“Fine.” Kaz’s voice—the rasp of stone on stone—drags you back to the present. He sits the pen down beside the ledger, a strand of black hair swaying with the subtle shake of his head. “We’ll go to Ravka. You’ll seduce some sorry prince and live happily ever after in a gaudy palace. I’ll make my fortune snagging the Lantsov Emerald and use it to hire a proper bookkeeper. Deal?” 

Your lips twitch, still hugging his glove to your chest. “King,” you correct him. 

His eyes roll, but a flicker of something warm betrays his affection. “Pest,” he calls you, though it doesn’t sound like much of an insult. 

“I imagine the Grand Palace has fine exterminators,” you muse. 

“Then I suppose your marriage will be short-lived.” 

“Will you save me, then?” Your heart leaps with the question, how it slips from your tongue before you can grasp it. 

Kaz hesitates. Then—remarkably—smiles. 

“Maybe.”

a/n - you know what they say. a bottle of kvas is never just a bottle of kvas, amirite

(☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞

anyways, i was procrastinating an essay and thought "lets write something with a somewhat ambiguous ending!" and voila, a boy's first pest is the product. now everyone say: lainie, go work on your original writing and stop writing so much fan fiction! (but i'm already thinking of a kaz smut drabble so) anyways, comments and reblogs much appreciated, i cry with joy every time someone actively interacts with my work so THANK YOU

[wellcollapse]

buddie is canonically romantic. to Me.

eddie was introduced to buck slow-motion style. buck tried to battle his inner bisexual rage for an entire episode but couldn’t stay angry at eddie’s pretty face for longer than twenty minutes — my guy folded the minute eddie extended that first olive branch. buck wistfully watched eddie and the little boy he would come to love as a son through a glass-paneled window not knowing that he’d eventually belong on the other side of that glass door. buck provided the solution to eddie’s very first on-screen struggle and wormed his way into eddie’s heart and home all in the span of one episode. without eddie asking him for any of it. buck called eddie attractive at least three times in season two alone. and then an elf called them gay and buck skipped away after hearing it. eddie gave buck the most precious thing in his life to cheer him up. and buck lost him. but eddie came back to him anyway and then gave him the second most precious thing — something he couldn’t even give his own wife — his trust. they had a lover’s spat in a grocery store. buck was treated like a grieving widow when eddie was buried underground. eddie’s memories of buck and chris were enough to pull him back from death’s cold embrace. eddie nearly bit buck's head off at the train derailment because he couldn’t stand the idea of buck risking his own life for abby. when eddie was shot, he spent the moment he thought would be his very last reaching out for his best friend. buck saved him. of course he did. eddie was planning to stick it out with a woman he knew he could never love and would never love until buck reminded him that he deserved better. buck got pistol-whipped after nearly going off on someone who threatened their eddie's child. eddie left the 118 and buck made out with his replacement. buck was in the room. buck's girlfriend talked to the woman he cheated on her with and buck never once bothered to intervene because he was too busy spending time with eddie. buck helped eddie patch up the holes in his wall. buck spent an entire season looking for the right couch to rest on and then passed out within seconds on eddie's couch. the right couch. buck was struck by lightning and eddie's hands brought him back to life. eddie couldn't look at buck while he was in a coma because it reminded him a little too much of losing his wife. but he brought christopher in anyway. of course he did. they went on a date where eddie stared at buck like he wanted to consume him. a little part of eddie died in that cemetery. eddie asked buck to perform Official Coparenting Duties with his son. buck uttered eddie's name eleven times in the episode where he discovered his bisexuality. buck was left at the curb on his first date with a man and his first priority was still the fact that he lied to his best friend. both of them actively looked like they wanted to die at the idea of nothing changing between them. eddie suggested matching couple's costumes. they sang what i like about you. buck ripped off eddie's shirt. eddie poured beer in his mouth. buck was the one to pull eddie out of the world that he tried to imagine with kim. their final scene of the season was the two of them. alone. together.

...who the hell is that? you can have my back any day. there's nobody in this world i trust with my son more than you. are you hurt? three minutes and seventeen seconds. comes in handy when you have a bunch of holes in your walls. you don’t have to tell me how great eddie is, i’ve known that since the first day i worked with him. what you always do. talk to him. you know how much christopher misses you? how could you. you're not around. i forgive you. you didn't end up like you. you act like you're expendable, but you're wrong. you were missed. thank you. for not giving up. he got the help he needed and that started with you. two cut lines. you don't have to be anything for anybody. can't you both be good cops? no. isn't that what we all want in a partner? knowing that they have your back? he’ll love you like we all do. i love you, i love you, i love you.

buck and eddie’s story is already a romance. regardless of their current relationship status in canon, their story is already a love story. and i wouldn't have it any other way.

[pupkashi]

sweet nothing

gojo always finds himself running home to you

a/n: hi friends ! hope u all enjoy this little piece inspired by the song sweet nothing by taylor swift (thank u anon for the inspo 🫶🏼) let me know what u all think :3

wordcount: 1,310

masterlist

one of the only thoughts on gojo satoru’s mind, from the moment he leaves home to the second he’s unlocking the door, is coming home to you.

his shoulders hurt from the amount of stress he’s under, every muscle in his body tense, eyes burning with exhaustion, and his head throbbing as the higher ups words ring in his ears. the light jingle of his keys as he unlocks the front door helps ground him a bit, blinking once, twice then opening the front door.

he’s greeted with the smell of food, he can’t quite place what it is (he doesn’t help in the kitchen much after the one time he did and ended up ruining three pans), he’s slipping his shoes off and placing his keys in the small leaf shaped holder on the table next to the door.

his eyes naturally focusing on the picture frame of the two of you on vacation last July, a wide, carefree smile painted on both of your faces, hair a bit messy from walking around. his cheeks were flushed as you planted a kiss to his cheek, your arms thrown around his neck.

satoru’s thrown out of his trance by the sudden sound of loud sizzling, the small smile on his face only growing when he hears your soft humming. his tired feet carry him quickly to the kitchen, a spring in his step as he grows closer and closer to being with you.

he feels the weight on his shoulders ease up a bit as his eyes land on you. he’s leaning against the wall, watching you chop up vegetables with a smile on his face, replacing the higher ups nagging ringing in his ears with your off-key singing.

“have you ever considered x-factor sweetheart?” he asks, a lopsided smile on his face when you turn to face him, bright eyes as you welcome him home.

“i sent in a recording once, they offered me a ten year contract but i declined” you teased, moving to stir the food cooking in the pan, “told them i have a very needy boyfriend that would die without me.”

satoru let’s put a small ‘pft’ at your words, pushing himself off the wall and walking up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist and chin resting on your shoulder.

“how was your day, angel boy?” you ask, voice as sweet as honey as you press a soft kiss to his cheek. satoru let’s put a small huff, his warm breath tickling your neck which causes you to smile.

“‘t was okay, just stressed out” he mumbles, “and the fucking higher ups are-”, his eyes closing as he remembers his conversation with them, sighing deeply. you pout a bit, noting his more more tense body against yours. you let yourself melt into his touch, turning around and hugging him properly.

“don’t wanna talk about it?” you ask gently, he shakes his head, bangs covering his eyes just a bit. you nod, giving him a smile before kissing his lips softly, “then we won’t.”

satoru is grateful, knowing that when the time is right he’ll open up to you about it. but for now he just wants to spend his night with the love of his life.

“good thing im making your favorite then huh?” you chuckle, watching the way his shoulders inflate, he’s standing taller and there’s a smile on his face.

it wasn’t long before the two of you were eating dinner together, making easy conversation and laughing at anything stupid either of you said. he’s placing the freshly washed plates on the drying rack, heading over to you on the couch when you stop him.

“go shower, I’ll let you use my stuff” you state, eyes widening as you see satoru already running towards the restroom, “just this once!” you call out, hearing his loud giggles echoing from down the hall.

it’s 40 minutes later when he’s emerging into your shared room in only his boxers, body still dripping with water and steam following him out. you can smell your rose scented body wash on him as he dries himself off besides you.

satoru is looking at you with big eyes, towel in hand as he grins up at you, “will you dry my hair?” his voice is filled with a gentleness you’ve grown much too soft for.

“come here” you smile, heart growing at the sound of an excited squeak he lets out. you’re gentle as you dry his hair, combing out any knots and putting some product in it before patting his head twice, letting him know you were done.

your lover is quick to change positions, taking you in his arms and curling himself around you, some damp strands landing on your face as he buries his face in your neck. you’re doing your best to wiggle your hands free from his grasp, adjusting so you can card your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp a bit just the way he likes.

satoru visibly relaxes against your touch, practically purring as you whisper to him, “I’m so proud of you” you say, “you work so hard, angel” tenderness carried in every syllable of your words.

“I love you so much” you remind him, squeezing him a bit tighter, moving his hair from his forehead and placing a kiss there, “my beautiful boy” you murmur, a smile on your face as you see the way his grin grows.

the apples of his cheeks are rosy, pink dusting his entire face. satoru easily grabs your hips, placing you on top of him so that you straddle his lap.

“how do you always know what to say?” he asks, looking up at you with fond eyes, nuzzling his cheek into the palm of your hand as you place a stand of hair behind his ear.

“hmm, call it intuition” you tease, placing feathery kisses all over his face, the two of you giggling when you kiss his nose, “but it’s probably just ‘cause I’m your soulmate” you smile.

satoru hums in agreement, one hand snaking to the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss, your lips moving in sync. when you pull away the two of you are giggling softly, foreheads resting against each other as he shifts a bit, kissing you nose before throwing his head back against the pillows, letting out a small sigh.

“sometimes i wish i was just your toru” he mumbles, “i never asked to be the strongest.” you can hear the slight tremor in his voice as he speaks, his eyes closing to fight tears back. you’re quick to kiss his cheeks, rubbing your thumb against his cheek as you coax him to look at you.

“i know you didn’t, angel boy” you sigh, brushing his hair away from his face gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “it’s gonna work itself out, i know it will” you reassure him, a small smile on your face as he nods along with you.

maybe you were right, maybe you weren’t, satoru didn’t care. he believed every word you said to him. each reassurance working to calm his exhausted mind, his eyes fluttering closed as you continue to whisper, your words meant for him and only him.

“and you’ll always be my toru” pressing a feathery kiss to his jaw, “the one with the stupid sweet tooth and terribly timed jokes” you smile, watching the way his smile returns to his face.

“I’ll always be here waiting for you to come home to me” you say, there’s a plethora of emotions dripping from your words. the only thing satoru feels is love, your undying and genuine love, for him.

gojo satoru may not know everything, but he knows one thing for sure; he’ll always be ready to run home to you and your sweet nothings.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @luna0713hunter @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags

[onyourmarkks]

inexperienced (C.S)

pairings: soobin x fem!reader

synopsis: Soobin is huge and inexperienced, reader helps him to use *it*

genre: smut | MINORS DNI

warnings: soobin eating reader out, blowjob, lots of cum mention… 🙂‍↔️

note: pls reblog!! and send requests!! and not proof read so spare me for any misspelled words.

Your apartment was pretty cold today, the weather has been all rain and clouds, but you can’t complain, infact you love it.

This weather means soobin will be more clingy to retain warmth from you, the cuddles are never ending on days like this.

“soob, should i make us something to eat? hm?” you ask rubbing soobins hair as his head laid on your chest and the rest of his body engulfed yours, he was warm, and he smelled so good, you could die like this.

he shook his head “no, i want to stay like this forever” he looked up at you briefly before burying his head back into your chest, you giggled at his cuteness and gave in “fine, we can stay like this” you told him twirling your fingers in his hair making him close his eyes out of content. his big palms made their way under your shirt to caress your sides, you sq

“y/n..” he said your name, almost as if he was afraid to, “yes? what is it?” you answered back, he took a while before he answered, almost as if he was carefully planning his words.

“can i… can i uhm.. can i suck your tits? i mean you can say no or you can say yes either way i’ll accept your answer but like i would be happy if you said yes but if you said no i would respect your decision because-“ he rambled on and on and you found it cute, you just couldn’t say no to him, although this would be both of your first times being this intimate with each-other,

“mhm, you can, bunny” you say lifting your shirt just above your chest exposing your boobs to him, the cold air hit your chest causing your nipples to immediately become affected. soobin didn’t know what to say, he didn’t even expect you to agree so quickly. just seeing you laid out like this infront of him was enough to get his cock rock solid.

he leaned in to place a chaste kiss on your lips before attaching his lips to one of your nipples, while his hands rubbed your sides and kneaded them, making you giggle because it was ticklish.

after two minutes of soobin sucking for comfort you felt his lower half moving, ‘is he grinding on the chair right now?’ you thought to yourself, you looked at his face but it didn’t show anything, maybe he was mindlessly doing it.

“bunny? you okay?” you asked him and he hummed, sending vibrations along your chest and you felt it in your lower region making you shift.

you lightly moved his head off your nipple and replaced it with your finger, “you’re humping the chair bunny, did you notice?” you asked him as he continued to suck on your finger

he shook his head in the no motion.

he sat up, and was on his knees, leaving the vision of his very, very large cock in his sweats.

you would think it would be normal for you to see soobin like this, but it was your first time, doing anything sexual with him, you both kept it fluffy, never anything sexual so this was a shock. “you’re so big bunny…” you say running your index finger along his print making him whine and buck his hips upwards.

“y/niee…” he whimpered out, begging for you to touch him his cheeked stained red from embarrassment, “what bunny? want me to touch you? hm? touch you where? here?” you respond, moving your hand to find his tip to tease him through his pants, “yes…” he said shyly you helped him take his pants off, his huge cock slinging out his pants and slapping against his tummy.

he whined as precum leaked from his tip, practically fucking the air, you could tell he had no idea what to do with it, “soobie… you have such a big cock baby” you say ogling at his size, he became shy and tried to turn away “come here…” you say moving him back to his original position, back against the couch and his legs open and his shirt bunched up on his chest, body glistening from nervous sweat.

“you know how to use it right?” you ask him jokingly teasing him but he gets serious and shakes his head no, you didn’t believe him at first but seeing how serious he was, you realized he wasn’t lying, “it’s okay, i’ll teach you” you hum, moving to kiss his neck, your hands resting on his abs, moving dangerously low to the base of his cock. he was so sensitive on the neck, it was actually so cute hearing him whine and beg while you just kissed his neck.

you dropped to your knees infront of him, you grabbed his cock and started to pump it slowly, he started hissing and jerking up into your fists, you used your spare hand to push his hips down into the couch, you licked his tip and played with it on your tongue soobin was seeing stars, he had never felt something like this before he was 2 seconds away from coming right then and there, you took him completely in your mouth and his mouth hung agape as he felt your warm wet mouth pleasuring him, “y/n… oh my god…” he moaned as he fucked your face, “gonna cum y/nie…” he whined out desperately as you continued your assault on his tip, his cum spurted in your mouth, but this didn’t stop you, you kept going to overstimulate him, it was too much for him so he kept coming, his body jolting in shock.

“such a good boy…” you say standing up infront of him wiping your mouth, “wanna make you feel good y/n…” he mumbled looking at you with his doe eyes “how?” you ask him, knowing he is shy and not experienced, he stumbles over his words, ears getting hot from shyness. “how about, you eat me out?” you say offering him, you lean back against he couch and open your legs inviting him, he nods eagerly and drops to his knees now infront of you, he flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up your cunt, since soobin had no idea what he was doing he just opted to make out with your pussy, but it was working, you were moaning and gripping at his hair, pushing his face down more “shit…” you moaned with your mouth open, “gonna cum..gonna cum..” you repeated as you came on soobins face, riding your high out on his tongue.

“did i do it right?” he said lifting his face up, glistening in your juices, “mhm, you did it perfectly” you praised him, you closed your eyes to regain your breath, as your eyes were closed you could feel soobin moving, “can i… put it in?” he asked shyly waiting for your ‘yes’

you could tell he couldn’t fit, but you stuck it out for him anyways, you moved to the edge of the couch so he had a better angle “yes” you said smiling at him, he stroked himself a little before he puts his fat cock head against your entrance trying to bully his way in “fuck soobin…” you said wincing at the pain, but he didn’t care, he just wanted to feel the inside of a warm cunt, “soobin ow ow” you whined as the stretch was too much, soobin felt embarassed but he was so far gone on chasing his high “im sorry im sorry..” he kept apologizing as he continued to force his way into your cunt, once he bottomed out in you, there was a visible bump in your stomach.

soobin gave you some time to adjust per your request, you were constantly clenching making him hiss as he felt the suction around him, “move” you say encouraging him to start moving, soobin wasted no time, he was thrusting at a selfish pace, one that felt good to him, but you didn’t blame him. “faster” you prompt him and he follows through moving faster giving you a surge of pleasure “oh my god… i love your cock soobin” you whine and arch your back. you reached down and rubbed your clit as soobin kept thrusting into you, “y/n… gonna cum… wanna cum so bad” he said hammering into you holding your hips down against the chair “cum, bunny…” you say bringing him to the edge, he cums as his mouth is open wide, he came so much in you it could have been enough to fill up an entire glass, you eventually came from feeling his cum in you.

soobin collapsed onto your chest completely out of breath. “you came so much bunny” you praise him, it makes you giggle when you feel him twitch inside of you.

——

HOW DID U GUYS LIKE IT 😜

don’t forget to send a request! and those that did send a request i’m working on it!!!

[thestarlitmidnight]

✨ Rewrite the Stars ✨

Summary: Being mated to Feyre doesn’t stop Rhysand to seek comfort from his former lover Y/N. One more night, that became their mantra.

Fandom: ACOTAr

Pairing: Rhysand X Y/N

Warnings: Mention of explicit content, be aware of that and consider being 15+ before reading this.

Word Count: 2 695

Master List

Being held in his arms, having my face resting on his warm, broad chest, inhaling his mesmerising scent while his fingers were drawing precious little patters on my naked back.

It used to be shared moments, that never made me feel ashamed.

It used to be so easy.

But we could be like this only in the secrecy within the walls of my home.

There were mountains that we could not climb and things that we could not change.

But this, he felt like my home. Maybe a little broken and unstable, without any sense of stability, but still, he was all that was dear to me.

And I was selfish. I always was.

It was impossible to let go of him.

Even when he came back home after the whole fifty years of being away with the news, he found his mate.

Even when they accepted the bond.

Even when he made her his High Lady.

Even when they fought together in the war and he gave up his life for her.

It was impossible to let go of the heavy weight of centuries-long shared past.

And he had it the same.

It was beautiful and bittersweet at the same time.

Maybe when he would push me away, we would be able to stop this. If he would just leave me behind in favour of following the call of his mating bond, we both would not feel so guilty.

It was not like we did not try to end it.

We always promised each other that it was the last time we were together. Sworn that it would not continue. Not happening again.

There would be so intense arguments, where we would end up throwing things at each other, cursing each other’s existence, but then…But then we found ourselves in the bedroom, making the same beautiful mistakes all over again, assuring each other that it would be just one more night.

It was always the same. A night full of lust, passion, and hunger and waking up feeling guilty as hell.

Ever since the presence of the damn Cursebreaker, we became dysfunctional. Each time he would be leaving, I wished to die. Every time he came back to me, I wished to kill him. And when he was holding me, I wished him to kill me.

It was not right. Both of us knew that. Both of us were sick of what happened to us. Yet none of us could resist the cursed pull that kept both of us coming back for more.

What was worse was the fact that I was an active member of the Inner Circle. I always was... for three centuries, long before Feyre came.

Yet she seemed to perfectly replace me in every aspect.

From the always cherished, loved, and sought-out member of our family, I became someone who was kept around for the skill set and used as a tool.

I got used to it. I truly did, almost. Amren was one of those who was there for me.

She did not know wholly about what was happening between me and Rhys, but she suspected something and she never objected. No. She even came up with good reasons why Rhysand was two days away. Provided excuses, backed up both of us, and maybe she was the only reason why this whole mess was still even happening.

"We can't keep doing this," I breathed out, but my fingers slid down his belly, feeling the toned muscles.

"Hmm," he agreed, still drawing shapes on my exposed back.

"This was the last night," I whispered once more.

"Alright," he replied with a low voice, his fingers travelling to the swell of my ass.

I nuzzled closer into his embrace and inhaled his scent shamelessly.

We had this conversation a million times, but I never knew if it would truly be the last night we spent together, and I needed to save enough of his scent to last me a while if I would never get the chance to be this close to him again.

——

Rhys left late in the night, maybe early in the morning, it depends on the point of view.

With a heavy heart and burning eyes, I watched him disappear into the night and hoped that he would come back to me just as much as I hoped he would never show up ever again.

Waking up next to him was the luxury which no longer belonged to me. No, that was for his precious mate.

Viper. That's what she was. Stealing, pretending, inexperienced, amateur, simple viper who did not even care to consider that before her, there was someone else.

Three centuries. She lived for two decades. Not comparable. Not at all, yet then once again, that blasted mating bond.

Morrigan often spoke about Nesta like she was a viper. She never was more wrong in her whole life.

Nesta was the only sister of the three who deserved immortality. She fought with everything she had, and when she met the steel wall, she punched a hole into it and crawled through the remaining of what was left of her. Nesta Archeon was the only member of them who cared enough to become real access to the Night Court.

Feyre only mated into it. She was granted a position that was way too large for her. She was looked on like our savior when everything she did was to be a stupid, foolish idiot who was blinded by love to another male than her own mate.

Maybe I was just biased. I simply did not see any worth in her when everything she ever accomplished after getting involved with our world was cushioned and pathed out by Rhys and others.

I did not sleep that night. I showered, changed, and flew up to the House of Winds to sit on the rooftop and admire the night sky before the early morning training would begin.

Love is the death of peace of mind.

That much I realised in those past months.

When the night sky started to get a lighter shade of blue, I decided to stretch and get warm up before others would arrive.

I must have lost track of time because when I was practicing the swing of my left arm, I was interrupted.

"You are pretty early; lately, you have made it a habit," Morrigan walked through the door.

"Early riser," Cassian beamed, holding Nesta around her waist.

"To be an early riser, she would need to sleep in the first place," Amren shot me a piercing glare and went to sit on the bench by the edge of the rooftop.

"You were on mission?" Nesta looked me up and down, walking away from Cassian's side and she started to stretch herself.

"Something like that. I returned very late, and there was no point in going to sleep," I skillfully lied as I walked towards her and pressed on her back, forcing her into a proper stretch.

"Bitch," she cursed as I kept pressing her forwards.

"You will thank me when you will need to dodge something in an awkward motion," I assured her and patted her back, ignoring her curses.

"Without sleep, you will drop dead soon," Cassian remarked, starting his own stretching routine.

"I am used to little to no sleep. I am fine," I rolled my eyes at him.

"Nobody can sway others like you do. It would be a tragic loss," Mor sat down beside Amren and performed her own version of pretty sloppy stretches.

I did not say anything to that. It did not even hurt anymore.

We used to be like sisters. When she was concerned about me, she would always speak about how she would never be able to live without me in her life, backing her up with those damn idiots who surrounded us. How she loved me and other emotional blackmail one does to make sure your family member doesn't get hurt.

Lately, it was only how much of an asset I am to the Night Court, and that was it.

Not like we had three centuries of friendship.

"Nobody can bake the Illyrian bread like Y/n does," Azriel walked into the training space, sending me a little smile as a greeting.

"Because she is Illyrian, maybe?" Feyre landed on the rooftop, followed by Rhysand. "Good morning."

"There are many Illyrian females out there, Feyre darling, but none can bake like our Y/n," Rhys sent a charming smile to his mate, looking effortlessly beautiful as always.

"I am not baking you anything. Do not try to sweet talk me into it," I rolled my eyes at him and let go of Nesta, while helping her up. "You train daggers with me today."

With that, I led her into the rag where daggers were stored, so she could pick some while I plugged my own two daggers into the holder on my thighs.

"I wouldn't dream about such a kindness, angel," he send me a playful wink, leaving his mate go to Mor and he himself started to walk to his brothers.

Angel. Fucking angel. I would kick his ass for daring to use this old nickname on me when his little mate was present.

"How come we never tasted her baking before?" Feyre asked, following the lead of Mor, stretching in sloppy fashion, but nobody called them out on it.

Typical.

"Yes, you never baked since I met you," Nesta agreed with her sister, a rare occasion.

"I used to have bunch of begging monkeys around me, who nagged me into baking something for them all the time, now I do not have any reason to do it," I shrugged with my shoulders, replying to Nesta.

I did not spoke to Feyre if it was not an official matters of the court.

I refused to acknowledge the way my chest clenched painfully. No, lately, only Az is the only one who care enough to directly ask me to bake him his favourite pastry. Others are busy doting around Feyre and Elain.

And partly Rhys is sometimes bold enough to ask for his favourite cookies, when he comes to fuck me. But the love behind the baking is rotten, it's gone.

"Bunch of monkeys?" Cass wiggled with his eyebrows at me. "I consider myself Illyrian, thank you very much."

"Brute like you cannot be mistaken for anything else than elephant Cass, do not worry," I assured him with dry voice and gestured for Nesta to correct her posture with the daggers in her hands.

A laughter erupted from Cassian, who clapped with his hands, and others joined him, clearly amused by my dry remark.

"How come you can fly, Y/n? I do not mean to be rude, or insensitive, but Emerie is younger, but still..." Feyre, who else, chose to be curious about the worse topic one can get curious about with the three other Illyrians around.

"Because I did not allowed anything to happen to her," Rhysand practically growled, his jaw clenching at the memories that flooded to our heads. "We do not speak about this anymore."

"Let's say it was a close call and Madja had hands full for quite a while," Mor did not cared to consider that nobody wanted to say another word about it and still provided some kind of answer for her new best friend. "Ever since then, Y/n was permanently living in the Town House."

"Oh," Feyre huffed and I could feel her eyes on me.

But I started to ignore them all.

I focused on Nesta, guiding her to get her attacks right. I was for some time teaching her how to fight with the same style as I did. Many asked me to teach them, Az and Cass amongst them, but I didn't. It was a personal thing for me. My fighting style with daggers were forged from blood and pain, turning to be deadly effective. Nesta just seemed to be the right candidate for me to pass this little thing on. Even when she was not aware how rare it was. It was making it less awkward.

"You guys know each other for a long time then?" Feyre asked, not standing up yet, sitting beside Mor.

It speaks volumes that she needs to even ask that question. How long is she there? Months. I even saved her ass few times in battle, yet she still did not bothered to ask for any information about me. Did not cared enough. Probably too lost in another little drama she came up in her head, where she is the hero and needs to be tended to, while others feed her delusions.

"Y/n is with us for three hundred years Feyre," Rhys responded, his violet eyes travelling to look at me.

It made me loose my attention for a moment. Those damn eyes of his. Eyes that keep watching me while he fuck the living soul out of me, while mumbling my name as if it was a prayer.

The moment of lost attention Nesta properly used to her advantage and placed a hit to my left side, a victorious grin ghosting her lips.

"You are that old?" Nesta raised eyebrows at me, mocking me.

"Those idiots are older," I mocked back and went to grab some water.

When I was in the kitchen, holding my glass to be filled with the fresh water, I felt presence by my side.

"Y/n," Rhys purred seductively, while reaching above me to grab his own glass.

"Rhys," I nodded a little, aware that others could see into the kitchen from the rooftop.

Better to keep things formal and professional. They all were too nosey for their own good.

"I am sorry for Feyre, she did not realised it's a sore spot for us all," he stood so close to me, filling his own glass with the freshly pouring water.

"It's fine," I shook my head, not bothering to even dive into this conversation.

I had no interest to hear any apologies or excuses for the lack of manners from his mate. None. I cannot care less. I was so tired from all of that shit.

"The memories came floating back, making me wish to kiss those pretty wings of yours, just to wash away any lingering pain from that day," he breathed silently, his eyes glued to my wings, raw emotions showing for a moment on his handsome face.

"Rhys, we can't," I pleaded, but it did not sounded convincing even to my own ears.

"Y/n, please," his eyes, that would be the death of me, turned pleading as well.

"We promised that it was last night," I whispered and took a sip from my glass, trying to look as unbothered as possible, because it was my face that was facing the rooftop. His was facing it with his back. Smart idiot.

"One more night, Y/n," he had the audacity to send into my mind the desperate need to hold me, to kiss my wings and wash away the hunting memories of the day he took me away from Illyria. "Let's rewrite the stars one more time."

I gulped down my glass and pressed it into his free hand, while trying to keep myself in check. It was no longer my place to be flustered around him.

"Don't you dare," I growled and marched back to others, purposely ignoring the presence of one person that I cannot stand the most.

I knew he will come. Both of us knew he always did. Even when I threatened him, denied him, pushed him away. Sooner the night sky fall before he will let the go of me.

No matter how selfish or unfair it was.

And I will always end up welcoming him into my bed, getting lost in the haze of what was and what will never be again. Because I will never be able to resist him, always hoping that indeed, the stars will rewrite themselves and by some cosmic miracle, one day, things will be how they used to be between us.

Chapter Two

[inmoonsblood]

a dying fire - tim drake

tim drake x reader, 1.4k words, mentions of weed, vigilante!reader

synopsis: smoking and making out with your best friend is totally normal, mom!

note: early post because i got excited! this is quite literally just a thousand words of me yapping about tim semi-coherently. contains mentions of smoking, it isn't fluffy at all, but i tried really hard and this is the best i could do, i'm so sorry sweet anon </3. i love the characterisation of tim done by @glamourscat so much and i've (attempted) to base my tim off theirs because it's??? so??? good???

Tim Drake was a man of several talents. He was the smartest person alive (according to you, and you were never wrong), he could skateboard with a hand tied behind his back, hell, Ra’s Al Ghul had complimented him (covertly, of course, Mr. I-am-a-supreme-leader would never compliment anyone to their faces), and of course, he was the best partner to have on the field. 

Of course, you weren’t biased at all, how could you be when you were one of the only people who could testify that claim (aside from Brucey, Steph and Dick—maybe—but you were the coolest. Steph was a close second, of course). The fact that he was your best friend, your ride-or-die (bi or die, if you would), both in and out of costume all added to the fact that you were the best person to decide this. Period. 

One of these several talents included rolling the finest blunt seen to mankind, second only to the man who rolled it in terms of sexiness, and lifting your mood up with little kisses along your shoulders whenever you were tense after a bad mission. Think of it like a ritual of sorts: missions go bad, you get yelled at, smoke a blunt from Tim’s hand. A holy trinity if you will and your favourite, especially when it ended up with Tim kissing from your shoulder all the way up to right under your ear before nibbling on that spot till you gasped. Last week, That turned into making out till you both eventually passed out, limbs tangled and his head resting on your chest. 

You two never spoke about it after it happened, but that didn’t stop the both of you from repeating it.  Why would it? There was no downside to this aside from ‘elevating’ the both of you and your moods (because as much as Tim claimed to do it just for you, you knew that wasn’t the whole truth, not with the way his shoulders relaxed or with the way his face lit up when you came to his apartment. He carried the burden of bad missions just as much as you did, if not more, he just never showed it out loud). And so, this became a ritual even if there wasn’t a bad mission or a bad patrol, just something you did with your best friend forever: smoke, makeout, and then fall asleep tangled in each other’s embrace. Slowly, (for the sake of both your healths), smoking was replaced with video games and this became a weekly ritual, where Tim would fight god if he had to for making take for this. Luckily he never had to because Alfred took the joy of Tim taking regular (weekly) breaks where he slept through the night, and never let Tim opt out of it.

Perfect for you, honestly.

And still, there are days when the old ritual came back, and it was back to: missions go bad, you get yelled at, smoke a blunt from Tim’s hand. An optimist would hope those days were rare and preferably not existent during the #holidayszn, however, a Gothamite would know that Gotham gets worse around Christmas, because just like Mariah Carey, Mr. Freeze wakes up. Unlike Mariah Carey, Mr. Freeze does not bring karaoke and laughter with Tim, he brings curses and god-awful puns while terrorizing you, specifically you. 

Now, the thing about being partners with Tim was that missions with him rarely went wrong, because everything was planned to a T with multiple explosions and Batman not being able to say much about him because what, would he ground you? (Timothy ‘I’m an adult’ Drake and you, never his child in the first place) and they always technically follow his rules. Patrol, however, is a different story, especially with you and Tim’s patrol routes being forcefully torn apart during the holidays by Batman (he who is allergic to songs and had Mariah Carey blasted in his ear after he had just fallen asleep as a consequence of his actions) after you two were karaoking christmas songs to Calendar Man. 

And unfortunately, as much as you were good in your own right, Mr. Freeze hates you a little too much. Enough to ambush your patrol route with his very own version of your Christmas Gift, which led to a one-sided bicker contest, while you taunted him and Mr. Freeze kept hitting you time and time again. He had decided to do this at the end of what you called the longest patrol of your life, with you already somewhat injured and exhausted, because of course he had! You were his favourite one in Gotham. Unable to land any hits on him—listen, it was his new fancy ice device, okay? That thing did not let you get near him at all, plus you didn’t want to take him solo while already sporting a few injuries—you just continued to play a game of taunt and dodge while requesting Oracle for back up.

And just as you slipped on the ice, Mr. Freeze screamed in a pitch that made you wonder if Mariah Carey was just him facetuned. Looking up from your position, you saw Tim as Red Robin, absolutely kicking his ass. The look on his face was feral, and in all seriousness, kind of scared you because just for a moment there, Tim looked like he was out for blood. Things progressed in a blur after that, and you remained unable to get that look of his out of your head. Even as Bruce reprimanded you for being reckless earlier, even as Alfred checks you for a concussion, Tim’s face just stays there. The man himself can tell something is wrong, of course he can, he’s Tim Drake and he’s been standing next to you since you got back. You reckon he also knows you won’t tell him what’s genuinely wrong since it’s you and you never do, so he does the best he can and silently motions for you to follow him back home for your original ritual. It’s the best he can do because the only thing he wants to do right now is get that frown off your face, and anything works, as long as you’re smiling and okay. 

The hesitation that precedes your agreement isn’t lost on him, but Tim decides that he can delve on it when you two aren’t together and all he has in front of him is the memory of your arms around his body. 

There’s something largely different about that night, you realise, as you snuggle into his blanket at his apartment. The fireplace is lit up for the first time in years, your stocking is up right besides Tim’s and he’s not gone to roll a blunt, but you collect the hot chocolate you two ordered. Your hair is wet from the shower earlier and the open window definitely doesn’t scream no sickness, but the fire is keeping you warm as you desperately try to push that image out of your brain. You’re not sure why you’re so fixated on it: you’ve known Tim is a little scoundrel all your life, you’ve known he’s dangerous and smart, but that fight was different. It marked the first time you felt afraid of him. Maybe that’s how Tim looks when he’s mad, maybe that’s the look on his face Ra’s saw when the league had kidnapped you. Maybe he’s always been like that, but you were too lovesick to notice.

Despite that, however, you remind yourself that he’s the same as the Tim that fell down when he tried teaching you how to skate because you tripped on him, the same one that wordlessly ordered hot chocolate for you while lighting up the fireplace for the first time since he bought the apartment. Tim’s as full of love as he is of contempt and gods, you feel stupid for not noticing it sooner. 

You are swiftly pulled out of your overthinking with Tim pulling you into his arms and nuzzling into your neck. There’s two cups of hot chocolate in front of you and Mariah Carey’s music videos que-ed to start as the clock strikes midnight: Christmas Day. With a soft smile, you relax into his arms before flicking his forehead, Tim laughs before kissing along your neck before he gets to your face, littering it with kisses. 

Tomorrow, you will deal with whatever you felt back then. Tomorrow, Tim will analyze the situation head to toe, but tonight? You have hot chocolate and Mariah Carey to fall asleep to whilst he holds you (fully knowing that somewhere in the night, you two will end up switching with his head on your chest). 

Late at night, as the fire finally dies out, you no longer feel cold.

[night-dazai]

Random thoughts on Nanami Kento :

 

This perfect husband material is nothing but respectful, careful and soft with you . Waking up you get a kiss “ good morning “ in the morning voice making you wet in an instant.

Going out for the office “ bye love “ again a kiss on the forehead and lips (might be steamy but mostly he has good control )

Little texts whenever he is free “ How are you feeling ?” are you alright, ate lunch ?” 

“Gojo is getting on my nerves i need someone to hold me back from killing him  “ and more. 

If you come home later than him you are always welcomed with the lovely smell of home cooked lavish meal “Welcome love freshen up let's eat “ his face stoic but adored with a little smile which you know is only for you!

If he comes later than you you welcome him with the same, if cooking is not your strong point it ends with both of you cooking dinner together (mostly he does you are an assistant ). 

After dinner, it is always with you both enjoying your alone time with TV or a nice cup of hot milk and conversations about your day. Or there are times he comes homes all pent up and fucks you the moment his eyes see you. 

Loves cafe dates with you day or night not matter if he can have you dress up and come out, loves seeing you getting ready and has amazing taste in clothing. (his tie is just for fun he did not wear it in his office )

The gentleman who is known till 9 pm vanishes and is replaced with a monster who is a pathetic beggar for your pussy “ pleasee let me eat you out pleaseee” his fox eyes pleading with you holding your legs apart. 

His tongue is so skilled he makes sure every night you come at least twice or thrice on it before he fucks you with his cock . 

His strong arms hold you down while he fucks you in missionary slowly but can go fast on your command. His moments are ruled by your words “Tell me princess what should I do “ he asks panting drilling his cock deep into your cunt as your cry out telling him to make a mess out of you. 

Never says no to any kink open to all, being the simple man he is he does not have many kinks ….STOPP. 

This man is a walking sex symbol, soo into BDSM, having you tied, whipping you you name it it's in his kink book he is not a  simple man and open to all, he is just so much more kinker than you, you kinks are little request to him . 

He can fuck you anywhere and everywhere, always takes consent and role plays with him are soo good, teacher-student, master-slave you name it its done princess~

After fucking the life out of you or slow sensational love making the first thing that comes out of his mouth is “ you okay ? “ “ need anything ? “ . Again your words are his command bath, done warm with bath bombs, and water, ready, want to just sleep, no worries he has a cloth next to the nightstand wipes you a little and holds you close in his arms watching your face relax as you fall into a deep slumber “ thank you and love you “ he mumbles kissing your eyes he might fall asleep looking at you or if there is work he has to do its done now . 

His worry that you would worry if he would come home or not every day kills him yet he tries to be on time , messages you if he cannot come always keeps in touch with you and loves you just for the mere fact you love a man like him who might die anytime any day, you are his light source in his dark monotonous life.

[gojoest]

non-explicit but suggestive, creampie implied, MDNI, gojo is being dramatic after he wakes up without you in bed

it smells like the sun, satoru thinks, as he wakes up to the sunlight creeping in through the blinds, hitting his face with a warm glow. his eyes are still closed, a soft smile spread on his lips elicited by the memories of last night, of you chanting his name like a little prayer as your bodies were locked together. the longer he thinks of it, the bigger his smile grows. the way your face flushed and contorted as he dived into you, the way your hands grabbed his hips to push him even deeper, the way your fingers intertwined and your foreheads pressed against each other until you both came down from your high.

*slap*

“shit”, he smacks himself across the face because his smile started evolving into little giggles, “shit”, but also because something down there, between his legs, was evolving, too, “calm down there, buddy. not now. first, we need to find our cute runaway lover who sneaked out of bed while we were sleeping still”

satoru knew you weren’t in bed the moment his consciousness awakened. he didn’t have to open his eyes to see it nor to reach his hand to your side of the bed only for it to end on the empty mattress. he knew, simply because he always holds you in his arms when in bed, even when you toss around and slip away from his embrace in the middle of the night, his hands find you and pull you back where you belong. it’s an automatic reflex of his body that doesn’t require his brain to create the action. it’s a need, to always be as close as possible to you.

it's a struggle for him to open his eyes now and actually see that you’re not there. a voice at the back of his head, a quite dramatic one at that, tells him to keep them shut until you come back so he doesn’t have to witness your shared bedroom without you in it.

but he beats the urge eventually, a big pout present on his face. why would you deprive him of the feeling of waking up next to you in the morning. what a cruel thing to do, he thinks before grabbing his phone from the nightstand. seeing the picture of you on his lockscreen quickly chases away the pout replacing it with a soft smile.

“but i want the real thing”, he purses his lips again and dials your number.

“how dare you” is the first thing he says as soon as you pick up. you can not only hear the pout in his voice from the other side of the line but almost see it on his cutely dramatic grumpy face, “how dare you sneak out and go grocery shopping without me?”

“oh, you miss me already?”, you let a chuckle out, “i am on my way back, can you hold on for 15 more minutes and not die without me, mm?”

“i can’t promise... my heartbeat is slowing down, i can feel my internal organs shutting down one by one, you have to hurry up or it will be fatal”

“you’re such a baby, satoru”

“exactly. and who leaves a baby alone at home and casually goes grocery shopping? you. you are bad-bad”

you can’t help yourself but stop in the middle of the street and start laughing heartily, “sorry, baby, it won’t happen again. but then again… how did you know i was out grocery shopping?”

“i put a gps tracker on you”

“you what?”, your eyes widen at his words. no, he can’t be this crazy, right?, you think.

“yea, it’s the dna i put inside you last night. it’s like part of me is with you, so it’s only natural that i would know where you are at any given moment”

“you know what, you’re the worst”

[radio-fmm]

Turmoil

Law x gn reader

Warnings: little fight between Law and reader but nothing crazy, sfw and fluff at the end, good ending, FEELINGS

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: In which you save Law’s life and he gets mad at you

Masterlist

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The moonlight danced with the dark sea water, accompanying you in your office as your eyes struggled to stay focus on the paper work in front of you, it was hard to tell the time when you lived in a submarine, but your body knows its well past 2 am, begging for you to snuggle into bed and drift away

From the shadows behind your door emerged your Captain, looking as tired as you did, a brow arching in confusion

“What are you doing?” His low raspy tone makes you jump on your seat as your eyes open wide in his direction, before they roll in annoyance and your eyebrows furrow

“Doing the work that YOU assigned me, Captain” the tone of your answer lets Law know that you’re still mad at him

“Should’ve thought better before-“ suddenly, and surprisingly you interrupt his so re-used speech he had given you a million times over since that evening

“Oh give me a break!” You trow your pen on the table, slamming your hands before gifting him the nastiest look he had ever witness painted on your face

Some days ago, the Heart Pirates found themselves in yet another fight were things weren’t going well for their Captain. You were the crews strategists and whenever you were caught in situations like these you were always by Laws side, but this time he had made you promise to stay out of trouble for this one, which in all honesty had struck your pride. Everyone knew how relentless of a fighter you were, that’s why you had gained such a position in the crew, so being told to back up was like a punch in the stomach, specially coming from your trusted Captain

Trafalgar Law was a stubborn, stubborn man, and that sometimes got him in more trouble that he could handle, as the enemies arrow flew trough his direction and a sword was drawn to his heart, in a blink of an eye you jumped in to protect him, without a second thought

Nothing bad had happened to you, you had came out victorious with a couple of scars nothing out of the ordinary, so when you were met with Laws angry eyes, a long speech on why what you had done was absolutely stupid and a punishment, you were left puzzled, and humiliated in front of all of your crew mates

Since then, you had been locked in your office, getting the extra work the doctor had assigned you so that ‘you learn how to listen’ done, and avoiding any words and looks of his

“I saved you” you got up of your chair as you walked towards the frame of your Captain, he may tower over you, but that would not stop you

“You put your life on the line y/n-ya, that I don’t tolerate” he answers you with a stern voice, eyes examining your every expression

“I did what I did because I wanted to, you may be the one giving orders around here, but you do not get dictate when or how I die”

As you get closer, Trafalgar cannot help but start to feel that maybe he was being selfish, after all, you had given him the greatest of gifts

Knowing there’s someone out there that is willing to die for you, no questions asked

But at the same time, the mere thought of losing you because he couldn’t be up to the task of protecting you boiled his blood and made his stomach turn a million times over

“Then maybe, you shouldn’t have joined my crew in the first place” he blurts out, every single word hitting you like a venomous snake bite, your heart clenching at the thought of being unwanted

Your greatest fear

Suddenly your body language does a 180, your anger being replaced with what could only be perfectly described as heartache. Almost immediately the doctor regrets even stepping foot in your office, before he can say anything you’re already back on your seat

“Sorry Captain” the pain in both your voice and your face makes Law hurt, and panic, and regret, yet words fail to come out of his mouth… just when he needed them most

“Don’t stay up too late” is all he can say before closing the door behind him

Next days in the Polar Tang were a pain, Law had been quite more irritable around everyone, even snapping on poor Bepo. You were either locked away working or in your room and sometimes even skipping dinner just to not cross paths with the damn surgeon, and if you were unlucky enough to do so, you would turn away immediately

Everyone knew something was up between the two of you, Ikkaku and Penguin had showed up at your office asking if everything was ok. You decided to keep it to yourself, you knew if Law found out you’re talking about him behind his back, about personal matters? Yeah, you would be dead to him, and even when mad, you respected him

Shachi was send to dig around Law, but when your name crossed his lips the doctor immediately shot down the conversation, this confirming their suspicions

But then, you finished the damn paper work, and guess who was the one you needed to hand it to?

You tried to convince anyone else to deliver the papers to Laws office, but it seemed like everyone had catch up and found this as an opportunity for you to make up with him, frustrating you beyond comprehension. They had even got to Bepo first

“Sorry y/n, I was told to tell you to deliver it yourself” he offered you a sympathetic smile, afraid of your answer, you just sighed defeated and thanked him anyways

“Just go in and hand him the papers! That easy” Ikkakus voice rings in your head as you try to wash your nervousness away in front of Laws office. Hesitantly you knock on the door, feeling lightheaded at the mere touch of it

“Go away Shachi” the doctors muffled voice meets your ears, confused you answer with the tiniest “It’s me, Captain” After a pause that felt like it lasted a decade, thinking he may had shambles himself out of the office, you hear a “Come in” so you do

You enter the office slowly, almost as if you made any sudden moves you’ll get caught like a pray in the wild. Trafalgar is sitting at his desk, his hands fidgeting and eyes following your form

“I have the paper work you asked for” you stay pretty far away from the desk, fear written all over you making Law feel twice as worse as he had been feeling this past few days

“Thank you y/n-ya, just leave them here” his voice sounded softer, but this didn’t made you feel any less scared as you approached the desk, gaze fixated on the papers in your hand. As you positioned your hard wok on the desk Law makes the uncharacteristic decision to hold your wrist before you retrieved, a shock running through your whole body at the action

Law’s heart beats a million times per second as he finds the right words to approach the matter, maybe he should’ve thought about them before taking your hand, your soft skin touching his freezing him. You lock eyes for a second and finally Law understands everything he had done wrong, from being ungrateful, rude, harsh and just overall mistreating the person he cares for the most

He would rather being shot than admit he was in the wrong, but he knew if he didn’t he’ll lose you, which was the reason he had caused this mess in the first place, so he swallows his pride

“I am sorry, I shouldn’t have screamed at you in front of everyone, or made you do all this work and… saying those awful things”

The fear washes from your body as you hear his apology, something you never thought you’d witness in your life, you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding since you stepped foot on the door, offering Law a genuine smile that made his heart fall to his feet

“It’s ok Captain”

“Law” he says, letting your hand go as his own insecurities disappear, thinking you were gonna bash at him after his apology

“Law” you parrot back, earning him another sweet smile of yours

“I just… didn’t wanted to lose you, I was so lost in that thought that I didn’t realize that’s exactly what I was doing” you had seemed to have pushed a button because he just couldn’t stop the thoughts that just fell directly to his tongue and overflow like a cascade out of his mouth

Laws eyes open wide as he sees you approach the other side of the desk, your arms wrap around his wide shoulders like the softest blanket, hugging him while he still sits on the chair, your head resting in top of his hat. The surgeon stays completely still, taken aback

“Thank you for apologizing Law, I really appreciate it” you whisper making his face bright red and his hands shake, the way your body weights over his makes his brain malfunction and his heart go wild

You let go and approach the door of the office, Law remaining completely broken and flushed in his seat

“See ya’ at dinner.. Law” you say his name mischievously, giggling after before you disappear

The Captain stays still for a while, alone in his office, thinking about everything being open about his thoughts and feelings had gained him, and how addicting his name sounded falling from your sweet lips

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This came to me in a dream and wrote it in almost one sitting lmao, feel free to request anything you wanna read I am having so much fun writing his emo ass

Reblogs are appreciated ;)