#the constant reminder that you are not your own being

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ LABOUR ♡·˚

— [♡] ; souls tied by fate will inevitably cross paths again. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: endgame gojo satoru, afab!reader, slow burn, pregnancy, regret, hurt/comfort, angst, co-parenting, vulnerable gojo satoru, past suguru geto x reader, past rejection, longing, bittersweet, I'm dramatic so I write dramatic shit, chapter one of ten

wc. 2.7K

prologue | part 2 [soon!]

The decision settled in your heart like a stone—cold, hard, and undeniable. You couldn’t stay at Jujutsu High anymore, not after everything that had happened. There was nothing left for you here but the constant reminder of Gojo’s rejection, and the emptiness it left inside you. Suguru Geto had offered a new path, one that resonated with the bitter anger building in your chest. It was risky, dangerous even, but at this point, you didn’t care. What did you have to lose?

The world outside Jujutsu High seemed vast and unforgiving, but it was nothing compared to the loneliness you felt within its walls. Geto’s name was whispered among the students with fear and disdain, but you saw something different now. He had the strength to break away, to challenge the system that had let him down, and if anyone could understand the pain of rejection, it was him.

The first step was to find him, which was easier said than done. Geto was no longer a visible presence in the sorcerer world. He had gone underground, building his own network of cursed users and spirits. The whispers about his whereabouts were few and far between, but you clung to the faintest rumors like lifelines, searching for any clue that would lead you to him.

Your chance finally came one evening, as you overheard two upperclassmen talking in hushed tones about a recent sighting of Geto. They mentioned a remote area where cursed energy had been felt, a place known for being a hideout for rogue sorcerers. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

You left that night, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination. You knew the consequences of what you were about to do—if anyone found out, you’d be labeled a traitor, just like Geto. But that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was getting away from the pain that had consumed you and finding a new purpose.

The journey was long and arduous, taking you through unfamiliar streets and rural roads. With each step, the doubt in your mind grew louder. What if he didn’t want you? What if he turned you away, just like Gojo had? The thought of facing yet another rejection made your stomach twist in knots, but you pushed forward. You had to know. You had to try.

Finally, after what felt like na eternity, you arrived at the rumored hideout—a dilapidated building on the outskirts of na abandoned village. The air around the area was thick with cursed energy, almost suffocating. You hesitated at the threshold, fear creeping up your spine, but you steeled yourself and stepped inside.

The interior was dark, lit only by the faint glow of cursed energy radiating from various objects strewn about. You could sense the presence of others, though you couldn’t see them. Shadows moved in the corners of the room, watching you, but you kept your focus straight ahead.

And then, you saw him.

Suguru Geto stood at the far end of the room, his back turned to you as he spoke quietly with one of his followers. Even from this distance, his presence was commanding, the air around him heavy with power. There was something about him that felt both intimidating and strangely familiar, as if you were looking at the reflection of everything you had been feeling—the bitterness, the anger, the sense of abandonment.

He turned around slowly, his gaze landing on you with a piercing intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. His dark eyes seemed to see right through you, reading every thought and emotion as if they were laid bare before him. For a moment, you wondered if you had made a mistake—if this had been a foolish, reckless decision.

But you had come too far to turn back now.

“What do we have here?” Geto’s voice was smooth and calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it. He studied you, his expression unreadable. “You’re not one of mine.”

You swallowed, your throat dry, and forced yourself to speak. “I came to find you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I—I’ve been studying at Jujutsu High, but I can’t stay there anymore. I’ve seen… I’ve read about what you believe in. And I… I want to join you.”

There was a flicker of amusement in Geto’s eyes as he raised na eyebrow. “You want to join me?” he repeated, his tone laced with skepticism. “And what exactly do you think you have to offer?”

Your heart sank at his words. You knew you were nothing compared to the powerful sorcerers that surrounded him. You were just a student, someone who had been cast aside by the very person you had admired most. But you also knew that your desire to serve his cause, to belong somewhere, burned stronger than anything else.

“I don’t have much,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I’m not the strongest sorcerer, and I don’t have any followers. But I understand how it feels to be abandoned, to be rejected by the world. I’m ready to serve your purpose, whatever it takes.”

For a long moment, Geto said nothing, his eyes never leaving yours. The silence was suffocating, each second stretching into eternity. You stood there, exposed and vulnerable, waiting for his judgment. In that moment, it felt as if your entire life hung in the balance. If he accepted you, you would have a new purpose, a new place to belong. But if he rejected you…

Finally, after what felt like na eternity, Geto’s expression softened, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“You’re eager,” he said quietly. “That much is clear. But eagerness alone isn’t enough. My cause isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s dangerous, and it requires a level of conviction that few possess.”

You nodded quickly, desperation creeping into your voice. “I understand. I’ll prove myself, if you give me the chance.”

Geto regarded you for another long moment, as if weighing his options. Then, with a slight nod, he turned away from you, signaling the conversation was over. “Very well,” he said. “If you want to join me, go back to Jujutsu High. Pack your things. Leave everything behind. Once you’ve done that, come back. If you’re serious, I’ll know.”

Your heart leapt in your chest at his words—he was giving you a chance. It wasn’t a full acceptance, not yet, but it was something. You bowed your head quickly in gratitude before turning to leave.

As you stepped out of the hideout and into the cool night air, your mind raced with a mixture of excitement and fear. You had taken the first step toward a new life, toward leaving behind everything that had hurt you.

Now all that was left was to return to Jujutsu High, pack your things, and leave for good. There was no turning back now.

The night was unnervingly quiet as you made your way back to Jujutsu High, the soft rustling of leaves the only sound accompanying you. The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows across the ground. Your mind buzzed with the events that had just unfolded—Geto had accepted you, even if it was only tentative. The prospect of belonging to something, of having a purpose again, gave you a strange sense of comfort, but it was wrapped in na unsettling realization.

To fully embrace this new path, you had to leave everything behind.

As you approached the school grounds, a wave of nostalgia hit you. The familiar hallways, the training grounds, even the library where you had spent so many hours—all of it felt like a distant memory, as if you were already na outsider looking in. These places had once held significance, but now they were nothing more than relics of a past life. You had made up your mind; you would abandon all of it for a chance at something more—something that could give meaning to the ache you carried inside.

The dormitory was dark and still when you returned to your room. Your belongings were strewn about, a quiet reminder of the life you had lived here. You hesitated for a moment, standing in the doorway and letting your gaze drift over the small space that had been your home for so long. It was strange how quickly it all felt irrelevant.

With a deep breath, you began packing your things. You moved with mechanical precision, folding clothes and stuffing them into your bag, taking only what you absolutely needed. As your hands grazed over small personal items, you realized how little they meant now. There was no point in holding onto these things—mementos of a life you no longer wanted to be part of. A gift from a classmate, a framed photo of your team during a mission, a charm you had once carried for protection—they all seemed to mock you now.

Your hand hovered over the chocolates you had made for Gojo, the same ones he had so casually rejected weeks ago. They had been sitting untouched for so long, the once carefully crafted gift now rotting and forgotten. A bitter taste filled your mouth as you stared at the box, the last remnant of your foolish hopes - now laying in your trashcan.

As you zipped up your bag, you felt a strange sense of liberation. You were finally doing it—leaving behind the person you had been, the person who had been too afraid to act, too afraid to take control of her own fate. You were stepping into a new future, one where you could be strong, where your pain had a purpose. Suguru Geto had shown you that.

You slung the bag over your shoulder, taking one last look at the room. It felt distant already, like a ghost of a life you once knew. Without hesitation, you turned and left, walking silently through the darkened halls of Jujutsu High. Every step away from the dorms felt like shedding na old skin, leaving behind the memories and emotions that had weighed you down for so long.

Your feet moved automatically, each step taking you further from Jujutsu High and further from Gojo, you didn’t dare look back, afraid that if you did, you might falter, might hesitate. You had made your choice. You had committed to this path, and there was no turning back now.

The night air was cold against your skin, and with every step, the familiar halls and grounds of Jujutsu High faded into the distance. There was na ache in your chest, a deep, gnawing pain that threatened to overwhelm you, but you forced it down, telling yourself that this was the right choice. That Geto would understand, that his ideals would give you the strength you needed to find purpose.

By the time you reached the outskirts of the town, the sky had started to lighten, a soft glow spreading across the horizon as dawn approached. You kept your head down, avoiding the few early risers who were beginning their day. No one paid you any attention. To them, you were just another traveler, just another person passing through.

Your destination was clear—the same dilapidated building you had found before, where Geto’s presence had been strongest. The cursed energy in the area was unmistakable, and the faint pulse of it called to you like a beacon, guiding you back to him.

As you walked, the reality of what you were about to do began to settle in. You were leaving everything—your friends, your teachers, your life as a jujutsu sorcerer behind. The people you had trained with, the ones who had fought alongside you, they would all consider you a traitor. But for some reason, that didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. You were tired of being invisible, of feeling like na outsider in your own life. With Geto, maybe you would finally belong somewhere.

After hours of walking, you finally reached the hideout once again. The building loomed before you, dark and foreboding, just as it had before. There was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there the first time, as if the entire area was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

You hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside.

This time, the space felt different. The shadows seemed heavier, and the cursed energy more oppressive. You could sense other presences here—Geto’s followers, cursed spirits lurking just out of sight, their eyes on you, watching, waiting. But you didn’t waver. You had already made your decision.

As you ventured deeper into the building, you found him in the same spot as before, standing with his back to you, his long dark hair spilling over his shoulders. He was speaking with one of his followers in a low voice, but the moment you entered the room, his attention shifted. Without turning around, he acknowledged your presence with a quiet, “You came back.”

His voice sent a shiver down your spine—not out of fear, but because of the power it carried, the certainty in his words. It was so unlike the doubt you had felt at Jujutsu High. Here, in Geto’s world, there was no room for second-guessing. Everything he said, everything he believed, had a purpose. You wanted to be part of that.

“I did,” you replied, your voice steady despite the nervousness you felt. “I left everything behind, just like you said.”

Geto finally turned to face you, his eyes sharp and assessing. He looked you over, taking in the sight of you with your bag slung over your shoulder, your expression determined despite the fear you tried to hide. A slow, almost approving smile curled at the corner of his lips.

“And why, exactly, should I take you in?” he asked, his tone calm but laced with a challenge. “What can you offer me that my other followers can’t?”

You had expected this question, but it didn’t make answering it any easier. You had thought about this moment the entire way back, rehearsing what you would say, but now that you stood in front of him, words failed you. What could you offer? You weren’t the strongest sorcerer, you weren’t experienced in battle. All you had was your conviction, your desire to follow him.

“I—I’m not the strongest,” you admitted, your voice faltering for just a moment before you regained your composure. “But I’m ready to dedicate myself to your cause. I’ve seen how the world works, how it doesn’t care about people like us. I want to change that, to be part of something greater.”

Geto’s eyes remained fixed on you, his expression unreadable. He studied you for what felt like na eternity, and you could feel the weight of his judgment pressing down on you. Then, finally, he spoke again, his voice softer, but no less commanding.

“Conviction is important,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “But dedication without strength is a liability.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, Geto raised a hand to silence you. “Still, you’ve come this far, and I can see that you’re serious. I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself.”

Relief flooded through you, though it was quickly tempered by the realization of what that might entail. Geto wasn’t someone who handed out second chances easily. Whatever he asked of you, it wouldn’t be simple.

“You’ll stay here, for now,” he continued, gesturing to the room around you. “Train with my followers, learn from them. When the time comes, we’ll see if you’re truly ready to stand by my side.”

You nodded, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement. This was what you had wanted—a chance, a purpose, something to fight for. And now, Geto had given it to you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, bowing your head in gratitude.

Before you could fully process it, a voice rang out from the entrance of the hideout, sharp and commanding.

“So, this is where you ran off to.”

Your heart froze in your chest.

Satoru Gojo stood at the threshold, his blindfold gone, revealing his piercing blue eyes that glowed with a mixture of anger and something else—something deeper, more intense.

He had found you.

notes: thank you for reading the first chapter! if you wanna be tagged just let me know!

taglist: @username23345 @arminswifee @tomiokasecretlover @ffyona1214 @tojirin @eggrollforyou @ironicsss

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[urdreamydoodles]

im assuming you're taking requests, so I will bring you Scott, Logan, Jean, Ororo, Charales, Erik with a young kid reader who has a very power mutation and is an omega level mutant, and is now at the mansion because they parents didn't want them

X-Men x Kid!Reader

Their relationship with you—a omega-level mutant

After being abandoned by your parents due to your dangerous omega-level mutation, you arrive at the Xavier Institute, where a X-Man take you under their wing. They help you navigate the overwhelming potential of your powers, becoming mentors and parental figures as they guide you toward self-acceptance and control.

Characters: Scott Summers, Logan Howlett, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Charles Xavier & Erik Lehnsherr

Of course I take requests, don't hesitate to ask again love ♡ And thanks for the idea, I hadn't planned on writing for a Kid!Reader soon but you motivated me to do it. — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

When you first arrived at the mansion, Scott was the one who greeted you. As a leader, he had taken on the responsibility of welcoming new students, especially those who might be difficult to place. But when he learned that you, a young child, had been abandoned by your parents due to your dangerous mutation, something in him softened. He saw a reflection of his younger self in you—alone, scared, and confused about your powers. He was quiet at first, observing you as you sat in the mansion’s common room, staring out the window, your small form dwarfed by the large surroundings. You didn’t speak much either, afraid of being rejected again.

Scott had been through so much with his own powers, especially as someone whose mutation had caused harm in the past. He understood how overwhelming it could be, especially for a child. He approached you cautiously, always careful not to seem too intrusive. "Hey," he said softly, kneeling to be at eye level with you. "I know things are hard right now, but we’re here to help. You're safe here."

At first, you didn’t believe him. How could anyone help with something as destructive as your mutation? But Scott never pushed you, never forced you to talk about it until you were ready. Days turned into weeks, and little by little, Scott became the constant figure in your life. He would check on you every morning, sitting with you during meals when you felt too shy to sit with the other students. He’d take you to the Danger Room, not for training, but to show you that your powers didn’t define who you were.

As time passed, Scott began teaching you how to control your mutation, sharing his own struggles with his optic blasts and how Professor Xavier had helped him. He showed you that even though your mutation was powerful, it could be harnessed for good. The bond between the two of you grew, and Scott became a father figure in your life, guiding you through the complexities of being an omega-level mutant. Whenever you felt overwhelmed, Scott was always there, his calm and steady presence reassuring you that you were never alone.

The more time you spent together, the more you came to see Scott as not just a mentor but as someone who truly cared for you. He would bring you small gifts—a book he thought you’d like, or a new pair of shoes when he noticed yours were wearing out. He’d sit with you at night when nightmares of losing control over your powers haunted your sleep. Over time, Scott became the person you trusted most, the one who saw past your dangerous mutation and saw you as a person—someone worth loving and protecting.

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

Logan wasn’t known for being a nurturing figure, but when Charles asked him to keep an eye on you, he couldn’t say no. When you arrived at the mansion, a young kid with a mutation that even the other mutants found intimidating, Logan saw the fear in your eyes. It reminded him of his own past—how he’d been treated like a monster because of his powers. But he didn’t approach you immediately. He watched from a distance at first, letting you get comfortable in your new environment.

You were quiet, withdrawn, and understandably scared of hurting someone with your powers. Your parents had abandoned you, and that kind of rejection left deep scars. But Logan understood that. He knew what it was like to be rejected for something you couldn’t control. Slowly, he began to approach you, always in his gruff, no-nonsense way. "Kid," he’d say, catching your attention one afternoon while you sat alone in the garden. "You hungry? Come get something to eat."

At first, you were hesitant around him. Logan’s rough exterior and gruff voice made him seem intimidating, but over time, you began to realize that beneath all of that was someone who genuinely cared. He didn’t coddle you, didn’t treat you like you were fragile. Instead, he treated you like a person, not just a child. He would take you with him on walks through the woods surrounding the mansion, teaching you survival skills and how to listen to the world around you. Logan wasn’t the type to sit down and talk about feelings, but in his own way, he helped you understand that your mutation didn’t define you.

As your bond grew, Logan became more protective of you. He’d take you out to train, showing you how to defend yourself—not just with your powers, but with your fists. He wanted you to be strong, to not rely solely on your mutation. "There’s more to you than just that," he’d tell you, his tone gruff but kind. "You’ve got a brain, kid. Use it."

Logan was never one for emotional speeches, but his actions spoke louder than words. He’d be there when you had nightmares, sitting silently by your side until you fell back asleep. He made sure you had everything you needed, even if that meant going out in the middle of the night to get you something. Over time, you began to see Logan as a father figure, someone who, despite his rough edges, loved you in his own way. He was the one who taught you that you were more than just your powers, and for that, you loved him back.

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

When Jean first saw you, she sensed the fear and confusion swirling around you like a storm. You were so young, yet your powers were immense, dangerous even, and you didn’t have the control to handle them yet. Jean understood what it was like to carry the weight of powers that felt too big for you. She’d been there once, and she knew how terrifying it could be. So, from the moment you stepped foot into the mansion, Jean made it her mission to help you.

Jean was gentle with you from the start, never pushing you to open up too soon. Instead, she made sure you knew she was always there, a comforting presence in the chaos of your new life. She’d sit with you during meals, smiling softly, encouraging you to try new foods or talk about your day. "You’re not alone in this," she’d say, her voice calm and reassuring. "We’ve all been where you are. It’s okay to be scared."

The first time your powers flared up, it was in the middle of the night. You had a nightmare, and your mutation spiraled out of control, shaking the entire mansion. Jean was there within seconds, her own powers calming the chaos around you. She sat beside you, her arms around your trembling form, whispering soothing words until the storm inside you calmed. "It’s okay," she’d murmur softly. "I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you."

Jean became the mother figure you had never known. She was patient, always understanding that your powers were tied to your emotions. She spent hours with you, teaching you how to meditate, how to center yourself, and how to control the overwhelming power you carried. She shared her own experiences with you, telling you about the times she had lost control of her abilities, and how she had learned to harness them with time and practice.

The more time you spent with Jean, the more you grew to trust her. She was the one you went to when you were scared, the one who held you when the weight of your mutation became too much. Jean was always there, offering comfort, guidance, and love. She never saw you as a danger, even when your powers flared up unexpectedly. Instead, she saw you as a young mutant who just needed a little help finding her way.

As your relationship deepened, Jean became more than just a mentor—she became the mother you had always needed. She was there for every milestone, every step of your journey to control your powers. And when you finally began to master them, it was Jean who stood beside you, her smile filled with pride and love. She had taken you under her wing, and in doing so, she had given you a family.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

When you first arrived at the Xavier Institute, Ororo Munroe was one of the first faces you saw. There was something about her calm and regal presence that made you feel a little less overwhelmed by your new surroundings. You were still so young, and with your mutation threatening to spiral out of control at any moment, you were terrified. Your parents had made it clear they couldn’t handle the dangers your powers presented, and now you were here—alone, confused, and unsure of what to expect.

Ororo approached you gently, her voice soft but strong. "Welcome," she said with a warm smile. "You’re safe here. We’ll figure this out together." She could sense your unease, the way your powers hummed beneath your skin, ready to burst forth at the slightest emotional trigger. Ororo understood what it was like to have powers connected so deeply to one’s emotions. Her ability to control the weather had once been wild and untamed, just like you.

At first, you were hesitant. You didn’t trust easily, not after the way your parents had reacted to your mutation. But Ororo didn’t push. She gave you space when you needed it, but was always there when you felt ready to open up. She took you under her wing, teaching you how to connect with nature, how to calm your mind and body to prevent your powers from overwhelming you.

She would take you out into the gardens, her favorite place at the mansion, and together you would sit in the grass, surrounded by flowers and trees. Ororo showed you how to focus on the wind, the rustle of the leaves, the soft patter of rain—small, natural things that helped you feel grounded. "Your powers don’t control you," she’d say with quiet conviction. "You control them."

As time passed, Ororo became a mother figure to you. She was always patient, always understanding. She taught you discipline and control, but more than that, she taught you self-acceptance. She helped you see that your mutation was a part of who you were, but it didn’t define you. Whenever you had a rough day, Ororo would be there, offering comforting words and reminding you that you were stronger than you thought.

The bond you developed with Ororo was unbreakable. She was there through every challenge, every triumph, and every setback. With her guidance, you grew stronger, not just in your abilities, but in your confidence. And no matter how many times you stumbled, Ororo was always there to lift you back up, her gentle smile reminding you that you were never alone.

Charles Xavier (Professor X)

You hadn’t said much when you first arrived at the mansion, but Charles Xavier didn’t need words to understand the storm of emotions brewing inside you. The moment he saw you, he could sense your fear, your confusion, and the overwhelming power you were struggling to control. Your mutation was dangerous, unpredictable, and omega-level—something your parents couldn’t handle. They had sent you here, hoping Charles could help, but you felt abandoned, rejected.

Charles had seen it all before, in countless young mutants who had passed through the mansion’s doors. But something about your quiet demeanor, the way you held yourself as though you didn’t want to take up any space, tugged at his heart. He approached you with kindness, offering a gentle smile. "You’re not alone anymore," he said, his voice soft but reassuring. "This is your home now."

At first, you were skeptical. You had been told so many times that you were dangerous, that your mutation made you a threat. But Charles never treated you that way. He was patient, understanding, and always willing to listen. He never probed your mind without permission, respecting your boundaries even when he knew you were struggling.

He spent hours with you in his study, guiding you through meditation exercises, helping you learn to quiet the noise in your mind. "Your mutation is powerful," he’d tell you, "but it doesn’t have to define you. You are in control, not the other way around." His presence was calming, his belief in you unwavering. It was the first time in a long time that you felt like someone truly saw you—not as a threat, but as a person.

As the months passed, Charles became more than just a mentor to you. He was like a father, always there when you needed guidance or support. He encouraged you to push beyond your fears, to embrace your mutation as a part of who you were. With his help, you began to gain control over your powers, learning to harness them instead of being overwhelmed by them.

Charles never gave up on you, even on the days when you felt like giving up on yourself. He believed in you when no one else had, and that belief made all the difference. Over time, the bond between you grew stronger, and Charles became a pillar of strength in your life. You knew that no matter how difficult things got, he would always be there to guide you through it.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

When you were first brought to Erik Lehnsherr, you were terrified. Not just of your powers, but of him. You had heard stories—whispers about Magneto, the mutant who could control metal with just a flick of his hand, the one who had waged wars for mutantkind. But there was no one else who could understand what you were going through. Your mutation was out of control, destructive, and your parents had given up on you.

Erik didn’t approach you like the others at the mansion might have. He didn’t sugarcoat things or offer soothing words. Instead, he looked at you with a kind of intensity that made you feel like he was seeing straight through you. "You are powerful," he told you bluntly, his voice firm. "More powerful than you realize. And that power is something you must learn to control."

You weren’t sure what to make of him at first. He was intimidating, his presence almost overwhelming. But there was something in his words that resonated with you. He didn’t treat you like a fragile child. He didn’t look at you with fear or pity. Instead, he saw potential in you—potential that everyone else had overlooked.

Erik took you under his wing, and while his methods were harsh at times, they were effective. He pushed you harder than anyone else, refusing to let you be consumed by fear or self-doubt. "Fear is a weapon," he would say during training sessions. "And if you let it control you, you’ve already lost."

As the days turned into weeks, you began to see a different side of Erik. Beneath the hardened exterior, there was a deep well of care—especially for you. He had seen firsthand what it was like to be cast aside because of one’s powers, and he wasn’t going to let that happen to you. He believed in your strength, even when you didn’t, and he was determined to help you harness your abilities.

Erik was a complicated figure in your life. He wasn’t soft or gentle like the others, but he was there when you needed him most. He challenged you, pushed you to the brink, but always pulled you back when things became too much. And over time, you came to trust him, to see him as more than just a mentor. He was like a father to you, albeit one with a complicated history.

Under Erik’s guidance, you grew into your powers. He helped you understand that being powerful wasn’t something to fear—it was something to embrace. And though your relationship with him was often difficult, it was also one of the most important connections you had ever made. You knew that, despite everything, Erik cared for you in his own way. And that was enough.

[heartschampion]

we fell in love in october — masterlist

PAIRING. ethan landry x fem!reader

SUMMARY. in which you make a bet with your boyfriend, ethan, the night before the start of october. thirty-one days of sex.

CONTENT. no ghostface!au, smut, this is for kinktober so every chapter has its own thing going on i GUESS?, established relationship, slightly experienced!ethan, inexperienced!reader, they basically learn their kinks and stuff throughout the story, fluff (surprise), no beta, not proofread.

STATUS. upcoming.

AN. chapters aren't set in stone so they could change. i'm like half dead while typing this so if there's a mistake pls tell me.

⸻ INDEX.

00. SEPTEMBER 30TH

an innocent night leads to a month of filth.

01. OCTOBER 1ST

morning sex with ethan is always the best way to start off your day.

02. OCTOBER 2ND

you and ethan decide to take a big step in your relationship and have unprotected sex for the first time.

03. OCTOBER 3RD

after a long day of classes, a warm shower is all you need. and your boyfriend in there for some fun.

04. OCTOBER 4TH

shopping with tara leads to buying a little gift as a surprise for both of your boyfriends.

05. OCTOBER 5TH

ethan is out with chad for a 'boys night,' but you can't help but be desperate for his attention even miles away.

06. OCTOBER 6TH

ethan pushes you to your limits.

07. OCTOBER 7TH

an unexpected turn of events leads to discovering something new about your boyfriend.

08. OCTOBER 8TH

sex couldn't get any better with a little extra help.

09. OCTOBER 9TH

everyone needs a helping hand, or mouth.

10. OCTOBER 10TH

you and ethan recreate a scene from a book, taking on the roles of the characters.

11. OCTOBER 11TH

a college frat party isn't a likely place you'd find yourself having sex. especially not with the constant pounding on the door. ethan doesn't seem to care.

12. OCTOBER 12TH

hearing tara rave about aphrodisiacs, you decide to give them a try.

13. OCTOBER 13TH

you let ethan come in you for the first time.

14. OCTOBER 14TH

ethan becomes obsessed with the idea of breeding you, and you're no better.

15. OCTOBER 15TH

sometimes you just need a mouth to murmur sweet nothings into you to really lay back and relax.

16. OCTOBER 16TH

you find yourself a little tied up.

17. OCTOBER 17TH

ethan can't help but wrap his hands around your pretty little neck as he fucks you.

18. OCTOBER 18TH

the phone starts ringing mid session. ethan urges you to answer.

19. OCTOBER 19TH

ethan's partner for his econ project can't seem to keep her hands to herself. your jealousy gets the better of you and you decide to show who he belongs to.

20. OCTOBER 20TH

the group is out for a night of fun, unaware of the game being held between you and ethan.

21. OCTOBER 21ST

hopefully no one notices your hands down the pants of your boyfriend.

22. OCTOBER 22ND

there's nothing more enticing than what you can't see.

23. OCTOBER 23RD

you let ethan fuck you in your sleep after he comes home late.

24. OCTOBER 24TH

watching each other get off turns out to be more intimate than you thought it would be. the only rule is no touching.

25. OCTOBER 25TH

you and ethan get shit-faced drunk, unable to keep your hands to yourselves any longer.

26. OCTOBER 26TH

after the other night, you want to know what it's like to be ethan's little pet.

27. OCTOBER 27TH

cockwarming ethan as he tutors you.

28. OCTOBER 28TH

he much as he gets off on giving you pleasure, he finds just as much amusement in denying it from you.

29. OCTOBER 29TH

you finally let ethan fuck you from the back.

30. OCTOBER 30TH

october is coming close to an end, so the two of you decide to make a little reminder of your time together.

31. OCTOBER 31ST

the best thing about sex with ethan landry is the aftercare he gives afterwards.

32. NOVEMBER 1ST

you get a little more than you bargained for.

[akutasoda]

"i think i was born wanting more, i think i was born missing you"

--he always brushed you off, pushing you further and further to keep you out of the way. yet when he sees you with someone else, he lets the bitter jealousy get the best of him - and for the first time, he thinks with his heart, not his brain. but it's too late.

--warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight crack, angst no comfort, one-sided(?) pining, maybe ooc? wc - 1.6k

--a/n: rghhh ratio. i have no clue how to write for this man.

the intelligentsia guild. a branch of the IPC that focused on it's praised academics.

distinguished scholars worked alongside the up and comings, building their reputations to start a proper career in their respective fields. it was no surprise that the guild was full of all kinds of people from every different walk of life imaginable. ratio was one of such.

although a key difference between him and the rest of his colleagues was that this was his second choice. the doctor always dreamed of being acknowledged by nous - to feel their piercing gaze and know that in their view, he was worthy of their recognition. he wanted to be a member of ths genius society, the only way was to has that recognition, a one way ticket into the society.

but he wasn't selfish. ratio believed that everyone deserved knowledge, he spread his word through his lectures and publications - ensuring that others had the capacity to be something other than half-witted. he was prideful in his knowledge, but not to the extent to be considered arrogant. not enough to be recognised - some may disagree but even ratio couldn't help but be slightly arrogant or impatient around those that couldn't comprehend him.

he wasn't a scholar that worked for petty pride, and so nous wouldn't even spare him one glance. blocked from joining the genius society, ratio turned to the next best thing. the intelligentsia guild. an organisation that's entry requirement wasn't the acknowledgement of an aeon. accepting the second best was a constant reminder to him, everyday when he arrived at the guild, he would be reminded of his failure.

it would have to do however. his goals didn't align with that of the aeon he desperately craved the attention of, sooner or later ratio would have to come to terms with this.

but is holding on easier than letting go?

---✩

you and veritas were colleagues.

he was your first ever research partner at the guild - you don't think the looks of pity on your other colleagues faces when it was announced that you and ratio would be working together. surely this “dr ratio” wasn't that bad?

well in some way you'd been right. ratio clearly lived up to his prestigious reputation but very quickly you learnt just why most people preferred to not work with him. he didn't exactly want to work with anyone there anyway, but the guild's main leaders were fed up with him refusing.

to his credit, ratio was incredibly credible and pulled his weight with the research. it was less surprising that the project was practically completed in no time than the fact that you and ratio were compatible research partners.

they still felt pity toward you, the likelihood being that you were now the fallback for ratio's research partner - a fate that they wouldn't wish upon you.

the only issue with ratio was that he could be rather stuck in his ways. most often he believed that he was the correct one, even if you reached the same conclusion but through your own credited means, he would strongly insist that his way was superior.

sure there were other minor things that could make the scholar rather unbearable to work with but he always made results. that you could respect, but you did have to question if he could do so while still retaining a shred of decency to his colleagues - especially you as his main research partner.

gradually, over time spent mainly as his research partner, you became “close” with ratio. compared to hw he treated other colleagues, you looked like his closest friend. but to him, that couldn't be further from the truth.

in your eyes, he was something slightly closer than a simple colleague. the amount of time you spent with him seemed to justify such an assumption. however, ratio wasn't as chummy. he saw you as a simple colleague, albeit more intelligent than the rest of them, but a colleague nonetheless - a favorite at a stretch.

although it couldn't go unnoticed to both the two of you and other intelligentsia guild members, that you both started naturally drifting toward one another. noticeably more you than him, but curiously he never pushed you away.

mainly it was you talking to him while he worked or focused on whatever else captured his. at first you never minded, instead finding his company somewhat peaceful. but his lack of actual engagement made you feel slightly insecure about always hanging around him.

ratio barely acknowledged you when you were around. eventually you started figuring that he didn't want you around, that you were only inconveniencing him but he was too polite to tell you that directly. his blunt words and seeming lack of genuine interest convinced you so - and not so long after, you stopped talking to him, returning back to a strictly research partner relationship.

it didn't take him long to realize the distance you quickly put between the two of you. ratio wanted to know why. he didn't understand why you suddenly became so absent. but he wouldn't ask. his natural pride wouldn't let him, he was sure enough that it was temporary - perhaps you had become busy and had no spare time, even if it wasn't he was sure you'd come back to him eventually.

the doctor couldn't comprehend the fact that he “cared” for you. that all that time spent as research partners had led to him developing somewhat of a bond with you - it'd never happened before, so why now? and why of all people, was it you?

a newfound realization occurred to him. your distance gave him time to think, time to realize just how much you affected him. and he didn't like it.

to ratio, he didn't understand why he felt that way around you. you shouldn't have been any more than a colleague and yet you were becoming more to him. that was a weaknesses. he despised the fact that his brain was betraying him. forcing him to think of you and it made him stop. why did you make him feel this way?

naturally, because of the new distance between the two of you, you grew apart. becoming more like colleagues again rather than close acquaintances. at first, ratio thought it was for the best. you were meant to be a colleague, nothing more.

so why was he longing for your presence?

why did he perk up when he saw you walking toward him just to feel deflated and jealous when you walked straight past him to someone else?

ratio found himself always looking for you in a crowd, just to snap himself out of it when he realized what he was doing. what was wrong with him? the doctor cursed his brain for thinking about you constantly - this wasn't like him, he needed to snap out of it.

but he couldn't. day in and day out, the smallest convenience brought his thoughts back to you and he abhorred it. maybe he should've fought more to stop being assigned a research partner, if he did, you wouldn't be a problem for him.

ratio carried on living in his state of denial, still completely confident that you would return to him at some point and everything would go back to normal. however, the longer he waited the more you practically infected his thoughts.

but he wasn't willing to come to terms with his feelings. it was a useless endeavor to try and comprehend such simple chemical signals in the brain, nothing more. they would go away eventually. ratio just needed to grasp ahold of his brain again. these feelings were only fleeting.

afterall, ratio didn't love you. he didn't even see you as anything more than a colleague. but why did he wish he could?

---✩

ratio paced past a group of guild members but slowed when he picked out your name among their hushed whispers and giggles. one member caught how the doctor slowed and smiled at him.

“i didn't peg you for a gossip enjoyer dr.ratio” his colleague almost giggled

ratio sighed and shook his head, ready to pick up his pace again and leave - why should he care about what your up to anyway. or that was his plan until another member of the gossip group urged him to listen which, he did, his curiosity getting the better of him.

they explained how only moments ago one of your colleagues confessed their love to you - to which you claimed to reciprocate. ratio didn't bother hearing the rest, instead opting to hurry over to the location of the confession with more urgency than ever.

he got there just in time to see you two together.

bitter jealousy bubbled to the front of his mind. it was an ugly emotion that only served to taunt his mistake. it made him ball his fist, nails digging into his palms and a twinge of disgust graced his features. ratio caught himself however, dropping his fists, shoulders slumping and letting his features twist into a sorrowful pain.

he stared almost slack jawed as you walked further away, hand in hand with someone that wasn't him.

and for the first time, ratio felt stupid.

rest of the "series"

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn, @https-sourlimes

[rwac96]

Similar but Different (RWBY Shitpost)

Weiss: *annoyed* "I swear, you're a constant headache."

Ruby: "C'mon, Weiss! I'm just gettin' ya to try a hamburger. No need to be so down."

Weiss: "I prefer not to be eating greasy food."

Bleiss: *far away* "Fucking dammit, Blu! You are a fucking downer!"

*Ruby & Weiss turn to see Bleiss Gele...and a girl who looks like a blue version of Ruby*

Bluby: *picks at her food* "I'm just saying this stuff will make you fat. And please don't reply with 'phat'."

Bleiss: *groans* "Ugh! Can we go somewhere without you bringing down the fucking vibe?!"

Weiss: *confused* "BLEISS?!"

Ruby: "What are you doing with my clone?"

Bleiss: "Well, I've been trying to cheer her dreary ass up! And thaaank you for reminding her she ain't the real Jailbait, Jailbait."

Bluby: *turns to Ruby & Weiss, waving to the pair* "Hello reminder of my memories and life being fake."

Ruby: "Bluby, no! You're more than The Observer's soldier. You're your own person."

Weiss: "I still can't believe she returned to Remnant with us."

[hannyoontify]

casual - yoon jeonghan [teaser]

member | childhood best friend!jeonghan x fem!oc

genre | fluff, angst and angst and lots of angst, childhood best friends to ????

teaser word count | 1k (full fic est. 12k)

synopsis | throughout her childhood, jeonghan was the one constant in jeong-ah's life. he was her rock and she was his, but there was always an unspoken tension between the two, something that made jeong-ah's stomach flutter and her pulse race. was it casual, like jeonghan said? or was there a possibility of being something more?

warnings | none (in teaser)

notes | inspired from this post i made a while back! bc this was inspired by events that happened irl, i had to make it an oc so that things made sense (like their names)

“You should ask me why we’re in here instead of sleeping like everyone else.”

I let out a sigh that ended in a laugh. “Okay, Jeonghan. Why are we in here instead of sleeping like everyone else?”

Jeonghan immediately straightened his back and turned his body to face me, and I mirrored his movements. The way he looked at me with shining, excited eyes reminded me of the same 5-year old who enjoyed pulling on my pigtails and playing hide-and-seek.

Despite growing a lot in the past decade together, there were still some parts of Yoon Jeonghan that never seemed to change. For example, that mischievous look on his face whenever he was about to do something he wasn’t supposed to. 

“Wait here.” Jeonghan disappeared outside and I couldn’t help but smile at his excited, almost child-like demeanor. Resting my head against the wall, I looked up and saw the sloped ceiling decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars.

The door soon opened again and Jeonghan reappeared with a single cupcake, a match, a candle, and two mini party hats. “I know we all got in trouble with our parents today so we can’t celebrate New Year’s, but I still wanted to do something for you. I know how much you love New Year’s celebrations.”

It was true. When all six of us had gotten in trouble earlier that evening because Jeonghan convinced all of us to try and help him set up a booby trap in his grumpy neighbor's backyard involving popping firecrackers, I was greatly disheartened when our parents decided that our punishment would be a bedtime of 9:30 and no New Year’s celebration.

I was particularly more upset than others because my parents had promised me a year ago that this New Year’s celebration would be the year where I finally got to try champagne.

“Jeonghan, I-” I faltered. I couldn’t find the words to describe how grateful I was to have him at that moment. 

Jeonghan scrambled to sit in the empty spot next to me. “You can thank me and be impressed later, just put this hat on. We only have a minute left.” He snapped on his own party hat before sliding its identical piece over my own head.

With a shaky hand, Jeonghan struck the match and lit the candle that was stuck atop the cupcake. We had made these cupcakes earlier today, with the help of our siblings. It had always been a tradition of ours.

My family would go over to the Yoon family’s house for the New Year’s and we would spend the night. Jeonghan, his older brother, and I were the older ones so we usually resorted to playing video games, board games, and baking while our younger siblings played with toys or watched TV. Our time together was always fun and a big highlight of my winter break every year.

But two years ago, when Jeonghan and I kissed in the summer, something changed. Our conversations became more stiff and awkward and he seemed to avoid me and my text messages more often.

When I consulted my mother about this situation (minus the kissing part), she had laughed and told me, “It’s because both of you are going through puberty now. It’s okay, it’s natural! Your relationship is going to return to normal in no time.”

Albeit it did take two years and a global pandemic for the two of us to be back on speaking terms again, but I was thankful to have my best friend back.

Jeonghan looked at me with a bright smile as he softly began to count down, his phone propped up against the wall so we could keep an eye on the clock. The single flame of the candle seemed to reflect the hundreds and thousands of stars that Jeonghan held within his eyes. His long lashes fluttered against his pale cheek bone and that tear-shaped mole on his right cheek that I had always been fond of. 

“Five… four…” I joined him in the count down, our hands holding the small cupcake together. 

I’d grown to accept the fact that Jeonghan wanted to pretend that kiss never happened. I did a lot of thinking and reflecting to realize that it was our silly pre-pubescent emotions that had gotten the best of us in that moment. It never meant anything.

“Two… one! Happy new year!” Jeonghan cheered. “One, two, three!”

11 years of friendship helped me to immediately recognize Jeonghan’s intent when he began counting again.

When he reached 3, the two of us blew at the single candle and the flame flickered for a moment before it disappeared, leaving a small trail of white smoke in its wake. Jeonghan pulled the candle out of the cupcake and I dipped my finger into the frosting and smeared it across my best friend’s cheek.

Jeonghan smiled with a mischievous glint in his eyes before dipping this thumb into the white frosting and spreading it across my forehead. “Simbaaaaa.”

We both erupted into a fit of childish giggles as I tried to smear another glob of dense, sweet frosting onto his face, but he dodged my hand successfully. But because Jeonghan was blessed by the genetic gods and had much longer arms than I did, he was able to reach over and smudge another spot of white frosting onto the top of my nose.

“Ewww!” I cried loudly.

Jeonghan tried to shush me but it was too late. We heard a door upstairs opening, and a pair of footsteps moving down the stairs. Jeonghan and I held onto each other with bated breaths and when we heard the footsteps slowly fade away, we let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Maybe they’re just grabbing water or some-” As Jeonghan whispered into my ear, the doorknob of the small door rattled and opened, revealing Mrs. Yoon, half disheveled with a face mask.

I clamped a hand over my mouth to suppress the giggle that was threatening to erupt as Jeonghan fumbled to find the right words. “H-hi, mom. We were just-”

“Out. Both of you. Now.”

Uh oh.

PLEASEEE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK

and as always, reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

[cloudcountry]

a broken symbol ⤿ you bring toshinori out of his mind

comments: i have nothing to say...hello mha fandom...are we still here...

tags: sir nighteye is mentioned, fluff, established relationship, toshinori is whipped, retired toshinori, insecurities.

These days, it doesn’t take much for Toshinori to collapse. He’s been retired for quite a while now but still helps out behind the scenes, always the hero even though he deserves nothing but rest. He ends up excusing himself from his work every hour, only to run to the nearest bathroom and crumple over the first drain he can reach.

His side flares up with pain and he clutches the flesh, feeling the stretched and scarred skin that caused his health to decline so rapidly as he hacks up far too much blood. Despite everything—the scar and the blood he spits up and the way he really doesn’t have a quirk anymore and the way he can’t maintain his muscular form even if he wanted to—he still works.

And at the end of the day, his gnarled, gangly form drags its way over to you, the person he is finally able to love just a little bit, because the public knows he is All Might and he is still very much a target, and he knows he can still protect you but he’d rather not have it come to that.

Each day was harder than the last, more taxing on his broken and battered body. Even simple tasks like getting out of bed were becoming difficult, the scars and residual pain a constant reminder of just how beaten he truly was.

Why were you with a man like him?

What could he give you, really? He wasn’t young anymore, nor was he muscular or flashy. He couldn’t give you the life you deserved, with a partner the same age as you, in top condition, ready to spoil you relentlessly. Instead you got a run down, broken man, his muscles and glory gone. The only thing he could possibly offer you was his smile.

(Not the well trained one for the press, or the one he saved for victims during and after he saved them. The one that only his colleagues and his students have seen, the awkward one that droops a little on the right, the one that makes his eyes shut with peace he hasn’t known in forever, the one that accompanies a nervous laugh.)

He doesn’t notice your presence when he steps through the front door, muttering a soft “I’m home,” as he takes his shoes off in the doorway. You stand there, waiting for him with a ladle in hand, a cute apron wrapped around you. Your touch feels like an anchor when it reaches him, brushing his snarled hair away from his eyes. You look so concerned and it punches him right in the gut, guilt seeping into his expression. He feels so frail in front of you, like a giant skinny bug. Why do you treat him so gently?

Toshinori’s heart squeezes. He doesn’t deserve you. He’s pathetic, a broken symbol of peace, a reminder that he couldn’t do more for the people he wanted to protect, for his Master who bet everything on him, for young Midoriya who looked up at him with stars in his eyes.

You ask him if he’s getting in his own head again. Your words swim around his skull, only barely making sense as he ducks his head, lanky arms pulling you into his chest and holding you close. He doesn’t cry, it’s rare that he ever does, but he doesn’t stop the single tear that falls down his cheek. You hug him back immediately, pressing your hands into his back, and it feels so soft and warm.

What did he do to deserve something—someone—as soft as this?

“You’ve done everything.” you scold, holding him a little tighter.

How can you sound so gentle even when berating him for being pathetic?

No, that’s not what you were doing. You were just loving him.

“You’ve saved millions. You fought for them for decades. You stopped All for One time and time again. You’ve saved the world over and over. You’ve built society from the ground up.” you reprimand him for each mean thought he has about him, piecing him together from the ashes of his legacy.

He doesn’t say anything, slumped over on your shoulder, taking in your words like they’re the softest, sweetest thing he’s heard his whole life.

Everyone else wanted All Might. He was so, so lucky to find the person who loved Toshinori.

“I understand that the world isn’t safe yet, and I get that you will always be a hero at heart. It’s one of the many things I love about you.” you pick and choose your words carefully, he can hear it in your tone, “This is the life you chose and I won’t try to take it away from you. Just let me support you. And for the sake of the world, stop being so harsh on yourself.”

As he gazes at you, he can’t help but think that his world has narrowed down considerably since he retired. He entrusted the Earth to his students and colleagues, putting blood, sweat, and tears into the staircase he built for them, just so they could reach the highest peak and succeed in protecting everyone they cared for. He is, no matter how he feels about it, just a man now. And his world became you a while ago.

It feels selfish for him to admit that to himself. He will never stop caring about the public, the people who put their hopes and dreams on his shoulders and allowed him to carry their burdens for him, but you’re the only one who has ever really taken his burdens.

Maybe it’s because he never allowed anyone else to. He holds you just a little bit tighter, memories of friends long gone who pleaded with him not to go flashing through his mind.

“You will always be a hero, love.” you sigh, brushing his cheek with the back of your hand, “You will forever be my hero. But right now, I want you to just be you.”

That’s right. He shudders in your arms, a remnant of what once was, but this remnant loves you with every shattered bit of him.

“Right.” he says, voice low and soft.

He hardly has the energy to say anything else, but he knows he doesn’t have to.

Not when it’s you.

[zootopiathingz]

Hazbin Hotel AU where the sinners are forever haunted and mentally tortured by their ‘inner demon’ which is an entity that branches off of them and appears just as they do but is far more unsettling and gruesome-looking (perhaps with features that highlights the way they died). It’s a constant reminder of their sins, their failures, their insecurities, their flaws, their mistakes. It’s that voice you often hear in your head when you think you’re not enough, but it’s made 100x times worse.

Many sinners end up selling their souls so they can have some freedom from these monsters that follow them around everywhere. Because if they are no longer in possession of their own soul—which contains the inner demon—then they no longer have to put up with it and it becomes their owner’s problem.

Overlords gradually figured out a way to dispose of the inner demons of the souls they own, which paints the idea of selling your soul in a much better light.

It’s also why Charlie is so insist on redeeming sinners. Yes, the extermination is terrible but it provides mercy to these poor souls that have that reminder of their past mistakes following them everywhere they go. But she knows there’s a better way to save them not just from second death, but from the psychological torture of being a sinner in Hell. Redemption is made 10 times harder with the inner demons following the patrons around telling them they can’t be fixed and that they’ll never be worthy of living in Heaven.

[scarfacemarston]

Hey! I saw your post asking for Bucky requests so I have one:

I was thinking maybe a Bucky x Gender Neutral Reader where he asks his partner to shave his face and trim his hair for him? Nothing smutty or anything, just some nice fluff of Bucky being taken care of and treated gently by the person he loves 💜 thank you in advanced!!!!

Sorry this is so late, but I FINALLY did it. There is a reference to make up in the post, but I firmly believe that's a gender neutral thing.

You shut the door to the apartment, placing the keys in the key basket.

"Darling? I'm home. Are you here?" You called.

"Yeah, in here," Bucky called back. You took off your jacket, threw it on the couch, and followed his voice. There, you saw Bucky, his hands on the counter, gazing at himself in the mirror, looking contemplative.

Usually, you allowed Bucky to speak on his own time, but sometimes, you gently encouraged him to communicate his feelings.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You asked, slipping an arm around his waist, your head resting on his back.

Bucky let out the quietest of chuckles.

"Don't have any of those. Thoughts or pennies." He muttered. The air was thick with apprehension.

"Fine. I think it's time for a change. I'm tired of seeing him in the mirror. It's a constant reminder of those days and I'm tired of it. I know everyone wants me to move on. It's easier on them than having this…half human cyborg old man people think is on the verge of snapping."

You squeezed him tight.

"You're not  a half-human cyborg. Yes, you're old, but you're still human. And one of the strongest men I know." You sushed him.

Bucky grunted in response before turning to face you.

"I think it's time I cleaned up a bit. I won't ever be the old me. That man doesn't exist. He died in '45. That's who people want me to be, but it's not going to happen. I don't want to look exactly like tht. It feels like I'm being mocked. Maybe….something similar with a modern twist. I don't know. I used to know what suited me. I don't anymore." He sighed.

"Maybe I can help? I've cut my hair a few times and I know how to shave if you want that as well."

Bucky raised an eyebrow.

'You'd do that for me? Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't, handsome. This is only if you want it, though. Don't do it for me, or for Steve or to make others feel a certain way."

"Right, I know. That's what I was saying…But I think I'm ready." Bucky confirmed, giving your hand a squeeze. You nodded as the both of you gathered the supplies needed in the bathroom.

You pulled a dining room chair in, set a washbasin to create a makeshift workstation, and grabbed hair supplies. Bucky gathered towels and shaving supplies before pulling out a small grooming kit. He smiled sheepishly.

"Yeah, I bought it myself. I've been trying to psyche myself up for a while, but I just haven't been able to do it." he shrugged.

"Stop worrying and come sit down. Relax. Everything will be okay. You're in control, Bucky. It's 100% you. If you only want a few centimeters off or even decide to change your mind, you can do that. This is your choice." You stressed.

"I know. Thank you." he muttered quietly as he sat down.

"So, shaving first or hair?" you asked as Bucky took a seat, resting his head back.

"Hm, I'm thinking a shave," he answered

"A trim?" you asked

"No, a full shave." he clarified.

You paused.

"Are you sure?" you asked.

"Yes. Absolutely. It will grow back in a few days if I hate it." he confirmed/

You nodded.

"Of course. That should actually make things a little easier.. I'm a raid I don't have those long razors that open up on a hinge."

"Well, no. I wouldn't expect you to," he laughed.

"This isn't 1850 either. But, hey, even if you did, I'd trust you with a knife against my throat anyway!" He said with a lopsided grin.

"True. Now, let me pamper you." You said playfully, patting his cheek. You turned on the warm water, wetting his face before placing shaving gel on his lower face and jaw and gently rubbing the product in as it sudded up. You smiled at Bucky as you leaned over and pecked his forehead.

"You ready, big guy?" You murmured.

"Baby, we're doing a haircut and a shave, not about to jump out of a window in a burning building," Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

You held up your hands in defense.

"Alright, alright, just making sure!" you said as you gently began to shave, going methodically slow, careful not to nick Bucky. It was far easier than you thought it would be. It was no different than shaving in most other places…well, except for a nick, it could be more serious here, but who's asking?

The actual shaving took little time. You admired your handy work. The shave took years off of Bucky's appearance. You grinned as you rinsed Bucky's chin and neck. 

"Looking good, handsome! Not that you didn't look handsome before," You amended.

"Now, your hair. I'll wash it first but for the cutting? That shouldn't take too long, but I want to be careful, " you said.

You started to hum absent-mindedly as you set to work. Bucky closed his eyes in bliss as you shampooed his hair, massaging the soap into it. Bucky grinned, sighing happily.

"You have magic fingers," he murmured with a happy groan. You spent extra time massaging his head, knowing that Bucky had frequent headaches. However, cutting his hair took longer than you expected, but Bucky was still. You checked on Bucky every few minutes before hearing Bucky sigh in annoyance.

"I'm fine! Just keep working!" Bucky finally chastised.

You smiled to yourself,

"Just checking, darling. I'll stop," you replied, quietly returning once more. Soon, you stopped, proud of your work. You withheld a gasp as you reached for the hair dryer. Bucky was always beautiful to you, regardless of his appearance, but this haircut was a different sort of beauty. You had studied the fashion, hair, and makeup of the 40s once you started to date him to plan a potential date night with materials from the era. That, and you had seen a few photos of Bucky's time before and during the war.

While he did not look identical to his time in the 1940s, there was still an element of the 1940s with a touch of modernity. Truth be told, you were quite proud of yourself. You couldn't wait to see how Bucky styled it.

Bucky's eyes widened as he saw your smile.

"Alirght, let me see, let me see, " he said, sitting up. He stared at his reflection, his expression blank, before he narrowed his eyes, the silence filling the room. You swallowed your anxiety.

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair before flitting his eyes to yours.

"It……..looks good." He finally answered. That didn't seem optimistic.

"I messed up, didn't I?" You said, trying to keep the defeat out of your voice.

"No. You didn't." He answered sharply before softening his features.

"It's just different, is all. I haven't seen me look like this since the early 90s when I was expected to complete an assassination  undercover." he explained.

You couldn't bring yourself to say anything except 'Oh.'

"But it still looks like my former self. It was risky for Hydra to do really, considering this is bringing back memories. Turns out, Hydra couldn't shut everything out."

"I'm sorry." You began.

"I promise you, I'm fine. I won't break. I told you that earlier, didn't I? No. I'm just surprised is all because I do see bits of who I was before, but it's still different enough that I'm not identical." Bucky explained. Bucky sighed before taking your chin into his hands.

"Don't worry about me. You did a wonderful job." He murmured as he kissed you gently.

"Besides, I saw your expression when you finished. Clearly you liked it, which makes it all worth it…and no, you're not making me be someone I don't want to be. You accept me as I am and that's the difference." He enunciated.

He got up, brushing the hair off of him.

"Uh, I'll get a broom. I insist." He offered. He grinned at you, making you lose your breath.

"Let's get dinner out. You can show me off." he winked.

"Sounds like a plan." You said, returning his grin.

[moonsandmobilityaids]

Blanket Forts

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: It's been a bad day, but when you return to your room, your boys are waiting. Warnings: Chronic pain Series Masterlist

The day feels almost unbearably long and tiring, as though time itself has slowed to a crawl. Classes drag on, each one blending into the next until they become a blur of faces and voices. The pain in your body is a constant companion, a dull throb that reminds you with every breath just how far from normal your life has become. By the end of the day, you are utterly spent—physically, mentally, emotionally.

Even the smallest task seems monumental now. Your bones feel heavy within your skin, weighted down by fatigue and the invisible chains of your own limitations. All you desire is a moment's respite, a safe place to retreat and forget, if only for a while, the truth of your existence.

With a sigh, you grip the wheels of your chair, muscles straining as you push yourself along the stone corridors of Hogwarts. The halls are quieter than usual, most students still in the great hall having dinner. The usual hum of activity that fills the castle has faded to a whisper, leaving behind a silence that is both comforting and eerie.

You're grateful for the solitude, at least. After a day like today, the cacophony of life that usually permeates Hogwarts would be too much to bear. Instead, you welcome the stillness, letting it wrap around you like a blanket as you navigate the familiar path back to Gryffindor Tower.

You push open the door to the common room, and there it is—the entranceway to your accessible chamber. You pause, letting out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. The thought of crossing that threshold, of being alone with your pain and exhaustion, makes your chest tighten. It's always easier when the others are around, their presence a balm against the sting of isolation. But tonight, the idea of hiding away from the world, if only for a few hours, holds an undeniable appeal.

You reach for the doorknob, steeling yourself for the solitude that awaits, but as the door creaks open, you're met with anything but darkness and silence. Instead, the warm glow of candlelight washes over you, and you blink in surprise, momentarily thrown off guard.

The scent of burning wood fills your nostrils, comforting in its familiarity, and you hear the faint crackle of the fireplace before you see it. Its gentle light dances across the room, casting long shadows that flicker and sway. But it's not the fire that catches your attention—it's the sight that greets you beyond it.

James, Sirius, and Remus are already there.

They sit sprawled across your bed, propped up against a mountain of pillows, while blankets lie strewn about them like the beginnings of a fortress. A fortress built not of stone and mortar, but of warmth and friendship—a barrier against the chill seeping into your bones.

At the sound of your entrance, James lifts his head, glasses askew, eyes brightening at the sight of you. "There you are," he says, voice soft yet carrying through the room. "We were beginning to think you got lost on the way."

The corners of your mouth twitch upwards, but the smile doesn't reach your eyes. "Just been a long day... You weren't at dinner, so I didn't realise you were waiting," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Before you can protest further, Sirius is there by your side, his hand resting lightly on the armrest of your wheelchair as he crouches to meet your gaze. His usual bright grin is absent, replaced with a soft expression you've rarely seen. "You look like you've been through the wringer," he says, his voice dropping an octave as concern etches lines into his forehead. "Are you alright?"

You open your mouth to reply, to brush off his worry with a lighthearted remark, but the words stick in your throat like glue. A lump forms, growing larger with each passing second until it feels like you're choking on the emotions you've held back all day. Your vision blurs, and you blink rapidly, trying to clear the unwanted tears threatening to spill over. The weight of the day—the pain, the exhaustion—crashes down upon you like a wave, relentless and unforgiving.

"Everything," you breathe out, your voice so faint it's almost swallowed by the silence. "Everything hurts. I'm just... so tired."

The last word is barely a exhale as your eyes flutter shut. You can't keep them open any longer. The walls are closing in, and all you want is to escape into the comforting darkness.

Remus is at your side before you can even finish speaking, his arms coming around you in a gentle embrace. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to. His presence is a balm, a steady rock in the storm that has become your world. You lean into him, letting yourself relax for the first time in what feels like forever.

"We've got you," Remus murmurs, his voice soft against your ear. "We're here, and we're going to take care of you."

James and Sirius exchange a glance, a silent understanding passing between them. They've seen you like this before, but it never gets easier. James moves first, pushing the wheelchair towards the bed while Sirius steps forward to help lift you out of it. They work as a team, their movements slow and careful to avoid causing you any more pain than you're already in. You can do it yourself, but you don't have the energy to argue.

Remus' hold on you tightens slightly as they guide you onto the bed, his fingertips pressing lightly into your back. He helps settle you into the middle of the blankets, arranging them around you until you're as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.

As you settle amidst their warmth and familiarity, something within you uncoils just slightly. Not entirely—not yet—but enough for you to draw breath without the sharp sting of panic accompanying it.

Sirius eases himself down next to you, his muscles protesting the sudden drop in adrenaline. He drapes an arm over your waist, his hand coming to rest lightly on your side. "Thought we'd keep it low-key tonight," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Maybe build a blanket fort, tell some stories. Prongs was just about to regale us with the tale of how he tried to impress Evans by enchanting the entire Quidditch pitch to change colours."

"Merlin," James groans, throwing a pillow at Sirius. It's a feeble attempt at deflection, one that Sirius easily catches with a grin. "Do we really have to discuss this? It was third year."

"Absolutely." The word is firm, final, and yet it carries an undercurrent of mirth that only Sirius Black can manage in such circumstances.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, and they're all looking at you then, their own smiles tentative mirrors of the one you've managed to summon. The room feels less like a prison, more like a sanctuary, each breath drawn easier than the last.

Remus's arm, warm and steady, wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side. "We don't have to talk," he murmurs, so softly it's almost lost amid the rustling of sheets and the distant hooting of an owl outside. "If you want to just lie here and rest, that's fine too."

You nod against his chest, each rise and fall of his breath a lullaby in its own right. "That sounds nice," you admit, the words barely above a whisper.

The silence stretches between you all, not oppressive but rather filled with a hushed reverence for the moment. The only sounds are the crackle of the fire eating away at logs, the rustle of blankets shifting over limbs, and the steady rhythm of your own breath mingling with those of the boys.

You feel their warmth seeping into your chilled bones—James's arm draped across your legs, Sirius's hand resting lightly on your knee, Remus's chest rising and falling beneath your cheek. It's as though the very marrow of them reaches out to soothe your battered soul, offering solace without words. For a time, the outside world ceases to exist; there is no pain, no fear, only the sanctuary they've formed around you.

James stirs beside you, his fingers brushing against your arm, a feather-light touch that nonetheless anchors you to the here and now. "Fancy hearing something that'll make you laugh?" His voice is soft, almost hesitant, as if he fears shattering the delicate peace that has settled over you all.

Your nod is barely perceptible, your head moving just a fraction against the soft fabric of Remus's shirt. But James seems to understand, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"Earlier today," he begins, a hint of amusement colouring his tone, "I was speaking with McGonagall about the Quidditch match next week."

There's a pause, as if James is savouring the memory, allowing the silence to build anticipation.

"Just a casual chat, you know?" His voice is casual, but there's a gleam in his eye that suggests otherwise. "She mentioned that she'd been watching our last practice and had noticed some of my...er...more impressive moves."

The air between them crackles with unspoken laughter as they both recall the audacious stunts James has become known for on the pitch—manoeuvres that would have most teachers reaching for a calming draught.

"I thought she might actually compliment me for once," James continues, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the reprimand that follows. "But instead, she told me not to even think about attempting any of those tricks in the actual match...or I'd find myself cleaning every cauldron in the castle."

Laughter erupts from Sirius, a sound as contagious as it is genuine. He shakes his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth. "Only you, Prongs. Only you could get under McGonagall's skin like that."

James' response is a nonchalant shrug, but the glint of satisfaction in his gaze is unmistakable. "Well, someone has to keep her on her toes."

There's a soft chuckle that bubbles up from your throat, the sound foreign to your own ears after the day's trials. But it's real, as real as the warmth that begins to replace the cold dread that had settled in your bones. You shift, the movement small, but it brings you closer to Remus, his arm secure around your shoulders.

"None of us are leaving until you're feeling better," Sirius insists, tugging at the blanket that drapes over your group. His hands work with a gentleness you wouldn't expect from someone so often ruled by passion and impulsivity. He moulds the fabric around you, his actions forming a protective cocoon against the chill of the world outside.

"Forever," James echoes, his voice carrying the weight of a promise. There's a rustling under the blankets as he reaches for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. The connection is grounding, a reminder that you're not alone, even when the shadows creep in.

You turn your gaze towards them, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames in the grate. For the first time since you awoke this morning, the fatigue that clings to your mind wavers. It's still there, a lingering spectre, but it no longer feels insurmountable. The pain has not vanished, but it's been hushed, its cries less deafening in the company of those who refuse to let it claim you.

Remus moves to sit next to you, his hand finding a place in your hair, fingers gently sifting through the strands. The gesture is as soothing as a lullaby, slowly coaxing your tense muscles into relaxation. "We've got you," he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of an unspoken promise. "Always."

The silence returns, but it's different now—comfortable, a blanket of safety rather than a shroud of dread. The space between heartbeats stretches out, filled with quiet understanding and shared resolve.

James lets out a yawn that seems to start from his toes and ripple all the way up to the crown of his head. He stretches, arms reaching for some invisible point before they fall back down, landing in the mess of blankets with a soft thud. "I'm so tired," he admits, voice thick with exhaustion. "But I'm staying right here."

"Same here," Sirius mumbles, his words muffled as he buries his face in a cushion. "Let's just live here now."

You fight back a chuckle, your eyes fluttering closed as you listen to their bickering. The warmth from the fire licks at your skin, and the blankets cocoon you in a comfort that feels almost foreign after the day's events. Your muscles ache with a fatigue that seems bone-deep, but it's a good kind of tired—the kind that comes from exertion and laughter, not fear.

"Sounds perfect," you murmur, barely louder than the crackling flames.

Your mind begins to drift, lulled by the heat and the steady rhythm of their breathing. The tension that's been coiled tight within you since this morning gradually unwinds, replaced by a sense of peace you haven't felt in far too long. You're not certain when sleep finally claims you—only that one moment you're listening to their soft voices mingling with the fire's song, and the next, you're sinking into a darkness that promises rest.

You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your own anymore. You have them. And in this moment, that’s all you need.

[cocktailjjrs]

So......

Since I've been suffering with these angsty thoughts... i though i would invite you all suffer with me...

It's about Chuuya...

I was doing some research for my fic (mainly going through bsd novels, blogs, tags and all) and came across this one Insta post in passing (sorry, i don't remember the name).

It was about BSD's cycles.

First, cycle of abuse, going from Mori-Dazai-Aku-Kyouka

and Second of rescue, going from Natsume-Oda-Dazai-Atsushi-Kyouka.

And then they highlighted a third category, the one's who are not saved - including Chuuya, Aku and Q.

At that point i didn't think much about it, just another post while scrolling Insta.

But now it's keeps bothering me, a constant reminder, whenever i read something BSD.

And It's so heart wrenching.

It also hit me, Q and Aku can still be saved.

Q, while we don't exactly know where they are right now, there is a chance of them getting their own arc, backstory and then being saved.

Aku, while still in Mafia, his partnership with Atsushi is his saving grace already. He is making an effort to not kill, just for their deal/bet. By the end of it all, he will be in a better place than he is now.

But Chuuya. (Spoiler's for light novel's if you haven't read them)

I remember very clearly, when in Stormbringer (don't ask me why i remember this byheart), when Murase dies Chuuya says, "Hey Detective, Weren’t you gonna arrest me?! Weren’t you gonna bring me into the world of light"

Don't get me wrong, I still believe Chuuya belongs to Port Mafia, the darkness suits him better than light.

But that does not mean he never wanted to get out of that darkness. This one instance in SB was proof enough. Makes me wonder, if things had gone even slightly differently, would he be in a better place than he is now? Is there still a chance?

What's even more tragic is that after the whole SB thing, no one seemed stick around enough to help him fight his own demons.

And he definitely has MASSIVE DEMONS.

His whole life seems to be one catastrophe after another! Don't believe me?

His first group, whom he called friends, betrayed him. Classic stabbed by poisonous knife in the back.

Hardly a year later, his second friends group, Flags, was killed by an emotionally unstable man-child seeking validation, insisting on calling him brother.

He went through a horrid ordeal, having to learn he was a lab experiment, seeing your clone vaporise to nothing but bones in your own arms, having to fight those same bones. And as if this was not enough, then fighting the monstrosity of a singularity and in process loosing the only chance to determine your humanity. (Actually whole of SB is dreadful, i don't think it'll ever get worse than that - i really hope it doesn't)

Then, given by the timeline, another year later, his third group of friends was killed by Shibusawa.

And again a year later - his partner, who brought him in all this madness, just fucking leaves without a word. This is the least tragic thing that has happened to the boy, i swear.

And I'm sure it didn't end there.

There must have been so many things going on behind the scenes in those missing years, hell even after the series began, Chuuya has been out of scene because something or the other was going on.

Now you have Fyodor fucking shit up for no apparent reason. With this shitshow, many mafia men, some of whom Chuuya might have developed a relation, are definitely dead. Not to mention the mental gymnastics going to trying to at least be on the same fucking chapter as the two geniuses.

AND ALL OF THIS IS JUST IN THE CURRENT TIMELINE. Don't get me started on BEAST VERSE!!! (That's a can of worms I'm really not ready to open at this point)

The thing with Mentally strong individuals is, they have abnormally high emotional intelligence, they are unnaturally resilient, they can compartmentalize their grief, they empathise with great deal of people, think rationally at any given point and think of ways to make things better.

What many people fail to understand is that no one is born Mentally strong, it's the circumstances that make them as such.

It can happen even through small things.

No one being there for you to express your deepest fears. No one just listening to you, even if they have a solution to your problem. Or having seen other's nightmares come to reality and feeling your own are much smaller, or having made to fell that way.

It creates the mentality of never sharing your fears, your insecurities, your discomfort - because at the back of the mind you keep telling yourself - oh, this person has gone through so much more than i have, my fear is nothing compared to it. I can handle it on my own, they have their own problems to handle. Everyone is busy, i don't think they have time to listen to the same problem I've been facing for years now. I've manages so far, i think I can manager just fine.

You start to undervalue your own feelings and start to fell like you'll burden them. Start to feel like you NEED to handle it on your own.

Now, i don't want to go into a spiral of mental health, but when you look at Chuuya, you can't help but marvel at that kids Mental resolution.

His first action after being stabbed in back was to make a deal with a demon to make sure he doesn't harm them, because they are just kids.

His first reaction to being provoked into revenge was to say Fuck off to his manipulator, not falling for the temptation and doing what he felt right.

He even forgave the killer of his friends (And also the one who tried to kill him) for gods sake! Understanding what he was going through.

He even walked away after knowing his parents are alive (oh the irony) not wanting to put a target on them. (I'm actually on fence with this, the chances of it being a manipulation tactic from Mori is just as high as it being the truth)

He had tremendous mental fortitude.

But you still see the cracks in his emotional state,

He was desperate to know if he was human or not, inclining towards the later.

He didn't know, that your friends can do some nice things without expecting anything in return. They can go above and beyond your regular stuff just because they are your friends, there doesn't need to be of anything at stake in friendship.

Hell, there was a point he believed having a Heart was too sophisticated for him, that he can't be that human!

I can go hours and hours about this.

What i can say for sure is, he has demons in all sizes, shapes and forms, something that he has stuffed in his closet only to deal with them himself, not letting them see the light of the day.

i just don't see anyone actually being there for him long enough for him to trust them fully with his demons.

No, not even Dazai. Dazai himself was a walking cry for help, like hell Chuuya is adding to that pile. He may have found a constant in Dazai in three years, seeing as all other's met their end in one. I believe in those three years, somewhere Soukoku began to feel like his safe place, somewhere he didn't had to think about his demons only by the virtue of dealing with one made of flesh and bones. But then even Dazai left.

I don't think even Kouyou was there for most part. And considering her obsession with a flowers of dark with Kyouka, i think it pulled Chuuya more in her own tragedy. Afterall, she also was never saved.

Mori is there, but Mori is a Demon in his own rights. What we've seen is their interactions have been those of a boss and his close confidents, nothing personal or emotional. Which also makes sense when you think of Mori's theory of running an organization. Chuuya, all things considered, the most powerful member of PM and he is treated as such.

The other significant members of PM, the guerrilla squad, black lizards or Kajji - all of them may know him better than most, but he is still their executive. If a 15 and younger kid took the title of being a protector of his rag-tag group seriously, being a responsible and dependable executive comes with higher stakes. He will carry out his role as one, even if it's the last thing he does.

.

.

.

That was me rambling.

My point is, i wanna give Chuuya a big hug, tell him it's okay to fell tried sometimes. To let himself be vulnerable. That his fears are not invalid. That he is not invalid. That he isn't the problem, never was.

That he will still be valued and wanted, even if he one day looses his ability or he is no longer the strongest.

Can someone please save his boy?

[misshoneyimhome]

Describe the dynamic between Willy x inexp ofc now that Alex lives with them :) now she has to be extra quite

Oh, I was giggling the whole time I wrote this! 🤭

I can just picture how inexperienced!reader and William will have to devise new strategies for their living situation 😉 We know they know she’s not exactly quiet (do we remember Sweden in the beginning?), and they love pushing boundaries—so adding Alex to the condo is definitely going to be a challenge for her 🙈

Warnings: Mention of sexual activity

Word count: 900+

➼｡ﾟ

When you first heard that Alex was moving in with you and William, you weren’t quite sure whether to laugh or cry. Sure, you liked Alex—he was charming, easy-going, and always brought a good vibe. But sharing a living space? That was a whole different story. You and William had settled into this perfect little rhythm, and the thought of Alex becoming a part of that made you a bit anxious.

But the moment Alex rolled in with his bags, you could feel the shift. What used to be a carefree, spontaneous atmosphere suddenly needed a serious dose of caution. Every kiss with William turned into a covert operation, as you both had to be hyper-aware that Alex could pop in at any moment. Your once free-flowing passion morphed into a stealth mission—like some romantic spy thriller where you were tiptoeing around your own home.

Mornings were the trickiest. You’d be in the kitchen, the smell of coffee and toast wafting through the air, when William would sneak up behind you, his hands slipping around your waist. His lips would brush your neck, sending butterflies swirling in your stomach. But instead of melting into him, you’d whip your head around, heart racing because Alex might just be a few steps away. But of course, William, being the cheeky troublemaker he is, would whisper something suggestive just as Alex strolled in, his eyes dancing with mischief. It was like he enjoyed the thrill of making you squirm, turning every innocent moment into something electric.

Every little sound had to be muffled, and every passionate moment came with a side of caution. If Alex was just down the hall, you had to bite your lip and stifle a moan like some sort of secret agent in a high-stakes mission. You’d catch William’s eye across the room, and the spark would ignite, but you both knew the stakes were higher. Sneaking around became part of the fun, but it didn’t quite replace the freedom you once had.

You were both excited and frustrated by the whole situation. You missed the spontaneity, the freedom to lose yourself in William without constantly glancing over your shoulder. Gone were the days of spontaneous blowjobs in the middle of the living room, or being eaten out by William on the dinner table, or him bending you over the kitchen counter and pounding into you like there was no tomorrow.

Well… that wasn’t entirely true, of course. You’d learned Alex’s training schedule by heart, and whenever their practices didn’t overlap, William seized the chance to remind you just how much he craved you. And those moments were still as electrifying as before, even if they lacked the surprise factor that made them feel so wild before. You and William still indulged your primal desires, but now there was a constant undercurrent of caution. Every stolen kiss had a bit of a thrill to it, but it was mixed with the nagging thought that Alex could pop in at any moment.

For a while, Alex seemed blissfully clueless, as he was too busy focusing on hockey and getting used to living with you two. At first, he didn’t catch on to the way your conversations would drop like a stone the moment he walked in or how your laughter would go silent. But come on—he wasn’t daft. You all had an idea that the walls did nothing to keep your more “enthusiastic” moments under wraps.

And then came that unforgettable breakfast when Alex casually remarked, “You know, these walls are pretty thin,” with a cheeky grin. Your face went beet red, and you shot a glance at William, who was barely containing his laughter. Alex was relentless with the teasing after that. “Rough night?” he’d throw out, making you want to crawl under the table, while William just cackled like a hyena, clearly enjoying the show.

However, as the months rolled on, you and William found your groove in the new normal. The initial stress of being stifled faded into a more relaxed vibe. And you realised Alex was actually into the playful banter; he thrived on it. If you were loud, who cared? If Alex heard? Well, that just added to the fun.

The thrill of sneaking around had always brought you and William closer, and now, with Alex in the mix, those not-so-secret moments felt even more charged. Each kiss, each little touch was laced with a sensual tension that made everything feel alive. You started finding new ways to express your desire for William, sharing heated glances and whispering sweet nothings when you thought Alex was distracted—spoiler alert: he usually wasn’t.

And despite all the sneaking around, there was something undeniably lovely about seeing William so happy living with his brother. You could tell how much it meant to him to have Alex close by, and that happiness lit up his whole demeanour. The playful banter and sibling rivalry brought a whole new energy to your home, and while it made things a bit chaotic, it also created moments of pure joy. You couldn’t help but smile at the way they joked and teased each other; it reminded you that they were not just brothers but best friends.

In the end, the living situation turned into an unexpected adventure. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something you and William could totally roll with. Every shared moment became more meaningful, reminding you of the unique bond you had, even amidst the chaos of living with Alex. 

[cowboyhorsegirl]

But does robot iron man’s voice still sound like Tony’s through a modulator???

[martyrbat]

ghosts - batman: haunted knight

[ID: A multi panel sequence of Bruce Wayne as a child on Halloween. He's dressed up in a Mask of Zorro costume and is excitedly running down the stairs while holding two swords, calling out for his mother happily. He tells her that he's ready to go trick or treating. Martha Wayne has her hand on his shoulder and is smiling as she tells him, “your costume looks great!” Bruce replies, “Thanks, I made it myself. Alfred sorta helped. Is dad home yet?” Martha draws her hand back hesitantly and says his name. Bruce already knows that that means there's bad news. He tells her, “don't tell me,” before she continues and says his father called. Bruce has his head down, angrily finishing her sentence, “he's gotta work late!” He looks out the window as if his father will appear and says, “It's not fair! He promised he would take me trick or treating!” Martha soothes that she knows as Bruce repeats, “he promised,” to himself disappointedly. She tells him, “But there was an emergency,” which makes Bruce snap, “There's always some emergency!”

Bruce continues to stand in front of the window as Martha looks at him. Bruce announces, “I'm gonna wait for him. Even if it takes all night!” as he tensely clenches the handle of his sword. Martha reaches out for him sadly and suggests, “Bruce, I could take you out myself. Or, we can call some of the other children at school and go out with them.” Bruce, as an adult, somberly says off panel that, “she doesn't know...” as his kid self stares out the window still. His hat casting a small shadow on his face as he tells her, “There are no other kids to call. I have no friends at school.” Martha says his name again but doesn't know how to comfort him. Instead, she just silently places a hand on his shoulder. We see a silhouette from far away of her standing next to him as Bruce waits for his father to eventually come home. END ID]

[seapomelo]

You are a bitch in heat.

That's why you need a collar. Without it, you feel uncomfortable. It is the symbol of your status. When it hugs your neck, it is a constant reminder that you are cum dump.

This makes you wet, because knowing what you are is sexy. And who you are? An owned slut who dreams of sperm being poured into you.

A collar and a leash make you free. Comforted. It lets your thoughts float away. It helps you focus on what's important: serving your Owner.

[s0dium]

Obsession

Warning: Love drunk men, fingering, titty sucking, nipple play, unprotected sex, love drunk reader

~

Love courses through your veins. He’s all you can think about.

You wonder if it's normal to be this enamored with someone, to be this hopelessly head over heels infatuated and obsessed. You can't even focus on what needs to be done anymore because he's absorbed your entire being; he's in your head when you wake up, a gentle whisper in the back of your mind during conversations, a constant in your dreams, day or night.

But it's a doomed one-sided crush you remind yourself. You're not even sure if he knows you exist and in quieter moments, you wonder if perhaps it’s better this way. Loving from a distance means you never have to face the potential heartbreak of rejection, never have to see that polite smile of someone who doesn’t return your feelings. It's safer, you tell yourself, to admire him from afar, keeping your heart guarded behind the shield of daydreams and what-ifs.

So surely, right now in this moment, you must be dreaming.

It feels too vivid, too intense to be just a figment of your imagination. The warmth of his breath against your cheek, the weight of his bare body pressing gently down on yours, the softness of his lips moving against your own with an insatiable hunger—it all feels astonishingly real.

Because it is.

You don't know how but now you're naked underneath him, letting him touch, grope, suck, kiss, nip, and bite anything his hands and mouth can find. He doesn't let up either, he's exploring your body like a starved man, like he'll never get a chance to touch you ever again and wont pull away until he's had his fill.

You gasp when you feel his fingers between your legs, tracing your inner thigh before gliding between your pussy lips. Instinctively, you jerk back at the feeling; his fingers collecting your arousal and sliding up and down. But before you can speak, he kisses you again, his tongue eagerly intertwining with yours. When he finally pulls away, leaving you breathless, a thin strand of saliva connects your mouths.

"Just let me take care of you okay?" He hums before dipping two fingers into your tight hole. "Just been waiting so long to do this."

You don't even have time to react before he's curling his digits and massaging a sweet spot you could only dream about hitting on your own. His other hand gropes your left breast and with his index and thumb, begins to play with your perky nipples. As if that wasn't enough, his mouth found your other breast and gave it the same attention, licking sucking, and rolling your nipple like it was candy.

Colors dance across your closed eyelids and you wonder if this is heaven, if you've died and reached nirvana because the pleasure is just that good. You dont know if you can handle this, handle the fact that he's sucking and playing with your nipples while finger fucking you. Your toes curl and uncurl from the hot searing euphoria that is absorbing your body and emitting from your core. Your back arches off the bed and your crying his name, moaning it even, something you only dreamed about doing late at night when you craved him.

Suddenly, his mouth releases your nipple with a pop and he ceases all of his ministrations, leaving you breathless and confused.

"Fuck, I-" He's breathless himself, his face flushed and pupils blown. "Need to be inside you, need to feel you." He practically groans, and you thickly gulp at his words. Your brain goes fuzzy and you dizzily watch him pull down his boxers, the length slapping against his abdomen after being released from its confines.

He watches you lay down on the bed, breasts and cunt glistening from juices. You dont know this but he actually thinks he is dreaming. You look like a painting right now and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from spilling just at the sight of you.

"Please," You whine, "Please fuck me."

Who is he to deny you?

Without a word he presses his tip against your entrance and slides into you, grunting at the snug fit of your walls. You let out a loud moan from the feeling of him filling you so so perfectly, so well you mentally curse yourself for thinking a dildo or your fingers could ever do the job.

Then with a moan of his own, he slides out of you, nearly leaving you empty, before rocking himself back into you. Oh, how he wanted to fuck you slow and nice, like you deserved, but as the seconds passed, his resolve seep away until he just couldn't possibly hold back anymore.

His thrusts become faster, quicker, slamming in and out of you with such vigor and ease due to your combined juices coating and dripping from both his length and your hole. The friction is delicious, and his tip seems to hit your g-spot perfectly with each thrust. He even grabs the underside of your thigh and pushes them against you, effectively folding you and half and allowing him to go even deeper inside you.

You could feel your rational slipping away as he groaned about how fucking good you felt, about how good you where taking him, how he had been dreaming about this. You want to say something too, say something about how you feel the same way, but the only thing that comes out of your mouth right now is wanton moans of his name.

The pleasure was becoming too much, it had been slowly building and building and you know your about to break any second, burst with such euphoria you don't know if you will ever come back from the high. Before you do though, your brain manages to work again for half a millisecond to express the exact words you are feeling.

"Love you! M'love you so much!" You gasped before letting yourself succumb to the mind-numbing orgasm that was waiting for you. Your whole body shook and quaked from the pleasure and your mind went white. You thought you might cry, from happiness or pleasure you did not know. But you didn't. You simply went limp while you let him use your body like a sex doll.

You are barely clinging onto consciousness when you feel his hips stutter against you and he scoops you up, holding you close while he cums inside you.

"Love you too, love you too." He groans against your ear.

Any character you want ;)