#they can’t kill him if I don’t accept the truth

[willbluejay]

don’t mind me just

🕯 🕯

🕯 🕯

🕯 Papa lives 🕯

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[tojisbbygworl]

The Apartment Across The Street - Sukuna x Reader

In the short time he watches her, he learns 3 new things: 1. She has a mirror on the left side of the window. 2. She is completely unaware of how easily someone could see her in all her half-naked glory. 3. Sukuna could overpower her if it came down to it.

Or maybe it’s 4 things. From the beating of his heart and the warm rushing feeling heading towards his dick, he learns the drug he thought he needed might not be a drug at all.

Words: 6.7k

Tags - 18+ MDNI, No Use of Y/N, No Curses, Set in late 90s/early 00s, Smut, Angst, High Sex, Missionary, Degredation, Marijuana, Slight x Toji (I can't help myself)

WARNINGS - Dead Dove, Dark, Non-Con/Dub-con, Breaking and Entering, Sukuna and Toji are criminals, Sukuna's a hitman, Choking, Violence

AO3 Version

Masterlist

author's note: Heyyyy! Okay I went a little too hard like I always do so this is a bit long and (imo) it get's a little intense so be warned. I hope you enjoy hopefully I have some motivation to keep writing. art cred: @innaillus

That apartment used to be empty.

Sukuna hadn’t been home in a week. He doesn’t mind. He’s learned to not have too many hopes or expectations in this line of work. Besides, he prefers being his own boss. He accepts contracts when he needs money then he’s off until it runs out. Doesn’t matter if they take days or even weeks.

Shorter jobs like this one weren’t his treat. They don’t pay as much as he likes, but it works out. These apartments were a bit shitty, they didn’t cost too much. And, he was right in the middle of the city. Easy to meet clients. The clubs went on all night long. Which is exactly how late he was out when he was home. Actually, he was planning to go out tonight. Meet up with Toji and see if he can’t get a woman in his bed by 2 am.

He wondered how long it would take to see his newest neighbor. The way the apartments in the complex are built, you could easily see into your neighbor’s bedroom. 'State guidelines say blinds aren’t required. You buy them,' was the response he received when he brought the problem up to the landlord. A lot of people invested in curtains, maybe they hadn’t bought any yet. He saw a bed, but it seems to be the only thing they’ve managed to set up. There were a couple boxes with flaps wide open sitting beside it.

After a few more moments of rumination, he closed his curtain and laid down on his bed waiting for a text to come over. In truth, he couldn't wait to see who was unlucky enough to be his new window neighbor. The last one didn’t go too well. They also didn’t invest in curtains and he isn’t entirely sure if he’s the reason they moved out, but he’s sure they didn’t appreciate catching his stare multiple times a day. And that one time at midnight.

-

All it took was the next morning.

Sukuna’s eyes crept open and he stared towards the ceiling. The girl he brought home last night was dead asleep and naked on his chest. He yawned and wiped his face tiredly. He nudged the girl off of him a bit, then sat up on the side of his bed. Ugh, he felt like shit. Toji always went entirely too hard when they went out, but Sukuna doesn’t mind. He has nowhere to be. Nothing to do. 

He got up and stretched then walked to the bathroom. As he completed his morning routine, he pondered about what today would behold for him. This is another reason he hated short jobs. Sukuna loves free time, but only if there’s something to do with it. There never really is.

He could kill that girl in his bedroom. In fact, he could have killed any girl he brought home since he moved in half a year ago. But the last time he made his job his hobby, it didn’t go so well for him. It was too close of a call, and getting arrested for murder just isn’t worth it. He could spend a couple months in the pen, not years at a time.

He spat out his toothpaste. Life was so fucking mundane. He had no life goals, barely any friends, his little brother hates him, and he works alone. All things he doesn’t actually care about, but shit, when is he going to get some excitement? Nothing gets him going anymore.

He needs something that will make him feel. A drug of some sort? But that doesn’t seem right to him. Even now as he walks back in the room staring at the woman in his bed, he feels nothing. If she woke back up and decided she wanted to have sex with him, he would say yes, but only because it’s something to do. He’s not feeling any particular way about her.

The moment he sat back down on the bed, she started shifting around. A few seconds later, she lifts her head and yawns. “Good morning.” She giggles, she leans over and kisses his cheek. Sukuna grunts.

The girl looks around the dark room. “It is morning, right?” She doesn’t let him answer before she stands up and opens the curtains. “Oh wow,” she exclaims. “I can see directly into your neighbor’s room.” She says. He still doesn’t get up, just hums at her.

“She’s cute though.”

Sukuna perks up upon hearing that. “Oh yeah? I haven’t seen her yet. She’s new.”

This was the first time since they’ve met that she said something interesting, but unfortunately for him, she drops the subject immediately and walks back into bed, leaving the curtains open. Sukuna holds back his sigh. Does he really want to spend the rest of his morning with this girl? It was half past 8. Way too early.

“I'm going to start getting ready for work,” he says without skipping a beat. She stops in her tracks and blinks at him, clearly not expecting that. It’s silent for a few moments. Sukuna’s not sure what she’s waiting on, but if it’s for him to say he’s kidding or let her stay, she’s sorely mistaken.

“Oh, I thought you were contracted,” she says nervously.

‘I only work when I feel like it, gorgeous.’ Sukuna inwardly curses himself for his suave nature. “Yeah. I got a contract. In an hour.”

His curtness and annoyed expression did good to make her feel completely and totally unwanted. The girl awkwardly smiled at him. “Oh, ha ha. Yeah…okay.” Sukuna got up and walked out of the room. Give her a little space to feel like shit while she gets ready to leave. He makes himself a cup of coffee, his face still that same blank expression even after he hears her rushing out the door from behind him. When she’s gone he takes himself back into his room.

He walks up to his window to close the curtains once more until someone catches his eye. He freezes and his eyebrows shoot upwards. That girl was right. She was cute. And he had the perfect view of her. She seemed to be posing or checking herself out. Sukuna wasn’t sure which one it was, but he hoped she didn’t stop. That bikini she had on was doing wonders for her, and him.

Something was off. Looking at her made him…tense. His hands were gripping the curtains, he was biting the inside of his cheek, his leg was shaking; Was it anxiety? No, she’s not making him nervous. What he’s feeling is euphoric. He likes it. He wants to grip her bare waist and squeeze her until she bruises.

In the short time he watches her, he learns 3 new things: 1. She has a mirror on the left side of her window. 2. She is completely unaware of how easily someone could see her in all her half-naked glory. 3. Sukuna could overpower her if it came down to it. Or maybe it’s 4 things. From the beating of his heart and the warm rushing feeling heading towards his dick, he learns the drug he thought he needed might not be a drug at all.

-

It doesn’t take long after that to finally meet her.

Before taking his most recent job, Sukuna had nearly consumed everything in his fridge. What was left was now finished and he spent a lot of his morning sulking at a half empty milk carton, his breakfast for the day. He hated eating out, it messed with his figure.

The local grocery wasn't too bad of a walk from his place, although he hated carrying everything back. He always bought a few necessities and a few ingredients to quickly whip something up for his dinner. Today, he’d have to bulk up if he doesn’t want to keep coming back.

As much as he hated the public, shopping never seemed to be a problem for him. He was tall and intimidating, he never smiled, he was always tense; people tended to avoid him like the plague. He appreciated it. But, as he enters the frozen meal aisle with his cart half full he wishes that just for a moment, he looked approachable. Then, this would be much easier.

There she was, in sweatpants and a cropped tube top, looking at the frozen pizzas. She looked like she had been home all day. She was much cuter now that he could see her better. A lot cuter. She’s pretty as hell.

Thank goodness, too. He already knew what her body looked like, what with her constantly taking pictures of herself in front of the window. She liked to play dress up, she would try on entirely different outfits before she was satisfied. Pretty soon, the colors of her bras and panties would be ingrained into his memory.

He stood there looking her up and down for a few more seconds before he started browsing once more. Although he really was looking for food he wanted, he used this opportunity to slowly get closer to her. He pretended to be interested in some frozen broccoli and he snuck a look at her. To his surprise, and enjoyment, she had done the same. When they made eye contact, she jerked and looked away. A couple moments after that, she grabbed her food and walked away into another aisle.

Sukuna chuckled to himself. She wouldn’t get away that easily. He dropped the broccoli in his cart and followed after her. He hadn’t seen which aisle she’d gone into, so he kept walking down and looking into each one until he found her trying to get some chips from a high shelf. He smiled upon seeing her struggle. Maybe this would be easier than he thought.

He managed to walk right up behind her and reach for the chips she was trying to get before she got startled. She gasped a bit and looked up at him. He looked down at her. Fuck, she was pretty. His heart started to pound, he could practically salivate at the idea of taking her home.

He hands her the chips before she can say anything, then walks away. Before he’s out of her sight he hears her say, “Thank you so much.”

Her cadence, the velvety softness of her voice; it made him want to drop to his knees. How sweet would she sound if he bit into her neck? How soft is her yelp when she stubs her toe? How shrill is her scream when she’s in pain?

Her appreciation made him stop in his tracks. He turned over his shoulder to look at her. She seemed nervous and her eyes were uncertain. Sukuna began to feel restless. So many ideas of what he could do to her if he got her alone were rushing through his mind and she was none the wiser. This aisle has been empty and no one has come by. He could take her right now.

Instead, he looks her up and down. “Yeah, sure.” And then he walks away with his shopping. He leaves wondering when next they’ll meet, she does the same as she watches his back.

-

“Still haven’t called the maintenance guy, huh? Lazy jackass.”

Sukuna turns his head to the side and glares at his unwanted guest. Toji may have been his best friend, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t want to break his fat neck and bury him in the park. Besides, that title meant jack shit. They met in jail and Toji helped him get on his feet when Sukuna’s sentence was up. Toji never really left him alone and Sukuna stayed because his family was rich. If anything, they were close acquaintances who had sex sometimes.

Speaking of Toji’s money, the asshole grew up in an affluent family which means his standards were a bit too high for the humble abode that Sukuna prefers. It was probably the most annoying part about him. He was complaining about the door to the bathroom. It didn’t close correctly so you had to force it shut. Something that just isn’t enough of a problem to be bothered to try and fix.

“Stop coming over if it annoys you so much,” Sukuna responds, taking another drag from their second blunt for the morning. He was finally starting to feel something from it and he didn’t want to hear Toji whining about bullshit.

“Nah, I think I’ll keep coming. Especially with your fine ass neighbor.” Toji walked away again, not seeing Sukuna’s head jerk towards him. What was he talking about? Sukuna didn’t tell him about her. Did he see her?

“Why the fuck are you in my room?” He gets up to follow behind him. Sukuna looks down the hallway and sees both his room and the bathroom doors wide open. The bathroom was empty. “Get out.”

He starts walking towards his room door but jumps back when Toji rushes out of it. “Come look at this,” he says, grabbing his arm.

Toji had this crazed grin on his face and he was tugging him along impatiently. “What the hell are you-” Sukuna’s words die in his throat as he gazes upon what had Toji so excited. It was his beautiful neighbor changing in front of her mirror again except, there was a big problem. She had never been completely naked before.

Holy shit, her body could stop a truck. Sukuna let his jaw drop. His eyes raked her from her breasts to her legs. She would turn around occasionally, walk back and forth in front of the window, oh he loved the way her tits bounced. He wanted her on top of him, his dick sliding in and out of her while he latched onto her nipple.

“She’s sexy as fuck, huh?” Sukuna’s unceremoniously snapped out of his trance by Toji’s comment. He turns his head towards him looking at his smile and twinkling eyes. “She do this all the time? Does she even know?” Toji gasps and looks him in the eye. “Does she do it on purpose?”

I’m that moment, a switch had flipped inside of Sukuna. Toji was watching her before he brought him in here. He saw her naked first. He shouldn’t have seen her at all. The warm swarm of butterflies in his abdomen had fluttered away, a feeling of rage building in his heart instead. She was Sukuna’s to look at, not Toji’s.

To answer his question, Sukuna shrugs. Then, they both turn towards her again only to make eye contact with her. They see her gasp, cover herself and shriek before running from the window. “Fuck,” they say in unison before shutting the curtain.

“I blame you for that,” Toji says despite both of them being at fault. He puts his hands in his pockets and walks out of the room. “Where’s the blunt?”

Toji may have forgotten about that little encounter, but Sukuna doesn’t think he can forget anytime soon. He hates that Toji got to see her like that. They still haven’t spoken more than once to each other, and now she knows he’s a pervert that stares at her through their windows. Sukuna scowls at the ground then slams his hand into the wall. She’ll leave soon just like the last one did, but this time, he doesn’t want to accept that as a possibility.

He gives himself time to calm down before joining Toji again. He can’t bring work home again.

-

It was over.

He saw her once after that incident. Waiting for Toji to pick him up for the night, he stood outside the local gas station smoking a cigarette. She’d been on his mind since. She invested in curtains, unfortunately. She was really uncomfortable. He’s not even sure if she’s left the apartment.

Thinking about what happened made him furious. If Toji hadn’t gone into his room he would have never seen her. Oh he just can’t shut the hell up about the shape of her ass and how he would let her suffocate him with her gorgeous thighs. Sukuna sighed, her thighs were gorgeous weren’t they?

She was a missed opportunity. There are so many ways he could have started something with her. It’s not like she didn’t like him, had they met again before that, he’s sure he could have gotten her number. Usually, missing out on a woman wasn’t that bothersome, but she was different for him. He looked forward to beating his dick under the windowsill while she tried on clothes. His imagination wasn’t bad, but by the time he came in his hands, his dick was red and sore and his arm was tired.

His memory is not enough. He wants her.

He looks at the time on his watch. A quarter ‘til midnight. He rolls his eyes. Toji’s always late. A quick snack is in order.

Sukuna mindlessly stares at the powdered donuts wondering if he really feels like fucking up his clothes and having dirty fingers. He hates club bathrooms, the one here is just as bad, and he doesn’t want to lick his fingers. Maybe he won’t. But right before he decides to leave, the door opens. He turns his head upon hearing the small ring of a bell, but doesn’t pay attention to the culprit until they’re in the same aisle. “Oh shit,” he said before he could stop himself.

He tries to look away before she notices, but it’s too late. He looks back at her and grimaces. The girl is shaken to her core. Poor thing is afraid. And while Sukuna feels a bit bad about making such a cutie so frightened, it kind of…warms his heart. She takes in a deep breath and twists back around. She doesn’t even buy anything. She just leaves.

He almost chases her. He stands in the aisle still reveling in her presence. He breathes deeply thinking about how nice it felt to have such power over someone. Hm.

Sukuna leaves the store only a few moments after her. Toji’s BMW was running next to a pump as he got out of the car. “Oh shit, there you are.” He grins. “Guess who I just saw.”

“I know. She was running from me.” Sukuna says, getting into the passenger seat.

Toji cackles while driving away. “Damn, so she’s scared of us, huh?” Sukuna shrugs. “She looked like it. Girl was huffing it. Actually…she ran down the street towards where we’re going.”

Sukuna raises a brow at him. Toji doesn’t say anything and just keeps smiling. “So?”

He turns on his beamers and slows down as he drives between the apartment buildings. Sukuna’s eyes widen as he realizes just what Toji’s trying to do. And soon his lips follow. Just up ahead was a figure with a hoodie walking very quickly. They turn around and immediately shield their eyes from the bright lights. It was her.

She seemed confused at first, and the bright light contrasted with the darkness of the night blinded her from seeing who was in the car. However, she didn’t stop walking or slow down. She decided to mind her business instead. It could be anyone. Anyone. Even though it was the same car waiting at the gas station.

Despite her telling herself that she’s okay, she couldn’t help but notice how they were matching her speed. And that once they had gotten right behind her, the window was rolled down. And that she still had a block left to go.

“Ay,” Sukuna shouted from behind her, effectively terrifying her. She turned to see his smile and upon further investigation, she saw Toji’s from the driver’s seat. Oh no. “You can’t say hi? You scared of me?” He taunts.

She ran.

-

And that was the worst thing she could have done.

There have been a few recent instances that made her question her move to this city. She was hoping to start a new life, away from her family, away from her ex, make some new friends; she didn’t think she would be planning to move out after a couple months.

That man…she didn’t know what the hell his problem was. Why did he and his friend follow her out of the gas station? Was he crazy? Did she do something to him? Since they followed her, she’s been racking her mind trying to figure out what the hell she did to deserve this. Before that, she had only ever spoken to him once at the grocery store. He was extremely intimidating, but she was intrigued by him. She didn’t mean to stare, but he was very attractive. Clearly he had seen it as some sort of invitation. Maybe he followed her into that aisle and it wasn’t just an act of kindness.

Coming home after work had become so much more nerve wracking. In fact, coming out of her unit brings her horrible anxiety. She’s constantly looking over her shoulder. Tries to pretend the building across doesn’t even exist. She doesn’t understand what took her so long to get curtains; it just wasn’t a priority for her. Either way, she didn’t deserve to be punished for her forgetfulness.

She’s in a weird position where the longer she goes without seeing him, the more worried she becomes even though she never wants to see him or his friend again. Currently, she was in the elevator heading up to her apartment. She was catching her breath and trying to relax now that she was safe. She does this everyday now.

She couldn’t wait to be home. The entire day she’s been feeling like complete crap. Her heart refused to leave her stomach. She dropped so many cups behind the bar that she spent more time sweeping and wiping up drinks than making them. And she was on the verge of tears the entire time. It was nice to be home, but she wondered how bad it would be tomorrow.

In fact, it was so bad today that although she was physically relaxed, her brain just wouldn’t be quiet. It kept telling her to stay alert, that there was still something waiting for her. She tried her best to ignore it and enjoy her night. She was going to kick off her shoes, rip off all her clothes, warm up her leftovers and hit her bong. She was off tomorrow and she is not planning on leaving her room at all.

She messed with her keys when she approached her door. All the apartments had two locks, a deadlock and a lock on the handle, but she was looking for another that she could attach herself. The home goods store near her didn’t have any promising ones, so she had to wait on a shipment.

She reached for the handle to unlock it. Her hand twisted the lever and she retracted it immediately. Her heart starts racing once more, but then she realizes the door was still closed. When she can’t get the door open, she sighs in relief. The deadlock was still intact and locked. The apartments are just shitty.

As relieved as she was in that moment, this just meant she had another problem to deal with. She couldn’t go with one of her locks not working, especially not the handle. In fact, maybe she’ll deal with it tonight. She does have tools and she can be pretty handy when she needs to be.

Like she wanted to, she kicks off her shoes and rips off her jacket. She almost takes off her clothes before she notices a certain smell in the air. Her apartment smelled of weed, but it smelled like someone was actively smoking right at that moment. Maybe it was her next door neighbor.

She walks through her silent home. Maybe she should get a cat. There are quite a few friendly strays around. She could afford-

What was that noise?

A bump. In her bedroom.

What could it have been? Had her worst fears come true?

No. It’s not possible…so why had that sinking feeling returned in full force? There was nothing in her room. There was no one in her room…

-

Toji had broken the lock for him. 'Just record it for me,' was his end of the bargain.

The place was just as cute as he thought it was. She still had a lot of things unpacked, and she hadn’t gotten a couch for the living room. Hm. He wonders if she really is planning on leaving. That would not be good.

He would want her to stay, but if she can get away from him, at least he’ll get a taste of her.

She leaves her weed out. Hm…he would enjoy this better if he were high. And he’ll make her smoke too. 

When he heard her coming closer to her room, he put the bong down and stood up. Her room was small and it was pitch black, the only light coming from the embers in the bowl. He hit her closet door and she heard it. Fuck. He hopes she doesn’t get a weapon out.

And she didn’t. This girl is…something else.

He hides right behind the door in between the wall and the hinges. Then, he waited quietly and patiently until she slowly opened the door and turned on the light. And before she could try to look around, he slammed the door shut behind her.

-

It all happened in a second.

She heard the door slam and time froze. She told herself then and there, that she was going to die tonight. She knew who her killer would be before she turned around. Did she even want to?

She didn’t have a choice, her body reacted before she could think. All she saw was a small scowl, he had brown eyes, but they looked tainted with blood. His hands, his large hands, shot towards her head and before she could scream he trapped her mouth shut. His other hand gripped the back of her head.

She fought him as violently as she could. She scratched his face, pulled his hair, tried to poke him in the eyes; but he was quick to show her that he was much stronger than her. He pulls his hand off of her mouth and smacks her across the face. She can only scream for a second before his hand is back on her mouth and he pushes her into the bed.

Sukuna takes his hand off of the back of her head and squeezes her neck. He still holds her mouth shut. She gets weaker and weaker as the oxygen leaves her brain. He leans down towards her face to speak to her. “You want to live?”

Tears had long been streaming down her face, but this is the point where she finally breaks down wailing. She lets her arms fall and Sukuna loosens his grip on her neck. But only slightly. She takes a deep breath and cries into his hand. “Answer me,” he says. “Come on, pretty girl.”

She cries a bit more before nodding her head in defeat. “I know. You’re gonna do what I say?”

She nods again. “You’re not gonna scream when I take my hand off?” She sniffles and sobs again. “Because you want to fucking live, right? Right?” He tightens his grip on her neck again. She kicks her feet and nods as best as she can. “Go turn off your light and turn on your lamp. You’re gonna smoke with me.”

He gets off her and watches her to make sure she does what he asks. It takes her a minute, she lays there quietly sobbing and wiping her tears while Sukuna takes another hit of her bong, but eventually she gets up to turn on her lamp, then flip her light switch. “Lock the door too. I like the feeling of extra privacy when I’m taking a woman to bed.”

-

He disgusts her.

He forces her to take several long hits that had her in horrible coughing fits. And of course, it wasn’t long before she was completely inebriated. She couldn’t really move too much, or think too much. But even though she was out of commission, she could hear every word Sukuna said to her.

He talked her ear off about how he’d been looking at her for a week before they met at the grocery store. All the way up until she realized just how exposed she was from catching him and his friend staring. It was her fault, is what he said. He said she was stupid to not think anyone could see her. She should have gotten blinds or curtains when she moved in. A fucking dumbass bitch.

That’s how she felt.

He taunted her as he watched her take her clothes off. His dick was already in his hand, he had been hard for a while. Imagining his dick finally pounding into her as he squeezes the life out of her.

‘I think you wanted someone to watch you,’ he said to her. She hung onto every word he said, answered every question he had. ‘You’re an attention seeking slut, aren’t you? Nod your head.’ And she did. ‘What’s your name?’ And she told him. ‘Take that shit off faster and come hit this again.’

She was completely out of it, but instead of floating, she sank. She sunk deeper into the bedsheets, Sukuna weighing her down with every word. Every stroke of his hand on her thigh, every lick on her neck and collarbone, every bite on her chest. When he reached down between her legs and stroked her clit, she moaned, then cried in shame.

“Shhhh,” he whispered in her ear from behind her. “You’re gonna love me. And if you’re good I won’t hurt you.” He kisses her ear, then nibbles on it. He leaves a trail of wet kisses down the side of her neck. She cries and shakes, twisting her head away from him as best as she could. Sukuna’s hands explore her body eagerly. He can’t decide whether he wants to grip her hips or play with her nipples. She was so soft, just as he imagined.

He flips her onto her back. “Look at me, baby.” She opens her eyes only slightly, her tears blurring her vision completely before falling. He takes his hand to cup her cheek and wipe them with his thumb. As she gazed upon his naked body on top of hers, she accepts her fate: this man was going to rape then kill her.

He looked deranged. His brows were knit together with a lopsided grin. Her body is racked with sobs once more. “It’s okay,” he tells her. “Shhhh.” He slowly brings his thumb wet with salty tears to her mouth. She tries to pull her head away, but he quickly attaches his hands back to her mouth and head then he leans down towards her. “I thought you said you wanted to live.”

She’s actually not sure at this point. Does she want to live with this trauma? Does she want to continue being this man’s neighbor for him to torture however he sees fit? Does she want to have to look at his building every single day living in fear that he’ll do it again? Living in fear of his friend getting any bright ideas?

“Just relax.” He lets go of her head and goes for her neck. She moans as he bites and sucks on it, making sure to leave a mark reminding her of what he did. It won’t be the only one.

Sukuna slowly takes his hands and lifts both of her legs in the air. He licks his fingers while looking at her, then bites his lip as he plays with her clit once more. She breathes harder and harder with every rub. They don’t break eye contact, it does something to him. He’s reveling in her fear. Her eyes were shot, her mascara and eyeliner running down her face. It made her look even more beautiful. She was making him feral.

Sukuna’s dick was an angry scarlet and dripped precum all over her leg where it rested. He was big and it scared her even more. As his eyes explored her body, he got hungrier and hungrier. He slides a finger inside of her and starts pumping. Her pussy was slick with her arousal.

“Fuck,” he whispered putting in another finger. He pumped his fingers hard enough to make her wetness splash. She threw her head back and arched her chest into the air. She sounded just as sweet as he thought she would. She was turning out to be everything he wanted and more. He wasn’t waiting any longer.

He yanked his fingers out of her and searched her bedside table for his camcorder. She whined when he removed himself from her and watched him. Sukuna pressed record.

“Say hi to Toji,” he told her, sticking the lens in her face. She closes her eyes and tries to avoid the camera. He grips her chin with his fingers and forces her head forward. “Ain’t she pretty?” Sukuna pulls away from her face to record her body. He takes her tit in his hand to play with. He jiggles and pulls on her nipple before smacking it. When she squealed he did it again.

“He’s gonna love watching me fuck the shit out of you.” Sukuna sat and balanced the recorder on her nightstand perfectly angled to show their torsos and hips. He gets back on the bed to grab her waist and pull her towards his. He groaned when he felt his dick rub against her pussy. “You know who I’m talking about, right? My friend? You know he saw you before I did.”

He pauses to spit into his hand and starts jerking his throbbing shaft. “I wanted to kill that fucker.” Sukuna leans over once more and kisses her several times before capturing her lips in one long and forceful kiss. He rubs his dick against her entrance as he does this, with a desperate moan from both of them to accompany it. Sukuna rests his forehead against hers. “Tell me you’re mine.” His eyes are fiery, and she doesn’t wish to find out what will happen if she fails to do what he asks.

His tip begins to poke through her entrance. She whimpers and he brings his head down and bites her lip. “Come on…”

“I’m yours-” He finally starts tucking his dick into her. The feeling of being inside her was heaven on Earth. He wasn’t ashamed of how loudly he moaned. She was louder anyway. They always are. Even when they don’t want it.

“My name is Sukuna.” She takes all of him like a fucking champ. And looks good as fuck while doing it. And her voice…

“I’m yours, Sukuna.”

A tear ran down her cheek. The dragging of his dick against her walls was nothing like she’s ever felt before. It felt so good, but she was the unhappiest she’d ever been. She’s terrified and unsure if she’ll live to see tomorrow. He says he won’t kill her if she’s good, but what does good even mean to him?

She knows there’s nothing she really could have done to avoid what was currently happening to her. This man- no, Sukuna, saw her when she was first moved in and decided then and there that he wanted to rape her. No matter what he claims about her being rude and ignoring him when he helped her. And yet, she blames herself.

If she had just gotten curtains or blinds early enough, then maybe she could have avoided him. Or maybe she wouldn’t have existed to him at all. At least he wouldn’t have known what floor she was on or her room. Maybe he wouldn’t have known what building she was in.

She was so fucking stupid.

-

He repeated that all night.

‘Stupid fucking bitch,’ he would mutter under his breath. ‘Changing in front of a window, thinking no one’s gonna see you? Posing in mirrors and shit?’ He fucked her at a smooth and steady rythym, she was soaking wet and splashing all over his stubble. The sheets were damp underneath. ‘Oh yeah. You like it when I talk to you like that?’ She couldn’t stop herself from crying in humiliation.

He asked her to cry louder for ‘Toji’, which she did, and he proceeded to smack her across the face for being too loud.

He felt amazing, he pushed her legs into her chest and hammered into her. She cried into his mouth as she came all over him. Her pussy squeezing his member drive him insane and before he knew it he was cumming inside her. ‘Fuck…’ He pulled out and jerked the rest of his cum onto her pussy and thighs. He quickly grabbed the camera to show Toji, with the flash on.

‘Look at that shit,’ Sukuna made sure to examine her at every angle. He pushed his finger into her and chuckled when she moaned. His index was covered with his cum and he brought it and the camera up to her body and face.

She was completely tired out. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, she could barely even lift her eyelids. Sukuna kissed at her like a dog, then maneuvered the camera to her face. Her face was soaked with tears and spit. Her makeup had smudged everywhere and ran down her cheeks. Her hair was a mess, and she ached everywhere.

Her mouth hung open and Sukuna proceeded to jam his finger into it. He used it to pull her head back over to him and made out with her. Then, his dick started poking her ass.

She had no idea what time last night they were finally done, talk less of when she actually fell asleep. He smoked a blunt after the whole thing, sat her up so he could make her smoke too. He found her liquor cabinet. The night got worse.

She puked her guts out then fell asleep on the floor, but now she was in her bed trapped underneath him. They were both naked. She was sore as the day was long. He snores next to her. Holy fucking hell. She’s alive. Why is she alive?

She starts breathing heavily and looking around her room. She doesn’t know what to do. She didn’t think she would still be here.

In a flash, he’s up. His hand is over her mouth, and his eyes are staring into hers. He has a poker face. She shakes in his clutches and her eyes fill with tears already. “Relax. Listen to me. I know what you’re planning.”

What? What is he- “I dare you to fucking try and move away from me. I will follow you and ruin your life.”

“You said you were mine last night? Then you’re mine. You’ll do what I say, and I’ll do as I please with you. Do you understand?”

All she could do was nod. What could she say? She was planning on moving despite not having the money for it. She would have to save up. And now that he’s shown her what he’s capable of, why would she take the risk? 

Why is this happening to her? What did she do to deserve this? Want a better life for herself?

-

Sukuna was pleased with how the morning was going.

She was sitting on a stool in her dining room watching him make them breakfast with an ice pack on her face and a blanket over her body. She didn’t know what to think.

Suddenly, he perks up and turns towards her. “You got a phone, pretty?” 

She could throw up again. She swallows and points towards the hall . “My room,” her voice was hoarse and weak. “On the other side of the bed.”

He pauses and blinks at her. She gets scared again wondering what she did wrong this time. He turns the heat off. “You’re coming with me.”

Toji answers in a flash. “So, how was it?”

“You’re gonna like what you see.” He turns towards where she’s sitting on the bed. “Isn’t that right?” She’s not amused.

“Are you…are you with the bitch right now?” Toji asks.

“Yeah,” Sukuna makes his voice dreamy. “We’re going steady.”

ending a/n: Please lmk what you think ! Thank you for reading !

Masterlist

W E L C O M E P A G E

[harleys1nhawaii]

PROMISE

pairing: dabi / touya todoroki x gn!reader

warnings: established relationship, bnha season 7 spoilers, fluff, little bit of angst, idk

a/n: wrote this after reading the chapter 426 shaking and crying. isn’t proof read and i don’t even wanna read this lol. i love him sm it hurts.

“you’re silent.” his voice is low and gentle.

your gaze falls from that one exact star you were eyefucking for the past 3 minutes and focuses onto a different one. it wasn’t that you loved the star that much. your eyes just couldn’t move as you imagined your boyfriends burnt to death body over and over again. it was fucked up, the way you felt your guts twitching inside of you, the way the lump in your throat tightened your senses.

it takes quite a work and resistance for you to not turn to him and let him see the vulnerability in your eyes.

you force out a dry chuckle, the smile that couldn’t reach your eyes falling down seconds later. you didn’t have the self strength to keep it on.

“am i?”

his eyebrows furrowed as he blowed out the smoke. he always knew this day would come, it had to. and it came off easy, because you also knew it. he had to face that man, had to kill him. his father. it didn’t sound right. you would call him anything but a father.

touya didn’t really know what would be your response, nor what would your behavior be like. you were as unexpected as him, but he also had your pieces in his pockets. hell, he had all of it in his mind. he knew you better than anyone, better than even you did for sure. but your behavior turned out to be more different than anticipated.

you just fell silent. kept putting on weird acts and seemed to accept.

in reality; you didn’t, really. you just had to think about it. poisonous thoughts that’s been roaming around your mind just weren’t letting you to come up with something. you bit your tongue and let your sharp nails abuse your palms. it shouldn’t have felt this horrible.

you feel an arm wrapping around your waist and drop your gaze to the owner of it. you didn’t realize him coming closer. he shifts you onto his lap with a quick pull of your body.

“talk to me, doll. i need to know how you feel like.”his gaze burns into your eyes. you feel distressed for a reason. your body squeezes in itself and leaves you breathless. you couldn’t point out the center of the pain but you felt it. buried deep inside your skin, very close to your heart. it was a burning desire to throw hands and do something. to prevent the loss and pain. though no matter how close it felt you just couldn’t reach it.

“i feel fine.” you mutter, fingers holding the cigarette harshly this time. you put the cancer stick into your mouth and just when you’re about to blow out the smoke, he draws it and throws it down the roof you two are sitting on.

“what the hell was that?” you can’t help but snap. ha takes your hand into his. your eyes meet his’ helplessly. a stern yet calm look was plastered on his face. you can tell there’s some worry on there too, it is concealed but you can see it.

“don’t do something you might regret later.” he says just about a whisper. it is visible how your face drops and your heart skips a beat. “don’t say stupid shit.” you snarl as your eyes dart around.

“i’m offended you’d insinuate that i was tryna be mean.”

“not insinuating, just warning.”

“stop fucking talking like that.” you raise your voice once again. if doing it would help you to swallow your tears, then so be it.

“talking like what?”

“like you’re gonna die.” your voice falls silent at the end. eyes filling up with the tears that you’ve been resisting to be seen for weeks. your gaze shifting from him once again, focusing on something else.

now he’s feeling that lump down his throat too. truth be told, he always had. but what could you say to someone that has dedicated their whole life to get revenge? “don’t”? “stay with me”? you knew better than to beg him. you knew nothing could stop him, not even you. therefore, you understood. you accepted that it was bound to happen sometime. but your mind just couldn’t work the information, couldn’t get used to it.

“doll,” he croakes, his voice is uncharacteristically soft. “i’m sorry.” your eyes falls on him once again, this time it was fast, almost hastily. and for just a moment, something in his gaze shifts. his eyes avoid yours and look to the side. now you’re the one chasing his eyes, funny.

“why?” you mutter. you don’t wanna sound scared, even though you do feel like it. maybe cause you just can’t help but think hiding your feelings will make them go away. you are a pretty hopeless yet funny individual.

“for worrying you.” he falls silent for a moment after that. “i don’t want ya’ to feel like this. though i can’t do anything about it.”

“it’s okay.” you say. this time you’re not trying hard to look perfectly unaffected and fine. “i understand it, i’m sorry too.” you can feel his eyes on you back again.

“why?” he asks in confusion.

“i don’t know. about everything, i guess.” a tear drops on his collarbone as you lower your head. dabi frowns again, exhaling a long sigh. you had nothing to blame, you hadn’t even done anything.

his right arm wraps around your waist tighter as he pulls you towards him. his lips just hover above yours, noses touching. your eyes focuses on his’ once again, and at that very exact moment, your hearts feel warm and whole again. almost like no matter how hurt and deprived one would feel, no matter the struggles and the wars that were went through, there was always someone to wrap their love around that shattered heart and make it whole again.

“i promise you, i’ll crawl back to you baby.” his voice is now a whisper, other hand moving to your cheek and cupping it in his palm. “at anytime, anywhere.” your cold body melts in his warmness, your head falling on his hand. it ignites something in him, a sense of responsibility. to come back and hold you like this again, to protect you from everything that can ever hurt you.

“what if you can’t?” your voice cracks. it’s almost unable to hear, but he does.

he brings his hand up and sticks out his pinky. a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. (though, it was too heartwarming that he wouldn’t think he could do that)

the joy of blooming asters hung heavy in his chest. like the warm summer sun after the cold winter breeze. he never knew he could be capable of feeling this. and now that he tasted it, he didn’t wanna let it go. he swore on his life to keep it with him forever, not softening his grip on it for once. “the world is cruel, therefore i won’t be. not with you.”

your shaky hand rises from his shoulder and your pinky wraps his’.

“promise?” you ask. this time you feel that little spark of hope ignite somewhere deep inside your chest. you don’t wanna beg for impossible. you don’t want this hope to go on waste.

dabi usually doesn’t make promises. truth is, less than usually; he never does. but having experienced the innocence and longing of your love shattered and replaced all his senses. you were the closest thing to heaven he’d ever get. and dabi didn’t wanna go home.

he didn’t wanna set things on fire anymore. that’s all.

and he would give up forever to have you.

“i promise, doll.”

[starryhutcherson]

━━ A NEW FAMILIAR

author's note: crawled out of my hole for this one guys. sorry for being so ghost mode im working on putting out more stuff, apologies if this isn't of the highest quality as i'm running on sugar free redbull and three hours of sleep ! love my life hahahahaAHHHH

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: best friend!mike schmidt x reader warnings: 18+ sexual content! oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing word count: 4600+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

Mike’s expression always glooms when you bring up the next date you’ve arranged. He knows how this story plays out; he knows the truth behind the men you’ve matched with on whatever sketchy website you’ve wasted your time on. They’ve molded themselves into the embodiment of perfection, through falsified photos and fabrications buried in their bios. His patience crumbles like fireplace ash as you skip around his living room and drone on about whatever dickhead you’ve set your poor, precious heart on.

He knows, always, the the outcome is running makeup and salty cheeks, sobbing on the floor of his living room in a creasing satin dress and his welcoming arms, a bitter exclamation of “you were right Mike” leaving your lips in the knowing silence and him gritting his jaw and pretending that it doesn’t bother him the the only habits you ever find yourself falling back into are the bad ones. 

It’s no different today. 

Mark or Matt or Mitch – you really were killing him, because it should be Mike. It should be him. Him that you’re getting ready for, him that you’re daydreaming about. And it’s an odd feeling, like a movie where your favorite character dies and then movie finishes and you have to accept that they aren’t coming back, no matter how long you sit glued to the reclinable chair, popcorn crunched beneath your sneakers and the credit-scene reflected in your shrinking pupils. 

Mike’s not the type to be happier with the hope – he’d let the truth swallow him up, sink into his creaking bones, he’d live with the loss. But he still has hope for you. He has hope that your eyes will open and you’ll seep into his brain and his breath and his bed. He hopes you’ll start seeing him instead of just looking. Maybe it's wishful thinking. Ignorant optimism.

It feels like it. 

It feels like it, right now, when he’s leaning against the doorframe of his bathroom and watching you get ready, your animated chatter reverberating around the small space between coats of mascara. He offered to give you a ride before you’d even asked, and he’ll tolerate the sting of watching you get out of the car looking all pretty for someone who isn’t him, just to make sure you get there safely. It’s the type of sacrifice he’ll make for you. 

“I can’t even feel my face, I’ve been smiling so hard all day!” You squeal, powdering your cheeks with more purposeless product – he thinks it’s all pointless. You’re radiant, even in the harsh lighting of his bathroom. 

He offers a low grunt. What is he supposed to say? He’s not happy. And he’s not gonna pretend he is. 

You either don’t notice or choose to ignore, continuing to doll yourself up to whatever standards you have for yourself. “I mean, he says he’s been skiing since he was 6. He’s practically an olympian.” 

Mike scoffs. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Can you hurry up?”

“Alright, grumpy. Calm down. I gotta do my lips and then I’m ready. Plus, nobody told you that you gotta stand here.” 

A fleeting flush of fuchsia permeates his cheeks, but he looks down at his worn shoes to hide it. It’s true. He didn’t have to stand here. But if an angel was populating your bathroom you’d want to take a peek, would you not? That’s how he thinks you look. Angelic. Glowing from your soul, a content smile knitted on your lips. You might as well have a halo and wings – that heaven-sent aura is reinforced when you douse yourself in lingering washes of that sweet perfume that’s branded itself to you. He’d recognise that floral aroma anywhere, the way a shark detects a drop of blood amongst saline scattered seas. 

“Okay, I’m ready. How do I look?”

Cruelest question of them all. “You look… fine. Good.”

A knot forms in your brow. “All this effort for that terrible answer?” Playful, but with a truthful undertone. Why do you value his opinion so much? He doesn’t want to assume anything. 

“Well I’m not the person you’re dressing up for.” I wish I was. He doesn’t say the other words, but he thinks them so hard he’s half convinced if you were listening in the right spot, or looking into his eyes for long enough that you’d hear it anyway. 

“Okay, okay, whatever. Let’s just get going, don’t wanna keep Mack waiting.” 

Two letters. That’s all it would take. That’s all he’d have to swap to make it him.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

✩‧₊˚

Even if you aren’t aware, even if he did offer, he drives begrudgingly. He focuses as much as he can, on the road ahead and not your glistening figure beside him in the passenger seat, the very definition of temptation. 

The mall parking lot is barren, a few gleaming cars scattered amongst the otherwise desolate area. He pulls into a space, sets the car in park, rakes in a greedy sigh of air. 

“If anything happens, call me.” 

You sneer teasingly. “Don’t be so pessimistic. It’s gonna be great, he could be my future husband, y’know.”

Yep. Mack, the 35 year old you've met online, who’s only notable talent seems to be skiing and his greatest life achievement to date is shooting a deer, whose head is mounted to the wall in his bedroom, typically visible in the background of his many instagram posts which involved his shirtless figure straining to flex his overly pronounced bulk. A match made in heaven. He wants to scream. 

And how can you even tell him to not be pessimistic? How can you look him in the eyes and act like this moment hasn’t happened time after time, the point of no return before an evening spent crying in his arms as he reassures you that your failed dates are never your fault, even though by now it seems like you must be seeking out the same genre of shitty man if you’re this good at getting your heart broken. He’s sick of picking up the fragile little pieces of his bathroom floor, cutting himself on the shards of a heart that’ll never be his. You deserve more than these half-baked, single night romances. He could show you that. 

“Yeah, sure,” he grits. “Future husband. Just call me, seriously.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you.” 

And with that, you’re off, disappearing into the gaping mouth of the mall’s entrance, and he watches with an alkaline feeling growing in his stomach. Your hair is caught up in the wind like clothing on a washline and he thinks his hope is all drained out. 

✩‧₊˚

Mike spends a good two hours back at his house. His movements feel vacuous, staring ahead at the screen, barely processing the raging garbage that masquerades as reality TV. The rain has picked up outside, licking at the window panes with a growing intensity. 

He’s not happy about the jean skirt and tiny little tank top you’d clad yourself in prior to leaving, you’re probably frigid by now in the cold. You did however reassure him that Mack was gonna drive you home, or even worse, take you back to his place, so his stupid fucking elk head trophie could watch with it’s empty eyes while the pair of you fuck on the bed that his mom still has to make for him because he never can quite manage those fitted sheets, can he? Fucking manchild. 

Shit. Mike’s feeling so so bitter. Maybe it’s because he’s finally realized that this is the dreaded pattern he’s going to have to endure with you until death. Or until he braves up and actually tells you that he’s been in love with you since the fifth day of second grade, when you mouthily confronted Jerry Murdoch and told him to give Mike his crayons back.  

With a weak sigh, he turns the TV off with a click of the remote still encaptured in the loose hold of his fist, and decides to see if he can melt into any form of sleep – but the knock on his door prevents him from doing so. 

He arises lethargically, not having much on his mind but the denial of his slumber as he shuffles over and turns the handle, but then, it’s you. 

Fluttery lashes melted to black smudges beneath your eyes, a mixture of rainwater and tears, completely drenched and dripping all over his doormat, your body is trembling and you’re wracked with tiny little cries and he’s feeling so many emotions he believes he might implode. 

He pulls you inside and into his arms, stroking your back in gentle, soothing motions, and it kills him that this has become routine. He’s angry. He’s sick of this. 

“What happened this time?” He grunts softly. 

“He didn’t even show up. He couldn’t even send a message as to why, Mike,” you sniffle into his warm chest, drunk off the even echo of his heartbeat. 

A moment’s silence rots like aged fruit. He draws a breath in, then out, then in again. 

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You crane your face upwards to meet him, instantly bathed in a nervous shiver when you see how serious he looks. 

“My phone was dead.” Is all you can manage to mumble. 

“What?” He’s pissed. “Why didn’t you charge it? You could have charged it there, they have outlets at the mall. Or you could’ve used someone else’s, so you didn’t have to walk home in the rain, because you’re drenched.” 

“I don’t–”

“Y’know how dangerous it is to walk around alone in this shitty neighborhood? Half the street lights don’t even work, and I don’t even know any of my neighbors, or what kinda people walk around here at night.” He grumbles. “I shouldn’t have to tell you all this, I’m sick of explaining all this to you.”

You roll your eyes irritably, releasing yourself from his arms and crossing your own across your dripping wet torso. “How was I supposed to know he was gonna stand me up? You’re telling me I should just expect it?”

He blinks like a deer in headlights, silence settles into his flesh.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

You scoff. “It’s what you implied.” 

“It’s not what I—” He grumbles weakly under his breath, cutting himself off, deciding reasoning with you is somewhat of a useless attempt. “Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“What, charge my phone next time? Bring a raincoat? Yeah, great help, seriously, don’t know where I’d be without you,” your sarcasm hits like gunshot wounds to the teeth. 

“Or maybe you should try to meet actual people, instead of fake ones from some stupid website.” 

After a cold shiver bites up your spine, your expression deepens with defense. What is his fucking problem? “At least I try to get out of the house! At least I don’t spend every hour of every day moping around and feeling sorry for myself!” 

The pair of you fight, sure, every good relationship, friend or romance or family or whatever should, but nothing like this. This is stone-set, it’s been coming for a while, the wild gesticulations and the pacing and the raised voices. It shakes the bones of the weakened house. 

“Don’t,” Mike says with a furious edge, fists tightening and untightening like he’s about to take a swing at the wall, like this is going to end with bleeding knuckles nipped with shards of worn plaster. “Don’t throw that in my face, I do everything I can, for you and Abby. It’s not like I have a choice.”

“So what, you’re so fucking miserable in your own life that you have to try and control mine?”

“Control? You’re like my child! You don’t even know how to take care of yourself half the time, so yes, I try to help you not to make such shitty decisions!” 

You scowl. “You’re not obligated to do anything for me, y’know Mike. Why do you keep me around if I’m that much of a chore for you!”

He snaps, the tension in his fists bleeding up into his throat, his mouth, the words clot behind his gums and suddenly they tumble out in a fury-fueled shout. “Because you’ve got no one else!” 

You deflate, wilting like a flame without oxygen, and Mike deems the silence to be more cruel than anything else you’ve said to him tonight. He’s feeling everything and nothing all at once, the quiet crumbles around him like a burning building and he fears he’ll become rubble beneath the debris. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just… god, just–” His eyes flick to you, and then retreat back down to the faded living room carpet. He can’t swallow his guilt this time. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“It’s fine,” you say coldly, knuckling away an angry tear. The salt water is the trick of nostalgia, you’ve cried like this so many times. Your breakage of those promises to yourself. It’ll be different. And it never is. 

“No. It’s not – I’m a dick, I just… I hate watching other people ruin your life. You deserve better.”

Better. What is better? Some twisted fantasy that some people are indulged with and others are left longing for. That you’re left longing for. You know he’s tired of the same bullshit that you force yourself through, convincing yourself of change, painting yourself up to be fit for presentation, and hoping that whoever you’ve leeched onto likes what they see, so you don’t have to feel so alone anymore. You’re oblivious, painfully so. Because Mike could plaster together the cracks in your splintering psyche, if you’d just let him in. 

“Whatever, Mike. It’s true anyway.”

There’s a hole in his heart in the shape of your name. He begs you. Fill it. A part of him shatters at the defeat in your words — he’s crumbled you to the bone, to the marrow. He’ll build you back up. You deserve it. 

“No it isn't. No it isn’t. You have me. You’ll always have me.” 

A silence pervades; the look in his eyes is one of pleading, that you’ll stop and see what he’s offering you, that you’ll stop chasing your own tail, that you’ll stop the cycle. 

“Mike…”

“And Abby.”

You indulge him. 

“You have me. And you have Abby. And I know that’s… not much, but she loves you. So much. And I’m sorry, ‘cause I know I don’t say it enough, I don’t…. I don’t say how much you mean to me, but I just—”

“Mike.” 

He wallows in the waters of your rain kissed eyes, the way your pupils pulse and the words are falling before he can swallow them back down. 

“I love you.”

He gives you that stare. That stare that’s the color of black coffee, the look that you can feel, unearthing the graveyard of wilting feelings you’ve tried to bury, the heart that beats for him him him, lodged between the ivory bars of your ribcage. He maps you out with his eyes, he looks at you the way the sun hungers for daybreak. 

He’s waiting. He’d wait forever. 

“And… and seeing you with these… shitty people who don’t even care about you, it just…” He sighs exasperatedly, dragging a sweaty palm down his face. 

His sentences can’t seem to finish themselves. This is harder than it looks in the movies. Harder than when he’s practiced in the mirror, when Abby’s walked in and giggled at him and told him to just fess up. 

“You love me? Like…”

He looks up at you like a kicked puppy. “Yeah. I do.”

You’re beyond bewildered. He loves you. He loves you. 

“What– but… you—”

“You don’t have to… say anything. I just, I can’t… I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t do it.”

You reach for his hand. It’s a little clammy, a little trembly, but it’s a perfect fit. Just like you. 

“I love you too, Mike.”

What?

“You… do?”

He’s skeptical, but he’s also swooning. A stone man is slowly cracking. 

“I just didn’t… didn’t think I could have you. I mean, you’re so… you’re everything, y’know? You’re a good brother, and you work so hard, and you’re… I’m just… I don’t think I deserve you,” you whisper, confessing. With a newfound stroke of confidence, he approaches, one hand snaking around to the small of your back, another on your cheek. He’s gentle. In his eyes, you’re porcelain. Precious. Fragile. At least, at this moment. But you love him too and that’s all he needs. It’s all he’s ever needed. 

“You deserve everything.” He says it so quietly it’s barely audible. And then, nothing is audible because he’s carefully pulling your lips to his, linking you in every way, his hands tangle into your damp hair and he’s kissing you. 

His lips chase yours in messy, uncalculated movements. He’s starting small. It’s been a while. And he’s gonna take his time with you. He’s gonna show you what you deserve. Soft sounds squeak past his lips as they flutter against yours, and you’re closer and closer and closer still, impossibly so. 

Within moments he’s whisking you off to his bedroom, his hand tangled with yours, an interlace tight enough to cause ropeburn. His skin chafes with yours, and then he’s kissing you again atop his navy comforter. 

He’s gentle, respectful, but you understand what he’s trying to tell you, what he’s been trying to tell you. He speaks through silken drags of his tongue, through the hand that holds your cheek steady— he feels as though he’s gripping the very cusp of a constellation. You taste like stardust. You glow like the waning moon. 

He breathes heavily in the expanse of his throat, his pants have become tight and wet and filthy; he’s been subconsciously grinding down into your lap. You’re a little shaky and your pupils have darkened with lust and he is going to show you what you mean to him. What you’ve been missing. 

His hand falls lower, into the slope of torso that dips into your hips. His eyes travel back and forth, searching, hunting for the desire that he feels mirrored back at him. Do you want this, the way he does? Do you? His hardened stare doesn’t speak loud enough. He elaborates.

“Can I… uh… do you wanna…?”

Do you want to? You need to. 

“Shit, okay,” he croaks out, jaw tense and tight as he traces you beneath calloused fingers. You didn’t realize you said that out loud. 

He’s endearingly awkward – you know from languid late-night conversations that he hasn’t done this a lot. Maybe even at all. But he’s sweet, so sweet, like lapping up sugar and feeling it dissolve on your tongue, feeling him dissolve on your tongue, giving you comfort and cavities. 

“Can I take this off?” He asks nervously, fiddling with the hem of your camisole. A short nod, and he’s sliding it over your sweat-pricked figure, admiring your contours in the whisper of evening moonlight that bleeds through holes in his moth-eaten curtains. You’re perfect, and he knew you would be. 

He caresses your skin gently, drunk on the mellow feeling of your bare stomach beneath his fingertips. Your bra is black, a little lace peering along the straps, your breasts spilling into the fabric. He reaches around your back, fumbling at the clasp. When the garment drops, his hands are replacing it before you can even blink. 

“Beautiful,” he manages to get out, thumbing over your nipples. 

“Mngh, Mike—”

“Sh. Just let me… just let me. Let me make you feel good. Please?” He grunts out under his breathless voice, and how could you deny such a request?

The moment you agree, he’s grabbing you by the thighs and tugging you towards him slightly, so your back is nearly flat against his mattress and he’s settling himself in the gap that you create for him. 

Your skirt comes off first. Your panties are undeniably soused, his fingers trace the big wet spot that’s dripping all for him, teasing you through torturously thin cotton. 

“Mike,” you mewl gently, fingers settling in his nest of chocolate curls that are damp with sweat. A firm tweak and he’s groaning, his voice melting away into nothing like hot tar. 

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles to himself, like he’s never seen anything like it. Probably not in a while. His finger hooks beneath the waistband, pulls it out gently, and lets it go. It slaps against your hip bone and another fresh sound seeps from your lips.  

“Mike, shit, please just do something—”

“Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than you, carefully sliding your panties from your waist, down past your ankles, and he’s tossing them to join the pile of clothes that has begun to collect on his bedroom floor. 

You’re here, before him. The girl he waited for. Your soft flesh is glistening, clenching painfully around nothing, and he’s salivating at the sight of you. He pries your legs out further with his warm hands, leaving them to linger on your bare flesh for a few drawn out moments, before he claims what’s rightfully his. 

He presses a trialing kiss to your clit, and your back curves delicately, fingers tightening their grasp in his hair. He moans into you at this action, and you, in turn, moan as well. Confidence creates itself in him with each little whimper that he gets you to release, and he’s answering back, hearing your cries, your calls of his name with his own unabashed exclamations of pleasure. This is just as good for him, as it is for you. 

“Mike,” you whine gently, and he’s mumbling weak praise right into your cunt. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. Wanted this for so long.”

It’s barely audible between his languid sucks; he’s lapping at your drooling entrance, fingers subtly creeping closer, up and along your thighs and settling right above your throbbing clit. He presses his thumb against it, tracing sinful circles against your bud— once, twice, and then you’re far too close to the edge. 

“Oh, Mike I’m gonna come,” you choke out between gasps. 

“Do it. Please.”

He’s begging you. 

And you oblige. With a trembling sob, your thighs tense around his head, keeping him locked in place, capturing him and making sure he finishes the job, and oh does he plan to. When you soar, he’s still holding you in place, soothing the electric sparks pulsating throughout your body. 

He savors your sounds, and when they stop coming, he presses a lingering peck on your inner thigh, stubble scraping at the sensitive dermis. He then raises his face to your level, the light coruscating off the filthy souvenir etched all over his face, your glittering arousal that he wears so proudly. 

He steals a proper kiss from you, rubbing your side as a gentle comfort. He’s completely hard now, tenting his sweats, leaking against the fabric. You gingerly reach out, tracing what you assume to be the head of his cock, and he sags, boneless, against your touch. 

“Fuck, baby I—”

“Baby?” You chuckle softly, still hazed from the candy-coated afterglow of your orgasm. The first of many, he hopes. 

“Mngh— g… got a problem?” He grumbles softly, almost quivering as you begin to palm him with purpose.

“It’s out of character,” you tell him gently. 

“Shit, can I be inside you?” He asks you, voice ripped raw. 

And once again, Mike Schmidt leaves you breathless. 

“Yeah. I need it. I need you.”

He groans, slipping off his pants and boxers without so much as another word from your swollen lips. He’s hard, angrily so, his cock pulses violently and a little whimper escapes through the crack in his bitten lips when it slaps against his stomach. 

He’s stroking himself slowly, base to tip and then back again, collecting the pearls of precum that dribble from his slit. He’s never been so ready for something. For you. It’s all for you. 

He’s holding you, thumbing your hip bones and gently nudging himself into your hole, cooing at every cry that crawls from the crevices of your throat. When he bottoms out, finally, it’s safe to say that he gets a little dumb. “Oh, shit, I’m not— not gonna last long, you’re so tight, shit…” He’s rambling a little. It’s cute. 

A few wandering kisses land on you the way dandelion spores decorate a skyline – your cheek and your chin and your jaw, as he waits for you to let him move. You’re squeezing him for all he’s got and he’s three seconds away from spilling before he’s even so much as thrusted. You do this to him. 

All those days, staring into your eyes and wondering if you’d ever see him the way you do, all those nights, stroking your hair and softening your saddened sobs after failed date after failed date. They’re all worth it. 

You’re clamping down on him, warm and wet and wavering, and you’re exhaling softly through your nose and telling him to move, begging him to move, to make you feel good, and it’s what he does. 

He pumps into you with passion, magnetized to your every movement. He’s satisfying a decade worth of insatiable craving, he’s chasing your hips with his. You end where he begins. 

The headboard creaks and slams against thin plastered walls, one hand grips onto it with alabaster knuckles and the other one holds your hips for better leverage. He doesn’t need to say it, but each knocked kiss of his pelvis to yours is a silent I love you I love you I love you. 

“Oh my god Mike,” you sob, and he slides himself deeper, hitting everywhere he wants to reach. Everywhere to make you quiver beneath him.

“You d—don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he moans lowly. “How many times I’ve imagined you like— like this.”

He’s blabbering, every stray thought that passes through his head is already blossoming on his tongue and out into the air before he can even think twice. Admittedly, you’re too blissed out in your own mind to really respond, but it’s arousing all the same. 

“You’re so… so beautiful,” he’s flushed and he’s faltering, and you know he’s close before he even announces it. 

“Shit, baby, I can’t— can’t last much longer,” he stammers, his bruising pace beginning to shake. 

“Do it in me, Mike, please, please,” shit, are you trying to kill him? Your word is the only law he knows, and he’s wrapping his arms around your torso and diving his head in the elegant slope of your collarbone, biting down into the skin and spasming somewhere deep in your welcoming walls. 

He tries to keep himself quiet, but it’s really a futile effort. His hips jut sporadically as he empties himself inside you, and the sudden flood of subtle heat is all it takes for you to topple over as well. 

Bliss teeters back into reality after a seemingly ceaseless moment. He peels his head from its previous position to admire you, to stroke a stray lock of hair from your forehead and nervously greet it with a kiss.

He doesn’t let go of you. Not now, not ever, he thinks to himself. His arms snake around you tighter, and somehow it’s even more intimate after the fact. His bare chest collides with your back, his nose rests comfortably against the crown of your head. The pair of you follow each other into a dreamless sleep, safe in the sanctuary of a warm bed and an even warmer embrace. 

He’s found his new familiar. 

masterlist

✩‧₊

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 4

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

We didn’t do hot Glenn summer for him to LOSE. Spoilers for his story but MORE PROPAGANDA FOR YOU:

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

Listen, I don't know this other character but I've seem some good arguments for her However Consider Glenn Close winning through no effort of his own in a bullshit way despite being a dick is the most in character thing ever. He leveled up three times and got a crab mech, we GOT to give him this win, it's fitting

I don’t regulate if minors follow me or not bc I’m a pretty chill space but I hope the world is aware that’s the only reason I haven’t been downright nasty about Glenn close. I’m down bad. I’m NOT in the boat of ‘Glenn isn’t sexy but I want him to win bc it’s my fandom’. I would estimate I have 200+ drawings of Glenn on my phone that AREN’T safe for work. Way more that are. Where did they come from? That’s MY business. But I tell you this fact to assure you- Glenn IS sexy. I’m not voting to represent my fandom I’m voting out of TRUTH AND LOVE. IF YOU DON’T GET IT YOU DON’T GET IT!!! I just think my level of feral over this man is more powerful than y’all realize. If you don’t get his sex appeal that’s okay, but don’t doubt that this is my truth.

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. Do you think pickman needs this to feel good about herself? Can she not accept a loss for the sake of a pathetic father? Can she shake hands with the minivan fucker and his human gun and just take the L on this one? He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Mod Note 2: This tournament is about fictional podcast characters. Please do not vote for the real actress Glenn Close.

Lup (The Adventure Zone: Balance):

Is somehow the hot twin between her and Taako

Lup Bluejeans (née... Taaco? Tacco? Taco? Tako? who tf knows this is why I'm going with her husband's last name. doylistly she gets her last name from her brother whose last name is given as "Taako again but spelled differently"): Hot, funny, smart and undead. Is there anything else you could want in a woman?? Well, in case there is: she's also canonically trans

LUP IS THE HOTTEST. VOTE LUP.

[bomber-grl]

SAL FISHER RELATIONSHIP HC ! ₊˚⊹

₊˚⊹ PAIRING(s): Sal fisher x Gn!reader

He’s so sweet it hurts

Honestly, Sal is the best boyfriend ever, he’s always there for you and he always knows the perfect things to say when comforting you.

The two of you met because of the ghosts and the whole cult thing while at high school.

You were the more outspoken one out of the two of you since Sal was mostly against violence even when Travis was brought into the convo.

I can definitely see Sal being the first one to approach you.

It all started when Sal started becoming increasingly interested in you to the point that Larry and even ash started teasing and encouraging him to talk to you.

He would fluster, occasionally and say the wrong words out of nervousness however with luck, he managed to get your number.

It was hard not to fall for him, especially with how lovable he is.

He’s so genuinely nice and actually cares for others.

Of course, you eventually see his face, and although he was neutral about it since he trusted you he was still a bit nervous.

Definitely warms his heart when you not only accept his face but also kiss it.

He flusters and stutters so badly afterwards.

Continuing from that, he’s definitely the type to tease lightheartedly

Definitely not in the beginning though

So when you first started teasing and provoking him, causing him to get super flustered

He wouldn’t really know what to do except accept it, so imagine your surprise when he turns the tables once day and makes you a blushing mess

Most times when you hang out, you usually hang at the apartments in his room, or when sals an adult you’d hang out in his room in the house

During these hang outs you guys would usually listen to some music or just enjoy each others presence

Most times it’s just you and sal cuddling and ngl he smells rlly good

Like I’m not even joking and when you mention this, he can’t help but laugh and just tells you do too

However, when you guys hang out with Larry (which is more often than not) you guys end up in more than sus situations 😭😭

Then Larry is all like “I’ll leave you guys at it” and dips

Like??? We’re not doing anything 😭🗣️

Anyway

While you’re at high school ofc Travis has something to say, and if you’re a guy then he obviously calls you the f slur and a lot of homophobic nonsense

And if you’re a girl Travis still calls y’all homos in a negative way, and always says shit about you two

And I don’t think I need elaborate further about how Travis would probably hate crime you if you were non-binary, gender fluid, or basically anything under the trans umbrella

(Basically any gender identity that isn’t your assigned one 😭

Larry, ash, and Todd all get pissed at Travis , and they always come to the both of your guy’s defense

And ofc Sal is bit lenient towards Travis, well only ever when Travis is talking shit about him

If Travis talks shit about you he’d be pissed

But ofc younger Sal is less violent and more open so he’d obvs be kinder

Anyway, we all know what happens at the apartments and if you live there-

Let’s just say it pains Sal so much to have to kill you

I mean him having to kill all the people he grew up with and the people he cares for is horrible but he knows he has to

However, if you don’t, well let’s say you know about the cult and why he did it

Still doesn’t stop you from trying to find a way to get a lower sentence and from trying the convince ash of the truth

When sal dies, let’s just say you feel so alone

Of course you have ash by your side but it’s just horrible

Eventually you’re the person that sals soul would enter and you’d defeat the cult that way

But let’s all pretend that they were able to defeat the cult without having to kill the innocent tenants

Making sal a free man

Well if it were that way, you and Sal would be together for a long time, and if you both wished it, married too

———

Art credits : @/toasterdoodle22

[flawseer]

Ok, these time rate me the Jade WInglets

I've been sitting on this work-in-progress picture for so many months now. Maybe if I post it here, I'll finally sit down and finish it.

Very long post incoming.

Discussing the Jade Winglet

Okay. So, you want me to rate the Jade Winglet group. That’s going to be very easy: I love all of them.

It’s also going to be extraordinarily hard because... well... I love all of them. How am I supposed to put them into an ordered list? It can’t be done. So I guess what I’m going to do is: First I will put them into a tier list, and then I’m going to just talk about each of them individually for a bit.

But on account of aforementioned adoration I have for all of these guys, said tier list is going to be very lopsided. The tiers are going to be “I adore them with the intensity of seven suns”, “I really like them”, and “I very much like them, but...”. You’re going to have to imagine that there are five or so more unused tiers below that.

Let’s unceremoniously get that ranking out of the way first. From top to bottom, the tiers are:

I adore Turtle, Qibli, and Winter.

I really like Moonwatcher, Kinkajou, and Peril.

I very much like Umber and Carnelian.

As for more in-depth commentary, here is a disclaimer: When I think about these guys I mostly consider books 6 (Moon Rising) to 9 (Talons of Power) and the first half of 10 (Darkness of Dragons). The second half of 10... if I’m being honest, I didn’t really enjoy it. I don’t want to go into it too much here, if you really want me to talk about my misgivings with the second arc finale, put a message about it in my inbox (it’s not just the obvious thing; it actually mostly pertains to Winter and the absolute nightmare ending he got saddled with, and some very unfortunate character implications).

Some of my musings are also going to be a bit critical. I just want it to be clear that I make these observations as a fan of the series. It’s a good practice to think critically even about media that you like. It helps you better understand why you like it in the first place. Also, I make no demands to be agreed with. This is just how I see it.

Anyway, enough stalling, let’s get into it. Not in order:

Turtle

CW: Parental abuse

Turtle is the most wonderful thing to ever happen in the history of the universe. I wake up every morning and the first thought in my head is “Ugh, another day in this backwards reality where Turtle is not real! No thanks!!” Then I go right back to sleep disappointed until the next day. Okay, maybe that’s a bit hyperbolic. But I do think that everyone’s lives would be greatly improved if Turtle was real.

Turtle is a very vibrant and insightful character who, much like Winter, is unfortunately cursed with a pair of malicious and incompetent "parents". Some of his scenes really hurt to get through if you’re a parent yourself or have ever had parental feelings. The first scene he is in, when Moon observes him arriving at the academy, his mother makes a passing comment about how Turtle has no value because he cannot inherit the throne. Turtle is within earshot when she does this. And he has no overt reaction to it, which to me hints that Coral asserts this about her male children so frequently that he has accepted her line of thinking and internalized it. He just accepts it as the truth. That is heartbreaking.

And then there is his father, mild-mannered and ostensibly gentle Gill, who killed Turtle’s budding interest in writing as well as the entirety of his self-confidence back when he was a kid, by assigning a little boy a task that was well beyond him (and only to him, even though there were more people present who could have helped), and then made him believe he killed his unborn sister when Turtle inevitably couldn’t do what he was asked. The narrative really tries to make Gill sympathetic in that moment by insisting he’s speaking in anger and doesn’t really mean it, but um, no. I don’t buy it, dude. You just gave a little kid a lifelong guilt complex because you couldn’t think of asking more people for help. Or taking the egg with you while you left the hatchery. Or telling Turtle to take a message to the palace guard so someone who didn’t still have their milk teeth could mount a proper, organized search while interim guards were posted in the hatchery. Or literally any of the thousands of other options that didn’t require traumatizing your own son.

As a result, Turtle became emotionally reclusive. He registers to others as dull, placid, unpassionate, and boring, like he cares about nothing and is content to never strive for or achieve anything in his life. He himself explains that writing used to be something he was into at some point, but then lost interest in. But I don’t think he has. He still loves literature and thinking about stories, he's still doing it in his internal monologue. He just denies it because he subconsciously feels the need to punish himself. I imagine he still gets that drive sometimes, to sit down and start writing again. But every time he thinks about it, or catches himself wanting anything, his father’s voice resurfaces in his mind, telling him that he killed his sister and doesn’t deserve it. And then he self-punishes by depriving himself of everything he loves doing and every positive emotion associated with it. Because he is convinced he is guilty for failing his father, when in actuality, the opposite is true.

The tragedy is that, if Gill had known how much damage he caused and wasn’t in a situation where he needed a flowchart to keep his 30+ sons apart, he probably would have apologized. He doesn’t strike me as malicious, just horribly, horribly incompetent as a parent. But as things played out, Gill is no longer able to fix his mistake. The only person who can now grant Turtle the forgiveness he needs is himself. I hope he will be able to do it.

Turtle truly is an endearing character and a wonderful son undeserved by his parents. If I could adopt him right now I would. In fact, I’m gonna do it. Hold on while I get the papers. Wait, I have to finish? Uh... okay.

Moonwatcher

In a sense, Moonwatcher may be the most interesting character in the entire cast. She certainly had the potential to be my favorite character period. But there are a few points holding her back.

The thing about Moonwatcher is that, more than any other character, she requires meticulous care and attention to detail to be written well. The reason for this is that, when you’re writing for Moon, you also technically write for every character she interacts with. She is written brilliantly in her own book, since the narrative is allowed to focus on her; Moon Rising may thus actually be my favorite book of the second arc. It’s very enrapturing, seeing her navigate the academy’s social dynamics after growing up as, essentially, a feral jungle child, and battling with her own feelings of loneliness and inadequacy.

The thing is though... Wings of Fire has a bit of an odd quirk. Something I’ve noticed with regards to its writing is that, whenever a character is not particularly in focus during a scene, they often get reduced to their most basic traits and will rigidly act according to them regardless of prior context or external factors. I call this phenomenon “Auto-pilot”. If you’ve read my Mail Call #3, this is what I think happened to Tsunami during the second arc—Tsunami’s basic traits are that she is bossy, emotional, and blunt, so she spends the entirety of her page time as a deep-sea-themed wrecking ball who yells at everyone and dismisses everything as “ugh, nightwing powers” and “Peril was bad in book 1 once, I hate her forever”, despite having other, more pressing matters to prioritize.

Whenever Moonwatcher gets set to auto-pilot, it is very depressing. She needs careful, attentive writing to shine, and whenever she doesn’t get it she turns from the most interesting character into a dull brick that recites exposition and occasionally exists to be fawned after by boys. Tragically, the auto-pilot hits her bad after Winter’s book is done, and she never manages to escape it afterwards, save for maybe one or two scenes. There is a particularly egregious example in book 10 that, in my opinion, does permanent, irreversible damage to her character. It’s all a bit soul-crushing if dwelt on.

So yeah, I like Moonwatcher. I really do. I just wish the strong way she was written could have carried through the entire arc.

Winter

CW: Parental abuse

I initially didn’t really know what to make of Winter when I read Moon’s book. He seemed kind of like a buttface who was needlessly hostile and unapproachable. But he really comes into his own in his book, and looking back at his earlier scenes with that new context makes it all make sense. He became one of my stand-out favorites after that.

Winter really has a lot in common with Turtle, so much so that I wish those two actually had some deeper interactions with each other. Like, at one point Turtle saves his life, you’d think they would want to talk about that some time. Where Turtle’s parents are one half malicious, one half incompetent, Winter’s are pure malice AND incompetence. Blessed with three children, they managed to completely ruin one of them, almost ruin the other, and then the third one is kind of out of focus so I don’t know how he is faring, but I doubt there is a lot of love there either.

In a way, you can draw a lot of parallels between Winter and Icicle, and Zuko and Azula from Avatar: The Last Airbender—The unfavorite who tries to do right but constantly fails to live up to his father’s/parents' warped standards, and the prodigy who seemingly has her father’s/parents' approval but secretly suffers from the abusive parenting just as much, but in different ways. Hailstorm then tries to take on the role of Iroh, an older figure that acts as a source of positivity and genuine love, and offers a reprieve from the abuse. But where Iroh is an adult drawing from a lifetime of wisdom, Hailstorm is just the slightly older sibling who comes from the same abusive household battling the same demons, so his effectiveness in countering the toxicity is limited.

Where Zuko pursues honor, Winter strives to be strong. Both his parents and his sister perceive him as weak and label him irrelevant. While this hurts him deeply, I don’t think Winter fully surrendered to his inferiority complex until he heard his brother mirror the same sentiment at him. Winter is repressed and struggles with processing his emotions—Thus he heard the words Hailstorm only said to save his life and took them at face value. Even the person he loves the most, the only source of affection and affirmation in his life, thinks he is weak. This is what drives Winter to feverishly desire strength and thus adopt a persona of the strongest thing he knows: a stoic Icewing warrior.

This is why he acts the way he does in book 6: aloof, threatening, unapproachable, invincible. But all of these traits are diametrically opposed to his actual personality, which is warm, compassionate, and just wanting to be loved for who he is. So whenever Moon reads his mind, he comes across as a confused mess of conflicting emotions. Because he is pretending to be something he isn’t.

The interesting thing here is that Winter actually is genuinely strong. He is just unable to recognize his own worth, due to the toxic way royal Icewings are raised, warping his perception of what strength means. When he meets Foeslayer, who is said to be an ancient enemy of his people, his mind cuts through the veneer of tradition and old bullshit justifications and sees her imprisonment for the cruel injustice that it is. He then undoes that injustice and frees her. It takes an incomprehensible amount of personal integrity and willpower to just casually defy the will of your entire country like that. This is equivalent to treason; by aiding her, Winter risks becoming an enemy of his people on par with Foeslayer herself. And he does it anyway, because it is the right thing to do.

This dissonance in his perception of strength with regards to his Icewing upbringing, and the actual strength he embodies and has embodied all this time, is something I would have liked to see explored more in the finale or something. As it stands now, he got pressured into putting his life on the line in the battle for Jade Mountain, has sworn loyalty to a people that mistreated him and tried to ruin him from a young age, and then got saddled with an existential nightmare of an ending that leaves me baffled to this day.

In terms of personal misfortune, he certainly is the Starflight of his group.

Qibli

CW: Parental abuse

Qibli is a very charming and versatile character. It is easy to imagine him in a variety of different situations and the scenes almost write themselves, especially when there’s another person with him whom he can bounce off of (figuratively, though I wouldn’t put it past him to try to literally bounce off of someone too). The 10th book posits him as some kind of parallel to Darkstalker; the latter even overtly states this and tries to recruit him as a manner of apprentice. It’s interesting because I think they are actually pretty different.

Qibli excels in situations where his options are limited. He is great at thinking on his feet and coming up with solutions to problems within a restricted framework. He'd be great in an escape room. This ability of his is shown throughout the arc, but it is especially visible in Moon Rising, where his presence in a scene often makes Moon stronger, or more adept at solving problems, because his mind is breaking down the situation for her in a way she would be unable to see on her own.

The twist then comes in when you take Qibli out of that limited framework, by giving him power. His pronounced intellect is very peculiar; it needs limitation to be brilliant. When he has unhindered access to all-powerful magic (i.e. doesn’t have to clear his ideas with another person), he turns into a colossal idiot who buries cities in sand and almost blows up inhabited mountains.

It only follows that, if you were to give Qibli what he wants and make him an animus, it would absolutely ruin him. The great intellect he cultivated would wither and, unshackled from the limitations that forced him to think critically and be his most excellent self, he would end up destroying himself, and likely others too.

Another interesting facet of Qibli is how he works as a parallel to Winter and Turtle (and Peril to an extent). All of these characters come from broken homes and have suffered under abusive parental figures. Qibli’s case in particular is interesting because it showcases how your circumstances can make a difference in how well you handle that issue. Qibli suffered under a tyrannical mother and a pair of cruel siblings, but in contrast to his peers, someone from the outside noticed his suffering was able to intervene—Thorn saved him from his hell and became his rescue parent, restoring his confidence and sense of self-worth.

Because of this, when his turn comes to confront his demons, while it is still difficult and painful (because trauma always is), he is able to navigate the confrontation with comparatively more grace and control than the others. The contrast really shows how difficult it is to escape a toxic relationship if you are still mired deeply within it, and how you need to put some distance between yourself and it before you can see where you are and what needs to be done with improved clarity. That is the path to healing.

I could probably keep talking about Qibli for 15 more paragraphs, but I’ll spare you.

Kinkajou

Every protagonist (and a good deal of side characters) in Wings of Fire is broken, usually has some kind of gut-wrenching past (often due to terrible parents), and struggles to find their place in the world. Luckily here is a pink-and-yellow Rainwing who is just happy and everything is fantastic and wholesome, right?

CW: Forced starvation

Nah, Kinkajou had it pretty rough too. The story plays it like it’s a humorous quip when she finds out Moonwatcher is her roommate and bemoans that nobody is taking her “trauma” seriously, but... yeah, it actually is legitimate trauma. She was captured, bound, and trapped on a hell island without sunlight for several weeks. While there, she was not fed, and she helplessly watched people whom she knew from early childhood starve and die. Death by starvation is not pretty, she likely had to witness her friends slowly being driven mad by hunger until they withered away, and couldn’t do anything about it. Then she was rescued and returned to a home that didn’t believe her pain was real, that claimed she made it up for attention, and that some people who she thought of as friends didn’t even notice she was gone. The only one who believed her was a stranger whom she had met maybe a few hours ago.

Personally, if that happened to me and I came home to that, I’d likely have pulled a Chameleon and said “Screw the Rainwings, I’m moving to the desert.”

That Kinkajou is still able to be positive and full of energy after that is a testament to her immense mental fortitude. She might actually be one of the most stable and resilient characters in the story. Some things shake her up for a bit, but nothing can crush her.

Still, I imagine there are some times, after a really bad day maybe, where she wakes up in the middle of the night. And there, for just a moment, she is scared to open her eyes... because she might be back on the Nightwing island and has to watch someone else die.

Peril

Peril is a bit of an odd case in arc 2. She gets grouped with the protagonists of that arc and the ending implies she is integrated into the Jade Winglet as their new Skywing. I have no real problem with that, in fact it’s good on her that she’s made a little less isolated. But to me, Peril always felt like an awkward appendix to that group. Her only real friend in there is Turtle; for the rest of them they feel more like vague acquaintances, like she's tolerated for being Turtle's friend.

To be fair though, that friendship with Turtle is really strong; it’s an exciting and deep character dynamic. But if I was forced to tie Peril to a group of protagonists, my first instinct would be to associate her with the first arc protagonists instead.

This poor girl has been through it. Everyone seems to hate her and wants her to leave, sometimes for understandable reasons and sometimes it just seems bizarre. I already went into Tsunami’s disdain for her in an earlier post, but I also vaguely remember a point in Escaping Peril where she meets Qibli and he gives her a withering glare for some reason. That confused me, to be honest. I thought “What’s YOUR problem with her? Have you ever even met??” Like, I guess the Outclaws were in direct conflict with Burn since they lived in the same country, and Peril was an infamous elite combatant under the command of one of Burn’s allies, so maybe Peril killed people he knew? But then he gets over his disdain really quickly and with no comment, so whatever happened can’t have been a big deal after all.

My favorite part in her book is when everyone--after having learned about Turtle’s powers--chews him out for not having helped his country during the war, and Peril cuts through the tripe by saying something along the lines of “So if he uses the power he was born with to serve his Queen it is honorable, but when I do the same for my Queen I’m a murderer and deserve to have things thrown at me?” I love all of these guys, but they really deserved to be called out for their double standard and feel stupid for a bit.

But yeah, I really enjoy her friendship with Turtle in the end. And since he accidentally made himself virtually indestructible, it means Peril can now get all the friendly hugs she craves.

Umber

Umber is cool. He has a potentially interesting relationship with Turtle, which is implied in the latter’s book when it is mentioned that they sleep with their backs touching to comfort each other about their respective siblings not being there.

Unfortunately he gets written out of the story arc very quickly. I wish I knew more about him.

Carnelian

I like Carnelian. I feel like she had a lot of potential that gets wasted by her death, for not much gain. It is used to give Queen Ruby a reason to come to Jade Mountain and kickstart the events of Peril’s book, but the same could have been accomplished by having her learn that the Academy is housing Peril and going there to demand the extradition of a (in her eyes) dangerous and murderous fugitive.

Same as with Umber, really, I wish I knew more about her. I already said this during my Smaugust drawing session, but I like to pretend that she and Bigtail didn’t die, and instead had a mini arc about recovering from their injuries. It also has the side effect of averting some very unfortunate implications that come with Bigtail’s death.

~~~

I think that’s all of them. Good lord I talk too much. Please don’t throw crocodiles at my face for it. Tumblr is my queen, and--much like the Queen's former champion--I was made to do it.

[shegetsburned]

What if you were the reincarnation of Sukuna’s only lover? Like you’re just strong as him and one day he sees you right after Yuji meeting you etc

OMG

listen i had so many ideas around the same thing.

this whole reincarnation thingy makes me crazy and i’m in love with it. the fact that you’re oblivious about everything but end up being his lover’s reincarnation is so good.

so first of all, he realizes something different about you. your cursed energy is familiar to him and it makes him uneasy. the king of curses is uneasy around you. and the first time he stumbles against you (when he takes over yuji’s body or something), he freezes at first. without showing his distress to you, he can’t help but try to study everything that you are. you are different but in what way? why does he feel the way he feels?

i think it’d be nice to see him hesitate. but you don’t. you don’t hesitate one second. you have a chance to take down the king of curses. he’s right in front of you and you take this opportunity to put an end to him once and for all.

but i had this thought that i think would be interesting. in your past life, you two have made a pact. an unbreakable pact that forbids your bodies to use cursed energy against each other in order to avoid a situation where you’d kill him and vice-versa. and this was this situation. so it’s normal that your body freezes as well when you realize you can’t use any cursed energy anymore. not against him. you try to land blows but nothing comes out. nothing is there, only the brute force of your body can help you now.

you’re so confused. you have no idea why this is happening, but he knows. and now that you two are isolated from the rest of the sorcerers he takes a chance and doesn’t give you much choice but to remember.

you’ll try taking him down with your fists, your punches, anything that you can land on him but he doesn’t flinch. nothing works. he might be deprived of cursed energy but his brute force grandly surpasses yours in every way.

you try to distance yourself from him but he gets closer and closer. he wants you to know the truth and as soon as he sees you stumble on the ground, out of breath and ideas he takes a knee in front of you, leaning forward toward your sweaty figure. is he going to kill you? is he so confident because he knows he’s stronger?

you can’t move. you’re so scared. you know it’s going to be your last moments. but you also wonder why he’s taking his sweet time with you, toying with your life perhaps?

“you might wonder why you can’t use your cursed technique.”

the first words he says to you as he locks his gaze with yours make you wonder if he knows what the hell this is all about.

i want to believe that, at first, you protest, you try to talk, try to fight back, telling him that he should stop, to let yuji go and that you’ll kill him but there’s only one thought in his mind; you.

as soon as he sees an opening, he grabs your wrist with his hand. when it happens, hundreds of memories come flowing into your mind. flashes of a life you once lived, thousands of years ago. you are relieving these moments one at a time at a remarkable speed. but your whole body goes numb when you realize who you’re sharing those lost memories with; the king of curses.

he was beside you, holding your hand, helping you walk through lifeless corps dispersed around the streets. you were smiling. why were you smiling? why did this girl you inherited your life from accept his hand? why did you wander around with this cold and heartless sorcerer that ryomen sukuna is?

nothing in your right mind made sense. why would he show you all of this incomprehensible series of images of a life you never knew you had lived? a life you possibly might have lost into the arms of the most dangerous sorcerer known to men. it felt dangerous. it also felt immediately utterly disgusting.

at first, your trembling body wanted to reject every ounce of this feeling you had briefly felt when your past self had reached for sukuna’s hand. you fell, knees on the floor, uncontrollably vomiting your trips out. your saccaded breath was the only sound making its way out.

you were sweating. you wanted to cry.

ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ ) hehehe I really do think that if you were a sorcerer you’d vomit realizing all of this and i kinda liked the idea of reader being so goddamn disgusted by all of this, at first. idk idk just my thoughts. enjoy this little rent.

but don’t worry, you’d slowly warm up to him and maybe fall in love with him just like you did many many times before. mwaaaah.

[heavndoll]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒.

pairings — fem!reader and rafe cameron.

summary — after rafe takes your life, he tries to move on, and simply pretends he’s the one who didn’t do so. eventually, hauntings and truths will lay themselves out to remind rafe just how sickening he is.

warning tags — adult language. details of gruesome m*rder & m*rder itself. mentions of DV relationship, (brief) child ab*se & awful parents. talks of religion and god. reader’s pov from heaven (?? just stick w the program). rafe actually going more insane than usual. overall dark content.

author’s note — this is based on and inspired by ethel cain’s song ‘strangers’ and while this song has multiple interpretations to go by, i’m taking mine by the main and common one (just without the c*nnibalism!). this also gets super dark and depressing so if you cannot bear any of it, please click off! this also isn’t revised at all so my apologies for grammar mistakes.

likes, shares & reblogs are very much appreciated ⋆୨୧ ₊ﾟ

you had tears in your eyes, body shaking to point you thought you’d convulse. you tried to be obedient by keeping in rafe’s secret of what he had done on that tarmac. he beat you to make sure you kept your mouth shut for good.

he said, “i’ll kill you if you say one word,” and it took enough fear to believe him, but you didn’t think that day would come.

murder is an evil thing, and everyone can attest to it. rafe murdered sheriff peterkin as if she was nothing, as if she was a problem in the way. bad enough, he let john b. routledge — one of your best friends — take the fall for it.

you continued to keep your mouth shut, but after rafe tried to invade the police, ward killing himself, you didn’t see a reason to keep quiet. ward was the only reason why rafe could stay out of prison, and now that he wasn’t around, you could speak.

your father preached every sunday to live by righteousness and good, to never let evil win.

rafe was that evil. he was the devil himself.

the devil that you danced with, let make love to you, kiss you, but also beat you until stars twinkled in your vision, and your breath kept getting caught in your throat.

your mother would be horrified to know that, your father too. but it was their fault in a way that you accepted this cruelty as love; your father, especially to blame.

if love is not meant to be hit at you, does it even exist? your father showed you that when he’d slap or punch you for falling out of line, but go to church the next day, and preach about being a good servant to god.

you wanted all evil out of your life. it was suffocating, it was drowning you.

rafe had to be eliminated first.

“you killed peterkin, and i’m tired of knowing it,” you said, picking up your car keys. “we are done, and i won’t even show up to your trial when you go down for it.”

rafe just stared at you appalled and puzzled, sitting on the edge of his bed. you were close to being far out enough to your car until strong, violent hand seized you.

you screamed and kicked, not being new to this routine, only knowing that he was going to harm you.

you could never predict that his violence would lead him to murdering you.

“let me go, rafe!” you screamed, being pulled inside, your pleas and cries echoing in the empty home.

expecting to be physically berated, you were being led downwards.

to the wine cellar basement.

and for once in a while, you prayed to god, and hoped he would finally listen to you this time. that he would save his child, and perform a miracle.

but a miracle never came as rafe manhandled you, pinning you down on the cement ground of the basement.

“shut the fuck up! stop crying!” he yelled, a solid punch coming to your cheek, and you yelped, an easy gush of blood rushing out of your mouth. “you’re a fuckin’ backstabber. after everything i’ve done for you, gonna treat me like that?”

you cried, shaking your head. “r—rafe, please! i’ll be good, i’ll stop!”

“don’t trust you, little one. can’t let you ruin everything,” rafe said, reaching for something out of his back pocket.

the more you fought back, the more angry he got; the more you fueled the fire that rested in his hands and body.

before you could let out another plead, a sharp pain was made into your abdomen.

rafe stabbed you — and he wasn’t planning on stopping there.

god wasn’t there. you would show up to his gates in this condition, and ask him why he let it happen. if god is real, why did he bear witness instead of saving you?

rafe doesn’t recall killing you.

he remembers grabbing, and dragging you down into wine cellar basement, but couldn’t be able to tell anyone what happened after that. all he knows your blood was quite literally on his hand, knife shaking in his grip.

your babydoll white dress was now stained with violence and scarlet red blood.

the sight should’ve made him sick, but it didn’t. he just stared at you, breathing heavy, and it didn’t strike him until a while later that he had killed you.

rafe cameron had killed the love of his life.

he only panicked when it came to how to dispose your body, take off any evidence that could trace back to him. he was more than willing to dump your body in the woods, let any gators eat at you for supper.

he tossed your body only hours later in the depths of the woods, and it didn’t take long until you were reported missing.

of course, he was questioned first. it was easy for him to play the concerned boyfriend, crying because he also hadn’t heard from you, saying he had been texting and calling you for hours.

your parents sobbed on the news and asking anyone to come forward with any information, that they’ll give up however much money for their child to come home.

rafe just stared numbly at the television screen, a cup of scotch in his hand.

your best friends, the pogues, sobbed for days, and even started a search party for you. rafe made sure to dig you levels down in those woods when the ground was wet enough to dig up, and cover you up.

sarah cameron had a feeling her brother had something to do with your ‘disappearance’ but it was only just a gut intuition, she couldn’t prove it. she always questioned why you got with her brother, always emphasizing how horrible and violent he was, but you would tell her, “you don’t know him like i do; you don’t know how much he loves me, and takes care of me.”

kiara knew how bad rafe was — for god sake, she momentarily went to the academy around the same time he was a senior. she knew he wasn’t destined to be a boyfriend, let alone even in a fucking relationship.

the boys of the group were beyond furious, the three wanting to round up and take ahold of rafe, beat some information out of him. but they knew you wouldn’t want that, and that rafe would easily get the police to arrest them.

however, months passed, and you slowly became a memory to not only the town, but to rafe himself. he went on with his days like nothing occurred, that he didn’t violently take the life of his girlfriend.

you weren’t on his mind anymore, and he didn’t have to worry about you anymore.

or so he thought.

karma and revenge go hand in hand together; they mingle and burst out, they make sure they arrive at the doorstep of the people who deserve it.

rafe always thought getting rid of you would avoid his downfall, but the murder of you was just the beginning of it all.

he slept peacefully like he had done for a while now, with him about to drown into a deep sleep. he rested with his hands laid atop of his stomach, comfortable and at solitude, a female whisper woke him up.

he peeked around, but saw no one. he assumed he was just sleep deprived and imagining things, his eyes closing again for sleep.

“do you feel sick yet?” the voice that sounded like yours came through, more clearer and visible. he shot up, and turned on his bedside lamp.

nothing. no one. not you.

why would he have to feel sick? you were gone, you were no longer a problem.

rafe shook it off, and was able to go back to sleep.

you were angry in the afterlife. you stared at rafe from heaven, trembling with rage and regret. a man you once loved, had acted as if you never existed. you adored him, and he disposed you like garbage.

you just wanted to be his, wanted him to tell you that you were his only; that he loved you as much as you did to him, that he would change and better himself for you.

that the violence would dissipate, and his rough hands would be nurtured with love and softness.

but no. that never came, and never would.

you were taunted by your murder, burning with the need to remind rafe of how sick he was.

your violent lover let you bleed before him, and without tending to your wounds or simply sitting with immediate regret, he soaked in his actions and dismissed it.

why couldn’t he be gentle? was him painting you blue and purple not enough? did he have to go as far as killing his lover to satisfy the disdain and vexation he held for you?

was that enough? was that enough to make you enough?

rafe’s nights slowly turned interrupted and sleepless. your voice was always there, and time to time, he thought he saw you standing in his bedroom, drenched in blood and with tears streaming down your face as you kept asking him, “do you feel sick yet?”

sick. not regretful. fucking sick.

sleep deprivation was catching up to him, making him more mean and angry than usual, more out of control.

the coke wasn’t even helping either, only making everything worse.

he was at barry’s trailer, snorting endless lines of the white powder, trying to shake off the sight of you from last night.

“country club, you good?” barry asked, and rafe didn’t respond. “you don’t seem well, bro.”

“just need this shit, okay?” rafe mumbled, separating another drop of cocaine. “just… just want to sleep, need it.”

barry didn’t want to push him with more questions, minding his own business as the blond haired boy snorted up excessive amounts of lines.

rafe ended falling asleep on his couch, barry mindlessly scrolling on his own phone as he laid down on his bed.

the cold air from the air conditioner ran around in the basement, making it more freezing and chilling than usual.

rafe could smell strawberry perfume, indicating you were around. he looked around, and saw nothing of you.

“where are you!” he screamed. “you can’t scare me, you bitch!”

“i’m not here to scare you,” you talked, rafe spinning around to find you perched in the corner of the basement. you careened closer, the dim light emphasizing on your mangled body.

rafe stared at your stomach, where immense stab wounds laid on it. he swallowed thickly, his breath shaking and jagged.

“do you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe looked up at you. he couldn’t move in this dream, he was paralyzed and a witness to your lacerated body.

nausea and despair washed over rafe, almost consuming him entirely.

you were finally face to face with him, your hair disheveled and bunched, face stained with tears and runny makeup, all for him to look at.

rafe could feel your physical touch, your soft hand grabbing his, and made his palm touch your abdomen. he almost fucking threw up.

you could see it, you could see he was wanting to vomit everywhere. “am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe shivered, forcing his hand to put more pressure on your stomach, blood rushing out onto it. “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe screamed and lurched up, his eyes opening and alarming barry. “woah, what the fuck, rafe!” barry shouted, and rafe breathed rapidly, his heart thumping against his chest, a need to vomit.

rafe brought his face into his hands, trying to shake everything out of his hand.

your face, your touch, your blood — he felt it all. he was being reminded of you, when he didn’t want to.

barry kept asking him what was wrong, why he was crying, if he was okay, but all rafe could focus on was your voice asking, “am i making you feel sick?”

he was no longer immune to his destruction. he was becoming infected by it. you were a disease that he couldn’t treat, a parasite that ate at his brain.

he would never get rid of you — and you would make sure that he never did.

it was month seven without you, and you became a faded name to the outer banks. the only people who lived on to tell your name was your parents, and your best friends. the pogues carved your name into the chateau’s tree, a ceremonial bench placed at the high school.

your body or you weren’t ever discovered, but the police had listed you as deceased. you weren’t a runaway, you were eighteen, and had nothing to runaway for. when you couldn’t be traced anywhere on the grid, the police pronounced you dead, and that was that.

pictures of you and any sort of evidence remained in a cardboard box somewhere in the police station. you were left to rot in every way.

you were tired of being forgotten, but more exhausted that nobody knew that your boyfriend did this, and you probably weren’t going to be the first girl he killed.

rafe cameron needed to know what he did, and you wanted to do everything you could to make him drag himself to the police station, sit down, and say, “i killed her — and i enjoyed every fucking second of it.”

madness was becoming rafe. he was already an insane, depraved fuck before, but the lack of sleep and memories of the murder were catching up to him for good.

dark circles were around his eyes, hair greasy and messy, his body tired. he felt like he was going to snap any second.

he kept drinking, smoking weed and doing coke back to back, surprised that his heart didn’t give out yet.

a random exhaustion toll pushed over him, laying him down on the floor of his bedroom, and his eyes threatened to snap shut.

he didn’t want to sleep, he was afraid to. he was afraid to see you, with your bloody dress and sad face, making him touch your wounds.

rafe didn’t win the fight of sleeping, and he knocked out cold on his bedroom floor.

he wasn’t in the basement, he was in his bedroom, and he could hear your feet padding away to the front of the house, to your car.

oh, he was reliving the night. and he couldn’t stop. he couldn’t get out of the memory — he was facing everything.

he saw you bloody by his doorframe, and you tilted your head. “why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice sounding as if he was trapped in a void.

you only frowned. “so you know.”

like a reflex, rafe hurriedly rushed over to you outside before you could get away, seizing you away, and taking you to the basement.

he pinned you down to the ground, and screamed at you to stop crying, upset and angry you were willing to betray him when he did everything for you.

you were sobbing, but it became echoes and his ears rang, everything around him becoming silent except his own heavy breathing. he grabbed the knife that sat in his pocket, and he could see your eyes widen with fear to the sight of the object.

“rafe!” you screamed in the first stab. he hit you sharp and right in the abdomen.

he held his knife there for a second, like time was freezing him, and he felt a hot breath at the side of his face.

it was you.

“am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe proceeded to stab you as you sobbed. you cried out his name, trying to fight away the knife, promising to be good and for him to stop.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

rafe couldn’t stop, he couldn’t control himself. he kept stabbing you as you screamed. he was a monster, with the inability to suppress his anger or violence.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

a part you thought you were making him feel sick because of how mutilated your body was; that the body he was once desired, was now filling him with disgust. you wondered if how butchered you looked, was making him uncomfortable and sick. he didn’t deserve your concern, but it happened anyway. was it making him sick?

rafe wanted to cry, but couldn’t. he was revisiting the person he was in this moment, and could see life vanish from your eyes, death taking you away.

he took one last stab, and held it there like the first one. you kneeled in front of him, looking over at your corpse for a moment before your eyes settled into his raging ones.

he held prolonged eye contact with you as you inched your face close to his, but kept a safe distance. you placed your hand on top of his murdering one, and with a blank face, lastly asking him, “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe broke eye contact with you to look at your deceased body, and realized and remembered this murder. your organs could be nearly seen, blood gushed and poured out everywhere, your body cold and still.

he dropped the knife, and eyed you. “i’m sorry.”

you shook your head, and sighed. “you will revisit this everyday as long as you live,” you said, sniffling. “all i wanted was to be yours, and be good enough, rafe. was i no good?”

he didn’t have an answer, and with that, you got up, staring over at your body. “i want you to know,” you chuckled softly to yourself, “i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did. i forgive you, especially since i’m happier where i’m at.”

“heaven?” rafe asked.

you nodded. “you won’t make it here, but i’ll still hope and wait that you do — because i love you too much to let god be angry with you too.”

“he’s an angry man?”

“he’s angry and unfair,” you responded. “like someone i know. i loved god, i loved you; two men who didn’t view me as much, who don’t deserve for me to believe in them.”

rafe went quiet, and enough time went by for you to disappear for good to let rafe cry, and scream. he cried and sobbed, dry heaving as he vomited everywhere to the sight of you.

he killed you, and as long as he kept it to himself, you would drive him mad and insane with the knowing of it.

rafe cameron confessed to your murder only hours later. he drove himself to the police station, and confessed to every detail, telling sheriff shope where your body was.

they found your maimed body in the exact location where rafe told them it was, your body already decomposing into near bones, eaten by critters and bugs.

the earth was consuming you.

he was hated forever, the town wanted him torched or given the death penalty. it would be a while until he got a trial.

your funeral could be proper with your body in a casket, given a rightful way to be down in the ground, protected and secured by a box stuffed with silk fabric.

you could see your mom cry, and you wish she wouldn’t. your father had to give the prayer at your funeral, your best friends sobbing, and hating themselves for not getting you away from rafe sooner.

however, your death was simply inevitable. if rafe didn’t kill you, your love for him would. he was everything to you.

even when he was murdering you — getting a vile satisfaction from it — you were worried about him, if you and your maimed body was making him feel more nauseous and sick than the actual murder was.

rafe would live with the knowing that you truly loved him, and he took your life every single day that he spent in a prison block cell.

and your ghost would continue to linger and haunt him, never letting him know peace and serenity as he never did to you.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Thank you so much for writing for Invincible!!!!!! There's hardly anything especially with a male reader

So like yandere Mark, am i right? If he were to be yandere i could totally imagine him using his powers to intimidate his lover and get rid of anyone who he doesn't like and he would act like it's your fault if you're sad when he kills someone, he got it from his dad

Mark Grayson Yandere Alphabet

I found this yandere alphabet, so I decided to fill it out for Mark :3c This is post season 2 mark, or something around that, which is why Mark is different to what Nolan would be like. Let me know if you guys wanna see more alphabets like this.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

I think after everything that’s happened, Mark would be a very clingy guy. He would hug, hold, and kiss his darling any chance he gets. It can get pretty intense, like, mark holding you so hard bones would break if you try to wiggle free or if he’s feeling extra emotional, be it positive of negative. In the beginning hed be too shy to kiss you, but when he crosses that bridge, he never stops.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

After everything with his dad and with Angstrom, it would be much easier for Mark to get violent and bloody, especially if he thinks someone is trying to harm you, in his opinion. And to him, anybody trying to rescue you from him is a threat.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

I don’t see Mark as someone who would mock his darling. Instead, he would try to pamper you and make you love him back, to make you accept that this is your new life now and its for the best. He would be overly affectionate, to the point where its extremely overbearing. His horrible self-worth also makes you seek a lot of validation. So, all in all, he’s very draining to be around.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Mark would hug you, cuddle you and kiss you against your will. Hed go as far as to force you to take care of yourself if you don’t, either by him doing it for you, or watching you like a hawk as you do it. hed never force himself on his darling though, since he still sees himself as a hero.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He would expose his heart to you from the very beginning, since he feels so guilty about kidnapping you. Mark would just word-vomit everything he feels and how this is what he needs to do, because he loves you so much and can’t lose you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Mark would be so sad, but he understands why his darling fights back in the beginning, at least some part of him does. But he would grow frustrated if they kept fighting back for a longer period of time, since he thinks hes doing the right thing. Why cant his darling just SEE that?

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Its in no way a game for Mark, this is almost life and death for him. He hates seeing you trying to escape too, since he knows its just proof that you don’t love him back or understand his version of the truth.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Probably the fact that there is a high possibility that Mark has killed his darling’s family and loved ones, since if he killed them, there’s no reason for you to leave right? You have no one else, just him, and that’s all you need. Hes also broken many bones, sometimes without meaning too, and sometimes on purpose.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He fantasizes about an almost movie like future, with a happy spouse who loves him back just as much as he loves them, where you’ll greet him at the door and embrace him so happy he’s home. It wouldn’t be too out of this world for Mark to imagine his darling as still living in solitude in what he deemed the safest place.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Mark gets so jealous, since his mental state is already very broken. The very thought of his darling loving someone else or wanting to leave him for someone else? Its almost enough to get him spiraling, and it either leads to him having a horrible breakdown, or growing extra violent when he fights crime.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Disgustingly doting and clingy. Hes always right behind you or touching you in some way. He absolutely craves your attention and validation, and will have a panic attack if you ignore him. But he also uses a lot of guilt tripping when he isn’t getting his way, or his darling it acting out.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

I imagine your relationship was actually pretty normal in the beginning, with you replacing Amber. As normal as a relationship dating a superhero is at least. So mark was kind of clumsy but so sweet and genuine. But then everything with angstrom happened, and he just kinda breaks.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Yes. Mark acts cooler and a lot more down to earth around people, suppressing the worse parts of himself. He wants to come across as a hero that everyone can look up too, which also means very few people know of your existence after you disappear.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Mark doesn’t like to hurt his darling physically, but he isn’t above breaking bones. He will sob the entire time though, crying and yelling at you that this is your fault and hes only doing it because you gave him no other choice. But he prefers emotional punishment instead, like isolating you for long periods of time.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

He would try to keep as many rights for his darling as possible, not wanting to damage their way of life too much. But you would have no connection to the outside world, and you defiantly wouldn’t be able to leave wherever he keeps you. If you act up too much though, then he would have to start taking privileges away, and chaining you to the bed can also be one of those privileges.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He tries to be patient. Mark knows it’s a big change for you, so of course you’re gonna act out and you’re gonna scream at him and try to fight back. But it also wears on him, making his frayed edges get worse, until he just can’t take it anymore and breaks down, which only adds onto all the guilt he’s been piling on you.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

No way. If his darling dies, then Mark would spiral completely out of control. He would either isolate himself completely, or snap to the point where nolans acts look like a field trip. This depends on if his darling’s death was caused by someone else though. If you leave or escape, you bet your ass Mark is coming for you again. And the GDA would most likely help him, since they know the easiest way to control Mark is to let him keep you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Mark would feel incredibly guilty and selfish for kidnapping you, but since he thinks it’s the right thing to do, then he would learn to cope with it. There is a chance you can get him to leave you go though, if you catch him at the right time when he’s most vulnerable, and if he thinks you truly love him in return. But this would be rare, and him coming back for you would be very likely.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

All the loss and chaos he’s experienced since gaining his powers. The stuff Mark has experienced is enough to break the strongest of men, and with his mental state already being so fractured, the thought of losing you would be the last push he needed.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Mark would feel so horrible about seeing his darling cry or scream, since he already feels guilty about kidnapping you. This is also why it would take him months or even longer to tell you he killed your entire family and all your loved ones, since he doesn’t want to see you cry more.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Theres so many flavours of yandere, that Marks acts would fit some type of yandere, so probably not. Maybe the fact that there is a small chance he would willingly let his darling go? Or the fact that he resorts to using his own guilt and tears to manipulate you.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Honestly just play along with his delusions, that yes Mark, this was the right idea and the world id dangerous. You love him too, and of course you’ll hold him and tell him he’s doing the right thing and being such a good hero. It wouldn’t be too hard to twist him around your finger, since he’s so starved for you and your attention. Escape would be pretty fucking hard though, since even the GDA wouldn’t help you.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Most of Mark hurting you would be accidental, if hes under a lot of stress or very wound up. But it isn’t above him to hurt you on purpose if he thinks there’s no other choice, like you trying to escape too much, or trying to attack him.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Mark would worship the very ground you walked on and would see you as the center of his universe. This is also why the GDA wouldn’t do anything, since Mark sees you as his everything, and you are human and live on earth, then he wouldn’t turn against humanity. Mark would also bend over backwards to gain his darlings affection, whatever it takes, as long as it isn’t letting you free or anything like that.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

If you replaced Amber, then you two would have been dating for a while before he snaps, so he would have pined for around that time.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

I don’t think he would do it on purpose, but it would come as a byproduct of his darling being isolated for so long that they just kinda break on their own. Or might be more his darling being slowly shaped into the same kind of stuff that Mark is made out of than outright breaking, since Mark still loves you for who you are. This is where he’s different from his dad.

[ddollys]

“NIGHTS LIKE THIS…”

────୨ৎ────

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💭ɞ˚‧｡⋆

:: IN WHICH :: you’ve been killed during the shibuya incident. and yuji, who had feelings for you—both platonically and romantically, misses you. so, now, he finds himself in a dream with you.

:: angst, fluff, comfort :: — afab reader, bottled up feelings, angst with a happy ending, yuji itadori missing you, reader has dimples, etc. not proofread.

i really hope this is good , reblog if you enjoyed. 🤍

—

yuji itadori loved you—but in fear of rejection, he bottled up his feelings in a space that was somewhere in the back of his mind. he refused to acknowledge the bittersweet love he felt for you, pushing it away. he didn’t want it to get in the way of your tight friendship. he didn’t want you to avoid him because you felt uncomfortable being with a man who liked you.

“hold my hand until we turn to ashes.”

he didn’t get any time to genuinely confess the truth about how he truly felt about you… because, now…

you’re laying right in front of him. dead.

he stared in disbelief—he should’ve… he should’ve protected you! he promised, he made a deal in his mind that he swore to protect you; to reserve your place in life.

he didn’t move. he didn’t breathe. his lungs begged for air yet when they received oxygen, they denied it and closed up. his throat was shutting down, burning and pleading for water.

but, he stood still. same stance, same form, same face. he was splattered with your blood, and he begged god for it to be his instead of yours.

your bodily fluid on him felt like an unforgivable sin. yuji itadori… didn’t know in the afterlife, when his time came… that you would forgive him.

that you would accept his bittersweet love for you, the true love he felt for you.

“love me til’ they put me in my casket.”

weeks later, he was still restless. he kept reliving the same moment in his dream. it kept repeating, each time he thought that he was finally letting go of the memory; the dream would crash down and morphed into that same, horrifying reality.

it felt like his brain was taunting him, letting him experience the haunting guilt that gnawed in his guts. each time he felt an ounce of guilt—he was rushing to the bathroom to puke out all his sorrow.

“i got all these feelings that i’m maskin’.”

his dream tonight was a stark contrast to his prior experiences… it was oddly peaceful. it wasn’t anything special; just a plain white room.

but there was just a gentle presence that soothed his nerves, that helped shake off the feeling that it was going to turn into a nightmare.

“…yuji.” you called out, behind him. your voice was devoid of ill intentions, just pure. “…i’m glad you’re holding up.” you spoke, a soft smile on your face. yuji whipped his whole body around.

it wasn’t a fake smile—yuji knew that you had small dimples when you actually put a genuine smile. “…i—i missed you.” yuji shakily whispered, his knees bucking down and he was on the floor. tears bubbled up in his eyes as he looked up at you. “…it’s… it’s really you.” he murmured, his pretty light brown eyes still locked on yours.

“hey… no, get up.” you coo, bending down to grab his hands and lift him up. “…yuji,” you say, “…you’re strong. please, don’t give up just because of me.” you console, your hands still clasped with his. you were glowing, just how he first met you.

“…i—i can’t-” yuji whispered, but got cut off by you.

“…oh yes you can.” you replied. “…i love you, yuji.” you smiled, the dimples that he always took notice to appeared.

“…i love you too, love…” yuji replied. you gave yuji a gentle kiss on the lips. “…everything wasn’t your fault, please, don’t stress about it.” you say. you faced your back against him and walked away; your body fading.

for once, he finally found solace in a dream.

“can i lay it on you? that’s what i’m asking.”

nights like this - the kid laroi.

[super-cosmic-library]

staring at you staring at me

written for @steddie-week day 3: mutual pining

wc: 1085 I rating: G I tags: alpha steve harrington, omega eddie munson, courting, happy ending I [ao3]

“If you don’t stop staring at him, I’m going to tell Keith you’ve been slacking on the job.”

“You wouldn’t,” Steve says, turning away from watching Eddie examine every single VHS in the horror section of Family Video.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Robin agrees. “Did you know he tried asking me out again?”

“What the fuck? What’s wrong with him?”

“I could give you a list. First off, he needs a better deodorant, his sense of humor is abysmal, he thinks that women can hold their periods in like pee, he doesn’t know what the Loch Ness Monster is, he . . .”

Steve glances back at Eddie as his best friend continues to prattle on about their manager’s flaws. Eddie’s examining the same copy of Friday the 13th he’d looked at the day before. Steve loves the way the omega’s face scrunches up as he reads the synopsis before putting it back on the shelf and moving on to the next film.

Eddie’s attention flickers over to them, catching the alpha’s eyes. Steve gives him a little finger wave, which has Eddie pulling a chuck of hair in front of his face to hide behind.

“Steve, are you even listening to me?”

“Uh, yeah,” he whips around to look back at her, trying to recall the last thing she’d said. “Keith calls mashed avocados guacamole.”

“It’s just avocado, salt, and lime juice, Steve! That’s not guacamole!”

“Yeah, no, totally.” His gaze wanders back to Eddie, who’s now examining Fright Night.

“Just court him already.”

It’s a discussion they’d had repeatedly over the past several months. Steve had come up with excuses to not court the omega every time, ranging from giving him time to heal from his demobat wounds to having to kill Vecna again to Steve just having a bad hair day.

“My hair can’t be a mess if I’m going to start courting someone. It’s my best feature.” Steve had said.

Now, though, after months of excuses, he doesn’t have the energy for anything less than the truth. “What if he doesn’t want me?”

Robin raises an eyebrow at that. “Really? You think that Eddie doesn’t want you?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not exactly the type of alpha a guy like Eddie would go for. I mean, you’ve heard his cafeteria rants. I represent everything Eddie hates in the world.”

“He hates secretly nerdy guys who fight monsters and mother pups that don’t belong to him?”

“Preps,” he gestures to his starched polo and jeans. “He hates preps and rich kids.”

“Well, you’re not exactly rich anymore.”

She’s right. His parents had cut him off back in June when they found out once again that he’d not been accepted into any of the colleges they’d wanted him to apply for. In the year since he had graduated, his parents had expected that he would use the free time to round out his character and develop more “real world” experience to make his college applications more appealing to admissions boards. Unfortunately for them, the colleges they’d demanded he apply to required better greats than the ones he’d eeked by with. So his dad decided to cut him loose. Now, he rents the Henderson’s basement from Claudia, happy to help out around the house and get more time to torment Dustin like a real brother would.

“Come on, Steve. He’s in here practically every day for hours at a time, browsing the same selection of movies and making eyes at you. I mean, have you ever even seen him rent a VHS?”

“That’s because I rent them for him with my employee discount.”

“Does he even watch them?”

“Yeah, we watch them in the trailer for our weekly movie nights. I’ve told you about them, Rob.”

“Uh huh, uh huh,” she nods. “And how, exactly, do you two sit when you ‘watch’ these movies? Opposite ends of the couch? Separate seats entirely? Cause I’m willing to bet that not only do you cuddle during them, but Eddie initiates it.”

She’s right. But friends can cuddle without being romantically interested in each other. He and Robin cuddle sometimes. He and Tommy used to cuddle all the time before they drifted apart. Cuddling doesn’t mean Eddie’s interested in being courted by him.

He repeats the sentiment to her.

“I’m just saying, I think he’d be interested if you court him.”

“She’s right.”

Steve practically jumps out of his skin. He hadn’t heard Eddie approach the circulation counter. Embarrassment floods his cheeks. “Eddie, what–”

“You know I can hear everything you guys say, right? This place isn’t that big, and your voices are loud.”

Steve wants to shrivel up in a hole and die. He’s going to have to change his identity and move to a different state in order to escape his mortification. He’s going to have to–wait. Did he say . . .

“Did you say she was right?”

“Yeah. I feel like I’m going crazy with anticipation for when you start courting me,” Eddie easily admits. “I would have started courting you, but you seem like the kind of guy who’s traditional in that sense.”

Oh, god. He gets to court Eddie. Eddie wants him to court him. This revelation makes him want to sprint home to grab the gifts he’s been accumulating over the past few months and give them all to him at once.

Calm down, tiger. No need to rush it. Eddie deserves a proper courting ritual.

“So, when I ask to court you, you’re going to say yes?” His thoughts are in overdrive. He needs the confirmation before he gets ahead of himself with planning.

“Yes,” Eddie smiles.

Steve takes in a deep breath. “Eddie, sweetie, I’m going to need you to leave.”

The omega’s face falls. “What? Why?”

“Because I’m going to start freaking out in a really embarrassing way, and I don’t want you to see it. And,” he shoots him the signature Harrington smile. “I’ve got to start planning out our first date.”

Eddie pulls his hair in front of his face, swaying on the balls of his feet. “Will I still see you for our movie night tonight?”

“Wouldn’t dream of missing it. You still want Beetlejuice?”

Eddie nods.

“See you at eight, then.” He gives him a wink.

As soon as the shop door closes, Steve turns on Robin, eager to start talking through all his ideas until he comes up with the world’s best and most perfect first date.

The beta slumps against the counter. “Oh, god, what have I done?”

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Sexist (Soldier Boy)

Description: Ben is extremely sexist and Y/N can’t stand it.

Word Count: 662

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Y/N asked, looking at Soldier Boy with disgust. He looks at her and smirks, “What sweetheart? Mad that I said the truth?” She rolls her eyes. “It’s sexist.” She growls. “It’s not sexist. It’s a fact. Women should cook and clean for their man.” He shrugged. Y/N looked at him in disbelief. She couldn’t believe that he still thinks that. “No, it's sexist.” “Sexist it is then but it’s still a fact.” He shrugged. Hughie and MM just looked at each other. “Times have changed grandpa, this isn’t the 30’s 40’s 50’s 60’s whatever.” Ben looked at her and gave her a mocking smile. “Trust me sweetheart if it was you’d be in the kitchen cooking for me right now.” Her jaw dropped, as did the other 2 in the room. She slapped him so hard across the face. “I would never cook for a pig like you, I don’t care if it’s the 30’s or not.” she growled and got up. As she was leaving the room Hughie and MM watched her in awe, amazed by how she stuck up for herself. 

Billy noticed the tension in the room between them as they were planning to kill Homelander. He kept eyeing them and noticed the dirty looks they would give each other. “Oy what is it with the dirty looks between ya?” He asked, motioning towards the two of them. Y/N rolled her eyes and Ben smirked, “Well she can’t accept the facts of life.” Y/N eyes widened at his words. The facts of life? What facts of life? “The only fact is that you’re a sexist pig that thinks all women want you. Newsflash Ben, we don’t.” Billy rolled his eyes at the two. “Can you even call yourself a woman? You’re a little girl.” “I’m 22.” “Exactly.” “Shut the fuck up ya cunts.” Billy snapped and glared at the two of them. Y/N looked away from Ben and Ben smirked. “I don’t know why ya smirking mate she’s right.” Ben looked at him. “What?” “No real woman wants a man that acts like that. Ya gonna have to get used to the new world stuff.” Billy tells him. Y/N hid the smirk that she wanted to show. Ben hated the fact that Billy was probably right.

The tension between the two had sizzled down a bit so Ben decided to try and talk to her. “What do you want?” She asked as he sat down next to her on the couch. “What do women want?” She looked at him, confused. “What?” “What do women want out of a man? What makes them want one?” She was confused as to why he was asking this. She shrugged, “We like a man that has manners and doesn’t boss us around. A man that doesn’t expect us to take care of him like we’re his mommy. We like them to buy flowers and chocolates every once in a while.” She answered. He hummed and got up, leaving her confused. 

Days later Y/N had just gotten out of the shower and dressed. She was brushing her hair in her bathroom that was connected to her bedroom. She heard a knock at her bedroom door and set the brush down. She walked to her door and opened it. Ben stood there with something behind his back. “What do you want?” She asked. He cleared his throat and pulled out flowers from behind his back. She looked at the flowers and then him. “These are for you.” He said. She took the flowers but the confused look never left her face. “I’m sorry I've been an asshole to you.” He said and walked away leaving Y/N confused but with some pretty flowers. She sighed and closed the door, she stared at the flowers for a long time not knowing what to think. All she knew was that things were about to change and it would be for the better.

[arliedraws]

All this anti-Remus talk is making me like him even more 😂

I love that he’s a character who is so fixated on image and how he comes off. He’s such a cold person! Detached! Won’t form close bonds! Like…his loving parents fucked him up by keeping him away from all other children until Hogwarts. I love how this plays into his character again and again and again.

I put the rest under the cut because it gets a bit tangential, but whatever, I was feeling a bit heated.

I feel like Remus doesn’t actually know how to make friends—he has let everyone come to him. James and Sirius formed their little group, and Remus has always been in awe of what friends will do FOR him. What did Remus do for his friends? Maybe Remus learns how to accept love, but he is not very good at giving it back.

It’s so interesting to me that Remus doesn’t become Harry’s go-to even after they spent hours together. Harry allows Remus to see his most vulnerable side, and Remus doesn’t reciprocate even after the truth comes out. At the very least, he could write Harry. He could visit Harry in the summer.

But I actually LOVE this about Remus. I love that he’s written as a warm, inviting sort of person when he’s actually someone who is terrified of forming close bonds. No one is allowed to see the real Lupin, and once someone has seen a part of himself he doesn’t like, he immediately detaches himself and disappears. Remus wants to appear in control of himself because he is concerned more about his image than doing the right thing. At the end of PoA, I’m sure he’s upset that he nearly killed Harry and co, obviously, but more importantly, he’s embarrassed that he lost control. If he really cared about the safety of students, he would have revealed Sirius’s disguise to Dumbledore as soon as Sirius escaped Azkaban.

The point of his character is “what you see on the surface is not necessarily what lies below.” It’s one of the most salient themes of PoA.

Anyway, it’s uncomfortable! So many people want to make Remus a “model of marginalization” - who, depending on the fanon, falls on one end of the spectrum which is “ohhhh poor disabled guy :((( he can’t do anything because he’s a pathetic baby” or “look how hot and tall and rational and intelligent he is despite his poverty/disability!!!!”

It’s SO INFANTILIZING. I don’t think Remus is a bad guy or a good guy—I think that his particularly negative character traits are a result of prejudice towards his condition, his upbringing, and his internalized prejudice towards werewolves. So I am not saying he’s a complete asshole. Obviously. My point, though, is that he has friends who support him in school, particularly James, who break the law and risk torture prison (and bodily harm from a werewolf) to support him.* And Remus…he does not do much to reciprocate that sort of love. The very least he can do for James is to check in on Harry (he doesn’t even need to say hi—just literally see that he’s ok!). James risked his life for Remus, and Remus won’t risk Dumbledore’s disapproval to reciprocate.

He continually does the LEAST for Harry. Harry has to beg him to teach him the Patronus Charm. And when Harry is clearly craving his parents’ voices as they’re dying, Remus doesn’t even offer a nugget of “ohhhh, gosh, Harry, let’s give you some good stories about your dad, ok?”

This is a cold, broken man who has convinced himself that being alone is safe because you can never be rejected. This is Remus’s greatest fear. He’s the teacher that needs to be liked but he hides behind professionalism when it suits him. His “nice guy” traits are a fucking ACT. I want people to explore more about his negative traits! He blames his condition when people get too close, and when people manage to climb his walls to try to get close to him, he pushes them away.

Chronic illness does not make you a good person—it just makes life harder. Remus accepts love and support from his friends—and yes, they SHOULD give him love and support because this is what we owe each other, but Remus also owes his friends love and support. It’ll look different from how James, Sirius, and Peter can support him, but you don’t get to just take from your friends without giving back. Your friends are not there to be your mommy. Sometimes, you’ll go through periods where your friends are holding you up and you just need to accept that they don’t resent you for it, but if you’re willing to accept help, you’d better be willing to return it later. As someone who has a few people in their life who take and take and give little in return, I can tell you, it starts to feel like your only purpose is to carry them on your shoulders. And man, it’s fucking exhausting. Sometimes I need to be carried too.

I have no idea how Remus behaved at Hogwarts regarding his friends on a day to day basis because Harry never sees evidence of this, but we see him as an adult who is unwilling to support his friend’s orphaned kid in ANY meaningful way…unless Harry begs him. In the end, Remus is still an autonomous adult and Harry is a child in need. In this situation, at the bare minimum, Remus has the power to pick up a pen and write.

So why don’t we see this more in fic? You all know I’m a Sirius stan, but I am CONSTANTLY critiquing Sirius’s relationship with masculinity. Sirius is my favorite character, and I LOVE exploring the uncomfortable parts of him—he’s cold when he perceives that he has been emasculated, even belittling Harry when he’s insulted. He’ll put himself in danger to protect Harry when all Harry really wants is for Sirius to be there for him (which Sirius can’t do in OotP). These are the bits that make me queasy—and I love exploring them!

Why not explore the ugly parts of Remus? You say you want interesting, well-rounded characters with chronic illness/disabilities/neurodivergence? Then let them be interesting. Make them complicated and embrace the icky parts of them. If you want, explore how society has created a cold, sad, wet noodle Remus and then GIVE HIM A PATH TO GROWTH. Like… if you don’t like these parts, give him scenarios so he can grow and become a better person.

Anyway, stop fucking throwing around words like “ableism” when you hear something you don’t like about a character. You don’t know the real person behind their username. Most of us here have some sort of disability/neurodivergence/chronic illness, etc, so stop fucking assuming we’re Chad Abled-Bodied or Karen Neurotypical, ffs.

It’s fucking insulting and infantilizing that we can’t discuss complexity in characters who are marginalized in their society. By excusing all of their less than cute actions, you’re essentially saying, “This is not a full human being with a full range of emotion and flaws—they are a perfect little baby who doesn’t deserve reproach, who can do whatever he wants!”

But that’s just me, I guess.

—

* (Also, side note, Moony the werewolf could have very well killed any one of them. Additionally, the theory that Moony couldn’t hurt them in Animagus form was ONLY A THEORY. It might not have worked at ALL and they risked their lives to test it.)

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Just hear me out,

Wild west outlaw König.

That's all ,please and thank you❤️

P.s I love love love your work and you inspire me so much more than words can express,so thank you so much

Wild West Outlaw König Headcanons

Warnings: Outlaw König, König Kills People, Obsessive König, König (DEEP) in Love, Looting, Kidnapping, Implied Smut, Non-Explicit Descriptions of Smut, Dominant König, Submissive König, Mention of Ghost, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Petnames, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You.

A/N: Thank you so much for your kind words, my lovely ! Your kind words have touched my heart, and I hope your creative endeavours flourish <3

Man owns a pair of handcuffs and KNOWS how to use them.

Let’s work on the assumption that he kidnapped you.

Perhaps you were already partially romantically involved but your family would never let you marry someone like König, so he stages a robbery and takes you as part of the ransom.

One he has no intention of accepting any payment for because he’s never letting you go.

König’s monstrous proportions make it easy for him to physically overpower aggressors – other bandits, outlaws, authority figures.

However, he does pose something of a hazard to himself because there’s (much) more of him to hit.

Luckily, he’s straight out of a situation the minute it gets sticky – as if he just disappears into thin air.

Just one of the reasons why he’s called the Phantom Outlaw.

Not to be confused with Ghost, who is also an outlaw but never leaves a trace (or a witness), making his reputation far more ghoulish than König’s.

Though, König does excel in the fear factor, his sheer size and notoriety – his trenchcoat and mask the very visage of Death – forcing everyone who sees him to relinquish their goods in exchange for their lives.

Speaking of, König’s ability to swing thousands in cash makes for a happy home life, given how he spends much of his fortune on you.

Clothes, jewels, literature, instruments, automobiles: you name it, you’ve got at least a treasure trove of each.

Even if you try to resist these gifts, König refuses to let up.

“Can’t have my precious little Engel going without, can I ?”

So, in return, you typically handle all the chores, though König insists you don’t have to.

“It’s not like we can hire a maid to do it for us, can we ?” you tell him. “Especially not when there’s a handsome bounty on that even more handsome head of yours.”

Said bounty is what makes it difficult for the two of you to stay in one place for too long.

And whenever you move, you always try to make the house a safe space for König.

Blankets in his favourite chair, his favourite meal on the table for him whenever you know he’s going to have a rough day, a bit of fun before bed, etc.

You can tell whenever he feels really comfortable, because he takes up three quarters of the bed, just sprawled out like a rapidly growing infection.

And you always fit neatly against his side. Or on his chest.

König calls you his “Little bunny” (or “Bun-Bun”) because of how small you look when you’re nuzzled into his chest.

He never takes you, or anything you do, for granted.

You don’t know this (so keep this a secret between you and I) but König watches you when you sleep. More than you’d think.

Truth be told, the outlaw life terrifies him.

Sure, he has the swagger and the notoriety to make off with thousands in gold, jewels, and lavish material items, but, really, his greatest, most prized treasure is you.

There is only one of you. You cannot be bought, or replicated, or found in the wild like an ore of purest diamond.

Simply put, König’s success is entirely down to the fact that he can’t be caught lacking.

If he ever was to, he knows he’d lose you. Whether you’re taken by a stray bullet in a shoot-out or your town’s rangers come to tear you from his cold, lifeless grip, König takes every precaution to circumvent these tragedies by remaining the fastest hand in the west. And the most ruthless.

Even for an outlaw, his kill count is exceedingly high.

And it’s no coincidence that the numbers began to climb after he met you. Fell in love with you.

People who he’s seen giving you lecherous stares, or those he can sense have poor intentions, he’s taken them out the back and absolved the world of their presence.

And, at the end of every excursion, every execution, every haul, the weight of the world falls from König’s shoulders as he comes back to you.

He takes his mask down around you, hangs his hat upon the coat rack. You’re the only person who he shows his face to.

But, whenever you can tell a fragment of the day resides pinned in his mind, shrapnel of his self-inflicted lifestyle, you make sure to service him before bed.

How he likes to be serviced can change on a day-to-day basis. He’s not fussy.

The only thing that changes is whether he wants to be handled by you or if he wants to slam you into the pillows.

Possessive sex <333.

“Tell me you love me,” he rasps into your ear, pinning you to the mattress with his body, making escape an impossibility to you. “Tell me I’m the only one that will ever have you like this,”

As stated previously; he has a pair of handcuffs and knows how to use them.

Or, if they’re too far out of reach and he needs you bound now, he’ll use rope. Or even just his hands.

Eye contact. The whole time.

It’s as if a different person inhabits him when he gets like this; something dark and jagged, no mere demon, possesses his form. And, by extension, yours.

König’s not stopping until you’re full, he’s empty, and he’s confident you’re not leaving the house for the next few days.

But, when König is feeling fragile, he lets you take the lead.

Just lies back while you’re on top of him, calling him your “Good boy”, “my Prince”, “my protector,” – anything that reaffirms that he holds a great deal of importance in your life.

More often than not, he ends up with tears in his eyes.

Nobody has ever been so gentle and loving towards him as you have. And coupled with how you’re taking him slowly, taking the time to make sure you’re hitting all bases and he’s thoroughly loved, sends him over the edge.

Kiss his tears away and his soul leaves his body.

It’s times like these that, more than anything, König wants a simple life. A paroxysmal desire to lead an ordinary existence where the two of you can live together happily, without the threat of being chased out of town every few months.

And, maybe, one day, even have a family together.

Until then, König will continue to dream, to give you a lifestyle of sapphires and gold and every delicacy the human mind can conjure.

And whenever he looks at you before he leaves, he sees his good luck charm, the light at the end of his tunnel. And, most importantly, the embodiment of love itself.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[styxwanderer]

The Wrong Fake Identity | Twisted Wonderland [pt.2]

part 1 <part 2> Part 3 Part4 part 5 part 6 part 7

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*

The lot of you decided to eat around the garden instead, all of them exhausted from all the running, not you of course, you are safe and secure in Jack’s beefy arms and the cushion of his abs. Although the mental panic and bashing of yours had left you sleepy and mentally drained. 

“I thought they are going to give a chase! I have never ran so fast in my entire life!” The orange head said sprawled in the grass.

“I second that! Vil is definitely going to kill me!” The purple haired boy said, sprawled as well near your feet. 

“Worse, riddle is definitely going to collar us like a dog and make us sleep in the flamingo cage! Erkk! The thought of it makes me shiver!” Deuce followed.

“If— if me, the great grim have to run like that again, i think i will just give up!!”

“Leona is going to make me run laps….” Jack more composed, still holding you in his lap.

“All of us could take sanctuary in ignihyde dormitory you know! I’m sure brother will take us in happily.”

“You! I can see through your pla—“Grim shouted

“I… i…”

“I .. i can’t believe it … i betrayed waka-sama, 

I BETRAYEDD WAKA-SAMAAA ARGHHH… how could i even repay this!! I have betrayed him! I am the unworthiest pawn in existence, ARGHHH…. What is wrong with mee. I beg for your forgiveness!!!! Kuuuuhuuu… please forgive this stupid lowly crocodileeee~.”

Sebek is curled up, hand gripping his hair tightly, crying his heart out and start to degrade himself. 

“D-damn… not so loud!” Grim grumbled

“Hey.. uhm.. don’t cry.”  deuce unsure how to console the green hair guy, sitting up. 

“Uwah.. he turns out to be quite a crybaby..”

You slide out of jack’s lap and hold, much to his disappointment, and crouched down in front of Sebek.

Sebek looked up at you, cheek wet from his teary eyes and mouth quivering. 

“Whaat…?” He whimpered lowly. 

Your plan to smack his head to the ground for being loud and hurting your newly enhanced ears, vanished as your eyes dilate into a full round. Then your self control broke.

“WHA—WHAAAA.”

Followed by a numerous “AAAA!!!!”

The lot of them froze from shock at your uncharacteristic behavior.

You had licked his wet cheek and the tears that is falling in his face. In a moment the red wet face of his had become a raging red as he hold the part where you licked him. 

“HUMANN! WHA—-…..are you trying to console me?”

You had your ears covered when he shout, bow that he is talking. Your sleepy brain went on over-drive and went full cat. You went to nuzzle your head to the crook of the aligator’s neck. 

Blushing even more Sebek then hug your waist as he scoop you to his lap. “OH HOW KINDDD! ill accept this with the greatest honor!” 

The sun shining on you had made you even sleepier, so you don’t mind getting a cuddle from the aligator man. Plus his toned abs and muscle had made a great cushion for you to sleep on. 

“HEY!! THATS NO FAIRRR!!!” Epel now snapped out of his trance stood up and point at the both of you.

“ you cheating scoundrel! I also want to hold themm!!” He continued.

“Yes not fair at all!!! Why does the one doing a half assed job get it all?” Ortho followed 

“Yeahh! Why do you have to be the one holding them..” deuce asked.

“We also deserved a rewards for saving her you knoww!” Ace said

“It should’ve been me the great Grim that they hold and pamper not you guys, i am the original so shooo! Find someone else!” 

“C’mon guys.. we can take turn.” Truth be said, Jack is disappointed that it is not him that you fall asleep on, but he is trying hard to save his dignity and so he chose to act mature as begrudgingly that is.

You had gone far from reality and off to the dream world. 

The lot of them decide to spend rest of the lunch break eating their food while also passing you around.

“Heyy.. heyy .. y/n.. its time for class.”

“Hnn.. what time is it?” 

You had woken up in deuce lap. Enjoying the plush of his thighs as pillow. You slowly wake up. Then your instinct told you to lick him and so you did.

“AA.. AA.. what ..”

“Oh sorry.. i didn’t realized  what im doing” you yawn.

“No no its alright!! you could do more if you want.” He mumbled the last part so you couldn’t quite hear it. The tip of his ears are now red.

Deuce has determined, he will never wash his face again.

Thankfully no one saw that action or the whole group is going to go for a whole banter show again. 

Then it’s time to separate to different class much to epel’s, sebek’s, jack’s, and ortho’s disappointment. 

“Ah.. i wish you are in my class y/n” epel said

“I double that!”

“Hehe.. too badd so sadd..”

“They belong with us.”

“Whomp whomp.” 

The trio idiots jeered making epel and the rest, veins popped out in frustration.

“Just ya wait ya bastards!”

Surprisingly even jack is quite annoyed as he let out a low growl.

Ortho is planning some mischievous prank to follow the trio. 

Sebek is hiding his jealousy although it is very apparent on his face how annoyed it is. 

Adeuce and grim are sneering at them like they had win something. 

Sulking the rest of them go to their respective classes.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

Finally the last class has rolled. Adeuce and grim not reallg excited to have to share you with the other four, and the other four anticipating your presence. You better prepare to say goodbye to your privacy time.

“Oh we dont have enough mushroom for this potion. We need to get more of it.” groaned grim your lab partner.

“Ooo..! Dont worry ill take it!” 

“Really?!! Thanks a lot y/n”

“No problem!” You hopped off your seat and begun to make an exit.

Into the glasshouse you go. 

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

“This campus is too big im getting tiredddd..”

You groaned as you open the glasshouse. You begun to make your way to the garden-shed. 

A hand suddenly grip your ankle making to fall.. into a soft cushion?

Your hissing starts to quiet down as you slowly processing who just grab you.

Before you know it you are hold captive in the embrace of the great lazy lion. 

“Ohh.. look who is here, herbivore.” 

“Leona, you scared me.”

He chuckled in response. 

“Please let me go now.” You try to wiggle out.

“Why would i do that.”

“I need to go back to class before professor crewel kills me.”

“Hahaha, don’t worry you are safe within my arm.”

“But—“ 

Before u could continue your word Leona had rubbed the spot just behind your ears shutting you up. 

All of that human instinct thrown out the window.

Revert bacc to cats

You nudge your head toward his hand as you purr. 

“You like that don’t you.” he chuckled. 

He removed his hand away from that spot, craving for more you nudge your head to the crook of his neck.

“What should i do with you. Demanding a royalty to scratch your ears tsk tsk..”

“You better stick around with me you hear, after all who can protect you better if not me.” 

He lazily said

Leona’s sleepiness begun to affect you as you begun to feel comfortable in his hold. You decide the lion hair is messy you give it a lick.

“…”

“Ohhhh… sorry... i dont know why i did that…” you snapped

Leona held the back of your head and place your head to his chest. 

“Moving on too quickly on the relationship, are we? What an impatient and impudent herbivore of mine. I should teach you properly. but for now, let’s sleep”

Yawning He placed his arms and legs caged you and his tail intertwining with your new ones. He doubted anybody would disturb the sleeping lion, but this is you he is talking about. Everybody would do anything for you. Not taking any risk he draped over a tarp to cover the both of you, learning from experience that they are a good disguise material.

After all, the hunting game would start at the end of class, it will be an easy win for him, plus nobody could blame him or call him cheating, since technically you fall down to his arm and got caged. And on the extra side he wanted to see malleus dread angry face as he saw the both of you with burning jealousy.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

Meanwhile in class,

“Hey grim where is y/n?” Ace approach the doodling werebeast. 

“Oh they went to get more mushroom for the project. “ 

“Since when?” Deuce continued

“Around.. an hour ago..?” 

“GRIMM!!!” The both of them exclaimed

“Whatt.. i got distracted!!”

“The class is almost over noww!”

“And they are still not here!!”

“Ehem.. little pups, why are you making a fuzz over here?”

“Eeek!!!!” Trio idiots turn around finding crewel with the whipping. 

“One.. two.. three…, where is the other pup, or should i say kitten now?” 

“Uhmm you see proff, we ran out of mushroom.” Grim swallowed his saliva

“So they left to get some..” ace half mumbled.

A large heavy sigh escaped his mouth as he hold firm of his whipping stick.

“And they haven’t returned yet is that it?” The man tone getting lower.

“Eeek!! YES SIRE!” The three of them shrieked. 

“what am i to do with you, tch i know i should’ve prioritize that adoption paper sooner.” he whispered half of the part. 

“Well you better find them sooner— “

The bell has rung and in the same exact time the door flung open to reveal Epel, Jack, Ortho, and Sebek. 

“WHERE IS Y/N ?!!” Jack barged

“Geez you can’t wait can you.” Ace groaned.

“This is importantt!!” Ortho interjects

“It’s not thatt!! Its just—.” Epel word was cut off.

“THESE PUNY HUMANS ARE MAKING A HUNTING GAME OUT OF THEM!!” Sebek shouted. 

That is it, that is the breaking point for crewel. Fuck that bird brain crow, he is going to shave him bald. And for his naughty puppy, well lets just say disciplines awaits. 

“Is that so.” Slapping his whip to his hand creating a loud sound. 

“Oh goddd look he is emitting black aura! “ Ace shooks

“We are in trouble!!” Grim stammered.

There is a collective gulp throughout the classroom. 

“Well then what are you doing? FIND THEM!” 

“Yes, sire, yes!” The lot of them immediately jumped out of the door to find you. 

Soon news that you had gone missing spread throughout NRC.

Meanwhile in Heartslabyul,

“Where could they be? I hope those insolent fools haven’t broken any rules and trapped you!”Riddle hoped before he gave orders to his soldiers ,including ace and deuce, to find you. 

Riddle had thought that it is better for you in the care of heartslabyul since both he and trey have experience dealing with a cat beastman, hecc they can even invite Che’nya to help you adjust into your life as a new cat beastman, he just hoped che’nya won’t teach you anything wierd or questionable. 

Meanwhile in Octanaville,

“ oh my what a turn of event! My angel-cat fish is missing, i shall be the one to find her first. Jade, Floyd, our perfect plan can wait, for now its time to search them.” 

“Yes Azul.”

“Yes Azul~”

Meanwhile in Scarabia,

“Eh?!! They are missing?!! I hope they just got lost in the campus! Oh how scared must they be if they’re under the hands of one of the students.”

“Not now Kalim, we need to focus on finding them.”

Meanwhile in Pomefiore,

“Rook, did you manage to target the spell onto them?”

“ Non, I’m embarrassed to say but since they were covered by jacket belonging to jack howl I am unable to track them down.”

“Tch. where can they be… Rook change of strategy, it’s time for a different kind of hunt.

“Oui, Roi du Poisson, let your wisdom guide us through.

Vil shudders on the thought that any other dorm leader had gotten his hand on you, and most certainly he hoped it is not Leona. What a lazy lion could do to affect your beauty potential, keeps him up at night. 

Meanwhile in Ignihyde,

“ what ortho, y/n is missing, and just before the hunt. My luck could never be better.” Idia moaned. 

“I’m sorry brother.” The robotic voice of ortho can be heard through his tablet.

“Thats alright, you’ve done well. Now if you could scan all the campus and i will access all camera.”

“It will take about 30 min with the school slow internet.”

“Its good enough. Now leave it to you brother. Its going to be an eazy Peezy catch. LAWL.”

“Heheheh, of course brother!”

Meanwhile in Diasomnia, 

Once the news had reached the ears of Malleus Draconia, a loud thunder light had blasted through. 

“ calm down Malleus, it’s not like the hunt is over yet.” He chuckled.

“ you’re right lilia. I need to make haste to find them. Silver, come with me lets us play this game of hunt.”

“Yes, Malleus.” Silver anticipatingly answered. 

“Khufufufufu, they can hide all they want but it will be an easy game for us” 

Meanwhile in Savannaclaw,

“Ohhh? Y/n is missing? Shishishi…Leona might’ve captured his prey on record time afterall. Oh well, less work for me and I get the spoil too, Yeahh! Lucky!” Ruggie chuckled as he can’t seem to find Leona as well. 

[words 2318]

>> to be continued<<

.·:*¨༺ ❈ ༻¨*:·.

taglist: @agaygothicmushroom @feverish-dove