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#I’m less than normal about this one I think
Mental Health
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A/N: From what I’ve gathered from his songs, Joost has BPD and PTSD. I myself have ADHD and PTSD, so I do resonate quite a lot with some of his songs, like I think many of you also do. So I’m going to delve a little into that for this one.
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Warnings: Mental health struggles, because for some strange reason I find comfort in writing about these things.
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Some days were just like this. It wasn’t everyday, but it did happen often enough for you to be used to it. Both for you and Joost. Some days it was just only one of you, and sometimes it was both of you. And sometimes, it almost felt too much.
Frustration, irritation and aggression could form quickly in your home on tense days. Both of you could become quite passive-aggressive, and there had been times where passive-aggressive comments turned into arguments. However, it was never a sudden explosion of anger and yelling. No, it was more common for the two of you to be grumpy, with a minor tension growing beneath it. But you were adults, with a long practice of communicating your feelings, before any explosive feelings would erupt. It wasn’t uncommon for either of you to spend time alone on opposite sides of your home, with either one of you expressing you needed some time to process your emotions. Joost in one room, either working on his music, or spending time on whatever media that had garnered his interest, while you were in another room, doing what you found comfort in. However this would rarely last longer than half a day, before either you or Joost found yourself poking your head into the other’s room, seeking some cozy attention.
Though you and Joost worked hard to take care of your mental health, sudden emotions would occur from time to time. It was normal, and you both knew it, and helped each other through it the best you could. There were days where your RSD would kick up, making you unsure whether or not Joost was still interested in you. And Joost did have those days where a minor criticism from you, such as something he was working on, would send his thoughts spiraling, fearing that you were planning on leaving him. You could see the panic flash before his eyes in those situations, and he could sense your silent nervousness was anxiety was eating you up from the inside. And each time, both of you found that spending time together was the best way to work through it. Putting your phones far away, and laying around in either the bed or on the couch, talking in soft hushed voices while playing with each other’s fingers. It worked wonders for the two of you.
If there was a time of day where both you and Joost struggled, it was during the mornings. Either you would oversleep, having given into the struggle of getting up. On the days where you somehow managed to wake up and stay awake, you and Joost would pep talk each other up, until it didn’t feel so draining to get out of bed.
Both you and Joost did things that some people might find a little strange. But to the two of you, and a vast majority of your friends, it was perfectly normal. Nonverbal communication, such as small sounds to express emotions, a lack of sounds, facial expression and changes in body posture. Those close to you would notice these things as well, but for the two of you, it was much more obvious. The small things you did, letting the other know that you needed some sort of comfort. Like when you started leaning slightly up against Joost while out in a bigger crowd, making him wrap his arm around you like it was a reflex, before making sure that you were okay. Need to go somewhere less busy in order to calm down? Just needed a hug? Just feeling cuddly? He would always make sure. And just like you would lean against him, he would lean against you, to which your reaction was the same. Wrapping your arm around his midsection, before quietly asking him was okay.
At times, your love language was a little different. Not to say that you didn’t shower each other with love in the form of hugs, kisses, affirmations, acts of service and much more. But there were also other ways you would do so. One of them being with memes and humor. At times, it wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to communicate mainly through memes, whether that would be sending each other memes, or quoting them in your day to day conversations. You had long ago lost count of how many times you and Joost have folded over yourself in laughter, unable to speak in anything other than Vine snippets or old YouTube videos. Like the time you were cooking together, and Joost randomly blurred out the lyrics to “chocolate rain”. That started a chain reaction of memes and laughter none of you could stop.
Another way your love language showed, was in the way both you and Joost worked to create a space, where both of you could be yourselves. No masking, no fearing of being different, allowing both to communicate your needs - even if it did cause some tension every once in a while, just like any other relationship. A good example was when you returned home to find Joost just chilling on the floor, eyes closed, having just gone through a dissociated episode, deciding that the living room floor was a good place to calm down, only acknowledging your loud hello with a small mumble. And how did you react to this? Well, like any well meaning girlfriend, you kicked your shoes off, hung your jacket on the hook, before you laid down next to Joost on the floor. None of you said a word, but just laid there. With a tender finger you poked his hand, as a way to ask if it was okay you were there. Joost answered by opening his hand for you, letting you intertwine your fingers as you continued to lay in peaceful silence, letting Joost work through what he was feeling at the moment.
Though you and Joost’s relationship could be tumultus at times, it was no less loving. Just like any other relationship, you and Joost would fight, often due to stress and overstimulation, but you also loved each other. Both of you did the work and walked the extra mile, knowing fully well how much work it would take when you first decided to get into this relationship. You never shifted the blame, knowing it takes two to dance a tango. But though it took a lot from both of you, you were happy together, fully intending to keep what you had built. Together, you had managed to create a space where you both felt comfortable, and where both of you actually felt like you were able to become better versions of yourselves.
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kiwismitten · 3 days
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Tired words | Wriothesley x GN!reader
Angst/comfort: Being the frontlines for the whole country’s fate can really make a man lose sleep. After the events that took place, and the sudden return of his lover he’s very snippy.
spoilers: main fontaine archon quest!
CW: yelling , reader almost ded , wriothesley kinda ooc (let me know if i missed anything!)
words: 1751
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The halls of the Fortress of Meropide have never felt colder as you make your way to your boyfriend’s office. The events of the days before fresh in everyone’s mind. The incident in Poisson only a few days before your return.
You were on an academic trip to Sumeru, learning about the herbal medicines and picking up some fruits and herbs to bring back to Fontaine. As soon as the steam bird articles showed up at your host home’s door the night of the incident, you apologized and began packing your bags. You’ve never moved with such haste. Of course you know about the prophecy, and Wriothesley had told you before he didn’t even know if he was Fontainian and joked a ton about getting turned into water alongside everyone else. You personally, just weren’t willing to let him take that chance.
The rushed trip back still felt like it took twice as long as the venture there. Jogging through the city with your bag still on your back, listening to depressing conversations from the other citizens about their impending fate. Frantically, you reach the Fortress entrance, and make your way down.
That’s how you ended up standing outside your boyfriend’s office, anxiety coursing through your body. Even the fortress was in disarray. Your soft knocks on the door earn no response, so you slowly push the heavy doors open with a loud creek.
“Darling?” Your voice echos through the bottom floor, your eyes gazing over everything before landing on the strange staircase going further down that you never noticed before.You drop your bags at the door before cautiously venturing down. “Wriothesley?”
A strong hand grabs your shoulder from behind you making you gasp.
“What are you doing?” He looks exhausted, his tone of voice far from the playful, carefree Wriothesley you’ve grown attached to. Sounding closer to how he addresses inmates. Heat fills your torso with joy, seeing he’s okay, and you fling yourself at him wrapping your arms around him.
“You’re okay…” His normal scowl doesn’t leave his face. Different again since his face normally softens at your contact.
“Yes, yes I’m okay what are you doing here.” He says the bags under his eyes more pronounced than normal, sparking worry in your brain.
“I heard what happened in Poisson, and I left early,” You stood in front of him staring up at his towering figure. He sighs, wiping his face with his wrapped hand. His exhaustion seemed to be weighing on him harder at your statement.
“Why.. did you have to come back now?” he pinched the bridge of his nose between his pointer finger and thumb. Your joy falters at his display.
“What do you mean darling..” Your arms fall to your sides. He stares at your form, his eyes piercing through you.
“I mean I thought with you away I'd have one less thing to worry about,” Venom laces his words. “Especially coming to the fortress during times like this, I thought I’d finally be able to focus on the prophecy, but now with you here you’ll need me to be with you so often.” Your heart jumps to your throat. He’s never been so cold to you. Has he always seen being with you as a chore, or is it just the high stress of the current situation. The emotions thick in the air make it difficult to think rationally. The salty air filling your lungs feels heavy and overwhelming.
“I’ll get out of the way.. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Glancing down at your feet.
“Well I am. Now please, I have very important matters to get to.” He pushes past you mumbling under his breath. Stunned in silence, soft tears well in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Slowly, you made your way out of the fortress to stay at a small hotel.
You stayed at the hotel for the night, before the news of an archon going on trial reaches you in the morning. News travels fast in Fontaine, especially when there’s always a journalist creeping in the background. Deciding that staying and rotting in a hotel isn’t how you want to spend your first full day home, and you take a short stroll through the bustling streets. It’s as if no one really minds their impending fate. After reaching the opera epiclese you sit at one of the benches by the fountain. Staring into the water you smile remembering all the times you and Wriothesley sat at the near by benches eating together after his work. How you would lean your head on his shoulder listening to the soft roar of water as it cycles through, but if you were to melt into the sea now, it would be knowing that he brushed you away for being worried about him. A sigh escapes your lips as you continue your stroll, and eventually it gets interrupted by a crowd of people trickling out of the opera house. Gossiping amongst themselves about the archon, and not even batting an eye at the soft patter of rain on pavement.
The rain starts to pick up at an alarming rate, making people rush off under trees, and any form of cover they could find. A somber look rises to your face. “Is this it?” You take a seat on your normal bench, getting soaked in the pelting rain feeling the rain pool at your feet closing your eyes and letting the joyful memories flow through you.
All you really remember is the feeling of water picking you up. Floating through with a peaceful look on your face.Then a graceful arm wrapping around you and bringing you up, and you were suddenly in the air able to breath once again before everything went black.
Waking up in the fortress is never really a heart-warming experience. Especially when it’s in the cold clinical setting of the infirmary. The blurry metallic ceiling is the first thing you see, the bronze color only familiar to the fortress, so you’re immediately aware of where you are. You try to sit up, only to get pushed down by the smaller head nurse.
“Y/N be careful please, you’ve been out for a whole day you’re still healing.” Sigewinne frets over you holding her sticker covered clipboard.
“I feel fine,” You sit up in your bed, feeling the exhaustion hit you. You look around the other beds full of inmates. “I just need some food in me, and I’ll be right as rain.” a smile sheepishly crosses your face at the small joke. Sigewinne frowns and huffs as you pick at the various vital trackers attached to you. She helps a bit and takes out your IV.
“Just like his grace said you would,” you tense at the mention of him forcing a smile. “Just stay here he said to grab him as soon as you’re awake.” Eyes widening, you wait for her to leave before pulling the sheets off of yourself and rushing out of the infirmary. Your vision still blurry from the lack of food. Rushing through the halls, you stop at the canteen, smiling at Bran who waves you over.
“Ah y/n here for your welfare meal?” He smiles softly at your tired form before turning behind him to grab one of the nicer meals. “Courtesy of his grace, eat up.” You slip behind one of the many boxes before sitting on the floor and opening the delicious meal.
Wriothesley walks ahead of Sigewinne his heavy steps unmistakable. When he reaches the infirmary and sees your bed empty he curses under his breath. Sigewinne sighs pouting.
“I did ask her to stay your grace, but they did act weird when I mentioned I was fetching you,” Irritated he walks out, going immediately to the gardes who rat you out immediately.
Too immersed in your delicious food you don’t even notice the heavy steps approaching the canteen.
“What can I do for you your grace,” You stop mid-chew peeking out from the top of the box.
“Have you seen y/n I’m looking for them,” his voice has the carefree energy that you missed so much. His eyes dart around the canteen before meeting yours behind the box where you duck under again. “Ah, never mind, bran.” his heavy steps approach the box, his shadow looming over as you pop back up looking at your hands. He places a heavy hand on your head.
“Wriothesley,” you say breathlessly, tears threatening to fall again. At the break of your voice, he scoops you into his arms his long strides carrying you to his office. He wraps his arms around you as you feel small water droplets fall onto your clothes.
“y/n..” his voice cracks. You’ve never seen him break down like this, he’s the strong one, the one that never lets his strength falter. “I was so scared, i’m so sorry, I should’ve never said any of that shit to you, I was so stressed out after the fortress almost collapsed to the prophecy. I wasn’t getting enough sleep I was exhausted and I took it out on you. I’m so fucking sorry.” Seeing him crumble on top of you was heart-wrenching. His rambling spilling through his lips as his eyes dart across your face. “When Clorinde brought you onto the ship I just wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, I tried everything but you felt so cold..” He buries his face in your neck.
“I’m okay Wrio, I don’t know what happened but, I’m here I’m fine,” You wrap your arms loosely around his torso. “Honestly I thought I was gonna die with you angry at me, but now I’m here. Getting pushed away hurt, but we’re both okay,” You mumble into his chest.
“I’ll never speak to you like that again, I don’t think I could ever live with myself knowing you left this world with me angry at you when I had no right to be. All you wanted was to make sure I was okay,” He pulls away and holds your face in his hands. “You’re my whole world and I should’ve held that in the front of my mind this whole time. I don’t think I can say sorry enough my love.” His sharp eyes now soft as he leans in to place a soft caring kiss on your lips.
“We’ll be okay,” you melt into his touch, letting him hold you close
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castiwls · 2 days
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i can fix him (no really i can) - d.w
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Paring; dean x reader
Prompt; 'I can fix him. no, really, I can, and only I can'
Requested; no
Warnings; mentions of alcoholism, hes kinda manipulative idk? the relationship isn't the best 🫠
Notes i was going back and forth on if I should write this for Dean or for Anakin for SOOO long but it seems im back on my Dean brain rot.
reqs and inbox are open ! (Also inspo for this comes from here <3)
Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist
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The sight of yet another empty bottle left a sigh falling from your lips. You looked around the kitchen for a moment, a small pit of annoyance building in your stomach as your eyes landed back on the bottle. 
That was the fifth bottle this week. You stood for a moment thinking, you knew trying to talk to Dean when he was drunk was almost like talking to a brick wall. Even more so if what you wanted to talk to him about was his drinking. Walking towards your room you ran a hand through your hair a breath leaving your lips as you tried to push your annoyance down.
Pushing the door open another sigh left your lips. “Dean?” You shut the door before walking over to where he’d slumped over on the bed. Had the last hunt really been that bad? You were more than aware of your boyfriend's less-than-healthy drinking habits but this seemed worse than normal.
Normally he could at least function enough to get into bed but it looked like he’d passed out the moment he’d sat down. “Dean” You shook his arm again, this time a small groan left his lips as he frowned in his sleep. Shaking your head you leaned down and began untying his laces.
“This isn’t healthy.” You said through gritted teeth and you pulled one boot off. “I’m not your babysitter.” The annoyance you’d previously pushed down seemed to come back in an instant and you paused. 
Looking up from your hands you frowned. You knew what you were getting into when you went on that first date. You’d watched Dean fall further and further down a never-ending black hole for years and part of you believed that you’d be able to help him.
That maybe you could pull him back from the hole. But as time passed part of you began to wonder if maybe you were wrong. Your relationship was far from perfect and you both knew that. 
Pulling off his other boot you placed it beside you before standing and pushing his legs onto the bed. You watched him for a moment before moving to sit on the other side of the bed.
“Sweetheart?” Dean's voice was corse as he squinted up at the ceiling. He rubbed a hand across his head, a dull throbbing beginning to beat against his head. Casting a glance over your shoulder you said nothing before standing and walking over to your dresser. 
Dean groaned quietly moving to sit up. “Sweetheart.” he tried again, a small frown appearing on his lips when you stayed silent. “What's wrong?” He rubbed a hand across his face watching as you turned to face him.
“What's wrong?” You said quietly. “What’s wrong is that you got so drunk that you barely made it into bed!” You crossed your arms sending him a harsh glare as you spoke.
“This isn’t healthy Dean!” 
He watched you for a moment before looking down at his hands. You knew his hangover was most likely kicking in but even through that haze he still managed to look slightly remorseful. 
You were both quiet for a moment before you walked over to his side of the bed. Dean gently grasped your arm before pulling you down into his chest. He ran a hand through your hair before pressing a kiss to your head.
“M’sorry.” He mumbled into your hair. “You always say that.” You said quietly. You felt his grip tighten slightly before he let out a sigh. “I mean it okay.” He loosened his grip enough for you to sit up. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing small circles. “I promise.” He smiled.
Before you could respond he leaned down pressing his lips against yours silencing the words on your tongue.
You knew his promise would only last a few days. You’d had the conversation countless times and it always ended the same. He promised you he’d get help or stop only for the cycle to begin again a few weeks later.
A small sigh left your lips as he rested his forehead against yours. 
You knew the healthy option would be to leave. Maybe leaving would give him the kick he needed to fully get help but you could never bring yourself to do it.
He was like a drug you couldn’t stop no matter how many times you tried. You loved Dean, you really did and you wanted to help him. Hell, a few months ago you’d been optimistic that you could but part of you wondered now if that was just an optimistic dream.
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epiclamer · 9 hours
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Hiiiii Epic! I'm not sure if requests are open so if they aren't feel free to ignore!
My depression is getting bad again and I was wondering if you'd be willing to write about a depressed Hero who keeps purposefully putting themselves in harm's way, getting more and more reckless in every fight. Villain notices and has to save Hero from themselves. However they choose to do that, be it kidnapping or something less nefarious is totally up to you!
Hiya! I hope this makes your day a bit better!!
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Subtle
“It’s getting bad again, isn’t it?”
Villain huffed, “I think that’s my line.” They looked around, taking in their surroundings, calculating the amount of damage control they’d need to perform.
“If you’re here that means it’s bad.” Hero avoided the other’s gaze, glaring down at the hardwood floor beneath their feet instead.
“Does that make me the bearer of bad news?”
Hero shrugged, turning their back on the villain as they began to shuffle through the clutter of their home.
The criminal cleared their throat, resuming a bit more of an awkward stance as they watched their nemesis sift through piles of dirty clothes and dishes. “Unfortunately, if you were to bet that was the case, you’d be correct.”
Villain took a few steps forwards, keeping enough distance to assure the hero they weren’t a threat. When the other barely acknowledged them, Villain moved in closer—close enough to place a gentle hand against their bare shoulder. Normally they would’ve delighted in the shivers and twitches of their enemy’s skin under their palm, yet this time it felt more like a punishment than anything else.
“Did you use antiseptic?”
“Sorry?” The hero’s voice was strained like they were on the verge of tears.
“You’re burning up. I watched you take that beating for your sidekick and I know that Supervillain did a number on you in return.” Villain pulled their hand back, worried they were doing more harm than good. “Did you use antiseptic when you flushed your wounds? Or could they be infected?”
They were crying now, the villain could see it, tear drops hitting the wood floor one after the other. Still, the hero refused to look at them.
“Fuck, I don’t know, Villain. I didn’t even have time—I haven’t even checked—Fuck, I’m sick and I’m fucking exhausted and I-I’m bleeding all the time I’m bleeding its everywhere on my clothes and my sheets and my fucking everything, I’m so dirty—” Hero interrupted their ramble with a sob, curling in on themselves, leaving their previous mindlessly searching on hold.
Villain bent down, but they hesitated, taking a moment to scan their nemesis in their fetal position. Both of their hands grasped their head, protecting their skull from invisible blows, their knees tucked into their chest, shielding their vital organs from a relentless imaginary beating.
Even unconsciously the hero’s body accepted torture.
“I deserve it, I deserve it, I deserve it.” Rang sickeningly loud through the hero’s apartment. Words Villain never thought they’d hear their nemesis chant.
The hero was always so full of surprises.
“Breathe, Hero, breathe.” What the hell were they supposed to say? Sure, they had taken care of their nemesis prior, whenever it started to unravel for them, but never before had the crime-stopper broken down like this. “Everything is okay, I’m here now. I’ve got you.”
Whatever was left of the hero’s facade shattered at that. They crumpled back against the villain—to which they were greeted with a warm embrace—tears uncontrollably streaming and sobs so hoarse they seemed inhuman.
Soundlessly, the villain pulled a pin-prick from their inner jacket pocket, carefully lining up the end of the needle with the hero’s exposed jugular vein. It felt wrong, to drug the one person they had come closer with than anyone ever before. But at the same time…
It was for their own good.
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witheredallium · 10 hours
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Thank You, Clyde
(I could not find the original post. However, this fic is based on the idea that Clyde could mimic Lewis Williams/William Lewis' voice for Alex. Be prepared, it's a bit longer than my normal fics.)
Being on the run allowed time for a lot of thinking. Alex thought about many things; Clyde, Winfrey, Lankmann, Patient 66, the situation they were in, etc. The thing that came with a wave of grief every time they thought about it, was their brother, Lewis Williams. 
Lewis was the best little brother that Alex could ask for. They got along well, he was well-behaved, had many friends at school, and tried his hardest to make Alex proud. After the death of their parents, Alex had taken care of Lewis for a few years before his untimely death. Although Alex had seemed put together in that news segment, they were internally shattered to pieces. 
His death hurt less now, but sometimes the grief just came around every once in a while to punch them in the gut. It’s been happening more often now since Alex and Clyde were on the run. When they did think about Lewis, Alex wondered what he would think of where they were now; hanging out with the creature that killed him. How fucked up was that? They often thought that Lewis would be rolling in his grave at the thought. Then, they would remember that there was no grave for Lewis or the other children at all.
Alex hadn’t even noticed that they were crying until Clyde loudly cleared its throat. They wiped their eyes furiously, they hadn’t cried about Lewis in months. 
Clyde watched the human in mild concern, wondering if being on the run was getting to them. “What are you thinking about?”
“Thinking about my dead brother, Lewis,” Alex sniffled lightly. 
Clyde didn’t know how it had never made the connection before. Alex was Lewis William’s older sibling. And Clyde had killed him. 
Clyde had never felt any grief or remorse for the ones he had killed until that moment. Clyde never got particularly close with any of the humans he killed, but this situation was different. One of its closest frie- companions had been harmed by his actions. However, it then realized that it would have never met Alex unless he had killed Lewis, so it felt a little less bad. Despite that, Alex was still upset and Clyde did not know how to handle an upset human.
Suddenly, Clyde was hit with an idea.
“You can absolutely say no to this, but I can mimic his voice and create a hallucination of him for you. You could at least talk to him one last time,” Clyde suggested quietly.
“That’s kind of fucked up, but you’d really do that for me?” Alex sniffles again, eyes wet with unshed tears.
Clyde nodded, “Whenever you’re ready.”
Alex hops down from the tree they are hiding in. They knew it was probably unsafe to be so in the open, but they would rather fall to their knees on the ground than fall from the tree. Alex whispers almost inaudibly, “I’m ready.”
Suddenly, a small dirty blond-haired boy appeared in front of Alex. He looked disorientated for a moment before locking onto Alex’s face.
“Allie!” the boy cried, racing toward his older sibling.
“Oh, Lew,” Alex almost choked out a sob. They crouched and held their arms out for a hug for just a moment before realizing they couldn’t do that. As real as Lewis looked, he was just a hallucination. Alex frowned for a half second before smiling again at the young boy.
“Allie, don’t be sad, I’m right here!” Lewis beamed as if that would take all the pain away. He was still in his Halloween costume, Alex noted. They had saved up for Lewis’ Halloween costume and were so excited to take pictures of the boy, but they never got the chance before he was taken. Lewis noticed Alex checking out his costume. “I love my Halloween costume. It must have been a lot of money.”
Alex nodded, “It took me a bit to save up for it, but you had been doing so well in school that I thought you deserved something nice.”
Lewis sits in front of Alex’s crouched form, “You didn’t have to do that, y’know. I’m grateful for all you do for me.”
“I know, bud,” Alex sits down fully. “But, doing special things for you made me feel good because it made you happy. And I love you so much, I would’ve hated to see you upset.”
“I love you, too,” the boy smiled. “But I have to go very soon, my friends are waiting for me.”
“Ah, yes, of course. Friendship is very important,” Alex sighs. “I’m sorry I ended up in this situation, I hope you can forgive me. I just have to survive for now and Clyde is the only way for me to do that. I love you so much, Lewis.”
The boy smiled and tilted his head, “I could never be mad at you. I love you, too, Alex.”
And the boy faded away.
Alex had been holding everything in, so the moment Lewis disappeared, Alex began sobbing. Fat hot tears trickled down their face. Snot clogged their nose, making it hard to breathe. Alex almost threw up. They had worked so hard for that boy. They had struggled with taking care of him while Alex still had to finish high school and work a job to make ends meet. Alex worked so hard and he died.
Clyde hadn’t anticipated such a visceral reaction from Alex. It quickly and not so gracefully landed on the ground and wrapped Alex in a blanket. Alex hardly, if at all, acknowledged the action.
“Shit,” the veldigun sat in front of the human. “Can you hear me, Alex?”
Alex coughed harshly and nodded. “Okay. Uh… everything is fine. Just try to follow my breathing.”
It took several minutes for Alex to calm down. Even as they did, it seemed as though they were dazed and unfocused. The veldigun carefully placed its claws on the blanket covering Alex, hoping that the pressure would ground them. Slowly, they raised their eyes to Clyde’s and spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand,” the veldigun looked confused. “What are you sorry for?”
Alex sighs, “Because you had to see me like this and I used you for something so selfish.”
Clyde removes its claws from Alex’s shoulders. “Eh, I’ve done worse to others. Plus, I’m using you for something selfish, too. Least I could do.”
Alex chuckles mirthlessly, “That doesn’t reassure me… but, thanks for doing what you did, though.”
“Like I said, the least I could do.”
The rest of the day was slow and uneventful. Clyde silently made plans on how to get food for the night while watching over Alex’s sleeping body. It had thought about running off to steal hot chocolate from somebody’s house but decided that he shouldn’t leave the human all alone. Another thing that crossed its mind was to sneak back to Alex’s house to get their scrapbook. It knew it would have to do that soon. Being on the run was difficult for the veldigun and it had no idea how the human would continue to respond to such dire circumstances. Getting the album would put Alex into higher spirits so they could keep surviving, Clyde justified, and not at all about the fact that sometimes it needed to see a smile on Alex’s face.
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4ce-of-2pades · 29 days
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(Leo speaking to Hephaestus:)
Leo: I used to think I was creative. I used to think I was smart. I used to take pride in the things I invented. But it’s just you, isn’t it? Everything I’m good at, everything I like about myself, it’s just your powers I inherited. If I wasn’t your son, I wouldn’t be able to do any of this. I wouldn’t be good at anything.
Leo: I thought that I had earned this. That I had learned when my mom taught me about machines, that I had built my abilities myself. But it’s all just shortcuts and fakery. It’s just god magic. It’s not real. It’s not mine.
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mossflower · 7 months
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loki season two has me screaming crying throwing up trying not to get dragged back into the mcu trenches
#i am stronger than this. i am better than this!!#by the trenches i mean consuming fanfiction at an unhealthy rate. fourteen year old me was insane i think i was on ao3 more than i slept#that’s not exaggeration. i was getting four hours of sleep on school nights and frequently went to bed at 5am on weekends#it is ONE good story. one. literally not worth it. i don’t even care about ninety percent of the mcu characters#i will ignore the little voice in my head reminding of the sheer amount of fanfiction. this was my pre-tumblr days#so my fandom interaction was like. youtube and ao3. maybe instagram posts sometimes. it was so much fun like. zero drama zero discourse#i was honestly living my best life. got less interested when i joined tumblr and went full doctor who mode#and after endgame i watched i think wandavision and loki and that was it. just didnt care anymore lol#i know exactly why this is happening tho. currently the thing i am insane about is my own damn project. which i am in the process of writin#for obvious reasons no fandom there. bc it lives in my mind twenty four fucking seven#i do wonder if i’m kind of growing away from fandom anyway? the closest i’ve got since toh ended was homestuck tbh#i want to feel obsessed with something again!! everything i’m into now - tma tlt and the like - i love them#but it doesnt hit like it used to. i don’t know it’s hard to explain#like video essays that i would have loved a few years ago!! the hour long ones about representation and queer media#they just irritate me now! i got halfway through one last week and had to bail i just could not care less#how did 2020 social media have me convinced that x character being gay was super important politically economically socially etc#ofc the answer is that i was a baby lesbian getting even less social interaction than normal#like representation is important obviously but also. sometimes it was not that deep#i don’t know if i’m making sense tbh but you get my drift#morganposting
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dirtbra1n · 1 year
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hanzawa masato doesn’t like sundays.
the shrine won’t be performing any exorcisms today. to be more specific, the miko that greets him feels his forehead with a warm hand and decides that he’s in good health.
he doesn’t want her to know how little he values her judgment, so he bows to offer a prayer instead.
he’d woken up this morning without having had any dreams. he went out of his way, on a morning that was over-bright and unsettlingly still, to make a trip to the shrine. because he hadn’t had any dreams. for all intents and purposes, a full night’s rest.
a monument to the places his mind has been lately, that this was cause for alarm.
barring that, lack of dreams notwithstanding, masato woke up just before the sun rose. the statements made about darkness before dawn are wrong, but his house is old and construction in the neighborhood leaves it eclipsed by increasingly taller buildings that are increasingly growing occupied by increasingly unneighborly neighbors.
the statements made about darkness before dawn are wrong, but when masato wakes up his room is dark and somewhere between too cold and not cold enough.
he doesn’t think it’s particularly scientific—knows this, truthfully—but he’s become familiar with the following pattern:
open your eyes first thing in the morning; you don’t want to be alive. throw the sheets from your legs and feel as the warmth is leached from your body. roll onto one side and feel as your ribs resist the desire to cave in. check the time and feel as the numbers rattle hollowly, meaninglessly, in your brain.
your name is hanzawa masato. you don’t feel tethered to any of the unkind physicality happening to “you”.
you want to die more than anything.
and then he stands, finally, and moves to go about his routine, and if he wasn’t put through an especially brutal wringer overnight, he’ll forget his ideation and go about things the way he always does.
if he was put through that wringer, he can forget. he’ll make himself forget. he’ll learn how to make himself forget.
he doesn’t intend to die, is the problem. that simplicity would be a blessing.
the shadows cast before him were inky, stretched long. the trains rattle near-silently on the tracks, low rumbling swallowing the impact of his own footsteps. the footsteps of other people, though sparse, jab like sharpened stones into his ears.
days like these feel fake. days like these make his dreams feel real. days like these make masato feel a little less than alive.
he would feel stupid saying so out loud, but he’s starting to believe that no one’s as haunted by ghosts as ghosts themselves.
he doesn’t know what brought him to this conclusion.
(a lie, mostly. if he had to hazard a guess: an answer lying somewhere between his exhaustion and reluctance to fall asleep, his wishing to die but fear of death, the restless shifting—currently absent—river.)
the thing about all of this is that masato doesn’t actually believe in ghosts.
not real ones, anyway. if anything—anyone—is going to drift aimlessly through the halls, holding a lantern or candlestick or knife, reflection held in its edge tortured and gaunt, it’s going to be him. an offhanded, deeply involved joke at which to have a sadistic laugh.
he has his obligations, though. of course, the knife would be fake—the edge of it dull and without character, not reflecting much of anything, harmless.
he thinks tashiro would think it’s funny. after the shock and fear and flustered anger wore off, at least.
real or not, the house he grew up in—the house he lives in now, the house currently, on only this day once a week, occupied by only him—is haunted.
he hasn’t forgotten. if it matters. he’s never been very good at lying to himself, and this one was an awfully slow sort of deal. the sort of deal that is just as much a pain to forget as it is to remember.
there was very little tenderness. he couldn’t quite stretch his legs all the way out, couldn’t reach his arms out over his head. his fingers were cold and useless, deadened, slow. the air pushing in and flowing out of his lungs seemed to whistle through the puncture wound in his chest.
he wishes that he could learn; there was no tenderness, in truth. time moved slowly, if at all, abandoning him to sit stiff in the water, soaked to the bone. abandoning him to finish dying in isolation.
he woke up, a few hours ago now, sweaty and splayed out, drowning only in his sheets, and it was an awfully slow sort of deal, but it couldn’t make him forget.
masato’s never been very good at forgetting things, either.
try as he might to toss them out, two facts cling like hooks to his skin:
1.    hanzawa masato is a still-living human being, and
2.    he doesn’t want to die.
(if he had to hazard a second guess, like he was on some sick introspective game show, masato would say that all anyone ever wants is to live, but living’s hard, and it hurts. it never stops hurting.
he figures—reluctantly, he doesn’t want to spend as much time as he does mired in unwinnable existential debates—that if it’s going to hurt living and hurt dying, he might as well live.)
masato doesn’t know where that puncture wound in his chest even came from.
I’m at the shrine
Like… for fun?
spiritual enrichment
Of course. Silly question.
Mom says to buy yourself a charm.
which one
…Health?
she said love. I’m buying YOU a love charm
I DON’T NEED IT.
poorer, he walks home as evening settles. the clouds that had been crowding the edges of the sky have hung themselves low over the city; no moon.
masato navigates mostly by bleeding sunlight and does not grieve. though his eyes insist otherwise, there is no river.
he carries three charms. good health for his mother, love for his older brother, evil warding for himself. he doesn’t know what compelled him to buy the third.
worn through by the prickly feeling at his skin, he turns his head stiffly to check—there is still no river.
at present, there isn’t anything worth his grief. one pocket lighter, the other heavier, but as insistent as his older brother was that he not buy the damned love charm, it’s not like masato doesn’t know that he’ll just as stubbornly insist on paying him back.
tomorrow, though. they’re not back until tomorrow.
abandonment, maybe. if he was grieving. he both had a dream worse than usual this morning and he didn’t. he was alone in that house and he wasn’t. it’s haunted when he’s there and not when he isn’t, but his mom insists that he house-sit every fucking sunday like the house would be the one pleading “how could you leave me here alone?” and not him.
but it’s not grief, and he’s not pleading. because he won’t let weird dreams count, no one even died.
it’s a pedestrian street, glossy shimmering concrete. everyone but him is walking right where the water would be.
there is no river. his chest aches. he knows better than to entertain the idea.
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goldensunset · 7 months
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this ‘taking care of your fragile mortal body’ thing is really getting on my nerves
#i started eating well and taking care of myself well when at school#i go home even just briefly and immediately fall back into my Problems within barely a day#but i think i finally understand#i mean just in general i take better care of myself when my mental health is better#and my mental health is better when i have my privacy guaranteed#even at school the last two years i was free from parents but still shared a room#even with a good roommate something about sharing a room just reduces me to utter dysfunction#oooh what if i’m being Watched (<- is doing something incredibly normal and necessary)#at least at home i have my own room now. but if i so much as leave it i’m bound to encounter someone who will not respect my space#‘haha maria is so lazy she NEVER cooks’#yeah it may seem funny that i only ever eat premade/quick stuff or hope someone else makes food to share#that i can eat in five min or less#but the truth is if i cook that’s committing myself to staying in one public place for an extended amount of time#which runs the risk of someone bothering me#and time and time again i choose to starve rather than to live on edge for even fifteen minutes#because certain people get on my nerves just that much#because then it’s take off your headphones and talk and let’s bring up stuff that i don’t have the energy to fight about#and it kills me#i’m starving rn but i don’t have any appetite and i’m too weak from starvation to do anything#i’m not lazy i’m mentally ill and sick of living at home i actually do great when i’m by myself#i hate being made fun of for something that is actually a Defense Mechanism inside a difficult-to-live-in household#peach rambles
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theolddivorcedzukka · 2 years
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it’s so crazy how u could be having the most thoughts (i mean that negatively) and trying your best to keep it cool and your parents’ friend is talking about the time he killed a boa that snuck into his room with a machete
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iammissingautumn · 2 years
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diluc33rpm · 1 year
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2/2 Are you a jealous person?
i regularly commit the sin of envy every time kusuo saiki flexes his capability of teleporting coffee jelly to his house onscreen
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harmonizewithechoes · 8 months
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seonghwaddict · 2 months
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save a horse, ride your best friend — song mingi
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in which your best friend can’t believe you’ve never ridden a dick before, so he takes it upon himself to teach you.
best friend!song mingi x fem!reader. requested by anon. genre. slight fluff. smut. best friends to friends with benefits. warnings. explicit sexual content mdni, inexperienced!reader, thigh riding, fingering, use of a dildo, big dick!mingi, multiple orgasms, unprotected, creampie, swearing, nicknames (baby, angel, pretty). wc. 4k. rating. mature.
lilo’s notes. this was requested a while ago but i’ve been putting it off because… i’ve never written anything about toys being used so uh, i was worried about the pacing and stuff. i wasn’t sure if you meant for them to be in an established relationship, so i went for the fwb route. IMPORTANT!!!! i lost access to my google account bc of a stupid mistake, if you sent in a request through my google form and would still like me to see it, please send it as an ask <33 i remember a few of them, but do send yours in just in case!!
listening to. need to know, doja cat // if u think i’m pretty, artemas // moonlight, kali uchis
masterlist.
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it was a regular saturday evening. you were on a video call with your best friend, mingi, talking about anything that came to mind as you each ate a bowl of ramen as if you were really in the same room. he really only lived a couple buildings away, a two minute walk at most, but actually joining you in your apartment didn’t cross his mind until something interesting was brought up.
you weren’t sure what led to the conversation, but somehow it steered into the direction of something less innocent as you found yourself talking about an embarrassing date you’d gone on a while ago. recounting the story, laughing together, soon turned into a conversation about what each of you like in bed.
“oh, it’s just amazing,” mingi laughed as he gulped down a mouthful of water, momentarily pausing his rambling about how much he loves it when someone rides his dick. he ran a his hand through his short, washed-out pink hair, “honestly, my favourite thing ever since it probably feels just as good for whoever is, y’know, riding.”
based on everything he’s said so far, you came to the conclusion that he was more into giving than receiving, that he got off on seeing all the pleasure he can give his partner. so, it made sense he’d choose to mention the fact that riding him would feel good. not that you would know.
“can i admit something?”
he looked up from his bowl, sharp eyes looking almost hopeful as he nodded.
you looked around your kitchen jokingly, pretending to make sure no one sense was listened as you leaned closer a whispered, your hand cupping the side of your mouth.
“i’ve never done that before.”
his jaw dropped at that, letting out a small laugh. “you’re kidding.”
“no, really,” you insisted, going back to eating casually as if you were having the most normal conversation in the world with your best friend, “i really haven’t done… much, so i can’t confirm or deny your theory.”
“huh.” he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he thought for a moment. his head tilted and it was then that you felt how warm your cheeks felt, how your thighs were pressed together under the counter. of course, he was well aware of the fact that you had much less experience than him, only knowing about two people you had slept with. but damn. he clicked his tongue and shook his head ever so slightly. “that won’t do.”
furrowing your eyebrows, you opened your mouth to ask him what he had meant by that. he beat you to it before you could get a word out.
“i can… teach you, if you want?”
you blinked at your screen, resting your wrist on your countertop and gripping your chopsticks a little too hard. a silence followed his offer, though it wasn’t awkward. in fact, he could see you genuinely considering it as you thought it over. eventually, you gave him a tiny nod.
“i mean,” you shrugged, shifting your eyes away shyly, “sure, i guess. why not?”
he grinned, trying to hide it as he shoved a mouthful of noodles into his mouth and shoved his bowl aside. he chewed, swallowed then got up and made sure to bring his phone with him. you recognised his hallways then bedroom as he walked through his apartment. “i’ll be there in like 15, i need to buy something on the way. just wait there, and where something comfortable and… um, accessible.”
you nodded, despite your confusion, and he hung up. accessible? you looked down at your clothing—or rather, lack thereof. since you were home and not expecting anyone, you’d settled on wearing just a shirt you stole from mingi that was too large for him and much larger for you, and panties. you lifted the hem of the worn shirt, assessing how much of your dignity you’d lose if he saw your pink hello kitty undergarments that you only wore if you were doing laundry.
you could already hear him giggling at the sight.
groaning and cursing under your breath, you dropped the shirt and sped to your bedroom to dig through your closet in hopes of finding something a little more appealing. after making a mess of one of your closet’s drawers, you finally pulled out a pair of less offensive panties. they were made of soft cotton; a muted light blue with thin white lace trim, the cut shaped more like a bikini than what you call your grandma underwear.
deciding they were flattering enough, you slipped off your hello kitty pair—ignoring the embarrassing amount of wetness creating a wet patch right where it was pressed against your core—and replaced it with the new pair. as you untwisted the waistband and adjusted it to fit properly, your doorbell rang and you froze on the spot before pulling yourself together and heading to open the door.
the walk to the door felt abnormally long as you stumbled over on wobbly knees. admittedly, you were a little nervous. sure, there have been times where you wanted to do some more than friendly activities with mingi, but you never actually thought it was happen. yet here you were, opening the door for him so he could come in and show you what being a cowgirl feels like.
“hey,” he greeted you softly, stepping into your home and closing the door behind him. you noticed a small plastic bag in his hand, eying it curiously as you watched him kick off his shoes and hang up his coat. once that was of the way, he took one of your hands in your free one and pulled you to where he knew your bedroom was.
once there, he set the bag down on your bedside table and dragged you to stand between his knees as he took a seat on the edge of your bed. he looked you over, lingering on the familiar t-shirt.
“so you’re the one that took this shirt, huh?” he quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at you as he released your hand and brought both of his to your hips. his thumbs caressed the curve of your waist over the shirt. “it was my favourite.”
you laughed softly, “clearly you didn’t care enough if i was able to keep it for three years without you noticing.”
“you little thief.” his nose scrunched as he glared at you jokingly, giving you a gentle squeeze.
“if you really want it back, you can always take it.”
“nah, it’s fine, keep it. it looks cuter on you anyway.” he took a breath and gave you another once over, humming appreciatively when he moved his hands up higher, dragging the shirt with it until he caught a glimpse of your panties. you tensed, caught off guard by how close he felt. “i need you to relax a little, how about i help you loosen up, yeah?”
you nodded, averting your gaze but returning it to him when you felt him pull you onto his lap. he slotted one of his legs between yours, easing you down to straddle his thigh. his hands ran up and down your sides and few times before resting on your bare thighs, your breath stuttered and he held back a smile.
“are you still okay with this?” he asked quietly, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his your shirt. “if i do anything that makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and i’ll stop immediately and we can just watch a movie or something, okay?” when you only nodded, he continued, “i need you to say it, please.”
“i’m okay with this,” you muttered in return, resting you hands on his biceps, “and i’ll let you know if i need you to stop.”
“good, now…” without waiting any longer, he leaned forward to attach his lips to your neck, his hands slowly beginning to rock you back and forth on his lap.
you sucked in a sharp breath and clung into his arms a little tighter, your stomach fluttering at the feeling of your clothed cunt on his firm thigh, your panties dragging against your clit with ease thanks to how wet you already were. he lifted you slightly as he pulled you towards him, pushing you down as he pushed, the varying pressure making your lips part in a soft whimper. he nearly groaned at the sound, moving his lips right below your ear.
“you know,” he rasped between the licks and kisses, “i can’t deny that i’ve wanted to fuck you for a long, long time now.”
“r-really?”
mingi chuckled as he pulled back to look at your face, half surprised and half needy. he noticed that if he relaxed his hands, you’d continue grinding against his thigh.
“yeah, really. i mean, look at you,” he glanced down, one of his hands lifting the hem of your shirt to watch you ride his thigh slowly, a dark wet patch forming right where your leaking pussy sat. he bit his lip, “you look so perfect… and i bet you’d feel perfect, too.”
you nearly whined at that, fucking yourself on his thigh just a little faster as he sucked a dark mark right above your collarbone before returning to mutter dirty words into your ear.
“i know practically everything about you and your cute little body, you know. better than anyone else,” one of his hands inched it’s way up your thighs, brushing against the edge of your panties, “i’ll make you feel so good, angel, i promise.”
“mingi?” you whimpered, prompting him to lean back a little to look at you with a curious tilt of his head and a raised brow. “if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now, i might lose my mind so… please.”
his beautifully plump lips stretched into a smile as he wasted no time in practically pouncing forward and smashing his lips against yours. it started a little slow as you got acquainted with each other, despite the fact you could feel a nearing orgasm as a knot in your stomach drew tighter with each roll of your hips, but soon the kiss turned hungry.
he groaned into your mouth as you let his tongue explore, making you let out a quiet moan. mingi knew he wouldn’t be able to kiss anyone ever again. you, his best friend of all people, had the most inviting lips he’s ever felt. so inviting, so perfect and so soft. he thought everything about was soft. his hand slipped just under the edge of your panties as his other one made your grinds slow down.
you didn’t mind the slow pace, knowing just a few more rocks of your hips would have you tipping over the edge. but he evidently had other plans as he finally made your hips still completely. you pulled away from his lips with a pout. if you were trying to make him feel bad, it backfired terribly.
all he could think of as he looks at your swollen, red, wet, pouty lips is how much prettier they’d look wrapped around his cock. but he could save that for another time.
“there’s no need to rush, baby,” he chuckled, wiping some saliva away from your bottom lip.
eventually, when he was sure you had calmed down enough, he lifted you off his lap a little and turned to lay you down on your back, pressed against the comfortable mattress as he kneeled on the edge. he gripped your knees and bent them, pushing them closer to your chest with his eyes zeroed in on where your slick was leaking through your panties.
with one hand keeping your knees together and elevated, he ran his other over the fabric, pressing down on where he knew your clot would be and elicit a sweet little moan as you squirmed beneath him. he thought you were so cute like this, you looked so flustered as he gave you nothing but featherlight touches where you needed him most. for now.
“don’t get all shy on me now,” he cooed as he glanced up and noticed you covering your face with your hands, “let me see you, pretty.”
he didn’t continue his touches until you finally removed your hands, giving him a nice view of your abused lips and round eyes, pupils blown wide with lust in a way that had something stirring in his abdomen. and his pants.
he let down your knees for a moment so both of his hands could slip under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. he actually moaned when he saw the strings of arousal clutching onto the fabric as he dragged it away, snapping when he got too far.
“you’re so pretty, baby,” he murmured, watching your entrance squeeze around nothing, making more slick drip out.
after tossing it aside, he wasted no time in getting your knees back to the previous position and running his fingers through your folds.
“oh, fuck,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as you let out a moan when he tapped against your clit, “you’re soaked.”
he glanced up at you, wanting to see your face as he slowly pushed in too fingers and catching a glimpse of your hard nipples poking through your shirt. your face contorted for s fraction of s second before relaxing, your head tipping back against the mattress as you let out a whine.
he choked back a moan at the tight walls around his middle and ring fingers, the fingers of his other hand digging into your thighs. “sh-shit… you’re so tight. i’m gonna have to stretch you out first, okay?”
you nodded mindlessly, too distracted by his fingers prodding at your sweet spot to care about any words he may have said. but you furrowed your eyebrows and lifted your head when you felt both his hands leave you, finding him reaching for the bag. your curiosity outweighed your disappointment as he pulled something out.
it was a dildo. about as thick and long as the biggest person you had before, and made of what looked to be transparent silicon. your insides tightened at the sight, somehow the thought of him seemingly buying this just for you turning you on even more.
he returned to kneeling at the edge of your bed, leaning down to loop his arm around your waist and lift you up to place a pillow under your hips before letting lay back down.
“couldn’t find one my size, but this should be fine,” he held the dildo and ran the tip through your pussy, collecting wetness as you shuddered, “my cock will just have to stretch you the rest of the way.”
you breath hitched at the implication of his words. so he was bigger than that? your thighs pressed together at the thought of being completely stuffed by him. he chuckled, separating your knees enough for him to have a clear view of your pussy, pulsing and dripping and begging for his attention.
he began slipping the toy into you, filling you up inch by inch and watching your needy hole stretch around it and swallow it up. the sight had him choking back a moan, biting down on his bottom lip.
the stretch had your back arching and pushing yourself against it desperately, feeling like that alone could get you to finish. it only took a few deep strokes for your pussy to get used to the size, squeezing and writhing around it until you couldn’t handle it anymore. your arousal coated it quickly and seeped out with each stroke, squelching sounds filling the room that shot straight to his dick.
when you finally came, your toes curled and your body twitched as you let out a string of and whines and moans, little curses slipping between. he watched with fascination as you came undone right beneath him, not wanting to wait any longer to be inside you. he shoved the toy deep inside you, leaving it there as he leaned back for a moment to discard his clothes, slipping his hoodie and sweatpants off.
when you were brought back to your senses, you found yourself on his lap again, straddling his hips this time as he sat with his back against your headboard. you felt his erectile straining against his boxers and pressing against your core. you couldn’t help but rock your hips against his slowly.
“do you ever ride your pillow?” he asked suddenly, voice dropped what felt like two octaves lower than his regular tone. your eyes widened at the question but you nodded. he nodded too, his hands finding your ass and helping you grind against his clothes length. “this is a lot like that, except you have something in you… and it’s more of an up and down movement… and i’m obviously not a pillow… still, there’s really no right way to do it, just go slow and you’ll figure out what works and what doesn’t. plus, i’m here to guide you.”
he gave your ass a squeeze as if to punctuate his sentence, massaging the soft flesh in his palms. when you felt ready, you dropped your hands from his shoulders to his boxers, palming his length a few times before hooking your fingers into the fabric and dragging it down until his cock sprung out.
he definitely wasn’t lying when he said it would stretch you more than the already-big dildo. he was definitely a lot bigger than anyone else you’ve been with, well over average. you nearly dropped at the sight, wrapping your hand around him and jerking him off, eyes fixated on the angry red tip leaking precum as you passed your thumb over it.
the muscles of his abs rippled and squeezed as your worked your hands on his cock, his head thrown back against the headboard and letting out stuttering moans. all the sounds he made encourage you to sit up on your knees, guiding him through your folds and whimpering as you finally sank down on him carefully.
the two of you moaned at the same time, him at how well you squeezed around him and you at how well he stretched you. you stopped when you reached just halfway, unsure whether or not you’d be able to fit more. his hips jerked slightly as his hands squeezed your hips.
“come on, baby,” he moaned softly, looking up at you with encouraging eyes, “just a little more… we can make it fit, right? just breathe.”
you nodded and as you took a deep breath, he used his hold on your to sink you further down until he finally bottomed out. he cursed silently, the back of his head finding the headboard again as you whined and dropped yours onto his shoulder.
you felt his tip pushing against your cervix, the new feeling making a lump form in your throat as you blinked back tears. this time it took a while to get used to the stretch before you tried grinding back and forth. it was slow, almost painfully so. he was amazed that despite stretching you with two different things, you were still so unbelievably tight, hugging him in a death grip as your raised your hips an inch before dropping down again.
your soft noises were muffled by his shoulder as your hands rested on his biceps, panting and squeezing gently as every inch of him dragged against the sensitive spongy patch in your walls every time you grinded on him. soon enough you were able to lift yourself to his tip and drop all the way down, your wetness letting him slip in and out with ease.
still, you kept the pace torturously slow, savouring each bounce and grind. his hands had left your hips at some point, exploring your body under your shirt, massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples. he lifted the fabric but kept it on your as he watched your tits bounce temptingly, your puffy pink nipples making his mouth water as he pushed himself forward to take one into his mouth.
your hips stuttered as he sucked and nibbled at your nipples, throwing your head back and arching into his touch as your grinds grew sloppy. he felt your decreasing pace, using the hand that wasn’t teasing your other breast to guide your hips once more. he angled you slightly differently in a way that made your clit press against his pelvis each time he bottomed out, the speed of your grinds picking up quickly as his hips bucked up to meet yours.
his lips detached from your bruised breasts with a popping sound as he leaned up to capture your lips in his once again. it wasn’t much of a kiss, more teeth and tongue and moans and groans than anything else as you swallowed each other’s sounds.
you finished first, pushing yourself down hard and stilling, filling yourself with his throbbing cock and pressing your clit against him. he held you tightly, burying his face in your neck to suck at all the spot he knew would get your to writhe. many tickling fights contributed to his knowledge on all your sensitive spots.
your body twitched as you returned to bouncing on his length, your juices looking at his base. the overstimulation burned a little, making your thighs and knees quiver, but you were determined to get him to finish too. and by the looks of it, it shouldn’t take much longer.
“shit, baby,” he said, halfway between a whimper and a moan, fingertips digging into your hips as he threw his head back in bliss, “‘m so close— fuck, you feel s-so good.”
his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, bottom lip caught between his teeth. his cheeks and the tip of his ears flushed a deep red, his plush lips a few shades darker and coated in your mixed saliva from your kisses. as you adjusted the angle of your hips, something in him snapped, grabbing your hips tighter and taking over. he took over your movements, thrusting his hips up desperately as you fell forward onto his chest with the sudden change in intensity. his tip pushed itself against your g-spot continually, another knot tightening in your stomach.
the wet sounds of your cunt and your skin slapping against his egged him on until finally he felt like he couldn’t hold back any longer.
“baby, p-please— fuck— please, can i cum i-inside you?” he begged through a groan, “i— please, angel, i-i can’t wait any longer.”
you nodded against his chest with a whine, you were on the pill anyway. not a second later, he released into you, filling you up with stuttering hips. he pulled you down, flush against him and keeping you there as he emptied himself with softly muttered curses, his head dropping to press open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder.
it felt new to you, the warmth making you squirm until you came again without warning. it was much weaker this time but still enough to make you shake in his arms, panting softly after letting out a strangled moan against his skin.
after a few long moments of trying to recover from the shared orgasm, he lifted his head, one of his hands cupping your chin to tilt your head to look at him.
“so,” he started, lips stretched into a smile, “how’d that feel?”
“fucking amazing.” you rolled your eyes at how smug he looked after your confession, not protesting as he leaned forward to kiss you.
this one was much softer than the previous kisses you shared, much more tender. it was a lot shorter too, he pulled away first to rest his forehead against yours.
“yeah?” he whispered, kissing the corner of your lips, “just wait until i hit it from the back.”
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networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet
permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf
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deadsetobsessions · 4 months
Text
It takes a lot to break a ghost. After all, even death didn’t keep them down for long, not in any way that mattered.
There is, however, a sure fire way to utterly crush a ghost’s core without even touching it.
Find their grave, and defile it.
It is the height of cruelty. It is the ultimate act of disrespect. It is violation, of the deepest kind, an act that can never, ever be allowed to go unpunished.
As Danny stared at the remains of the toppled over rock tower that Tucker and Sam had made for him all those years ago, to honor his death, he wasn’t sure if he could survive this.
——
Please.
Zatanna looked around. The magician knew better than to write off the sound as a trick of her mind.
You have to help him. Please. He’s just a child.
“Who? What’s wrong?” Zatanna asked, heart aching for the grieving whispers of the young voice.
My brother. His grave. It’s been destroyed. Please.
Zatanna’s hair stood on ends. “What’s his name? Where is it?”
Amity Park. His name is Phantom. Please. Hurry.
Her heart skipped a beat. Phantom. The name of the Infinite Realm’s Champion, the future king.
“Shit. I’m on my way. Can you lead me there?”
I can’t. I won’t be here for much longer. Tell him Jazz sent you. Please. Help him. Help him.
“I will.”
When Zatanna portals out of her dressing room, she catches a flash of red hair.
——
“CONSTANTINE!”
“Gah! Zatanna?” John Constantine fell out of his chair, legs slipping from their place propped onto the table.
“Emergency! Infinite Realms level. Someone destroyed Phantom’s grave.”
Constantine scrambled upwards, pulling on his coat as his mind all but bleated like a highland goat at the sound of “Infinite Realms” and “Phantom’s grave.” Destroying a ghost’s grave might destroy the ghost, but if they survive the initial splintering, right before their final death, they’ll explode in a ball of fury. Normally, it would be slightly less of a problem. Normally, it wouldn’t be the most powerful ghost in the Infinite Realms. Normally, this wouldn’t happen. Normally, even if it did, it wouldn’t risk a war none of the universes would win. The Infinite Realms loves prince Phantom. Their grief over this… even if he survives, the consequences would be unimaginable.
“You contact the League. I have to go fix this, right now.”
John doesn’t bother going for his hottle, because he unfortunately needed to do this sober.
“Go, go!”
——
Danny doesn’t turn even as he hears the crunch of grass blades. He sits, staring blankly at what used to be his grave marker.
“Hi, there,” it’s a woman. She sounds sad. Danny understands, because all he feels is a whistling hole where his heart used to be. “Are you Phantom?”
Danny sighs, ice crackling at his lungs. He knows, when this is over, he’ll find it in himself to rage. If he doesn’t shatter from this, he knows he’ll take Amity out. Perhaps he’d spare this one. It’s been a long time since anyone bothered visiting or even knew about his grave.
“Your highness…your sister sent me. Jazz?”
That got Danny’s attention. Glowing green eyes peeked from the curled ball of ghost to stare Zatanna down.
She swallowed.
“She… had red hair?”
“Why are you here?” Why did she send you? He doesn’t say. Zatanna seems to understand anyways.
“To help. Please, will you let me help?”
Danny looks down at the ice freezing her feet to the ground and thinks of the kind set of her eyes, the steel backing her spine, the carefully nonthreatening posture. Yes, Jazz would send this kind of person to help him.
The ice melts.
“Thank you.”
Danny watches as she approaches his destroyed grave. She glances back for his permission. He shrugs. It’s destroyed. Nothing would ever bring it back.
And then, he was proven wrong.
Zatanna’s eyes glow, and the stones began melding itself back together- no, it was reversing the damage and zooming back to its proper place.
“Oh.”
The damage to his core was still there. But… he won’t kill this one at all.
Or her friends, who stand at the edge of the clearing with the soul-torn one standing at the helm.
“Is this… alright, your highness?”
Danny stares at Zatanna. His voice is hoarse but… but it’s not on the verge of insanity anymore.
“Do you always come to graves without an offering?”
He knows he’s being rude. He’s past the point of caring. Zatanna’s response is to pull a bouquet of lilies from behind her back.
——
Phantom’s face is so young, and it’s even younger when he smiles.
“Not always,” Zatanna replies, rolling her eyes. But when she settles the flowers down, they’re gently placed.
“Can you magic clovers around it?” Phantom asks, that note of painful hope cracking her own heart. She wonders how old he was when he died.
“Of course.”
A field of clovers surrounds the rock tower, and Zatanna adds four layers of heavy wards around the area when she grows them. Phantom notices, and looks up at her with… trust.
“I am Zatanna. Your sister, Jazz, sent me.”
“Okay. You can call me Phantom.”
——
“I want their heads.” Danny says.
“We don’t kill.”
“Then hand them over to us, for they have hurt the Great One. They will answer for their crimes.” Frostbite settles a hand on Danny’s shoulder.
“Alright.”
“Constantine.”
Constantine somehow manages to drag Batman away to hiss in his ears.
“Shit in a hole, Batsy, I’m not fucking with the Infinite Realms. My demons won’t fuck with the Infinite Realms. Destroying a ghost’s grave is an act of war, and an act of complete violation, and we’re lucky Phantom liked Zee enough not to completely bring ruin to our universe. So shut up, and get the bastards that did this.”
“Hm.”
——
Zatanna sits in the visitors chair, Batman’s and Constantine’s disgruntled selves standing behind her.
“How old are you, Phantom?”
“Hm?” The future King looks exhausted, understandably. “Oh, sixteen.”
“You’re… sixteen? That’s how old you look, right?”
She’s hoping that he’s older, that he’s a millennia and a half years old. Because if he wasn’t, whoever broke Phantom’s grave, broke the grave of a child.
“No, I’m sixteen. My body looks fourteen. I died when I was fourteen.”
Constantine swears.
Batman straightens and walks out, fists clenched.
Zatanna eases the hum of hunting magic at her finger tips and smiles at Phantom until he sleeps.
Then, she gets up, and hunts.
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adelheidvonschicksal · 5 months
Text
*:・゚✧*:・゚ It's Like That *:・゚✧*:・゚
You decide to accept Itadori's invitation to the movies. It turns out better than expected.
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Pairing: Itadori x GN!Reader
CW: Fluff, SFW, hand holding, potential friends to lovers, it's technically a date 💕
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“Do you guys want to see Human Earthworm 4 with me?”
The three of you minus Itadori, who posed the question, share a lukewarm look. You’re on the edge of the shopping district, trying to decide what to do after your mission, if anything, and that’s the first idea that floats out amongst the group. 
“What’s it about?” Nobara asks.
After Itadori explains the horror romance, there’s even less enthusiasm amongst the group to watch the movie with him. Sensing this, he ups the bargain.
“I’ll pay.”
You wince when you see Fushiguro pull out his phone. “I don’t really have the energy to sit through a movie,” he excuses himself, fingers going a mile a minute to escape the situation of friendship for today. “I’m going home.”
Your broody classmate holds his ringing phone to his ear and briefly glances at Nobara.
“I’m going to hit up the shops," she responds to his silent question.
Megumi leaves the three of you behind in no time flat. Nobara only stays behind long enough to ask if you want to go shopping with her. While you normally love to go with her and are in dire need of new shoes, you notice a lonely sullen shadow building over your slit-cheeked classmate and throw up an apologetic smile to her. 
“I think I’ll go with Itadori-kun today.”
You miss the way his head perks up as you wave her off. Before you have a chance to collect your thoughts, Itadori is already on top of you, his fists drawn in front of him excitedly and chestnut irises filled with happy stars.
“You’re going to love it,” he tells you. It’s cute how he nearly shakes with excitement, you can even hear it growing in his voice and shining in his eyes. “It’s such a good series! I mean, I know it sounded weird, but it’s so much better on screen that— forget any of what I said, you gotta see for yourself!”
He wastes no time taking off in the direction of the theatre, and you jog to keep up with the speed of the Tiger of the West. It isn’t until he notices you lagging behind that he slows up to grab your hand and pull you with him.
“Come on, come on, we don’t want to miss the opening.”
“Is this one of those movies where I need to see the first three to know what’s going on?”
“Well, there’s a few returning characters, like Dr. Richter, but I can fill you in on the important stuff so don’t worry.”
When you get to the theatre, Itadori immediately jumps in the ticket line, huffing in relief when there are still seats available. You begin to pull out your wallet but pause when he hands you a pink paper ticket.
“I told you it’s on me,” he reminds you before going down the line and ordering a large popcorn, two drinks, and beating you to grab a packet of candy that you were staring at for two seconds too long. 
He hands the bag of sweets to the cashier to scan. “And this please,” he asks before handing the candy to you. 
“That’s okay,” you tell him, but he laughs it off.
“It’s fine. That’s your favorite, right?”
You shyly nod and hold onto the envelope of overpriced candy like it’s the most precious thing in the world causing the cashier to smile at you as she finishes preparing your items.
“Aren’t you two the cutest,” she comments. 
You squeak quietly at her comment, crumpling your candy in surprise. It’s not a big deal she mistook you as a couple, it’s not like Itadori was someone you didn’t like after all, and it’s not like there was any need to correct her but you didn’t know if he felt the same way about the situation. 
Curiously, you look at him, waiting for him to make the decision on the matter. Surprisingly, he blurts out a quick and happy, “Thanks!” before moving on to fill his drink.
As you watch him, you fight the urge to ask why he didn’t correct her; and when you notice that he’s way more interested in finding the right theater, you decide he must have said it because it wasn't worth a fuss.
The two of you get seats at the back of the theater, and you shift over people carefully to avoid falling into Itadori’s back as you find your seats. You can finally relax as he sets the bucket of popcorn on the armrest between you.
Soon enough, the movie begins to play.
It starts off like every normal horror movie. A mad scientist, a hapless victim, and an escape followed by a romantic subplot of the human earthworm discovering that the woman he met indeed loves him even if he is a worm. 
That’s about as much as you can keep up with. There are too many easter eggs that keep flying over your head and too many callbacks to the previous movies in the series. Itadori does his best to try to help you whenever you whisper questions at him; but eventually, you’re too distracted by the couple in front of you making out to pay attention to the movie.
It’s so obnoxiously grotesque, their arms wrapping around each other and a soft moan every so often that’s drowned out by the guttural sounds of the earthworm children. You can’t really believe they’d do that in public, and why did they have to be so close to you out of all people?
Itadori looks at you and then finally catches on to what’s making you squirm. When he does, a faint hint of red starts to coat across his nose, and he becomes equally uncomfortable. 
Deciding to make it a little better for the both of you, you nudge him then make a silly disgusted face with your tongue stuck out to mimic a gag. You’re rewarded with a snicker from him and his own silly face in turn, and it makes the awkwardness of it a little easier to take as you try to focus back on the movie.
It’s another half hour in before you wonder exactly how the hell are they still going at it. 
“Society really needs to bring shame back,” you think before a warm breath hits your ear and fans down your jaw. 
You nearly jump before the smooth sounds of Itadori’s voice greet you. 
“So, that guy—” he begins but you’re way too focused on how close he leaned into you this time, how low the timbre of his voice goes to keep from disturbing those around you. It makes your feet curl in your shoes and your breath catch in your chest when his shoulder connects with your arm.
You feel heightened to his presence and the heat of him so close. It wasn’t like this earlier, but your heart is racing and your skin tickles the more he whispers. You think he’s so close that he could almost kiss your earlobe. 
It’s a path that you didn’t know you had in your mind, and it leaves you rattled as the smallest brush of pink hair hits your skin as he straightens back up and reaches for another handful of popcorn. 
Every time he touches your arm after to get your attention or your hand scoops by his in the popcorn bucket, you start to become flustered and jittery like a child after too much sugar. 
It lasts until the movie reaches its apex.
There’s a combined scream that fills the theatre, and you tense at the splatter of blood hitting the camera, leaving the few remains of your popcorn scattered across the floor as you unwittingly knock it over and squeeze Itadori’s hand tight. 
Your fingers slot with his and your fingertips bury against his palm, and it’s the only thing keeping you from bursting into a scream. 
When the lights flash back on, you notice how pink his hand looks under your tense hold and mumble out an apology. 
“Oh, that?” he asks followed by the same charming laugh as always. “It was pretty funny. You should’ve seen your face, like a blowfish,” he comments, teasingly mocking your blow-eyed expression as everyone around you begins to exit. “I never took you for a scaredy-cat.”
“You’re one to talk. You screamed in my ear at least a dozen times,” you remind him as the two of you also make your way towards the exit doors. “Sounded like you were on fire.”
“Don’t say fire in a theatre!” he scolds with a hiss.
“You said it louder.”
“To remind you not to say it!” 
You giggle at how offended he sounds as you break out into the light of the late afternoon. You walk with Itadori back to your pickup spot on the edge of the shopping district. It’s surprisingly quiet especially considering who you’re with, and it makes you worry a bit. 
You thought Itadori would be more excited after watching the film and practically forcing you to run 500m dash to get there, but he’s barely said two words about it since leaving the theatre, briefly mentioning how he’s still glad they used a real costume for the main earthworm instead of CGI.
But since leaving, his mood seems to have dampened. You thought about bringing something up from the movie, but you couldn’t really catch more than a few bloody scenes and a little evil monologuing from Dr. Richter outside the moments when Itadori would have your attention, with his voice in your ear or his hand excitedly clasping around your wrist each time he enthusiastically info-dumped a scene to you.
“Hey, um,” he begins piquing your interest. He seems to lose his nerve when you catch his eye; his gaze flutters to his feet before nervously picking back up to glimpse at your face but only for a few seconds. “Thanks for coming with me.”
You smile. “Don’t mention it. It was…different.” 
“Yeah,” he agrees but he still seems down. 
“Itadori-kun? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah…It’s just…I could tell you didn’t really like the movie. I mean I knew from the start it wasn’t really your thing. You and Nobara usually like to shop together more than watch horror movies. But still—” he breathes in deep, a shy color blossoming across his face. “It’s been a while since it felt like I did something normal, so it was really nice having someone to come with me. I appreciate it.”
There's something about his explanation that makes your heart hurt. He hasn’t been a sorcerer that long yet; and coming from being a normal kid to the world you were born into was probably scarier than you all could understand. 
“It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it! I just couldn’t really follow the story between that annoying couple smacking the whole time, and I felt like I barely follow anything at all!” you reason with him, but he still has that kicked puppy look on his face. 
You sigh with soft empathy before offering him a reassuring smile.
“Hey, Itadori-kun, you know I think I’d like to come back and see it again with you. After we watch the first three movies of course."
He gives you a curious look, his eyebrows raised with disbelief. 
“Really?”
You give a cute and short nod. “Mhm! I can’t really give it a fair chance if I haven’t seen the ones leading up to it. Besides, I want to know why Dr. Richter was trying to kidnap the baby H.E.s in the first place? Couldn’t he make more Enhanced H.E.s from the DNA left from the original experiment victim like he did at the beginning of the movie?” 
It’s like you open the skies back over him when your words sink in, and he moves so happily, speaks so fully, and it makes you happy to see him simply be happy. 
“They explain it so good in the third movie,” he says, unable to hold in his excitement. “I know a great site, it has subtitles and everything, and a special director’s cut at the end of the second movie.”
You laugh. “Sounds good!”
“We should pick up some more snacks; the original is actually pretty long,” he warns and starts to lead you towards the convenience store. Your smile only breaks when you feel the tug on your arm and look down to notice his hand still fastened around yours. 
You freeze, feeling your face warm a bit when you realize he’s probably been holding it since before you left the theater. This makes him pause and turn towards you.
Softly, he calls your name and asks if you’re okay, making you drop your head bashfully.
“Oh, it’s nothing really but you’re still holding my hand,” you point out.
Itadori looks down between the two of you and confirms that his fingers are still locked with yours, a comfortable fit.  
“Huh, oh, I guess I am,” he states matter-of-factly before he blushes. “Oh, it’s probably all gross and oily right? Yuck.”
You shake your head. “No, it’s not actually,” you correct, making no move to force him to let go because you honestly don’t want him to stop this good feeling pouring from him into you through the simple act. 
Your soft expression makes his cheeks warm for a different reason this time. 
“Oh, well, w-we should probably hurry,” he stammers out, and your hand tightens around his hand just a little bit more as you agree and find the closest convenience store to prepare for your first movie night. 
*:・゚✧*:・゚
Nobara stops outside the convenience store, hand to the glass as she stalks back and forth, trying to catch glimpses down the aisle. 
She could have sworn she just saw the two of you walk in from the other side of the street, and she was going to come to say hi – partially to ask how the movie went and partially to make Itadori carry her shopping bags if the two of you were done – that was before she noticed how close the two of you looked.
Weirdly close. 
When she finally catches you in the foggy glass, hand in hand, looking at the mini gacha inside the store, she gasps and quickly shuffles her bags around in search of her phone. 
Kugisaki quickly scrolls through her contacts, impatiently tapping her foot as she waited for the line to pick up.
“Fushiguro get here quick,” she harshly whispers into the device.
There’s a lazy voice on the other end asking what she wants, and she vaguely explains the situation to be met with resistance.
“Well then have Ijichi drop you off again! What do you mean ‘No’?" she growls. "Shut up and listen to me. They just went into 7/11. Ugh. Fine, fine, I’m sending you some pictures,” she argues. 
Kugisaki quickly starts to snap some pictures through the glass and frantically sends them off before bringing the phone back to her ear.
“That’s what I’m saying so hurry up and get here! Yes, it’s like that!” 
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