#I fear I’ve talked ab him too much

[moominpopzz]

Taking applications from anyone who is willing to shoot me point blank so I can think of anything that isn’t southern William Wisp

[izufeels]

⁝ KATSUKI BAKUGOU !

description: as model! momo’s PA, you have a lot of interesting interactions

content warning: meet-cutes; flirting; no one really likes katsuki; stress y/n

You don’t hate your job. Actually, you really like your job. You like Momo and her friends, you like flying to different countries every week— even if that means you can’t ever make your own plans— and you especially like the money.

What you don’t like, is the hours upon hours spent in a sketchy warehouse with no air conditioning. Which, in retrospect, isn’t the worst place Momo has had a shoot, but it’s definitely the most unbearable.

You’re surrounded by models, obviously, and their own overly-snobby PA’s— whom you’d probably rather die than talk to.

And it’s hot. Insufferably hot. Triple digits hot. You regret wearing your hoodie and you regret not wearing a shirt under it even more.

You would say something to Momo, but she’s in front of a white backdrop with her arms draped over Shoto Todoroki— world famous model and your second favorite nepo baby.

And then your phone buzzes. You tear your eyes away from Momo and Shoto, looking down at your phone. “Oh,” you whisper, standing up from your chair. The notification is from DoorDash— Momo’s matcha latte has arrived.

So you get up without excusing yourself— because the people around you wouldn’t care anyway. You walk to the door, get the drink, and make your way back to your seat.

And, because you’re so engrossed in your phone, you don’t see the man headed straight for you and you slam directly into the front of him. The matcha latte spills down his torso and you’re frozen in fear.

You’re not looking up at his face yet— too mortified— but you can tell he’s a model just from the compression shirt and washboard abs that the drink is covering.

Imagine your surprise when you look up and see the Katsuki Bakugou standing in front of you.

Katsuki Bakugou; famous Japanese model, nepo baby and world class asshole. Or, so you’ve heard. You haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him, only listened to Momo and her friends bitch about him.

But, looking at him now, he’s kind of cute. Okay, he’s more than cute, he’s hot. His jawline is chiseled and his eyes are a dangerous shade of red that makes you want to commit atrocities not yet heard of.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t even watching where I was going and- oh my god. This is so embarrassing. I’m so sorry. I- oh my god.”

He looks down at his shirt, annoyance flickering across his face for less than a second before disappearing. His eyes narrow but, somehow, you can tell there’s no heat behind them. “S’fine,” he mumbles, sighing.

The silence is awkward for several seconds when, finally, you manage to open your mouth. “I um, I can pay for your shirt,” you offer, voice soft. “Like uh, for dry cleaning and stuff. Because, you know… I- I ruined it.”

He looks down at his shirt again as if he’d forgotten about the giant stain. A small chuckle bubbles up from his chest and he shakes his head, looking back at you. “Nah, don’t bother. Ain’t the first time this has happened.”

“What?” You furrow your brows and tilt your head. “You’ve had multiple girls spill matcha latte on your shirt because they were too busy scrolling on Instagram?”

He snorts, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Not exactly,” he chuckles. “but I’ve had people spill way worse on me. So, a little green liquid is like a walk in the park.”

You sense the eyes on you. You can hear the whispers. But, at this moment, it’s just you two. His red eyes staring into your own. “I’m Y/n,” you say, sticking your hand out. “Momo’s PA.”

He regards your hand with a blank stare, like he isn’t sure why it’s being extended to him, but, eventually, he takes it. His hand is so much bigger than yours and a shock runs the length of your arm as his palm meets yours. He grips you a little tighter than necessary. “Katsuki.”

“You’re a model, right?” You already know the answer, but you don’t want the conversation to end.

For some reason, your question makes Katsuki preen. He puffs his chest out slightly, clearly proud of the fact that you actually know who he is, and nods. “And a damn good one,” he says, a smirk finding its way onto his lips.

You open your mouth, but Momo’s voice cuts through the air and makes you turn. “Y/n!” she exclaims, briskly walking over to you. “Hey, are you okay? Is he bothering you?” she turns to him and narrows her eyes. “Why are you harassing her? I’ll pay for the shirt, for fucks sake. Go away.”

The smirk slides off his face in a heartbeat. He shoots your friend a glare and opens his mouth to respond. “I’m not harassing her,” he growls. “She ran into me like a dumbass. Dropped her own drink. Not my fault.”

“W- well it’s not really my drink-” you gasp and your eyes widen once more. “Momo! Oh my god, your drink! I’m so sorry! I spilled it everywhere!”

She holds up a hand and shakes her head, stopping you from delving into a second round of apologies. “It’s fine,” she says, shooting a sharp glare at Katsuki. “I just hope he didn’t give you too much trouble. Come on, let’s go. I’m done here anyway.”

tags; @sazankahanei @mimidonottouch

[irb-pascalito-99]

Catch Me If You Can

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Smut, teasing, unprotected p in v, come play

Summary: Joel’s girl can’t stop staring at him while he’s fixing the table they broke.

A/N: This is an excerpt from Chapter Thirteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing visit a03.

I lean back and watch the muscles in Joel’s back flex as he drills new bolts into the table. Beads of sweat roll down his arms and create dark patches on his t-shirt. I crawl toward him and kiss his neck as he puts the drill down.

“I think you should do this with your shirt off,” I mumble against his skin.

My hands slide underneath his shirt, trailing up his stomach and chest. Joel chuckles. He leans back slightly to give me better access.

I grab the hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head. He lifts his arms as I do. Joel allows me a couple more kisses before he starts to work on the table again.

I chew on my bottom lip while I watch him. Joel doesn’t have defined abs or the form of a bodybuilder, but there’s no mistaking he has muscles. His arms and back flex as he picks up another table leg to screw into place.

I offered help when he started, but he wouldn’t allow it. Now, he focuses on the task at hand. His eyebrows crease as he bolts the leg into place. He shakes it firmly to assure it is strong before moving on to the next one. He looks over his shoulder to see me still staring at the definition in his arms and back.

“Careful now, I’ll start thinkin’ you only want me for my body,” he jokes with a wink in my direction.

“I like you for more than your body,” I lean back against a nearby wall while Joel searches for the bolts for the next leg.

“Oh really, like what?” He asks. I roll my eyes at his obvious attempt for compliments, but happily play into it.

“Well, turns out you’re good at making furniture,” I joke. He laughs and shakes his head before screwing in the next bolts.

I could think of a million reasons why I like Joel. He’s unbelievably generous. He’s smart, but he doesn’t rub your face in it. He’s amazing with Sarah, and so understanding with Ellie. He’s the kind of man who fucks you so hard against a table it breaks, and then spends the next afternoon putting it back together again. When he pauses with the drill again I continue with an honest answer to his question.

“You make me feel safe,” I say. He puts the drill down and turns his full attention to me. “I don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I can fall apart a little around you. You make me feel safe.”

I keep my eyes on the ground. I don’t want to see Joel’s reaction to my statement. I don’t want to know if it’s too much too soon. We sit in silence until he picks up the drill again.

“You make me feel safe too,” He says. I lift my eyes from the floor. He fumbles with the screws in his hands. “I’ve been focused on Sarah for so long. It’s nice to be able to let go a little sometimes, have somethin’ for myself you know?”

My heart flutters at the notion of being something he holds for himself, that I could be as important to him as he is to me. I know Joel loves deeply, and Sarah will always be the biggest thing in his life, but I hadn’t thought of how lonely it must have been for him over these last several years.

Obviously Sarah’s mom leaving had left a hole in their family, but Joel lost more than a co-parent. He lost a partner, a wife. He’s never talked about her in a romantic sense. He hasn’t mentioned her at all since the hospital. I haven’t wanted to push him into opening up, but something about this conversation feels different. It feels as though he’s offering me something here.

“Did you have that with Annie?” I ask. Joel’s shoulders tense, and I fear I may have misread things. “Was it ever just easy?”

Joel focuses on drilling the screws into the final leg before he answers me. My heart thumps in anxiety. I shouldn’t have pushed. The weekend was going so well. Why did I have to push my luck?

“I guess it was for a minute there, when we were just young kids livin’ our lives,” He examines his work, shaking the table legs again as he continues explaining. He doesn’t look at me while he talks. “She got pregnant so early into our relationship though, so it didn’t stay like that for long.”

I debate on leaving it like that. Joel is clearly uncomfortable, but I want to know him better. I hardly know his past at all.

“Why? What happened?” I ask.

Joel rubs his face and then wipes his hands on his jeans. He doesn’t shy away from the topic, but I can tell he wants the conversation to be over. From what I can tell after conversations with Tommy and Sarah, Joel doesn’t talk about Annie with anyone these days. I find that strange coming from a man who’s been so adamant that I open myself up to others.

“It was just a lot of pressure,” Joel grabs one end of the table and turns it back over to stand on it’s legs. “Neither of us knew what we wanted or how to handle it. Our parents were furious. We thought marriage was the best answer but neither of us were ready for it. It was a giant dose of real world issues shoved into our teenage romance, so no it wasn’t ready for long.”

“Tommy mentioned you guys were on your own with all that.” I respond. Joel turns to me with a slightly angered look on his face.

“It’s not Tommy’s place to be sharing that,” he says. I shrink back into the wall slightly. Joel’s anger immediately dissipates after seeing my reaction. “Sorry it’s just, a part of my life I don’t want you to have to deal with.”

I try not to be angry that he chooses to hide that part of his life from me, but I find myself wondering why he doesn’t think he can trust me with it. He seems so keen on knowing my secrets and holding my darkness. I wish he’d let me do the same for him.

He doesn’t give me any more room to press him on the topic, choosing instead to bring the energy in the room back up. He picks me up and carries me over to the table. I squeal and kick my legs in the air, caught off guard by suddenly being thrown over Joel’s shoulder.

When he sets me down he places me on the finished table and stands between my parted knees. He places his hands on the surface of the table bracketing my hips. His lips come forward to meet mine, pulling me in for a deep kiss when he shakes the table roughly again. It stays firm on the ground, no creaking or concerns that it might collapse.

“Now that’s a proper table,” he says with a grin. He pulls me in for another kiss, immediately deepening it and bringing me closer to the edge of the table. As the kiss gets more heated I push him away. “What?”

“We are not fucking on the table again Miller, you just fixed it.” Joel’s big brown eyes morph into a sad pleading expression, but I refuse to cave. Instead I shake my head and cross my arms.

“Oh come on,” He kisses my neck, biting down enough to leave a mark on the skin.

“Joel” I moan and throw my head back. When he moves to the other side of my neck I shake my head to clear it and crawl across the table to the other side.

He stands with his hands still on the table. I grin at him while he gives me a grumpy look on the other side of the wood.

“Not on the table,” I say cheekily.

When he starts to round the corner toward me I run off in the opposite direction, heading for the stairs. I giggle as I hear him start to run after me. I’m halfway up the stairs when I feel his hands grip my waist and pull me off my feet. I kick my feet in the air and squeal.

Joel places my knees on the ground. I grab the edge of the steps in front of me and gasp when he grabs the waistband of my leggings and underwear, pulling both down my thighs. The material gathers at my knees as he fumbles with his belt.

“Joel,” I whine. The tension pulls in my center so much it almost hurts. I can feel the center of my thighs becoming slick as my wetness drips down the inside.

“I know baby. I know, I’ll make it feel better.” Joel yanks his own pants down enough that his cock springs out.

His hard length presses against my back causing me to moan as I press back into him. What started out as playful banter has turned into overwhelming need. Joel runs his fingers along my folds, groaning loudly when he realizes how wet I am.

“Oh darlin’, you need it bad huh?” He mumbles huskily into my ear. I nod my head, pushing myself back against him again.

He chuckles in response as he brings his hand back to his cock. He pushes his length through my folds slowly. I push my body back into his hoping that he’ll begin to fill me. I let out a hiss when the head of his member brushes against my clit before he pulls back again.

After a couple thrusts his cock notches at my throbbing entrance. I’m panting as I wait for him to press forward, on the verge of tears from anticipation. He kisses my shoulder while he pushes just the tip inside and freezes again.

“Please, please, please, plea-” I beg, cut short from the delicious stretch of his cock inside me. I throw my head back on his shoulder as he thrusts forward. His hands grip my hips to hold me still while I tremble around him.

Once he’s filled me to the brim he pauses to let me adjust. My pussy flutters around his pulsing length. I could probably come just from this, but he soon retreats and slams his hips back into mine. He keeps his pace slow, but his thrusts hard and deep. Each one pushes the breath out of my lungs.

“Fuck, Joel.” I moan as he thrusts in again. “It feels so good, you feel so good inside me.”

“Yeah?” He pants. His hands slip on my hips as he struggles to maintain his grip through the combined sweat of our bodies. Words are becoming increasingly more difficult as the pleasure builds so I nod my head in response.

I feel my core tighten and clench around Joel’s cock. He groans and starts to thrust harder and slightly faster. His hand slips around my front to start making small circular motions on my clit. The coil inside me starts to tighten even more, causing me to lurch forward on the stairs.

I rest my forehead on the stairs as I call out for Joel, no longer aware or in control of what I’m saying. Whatever it is, it spurs him on more. My fingers pull at the threads of the carpet on the stairs, undoubtedly pulling chunks out as well, while Joel’s fingers speed and supply more pressure. Something snaps inside me. I scream as I let go. Joel grunts as my pussy throbs around him, and continues working me through my climax.

When I come down my body sags against the harsh angles of the stairs. The only thing keeping my hips from the ground is Joel’s hand wrapped around my waist. I can tell he’s close. His thrusts become sloppier as he moans louder with each one. I feel him pulse inside me and he grunts.

He quickly pulls out and turns my body around on the stairs. Joel’s hands grab the front of the shirt I’m wearing, his shirt I stole off the bedroom floor this morning, and yank it open. Buttons clatter along the walls and railing of the stairs as they fly away.

With my chest and stomach exposed to the open air, Joel brings his hand to his cock. He pulls it rapidly. I watch him through hooded eyes while he moans. His eyes wander over my figure splayed out in front of him. Once he looks up to see my face he lets go with a loud growl. His seed decorates my body in ribbons, continuing to pump his length until he has no more left to give.

He grabs the wall with one hand and the railing with another as he breathes heavily with his head hung. I commit the sight to memory, certain that this is what all the greatest painters in history saw when they decided to capture the beauty of man.

His breathing begins to slow down when he opens his eyes again. He brings them up to me and remains frozen as I trail one hand down to the mess he’s left on my skin. I collect his spend on my fingers and lock eyes with him as I bring it up to my mouth and suck my fingers dry. He looks about ready to collapse from the sight alone.

When I pull my fingers from my lips he leans down and kisses me gently. His tongue licks along my bottom lip before slipping inside my mouth. As he pulls away a string of saliva connects us and then splits, seeking in the coarse hairs of his beard.

He stands up first, pulling his pants back up, and then helps me back to my feet. Joel pulls my leggings and underwear back up for me as I wobble on my legs. I keep my grip on the railing so I don’t fall. Over half the buttons on the shirt I was wearing are now hidden in the carpet of the stairs, so it remains open while I attempt to climb back up the stairs. Joel lets me try for a minute before picking me up and carrying me to bed for a nap.

To read more visit a03.

[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.

[b3ach-bunn7]

Saw your request for story ideas!

Jason with a fibromyalgic reader. He really never has to fear them they will never have the strength to over power him. Only if you want to and are comfortable

(Pinky promise this is sent in by a fibromyalgic)

Hey, I really hope I wrote this as you hoped for! I tried my best to read up on the condition before, and I hope I did you justice!

DEPOLLUTE ME

You’re weaker than Jason, but it just makes him love you even more

—————————————————————————-

Jason Todd is a man of principles. Doing what he does, a vigilante, he has to be. Dick had told him when he'd emerged as Redhood, that it didn’t work to do what you want. That, despite what he’d like to believe, Jason was privileged to have the strength and talent that he did, and it was people like them who abused it, that were the reason they were doing this in the first place.

Whatever. Dick always wants to be the smartest guy in the room, Jason thinks. These principles, though, are why he was so scared of you at first. Maybe not of you, but to be with you.

Because the problem with you is that he’s completely not scared of you. And it's all because of your condition, which makes him feel even shittier than he already does about jt.

Fibromyalgia. That’s what it’s called, the condition he’d stayed up two nights in a row reading all he could about. Books and NHS information pages. Anything to learn everything about you. You’d told him about it on your fifth date, the one he’d planned to ask you to be his girlfriend. A chronic illness, that caused pain, fatigue, headaches.

“I just- It doesn’t hinder me much. I just need you to know before this gets serious. That you’ll probably be looking after me more than the average girlfriend.” You’d said, eyes cast down to the half eaten food on your plate.

“That doesn’t bother me. It- I’ve got some mobility issues too, in my arm. Got shot once.” Jason winces at the repsponse he’d given you. Like the two were even remotely similar.

You’d smiled slightly. “It’s a little worse than that. It’s a chronic illness. It’s sort of like.. constant pain in my body? Makes my muscles stiffer, amongst other things. And it makes me sort of.. weaker, I guess. Physically.”

The two of you had talked about it for a while, before you’d changed the subject. He’d asked you to be his girlfriend still, under the porch light at your doorway, and you said yes.

It’s why he’s in your apartment right now. You’d given him a key (despite him being perfectly capable of using the window) and never seem phased in the slightest when he’s sprawled on your couch reading when you’re not there. He loves those things the most about his relationship with you. You’d carved a place for him in your life and it felt so effortless. Like you didn’t even need to think about making an extra portion at dinner or leaving a change of clothes out even after you fall asleep, because you know he always finishes his work late.

Weaker. That’s the word you used to describe yourself. And in a way, Jason loves it.

It’s only something he’d admit to you, or maybe months into forced therapy sessions, but Jason Todd is scared. He’s scared of a lot of things, contrary to what he lets other people see. He’s scared he’ll lose the handful of people he’s come to love. He’s scared that one day he’ll fight another fight he won’t win. He’s scared that one day he might wake up and he’s back there, Arkham Asylum, with that sorry excuse of a human being with him. But worst of all, he’s scared of people. Not an overwhelming fear, nothing he can’t fight through in an instance, but. He just never knows who he can trust. Who he can be vulnerable around.

And Jason isn’t weak by any means. Not that he likes to brag, but most of his body mass is muscle, ones you’ve seen, abs you’d run your hands across under his bedsheets. He can defend himself, he knows he can. He just doesn’t want to have that fear looming over his head all the time. Because it can happen. It happened once.

It had already taken so long for him to even let you in. And it was so easy. You were so perfect. So pretty, so sweet. Jason was half sure you were lying about your condition, because there was no way somebody in constant pain, 24/7, was so kind. So nice. Had patience for how long it took him to warm up to you, to let you touch him without him breaking your hands.

It was like a miracle. One he was so cruelly happy for. It was like somebody had taken all the fears he had in every relationship and eradicated them. There was no world where you could hurt him like so many others had done before. You were incapable of it. He could let his guard down completely and he’d be fine.

And he felt guilty for it at first. Of course he did. Like he was benefiting from something that caused you pain. He’d told you, but like with everything, you were perfect. You’d only laughed,

“It’s okay.” You’d snorted, amused at his apologetic face. It had been uttered in the dark of your bedroom, his arms wrapped around your waist, your back pressed into his chest.

“I don’t really mind.” You fiddled absentmindedly with his fingers, traced the calluses on his palms. “Kinda like it, actually. Most people use it as an excuse to like me less. You’re doing the opposite.”

So he doesn’t feel guilty anymore. Maybe slightly, but that little smile you give him, he hates to say it melts him enough that he doesn’t care.

The sound of the door creaking open drags his attention away from his thoughts. He looks up and there you are. Bundled in a scarf and gloves and a hat. You told him that the cold sometimes made it worse, and the winter weather was cruel. Your eyes light up when you see him sitting on the couch. You bound over, throwing the discarded book on his lap away, and sitting down.

“Hey.” You grin.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You lay down next to him and Jason moves, let you settle slowly down next to him, a hand carding through your hair. You ramble about your day and he listens.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Hey! It's my birthday today and it's been really good but it's been kind of the first birthday I've ever properly celebrated with my chosen family and friends in a long time since a lot of trauma/ab*se, and I really hope it wouldn't be too much to ask (take as long as you need obvs) for some headcanons with a Tav that isn't going to celebrate on their birthday, but Astarion makes it special for them somehow and maybe they agree it's Tav's 'first' birthday 🥹🥹🥹👉👈

I love all your work and eagerly await your posts, they make my day 🥰🥰🥰

Hi! Hope you will like it! Now, Tiriel's birthday is also in autumn!

Birthday Gift

Summary: Tiriel has no idea when her real birthday is and she's never receieved birthday gifts. Astarion finds it outrageous.

Pairing: Astarion x OC (Tiriel)

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, post-game, named Tav, established relationship.

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

TW: a mention of abuse

Tiriel looks around.

Autumn.

Leaves are turning red and yellow, the winds are cold and promise winter. 

It’s beautiful, though the barbarian feels uneasy – the childhood memories. Winters are merciless in such wild places as the Sunset Mountains. Hunger, sickness, death… Sometimes her stepfather, a cruel chieftain, would order to leave certain people outside (too old, too weak) – to let them die and not waste scarce food. 

He would often pull Tiriel outside when the autumn winds were particularly harsh and say: “Look at this, pixie girl, I can just order not to give you any food and you will die like a stray cat. But I am merciful – I told your mother I’d save your pathetic half-blood life!” With these words, he would let her go and Tiriel would run to hide somewhere dark and safe.

She was lucky there were no harsh winters during her childhood. She would be the first to be deprived of food and warmth.

Only half a human. The result of an affair between her mother and an unknown elf. She still wonders why she was spared in the first place. It would have been so easy to murder a newborn girl.

They didn’t.

They kept her.

Maybe it was a superstition that elven children would become evil spirits once they died, or fear that Tiriel’s elven relatives would return. 

Those are questions without answers, Tiriel knows that.

Maybe there was a moment when her mother loved her. Maybe there was a moment when Tiriel’s stepfather really did forgive his wife. 

Tiriel doesn’t have happy memories from her childhood. It’s all too dark and miserable.

And autumns like this remind her of it.

“Hello, darling,” Astarion grins, returning to the road from the woods. His shirt is stained and he licks his lips. 

“What was it?” she asks.

“A boar. Didn’t expect I’d jump on it from the tree.”

Tiriel smiles as she wipes his face from blood and brushes his messy curls. Astarion doesn’t see himself in a mirror and, of all forms of intimacy, he especially cherishes being taken care of. Brushing his hair, cleaning his face, making sure he looks beautiful.  

Two years. Two years of her own happy memories. Where she has a person to talk to, to hold, to love. Astarion is a troubled person, but Tiriel loves him at his worst and at his best.

Astarion rubs her ear, forcing her to giggle.

“Let’s go?” he suggests. “The weather is getting worse, I want to spend the next few days somewhere warm!”

“It’s five miles to Longsaddle if I’ve read the map properly.”

Astarion takes her hand, and Tiriel feels how warm it is thanks to the boar blood. 

“Then we will meet the sunrise in a comfortable bed!” Astarion chuckles. “And in each other’s arms.”

“I doubt they have good beds there, so far from Luskan and other big cities.”

“We have low standards, you and I. As long as there is a blanket and a bed, we are fine, Besides I love using your breasts as my pillow.”

Tiriel bursts into laughter and receives a peck on the cheek.

Unfortunately, it can’t stop bad memories.

… Her siblings asked her to help them with something on a cliff. She followed them, only to be violently beaten by her older brothers. Tiriel even thought for a moment they were going to rape her, but, instead, they pushed her down to certain death.

Tiriel woke up in dirt and blood, with her arm broken in half, shivering and coughing. 

And with a cave bear ready to murder her. 

That’s when Tiriel felt rage for the first time.

It filled her veins with fire. Tiriel barely remembers what happened that night but she knows she killed that bear– and was left with facial scars. Then she came back, limping and bleeding. She thinks she fought someone, maybe one of her brothers or the chieftain and then she ran.

She ran into the mountains woods – no armor, no weapon, only rags and bare feet. 

Then she collapsed on the ground, hurt and scared in the middle of the woods, forever lost.

Tiriel remembers that moment vividly. 

A young girl who had barely hit puberty (because half-elves grow slower) woke up all alone and cried like a child. Then she got up and walked, dying of cold and hunger. 

Two days later she was found by a group of adventurers who sort of adopted her as their party child. An old halfling washed Tiriel’s hair and healed her wounds. A water genasi cooked the girl food and offered the warmest blankets. 

And the tiefling paladin asked Tiriel what her name was.

“My sweet, I thought it was me who tends to wander into dark thoughts,” Astarion squeezes. “Remembering your misfortunate youth again?”

“Yes. Just – similar. To what it was back then. The same autumn when I ran from home. The same autumn when I got my name.”

Tiriel, the little girl told the party. My name is Tiriel.

Astarion does the same thing he always does when he wants to support Tiriel.

He gives her a hug.

“Hush, Tiriel,” he murmurs. “You will never be alone again.”

Triel relaxes. That is her Astarion – a simple hug, a kiss, an embrace, and her nightmares perish.

He pulls away and Tiriel catches his most adorable smile – he doesn’t pretend, doesn’t show off, doesn’t perform. That’s real him.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

She nods. They don’t have to ask permission to do things with each other. Kisses, hugs, grabbing hands, touching intimate parts – but they still do.

Tiriel asks if she can kiss Astarion.

Astarion states he wants to kiss her.

Simple as that.

Permission and declaration.

Astarion grazes her lips. He is in his predatory mood, when Tiriel just needs to accept whatever is going to be done to her. His strong hands grab her shoulders and tug at her.

Astarion finally breaks the kiss and stares at Tiriel for a few moments.

“I am not going anywhere,” Tiriel murmurs.

“I know, Tiriel. You are mine and I am yours,” Astarion presses his forehead to hers. 

They go down the hill and find themselves on a road that connects scarce towns and settlements far from the Swords Coast. The road is more or less walkable but it soon will be washed out due to rains. Tiriel notices Astarion’s visible disgust.

“Honestly darling, we should have stayed in Baldur’s Gate and lived a life of comfort!” he chuckles.

“You would die of boredom – besides I thought you’d had enough of that place.”

“True, but there are many other comfortable places! Tiriel, you deserve to wear a nice gown made of the best fabrics and sleep in a huge master’s bed where I will ravish you till you beg me to stop.”

Tiriel turns around to see her partner better. “And then I would die of boredom. Astarion look at us – I am a nomad and you were enslaved for so long you deserve to see the world.”

“It doesn’t mean I can’t whine and complain!”

“You can whine and complain all day long, Astarion. Why even bother to be in a relationship, if you can’t do this?”

They bicker and laugh for the next hour until they see a town ahead. Despite it being close to midnight, the town doesn’t sleep and is rather festive.

“What is going on here?” Tiriel asks a passerby as they enter the town. “Some local celebration?”

“It’s our duke’s first son’s birthday,” the woman shrugs. “Not like we care about the spoilt brat but you can’t say ‘no’ to a celebration right?”

The woman disappears in the crowd and Tiriel points at the stalls.

“Astarion, look! So many sweets! Oh, and there are fireworks!”

Astarion looks distant, as if something plagued his mind.

“Love, what is it?” She asks and feels a wave of anxiety. What if it’s too much? Feasts like this used to be his hunting grounds, what if he has a painful flashback?

Two years against two centuries is almost nothing.

“Tirie,l” he finally asks. “When is yours?”

“What?”

“Birthday. I know this is a huge deal for humans and the ones who grew up with them.”

“I don’t know.”

Astarion looks at her with shock.

“You… what?”

“I don’t know when mine is, I was never told. Neither a date nor a month.”

“Oh,” Astarion didn’t expect this answer. “Well, at least you know the year, right?”

“I don’t.”

Astarion raises his index finger as if wanting to point at something, but then he shakes his head in disbelief.

“We have been together for two years and you are telling me now that you don’t… how old you are?!”

Tiriel ponders a bit.

“Well, I know it was 1472 DR when I ran away, I was told by the party who adopted me… and I had had my first blood only two months before that. But I am a half-elf and it took me longer to grow up… So I think I was… fifteen? Maybe, sixteen… Or fourteen? Definitely not sixteen… Because my older brother was sixteen… Damn, I don't really know. Don’t bother.”

“Darling, I can’t not bother with the fact that I don’t know how old you are!”

“You say it as if I was one of those little girls who look older than they are and get their one-night stands in trouble!”

“It’s not that, Tiriel! It’s just… I don’t know… wrong!”

“It probably is.”

“It is wrong.”

“I cannot do anything about that.”

The wave of sadness drags her to the bottom of her dark thoughts.

Beatings.

Insults.

Hatred.

Pain.

All at once, since she was born.

Suddenly, she is a little girl again – a little girl thrown outside in the autumn rain, in the wind, wearing only a nightshirt. Tiriel thinks she hears her stepfather's laughter from behind a thick wooden door as a seven-year-old half-elf who cries and begs him to let her in.

Tiriel stops. Tears prickle her eyes. Her face burns, and an adult half-elven woman who fought gods and demons starts ugly crying like a child. 

She collapses on her knees not caring about the dirt, wailing and sniffing.

“Tiriel!” Astarion drops his sack and kneels beside her. “Did I do… Did I ask… Oh, hells.”

He puts his arms under her shoulders and presses her to himself, lulling and swaying side to side. He murmurs all the words of love and care he is capable of.

“Let’s take you somewhere warm,” he finally says, helping her to get up.

Despite the fest, they manage to find an inn with a free room, a cheap and simple one. Tiriel has to go inside first to invite Astarion, and then he takes everything in his hands again making sure the innkeeper brings warm blankets and prepares a bath. 

“Love,” he says. “Look at me.”

Tiriel tries not to think about how bad she looks right now with her puffy face and snot but obliges.

“That's much better, now let’s take you to the bath”

An hour later, Tiriel submerges herself into the hot water and expects Astarion to join her, but instead he goes straight to the exit.

“Astarion!” she calls him out.

“I will be back soon, just relax while I am away, all right?”

Tiriel hates being alone. Too many dark thoughts, besides, now she feels guilty. Astarion went through hell and she dares to complain?!

Her past isn’t that bad in comparison with his. She has no right to pity herself. 

Time passes slowly, and Tiriel feels restless. What if something happened? What if there was a vampire hunter? Or something else…

When she finally decides to get out of the bath, Tiriel hears familiar footsteps.

“Close your eyes, little love.”

Tiriel obeys and then feels something soft and plush in her arms.

“Open” Astarion places his chin on her shoulder.

A plushie-owlbear.

Soft and cute, it’s a toy appropriate for a little girl to cuddle with. 

A toy she never had.

“Well,” Astarion explains. “Since you don’t know when your birthday is, it can be… today. 17 of Uktar. Happy birthday, love,” he kisses her cheek. “And I suppose we should decide how old you are.”

“Thirty-eight,” Tiriel says, doing mental math. “Let it be thirty-eight”

“Happy thirty-eight birthday, my lovely, darling girl.”

Tiriel feels like crying again. It’s just a toy, a plushie, a thing for a baby. But she was never treated as a child, she was never given toys or dolls. And this gift… is the best she could have received.

“Do you like it?” he asks carefully.

“Yes… I do love it! Thank you! Did you steal it?”

“I won it from the toymaker. Played cards with her.”

Astarion sits on the edge of the bathtub and Tiriel wraps her hands around his waist tugging him into water. He lets out a laugh.

“Darling, you know how long it will take to fully dry?”

“Eternity! And we will spend this eternity in the inn warm and safe,” Tiriel says. “Astarion, please! I don’t want to go back on the road now, so many bad memories!”

He sits in front of her fully in the water. “Ok my sweet, what else do you want for your birthday? Maybe I could return the favor and let you ride me in some place from your traumatic memories? I’ve seen a rather terrible-looking dirt of mud.”

Tiriel thinks for a while and then says. “I don't mind riding you, but maybe in the bedroom?”

“Whatever you say, darling!”

**

It’s sunlight outside, and Astarion feels the tugging feeling in his undead chest. He misses sunlight, that's true. 

Tiriel is asleep in his arms. They actually didn’t make it to the bedroom and had the first round in the bathtub, and now Astarion needs to repair his shirt and find missing buttons from a doublet. 

It causes him anxiety, but he shrugs it away.

He can lose all the buttons and rip all his clothes, and the only reaction he will receive will be Tiriel’s jokes.

Tiriel hugs him from behind, placing her cheek on his mutilated back. The plushie is pressed between their bodies as his warrior-love has decided to sleep with it. 

He actually didn’t expect her to like the toy. Initially, he was panicking and looking for something appropriate for Tiriel. A ring? A bracelet? Maybe a weapon? Maybe just something sweet? 

Everything he was putting his eyes on was off. Jewelry Tiriel would never wear, a weapon she wouldn’t fight with. 

And then he saw the toys. An owlbear plushie for a woman who is always treated like a brave hero. Who didn’t have a proper childhood? 

The first birthday gift for someone who has never had a birthday.

And Tiriel loved it so much she pressed it to her chest the moment they stopped ‘celebrating’. She wanted to give it a proper name, and they spent at least a few minutes discussing their ideas before they settled on Big Eye.

“Tiriel,” Astarion mutters knowing she is asleep and won’t wake up. “I love you. You will never be alone, I promise. I will be with you unless you grow tired of me, and I am sure you won’t. Thank you for … finding me. Saving. Helping.”

Suddenly he feels her wet lips on his scars.

“I will never grow tired of you,” Tiriel promises.

--

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[archiveikemen]

Abe no Yasuchika • Sutokuin/Akihito Main Story: Chapter 3

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting┊aikm’s Genjiden Glossary

Akihito: By the way, aren’t you afraid of talking to me like this?

Yuno: Huh?

Akihito-sama’s handsome face drew closer, sending my heart racing.

Akihito: I’m well aware that I was once a terrifying enemy to you.

Abysmal eyes stared intently at me, it was like they were staring right into the depths of my heart.

(Deception definitely won’t work on Akihito-sama.)

Yuno: … That’s true. You were indeed terrifying as an enemy.

I weaved my web of words while cautiously sounding my thoughts.

Yuno: But strangely, I no longer fear you.

Yuno: I also recently learned that you have a surprisingly awkward side to you.

(Both Yasuchika-san and Akihito-sama… the two of them were different from their usual elusive selves.)

(I feel like I’m starting to understand what kind of people they are, even just a little bit.)

Akihito: Awkward, huh. Was that supposed to be a compliment?

Yuno: Ah, I’m sorry, it was my mistake… but I didn’t mean it in a negative way at all!

(That was indeed disrespectful of me.)

Akihito: It’s fine. I don’t deny that I’ve shown you some rather disgraceful sides of me today.

Yasuchika: When I asked you to check on Yasuchika for me during the day for instance, and right now.

Yuno: No, I don’t think you’re acting disgraceful.

Yuno: … Instead, I think you’re the kind of person to treat what’s precious to you with a lot of care.

Akihito: You mean Yasuchika?

Yuno: Yes.

I nodded and Akihito-sama stared reminiscently into the distance..

Akihito: It’s because that boy and I met in a rather unique way.

(I really wonder what happened between them.)

However, I figured that it would be too inappropriate to casually ask such a personal question, so I perished the thought and watched his calm side profile.

Akihito-sama said nothing more, then he suddenly smiled at me.

Akihito: — Sorry. I made you listen to my rambling.

Yuno: It’s fine. Um…

When Akihito-sama tried to end the conversation, I spontaneously stopped him.

(I want to at least tell him this much.)

Yuno: You mentioned earlier that you feel confused about receiving the Hero’s Power…

Yuno: I believe there was surely a meaning behind specifically the two of you being chosen as heroes.

Akihito: A meaning…?

Yuno: Yes. The Yamata no Orochi said that we won’t be given a trial we can’t conquer.

Yuno: If both of you work together, there might be a way through this.

(I don’t know the relationship between Akihito-sama and Yasuchika-san very well, but—)

(I can see that they both care deeply about each other.)

Akihito-sama chuckled at my words.

Akihito: … You’re right. After hearing you say that, I’m starting to feel that way too.

Yuno: My apologies. That was impertinent of me…

Akihito: No, I thank you for saying that.

Akihito: Yasuchika and I are undeniably a little cowardly.

Akihito: That’s why it might be best to have someone straightforward like you as a medium of the underworld.

(Akihito-sama…)

(I still don’t know what I can contribute to this war… but at least, I hope to be a form of support to Akihito-sama and Yasuchika-san.)

…

Not long after, there were reportedly sightings of the undead in a province not far from Kamakura.

(According to the report submitted to the Shogunate, they should be around here.)

To avoid causing damage to the nearby village, we divided ourselves into teams to patrol the area.

(From the Shogunate, there’s Shigehira-kun, Rikka, and Tamamo; while the Rebel Army assigned Benkei to guard the other side of the village.)

(I’m patrolling this area alongside Akihito-sama, Yasuchika-san, and Ibuki, but—)

Signs of the undead were nowhere to be seen, so we decided to wait for a while.

Soldiers dispatched from the Shogunate were in the vicinity.

Soldier 1: Still, I never expected us to end up being under the lead of some suspicious person from the Imperial Court.

Soldier 2: Shh! He can hear you. You never know where Yasuchika-dono placed his shikigami.

(As expected, there’s still some distrust towards the Imperial Court.)

(Although it’s understandable if you think about what happened between us in the past, but I wonder if we’ll work together just fine.)

Rikka: Found you, Yuno.

Yuno: Rikka!

Yuno: What’s the matter? Did something happen to Shigehira-kun and the others?

Rikka: Nah, I was told to check on you. They’re doing fine over there.

(That’s a relief…)

Rikka: … In any case, Shigehira is really harsh when it comes to making use of ayakashi.

Rikka continued languidly.

Rikka: I only took a short break and he’s already back to get me to work, and he tells me to come check on you the moment I have any free time.

(That’s how hardworking Shigehira-kun is…)

In contrast to that, while Rikka has been cooperative with us so far, he still has the carefree nature of an ayakashi.

(Before we set out, he was making snow sculptures in the corner of the room during the war council.)

Rikka: Where are Akihito and Yasuchika?

Yuno: They’re checking on the situation over there with Ibuki. Should I call them over?

Rikka: Nah, no need. I’d rather you not.

Rikka firmly declined.

(What’s wrong?)

While I internally questioned the tone of his response, Rikka’s gaze shifted to something behind me.

Rikka: … Speak of the devil, Yasuchika’s here. Help me out, Yuno.

Yuno: Huh?

I thought I felt two hands on my shoulders and was immediately spun around.

A little distance from us, I spotted Yasuchika-san and Akihito-sama returning after completing their checks.

(Perfect timing.)

Yuno: Akihito-sama! Yasuchika-san! Rikka’s here to check on us.

The two of them noticed us and started walking in our direction.

But before they reached us, Rikka hastily leaned in and whispered in my ear.

Rikka: I’ve passed the message to you. I’ll get going now.

Yuno: Eh? Why…

I turned around to see that Rikka had already disappeared.

(When did he…!?)

Yasuchika: Aww, he escaped.

Yasuchika-san’s shoulders slumped while walking up to me.

Akihito: He’s quite a cunning ayakashi to use Yuno as a shield.

Yasuchika: It’s not like I’m going to do anything to him. Right, Yuno-san?

Yuno: It could be that you’ve already done something to him…

Yasuchika: Hmm… just a little bit!

(I knew it!)

Yasuchika: All I did was have him cooperate with me for a little experiment.

Yasuchika: Ri-chan always gets irritated quickly and escapes the moment I take my eyes off him, so the experiment failed.

Akihito: Attempting to force him into making a pact with you was a bad idea, I guess.

(H-he did WHAT…!?)

Yasuchika: It was worth a try! By nature, it’s impossible for an Onmyōji to make a pact with an ayakashi, however—

Yasuchika: I thought it might work given my current state whereby I can’t use my Onmyō magic like I usually do.

Yasuchika: If I were to make a pact with a powerful ayakashi, I could use its abilities in place of Onmyō magic alongside the Hero’s Power to fight.

Yuno: So you’re still having trouble using your Onmyō magic after all?

Yasuchika: It’s not completely unusable. I managed to develop a technique to control the power just in time.

Yasuchika: In fact, I’m actually using a shikigami to do the scouting right now.

(Thank goodness…)

I heaved a sigh of relief when I recalled how cornered Yasuchika looked the last time.

Yasuchika: … However, I have to suppress the Hero’s Power when using Onmyō magic; and I can’t use Onmyō magic when using the Hero’s Power.

Akihito: So that means it’s difficult to deal a fatal blow to the undead using Onmyō magic.

Yasuchika: That’s correct.

Yasuchika-san nodded at Akihito-sama and turned his gaze back onto me.

Yasuchika: Therefore, my weapon in this battle will be a sword infused with the Hero’s Power.

(I see…)

Yuno: It really is impossible to use Onmyō magic and the Hero’s Might together at the same time after all, huh.

Yasuchika: To put it bluntly, yes. Well, there are other methods, but—

Yasuchika: Attempting to forcibly use both powers simultaneously would cause them to go out of control.

Yuno: In other words, it’s dangerous?

Yasuchika: Yeah, I’d rather not do that. There’s a possibility of it affecting Akihito-sama too.

Akihito: …

The look on Akihito-sama’s face looked like he wanted to say something but decided not to.

(Could Akihito-sama also know about that other method?)

Yasuchika: However, it’s fine if we don’t use that method.

Yasuchika: I may not be as skilled a fighter as the warriors, my swordsmanship is decent enough.

(Everything will definitely be alright if Yasuchika-san says so… I guess.)

Akihito: By the way, what did Rikka come to tell us?

Yuno: He only said he was here to check on us. It looks like Shigehira-kun and the others haven’t encountered any undead either.

The moment I said that, Yasuchika-san looked up as though he just sensed something.

Yuno: Yasuchika-san?

Yasuchika: — They're here.

Soldier 1: AAAAAHHH! MONSTERS!

Yuno: …!

The soldiers could be heard screaming from the bushes.

The soldiers who were resting immediately stood up and drew their swords.

Akihito: Looks like this is where we’ll be fighting them.

Yasuchika: Akihito-sama, the sorcery tools.

The two put on their respective forehead ornaments.

(…!)

When the light faded away—

I gasped at the sight of their new appearances.

Yasuchika: …! This is…

Akihito: I’m assuming this is due to the cursed powers of the ayakashi.

(They look like… they have matching appearances.)

Their almost otherworldly mystical appearances had me gazing admiringly at them.

Yasuchika: Let’s go, Akihito-sama.

Akihito: Yuno, try not to leave our side.

Yuno: … Okay!

The instant they headed in the direction of the screaming—

Grotesque-looking creatures emerged from among the trees.

(T-those are the undead…)

Undead: Gyaaaa!

The undead let out ear-piercing cries as they approached us.

While everyone froze in fear from seeing those creatures for the first time, Akihito-sama stepped forward and removed his bracelet.

Akihito: Stop moving.

(Is that his kotodama…?)

The undead’s movements slowed for a brief moment before they quickly recovered and started running towards us.

Akihito: … I see. It’s just as I expected, kotodama is barely effective on them.

Akihito: In that case—

Akihito-sama raised his hand, and a bolt of lightning struck the undead.

Undead 2: Eeek…!

The undead that were burnt by the lightning turned into ashes.

However, a new wave of undead trampled over the ashes and rushed towards us.

(There’s more…!)

At the same time my body tensed up, another bolt of lightning struck the undead.

Ibuki: Looks like it started while I was away, huh.

Yuno: Ibuki…!

Ibuki: It’s still too early to relax.

The fallen undead rose again.

Undead 3: Kill the living! Kill them!

Undead 4: Kill them!

Newly spawned undead poured out from among the trees, increasing in number and attacking us relentlessly.

The horrifying scene was so repulsing, my legs nearly gave out due to my natural instincts.

Soldier 2: W-what the hell is that…

Soldier 3: Damn it! There’s no way we can fight those things.

(Oh no, some of the soldiers are entering a state of panic…!)

Some of the soldiers went into chaos and started running away from the undead instead of fighting them.

Ibuki: How disappointing that they’re abandoning their duties just because their own general isn’t here.

Ibuki: This battle is going to be a tough one, huh? Akihito.

Akihito: Unfortunately so, but we can’t do without them.

With a charming smile, Akihito-sama summoned a bolt of lightning in the path of the fleeing soldiers.

Soldier 1: Eek!

Akihito: There’s no running away. If all of you are truly that afraid, I can just use kotodama on you.

Akihito: However, wouldn’t you rather face the enemies with your own convictions than be controlled like puppets to fight against your wills?

Soldier 2: Ugh…

Soldiers: We have no other choice but to fight…! Damn it.

(… Akihito-sama is indeed terrifying on the battlefield.)

Yasuchika: Everyone’s looking motivated! Looks like I should keep up too.

He drew his sword that emitted an eerie glow.

Yasuchika: I won’t allow them to go near Akihito-sama again.

Yasuchika-san stood at the front and cut down the approaching undead, his movements graceful like he were dancing.

Akihito: As expected of you, Yasuchika. But you should leave me some opportunities to shine too.

Akihito-sama’s lightning ability burnt a wide range of enemies to ashes—

While Yasuchika-san finished off the undead that managed to survive Akihito-sama’s attacks.

Soldier 1: We might actually win if we keep this up! Chaaarrrgeee!

With a battle cry to boost their morale, the previously frightened soldiers charged at the undead all at once.

(I can’t believe the two of them aren’t at their fullest potential yet.)

Akihito: It seems that the Necromancer is continuously summoning the undead while hiding somewhere.

Yasuchika: I’ve made the necessary preparations for my shikigami to request for reinforcements if we get attacked.

Yasuchika: Therefore, if we could just hold on a little more, we might be able to find the Necromancer.

Yasuchika-san’s words sounded slightly reassuring.

However, more undead kept on appearing with every one we defeated…

Yasuchika: ggh…

Yasuchika-san let out a small groan and retreated to my side.

Beads of sweat could be seen on his forehead.

Yuno: Yasuchika-san, are you in pain—

Yasuchika: I’m fine. It’s just that fighting this violently isn’t something I’m used to doing.

His response was as nonchalant as usual, and yet…

I knew very well that Yasuchika-san was the type of person to push himself too far over the edge while pretending everything was fine.

(Whenever Yasuchika-san uses the Hero’s Power, he constantly has to suppress his Onmyō magic.)

(It’s definitely much more complicated than it looks.)

Akihito: Step back, Yasuchika. I can handle the rest.

Yasuchika: I can’t do that. Akihito-sama, your ability isn’t meant to be used repeatedly.

Yasuchika: If you push yourself any further than this, it’ll harm your body.

(T-that’s…)

(But we’ve already sent a request for reinforcements to Shigehira-kun and the others. If we could just hold out a little longer until they arrive…!)

I could feel their frustration from being unable to fight, I prayed hard for reinforcements to arrive sooner and that was when—

The trees rustled and a man came forward from amongst the undead.

(This one is different from the undead.)

Akihito: Looks like the mastermind has finally shown himself.

Yasuchika: That’s the Necromancer…

Necromancer: All you annoying heroes, how dare you despicably change the course of fate and cling to your lives so desperately.

Necromancer: Kill the heroes first! We can finish off the rest of them after.

More undead emerged from the ground in response to the Necromancer’s command.

(T-this is endless…!)

Despite being cut down, the undead rushed past the soldiers towards Yasuchika-san and Akihito-sama.

Yasuchika: Apparently it seems that they’ve locked onto us.

Akihito: Ibuki. I leave Yuno to you.

(Wha…)

Akihito-sama gave me a hard push on the back towards Ibuki who caught me.

Ibuki: Oof. You’re being unusually rough.

Akihito: I’ll apologise later.

I caught a brief glimpse of Akihito-sama’s smile directed at me before the newly emerged undead obstructed my view.

Before we knew it, Ibuki and I were outside the circle of undead.

Yuno: But the two of them…!

Ibuki: Be good and step back. Losing the medium of the underworld would be too big of a blow. c

The smile on Ibuki’s lips made him seem as though he were enjoying the situation.

Ibuki: For now, we can only attack from the outside to support them.

Ibuki: Also, this is as far as those two can go if they don’t make it out alive.

(What…!?)

Yasuchika: … This would’ve been a child’s play if I could effectively use Onmyō magic.

Akihito: Say, Yasuchika. What we’re doing right now looks really out of character for us, don’t you think?

Yasuchika: You’re right. Akihito-sama aside, I shudder at the thought of being called a hero.

Akihito: But we were chosen to be the holders of this power.

Yasuchika: …

Akihito: Like Yuno said, there must be a meaning behind specifically the two of us being chosen.

Akihito: When she puts it that way, I can’t help but to live up to the expectations of a hero. c

Akihito: But looking at our current situation, winning is impossible. So how about we make a bet?

Yasuchika: A bet…?

Akihito: You still have another trump card, don’t you? I’ve been thinking the same thing.

Yasuchika: We absolutely can’t do that. If it fails, you’ll be affected by it too.

Akihito: I don’t want to do it either. — I don’t want to curse you.

(… What on earth are they talking about?)

The disturbing conversation gave me the chills.

Akihito: But I still want to give it a try because we can’t afford to die here.

Yasuchika: …

Akihito: I believe you can succeed, Yasuchika.

Akihito: Do you not trust me?

Yasuchika: …! That’s not the case at all.

Yasuchika: Ahh fine, please hate me forever if I fail!

Seemingly having given in to despair, Yasuchika muttered something under his breath.

The hand he stretched out towards Akihito-sama contained a ball of light.

Yasuchika: — Let’s do this.

Akihito-sama nodded and held his hand out to the light.

Akihito: Two powers that devour each other. Tame them, accept them. The soul becomes a vessel, creating an even greater power.

Ibuki: … Heh, looks like they came up with something interesting.

The sides of Ibuki’s lips lifted into a grin while he attacked the undead from the outside.

(Could it be… Yasuchika-san is mixing his Onmyō magic with both of their Hero’s Power?)

As the ball of light in their hands glowed brighter, Yasuchika-san’s face twisted in agony for a moment.

Yasuchika: ugh…

Akihito: Yasuchika.

Yasuchika: … This level of power is nothing to me.

Yasuchika: — After all, I am THE prodigious Onmyōji!

The light focused between their hands.

Akihito: Well done.

Yasuchika: You too, Akihito-sama; for improvising on such a reckless plan.

Yasuchika: These powers normally wouldn’t merge with each other, but you made it possible to turn them into a new kind of power by cursing me.

Akihito: It feels good being praised by you.

Akihito: That said, your trust in me and non-resistance to my curse were crucial in leading to the success of our plan.

Yasuchika: Of course I have trust in you completely, Akihito-sama.

Akihito: — Well then, shall we finish this once and for all?

The ball of light burst and sent the surrounding undead flying before going on to engulf the Necromancer.

Yuno: Amazing…

Both the undead and the soldiers paused their fighting momentarily to stare in awe at the scene unfolding before their eyes.

After the light dispersed…

The Necromancer, dragging his body on the verge of collapsing, glared at the two men.

Necromancer: If I’m going to be defeated here… I’ll make sure to at least drag one of you down with me!

Several newly appeared undead emerged around the Necromancer.

Yasuchika: You don’t know when to give up, huh.

Yasuchika-san chanted something to activate another spell.

As though intending to take advantage of the opportunity, the Necromancer threw what appeared to be a dagger in Yasuchika-san’s direction.

Yuno: Watch out!

Yasuchika: …!

There was no way his Onmyō magic or special abilities would react in time.

In the moment I felt my stomach drop—

(Ah.)

Akihito-sama threw himself in front of Yasuchika-san, shielding him with his body.

Akihito: Ggh…

Akihito-sama took the dagger instead and fell to his knees.

Yasuchika: Akihito-sama…?

Yuno: A-are you alright?

Akihito: Just a scratch, it’s no big deal.

I ran over to Akihito-sama’s side.

His kimono was torn at the shoulder, revealing the wound caused by the dagger.

(The wound is indeed not deep enough to cause any serious problems. But in this condition…)

Akihito-sama’s breathing was laboured and he struggled to stand.

Yuno: Could the Hero’s Power be going out of control…?

Akihito: … It seems so. I can’t believe that out of all times, I’m rendered unable to move in a time like this.

Yasuchika: — How dare you injure Akihito-sama.

At the sound of Yasuchika-san’s chilling voice, I looked up to see him casting a spell towards the Necromancer.

The Necromancer didn’t even have the chance to cry out at his moment of death before turning into particles and disappearing into the wind.

Yasuchika: Yuno-san, let’s move Akihito-sama somewhere safe.

Yuno: Y-yes! If I’m not mistaken, there should be a small hut over there—

Undead: Kill both heroes!

Undead 2: Kill them…!

(Oh no, we must do something about the remaining undead…!)

The approaching undead were suddenly sent flying by a roaring bolt of lightning.

Ibuki: The soldiers and I will stall them until Shigehira arrives, he should be here soon.

Yuno: Ibuki…

Yasuchika: Akihito-sama, please hold onto me.

Akihito: Thanks. Sorry for the trouble.

Yasuchika: I should be the one apologising. Why did you shield me…?

Yasuchika: — Nevermind that. Most importantly, we should get you treated at once.

…

Yasuchika-san swallowed the words he wanted to say and carried Akihito-sama to a nearby hut with a pained expression.

Yasuchika: I have to leave to deal with the remaining undead.

Yasuchika: Just in case, I’ll station a few soldiers to stand guard outside the hut.

Yuno: Understood. You should be careful too, Yasuchika-san.

Yasuchika: I’ll be fine. More importantly—

Yasuchika-san looked at me with worried eyes.

Yasuchika: Please, I leave Akihito-sama in your care.

(Yasuchika-san… he must be feeling responsible for Akihito-sama’s injury.)

Wanting to give him even just a little bit of reassurance, I nodded firmly.

Yuno: It’s alright, I will. Please leave him to me.

[seongminiz]

oh jeez😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 /pos i’m so dizzy at both scenarios omgg first off. the mattwoong sandwich plot with jiwoong filming u and matthew (his little sluts) and using u like that is so insane like imagine free use with dilf country club owner jiwoong like that?? like when he’s bored he seeks u both out and brings you together to “entertain” him like ur his toy barbie dolls .. this is getting so depraved but like fuck it i like to think u both (u and matt) got urselves way in over ur heads with ur dirty little games and if it isn’t the consequences of ur actions…

idk if this is too dubcon.. but i kinda like the slight aspect of coercion in terms of wanting to please jiwoong to keep ur job/membership at the club? and how humiliating would it be if he exposed all the nasty things you’ve been up to while ur supposed to be on the clock… sigh. anyways.

and omg everything u said for angel demon jumil. i rly love the idea of them holding u ‘hostage’ and threatening u with ur life😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 they’d loovvee how pathetic u’d be begging them for their cum so u don’t die :( like jeez that’s fucked up but i love it :(((

and the concept of juyeon literally losing his wings to commit himself to pleasuring u. definition of a service top lol. i want them both to use me as a fucktoy so bad so this + monsterfucking is so crazy. like i can’t even put it into words omg ffff😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

also slight side note. idk if u watched any of the fatal trouble promotions for enha, but i’ve seen a few screenshots from the relay and heeseung’s abs peeking out at one point?? i need to ride him so bad it’s so serious.

ur mean dom hoon thoughts too😵‍💫😵‍💫 i want mean dom enha hyung line i want all 4 of them to keep me as a pet we’re seeing a recurring theme here :( and use me to their will, be so mean to me that i never leave subspace and just exist to please them :( vampire hyung line living in a victorian castle and keeping u to feed off of and use for their pleasure??? probably been done before. but that’s also a thought.

- 🧁 anon

aaaaaaaaaaa idk where to start with this im going crazy 😵‍💫

no bc fuckkk jiwoong using u n matt as his own free porn like (!? #+_. im malfunctioning ,, also as u said , him threatening to expose every little depraved thing you've done for him , having all of it on video knowing your perfect little princess who has everyone wrapped around her finger reputation could be ruined in a split second .. making u suck his dick n apologize when you try to be bratty n defy him , taking a video everytime (which means he has a lot of them since he still hasn't fucked the brat out of u n probably never will)

n yesss 🫶🏻monsterfucking🫶🏻 tbh ik i alr said this but i should write more of it !!!

yesss i've seen that 0_0 feeling very much insane .. not only thinking abt riding hee , but riding his abs ?!?? that makes me even crazier

osmdbgj vampire hyung line ,, it all started when jake planned to only feed from u like all the other humans they've fed from for years , but theres just something abt you that makes him want to bring u back home n keep u all to himself ..... you're not particularly against it once you've gotten over the initial fear of jake being able to possibly kill u whenever he wants , but he won't be able to keep u from the others for long , after all they can recognize humans from smell alone , n your blood's specifically is so addicting they'll all start using u to both feed from u n fuck u ..

also ik we were talking abt the whole hyung line but mannnn this is making me think of vampire sunghoon so much 🫠 save me ..

[badnew2005]

i feel like all i’m talking ab this season is dennis and running away and how he’s finally emotionally returned from north dakota he’s trying so hard to stop running and be stationary BUT !!! it keeps shining through like dennis struggles to improve his mental health a season long arc IS REAL !!!!!! there are a thousand billion ways to read dennis as johnny but i can’t stop thinking about dennis using the johnny caricature the mask to explore and experiment with that part of himself that kept him running.

ireland dennis obsessed with authenticity bringing it to such a fake degree. obsessed with authenticity of the specific situation he is in rather than his general every day life. he’s still running away. wins the big game message when you embrace who you are then you win then life is good and enjoyable BUT HE MISSED IT !!!!! he was in north dakota !!!!!!!!! he was running and hiding. ireland when you love someone you never ever leave them behind realisation and acceptance he doesn’t need to keep running. reaching that conclusion a couple of years later than the gang, later than mac, as he always is one to do.

we’re like half way through the season and he’s been TRYING. trying so hard to be good and happy and not get riled up over small things. he’s trying to be stationary and be happy with who he is BUT ITS HARD !!!! it’s itching and raw! another season theme i’ve predicted is the cat poking his head out of the wall. it’s all happening as johnny. exploring who he is and who he can be, rather than the person he’s spent years thinking he Should be (seen with maureen and mandy). everything about him he’s kept private hidden down deep he’s using johnny to be public with. and macs just a boy in love !!!!! fuck !!!!! mac being in love with johnny confirmation that he is likeable, LOVEABLE even. that part of dennis he hates so so much he’s so terrified of letting loose. it won’t be the end of the world. restructuring his view of himself. he’s old and tried and can’t keep running, he doesn’t Want to keep running, BUT ITS HARD !!!! it’s so much harder than he ever thought it could be (and he Knew it would be difficult and painful that’s what kept him running! because running away was easier and comfier than facing reality ……. clip show i’m ALWAYS thinking about you!)

he’s ran away from mac before because he could see through him but now ??? mac can’t see it’s him. even against screaming proof mac won’t accept that he’s johnny. from macs pov there’s anger, anger that he can’t feel because he can’t confront dennis so he stays in denial. and dennis is angry with himself too, there’s plenty of self hatred behind using the mask of johnny. he’s spent years pushing mac away screaming at him to move on…. but dennis won’t let go he won’t physically let mac move on. everything i’ve ever loved has claw marks on. he’s clinging onto everything so desperately (clip show & chokes IM THINKIHG OF YOUUUUU) but can’t communicate what he actually wants. he can’t admit it to himself first and foremost there’s no way he’s saying out loud point blank to mac. who could go and Tell Everyone. he hates himself for loving mac for not being able to let go. he hates himself for running away and pushing and biting and then crawling back begging on his knees to go back in time.

he hates that mac came out and it changed everything and he hates that he can’t do the same. mac can’t confront dennis about his anger out of fear he’s going to run again, but ALL DENNIS WANTS is that confrontation. he Wants to be forced to be dragged screaming and kicking out of the closet like mac was. he doesn’t want to be brave and have to take that massive leap by himself. it’s too big too far !!!! he’s spent years making sure nobody suspects him or dares says anything. he was ready to suffocate in that wall. why should he have to follow that second cat out of the darkness why can’t the bird pull him out anymore (because he mauled and killed the bird. severed any chance of anyone else helping him out of the closet.)

why does he have to do it all himself now. everyone else begged mac to come out, they all knew for mac, why can’t they do the same for him. obviously they’re Not going to ! once upon a time he made sure they never ever will !!!!!!! it’s again dennis and communication, wanting everything “to go back to normal” to go back to how it was for everyone to forget what he said and did but they can’t. and they won’t. crawling back home takes time and effort and a lot more than opening the front door. you have to rebuild the foundations and structure too. the cat has made the wall his home, destroying dees apartment to keep himself safe, hidden and enclosed in the wall. he can’t change his mind one day and want to get pulled out without explicitly saying something, making amends.

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

@allvalley100

Prompt: Superstition

Pairing: Hawkmetri

The rest of this AV100 prompt that I didn't have time to finish before the prompt closed XD This one is a 7-parter--700 words total! Only fitting they should get a happy ending for the last AV100 post I write for them <3

***

Day 38

Talked to Eli about his…interesting new lady friends. They’re making me miss when he was hung up on Moon, honestly.

Anyways, turns out they’re just some exiled lesbians he took pity on. Families disowned them for kissing women, growing fangs, etc etc. Last I heard, Yas is single—maybe she’d want their numbers?

Woke up with a couple (bite?) sores on my neck, so I asked Eli about his pest control situation. He says everything’s fine, but I have my doubts.

Side note: Are metal allergies possible? Had to toss that silver crucifix—damn thing gave me hives.

*

Day 40

Confession: I’m worried about Eli.

There was an…incident a few days ago, and I hoped if I mulled it over enough times, it’d start making sense. Wishful thinking.

Was shaving the other morning when Eli barged in. Funny, I didn’t see him coming in my shaving mirror—can those things glitch? Thought that was only Smart Mirrors™️.

He started ranting about how “mirrors are for pussies,” and threw mine out the window??? Incredibly inconsiderate.

He insisted I didn’t need to shave because I’d look hot with a beard. How do you tell if someone’s joke-flirting or actual flirting?

*

Day 45

Have I mentioned Eli’s weird about blood now? Unsure I like it.

Cut myself on some loose board (this castle needs renovation), and he freaked out. Wouldn’t even look at it! Wailed about “blood being too precious to waste” and ran away. Huh.

Townsperson banged on the door today, telling Eli to stop eating people. I opened to tell him that was nonsense, but I noticed he smelled...appetizing? Like a gyro wrap.

He made himself scarce before I could say anything, but…kind of hurtful, honestly. I know I’m a bit gangly, but I’m not that ugly, am I?

*

Day 47

Finally got a wifi signal in here! Only took 4 hours of fiddling to make Eli’s TV work.

We binged Castlevania today. Eli’s favorite character is Dracula, supposedly because he’s “such a badass and is gonna kick the asses of every one of those lame humans.” I think it has more to do with Dracula having a soft spot for a smart, good-hearted human who he goes absolutely batshit avenging, but Eli’d never admit to this.

Side note: Is it hypothetically possible for one’s reflection to gradually grow more and more translucent and dead-looking? Asking for a friend.

*

Day 50

Bad news: Eli ate the mailman today, and I…may have helped.

Walked in on him draining the guy’s blood, and naturally demanded an explanation. Eli said to settle down because “there’s plenty to share!” What an insane suggestion.

But since the mailman was already dead...

In my defense…best AB positive I’ve ever had. Not that I’ve had much. I’ve dabbled a couple times, but who hasn’t?

In better news: Wearing the “amnesia” down! We’ve been reading through the library together, and Eli’s instinctively remembering what kinds of fantasy and sci-fi I like. He remembers me—I FEEL it.

*

Day 60

Okay! Know what’s going on now.

We were reading Buffy comics when Eli clutched his head and started shrieking. Everything came back at once.

After I calmed him down, he spilled everything. Getting involved with a Kung-Fu-practicing vampiric “organization” promising nigh-unlimited badassery. Being taken to Europe, undeadified, and given a blood-only diet…none of which sharpened his memory.

Admitted I’m not inheriting a Greek estate, and I only came to find him. He tearfully told me that’s a shame. He imagined us building a life there. Maybe raising some goats?

Fuck it—if he wants, I’ll make that happen.

*

Day 140

Been a while! Busy, busy!

Surprisingly easy talking “distant family members” into giving us a land plot. Maybe it’s superstition. Maybe it’s healthy fear. Regardless, people don’t like saying no to weird, sharp-toothed out-of-towners.

Made Eli promise he’ll discuss with me before joining any new martial arts-related cults (especially ones that strand him in isolated castles as soon as he “isn’t evil enough”). Now he only feeds every so often! We’ve gone through some neighbors, but it’s an improvement over Transylvania.

Also, our eldest nannygoat gave birth! Eli named the kids Hellraiser, Slayer, and Wrathchild. I love them.

[alice-and-ethel]

I am currently reading And There Was Light: Abraham Lincoln and the American Struggle by John Meacham as a follow-up to the excellent American Rebels by Nina Sankovich (highly recommended btw!) in an attempt NOT to wallow in fear and despair ahead of the November election. I chose it less as a biography and more as an inspirational book about defending America’s ideals despite sociopolitical turmoil.

That said, it’s still written as a biography—though one rather sparse on details despite various primary source quotes so far—and that brings me to…

“Abraham was nine when she [his mother Nancy] died. His recollections of her were sparse, his ambivalence about her deep. Once she was gone she was unable to provide her son with love or with security. In memory, she was a source of insecurity and embarrassment as Lincoln absorbed the stories of her illegitimacy and of the allegations about her, or certainly her family’s, promiscuity. When he needed her as he grew up, he could not have her. Later in life, when he did not want her…he could not avoid stories about her.”

No, really: I went to the end notes and found…nothing for this paragraph.

“Mrs. Lincoln was...affectionate... [She] always taught Abe goodness, kindness...taught him sweetness and benevolence as well.” Dennis Hanks (Nancy’s nephew)

“She was beyond all doubts an intellectual woman, rather extraordinary if anything. Abraham was like his mother very much.” John Hanks (Nancy’s cousin)

“She was a brilliant woman—a woman of great good sense and Modesty.” Nathaniel Grigsby (a neighbor, brother of Aaron Grigsby, Nancy’s son-in-law)

You have no idea how badly I wish I still had a copy of David Reynolds’ Abe handy right now. I would pull out Burlingame’s Volume I, which I do own…but I couldn’t get very far into that one, either (despite the fact that it’s acclaimed) because it’s full of this same kind of gossipy, and frankly sexist, speculation about Lincoln’s parents, specifically about his mother and the Hanks family. (It goes on for way too long in that book.) Meacham repeats a contemporary-ish rumor that Lincoln was illegitimate because his mother slept with another man before her marriage to his father…but even if that story was true, Abraham was the Lincolns’ second child, born two and a half years after their marriage.

More to the point, though: until now, I’ve never seen a biographer suggest that Lincoln—despite being rather closed-mouthed about his childhood—was “insecure” about his mother, much less that he felt “ambivalent” towards her memory or that he barely remembered her. (By this author’s own admission, Lincoln had a remarkable memory from childhood. I know nine is young, but it’s not that young, particularly when discussing a child who could recite entire sermons verbatim after hearing them just once!) Nancy’s death deeply affected him. She may have taught him to read and was definitely the more affectionate and gentle of his two parents. Far from slandering her as a “loose” woman, people who actually knew her remembered her for her intelligence and her kindness—and for the similarities between her and her son.

Lincoln loved his stepmother Sarah like another mother, and he might have been embarrassed by Nancy’s illegitimacy (though he attributed his own intellect to her Virginia planter father). He may or may not have ever said “all that I am or ever hope to be I owe to my [angel] mother,” either. But I’m willing to put money on him not being ambivalent about her or ashamed of her. He was devastated by the loss of her, and her death was followed by a period of extreme hardship for Sarah and Abraham before Thomas Lincoln remarried—so it’s really no wonder he was reluctant to talk about that time later in life.

[kaifish-pond-afterdark]

Vampire!Rodrick X Nonbinary/GN Black Reader

All That Glistens in the Moonlight

(Fledgling)Vampire!Rodrick x GN/Nonbinary Black Reader

In the stillness of the forest I stood, almost as quietly as the animals that slumbered in the undergrowth. I couldnt remember why I was here. Surely there had to be a reason? I tried to think, but it evaded me. My brow was furrowed when I felt a cold chill run across my shoulder blades. Even though my heart was racing like that of a bunny rabbit, I did not run. Slowly I turned, and took in the figure behind me.

Rodrick, the guy who lived across from me, whom I rarely saw. When I did see him, I felt a magnetic pull, he was alluring in an awkward sort of way. He always seemed to be tripping over his own feet, moving too fast for his own good. He looked good, skin seemingly sparkling in the moonlight. But only because his skin was so devoid of melanin, his dark hair looked like shadow and smoke. I hitched a breath as he moved closer, pinning me against a tree, his chest pressing hard against mine. He would have looked terrifying, if not for the fact he seemed completely out of breath. One of my eyebrows shot up quizzically, he was baring down on me sure, but I wasnt the least bit afraid. Not really, despite my body’s reactions.

“Oh, not gonna run?” He tried to sound bemused, but only came off confusedly annoyed, “Don’t you know what I am?” He flashed his fangs, they were not impressive in the slightest. They barely registered as fangs.

“Maybe revisit this when your adult fangs come in.” I gaffed, pushing against him. Even though he was much stronger than I, my movements and lack of fear caught him off guard and he stumbled back onto his ass. “Humans aren’t as weak and helpless as you think.”

His eyes narrowed and he stood up, taking my words as a challenge. I held my ground, ignoring my brain telling me to run. He might be a predator, but he is wholly inept. Also his shoe on his left foot was untied, if I ran, he would trip pretty fast.

“Hey! I’m supposed to sound cool and witty!” He pouted, stopping a foot, “You’re RUINING everything!”

“Not my fault you’re incompetent,” I shot back, leaning against the tree trunk, purposefully stretching my neck, my vein popping out.

“I could totally kill you.”

“Yea, but you won’t. You’ve never killed anyone.”

“Wh-wh- how would you know?”

I fold my arms, “Because I would already be dead.” My voice was cool and even toned as I continued “You rely on using your mind manipulation powers to fog up human’s memories, convince them you’re all big and bad, that you decided to spare their lives because even though you’re an apex predator, you’re just SOOOO conflicted and secretly good at heart. Which is all true, except you also just really suck at being a vampire. I’ve known you were one siiiinnceee,” I pretended to think, tapping my chin for good measure, “The night I moved across from you and I saw you giving yourself a pep talk. ‘You’re actually a super cool dude, and like totally a good vampire!’”

His face betrayed his surprise, he sputtered, trying to find a good retort. He was at a loss.

“Oh, so yea, I’m a shitty vampire… I just wanna drink human blood for the first time! I’ve been drinking… friggin animal blood. And like it’s not as good as you’d think.”

“I mean, I know people who cook with it and stuff, but I am actually quite uncultured and have never tried it. Though it would be cool to learn how to cook with it. Maybe I could make you some meals with it, and help you learn to accept not drinking human blood?”

A shy smile broke out on his face, “I’d like that.” His voice was soft and a hand came to stroke my cheek. “But I bet your blood would taste so sweet.”

“Don’t even think ab it BloodBat.”

"It was worth a shot."

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios University

“What the hell was that?”

Abe shook his head violently, trying to clear the overwhelming thoughts in his brain. That was like no tarot card reading that Roman ever tried. Was this ability granted because she was one with the spirits, or was it a common experience for the Bellamy family? Roman had often been curious about Malika’s extended family, but aside from that probably misaddressed message about goat sacrifice and a large jewel of some kind in a safe deposit box, the Bellamys were still a mystery to them.

“That was a warning!” Malika snapped angrily. “A call to change for the sake of your husband. That future may still come to pass. You and my heir may die in the childbirth process or have an unforeseen accident. Anything could happen and Roman will suffer for it.”

“Is that a threat?” Abe asked angrily. “Trust me, I had Theo in a much more dangerous situation, with you and your favourite demon literally trying to kill me. This kid is going to be born perfectly fine.”

Malika looked like she had an angry retort she wanted to scream, but after a quick pause, she collected herself.

“I sacrificed myself for the safety and happiness of my grandson,” she reminded him. If looks could kill, Abe too would be a ghost. “I gave you a chance and you’ve failed every test I’ve given you. How many times has that abomination almost died because of your negligence? I saved his life at the cost of my own and you let him nearly die alone in front of the demon sovereign, possibly killing others in the process. You’re unfit to be a father! You’re unfit to be a husband!”

Malika slapped another card angrily on the table and glowered at Abe as the world once again began melting away.

“Roman fears this loss more than anything, so take a good look at what it means to fail him.”

Abe blinked and in an instant, he was standing outside of the Bellamy house, watching a much older version of himself try to console a weeping Roman. Behind him stood the twins, once again much older than they were now, but just as familiar as before.

“It’s okay,” he heard his older self say. “He’s at peace now; your cards have told you that many times. He’s watching over us, I’m sure of it.”

The twins shared a skeptical look between them, but held their tongue. Clearly they weren’t as fond of Abe as they were in the other vision.

“I think I may have been talking to Theo yesterday on the ouija board,” Luciana offered quietly. “It said it was a demon and that it was missing our family. That has to be him, right?”

Adrienne rolled her eyes at this.

“That, or you’re just talking to one of Aunt Lucy’s ex-boyfriends,” she teased. “You have no idea of how to use one of those things.” She looked guiltily towards her father, reevaluating her mocking tone when she saw the pain in his eyes. “No, actually it was probably him. Theo’s always going to be with us in spirit, Dad.”

“It’s been years,” Roman sighed, tearing up again at the thought of his son. “I can’t even imagine what he’d be like now. He’d be in his twenties, dating and driving a car that I taught him how to drive. We’d have jokes and memories together. I’d have his high school graduation picture next to the girls’. He’d be a man instead of a dead little boy-my little boy.”

Tears once more overwhelmed Roman and the twins glowered intensely at Abe, demanding that he do something to help. Vision Abe reached out to hold Roman, but was pushed away.

“It’s fine, Abe. Don’t touch me.”

Abe flinched at the pain in Roman’s voice and the coldness he showed his husband. He could see a wedding ring on Roman’s finger, but when his double reached out to hold Roman, Abe could see that his hand was bare. There wasn’t a reason on earth that Abe would ever take off his wedding ring...unless their marriage had never happened.

“He was my son too,” Vision Abe said quietly. “You don’t have a monopoly on grieving for him. The six years we had him were the best years of my life. I miss him everyday.”

“It was your fault that he died!” Roman shouted, batting Abe’s outstretched hand away once more. “If you didn’t always push him away from us, he would never have run away! He would never have thought we didn’t want him and would still be safe at home with me! You would have never miscarried our second child if Theo had returned to us, but no! You had to be so hard on him; you had to punish him! Because of you, I’ve lost two children! Because of you, I can only breathe in the few brief moments after I wake up in the morning, before I remember everything I’ve lost because of you!”

“You yelled at him too!” Abe protested angrily. “You made him suppress his powers, just like I did. If we hadn’t, maybe he would have learned to control them better.”

“I did that because of you!” Roman yelled, fury written across his face. “Because you could never accept people who weren’t normal. People you should have loved unconditionally but never could! God forbid your son embarrass you with his true self and feelings! The last thought our son had in his short life was that we were ashamed of him and I don’t know how to live with that. If you somehow can, then you’re more of a demon than I could ever be.”

As Roman stormed away from Vision Abe, the twins turned their backs and followed quickly after him. Both Abes were left alone with a sad piece of marble marking the date that everything good in the Bellamy family had died. The gravestone was looking a little worn from the years, but the name was as clear as ever.

Theodosius Ulysses Bellamy. Age six.

Every year Roman took out Theo’s favourite toys from the shrine he kept in the house and placed them at the grave site, as if the spirit of their lost son might continue to play with them for the day. The older Abe had observed this tradition over the years and had gotten used to it, but the younger Abe was heartbroken at the sight. He had to escape this nightmare, no matter the cost.

“Malika! Get me out of here now!”

[badluvkii]

words honestly can’t describe how much i love the saw x movie , i never thought a movie could top saw iii bc it was very personal to me because i’ve experienced a lot of grief and a lot i lost to ,, cancer, . i liked saw iii bc it showed how grief can affect people and how it’s not so easy to forgive . saw x hit personally to me , even harder than saw iii and i was holding back tears most of the scenes revolves around cancer . i didn’t cry bc i didn’t want the cinema to thibk i was a pussy and was crying bc the traps were scary tho . it really hit home and i think [saw spoilers now] the “doctors” were horrible humans and deserved everything that came to them . all my life the cure for cancer is the main thing i’ve always wanted to happen and the fact they faked it for money was absolutely appalling , cancer is the worst thing ever and it really highlighted how important it is to cure it . the motives were extremely important messages and i love that it was sharing them

now time to talk ab cinematography , the traps were really creative and were , in my opinion , the goryest traps we’ve seen so far in saw , saw 3d was just stupid so it doesn’t count . i’ve never visibly cringed so much in a saw movie than now but also a lot of the traps involve things that i am afraid of , eyes , brain , throat , eyes agian , i HATE eyes and if i feel my eyes too long in my skull i get uncomfortable so i literally had to look away when the eyes were getting sucked out of the man’s skull , i’ve never looked away in a saw movie before other than the venus flytrap from saw ii which also involved eyes , basically other than hospitals and cancer , eyes are my worst fear they creep me out . i was so afraid of brains as a kid i couldn’t even hear the word brain without feeling sick and begging them to stop saying it so tje brain trap made me uncomfortable but not enough to look away still ahah . bone marrow trap was hard but i was more worried ab the throat cutting/beheading bc i hare the idea of anything on the throat . arm bombs was surprisingly bad as well but that’s probably bc of trauma i don’t like wrist cutting now . i hate the eye vacuum trap . blood water boarding was not the worst im glad both john and the little boy survived , gas house was ok but i loved the plot that came with it . i hate the eye vacuum trap

i was trying to figure out if i loved gabriella or hated her . sure she was involved in the scam but she was in a bad living condition and would do anything for money i feel like she was tied up in guilt and sorrow during the job because she was depressed when meeting john , she was genuinely kind i feel like she had to do what she had to , she never scammed him , just gave him a place to live , i think this is reflected in her trap and the way kramer and amanda treat her , her trap was the easiest of the main cast’s traps meaning kramer probably did it to let her live , amanda adored her and saw herself in her she was rooting for gabriella to live , she was bad fot being involved but i feel like she did it bc it was her only choice to live . radiation trap was brutal but i knew she could do it it’s a shame the woman snapped her neck bc she deserved to live after she went through the test , you could see how destraught amanda was , amanda is my favorite saw character and seeing her hurt hurt me. i hate the eye vacuum trap .

this really redeemed the series after shit shows like saw 3d and jigsaw everyone got what they deserved bar gabriella , end credit scene was fucking great and i loved hoffmans line bc it was funny to me . all of tje characters were really fleshed out and there were multiple plot twists but not enough to make wverone confused , as well as this it would be understandable for people who aren’t fans of the whole franchise like me . the movie fit so well between saw ii and saw iii and seeing amanda again was so great for me because i LOVE amanda i got so excited when i saw her again , it really let amanda shine and i love that for her . it made me really upset bc the hospital scenes i can’t watch because of flashbacks so i had to look away when i could see oxygen masks and other material and the cancer scenes were extremely hard , for example it took me way longer to watch breaking bad than i wanted bc of those themes so it’s really hard for me to watch , i was reluctant to watch saw x bc i found out how much of the themes are in the movie but i’m so glad i watched it because it really was the best one it beat the personalness and story of saw iii . by the way angel of death trap is still my fav i think it’s so beautiful

i hate the eye vacuum trap

i hate the eye vacuum trap

venus flytrap and eye vacuum remain the hardest traps for me to watch bc i hare eyes , venus flytrap was hard bc the key was behind the eye but the actual venus flytrap wasn’t hard to watch . the eye vacuum trap was horrendous i had to look away words can’t describe how much i hate that trap , this movie had the most gorey traps by far

i hate eye vacuum trap

speaking of eye vacuum trap , i knew that doctor would be the one in it from tje clues i got from the trailer , fingers and eyes , it kept zooming onto his eyes and the fingers of the man he was looking after , his fingers and the stealing when i saw it keep panning to his eyes and fingers i was thinking fuck this get me out of here i hate this but i persisted HOW DO YOU PUT THE WOSRT ONE TO WATCH AT YHE STARY

i hate the eye vacuum trap

saw x is my favorite saw movie by miles

in my opinión

saw x

//*** MASSIVE WALL***\\

saw iii

//OTHER WALL//

saw vi

saw v

every one else

jigsaw

saw ii

[softsnzstuff]

13, 30, 51!!

Hi my friend!! These are all great questions, thank you for sending. Got carried away with the first one LMAO I’m so sorry 😬 KB

13) Do you hate anyone at the moment?

Oof I try not to use the word “hate” (in regards to people) too much. I probably have a list of less than ten people who I genuinely have hatred for.

One of which is said ab*sive ex whom I mentioned in a few previous posts. I don’t talk about him much but he was 30 and I was freshly 21 and never had a bf before. He’s a clinical psychopath actually, but at the time I was vulnerable and he absolutely knew it and took advantage of that.

I hate him because he knew what he was doing and had no remorse. No guilt about lying to my face or about taking my virginity and my innocence. It’s bc of him that I haven’t dated in 3 years. Men like genuinely make me fear for my life in a romantic or intimate situation.

^^ that’s all WAY more than you asked for but in line with the question, I hate my ex

30) What’s irritating you right now?

I’m annoyed with how emotional I’ve been lately? Idk if it’s because I’m on the week coming off of having been on my period or just the overwhelming emotions about everything going on rn.

But like I keep crying while I’m packing and while I’m watching sad parts of tv shows. But like. So much more than I normally would?? And I think maybe my brain/body just needs an outlet of something to cry at since I don’t want to process moving out yet???

51) Favorite Food?

This literally changes monthly for me. I’ve been on a Cajun chicken penne kick lately but also I will never say no to pizza with pepperoni, fresh mozzarella, and pesto 🤤

[torawro]

so i’m re-watching demon slayer and daddy muzan pops up and i wanted to know what he sounded like in dub bc i’ve never heard it + i couldn’t even remember what he sounded like period. AND SOSA WHEN I TELL YOU I DONT FUCKING REMEMBER HIM SOUNDING THIS SEDUCTIVE????? it’s giving itachi / madara lowkey. like my eyes legit bulged out of their sockets bro. i’m thinking of the most profoundly disgusting shit rn like my voice kink is going sky fucking highhhhhhhhh ! sjsjsjwmd like bro i’m literally losing my shit. my eyes rolled back into submission like EXCUZE ME MUZAN ????? baby i just KNOW he be all up in your ear growling and calling you out your name cs he knows you like it pls. it’s giving itachi / madara lowkey

mocha. how DARE YOU. HOW MF DARE YEWWWWW. i already told you in our dms but listen……the way ive watched this video 3 times abs shuddered, creamed, moaned, whimpered and giggled all three times is insanity. this isn’t normal behavior i fear. when he said “you’re not contradicting what i said are you?” I MOANNEDDD AND WAS LIKE NO DADDY UR ALWAYS RIGHT ID NEVER DO THAT and when he said “silence. i misunderstood nothing” I GOT UP TO JUMP AROUND MY ROOM ‼️⁉️‼️ it’s clear i haven’t rewatched kny in a while and ima have to do a rewatch too bc I DO NOT REMEMBER THIS MANS VOICE SOUNDING LIKE THIS??????? but then again besides his good looks and mysterious demeanor, his voice did draw me in from the start but it just got worse now bc YOUVE STARTED A BRAIN ROT AND CONDITIONED MY COOCHIE TO REACT TO THIS MAN.

if i haven’t said it before ima say it now my voice kink is lethal like….if a mf voice sounds SEXY OR APPEALS TO ME???? that’s it. im already in love ready to be a housewife. and then you said it sounded like madara and itachi combined and i went to youtube to listen and you’re so RIGHT. it’s the perfect combo. like the fact that his voice is always leveled and it sounds like he’s trying to seduce someone by talking in their ear resembles itachi, but the LACK OF ROOM for back talk and the authoritative tone is very much like madara and im unwell. you see how in my navi post it says uchiha whore? yeah it’s for good reason.