#[ SAD ALIEN PUPPY ]

[crustyfloor]

And like a dejected puppy

[thevellaunderground]

Post-Punk Goth Bands

The post-punk goth movement, with its dark aesthetic and introspective lyrics, might not be the first thing that comes to mind when one thinks of peace. Yet, beneath the brooding surface, many goth bands have explored themes of tranquility, solace, and personal peace. This article delves into the depths of the genre to uncover how these bands relate to the concept of peace, each in their unique…

[lovebugism]

✶ ┄ LOVE AND MERCY !

summary: you're more stubborn than the apocalypse. eric is the personification of a sad, wet dog. your world's collide when the world as you know it ends. (6.3k)

pairing: eric (a quiet place day one) / f!reader

contents: strangers to friends to lovers, a couple of losers in love, apocalyptic setting, angst, hurt/comfort cw for mentions of grief and anxiety, brief mentions of injuries, and smut 18+

You wake up that morning in a bed that is not yours, in a room that does not belong to you, in an abandoned cabin you turned into a safe house three weeks ago.

Everything around you is foreign. Including the world outside these rotted walls, which turned entirely on its head in a blink. A blink that somehow turned into three months gone.

The only thing familiar to you now is the stranger lying in the bed beside you — on the right side that he has wordlessly claimed as his own. Before Eric was a guy you shared beds with, he was a guy you found in the rain. A boy with big, wet, puppy dog eyes who followed you like a stray after the world fell.

That was all he was to you for a month straight. A burden. Deadweight. An ever-anxious being that had nearly gotten you killed more times than you could count. You never saw him any differently until you almost died — a certain death involving you, an old beartrap, several aliens with uber-sensitive hearing, and a stupid boy who was too dumb to leave you behind. 

“I can’t leave you,” Eric blubbered through tears, whimpering in faint whispers so the blind monsters wouldn’t hear. “I won’t.”

“Then you won’t make it at all, you idiot,” you spat through gritted teeth, eyes wide and stern and glittering. You wouldn’t let yourself cry, not even with your leg all but torn to shreds, but Eric’s sudden stubbornness scared you. Why now? Of all times? you thought to yourself, Why does he have to be so stubborn now?

“I wouldn’t want to,” Eric promised, bloodied hands trembling where they gripped your arms. “I wouldn’t want to make it without you.”

That was a month or so ago, but you carry the horrors of that day still. 

In the vivid nightmares that rattle your bones. In the marred skin of your ankle, hidden beneath bandages, slowly healing with each passing day. And in the strange boy with puppy dog eyes who still hasn’t left your side.

Let me check your leg, Eric scribbles on a notepad. 

His handwriting is slanted and small and hardly legible — fitting for a man whose mind is always racing faster than he can keep up. 

The marker is fading slowly, too, dying from excessive use because the majority of your conversations are spoken through written words on a page. You’ve gone through a notebook or three already.

You snatch the notepad from his grip to write a response of your own. Eric peels the tattered blanket from your body to survey the gauze around your ankle. He peeks beneath the bandage, and his chest pinches at the sight — not because of his sensitive stomach, but because of the harsh reminder of the day he almost lost you.

The paper swishes faintly when you turn the notebook back to him. Okay, Dr. Eric :P, you’ve written in sloppy cursive. The boy grins at the mischievous look in your eyes.

“That’s Doctor Eric Esquire to you,” he corrects in a whisper that makes his accent sound more posh than usual. He smooths the gauze back into place with a gentle hand and says, “You’re healing fine, I think. I’ll have to go out and scavenge for more bandages soon, but these should last for another…”

The sounds of your rapid scribbling fill the quiet cabin. Eric trails off in wait, wide eyes darting from the marker in your hand to the pinched look of concentration on your face. 

He sees a strange sort of giddiness sparking in your otherwise serious features that makes him fearful. Intrigued, yes, but still distantly fearful. All your ideas tend to get him into trouble.

The notebook turns to him again. His stomach does a backflip.

Wanna go on an adventure?

“This is… Not what I was expecting,” Eric muses beneath the sounds of a rushing waterfall. 

His words echo slightly in the expanse of the dank cave. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice in full volume, deep and accented and smooth. His pretty whispering annoyed you to no end back when he was just a stranger with exactly zero survival instincts. Now, you never want him to stop talking.

“Well, that’s why it’s an adventure,” you lilt, wiping water from your brow with the neck of your t-shirt. 

Your clothes stick to you in places where the waterfall had splashed you on your way underneath it. The still air of the cave, strangely cool compared to the humid air outside of it, makes you fight back a shiver.

Eric eyes you from a distance, features swirled in a quiet concern. It’s impossible to relish in this little ounce of peace when you have the kind of mind he does — the kind of mind that’s always anxious and always filled with thoughts of you. 

He cares so much for you, far more than he planned to, that it’s made him chronically fearful. He’s grown to realize, since he met you, that the two words are rather synonymous. You can’t have love without fear — and what is there to be fearful for, if not for the ones you love?

“Your bandages really shouldn’t be getting wet, you know?”

You scoff and limp further into the damp hollow. The quiet sound of your steps reverberates within the stone walls, along with the subtle scuffing of your bad foot. “You said I was healing okay, remember?” you huff and drop the basket in your elbow onto the cobblestone.

“I said you were healing fine,” Eric chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s a difference.”

“Not really,” you shrug with a scrunched nose, flashing him a fleeting glance over your shoulder. You turn away again and wince at the distant ache in your ankle when you crouch. 

Sometimes the scars hurt like they’re still fresh, still weeping scarlet and throbbing like a new wound. Eric’s not a doctor, but he tells you that it’ll probably be that way forever. “Phantom pains, I think they call it,” he says in a posh accent that makes him sound more official than he really is. You’re inclined to believe him, anyway.

The boy watches as you sort through the wicker basket you stole — or borrowed, as you claim, “’cause it’s not like the owner’s coming back for it anytime soon.” It’s full of stuff you wouldn’t let him see, like it was some kind of big secret. 

He grimaces when you squat, putting unnecessary weight on a barely healing leg. He knows it hurts, even when you pretend it doesn’t — especially when you pretend it doesn’t. His chest pinches like the ache is his own. Like sympathy pains or something. He worries so much for you that you’ve given him fucking sympathy pains.

“We shouldn’t have left,” Eric agonizes, wiping a pair of anxious hands down his face. He swipes his fingers through his hair and finds the chestnut curls now partially damp. “I shouldn’t have let you leave. I mean, what if we have to run, huh? What if we have to—”

“We won’t,” you groan as you stand to full height again. You hold an old quilt in one arm and gesture wildly with the other. “That’s what the waterfall is for. They can’t hear us under here. Nothing’s coming.”

He knows you’re right, but it doesn’t worry him any less.

“How’d you even know this was out here?”

You falter for a moment. A mere blink of a second. But Eric catches it immediately because there isn’t anything about you he doesn’t instantly notice. He’s rarely ever seen you, his silver-tongued girl, so ambivalent. And something about it frightens him.

“I was… on a walk one day… while you were out scavenging—” you answer slowly, shrugging like it isn’t a big deal at all, though you immediately follow it with, “—Don’t get angry.”

Eric’s pink mouth falls softly agape, opening and closing like a fish’s might, while he tries to find the words to say. To shout. To scream. 

“Y-You... You— You left without me?” he stammers, voice booming. 

The words ring across the expanse of the shallow cave, bouncing off the damp stone walls. It’s the loudest he’s heard himself talk since the world ended, and the notion startles him. Like a dog just learning how to bark.

Eric’s breath hitches in his throat as his dark eyes widen in fear. He waits instinctively for the screeching of far-off monsters and their booming footsteps — prepares for an adrenaline rush that’ll give his weak arms the strength to carry both of you to safety.

It never comes. 

The sounds of the waterfall shield you from the war raging outside of it. 

When the panic passes, the anger resumes.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” Eric agonizes, quieter now, though the corner of his lip twitches with withheld anger. 

You keep your back to the boy and lay out the contents of the wicker basket. A floral quilt to cushion the stone flooring, two bottles of wine to share between you, several bags of stale chips, and one MP3 player that’s somehow stronger than the end of the world. You pay Eric no mind as he continues to rant behind you.

“What if you’d gotten killed? What if— What if you got lost and I couldn’t find you—?!”

“Don’t shout!” you gripe despite your own booming voice. 

“Why not?” Eric questions with a cynical laugh. “I thought nothing could hear us under here?”

You spin back around to face him, grimacing slightly when your healing wounds start to burn. You tilt your chin in a look of defiance, though your eyes sparkle faintly in the dim natural light — something mischievous and strangely shy. 

“I don’t want you to shout because I put a lot of effort into this,” you answer in a steady voice, lips quirking in a distant smile. “And we can’t enjoy it if you’re gonna be grumpy the entire time.”

Eric blinks at you for several long moments, brown eyes wide like an owl. Only then does he notice what you’d set up for him in the brief minutes he’d been blinded by his anger. A picnic of sorts — fashioned with a moth-eaten quilt, dusty wine bottles, and snacks you’d scavenged and seemingly stashed like a squirrel. It’s about as fancy as you can get in an apocalypse.

His mouth opens and closes again, this time in a quiet sort of shock. “Wh… What?”

“Well, you kinda spent your entire birthday taking care of me, so… I figured we were past due for a celebration.”

Eric’s brows pinch together. A furrow of deep thought settles between them. 

He realizes he hadn’t thought twice about his birthday till now. Hadn’t thought twice about turning another year older, just like he hadn’t thought twice about needing to be repaid for taking care of you. He did both things without thinking. He can’t control his urge to dote on you like he can’t control the existential dread of getting older.

“How’d you know it was my birthday?”

“‘Cause you told me once,” you shrug. “And I keep track of the days in my calendar, so—”

“So, you’re saying that… That you did all this...” the man laughs, gesturing to the cave and the waterfall and the wine. “For me?”

A similar-sounding laugh sputters from your own mouth ‘cause you do it all for him. From going on stupid picnics to fighting monsters from another planet. Everything you’ve done up until this point, you realize now, you’ve done for Eric. You keep on living despite the unfavorable odds for Eric.

“Of course I did. It’s not that big of a deal,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest to shield your bleeding heart. “I mean, you kinda saved my life. The least I can do is take you on a stupid fucking picnic.”

When you turn around again to ease yourself onto the blanket, Eric tries to make out the words to thank you. Not just for what you’ve done here, but for what you’ve done all the days since he found you. Because you’ve saved his life too, more times than he could count, actually — ‘cause that’s just what you do. You save each other and don’t think twice about it because that’s what you do when you care for someone.

He forgot all about birthdays and picnics and what it meant to be alive before he found you. And now that you’re here, you spend every single day reminding him of everything the end of the world begs him to forget.

“I’m— I’m sorry… I’m sorry for shouting at you,” Eric stammers in a sheepish murmur, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck.

“I know,” you nod, smiling as you pat the spare spot beside you. “Now stop being weird and come sit down.”

The wine is warm, the chips are stale, and the quilt just barely cushions the hard ground beneath you — but everything’s still somehow perfect. Your MP3 player is almost as old as you are and cracked down the middle, but the music plays just perfectly from its headphones, anyway. 

Maybe it’s perfect ‘cause it’s not perfect. 

Or maybe it’s perfect because you’re here.

You sit side-by-side on the handmade blanket, legs crossed and knees brushing, as you share an earbud between you. Conversation ebbs and flows between snacking. Music fills the silence.

I was sittin’ in a crummy movie with my hands on my chin,

All the violence that occurs, seems like we never win...

Eric tips his head back to down the rest of the cheesy crumbs in the package he holds in a pale fist. His scruffy cheeks jut like a chipmunk as he chews through the mouthful. “I missed this, you know?” he mumbles.

You set the wine bottle beside you after taking a lengthy sip, licking the bitter-sweet grape from your lips. “What?” you wonder aloud. “The wine? The Cheetos? The music?”

The boy goes quiet as he ponders the question. He figures he was talking about you, mostly — this sort of connection between humans, this sort of comfort, this sort of normalcy. The music answers your question in his silence.

—Love and mercy, that’s what you need tonight…

So love and mercy, to you and your friends tonight…

He nods anyway. “All of the above, actually…”

“You know what I miss?” you wonder beneath the rustling of the Scooby Snacks you dig your hand into. You chuck a cartoon bone into your mouth and find the graham-cracker components have gone soft with time. “I miss driving down backroads… going way faster than what’s probably allowed… with the windows down and the radio all the way up…”

Eric watches the far-off look in your eyes as you stare, unblinking, at the waterfall ahead of you. Clear water rushes from the mountain and falls hard onto the cobbles and the still water below. Rogue drops splatter inside the shallow cave, occasionally splashing you with fat droplets.

The running waterfall cast fleeting shadows over your face, littered now with faint scars. Your features are much softer than he’s used to in the natural light.

“I miss college parties,” he confesses, wiping his palms on his knees.

You wash the dry graham cracker out with another sip of wine and try not to laugh as you swallow it down.

“Why’s that funny?” Eric wonders through his own chuckle, only partially offended.

“I don’t know… I guess I just didn’t take you for a partier.”

“I wasn’t really…” he concedes with a shy shrug, gaze averted and cheeks pink. “But I was a really big fan of karaoke.”

“Well, that makes a lot more sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” Eric humors with a scrunched nose.

You tilt your head back to laugh — a pretty, airy sound that echoes within the cobbled walls, only partially drowned out beneath the rushing waterfall. You shift closer toward him when you’re upright again, probably without realizing, but Eric notices. He can’t help but notice everything you do. And he can’t help but lean instinctively closer to you, too.

He can smell the natural scent of you beneath the various surrounding ones — of freshwater, pine, and whatever cologne was spritzed on your shirt before you found it. He can smell the sweet wine on your breath, too, and he quickly realizes that you’re close enough to kiss. If only he weren’t so chicken shit.

The proximity makes his cheeks flush, though you’re not nearly as fazed by it.

“I forgot what that felt like…” you muse in a quiet voice of disbelief.

Eric smiles so hard his eyes squint. “What?”

“I don’t know… just, like, happiness? I guess?” you laugh. “I used to think that was impossible before now.”

“Yeah… Me too.” 

The conversation lulls for a moment. The music playing in your ears takes over: 

—I was standing at a bar and watching all the people there…

All the loneliness in this world, well, it’s just not fair…

You cage your smile between your teeth in a feeble attempt to conceal how wide it’s grown. Your eyes are wide and sparkling, likely from the wine, as they flit between both of his darker ones. Eric exhales a breathy chuckle in response, all giddy and nervous for a reason he can’t name (probably from the wine, too, if he had to guess).

He feels himself leaning in to kiss you before he realizes it. He only catches himself when you pull unknowingly away, reaching again for the glass bottle at your side. His heart drops to his swirling stomach as his cheeks flare a deep pink.

“I’m glad you followed me like a creep for a week straight, you know that?” you confess with a teasing squint in your eyes as you bring the lip of the bottle to your mouth.

Eric scoffs at the memory, which feels like yesterday and ancient history all at once.

He was by himself when the world first fell — a stranger in a strange country, and the loneliest he’d ever been in his life. And, perhaps, the most scared, too. 

Then, all of a sudden, he sees this girl rush out of an alleyway and into a monster-infested street to save a dog from an otherwise unavoidable death. Eric watched from a distance as you returned the scared pup to its owners — a very young couple cowering behind a car, not that much older than you. 

You pointed them in the direction of a military base setting up camps for civilians then went the opposite way. Away from guaranteed protection. Like the safest hands were your own. 

Eric made the quick decision to follow you as you went. He figured if you were brave enough to save some dog that wasn’t yours, and stare death directly in the face while you did it, then you could do just about anything.

He didn’t know, then, that he was making the best decision he’d ever made in his life.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t pummel me in the face for following you like a creep.”

“I should’ve,” you quip. “But I liked your company too much, I guess…”

“Liked?” the boy parrots, laughing loudly at the turn of phrase. “Is this your way of saying you’re finally tired of me?”

You roll your eyes and hide your smirk behind the neck of the wine bottle. “Do you think I would’ve done all this shit if I wasn’t the least bit fond of you, Eric?”

The question is rhetorical, but you expect a lighthearted quip from the British boy anyway. Your words seem to settle something heavy on him, though. It’s the very first time you’ve admitted out loud, without a shred of sarcasm, how much you really care for him. 

Eric forgets to say anything at all. The cave fills with a loud silence. The steady drumming of the waterfall and the whisper of rustling trees. Strangely peaceful for the end of the world. 

“Wanna know something wild?” he asks you after a few long moments. His accent makes the words sound heavy on his tongue. Your brows raise to egg him on, and he continues, stumbling over himself in the process. “I’m… I’m not happy the world ended, but… I am— I am glad that it brought me you.”

Your breath catches. It’s the most profound thing anyone’s ever said to you, you think. Way deeper than any measly ‘I love you.’ And how are you meant to respond to that? To his confession that the end of the world was worth finding you? There’s no string of words in the English language that could possibly compare to that.

Eric waits for your response with bated breath. He hopes for an affirmation of your similar affection, of course, but a rejection would be better than nothing at all. He blinks at you with hopeful chocolate eyes, then flinches away when you laugh.

“You’re such a sap,” you say, giggling, as you reach suddenly for his face.

You cradle his scruffy jaw between warm and gently calloused hands, pulling him into you with an admirable effortlessness. You kiss him like it’s natural to you — like he was never just a stranger — like you’ve spent entire lifetimes kissing him.

You take the breath from his lungs with little effort. Eric tips his head back and sighs when you swipe your tongue along his chapped bottom lip. The exhaled breath fans across your cupid’s bow, and you smile against his mouth as you clamor gracelessly into his lap — straddling his lean hips and pressing your beating heart to his. 

The earbuds fall carelessly to the ground, and the fading song plays muffedly from beside you:

—Love and mercy, that’s what you need tonight…

So love and mercy, to you and your friends tonight…

Your mouths click when they part, a subtle sound beneath the drumming waterfall behind you. Your eyes are heavy and lidding as they fall to Eric’s kissed mouth — now a rosier shade, gently swollen, and shining with your spit. A stamp of ownership, almost, that makes your chest swell with pride.

Eric looks up at you with big, wet eyes as his hands fidget on either side of your waist. “I’ve been waiting for that for ages,” he confesses in a low murmur.

A small smile quirks faintly at the edges of your mouth. “Could you maybe say something that’s not super cliché?” you tease.

“How about… I really, really want to kiss you again?” Eric offers in a honeyed tone that makes his accent heavier. He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “And that I… I wanna make you feel good?”

You cage your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your smile. Your fingertips are calloused and cold as they toy with the curls at the nape of his neck — tiny chestnut strands coiled in perfect ringlets. Eric fights back a shiver.

“Then I’d say that…” you begin with a mischievous lilt to your voice, wild eyes flitting from his pink lips to his watery eyes. “I’ve been waiting for that for ages.”

You part from him then, taking the warmth of your body with you as you sit on your knees across from him. The rugged ground is hardly cushioned by the thin quilt. You can vaguely feel small rocks digging into your skin, but your need for him is much louder. 

You cross your arms in front of yourself to swipe your t-shirt over your head. You toss the discarded fabric carelessly beside you, then work at the buttons of your jeans — also borrowed, and just a half-size too big for you. 

Eric watches with his heart in his throat. It’s the most naked you’ve ever been in front of him before. The sight of your bare skin, covered now only in the sports bra you’ve had since the world ended, makes his head swim. It takes him a moment too long to realize he should be undressing, too, and he rushes to catch up.

The two of you undress yourselves in relative silence. The sight is hardly as sexy as you’d expect — full of fumbling limbs far too eager to be graceful. Eric’s shirt gets stuck on his chin. Your jeans get caught at your ankle. The tense lull between you ebbs into a symphony of entwining giggles.

With your clothes scattered in abandoned piles, you lay back against the blanket. Eric settles on top of you with a strange sort of effortlessness — like it’s muscle memory to him, even though neither of you has done this for a long, long while — much less with each other. 

The weight of his body is warm and heavy over yours. You slide your hands under his arms and curl them over his freckled shoulders, digging your nails softly into his pale skin to pull him further into you. 

You watch with heavily lidded eyes as Eric brings his hand to his mouth. He slides his pointer and middle finger between his lips, wetting the pads of them with his tongue. You exhale a deep breath when the limbs come out again, glittering in the low light. 

He studies your features with a dark and unwavering stare as he slips his fingers between the lips of your pussy — tracing the velvety lips for a moment before easing them slowly inside. Your eyes flutter shut at the foreign feeling. Eric smiles to himself, wrist flexing, as he explores your silky cunt with his fingers. 

“Please fuck me,” you sigh when his palm bumps your swollen clit. Your head tips back as your hips buck upward, all but melting under his touch. “Please.”

It takes Eric a moment or more to formulate a response. You’ve never been so subservient like this before, so needy for him. This must be the eighth wonder of the world, he thinks to himself, as he continues to work you open with unworthy hands.

“Have to get you ready for me first,” he tells you, voice and low gritty, as he exhales a breathy chuckle that fans across your jaw. “Don’t wanna break you, honey.”

You manage a scoff in response. “Well, that’s very presumptuous of you— oh…”

Eric crooks his fingers until the tips of them brush a spongy depth inside you. Your mouth falls agape at the feeling, so foreignly full beneath him. His spit-slick lips curl into a lazy smirk. “That shut you up, didn’t it?”

You would’ve spit a snide remark back at him if his thumb hadn’t pressed so mercilessly to your delicate clit then. The words dissolve like dust on your tongue and escape only as a breathy moan. 

Eric continues his relentless pursuit with nothing but two of his fingers. Relentless, you think,because he’s hardly trying to make you cum now. You’re not sure if he’s just oblivious to how good he’s making you feel, or if he’s pushing you to the edge and jerking you back on purpose. It’s agony either way.

He only stops when his pointer and middle finger start to prune, the pads of them softly wrinkled from your honey. He wipes them off on the quilt like a total barbarian. You would’ve said something about that, too, if you weren’t still trying to catch your breath.

Eric rises to his knees. His bare chest, dusted with sparse hair over the sternum, rises and falls with uneven pants. His cock hangs heavy between his spread thighs — half-hard, glowing red, and leaking faintly at the tip. His wide hands are softer than your own as they smooth up and down the length of your thighs. His thumbs rub soothingly over the supple insides of them — with a touch almost as gentle as the melted chocolate gaze he looks at you with. 

“Are you alright?” he wonders, all quiet and suddenly shy, like you aren’t all but dripping for him now.

“You’re so annoying,” you gripe with a scoffed-out laugh, rolling your eyes because you’re certain he’s teasing you. Your stomach sinks when the genuine glimmer in his eyes doesn’t waver. You squirm beneath him and his unyielding gaze. “I’m okay, Eric,” you murmur sheepishly, never easily serious.

He nods to himself and swallows hard, still visibly unsure. It makes you wonder if he’s second-guessing. “Stop staring and kiss me, you asshole,” you grouse with a forced laugh, tightening your grip on his shoulders.

Eric’s mouth quirks in an absentminded smile. “Just let me look at you for a second…” he whispers, squeezing the outsides of your thighs with warm hands.

“We don’t have to whisper anymore, dummy,” you tease in a hushed tone of your own.

His grin widens until his eyes wrinkle at the edges and his tongue pokes softly through his teeth. He laughs despite himself and grips his heavy cock in his fist. “You’re so mean, you know that?” he asks, folding your knee back with his free hand. You’re not sure if he’s expecting a real response, but he slips into you before you can give him one.

He fucks into you slow — bitterly, painfully, and agonizingly slow — forcing you to feel every inch of him. His cock is of average length, but girthy enough to stretch you open. You’re suddenly grateful he thought to use his fingers on you despite your impatience, but the two of them alone hardly equate to how thick he is.

Both of you inhale sharply when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, neither exactly used to the feeling. Eric allows you a moment or more to adjust before sliding out again. You exhale softly together in entwining moans that get lost beneath the sounds of a raging waterfall.

Eric thrusts into you again with gritted teeth, trying not to whimper too loudly when your pussy clenches around him. He bends at the waist to hide his face in your neck and exhales all his pathetic moans there. 

He keeps one hand clenched into a fist on the blanket to prop up his weight; his other slides beneath your head to cushion your skull from the hard ground. You grip the boy by his flexing biceps, digging your nails into the skin every time he thrusts into you. Jaw clenched, nose scrunched, eyes squinted — you take his cock without complaint despite the very loud feeling that it’s all too much for you.

Eric is everywhere, and the notion alone overwhelms you. He’s in you, on top of you, all over you. Like the air you breathe. You need him just the same. Not because he’s your friend but because you’re scared you might seriously die without him. 

It’s dramatic at best. At worst, it’s the exact opposite feeling you should have for anyone in the apocalypse, where death is essentially promised for both of you.

Tears prick your eyes at the thought, though you’d rather blame them on Eric’s merciless thrusts. They’re sloppy and unmeasured as he struggles to find a rhythm. He’s similarly overwhelmed by the pleasure. You can tell by the way his body trembles over yours, and the way he buries loud moans into your pulsepoint. You can feel the vibrations of each moan in your veins. 

The way you’re pinned beneath him cages your clit between your bodies. Every time Eric’s lean hips thrust upward and back again, the coarse thatch of hair above his cock brushes your sensitive button. You couldn’t free yourself from it if you tried. You’re not sure if you even want to.

“This is good for you, right?” Eric wonders through heavy pants, voice wavering under the weight of his pleasure. “Please tell me this is good for you.”

Any other time, you would’ve laughed at him, but now you only nod. Rapidly and with your jaw clenched tight. Just as pathetic as he is. 

“’S good,” you promise through gritted teeth as the coil in the pit of your stomach starts to tighten. “It’s so good, Eric. Feels so fuckin’ good.”

The affirmation makes him moan. Loudly. Enough for you to be momentarily grateful for the cover of the rumbling waterfall. Eric buckles down over you and strengthens his rapid, irregularly timed thrusts with a feeble cry. 

Your own whine rumbles in your throat, falling from your mouth like honey. Your warm skin, now slick with a layer of sweat, begins to buzz. The need for release builds like a dam within you — somewhere deep, right where the tip of Eric’s cock fucks into you. 

Your thighs start to tremble on either side of his waist. Your hips begin to buck despite yourself. You can’t be sure if you’re running from the pleasure now, or chasing it entirely.

“You gotta cum, baby,” Eric tells you through a pitiful whine, face still tucked into your neck. He licks his lips and starts to babble: “I can’t— I’m too close— I need you to cum before I do, baby— Need you to cum right now— Fuck.”

“Is your idea of dirty talk always this pathetic?” you would’ve joked if you weren’t already cumming for him. 

Your mouth falls agape in a silent moan as your head tips back into his palm. Your back arches as you reach the height of your pleasure, pussy fluttering through every wave of it. 

Eric fucks you the entire way through your orgasm — despite your nails biting crescent shapes into his shoulders, despite your velvety cunt tightening around him, despite the very overwhelming feeling that he might burst entirely.

Only when your body goes lax does he pull out of you. 

The empty feeling makes you whimper. Your weeping pussy clenches around nothing while Eric jerks himself off. You can’t see him, but you can feel his wrist moving in rapid motions between your legs. 

A groan rumbles deep in his throat as he tenses on top of you. His still body goes rigid. Something warm and wet spits on your inner thigh a second later — a heavy load of his pearly white cum, which he gives you three of before he’s milked himself dry.

Eric collapses on top of you when he’s officially spent. He forgets to hold up his weight, and you deliberately decide not to remind him. You let the man soak in the waves of his pleasure while you strain to reach the wicker basket at your side — struggling for a moment to find the handful of napkins at the very bottom, then using them to wipe up the mess on your thigh.

“Ah, shit,” Eric curses when he notices (his mess or his weight, you can’t quite tell). He sniffles and rolls off of you. “Sorry…”

Your head whips in his direction. You find his face all flushed, glowing red along the apples of his cheeks and the very tip of his nose. His eyes are big and wet, too, glassy like he might cry. 

Buzzing with concern, you rise to your knees, watching intently as Eric reaches for your discarded pile of clothes. You set them aside when he passes them to you and hold his face in your hands instead. His stubble scratches at your delicate palms. Your wide eyes sparkle with concern as they dart over his teary features.

“Hey… Hey, what happened?” you agonize. “Are you okay?”

Eric laughs at himself, then sniffles again as he wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Yeah… So much for not being cliché, right?” he jokes.

“What happened?” you repeat, giggling this time at his crooked smile.

“Nothing,” he assures, shrugging his freckled shoulders. “I just… I’m just really happy, I guess…”

Your tight chest deflates with a sigh of relief as you nod in response. “Yeah… I am, too.”

Eric’s grin widens at your confession. His cheeks speckle a rosy color, like he’s pleasantly surprised by the response — as if his softening cock isn’t still sparkling with a mixture of your cum. 

You meet his smile with a scowl, rolling your eyes as you shove playfully at his shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that,” you grumble and turn away from him, reaching for your clothes. 

Your body looms over him as you stand, putting very little weight on your scarred leg. You bend at the waist to tug your underwear up your thighs.

Eric shoves his boxers on with a cheeky grin. “I’m really glad I found you, you know that, right? Even though you’re mean to me all the time?”

You scoff and drag your sports bra over your torso, yanking it at the hem to pull it over your breasts. “I’m happy you found me, too, stalker,” you respond in a monotone that would otherwise suggest the opposite. But Eric catches you smiling when you reach beside him for your shirt and knows you really mean it. 

“You love me,” he insists playfully, right before stealing a kiss from you. 

His lips only manage to brush the corner of your mouth in his haste, but he grins wide about it anyway. Your face screws like you weren’t begging him to fuck you ten minutes ago, as you wipe your cheek with the back of your hand.

“You’re disgusting…” he hears you mumbling as you turn away, tugging your shirt over your head. 

But he knows what you really mean.

[estellan0vella]

Older Brother Sukuna AU Masterlist

Main Masterlist HFBU

A Chance Encounter ❀ How you met Sukuna

Matchmaking (WIP) ❀ You and Sukuna play matchmaker (for your own sanity)

Dr Yuji ❀ You meet Yuji for the first time

Fun With Hair Clips

A Knight In Shining Armour

No Smoochie Kiss!

Five More Minutes

Scary Puppy Priveleges

Learning To Fight

Little Miss Jailbird ❀ Sukuna has to bail you out of jail

Wolves ❀ Sukuna loves everything about you except for your love of One Direction

Family Ties

Wrestling

Don't Bring The Kids To Work

Ninja Cats and Disco Aliens ❀ Yuji asks the hard questions

Goth Vampire Mafia ❀ Watching Twilight with Sukuna

Ask For Food, Don't Bite People (WIP) ❀ Yuji goes through a phase

Gonna Be Just Fine (WIP)

Clingy

We'll Handle It (WIP)

Swear Jar (WIP)

Night Terrors (WIP)

Mary Poppins

Shinies!

Butterfly Princess (WIP)

Face Paint (WIP)

Zoo Facts (WIP)

Robbery

Tiny Tim Returns

Sometimes A Girl Just Has To Throw A Punch

Don’t Look Her In The Eyes

Really Bad

Fists Of Fury

Office Cry Fest

Fraying Ties

Doodles

Carrie (WIP)

Arguments & Tears (WIP)

Fist Bump

Halloween (WIP)

Every Trick In The Book (WIP)

Tattoos and Cover Ups (WIP) ❀ You and Gojo make some drunken mistakes

You Did It (WIP) ❀ In which Sukuna wants you to tattoo him

Casino Night (WIP)

Cheating Meanie (WIP)

Discrete Mathematics (WIP)

Stand By Me (WIP)

Disney Dance Party (WIP)

Spider Season

Kitchen Chaos (WIP) ❀ Gojo and You attempt to cook

Guard Dog (WIP)

Cooking Lessons (WIP) ❀ Sukuna and Geto attempt to teach you and Gojo how to cook

Calling It Quits (WIP)

Theme Day (WIP)

Severed Ties (WIP)

taglist - @sad-darksoul @thejujvtsupost @kyo-kyo1 @kalulakunundrum @ryomku @lapinaenmicoche @cacaocacao

[weaponizedducks]

poor shiro cannot catch a fucking break can he. first he gets a crippling disease he's got two years to live. then an angsty wattpad breakup with his boyfriend then he gets kidnapped by aliens and pumped full of alien weed then he crashes on earth with so much walking midlife crisis energy that he gains the skinning puppies to make a fur coat hair, and then he immediately gets shot right back into space by his shittass little brother and weirdo friends with the literal matt clone. then this poor man is made the leader of an alien war, becomes a father to four fuckass teenagers through accidental child acquisition, is forced into the kim kardashian lifestyle by a ginger on drugs, gets kidnapped again, gets cloned, fucking dies, somehow comes back (yeah I'm not really clear about this) then this pathetic wet cat of a man, this stressed jean valjean father of four, experiencing his fourth midlife crisis and millionth mental breakdown, gains that senior citizen swag at twenty five. you could colour match his hair with a polar bear. then he witnesses a walking loreal ad (derogatory) get melted alive, watches a castle get blown up, loses three years in a space time jump and then finds out his ex- fiance who broke up with him right before he left has fucking died in a purple thumb invasion before he got to marry him. but oh no no no that's not the end for this poor sad man. poor guy doesn't get a second to grieve before he is visually assaulted by a less cunty sue sylvester ripoff and her gang of bitchy cheerios (this is admiral s*nda), and yet again made a leader against his will, and shot right back off into space again. then he watches the only other responsible adult in this entire franchise (hot badass space princess who like shiro did not catch a break) sacrifice herself and is left a struggling father. ends up marrying some random fucko. all while suffering through his shitass hot topic brother and blueberry disaster's doomed yaoi romance. oh yeah and he's only got one arm. give the guy a BREAK. FREE my man he doesn't deserve this 🔥🔥

[anakinsdove]

𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

pairing: anakin skywalker x fem!reader

summary: you and anakin arranged a date in your apartment tonight… yes like a normal couple.

c/w: fluff, (and a little bit angsty) ani is in love and so are you, dates dates dates, movie night.

discord - twitter: anakinsdove

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。Love you

𝘄/𝗰 - 2,819

“So you’re free tonight right?” “Yes” Anakin confirms for the millionth time today… it’s not your fault tho, you just wanna make sure this evening goes exactly as planned, it’s not every night you can arrange a date with your boyfriend though it’s exactly what you and him want, but after all, you’re not a normal couple, he’s a Jedi and not to mention dating it’s forbidden for Jedis, he’s also very busy… you pull at his hair excitedly and he hisses a little. “Wait! What movie are we watching?” You ask, and he nuzzles his face in your chest “Not Bribery” “Is that the one about the alien that-” “Yes that one” “It’s a good movie though” “Of course it’s not” your eyes widen at his disrespect…

“I can’t believe you actually said that” “it’s true” you grumble quietly and he chuckles… his eyes remain closed when he suddenly hears his communicator beeping “Is that-” he groans and answers

“Anakin, you must’ve report to the temple immediately” it’s obi wan “Be right there master” there’s clearly annoyance in his voice, and his heart sinks at your disappointed expression written all over your pretty face… “Hey… the sooner I go the sooner I’ll be back okay?” You can only nod already accepting that the date night is already canceled, you think it’s really selfish wanting to keep him all to yourself, after all he’s a Jedi, he saves lives, he does it for the republic, he does it everyday, why can’t you have him for a couple of hours?

“Look love… don’t worry, you go and get yourself all dolled up, I promise the date isn’t cancelled okay?” You can only hope it’s true… you think it’ll be more painful to get yourself ready and having to take your pretty dress off, make up and hairstyle, later when he never shows up than to accept it now, but he’s making you a promise and he will keep it

“I’ll be waiting” you say and kiss his cheek, he grins at this and closes the door and hear from the other side “I’ll be here at 9:00” you nod forgetting he can’t see you…

5:45 PM

There’s a lot left to do, but where to start? Is the real question, you decide to start with cleaning around a little bit, you move the couch only to find Anakin’s beanie you knitted for him Anakin you grumbled angrily “It’s in my drawer I’m sure” he said a while ago when you questioned him why he didn’t wear it anymore… a few minutes later everything is done and the next step is to start dolling yourself up, you want this to be special and none of your dresses seem to match your expectation… too pink, too red, too elegant, too informal, wrong print? too short? I don’t think that would bother Anakin at all but it bothers you for some reason, it’s like your first date all over again, the butterflies, the anxiety and the unbelievable excitement… it was a great date, considering his padawan braid got stuck in your necklace, you cringe at the memory.

After what feels like an eternity you pick a dress… it’s beautiful purple and it has the “right” length, deciding to ignore the complete disaster you made in your closet, buuuuut now… your nails don’t match the stupid dress! Trying to grab your pretty lilac nail polish a knocking the rest of your make up over, you gasp when you hear your eyeshadow palette breaking and see pigment on the ground “oh no” the sadness in your voice equals to a kicked puppy, you kneel on the ground to dust it away.. it was your favorite palette, the pretty and expensive one, whimpering when you throw it in the trash.

Now you’re painting your nails sad and not even doing it right, there’s nail polish all over your fingers… what the fuck? The shower will take care of it

7:09 PM

Fuck! Everything it’s taking longer than usual, you haven’t even showered yet!

You undress yourself and get in a little bit too quick, the water is still cold, it makes you wince, but there’s not enough time and Anakin said he would be here at 9:00… your makeup, take out, your outfit, the candles? It’s not that you can’t do anything right it’s just that the excitement bubble you feel in your stomach betrays you and turns into anxiety. He would be happy to spend an evening with you in the sand just to be by your side, Anakin wouldn’t notice the small details that make you pull your hair, or maybe he would and wouldn’t even care, or maybe he would care-

8:54 PM

The rest of your routine goes slightly more smoothly, everything is set and now you’re just waiting for Anakin to arrive, you sigh and pray that everything goes as planned from now on.

9:01

9:07

9:15

9:23

9:28

Since when is your couch so big? And why do you feel the clock is ticking too loud for your liking? Your dress feels so tight and then is inevitable… You feel the familiar sensation of tears welling up in your eyes “You think it’ll be more painful to get yourself ready and having to take your pretty dress off, make up and hairstyle, later when he never shows up than to accept it now, but he’s making you a promise and he will keep it”

But then there’s an urgent knocking on your door, one that you could’ve never mistake, the kind of knocking that wants to take the stupid door down and your practically jump from the couch and sprint towards the door, opening it with shaky hands… And there he is… he’s frowning and gripping the bouquet of flowers in his hands anxiously, already damaging the wrapper that holds it together. “Y/n” he says breathlessly and he immediately stops when he notices the tears in your eyes.

Your eyes switch to his face to his eyes lips then the bouquet, taking all of him so you can remember this later, his robes are muddy “Ani-" he places the flowers at a nearby table and instantly takes your face in his hands “What’s the matter doll?” He asks and wipes your tears away.. it actually makes you melt.

“I thought you weren’t coming” Your voice comes out small and you feel a little sad for not trusting him from the begging, he promised he would be here and here he is…. “I’m sorry for being so late Y/N I- the mission was- it’s not important” “Are you okay?” You ask, he gives you a small smile and nods “Everything is alright, everyone as well” you sigh in relief “That’s good my love, congrats” you hug him, he’s still sad at the sight of your dried tears on your cheeks, but at least your mascara is still intact.

“You sure that’s all?” Your grip around him tightens as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, suddenly your struggles from earlier don’t seem like a big deal after his own deal being a Jedi is responsibility aswell. “I almost messed up our date?” “Huh? And why’s that love?” And you finally look up at him “I dunno… it’s silly”

“It can’t be silly if it bothered you enough to make you cry” you want to argue and say It is but he might be right and you don’t know better “First I found out you did loose the scarf I made you-” “Where is it!?” He asks excitedly “Then I didn’t like any of my dresses… it took me forever, then my nails wouldn’t match my dress and I dropped my eyeshadow palette-“ “The pretty one with the pink tones?” “Yes, that one” “Aw, I’m sorry doll” “It’s okay… then I got in the shower and the water was freezing and then you wouldn’t show up!” Anakin cringes at the last part and you continue “I-I’m sorry, all of this sounds really stupid compared to any kind of problem you face daily as Jedi-” “Normal” “Huh?” “Your problems are… are normal… I like normal” “Oh… You do?” “Of course Y/N… after dealing with the war everyday and the council… this, this is exactly what I need” you chuckle “Well it’s always a pleasure to be ordinary enough for you” “I didn’t mean it like that-” “I know” you giggle… “I wish our life would be this domestic sometimes, can you imagine? You, me and two little mini you running around the house?” Children… he’s thinking about children, that gives you a reality check, any silly doubt you might have about your relationship is gone just like that because he’s actually dreaming about a life with you, and you wouldn’t prefer any different.

“I would love that” you say sincerely… “They would have your eyes and my hair…. Your eyebrows” He traces them delicately “And maybe my personality, one each” that makes you beam “I can’t wait” “Me neither” He takes your face in his hands and kisses you sweetly… it’s nice and delicate, he hums in the kiss and takes the chance to slide his tongue in his mouth, you suck at it softly and after a few seconds you pull away only to find the completely head over heels gaze he’s giving you.

“You’re all muddy” you say “I didn’t see the hole in the ground-” you shake your head in disbelief and take his hand in yours to guide him to your bathroom “It was Obi wan’s fault!” Now.. how could that possibly be Obi wan’s fault? But you let him ramble. “Undress” you say

“Oh you would’ve loved that wouldn’t you?” he teases and you punch him in the shoulder jokingly. He starts taking his robes off while you start filling the tub, the water is warm this time and you pour a little of your lavander soap in “Hey i thought you wanted a show” he says teasingly, because you made him undress and you didn’t even watch… that’s a shame honestly. “Get in baby” he can’t resist you or a warm bath when needed.

The water is instantly soothing for his aching muscles… he groans and tilts his head back, opening his eyes to find you looking at him adoringly “Thank you my love” he says and you lean in to kiss his cheek “You’re very welcome Ani” you throw him your old rubber duck in he laughs, he closes his eyes and sighs, he couldn’t ask for anything better in life… his eyes remain closed for a few seconds “C’mon Baby don’t pass out… you could’ve drown” “Mmm I know you wouldn’t let me” “Don’t be so sure” he opens his eyes wide and you cackled. “Close your eyes” you say “Make up your mind” he teases but does as you say, You take a small recipient with warm water and pour it over his head, gently soaking his curls, he tilts his head forward like a child, then you pour some of the apple shampoo on your hand, you figured out he liked the scent and you start gently massaging his scalp and smile when you see bubbles, his eyes peaked open to look at your loving and concentrating expression, he’s melting but when your nails escaped along his scalp he purrs… the night goes on and when you’re done washing his hair and his bubble bath is over he turns the shower on to wash his body… you wait for him with a fluffy bath towel, he smiles when he sees you and he wraps himself in it.

He follows you into your bedroom where he find a pair of his sweatpants he keeps in here, the sweater you knitted for him, a pair of your fluffy socks and clean boxers, he gives you a grateful smile… when he’s done he wraps his arms around you and you lean on him as he rubs your back “You’re a little tense hun” “Whaaat? No I’m” “Lay down” you look up at him with puppy eyes “Lay down on your stomach c’mon” And who are you to complain when Anakin Skywalker gives an order.

You lay down on the bed and he takes your heels off and kisses up your calf, and okay you weren’t completely lying, you’re still not completely sure you’re actually tense and that Anakin only wants an excuse to touch you, but his touch already feels amazing… “M’sorry I didn’t say it earlier but you look absolutely beautiful, every single detail about you is perfect” that means a lot to you “Thank you… You’re So Perfect-” he starts kissing down you back covering your spine with kisses, his hands find the zip or your dress “Gonna unzip your dress okay? I’m gonna take it off” “Yeah” you say already agreeing with anything he says, he chuckles, his hand unzips your dress nice and slow while his eyes trace every detail of your back… moles, marks, tattoos, anything… wait that looks like a constellation… he takes the dress off leaving you only in your bra and panties “This too” he pulls at your bra and you roll your eyes not annoyed at all “alright” he instantly unclasps your bra and you lift yourself so he can take it off, his touch is gentle when he slides the straps down your shoulders… his gaze lingers on your chest and you giggle “My massage” “Oh! Right” He pushes your on your stomach again, his hands dig into your shoulder blades and you make a little sound when his metal hand touches your back, it’s cold and it feels good for some reason “There’s a knot here” he says and pushes deeper to massage your skin, you moan and his ears perk up at the sound but he pushes those thoughts to the back of his head for your own sake and his “Ani… that feels really good” “I know” he says cockily and keeps working his magic, suddenly his hands grip your ass and you gasp “You’re tense here too” he massages the skin and you actually think you’re muscles are grateful… the feeling want to make your thighs squeeze Not now You think.

10 minutes later he’s done and you’re actually sleepy, he takes one of your sweaters out of your drawer and you try to put it on but he does it for you, unfortunately his hand tickles your ribs and you giggle, he looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes… “Would you like to watch a movie” he kisses your neck and you close your eyes “Sure!” You beam, “Okay… I’ll make the pop corn” he keeps kissing you and you think he might never stop and make the damn pop corn, though you’re not sure you want him to stop you whimper and your breathing heaves “I’ll go now… promise” however he keeps kissing you and you take the chance to tickle his ribs, he cackles and takes the queue to leave.

You realize you still have makeup on your face and you curse at yourself, feeling lazy to take it off but going to the bathroom and washing your face no matter how much you wanna eat pop corn and get into his arms you want.. he comes back 5 minutes later with the bowl of pop corn and two drinks… you beam at the sight of snacks and he chuckles “Are you happy to see me or the popcorn?” “Both”

“We’re watching Bribery” you say simply “Whatever” he says clearly not happy with your choice but happier nonetheless to be here, he thinks it’s cute how much you like this shitty movie… you nuzzle into his arms and 40 minutes later you’re starting to fall asleep.

“It’s time to sleep love” “Nuh uh” you say with your eyes already closed “What why not?” He asks curiously, your body says otherwise

“You still haven’t fucked me, date night it’s not over” you say boldly and he cackles

“It’s alright love, I’ll promise I’ll fuck you in the morning”

“Promise?”

“Promise”

He stays up for a little after you fell asleep, admiring your features and tracing them gently with his knuckle, careful to not harm you, to not wake you up or disturb you in any way “I love you… more than anything in the entire universe…” something sparked inside him watching your sleep so vulnerable and with your guard completely down, trusting him completely.. “And I would never let something bad happen to you…” he kisses your forehead and stares at you with pure adoration in his eyes… he truly loves you… he tries to find a word bigger than that to state his love for you but the sleepiness is finally getting to him too…

“G’night” he mutters and lastly kisses your nose.

masterslist 𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗱𝗼𝘃𝗲 © --- all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/ copying will be tolerated.

dividers- @i92-93

[frecklesandpoverty]

Joseph Quinn and his stupid beautiful crybaby face and his stupid curly hair and his stupid big brown baby cow eyes can go right to hell

(the movie was so good and he was so cute when he wasn't having a panic attack about aliens)

(jk he was cute even during the multiple panic attacks. First scene we see him I said "oh my god someone help this poor lost puppy of a man, he looks so sad")

(lupita nyong'o made me cry, she was amazingggg)

[suzukiblu]

Been looking through your assorted aus page and the link for "weird amnesia Timberkon"/"for the game young" is broken (as in, the tag does not appear to exist). It seems like you put a lot of time into that page so I figured you'd want to know (and also selfishly I am very interested in finding out what weird amnesia timberkon entails)

WHOOPS, my bad, messed that one up. Should be all fixed on the page now, though! Oddly I only seem to have one teeny lil' snippet up for that AU, to my surprise, could've sworn I'd posted more? Sooooo as thanks for catching that busted link for me, have a nice big chunk of the WIP behind this read-more, hah.

So Superboy is apparently an idiot. Then again, whatever, if Bernard were an indestructible telekinetic half-alien he would probably also not worry too much about looking subtle in his civvies or maintaining a secret identity, and also it's been a while since he's heard anything about the guy doing any active superheroing anyway so maybe Superboy is just assuming that the entire planet somehow forgot about his teen heartthrob superhero posters and all those close-up high-def publicity shots of his very public face and whatever? Oh, and also that one time that he literally fucking died to save the whole freaking world and the big ol' memorial statue. Statues? There might've been two, come to think. 

So maybe an idiot. 

A very hot idiot, though. 

Well, whatever, Bernard figures, taking a sip of his boba tea and idly watching Superboy check out his boyfriend from the far side of the cafe like he's a sad puppy in a shop window who just wants a little love. Tim is looking at his phone and appears oblivious to Superboy's existence. 

Bernard assumes Tim's doing that thing where he pretends to not be Robin, for obvious reasons. That thing remains adorable but is getting increasingly less convincing as time goes on. Like, he really doesn't know what Tim actually thinks he thinks he does in his downtime? There is no logical reason for a civilian to be either as ripped or as scarred as Tim Drake is, but part of being Tim Drake's boyfriend is pretending to be oblivious to those facts and also never questioning his flimsy excuses to run off at a moment's notice or disappear during a crisis or whatever else. 

Bernard tries to figure out how to politely extricate himself from the situation for long enough for Tim to go check up on Superboy, because Superboy very clearly needs to be checked up on. Unfortunately he went to the bathroom like ten minutes before the guy walked in all sad-puppy so the obvious option is out, and Tim knows damn well he isn't gonna call his parents for anything less than a full-on emergency, and his friends it'd be weird not to just text, and . . . fuck, he doesn't know. He needs an angle here. 

"I'll be right back, babe, just gotta duck into the bathroom real quick," Tim says, glancing up from his phone with an apologetic smile. Bernard relaxes slightly. Okay, that works, thank you, Bat-planning. Superboy can just follow Tim back to the bathroom and they can do whatever superhero sidebar they need to do back there. 

But then Tim gets up, gives him a peck on the cheek, and heads back to the bathroom, and Superboy . . . doesn't follow him. 

The hell? 

Bernard represses a frown and takes another sip of his boba. Superboy continues not to follow Tim. He just sits there at his own little table with his completely untouched drink, looking like the saddest puppy that has ever sadded. 

Bernard is mystified. 

Are they having a fight, maybe? Is Tim ignoring Superboy because of that, not the secret ID stuff? That seems weird and not very Tim-like, fighting or not. But Superboy's in Gotham and came into the cafe after they did, so he can't be the one avoiding Tim. But also he didn't follow him to the bathroom when presented with the very unsubtle opportunity to do so, so . . . what the hell? 

Weird. 

Bernard takes yet another sip of boba and keeps watching Superboy. Superboy seems oblivious to said watching, but he guesses the guy is pretty famous and is a very public superhero and is always doing impressive shit and all that, so he's probably used to being watched. Oh, and also he's stupid, stupid hot. 

Bernard cannot imagine being this used to attention, but apparently Superboy is. Bernard, of course, is not a punk idol superhero built like a porn star and a supermodel had a threeway with a bodybuilder. So like, that particular bit of mental dissonance probably makes sense and all. Life experiences are not universal, and all that. 

Especially not when the life experience one is comparing oneself to started in a cloning tube. 

Well, it's not like it's a burden for Bernard to have a free pass on checking out a hottie while he waits for Tim to come back from, presumably, waiting for Superboy to come and talk to him. Which Superboy is just . . . not doing, still. Inexplicably. 

Still, sad puppy or not, Superboy's civvies look damn good on him, so that's something. Bernard's enjoying them, like as an aesthetic experience and everything. Superboy's wearing an unbuttoned red flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves over a very tight black tank top and even tighter light wash skinny jeans that are bafflingly intact, considering the fact that a dude with Kryptonian-level super-strength is currently vacuum-sealed into them. 

Does tactile telekinesis work on skinny jeans? Is that a thing? Like, are Superboy's jeans currently indestructible? 

That sounds amazing, actually. 

Also, those buckled-up black leather boots he's wearing look like they could straight-up kill a dude, Kryptonian power-assist or not. And the shiny mirrored sunglasses and ridiculous multitude of even shinier gold piercings all suit the guy, somehow, and even without looking like too much. 

Relatedly, Superboy's tank top is very, very tight. 

Also relatedly, his nipples are apparently pierced. 

And so is his belly button, it looks like. 

Ngh. 

Superboy's vacuum-sealed jeans are not quite tight enough for Bernard to figure out if he's got any below the spike-studded belt piercings, but his imagination is happy to fill in the blanks there. He's tempted to ask for Tim's theories on the existence of any such piercings, because yeah Superboy has super-hearing but Bernard has no shame and Tim logically should know, buuuuut he's still pretending not to know Tim is Robin so yeah, probably he shouldn't do that. 

He could start a new conspiracy board for it, maybe. That'd be fun. 

Superboy also has leather cuffs on his wrists and mismatched rings and necklaces and a really hot fade haircut that is noticeably windswept, and really, really looks like something that Bernard would like to see somebody dig their fingers into. Just–look, there's curls. Bernard cannot be blamed for curls. 

And he's trying not to eye the cuff bracelets too much, but they provide very nice inspiration for a certain style of kinky thoughts. Not that Superboy couldn't snap basically any set of cuffs that wasn't made of kryptonite or promethium or like a magical kryptonite-promethium alloy or whatever without even trying, obviously, but like, somehow the thought of the guy having to restrain himself more than anything else makes the whole mental image hotter? Like, somehow? 

Bernard pictures Superboy wearing a pair of cheap flimsy sex toy handcuffs and trying very, very hard to keep himself in them while someone else takes very careful inventory of all his piercings, wherever and whatever they all just so happen to be. 

Jesus. Yeah, there's a thought. 

Is it weird to consider flirting up your boyfriend's superhero bestie while he's badly pretending to be a civilian, Bernard wonders? Is that a thing? 

Probably, but he still has no shame and is also in an open relationship, so whatever. 

Hell, who knows, in retrospect maybe Tim actually arranged this setup specifically for Bernard to get an eyeful of his work crush. Like, Bernard always felt like Robin and Superboy had some significant UST going back in the day. Maybe Tim wants to finally do something about that, and the setup idea sounds like a very "Bat" approach to doing said something. And it'd explain why Superboy didn't follow Tim to the bathroom and maybe even why he's coming across kind of anxious right now, if he's trying to psych himself up to come over or something. Like, if he's nervous about making a good impression, though Bernard cannot imagine why he ever would be. Well, not like Supers are known for their undercover skills, so . . . 

Either way, if that's the plan, Bernard is very fine with it, so he decides to go find out for himself and picks up his drink to head over and chat the guy up. Worst case scenario, he’s just gotten his hopes up a little, he figures. Best case, he’s putting Superboy out of his “oh god, how do I do undercover” misery. 

"Mind if I sit?" he asks, and flashes Superboy a grin as he gestures at the empty seat at the other half of his table. Superboy looks weirdly startled, like he somehow expected to go unnoticed despite being a literal superhero who is also unspeakably hot and is also wearing very, very tight clothes that he's this close to busting out of. Like, at least half a dozen girls are actively checking him out right now, as is the dude behind the counter and the old guy on the sidewalk outside who’s busy badly pretending to be reading the outdoor menu board instead of checking out Superboy’s ass through the front window. 

So yeah, Bernard really does not understand that apparent assumption. 

Come to think, maybe Superboy has some self-esteem issues or something. Bernard admittedly might also have self-esteem issues if he were Superman's clone. Then again, if he were Superman's clone, he would look like Superman and also be very aware of how Superman himself looks, sooooo . . . 

Seriously, "younger and sexier punk rock Superman" is not a vibe that Bernard can imagine going ignored all that often. Or ever. 

“Uh–what?” Superboy says. 

“I’ve been temporarily abandoned by my boyfriend and I’m easily bored,” Bernard clarifies politely, though obviously Superboy was staring at Tim long enough to have noticed said abandonment the moment it happened. “So, mind if I sit?” 

“I–sure?” Superboy says, looking nervous. Bernard puts another tally in the “too bad at undercover work to follow the Bat-plan” column. Whatever, the guy’s trying his best, he’s not gonna judge him. 

There's a pin on the inside of Superboy’s flannel, Bernard notices as the other shifts awkwardly in his seat, and is vaguely puzzled by the sight of it. Like, it's just a little thing and he doubts he'd have even seen it if he weren't in this close to the guy, but . . . 

Just–yeah. Little pin. Just like a cheap little round button, like the kind that comes out of the dollar bin at all sorts of random stores. And it's hidden inside Superboy's flannel, mostly, but it's definitely got the S-shield on it. 

Bernard is perplexed. Even in Gotham, it's not like it's weird to see people wearing Superman merch. So like, why is Superboy hiding that?

“Cool,” he says as he files that away as a little oddity, and takes the empty seat. Superboy continues to look nervous. Bernard continues to work on figuring out if his weird Bat-boyfriend who he’s not supposed to know is a Bat set him up on a blind date with his superhero bestie. The nervousness supports the theory, anyway. 

Man, this dude really is even prettier up close. How was he Tim’s bisexual awakening with this guy around and in close quarters with him? Like, he’s flattered, don’t get him wrong, but also maybe Tim has some vision problems and he should get that checked out before it inconveniences his nightlife. 

"Sooooo like . . . what do I call you?" Bernard asks, peering across the table at him curiously. "Because the obvious option seems like a bad idea, obviously.” 

"‘The obvious option’?" Superboy stops looking nervous long enough to look confused instead. 

"Yeah?" Bernard says, cocking his head. Superboy cannot possibly think he’s being subtle here, so . . . "I mean, I assume you don't go by 'Superboy' when you're dressed like that. Like, that's the whole point of being dressed like that, right?" 

Superboy stares blankly at him. Bernard cocks his head the other way, now officially the confused one. 

"What?" Superboy says. 

"Okay, sorry, this is the thing where you-know-who still insists on pretending he's not Robin, isn't it," Bernard realizes, which he really should've realized would be a thing from the start. He supposes that makes sense even with Superboy’s total lack of subtlety, though, superheroes probably do have to really commit to that thing. Especially ones who work for Batman and Superman. Or . . . just around Superman, maybe? Bernard is not fully clear on that particular superhero hierarchy. "My bad. So, uh, what do I call you, because there is obviously no obvious option. Obviously.” 

"You . . . recognize me?" Superboy croaks. 

"Uh," Bernard says, brow furrowing in bemusement at the very weird expression the guy's currently wearing. "Yes? No offense, you're kind of recognizable. Like, do you even have a secret identity? I mean, you're a clone, right, and I know you were just doing the full-time hero thing in at least Hawaii, so I actually have no idea if you ever bothered making one up or not?” 

"You recognize me," Superboy chokes, just staring at him, and then bursts into tears. 

. . . well, that can't be good.

[thefiresofpompeii]

picture a strange parallel make-believe world in which doctor who was in some nebulous way both not exclusively british and around in the 1920s silent film era…

i mean, last year when i was hyperfixated on the lovecraft mythos one of my friends faceclaimed buster for their idea of the eldritch trickster god nyarlathotep. so i thought hold on wait a minute

just fucking look at him.

silly little guy! silly little stuntman with an age-old sadness in his eyes. a weariness so heavy it cuts through the screen. he’ll flop around like a hyperactive puppy but you can instantly tell that something went deeply wrong in his past. he won’t tell you what. he’ll change the subject before you even remember to ask. he’s so tired

all dressed up smart in a magician’s suit but the tie’s lopsided and undone. he wears it that way because he thinks it’s cool. maybe it is

average doctor activities. Pondering

no comment for that one. he just does this in the middle of questioning some unfamiliar alien and nobody bats an eye

i’ve seen so many clips of five behaving exactly like this? bro’s always falling over dramatically. what is that it’s the unknown

nope not today! and then running from the threat ‘like a penguin with its arse on fire’

he can drive anything. sort of.

the final piece in the puzzle: in an episode of the twilight zone buster plays a time traveller. except the time machine (that bizarre contraption on his head) loses its shit as soon as he switches it on. remind you of anyone?

buster keaton is the ???th doctor in my mind. that is all. have a nice day. sorry for formatting a post in such a 2012 manner unfortunately that is par the course when discussing this sort of thing

[multibugorganism]

a lot of the alienation i feel from the furry-tranpositive experience is how much of it was just feels like a heel turn and i find myself having such a hard time even remotely relating or feeling included

"KEEP FURRY WEIRD, BE LOUD AND OPEN ABOUT YOUR QUEERNESS, throwing faggot and dyke around- being puppy dog brained boys and girls and being kink positive!!! incest is woke now, feral porn was ALWAYS OK PEOPLE HAVE BEEN FREAKS SINCE FOREVER OK!!!"

etc etc the list goes on with these sentiments and so on but like it's excruciating and difficult to remotely feel welcomed when just like a few years ago i'd have people threatening violence and telling me to off myself, accusing me of absolutely abhorrent shit for stuff like uh, watching some dumbass anime they didn't enjoy or going full on hate-stalker and terrorizing me for years with a whole mob/their follower base simply because they couldn't stand me being a sexually positive/open person online- hell, I had someone who got outed for sexually abusing their pet call me out for advocating rape and spreading some fucked up nonsense about me purely because I had somnophiliac fantasies. people would want you DEAD or consider you TOO WEIRD if you so much as expressed wanting to be treated like a puppy girl toilet or fucking whatever

i don't know, it just sucks feeling alone and alienated, left out, i wish i could take people's invitations or feel even remotely comfortable stepping out of my boundaries again but i already have other baggage that needs tending to that I barely have energy to muster and work on. maybe i've just become too old to "get better" and just unfortunately am going to stay scared shitless. im glad people are generally happier these days with expression and that crap but i am bitter and sad i don't have a place in this movement or whatever you want to call it

[henrioo]

°•*⁀➷ BABY FEVER: KID AND KILLER

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Sometimes your body is not in tune with your desires, although some are jokes you can always count on your two boyfriends to be your safe base. Which doesn't stop them from having perverted ideas thanks to your desires."

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : TRANS MALE READER! POLY RELATIONSHIP! RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN TREE MENS AT THE SAME TIME! A lot of talk about gender and body dysphoria, talk about babies and biological pregnancy, talk about transphobia, A LOT OF TRIGGERS FOR TRANSMASC PEOPLE, besides that, Kid is a grumpy boyfriend and Killer is just following the vibe, some ideas about babies, talks about pets, kinda sad but then is happy, hurt comfort, boyfriends trying to make you feel safe and comfortable. The final is a little suggestive and a little explicit but is pretty much SFW

꒰ WC ꒱ : 1,5k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : So yeah, that's totally self indulgence because I need someone saying these things to me, I don't care if they are not real and technically only say that because I write them saying, they said and nothing changes that! So start fluffy, go to angst and then comfort, like we all like! Enjoy!

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You were sitting on the couch with your two boyfriends, Eustass Kid and Killer, the two rockers you met in a bar and when you least realized you had been living with them for months. Some program was on television and Kid was more focused on his cell phone than anything. You had two legs over Killer's, and you were leaning against the redhead who was hugging you sideways and keeping his hand on your stomach over yours.

“Kid” you called him after an idea popped into your head.

“Humph” he muttered in response without looking up from his cell phone, probably watching videos of cars.

“I want a baby” you said, looking at him seriously.

“And what do I have to do with it?” He said with an irritated frown on his face, but still without looking up from his cell phone.

“Give me a baby!” You said happily as if you were ordering ice cream.

“Ahem�� What?!” He adjusted himself on the couch and looked at you in disbelief and shock. “What the fuck do you mean by ‘give me a baby’?”

“I meant get me pregnant and give me a baby!” You huffed, sitting on the couch and looking at him, irritated that he didn't accept it.

“I'm not giving you a baby! What is your problem?" He said irritatedly, looking at you as if you were an alien, “Are you crazy?”

“I want a baby! Please Kid! Imagine the three of us being dads! And they're wearing cute baby clothes! And having a cute baby room!” You said with huge puppy eyes and a sad pout as you begged him to make your wish come true.

“I’m not giving you a fucking baby” he huffed as he stared at you irritated, where did you come from with that?

You quickly crossed your arms, irritated and frustrated at not having your wish fulfilled, then you turned to your blonde boyfriend, who until now was just silently observing the scene.

“Killer, give me a baby!” You asked, smiling innocently at him.

"Stop with that! You won't gain a baby! None of us are going to get you pregnant, you freak!” Kid shouted irritably as he slapped you on the head.

“I want a baby! I want to be a daddy!” You huffed irritably, looking back at Kid.

“Adopt a dog, then, damn it!” Kid continued yelling at you.

“Killer doesn’t like dogs!” You huffed, shouting back at him.

“He doesn’t like it?” Kid looked confused at his blonde boyfriend who just nodded, “Oh shit, adopt a cat then!” He shrugged.

“You’re allergic to cats!” You grumbled, getting more frustrated.

“What the fuck, adopt any shit! A ferret, a hamster, you can even adopt a spider if you stop with this baby nonsense!” He grumbled, laying down on the couch irritably.

You laughed a little, realizing that you had really irritated Kid, so you decided to lay on top of him to apologize and improve his mood... In fact, you decided that you would annoy him a little more since you were actually considering the possibility of having a son.

“Come on Kid, let’s have a baby” you said with a pout as you laid on his chest, even though he was angry, he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Shut up” he grumbled, looking away from you.

“They would be so cute, they could have your red hair or Kil's blonde hair… They could also have his blue's eyes… Ah! What if they were chubby babies? With little hands and chubby cheeks?” You smiled lovingly, imagining the creation the three of you could make.

“Holy God, stop that” Kid grumbled, but you could see him swallowing his smile, he was thinking about it too.

“Kil, help me convince him!” You whimpered for help from your other boyfriend.

Killer just laughed and threw himself on top of the two of you, making a real sandwich with you being the filling, he rubbed his beard against you, making you laugh and automatically making Eustass calmer when he saw a loving interaction between the two men he loved.

“We’re not giving you a baby,” Killer said, smiling.

“Two against one prince, accept defeat” Kid smiled like an idiot when he won a game.

“I hate you! Why don’t you guys want to give me a baby?!” You whimpered against them, sulking.

“I'm not against having a child with you two, the difference is that we're not giving you a biological child” Killer said, adjusting himself to lay down with you without crushing you “You know you couldn't handle it, during your period you can’t even deal with the fact of having a uterus, imagine getting pregnant then” he spoke seriously and worriedly, you knew that what he was saying was true. There were many things that gave you dysphoria just because you considered them to be “woman” things, makeup, breasts, uterus… As much as you loved the idea of having a child with them, the idea of doing something that had been said for a long time being only something women could do… It made your stomach churn.

“No need to be upset about it” Kid said as he noticed your silence, then he slowly stroked your back “Everyone has limits, that’s not a shame”

“I wanted to have a family with you…” you admitted softly, wrapping yourself closer to the two of them, many thoughts dominated your head, and you didn’t know what you wanted to feel and believe.

“We can have a family, but let's start with something easy... Like a parrot” Killer laughed “And one day, if we are older, more mature and have enough money in our pockets, we can think about adoption” he suggested, showing that his dream of having a family was not impossible.

“The brats will still be ours even if they don't come out of your belly, you know that doesn't change anything, if having an adopted child will make your dream come true and not give you eternal dysphoria from giving birth to someone, then we can adopt the entire orphanage for you” Kid said seriously, and you had no doubt that he would accept having as many children as you asked.

“Pfft… You would die with the second child” you laughed at them, but soon you felt your heart becoming calmer and your head lighter. They were right, an adopted child was just a child in need of a home and love, they wouldn’t be any less of your children just because they didn’t have a blood connection “adoption… Sounds good” you smiled at the idea.

“Yes, it would give us more time to get used to the idea, especially because we would have to adapt to the child and the child to us, so we would have time to know if we want it or not” Killer sighed, relieved that you were calmer “And you know … If even after adopting you want a biological one, that’s okay, there’s nothing bad about that.”

“We just don’t want you to do something out of obligation, you don’t need to produce a child just because you have a uterus, hell you don’t even need to have a uterus if you want!” Kid said in his crude and affectionate way “But if you want, you need to know that this won’t make you less of a man, you are a man regardless of what you do or what others say”

“Stop! I’m going to cry” you whimpered, feeling completely loved by their words. They truly were two soulmates and the best partners you could have asked for.

“Don’t cry, you look ugly.” Kid laughed, and you slapped his chest, making you all laugh.

“So no babies for now, okay?” Killer decided to conclude the matter as he laid his head on two backs, the three of you were an awkward and uncomfortable mess on the couch, but you didn't mind at all.

“Okay… At most a parrot” you said as you both laughed.

“Yeah… But you know… I'm not against pretending we're going to make a baby” Kid smiled mischievously, and you blushed “What do you say prince, don't you want to take a test drive of how you'll feel when you're completely full? Can you imagine us cumming so much inside you that you’re going to be all swollen?” He said, whispering in your ear, and you felt your body burn when Killer squeezed your thigh, showing that he was also interested in that.

“Well… We need to finish it in case I want to get pregnant in the future… Just to make sure we can do it, right?” You said, sighing, excited by his touches.

“Don’t worry darling, we’ll make sure you beg for us to make you a daddy” Killer laughed darkly, “And then we’ll make sure we fulfill your wish.”

You swallowed deeply, knowing exactly what awaited you now that you admitted that as much as you didn't want a baby yet, you wouldn't be against a little practice... It seems that in the end the ones who got baby fever were your two boyfriends who really enjoyed the idea of fucking you raw and seeing all their sperm inside you.

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[lilithliliam]

Yandere Shoto Todoroki

Warnings:contains sexual content. obsessive behavior. references to kidnapping, references to rape, delusional thoughts. all characters have reached adulthood. Forced marriage. Overstimulation. Multiple orgasm. cock warming

I do not approve or recommend this behavior.

For readers strictly of legal age.

Enjoy🫡

Beginning:

Shoto was never interested in friends, friendship and relationships, but for some reason his eyes always stumbled upon the lady. She was beautiful, smart and strong. Perhaps she could even compete with Shoto himself if she spent more time training and studying. But for some reason she preferred to have fun, laugh and communicate with people, in particular Midoriya. The lady was very cheerful, laughing at recess and even managed to joke with Bakugou and win him over in petty arguments. She shone with kindness and happiness and treated everyone with her inherent love and maternal affection. Once, when Shoto was badly injured in a training battle, the lady took him to the recovery girl and even took care of him after.

"Don't frown, Todoroki-kun, come on, smile," said the lady already in the nurse's office, treating his face. Her soft hands and light touch like butterfly wings made something in his heart flutter. He decided that perhaps he was still not cured and perhaps he hit his head hard, and this is certainly good, because then she would continue to take care of him, he thought. But it turned out that he had already recovered and the nurse sent him and the lady back to the classroom.

He looked at you and Izuku and at your warm relationship, and more and more often caught himself thinking that he was jealous of him. You must always tend to Izuku's wounds as well and smile at him, blow on his wounds and maybe even kiss him.

During the sports festival, when Shoto called Izuku to talk, a lady who thought it was strange decided to eavesdrop on their conversation. Shoto talked about the situation in his family and other words that he would definitely win Izuku. Then at the festival, when Izuku fought Shinso and almost lost, the lady shouted loudly at Izuku that she believed in him, that he was her hero and one day the whole world would see him through her eyes and he would become a hero for everyone. And please don't give up, she said. It was her words that made him fight and eventually win. When the lady was going to the restroom, someone grabbed her hand and that person turned out to be Shoto. The lady remembered his story and she felt sorry for him and at the same time she was ashamed that she got into his life so much, which she immediately shared with Shoto and even asked for forgiveness. "It's okay, I wouldn't talk about it if I didn't want anyone to know about it," Shoto replied. However, the words you said to Midoriya are words of encouragement. He would also like to hear them in his address. Please say it. He asked you, and meanwhile his grip on your hands became stronger. You tried not to pay attention to it and smiling at this unfortunate, lost guy like a puppy, you said: "

"Todoroki kun you don't have a bad side or a good side, you are one and the same. There is no mom or dad side. There is only you. Todoroki Shoto. You are Shoto. You don't need to hide your emotions, feel anger, sadness or joy is not bad at all. what a person is made of. Don't let the fears of childhood and other people's instructions spoil your future, your present. Just try to enjoy every day and be yourself, okay?" He stood with a stone face, although a hurricane of feelings and thoughts raged inside him.

And taking advantage of this, the lady quickly said goodbye, snatched her hand and ran back. By the way, without going to the toilet.

Shoto is not stupid at all, but these feelings inside him are alien to him. He does not understand what it is, what to do with it. He is sick? He dies? But why is he then so good and at the same time bad. Especially when he sees you with someone else. Why do you want the whole world to disappear and only the two of you remain. So that you can always take care of him and support him. His sister told him it was love, and she seems to be right. And while Shoto did not know what to do and how to deal with these feelings, he decided to keep you closer to him, scaring off potential rivals with his whole appearance.

What provoked:

Since Shoto courageously and steadfastly realized and accepted his feelings for the lady, he decided not to hesitate and, like a real man, start courting his lady. After reading all sorts of useful and even stupid tips from the Internet and even buying a book: "How to care for a lady of the heart. A book for dummies"

And so he decided to be with the lady all the time, buying her sweets, straightening her hair, making strange compliments like: "I think if you were yourself, you would be hot yourself, because you are very warm. And although I like cold soba , soba like you, I would love even more" And of course you did not know how to react to this. Er...Thanks? Maybe...

Once Shoto, who masterfully learned how to manipulate you, his lady, asked to sleep with you at night, saying that he had a nightmare and he pressed his face against your chest all night and at some point even began to cry, remembering all the bad things that happened to him It happened. And you had no choice but to stroke his head and whisper soothing things. Since then, he constantly asked to cuddle up to your chest. He asked me to stroke him, to calm him down. He kept talking about how hard his life was and what a bad day he had today. But if you, his lady, hug him and let him lie on your chest, the day will be much better. He monopolized all your time, not allowing you to communicate with other people. If someone came up, he always looked menacingly at this person, and if you, God forbid, began to communicate closely with someone, he would start a real tantrum. And he could even freeze the poor fellow who dared to approach you. Your friends, who noticed such a special attitude of Todoroki towards you, suggested "maybe the cold prince is not indifferent to you? M. Suddenly he fell in love." To which the lady replied that she did not. Shoto just wants friends, wants attention and affection. For him, all this is new and he does not understand how to be friends correctly (although in his heart he doubted his words) and besides, she does not like Shoto. Lady too loves freedom, live communication. Shoto is just her friend. She knew this for sure. But she did not know that Shoto was behind the wall and heard everything.

But how is it? You... don't like him? But it's not mutual. Shoto thinks you two are perfect for each other. And you don't like him? And suddenly you like someone else. Like Izuku or Kaminari? An unbearable thought. God cannot be so evil. After all, Shoto experienced so many bad things in his short life, and when he met you, he was sure that you were given to him for all the suffering. To pay back all the years of torment and pain, you had to love and support him. And now you're saying such terrible things. No, that can't be true, maybe you just don't understand how much Shoto loves you, maybe you want proof. Certainly. He squeezed the handle with his hand, gloomily looking down at his feet:

"I love you, love, love. Madly. And you, love me. Honey, I will do everything ... In other words, the process is running.

Abduction:

Shoto wouldn't want to force you to live with him. In his dreams, you would have gone with him voluntarily. He believes that the whole problem of his father and mother is that he was cruel to her and not in their relationship itself. And because he will be extremely affectionate, and will never raise his hand to you. Shoto will act carefully. I use every possible way. He wouldn't even hesitate to ask his father for help if he had to. M, what is it? Did your apartment where you lived burned down? Do you have problems with money, but don't want to contact your parents? Has there been a riot in the area where you live? Yes, it’s probably not safe to live there now. But don’t worry! Shoto wouldn't be a friend if he didn't offer you his help. You can live at his house. He can solve all your problems himself. Money is not the problem. As soon as he persuades you to live with him, you can be sure that you will not leave from there. Shoto will look for excuses, each time leaving you more and more in their house, until one day he simply stuns you with the words they say "come back home? But here is your house, with me, oh dear, have you forgotten? We will soon get married. It's okay to live together before marriage, but if you're worried about it, perhaps for some religious reason, then Shoto can arrange for the two of you to have a wonderful wedding in no time."

And if you resist, you try to run home, Shoto can even tie you to the bed using a bracelet to block your quirk. And if you think that his father, or one of his family members, will help you, you are very mistaken. They have never seen Shoto as happy as he is now, and therefore it is better that they pretend that everything is fine in "your" family. After all, not such things happened in their house.

Shoto is a young man, with great energy, with a lot of stress, in the midst of puberty. Previously, before meeting you, things of an intimate nature were of little interest to him, but now everything is different. Even earlier, he thought how good it would be to start living an intimate life with you, kissing, giving each other warmth. Isn't that what lovers do? And the sight of your breast makes him have a burning desire to expose it completely, lick and suck, because it is so soft and elastic. And it smells good. But now, he has every opportunity to turn all his fantasies into reality. Shoto won't force you, at least right away. But his patience has a limit. And so, one day, it breaks. He believes that if he made you cum, then this automatically makes your sex voluntary. Otherwise, why do you cum on his tongue and fingers again and again. You can cry and scream, but Shoto sees that you feel good. He prepared well, learned a lot on the Internet. He will make you happy. But you can even say your preferences, where do you like it? Here? Maybe here? Do you want him to suck this charming bundle of nerves, or maybe hit him with his tongue? And only after he makes you cum several times. He decides to proceed to the most important thing. And when you see how he undresses, how he exposes his cock and directs it into your entrance, your body, previously clouded with the pleasure of orgasm, starts to panic again.

"Don't be afraid," Shoto says, "It won't hurt," He promises.

It hurt.

As soon as he entered you, he seemed to forget about everything in the world, the feeling that he experienced was the most pleasant in his entire life and he was lost in this feeling. Your walls are so soft and warm. They seemed to have been waiting for his cock all their lives. They hugged him like that, as if not wanting to let go, but Shoto himself did not want to leave, he could be buried in you forever. It went in and out of you again and again, chasing that unexplored feeling that was approaching. Holding your hands tightly against the head of the bed and kissing your mouth. He stuck his tongue so deep into you, never ceasing to enter and put pressure on all your sensitive points. He was like in paradise. He finally became one with you, body and soul. You didn't even have time to ask him to pull it out when he finished painting your insides milky. What if you get pregnant? But you didn't even have the energy to start worrying about it. All later. Now I just want to sleep. But Shoto has other plans. One time wasn't enough for him. He still had strength, and the night had just begun. Come on, he knows that you can take him again, and come again and again. Shoto will help you. He knows you want it too. And even after Shoto has had sex with you several times, he won't want to come out of you afterwards, wanting to be in you all night. Closer to him. Shoto knows that this is not enough for him again, but you two still have a whole life ahead of you. In the meantime, you can sleep, dear. After all, in the morning Shoto will still wake you up to continue.

[flowersandbigteeth]

Your alien husband deals with gangsters

General Plot: After a rough trip to the beach, you're getting some rest when you get an unexpected visitor. Idreod also has a meeting with the man who sold you.

Kherae Alien (Idreod) x female reader with glasses

Word Count: 3k

🌶️ NSFW MASTERPOST 🌶️

W: there's a lot of plot going on in this one, but there is also a smutty scene 😘, vaginal sex, forced marriage, yandere vs. yandere, violence, some breeding talk

When you arrived back at the tower Idreod tucked you into bed and insisted that you rest. You didn’t argue with him. Almost dying was exhausting and you still felt a little faint. You would have been happy to cuddle with him more, but you didn’t want to cling to him. 

He’d shown surprising warmth, but you didn’t take it for granted that he was a cold and calculating man. You shouldn’t push your luck with his affection. This was a contract marriage, after all. 

Your heart fluttered as you thought of his head between your legs earlier. Would it be foolhardy to hope that your future husband liked you? You hesitated to get your hopes up. He was so powerful, his rejection would be crushing. If he became cool to you, you weren’t sure you could handle it. 

You jumped at a scrape at your window. The balcony door opened and Dessin appeared. 

“Dessin!” you shrieked, “what are you doing here?” 

He held up his hands and gave you a disarming smile. 

“I mean no harm! Idreod has banned me from your floor, so I had to come in through the window,” he explained as if that made it okay. 

You crossed your arms over your chest. 

“What do you want?” youasked. 

He pouted like a sad puppy. 

“I just wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said, pulling the blankets up over your chest. 

He held up your necklace in his hand and you realized it wasn’t around your neck. 

“You dropped this in the water,” he said, crossing the room. He leaned down and lifted your hair to place it around your neck, but you wriggled back uncomfortably. He was too close.  He frowned at you and his hand came down on your shoulder, pinching it a bit. 

“What the vrex do you think you are doing here?” Idreod’s deep voice echoed in the stone silent room. 

You realized how things looked. You were only half dressed in a pair of cotton panties and a chemise you’d put on when you’d gotten back. Dessin had his knee caging you in, leaning over you intimately, his fingers in your hair. 

Before you realized what was happening Dessin flew across the room smashing his armoire to splinters. Idreod’s eyes were molten metal and his face carried a deadly fury. 

“I told you never to come here,” he growled, stalking across the room towards his brother, “so you sneak into her window like a thief?!” 

He kicked Dessin in the stomach.  

“You. Spoiled. Little. Brat!” he hissed, kicking him with each word. 

Dessin coughed and spat blood. 

“Idreod!” you shrieked, grabbing him by the arm. His hand flew back and he accidentally swatted you. You fell back onto your bottom and he turned on you, his eyes wide. 

He crouched down next to you, panic on his face. 

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he asked, his hands cupping your cheeks. 

You blinked up at him. 

“I’m fine, but you have to stop you’re going to hurt your brother,” his eyes searched yours, frantically before a shame creeped over his face. 

“See?” Dessin muttered from the pile of wood that used to be furniture, “I told you he’s nothing but a monster.” 

“I’m- I’m- sorry,” Idreod snarled, grabbing Dessin by his collar and dragging him out of the door. It slammed behind them. 

You grasped your chest and fell back on the cold floor. Idreod was frightening. Could you really marry such a violent Kherae? 

–

The next day, when you met Idreod for training a wall had developed between you. 

“Review these ledgers,” he said tightly, dropping a tablet in front of you. 

You let the silence grow as you worked quietly in his office. Finally when you couldn’t stand it anymore you spoke up. 

“How is Dessin doing?” you asked. 

He audibly growled. 

“Why do you care about Dessin?” he snapped. 

You rolled your eyes, while your head was turned so he couldn’t see, before facing him and putting your hands on your hips.  

“Because you beat him all to shit yesterday! He’d better still be alive!” you barked back. 

“He’s alive!” he said, sharply, “shall I send him to your bedroom again so you can finish whatever I walked in on?” 

You gasped and clenched your fist. 

“Idreod Zovith I don’t know who you think you are talking to, but if you ever disrespect me like that again I will be out that door so fast your purple head will spin. I’ll protect my father with my own two hands and my teeth if I have to, but I will not live under the same roof as some arrogant man who thinks he can speak to me any kind of way! You can buy yourself another little bride and I will take the bus right back home!” 

His cheeks darkened and his face oscillated between offense and surprise. He hadn’t expected you to talk back to him. He slid his chair back with a loud squeak and closed the distance between you. Your heartbeat picked up and you wondered if you’d pushed him too far. 

“You’re right. That was foolish, forgive me,” he whispered. 

You blinked and he grabbed you, pressing his mouth to yours. You squealed, your arms going around his neck. You couldn’t help yourself. His lips were delicious. 

You felt his arm sweep your knees out from under you and you heard whatever was on your desk clatter to the floor. He loomed over you as your bottom hit the desktop, dragging kisses down your neck. Beside you, his hands dented the wood. You felt his hot breath in your ear. 

“The idea of anyone else touching you drives me insane,” he huffed, “I’m never this out of control. I’m afraid of what I’ll do.” 

“I don’t want anyone else to touch me,” you murmured into his hair. 

His thick finger dragged between your breasts, popping the buttons of the tidy dress the maids had folded you in that morning. 

“Really?” he asked, his voice gravelly, “you don’t like that he dotes on you?”  

Your hands drifted up to one of his horns and you stroked it. 

“To be honest, I don’t like Dessin coming to my room, it frightens me, but that doesn’t mean you should hurt him,” you said quietly, “you are still brothers.” 

He growled, nudging the cup of your bra out of the way and clamping down on a nipple. Your eyelashes fluttered and you stifled a moan. 

“He needs to understand that you’re mine,” he grumbled, his tongue circling the hardened nub. A firm hand drifted up your skirt, pushing aside the layers of fabric that made the petticoat. 

“Gnngh!” you groaned as his fingers found the lace of your panties. 

“Say it,” he demanded, sucking your nipple back into his mouth as you felt him seek out your clit. 

“Yes,” you murmured, your other hand finding his other horn, “I’m yours.” 

It was impossible to disagree with him, he had you hooked. His big strong hands all over you were addictive. You knew you couldn’t let yourself fall too deeply for him, but lust was a slippery slope you weren’t equipped to battle. You were like magnets, drawn to each other. 

“I need your body (Y/N),” he growled, ripping the dress off of you with one snatch. Suddenly you were trembling underneath him in just your bra and panties. 

He glanced up at you, his eyes hungry. The sensitive Idreod was buried beneath the predator in front of you. 

You heard the ripping of fabric and your underwear went to the floor with your dress. He trailed a thick finger down your neck and between your breasts, following it with his eyes. 

“Stunning,” he said softly. 

He lowered his head again, licking your breast. A hand glided up the inside of your leg, pushing them apart. 

“I’m going to make you mine,” he promised. 

His thumb found your clit, while his two fingers buried themselves in your dripping pussy. Meanwhile he covered your nipples in kisses, nibbling occasionally and leaving dents in the skin. You panted, clinging to his horns. You were defenseless against him while he released his passion on you. 

You heard his zipper and gasped, your cheeks flushing. Was I ready for this? You didn’t have time to think about it, as he lifted you up and slammed his mouth against yours, pulling your glasses off of your nose. Your arms and legs instinctually wrapped around him and he took a few steps until you felt the wall behind you. 

“Take me,” you begged into his mouth. That answers that. 

He let out a long growl and then you shrieked as his cock invaded your channel in one smooth stroke. Your back hit the wall, knocking the breath out of you and you barely had time to take another before he pulled out and slid into you again. 

His kisses were heavy and wet as he panted into your mouth. Your nails dug into his neck and you knew there would be scratches there, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He rutted you, slamming into you over and over again while he plundered your lips. 

Your eyes met and you realized the truth in his words. This wasn’t just sex. He was claiming you. 

“Let me keep you,” he whispered into your mouth. 

As he drove into you ecstasy built like a teapot coming to boil. You lost track of conscious thoughts, surrendering your body to him. His thumb found your clit and he circled it, sending you screaming over the edge. He held your limp body against him as he took his release inside, roaring. 

He gently carried you over to the couch in his office and set you down, then pulled his shirt off and wrapped you in it. 

“Do you want to have a nap?” he asked and you nodded. Who refused an afternoon nap? 

He went to his desk and called for Airies. 

“Bring blankets!” he barked into the comm. 

He arrived a few minutes later with a stack of quilts in his arms. 

“I’ve brought the blankets you’ve requested,” he said, dutifully keeping his eyes averted from you. 

“Good, get out,” Idreod snapped, chasing him away.

He carefully arranged the blankets in a nest around you and kissed you on the forehead so you let yourself drift off to sleep. 

Idreod worked quietly while you napped on his couch. He could have sent you to your room, but he liked watching you sleep. 

He was tempted to wrap myself around you, press you into his chest and never let you go. He shook the thoughts from his head. He was going insane over you. He rubbed his eyes. You already scrambled his thoughts, but you’d taken his heart and shaped it with your warmth. He needed your softness. Now that he had you he was addicted. His cheeks heated and he paused, his finger hovering over the tablet. 

She was an ill gotten gain. He shouldn’t have cared. You belonged to him, he’d paid for you. He was going to marry you in a few short weeks and impregnate you with his child. But we're you really his? Would you spend your life looking at him through ambivalent eyes? Would you even have looked his way if he’d met you on the street? He chuckled. He’d never know because when he rescued you, your glasses had already been destroyed. He sighed at the silly thought and how badly he wanted to know the answer. 

It angered him that his brother’s words were echoing in his head. 

You can’t give her love. 

He’d never loved anyone before. His only relationships had lasted a few short hours with pleasure workers until he got bored with that. They were impersonal and dull. Idreod didn’t understand what Dessin found so fascinating about them, he hadn’t even let them kiss him. 

You had been his first kiss. It occurred to him how desperately he wanted you to love him back. His heart sank at how impossible that was. He’d bought you, treated you like an object. He was forcing you to have his child. He would never know if your affection for him was real or if you were just placating your owner. 

Maybe that’s why he beat his brother so badly. He knew his words were true. He should have given you to him to start with. You would have fallen in love, driven together by how much you despised him. Maybe you still would. 

He couldn’t erase the image of him touching you so intimately from his mind. Your cheeks had been glowing, your eyes large and wet. The strap of your camisole had slipped off of your shoulder where his arm had been clutching you. 

The tablet in his hand crunched in his fist. 

“Master, there’s a Mr. Typhon here to see you. I told him to make an appointment, but he assured me you would want to speak with him since it is about the future archduchess.” 

Idreod growled. 

What did he want? He’d paid his fee in full and you had shown up as promised. There should be no business left. Still, he had to find out what he wanted. 

“Send him to a conference room, I’ll  met them there…and have a new ladies’ outfit delivered to my office. Take care not to disturb my fiance. She is sleeping,” Idreod said as quietly as possible into the comm. 

“Of course master,” he said. 

He rose and walked across the room to where you slept peacefully with a small smile on your face. You seemed happy enough. Was I overthinking it? He wanted to kiss your cheek, but he didn’t want to disturb you, so instead he pulled one of the blankets under your chin. 

–

“What can I do for you Mr. Typhon?” Idreod asked the human with his feet on his conference table. He took a seat in a chair across from him and steepled his hands to hide his annoyance.  

“Ah Archduke. I knew you would come,” he said, grinning. He was large for a human with spikey blonde hair Idreod found obnoxious. 

“Are you enjoying your little fiance? I always thought she had a nice set of tits. Too bad about the glasses. Heh. I probably should have given you a discount for that. 

“She really hit the jackpot with you didn’t she? Simple woman like that turned princess…a real fairy tale.” 

Idreod gritted his teeth. He was already trying his patience. 

“What are you here for?” he asked tightly.

Typhon sucked on his teeth and linked his hands behind his head. 

“I’ve been thinking, what would happen if it somehow leaked that Kherae royalty bought a human female? That would break the treaty, wouldn’t it? You’d be punished pretty heavily. The king would have to make a big show of it to satisfy the human government. Your assets would probably be frozen. The damage it would do to your family name would be unspeakable, right? If she’s pregnant they’ll execute you for human trafficking and exploitation.” 

Idreod glared at him. 

“So you’ve come to blackmail me?” he asked. 

He cracked his neck. 

“Think of it more like an insurance policy,” he said, “silence can be bought for a monthly fee and let’s be honest. We both know you have the money.” 

Idreod gave him a chilly smile and rapped the table.

“You’re right,” Idreod said, “I can afford to pay a service fee for my purchase. How much do you want?” 

“In the spirit of the initial transaction, I think 300,000 a month should do it.” 

He tipped his head at him. 

“I’ll have my aide arrange it,” Idreod said, “I’m glad we could resolve this peacefully.” 

“You uptight corporate types are all the same. No pride. That’s what makes you easy to deal with. It’s pretty pathetic if you ask me, but your cash is still green.”

“If that’s all Mr. Typhon,” he ground out, “I’ll be going.” 

“Tell whats-er-name I said hi,” he laughed cheekily as Idreod left the room. 

Idreod was going to have his tongue cut out, he decided. He had no intention of paying his fee. He’d hoped Typhon would be smart enough not to go this route, but since he had measures would be have to be taken. It was stupid of him to assume a Kherae who would buy a woman and force her to have a baby wouldn’t do every other dirty thing to cover his tracks, including wiping the city of Brent Typhon’s organization if that’s what it took.

[silentwillowwhisperer]

Agree or disagree?

Wow, you probably want a one-word answer, but I'm gonna give you a paragraph (or maybe 7).

I feel like Lance would be laughing hysterically and nope out of the situation. Keith would probably scream or punch a wall first or at least have a lil broody moment to panic, but yeah after that he'd try to get out of it. Though, is this before or after the lion switches? Are we assuming that this is an au and the lions never happened? Because after the lion switch, Keith could probably be moved to the same category as Lance. But if it's before the lion switch, Lance would be moved to the same one as Keith/Hunk.

Though, yeah, Lance doesn't have enough self-value to believe that he's the chosen one. I think Keith would say no in a more, 'I don't care about your freaking prophecy, let me be broody and emo in peace.' They're both super insecure.

The one with Shiro made me laugh. It is SO spot on. Poor old man just wants a break. I think if this is after the lion switch/Kuron, then maybe Keith would be the one to jump in and be like, 'Nuh uh, stay away from my brother, if he dies again I am gonna be SO PISSED.'

Pidge... yeah. No explanation needed. There's a reason I'm emotionally attached to her/him/them. This angelic demon child must be protected.

Hunk! Poor Hunk. No, leave him out of this, I can see him giving them the biggest, saddest puppy eyes while he says that. He doesn't want to be the chosen one, I feel like the entire team would jump in and try to prevent that. But because he's a perfect angel, he would accept it to help him team and STOP IT THIS MAKING ME SAD.

Sorry bout that. Let's not talk about Hunk anymore.

Allura would see this as an obligation that she has, as a princess and as the (sort of) head of the Voltron coalition. She means those words completely, and will not let anyone down no matter what because this poor bean has too much pressure on her. The whole show was made to portray her as a serious, regal leader. However, she clearly has a dorky side, and her whole role/character would be so much deeper and engaging if this were a bigger part of her personality. 'I will not let you down, and I will be completely serious about it, and you will see the transition from when I was that fun older sister who you can confide in, to the scarred older sister who has seen far too much for one lifetime.'

Can we add Coran in? Because he would be in the same category as Allura, but he would whip out a cape from somewhere and be like, 'Yes! I knew this day would come! I will not let you down!' while twirling his mustache. (Holy crap I just heard his voice in my head crystal clear saying those words. His accent makes it sound so cute!) Coran Coran the Gorgeous Man saves the day! (And he would fulfill the prophecy perfectly, and there would be a giant parade with Coran-balloons and aliens swooning anytime he winks in their direction.)

So, yes. I agree with you.

[suttttton]

Oh gosh, so i just read your jonelias fic, the soulmate name one where Jon has Jonah magnus on his arm and he's all lonely. Boy did this entirely rewrite my brain actually. So i thought i'd ask, do you pretty please have some crumbs of how you think the story could wrap up? Like would elias try to woo jon? Would jon refuse him because, jonah magnus? Do you think the gang would find out about the whole body hopping thing at the same time as in canon or before, because jonah just drops the ball?

Also, maybe i just have piss poor reading comprehension (i kind of do tbh) but why did jon stop talking to the portraits after leitner's death? Did he just go like, oh that's creepy elias might be watching actually. Also i'm wondering what the tim&jon argument was about... Oh, them being trapped here because of jonah magnus himself? I guess that would explain it. Generally any tidbits of information you'll be willing to share, i want to hear it all i love this fic so much it's so good.

Would Elias in this au be more gentle and less willing to throw jon at every horror ever? Or is it sad toxic yaoi?

Sorry for rambling uwu ahah

(For anyone who doesn't know, this is the fic in question.)

I'm so sorry it's taken me 60+ business days to respond to you! This ask inspired me to write a little bit past the ending, which took some time, and then I got my job at puppy kindergarten and completely forgot about until.

UNTIL just now when I found it in my drafts, SO part of that is at the end of this answer under the cut.

To answer your other questions: Jon stops talking to the portraits because he finds out that Jonah Magnus was a Bad Person. Jon has been imagining Jonah as a character something like Gerry, burning the Leitner books and protecting people. After he talks to Leitner, he knows that Jonah was,,,,,,,,,,,, not that.

As for Tim and Jon's argument, I think during that s3 era of canon, they get into a lot of fights that basically boil down to "Tim is very angry that they're trapped here and Sasha is dead and Danny is dead, and Jon is his only available target." And in this world they have the added twist that Jon has been metaphysically assigned to The Evil Guy Who Started It All, which,,,,, does not help.

Thanks for your ask! I really like this story and it's been really fun thinking about it further.

EPILOGUISH:

The moment hangs suspended, Jon's eyes on the floor, Elias' locked on his own name scribed on Jon's skinny wrist like an accusation. His head spins with a rush of emotion, nothing he is prepared for, nothing he ever expected to feel again.

Then Jon's gaze flickers to his wrist, registers the alien colour, and his eyes widen and he jerks his hand away, shattering the silence. Jon cradles his wrist like it hurts, staring at it with his mouth slightly open.

Elias braces himself for Jon's gaze to come back to him, to look into his grey eyes and realize that they are far too old for his face, for him to make the connection. A moment passes, then another, and Jon just stares at his wrist, one of the immutable columns of his life suddenly upended.

Elias skims his mind, curious, and he has to stifle the urge to laugh.

Jon is thinking, with a racing mania that borders on panic, about ghosts.

Elias feels an enormous rush of tenderness towards him.

"I don't understand," Jon says finally, quietly. More to himself than to Elias. "This--this can't--"

Elias decides to twist the knife. "Perhaps our founder is pleased that you've aligned yourself with his god."

That gets Jon's attention, and he looks at Elias with fear in his eyes. Yes, yes, this is what has so thoroughly captured Elias' attentions these pasts few months. The way Jon's mind stutters and slips, trying to find purchase on his panic-smoothed thoughts. The way his eyes widen, showing off the lovely darkness of his eyes. The way he trembles and hates himself for it, his tight grip holding his control close.

Jon goes, and Elias' eyes follow him. He sits down behind his desk and smiles.

***

Jon doesn't register what Elias says to dismiss him. He simply rolls his sleeves down and returns to the Archives, avoiding his assistants like a man hunted. He sits down at his desk and his sleeve rides up his arm, revealing the accusingly black edges of his soul mark.

So he gets up and puts on his coat, the thicker sleeves making him feel more thoroughly covered, more protected from prying eyes. He sits down again and tries to relax, tries to turn his mind back to the research that so desperately needs to be done, the end of the world at stake--

His mind keeps wandering, imagining one of the others coming in and demanding to inspect his soul mark.

Never mind that no one has ever done that, that no one would ever do that. He can too clearly imagine what the reaction would be, if any of the others found out what has happened. Bad enough to have the name scrawled on his wrist; to have the bond suddenly, impossibly accepted? What ideas would the others draw from that? What conclusions could they possibly come to?

What if Tim saw it?

What if Daisy saw it?

What does it mean?

He gets up again and leaves the Archives, not sure where he's going, just sure that he needs to move. His mind is racing, and he clutches at his wrist like it hurts. Nothing makes sense, anymore, not that it was making much sense to begin with.

Nevertheless, the shock is familiar. All of it is a plunging from stability into cold loneliness, all of it terrifying. He doesn't want Jonah Magnus to accept the bond. He doesn't want Jonah Magnus to be a willing servant of evil. He doesn't want his soulmark to be grey and unnerving. He doesn't want any of this.

His wandering takes him past a portrait of Jonah because it's his Institute, and they are unavoidable. Jon has been trying to avoid their gaze since he returned from his Elias-caused exile, but now he stops. He studies the face that he knows so well, that is as familiar to him as any of his flesh-and-blood acquaintances.

He shivers.

[veearrifarrariboom]

Got bored in class here’s a little Captainx2 but bad ending where the go back in time. You know the drill.

“-And you're sure he’s not some alien clone or something??”

Their minds started to stir at the muffled noises around them. It sounded like talking? But they weren't too sure. Maybe they just slept in again, or…did something happen? He knows that he should’ve been more quick in getting up but they felt so drowsy. Leo thought about taking a bit longer laying down in the surprisingly comfortable bed, but against his will their eyes slowly opened. It was all blurry, there was light, he squinted, he could make out a group with bright colors around their head, then he saw a blurry figure coming closer to him. His vision cleared at the figure.

“Casey…?”

“Sensei! You're awake!”

With the sound of his voice to reassure him Casey was actually there, he started to feel a strong sadness but also pride built up in him.

“Casey!”

He lunged off the bed ignoring the stinging at their side and engulfed the boy in a hug, patting his hair with their non metal hand.

“Casey I thought I’d never see you again…” Tears began to sting their left eye.

“I know I thought you were…but you're here! You're really here!”

“I’m here Casey, we're here.”

After a few more seconds of their tearful hug someone gave a loud-obviously fake- cough. They looked up from Casey's shoulder to the group of familiar faces all with color coded bandanas, The younger versions of their brothers and themselves. They were so happy to see Casey again that they forgot where they were, or when they were- how did they even get here? The resistance failed -Mikey… -time gateway -the laser… -how are we even alive? - how did we go back in time? -Maybe Mikey cast some spell or somethin’ -He never told us he had a spell to do anything like that -Maybe- There was another fake cough and they were snapped back to the present -past? -focus -sorry!

“Ah um- I’m sorry -um Hi” Leo said with his hand still on Casey's shoulder. Terrible opening -well they caught us off guard!

“Nice ta meet you?” They put their metal hand out in front of them. I mean technically we're not meeting them -Well what else am I supposed to say Leo? Nice ta ‘technically’ meet ya? -I don't know! The younger turtles glanced at each other and started pushing at each other. They kept squabbling and pushing until Raph was pushed in front. Do we really look that bad???

“Uh nice ta meet ya...older…Leo..?” He shook their hand with a nervous smile.

Leo? They looked confused and turned to Casey,

“Casey, did you tell them?”

“Tell them what?”

“About Raph…and the whole situation?”

“Oh! Right! um well… it never really came up..? I’m so sorry, Senseis!” He apologized with his hands together and bowed his head, it was kind of funny to them.

“It’s alright kid.” They patted the boy's head. That just means we get to wow some suspicious teens.

“Tell us about what…?” Younger Leo said, squinting his eyes.

The older double stood up to their full height which was equal to the younger Raph’s.

“Alright, you guessed half right on who I am…” Oh brother, they all got their hands close to their weapons -except for Casey, he looked like an excited puppy.

“I am Leo.” He said left hand over his chest. On his right arm, red ninpo started to flare up and twirled above until it took on a huge transparent form.

“And I’m Raph!” He said flexing one arm.

“Raph!!??” The younger turtles all said in unison, jaws dropped. The pair started to laugh at their amusing reaction -maybe a little hard as their side struck them with a sharp pain. Raph’s ninpo dissipated and they were hunched over hands on their bandaged wound. Casey quickly gave them support.

“Get him back to bed, not even a few minutes and he’s already exerted himself.” Doctor Donnie ordered and then they were set back in bed, their side throbbing. Sorry, maybe using my ninpo wasn’t a good idea.. -it’s fine. Even trying to think was hard to do. They saw Donnie dropping something into a tube that they hadn’t realized was attached to their arm.

“Donnie wait! Don’t put him to sleep yet, I have so many questions!!” Mikey was pulling on Donnie’s arm. The pain started to dull and everything became fuzzy again until there wasn’t anything.