#LITERALLY ANYONE ELSE COULD HAVE BEEN PULLED

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ baby daddy!satoru who wants needs you back.

in fact, you should've known he was playing a game the instant that text blinked onto your screen: pick your daughter up from his place, not school. a casual oops, totally forgot it was your day! that sent a shiver of unease down your spine.

what choice did you really have? the entire drive to that too-familiar house, your nerves were a tangled mess. pulling into the driveway, parking crookedly in your haste, the only thing screaming in your head was this used to be ours.

this small, unassuming house, a world away from the sterile grandeur of his old penthouse. the first grand gesture of your marriage had been this new place.

"the bigger the house," satoru had murmured against your bare skin that first night, "the further i'd have to be from you." so, your mornings had begun with tangled limbs and hurried kisses, and your evenings had ended in the same breathless way.

it had been the kind of dizzying happiness you foolishly thought would last forever. but then the cracks had started to show – the endless work trips, the hollow promises of things changing. he had gotten better, ironically, after the papers were signed.

satoru stood in the doorway, that infuriatingly charming, utterly knowing smirk plastered across his face. your gaze darted around the living room, a quick, almost desperate search. "where's she?" you asked, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

his reply was a casual flick of his wrist. "oh, she's at a friend's."

a harsh scoff escaped you. arms crossed tight against your chest, you scoffed, "what? why? i drove all the way out here!"

"you were coming anyway," he purred, those soft puppy-dog eyes locking onto yours. "i can bring her back later. thought we could, you know… catch up."

"catch up?" you repeated, incredulous. "are you serious right now? we're not catching up, satoru. we're divorced."

but those eyes. they always had been your undoing. and somehow, against your better judgment, you found yourself agreeing to this ridiculous "catch-up." you'd pictured awkward small talk over lukewarm tea, maybe a stale cookie.

not this. not being bent in a cruel mating-press, his body a brutal, insistent press against yours, fucking you with a desperate hunger that stole your breath and any semblance of rational thought.

"god, it's been so fucking lo- long since i felt this," he grunted, his hips slamming into you with a possessive force that made you cry out. "this tight little cunt clenching - shit - around me like that."

"ah, 'toru," you gasped, your fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back, clinging on for dear life.

"been even longer si- since i heard you say my name like that." his sweaty bangs were plastered to his forehead, a flush creeping up his neck. his pace was relentless, each thrust deeper, harder, a raw, primal need driving him. he hadn't touched anyone since you, didn't want to.

tears streamed down your face, a messy mix of pain and something dangerously close to pleasure. and that bastard, your soon-to-be-not-ex-husband-anymore, thought you looked beautiful. his thick cock stretched you, filled you completely, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

"did you miss this, huh?" he muttered, his voice thick with lust. "because i fucking did. bet- bet no one else makes you feel like this."

a choked whine escaped you as his teeth sank into your shoulder, a stinging sensation hitting. you can't think of a response, literally. you can't even think of your own name - you can't remember.

all that mattered was the way he was making you feel, the dizzying spiral of sensation. and in the name of "catching up," he makes you come, at least half a dozen shattering orgasms ripping through you before he finally relented, burying his face in the space between your tits.

he looked up at you, panting, a triumphant smile playing on his lips. "so… about moving back in?"

fuck those puppy-dog eyes.

[nightingale-prompts]

Phantom is so Moody

"I don't even understand what I am. I'm a clone so I can't age. But what does it even mean to be a clone? I'm not 100% Superman but I'm still nit like him or Lex? I wasn't born like a normal person so does that mean I don't have a soul?" Kon ranted.

Danny the muti-dimensional godlike being the team had contracted into being their aid slowly shuffled from under his mountain of blankets and pillows and yawned.

"What are you talking about?" He drawled lazily. "Of course you have a soul.

"But I'm like artificially made in a lab." Kon retorted.

"And? So what? Are you telling me I'm wrong?" Danny challenged " Hey stupid, everything has a soul. You, your friends, animals, a tree, a fucking blade of grass, even a kid's toy. If it has energy it has a soul. I'm not talking metaphorically, I mean literally. Souls are a real tangible thing and I will eat your soul if you don't put some food on my sacrificial altar. Also, get therapy."

Kon much like the others had gotten used to Danny. He was mostly all bark and no bite.

As Kon headed to the kitchen to get the god his post-nap snack he heard Danny speak again.

"Also, you can age. Who told you that you couldn't? Age isn't anything but the slow decay of atoms. You are aging. You just aren't changing because your body is so new. Given enough years it'll start to show. Then you'll be no different from anyone else. Granted Superman's race also grows differently. You are so fucking dramatic. You are fine the way you are." The godling huffed, "Ancients, you guys are annoying. You treat existence like it's torture and you'll bearly understand how blessed you are to exist simply because of how un-ideal it is. Look shit sucks, it sucks most of the time but human suffering is caused by humans. You are torturing yourself with all these what-ifs and angst. Just stop caring."

Danny wasn't saying all this to be comforting. He rarely does stuff like that. If anything he was ambivalent to Kon. It still made him feel better though. One thing you could trust about Danny was that he was honest. He could even be helpful considering his job was to be a living encyclopedia of information from beyond the pale. He has always been an asset if you can wake him up from his days long naps.

****

"You sleep all the time." Raven complained.

The Titans were here this time. They needed something from Danny. Something about having to seal a threat away.

"Just death being shy." Danny mumbled curling up on his raised platform. "Now go away."

Raven pulled out a smudge stick of white sage when Nightwing silently held up a hand to stop her.

"Phantom, look we need your help. This issue needs your assistance. We just want info on how to seal this threat properly." Nightwing said.

"Ask Constantine."Danny whined back as he shuffled deeper into his blanket cocoon.

"Unfortunately he can't help. This is Darkseid—"

"WHERE IS HE?"

Immediately he was wide awake. You see there are few things to stir Phantom to his full attention. He isn't inactive out of pure laziness. He lets the hero do their thing and he helps when he thinks it's appropriate. But he will not let anything or anyone harm the planet

*****

"He really doesn't like people," Impulse whispered to Aqualad.

"I still don't understand how the Justice League managed to get in contact with him let alone sign a contract with him. " Aqualad answered.

"Flash said he was pretty easy to convince. Hell he said that Phantom was so docile he let Wonder Woman carry him around. Now he'll practically snap of your hand if you touch him."

"Emm...think about it he must have just been really weak back then. If he was injured badly enough maybe he—"

"Stop talking."

*****

"I still don't trust you. What is your game?" Raven said sternly.

A being with origins like Phantom couldn't really be helping them out of the kindness of his heart. What did he gain from this contract.

"You assume you are worth games."

"Were you sent by my father?"

"Your father, Trigon? That nuisance? A petty demon like that having any say over me? I'd crush him if I ever saw him. He claims to have conquered a billion worlds. That alone makes me want to destroy him. No one OWNS a world. If anything I own all worlds. No one touches my universe, all universes are mine. And if people would just stop touching my stuff I wouldn't be here." Phantom growled furiously.

"So you are just like him." Raven hissed in anger.

"Like I said. I own it. It is my domain. My realm. So no one can destroy it. No one can control it. I make it. Every star, every planet, every person is a product of chaos. It is the universal law. I keep my chaos in check. Trigon, Darkseid, Anti-Monitor—I don't care. If they touch what is mine I will destroy them."

"Anti-Monitor?"

Phantom curled his lip in anger then relaxed.

"He is someone you don't need to be concerned about. Not anymore." Phantom sighed. "Just know; I don't care what you think of me. I only care about keeping things the way they should be. I'd prefer if you didn't trust me."

Raven narrowed her eyes in thought before she relaxed. Then a small smile appeared on her lips.

"No. I think I can trust you."

Phantom immediately frowned. This wasn't the response he wanted.

"I think you are doing this on purpose. I think you want us to dislike you." Raven teased "Phantom do you perhaps have a heart?"

Phantom just sighed, his cheeks were greenish hue. He was blushing. Then went back to his dais to sleep.

****

Phantom was certainly a prickly guy. He was sweet deep down. Everyone could tell after a while. It didn't help that Wonder Woman always gave as good as she got.

"Answer the question Phantom. No cryptic riddles either." She said climbing the dias.

Phantom scrambled to escape as she grabbed him by the ankle and held him upside down.

"That's not fair! Kronos said I didn't have to answer this one. I have permission to tell you wherever I feel like."

"Oh? Then how about not having snacks on your offering plate? We'll burn nothing but vegetables until you tell me."

"How dare you! That's child abuse. You'll be starving me."

"You don't even need to eat."

"I still taste everything you burn. That's force-feeding. That's bad too."

"Just tell me!"

"Fine!" Phantom grumbled "Trevor Barnes...didn't pass over yet. He waits for you in the realms between. You shouldn't know that though. He doesn't want you to know."

"Why wouldn't he—"

"Because he wants you to live for yourself. He wants you to love again. You have a long life ahead of you and he didn't want to hold you back with his memory. Although he contradicted himself because he still wants you to think of him fondly."

Phantom phased through Diana's grasp and retreated to his lair.

****

Phantom was like a stray cat or maybe a spoiled one. He was wary of most people.

But even the most moody cat likes at least one person.

"Phantom I—"

"What do you need?"

Tim had entered the chamber only half expecting Phantom to be awake. Though Phantom was always awake when Tim entered. He guessed he was lucky since he didn't have talk to empty space.

"Eh, nothing. I got put on sacrifice duty. I brought some Bat Burger and cookies from home. I'm warning you now that Wonder Woman said you have to eat a serving of vegetables. So I'm burning them first." Tim placed the steamed vegetables on the offering plate and before he tossed them into the green fire he felt the cold hand of Phantom wrap around him.

"Don't." He said softly.

"It's just broccoli and cauliflower," Tim said still putting it on the electrum disk.

"Don't wanna," Phantom whined petulantly holding Tim in place. His head buried in his shoulder.

"You big baby." Tim sighed.

If anyone saw this interaction they'd be disgusted. The oh-so-great and moody god is l acting like a soft and pitiful little guy. Phantom seemed to have such a unique fascination with Red Robin. To the point he acts completely different if Tim was in the room.

"Two-faced." Kon mumbled as he watched Phantom readily answered Red Robin's every question without complaint.

"He's always like that," Tim said afterward " It's probably because I was the one to help form the contract with him when he was summoned here. The League treated him like a threat when it wasn't his fault he was here. He just wants to keep his distance but he is the same age as us."

"He is?" Kon asked astonished.

[owastie]

archives room robert/bob reynolds x fem!reader (fluff) synopsis: you’re tasked with searching through the archives room to find some information on a new threat m.list \ wc: 1.5k

   "you- uh you mind starting here, divide and conquer?” you look over at bob, hands resting on your hips. 

  the archives room has always been a cluttered mess, avoided by all and enjoyed by none. boxes stack higher than you stand and knick knacks cover the flooring, leaving little room for comfortable movement. however, as rumors of a former adversary flutters throughout new york, you all knew it was time to start checking. and you drew the short straw, literally, along with bob. 

  bob purses his lips, hands clasped behind his back. sallowing hard, his adam’s apple bobs up and down, one foot rubbing behind his ankle. “sure, just, check every box on this side?” he rewords your sentence, clearly making sure every little thing he does is acceptable.

  “yeah, let me know if you see even a mention of this guy’s name,” walking off towards your side, you take a peek back at him, eyebrows furrowing.

  everyone on the team cared for bob, understanding his problems more than anyone else could. you feel that same pull towards him, an unmistakable magnetic pull that he drags out of you. however, you’re still not particularly close to him. even after nearly a year of living together, the room is still awkward when it’s just the two of you. tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

  even now, you look back towards the problem at hand, hair standing on the back of your neck. at first you wondered if it was his powers that made you feel this way. you were afraid of feeling the same emotions you felt fighting him. now, though, you feel as though you have nothing to fear, besides an awkward conversation that could ruin months of progress.

  grabbing a box down, you flip through the different pages, finding nothing of relevance. tapping the top of the box, and then the bottom, it quickly floats to the ceiling. bouncing off of the concrete, it settles into a comfortable spot. “sometimes i forget how interesting your abilities are,” bob looks over at you, seemingly having watched you send it upwards.

  looking back at him, you give him a half smile. “thanks, i mean it’s just gravity, not nearly as interesting as some of the others,” your shoulders move before you can even think, shrugging absentmindedly at his compliment, eyes returning to your work. 

  bob nods, still pursing his lips, as though he wants to say something but is simply too in his own head to do so. looking back at your portion of the boxes, you get back to work, trying to play some melody in your head to drown out the silence. yet every noise bounces off the walls like an echo. the windowless room feeling stale as you grab each box, dust brushing off against your fingers.

  sending another box towards the ceiling, you pull out a new one, lifting off the lid and setting it to the side. inside is a long list of papers, some envelopes shoved in the box. biting the inside of your cheek, you begin to flip through each page. the process is long and boring, each one filled with bureaucratic nonsense. until your eyes scan the very thing you needed, information on norman osborn’s rising empire.

  “robert- uh bob! i think i found what we were looking for,” you look back towards him, grabbing out the multiple stacks of stapled documents, “this is some of the research that tony stark was building on him- this could totally help us.”

  stepping over a few of the strewn items and papers along the archives room flooring, you head for bob. he’s looking up from a position he took sitting on the floor, immediately dropping a glowing crystal of some kind from an old box. standing up, bob steps over one of the taller boxes. as his foot lowers, he doesn’t notice the small upside down sticky note. 

  pressing his foot down, it takes away the grippy feeling of his shoes, instantly causing him to fall forward. reaching out for him, your hand grabs a hold of his sleeve, dropping the papers you were holding. your powers activating as it slowly starts moving him upwards, you along with him. “oh fuck no!” your feet start swaying back and forth, the loss of flooring beneath your feet instantly messing with your mind.

  “y/n- thanks for the save, but could you bring us down now,” bob looks over at you, unsure if he should grab your hand or not, initiating touch that may make this situation even worse.

  “uh, i’m not sure. my abilities work well with inanimate objects,” looking down towards the floor, you reach your other hand to a painting on the wall, grasping against the frame, “but i don’t really understand how it works with living things…”

  you’ve tried multiple times to fully grasp every nook and cranny of your abilities. worked with the new avengers to try to understand every aspect of it. and yet you could never fully grasp the process of causing a person to float. much less one you’re not entirely close with. “okay, so could you use what you have to lower yourself to the ground? pull me with?” bob suggests, looking over at you, his hair swinging in front of his face.

  “no… because our forces will equal out and we will be stuck in one spot.. until i eventually pass out and we fall to the floor. which is not ideal with how tall stark built the ceilings,” you look back at him, pursuing your own lips apologetically, “i’m sorry. i haven’t quite gotten the hang of this yet. not everything at least.”

  bob lets out a deep sigh, laughing in an attempt to brighten the mood, “at least you’re not trying to kill me, so this isn’t too bad.”

  “right, it could be worse,” you laugh with him, trying to ignore the feeling of weightlessness that’s affecting you. you’ve never quite had a fear of heights, especially with your powers, but right now it feels like the scariest thing there is. “okay, how about i grab your sleeves and you grab mine? maybe it’s emotion based? get me to calm down and we lower.”

  bob looks over at you, unsure what to say. it wasn’t his first time in the air, but he really doesn’t want this to be his last. making eye contact with you, his eyebrows lower, softening from his usual wide eyed expression. “okay, let’s try it,” holding out his other arm, you wrap your hands around his covered wrists, him doing the same.

  staring over at him, you take in deep breaths. “what’s your favorite movie?”

  “what?”

  “your favorite movie? just to calm me down.”

  “oh- right. uh, i’ve always quite liked uh the original jurassic park. it was a good movie, i haven’t watched it in a long… long time,” bob tilts his head, looking away as he seemingly searches his mind for such information. nodding your head, you try to think of something to ask him, only to be asked a question that he poses, “what’s your favorite thing to have for breakfast? you usually seem to favor bagels.”

  he looks back towards you, face seemingly warming up as a slight blush crosses his cheeks. smiling, you wonder how he noticed such a thing, when the two of you are hardly friends. “yeah, my grandma used to make homemade ones when i was younger. none are ever quite as good, but slathering them with cream cheese definitely helps some. sorry we don’t talk as much, i’m just now noticing that we’re not as close as the others.”

  “it’s okay, i’m used to that by now.”

  “you shouldn’t have to be though. you really are nice, anyone would be lucky to be your friend bob,” you nod, hands tightening around his wrists, only for you to look down and see your mere feet from the floor.

  bob looks down with you, smiling. letting go of each other’s wrists, you situation your feet against the flooring, finally feeling the sweet floor again. “oh i have never been happier to feel this tile flooring again,” letting out a deep sigh, you look towards bob, who’s already looking at you.

  “thanks for what you said,” he nods, looking down towards the ground. 

  “i meant every word,” nodding, you wait patiently for him to look up, only for your attention to slip from the boxes above, all of them loosing your effect on them as they fall to the ground. 

  slamming around you, they fall into piles of mess, covering the papers you had previously found. dust barrels back into the air, the overhead light revealing every little particle of dust spreading through the open air. “shit,” you press your hands against your hips, looking around the room. peering back at bob, you can see he has a smile on his face, making the idea of searching again not too bad. 

[joeldarling]

hii! could you do an oldman!joel and reader (the flu) but joel is the one who's sick, thank youu🤍

The Flu (Joel’s Version) - Oldman!Joel x F!reader

Summary: Based on this request, Joel is sick and reader takes care of him way too well. The Flu (Reader’s Version) here.

Warnings: MINORS DNI! F!reader, mentions of Abby, literally just porn without tons of plot, no reader description, handjob, blowjob, established couple, delicious oldman!Joel.

Word count: 1.8k.

A/N: As usual, English it’s not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any typos. I am literally so thirsty over oldman!Joel that I loved to write this one. In my masterlist you can find more stuff, spicy and soft, obviously. My requests are always open, feel free to chat with me too! 💌

Joel would never admit it, but he was sick.

It was like watching an animal thrashing against death, trying to fight something inevitable, but he got the flu thanks to an extra shift on patrol that night. The extra hours he'd spent in the snow had done their work, and Tommy had warned over the radio that he would certainly be grumpier and in a terrible mood when he got home.

But, well, Joel could be rude and stupid to everyone around him, except for you, and that proved true the moment he stepped into the home, already warm thanks to the wood burning crackling in the fireplace. His nose was red, his glasses were fogged up and he seemed to be shrinking inside his clothes, which made you stifle a laugh. Weeks before, when you had been sick, Joel had been as attentive as possible, taking care of you in every way imaginable—you would do the same for him, your old man needed all the affection in the world, and you were going to make sure he got it.

“I made you tea and there’s sum’ medicine here from the other week.” You said, holding out the cup and the medicine to him. Joel, despite displaying an unmistakable grimace, swallowed the medicine in one go, just as he drank the tea in a few gulps, trying to get rid of it.

“Thank you, darlin’. Ya’ don’t need to worry ‘bout me.” Joel uttered, his voice hoarser than usual as you approached to steal a little kiss from him. His strong, calloused hands quickly went to your waist, holding you with their usual firmness. Usually, when he arrived from patrol, Joel was always hungry, especially from you.

The whole mood was interrupted by a strong cough before he could do anything else and your laughter was inevitable. Joel would have to give in. You hugged him for a few seconds before pulling away completely and held out your hand towards him.

“The bathtub is ready and warm, waiting for you upstairs.” You said, and he couldn't avoid a smile. Joel wasn’t much of an emotional man in front of people and you understood that better than anyone; after all, his eyes were all the necessary answer about how he felt anyways.

“Just like an angel, my sweet girl. I dunno what I did to deserve ya’.” He held your hand, letting you guide him to the bedroom. The whole house was simple, in the Jackson style, but, Joel being Joel meant that some of the wall colors were more vibrant because according to him they matched you better, and the bathroom tiles contained small drawings of marine animals that he himself had lovingly painted for you as a surprise when you first moved in; all the little things that would bring a bit of normalcy to the end of the world.

As they arrived in the bathroom, Joel looked at you, and it was rather obvious what he desired: company for his bath. You helped him undress even though you knew he could do it all himself, and right after, you removed your own layers of clothing, getting into the bathtub with him. You adjusted your body so that Joel could rest between your legs, with his back against your chest, and it wasn't long before you started caressing his hair, a way to relax him as your fingers moved slowly through the graying curls that smelled of the lavender soap you often traded with the neighbor across the street.

He smiled, even though you couldn't see it, sneezing loudly the next instant. The temperature of his skin where the water wasn't touching, especially his cheeks, was quite high, giving Joel an extra rosy color. He would deny it, of course, but you knew he wasn't feeling well.

You hurried the bath a little so he wouldn't be exposed to the cold air that sneaked in through the windows. You helped him dry off; Joel's back always ached, so you were kind enough not to let him move excessively. When you were both out of the bathroom, properly clean and warm, you walked quickly to the bed to fluff the pillows on his side, helping Joel lie down and covering him up.

You laid down beside him and let him settle with his head on your chest, completely needing extra affection and attention. Joel mumbled with his eyes closed, trying to fall asleep, but you weren't feeling not even a bit sleepy. He started to sweat, dampening the t-shirt he was wearing and transferring to the sheets. You would change the bedding the next morning, so you just took an extra look at him. His sleep, when it came, seemed restless, and you weren't surprised when he woke up half an hour later, startled, his heart racing and looking for you.

“Right here, darling.” You said, and Joel's big brown eyes seemed to calm down instantly. He had felt immensely guilty ever since he had saved you from Abby's hands and prevented a tragedy. It was obvious that the girl wanted revenge, but she felt that killing Joel wouldn’t be enough, and beating you to death was the perfect idea to see him suffer the same as she did once. Some scars were still scattered across your body, but most of the time you just chose to ignore what had happened. “Not going anywhere, handsome.”

You joked, and then accepted when Joel approached, stealing a kiss from you; slowly and hungry, as if the cure for that damn flu was right there on your lips. He held your neck, forcing the rest of your body to lie down so he could reach you in the way he desired, and the warm touch against your cold, exposed skin sent shivers down your spine.

“My sweet, sweet girl.” He murmured, and then, his possessive touch traveled down from your neck to capture your wrist, guiding your hand to his cock. You hadn't noticed that he was already hard; even in his sixties, he was completely obsessed with you and every part of your body, and it wasn't at all difficult to please the old man. “Help me. Touch me.”

Joel pleaded. Despite being a man in the fullest sense of the word, he enjoyed it when you were in control and took full advantage, especially when his back ached too much and you rode him for long hours until he was completely buried inside you, filling you with his seeds and saying the dirtiest things possible while looking directly to your beautiful eyes.

“As you wish, old man.” You said, and then held his cock over the fabric of the black boxer shorts Joel was wearing. With a nod, you motioned for him to lift his hips and helped him get rid of the worn cotton fabric, soon you were holding the long, pulsating length in your right hand, slowly massaging it, especially the head, and paying complete attention to his reactions as you spread the pre-cum that leaked out in circular motions with your thumb.

“Just like that, sweetheart, yea…” He groaned, completely surrendered to you. His voice clearly indicated that the flu was still there, but especially because of that, your movements remained slow in a tease, acquiring a tortuous rhythm. “Please, darlin’, daddy needs you to take care of him.”

Seeing Joel beg was a rare occurrence, and perhaps that's why something inside you gave way, almost melting. You moved your hand more quickly, feeling every vein in his cock pulse against your skin, something your mouth knew so well. But even though you were salivating, you would make him cum that way first, and then in all the other ways he desired, until he was completely exhausted by your side just as he deserved.

“You look so pretty begging for me to make you cum, daddy.” You said, a soft, short laugh escaping your beautiful lips as Joel rolled his brown eyes, tilting his hips towards you.

“Keep goin’, sweetheart. I’ll cum for you.” His hoarse voice, more so than usual, was your only motivation. You moaned, completely absorbed in him, feeling your cunt fucking wet just from the fact of having Joel melting over you. “I’ll cum over your pretty little hands ‘n then I’ll do it inside of you. I’ll make your tight sweet pussy milk my cock so well.”

The words seemed to have an effect on both of you. You didn't stop for a moment, feeling Joel getting closer and closer to the edge of madness and about to cum, just as you felt your nipples brushing against the old t-shirt you were wearing, bringing an even more exciting sensation. You swallowed a groan or two, pushing the urge to swallow him whole and suck every drop of his cum deep into the back of your mind.

But you couldn't resist; when Joel was almost there, you moved swiftly between the sheets and tilted your body, swallowing his hard cock completely, taking it deep into your throat.

“FUCK!” Joel exclaimed, gripping your hair with a mixture of wanting to help you and the urge to fuck your mouth in the most brutal way possible. You breathed through your nose as you were used to and moved your tongue, lightly scraping his teeth in a tease, concentrating all your attention on his pink and wet head. You brought one of your hands to his balls, gently squeezing them, and allowed him to bury himself deeper into your mouth as the adjustment of your positions allowed. “I’m comin’... Honey… Ah…”

It came in strong, hot spurts, and you swallowed absolutely everything, loving how his legs trembled and accepting all that he had to give you. When you raised your face again, Joel's cum dripped from your mouth and chin. You wiped yourself with your thumb, the bittersweet taste that had temporarily invaded your palate as delicious as ever.

“You taste so good, daddy.” You said, watching Joel completely out of breath, his chest rising and falling in a completely congested, extremely flu-ridden mess. “But I fear that now it’s time to sleep and you can fuck me by the morning. As much as I want it now, you have to rest.”

It was the truth, and no matter how much he wanted to argue with you, the discomfort of the flu started overwhelming him now that he was completely empty. You lay back down and again allowed him to settle his body against yours, resuming the gentle caresses through his hair and across his back.

“I love you, sweet pea.” Joel mumbled. “But as soon as ‘m fine, ‘m gonna end ya’.”

It was a promise, and you had no doubt about it; in fact, you could hardly wait.

[tobesolnelyx]

i need fratboy g!p jackie to just get jealous at an party and just takes us upstairs into the bathroom and just fucks us dumb❤️

got few reqs about fratboy jackie getting jealous and fucking reader dumb so here you go <3

NSFW - MDNI

Jackie could be really a bitch sometimes. Especially when someone had the audacity to touch what she considered hers. And you? You’d been hers from the moment you two started seeing each other. Maybe you didn’t realize it then — but Jackie had known it with unsettling certainty. The idea that you might not belong to her simply didn’t register. Up until now, she believed she’d made herself clear.

At least, she thought she had. But when she saw you chatting — laughing, smiling — with some random girl at the party, something cold and ugly began to churn in her gut. You were hers, for God’s sake. You were in a relationship. So what right did you have to flirt with someone else?

Okay, maybe Jackie hadn’t caught the entire conversation. Maybe she couldn’t say with absolute certainty that it was flirting… but it looked like it. And that was enough. You were too friendly. You laughed too loudly. You talked for too long. And that girl? She looked like she wanted to devour you whole. Literally. Jackie had to bite down the heat rising in her chest. That girl had no right. No one did.

So Jackie set her glass down with calm that belied the storm brewing in her, stepped away from the group mid-conversation, and pushed through the mass of sweaty teenagers, scowling at anyone who so much as brushed against her. Her fists clenched tighter with every step — until they found your wrist and wrapped around it with a grip that was anything but gentle.

"Hey, Jax—" you started, instinctively leaning in to kiss her cheek. But Jackie pulled you in close instead, holding you tightly to her chest. Her eyes scanned the other girl like a warning flare. For a split second, she considered hitting her. She didn’t. But she thought about it. You shot the stranger an apologetic glance. The girl quickly looked away — as if she knew better than to cross Jackie of all people on campus.

“What was that supposed to be?” Jackie growled, already dragging you away. You had no idea where she was taking you, but her grip was like iron — sharp rings pressing into your skin. “Mind telling me why you’re acting like a slut?”

You froze at the base of the staircase, staring at her. She was either drunk, furious, or both — because the Jackie you knew, the gentler, composed version, would never speak to you like that.

“Excuse me?” you shot back, yanking your wrist free, ready for the fight now brewing between you. Sure, she could be jealous — but this? This was crossing a line. “What did you just call me?”

Jackie grabbed your arm again, pulled you close, and nudged you toward the stairs. Her palm landed hard on your ass.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” she said mockingly. “If you’re smart enough to flirt with someone else, don’t play fucking idiot now"

Her voice was right at your ear — and disturbingly, a part of you didn’t hate it. This side of Jackie, all fire and fury and dominance... it made your skin prickle.

“Upstairs. Now.” She commanded.

So you did. With little stain that started appearing on your panties under the fabric of your short skirt. Jackie's footsteps echoed just behind you, a silent sentinel ensuring no one came too close. Upstairs, she took your hand and all but shoved you into the nearest bathroom.

She swiftly closed the door behind you, and your gaze dropped to very visible now bulge in her jeans. Your mouth went dry. Of course she had noticed. She folded her arms across her chest and stepped closer.

"Now you want to suck me off?" She arched an eyebrow mockingly. Step by step, she drew closer—until your back hit the sink. "Maybe you should go back downstairs and choke on this girl's cock?"

“Jackie, I didn’t—” you began. Your hands reached for her shirt, but she swiftly caught your wrists. Finally, her hips hit yours and you felt precisely how hard she is against you. Her dick brushed against your cunt through the layers of clothes, making you wetter with each passing moment. You were ruining lacy lingerie you wore just for her.

"You didn't what?" She asked grinding lightly against you. You moaned quietly, wanting to clench your thighs together but she roughly pushed your legs to sides. "Your good at spreading legs open for anyone so keep them wide." She growled and you swallowed thickly.

“You think you can humiliate me like that in front of everyone and flirt with any dumb bitch?" She scoffed sliding hand between your legs, rubbing your clit. You started squirming when her long fingers skillfully were massaging you through the fabric of your panties. "One cock isn't enough for you?"

She pulled her hand away. You whimpered at the sudden loss of contact and tried to press yourself closer—but without a word of warning, she grabbed your hips and lifted you onto the sink in one swift motion.

"Spread your legs open." She gave a command. Then, with deliberate care, she licked her fingers clean—fingers already covered in your arousal. Moments later, her hands slid downward to undo her belt. It fell to the floor with a soft clatter.

"Wider." She said firmly and you spread yourself almost painfully. Keeping your trembling legs in place.

"Jackie..." You whimpered and she gave you hard slap against your thigh.

"Look at me," she ordered, gripping your chin. You found it harder to breathe, your pulse quickening, and you were already dripping wet in your underwear. When Jackie made sure you won't break the eye contact, she pulled her hard cock from her boxers. It was throbbing already, tip was leaking lazily with pre-cum. "And shut up. Or i'll shove you my cock right in your mouth."

For a moment, you wanted to beg her to do it. You wanted to plead for her to hurry, but Jackie had no intention of that, pumping on her cock slowly. Ring on the tip trembled slightly with every movement of her hand. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, as you lay there so exposed, soaking wet and ready, she reached to your cunt again.

You bit your lip to muffle moan ripping from the back of your throat. Jackie pushed your panties to the side, she slid her fingers through your pussy and smeared signs of your arousal on her shaft.

When you were just on the edge of begging, her cock started sliding into you. Her ring deliciously brushed your entranced and you whined from pleasure. Your hips twitched and Jackie pushed her whole throbbing length inside your cunt. She groaned when she was so deep that her balls hit your skin. You had to grip sink tightly to not start shamelessly fucking yourself on her dick.

Jackie always could stop and she definitely wouldn't hesitate to remind you who's in charge here. She started moving roughly ripping out moans from your throat. "Your so fucking tight." She murmured.

Sink was thumping against the wall and your eyes were glued to her cock sinking again and again inside you. Her dick was stretching your walls in fast and hard rhythm. Jackie tightly gripped your hips as she started pumping into you with insane strength. Every movment caused groan from her and your whimper.

"Maybe if i'll stretch your cunt into the shape of my cock, you learn to who you belong to, huh?" she breathed out, picking up her pace. The tip of her cock with the small ring was pressing your g-spot so good that your eyes rolled in the back of your head. Suddenly, one of her hand gripped your hair and pulled, making you moan.

"If i see you one more time flirting with any other bitch, i swear to God that I'll fucking breed you so..." She pushed her whole cock inside you. Skin slapped against skin and she groaned. She moved inside you, stretching your hole. Your velvet walls gripped tightly her dick. "So you'll know who owns you."

You never had so strong orgasm in your entire life. And that night, Jackie make sure to cum right on your face, smearing everything on your lips and cheeks.

[forsaken-headcanons]

Sighhh I LOVE doomed yaoi. Especially supernatural doomed yaoi. /silly

A small add-on to what I previously said! So I mentioned that my idea possibly made Two Time the Spawn's spawn.

But what if that was literal? As in Two Time is QUITE LITERALLY the Spawn's "child". Perhaps a ritual performed by the cult on their mother while pregnant or maybe one of those "god takes form of mortal for the sole purpose of getting game". Either way Timey is NOT entirely human/robloxian.

When they were born, the cult immediately took on all work and sacrifice to make sure Two Time would be the BEST possible vessel or conduit for the Spawn's will.

I mean, who better to carry out your God's will then that God's own blood?

The cult planned for Azure's sacrifice all along. They left Two Time in the dark, and drilled in loyalty to the spawn as well as holding the cult above all else.

So when Amarah points the target and says "shoot.", Two Time will have to choose. The most important person in their world or their parental-figure(?), everything they've been taught and the relationships they may have built with ANYONE else in the cult.

And the whole time they have this itch in the back of their mind. This pull. This pure instinct. Things they aren't aware are the leftovers of The Spawn's own bloodline.

Anyway yahhh. Doomed Yuri between a cultist who may be some form of botanist and his freaky ass, inhuman, partner <3333 :]

(Is it possible that I could change from "💣anon" to "🧪anon"?? Sorry I'm new to the whole claiming anon thing XDKSGVAKAG)

-💣/🧪 anon

we leave this post in the drafts FOR ONE NIGHT 💔💔 /silly /pos

ANYWAYS!! you can def claim that! we'll go change the tags on the other posts later once we're back on desktop again hshsjd

^ EDIT: apparently this is the only post tagged this way?? anywho, if there Are any posts we missed that still has the bomb anon tag, feel free to @ our main on it (@/nonofficial-anon)! we'll edit it for ya :]

anywho onto the headcanon itself!! this is so peak wtf?? the idea is lwk Really creative ngl– like. we can definitely see two time as someone who isn't Entirely robloxian. the thought process behind this is fire as heck we are Yoinking this huehue

[elzifelzi]

PHANTOM

CHAPTER FIFTHTEEN

Chapter 15:Setting Off

Summer break was here and the trio were more than prepared to embark on their journey to what seemed to be the unknown,they had already packed  everything they would need and were all ready  to leave. Tucker revved up the engine of his old Pick up Truck signaling for them to get a move on but Dan and Sam were nowhere in sight, Tucker guessed that they were still in the apartment, he was going to call them but decided against it. Now that Tensions had calmed Dan was finally able to tell Sam Of the events that led to him getting his powers.

Sam:”So the portal blew up in your face and it gave you super powers?”

Dan:”pretty much,yeh”

The goth girl let out a small chuckle.

Sam:”I don't think that's how that works.But you do have the proof to back it up”

Sam:”so, who else knows?”

Dan:”just you and Tucker..”

Sam:”you didn't tell your folks?”

Her questions caused him to grip the backpack in his hand tighter on reflex.How could he?Ghost's ruined his parents' friendship with Vlad Masters,ghosts put a strain on his family. How could he go to his parents and tell them that he had effectively become the thing they hated the most in the world? He was sure they'd shun him even more than they already do.

Dan:”heh,.It didn't feel safe to tell anyone other than Tucker.”

Sam:”Does that include me?”

Her gaze was locked on him but he never met it,he couldn't, he didn't want to be vulnerable and he didn't want to see what he could only assume was hurt in her eyes for not telling her.

Dan:”Yes,I thought about telling you many times but I didn't want to risk you getting hurt because of me.Im sorry”

She grabbed Dan's face and turned it to meet her gaze.

Sam:”Dude, there's no need to apologize I get it!”

Dan:”you do!?”

Sam:”Of course!You’re fighting literal demons on a daily basis that's already hard as hell on its own ,having to worry about our safety on top of that just sounds like even more hell.”

Dan was too stunned to speak,he thought for sure that she would feel hurt or betrayed that he didn’t tell her,he was fully prepared to get an earful and he couldn’t have been more wrong.His look of bewilderment managed to catch even Sam off guard causing a small chuckle to escape her lips.

Sam:”You alright?you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Dan:”I was fully prepared for you to be upset with me..”

Sam:”Comeon dude,remember what I told you,you’re entitled to your secrets.. plusI knew I'd find out eventually “

Dan:”Thanks.”

She pulls Him into a warm welcoming embrace,the heat from her body was a comforting thing to Dan.Ever since his accident his body temperature had been much lower than usual,no doubt a side effect of his ghost powers but the Warmth from Sam's body Almost made him feel human again and he felt like he could stay like that forever however upon realizing how long he was actually holding onto Sam he quickly grew embarrassed and jolted away from her a blush spreading on both their faces as they tried to play it off.

Sam:”So what's the game plan now?”

Sam:”heh heh yeah ... .so when do we leave?”

Dan shuffled from side to side trying with every fibre in his being not not Meet the gaze of the girl who was clearly as embarrassed as he was.

Dan:”In a few minutes…”

Sam:”aren't you gonna like, call your parents to let them know you're leaving?”

Her question left a frown on Dan's face and he once again turned away from her gaze. Call his parents? How could he? They didn't exactly leave things off on the best of terms and as far as he knew they for sure didn't want to speak with him otherwise he assumed they would have done it already. Despite their protests against his field of study they still help him out with his tuition and wire him money occasionally,But as far as communication goes they've been all but radio silent and that was the same on his end he'd never sent them a call or text or anything since he'd arrived he'd had better luck reaching out to Tucker's parents more than his own. Even then after everything he's been through in the past few months what would he tell them? Hey mom and dad sorry for not attempting to reach out in the past year also by the way I'm a ghost superhero now? Ridiculous!There was a part of him that prayed he wouldn't have to face them until he finally graduated. By then it would've been long enough that he wouldn't care what they thought.

Dan:”No, I don't think so,you gonna tell your gran?”

Sam:”I just told her I'd be with you guys this summer and after asking a bunch of questions most of which I had to lie my ass off to answer she Finally agreed.”

Dan chuckled

After chatting a little while longer their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Tuckers car horn blaring through the air. Dan slings his backpack over his shoulder as Sam follows suit.

Dan:”Well it's time to get a move on I guess…”

Sam:”yeah I guess..”

Without any further words they leave the apartment and make their way to Tucker's ride,after putting their stuff in the back they head to their seats. Dan sat in the passenger seat while Sam sat with her backpack in the back seat.

Tucker: “So Sam , where are we headed?”

Sam:”to one of my parents' cabins in an isolated little town..”

Dan:”What's the name of this town?”

Sam:”haunted hallows.”

With those words they took off leaving their current lives behind and they left Amity city,for the first but certainly not the last time. During the ride the crew passed the time by listening to music and having conversations about their interests such as anime, movies and video games. The conversation took a serious turn when Sam finally decided to ask Danny a question that had been weighing on her mind.

Sam:”Danny, why did you decide to be a hero?”

Dan:”Huh, what do you mean?”

Sam:”Well you told me how you got your powers but, it still doesn't explain why you began fighting ghosts. Any other person in your shoes would probably use their powers for Money or fame..so why heroics?”

Dan:”Well I don't really consider myself a hero,but I think half of the reason is that my ghost side gets a thrill from fighting…”

Sam:”and the other half?”

Dan looks out of the passenger window as if recalling something. 

Dan:”...I-I don't want anyone to get hurt,ever since I've gotten my powers people have been put into Danger because of me.Tucker,Valerie,you have all almost gotten hurt because those ghosts were looking for me. I don't want that…..”

Sam Didn't know how to respond but she understood Dan's feelings,the want to protect others to keep them safe she got where he was coming from.

Dan:”And well there's another reason…my dad..”

Sam:”What about him?”

Dan:”Well it's something he told me when I was a kid, he said that the strong can only be worthy of their power if they  used it to uplift the weak.I don't know why but that just always stuck with me and when I fought the box ghost for the first time I remembered it again,I was the one with power and in that moment when Tucker got thrown out the window…it felt like I had to prove I was worthy.”

He became furious.. He hated the fact that he remembered his father at a time like this. He hated that that man still somehow managed to dictate what he did with his life even though he wasn't in it.Sam noticed The change in Dan's expression and immediately became concerned. 

Sam:”Why do you hate talking about your parents so much? What did they do?”

Dan:I don't wanna talk about it. 

He kept staring out the window not meeting her gaze at all and Sam took that as a sign to drop the question the trio then continued the rest of their ride in 

silence. 

After their departure green swirling portal much like the one the Box ghost traveled in opened up again and out emerged Skulker.He marched into Dan's apartment and tore up the entire place looking for him..breaking everything in sight until eventually he had to accept the truth that Dan was long gone. 

Skulker:”so the kid decided to run huh? No matter.. He'll be back eventually and if he isn't I'll hunt him down!!”

It had been 2 days since the gang had left Amity City and while the journey was uneventful they had finally reached their destination at long last they had arrived at Haunted Hallows. The pickup drove slowly through the derelict town looking for signs of life anywhere. 

Dan:”Your parents bought property here?The place is practically a ghost town!”

Sam shrugged.

Sam:”I honestly can’t explain why either..”

They left the town and drove through a thick forest where they eventually arrived at a rather large oak cabin, after parking their ride they began unpacking.After what seemed like an eternity of they were finally unpacked and settled in .Sam gave the boys a tour of the house and when it was over the trio retired to the living room to plan out their next moves over a cup of tea.

Tucker:”So since Noone is gonna say it, lemme be the 1st to. “

The other 2 looked at him confused before finally responding to him in unison

Dan and Sam:”say what?? “

Tucker : “How the hell are we Going to beat that guy? Like think of how strong he was!! “

Dan who did not appreciate Tucker's outburst, crossed his arms and turned away  looking quite annoyed. 

Dan:”He wasn't that strong... I could've beaten him.. if he didn't mute my damn powers.“

Tucker :”No you couldn't!!! That man beat the dog shit out of you.. With only a hook!!”

Sam:”Tucker chill... “

Tucker:”How can you expect me to!? Up until that point in His ghost hunting career the strongest ghost that he fought was the box ghost! And skulker beat him easily!Like he beat you.. Without using any of his ghost powers. “

As Tucker continued speaking Dan's pout evolved into a full blown frown. 

Dan:”yeah, yeah I'm a weakling.. I know.”

Tucker:”come-on man, that's not what I meant.. “

Dan:”But it's true. I got overconfident.. Thinking I was this big shot hero and I lost..”

Tucker:”But even then.. I didn't mean to go off on you like that.”

Dan:”but I deserved it.”

Sam:”don't be too hard on yourself, like from what you've told me you haven't had your powers very long right?”

Dan:”yeah..”

Sam:”then it makes sense that you'd still need practice, Rome wasn't built in a day you know.”

Tucker :”yeah man you'll get better.. and we're here to help you.”

Dan:”Sure, thanks”

He gets up and begins walking to the front door.

Dan:”I think... I'm gonna head out for a while.”

Sam:”alright..remember whatever you do don't go ghost. “

Dan waves his hand dismissively as he walks out the door. 

Dan:”yeah..yeah I won't.. “

He closes the door behind him and leaves, leaving Sam and Tucker to deal with each other. They both continue staring at the door in silence before Sam decides to break it. 

Sam:”Is he gonna be alright?”

Tucker :”What do you mean?”

Sam:”From what you guys told me his Fights don't really go the smoothest so idk i thought he was used to losing but this one seems to have really gotten to him.”

Tucker:”I guess this loss just hits a little too close to home for him.”

Sam:”I don't understand.”

Tucker:”Back in Highschool something happened that sorta messed him up and I guess this loss kinda opened up those old wounds.”

Sam:”Was Highschool difficult for him?”

Tucker:”It was definitely rough,he was constantly bullied and picked on, and his parents didn't make it any easier when he got home. To be honest if it wasn't for me and Jazz I don't know how he'd cope. “

Sam:”What happened between him and his parents?”

Tucker's face went cold at the question. It was as if all the color had left his skin, trying to compose himself he leaned forward and clasped his teacup with both hands and took a sip before placing it down. 

Tucker:”They blamed him for a lot of things that he had no control over, and they weren't too fond of him Going to college to study ghosts.”

Sam:”why?”

Tucker:”If Danny hasn'talready told you then I shouldn't say, all I can say is it took a toll on Danny, He didn't deserve any of it that's for damn sure. He's lucky he had Jazz in his corner.”

Sam:”You really care about him huh…” 

Tucker :”yeah He's my best friend.. I can't tell you how many times he'd stay over at my place just so he wouldn't have to deal with his parents.”

Sam :”damn…. “

Tucker:”eventually got back some confidence when we started college, he even had a girlfriend but he has his moments where he slips back into his High School mentality. “

Sam:”a girlfriend huh…”

Tucker:”yeah they lasted less than a month tho”

He finishes his tea before getting up.

Tucker:”Danny just needs to clear his head for a while.. I'm gonna go to bed. Gnite”

He gave Sam a pat on her back before retiring to his room.

To be continued…

New Chapter out, Beginning the new arc with angst.I hope you guys enjoy.

READ the other released Chapters here.

[awionetka]

𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞! ♤

3, 2, 1, go! love and deepspace boys become street racers (while possibly romancing you in the process)...

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫: slight angst (?), suggestive (some making out and mentions of oral sex), drabble. street racer!Rafayel x car mechanic!reader. could be treated as a preview for a (possible) longer fic.

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 / 𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 / 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥 / 𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 / 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠…

♤ paint the town red; doja cat

♤ perfect; mason, princess superstar

♤ keep up; odetari

The way you ran your car workshop could only be described as eerily similar to the way you’d run the navy.

In the garage, it was either your way or the highway and you would be damned if you ever allowed a man to tell you how to do your own job. And because of that, as well as your love for doing things in spite of those who pissed you off, you weren’t exactly drowning in profits…

Fixing vehicles of all shapes and sizes had been your main source of income for quite some time now; it was a family tradition, no more, no less. However, it rarely covered all of your needs, especially if you included your precious 1967 Chevrolet Impala which your dad deemed an "utter wreck" and advised to give up on. The money for this particular endeavour wouldn’t just make itself though, so you had to step up and dip your toes in something on the farther margins of the societal norms – you became the local mechanical miracle worker to the street racer community in the neighbourhood. Immediately recognised and unchangedly valued for your skill, you managed to obtain quite a set of regular customers, ones that didn’t talk much (which was fine by you) and what they didn’t say, they made up for in funding (which was particularly fine by you).

He was one of them.

Well, not exactly. Much like everything else Apollo had a chance to shine at, the beginning of your reluctant cooperation started in the weirdest way imaginable.

While it is worth noting that he was particularly skilled behind the wheel, this street racer with a codename belonging to a literal ancient god (you were yet to meet a man more self-assured than he was), Apollo had earned himself a reputation of an utmost menace, in its purest of forms.

Brazen, flamboyant and intense, could easily rile up anyone standing against him. Apollo preferred to race one on one, happily offering all of his attention to his unfortunate competitor and was an absolute master of raising the stakes before the race simply by talking.

He didn't look like it, but that was precisely what helped him out. To those not particularly acquainted with him, Apollo could seem rather harmless. Easily using his boyish looks to his advantage, he played everyone just the way he liked. To him, all of this was solely (and strangely, may you add) recreational; Apollo wasn't in it for money or status. And if those two did come eventually… who would he have been to deny them?

And it is precisely that mindset of his that irked his competitors to no end. Just picture this: everything is properly set before the race, bets have been made, cops are nowhere in sight. Then, seemingly out of thin air, the absolute flashiest, most stand offish and peculiar car you’ve ever seen pulls up and he is the one behind its wheel. To Apollo, even the races were an opportunity to perform, so you could be damn sure he was going to be the best dressed person there. Perhaps, if you were to be lucky, you could catch a little glimpse of some eyeliner or glittery eyeshadow too, all that adorning a personality more suited to a rich heir rather than a careless (...?) rulebreaker.

Coincidentally, it was during one of those races the two of you crossed paths for the first time.

The weather was rather gloomy and you were pretty sure it was going to rain cats and dogs in no time. And yet, you showed up, offering your technical skills to those who might've required them; obviously not free of charge. Things were going rather smoothly, you met a couple of your regulars, fixed some minor defects and then he decided to show up.

Before that night, you'd only heard of Apollo and his questionable methods of getting what he wanted. You knew he was a wild card, but you certainly did not expect him to look the part, at least not to such extent. With dark purple hair tousled mischievously and an outfit straight from some high fashion show , he definitely seemed like trouble (especially when you caught him sending you the most obvious, borderline improper wink while passing by).

Maybe it was the weather, or maybe you managed to somehow curse him in the meantime for making your breath hitch so embarrassingly, but his Camaro skidded off course mid race and rammed into the railing, catching fire almost instantly.

Before you even knew what you were doing, you found yourself already halfway there, oblivious to the cars driving by at impossible speed. After dragging his sorry ass out of the car mere seconds before it blew up, you collapsed on the asphalt with him splayed over your body like a starfish. And the moment your eyes met his, indescribable in color and so, so intense, you felt a jolt of electricity race through your veins.

It didn't take long for Apollo to find you again after that. He must've treated the accident as some sort of fated first meeting, because he just simply wouldn't leave you alone. Constantly stopping by your workshop, paying a shit load of money to get you to work on his new Chevrolet, attempting (and failing) to ask you out on a private, two-person and definitely not at all dangerous ride across the city.

And with that display of persistence, you were beginning to warm up to him. You supposed you could have a different view of the man that brought you home cooked lunches when you worked long hours and eagerly acted as your very own, unique podcast host. Apollo wasn't entirely rotten, there still was plenty of charm, intelligence and quick, sharp wit, all of that only amplified by those extravagant outfits and his pretty face.

However, one event changed the way you viewed him entirely, altering the course of your odd friendship forever. You were invited to some house party, one he was apparently at as well. Already tipsy by then, you accepted Apollo's offer to conquer the dancefloor together and immediately got swept up into his arms. And then, well... The two of you sneaked out of the building, disposable cups filled with questionably prepared drinks in hand. You were laughing, laughing in such a way you weren't sure you'd ever experienced before. Leaning against the brick wall, you tried your best to calm down but suddenly he was right there too, staring at you so intensely you were beginning to question your own sanity.

And then, it happened.

It was dark, you could still hear the music even from this far away and your head was buzzing with all the alcohol you drank, but Apollo's hands were roaming over your body and his lips tasted like fresh mint and cherry liquor. He kissed like he drove: tauntingly yet passionately, putting his entire body and soul into that very moment.

You let your fingers sneak past the hem of his shirt, ghosting over the soft skin on his back and he moaned right into your mouth, making your knees buckle.

How come you were missing out on all that? Simply because of your own pretence too. A couple of minutes of his weight pressed up against you and you were already considering asking him out. Apparently you weren't that different from all the other people he'd managed to charm. Oh, well.

If it were to end right here, or rather progress in such direction, perhaps you'd like Apollo a whole lot more. But then, without any warning, in the middle of some cluttered back alley, he sank down to his knees, threw your legs over his shoulders and gave you the absolute meanest head of your entire life.

And here's the thing: after that fateful night, Apollo never bothered you with his presence ever again.

The line up was horrendous. Laughable almost. It would take Rafayel less than a lap and a half to put all of his so called competitors back in their places. And yet, Thomas kept insisting on it.

"That prize could buy you a whole another car, Rafayel," he urged, already exhausted by all the convincing he had to do. "You cannot keep participating in shit that won't get you any revenue whatsoever."

The racer rolled his eyes, returning to the task at hand. "Please, don't make me laugh. It's no fun."

Thomas groaned. "You're unbelievable."

"And my charms don't stop there, right?" he taunted in return, smiling to himself.

"One of the drivers is even backed up by a renowned mechanical crew," Thomas continued, seemingly ignoring Rafayel's quip altogether. "That car of theirs might just be the best one in the game since Onyx and his Challenger..."

Rafayel's ears perked up at that. "Mechanical crew...?"

But his friend didn't even notice the change in his tone, already halfway through the door. "Yeah, the one near the N109 Zone, they made some tweaks in your Camaro once. You better stay on your toes or they just might upstage you."

Making sure Thomas was out of sight, Rafayel dropped down on the nearest armchair, folding his arms behind his head.

It'd been months... Maybe you'd forgotten. You didn't call him, not even once, so maybe you didn't even remember in the first place...? He closed his eyes, reminiscing on the time he saw you last.

Oh, how badly he wanted to do it again.

Raising up from his seat, he briskly followed where his friend had gone off to.

It'd been months and Rafayel was positively parched.

[cloudcountry]

OK THIS MOTHERFUCKER IS TRYING ME RIGHT NOW

[wutheringmights]

If I was brave, I would have made Spirit born without the hero’s spirit

[crossbackpoke-check]

about to be sooo nosy so. my apologies. but. morgan frost? girlfriend? do share (or don’t! again this is so nosy i’m sorry)

for legal purposes i can neither confirm nor deny anything about morgan and his girlfriend but afaik i think he’s single right now? at one point (within the past four years 😭) he did for sure have a girlfriend and that is the extent of my wag knowledge

[deathbind]

Serot's own arsenal of spells and generally how he applies necrotic magic differs from modern day Anactaci. You can clearly see the foundation he laid, but it has been over a thousand years. The order has evolved considerably in that time. There's also the fact that he was reborn at level one and has structured his skills to suit his present needs, but [hand waves]

There are different sects and roles within the Anactaci who call on the Plane of Death in different ways, but certain generalities can be relied upon. Their magic is largely geared toward what would be considered divination. They are the bridge between this life and the next, the messengers of eternity. They commune both with the souls of the dead and with spirits — chiefly spirits / entities on the Plane of Death but spirits of all types, including those like Refhremmit. Indeed, every City of Eternity has one Anactaci dedicated to communing with their patron. It is a sacred office.

Beyond that, their magic is deeply focused on the soul and the threshold between life and death. They are adept at identifying and countering curses or maladies of the soul. They are adept at identifying and addressing possessions or spiritual attachments. The skilled can manipulate the ravages of time on a body or object (a skill shared with the Manthu). The most skilled of all can leave their bodies behind to inhabit ritually prepared objects; these become the teachers of the Anactaci and keepers of the deepest mysteries.

Yes of course, they animate and preserve corpses, either directly or by calling a spirit to inhabit it. This is part of Meketi funerary rites. But, simply making dead things move is only part of their skillset. Indeed, it's the most basic part.

Anactaci are bound by sacred oaths to turn their magic to holy purpose and with a thought for balance always. However, a truly irate or unscrupulous Anactaci could do serious damage. Particularly if they are skilled. Insidious curses and nigh-undetectable possessions (i.e. slowly driving a person to madness with ill luck or nightmares; far worse curses are possible). Yanking a person's soul directly from their body, either holding it captive or causing it to become lost. Learning secrets from spirits or from souls that can utterly destroy a person. Causing them to rapidly age, turning to sun-bleached bone before their eyes, one limb at a time. Or causing them to wither, then return to their correct age, then wither, then return to their correct age — over and over until they don't know whether they're alive or dead. If capable of severing their soul from their body, they can possess others directly, influencing or totally overriding their will. They might not touch a person at all; they might sap all life from their home instead.

Fortunately, such corrupt Anactaci are rare — and swiftly dealt with.

[non-un-topo]

At the crossroads between wondering if it's worth it to basically completely rewrite all my WIPs or just take a break from writing for the rest of the summer

[reignpage]

You've Ghost To Be Kidding

Synopsis: in which you move into a haunted house and are seduced by ghost!sukuna Warning: 18+, porn with little plot, cursing, dubcon?, kinda horror but not scary at all, lots of cunnilingus, fingering, groping and molesting, nipple play, tentacles, full nelson, improper use of a broom, exhibitionism, voyeurism, foot play, blowjob, masturbation, a little somnophilia, monster-fúcking, kinda threesome? ig, classic dumb girl in horror movie with no survival instincts, not proofread Word Count: 2.7k

There’s a ghost in your home. 

You’ve just moved in last week and already you can tell there’s someone else here with you. Things move on their own even though you don’t see them move. You place a book down on a table and you’ll come back to it on the floor. Lights turn on and off on their own. Sometimes they even flicker incessantly for an hour or two, or until you get fed up and leave the room. At night, you hear scratching against the door, things literally going bump and thump, followed by heavy footsteps.

They’re all petty stuff, which is why you can stomach the irritation considering the rent is dirt-cheap. At most, you'll simply roll your eyes whenever the ghost acts up which apparently pisses it off more.

What’s been bothering you most, however, is the fact that the ghost is apparently very fucking horny. 

He — and yes, you know it’s a he because only a man could be so annoying and pathetic — gropes you randomly during the day. You’ll be washing up some dishes, minding your own business as one does, when suddenly, you’ll feel big, cold hands on your hips groping the flesh there. Worse, you can even feel a nose skim the length of your neck, inhaling your scent, and the ghost’ll blow air at your skin as if he’d exhaled in deep satisfaction.

Even when you're just watching TV, sat on the sofa, you'll feel a ghoulish grasp on your ankles, pulling your legs until your feet are held in the air. Something cold, long and hard presses itself against the pads of your feet, rubbing along. Popping popcorn in your mouth, you yawn as the sofa creaks, cold liquid beginning to coat your toes. You don't know for sure what he's doing but you have an idea.

Showering is also another story. Bare and wet, you massage shampoo into your scalp, humming to a song on your phone when it begins to glitch, making record scratching sounds. Your Lizzo song is replaced with heavy breathing and mumblings that oddly resemble the word, 'mine,' on repeat. Big, foreboding hands creep into the tresses of your hair, covering your own. They push and pull, applying pressure around your scalp, really working in your shampoo. With a sigh, you let him do the work for you.

After all, your arms were getting tired. So it seems like a fair exchange for him to grind that, by now, familiar length in between the globes of your ass, nudging you against the wall, threatening to drown you under the barrage of water.

Truthfully, you once considered hiring an exorcist or a priest or something. But once he stopped being so hostile against you and you found a freakish routine with him, the idea flew out the window. Who else would know to open a cabinet with all the bowls for you right after you've picked up the milk from the fridge, so you can eat cereal?

This ghost has been pretty helpful in finding your lost items too. Whether they be your phone, keys, socks, the remote etc. Though, you suspect sometimes he hides those things on purpose so that you'll acknowledge his presence with a, 'Hey dead guy, know where my shit is?'

Sure, your pool of panties is depleting with his clear hatred of them, ripping them up and tossing them in the trash for you to find later, and you can't really invite anyone home since they wouldn't understand. But you can put up with his wandering hands and constant hard-ons if it means you have a nice, pretty house to live in.

Even if everything you do seems to turn him on. Whether that's singing along to a song (a body will press itself behind you, swaying you to the beat and grinding something hard against your back), brushing the floor (the broomstick will find it's way between your legs, the length slotting itself right in between your pussy lips as it shuffles back and forth, eliciting moans after moans from you, covering the wood with slick), or cooking a meal (the sauce you're heating up will wind up on your chest, cool and trickling down the valley your breasts, just about to disappear beneath your low v-neck shirt before something wet and slithering wipes it away, leaving goosebumps in its wake).

And God, apparently dental hygiene turns the damn thing on too. Brushing your teeth, in the morning or night, always involves your breasts being groped. Seriously. Breasts. Groped. 

You feel those same cold hands first cup your tits over the shirt, just feeling the heaviness, weighing them in his palms before you feel fingers flicking your nipples. The friction is repulsive. Really. It makes you roll your eyes. In annoyance, of course. 

“F-fuck off!”

Then, when you’re clutching the sink, he slides his hands under your shirt, nails scratching your skin before you feel its chilling grip on your breasts. That’s when he really gets to work — he doesn’t go gently, no, he’s tugging at your nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingertips as if to torture you. So outraged, you’re left gasping for air, unable to string along words to express how disgusting his touch felt. 

“Don’t even ask me h-how I know you’re smirking. Dick.”

In response, all the bottles on the bathtub fall to a clatter on the porcelain.  

You can’t even masturbate in peace because though the door's closed you know he knows what you’re doing. That door will open, slowly creaking, and a gust of wind will blow over you, announcing his presence. There, under the covers, your fingers are working overtime, rubbing furiously at your clit as you stare at that open door. 

“Seriously? You won’t even let me have this?”

Pussy tingling, you writhe on the bed, spurned on by the knowledge that eyes are watching your face. Deadly quiet, the sloshing sound between your legs echo in the room, mocking and scathing.

When your hand cramps up, you reach over to your bedside table for your vibrator. Pressing the cold silicone to your steamy pussy, you get a moment of reprieve before the battery somehow runs out. 

“Oh my God, you did not. Ugh, you are such a dick. You died and now you gotta make me miserable?” You throw the damn thing to the corner of the room in frustration. 

Just as you’re about to give up, the cover is pulled away and you’re bared to the world. Your legs are spread by an invisible force before something warm touches your lips, tasting your abundant juices before it laps all of you up eagerly. “Oh fuck! A-are you eating me out?”

He’s annoyingly skilled at this. The tip of his tongue rubs tight circles around your throbbing clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your toes curl. Squelches resound in the room, getting louder when you feel, what can only be, fingers thrust into you with no warning. 

“Oh, God! Yes, right there, yesss.” He’s found your G-spot and he’s going to town on it, angling his fingers just right. 

Another hand pushes down on your lower stomach at the exact same time his lips wrap around your clit and suuuuuuuuuuuuck. You’re thrashing on the bed, pinned down by that invisible force like all your limbs suddenly weigh a ton. The noises he’s making and pulling out of you are obscene and anyone who hears would think another ghost is being added to the house. 

“Since your tongue’s going -ngh!- inside me, s-shouldn’t you tell me your name?”

The light flicks on and on the mirror across the room, your lipstick is writing the letters S U K U N A on it. 

“Sukuna, huh? Well, Sukuna. Since the afterlife is clearly lacking any kind of fun, make yourself useful and give me an orgasm.”

And so he does. 

He does every time after that actually. 

Sitting in your armchair, reading a book, legs spread and panties dangling from an ankle, he eats you out for hours. Good thing about ghosts is that they have nothing else to do, so you bet your cheap ass that he won’t be getting tired any time soon. 

In fact, he loves to eat you out. When you’re washing the dishes, he’ll be eating you out from behind, suckling on your wetness like it could bring him back to life. Hanging up the laundry in the garden will leave a man-sized lump under your dress as you desperately muffle your moans with a bedsheet, embarrassed that a neighbour might see. He wakes you up by eating you out, he sees you off to your job with a fingering and then a cleaning up of the mess with his tongue, and he welcomes you back home with an orgasm, body slumped against the front door, held up like a puppet as he tongues your insides, nipples teased by tendrils of something beyond the reach of your humanly sight.

That becomes your new routine. It seems this Sukuna has grown bolder, fearless and uncaring of what's convenient for you.

One night, however, as you’re spreading your legs naturally, you don’t feel the usual pressure there. Instead, you feel something wet, hard and salty at your lips. Devious bastard. 

Opening your mouth, you let him inch his length into your throat with surprising care. Full and stretched to your limits, you gag around his invisible cock, forced to accept the entirety of the thing entering and retreating over and over again. His balls smack against your chin as he increases his pace, growing more ruthless with the way he’s shoving his fat cock inside your mouth. 

You’re being used like a glory hole and he doesn’t seem like a minute man. Despite never having been the kind of girl who enjoyed giving blowjobs, you find this one surprisingly stimulating — it presses against a sensitive spot at the back of your throat, a sweet scent of death filling your nostrils as you gag around something firm and unyielding.

Over your shirt, you feel nails scratch against your nipples, flicking them the way that leaves your thighs squeezed shut, searching for friction where you're most sensitive.

Then, your vibrator miraculously comes back to life, buzzing with vigour right against your pussy. Squelches are joining the sounds of your gagging and you didn’t even know you were so wet already. It’s on the highest setting, driving you to overstimulation immediately and with cement for bones, you can’t move away from the onslaught of vibrations against your dripping cunt. 

Gagging even more, tears well up when you cum, squirting all over your bed just as he squirts cold, salty cum down your throat. 

You fall asleep thoroughly drenched. 

The next day, all the cabinets and doors are banging open and shut repeatedly. He’s throwing a tantrum. Great. He heard your phone call in the morning.

“Get over it, freak! I can’t keep relying on you for orgasms. So don’t get in the way of me and this guy,” you scream in your bedroom. You’re aware you look crazy but you don’t care. Enough is enough. 

The mirror shatters in front of you. 

“Yes, I will let him in. You can’t do anything about it. Just go to the light or something.”

A stuffed toy hits you on the head. 

“Oh my God! You did not. Ugh, whatever, watch me get fucked then, I don’t care. But keep your hands to yourself.”

Your guest doesn’t make it three minutes before he’s being scared shitless by the banging of cabinets, the opening and closing of drawers, the shaking of tables and shattering of glass cups. He’s running to the door before you grab him by his hand desperately. You almost convince him to move your two-person party to his house when a knife flies through the air and lands right in between you two, embedding itself into the wall. 

That’s the last straw. 

Just as he wanted, you’re left alone with the happy malevolent spirit. How do you know he’s happy?

Well, because suddenly the house is righting itself — cabinets and drawers are now closed, there’s no more shaking, glass shards are picking themselves back up, repairing all your broken cups. “Pretty pleased with yourself now, aren’t you? You are such a child, I can’t stand you.”

Not to mention, your dress is being lifted up and your panties ripped apart. 

He shoves his face in between your legs once more, tonguing your clit and massaging your pussy walls with his long fingers. This is his way of apologising, you guess, and whatever, you just have to accept your fate. Long tendrils wrap around your arms, lifting them up so you can grip something. Those very same vine-like phantoms tease at your nipples too, squeezing and pulling like his fingers would. Then you feel them seem to open up like little mouths before they suck on your nipples. Hard. There, standing in the crime scene, you cum. Heaving and lightened, you think it’d end there. 

It seems seeing that other man really pushed him because then you’re being spun around and shoved to the hardwood floor, dress folded over your back and drooling pussy exposed to the air. Something hard rubs against your most intimate area, coating itself in your wetness before it shoves itself, in one go, inside your pussy. 

“Fuck! G-go slow! Oh. My. God. Su. Ku. Na!”

His rhythm is monstrous. You’re practically screaming as he pummels your pussy with no consideration for the fact that your knees are being bruised and that your face is smushed against the dirty floor. 

Your gooey walls are being forced to stretch, lips all swollen and weeping. He’s planted so deep you can feel him in your throat, and then an arm is wrapping around your neck — he’s got you in a headlock, wrangling you back into a painful arch. From this angle, he goes in deeper. 

Another long, hard thing pushes inside your mouth and you don't know how any of this works but you swallow it down, allowing him to plug you up from both ends. They work in tandem, stretching your holes with a brutal pace.

The cock in your mouth cums first and you know, somehow, it's because he just wanted to coat your face in his ghoulish cum. Drenched, you can do nothing but take his intense pummelling with gratitude.

"Full! I feel so — yesss, right there — full."

There’s a noticeable bump on your lower stomach, years of pent up energy as a ghost being rammed into your poor cunt. Glop glop glop he goes through your juices which overflow, soaking your thighs. “Fuck, yessss.”

Watery slurps are emanating from your pussy where you’re gaping around nothing to the human eye. Sukuna gyrates his hips, heavy balls teasing your clit from the delicious angle, cock throbbing inside. 

“I’m c-close! More. I want more. Fuck me faster!”

And does he ever. 

Garbling out gibberish, you’re practically choking on your own saliva as he suffocates you with his arm.

When you cum, your vision blacks out and you fall limp, thoroughly exhausted and almost dead. But even then, he still continues to fuck you, using your body as a fleshlight, basking in your living warmth. As if your soul has separated from your body, you're aware of the thorough fucking your poor body is receiving, splashes of cum flooding the floor. Even unconscious, orgasms are being snatched from you.

Later, when you wake up, you’re in bed, tucked in with a ghostly tongue lapping up your mixed cum.

Pushing the cover off, you’re shocked to find a face and a body, firm and warm to the touch. He’s got pink hair, a muscular body and tattoos. There's nothing ghostly about the man between your legs. You can feel the blood coursing through his veins, can see the sharpness of his teeth as he flashes his pearly whites in threat, and the fingers that dig into the plush of your thighs are bruising.

Regretting not getting a priest involved after all, you gasp when you hear his voice, clear and loud, deep and powerful.

He says,

“You sleep like the dead.” 

[miyaz6ki]

kiss him to shut him up ☆

summary. literally the title.

director's note. greetings disciples, i feel as though I have been FLOPPING!! so have something I'm frfr proud of, happy 1.5k disciples!

pairings. albedo, alhaitham, capitano, childe, wriothesley, neuvillette, dainsleif, diluc, xiao, kinich

warnings. kissing n all that sap (yuck), fluff/suggestive

albedo is busy talking to you about his latest experiments, wrapping his jacket around you to ensure you don't get cold while resting at his lab. maybe he didn't notice the sneaky glances you set from his ocean eyes to his lips.

"and so... it basically recreated a somewhat circle of-" peck! ... "huh?"

he doesn't which feeling is more dominant; flushed or confused. yet he won't complain too much, displaying a simple smile as he slowly blinks with confusion, lovingly at least.

alhaitham happened to be ranting about a drunkard he spotted at the bar he and his friends (cyno, tighnari, & kaveh) went to while playing TCG, cyno's treat.

but when it truly sinks in that you had just kissed him, he wished you had kept it for a little longer. honestly was very close to leaning back in and letting it lead to something else, but he wouldn't let his pride down. deciding on giving a smirk, and poking one of your cheeks.

"what was that for, hmm?"

capitano is secretly someone who talks a ton when you get to know him despite his cold exterior, he's very fond of getting to tell you about his day, not being able to necessarily tell anyone (other than pierro)

before you could pull away from the simple peck on his crusted lips- it's almost immediate that he pulls you back in, giving you barely any time to breathe. simply leaning in more to the kiss, a hand behind your head grasping your hair to prevent you from getting away. it's alright, he loves a chase.

"trying to tease me, my love?" a deep, dark chuckle emits from his raspy throat as he runs a hand down your spine, from your scalp to your back, his eyes pierced you with love.

childe is sooo obviously cheeky about this, his teasing is inevitable when you're the one initiating this. yet he finds himself so stunned from the whole thing, he could feel the blush creep up from his neck already.

he was busy telling you about his previous adventures, trying to impress you and show off his strength, yet the only thing he was able to see from how you looked at him, you were set on your lips on his.

"a- ahh... ahem. feeling uhh... bold i see."

wriothesley is in the category of chasing your lips, trying to immediately reel you back into the peck you caused. pulling you in by your waist so you can't escape his touch. he can't say he wasn't used to your teasing, but this time he wanted you to taste your own medicine.

holding you close, until the very line of saliva that connected both of your lips finally broke apart, it was your turn to be flushed with embarrassment.

"oh, look who's all blushy now."

neuvillette is the one who's stunned this time, yet his hands trail back to yours before you can step away a little too far, his eyes telling you everything that you need to know.

"don't run away now, c'mon..."

his smile was soft and genuine, he felt himself trying to lean in further into your touch, so he could stay asleep forever in your arms. he lands another kiss on your lips. he loves to express how much he loves you, yet he doesn't know how to apply and put it out there.

dainsleif found himself leaning back in almost immediately, he didn't wanna run away from you giving him affection out of everything. his cold fingertips trailing up your nape, a soft grasp on your hair (a bold move indeed!)

"...is that the berry flavored chapstick i bought you last week?"

he loves to notice the little things on you, he knows you appreciate it as well, a loving smile, his eyes equally just as loving, staring at you, and only you.

diluc won't admit the deep-seated embarrassment that envelops him. at first, the warm flush spread from his neck to his cheeks, yet he could notice the very same for you. trying to play it cool, his arm that encircles your waist, drawing you in with a tender grip.

"i suppose this isn’t how I imagined our evening would go,"

his voice was strained, maybe his paperwork could wait till later.

kinich is one of those who pulls you in by the waist, yet finds himself almost too flushed to go through with it. not that he doesn't want to, he's scared that you wouldn't want the same, yet he finds himself leaning in the same way you were, just to taste you again.

"leaving me so soon, you're mean."

ajaw calls you both corny as he comes back from a little walk (with certified dog walker mualani). you could hear a "human! take me back to where we whence came!" (the springs nearby) as you let out a chuckle. a sigh from kinich, he'll have to train him to be a little nicer.

xiao can barely comprehend what you just did. his cheeks flushed with teal. and to give context, it's canon that xiao's blood/insides are all teal- so when he blushes, it's teal, I did a bit of research on this :P but think of it how you will!

he argued that you shouldn't go out tonight, he can handle himself! yet... maybe your little kiss was a little.. maybe very convincing.

"y- you think this will change my mind about all of this, huh?"

[luna-azzurra]

10 Lies Your Character Believes About Themselves (And They’d Die Before Admitting It)

These aren't the fun, Disney Channel lies like “I'm just a regular girl” while literally being a secret pop star. These are the ugly ones. The ones that get in your character’s blood and start rewriting their whole life without them noticing.

» “If people really knew me, they'd leave.” Not "might." Would. No question. So they smile bigger. They edit harder. They keep conversations surface-level. All while carrying this bone-deep certainty that love is conditional... and they are dangerously close to failing the test.

» “I have to earn every good thing.” Rest? Happiness? A day without guilt? They treat those things like prizes at the end of a brutal obstacle course. No one told them they could just have good things. No strings. No blood price. (So they keep bleeding anyway.)

» “I'm too much.” Too loud. Too intense. Too sensitive. Too complicated. They know it. They've been told. So now they pull themselves in, hold their breath, bite back everything real until they barely take up space at all. (And ironically, they still think they’re being "too much.")

» “I'm not enough.” Neat little trick, right? They’re both "too much" and "not enough" at the same time. Magic. They're convinced everyone else got the secret manual for how to be lovable and they somehow missed it.

» “If I'm strong enough, nothing can hurt me.” They call it resilience. Other people call it stubbornness. Reality calls it self-destruction. They've mistaken numbness for healing and independence for invulnerability. But hurt still gets in. It just hits harder when it’s been bottled up for years.

» “I’m responsible for everyone's happiness.” Caretaker. Peacemaker. Therapist friend. Emotional sponge. They’ve appointed themselves as everyone's safety net, believing that if they don’t hold everything together, everything will fall apart. (Newsflash: it's not their circus, and it never was.)

» “I don't need anyone.” Need is a dirty word. It’s weak. It’s dangerous. So they white-knuckle their way through life, collecting scars and pretending it’s freedom. But late at night? In the dark? They’d sell their soul for someone to just... stay.

» “I'm the villain in someone else's story and they might be right.” They know they've hurt people. Made bad calls. Left damage. And no matter how much good they do now, some part of them whispers, You don’t get to come back from that.

» “My best days are behind me.” Whether they peaked in high school, lost their shot at something important, or just carry a chronic ache of nostalgia, they believe it’s too late. That nothing good can be built from where they are now. (Which, ironically, makes them waste even more time.)

» “This is as good as it gets.” They settle. For bad love. Boring jobs. Half-dead dreams. They tell themselves it's "realistic." "Mature." "Practical." But underneath? It's fear. It's heartbreak. It's the quiet belief that hope is something they can’t afford anymore.