#and i have been so desperate for any sense of community here lately

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: A bout of insomnia keeps you awake, so you decide to go for a midnight walk. To your surprise you find that you aren't the only one still up as the sound of the shower running in the communal bathroom catches your attention. Who is it and what are they doing in there? Why does it sound like your lieutenant and why is he moaning your name?

Word Count: 5.6 k

Warnings:

Hot water from the shower runs in snaking pathways over the bulky muscles of the lieutenant’s back as he leans himself against the wall, his forehead resting on the bit of his forearm that is propping his body up while his engorged cock is tightly locked in his clenched fist. Furiously he strokes the length with eyes closed and mouth agape, grunting deep and guttural the tighter he squeezes around that throbbing appendage as he desperately works to ease the ache that has kept him from getting sleep yet another night in a row. 

The military base is hunkered down for the evening, most of the personnel fast asleep as he should have already been, but his mind is too full of thoughts…thoughts if you… that sleep is unattainable at this point unless he does something about them. He knows the risk he’s taking doing this in a communal space, but he hopes that it’s late enough that no one will be around to disturb him until he’s done.

It’s been another long, rough day of having to watch you from afar but not touch, follow you with his dark, hungry eyes while knowing he will never get a chance to taste your sweetness, and he needs a release before he does something foolish. Never has another gotten under his skin the way you have, never has he struggled so hard to keep his desire from consuming him whole like he has to every single time you are near, and lately it is becoming near impossible. 

There's only so much that even a trained professional can take before all that self-discipline goes right out the window and he is reaching his limit with each passing week. If this keeps up he is bound to slip up somehow, you will notice, and he cannot let that happen. He can’t do another desperate sleepless night and be sane enough to face you again the next day, so here he finds himself. 

Behind closed eyes he recalls the images from earlier during training of you sparring with one of the other recruits. The way your body moved and contorted as you took down your opponent, the sweat that glistened and rolled in large drops down your chest and into the top of your shirt, the look of cocky determination in your eyes, and the heavy breaths you took through parted lips was enough to set him off something bad. His hands had to be firmly crossed over his crotch even after you had finished and walked off to hide the stiffy he was suddenly sporting so it wouldn't draw attention from any wandering eyes. 

God, the way he wishes it had been him that was pinned beneath you on that mat instead of the recruit that you took down and makes him stroke even more furiously. Why can't it be your sweet, soft pussy he is thrusting into instead of his rough palm? He’d sell his soul to Satan himself just for a moment spent in your bliss.

Lt. Riley braces his feet wider in the shower to steady himself as a wave of pleasure surges through his limbs and nearly knocks him over as he continues stroking. There is so much sloppiness in his rhythm now; he’s getting closer and soon he’ll be able to think more clearly… at least for a little while. 

“The things I'd do to ya, sweetheart,” he mutters to the vision of you in his mind’s eye, the need overwhelming every sense until he can’t see straight. “Fuck, I just want tha chance ta make ya come. I’d make bloody sure ya would only ‘ave eyes for me from then on.”

His teeth clench behind his parted lips as a bit of salty precum dribbles out of the tip of his cock only to quickly get washed away by the water raining down over him. Fucking hell, this is a problem that doesn’t seem to have an end in sight; this isn’t the first time he’s had to jack off to get a moment of peace and he knows that this will only be a temporary fix. There’s only one thing that can satisfy him for good, but it is the one thing he isn’t allowed to have.

At least he tells himself over and over that you’d never give him the time of day and so he keeps his agonizing distance. So, as the rest of the world around him slumbers, he has to do what he must to get by…and even though he thinks himself the only one awake and trying to work out demons under the cover of night, he couldn’t be more wrong.

At the other side of the barracks, you stare up at the dark ceiling of your room just as you’ve done for the past hour now. You have tried to relax your limbs, clear your mind, close your eyes, but no matter how hard you push yourself, sleep keeps evading your grasp. Why? You know the answer plainly even if you don’t really want to accept it. 

His eyes had been on you again today, Lt. Riley’s. That intense dark brown gaze that always makes your pulse race each time you catch it lingering had been plastered on you even before you stepped up to your sparring partner during training earlier. It was as if he was trying to bore a hole through your body the way he wouldn’t look away. The ache that settled itself in your core at his undivided attention nearly distracted you enough that you about lost the fight and now that you are lying in the dark with nothing to keep you occupied it’s all your desperate mind can focus on.

Does the lieutenant even know what his attention does to you? Would he care even if he did?

What would he think if he knew that just his gaze alone makes your body burn, how you can’t ever seem to get enough of the way you can so easily capture his focus, how it fuels all of your fantasies and daydreams until it’s impossible to be in his presence without your breath quickening and feeling that familiar ache between your legs? Goddammit, if you had your way you would have those eyes glued to yours as he thrusts inside and makes you his for the first time, but you know that’s not a possibility.  

No, it’s got to be pure coincidence, something entirely innocuous, a superior surveying the progress of one of his soldiers. He is the unofficial second in command around here, of course he would need to take account of those that are under him. You’d have to be a fool to think it’s anything more than that, that someone as experienced and weathered as him would ever go for an underling like you, but it doesn’t change how it makes you desperately want to get closer to the serious and intimidating officer.  

Why does the one thing you want have to be so fucking far out of reach?

Your heartbeat is starting to race again and your fingers are too sore to go another round down below, so you give up with a sigh of defeat and get up out of bed; if sleep isn't coming then there's no point in lying here to only get more frustrated that you can’t let those salacious fantasies go. 

Maybe a walk will tucker you out enough that sleep will stop avoiding you, at least it’s worth a try. Better than lying in the dark trying to stroke out the overwhelming thoughts, trying to imagine the feeling of his weight pressing you into the mattress as his cock stretches you out. No, staying here is only going to do more damage. Slipping on some shorts with your tank top and grabbing your shoes, you head out of your room and begin your trek through the barracks headed towards the outside. 

You pass by the quiet rooms of your sleeping teammates, nothing but silence filling the halls that causes each soft step you take to sound louder than it should. Room after room passes by the same as the last as you make your way through the long stretches of hallway. All that's left is the showers coming up on your left, then the doors to the outside and you’ll be free to mosey about in the cool air while the music of the night gives you something else to focus on. 

But it isn’t the crickets, frogs, and other nocturnal animals outside that you hear now, nor is it those of the nightwatch making their rounds. It’s something else that grabs your attention.

The closer you get to the communal bathrooms, the more your ears pick up noise out of the stillness. At first it is only the distinct sound of running water hitting off the titles that cover the floors, but soon you catch the muted echo of a voice reverberating inside. Whoever is in there it sounds like they are in distress and curiosity gets the better of you. It's probably nothing, but it's best to check just to be sure. You'll pop your head in, make certain everything is alright, and then quietly leave without anyone knowing. 

Silently you creep up to the door and slowly creak it open so that the hinges won’t squeak and give you away just in case your worries turn out to be unfounded. The ambiguous noises become more clear and you realize it is the heavy masculine grunting of someone in the shower. It takes you a second to place why that sound is so familiar, but after a few seconds it finally clicks and you become embarrassed to have stumbled upon this private, intimate moment.

You move back from the door and almost let it fall closed when you catch the person inside saying something unexpected. Under the sound of the shower head running and heavy panting you swear that you hear the voice moan your name and instantly you are frozen in your tracks, unable to leave as planned.

You know that particular voice. 

Shit, you've heard it so many times over the course of your stay here that it is permanently burned into your psyche. The voice repeats the same and now you are sure that it is your name being moaned and a shiver runs up your spine. There is no mistaking it now that you detect that recognizable thick British accent. 

It's your lieutenant, that masked enigma himself, Simon Riley.

Instantly your cheeks feel like they are on fire as he repeats it again this time in more of a whimper. Is he really…? This has to be your overstimulated mind playing tricks on you. And yet there it is again, his deep voice grunting your name with more urgency as if he is intoxicated by the way that it rolls off his tongue and suddenly your head is spinning so that you aren’t immediately aware of what you’re doing.

Stop, you hear your inner thoughts swirl around the chaos inside your skull. What the hell are you thinking? Why are you going inside?

Even as you internally ask the questions, you can’t stop your feet that seem to have a mind of their own now and force you further inside the empty bathroom and over to the source of all those delicious sounds. The countless restless nights, the endless cravings for his presence that leave you desperate, the infinite amount of times you’ve touched yourself to the thought of him…your body needs this and it isn’t going to let you walk away until you see for yourself if this is real. 

If there is a chance…

The grunts come faster now as the lieutenant is about to blow when something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. There is a shadow on the other side of the curtain that hadn’t been there before, a dark mass of a figure standing stock still just outside the thin plastic veil hiding him from the rest of the room. His blood runs cold, anger taking hold as he is forced to stop and confront whoever it is that has decided to disturb him with their presence. 

Who the fuck could be up at this time at night anyway and why now when he was nearly finished? He pulls back the curtain in one swift, irritated motion just enough to poke his head out and confront the bastard, but to his surprise who should be standing there then the one person he doesn’t need to come face to face with in this intimate moment. You stare back at him with wide eyes brightly shimmering in the fluorescent lighting overhead. 

“The fuck ya think you’re doin’?” he barks harshly, flustered by the awkward position you've found him in. “Do ya know what fuckin’ time it is? Ya should be down for tha night instead a skulkin’ about. I suggest ya get out and head back where you're supposed ta be.”

You hear the jarring response: should move, leave, follow his order, but you can't. The sight of the water glinting off his husky chest, beads of condensation sparkling through the light brown hair covering his sternum and down his abdomen, is too delicious a sight for you to pull your eyes from. You always knew that the lieutenant was a mass of muscle, it’s clear even through his bulky tactical gear, but to see it all in the flesh is another story. How are you meant to walk away from all that tantalizing, slick, heated skin?

Without even thinking, you step in closer. “I …don’t want to go.” 

“What?” The question comes out as a surprise.

You swallow. “I said I don’t want to go,” you reiterate.

You wrestle with yourself on what to do now that you’ve gotten here as he stares back at you in confusion, sensing how the air has suddenly seemed to shift all at once. Do you reveal the truth and tell him everything, including that you heard his desperate pleas? Will that be enough? Or do you do something else entirely? What if he rejects any advances just to save face? 

“What're ya…?” he starts to ask, only to lose the end of his sentence as you move in until the thin plastic curtain is the only thing keeping you apart. 

Screw it, you’ve come this far and that throbbing ache between your legs is ruling your actions now. This is a terrible idea, but that is the only type available at this time of night. Your heartbeat is in your ears as your gaze locks to his and your fingertips grab at the hem of your tank top to slowly drag it up over your torso and pull it off the top of your head. The skimpy bit of fabric hangs idly from your hand almost sweeping the floor as you stand there bare chested staring back at him. 

If this doesn’t make your intentions clear, then nothing will, and hopefully the temptation is enough to sway his actions.

Simon tries to inhale, but the wind has been knocked from his lungs and he can’t seem to get it back. Composure is his calling card and yet right now being in control isn’t an option anymore, not with the way you look like the most perfect treat he’s ever laid eyes on. He releases a shuddered breath that he didn’t know he was holding onto. There is a heat in his chest and it’s spreading through his limbs like a wildfire, ready to consume all the common sense he has left. Watching that hardened man break gives you new found confidence and you find your voice amidst the dibilitating rise in your blood pressure.

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” you manage to say without faltering. “Not after what I just heard.”

Fuck, he really has been found out.

“Do you think I haven’t noticed the way you can’t take your eyes off of me, sir?” you continue, the truth spilling out like the water from the shower. “You might think yourself slick because of the mask, but I swear whenever we’re near each other I can feel your gaze lingering on me. It’s not the same one you give the others, this one is different… and do you know the worst part?”

You let the question hang in the air for a moment even though Lt. Riley doesn’t even try to answer it; he can’t, he’s too overwhelmed. “The worst part is that I can’t get enough of it.”

The lieutenant’s vision is tunneled in on your sweet lips as he listens to your words, the desire to grab you and drag you to him spreading throughout his limbs at your confession. A few stray droplets of water drip down from the cropped tips of his dirty blond hair and hit the top of your shoes as he struggles to speak.

“This is a bad idea, luv,” he says as his final attempt to give you an out. “Ya should go ‘fore ya do somethin’ ya regret.”

You shake your head. “The only thing I’m going to regret is leaving. I can’t take another sleepless night. And it sounds like you can’t either.”

As you speak, you quietly slip your feet out of your shoes and toss your shirt haphazardly away and it crumples to a heap on the ground. “I need you… so bad. I can’t take it anymore. Please, don’t send me away.”

That’s it, all sense is completely gone as Simon Riley is no longer in control of his actions, not after hearing you plead for him to take you. Ripping open the curtain all the way, he silently pulls you into the shower and shoves you back into the tiled wall. Your big doe eyes peer up at him as the water mists from the showerhead above you and trickles off your eyelashes. 

He watches the droplets collect and sparkle like diamonds as they fall onto your delicate cheek, his bare chest heaving up and down laboriously with each panted breath as he takes in all he can now that he has the chance. His large hands glide over your arms as he truly contemplates the consequences of his actions, but there is no reprimand, no amount of punishment in this moment that can make him fight off the brunt of his attraction.

You stand in his presence only able to look on, mesmerized by finally being able to take in the enigma you’ve only rarely ever seen in bits and pieces and never this up close. Goddammit he’s handsome. All those stark, chiseled features, the light covering of brown stubble along his jaw, those brilliant eyes that are even more gorgeous now that they aren’t shadowed in his mask steal your breath away. Old, faded scars are speckled across his visage and trail down the length of his body, but even those take nothing away from his looks. 

Husky, bulked out muscles from years of hard physical labor, outline and glistening with water meet your gaze the further your eyes travel. The sheer girth of his body is enough to make your mouth salivate as you wait in anticipation for it to be molded into you, dwarfing yours in comparison. 

“Wanted this for so fuckin’ long, luv,” he breathes as his sight drifts down to the beautiful pair of naked breasts nearly pressing into his chest, bringing you back from your supor as you admire. “I need to hear ya say it, that I can ‘ave my way with ya.”

Anything, you’ll say anything to break that short, agonizing distance between you. “Fuck me,” you say, lips left parted as you wait for him to take the lead and break the tension.  

There is a ringing in his ears as if the entire world has suddenly fallen silent as the brunt of his suppressed desire floods immediately to the surface, overwhelming everything in a blink. Without a word he urgently cups both of his palms around either side of your head just behind your ears, thumbs resting along your jaw so that he can draw your face to him as he leans down into your face. He has to kiss you now; the need is suddenly so strong it’s like he is choking on it. You barely have a second to take a breath before he crashes his lips on your own.

He captures those soft bits of skin over and over again in desperately feverish waves, stealing the balmy air from your mouth to sustain the connection so that he doesn’t have to break it just yet. The last thing he wants to do is destroy this overwhelming magnetism that draws you both together and by your way you grab onto the meat of his hips to pull him tighter to you, he knows you feel it too.

Has anything ever felt more euphoric than the way your full, soft pout feels? Has anyone ever tasted as sweet, has he ever been more instantly hooked on the sensation of someone else’s mouth pressed to his? He can’t remember anymore. There is nothing else outside of you in this desperate moment. 

Releasing your face, his rough fingertips follow the curve of your spine down to roundness of your ass where he grabs handfuls to massage. So absorbed in your taste, the feeling of your lips, the heat of your breath, that it takes minutes for him to realize that there is still a barrier between your bodies: the shorts now damp from the shower still hopelessly clinging to your hips. They have to go as they are very shortly going to get in the way.

“Wanna get these fuckin’ things off,” he murmurs against your lips as he pulls the fabric down, miserably removing his mouth from your own so that he can help you step out of them. They are quickly tossed past the shower curtain and before they even can hit the ground he is harshly pressed back against you once again to steal your mouth and devour your kiss. 

Your moistened bodies slip across each other as the pressure builds and the movements become more desperate, him pushing his hardened cock into your pelvis as he grinds against you and shoving a thick thigh between your parted legs to give you something to hump. He fills your mouth with a muffled groan as the silky lips of your pussy connect with the skin; it’s better than he could have ever imagined it feeling and he cannot wait to get inside and be constricted by your walls squeezing around him, but there’s a little more he has to explore first.

Patience, he’s going savor this moment like it’s the only one he’ll ever get.

“Tha’s it,” he encourages in a short burst, trailing his lips down to your jaw towards your throat as you roll your hips hard to catch your clit on the muscle. “Fuck, ya do need it bad, don’t ya? I wanna hear it, tell me how bad you’ve needed it, luv.” 

Those hungry lips reach the side of your neck and start to suck, puckering the skin into his mouth and you struggle to remember how to talk through the sensitivity hazing your thoughts. “Everytime I have to see you… f-fuck…  can’t sleep. Have to keep … uuughh… t- touching myself for relief.”

His mouth continues to trail lower and lower down the contours of your body, leaving warm, moist kisses along the skin of your collarbone and over the side of your chest. “Keep going,” he orders.  

You gulp down another moan as his burning lips lock to your breast, suctioning to the areola while that agile tongue flicks over the very tip of your nipple until it’s stiff. God, your tits are like heaven, so soft and juicy as they fill his mouth.  His hand palms over the other breast and begins to play; he won’t leave that one to not receive any attention.

“Can’t…focus,” you stammer, “can’t think of anything except you. Begging into the dark for you…to take me…to make me yours.”

“Think ‘a my cock a lot, luv?” he asks amused as he switches sides and takes the other breast into his hungry mouth.

The heat in your face makes your cheeks feel swollen. “I…do,” you admit as if you both aren’t already naked and humping each other. 

“Wonderin’ what it would feel like?”

“Wanting it inside me,” you add.

His hand leaves your chest and moves between your bodies to grab yours and bring it down to wrap around the girth of his shaft. “It don’t ‘ave to be a mystery anymore, sweetheart.” 

Goddammit, he’s big. You’d barely had time to register the look of it before his mouth was plastered to yours and though you can feel it grinding into you, now that it is in your fist it makes your breath hitch. “F-fuck…” you moan as your hand slides up and down the length.

Simon’s cock twitches as if in response to the ache in your voice and you can feel its heartbeat. The thrill to know you have a strong grip on such a man as the lieutenant, that it is you he wants, it’s you he needs, that his cock is hard just for you makes you grind against him with eyes closed trying to make yourself come.  

“Gonna stuff ya full,” he groans from the pressure you apply as you continue to work him. “Stretch out your sweet pussy.”

“Yes,” you whimper. “Please.”

The steam billows around your conjoined bodies, condensation enfolding you in a layer of mist as if you’re stuck in a dream when he finally emerges hastily from your chest with lips puffy and red from the suction. He rips your hand from around him as the pressure has almost reached the point of no return and aggressively he picks you up as if you weigh nothing; he’s stronger than you realized to be able to lift you almost effortlessly. 

“Put your legs ‘round me. Now,” he barks sharply and you do as you’re told. He braces your back up against the wall for leverage as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and his sight drifts down between your bodies. 

“Ready for me?” he asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question. 

A nod is all he is going to get, the inside of your mouth tasting like copper as you bite your cheek to keep quiet as his swollen tip slips through your petals to find the opening, rubbing up against your swollen clit. Your slick coats his cock, a clear sign that he’s good to go. It takes him only a moment with a slight adjustment of his hips to align with his target.

“Deep breath, sweet girl,” he says as he raises his gaze to peer back into your eyes and with a thrust the fat tip pushes through the threshold of your aching, throbbing core, stretching it wide as it takes him in.

Instantly you choke on the moan that stuffs your mouth full and you have to clamp your lips shut to keep it from escaping. The lieutenant does the same, but you can feel the bass vibrate through his chest as his steel-like grip digs harshly into your waist.

“Goddamn, sweetheart, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he says breathily through a lustful chuckle, fighting off the urge to blow his load before he’s even gotten all the way in, “but ya can take more, can’t ya?”

Another nod, more enthusiastic this time and again he thrusts past the tip down his veiny shaft and reaches the base. You can’t hold it in anymore, the way his cock fills you so full makes you lose yourself. Eye closed, you can’t stop the loud moan that you let out and the sound reverberates off the walls of the cramped space until it is amplified. To think you were ever going to satisfy yourself with only your fingers when all of this was waiting for you to discover seems almost comical now.  

The lieutenant’s large hand rushes to cover over your mouth. “Gotta be quiet for me. Don’t need anyone comin’ in and ruinin’ this. I’m not done with ya yet, luv; gotta make ya come for me first.”

The shine in your glazed-over eyes gives him your answer and he removes his hand with a nod as he knows an even better solution to keep you quiet. He leans back in and his lips pull yours into their secure embrace before he risks slipping in his tongue to wrestle with yours; can’t make much noise with your mouth so full.  

There’s no way he is going to calm down enough now to stave off his orgasm for much longer and so with your mouths connected he starts to thrust, dragging himself nearly out of your core before slamming back up into you. Every thrust strikes up into your pussy shoving him in as deep as he can get, your body shaking from the force as your back is dragged up and down along the wall. The moisture on the walls keeps the friction low so you can move easily with his percussive hits into your body.

So fucking wet, so goddamn tight, how is he meant to not fall apart? Simon can’t help rutting into all that goodness like an animal hell bent on capturing every bit of pleasure he can. Lost in the feeling his rhythm wavers, but breaking from your mouth and taking a few deep breaths he gets himself right back on track. As he bucks wildly up into you your arms hold on tightly around the back of his neck and you notice how the muscles tense with each of his strong thrusts. 

“Need ya ta come for me… need it so goddamn bad…” 

There is no hiding the desperation in his words. He has to know that your body belongs to him now, that after tonight you won’t ever even think of straying from him. You’re his, his, and after all the agony he’s endured before getting here, he has to make sure of it. 

That burn deep in the muscle starts to shoot through his thighs, but he doesn’t slow and the more he works the more that warmth gathers in the pit of your stomach. You’ve dreamed of moments like this for so long it becomes overwhelming: the feeling of his skin against yours, his cock buried deep inside you, his honeyed words conveying everything you’ve wanted to hear; it’s euphoric.

You whimper and quickly breathe it out. “Fuck, gonna come.” 

“Tha’s it, sweetheart. Almost there,” he coaxes, secretly knowing that at any moment he is going to come too. “Jus’ let go and come for me. Let me feel it, pretty girl.” 

It’s there, it’s so close. That sweet release is within reach. “A-ah…fuck… almost there…”

“My good girl,” he grunts, “come on my fuckin’ cock.” 

Your heart is beating out of your chest as the pleasure builds until all at once, like the flick of a switch, your core contracts and all of that intensity explodes in a blast of warmth that flows through your limbs. Leaning forward, you bury your face in his shoulder and whimper as you ride out that wave of ecstasy.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groans behind clenched teeth at the feeling as your core constricts around him, sending him over the edge. 

Wrenching his cock out as fast as he can, he angles it up between your bodies. You regain some composure, enough to instinctively reach for it to stroke him the rest of the way through. His hot, milky cum dribbles onto your stomach in short bursts while his upper body twitches as you work out all you can. Finally, he falls in against you and places his hand on top of yours to force you to stop.

The sound of the running water conceals the sound of your combined breathing as you both come back down from that high and he can set you back on your feet carefully. Back on solid ground you both just stand there quietly taking in the moment and all that just happened until the lieutenant breaks the silence.

“Think you’ll be able ta sleep now?” he asks as his fingertips caress over the heat in your cheeks.

You nod with a smile spread across your lips. “But I’m not sure about tomorrow night,” you say with a glimmer in your eyes. “Might be up again.”

Biting his lip he tilts his head away as he tries not to show how much it excites him to hear you say that, rubbing his hand over his head to slick back his short hair. “Well, we can’t have that,” he says. “Right now, though, I got a mess ta clean up.”

There is one last, deep kiss waiting for you before he gently pulls you under the showerhead to wash away the evidence of what happened here tonight. As he watches the water run down off your delicious curves and flow down the drain, he realizes that this is going to become an even bigger problem than he had before… but fuck is he ready for it.

[cloudcountry]

if i wasnt for my mutuals i think all of my events would have flopped

[fictioninmyblood]

I Meant That Shit

Summary: N’Jadaka gets tired of waiting for Y/N to forgive him and come home, so he decides to let Killmonger bring her back, kicking and screaming if necessary.

Warnings: 18+, noncon/con, smut, D/s themes, Entitled and pissed Erik being devious. Shouldthere be a warning for angst?

A/N: This was supposed to be short, but here we are. Enjoy my sexually starved thoughts.

A/N: Also, idk if this needs to be said, but I write for my demographic - black females. This has been my disclaimer/notice.

A/N: My work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than this) without my explicit consent and recognition.

After his reluctant rehabilitation, there weren't many things that brought out his killer instinct anymore. However, it seemed that lately, despite all the sparring, therapy, and meditation sessions, Erik couldn’t shake the urge to knock some sense into his girl Y/N. 

A few weeks prior when she told him she needed space and couldn’t stay in Wakanda and ignore her life anymore, he said some things. She took it the wrong way and told him they were over, as if.

When she first left, Erik was sure she’d break down and FaceTime him or use the kimoyo beads he taught her to use. She was always more vocal about missing him, so he just assumed she’d break down and restart their communication. Imagine his surprise when a whole two weeks rolled by without so much as a text, call, or video chat. He was desperate for anything from her, even a verbal lashing, but by the time a month came and went, he felt like a fiend going through withdrawal.

During week six, his excitement to finally lay his eyes on Y/N was quickly cut short when he realized she was still talking to his family even though he had been getting the silent treatment. That displeasing information lit him like a powder keg when he saw another man in Y/N’s background, getting dressed no less. T’Challa dragged him from Shuri’s lab ready to bust a gasket when his babygirl asked Shuri to go into a different room and his little cousin actually listened! His whole family was against him again it would seem.

When T’Challa got him back to his room, all he did was pace. It was ten full minutes of the king warily watching his cousin stew when M’Baku walked right into the line of fire as Erik turned to beat the shit out of his cousin. T’Challa easily dodged the current threat on his life as the giant grabbed Erik’s hands in one of his, quickly disarming him and making the pouting man even more enraged. 

“You all have been talking to her this whole time?” N’Jadaka roared.

“Just Shuri and I. She made us promise to let you figure it out for yourself, but you’ve been failing miserably cousin! Absolutely clueless!” T’Challa replied.

Erik struggled against M’Baku’s vice grip to no avail.

“No shit Sherlock. I’m gonna whoop yawls asses. M’Baku let me go.”

“Not until you promise to have a conversation with your mouth instead of your hands. I am not prepared to get involved in another war between you two.”

Erik took a few deep breaths. “Fine, I’m good.”

Once M’Baku was sure there would be no immediate violence he let go.

“You better start explaining real fucking soon T,” Erik spat, pointing an accusatory finger at T’Challa.

“Okay! Okay! Y/N is struggling to accept that you actually want her around long term!” T’Challa word-vomited.

If the prince wasn’t already enraged, the king and tribal chief would’ve laid out in hysterics at how N’Jadaka’s face screwed up. “How sway! How?!”

“From what Shuri has explained and I’ve gathered in my eavesdropping is that she thinks you only want to claim her without actually growing with her. Everything is on your terms, your way, in  your time. She’s been far more  patient than most would be with you so I can’t say she’s wrong.”

Erik jumped at T’Challa, scaring him and the big gorilla chief. “I oughta beat you up for keeping your mouth shut.”

“She and Shuri threatened me within an inch of my life and they scare me more than you. Besides, according to them, you can’t keep relying on us to figure out what’s going on in your relationship and I couldn’t find a valid disagreement.”

Erik nearly did slap T’Challa at the last sentiment.

“Aye aye!” M’Baku shouted, getting between the two yet again, “He is being truthful now. That counts eh? And if I may interject, I think you’re aiming your anger at the wrong person.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Erik said, deflating under the weight of that truth, “but his ass still bout to pay me back and I know just how.”

————-

A few hours later…

“You know, when I told you that you could pay me back with The Royal Talon Fighter, I didn’t expect you to tag along.”

“Who else was going to keep an eye on our Wakandan technology or keep you from murdering anyone in the vicinity of Y/N, especially any man?”

Erik rolled his eyes and huffed. “I guess.”

“Or Y/N from killing you for just showing up jealous despite being radio silent since long before she left Wakanda.”

“Alright alright! You made your point. Damn! Just drive the fancy metal.”

—

Erik was all confidence until the second they landed in Atlanta. Yeah, Killmonger was out for blood and was ready to bring their girl back kicking and screaming if necessary, but Erik N’Jadaka Stevens? He was a nervous fucking wreck.

T’Challa and M’Baku’s words really struck a nerve and he had nothing but time to stew over them on the ride to your family’s hometown ranch. Before he met you, Killmonger made all the decisions, kept him alive and ahead of the game, whatever game he was surviving at the moment. He lived like that for well over a decade when he met you, but you didn’t bat an eyelash at his swift mood swings, his bloodthirst, or his possessiveness, often putting him in place. You handled him with love and care, showing him how to become the softer version of himself without sacrificing your boundaries too much. He was quickly realizing that he sometimes pushed too hard, took too much, neglected your requirements. It was your stern patience, however, that was enough to allow you to become the first person to get him the person instead of him the killer to come out and communicate, interact, and live rather than survive. 

You did it for him a second time around when he came out of cryo too. He hadn’t told you anything about how he would go about his goals, opting just to disappear and execute so it was a surprise of a lifetime to wake up to your beautiful Y/E/C. After getting over his initial anger over you seeing the worst of him, you were the first person he responded to or let touch him during his recovery. Even going so far as not allowing the medical staff to redress his wounds if he was awake.

Only your touch soothed him, only your voice gave him peace. You made him less of a killing machine and more human again, made him want to address the tsunami of emotions and trauma that he lugged around. He didn’t want to jeopardize your willingness to be that for him but he recognized how you were always giving all you had just to receive an inch of progress from him. If that.

Unfortunately, all of his introspection and nervousness flew right out of the truck T’Challa had them in when he saw you walking up to your personal guesthouse with a man in tow. Killmonger immediately took the reins pushing him and his feelings down into the abyss, and leaping out of the car before T’Challa could come to a complete stop with his cousin calling after him.

“Y/N!” Killmonger shouted from the end of the long-ass driveway, rage evident in his voice.

Y/N was haphazardly trying to get her drunk cousin up the stairs while nervously dropping her keys when she heard Killmonger. She’s only encountered him a few times since meeting Erik, after the first time she brought him back to himself, he did his best to keep that part from her. It didn’t always work since any repressed feeling or issue the man had was poured into his alter ego, feeding his desire to be wild and untamed in his decision-making. So she knew he was out for blood with just the sound of her name.

She got the key in just as Killmonger got to the beginning of her walkway up to the house. As quickly as she could, she pulled her cousin in, slamming and locking the door in her partner’s face, leaving the beast to bang on her door and demand entrance.

“I’m not dealing with your bulldozing tactics Kill! You can come back when Erik is ready to face his fucking feelings and have an adult conversation!”

“If you know what’s good for you and that nigga in there, you better open this ghatdamn door Y/N!” He roared in response.

Y/N’s cousin couldn’t stop laughing, no matter how much she waved him off. Getting trashed 3 nights in a row after a bad breakup and crashing with his favorite cousin after hearing how she was hiding from both the world and the love of her life as well didn’t prepare him for seeing her so out of character. One second she was fleeing from the man, the next she was big and bad from behind a locked door in all her 5’5” glory. It was comical as hell to him.

“You know you look constipated when you cuss? Like that stick in your ass is fighting every syllable.” He said, immediately dying in another fit of laughter at his analogy.

“Who the fuck is that in there with you, Y/N, and don’t fucking lie!”

“The next man. Nice to meet you. You must be the ex.” her cousin shouted out in a drunken slur to Y/N’s horror.

Yeah, she knew she wasn’t in the wrong, and there was no reason to defend herself against this man, but she knew not to press certain buttons once Kill made an appearance. Her cousin, unfortunately, had no discernment to see that he had just pressed the biggest red button Kill had when it came to her.

Y/N watched the myriad of emotions that crossed Erik’s face through the peephole, praying to every ancestor and display of the creator she could think of that this man wasn’t going to go full psycho-killer on them both. The last thing she needed was him taking several steps back in his healing just to unnecessarily add another scar, maybe 2 with how pissed he looked. 

Y/N turned back to her cousin, ready to kill him for putting her in even hotter water, only to find that nigga was sleep, leaving Y/N to deal with the consequences on her own. 

As soon as she had that thought her ears piqued, taking in how silent it had gotten. All she could hear was the crunch of gravel as T’Challa finally pulled in and got out. When she peeked outside the peephole again, she was met with a confused T’Challa looking for Erik.

A chill ran up her spine and her blood ran cold as she slowly turned to her current worst fear; Killmonger pissed as hell, staring her down with a knife to her cousin’s throat.

“Give me one good reason not to paint your brand new carpet with this nigga’s blood Y/F/N then fuck you on the new color.”

Putting her hands up in a placating manner, Y/N slowly inched towards Kill, stopping when he dug the knife just slightly deeper, exposing a thin line of blood, as her cousin slept unawares.

Donning a submissive voice as if she was talking to a wild animal, “Erik, baby calm down.”

“Don’t baby calm down me! You out here giving other niggas what’s mine? Mine Y/N!”

“That’s not–”

“Don’t tell me that’s not what’s going on when you’ve been M.I.Fucking.A. for weeks! And the first thing I see both on video chat and in person is you with some random?! I’ll murder every nigga to ever touch you, keep tryna play me.”

“Nobody’s playing you Daka, look closer, you know him. I promise I haven’t been stepping out on you.” Y/N continued on, internally rolling her eyes at the toddler temper tantrum she had to placate this nigga out of. “My stupidly in love, trying to escape his own heartache, and loves drama when drunk cousin that you have met several times was just egging you on.”

Kill looked closer to the man’s face and released the filter of rage clouding his judgment, upon closer inspection he realized they’d met at several of the many family gatherings he’d attended with Y/N/N. Slowly easing the knife from her cousin’s throat, Erik struggled to fight back tears at his behavior. He was proving he wasn’t good enough for her, he hadn’t actually changed all that much. Kill took the reins once again, unwilling to let him process his feelings of abandonment and betrayal just yet. Rushing towards Y/N, he laid the knife flat on the side of her face, taking up residence on the other side.

Biting a huge hickey along her jawline, before grasping her earlobe in between his teeth, Killmonger growled, “So if you ain’t been fucking him, who you been fucking?”

Although Y/N knew she logically had nothing to feel guilty about, how he was questioning her made her want to lie down and worship him as an apology regardless. She took a deep breath to center herself, understanding that any sign of nervousness would be taken as an omission of guilt.

Y/N ran her hands up his arms and over his shoulder blades to hold his face in her palms. He reluctantly released her earlobe to allow her to face him, naturally allowing the blade to rest against her neck ever so gently.

“N’Jadaka. Erik, baby? Look at me, I have been trying to live without you miserably for the last few weeks. I’ve only been going out since Y/C/N got here and I have to beg for breaks because I’m basically his chaperone. You believe me don’t you?”

Erik looked at her with suspicion clouding his eyes. He dropped the knife and held her throat in his hands, squeezing just tight enough to hint to either pleasure or pain, pushing her against the front door.

“Ion know. Why should I?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Y/N took a chance and palmed his face, caressing his cheekbone with her thumb. “Cause you know that no matter how much you stress me out, isolate yourself from me, or threaten anyone who seems to have more access to me than you, that I love your crazy ass.”

Erik squeezed a little tighter, not enough to hurt her but enough to reassert his dominance. Y/N put a hand over his, doing her best to ground herself in the feeling of his hands rather than how much she wanted to cum from the pressure of them.”

“Sorry,” Y/N squeaked out, “I love every version of you, no matter how threatening any of them may be and I physically can’t stand to have anyone else touch me the way I let you touch me.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you?”

“Nah, princess, the other part.”

“No matter how threatening-” she started, but was cut off by the growl emanating from Erik’s chest and the pulsing release and pressure of him allowing her small gasps of air. “You know what I mean Y/N, don’t test me lil mama.”

Erik held his squeeze on her neck, tilting it ever so slightly to lick the side of her face and hold her earlobe between his teeth, tugging.

Y/N couldn’t hold back the guttural moan if she tried. Just barely keeping her eyes from rolling back and donning her sweetest sub voice, she said, “I physically can’t stand to have anyone else touch me the way I let you touch me big daddy. It literally makes me nauseous.”

Erik released her ear with a wet snap against her face, “It does?”

Y/N hummed and nodded her head as best she could in her current predicament.

Killmonger covered the forgiving face Erik started to make, replacing it with one of his stern, unyielding looks. “Then why you leave me and give me the silent treatment for weeks?”

Y/N whined at the tightening of his hands, closing her eyes to savor the pleasure only he could illicit lighting her body on fire.

Erik bit her bottom lip roughly, nearly drawing blood. “That’s not an answer.”

Losing the battle against her libido and subspace, Y/N whined again.

In a faux sweet voice Erik said, “Awww, is little mama already too far gone in her head thinking about all the ways imma mark you.”

Y/N nodded again, lost in the many images she’d acquired from her sexual experiences with Erik and Kill over the years.

“Good.” And with those words, Y/N was suddenly looking at Erik’s ass and the floor as he stomped upstairs to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

He tossed her on the bed and roughly stripped her of her clothes, halter top first, bottoms and panties all in one fell swoop last, leaving her heels on.

He positioned her over his knee and popped her cheeks until her bottom was flushed with his favorite shade of reddish purple and warmed his hands with the heat she emanated.

By the time he was done, Y/N wanted to be a ball of tears, but could only sniffle, her voice too shy to make an appearance when Kill took the reins of their scenes like this for fear of upsetting him further.

Erik used his knee to spread her legs open far enough to see her flower drenching her thighs in her nectar for him. He took two fingers to swipe some of it onto them for him to put in his mouth and savor, groaning at how much sweeter she seemed to have gotten since last he held her.

He laid her onto the bed and got up to undress himself, slapping her already sore ass when she didn’t move a muscle.

“You know what’s up. Face down, ass up lil mama.”

Y/N groaned but slowly inched her way into position. Already feeling like jello, she barely put an arch in her back, struggling not to lay back down and pass out.

Killmonger was not happy with that. After he’d removed everything except his grills and chain he let both his palms come down on her cheeks simultaneously.

Sounding more animal than human, “If you don’t assume the position like you got some sense, I swear to the gods Y/N.”

She was still lethargic, but was eager to experience less of his painful assaults and more of the pleasurable ones that she knew were around the corner. It took all of her strength but she was able to inch herself into position, deepening her arch just the way he demanded with her arms by her side and her cheek resting against the comforter.

“Good girl.”

With how pliant she was to his commands and the evidence of how much she trusted and wanted him dripping down her thighs, it took all of his restraint not to plunge himself into her until he felt her cervix try to push him back out.

Y/N smiled faintly at the praise, humming and wiggling her ass in response.

Killmonger grasped her wrists as he knelt to get up close and personal with his pussy. He spread her lips so he could get an eyeful of her throbbing clit and blew on it, eliciting a guttural moan from Y/N, before replacing his hand back on her wrist.

“Just you wait mamas, you gonna be screaming and crying by the time I’m done with you.”

He licked her juices on both thighs, leaving hickies all over them both before he finally put his whole face in her pussy and ate. If it wasn’t for the grasp he had on her wrists, she would have collapsed immediately.

Erik was a good kisser in general, but Killmonger was a master at french kissing, especially her pussy, until she was questioning whether or not she still wanted the pleasure. Those deep soul sucking kisses always made her question her sanity.

He slurped up and suctioned her clit into his mouth like that’s where it belonged, flicking it with the tip of his tongue until she came with a silent scream, without ever releasing her tiny bud. Then he released it with a pop only to hold her lips open and spit directly onto her hole, watching his saliva drip down onto her clit. He flattened his tongue and licked like the dog he could be until she was a whining, moaning mess, tears streaming down her face just as promised. 

Once the first sound hit his ears, she couldn’t stop the noises he was pulling from her if she was mute, let alone at the mercy of his insatiable thirst for her most animalistic responses.

Kill continued his assault with his tongue, moving through her folds in a rhythm only he knew. After he’d gotten two more orgasms from her that way, Y/N alternating between screaming and crying, he latched his plush lips back around her clit, assaulting the sensitive bundle of nerves, and plunged his two most trustworthy fingers into her, immediately finding her gspot and caressing it with an incessant ‘come hither’ motion until she was squirting and creaming uncontrollably. Not willing to let go just yet he dragged it out for what seemed like forever since she briefly lost consciousness and came to, lips still parted in the O of her silent screams, with his mouth still eagerly slurping up the waterfall his fingers were responsible for. All Y/N could do was turn her head the other way to watch what she could see of him, whining and moaning.

When she could barely release any more spurts he released her, licking his hand, fingers, and forearm clean as he slowly stroked his hard as steel member. 

In the great deep of her sex haze, Y/N mumbled, “He brought dick too? How are we gonna survive dick too when he almost killed us with just his mouth and fingers.”

Erik chuckled at her ramblings, proud that he was, as usual, responsible for her senseless words.

When his precum made an appearance, he swiped it up with his thumb and rubbed it into her pussy, almost immediately replacing his thumb with the tip of his dick. Wanting to savor this moment of finally being able to reconnect with his pussy, he played with her, just like that. Rubbing the tip of his dick in both of their juices, up and down her pussy lips, circling her clit, and coming to apply just enough pressure to her desperately clenching hole, only to rinse and repeat. On and on he went, teasing them both until his quietly whimpering babygirl was back to guttural whines.

He knew she was right where he wanted her mentally when she started begging.

“Please big daddy, I’m so sorry. Please baba E, please baba, please. Please please please please please pleaaaaaasssssseeeeee.”

When he was good and ready, he pulled her up by her throat until she was flush against him, licked her tears from her cheek, and forced her to look him in the eyes.

“You don’t do that disappearing and silent treatment shit ever again Y/N. You hear me?”

Y/N nodded and blinked at him with a puppy eyed look that damn near melted the ice caps of his attitude, but he was quick to remind her who’s big daddy in their relationship.

“When I told you, you were mine, I meant that shit mama.”

“Yes, baba,” Y/N squeaked out.

He tongued her down with one of his sloppy french kisses and as soon as he felt her body relax in his hold, he did exactly what his body had been begging for since the second he saw her. He pushed himself into her until he felt the tip of her cervix try to push him all the way back out, savoring the fucked out look she wore as her body spasmed with the unexpected orgasm, he held them there letting her ride it out. 

In this moment he was grateful for the years of curated discipline since the way her pussy clamped onto him almost triggered his own mind numbing orgasm. Although he successfully staved off his nut, he couldn’t stop the way all of his fight was knocked right out of him.  Finally rid of the aggression that his Killmonger personality oozed, Erik was able to finally take in his queen, his Y/N, in all her sex hazed glory.

When she finally came down from her high he started moving, giving her slow and deep strokes as he showered her face and neck with kisses, hoping his attempt at lovemaking showed her just how priceless she was to him, how desperate he’d been without her.

Kiss, “I’m sorry too mamas,” kiss “I know how much you love me and I don't understand why,” kiss, “you,” kiss, “insist,” kiss, “on pouring all of the best parts of yourself into me.” He couldn’t help but shed a tear at the relief he felt, having her in his arms again. “I promise to do better,” kiss, “to listen and pay attention more,” kiss, “to treat you like the empress you are,” kiss, “just say you’ll come home with me,” kiss, “promise you’ll take your rightful place by my side mamas,” kiss, “claim your right as my queen.”

Y/N was a moaning, whining mess, barely holding onto consciousness and shedding her favorite kind of tears, just as promised.

Erik tucked his face into her neck, struggling to keep himself from cumming too soon since her pussy was gripping him like a boa constrictor, indicating that yet another orgasm wasn’t too far.

He held himself in the deepest parts of her and put a little whine in his hips. “Please mama, come home with me.”

Just when he thought he could hold out no longer she arched into him and screamed yes over and over, overwhelmed with her orgasm, and squirted all over them both. Erik came in her almost at the exact same time, his orgasm nearly knocking him out with how it overcame him from head to toe. Both of them slumped into the bed.

—

By the time he finally started to get up, her screams had quieted back to whimpers.

Erik slowly and gently removed her heels from her feet, massaging the soles with just the right amount of pressure.

He cleaned both of them with a warm washcloth and ran the tub, placing some bubble bath soap, epsom salt, essential oils, and dried rose petals in the water. Wanting to balance out the intrusive way he barged back into her life, he lit some candles and incense as well, and placed his favorite body oil of hers on the counter.

When he came back to get her in the tub, she was silently staring into space in the same place and position he left her. After he got her to turn over and sit up, he scooped her into his arms bridal and brought her to the tub, gently placing her into the suds.

Once he saw her relax he went back to the bedroom to strip and change the sheets, wanting their transition back into the room to be seamless. When he came back into the bathroom her head was leaned against the edge of the tub, eyes closed, and tears were streaming down her face, alarming him to the fact that although he’d won the battle, he was still losing the war with treating his girl with the care she really was looking for from him.

Choking up himself, he kneeled next the tub and leaned over her face, kissing the droplets left behind.

“I’m so sorry mamas. You know that right?” His voice cracked at the end.

Although she started nodding yes, she ended up shaking her head no.

“Can you open your eyes for me please?”

Y/N shook her head no again.

“Pretty please?”

Again she shook her head no. She was too scared to look him in his eyes, anytime he touched her or they made eye contact she folded to his desires and needs, abandoning her own.

A little defeated, but determined to win all of her back, not just her body, Erik switched tactics.

“May I get into the tub with you and hold you?”

Y/N hesitated a few moments before she nodded yes. As soon as she heard the rustle of him standing back up she scooted forward allowing him to sit behind her.

Once he was seated, Erik gently pulled her into him, urging her body to use him as she did the edge of the tub. The moment she relaxed in his embrace, head lolling slightly to the left, he started kissing up and down her neck from where her ear met her face to her collarbone.

When he felt enough time had passed, he tried to get her to open up to him again.

“Lil mama?”

Y/N hummed.

“Tell me what’s on your mind please, I promise to listen.”

Y/N held up her pinky and asked, “Pinky promise?”

Erik locked his pinky with hers and brought her hand to his lips, softly talking against it, “Pinky Promise.”

She pulled her hand away, putting it back in her lap to join the other one, under the water.

Taking a deep breath she started.

“Am I a toy to be played with Daka?” Erik was ready to answer but kept silent, knowing she needed to get all of her thoughts out before he interrupted her. “To be taken out of storage to be used and then tossed aside when you’re not getting the desired result anymore?”

Rubbing the sides of her thighs and suddenly very scared, he said, “ no mamas.”

“Then why do you get to demand time and attention and energy from me, but when I ask for a sliver of honest communication, the smallest amount of all three resources you have to offer me, you shut me out? Why is it only okay for you to communicate what’s going on with you and us when you feel like it, when it's convenient? Why do I always have to beg for you to lean on me, to use me softly? Why do I have to beg you to let me hold you. Why don’t you ever just ask? Why do I have to grovel at your feet to be held by you? Why is the only time you make love to me when you’re trying to win me back? Why?” 

By the end of her list, Y/N was sobbing. Erik wrapped his arms around her body and tucked his chin in the curve of her neck and let a few tears drop himself before he answered.

“I don’t know mamas. I guess…,” he wiped the tears from his face and gulped down the rising tsunami of emotion that she so easily created with just a few sentences before he wrapped his arm back around her, “...I guess I’m just terrified.”

“Of what baby? Haven’t I been here? Haven’t I done the best to support you with all that I am, to remain honest with you and show you that I am loyal to our future?”

He kissed her shoulder and said, “you have. I just-”

Y/N pulled out of his arms to finally look him in the eye, “You just what? Aren’t my efforts to build a life with you enough?”

Erik palmed her face and gave her a deep kiss, hoping to transfer all of his emotion into it.

He put his forehead against hers and said, “I’m just so fucking terrified of losing you. To have the warmth of your love snatched away at a moment's notice. I’m terrified in a way I haven’t been in so fucking long that I just convince myself that its better to pull away and show you how unworthy I am of the full magnitude of your love.”

He pulled away and kissed her forehead, grateful she was finally looking him in the eyes again. “But this time of separation showed me I am nothing without you, just a hollow shell, no love to warm my soul and bones. Even the care and concern of my family isn’t enough to fill the abyss that’s created in your absence.”

Y/N swiped away the stray tears from his face, “that’s-”

“I know. Super intense.”

“Yes. But I was gonna say a relief to hear. You never really give me any verbal confirmation that you feel as deeply for me as I do for you unless I say I love you first.”

“I know mamas, but I promise to do better, be better, for you.”

Y/N pecked his lips. “No Baba. For you. You need to talk your feelings out loud so you can hear it too. You need to know that the only reason you’re able to love me so deeply is because you love yourself that deep, if not deeper, first. Understand?”

Erik smirked, yet again grateful that he had such a wise and loving partner who always held up the pieces of mirror he’d sworn he’d broken to pieces.

“Yea lil mama, I understand.”

“Good…,” Y/N kissed him again, deepening the kiss but teasing him slightly with how lightly she moved her lips against his. When she pulled away, she almost regretted bursting his bubble. “...cause I’m not going back with you until I’m ready.”

Erik’s face instantly fixed itself into a scowl. “But-”

Y/N held a finger to his lips. “I said when I’m ready, not never. I came home to get back to taking care of me, love me, and understanding what my needs are.”

His pout deepened.

“And I learned that I need to stop jumping when you say jump. So I go back when I feel that I’m ready, not because you showed up and demanded it of me. Okay?”

He was a little deflated, but still holding onto the hope of her eventually coming back with him.

“Okay, but I’m staying with you until you’re ready.”

“But-.” 

It was Erik’s turn to hush her with a finger. “I already know what you’re going to say and my duties will be waiting for me when we go back together. Now that you’re back in my arms I’m in no hurry to lose the privilege again.”

“You’re not!”

“You’re right, cause I’m staying.”

All Y/N could do was chuckle, understanding that she’d lost this battle and relishing in the fact that she won the war. It seemed he was finally starting to understand what she needed because although she was indeed going to complain about him having responsibilities to return to, she really did need him to stay. That abyss he had was mirrored in her heart and only time with him would close it back up.

Both satisfied that they worked through the root issue, they went back to enjoying the bath, Y/N comfortably resting her head against Erik.

When they were all pruney and the water was verging on cold, Erik stood them up to drain the tub and turned on the shower to rinse them both. After he dried them both, he quickly lotioned his body with shea butter, grabbed the body oil and guided Y/N hand in hand, back into the bedroom.

He laid her on her back first to moisturize and massage her front, kneading out all of the tension she held. When he was working his way back up from her feet, he couldn’t help but get stuck between her thighs, using his thumbs to massage circles up them until he reached her pussy again.

Y/N slightly parted her legs, letting one bend and fall open for easy access. He immediately used one hand to part her lips so he could see her clit clearly.

Erik leaned down to softly kiss her clit a few times before he pulled away and used the thumb on his other hand to rub slow circles. He admired her form as he brought her to orgasm leisurely. 

He went back to massaging her thighs until she returned from the heights of her pleasure.

His voice was more gruff than he wanted when he told her, “turn over.”

She easily compiled and continued his massage, paying extra attention to her sore ass.

When Y/N was 2 more seconds away from sleep and he was satisfied with his work he urged her under the covers and joined her. She tried to grab his hardened member to return the favor but he grabbed up her hands, kissing them to soften the blow.

“No, I needed to show you how softly I can treat you, I don’t need to cum right now. Sleep.”

Y/N pouted and whined, wanting to feel him connected to her again.

She lifted her leg over his as they faced each other and inched as close as she could with her hands in his, feeling his dick graze her pussy lips.

Putting a little more base in his voice, “Ay! What I just say lil mama?”

She whined out, “I don’t care, I just need to feel you in me Baba.”

Erik grunted. 

Y/N donned her best puppy dog pout and begged with her words and body, wiggling in his hold and being able to feel the lightest brush of his hot skin. “Pleeeeeeaaaaassssseeee?”

“Fine, but careful what you asked for…” he said, sheathing himself in one stroke and stilled her hips before she could start moving. “...you just might get it.”

He released her hands and tongued her down, palming her face.

“Sleep Y/N.”

“But,” she said, her face scrunching in confusion.

“You can keep me warm, but that’s it for now, okay?”

She started to whine again but was cut short when he wrapped the hand palming her face around her throat.

“Sleep mamas. You’re going to need all of your energy in the morning.”

She wasn’t necessarily happy, but she also wasn’t necessarily dissatisfied. She did get her wish after all.

“Ok.”

Y/N tucked her head under his chin and started to drift before she sleepily said, “thank you for showing me how much you care Baba E. I’m really happy you’re here.”

Erik kissed her forehead and squeezed his arms a little tighter around her.

“Thank you for letting me.”

He was answered with her cute snores and let the sound lull him into the best sleep he’d had in too long of a while.

[sonamytrash]

Midnight, part two

Underground Virgin!Levi x Virgin!Femreader

MDNI

Warnings: y/n used, Childhood friends to lovers, fluff, smut, puberty mentioned, masturbation mentioned, fingering, sex, mentions of abuse, mentions of rape, mentions of prostitution, creampie, orgasm, characters ages aren't mentioned, but it's suggested they're both in their late teens, of age when writing but could be interpreted as underage? Virgin levi, virgin reader. Not proofread.

Note: Wow, thanks for the love, guys! Here's part two, hope you enjoy.

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He's experienced a lot in his short life. But interactions of the romantic kind aren't something he's familiar with. Despite his his feelings for you and innocent exchanges of affection here and there, he really isn't sure where to start. Levi breathes in deeply and exhales, trying to collect his thoughts.You wanted to be intimate with him. You wanted him to be your first. He could only thank the heavens for the opportunity to show you how much you mean to him, to show you the very least of what you deserve. To be loved, cherished, and worshipped.

Levi pulls you close to him on the bed, his arms wrapped around you as he leans closer, and your lips are practically brushing against each other. "I'd do anything for you, you know that, right?"

Your hand still resting against his cheek, you scan his face for any signs of reluctantly. Both of you lean into one another, and finally your lips meet for the first time.

Levi can feel your warm hand on his chest, making his body tingle every time it brushes against his skin. His breath grows increasingly heavier, and his heart rate starts to rise as his hand slowly moves down your arm and makes its way to your hips.

You tug his shirt over his head before he does the same to yours and returns to your embrace. The kiss is messy and irrepressible. Both of you are absolutely desperate for the taste of one another after pining so long. 

The kiss never wavers as he pushes you down onto the bed and crawls on top of you. He's enjoying the feeling of your body beneath him. Your little moans and mewls encouraged him to go further, as he started slowly moving his hands down your body, his breath growing heavier with every move.

Levi's body aches for you as you touch and trace your fingers over his muscles. He continues to kiss you as your hands explore his body, the body that has kept you safe for all these years, the body you have stolen glances at given any opportunity, the body that you ache for. His grip on your hip gets firmer as he enjoys your every movement, every touch, and every kiss you bestow upon him.

Both of your bodies are in an incredible state of arousal. You attempt to speak up to tell him how you've felt all this time. Even in this intimate moment, you can't quite find the words, even after having just been so bold. You feel a bit embarrassed about your lack of experience, but you're determined to push through, determined to share this moment with him. There's nobody in this world who makes you feel safer.

Levi's eyes shift to yours as he pauses shortly to speak. Seeing that you're struggling.

"You don't have to tell me with words, I know exactly how you feel. I'm nervous, too. I've never done this before either."  He tells you shyly, you smile and nod. "I trust you, Levi." He smiles."Just tell me if anything hurts or you want me to stop, okay?."

He caresses the side of your face. Enjoying every moment of intimacy. Your bodies are already communicating past what you can or can't coherently say. He trails his hand over your breast, gently taking your nipple between his fingers as he begins to suck on the other. You moan at the new and different sensations on each of your nipples. "Levi..." You're moan breathlessly.

"You're beautiful," he says, his voice low. "Let me make you feel good." He says as his mouth returns to your erect nipple. You nod, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation building within you. You had wanted this for so long. Fucked yourself silly on your fingers night after night at the thought of him. Never able to fully satisfy your desires.

Levi's fingers reach down to your drenched underwear, he rubs his fingers over the fabric and smirks at the thought of making you this aroused, before he moves the garment to one side, feeling your wet slit, he groans as he moves one of his fingers over your clit, caressing the swollen nub gently, eliciting another moan from your lips. As Levi touches you, you feel a surge of pleasure run through your body. You throw your head back, letting out a louder moan as he continues. He looks into your eyes, "Is this okay? Does it feel good?" He asks, your pleasure being his only priority in this moment. You nod, "Yes" you breathe, "It feels good." You mewl as he toys with your clit applying more pressure, before he slowly inserts a finger into your tight heat, you gasp. They're longer than your own, your pussy sucks his finger in, twitching around his digit at the newfound feeling and depth. He moans in suprise at the wet and warm sensation around his finger as he returns to sucking one of your nipples, hunger and desire burning within him as he slowly moves his finger inside of you, when he adds another finger you bite your lip, adjusting to the feeling of a second digit. He moves them rhythmically as he uses his thumb to rub your clit. He had no idea that a womens body would twitch and move around him like this, he gets excited at the thought of how you're going to feel around his cock, trying to ressist the urge to almost dry hump the air as he focuses on only your pleasure for now. He knows the first time can be painful for women. He doesn't want to hurt you, so he's determined to make the process as enjoyable as possible. It doesn't take long for you to feel a familiar knot in your stomach, something you had been able to achieve alone but never this quickly or intense. "Levi, I'm-" you moan as you push your hips up into his fingers as he picks up the pace, he removes his mouth from your nipple and comes up to kiss along your jaw and encourage you "Cum for me, y/n." You squeak delightfully as you come around his fingers, your body shaking from the intensity of the orgasm as he guides you through. He keeps going until you grab his wrist, needing a second from the overstimulation. Levi watches in amazement as you cum around his fingers. He can feel every twitch and spasm, a sense of pride washes over him at having brought you such pleasure. But he wants to see so, so much more of that cute little fucked out face you've just made.

Leaning down to kiss you deeply once more, he smiles. "You did great, such a good girl." He says reassuringly as he removes your drenched underwear and looks over your body. Living in the underground, it isn't the first time he has seen a woman in the nude. However, gazing over the form of someone you love in such an intimate moment is something that he can't describe, something so much more erotic. Your body is so perfect that it's almost like it could've been sculpted by the gods. As you recover from your orgasm and begin to touch him, he can't resist looking at your flushed face, his equally as red giving a slight moan as he reacts to your touch. You trail your hands down to the waistband of his underwear, "Can I?" You ask him, looking into his eyes seductively, he nods. He lets out a shaky breath as you trace your fingers along the trail of hair from his navel to the waistband of his underwear, where it becomes thicker. Anticipation builds within him at the thought of being with you in this way. With need, he guides your hand to his cock, eager to feel your touch there. His breathing is already ragged, his heart pounding in his chest as he anticipates what is to come. He hisses feeling your hand against him through the fabric, before you free his cock from the confinement of his underwear. Your eyes widen as you run your fingers over his length. You internally contemplated how this thing was supposed fit inside you. Levi must have sensed your concern "It'll be fine." He reassures you, struggling to concentrate at the mercy of your touch. As much as he wanted to feel your hands or even mouth around him, he knew he'd never last if things went in that direction. There would be another time, having come this far, of that he was certain.

He enjoys the sensation of you stroking him for a few moments, though, before he tries to read your expression, "Do you want to continue?" He asks nervously. You smile, meeting his gaze and nodding. "Yes." You say seductively. He pulls you in for another kiss as he positions himself at your entrance, slowly rubbing his cock against your dripping wet slit, covering himself in your essence. You both moan into the kiss, the whole situation is so erotic that your mind can only comprehend the sensation of his movements against you, all you want is him to take you. He takes one of your hands and squeezes it tightly as he begins to enter you, the tip of his cock glistening with precum as he moves.

Levi thrusts slowly into you, inch by inch, groaning with pleasure as he feels your virgin pussy clamping down around him. You whimper under him, your nails digging into his shoulders with your free hand as you try to adjust to the alien but welcome feeling of having him inside you. It hurts but it isn't unbearable. Your other hand entwined with his as you both experience this moment together.

Levi tries to be gentle, knowing that it's your first time, but he can't help the intensity of his desire and fights the urge to start thrusting inside you, your tightness and warmth enveloping him completely. Surely, he was in heaven. Nothing on this earth had ever been kind or good to him until there was you. The fact that this was unravelling now between the both of you was unreal.

You look into his eyes, your own completely glazed over with lust. "It's okay, you can move. I'm alright." You say breathlessly.

He moves slowly at first, using your expressions as his guide. His thrusts grow deeper and more forceful with each moment. He captures your lips again passionately, needing to be as close to you as physically possible.

You moan loudly, feeling a sense of pleasure spreading through you as Levi takes you to new heights of ecstasy. You arch your back under him, wrapping your legs around his waist as you try to take him even deeper.

Levi responds, thrusting harder and harder into you with each passing moment. You feel like you're going to explode with pleasure, and you can't help but cry out his name repeatedly as he fills you up with his cock.

The sound of your skin slapping together fills the room as he moves inside you, the intensity between you both, only growing with each passing moment. Your pleasure builds with each of his thrusts, and soon you're both rambling sweet nothings to one another, your bodies writhing together blissfully.

He's delirious with the wet embrace of your pussy sucking him in, the feeling of your walls constricting around his cock almost too much. He knows that you're close to cumming again, he can feel your pussy quivering around him. He moans loudly with you, your tight hole squeezing him as you scream his name. His lips crash down on your own. With one final thrust, he feels his cock pulsing inside of you as he reaches his own orgasm, he lets out a loud groan into the kiss, spilling his seed inside you. Neither of you in the right frame of mind to consider any of the consequences right now. You feel a sense of warmth spreading through you as he finishes. Both of you have a tight grip on one another as you ride out your high. He collapses on top of you, panting heavily as he tries to catch his breath. The room is filled with nothing but the sounds of heavy breathing, the smell of sex and sweat permeates the air.

"I love you, y/n." He says breathlessly in your ear. You trail your fingers over the back of his head, feeling the contrast of longer hairs and his undercut. "I love you too, Levi."

@mei-mei01

[poraphia]

Maybe the soap opera drama has a tight grip on my braincells BUT

imagine siren with a love interest who keeps. Getting. Into. Bad. Relationships.

not BAD bad relationships, just— people that are kind of pricks. One guy accidentally leaves the door open and their cats escape (and he doesn’t give a single fuck, just keeps watching tv and when the reader comes home from work he’s like “oh yeah ur cats escaped a few hours ago”), another never shows up on dates, one is just an arrogant prick, the other is boring as hell and has nothing in common with the reader——

Just

that must STING for siren. Like—— he’s right there????? He’d never think that he would be ENTITLED to a relationship with the reader, NEVER— but why can’t he be your type??

10/10 angst for him id say

he can’t even convince himself that he would be BETTER for the reader because he’s a villain

idk

"i found your cat, not him."

➵ PAIRING! clinic!siren!wilbur x civilian!taken!reader

➵ CREATING! 12.17.23 | 3631 words

➵ CONTAINING! jealous wilbur, reader has a cat, reader has a bf, jester talking some sense into siren, heartbroken wilbur

➵ SAYING! this took some days to work on but look! it’s finally done! i had a lot of ups and downs and probably switched up the plot a couple times but here it is :D thank uuu @listenheresweaty for suggesting this honestly i was thinking about writing this the moment u suggested it and now i have free time so yippie. hope yall enjoy :D

My masterlist :)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

(y/n) had a reputation to have a terrible taste in partners. Whether it be a girlfriend that refused to take them on a date and made (y/n) plan all of the dates out, or the boyfriend they had now, who “accidentally” left the door open, letting their cat escape. Wilbur watched from the window as the desperate (y/n) approached any passerby, showing a picture of their feline, just to have any sort of direction as to where it might be.

Wilbur wasn’t a hero of any sorts. The clothes on his back were purchased with money robbed from the bank down the street, and the laptop he was using to do his work on was stolen from some tech store in the mall. And don’t even get him started on his body count that could fill a graveyard. His powers were venom dripping from his tongue, and he was nothing but a snake.

So what made Wil get up from his seat to tap the shoulder of a helpless (y/n)?

Maybe because this person was an interest of Wil’s for quite some time now. From seeing them inside the coffee shop from time to time, to even catching the glimpse of the back of their head as they boarded the bus— It was like this person was meant to be in Wil’s life. Though he just never had the excuse to go up to them. So instead, for weeks now, he has been admiring this person from afar, seeking for some type of opportunity to spark up a conversation.

“Hey.. Are you alright?” He asked. (y/n) turned around, a little out of breath from quickly speaking to anyone who approached them.

“Y-Yeah— no! No..” She sighed, breathlessly. They slumped against a nearby wall, almost defeated. “I— I lost my cat. She’s this sweet white ragdoll with a pink collar and big black eyes. My boyfriend left the door open and she just snuck right out! He said the cat’s been gone for a while now and he didn’t even bother helping.” They trailed off. “I know she’s here somewhere.. I don’t know..” They buried their face into their hands, frustrated with themself.

Wilbur looked at them with a tilted head and puffed up cheeks. Despite this being a stranger, he couldn’t help but feel a panging guilt in his chest. “Hey,” He placed a hand on their shoulder. “I think I might be able to find her.”

“..You think so?” They responded in a meek voice.

“I’m sure..” He replied in a gentle tone. “I usually work like really late in the city. Maybe I could find her on my way home? Just give me some form of communication and a picture and I’m sure I can find her.” He smiled reassuringly. (y/n)’s head perked up, and suddenly their face was beaming with hope. It was a look Wilbur wished he could screenshot with his eyes and keep it in his mind gallery.

“Thank you! You don’t know how much this means to me.” They gleamed. “Hold on— Let me give you my phone number. What was your name again?”

Something about this question made Wil freeze up a little. This complete stranger, telling him that he’s a good person, is also asking for his name? I mean, it’s not like its the first time someone asked his name. But being asked in such a kind and polite way, it almost took him back to when he first met Phil.

He shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Wilbur,” He finally said. “Call me Wil.”

After exchanging contact information they parted their separate ways. Wil decided to pack up his stuff and head back home. He took the train to his neighborhood and spent the whole ride staring at this picture of (y/n) with their cat he learned was named “Anvil.”

The picture was a selfie taken by (y/n) with Anvil pressing her fluffy face against her owner’s soft skin. It was a cute sentiment captured by their phone camera, and Wilbur knew it was a treasured picture of theirs. He took the time to admire the cat’s features. It had a mess of white fur, and would definitely stick out like a sore thumb in the midnight dark. The train came to a halt as it had arrived to Wil’s destination. It didn’t take but a fifteen minute to arrive home.

Wilbur inserted the keys into the doorknob before pushing the door open. He kicked the door behind him closed as he placed his coat and shoes by the shoe cabinet and dresser.

“Hey, Wil,” Phil called from the kitchen.

“Hey, dad.” He shouted back. Wil threw his bag onto the couch before sliding against the sleek wooden floor to the entrance of the kitchen. Phil’s wings were loosely hanging behind him as the man stir fried some ingredients into a wok. “What’s for dinner?” Wil asked.

“Oh, just some fried rice.” Phil shrugged. “Whatcha do today? Hang out at the cafe?”

“Ah, yeah, pretty much.” Wil said, leaning against the fridge. “I, uh, met someone today.”

“Oh?” Phil said, raising an eyebrow. “Someone, you say?”

“What— Hey! It’s not like that..” Wil rolled his eyes while crossing his arms. However that wasn’t enough to convince Phil.

“Well if you say so.” Phil smirked. “So, what happened?”

Wil turned around and grabbed a glass from the cabinet before pouring himself a glass of ice cold water. He took a sip before speaking. “Well, there was this person and— I’m not quite sure what it was about them but.. They had lost their cat, and I felt really bad, so I offered to help them. They sounded so kind and stuff, but like— Apparently their cat ran away because their stupid boyfriend decided to leave the door open?! And he didn’t ever bother to help—!” Wil took a deep breath before bringing the glass back to his lips.

“—Oi, what are you bitching about?” As if on queue, Tommy emerged from the stairs. His hair was a ruffled his mess and he stumbled a little as he walked as if he had just woken up.

“Oh, Wil is just upset about someone he just met losing their cat—” Phil tried to explain, but Wil was quick to butt in.

“They didn’t lose their cat! It was their damn boyfriend!” He corrected. “Like, for hours he even knew the cat escaped and he just let it happen?!”

“Uh oh, looks like big Wil over here is catching feelings!” Tommy snickered as he wrapped an arm around Wil’s neck.

“Ugh, stop—” Wil pushed him away, but Tommy was persistent with his teasing.

“Little Wilbur has a crushy wushy and will find that cat and propose to them OoOoOo!” Tommy chirped.

“—Dad! Tommy’s being a bitch!” Wil cried as he struggled to escape Tommy’s grasp. After enough pushing, Wil was able to shove Tommy away before forcing Tommy into a headlock.

“Hey! Agh— Get off me you big bastard!” Tommy exclaimed. But Wilbur stood firm as he restricted Tom’s limbs by embracing him tightly.

“Both of you stop playing in the kitchen! Now, go get Techno because the food is ready.” Phil ordered, sternly.

Reluctantly, Wil released his grip from Tommy. Tom rubbed his arms and gave a big side-eye look to Wil.

“Bitch.” Tom muttered.

“Tommy! Go!” Phil ordered again, leaving Wilbur a snickering mess as Tom did his walk of shame toward the steps.

After dinner with the Soots (and some convincing to the family that Wilbur was not in love with this stranger he had just met), Wil dressed in his disguise and entered the night as Siren, a profound villain known in L’manburg city. His first task at hand was to find Anvil in Eastside.

He sauntered through the night with his hands in his pockets and his eyes lurking the streets. The night was cold and quiet with only the hum of the streetlights occupying his ears. But his only goal was to listen to the sweet meow of a cat lost and frigid. Every alleyway he came across he made sure to go through it thoroughly, making sure that the cat wasn’t stuck in a garbage can or in a cardboard box.

“Fuck, where is this cat..?” Siren muttered under his breath. He began whistling, making any noise imaginable to summon the feline. To no avail, no cats came running his way. Instead, a rather confused Jester jumped down from a building and right in front of Siren.

“What.. Are you doing?” Jester asked. Though he was wearing his mask, Siren could already tell he was furrowing his eyebrows.

Siren scoffed before continuing to walk. “I’m looking for a cat.” He replied. “But I can’t find her anywhere. I’m supposed to get her before the morning so I can return it to its owner.”

Jester followed behind him, his hands behind his back. “And this is important because..?”

“I-It’s important to me!” Siren retaliated, but if anything, it made him seen more desperate.

Jester sighed before shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you’re doing this just to impress someone.”

“I-I don’t know man.” Siren finally admitted, though he continued looking left and right in an attempt to find (y/n)’s cat.

“Siren, you know we can’t be doing this— y’know, trying to date and all of that. We’re villains. What do we do if they find out, and the whole syndicate is reported? Plus, you know how we are. We’re ‘evil.’” Jester made sure to put the last word into air quotes. “At least to society we are. We have to face the truth—”

Though Jester’s words were going one ear and out the other, some of them still stuck in Siren’s head. Sure, this wasn’t the first time Siren wanted to form a close bond with someone outside of the syndicate— I mean look at Tommy. He adjusted comfortably. But I guess this time it was different. This was a complete stranger that he met as a civilian, and now he was out as Siren looking for their cat! The more Siren thought about, the more he felt foolish.

Suddenly, a loud meow could be heard from an alleyway just to the left of Siren. Jester ceased his talking and looked at Siren, who was staring at Jester right back.

“Is that the—”

“Shhh..” Siren brought his finger to his lips to quiet down Jester. Slowly, Siren approached the alleyway with Jester steadily following behind him. Lo and behold was Anvil, perched on top of a cardboard box that sat right on top of a garbage can.

“How’re you going to get it?” Jester whispered.

“Just watch.” Siren cleared his throat. He picked up a spare cardboard box that was lying around and held it up near ground level for the cat to easily jump into. “Anvil, come and sit in this box.”

A moment of silence passes between the three of them as the cat laid comfortably in her seat, not planning to move anytime soon.

“Uh, was that supposed to do something?” Jester asked sarcastically. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“What the.. Anvil, come here now!” I demanded once again. As if taunting me, the cat simply licked her paws in response. Jester couldn’t help but to burst out laughing.

“Are you telling me your powers don’t work on cats?!” Jester gasped between laughs. “That’s fucking hilarious! Hopefully the Heroes won't find out about this one!”

“Shut up, dude!” Siren fussed at him. It took a bit for Jester to settle down his laughter with hands up out of protest.

“Sorry, sorry.. I just think it’s way too fucking funny.”

“Help me get this fucking cat, dude!” Siren exclaimed, clearly annoyed now. Siren turned around, now facing the cat again. He decided to kneel down to ground level with the box now on the floor.

Siren whistled to grab the feline’s attention. “C’mere, Anvil! Come here, buddy!” But the cat simply ignored the masked man.

“Hm, do you have a picture of the owner?” Jester asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah—” Siren took out his phone and tapped on a few things before pulling up the picture of (y/n) and Anvil. Siren looked at it one last time before showing the screen to Jester. He studied the face carefully, even grabbing the phone himself for him to examine.

Then with a simple head shake, Jester transformed his face into (y/n). It was an uncomfortable sight seeing their head on Jester’s body, but it definitely sparked the interest of Anvil.

“Come here, Anvil, come here!” Jester exclaimed as knelt down. Even his voice was near identical to (y/n). Obediently, the cat hopped off of the garbage can and into the arms of Jester, purring gingerly as she snuggled into his chest. I gave Jester an amused look as he smirked smugly.

“So, am I getting paid for this?” Jester asked as he carefully placed the feline into the box.

“To be fair, you volunteered to help. I didn’t ask.” Siren replied.

“Touche.”

Siren and Jester walked together until they were able to change into civilian clothes to avoid any conflict. It was important for Jester to maintain the face of (y/n) to keep the cat as calm as possible. Despite Siren knowing that it was just his friend and business associate under that form, he couldn’t help but stare at the face of (y/n). How their hair flowed as they walked and how their eyes glowed even under the moonlight. It felt too enchanting to even be real.

“Hey, you good bro?” Jester’s voice was the only thing to throw Siren out of his delusions.

“Yeah— yeah I’m fine.” Siren muttered, looking away. Jester rolled his eyes before sighing.

“Dude, what did I just say about getting attached to anyone?” Jester lectured once again.

“I— I know.” Siren replied defeatedly. “I know..”

“It’s dangerous for you, and whoever this—” Jester pointed as his own face. “—person you’re so infatuated with. It would be dangerous for not only you, but for them too. Imagine how much trouble they would be in knowing that they’re in relations with a supervillain.”

“I know, Jester!” Siren cried. The both of them stopped in their tracks. Even the cat laid still in it’s box. The midnight crickets filled the empty air between the two villains. “I get it— it’s too dangerous for me. It’s too dangerous for them. I’m evil. I’m going to put them in danger— I just— ugh!” Siren tilted his head back in frustration.

As he bit the inside of his cheek to hold back any bitter words he had the urge to say, Jester stood there and stared at him. It hurt even more seeing the person of interest saying these words to him. Jester quickly transformed back into his regular mask and placed a hand on Siren’s shoulder.

“Look man, I’m sorry..” Jester apologized. “I’m just worried about you, alright? Don’t want anything happening to you, especially what went down this past year.” Siren tilted his head back to look at him, and though his eyes were shielded, he could tell they were full of sincerity and reassurance.

“Yeah..” Siren voiced. “I guess I’m just tired. I don’t know. Let’s hurry home soon.”

“Alright.” Jester agreed.

The two were able to change out of their villain disguises in an abandoned warehouse without anyone noticing them. They then made their separate ways, leaving Wilbur and the cat in careful silence on walk home. Once Wil made it to the front door, he was careful in making up the steps to his room where he would keep the cat. Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone’s sleep considering that Phil and Techno were at a meeting and Tom could be quite the heavy sleeper.

Wil shut his bedroom door behind him and placed the cardboard box next to his closet. Though the cat was sound asleep now, he made sure to tuck in the feline with any spare blankets he had lying around before changing into his sleepwear and laying down in bed.

Wil pulled out his phone and texted (y/n).

Wilbur Hey, able to meet me at the cafe sometime tomorrow morning? I have you cat :)

Surprisingly, they responded.

(y/n) OMG really?! Thank you so much! I’ll see you tomorrow x

‘x’? Don’t those usually mean kisses? They probably just meant it in a friendly way. Or maybe they’re showing an interest in Wilbur? Nah, that can’t be possible. But what if? What if they’re interested in Wilbur?

Regardless of what (y/n) intended when they signed off with that little letter, Wilbur only slept a mere two hours.

The next day, Wil was ecstatic despite his lack of sleep. It was as if in a blink of eye he was in bed, but then the next moment he was scarfing down his breakfast and bolting out the door with Anvil’s box in his arms.

After all this time, he finally was able to do some sort of action to get (y/n)’s attention. To finally place himself in their field of view, and maybe, just maybe, they would have some sort of interest toward him. The thought made Wilbur’s heart flutter, making him feel like his body lifted which each step he took.

Wil had finally made it to the cafe, and right on time for that matter too. The building was just up-ahead. Wilbur took a deep breath, his chest pounding from adrenaline, anxiousness, and maybe a bit of excitement sprinkled in there as well. He looked down at the cat, who was previously buried in a sheet. She was now looking up at the man with big beady eyes staring right back at him. The charm to her collar clinked as it waved side to side.

“Okay, Anvil, I’m gonna return you to your owner now, alright? I-I’m sure she’s missing you.” Though he was just simply talking to a cat, this was (y/n)’s cat. And he was returning (y/n)’s cat! He was! Not some other kind stranger, not her family, not even her dirtbag boyfriend. It was Wilbur who would be returning this cat. Without him, Anvil wouldn’t be safe and sound in someone capable to protect a feline from the treacherous night.

With a proud smile, Wil approached the cafe with confidence radiating off his strides.

This was it, he thought.

This was it.

But was it?

He looked in the window to locate (y/n), but instead he found a sight more displeasing. the sight made his heart drop and his knees weak, but it took all his strength and awareness that he was holding a cat to keep himself steady. (y/n) was huddled up next to what seemed to be their incompetent boyfriend. Their head leaned against his shoulder, but the boyfriend did not return the affection. Instead he sat with his hands both placed on his phone, seemingly playing some idle shooting game to occupy his absent mind.

It took (y/n) noticing that Wil was at the window for Wilbur to break out of his mind. Their face beamed at the sight of their cat, and immediately they got up and rushed out of the door to greet him and her feline.

“Anvil, sweetheart!” They exclaimed. The cat immediately perked her head to face her owner before jumping out of the box and into (y/n)’s arms. Wil smiled contently at the sight, however his brain felt all kinds of fuzzy. As if he wasn’t really there.

“Thank you so much! You don’t know how much this means to me. Thank you, Wil, seriously!” Something about (y/n) saying his name made him wince. It felt like a hug before a stab in the chest. Regardless, he pushed through.

“Yeah, of course. I told you I would get her as soon as possible.” Wilbur said.

“You’re an actual lifesaver! I’m sorry if she put you through any trouble. Can I buy you a coffee or?” (y/n) offered. Though the offer was tempting, he didn’t feel comfortable spending another second seeing him and them together. Especially at such a close proximity.

“I-I’m fine,” Wil quickly muttered. “I have to go somewhere in a bit. I’ll catch you later, yeah?”

“Of course! Thank you again, truly.” (y/n) smiled. He simply nodded before turning and walking away.

Though Wil could argue that the man (y/n) calls their boyfriend is a prick, it’s not like he would be any better. Just like Jester said. That man could sit on his ass all day, not care for their cat, not care for them, and yet, he would still be the better option between him and Wilbur.

Wilbur is evil.

Wilbur is a villain.

Wilbur has killed countless living people compared to that prick killing digital npcs for fun.

Though, the argument stapled in Wil’s mind.

Wil found (y/n)’s cat. Not him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a / n ~ poor lil baby siren he just wants love :(( mayb ill do a part 2? i loved this concept ngl. notes of all kind are super duper appreciated :)) thank u for supporting my writing!

[daisynik7]

“How Do I Breathe” by Mario for Eren Yeager - Angst

How Do I Breathe

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x reader (gender-neutral)

Word Count: ~0.9k

cw: angst, mentions of anxiety, depression, and panic attacks, established relationship, hurt/comfort, modern day setting

Summary: Eren makes a big decision to move overseas to Marley for a new job, away from all his friends, his family, and worst of all, you. He realizes the hard way that this might have not been the best decision for him. 

Author’s Notes: Thanks for the request for the y2k karaoke party, anon! This song is sad, perfect for some Eren angst! I dug deep for this, pulling from some personal experience I had with my partner not too long ago. Hope you like it! Likes, reblogs, and/comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading!

Eren stares up the ceiling, lying in the bed of his tiny studio apartment. The faucet drips slowly; he must’ve not shut it off all the way, causing it to leak. Every now and again, police sirens blare past, fading in the distance to whatever routine crime is happening a couple blocks down. By two in the morning, college kids return from their late-night parties, slurring their words loudly in the hallway, slamming their doors shut without any care for their neighbors. It doesn’t matter though; regardless of the surrounding commotion, Eren can’t sleep. 

It takes him one month to realize the vast differences between Marley and Paradis. It’s one thing to read about it in books or magazines, it’s another to experience it personally. Here, everything moves in fast forward, constantly in motion, no time to stop and smell the roses. Sometimes, he doesn’t have time to think, always pressured to make a rash decision. Work is the same; people always on the go, hasty to make deadlines. It’s even worse because it’s dog-eat-dog, no sense of teamwork or community, everyone trying to compete with each other for that raise or promotion. 

Life on Paradis was simple. Small towns, tight knit communities, the type of place where everyone knows everyone and you were never alone. Eren spent nearly his entire childhood glamorizing the world beyond the sea. He stayed in Paradis throughout college and when a job opportunity came to relocate to Marley, he didn’t hesitate to take it. When he made that decision, you were nervous about doing long-distance. “It’s only an hour away by plane, two hours by boat!” he claimed, excited. How could you deny him of this? The dream he had since he was a little kid? So, despite your concerns about it, you agreed to stay together. 

Two months in, you start noticing changes in his demeanor. His voice on the phone becomes more docile. His face during video chats looks tired, dark circles under his eyes, gauntness in his cheeks, as if he hasn’t been sleeping well. No matter how hard you try to pry it out of him, he’ll never admit that he’s starting to feel depressed, desperate to cling onto this dream of his. A dream that has gradually turned into a nightmare. 

Four months in, unable to sleep, mind racing, he grabs his phone, dialing your number, praying that you answer. The air is thick, making it difficult to breath, throat tight and chest heavy. After three rings, you pick up, your voice concerned. “Eren? Are you okay?”

Tears stream down his face, breathing labored, barely able to talk. “No, I’m not,” he manages to say.

You sit up in your bed, fully awake now, giving him your full attention. “Sweetie, breathe, okay? Just breathe for me.”

He sniffles, choking on his spit, trying his best to calm down. His fingertips are tingling now, body cold and rigid, heart racing wildly. He’s convinced he’s about to die, here in this dinky apartment. Alone.

“Eren, breathe with me. Please. Listen to me and do it with me, okay?” You inhale deeply through your nose, exhale slowly out your mouth, loud enough for him to hear. It takes him a bit to collect himself, but when he does, he copies you, pausing only a few times to wipe his face on his blanket. 

“Good job, baby. You’re doing great,” you encourage him, listening to him carefully.                      

It continues like this for several minutes, until his breathing returns to a normal pace. Eventually, he murmurs, “I can’t do it anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to be here anymore. Away from family. My friends. You.” He swallows hard, sinking into pillows. “I’m miserable. It’s nothing like what I imagined.”

Your heart sinks, tempted to say whatever you can to bring him back, bring him home. But you don’t. Instead, you say, “Give it more time. You can make friends there.”

He snorts. “The people here don’t want friends. They want allies. People they can use. You know how much I hate that.”

You remain silent, listening to him, unsure what else to say. 

He continues, breathing normally now. “I thought this is what I wanted. To be free, to explore my horizons, all that cliché bullshit. I thought the other side of the sea would bring me joy. But here, I’m so lonely. I miss you so much.” He pauses for a beat, eventually adding, “This place sucks.”

You laugh at his crassness, tears welling in your eyes. “I miss you too, Eren. It’s lonely without you here. It doesn’t feel like home anymore.”

He smiles into the phone, warmth returning to his body, wishing he was with you. Wishing he could hug you and kiss you and cuddle with you until he falls asleep peacefully in your arms. “I’m sorry for being a selfish idiot. I should have never left.”

“You’re not a selfish idiot,” you assure him. “It’s good that you tried it out. And who knows, maybe in another universe, you would have really loved Marley.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous idea. “I think in all possible universes, I would still hate Marley.”

You giggle, glad to hear him back to his normal self. 

Six months after his move to Marley, Eren returns home, safe and sound. 

[slight-gaming-addict]

Can I request 505 with jamil please?

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ

505 - arctic monkeys

0:24 ─●──────── -3:49

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

pairing: jamil viper x gn!reader

warnings: angst, slight toxic relationship, a hint of fluff (not v much its mostly angst), crying, not proofread

word count: 0.9k

masterlist | request rules

He's already been driving for hours, but Jamil was determined to get back home as fast as he could. He wanted to see you, even if it was only a couple minutes, and couldn't help but think to what you were doing right then. In his mind he thinks of you laying on your side in bed, trying to sleep, but you can't quite get there without him there; you trying to imitate his warmth by squeezing your hands between your thighs.

This had been the longest he'd been away from you with hardly any contact, and he was finding himself desperate to see you.

Except Jamil was caught off guard when he walked through the door to find you, half asleep on the couch, but wide awake once you heard him walk in.

You were happy that he was finally home, but couldn't help the slight annoyance you felt at the lack of communication on his part.

However, you couldn't stay mad at him for long when you just missed him being with you, and you can't blame him for being away, knowing it's how his job is.

You find yourself crashing into his arms, unable to restrain yourself any longer when it's been so long that you were able to see him.

It was easy for Jamil to let you fall into his arms, with your smell and warmth engulfing his senses. He tried to live in the moment of him finally having you in his arms, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to stay here for long, and he didn't know how to tell you.

He decided to hold off on telling you, not wanting to ruin your mood when you seemed so happy that he was there.

He came to regret his decision after your mood gradually increased since he got there, and he knew that it would break him to see you disappointed because of him, once again.

You dragged him to the living room to watch whatever was on the tv, even through his protests saying it was late and you should get some rest. You didn't care about sleep, and would stay up for days if it meant being able to spend time with Jamil.

Your intentions on not sleeping fell short however, when you found yourself dozing off on his shoulder a couple hours after he came home. Jamil didn't feel sleepy at all, with his mind still reeling on needing to tell you that in just a couple hours he would have to leave you all over again. He thought about just sneaking off while you were sleeping, but knew that would only break you more, and he couldn't do that to you.

Hours passed and Jamil knew that he had to get going, he stayed there for as long as he could, and could already feel his heart breaking at the image of the hurt look on your face when he told you.

You looked so peaceful when you were sleeping, which broke him even more knowing it wasn't going to last long. He gently shook you awake, causing your eyes to sleepily blink awake. A smile formed on your face when you saw him next to you, almost forgetting that he was there. But, you found it slowly fading off your face when you saw the look he had on his face.

It was a look you knew far too well, causing you to sit up to face him. He couldn't even look you in the eyes at that point and you felt yourself getting more fed up.

You tried to look at things through his eyes, and what he needed to do for his job, but it felt as if he wasn't as affected from all of this than you were, which couldn't be farther from the truth.

When he still couldn't look you in the eyes you got up off the couch in and stood in front of him. You asked when he had to leave again and he could hardly get out the answer.

Jamil finally looked up at you, and regretted it immediately when he saw the tears that welled up in your eyes, and started to fall down your cheeks. He hated when you cried, and he wanted to kick himself for being the person that caused the tears.

He wanted to get up and wipe the tears from your face, tell you that he wasn't leaving, and that he was quitting, but he knew that doing that would only make you feel like you were holding him down. He hated that you always had to greet him with goodbye. You could never

Jamil found himself standing from his position, slowly walking up to you in order to carefully brush the tears that were still falling down your face. You half heartedly pulled your head away from him, trying to show that you were irritated at him, but also not wanting his touch to leave.

Your eyes close as a quick but passionate kiss was left on your lips, and before you knew it the sound of the front door sounded, and your eyes opened to see the empty living room, the presence of Jamil barely rendering in the air as if he was never there in the first place, and it was all a figment of your imagination.

Jamil couldn't help the tears that fell down his own face as he drove away from you once again, the view of your place getting further in the distance, soon to be unable to be seen. But he knew wherever he was, he would always find his way back to you, no matter how long it would take or how mad you would be at him.

buy my a coffee ♡

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Hey, this is going to be long and wordy but I’m kinda desperate. Lately I’ve been having doubts about whether Jesus actually said what’s recorded in the gospels and whether those accounts are true, and the uncertainty there scares me, especially since I know the gospel writers almost certainly had their own agendas and that’s why accounts of the same event can sound different, why the birth narrative was skipped over or not, etc. On top of that I’ve seen posts from Jewish users outlining why Judaism typically doesn’t accept Jesus as Messiah/why you can’t be Jewish if you believe that, and their arguments seem pretty sound. So it all boils down to this big scary question of “What if this whole Jesus-as-Messiah thing was just the result of projection onto some random guy who seemed to be the real deal because the writers were so desperate to be rescued from the Roman occupation?” It sucks cuz I’ve been enjoying my renewed interest in church (for the most part) and while I’ve tried my best to learn not to take the Bible literally all the time (yay for growing up in an inerrantist doctrinal tradition 🙄), I still want to take it seriously and I still want to believe in Jesus as savior/Lord/etc. I don’t want to just be like, “Yeah I don’t buy the whole Messiah thing but I can still follow his example!” I want there to be meat behind why I follow, if that makes sense. So inasmuch as this could be my OCD being bored and trying to take hold of whatever it thinks would bug me the most (wouldn’t be the first time!), I would really appreciate any advice you have. I know there may not be any certainty or reassurance to be found here, but I still want to hear from someone who’s been there before so I can chart a path forward, and I think this is an important question to wrestle with. Plus I remember from one of your posts you said you have seminary notes on this exact topic so I’m curious lol.

"Gospel Truth": how do we know what Jesus really said and did?

Hey again! Sorry for the long delay on this one but I wanted to do some research before responding! You're right that these are important questions, and you're absolutely not the only one to feel doubt and anxiety over them. You're also right that I can't offer you certainty, but I do hope you'll find encouragement here, and places to go as you continue your journey.

This got super long (as always lol), so let's start with aTL;DR:

In this post, you'll find that there's a lot that we can surmise is very probable about Jesus' life story, but that ultimately we can't know much for certain — and that's okay. In Evolving in Monkey Town: How a Girl Who Knew All the Answers Learned to Ask the Questions), Rachel Held Evans gets to the heart of the matter:

"I don’t know which Bible stories ought to be treated as historically accurate, scientifically provable accounts of facts and which stories are meant to be metaphorical. I don’t know if it really matters so long as those stories transform my life."

This is a time where scholarship & faith go hand-in-hand: using the minds God gifted us, we study and learn what we can; and we cultivate faith in the things we can't — a faith that doesn't deny doubt, but makes room for it, and calls us into community so that we can wrestle out meaning together.

A couple other notes before we kick off:

Please know that you don't Have To Study All The Things if you decide it's healthier for you not to go chasing those rabbit holes. You don't need to be an expert in Biblical studies to be a "good Christian" or to take scripture seriously or to get to know God deeply.

I trust you know yourself and how your OCD works better than I could. So I'm going to share the information I have, and leave it to you to determine for yourself how much information you need in order to feel reassured, without giving your mind new problems to ruminate over.

So here's a link to a Google doc that has A Lot of information — like, too much lol. But save it for after you read this post; I'm putting the most relevant & important info here! If you finish this post and feel satisfied, you never even have to look in the doc.

However deep you go, if you find yourself getting overwhelmed, know that whatever you are feeling is valid and probably pretty common, and take a break! Do a calming meditation or an activity you enjoy to help regulate your mind and body. If possible, have someone you can unpack this stuff with — or have a notebook ready to journal in. <3

Okay, all that outta the way, let's dig in!

Who wrote the Gospels?

Tradition goes that the authors of the four canonical Gospels are three of Jesus' closest disciples — Matthew, Mark, and John — plus a disciple of Paul — Luke. But academics have determine that this tradition is very improbable; it's much more likely that none of the four authors knew Jesus personally, and that the earliest of them (Mark) wasn't recorded till the 60s — decades after Jesus lived and died!

When people learn this, it often leads to something of a crisis of faith. If these writers didn't even know Jesus firsthand, where the heck did they get their information?? And come to think of it, why do their accounts differ? Is some of it made up? Is all of it made up??

The anxiety and fear that wells up is normal, and it's healthy to acknowledge that you're feeling it. But once that first shock abates, it's possible to discover a sort of freedom in the knowledge that the Gospel writers (and all the authors of the biblical texts) were human, with human biases and specific goals fitting their unique context; and that they didn't have all the answers!

This realization can free us to approach scripture without certain expectations (that it's all inerrant and prescriptive, etc.), and allows us to bring our doubts to the table with us. If something in the text seems questionable — particularly if it seems to promote bigotry and injustice rather than God's love — we can consider whether something in its author's cultural context might be responsible for that part of scripture.

So taking some time to learn the unique contexts of each writer can be quite enriching to how we engage the Gospels. For a chart that sums up the Gospel writers' unique contexts, audiences, and priorities, see this post.

For even more, you'll want a book that digs into that stuff — I recommend Raymond Brown's An Introduction to the New Testament (the abridged version!!). As you learn about the Gospel writers, I hope several things become evident:

First, that they weren't just making things up whole cloth, or relying on a game of "he said she said" telephone for their information! Each one drew from different primary or secondary sources, eyewitness testimonies or written texts (many of which no longer exist, but scholars have pieced together evidence of, like the famous "Q source" that both Matthew and Luke drew from).

Yes, each author does have an agenda in writing about Jesus, and in how they tell his story. But that's not a nefarious thing; it's true of any text, whether biography, poetry, novel, song — you don't take the time to write something without a purpose in mind! With variation between their specific goals, overall each Gospel writer's agenda was to persuade their audience that Jesus is worth following, and/or to offer encouragement to those who already believed.

Another thing that modern readers sometimes interpret as intentionally deceptive is that, yeah, the Gospels contain things that aren't strictly factual, and that the writers knew weren't strictly factual. This is because ancient ideas about history & biography are very different from our own. When we read a biography, we expect it to be all facts, with citations proving those facts. But the ancients were much less concerned with making sure every detail was accurate; instead, they were focused on making their specific point about whatever thing or person they were writing/reading about. So yes, they might embellish one detail or leave out another in order to fortify their desired message. They cared more about the Truth as they interpreted it than a purely factual account.

On a similar note, each Gospel writer understands Jesus and the meaning behind his story a little differently — hence why they all tell things in slightly different orders, and characterize Jesus differently, etc. This is also understandable — we all interpret stories differently; we all come to different conclusions even when we have the same or similar information. See the section in the google doc titled "each Gospel's essence" to learn more about the different ways each writer characterizes Jesus, and why they may have interpreted him the way they did.

On that topic, let's get to your question about...

Jesus — Messiah, or no?

If you read the Gospel of Matthew and take it as pure fact, you'll determine that Jesus is the Messiah his people were waiting for — that he did indeed fulfill various scriptures. But if you read Mark, you won't find that argument at all! To the author of Mark, Jesus clearly did not match the stipulations of the awaited-for Messiah — and for Mark, that's kinda the point: that Jesus is something new and surprising, unlike anything human beings expected, upturning our ideas of power and salvation.

...So how did they come to these vastly different views??

Well, Matthew was a Jew writing to persuade his fellow Jews that the Jesus movement was worth joining; to do so, he felt he had to "prove" that it fit into Jewish tradition. So he prioritizes showing how Jesus is a righteous Jew who abides by Torah, and that he is indeed the Messiah they've been waiting for.

(It's also worth noting that when Matthew writes, over and over, about Jesus "fulfilling" various bits of Hebrew scripture, that verb "fulfilling" doesn't mean what it might sound like to us — that a given text was always and only about Jesus, with the prophet having Jesus in mind when they wrote it. Rather, to Matthew "fulfilling" the text meant "filling it up" with more meaning — adding to its meaning, not replacing the old meaning. More on that, with citations, in the Google doc.)

Meanwhile, Mark's author was a Jew writing mostly to gentile members of the early Jesus movement. He knew they wouldn't care whether or not Jesus fit the Jewish expectations for a Messiah! (In fact, giving Jesus a bit more of a "Greek" flair would appeal to them more.) So Mark doesn't perform the mental and rhetorical gymnastics that Matthew does to try to make Jesus fit the Messiah requirements.

So which Gospel got it right?

For many matters of scripture, I say "it's open to interpretation!" or "Maybe both are right in different ways, conveying different truths!" But for this particular case, it is very important as Christians to accept that Jesus absolutely does not fit the Jewish requirements for their Messiah. To argue otherwise is antisemitic — it's supersessionist, meaning it claims that Christianity supersedes or replaces Judaism.

We might understand, as the author of Mark did, Jesus to be a messiah — which just means "anointed one" in Hebrew (the Greek counterpart is "Christ") — without making antisemitic claims that Jews "failed to recognize their own Messiah." (In fact, there are multiple messiahs in scripture, e.g. in Isaiah 45, the foreign king Cyrus is referred to as God's messiah; though later scriptures like Daniel do start talking about a specific Messiah who will usher in redemption & a new age for the Jewish people.)

We can understand why some of the biblical authors, like Matthew, interpreted Jesus as this specific Messiah as a result of their own specific context, without agreeing with their view. See this post about “Anti-Jewish Content in the New Testament: Why it’s there and what we should do about it” for more on this important topic.  (You can also find even further resources on supersessionism in this post.)

...Okay, so we've looked at the authors of the Gospels a good bit. We've learned that their idea of a "biography" is very different from ours — that they didn't consider it bad to rearrange, leave out, or embellish accounts — but what does that leave us with when it comes to knowing who Jesus "really" was?

What can we know for sure about Jesus?

Let's look at the facts. The first one is: we don't have any. Not any 100% certain ones, anyway. The guy lived before audio recorders and cameras; we're relying on written and oral accounts, which can be fabricated.

However, there are points about the Jesus story that are regarded as almost certainly historical by the vast majority of historians today, so let's look at those first:

Jesus almost 100% certainly existed. There is enough historical evidence (both inside and outside the Bible) to confirm this — even non-Christian historians almost unanimously agree that there was a historical Jesus. (Phew, am I right?)

Almost all historians also agree that several parts of Jesus' story almost definitely happened: that he was baptized in the Jordan; that he traveled around teaching and offering miracles (whether or not they agree he actually had the power to perform real miracles, of course); and that he was arrested and crucified by the occupying Roman Empire.

Some of these almost-irrefutable claims lend plausibility to others: if he traveled around teaching, what was he teaching? Why not the sermons, the parables recorded in the Gospels? And if he was crucified — the death of a criminal, an insurrectionist — what did he do to get himself crucified? He must have done something to cause Rome to see him as a threat to their Empire — why not some of the sayings and actions that are recorded in the Gospels, like his claim to be "Son of God" (a title used for Caesar); his protest march into Jerusalem satirizing Caesar; and his disruption at the Temple?

The attempt to determine which parts of scripture are "authentic," i.e. things that really happened / things Jesus really said," is often called "The Quest for the Historical Jesus."

Over the decades, scholars interested in this pursuit have developed various "criteria of authenticity," which they use to try to determine how probable any given bit of the Gospels is. In the google doc, I summarize the history of this "quest" and describe some of the most popular criteria. But what's important to understand is that these criteria have major limitations — they're often applied somewhat arbitrarily, for one thing, and ultimately they can't "prove" for sure whether something in the text is definitely historical or definitely not. So honestly, this is not a field of study that I recommend everyone go immerse themselves in! When I do, I have fun for a while, then kinda end up more overwhelmed by how much we can't know.

Still, sometimes these criteria of authenticity do yield some interesting points. For instance, the "Criteria of Embarrassment" (yes, that's what it's called lol) asserts that anything in the text that would have been embarrassing to its author is more likely to be historical fact — because why would the author have made something up that puts them in an unflattering light, or might be used to argue against their message?

For example, a lot of Gospel stories depict Jesus' disciples being kinda clueless, or saying petty things, or failing miserably (e.g. the denial of Peter). Why would the Gospel authors have wanted to make these earliest believers, who are meant to be role models for their audience, look so bad? This criterion says that wouldn't — that they must include those stories because they really happened, rather than being things the author made up to make their point.

Or take the Criterion of Multiple Attestation, which determines how many sources include a certain saying or event. The more sources contain a specific story, the more plausibly "authentic" that story is, since it means that different unconnected communities knew that story. Logical enough.

So yes, there are ways to consider the historicity of the Gospels — but not definitively. So the question becomes: is the historical knowledge we do have enough for me to feel some level of, I don't know, peace? stability in my faith?

And, at the end of the day, how important to me is it that every single thing the Gospels say is completely factual?

Back to what matters: the Good News

Facts are great — God gifted us our minds, and various scripture stories show God encourages us to wrestle with the text! — but we are called to faith as well.

Furthermore, taking the Bible seriously means accepting it for what it is — a collection of ancient texts compiled by humans, even if guided by Divinity — rather than insisting it be what it is not. For the Gospels, that means accepting that they are not biography, but story, and prioritize Truth over fact.

My pastor friend Roger puts it like this:

“For me, it isn’t about deciding which things Jesus really said or didn’t say. That’s a road that goes nowhere. As a pastoral response, I take scripture at face value and work to empathize with the people in and behind the text. Through that empathy, I can find some meaning that connects with what we’re facing here and now.”

When we acknowledge that the Bible includes human interpretations of the Divine, and that we bring our own human interpretations to our reading of it, where does that leave us?

It leaves us in need of conversation, of an expansion of our perspectives by talking through scripture in community. We do that conversing with friends, or attending Bible studies at church, or reading a variety of theological texts — getting as many unique understandings of Jesus as we can, joining our ideas together to get an ever broader glimpse of the Divine.

There's a reason Jesus taught in parables: he didn't want there to be one definitive answer to matters of life and faith! He wanted to ignite conversation, to draw us into community — because it's in community that we are the image of God, the Body of Christ.

So keep on wrestling, wondering, talking it through (taking time to rest when needed — there's no rush!). We discover scripture's meaning for us in our own place and time through the wrestling, together.

[spitdrunken]

this is the first time I've ever requested any authors in my several years on Tumblr and I NEED, NEEEED you to write more maxime, no one writes him the way you do, just a crumb i'm so desperate😭😭😭/notforcing

I appreciate your enthusiasm soooo much <33!! I'm glad there have been people who enjoyed my awfully specific maxime fic HAHA

notes: Maxime is a Villain, obsessive behaviour, mind control, body horror (!!!), insect mentions, focus on cockroach transformation.

Even if you escape, there is not necessarily a better fate waiting for you, out there.

Maxime has changed you. There is little chance of you leaving his grasp if you are largely still human. If you only have antennae sprouting from the top of your head and tiny, fluttering wings on your back, unable to lift the weight of your entire body, his security on you will be tighter than ever. Maxime le Mal is far from stupid, though his bravado does take away from his credibility. After all, at that point, you're still coherent to protest and speak back, to form plans and to possibly escape him.

When you're more cockroach than not, lost in the maze of a permanently confused mind, it makes sense that Maxime would allow you a longer leash. You can hardly speak, after all. Most of the time, he's not even sure if you can understand, truly comprehend, what he's even saying to you. You've taken to buzzing and humming and vibrating your wings as your main mode of communication. Your pupils are permanently blown wide and, recently, your peripheral vision has seemed to have improved. (This requires more research.) You're clingy with him. He's your reason for being, the love of your life, your mate... In short, Maxime is lax with you, because he has no reason to believe you would ever leave, and you have no desire to. He's extracted all the fight out of you.

Neither of you would be quite prepared for an accident. 

If you escaped, you wouldn't quite know what's even going on in the first place. The outside world is much too intense for you. There are too many people, too many noises, too many smells, so many lights, so many, so, so, so... You are left utterly disoriented, stumbling all over the streets of the town Maxime has housed you in.

As a cautionary measure, Maxime had plastered your face online as an accomplice long ago. Had made you speak out your support for him while you hardly knew what you were saying, well underway in your transformation. As Maxime is a wanted criminial, now, so are you. With your... Unique appearance, it would take you no time at all to be caught and shipped off to some prison or other. You're in a panic. You don't know what's going on, all you know is that his scent is getting fainter and fainter... You had tried to find your way back, but you couldn't! Now it's too late.

Even though you're hardly capable of conversation, anyone in prison won't allow that to be your saving grace. With villains of 'your' calibre, any dirty tricks are on the table, and so acting stupid would be not far from the expected... Here, Maxime himself is your one and only saving grace. You're his, and he'll break you out whatever the means necessary-- They had it coming, he'll say, all outrage and offense.

[a-s-levynn]

I'm terrified to post this. So watch me sprinting away into the distance after dropping this.

Open love letter to -in extension to the wider ST community on tumblr, but especially- to the fellowship of Sleep because without you, life would be much more lonely

My Friends,

It was today when it finally dawned on me that you gave me the most undescribably precious gift. Many of you probably going to relate to this to some degree because i am not unique in any sense but i had to get this out. And by just the sheer lenght probably not many of you will read it. But i still need to put this out there, even if i'm being obnoxious and probably sound overdramatic and maybe even cringy.

I struggle with a lot of things. Anxiety, self doubt, depression, paranoia, self destructive tendencies, self isolation and the list goes on to even darker places. All in all i have a suboptimal mental state to put it lightly. I feel inadequate in many ways. Especially with connecting to people.

To this day, i struggle every day, seeing my friends, you, talk on a daily basis, have inside jokes and wonderful conversations and whatnot and either i like it or not, thoughts intrude: "am i doing enough? Am i a good enough of a friend? Do i really have a place among these wonderful bright souls? Am i intruding? Am i inserting myself into spaces i do not have any right to be? Am i forcing myself into your circles?"

For the longest time, on most days the conclusion was no. I do not belong. You were just being nice to the pathetic little creature in the corner because by nature you are simply kind. But as the weeks went by i learned that you are also awkward people with your own stuggles and hardships which are far harder and more painful than mine. That you are choosing to be kind every day, in spite of what life threw at you. Because you know.

I started to see you also crave a particular type of companionship and you reach out with the same trembling hands, hoping that someone sees it and grabs it. That someone finally says: you are not alone. I am here. For you. With you.

And you did. You've seen a bunch of hands fumbling in the dark, desperate to hold onto something and went: yeah.. i think i'll grab all of them. Because we are coming from the same darkness. And if i can help pull you into the light than you might have the strenght to do the same for me, so we can all sit in the warmth of the fire. The fire we built together. A fire that is growing ever brighter and allowes us to see even more hands on the edges to be pulled and invited into the circle.

So we have. For a while sitting almost silently, showing the things we found along the way. Tentatively feeling out the boundries. Than we broke the silence. You even started to call me your friend at some point. I already considered you mine because i'm painfully lonely and just the gesture, that you included me among the hands you grabbed was enough for me to see you mine. But all in all, for some unknowable reason, we became friends.

The weeks turned into months and i felt a bit more comfortable to approach you on my own clumsy and awkward ways. Many of you know by now that Tiny Token was born because i was too afraid to send a happy birthday ask to someone. I still apologize regularly just for adding thoughts to posts even if i only do it in tags. I am afraid. Of so many thing.

We still don't talk daily. Yet we still call each other friend. We have actual plans now. I still stuggle with the though of not being enough. There are still days when i feel you just feeling pity towards me.

But lately there is an other thought there. Which makes me feel bad for thinking that way. A thought that's never been there before. "If i was truly bothersome or annoying or any way too unpleasent, you could simply walk away. This is the internet after all. You could just block me. You have the option to walk away but you are time and time again choosing not to. No matter how many days pass by with us not talking, you are there. I can count on you. I'm still hesitant to reach out and dump my superficial adversities on you. But i also see you keeping the door ajar, leaving the option there to be approached if anyone needs it. So it would be not just a disservice but an outright insult to you if i'd think you are just acting out of pity. But if you like me than.. there has to be something about me to actually to be worth knowing?"

And that is doing something that ten years worth of failed therapy could not. You made me question my self doubt. It is still there and will be for the rest of my life. But now there is a steady counter balance i never had this solidly in my life ever before.

I'm still afraid to ask even if anyone would be up for a talk, let alone a call because i have little to offer in conversations. I don't talk much by default and that is not a good base for conversations. I'm still terrified of overstaying my welcome. But i also know now that you probably wouldn't mind from time to time. Because you understand. Maybe one day i will get there. I don't know when but there is a hope i never truly had before.

This is something i will never be able to repay you. Thank you for understanding that we all have different levels of anxiety and fear and not holding it against one and other. I'm writing this to you with immens love and eternal gratitude i cannot truly express in any way that does it justice: Thank you for showing me hope. Thank you for being the way you are.

You gave me the biggest gift there is to give.

You gave me your friendship.

I love you.

Yours in friendship,

Levynn

[euthanizeher]

0̲1̲.̲ ／ㅤ ✿ ⸺ sudden epiphany

after putting off reading through 4dbarbie's non-dualism posts i finally said that enough was enough. funnily enough, i read @4dkellysworld 4dbarbie adaption post on how to realise self. i'm not sure why i read the second post first instead of going in order, but i fully plan on reading through them all.

p.s, anything that is indented comes straight from 4dkelly's adaption post about realising self!

p.p.s, all dividers belong to @v6que.

There is no external life, there is no need to use any methods to recondition or train your mind. It is much faster, much easier and you are hundreds times happier just letting go of the mind. The process is one of letting go more and more until you find yourself having nothing, being nothing.

immediately i felt relieved upon reading this. being in the law of attraction & assumption, and shifting community meant that i had to "recondition" my mind if i wasn't manifesting my desires - to constantly think only positive affirmations. if i wanted to be blonde, i'd have to think "i am blonde, i love being blonde, i adore my blonde hair" constantly throughout the day. and it was tiring.

Stop thinking you are Vanessa, the thoughts of needing this or that drop away. By thinking you are it, you create a character who desires and then identify yourself with it. You can only have when you let go of thinking that you don't.

this seriously spoke to me as i can recall countless times i desperately tried any method i could, two cup, 5x55 challenge, pillow method, you name it! but it makes sense now. i was caught up with wanting and thus identified with a character who wanted, when in reality i always had.

i say "identified" and not "became" because, and correct me if i'm wrong, you cannot become anything - only identify with. the only thing you are is self.

I've said it before, you don't have to convince Vanessa that she's unreal. Just stop taking the thoughts you don't like for truth or reality. There is no convincing involved, it is all letting go... you're holding so tightly onto your ideas now, that's why you can't see their falsity. 19 You don't have to convince anyone of anything. What I teach here is to leave your mind alone, that is all. Don't go along with it. 2 Thoughts will keep on coming for a while, just now you know they have nothing to do with you.

i understand. simply observe the thoughts as clouds passing by, do not take them as truth and do not fight them. previously when i was still in the loa community i would combat them. a thought would enter, "you won't shift!" and i would fight him back, "yes i will! i already am in my desired reality! i am a master of shifting!" but this isn't right, as kelly said there's no need to convince anyone - especially your own mind.

First you start doubting "the facts", then you become indifferent to the facts, lastly there are no facts anymore and you can establish your own.

the beautiful process of shedding the ego! metamorphosis.

her post is rather long (and informative, go read!!) so i don't want this entry to be taken up of me nodding and going "yep so true!". instead as i read through it yesterday and allowed the info to soak into my brain i felt enlightened. i wondered why on earth didn't i read through this earlier? for the first time since late 2020, my mind became quiet on its own.

i observed the world differently, as if it were a dream - a lucid dream, because that's exactly what it is. it was mind-blowingly peaceful. a damn breath of fresh air to be told to simply let go, wholly, instead of repeating affirmations 69x, get into SATS every night, etc.

although, i will admit a part of her feels anxious at being told to "let go". many of us from the loa, subliminal, and shifting community, LOVE doing things and putting in an active effort because it's been instilled in our minds that hard work pays off. however, i shall only observe her fears and treat it with indifference.🦋

if you made it this far, thank you for reading! ⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡

[sunset-a-story]

Get To Know Your Moots Writeblr Interview

Thank you to @ceph-the-ghost-writer who tagged me in this and you should def go read their post here! And thanks to @davycoquette for creating the event!

On the Tumblr Writing Community

How long have you had your writing Tumblr/Writeblr?

Since November 2022

What led you to create it?

After having a beyond shitty 2020-2021 and pulling away from social media in general, a friend suggested I give tumblr a shot. I was also desperately looking for beta readers for Sunset and wanted to get involved in a writer community.

What’s your favorite thing about the Writeblr community?

The people! Getting to connect with writers whose brains work like mine!! And getting to rotate their ocs in my head! I've made some incredible friendships through writeblr that I wouldn't trade for anything.

What’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you?

I am as obsessed about Sunset as I seem (possibly more--let's not get into it) but I also love listening to people talk about the things they're obsessed with so I'm always up to exchange some excitement about our respective projects. Also, I'm hella dyslexic so if we chat, be warned you may get some word salad from me sometimes.

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

I love seeing little quotes or snippets of info about OCs that help me become obsessed with them. And out of context lines/dialogue! Those are always a delight.

What tips/advice do you have for someone who made a Writeblr today?

Just put yourself out there! It took me a long time to be comfortable posting anything at all but that's the only way people can get a sense of your stories. Also, don't be scared to reach out to other writeblrs through asks and dms. We're a shy breed but once you corner us into a conversations, you've unleashed a flood of excitement.

WIP it Good

Which Works-in-Progress (WIPs) or writing projects are you noodling about, lately?

Sunset is my main project that I'm writing with my partner @touloserlautrec. It's a behemoth 2,000+ pages of converging plotlines and slow burn romance and intrigue and monster hunting. It's everything I love in a story wrapped up into one. Volume 1 (Sunrise) is out, Volume 2 (High Noon) is releasing weekly, and Volume 3 (Sunset) is probably 75% drafted. (Links in my intro if this somehow reaches someone who isn't already following me.) I've also been poking at a fluff side project to blow off steam for the first time in forever. It's a fluffy romance urban/fantasy with fae and a gay strip club. Just 'cause. I don't know that I'll ever post what I'm writing of this, but who knows?

How long have you been working on them?

Sunset for about 17 years, but seriously writing it for the past 8 years. Fluff Side Project? A month?

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

I ran an in-person RPG back in college that led Tou and I to create the world of Sunset and the initial core cast (Reeve, Alex, Hannah, Gareth, Misha, Adler) and then it all spiraled out from there. Fluff Side Project comes from some characters we made just playing around in a world we created as a no-stress play zone. The problems are smaller. The stakes are nothing like the high tension world of Sunset. It's fun. It's gay as hell. It's fluffy. And July is my least favorite month so I decided, hey, why not write it down while I've got writer's block for Sunset?

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

Sunset: 28 hours a day. Fluff: I squeeze in 3 or 4 hours in the evening.

When someone asks the dreaded, “What do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

I struggle to answer this question and it depends on who is asking. If it's on tumblr? I say I write science-fantasy slow build action with horror elements and lots of intrigue. IRL? I deflect.

What do you want to say (if it’s different from what you do say)?

I write about ruining Alex and Reeve's life.

Let’s Rotate Blorbos

Name any characters you created.

There. Are. Too. Many. My favorite babies from my head are Reeve, Penn, Marek, and Anise.

Who’s the most unhinged?

Hannah is my most unhinged trash-panda gremlin. My nudist sniper. Ace Queen. Never shave, never surrender.

Who comes the most naturally for you to write?

Reeve. And yes, that does worry me. (And my therapist.)

Do you ever cringe at them?

The #drag Reeve tag is a thing for a reason. (But really, I love him dearly and he doesn't truly deserve to be dragged as much as he is imo. It's a good bit tho)

How much control do you feel you have over your characters?

I can wrangle when I need to but they do feel like independent little critters in my head. Writing for me tends to be me transcribing the movie I'm watching in my head while muttering, "OHMYGOD Hannah are you seriously going to say that? What is wrong with you?" Or "Reeve. Reeve. REEVE NO."

Do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters?

OMFG YES. Please give me any excuse to talk about these guys.

On Writeblr Engagement

What makes you want to follow another Writeblr account?

If I jive with their WIP concepts or they have interesting OCs. Fantasy or sci-fi elements. Queerness. I'm more likely to follow if their intro has something about wanting to connect writers who are looking to hype each other up because that is what I am also looking for.

What makes you decide against following?

If their blog is full of hateful stuff or just super negative.

Do you interact with non-mutuals often?

Sure! I'm new enough to Tumblr that the lore of mutuals and non-mutuals hasn't rooted in my brain enough for me to super know which is which in my feed except for my small core group of moots I talk to regularly. So I interact with whatever posts catch my attention, moot or not.

Do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle?

OHMYGODYES. There is a little mobile of characters and animals (a fish and some frogs) that dangles over my little brain threatening to distract me at all times.

I'll no-pressure tag some of my beloved moots here that I haven't seen recently tagged with this: @scribe-of-stories @words-after-midnight @pandoras-comment-box @revenantlore

@void-botanist @covenscribe And of course, anyone else who wants to do it!

You can find the clean question template here

[moonunwell]

Wrathion had spent the entire day yearning for this moment. Lately, their nights together were the only thing that could take his mind away from the horrors he'd been forced to research for the war against N’zoth. As he climbed up the wall to the king’s quarters, though, he could tell this visit wouldn’t be the reprieve he was hoping for.

Anduin waited for him on the balcony, rather than within his room. Looking especially pale under the moons’ light, the king sat on a chair, his forehead sweaty and his teeth clenched in pain as he applied a bag of ice to his swollen right knee. It took him a few moments to acknowledge his visitor.

“Wrathion. You’re later than usual.” He sounded nervous, as if he’d been caught doing something inappropriate.

“My apologies, I had an extremely busy day. And I’m guessing yours wasn’t too easy either.” Wrathion’s eyes went to Anduin’s shaky leg. There it was again – that vague sensation in his own knee, like borrowed pain. He tripped on his next words: “Are… are you –”

“It’s just pain. It’s not for you to worry about.”

An awkward silence followed. Wrathion fiddled with his left earring, desperately searching for a topic of discussion.

“I’ve never seen you use this balcony, come to think of it,” was all he could come up with.

Anduin cocked his head. “Funny story, one time Onyxia locked me here. She said I had to be put in penitence, though I don’t remember what for. She must’ve cast some sort of spell, too, because no one could hear me cry for help. Eventually I stopped trying. I was trapped here for hours.”

Wrathion blinked. “That’s not funny at all.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Let’s just go inside before someone spots you.”

He helped Anduin get up from the chair and through the balcony’s ornate doors. The human’s knee made an alarming creaking sound every time he moved it, and almost buckled multiple times on the short walk to the edge of the bed.

“I take it you’re having a flare-up,” Wrathion stated the obvious as he and Anduin sat down. “I apologize for the intrusion, but why not call upon your divine powers to make this easier on you?”

“It won’t work. Not when it’s the Light in my bones causing the pain.” He flinched as he changed positions, exhaling sharply through his teeth. “It’s started doing this whenever I do something bad. And…” He looked away. “And I just did something terrible.”

“Oh. I see.”

This was the part where he thought of some comforting words to say, or prepared for a prolonged debate on the ethics of the king’s latest executive decision. But, wait –

“Wait, no, that doesn’t make any sense.” He turned sharply to face Anduin. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but – *you* told me that *no one* can communicate with the Light itself. You said, and I quote, ‘it is a force so primordial it takes years of study and abnegation to even begin to comprehend it’. Not even Prophet Velen knows that much about it! So how come *you* can suddenly sense its judgment so directly? Have you become so powerful you can now… scrute the inscrutable?”

“That’s not a real word.”

“Answer my question.”

Anduin sighed and rubbed his face. “The Light is… a lot more complex than what fifteen year old me could tell you. Sometimes it manifests more directly in our world for reasons we don’t understand yet. It’s a subject of constant debate within the church. But… I don’t think it's too far-fetched. There are some ecclesiastical records of cases similar to mine. Moribunds who were saved by the Light and then claimed they could hear its voice through their healed body parts.”

Wrathion quirked an eyebrow. “What would that be called? A miracle? Is that what you believe yourself to be?”

“No – *I’m* not a miracle. But the way I was healed after the Bell incident was. So, maybe…” He was starting to get embarrassed. He laid face up on the bed. “I don’t know. It sounds so ridiculous now that I say it out loud. But… I just… I *know* what this feeling is. I can tell it’s the divine guiding me. What else could this pain mean?”

Wrathion hesitated before replying: “Not everything comes with a meaning. Maybe you’re just in pain.”

But he knew his words fell on deaf ears.

[hopelesswrites]

Midnight - Joseph Quinn pt. 3

Joe makes promises to you to make things right. 

18+ MDNI, smut!!!!

(I really wanted to give you a happy ending but their relationship is still a little rocky, so I give more Joe being a dickhead. Can they fix things now? idk lmao.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

-

The next couple days were spent laying in bed curing your hangover. To be fair, the first day was because of your hangover, but the other two days of sulking were purely because of Joe. All you wanted was a call, a text, a knock at your door but as the days go on your confidence in that diminishes. He’s gone, swooped up by Hollywood and pretty models and out of your life.

Come Thursday you decide you can’t keep brooding away, you have to shake it off and go to work. So for the rest of the week you busy yourself with work, staying back and doing overtime just so you don’t have to think about Joe. Your boss also said you had a lot to catch up on, so that kept you occupied.

Friday evening came by quickly and you were finishing up your extended day at work, ready to head home. You were scared to go home, knowing the weekend would bring two more days of staying in bed feeling sad and sorry for yourself. Part of you was ready to welcome those feelings back, the more productive part desperately wanted it to be over, that you’d wake up tomorrow morning feeling great, maybe go for a run, visit the local bakery for a proper substantial breakfast for once this week, no thought of Joe crossing your mind.

As you made your way home you kept your mind on that bakery. How good it would feel to get out of the house. How much you need to go for that run, let the cold morning air hit your face, maybe knock some damn sense into you. Joe was in the deep depths of your mind now, no longer causing a tight feeling in your chest like he had for the first half of the week.

Your flatmate was at the front door when you arrived home, she looked anxious as she paced back and forth across the small front patio.

“Thank god you’re here” She sighed once you came into view.

“I tried to tell him to fuck off but he was so persistent, barged his way in”

Your stomach sank, you didn’t need any more information, it was him. You really didn’t want to face him, the reality of it hitting you finally. He was going to end all communication, completely reject you and leave you alone forever. You didn’t want that.

Walking through the hall and to your bedroom, you see him sitting on your bed through the crack in the door. His head snaps up at the sound of your door opening, a stunned look plastered on his face.

“Hi” He said quietly, watching as you dropped your bag down and stood by the door, keeping your distance.

“I didn’t know your work schedule so I waited” He tried again, but you didn’t know what to say. Part of you didn’t want to start talking at all, getting closer to the end tugged at your heart.

“I want to apologise” He sighed, getting up and slowly inching closer, he had a way of manipulating you so subtly, getting what he wanted without you noticing until its too late. It infuriated you, made you hate him so much, hate how much you loved him regardless.

“Go on then” You answered, eyes trained to the floor, Joes eye contact was too strong.

“I shouldn’t have acted the way I did the other night, I care about you and was so worried, I didn’t think about how cruel I had been”.

You watched Joes feet shuffle, his ugly shoes making you frown, you distinctly remember telling him not to buy them.

“I also want to apologise for the way I’ve treated you over the past year, it’s not been fair on you and I cant keep stringing you along”

‘Here we go’ you think.

“Things are different in my life, and I don’t want to lose you, I want you in my life, but that means things have to change a bit”.

You looked up after hearing his last line, falling into the depths of his sad sorrowful eyes. He had you, you were trapped, it made you feel sick.

Joe reached out and grasped your hand in his, tugging you closer forcing you to look up at him.

“Let me do things right, let me take you out, I’ve got a premiere to go to tomorrow night, I want you with me.”

You didn’t give it a second thought, head nodding viscously, agreeing to whatever Joe wanted from you. The spell he had cast on you was in no time lifting, you could feel that.

-

The next evening you were dressing up in your best dress, most uncomfortable heels, hair and face all done up. You were simply excited, happy to finally feel like you were a part of Joes new life. There was no time to feel silly, or manipulated, what could go wrong?

Joe arrived to pick you up, dressed in all black. Not too dissimilar to the getup he had on a few months ago when he came to visit you. He was hot, you thought, there was no way you’d be getting through the night with him looking like that. He took your hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze before guiding you down to the car waiting, he had a god damn private driver. You ignored the feeling that gave you, the feeling of not belonging, because you were with Joe, you belonged with him.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Joe whispered in your ear as you got out of the car, arriving at the venue.

“A few times. Can’t go wrong with a couple more though” You replied, eyeing off the crowd in front of you. People were arriving in all sorts of fancy cars, dressed in stunning gowns and suits. Security guided guests around, into the building, off to the side where you noticed a red carpet, this was an official thing, still that feeling of not belonging got pushed to the side, Joe had you close, you belonged.

His arm snaked around your waist firmly, another reassuring squeeze as you were both guided off to the side, the red carpet.

“I’m going to take a few photos, bosses orders, why don’t you wait for me down the end?” Joe said, removing his grip on you and motioning down behind the carpet, out of camera view. You agreed, making your way down the path where you noticed a group huddled by the door at the other end, you concluded this was where managers and escorts waited, unfamous guests.

You struggled to ignore the anxiety you began to feel without Joe by your side, you didn’t belong here anymore, this wasn’t your crowd and you just needed him back beside you, holding you tight to get you through this whole night.

It wasn’t long before you saw the man make his way off the carpet and back to you, he offered you a small smile, and took your hand in his again. You tried to ignore the lack of a squeeze this time, but it ate at the insecurity you felt inside.

Inside the building people chatted and drank, waiting for the theatre to open up. Joe was quick to grab two drinks for the both of you and manoeuvre his way through the crowd until he was stopped. A tall woman tapped his shoulder, greeting him like old friends. You watched as they laughed and chatted, you beside Joe, your hand he once held forgotten. More people approached him, more greetings, not one towards you. You did not belong here.

When the theatre doors opened Joes hand lay flat on the small of your back guiding you in, no longer wrapped around you like before. His dismissal of you hurt, it felt worse than any ignoring he had been doing previously, you were finally in his world and you were still invisible.

The screening was painful to sit through. Joes fingers fiddled with the fabric of your dress cascading over your thigh until the end credits played. Before anyone got up Joe was whisking you away and out of the theatre into the lobby, his hand now grasping your wrist rather than your hand.

“What’s wrong?” You asked watching as he looked around, he looked frantic.

“Here” He replied pulling you towards a bathroom, locking the door after you had entered.

Without explanation you were slammed against the door, Joes mouth falling to your neck in quick harsh sucks and bites, he was ravenous.

“Joe what is-“

His lips came up quick, swallowing your sentence in a kiss, his teeth scrapping over your lip as he pulled away and resumed his assault to your throat.

“Been dying to have you all night Baby” Joe mumbled against your skin, his hands roaming over your backside, bunching the dress up and slotting a clothed leg between yours.

The pressure elicited a content sigh from you, Joes grip now firmly on your hips, guiding you to grind on his leg. The pleasure forced all rationality out of your brain as you submitted to the man you loved.

“You’ll have to be quiet for me, okay?” Joe groaned as he twisted you around so your chest was against the tile, ass out.

You listened for the sound of his belt buckle, but it never came. Instead, you got a harsh slap to the ass followed by Joes quick fingers rubbing you through your panties. You fought off a loud moan as electricity shot through your body. Joe pressed up against you, his lips finding purchase on the sensitive skin behind your ear, his hot breathe creating goosebumps over your skin. His fingers stopped their movement to pull his own pants down, the feeling of his skin against yours almost sending you over the edge. It felt pathetic, to be so affected by him, to need him as much as you did.

Joe rubbed himself against your entrance testing the waters by pushing in a little and pulled out. You eagerly waited for what you were craving so much, to feel him completely, but it never came.

“Lets get these off yeah?” Joe mumbled, tapping your foot with his own before leaning down and gentle pulling your heels off your feet. The relief was almost as good as the sex itself, but with your height difference from the lack of shoes Joe was quick to resume his movements, slipping in effortlessly, his hand snaking around your face, covering your mouth before he began thrusting. The pleasure was overbearing, Joes small grunts in your ear sending shockwaves through your body. You couldn’t see him but you knew the blissed out look on his face, could picture it, and it got you through to your own orgasm, legs quivering as the coil snapped and you let yourself go all too quickly.

Joes movements became sloppy and you knew he was close.

“Let me” You whispered, turning around and dropping to your knees, swatting his hand away pumping him a couple times, tongue out ready to catch his load.

“Fuckfuckfuck” A string of curses left his swollen lips as he released above you. You took everything he gave you, quite happily as embarrassing as it was, and watched him come back to above you. His chest rising and falling, a small trickle of sweat sliding down his temple, his eyes screwed shut still. You wanted him to look down at you, smile at you, give you anything but he stood back, tucking himself back into his pants, head thrown back as he let out a shaky sigh.

Your heart sank, even in such an intimate moment he was ignoring you.

“That’s it huh?” You frowned, gaining his attention again.

Joe looked at you confused, “Didn’t you come? I thought-“

You cut him off with a laugh, “You just don’t get it!” You raised your voice as you stood up, slipping your shoes back on. “Or you do get it and just don’t care” That was what worried you the most, being nothing to Joe and him being actively aware of it. Actively making you aware of it.

“I come out here with you, surround myself in an environment I’m not comfortable in to make YOU happy, and you blow a load in the bathroom like we’re goddamn teenagers.”

Joe stuttered out useless apologies, but you couldn’t care to listen to them.

“I’m going to go now, don’t follow me, I’m serious” You spoke sternly, watching him carefully, worried he might reach out, touch you and break you down again. “And don’t contact me, I think we’re done”.

[mangio-formaggio]

Stranger Things AU for HSM

because it's (almost) the spooky season and this time last year I was obsessed with Eddie x Steve. So you know... angsty teenagers somewhat babysitting their friends and having sexuality crisis? Anyone? May ended up being a little bit Scooby Doo-ish, we will see.

- It's all starts with Wildcats leaving the evening practice and Zeke is decides to shortcut through the park in the night. And he gets caught by the Demogorgon (prob because the cookies in his backpack smells too good lol).

— The only person who knows that Zeke took a turn to the park is Ryan. Cause he may have a tiny crush on Zeke and sneaked that night in gym to watch the boys play. And when the practice was over he had to rush outside before get caught or stack at school for the whole night.

— What Ryan is totally forgot is that he was supposed to pick up Kelsi, who worked late at a new song. And she did indeed got stack in the school. And she hadn't been seen next morning.

— Sharpay on the other hand used to Zeke's attention at this point, and very confused when he's not there next morning to give her fresh bakery before classes start.

— Long story short when Zeke's and Kelsi parents are raising alarm the next morning the whole class is send to the principal's office to be questioned.

— And there's a gossip that Ryan killed Kelsi. Weird quiet brother of the most terrifying girl in school murdered someone? Makes sense.

— Wildcats aren't believe those rumors, but they figures out that Ryan could see Zeke if he was in school last night for Kelsi. So they ask.

— Ryan is pretty stressed at this point, so he absently mentions to the team about Zeke and the park. And of course they immediately decide to investigate themselves.

— At the same time, Sharpay finds Kelsi's stuff at the theater, but the new song is not there. She looks around the piano and there's nothing but wired amount of wet leaves. But it wasn't raining last night.

— In the park Wildcats can't find any clues about Zeke. But Troy finds a girl. Scared and unable to speak. She refuses to be taken to the police station. She can lift thing with her mind and solves equations just after one look at them. All the boys can find out about her is that her name is Gabriella and she worries about her mom.

— Taylor and Martha see how Gabi solves equations an wowed. Also wtf jocks are doing around such a smart new girl? And Taylor being Taylor very quickly understands what's going on here.

— The company of other girls helps Gabi to relax and open up a bit, even if she still in shock: doesn't remember how she ended up in a forest and what's the danger is treating her and the whole East High now.

— While this group is connecting the dots and figures out how to use Gabi's power to communicate with Zeke in Upside-down, Sharpay is trying to help Ryan snaps out of anxiety and insist they should continue rehearsals.

— So twins are at the theater when Wildcats and girls are messing with a school radio. And then suddenly the lights are starts flickering, the speakers around empty school are broadcasting white noise...

— And then everyone hear weak trembling voice. Kelsi's voice. She's singing her new song. Quietly and slightly hysterically.

— Wildcats are confused where exactly the voice is coming from: they tried to reach out Zeke in possible parallel universe, not drama club, right?

— When they rushed into the theater they finds only Evan's twins on a verge of a heart attack (and Ryan is also is about to have nervous break down).

— For a couple of seconds they all are trying to sing along, in a desperate attempt to let the Kelsi know that she's heard. Next moment the lights are off completely.

— The singing stops. But they can hear Kelsi's breathing heavily. And then there's a distinct low growl. One second in speakers. Another somewhere backstage.

— Suddenly the light is on again. And fall clearly inhumane shadow appears on the side of the stage.

— The monster jumps. The kids are frozen by terror. Gabi lifts her hands and screams and the next thing everybody knows is that the speakers are broken with a loud crack, the monster is gone and everything seems back to normal.

— Expect it's not and everybody understands very clearly now what's took their friends. The jocks, the nerds and drama kids join forces. They need a plan.

— While the monster-hunting is discussed and organized, some emotional drama unravels.

— Troy is completely mesmerized with Gabi. But she doubts whether he actually likes her or he likes her cool superpowers. After all they can't even properly communicate. She's also remembers herself we'll enough to understand that her life is somewhere else and she needs to focus on finding her mother.

— Sharpay is mad because she likes to be in control. And currently is nothing can be controlled except her own sanity. She hesitant about joining the upcoming quest. She's a performer and a school princess. Not a fighter. She can't wander through the park in this shoes, thank you very much. On the other hand, she can't leave her brother, who's very determined to help Kelsi as much as he can. Lastly, even if she would never admit, she worries sick about Zeke.

— Taylor knows their plan is just absolutely terrible, dumb and suicidal idea. But she's also have a ridiculously amount of fun navigating the attack plan and investigating where the portal to Upside-down is. Also the feeling of community is so new and nice. She just can't leave those idiots on her own.

— Chad isn't jealous. That would be stupid. And what kind of jerk would be jealous of Gabi when she's evidently went through horrible trauma, apparently wanted by some shady government people and is under constant pressure of saving everybody. But it just so hard to take that in a crisis like this Troy is neglecting his leadership in order to look after his new girlfriend... Surprisingly good thing, however, is that Evans twins are actually helpful. Ryan is very easy to become friends with actually: he can handle that bat, sincerely care about this small Kelsi person and is fun to joke around. His arms are surprisingly strong, his eyes are... well, blue. Oh, and his sister undeniably was born to lead some small army or shoot some monsters right between eyes.

— Ryan is probably running on a pure adrenaline at this point. His body just can't tolerate this amount of stress anymore, so it's almost euphoric state of confidence now. He almost doesn't recognize himself. Like volunteering on a reconnaissance mission? Or agreeing to arm himself with a gigantic bat? Or talking to Chad Danforth like they knew each other for ages? And Ryan even dares to flirt? And tease? And yeah, having a crush on an another straight athlete is still absolutely terrible idea, but maybe they gonna die tomorrow so what the hell?

— Anyways... They find the portal. They find both of their friends. Alive and mostly well. They survived on Zeke's cookies.

— And Demogorgon finds them.

— The fight is unravel. Boys kicking and punching. Sharpay shooting. Taylor and Martha are evacuating Zeke and Kelsi. Gabi stays behind to close the portal.

— Everyone makes it out alive. Chad and Ryan make out celebratory. Sharpay is already planing a show based on this adventure. She would go out with Zeke the next day after he will rest, don't worry.

— Troy is brooding though. He rushes to the park like everyday since. But it completely normal trees and grass now. Nothing paranormal. So he slowly loses hope. Until one day they're having a game and the broken speakers are suddenly working again. And there's a Kelsi's song singing with the most beautiful and gentle voice he had ever heard.

— So they make a hole in theatre's wall to helps Gabi get out. Ms D isn't pleased though. They all got detention till the graduation. Can as well start to participate in musicals yk.

[soleminisanction]

So I had a revelation the other day. There's been a lot of head-scratching about the art on Tim Drake: Robin, what they were thinking, why it looks like... that, and I think I have an idea of what they were going for.

It wasn't chosen for the heroes. It was chosen to suit the villains of the first arc.

I mean... look at this.

The whole Tim-versus-evil-monster-Robins fight sequence that takes up a solid half of issue three is impressively fluid and dynamic, in no small part because the art style very much suits the twisted, inhumane movements of the clay Robins. And it gets especially twisted once they start warping and falling apart.

The layouts are dynamic, the designs are striking, there's good use of motion and color and sound effects to communicate the beats of the fight without bogging things down, and the contrast between the solid lines of the regular humans versus the distorted clay creatures is used to great effect.

And this is true of fights throughout the series -- including when they switch artist briefly in issue 5 for a more frantic, desperate, chaotic sequence full of fire and explosions.

And y'know... that makes a lot of sense.

Most, if not all, superhero comics are written around their action beats, especially at the Big Two. And I'm speaking from experience here -- I've submitted to DC before, participated in their talent searches and gotten a look at their guidelines, and those guidelines are very specific about when and how to implement the action and splash pages. It can be a real challenge to write.

That's been the conventional wisdom for decades: that comic books are a visual medium, sold on their action, so the more action you can include in the more dynamic a fashion, the better. Which is why even short stories that are actually about, like, musings on a character's sexuality -- like the ones that show up in the Pride specials -- will still be framed around the characters running around the city fighting bad guys while they narrate whatever Important Thoughts they're having in caption boxes.

But in this specific case, where they stumbled is that conventional wisdom suggested the best way to capitalize on the audience they'd garnered from the Urban Legends stories was to offer up an action story with a strong romantic sub-plot. So they created that, and chose an artist for the first arc who suited the villains designed for those action set pieces.

But in retrospect, it's clear that wasn't the case for TD:R. Nobody was reading for the action. Fuck, I can't even get the comics bros on Reddit to talk about the goddamn plot. It's clear that what the audience actually wanted was closer to a romance comic with action B-plots. And that was never going to occur to anyone because the last time a romance comic had any sway in the Western market was 1977.

It's honestly a shame because I actually like the story? It's not life-changing or anything, but it's a solid superhero mystery that focuses on unique aspects of Tim's character, ie, that he's not just a detective but a detective fanboy, and that he doesn't really know what he wants for his own future and often uses his work/sense of duty towards others as a distraction to avoid thinking about it. But it just, wasn't what people wanted, and they only seem to have found what people wanted too late to change course.

It happens, but still. Shame.