#are sleeping pills real. do they actually work.

[senseiwu]

Yay it's now three in the morning and I have been awake since midnigjt

After going to sleep at ten

Another night I'll be lucky if I got four hours od sleep :)

[fairiily]

|| why you keep waking up in your cr

i saw a girl make a tiktok about this and i thought it was a really interesting idea so i wanted to share it with you!

i think we can all agree that one of the biggest ideas on shiftblr is that all you need is intention

but i also think a lot of people can agree with me when i say: “if intention is all you need, why do i keep waking up in my cr?”

ill relate it to lucid dreaming.

most people who want to lucid dream use reality checks as a method to do so

you reality check throughout the day so your subconscious remembers while youre dreaming

maybe it doesnt work the first night you go to sleep, but you keep reality checking as part of your routine until your subconscious remembers too.

another girl related it to birth control

she used to have an alarm set everyday for 1pm to take the pill

eventually, she didnt need the alarm anymore, because her subconscious remembered that around that time of day, she needed to take her birth control pill

its the exact same way with shifting

you set intention to shift before you go to sleep, and you wake up in your cr again

“but i set intention! why am i still here?”

you begin to doubt yourself, in your abilities to shift, that maybe intention doesn’t actually work.

but it does.

sometimes it just takes a little longer for your subconscious to remember the intention you set, for the intention to stick.

many people’s shifting success stories happen when they go to sleep like any other night

they don’t intentionally do a method or set the intention of shifting, but they wake up in their dr.

how does that work?

after going to sleep and setting your intention night after night after night, your subconscious starts to do it on its own.

like reality checking during dreams, or setting an alarm to take a pill

your subconscious doesn’t have eyes, it is something that has to be trained, all it knows is what you tell it.

not everything can be mastered on the first try, you just have to keep trying.

moral of the story is:

intention is real. and its important. dont give up on yourself. keep setting intention. keep going to sleep knowing you will wake up in your dr.

one day you will.

i hope this helped or resonated with some of you, because when i heard about this idea, it gave me a lot of hope that im not doing anything wrong, my subconscious is just taking a little while to catch up.

happy shifting!

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

141 as your drug dealer boyfriend

Ghost- Let's be real with ourselves, Ghost is not a good man. He doesn't care who he hurts, as long as he gets his. He will do anything to get what he wants and there is no stopping him. It's what made him a great soldier, and it's what makes him a great kingpin. He moves weight to put it lightly. There isn't a moment where an uncut key is unmoving; from a warehouse, to a plane (or car, or train), to a distributor, to a pusher, to up someone's nose. He'll try to do some damage control, make sure things aren't cut with fent, but that's only to make sure customers keep coming back. He likes to keep his hands clean, in the sense that he'll never be the one to pull the trigger on anyone that's out of line. Living up to his name, no one knows what he looks like. Hell, a lot of people don't even think he's real.

But when it comes to you, Simon's a different man. No talk about work, just you and him. Other than the multiple hidden guns around the house and Glock he sleeps with, life is normal with you. Holiday homes in the French countryside and Bahamas. Designer everything. Sports cars in all your favorite colors. You want for nothing. It's the life he wanted for you. After all those years of crying and hurt when he was away for weeks or months, you deserved the world. Want the new Hermès bag? You got it. Can't choose between the black or white louboutins? Get both. Stop eating you out because you can't feel your toes anymore? Sorry love, only thing he can't do for you.

Soap- Johnny is a small business owner. Weighs everything out by his own hand. Presses his own pills. Let's you help baggie everything up. A social butterfly, this man is at every concert, rave, or music festival. Sometimes he has a friend help push his stuff when he just wants to stay home with you, but for the most part he's his own salesman. And a damn good one. Never has overstock. No matter how much he brings with him, he'll always sellout.

Has a supernatural sense of being shorted. Can tell if a bag is even a few grams off just by holding it.

"Ye'r an idiot if ye think ye kin short me."

And when the other party denies, he always keeps a pocket scale on him, setting the parcel on it. And sure enough, he's always right.

He'll come home with a few grand, the only job you have is to sit there and look pretty. And roll his spliffs. Sitting in his lap, tucking the rolling paper into itself and licking it closed while he counts out a fat wad of cash. He hands you a fat stack,

"A've never bin good wi' money. Ye know how to spend it better than me."

He never touches the stuff he sells, no need to when all the dopamine he needs is right between your legs.

"Ten times better than any o tha' shite, anyways."

He pants in your ear while folding you in half, firm grip on your throat.

Gaz- When it comes to psychedelics, Kyle is your go-to man. He's a fucking genius, synthesizes his own DMT and LSD in a lab. It's a state of the art facility, clean with the latest and greatest equipment available. He supplies the whole Northeast. If it's a hallucinogen, it's most likely Gaz's product. And if it's good, it's definitely his. He has a cozy set up with some "organization" that he cooks for. Steers clear of actually selling to people, no need to when his clients line his pockets so well. Never brings work home, he even wears different clothes when he's in the lab.

He has a set schedule he has to adhere to but sometimes he's able to take vacations with you. And that's how you ended up bent over a balcony watching the sunset in Punta Cana,

"I work so hard to make you happy, now it's my turn yeah?"

A breeze sends a shiver up your spine while he kisses your shoulder,

"I know a private beach where you can even out those tan lines,"

Of course he doesn't give a shit about that, he just wants to fuck you silly on the seaside (and show off to anyone who might be watching.)

Price- Caring and nurturing, the man naturally has a green thumb. And alongside his prized heirloom tomatoes, he grows really, really good weed. Has a whole growroom in his basement, decked out with proper ventilation, ACs, UV lights, the works. The man grows medical grade weed that private clinics buy from him. He's legit. And of course he serves the public as well under the table, sells only to people he knows and established clients can refer others to him. He treats his plants like his babies, even going as far as to play music for them (according to him classical music helps them grow better???). You don't know where he finds the time, but he also made you rose garden for your anniversary. He brings up the idea of a family every so often. He'll finish as deep inside of you as possible,

"Let's replace that plant nursery for a real one, yeah love?"

Gonna write actual stories for each one if y'all like this ( . * 3 * . )/`

[murdrdocs]

i feel like mike is ALWAYS so grumpy,

him with his obnoxious sister and girlfriend is just so canon to me sigh

oh he absolutely is (also i blacked out and wrote 600 words of pure delusion ??? im so sorry i rlly have a problem omg)

first off, sleeping sans pills is a little hard for him for the first month or so. it’s hard for him to fall asleep and stay asleep, so he spends a chunk of the night just laying and staring at the ceiling where his nebraska poster used to be, waiting for sleep to find him instead of searching for it. when he actually gets up in the morning, his body just feels like he’d gotten hit by a bus, evidence of his restless night showing up all over the place.

and abby, as kind as she is, just doesn’t know when to shut up. mikes pouring them both a bowl of cereal and abby just continues talking about any and every single thing under the sun, completely oblivious to the agony her older brother is in. mike tries to be patient, he hums between his yawns as he fills her bowl with milk, he blinks lazily at her as she keeps talking. but at a certain point enough is enough and the cereal is a little stale and mike was really looking forward to a nice bowl of cereal to give him energy for the day but everything is shit right now so he ends up politely (at least as best as he can) asking abby to stop talking.

he thinks that by the time you’re supposed to come over later in the afternoon, he’ll feel better. he doesn’t have work until a few hours after breakfast, and he uses the time to take a shitty nap on the couch. a nap that’s disrupted by the doorbell ringing entirely too loud, followed by abby’s excited screech which alerts him of your arrival. he’s happy to see you, but he’s tired as shit and now he has to go work a dead end job and he can barely manage to paint an appreciative smile on his face when you walk him to his car and promise that you and abby will have fun.

by the time he gets back after work, the sun has set and it’s a few hours past traditional dinner time. the lights in the house are still on and when he enters he hears a movie playing. he’s so tired he only wants to take a shower and sleep but he knows you’ll refuse to let him do just that until he’s eaten, which ends up with all three of you at the table, you and abby having dessert while mike slowly makes his way through dinner.

he’s nodding off the entire time, and he’s sure he would’ve knocked out face first in his slice of pizza if you and abby weren’t talking his head off. you bounce off of each other like you’re playing an exciting match of ping pong, mikes head going back and forth as he attempts to follow a conversation with no real connections.

and to make matters worse, you’re both on mikes case, too, cracking jokes and being far too concerned and it’s too much for his tired head and his grumpiness just multiplies tenfold until he takes a final bite out of his pizza and storms down the hall to take a shower.

(of course, you find him when he’s slipping a shirt over his head after his shower in his room, hair dripping onto the cotton and flinging onto the carpet when he turns to look at you. he apologizes, tells you about how sleepy he’s been, and kisses you good night. but he’s still a Grumpy Guy, despite the chronic exhaustion)

[fungalpieceofextras]

Things I wish I saw more of in living weapon whumpees: a non-comprehensive list from being around actual Marines and army people

They can and will sleep anywhere... except an actual bed. The moment you give them access to an actual bed with a mattress and sheets, their immediate instinct is to make it up in barracks style, not sleep in it. The moment they're expected to sit and wait and/or have no expectations of them, they lean back and enter a light doze.

Caffeine addiction. Usually through pills, sometimes through special caffeinated gum. This pairs with the weird sleeping habits.

When they ARE guaranteed eight hours of rest, at least two of them are spent maintaining equipment/ their uniform if permitted. When they wake, they're up and ready for whatever comes next in under five minutes. This includes making up the bed.

If it's not the bare minimum to keep them functional and armed, they don't have it. This is going to be especially true for LWW's who were raised in the lifestyle and/or brainwashed after abduction from civilian life. Watches, jewellery, spare clothes, even non-obtrusive things to occupy them outside of training like books or a phone are not things they have without stealing or being given a gift by someone around them.

Paired with above, they have no preferences for what they do get. If someone above them fucks up and gives them too-small or too-large clothes, they just make it work and take the punishment they don't deserve at inspection time. If the only toilet is a bucket on the floor, they use it without complaint.

Their language when speaking freely is something the fuck else, like for real the shit that comes out of their pieholes is unbelievable! A "fuck" every other word!

They only speak when spoken to, and when they do, it's in what I like to call a Sir Sandwich: "Sir, [response goes here], Sir", usually in a very flat and (if appropriate) loud tone. "Sir" can be considered gender-neutral in this case and is meant to denote someone in authority, not a masculine someone specifically.

Buzzed hair on men, pixie or chin-length bob on women, though if your LWW is the only woman in a mostly masc environment, buzzing her hair can be a deliberate tactic by her captors/superiors to dehumanize her.

Food aggression. They inhale their food, they never eat anything that takes time or effort to prepare OR to consume (salad, omelette, pancakes/waffles, steak, etc.) and if the situation calls for it they can and will eat with their hands no matter how nasty their hands are. Permission to sit down for more than ten minutes and actually TASTE what they eat should be alien to them during recovery/leave if they get it.

Hazing. Sorry, but if your LWW is in a group with other soldiers or LWs, they're going to experience some kind of unpleasant/humiliating/dangerous initiation ritual, ESPECIALLY if the team is going someplace dangerous or going to be together for long stretches of time. Stealing clothes while your whumpee is in the shower, mocking them for things they can't control/weren't aware were 'weird', anything and everything that would get them screamed at or punished by the commanding figure on an individual basis. (For my NSFWhump peeps, yes this can include SA or harassment and often does, especially for women and effette/less masculine/nerdy men.)

Exercise as punishment. This can be extra labour, a pointless task they can later be yelled at for not stopping by curfew after not being told to stop at a given time, or even just the classic "drop and give me twenty!". Hitting or otherwise physically abusing a trainee is a federal offense, but for a LWW it depends... are you leaving a mark? Can they still perform as intended?

Just. The irl army is already pretty horrible and I don't see anyone making use of that.

[schoenpepper]

How about for our early xmas gift, you give us a version where Yuu comes back to twst again🙂

(You broke my heart po💔)

Maybe This Time

Intro: Everything changed after you left. But maybe he still stayed the same.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, jade is veryy bad, kinda yandere ish

A/N: Counted as a sequel to this, though you can probably read it as a standalone. Sige na nga anonnie merry xmas happy new year nlng sayo haha. Maybe this tiiiime it'll be lovin' they'll find—*gets shot*

Masterlist

Jade forgets what it's like to live.

The day you left, all color drained from the world he resides in. Rather, your absence pushed him from being an active participant into one that only watches.

Still, it only takes him a day to get back to work.

"You can take a longer break."

He waves off Azul with such a well-practiced smile even he might believe it. "I don't need a break. What is it for, even? There's no use reminiscing over such boring things."

Boring.

Boring boring boring.

The word makes him livid. It makes him seethe with a burning, passionate anger he was unaware was even stored within him. Maybe that's why you left. Maybe Jade failed to excite you. He and his brother are people that stay because of interest, so perhaps the reason you left was because Jade could no longer interest you. Is that it?

Why else?

Why else would you shatter him the first chance that you get?

It takes him one week to forget.

Not you. Sevens know he'll never forget you. You were a whirlwind that crashed through everything he knew and smashed him to smithereens. It takes him a week to forget that he's still hiding his pain.

He forgets he's in pain.

You're a rotting, festering wound that he's buried under layers of pretend. He's such a good actor even Floyd is—

"Stop cryin'."

Well. Maybe not Floyd. Jade raises a hand to his cheek and finds no tears. "You weren't crying. But I made you look, right?" Floyd grins, "Hurry and pack. Maybe nonna can help you get over shrimpy. She's real good at life advice~"

He's sure life advice won't help, but it wouldn't hurt (any more) to try.

The waters of the Coral Sea are frigid. It doesn't numb him enough when he's so used to it, but it's alright. He's fine, anyway. There's no more regret. No more bitter hatred. Only the familiar salt of the ocean water. His parents mean well when they fret over him, asking his twin brother for details. His grandmother is worriedly chattering over his shoulder, and he's made aware that he's unable to fool them this time. He's good at pretending. His family couldn't pick out his faux smiles when he's entangled in mischief, nor could they identify the mock innocence he likes to act out when he gets into fights with other mer. But now, why now? Why are they able to press their hand on that beating, dead thing in his chest and attempt to comfort it when the only thing it wants to do is wallow and wither in nothingness?

They couldn't tell when he was pretending to be good.

But they can tell that he's pretending to be okay.

It doesn't make sense.

It takes one month for everything to fall back in routine. Sleeping potions and pills and spells aid in nights when he's preoccupied with memories of a person he wished never existed at all.

His grades are higher than they'd ever been, and he's so ridiculously productive. It's all on track. Everything is just as it was before you. There was a time in his life before you. He can fill in the empty spot you'd left behind with dirt and the pieces of himself you'd killed that fateful day.

And thus, there will be a time after you.

"Jade," Azul hands him a familiar plush toy, "Floyd told me to give this back to you."

The felt shrimp plushie is mocking him; there is no other explanation. It's one half of a pair, actually. In some dingy arcade in town was a claw machine filled with small mushroom, shrimp, egg, onion, and garlic plushies. The owner called the machine "shrimp fried crane game". You were the one to win one mushroom plushie you kept for yourself, and you gave him the shrimp.

The mushroom was in your suitcase.

In his rampage (he wouldn't call it that, really), he had destroyed everything that reminded him of you that same night, or rather, early morning. He watched polaroids and love letters burn inside a metal dumpster he'd hauled from school grounds. The shrimp wasn't part of the bonfire.

It seems Floyd had snuck it away.

He inspects the toy with his usual smile, tight-lipped and close-eyed, nodding at Azul. He wants it out of his sight for a long, long time. If it could feel as forgotten as he felt, let those feelings be transferred to you. He wishes you pain and agony and guilt and regret.

It takes one year for him to let out a genuine chuckle.

His twin brother stares at him like he'd grown a second head, and Jade is aware it's unusual. Even though the joke he'd laughed at was so inane, the fact of the matter was that he laughed, which in itself is so strange. Perhaps this is a good thing. No, it can only be a good thing. What is it if not a sign that he's healing?

And soon, he won't remember you at all.

And you will cease to exist in his mind.

But it's not meant to happen today.

No, with that little laugh, grief like several tonnes of cement hit him right where it hurts the most; it's heavy, and debilitating, and it makes it nigh impossible for him to even breathe.

(Because you were the air he once consumed, and neither humans nor mer are made for such long term suffocation.)

"I've never seen you laugh before," the young man in front of him smiles with thick, syrupy lovesickness, "it suits you."

The person is an underclassman who'd been following him around recently. Like a poor mockup of your silhouette, he hears the same promises you couldn't keep from the mouth of another. It irks him more than he'd like to admit, because if he does, then it means admitting that he still remembers you. It means he still holds you up in his altar and lights flames in your name.

He does not.

Whoever says otherwise, whether it be Floyd or Azul, or Silver or Riddle; they all lie.

He only remembers you in anger. In bouts of madness that makes him question your existence, it is then that your name leaves his lips.

It takes one decade.

For what?

For forgiveness? For the hate to fade?

On his 27th birthday, his phone rings with a number he's long since engraved in his heart.

Jade forgot how to live in your absence.

In the decade you'd left, he only existed. It is a passive state of consistent routine that allows him to appear normal to his peers. Still, his closest people know he was left incomplete. He became a creature without a sense of purpose, and it was a sad thing. How pitiful it was for a predator to be reduced to a vessel containing shards of a broken heart.

Still, it is your name that he finds. It is your number.

A number from a phone kept in some dark corner of NRC's storage room. It's likely a student who decided to scroll through your contacts and found his contact name amusing. You did have quite the strange penchant for putting strange names in your contact list.

He answers the call in a moment of boredom.

There is nothing interesting to do in a business party.

"Hello? Jade?"

He stops. There is nothing in this world or yours that could erase each and every memory he's ever made with you. The voice is one he's heard often and dreams and even more in nightmares; it has replaced the voice of his dead conscience and pushed him to a meaningless drifting existence instead of finding thrill in things you would despise him for.

It's been a decade and instead of forgetting you, he didn't know when he melded you into his bones and stitched you into the fabric of his soul, but he knows you more than he knows himself.

"I'm back."

There is no more bitter hatred. There is no more regret.

"Can you pick me up?"

In one moment, it all dissipates into nothingness and there is only you.

Jade remembers how to breathe again. He feels that withered thing in his chest beat once more, and he feels alive.

It takes one decade for you to return.

And he didn't know he was waiting for you, but then, what could every second without you have meant if not just an endless eternity of patiently waiting?

"Did you see my message?"

"I did."

"Are you not afraid I'll make good on my promise?"

"I've never been afraid of you."

Yet, perhaps you should be. He may no longer despise you with every fiber of his being, but you'd betrayed him and lost his trust. There will be no more second chances. You will stay unlike before, and if he must break every mirror in the world to ensure his heart remains beating, then it will be all too easy.

Taglist:

@yummyyummyinmytumny @lemon-koii @fsh1

[bullet-prooflove]

Good People: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @wabi-sabi1090 @lostinwonderland314 @turtle-cant-communicate @fallout-girl219

Takes place after:

The Farm - Carmy recalls the day you met.

Prequel to:

Pears - It starts when Carmy makes an order he doesn't remember.

Mornings - Carmy sleeps better with you around.

Bubble - You have no idea that you saved Carmy's life.

Crazy, Stupid, Fucked Up World (NSFW) - Carmy tells you he lvoes you for the first time.

Everyone knows that Carmy has a thing for the farm girl. It’s the way his attention shifts when your name is mentioned, the fact it’s him signs for the orders and no one else. They watch as he asks about your day and raise their eyebrows when he stands there and actually listens.

“You may as well be giving her fuck me eyes.” Richie says as he tries to wrestle The Beef t-shirt onto an inflatable hotdog in Jimmy’s backyard.

The two of them are setting up for that ridiculous kid’s party, hoping to knock a couple of grand off the debt Mikey owed him.

“I don’t have fuck me eyes.” Carmy mutters, focusing on slicing the oranges for the homemade Ectoplasm he’s made because Unc’s kid is nuts about Ghostbusters.

“Oh you do. You fucking do.” Richie argues as he pulls out the duct tape. “It’s probably the reason we’re getting such a discount, she likes the way you shake that pasty white ass underneath that little apron of yours.”

“You’re a fucking asshole.” He snaps at Richie, launching a piece of fruit at the back of  Richie’s head. It smacks him right on the dome and the other man turns to face him furious.

“What the fuck is with you?” Richie retorts, throwing it back. “Last month you got the shit kicked out of you by a guy dressed like a carrot, now you’re whoring yourself out for cucumbers. You’ve got issues man, big ones.”

Carmen really has nothing to say to that because honestly if he had to whore himself out to keep this business going, he probably fucking would. That’s exactly where his self-respect is right now, rock fucking bottom. It’s the reason he’s out here in the fucking suburbs slinging gourmet hot dogs for little monsters have no fucking clue how the real world works.

“I hate you.” He tells Richie as he throws himself back into his work the same way he always does. “I fucking hate you.”

It’s an hour later that Richie does the uncharacteristic thing and apologizes. Carmy thinks it’s probably got something to do with the Xanex he took about an hour ago.

“I shouldn’t have said that about Alice.” Richie says, rubbing his palm over the back of his neck. “She’s good people.”  

“Yea she is.” Carmy responds as he starts to make up another hotdog. “She’s helping us out in a bind because she’s a good person. It’s got nothing to do with my ass.”

Richie tilts his head from side to side as he pulls the bottle of Xanax out of his coat pocket and spills another tablet into his palm.

“It’s a little to do with your ass.” Richie tells him as he takes the pill, washing it down with a cup of Ecto.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Carmy asks as he puts the finishing touches on his masterpiece.

“It means for some fucked up reason she likes you.” Richie responds, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know why, you’re basically a fucking mop with eyes but she does and you should really do something about that.”

“Like what Richie?” Carmy retorts, turning to face him, his hands coming to rest on his hips. “I run a sandwich shop that’s failing so badly I had to pay for our meat order with change out the arcade machine thirty days ago, I’ve got jack shit to offer anyone right now.”

“I’m just saying you deserve to be happy.” Richie says as he leans back against the fold up table, the tension in his shoulders relaxing. “Mikey would have wanted you to be happy.”

Carmy doesn’t know what Mikey would have wanted because Mikey, he’s not hear to tell him.

“That second Xanex just kicked in didn’t it?” Carmy remarks, changing the subject and Richie exhales, nodding his head.

“Oh yea, big time. I don’t feel a fucking thing.”

It’s on the way home, that Carmy starts to think about what Richie said, about you, about being happy.

Sitting in those fields at your farm on his days off, shooting the shit with you. It’s the closest thing to contentment he’s felt in years. If he was a better man, someone less mentally ill, he’d consider pursuing it but honestly he’s a fucking mess. He wouldn’t wish himself on any woman especially you.

“You’re punking out aren’t you?” Richie says from the passenger seat as he watches the world go by outside.

“No.” Carmy says, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “She just deserves better than an asshole like me.”

Love Carmy? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[pouring-rains]

buzzin' (m.s)

cw; rough angst, drug use, drug addiction, yelling

wc: 1.9k

"Fuck-fuck- goddamnit," you say, pacing around frantically your hands going to your hair and pulling out of stress and worry, hurriedly looking through all of your stash spots trying to find any last pills you had left.

Matt was supposed to arrive home soon, and you didn't realize how low you were on your substances, and you knew that the longer you went without the worse your withdrawal would become, and you were unable to hit up your dealer as Matt would be at the house for the rest of the night.

Matt was completely oblivious to your worsening coping habits, unaware of how reliant you were on pills and other substances to make it through the day-- of how desperate you were to feel different, that you were willing to do just about anything, for another bump or another drink.

It wasn't his fault he didn't notice, he's just been busy with work most days, and he was home less and less, only home on some weekends and nights, but you weren't able to talk as much as you used to, matt tired by the end of his long days filming and working so he was always ready to sleep once he was home.

First, it just started as a little fun, you'd been lonely after Matt started coming home less, and you needed something to fill the void even for a little bit, so you took a vicodin, there were some in the bathroom left over from when you'd dislocated your elbow, and you figured that if they were prescribed to you then what was really the harm--and how fucking wrong you were.

That night you sat on your bed for hours staring at the ceiling and feeling like your entire body was buzzing and filled with pleasureful static--your mind the most blank it's had ever been, and ever since-- you'd never stopped chasing it.

Hearing the door creak open, you stop in your tracks looking toward the sound, your beautiful eyes once bright and full now sunken in and empty, and your youthful skin now looking dull and worn.

"hey baby, how was your day," Matt said while setting his things down and heading over to where you were standing silently in the living room and giving you a warm hug, you could feel the tension in your body leak out as his body meets yours, and you hug him back tightly.

"my day was fine, I didn't really do anything much but clean a few things up and watch a couple of shows and movies while you were gone, what about you?" you say trying to keep your voice steady and normal, not wanting to give anything about your condition away.

"well chris was being a dumbass all day he wouldn't stop fucking burping and acting like a fucking idiot, and nick..." is as much as you register before you get lost in your thoughts unintentionally blocking his voice out, your mind going to how you were going to survive the night without anything to pick you up.

"...are you still listening?" Matt asks waving his hand in front of your eyes to pull you from your trance, "shit, sorry Matt, I'm just kind of tired, didn't mean to ignore you," you say apologetically as you wince at your obvious disengagement in what he's saying.

"oh, that's fine, do you wanna head to bed? I'm kinda beat too," he says with a chuckle. "yeah actually, I'd love that I just feel like I can't stay awake right now," you reply trying to sound tired, voicing out a fake yawn in hopes that he believes you.

"yeah, lemme grab my shit real quick, and then ill head up to the bedroom," he tells you before heading over to the bag he'd set down previously, you turn around to start up the stairs knowing he'd be up soon before going into the bedroom.

You quickly shut off the lights to try and prevent him from getting a closer look at you, the withdrawal starting to set in even further, your frame beginning to shiver. your stomach starts to twist into painful knots as you try to coax yourself into sleep to make them go away when you hear the door open and a shuffle before you feel the bed dip down across from you when matt gets into bed next to you.

"goodnight babe," he says gently while covering himself with the blanket and resting his head on his pillow, "yeah, g'night matty," you say softly, controlling your voice's shakiness to the best of your ability.

Soon enough he fell asleep, but as much as you tried, you were unable to-- every crevice of your dependent brain stuck on the thought of drugs, desperate for any little bit to take this feeling away the horrible pain of your body and mind working against you willing to corrupt every nerve ending with immense pain until you filled your body with drugs to soothe the pain of it all--mental and physical.

After a while the pain got unbearable, and you caved. picking up your phone you shot your dealer a quick text before getting up out of bed very slowly trying to make the least amount of noise possible, intent on not waking up Matt.

After making it out of the bed with minimal noise, you shuffle over to the door opening it slowly, it creaks slightly but not enough to rouse Matt from his sleep.

You close the door carefully before walking downstairs, grabbing your purse, and pulling out some cash. Stepping outside you wait impatiently for your dealer to get there, your skin getting goosebumps from the cold weather as your stomach knots in pain.

Finally, after a few minutes of waiting, headlights beam onto you as his car pulls up. hurriedly you pull out your cash while he rolls his window down.

"here's your usual," he says, pulling out a little baggy with an assortment of colored pills roughly 10 or so inside. "thanks," you mumble giving him the cash before snatching the bag from his hand and scurrying back inside, shutting the door behind you softly.

"thank fuck," you mumble to yourself walking over to the counter and snatching two baby blue pills out of the baggy and putting them on the countertop before grabbing a salt shaker left on the counter and smashing the pills with the flat edge. grabbing your wallet you pull out your worn debit card using it to line up the ground pills before grabbing a bill out of your wallet, rolling it into a straw-like shape, and snorting the powder.

"what the fuck are you doing?" snapping your head up you look towards the stairs, seeing Matt standing there looking angry, his mouth curled into a frown and his hair mussed with sleep. Your face pales as you realize what he just saw, and what this means for you–fuck.

Tears start to brim at your waterline as you begin to panic, “nothing matt, just- just go back to bed,” you say your voice quivering with worry as you try to stand in front of the blatant evidence of what you were doing–even though he already saw everything.

“no, I know what the fuck I just saw, what the fuck are you doing!?” he expresses, starting to make his way down the rest of the stairs before you know it he’s standing right in front of you staring over your shoulder at the drugs littered across the table.

Taking a shallow inhale you move away from him going over to the kitchen sink and splashing your burning face with cool water and looking at matt’s still form, his eyes still transfixed on the pills on the table, just as you're about to open your mouth he turns suddenly anger beaming from his face and his body shaking.

“why the fuck are you doing this shit, what the fuck is wrong with you?” he says angrily, running his hand through his knotty hair almost as if he was searching through his head for an answer as to why you were doing these such things, knowing perfectly how horrible and addicting they were.

“because I don't know what the fuck else to do matt, why the fuck do you think!” you shout clenching your fists into balls and digging your nails into your palm trying to alleviate this stress in some way. 

“well, I'm certainly not fucking sure why you started this shit in the first place, why the fuck would you do this? you know how I fucking feel about drugs especially shit like this!” pushing back his hair once again he looks up at you, his anger losing momentum as he fully takes in your broken-down appearance, seeing for the first time how truly beat down you look.

“because I can’t fucking do this anymore matt, I fucking hate living like this, I hate my life, and your never fucking home I don't know what I'm supposed to fucking do anymore!” your voice breaking in the middle of your sentences as more and more tears start to roll down your cheeks.

“I-i- don't know how to stop anymore, it just got out of hand so fast and now I can't get through a day without them matt, I don't know what to do,” you say defeatedly, done with lashing out and leaving only exhaustion in place of your previous anger. For a second there was only pure silence after you finished speaking, assuming Matt was either going to leave or was now just ignoring you, until you felt his presence beside you, his warm body wrapping around your clammy figure.

“I- don’t know what to say, I’m so sorry I didn't know everything was getting this bad baby–why didn’t you talk to me? why did you have to turn to this?” he says, pulling you closer while you conceal yourself within his body trying to sink into him in an attempt to disappear so you wouldn't have to deal with all of it anymore–so you wouldn’t have to answer him, tell him how you made a bad mistake and it had snowballed into this big problem you weren’t sure you could ever fix.

“I- don’t know matt, it was just so fucking overwhelming I didn’t know what to do, I’m so so sorry matt,” your tears starting to leak into his hoodie as he tucks you impossibly closer against him trying his best to shield you from all of the hurt and pain you’re being put through mentally.

While his own heart was breaking into pieces for all the pain you were going through, and all the time he didn’t notice and let you dig yourself deeper into this hole of drug abuse, he was doing his best to help you and make sure you knew he was there for you now. “shh- it’s gonna be okay, we can do this together m’gonna help you get better baby, you’re not gonna feel alone anymore okay? I’m so sorry I haven't been around as much and that it got this bad without me noticing, I'm here now I promise, and I'm here to stay, okay?”

“okay matt,” you sigh, hiccuping into his chest, though it was going to be painful, and absolutely fucking horrible–at least now you had someone there, someone to support you and help you through it, and make sure you were happy, and felt loved–and sometimes that makes all the difference.

taglist : @chaossturns @freshlove-sturn @colorthecosmos444 @anxietyriddenblue @immattsslut @muchloveforhacker @pinksturniolo @mattshighway @sabsturned @fratbrochrisgf @star-neo-love @imwetforyourmom @blahbel668

[dandylovesturtles]

listen ok I know shit is dire in CAS land (by @somerandomdudelmao) but I had this stupid idea and it's a slow day at work and I type fast so here you go I didn't proofread this at all

I'm sorry I made it silly

Massive spoilers if you haven't read the new CAS update

...

"I can fix it," is a much easier thing to say than to do. Casey's thinking that as he takes long, quick strides through the lair, turning the problem over in his head as fast as he can. He hopes Uncle Tello can't hear the parts of his thoughts that are in a panic, but based on their conversation before he probably can.

Uncle Tello doesn't say anything about it, and Casey kind of wishes he would, just for the reassurance that he's still there.

He's so absorbed in his thoughts he doesn't notice Donnie (the younger Donnie, the physical Donnie) standing in front of him until it's too late and he's already collided with his back. Coffee spills everywhere, though thankfully it only splashes his plastron where he can't get burned.

Younger Donnie whirls, something distinctly murderous in his eye that feels so weird and wrong directed at Casey. It cools only slightly when Donnie processes it wasn't one of his brothers bumping into him, and somehow that feels just as weird, that Donnie has to readjust his feelings to accommodate the unfamiliarity. (He's not family, not to this Donnie.)

"Is something chasing you?" Donnie snaps.

"Uh... no-"

"Is there a fire?"

"No, but-"

"Do you need glasses?"

"I don't... think so?"

"Then watch where you're going!"

He spins on his heel and marches off, toward the kitchen to get more coffee, Casey assumes. For a moment he's left too off kilter and dumbfounded to remember what he was doing.

Then Uncle Tello's voice in his head startles him out of it. What just happened?

Oh, uh... I ran into the other version of you.

Ran into?

Literally. I spilled his coffee.

Ah, and he didn't take it well.

And Casey knows he shouldn't stop for this. Casey knows they may be on limited time and he has to fix this and Uncle Tello shouldn't have to listen to his whining about things that don't matter.

But he's been holding in so many feelings for so long and even if it's just in his head, hearing his uncle's (dad's) voice makes it rush out of him before he can stop it.

I don't think he likes me very much. I touched his shell the other day and he snapped at me. I got mad at him when he touched your tech and that made him mad, too. I don't know how to talk to him.

He doesn't really know how to talk to any of them, is the thing. It used to be the easiest thing in the world, and now it's a wall he hasn't yet learned how to scale.

He can feel his thoughts spiraling against his will. He doesn't have time for this, but the grief and the lack of sleep and the lack of easy affection are all mixing together with the weirdness of it all into a dangerous Molotov cocktail of emotions and he's not sure what will light the fuse.

Casey Jr, says Uncle Tello's voice.

Uncle Tello?

Do you want to see something really funny?

Casey can't help but make a strangled noise at the back of his throat, one that isn't a laugh but isn't a cry either. Something funny?

Yeah. Trust me, it'll be hilarious. Go to my lab.

Casey hesitates. He doesn't let me in there without him...

I feel confident I outrank him. Wait, how old is he?

Sixteen.

Ahhh, that explains it. I know I'm an absolute delight now, but at that age I could be a real pill.

It startles an actual laugh out of Casey. Without arguing further, he rushes to Donnie's lab, quick before he can finish brewing his coffee.

How do I get in?

Is this the subway?

Yeah.

Okay, there's a manual override for the voice lock hidden in one of the wall panels, should be... three to the left, middle of the door. Give that a good knock. Shave and a haircut~

Casey does as directed, and the panel slides back, revealing a flat, glossy keypad.

What's the access code? he asks, feeling like they're on some secret mission now. Maybe it doesn't fall into what people in this time consider normal, but to Casey this is standard stuff. He falls into the rhythm of it like a well loved song.

Oh one one four twenty one twenty seven, says Uncle Tello.

Casey punches it in and the door slides open. He slips inside and hits the button to close and lock the door behind him. Donnie still hasn't returned; the mission is proceeding as planned.

Wasn't that the code for one of the weapons lockers in the old- at base?

Yes, it was. Poor security protocol to reuse codes, I know, but I'm partial to that one.

What is it?

Atomic Lass's birth date. Uncle Tello pauses, then adds, Has he shown you any of the old Atomic Lass episodes of Jupiter Jim?

Uh, no...

Ah, continuing to fail my already low expectations, Teen Tello. Never mind, we'll worry about that later on.

Later on. Right, they shouldn't be doing this, they should be trying to fix Uncle Tello, they should be-

To my computer, Casey Jr! I can't type so you'll have to do it for me.

Uncle Tello's voice pulls him out of his reverie, and he hurries to do as he's told.

Uncle Tello walks him through passwords and then through navigating the OS. It's old and out of date compared to what they had in the future (Donatello's custom OS, better than the hacks at Apple and Microsoft, or so he said), but when Casey had called it old and out of date Donnie had gotten mad about that, too.

Ada Lovelace, this is old, says Uncle Tello's voice now, and incredibly Casey laughs again.

But they find what he's looking for and then input a series of commands into the command line. Casey isn't familiar with all of them, but if he had to guess, they just sent a video from late 2019 to every device in the lair.

Alright, mission accomplished, time to retreat, says Uncle Tello's voice, and he hurries out of the lab, just in time to hear a ping from the phone in his pocket.

He pulls it out and watches the video. It's Donnie, only slightly younger than the teen Casey now lives with, adjusting the camera before grinning and posing in front of it. He's in his lab, though a different one than the one here in the subway. He looks cocky.

He moves further back from the camera so his entire body is framed in its lens, then steps onto a skateboard. He glides in a circle for a moment, then jumps to try and do some kind of trick. Casey doesn't know the name of it, but what he does know is that Donnie's feet get caught in his board, and he ends up tumbling to the floor, crashing in an undignified heap, arms splayed out and face smooshed against the concrete.

It shouldn't be funny.

(It's pretty funny.)

It seems the others echo this sentiment, because suddenly Casey can hear laughter erupting from elsewhere in the lair.

"OMIGOSH! Barry, you gotta watch this!"

"HAHAHAHA BRO ATE SHIT!"

"Hah... Don't worry Donnie, I'm sure you'll get it next ti-hahahahaha!"

There's the sound of scurrying feet, and then Donnie slides into the hall, glaring at Casey who forgot he should be moving away from the crime scene.

"YOU!" he screeches.

Casey freezes. What is he supposed to say? What excuse does he have? The you in my head told me to do it? Yeah right.

Casey does the only sensible thing and turns to run.

Casey Jr?

Uncle Tello!?

What's happening now?

The other you is after me!

Oh. Well. Better run fast.

Casey turns on the speed, sprinting down the corridor and toward the only exit he knows, Donnie hot on his trail.

Why is every younger version of you so scary!?

Oh please, there's no way that scrawny, barely pubescent mess is scary. Have you ever heard his voice crack?

...Well, yeah...

See? Hilarious. And we didn't even have to pull up my browser history.

Okay, but none of this helped us fix anything.

Ah well. One problem at a time.

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: priest!leto x afab!reader x priest!paul (title from scorpio by pour vous)

cw: blasphemy if i’m being so real, spit roasting, reader is lowkey losing it but they’ll be okay, dubcon, pwp-ish (there’s set up but it’s not that long imo), mention of paul being into predator/prey, daddy kink coded without the actual daddy kink, horror elements, unreliable narrator vibes, mention of them being willing to non con reader if things didn’t go their way, no incest between leto & paul 💀, reader’s their sad loser turned attic spouse, mention of eventual impreg, implied soft dom!leto & mean dom!paul, religious practice inaccuracies, possibly predictable plot twists, implied painful anal but reader’s too out of it to feel it, implied natural aphrodisiac in their spit, reader bleeds

wc: 2.5k

block & move on if uncomfortable,

do not translate/repost/give my works to ai

please consider commissioning me or leaving me a tip !!

You’ve been feeling… lost. The trees keep secrets from you and the clouds mix together like egg whites. You wish you knew what kind of pill you need to be on, you wish you knew what was wrong with you. You’re paranoid and seeing blank eyes watching you through the brick and mortar of your apartment. Your skin burns hotter than hell and sometimes you think that there are claws grabbing at your ankles when you sleep.

Church hasn’t been something you’ve bothered to attend since you were a kid, but you yearn for it now.

You pull your tattered coat around yourself as you step into the ancient building. The Church of Caladan is the oldest church in the country, if not the world. You hope you don’t look silly when you take caution with how hard your feet hit the stone. ‘You break it, you buy it’ must apply to old churches too.

Your unease rolls off you in waves, and a couple nearby priests seem to sense it in the same way that horses can sense fear. For a second you imagine bursting into flames, but there are hands groping your flesh through the great hellfire.

They’re about even in height, though one is clearly older. The gray hair weaved into his temples suits him more than it shows his age. The younger man has the same dark and wavy hair, but his gaze is a touch more haggard and rife with burden.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have burst in here…. I'm just looking around.” You rush to explain so they would go away, internally cringing at yourself.

“No, we want newcomers to feel comfortable enough to ask questions. I’m Leto,” He says and shakes your hand. “And this is my son, Paul. He’s recently started working here at the church with me.”

Paul steps up to shake your head as well, his mouth doesn’t move but you swear that the corners twitch. The stained glass windows cast a multicolored hue on his eyes and you find yourself lost in the swirling pools of light. Then black holes swallow the brightness in the irises, cosmic cannibalism.

You blink in alarm and awkwardly take a step back from the two priests. Father and son share a look between them that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing them.

Leto clears his throat and pointedly grabs your hands in both of his, encapsulating them in his warmth.

“You’ll have to forgive him, Paul’s never dealt with a lamb as darling as you before. He’s never dealt with one at all actually, you two can go through this together.”

Paul smiles but it fits all wrong, with teeth that should be fangs and with a tongue that appears forked. You blink again and all is well, the man before you fits his human skin like a glove. Maybe you should give them the benefit of the doubt, you’re convinced you’re going crazy anyway and Priests would never be capable of hurting someone. Ghosts aren’t real and Demons are just a crazed mother’s bedtime story.

“Um, okay. Thank you for accepting me.” That’s all you want, deep down, and they know that. “I felt moved to be here, I can’t explain it.”

Leto nods and Paul rubs your shoulder in sympathy. They would hiss that they know full well what called you here, but you might bleat and scurry away. You make a sad picture, abandoned and half insane, but that’s what they are for. To soothe and to serve you, to purify you from the inside out.

“Then all the more reason to stay and sit for a moment, don’t you think?” Paul finally speaks, the boyish tone surprising you.

“Paul’s right, let’s get this jacket off you, poor lamb. You must be freezing to death.” Leto coos, shushing your protests and carefully pulling the cheap thing off of you.

They take you on a little tour of sorts, pointing out the architectural details of the building itself as well as passionately delving into its history. Centuries of worship and service to the community, strangely never having sustained any kind of property damage. The priests speak of the church as if they were wandering through the halls all this time, and they chuckle when they tease you about how relieved they were that you didn’t suffer from a nosebleed. They’re quite common apparently.

“I think that should do it, i’d hate to think that we’ve been talking your ear off, dear.” Leto says, rubbing the inside of your wrist and directing you towards the large piano on the stage at the front of the church.

He must notice the sudden spark in your eyes at the sight, because his crow’s feet wrinkles deepen as he pulls the black piano bench out. Leto’s palm spreads out wide and he gives the leather seat a firm pat, signaling for you to sit down. Butterflies swirl in your stomach with anxiety but you feel too shy to refuse the clearly eager offer. You take a seat in front of an onyx grand piano far grander than you’re used to seeing in a church.

Leto soon occupies the space next to you. The bench is small enough that your thigh is pressing against his, warmth bleeds through your clothes and the indication of muscle really makes you wish you were alone in your room with a rose toy. You place your fingers on the pristinely polished keys and clumsily play some hodgepodge of a melody that you remember from your childhood. A mix of tchaikovsky and children's church songs.

You jump and play the wrong note when you feel thick fingers slide up your thigh. Your cheeks burn with heat but you focus on the music. Leto sighs with sugary sweet satisfaction but doesn’t move his fingers any further. He also doesn’t try to play, it’s almost like he only wants to bask in the domesticity of watching you perform. You think you hear him whisper “That’s it, who knew such a talented lamb would be gracing our doorstep?”

You get a flash of riding him on the piano, gasping into his hair chest when it breaks under the weight of your passion. Thin fingers come from behind to caress your ass as it moves, much colder than the cock you’re bouncing on. Then it fades away, and you’re back to making a fool of yourself with your little song.

Paul watches from the pulpit, eyes drinking in the way your curves expand and move as you squirm. His grip tightens on the bright wood but you’re none the wiser. You almost forget that he’s even there, something which he realizes because he strolls to stand behind you and his father. The music stops once you feel his breath on your neck and he bends down to tenderly pull your hair off of your shoulder, getting himself acquainted with the texture as he rubs his fingertips down the strands.

A distant voice calls out for Leto and he stands, smiling apologetically and thanking you for the performance. You feel adrift as you watch him walk away, reminding yourself that a man like him has other things to do than coddle you.

Paul slides a hand down your back and guides you down to the pew right up front, with a view of center stage, sitting right beside you with a wink. Once Leto returns, you spot the silver tray of communion wafers in his hands. The tray is set on the pulpit by his side.

The older man's eyes darken as he puts one in his mouth, and your brain shuts down when he snatches your face in his rough palms and kisses you sense no less. The wafer cracks as his tongue passes it into your mouth, the salty crumbs oddly making you crave something even saltier. There’s a sticky sweet sensation traveling through your body as you exchange saliva with him, your brain feels so foggy.

You break away, curling your hands into the collar of Leto’s uniform.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Your voice is small and not completely filled with disgust, you’re honestly too desperate for some form of human contact to make good decisions.

“We’re helping you, honey.” Leto purrs into the seam of your mouth, shaking his head in apparent fondness.

You’re too cute for your own good, at least they don’t have to worry about covering their tracks. Any incubus or succubus would be glad to get a hold of someone as lonely as you, but they wouldn’t love you like you deserve. You haven’t been watched by anyone as long as you’ve been watched by them. He hopes that Paul doesn’t shove his foot in his mouth and let it slip that he wished you gave them the opportunity to take you by force. His son carries a torch for a bit of predator and prey action, he likes playing with his food too much. You’re different from the scrambling mice that get torn to bits, though, you’re forever.

Plus, if you don’t get it now, he has no problems with explaining everything when you’re too weak to get up and try to run away.

Paul buries his face in your neck, spilling the vial of wine he had in his pocket down your shirt. It soaks the tank top underneath and though you try with all your might to wriggle away, the desire to resist gets brushed away under a heavy fog.

It’s nice to be touched, to be wanted after a lifetime of feeling the exact opposite. Perhaps this is why the lord guided you to his grandest home, so you could take his prophets into your body.

The black vanishes from Paul’s eyes and you sink against his chest, making out with his father as your eyes roll back into your head.

No words are uttered verbally as Paul shuffles to the side and pulls you to lie back on the pew’s cushion. Leto deprives you of his tongue and gives you a chance to breathe, which both men do with you in sync, resting their foreheads against you.

The nectar on your tongue tastes divine, little lamb, a voice whispers in your mind.

Let us give you purpose so you no longer need to roam, another begs.

You’re crying from the relief of having your mouth filled, Paul tilts your head up by your chin as he slowly slides his cock into your mouth. The ridges and bumps of what feels like piercings sends a jolt of arousal through you.

“Fuck-” He hisses and rubs your neck, watching you adjust to the stretch. “So warm-”

Leto tuts and clamps his hands around your hips, you’re already too fucked out to register sharp black claws taking care of your clothes. Leaving you bare. A shiver passes through your body as he drags his huge hand down to your pussy, being mindful not to accidentally scratch you. He intends for there to be no blood, this time, not a lot.

You gag on Paul’s length when Leto slams your hips against his pelvis, grinding not one but two large cocks against your cunt. If you were looking at his face, you’d see pitch black eyes and intimidating fangs, but all you can focus on is the hazy candle light and what must be someone playing an organ.

You catch a view of one of the stained class windows, a pair of angels cradling a lamb. It’s the only damaged part of the church, with cracks running along the angel’s wings. You’d think it’s a sneeze away from shattering entirely. Your view of it is blurred by Paul’s quick thrusts, gagging on it again. Drools drip onto the red carpet.

Leto grabs one of Paul’s curled horns and yanks his head to the side, scolding at him to be nicer to you. You’ve clearly never taken three cocks inside you, the one you’re servicing is proving to be overwhelming enough. Again, Paul’s new to this experience as well, just in a different way than you are. In a sense, it’s like he was born yesterday. The older man relays this to you through your choked moans and tears, assuring you that he’s taught Paul how to clean up his messes and be grateful. Something like this will be no different.

“Hush, beloved. I would have gladly speared your mouth but you would be dead before I could cum inside it.”

You see God in the sky when Leto slaps the tapered tip of one of his dicks against your slick entrance, God sees you when he gets the tight walls of ass to wrap around the other. Unbeknownst to you, it’s funny how so many things are, your blood pools around his balls. You’re in pain sure but you’ve never felt as much pleasure as you have in this instance. Both “Priests” smell your blood and well, only your body can tell the rest of the story. Later you’ll wake up to find that the building around you has ruby walls and it seems to be breathing. The shooting pain in your left hand is the result of two iron rings being chiseled into the bone of your ring finger.

The four leathery wings protruding from your back, with spikes poking out from the joints, are waiting to be discovered. As are the nubs sprouting out of your hair.

For now beads of sweat highlight your bouncing tits, Paul gropes one and Leto runs the edge of his claw along the side of the other. They’re hissing words that string together and disappear in the blink of an eye, voices slurred and sticky. Their babbling stops and starts again as you reflexively swallow around Paul’s cock when he skull fucks you without warning. They laugh too, but you can at least pretend that Leto’s tone is kinder.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough teasing.”

“But father-“

“I said no. And don’t think for a second that you’re getting anything else but their mouth.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“You lack self control, it wouldn’t be suitable for conception to occur like this. As delectable as their quivering cunt is, demons shouldn’t abstain from courting.”

“You’re saying that as you’re balls deep inside of them.”

“Don’t start with me, Paul.”

All while you’re making gurgling sounds in between the younger priest’s thighs. You hear growls that sound like a mountain lion’s emitting from both men, and the heavy thumps of something flapping in the air gets you holes clenching around Leto. Both men feverishly scratch up and down your limp body, but you’re so enraptured by the chorus of angels happening outside. You have no sense of time, it’s minutes or it’s hours before their cum spills inside of you. There’s too much to possibly keep it all inside, a good amount of it leaks from your cunt and your throat. Leto feels like Christ incarnate when you squirt all over him and yourself with the dumbest expression on your face. Multicolored pieces of glass fall down around you with the loud chime of an invisible bell.

[lexirosewrites]

So I put this together for the backstory of a fic I'm working on. And figured since it's Slick Sunday and I actually have something for once I'd send it to see your opinion on it.

Jacqueline and Elizabeth (Eddie's mom) were omega/omega sapphic childhood sweethearts in this au. However, when Jacqueline's parents caught them together on the night they tried to run away together. She was quickly mated off to Richard Harrington, one of her father's business partners, who lived in New York. Jacqueline had no choice but to go with her new alpha as she now carried his bite. She was forced to leave behind the girl who held her heart. Elizabeth meanwhile is falling to rejection sickness as she was unaware that her beloved Jackie didn't leave of her own volition as Jacqueline's parents lied to her and since Jacqueline had already been dragged to New York to be mated and wed she was left with no choice but to accept this as the truth. Al Munson finds Elizabeth mere weeks after Jacqueline was taken and uses Elizabeth's declining health and mental state to manipulate her into sleeping with him resulting in Eddie.

Jacqueline avoids sleeping with Richard as often as she can and uses heat blockers to try and prevent conception in the hopes that one day she can escape him and return to Elizabeth. However, Richard finds her blockers about a year and a half into their marriage and replaces them with sugar pills. Sending Jacqueline into heat with no real choice but to sleep with him. This results in Steve.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth and Al, have moved out of Hawkins and to Indianapolis and Elizabeth has given birth to Eddie. And she loves her little boy. Her sweet darling little boy who happens to remind her so very much of her darling Jackie when they were kids. Of the Jackie that Jacqueline learned to hide and only ever seemed to show to Elizabeth in the privacy of the Alden (Elizabeth's maiden name) house. The Jackie that the Lancaster (Jacqueline's maiden name) hated to see. The Jackie that Elizabeth still had never truly gotten over. The Jackie that when news of Steffan Ezra (Jacquline's small form of rebellion to give him a part of Elizabeth) Harrington-Lancaster was presented to the world on his fifth birthday ended up making the rejection sickness that had never truly gone away come back with a vengeance. Taking Elizabeth's life with it this time.

Jacqueline, unaware of both Elizabeth's move, death, and child, had finally managed to convince Richard to take her and Steve back to Hawkins in hopes that she might be able to see Elizabeth again and figure some way to be with her. It's not till she's picking Steve up from school one day that she sees Eddie (who had since been sent to live with Wayne) that she learns of her first and, only love, death. Richard uses this devastation to Jacqueline to manipulate and practically break her. Dragging her away from Steve and away from Hawkins under the ruse of it being too much of a crushing reminder of Elizabeth for her to stay as he drags her around the globe.

Eventually, Eddie and Steve meet. Steve (who is an omega like his mom much to Richard's displeasure) recognizes Eddie's mother as the woman his mom loves and tells Eddie the truth about what happened with Jacqueline. Eventually, Steve gets to introduce Eddie to his mom and she gets this small part of Elizabeth back and they manage to get her away from Richard. Nancy drags his name through the mud for what he did to Jacqueline too destroying the man's reputation. Especially when he tries to do the same thing that was done to Jacqueline all those years ago to Steve when he finds out he's dating not only a man but a poor one and the son of Elizabeth Alden.

Figured I'd ask your opinion on it. I hope you like it. 💜

that’s so tragic and sad😭 i love it but i’m devastated for Elizabeth and Jacqueline💔

[lgbtimelords]

a fanfic i'll never write, part 3:

couldn't have loved me better

Kara sees the woman lying, bloody and dirty, in the tower’s medical and sighs.

Not another one, she thinks. One was one too many.

Bizarro. Overgirl. Red daughter.

Once is a mistake. Twice is a pattern. Three times is a habit. Four times is… fucking ridiculous.

She doesn’t have time for this. She really doesn’t.

She’s still too tired from her trip to the Phantom Zone. She needs to write that non-existent article for Andrea. She wants to sleep, a day- maybe two. She promised Alex a sister’s night with Kelly and Nia a lunch together. She wants to eat way too many boxes of potstickers until her stomach hurts and wants to watch a movie. She needs to call Eliza, maybe fly over to Midvale, too. She needs to answer all the pilling up texts from James, Lucy and Cat. But all she wants to do is curl up in her bed and cuddle with Lena- not that she’d ever voice that wish.

She wants to go back to that time before the reveal when touching was simple and normal. A hand on Lena’s back. A hug to say hello. A hug to say goodbye. Lena’s hand on the crook of her elbow as they walked together. Fingers through dark hair when it got messy. Fingers pulling up her glasses when they fell to the tip of her nose. Touch was… a thing. Their thing.

Now, other than the emotional and aching hug after Kara’s return, they haven’t touched. And Kara desperately wants to.

Half of it she blames it on her own need to know Lena is actually alive, actually here. And that none of the nightmares she went through in the Phantom Zone were real. She wants to make sure Lena’s heart is actually beating behind her ribs, make sure her head isn’t playing tricks on her and the heartbeat she hears isn't just an illusion. She wants to put a strand of hair behind her ear and make sure it’s as soft as always.

But Lena is careful and unsure around her— and it hurts her a little bit. Although she gets it, she’s unsure too. She’s not sure where they stand. And Kara’s restless nights, she’s too drained, physically and emotionally, to have such an important conversation with Lena right now. And by the heavy dark circles under Lena’s eyes and the way she keeps rubbing the back of her stiff neck, Kara guesses she’s as tired as her.

But now, after being rudely woken up at five am, she watches as Lena takes the woman’s arm- the woman that looks exactly like her- and softly wraps a bandage around it. It’s the softness that Lena does it with that makes Kara stop.

Her fingers softly trace the place where there’s a deep cup in the woman’s arm with a white-ish cream before she delicately wraps it. She does it with the one on her arm, then moves into her wrist- before she’s carefully cleaning a nasty cup above the woman’s brow, Lena’s face too close to her face. It almost looks like Lena is leaning in to kiss her and Kara wants to scream.

“You shouldn’t do that,” she says bluntly, making Lena jump, a hand on her chest as she moves away from the woman, “she should be okay after a while under the sunlamps.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she says, extending a tablet to Kara, “her blood work and every other test we’ve done so far came back human.”

“What?”

“I’m waiting on Alex to come by with the DNA test results but…” Lena trails off, unsure of her own next words.

Kara huffs- half laugh, half disbelief. She throws herself in the chair next to Lena’s computer. Or more like the tower’s computer that Lena is always using and because of that had taken the name of “Lena’s chair”. Lena’s computer. Lena’s side of the tower. Kara likes to hear that.

“That’s a new one,” she says, looking curiously at the woman, “I was half expecting a fight as soon as she woke up.”

“Well, I wouldn’t lose hope just yet,” Lena says, smirk on her face, “this still seems to be one version of you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she smirks at Kara, “I just think you can be a little hot headed darling, that’s all.”

“Me? Hotheaded,” she gasps, “okay now you’re lying.”

“Oh, so it’s a lie that you used to say punching first, questions later?”

Kara groans again and throws her head back, making herself spin a little in the chair, “I hate that you and Alex talk a lot now. It’s unfair.”

Lena is smiling, that soft and kind smile Kara loves so much- and just when she moves her mouth to answer her, the woman on the bed is groaning loudly. Lena turns around, her face covered in worry, as she gently puts her hands on her shoulders- stopping the woman from moving around.

“Where’s everyone?” Kara whispers, as she hands Lena the syringe she wordlessly asked for.

“Alex should be here any minute, I sent Brainy home because he looked exhausted.”

Lena effortlessly inserts the syringe into the IV and the blonde goes still in the bed again. Now that she’s closer to her, Kara can see that while she does look like her, her face is somehow... different.

There’s some freckles in her face Kara knows she doesn’t have. Her hair is maybe one or two shades darker and there’s a lot of tan lines, one on her face clearly marking her nose, and on her body, she can see the lines of a bathsuit on her shoulders and one tiny scar of a vaccine on the side of her arm.

Her body is not as solid as Kara’s either, she notices when she helps Lena turn the woman to her side so she can tend to the wounds on her back. There’s muscles on her arms and back but they’re not as defined as hers, neither are her abs- they’re more like a soft line on her belly instead of the six pack she possesses.

It’s weird. It looks like her, except that when you look at her, she doesn’t.

“Do you want to have dinner?” Lena asks, as she sits down in one of the sofas in front of Kara, after checking and rechecking the vitals of the woman lying in bed.

“It’s five thirty am, Lena." She’d laugh, if she wasn’t so worried about the fact that the brunette has been neglecting her health again.

“Oh,” she sounds surprised, even as she checks the clock on the wall to confirm that, yes, it is five in the morning. She looks at Kara confused, “What are you doing here then?”

“Alex called. Said she needed to go out and you needed help.”

The answer is just Lena pressing her lips together, “I told her not to call you. You need to rest.”

“Lena-”

“-Kara,” she interrupts, “you’re exhausted. I know you are.”

“It’s okay,” she says, and wishes she could reach out and touch her hand. Be brave enough to do something as simple as to touch someone’s hand. “I want to be here.” With you.

Lena is hesitant but nods anyway.

“Really early breakfast then?”

Kara smiles, “Well, I won’t say no to that.”

They walk side by side, Kara’s pinky touching Lena’s- and she’s gathering all the streghtn inside herself to grab Lena’s hand when a loud gasp makes them turn around.

The woman is sitting up on the bed, the bandages on her arms turning red as she moves her hands up to her throat. She’s coughing and coughing and her back is so arched as she bring her head to her raised up knees that Kara wonders if it’s painful.

“Don’t move too much,” Lena says, walking closer to her and grabbing a water bottle on one of the tables.

It's like the words click a switch on the woman's mind and as quickly as her stiff muscles allow her, she wraps her arms around Lena as soon as she sees her. The woman's hands make a fist on Lena's clothes and her face hides in the crook of Lena's neck.

“My love,” she chokes out like a prayer.

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Despite Everything (Loki X Twin!Brother!Reader) *PLATONIC

Characters: Loki X Twin!Brother!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: Spoilers to Thor & beginning of Avengers, mention of death, and mourning.

Request:💚💚Hey! I dont ask for requests very often so Im sorry if this is bad. But I was wondering if you could do a Loki request? Like where the reader is Loki's twin brother and him and Loki are super close (reader and Thor are close too but not like reader and Loki close), but when Loki fell into the void (in the first Thor movie) reader got real depressed and went out to find him only for Thor to find reader to tell him Loki is planning on attacking New York.Reader goes with Thor to stop Loki and meets all the Avengers. And instead of Loki him destroying New York he snaps out of Thanos's mind control and feels super remorseful. Maybe even incoorperate that they're Frost Giants somehow, too?

Your earliest memory was that of being with your twin brother. You were extremely young at the time, and being mischievous, had snuck away from your mother to explore, and gotten lost. Loki was more confident than you, or at least pretended to be, so he had took up holding your hand and pulling you through the vast hallways for a sign of anyone, while you got yourself worked up and cried quietly, though the entire time, he kept reassuring you. “Don’t worry Y/N! There’s people everywhere, we’ll find someone soon, or they’ll find us!” He was right in the end, hearing Odin’s booming voice calling for you, and you followed it till you were saw him, sprinting and running to him and hugging his legs, even as he scorned you for scaring your mother senseless. Thor teased you both relentlessly about the incident for over 100 years. 

That dynamic has really not changed, even hundreds of years later. Loki came up with something mischievous, and with very little convincing you would join him on these shenanigans, things happened, and you would talk about it years later, sometime Thor laughing at it, sometimes you and Loki were the ones laughing.

It had been a while since that. A long while. 

Everything fell apart when Thor, Loki, and some of your friends went off to Jotunheim without you, since you had been helping your mother with something, starting a second war with the Frost Giants and your elder brother banished to Earth. Due to all that, it took you a while to notice that Loki’s behaviour was odd, even with all the tension, and he didn’t tell you what was wrong when you asked the first time, and before you could ask again, your father had fell into Odin sleep, and after a short conversation with you and Loki and your adamance since he was the more confident out of your two, he became Acting King, with you and your mother helping him at the side. 

It wasn’t long after that, that Loki came to you late one night before bed, and admitted what happened at Jotunheim. About his skin turning blue, about confronting your father before his sleep, where he admitted that you and him weren’t his actual children- you were frost giants, abandoned by your own kind, on the dirty, freezing floor, left to die, seperated by a few feet just so you two couldn’t warm each other or find any comfort in each other. Odin had found you both, finding Loki first, before he heard your cries as well, that being how he decided which of you was older. He took you back to Asguard, and raised you with your mother.

It was an incredibly hard pill to swallow, and while you were still coming to terms with it all, the implications, how it affects the rest of your life, Loki was already feeling betrayal, abandoned and backstabbed by those around him and you, the fact that no one had told you two, and there was no plan to do so, and Loki had enough rage for you both. 

Unfortunately for you, by the time you understood how far Loki was planning and willing to go, it was already too late. Thor was able to get back to Asgard, a battle broke out, the Bifrost destroyed, and Loki… Loki fell. 

The days afterwards were hectic. You felt the eyes on you, expecting you to follow in your brother’s steps, to lash out, to cause havoc. Expecting you to be a monster. Your felt their looks burning into your back, but you never turned to look them in the eye, or address it. You were too devastated to care. 

Thor addressed it though. 

The first time he confronted a group glaring and whispering as you simply tried to monuever from your room to see your mother was a shock for everyone, including you. Thor shamed them for it, pointing out you were in mourning, and so was he, over your brother, even if he did make mistakes. Thor’s voice easily carries in the hallways, so everyone in the radius heard, and the word spread quickly that he wasn’t standing for you to be disrespected. After the dressing down he gave, he took your shoulder and led you to where you needed to go. 

A few days later, no one dared stare, or whisper, especially with Thor always nearby like a guard dog. After weeks, Thor’s presence wasn’t needed to ensure you were left be, but he still remained close, assuring you that despite everything, you are still his brother. Loki is still his brother, and you both are family to him. He got you to open up to him about what Loki shared with you, what you had felt after he had told you, and how you think Loki was feeling, helping you both grapple with why what happened. Thor had a period of blaming himself- that if he hadn’t had been so reckless and pushed Loki to come with him to Jotunheim, or even go at all, none of this would have happened. You tried to convince him that he couldn’t have known, and that he had grown as a person himself since then, thanks to his previous actions. He told you after a few days he had forgiven himself… but you knew Thor. You knew that was a lie, and that Thor was too stubborn to try and let you convince him otherwise on the subject. It was probably why he was really upping the protective older brother act. Guilt. 

After months, you found a new norm. You were still a member of the family, assured by your brother, mother and father. Your brother had shown his love and loyalty to you with his actions since the early days. Your mother showed it through her being there for you, reminding you she loved you and calling you her son, and your father showed it by never saying a word about Thor’s adamance and scoldings of people in the kingdom, and even ignoring and interrupting people who tried to bring it up to him, making it clear in his own way that he agreed in Thor’s actions. Fandall, Volstagg, Sif and Hogun, quickly warmed back up to you, practically forcing you to partake in the group’s antics. You still deeply missed Loki, wishing he was here, that things were different, feeling like a part of you was missing, but your friends and family made sure you barely had a moment to be caught up in those feelings. You were finally starting to heal, and learning to cope. 

That was, until Thor came to see you one day. The Bifrost had been rebuilt, and he had been sent by Odin to check on things. You had expected him to be gone for a few days, so seeing him back so early was alarming. His face was solemn as well, and he quickly asked for you two to speak alone, which you agreed. As soon as you were, he didn’t hesitate to tell you what was wrong. 

“Loki’s alive.” The words were a slap in the face for you. You remained staring at your older brother in disbelief, waiting for him to tell you this was a sick joke, but then you remembered who you were speaking to. Thor wouldn’t do that. 

“That’s… not possible. Loki can’t be alive-how? You saw him die-” 

“I saw him fall.” He corrected you. “I presumed that meant death for him- we all did. But I was wrong. He’s found his way to Midgard, and he’s got his hand on the Tesseract and he’s causing havoc there. He’s killed over a hundred people so far, and I’m now working with a group to try and stop him, and hopefully bring him home alive.” He explained to you. 

“Then why are you here?” You asked him with urgency. “What do you need from here? I’ll get it for you- even if father will be angry about it.” 

“I need you.” Thor told you, making you stop. “I can’t get through to him. He’s still angry about what happened… but he opened up to you. He’ll listen to you. You’re his twin, his brother by blood.” Thor explained to you. “I need you to come with me to Midgard, and try and talk him down.” He begged. For you, there was no question. No other option. 

As soon as you arrived on Midgard, there was a group waiting for you, all of them eyeing you in a way that felt eerily familiar. They were looking at you like how your people used to look at you after… “This is my brother, and Loki’s twin, Y/N. He came to help, so I expect you to be nothing but kind to him, understood?” Thor ordered, making it clear he also noted their looks.

“Sorry if we’re all a bit tense around his family, especially his actual biological family.” One of them commented- a man with a goatee. 

“Do you know where he is?” You asked, choosing to ignore the comment. 

“Yeah, we managed to lock him in a cell for now.” Another man spoke up, that one in a purple shirt, seeming a little more shy. 

“Okay. Take me to him.” You requested.

The way to the Helicarrier had been mostly awkward silence, sometimes interupted by some of the group trying to learn more about you- if you and Loki were actual twins are were just born around the same time and passed off as twins, if you were a Frost Giant as well, where you had been when Loki ‘turned evil’, why you hadn’t turned out the same, though by that point, Thor had finished that conversation immediately with a simple “Enough”, repeating it when someone tried to continue it. When you did arrive on board, you were introduced to another small group of people, Fury, Coulson, Hill- seemingly the ones running everything and who brought this team and Thor together. They asked their own questions- though in a more respectful and reserved tone, their glances to your brother over your shoulder telling you they were being careful not to set him off. After explaining what they hoped for from you- calm him down, get him to back down from his plan, and then have him go with you and Thor back to Asgard with no further incidents where he’d serve a small sentence, but after that, free to live his life- under continual supervision by your family to ensure something like this never happened again. If you couldn’t do that, then it was still up for debate on how he’d be handled. As you saw it, Fury was clearly offering you a way to get your brother back with minimal issues, and you weren’t going to risk it. 

“One of us at least is going in there with you- as a neutral party.” Stark spoke up. 

“I’ll do it.” Thor immediately spoke up. 

“Shouldn’t it be a neutral party? Not a family reunion?” Barton commented. 

“Neither’s a good idea.” You spoke up. 

“You’re not going in there alone with him, we don’t know you well enough.” Steve told you.

“But I know him. I’ll watch over it all.” Thor argued. 

“No! Listen to me!” You snapped. “I know Loki, better than anyone. He keeps his walls entirely up around people. He only told me about our true heritage when he knew for sure we were alone. If anyone else is in that room, he won’t say anything. He won’t cooperate. If anything, it’ll work him up. He’ll probably presume you’ve brought me here against my will and are using me as a pawn to get him to cooperate, which will make him angier. If Thor’s in there, he’ll presume I’m taking sides and betraying him. Let me go in alone, and just… talk to him.” You begged. 

“Alright. Fair enough. But we’ll be monitoring from another room nearby, just in case anything happens.” Fury decided, seeming to take almost everyone by surprise, some opening their mouths to protest, before he shot them a look. “Hill, escort him down to the cell.” 

Stepping into the room alone was anxiety inducing. As soon as you stepped in, it felt like the room was colder, the hairs on your arms standing up, and your heart began tor race. You glanced back as the door shut behind you, before you turned to look at the large spherical room you stood in, the cell made of glass on all sides in the middle, and inside, your twin brother, staring back at you in shock. “Loki!” You couldn’t help the sigh of relief as you rushed closer to the glass, while he remained still in the centre, staring at you.

“Y/N? How are you- what are you doing here?” He questioned in alarm.

“I came here for you.” You told him. “Thor told me you were alive, and I came immediately. Loki I’ve missed you so much- Thor and Mother as well.” He scoffed at that. 

“He missed me? Thor is currently siding with the ones who locked me in here!” He responded, pointing to the door aggressively. 

“He’s also advocating for you. He’s also advocated for me.” You told him with urgence. 

“Advocating? How has he stood for us?” He questioned. 

“He stood up for me after you left!” You snapped, making his expression soften. “Everyone looked at me different after you left. They spoke about me with me right in front of them. The looks they gave me made me want to curl up and die… But Thor didn’t turn his back on me. He confronted those who did, he was right by my side, and he let me grieve in peace… Loki, he stepped up for me, because he’s our brother, and he’s advocating for you now, because he’s our brother. For him, nothing has changed. We’re family, no matter who’s blood we come from.” You explained. 

“Is that the whole truth?” He questioned you, his voice a lot calmer, though also sadder, and you nodded. 

“Despite everything, you will always have me and Thor, and mother and father. Despite everything, we still have a family, and we still have a home. Please, Loki… come home with me.” 

Loki frowned, looking down in shame. “It’s not that easy… The tesseract… It was given to me on an exception, an exception to follow his plan, and if I don’t follow it… he’ll reign hell on me, you, Thor… and everyone else. He has an army, we don’t stand a chance.” He expressed to you. 

“Okay… okay. Well, tell me everything you can about this being, and we’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll tell father, and he’ll help, and I’m sure if we give them time to heal and show you’re a changed man and regretful about what happened, so will the Avengers, especially if this being intends to harm their home.” You pointed out, speaking loudly to ensure they heard you, remembering what Fury had stated.

“Y/N… Why are you willing to take on my burden? I put myself in this situation.” Loki questioned. 

“If I recall currently, it’s always been your mischievous ideas getting both you in trouble, with me directly by your side. Why would this be any different? And If I remember correctly, Thor was always the one to see the fun in it all, make father be softer on us, and even take the fall for it. When this is all done, we’ll look back and laugh, but for now, let us help you with this nonsense.” You begged. Loki stared at you, pure surprise in his eyes. He wasn’t expecting to see his twin brother here today, he wasn’t expecting to hear that Thor had remained loyal to you back home and caring for you despite his actions, and he wasn’t expecting you to literally beg him to come home- a home you claimed was waiting for him. But the most shocking, was his own change. He never expected himself to change his mind, and switch sides so suddenly. 

“Alright… I’ll tell you everything. He’s called Thanos…”

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my GIF

TAGS: @klanceiscannon14 @marvelhoeingismyhobby @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort  @freyathehuntress@abbybills22-blog @mutantjediavenger@theoraekensnotsosecretlover @alicedanganh @sleutherclaw @sleepy-coffee-bean @stawwpp @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic  @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280@lady-of-lies@lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8@caswinchester2000@determinedpines@huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[heartfullofleeches]

Here to once again advocate doll pilot reader this time with a clown performer mix. Quirky scientist reader who has the brains, but not the smarts when it comes to interacting with real people and partners with a tech company for the funds and equipment to make a functioning robot to get around town. The contract comes with the added deal of reader becoming a star on a show they've had in the works for a while about an android learning the ropes of life as a human - which in turn works in favor for reader and their poor social skills

Reader presents far more cheerful than they are in person most of the cast assume their robot to be advanced a.i. Their genuine confusion on basic human educate and them stuffing bagels in their mouth to take to their human self sells their clueless act well. A few might've developed a little obsession crush on the bot but alas it could never be... If only...

"Hey, can you pass me that charger?"

"Sure." Their co-star smiles as the android unstraps the bracelet from its arm and plugs the cord into an outlet on their wrist - hooking the charger up to the phone in their hand. It yawns without a breathe - rubbing at its eyes. So cute♡- Just where did they get the parts to make this bot.... what's that room on their screen?

"This? It's my bedroom. Needed to do some cleaning today but obviously I had work. Might do some while I'm sleep since my link we have is neurological."

It sure is.... wait- huh?

"Nobody ever tell you? Actually, only like... three people know so I don't blame you. I'm human just like you.. well, the me back home is. I have severe anxiety and not as chipper as I am on stage. Nice to meet ya - name's Y/n, but I'm sure you already knew that."

... ah.. that - definitely wasn't in the pamphlets.

In come the - innocent queries about the real you. Your bot is modeled off you - are you as cute as it? What's your full name? Address? Oops- looks like your charger disappeared. Filming took extra long today - might run out of battery before you get home. Maybe your kind, well meaning coworker can bring it to you?

crackpost under cut

Yan: I'm so happy to finally have you home, angel. Anything I can get you?

Human Reader: Just a glass of water, please-

Yan: anything for you dearest~

[Human Reader kicks off their shoe and takes the sleeping pill from their sock as their Yan returns]

Human Reader: Thank you- [swallows the pill and passes out - their robot kicking down the front door, smacking the shit outta their yan, and carring their human body back home. Yan, broke jaw and all, takes a picture of their sleeping angel carried away in their own arms]

Yan: worth it...

-

[Robot Reader picks up groceries after work covered up by a surgical mask and an oversized sweater. One of their fans sneaks up and tags magnet to their backside]

Yan fan: found you, dear~

Robot Reader: oh! Haha, ya got me! Would you like an autograph? Here- [wheels their cart into the fan and sprints off into the parking lot.]

-

Human Reader, watching Yan make out with their robot before their identity is revealed thinking noone is watching:

[satansaidnottoday]

When they are sick: human Au.

Info: Human AU, GN!Mc.

Summary: how do they deal with being sick and how can you help them.

Warnings: just general talk of sickness.

Lucifer

He ignores all of the symptoms and signals that he's going to be sick.

Even if you try to tell him to take care, he will tell you it's just a sore throat.

He's sneezing all over his paperwork and can barely breathe.

He won't take a single day off. He'd just chug some pills and act like his fine.

In the end, you have to force him to bed when the fever takes over and he's writing down nonsense. You let Diavolo know he won't be working the rest of the week.

Protests and whines about it, but it's too weak to do anything about it. Internally he's actually glad someone cares for him, but it's too prideful to admit it.

He will sleep most of the day, trying to pass the sickness as fast as possible. Bring him tea, and some medicine, and put on his favorite classic vinyls. It will help immensely.

When he is better he thanks you genuinely. Being the oldest brother, he never got to rest and get taken care of. He's very appreciative.

Mammon

The moment he feels the smallest indication of sickness he starts to whine about it.

He just wants attention. Your attention specifically.

If you give in and console him he will latch on to you and act way worse than he actually is.

If you don't he will whine even more about you not caring about him.

"Mc! You're do cruel, I could die you know…"

Over dramatic when the cold actually hits him.

He's in bed with the lowest fever ever, crying because he's going to die.

Encourage him by saying he's way stronger than any sickness and he'll instantly stop.

You're right! The great Mammon can't lose against a common cold.

Won't let you leave his side. Gets really needy and asks you the most random questions to keep you talking to him.

"Okay but what's your second to last favorite animal?"

Will get better pretty fast, his immune system is amazing. He will pretend to still be a little sick to get pampered tho.

He will buy you presents as a thank you for taking care of him.

Leviathan

He ignores the symptoms at first. It's not like he leads a super-active lifestyle anyway. Playing video games all day can't make your cold worse.

His immune system is shit due to how little he goes outside, so when it hits, it hits really hard.

He says he's okay and can take care of himself. It's a lie, he not only wants you to take care of him, he desperately needs it.

He gets high fevers and skull-hammering headaches. Every time he sneezes he feels like his brain is rearranged. He can't even sleep because of the pain.

He clings to you and whines about the pain.

"Why meee?"

You make him his favorite chicken ramen because that's all he wants to eat.

Since he can't look at screens, you read him novels to keep him entertained.

When he gets better you stay over for a marathon of every new anime episode he missed.

Satan

He starts preparing when he feels the symptoms coming.

He tries a few home remedies he read about, but they rarely work.

When he is actually sick, he will arrange time off work. He has his doctor on the line and already made a run to the pharmacy to get real medicine.

Takes a lot of short naps.

His symptoms are strong, but he knows how to manage them.

Reads most of the day. Only allows the cats into his bed. Sadly, that doesn't include you.

He won't let you come close, he will even try to convince you to not visit at all. Of course, you still show up to make him vegetable soup and refill his honey tea.

When his eyes sting too much to read, you sit at a cautious distance and narrate to him whatever book he wants.

Gets better pretty fast.

He surprises you with homemade dinner as a thank you.

Asmodeus

He panics when he realizes he is going to be sick. Tries to deny it until it's too late.

He hates being sick, more than anyone else. He hates the puffy eyes, the swollen nose, the chapped and broken lips.

The only saving grace is you. He loves the extra attention (like he doesn't get enough already).

He actually has a pretty good immune system and has barely any symptoms.

Doesn't exaggerate his symptoms like Mammon, he just straight up tells you to pamper him.

And how could you say no to that face?

You spend the week holed up in his room because he doesn't want to be seen by anyone but you. Every time he needs you to run an errand for him, he frames it as a mission.

Your most frequent mission is getting more chocolate.

Skincare, skincare, and more skincare. You use around 20 different masks a day.

When he is feeling better he wants to go out and have a proper date.

Now you gotta pamper him because he was sick before! He couldn't fully enjoy his time with you.

Beelzebub

Has an immune system made of steel.

Rarely gets sick, and when he does he just goes on with his normal life. At most, he gets a low fever and has to test for a day.

You can convince him to take a little rest by offering to cook for him. Anything will do, even just instant soup. He just loves the thought of you cooking for him.

He will try to help, do not let him. One thing he does get when sick is dizzy. You don't want him near anything hot.

He is completely fine by the next day. I wish we could say the same about you.

He infected you. Now you're in bed with a high fever and can barely move.

Don't worry tho! He will make you the best chicken soup you've ever tried.

Belphegor

You would think he is another drama queen, but honestly, he doesn't have the energy for that.

He already expects you to spoil him at all times, sick or not.

He gets sick too often to make an event out of it. The winter, the change of seasons, and humidity variations; everything gets him mildly sick.

Of course, that's just a great excuse to take extra naps.

Doesn't care at all about infecting you, he will demand you cuddle him the whole time.

You're the greatest body pillow ever, so of course he needs you to feel better.

A lot sweeter than usual. He will drop the snark and be pure fluff.

Force him to eat some vegetables, he will never get better if he keeps sustaining himself on snacks and candy.

If you're strong enough, you will have to carry him everywhere. His bones hurt too much to walk.

If you're not strong enough, you will build muscle dating him.

Not much will change when he gets better, he'll just have more energy to tease you.

A little bonus Lucifer scene. Because I'm shameless about my favoritism.

"Luci, I think you have to go to bed," you said as you raked your hand up Lucifer's hair. He looked at you from his desk, his eyelids dark and red.

He tried to speak, but his throat hurt and he gave up. He let himself rest against your touch. He slowly shook his head.

"You have a fever, angel," you leaned down to whisper, caressing Lucifer's face and feeling it burn under your hands. "What you're writing makes no sense."

You tried to explain, but Lucifer wasn't hearing anymore. He hugged your lower body and let his head rest against it, looking for comfort. You gave him your arms and helped him stand up, guiding him all the way to his room.

Thanks for reading!

[punkshort]

Will you eventually do a Swept Away, likes and dislikes post for Joel? The little taste of his character is just delicioussss, he’s so mysterious. I’m dyingggg to crawl inside your brain and see how his character is going to unfold 😍💋

I would love to! I love getting this ask because it always gives me good ideas for future chapters, so thank you!

Let's jump in:

Likes:

1. Sunsets: he loves the colors and how every day is different. He loves it because it's a work of art that everyone in the world can appreciate, no matter who you are.

2. Boxing: it's the only form of exercise he actually enjoys. He really likes taking his anger out on a punching bag, and he tends to hold in a lot of anger from his job.

3. Money: I mean, come on, that's not a big surprise. He likes to live comfortably and without having to worry about the cost of anything. And, sure, when he slaps his black card down and someone does a double take, he feels a rush of pride.

4. Cigars: he didn't used to like them but they have grown on him throughout the years. A colleague of his convinced him to join a cigar club and he found it was a great way to network and rub elbows with the elites.

5. Poetry: he will never admit it, though.

6. Filet Mignon: he loves a perfectly cooked medium rare steak. When he was choosing which restaurant to lease space to on the first floor of his hotel, he only looked at steakhouses because he liked the idea of having a good steak a mere elevator ride away.

7. The Natural Look: he prefers women who don't use too much makeup or plastic surgery/fillers. Almost all of the women he knows, whether through set ups or spouses of his colleagues, all look like they've gone to the same doctor and had the same procedures. He likes women who are comfortable in their skin and aren't fake.

8. McDonald's French fries: it's his Achilles heel. Every now and then after a long, boring art gallery opening or cocktail party, he will instruct his driver to go to McDonald's on the way back to his penthouse to get some fries.

9. Private Jet: he loves being able to come and go whenever he pleases, anywhere he wants. And he especially loves not having to go through security and be surrounded by people squished into a tin can. He likes that he can stretch out and eat a good meal and even sleep in a real bed when he travels, which is often.

Dislikes:

1. Kale: it's a vile weed and he won't touch it.

2. Surprise parties: he absolutely loathes being surprised. Especially when it's been a long enough day and he thinks he's going home to relax and suddenly his penthouse is filled with fifty people drinking all his booze and making a mess of his home and he has to pretend to enjoy it.

3. Lifting weights: he thinks it's obnoxious and he doesn't care about glamour muscles but his trainer always makes him do one day a week where he lifts weights. He gets it over with as quickly as he can.

4. Satin sheets: too slippery and his pillow always ends up on the floor.

5. Campfires: he hates the smoke from campfires because it gets stuck in his clothes and he has to send everything he was wearing to the cleaners right away before it spreads to other fabrics.

6. Lillies: they remind him of funerals.

7. Tea: he could never find a tea he actually enjoyed. All tea tastes like hot water with a dash of some vague flavor and it's just never worth it. Unless he's sick with a sore throat. Then he might have some.

8. Boats: he tends to go out on yachts and sailboats quite a bit, but he doesn't like the open water. He gets seasick and he always has to take pills beforehand.

9. Golf: because all my Joels hate golf, for no particular reason.