#before anyone jumps on me THIS IS WHAT I HAVE SEEN

[promiseiwillwrite]

Fleabag Season 1.

I am going to overshare like hell here. There's mention of suicide and addiction ahead. Jump off now if you don't want to go there. Also spoilers if you've never seen the show.

There are very few shows that I have ever Identified with so deeply that I had so many feelings that I had to flee the room and not come back.

Fleabag is the only one in recent memory. I kind of liked her, to be honest. And the buildup to the pivotal moment, the fucking vorpal hinge of the season, hit me so hard in my own tendency to think of myself as a sex addicted bad person who is selfish that I nearly threw up.

I hate the idea that we can't go through life without hurting others. But there's no way around it.

Even if we are very careful and very gentle and very kind and always put the needs of others before our own, and avoid things we know could hurt them... we all have places of such delicate pressure in our lives that of we put even a hair out of place, and let one wrong breath or glance or word out, we could tear the lives of others apart.

I have never cheated on a partner. I have never slept with my best friend's first boyfriend immediately before her suicide. I have never done anything that hurtful to anyone in my life, and I would rather die, honestly because I know the hell I would make for myself after such a folly, even after years of therapy and huge work and progress with self acceptance... the hell I would make would be worse than anything the devil could dream up.

That hell rose up inside me when I realized what Fleabag was about to do, as she undid her belt, and I broke.

I am afraid of my own mind, and my own desires, and the possibility of hurting other people. I already fight the idea that I am worth less than they are every day. I already fight myself for the right to even be angry when someone is stupid and cruel to me.

critters and creatures, believe me when I say, I don't have it in me to watch that show.

I Barely made it through Jessica Jones and the prospect of facing the fear of being completely controlled to do things against my own will.

But Fleabag did me in.

when the piece of media got emotional reaction so strong that you're afraid to re-experience it in it

[lustlovehart]

Hello Ves! I was wondering about your twst monster au, how would they react if y/n tries to help stitch any wounds that the characters have! (For example ace, deuce, Trey or riddle for any open wounds that they have or limbs that fall off).

Ahhhh!! I love this question!! It perfectly encapsulates the reason all of the monsters are in love with MH!Reader, the over abundance of kindness they have!! On one hand, there is no reason you should help all these fiends, in fact, you should be doing the exact opposite! Yet you can’t help but still have that pitifully sweet human heart that must help those in need!!

Pairings: Ace, Deuce, Riddle, Trey x Reader

Warnings: Stitches, Needles, They’re all delusional for you, Imagined kissing (I said they were delusional), Some world-building in Riddes portion, Small hints of obsession (only small), Loose Limbs, a little tiny bit of blood

For Ace, he quirks an eyebrow up at you with a feigning suspicion, the thin needle causing a sight sting. Though, not too much with the way his pain receptors have diminished with time. The moment you look up at him, it’s traded for one of the cockiest looks you’ve ever seen engraved on his pale features.

“Be careful who you stitch up. Who knows, maybe I’ll drag you down the grave with me when I die a second time.” You only reply with a sigh, prompting him to defend his honor with his “it was just a joke”. He stops when you use your teeth to snap the thread, his eyes glued on the singular action. Your lips look human. Something that shouldn’t be a compliment yet it is. He wonders what would happen If his cold dead lips kissed your own warm mouth.

It was pretty. You know what you’re doing.

“Be careful, do that to anyone else and they might… fall for…” he watches as you lean over him, the needle in hand as your thumb sticks out, pulling the lid of his scarred eye down. You could take him out, you could rip his eyes out and put him in a grave disadvantage. But he wouldn’t care.

Take him. Take all of him, even if it has to be in a bag, he wouldn’t mind.

He watches with a bated breath at every seam you enact, your soft breaths landing on his cold skin. A sight he wants for himself, he won’t even share with Deuce. You snap the thread with the same method from before, your lips close to him.

“You haven’t spoken at all. Has your tongue decomposed too, Ace?” Your words are teasing, yet the way you whisper them, and the way your thumbs massages the stitches, makes any retort he has die on his tongue. “Also… could you let go…? I’m not trying to die any time soon either…”

He looks down, his hand is gripping on your waist with a grip he never knew to be capable of. That will definitely bruise, in fact, how close was he to penetrating skin...? But… at the same time, just… How enchanting can a human be?

He wonders, would it really be so bad for you to join them in the after life?

Deuce, the undead know for consistently losing his hand and/or forearm. Before you appeared, he would just go about his day, letting his limb roam free like a stray animal, but with you, he attempts to rein in its wilderness more often.

“I’m so sorry…” You watch as Deuce repeatedly apologizes for his hands invasiveness. You’re not upset at him, but you can’t deny it’s horrifying to wake up to the feeling of a lone hand intertwining itself with your own fingers. Even in the midst of begging for forgiveness, that hand of his continues to run rampant. Jumping out his hold, landing on your palm, Deuce immediately looks up. The look on his face tells you he’s about to lecture his stray body part, but you stop him with a wave.

He watches with choked words, your hand placing itself on his shoulder and pushing him back into the cushioned chair behind him. He falls with a certain clumsiness, leaning back even further into the foam when you consume his personal space. “I’ll help you.” Your words are said monotonously, yet they seem so kind in the same breath. Deuce has to stop the hand he has full control of from holding you with pure admiration.

The needle in your fingers go through his skin seamlessly, as if his body was meant for your ministrations. He wonders if he was always meant to die in that case. If he is, he must’ve always been destined to meet you. He grieves over his death every day, but there’s a small part of him grateful for your meeting. It makes all those in his stomach worth the fight he fought.

He’s entranced at your diligence. You didn’t have to but you did. He wonders if you’re just an angel in disguise.

When you finish, you snap the thread poking his palm to make sure the limb is properly working. The way it holds your hand makes you question its current capabilities. The way Deuce smiles at you however tells you the limb’s back to its former state, so… why won’t it let go of your hand?

Why won’t Deuce let go?

“Deuce… With a grip that hard you might—!” Your sentence cuts off with a wince. At this point, he could take your hand and use it like it was always his. It takes a shove of his shoulder for him to break out of his enchantment, immediately letting go of you with panic. He opens his mouth to say his apologizes, but stops when your forehead falls onto his shoulder, whimpers of strained “it’s okay”’s leaving your mouth.

He feels horrible, but a small part of him, the same one that feels joy for being dead, is happy he got to see such a vulnerable side. He’ll try not to do anything like it again.

Riddle, who is always transparent and untouchable, is being punctured with steel, something that shouldn’t be possible. Yet, it’s only possible because it’s you who’s doing it. It’s one of the few rare instances where he uses his status as a great wonder to become temporarily human, he insists it’s not against any rules. Sorta.

Certain ethics come into play with monsters becoming human in their society. It’s generally looked down upon, with the consensus of “Why would you ever want to be a weak mortal?”, the 7 territories being especially regarded with this view as they’re considered the most influential. It’s quite funny, every low ranked beast praises the 7 for their power, but other than those in their group, no one else knows they abuse their power to take the temporary form of a human for a few hours.

He feels shameful at this utter lack of rule consideration, the others must be dutifully staying true to their form, unlike him. But there’s a part of him that feels grateful for it. Without it, you wouldn’t be caring for him like this would you? (He is yet to know all the other seven do the same thing, all because of you.)

“Riddle? You’re really silent…” of course he is…! How is he supposed to talk when you’re oh so close… Fingers continue to sew the gape in his larynx, deep inhales rushing through him at the feeling, not of the needle, but of your touch. When you snap the string, his hands flies up to stop the retracting of your hands. He only narrowly stops when he realizes how affectionate of an act that would be. It would be inappropriate, a scandal!

Though, was it not already improper when you practically consumed his personal space? Not only that… but, no one is around to see such rule breaking… He should behead himself at this point…! Thinking about such an obvious act of treason in a positive light. What have you done to him?

“Ah, forgive me. I assume we’re finished?” He’s pleasantly proven wrong when you trade him a smile, pointing at the giant hole in his chest. He should say no. He should refuse…! “… Try to be careful.” After you’ve finished your ministrations on him, he plans to plant himself on a guillotine and allow Trey to punish him for his transgressions.

Your hand traces down to his torso, the heart shape hole on his skin is beautiful, yet the grotesqueness tells you there’s much more behind it. He won’t ever ask you, but, he secretly wishes for your lips to breathe new air into him, let his skin flourish with opaque color, and his vacant chest boolm with a new heart.

“Riddle…? You’re staring really hard…”

Please forgive him, he doesn’t mean to become so naive with his thoughts.

Trey is the most regular reaction on here honestly. You stitch his hand and he lets you, all with a smile on his face. Your fingers will tighten the seams that were already embedded into his skin, meanwhile his tall figure doesm’t even wince at something that should be painful. It’s perfectly regular.

Until the events that come after.

You don’t want to assume, perhaps Trey is just clumsy! But the way he holds himself communicates that entirely differently… But ever since the first session, his limbs somehow always appear loose or fallen off. You swear… You tightened it well enough! Even put a secure bow with the string. While you’re fretting over how this could happen so often, Trey just shrugs it off with a light chuckle.

“Don’t laugh…” How could he not enjoy the domestic sight of you diligently fixing him up though? It’s a nice change of pace to the chaos of the hospital he has to deal with. It’s an exhausting rinse and repeat.

It makes you wonder if Trey is doing it on purpose…

… How silly he could never, he’s one of the last who would do something so clingy. Trey’s regular, the only thing that sets him apart is that green skin and height he bears.

Be careful, one day you’ll open the pantry to a pale bruised arm, picking it up with assumption of it being Treys. You’re quick to drop it when you walk in and he has all limbs intact and tightened for once.

Don’t worry! He’ll comfort you in your panic with firm hugs of consolation. The red on his fingers are from the strawberry’s he picked just for you, so come bake with him and let your fear wash away.

When you fall asleep after your fit, he brushes your face with stained fingers, crimson coating your cheek. The sweet fruit is wiped with with his thumb, his tongue darting out to lick its sweet contents.

He's sure the iron taste is drowned out by your sweet flavor intermingling with it.

[http-shield]

smash (in a loving way)-bucky barnes

more avenger!reader x bucky barnes

it's been a while since you've seen Bucky, a few months give or take, but enough time to warrant a massive, massive change in your mission partner. He's always been a big man, towering over you with an intensity you once feared but now only found it mildly perturbing and very attractive, but you digress; your once huge man had only gotten bigger, bulkier, beefier.

"Jesus, Buck." You breathe, hands gripping his biceps, fingers digging in ever so slightly as you marvel at the sheer sight of the god before you.

"What?" His breathy chuckle is adorable as red dusts his cheeks at your blatant worship of his arms.

"I leave you for a few months and come back to..." You give him another squeeze. "this."

Your tone is almost reverent as you continue to ogle your friend, hands still gripping the muscles. You could have stayed there for hours had Steve not interrupted with a cough.

"Are you two ready to go? We've got the car." He nods his head toward the idling car on the curb.

Snapping out of the trance, you wrench your hands from Bucky and begin to fiddle with the handle of your suitcase for a moment before it is pulled from your hands.

"I've got it." Bucky announces, picking up the trunk and your carry-on to load into the car.

You watch speechless as Bucky carries your luggage with ease. His movements are still just as fluid, undisturbed by the extra muscle, but he seemed stronger and sturdier, the tight t-shirt straining as he lifted the thirty-kilo bag from the floor as though it weighed nothing more than a pillow. His hair had gotten longer, too. Long enough to be pulled back in a bun sitting low at the nape of his neck, and those godforsaken strands that hang over his eyes leave you thinking about the way they would feel brushing over your thighs.

A hand clamps down on your shoulder, and you jump.

"You're drooling." Steve does nothing to hide the smirk and shake in his shoulders as he chuckles.

"Ha.Ha." The retort is weak, mind too preoccupied with thoughts of your friend to conjure a coherent sentence.

"Seriously. You gotta bit'a...." Steve wipes the side of his mouth with his thumb.

You bypass the teasing and lean into your friend. "When did that happen?" that meaning Bucky.

"What?"

Using your hands, you shape the air in front of you into the imaginary silhouette of Bucky's shoulders. "That."

"Ah." Steve snorts and rolls his eyes. "Well, you haven't been here for him to moon over, so he's been training."

You open your mouth to quip back, but Bucky's shouting causes your attention to shift.

"Sam says he's driving, so one of you is gonna have to sit in the back with me."

Before anyone can answer, you raise your hand with an terrifying eagerness. "Me!"

[steddieprompts]

Wrote a whole mini-fic again. sorry.

High School, no Upside Down, platonic Steddie:

Sometimes Steve wants to be left alone. Sure the popularity has its perks, but it can also wear a guy down. There's no quiet in his social life. Tommy and Carol are always badgering him about things and girls are vying for his attention. It's nice but... it's just alot.

That's why Steve is ducking through the library door during his lunch period instead of going to the cafeteria. He squat-walks behind the low book shelves to wards the back of the library hoping Kelly didn't see him out in the hall. She's been haunting his locker the last two days and while she's cute, she's not really Steve's type and he hates letting girls down.

He reaches the back of the library and opens one of the study room doors, swings inside quickly and shuts the door with a soft click. Letting out a deep breath he presses his forehead to the worn wood. Finally, some quiet.

"Uh..." Steve nearly jumps out of his skin at the voice. He whips around to see Eddie Munson at the table. "Sorry, your highness. Occupied."

Steve lets out another breath (Jesus, can't he catch a second to breathe around here?). "Shit, Munson, you scared the hell out of me."

"A thousand apologies," Eddie replied sarcastically. "Now, if you don't mind?" Eddie made a shooing motion towards the door.

Steve looked through the door window and out into the library... Kelly had seen him. She was slowly making her way across the library, head swiveling back and forth like some sort of search dog on the scent.

Steve pulled away from the window, back flat against the door.

"Look, Eddie, I promise I won't mess with you. You won't even know I'm here."

Eddie's eyes flicked to the window before a pointy smirk crossed his face. "Now that's interesting. What's got the great Steve Harrington hiding out in a room with the freak?" Eddie moved to the window, peering out like Steve had. "Kelly Jacobs? That's who you're hiding from?"

"She wants to go out with me but I hate trying to let them down easy because it never works and she's not my type and I don't even want to date anyone right now and my head hurts and..."

"Alright, easy there, playboy." Steve leveled a look at him before Eddie looked back out the window.

"Uh, she's uh..."

"What?"

"She's coming." Eddie said.

They moved at the same time, Eddie throwing himself back into his chair and Steve throwing himself behind the big wooden desk, hoping the angle and the other chair were enough to hide him.

He held his breath as the door clicked open.

"Have you seen Steve?" He heard her ask, could see her sneakers through the tangle of table and chair legs.

"Steve who?" Eddie asked dismissively.

"Harrington." She replied impatiently.

"The hair? Haven't seen a strand of him."

Steve heard Kelly let out a scoff and shut the door but not before a quiet "freak" floated into the room.

Once the door had clicked shut Steve let his head fall back against the wall with another sigh, closing his eyes. There was a few seconds of quiet before he heard the creak of Eddie's chair. He squinted his eyes open to see Eddie peering at him over the edge of the desk.

"Such a charming young lady. You sure you don't want to..."

"No." Steve cut him off. "Thanks... for all that."

"Yeah, let's not make it a habit. Trying to keep my conscience clean and lying to the student body isn't helping." Eddie said with mock sincerity. Steve huffed out a laugh at that.

They didn't say much for the last ten minutes of the period, but Steve did get up and sit catty corner from Eddie at the study table, head pillowed on his arms and eyes closed. Ten minutes of beautiful quiet.

Problem was that ten minutes was addicting. Steve didn't hang out much at the library before... except when he was dating Nancy... but now he's seeing the advantage.

The next week Tommy had hinted at ditching after lunch so they wouldn't have to put up with Mrs. O'Donnell's class, but Steve was barely making it through her class as it was. If he missed another class he probably would fail, then he wouldn't graduate. Plus they had an essay due in her class at the end of the week that Steve had barely started...

He ducked into the library again before Tommy could track him down in the hall. Quickly he made his way to the study rooms, two of which were occupied by actual study groups and one... well.

Steve cracked open the door and stared at Eddie until he looked up from his, again, numerous notebooks and books.

"Again?" Eddie sighed.

"Listen, I promise I'll leave you alone like last time." Steve said stepping into the room.

"You should probably just tell her instead of running away from her. That's gotta be bad for your image, no?"

Steve slumped into his chair and ran his hands over his face. "It's not Kelly."

"Oh, a new admirer. Probably shouldn't be running from them either, honestly..."

"No! No, it's Tommy."

Eddie let out a low whistle, "Wow. Didn't know he swung that way. I guess all those accusations he threw at me were a little hypocritical."

"What? No! Tommy's not gay! Jesus."

"It's okay if he is. You should be flattered..."

"Dude!" Steve squawked at him. A slow smirk spread over Eddie's face. "Oh, fuck you, man." Steve laughed and Eddie chuckled in response.

"Why are you avoiding him?"

"He wants to ditch, but I can't miss O'Donnell class again."

Eddie let out a sympathetic groan and held up one of the notebooks. The words "State's Rights and the Civil War" were scrawled across the top.

"You too?" Steve winced. Eddie nodded.

"Maybe we can help each other." Steve said, cautiously. It was one thing to invade Eddie's space. Suggesting they work together was an entirely different beast.

"Aren't you failing?" Eddie squinted at him.

"Didn't you already fail once?" Steve squinted back.

"Yeah. Sure. This can't backfire in the slightest." Eddie said before sliding over so he was directly in front of Steve. "Let's do this, Big boy." Steve raised an eyebrow but got out his notebook none the less.

Steve met Eddie in the library for the next three days. He told Tommy and Carol that he needed some time to study. No, they couldn't come with him, can't they spend three days on their own? Jesus.

He conveniently left Munson out of the conversation. He didn't want to here what Tommy and Carol had to say about him studying with "the freak."

And it turned out Eddie was actually really good at understanding history... Steve just had to keep him on track.

"Dude, if you open that dragon nerd book one more time I'm taking that sandwich back." Steve huffed at Eddie who pulled the half of Steve's sandwich that he gave him to his chest.

"Finders keepers." Eddie said taking a huge bite.

"Dude, I gave it to you." Steve said through a chuckle.

They turned in their essays on Monday. That Wednesday Steve slammed into the study room.

"Jesus! You scared the shit outta me, Steven." Eddie said, dramatically clutching his chest. Steve was already swinging his backpack off his shoulder and throwing a ziplock bag of cheez-its at Eddie.

"Did you get it back?" Steve asked, dropping into his seat.

Eddie stared at him for a second before reaching into his bag and pulling out his essay, slapping it down in front of Steve.

"B minus." Eddie said, barely keeping the grin off his face. "She gave me the most evil look when she gave it back." Eddie smirked.

"Dude! Awesome!" Steve said grinning at the paper. "I hope mine was enough."

"It will be. It was solid, man, don't worry."

Steve looked up at him with so much sincerity Eddie almost felt like he should look away. "Thank you, Eddie."

Eddie shrugged.

"I mean it." Steve insisted.

"Yeah... no problem." Eddie murmured. Steve nodded and then pulled his bag into his lap, taking out a notebook and his lunch.

That night found Eddie on the phone with Jeff, describing the last few weeks and his encounters with Steve.

"He's been coming into the library during my study hall period. We worked on O'Donnell's essay together. He *feeds me,* dude!"

"Feeds you?"

"He keeps, like, giving me parts of his lunch!"

"He-" Eddie could hear Jeff starting to laugh. "He actually-" Jeff cuts himself off with his own laughter.

"Jeffery!"

"You're friends with The Hair!" Jeff finally gets out.

"Oh.. shit," Eddie considered it for a minute. "No way. We just had a mutual essay. right?"

Jeff's laughter finally calms down. "I dont know, man, sounds like more than that."

"... Harrington?" Eddie mused in amazement.

"I told you he wasn't that bad." Jeff gloated.

"Shut up."

The next few days Steve didn't storm into Eddie's study room, but Tuesday he did.

"Hey." He said, sitting down at the desk.

"Hey." Eddie said, watching him and expecting Steve to say something. But he just pulled out what seemed to be algebra homework, and his lunch, and didn't say anything.

"What?" Steve finally said, looking back at Eddie.

"Nothing. Just. ya know, thought after you got through the essay you'd go back to, ya know, Tommy and Carol."

Steve shrugged, taking half his sandwich and sliding the other half, still in the bag, over to Eddie. "Didn't feel like dealing with them today."

"Wait..." Eddie said, slow smile growing on his face, "You, Steve Harrington. would rather hang out with me, Eddie "the freak" Munson, than Tommy and Carol."

"Don't call yourself that. And yeah. At least you don't try to stuff freshmen into lockers."

"Oh my god, Jeff was right!"

"Huh?"

"We're friends!" Eddie smiled, what probably seemed a little manically, at Steve.

"Uh, yeah..." Steve timidly offered back.

"Let me tell you something, Harrington," Eddie chuckled, picking up the sandwich, "This is not how I saw my super senior year going."

Steve shrugged and pulled Eddie's Dungeons and Dragons manual towards him, flipping open the cover. "So how does this game work anyways?"

Eddie grinned. "Strap in, Stevie, you've got alot to learn."

[aquaticmercy]

Blood and Kin

Part 3 of Dark Necessities

Summary : You desperately drank Bucky’s blood when you were starving. You found out that there are consequences to your actions.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x half-vampire!reader (she/her in mind)

Warnings/tags : Cursing. 

Word count : 2k

Note : Reader is a daywalker like Blade. And yes, I finally turned this into a series! The name Dead Club City is inspired by the Nothing but Thieves album.

I’m starting a taglist for this so let me know if you wanna be on it!

edit: the first couple of hours that this was up I accidentally posted an unrefined draft but now it’s all fixed. Sorry for the mistake!

Eric stood in the doorway, shadows casting hard lines across his forehead. His eyes locked onto you, then moved Bucky, before trailing back to you with a grief that ran bone-deep. 

It was a look you’d never seen on him before, one so intense it seemed to make the walls tremble. Eric’s presence consumed the room, his rage dense, like a storm ready to tear everything in its path.

“Get out,” he growled at John through gritted teeth. For a second, he looked ready to argue. Then he stopped himself, retreating silently. He knew better than to question Blade, than to disagree with him. 

Eric’s face was thunderous, his rage a force that practically sucked the oxygen out of the room. He was livid— no, furious— in a way that was beyond anything you’d ever witnessed from him. The kind of anger that rolled out in waves, accompanied by a piercing stare you could feel through your skin.

He threw your shirts at you and Bucky, not caring if they even hit their mark, like the sight of you both —caught in this moment, bonded in ways he couldn’t forgive— was making him sick.

“You know what a blood bond is?” he spat, the sharpness like venom dripping from every word.

You pulled the shirt over your shoulders with trembling fingers, feeling every ounce of his anger pressing down on you, sinking into your skin like ice. 

“You’re like family to me, kid,” he said, his voice thick with something darker than rage, something akin to despair. “And you kept this— this thing from me?” 

You felt his anger float in the air, clawing its way beneath your skin.

You had nothing to say, no defense against the anger that poured from him. You knew you’d crossed a line and whatever was left between you and Eric was hanging by the barest, most fragile thread.

“I don’t know what this is,” you admitted in a  whisper.

“A Blood Bond is ancient, and it’s unforgiving.” Eric continued, his voice a hollow echo, like a tolling bell. “You think this fucking thing with Barnes is harmless?”

“I didn’t know,” you said, lips quivering, almost desperately this time. You jumped off the sink, feeling your footing steady on the bathroom floor.

Behind you, Bucky stepped forwards, his eyes flashing with a defiance that only seemed to fan the flames of Eric’s  rage.

“Of course you didn’t,” Eric snapped.

Bucky didn’t flinch. If anyone had the right to stand up to Eric, it was him. Eric had walked this earth for almost a hundred years now, so it was easy to forget that Bucky was older. He’d been different people, molded and broken by the cruelty he’d endured, bruised and battered, reprogrammed and reformed. He had seen depths of horror that even Eric hadn’t touched. That defiance in his eyes was forged in a hell, or at least if felt like it.

“She didn’t know,” Bucky said. “I didn’t know either. You can’t just disappear off the face of the earth for a month and blame her for doing the only thing she could have—”

“She should have done anything but this!” Eric’s glare turned on Bucky. The room contained a silent tension that was as volatile as dynamite waiting for a spark.

“Do you even understand what you’re putting her through?” Eric spat, his voice laced with venom. “You’ve tied her fate to yours in a way that can’t be undone. If either of you dies…” His voice cracked slightly, a flash of something softer breaking through before it was replaced with a grim determination. “It’s not just grief that takes over. It’s madness. The kind that drives vampires to tear cities apart, to leave rivers of blood in their wake.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing, his silence a stubborn refusal to give Eric the satisfaction of seeing him falter.

Eric’s expression twisted, a bitter laugh escaping him. “This bond demands everything of you,” he continued, almost to himself, “And it won’t care about your good intentions or the life you’re trying to live.”

You could feel Bucky tense beside you, his fists curling tightly at his sides, the weight of Eric’s words cutting into him as deeply as they were to you. He was warning you, trying to pierce through the wall of denial you had built. He was trying to make you understand what you’d find at the end of this road— blood and ruin.

“I didn't know,” you repeated again, more to yourself than anyone else. There’s been so much information thrown at you, you were struggling to keep up, struggling to process everything.

Eric's voice dropped to a lethal whisper.  “Every account in history ends the same way: with a killing spree committed by one when the other dies. And you two think you’re the exception?”

Bucky’s lips tightened, his gaze fixed and defiant, though a flicker of doubt passed across his face. “I don’t do that anymore,” he said, almost to himself, voice thick with an uncertainty that betrayed him.

Eric stepped closer, voice barely more than a growl. “This bond doesn’t care who you think you are.”

“I didn't fucking know!” You shouted this time, probably enough for John to hear in the other room. Your fingers trembled, tongue lapping up the remnants of Bucky’s blood on your lips.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. Eric’s words finally started to sink in, every detail a nail in the coffin. 

Bucky’s hand brushed against yours, intertwining as if you were one.

Eric turned away, rubbing a hand over his jawline. “Tomorrow night, I’ll take you both to Dead Club City,” he said, the words sounding like a promise and a warning all at once. His voice cracked, bitter. “If anywhere has answers, it’s there.”

The name hit you like a blow to the chest. 

Dead Club City. The infamous blood bar, where vampires walked the line between survival and indulgence, drinking cocktails made of animal blood and a synthetic tonic that mimicked human blood.

You’ve been there, but only once. A long time ago.

But Eric’s mention of it was different; his tone made it sound less like a refuge and more like a last-ditch attempt to try and salvage your sanity.

—

That night, the room was wrapped in shadows, softened by the moonlight filtering through the curtains. Bucky sat beside you, watching as you lay deep in sleep, your brows in a gentle furrow. You looked so vulnerable, if only for a few hours. 

It had taken you a while to fall asleep— he could feel your worry in the back of his head through the bond. You were afraid— of Eric’s disapproval. Of disappointing him.

He brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, his fingers lingering on warmth of your skin. 

You were… everything to Bucky. And that scared him, more than he would ever admit. 

After a moment, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. He made his way out of the room. His throat was dry, and only water would help.

The safehouse was silent as Bucky crept down the stairs. He was only halfway to the kitchen when he sensed someone already there, the faintest hum of steady breathing.

Under the dim light, he found Eric standing near the counter, motionless. 

So he couldn’t sleep, either. 

The two of them regarded each other in silence, neither sure of what to say after he caught you on the sink.

Bucky poured himself a glass of water, careful not to make a noise. He was unwilling to break the silent truce that they had.

Eric’s voice coming out low, almost as if he were speaking to himself. 

“Please take care of her, Barnes.” he murmured, “She’s the only one I have left. She’s… like kin to me.”

“Of course,” Bucky set his glass down, meeting Eric’s eyes with a steady look. He could see the unspoken fear that lay beneath the stoic facade of the dhampir. “You don’t even have to ask.”

Eric shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “I don’t think you understand...”

“I do,” Bucky turned the tap off, unflinching. “She’s the love of my life.” The words came easily, as if they had been waiting to be said all along. “You’ve seen the things I’d do for her. The things I’d do because of her.”

He paused, a warmth creeping into his voice, his gaze softening as he thought of you asleep upstairs. “She… she gave me back pieces of myself I thought I’d lost forever. She’s not just a bond, Brooks. Not to me.”

Eric sighed, glancing at his own glass of blood replacement serum. He looked up, his voice dropping, almost wistful.

“You know, she wasn’t always like this,” he began, “when I found her, she wasn’t the person you know now. She was feral, half-starved. A teenage daywalker, struggling and dangerous. She… hated me at first. Thought I was just another person trying to control her.” He chuckled, his gaze drifting, as though seeing some distant memory. “She tried to run more times than I could count. Back then, she would have gladly ripped my throat out if she had the chance.”

Bucky listened, surprised but intrigued. He could picture her—wild, defiant, her spirit untamed and her strength untethered, raw. “I can see that,” he murmured with a smile. “The wild part still comes out from time to time.”

Eric nodded. “But she grew up. Somewhere in between all the blood and chaos, she learned discipline. We became… family. She even called me her brother once,” His voice grew quieter, carrying a thread of nostalgia. “I’d like to think I gave her something… something to hold onto when the world was a place she couldn’t belong. I taught her control. I taught her how to fight with honour. I think… you taught her how to love in a way I didn’t even realise she was capable of.”

Bucky felt a pang in his chest, understanding the weight Eric must have carried, watching over you, shaping you into someone who could live in a world that would never fully accept you. He felt the urge to comfort Eric, to tell him that his efforts paid off.

“Did she ever tell you about when I first met her?”  Bucky finally spoke, his voice a touch warmer.

Eric shook his head, looking up for the first time.

“She saved my life. She was working with Man-Thing—Ted—on some mission in the middle of nowhere when we crossed paths.” Bucky chuckled, “They were tracking a rogue werewolf. And Ted, well…” Bucky laughed softly, shaking his head. “Ted was dead on his feet from lack of sleep. He was useless that night.”

Eric raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “She was doing all the heavy lifting?”

Bucky nodded. “I was barely aware of what was happening before she’d taken down that werewolf. I didn’t even know what hit me—just this blur of speed. She shocked me that night.” He looked down, a faint smile touching his lips as he remembered. “And that was it. I knew I was done for.”

Finally, Eric sighed, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I think… I think she’s better for having you.” He looked away, almost reluctantly. “I didn’t think anyone else could understand what she means to me. But maybe in a different way— you do.”

They stood in silence for a little longer. Each held a different piece of your story, cherished you in their own way. They both knew you were in the best hands you could possibly be— even if you were fully capable of protecting yourself.

Before turning back to go upstairs, Bucky’s curiosity got the better of him.

“What’s waiting for us at Dead Club City?” he asked.

“Someone who will understand,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky took one last glance at him, nodding. 

Eric stayed, watching the soldier return to you with something that hadn’t been there before— a flicker of trust. 

Bucky slipped into bed beside you after taking a sip of water. You curled into him, still fast asleep. The tension in your brow had softened. Your face was peaceful, utterly serene. He could feel it, too— how you were resting easier now.

Watching you, Bucky couldn’t help but wonder if you could sense Eric’s newfound approval echoing through his mind— like a reassuring pulse through the bond.

-to be continued…

[lover-of-mine]

Lady Whistledown.... Baby.. The dumpster is on fire!!!! Let's go to the upside down world because I don't know if we should laugh or cry.

First things first. I have never been able to accurately track what OG Buddies made their prominent burners on X and Insta. It was like June when Oliver started blocking them that they were created. And they just vanished. All gone. So much traffic and propaganda gone. Also some of them now pretending they want back on the Buddie train like they never trashed it.

Two. Huge conspiracy that this was all out of nowhere. I mean he mentioned Eddie on an anniversary date and sure this shit just fell out of the sky. But the election, the Buddies the all of it just became to much and Tim cut it prematurely.

Three. They have always hated Oliver but now it's worse. Lous words make it seem like poor him, he wanted the story. It was evil Oliver and his crush on Ryan that ended it all. He basically became a martyr to them.

Four.. they are going nowhere. Don't think you are getting a break. They hope it's the beginning of the rom com slow burn. Buck will realize he needs to fight to get Tommy back. Or just hate watching. Hating on all things Buddie and Ryan and Oliver.

Lastly everyone should just watch their in boxes. They have always false flagged and pretended to be "Buddies" to create chaos. It won't stop. It will be a long hiatus after next week.

But back on grass. Honestly it's the OG Buddies that switched ships that are the most pissed. They didn't even get an angsty break up. It was literally so boring. And they hate he called him Buck after they spent months making a big deal about Evan. It's like they think it was designed to wound them on purpose.

I will keep you posted if anything more interesting happens. I feel like it's going to be a long weekend.

Hello baby. This is... wow. I can't even say it's unexpected, because it is very expected. I actually watched a bunch of those accounts disappear. Turning on Oliver is literally the most obvious thing they could ever do, I literally read a post saying they wish the show had written off Oliver instead. The idea the show filmed different ending and the episode was edited because Trump won is literally the most insane thing I've seen coming from them and that's saying something. And honestly, I was bracing myself from them not to go anywhere anyway so. I did giggle when he called him Buck, I mean I was giggling the whole scene because green, but that was a highlight lol. The relationship ended as uneventful as it happened, and it was brought on by Abby of all thing AND highlighted the way Buck is very much still on the hamster wheel. Anyone who's been here before 704 caught on the way that was a repetition of patterns, I can only imagine how mad they are after jumping ship and creating all this chaos. Please do keep me posted, it's definitely gonna be an interesting weekend.

[ladytauria]

Oh I see what we are doing now *ahem*

-Abyss left the ask box-

-Person with the most perfect Mustache you've ever seen-

*Strokes it* Trick or Treat my fine lady

*squinting* that’s a very fine mustache you have there, dear, but I SWEAR I’ve seen your face before

hmmm… well. while there are still several ideas hidden in my documents for some reason I feel compelled to give you my OTHER idea I had for my dear friend @deepwithintheabyss

jumping into this one without a lot of worldbuilding to try and curb the length dfghjk also this is a little rough/messy… i’d love to flesh it out a little more perhaps. call this a first draft version haha

It’s not until after Zatara has left that Tim gets to process how odd all of this is.

Alvin and he stand across from each other in Tim’s living room. It’s almost like looking in a mirror—both of them dressed in the same loose sweats, the same ratty Gotham Knights sweatshirt.

Alvin tilts his head. “So… are we going to fuck?”

Tim chokes. “What?” Of all the questions he could have broken the silence with—

“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.” Alvin’s lips twitch. “I know better.”

If Tim is always this smug-looking when he’s right about something, he can understand why Steph says he has a ‘punchable’ face. “You don’t have to be so blunt about it,” he grouses.

His objection is mostly on principle. In a world of alternate universes and time travel (proven multiple times over now, Bruce), it’s hard not to consider, to think about, what might happen if Tim was faced with another version of himself. Hell—Tim has met another him. Though, granted, that meeting didn’t go particularly well.

But. There was always the possibility of meeting another him, someone who wasn’t a fascist asshole. Someone, well—

Someone more like Alvin.

A magical doppelganger, created by an artifact related to Tim’s latest case. A perfect copy of him, down to his last memory at the time of creation. It answered a lot of questions Tim had—but more immediately… it opened up entire realms of possibilities.

Alvin steps closer, and then closer still, until they're almost touching. “Do you really want to keep arguing?” His voice is low. Husky. Tim has heard himself sound like that before, but always—always from inside his own head.

No. No he doesn’t.

But Alvin knows that already.

There is no hiding from him, Tim realizes. Alvin knows him better than anyone ever has—or ever will.

The thought is equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

Rather than answer, Tim steps even closer, crossing the distance between them. He tangles his fingers in the hairs at the back of Alvin’s neck, gripping his nape. Their mouths crash together, both of them making the same soft sound. They almost harmonize. Tim feels his belly tighten—his nipples harden, rubbing against the soft cotton of his sweatshirt. He shivers, his skin tingling.

Alvin’s hands slip under his shirt. Tim gasps. Alvin’s fingers are cool against his skin; his grip steady, firm.

The slide of their lips is slow, unhurried. It’s good. Not the best kiss Tim has ever had—their lips are chapped in just the right way to catch against each other. But… even despite that, it stokes the steady warmth growing in his belly, making him sigh against Alvin’s mouth. He gives into the urge to lick into Alvin’s mouth and Alvin lets him, slackening his mouth so Tim can lick into him and taste.

Alvin tastes like nothing at all.

It would be disappointing if it the reason why wasn’t so thrilling. Of course Alvin’s mouth doesn’t taste like anything—it’s Tim’s mouth.

His grip tightens in Alvin’s hair. Alvin moans. He sucks on Tim’s tongue, pulling an echo of the sound from his own chest. He steps forward, slotting his leg between Alvin’s. His thigh presses against his groin. He can feel the shape of Alvin’s cock, hot and half-hard, through their sweats. It makes his mouth water. He swallows—Alvin’s tongue chases his back into his mouth as his hips roll, grinding against Tim’s thigh and groaning. His nails bite into the skin of Tim’s waist, and Tim gasps.

“A-ah—” He has to break the kiss to pant.

Alvin takes the opportunity to bury his face in Tim’s neck, biting at the delicate skin there. Tim is sure that he’s leaving bruises. It’s something he loves on a good day, but the idea that the bruises would match the shape of his own mouth—

“Fuck,” he says, his twitching, cock rutting against nothing, nothing at all.

In all of his elaborate fantasies, Tim had never imagined rutting against his doppelganger like he’s still a teenager. But now that it’s happening—

Why not?

Why not get off just like this?

Like Alvin is thinking the same thing—and fuck, he probably is, because they’re the same—he slots his own leg between Tim’s. They’re tangled together, pressed so close they’re almost one person.

Alvin bites—Tim shouts, his hips stuttering forward, and moans breathlessly when this time, he meets the hard muscle of Alvin’s thigh, the friction sending a wave of feeling skittering over his nerves. He pulls at Alvin’s hair, good and hard, the way he knows makes his nipples feel tight, his scalp tingle. His other hand drops down to Alvin’s ass, gripping the swell of it, pulling him forward to rub against Tim’s thigh.

Alvin gasps, moans. He scratches at Tim’s back, his waist, and abruptly, Tim needs to be naked. He lets go of Alvin to grab the hem of his sweatshirt and pull it off, over his head. He tosses it aside carelessly. Nothing crashes, so wherever it landed is probably fine. Alvin makes a soft, eager noise, then he follows suit.

They’re identical, of course. Lean and wiry and covered with a dark dusting of hair, thickest at his belly. Scars litter their skin—some of which only they can see, too faded for anyone else to find without serious exploration. There’s a mole next to one of his nipples. Tim’s only really ever seen it in the mirror before; it’s too far down for him to pay much attention to when he’s lying in bed, touching himself.

Right now—

Right now, it’s like his vision has narrowed down to it, and he shoves—gently—at Alvin, until his knees hit the back of the couch. Alvin lets himself fall, lets Tim crash on top of him, gripping at his shoulders while Tim trails a rough, wet path from his neck to his chest. His knees hit the floor. Alvin’s legs lock around his middle, ankles crossing at his back.

He knows just how to touch himself… with his hands. With his mouth—

With his mouth it’s clumsier, messier. He doesn’t know quite how roughly he can bite, how hard he can suck. But he figures it out, letting the gasps and moans Alvin makes guide him. Alvin’s fingers find his hair. He tugs, that perfect way that Tim likes, and he moans. His hips rut forward, against the couch.

He feels dizzy with want.

It reminds him of his task, just a few moments ago. He pulls off of Alvin’s nipple and shucks his pants. The position makes it awkward, clumsy. He would feel embarrassed if he didn’t know that Alvin was just as messed up as he is.

He reaches for Alvin’s pants next. Alvin’s belly tenses, showing off the muscles in his abdomen as he lifts his hips, letting Tim slide them over the swell of his ass and then down his legs. Tim doesn’t bother with their socks, climbing back up to plaster himself against Alvin instead. They move, the two of them, until they’re horizontal; Alvin lying under him, his head propped up slightly on one of Tim’s throw pillows. The other one is kicked to the floor. He can feel Alvin’s cock against his belly, hard and hot and leaking precum.

Alvin looks up at him, his face flushed, his eyes dark, hazy. This is what Tim looks like when he’s having sex. His cock pulses. He needs— He needs to see what he looks like when he comes.

He holds his hand up to Alvin’s face. He doesn’t have to say what he wants—Alvin knows, licking over Tim’s palm, holding his gaze as he does. Tim’s mouth is dry.

As soon as his hand is wet, he shoves it between their bodies, wrapping his hand around both of their cocks. They moan in perfect unison; the exact same breathless, desperate pitch. Tim starts slow, smearing spit and precum over their cocks until the glide is slick and smooth. Then he speeds up.

If he was masturbating alone, he would alternate between slow and fast; keep himself hovering over the edge until it was almost too much to take. Then, and only then, he would let himself cum.

Later, he’d be more than happy to test both of their limits. To act out every filthy fantasy they’ve ever had, but never had anyone else to to try it with.

Right now, though—

Right now, he’s getting an outsider’s perspective of his own orgasm and he wants nothing more than to see it through. So he does, hitting that perfect speed, that perfect tightness, twisting his wrist—pulling out all of the stops until he can almost taste his peak. Alvin writhes under him. He claws at Tim’s back, leaving streaks of red over the smooth skin there. Tim will look at them later; compare the spread of his fingers to them and flush at the idea that anyone else would look at him and think he’d found some random hook-up to take home.

Only Tim would know the truth.

Well.

Tim and Alvin.

“C’mon,” he whispers. “C’mon, baby—wanna—I wanna see you cum.” He shifts slightly, bracing more of his weight on his knees. He gets his other hand involved, then; tugging and twisting at his nipples, starting with the neglected one from earlier, the one without the mole.

Alvin grips Tim’s shoulders so tightly Tim is sure he’s drawn blood, and then—

He arches, mouth opening, panting their abdomens in white. Tim barely refrains from following him over the edge—staying as present as he can as he drinks in every detail. It’s not the same as watching himself on video. Even his highest definition camera can’t capture the rush of blood under Alvin’s skin, the glisten of sweat on his skin, the way his eyes move under the lids and his lashes flutter against his cheeks.

He gentles his hand, stroking Alvin until he collapses against the couch, chest heaving as he pants. He looks up at Tim with hazy eyes—his expression lazy, fucked-out. If Tim cared to psychoanalyze himself, he’s sure he could think of several interesting notes about the way he leans down to capture Alvin’s lips in a kiss.

Tim isn’t interested in digging that deeply.

Not this time.

Alvin only lets the slow, lazy kiss continue for a few minutes before he threads a hand in Tim’s hair and tugs him off. His lips curve upward, and then his legs tangle with Tim. He’s suspended in the air for one breathless moment before his back hits the couch, knocking the remaining air out of his lungs.

“Your turn now.” Alvin’s voice curls around the words in a low, dark promise.

Tim shudders, arching into his touch.

He can probably get away with taking a few days off. If anyone asks— He can just tell them it’s for science.

[marymary-diva17]

Your ma daughter ma ite ( a new you)

Life is always changing that was something you had learned from a very young age, you had seen your life change over the years on pandora. As you had started growing up over the years and become the person you want to be, along with staying true to yourself as well. There was going to come a new change for you as well, and change that you had been thinking of since you were small.

Y/n " uncle norm"

????? " oh so you have been called here by my dad as well" you soon had seen spider as the both of you were standing near, the base laboratory.

y/n " hey spider and yes he left a note of me in my room when I was in the dining hall"

Spider " same here for me"

y/n " come on let go see where everyone else is right now, because now it seems like no one is in this area" the duo had nodded their heads and soon walked to find, any sign of norm or any of the other adults.

spider “ dad are you in here dad” the two teens were looking around, trying to find any signs of anyone right now.

y/n “ here let turn on the lights over here maybe it will ….” Soon the lights had turn on before you could switch on the lights.

everyone “ surprise” the two teens had jumps up a bit as they had been, taken by surprise as they looked to see all the other adults there.

spider “ wow”

y/n “ hey everyone well it good to see you are all apart of what uncle norm, said he need to show us”

Norm “ well yes it was a team effort from everyone here, and we have been planning to have this celebration for you kids”

y/n “ cool what are we celebrating anyways”

max “ well we have always knew you kids love pandora and the clan so much, spending all your time with them in the forest and anywhere else.. we all know being apart from them is every hard as well”

y/n " yes it has been hard but we love spending time with you all here and learning new things as well"

max " that good to know you two have been such a good job helping around here and outside as well"

spider " thank you uncle max"

norm " so we have been working together as individuals and as a group, and after waiting for a while to make sure everything will go well with our plan"

spider and y/n " ........."

norm " we had made avatar bodies for you kids to use so you can be humans and now navi, spend life outside without the need of exo mask to breathe and live life here"

y/n " uncle norm are you telling us the truth"

norm " well yes come see for yourself kiddo" you and spider had smiled as the pair of you went towards where evyone was standing, to see avatar bodies.

y/n " I can't believe this is really happening after all these years we are getting avatar bodies, I had thought it might not happen"

norm " well we need to wait and gather more resources and once we found out, we had enough to make some new avatar bodies we took that chance"

spider " this is going to be so cool"

y/n " thank you all for doing this for us it so amazing"

women " anything for you kids now come on lets get going"

y/n and spider " yeah" both teens had a bright smiles on their faces as everyone was getting everything ready, to make the transfer process happen. Once everything was ready you and spider were laying down in some capsule, as norm was checking on the both teens.

norm " how are you both feeling"

spider " excited"

y/n " same here mixed with some nerves as well this will be the first time, we do the transfer"

norm " don't worry we will make sure no harm comes to you kids, just breath in and out relax the mind and soon enough everything will be okay"

y/n and spider " yes sir" the capsules doors had soon closed as you had closed you eyes and relax your body and mind. The transfer had soon happen, as you soon open your eyes slowing.

max " hey how are you feeling kiddo"

y/n " good" you soon looked at your hands to see all blue as smile grown on your face.

y/n " wow I'm really navi now this so amazing" you had stood up slowing and looked at mirror to see you were now, navi like your family which made you smile.

women " sorry about the human clothes they were the only things we had the moment, for you but they are better they RDA clothes we found in the box"

y/n " they will be good I still have the clothes my mother made for me"

norm " oh yes I remember neytiri had made it just in case you got a avatar body"

spider " so y/n how does it feel to be blue"

y/n " good and you don't look at different just taller"

spider " thank you I also make sure to look good" you just scoff and rolled your eyes.

y/n " I can't wait to call everyone and show them along with talking with them as well, they are going to be shocked and excited as well"

spider " oh yes we have to call father and show him as well"

norm " well we can talk with them but can't get the cam working as it broken"

y/n " we can't keep the talks long as the calls sometime break up"

spider "then it seems like we might give them a surprise"

y/n " I love that idea"

norm " same here as they might changed as well and so have we"

y/n " we all have become new after all these months apart, and at times it good to something new and changes as well ... as grandmother always said the great mother always provide for her children"

norm " well come on we still have time to celebrate this wonderful day, as now you two have avatar and it will be good to have a celebration of some good news" everyone had nodded their heads in agreement, everything had been going well over these months. You still miss your family and wish they were here with you, for them to celebrate with you about this new milestone in your life.

y/n " I love the look" you are standing in-front of long mirror as you had put on the cloths that neytiri had made for you, she had made many types of clothes for you along with the help of your sisters and grandmother.

y/n " I love the new me I have" you had a bright smile one your face, as you had gotten done put on some jewelry, at your siblings had made for you.

norm " you seem very happy right now"

y/n " I'm very happy uncle norm thank you for doing this for me"

norm " you and spider deserve this and now I can't wait to see everyone faces"

y/n " oh yes well did promise not that many changes will happen"

norm " well changes does happen and this change it good" you had smiled and nodded your head, for a couple more hours you had stayed in your avatar body. Until you were back in your human body, making plans of what you shall do tomorrow as avatar and human. Along with thinking about the days to come until you are finally reunited with your family again, to see their faces again and hug them. When that day comes everyone will be happy to see each other again, no longer separate anymore in the end.

[federal-bureau-of-nerds]

sometimes it seems like female solidarity on this website is a fucking scam

[bread-wizards]

I think a lot of the meta about Orym forgets that Orym isn't just an adventurer, he is a former bodyguard. His self worth is tied up in how well he can protect people and especially his loved ones. Thats why he sold his future to a hag, because its all he had left to give in order to be able to help.

Thats also why he seems so angry after FCG's death.

Otohan has killed his husband and father. Then him. Then he is brought back and told she also killed Fearne and Laudna. She killed Eshteross. She almost kills Keyleth. Now FCG has to sacrifice himself to save them all and kill Otohan and Orym was knocked out for it.

His job is to protect people and even with the added power from Nana Morri, it's still not enough. 6 years later and his loved ones are still dying and he can do nothing but watch.

[irregularbillcipher]

so god forbid i’m seen just as an average human being

[identityquest]

lizzie get two wolves 👍

[supergirl9130]

Now why tf am I seeing this goddamn website participate in group slandering again bc of a fucking stupid shitpost like y’all haven’t seen other users doing the same goddamn thing and lying about that user. Like do y’all have anything better to do than to make up lies to push something 😐. Also once more how tf did individual artists/content creators and more get lumped into “eat the rich”. Like do the ppl on this site think that they just make this stuff from yachts or mansions or something y’all are out of your rabid ass minds sometimes.

[larrysballetslippers]

.

[coraxaviary]

ok so like does anyone else have the rational fear that

someone's gonna come along and mention/post/recommend/rant about their fic on tiktok or some other social media? Mostly tiktok, but I suppose there are other possibilities.

Like, I don't want random people from tiktok coming to read my stuff. I certainly don't want to ever get the attention of anyone associated with the production of these shows -- especially the actors, God forbid.

Like, oh my gosh the prospect of "blowing up" for fanart is so appealing -- like, my eyes *light up* you know what I mean -- but the thought of someone mentioning my fanfic on any other website gives me a cold sweat and heart palpitations

[kbwrites]

Devotion

synopsis: Sukuna discovers Uraume’s hidden desire for his wife. Amused and intrigued, he twists their devotion into a dangerous game of seduction and control, where loyalty, lust, and power collide..

⚝content: trueform!Sukuna x f!reader, nsfw, slight Uraume x reader, power play, sukuna being sadistic, voyeurism

⚝wc: 3.2k

⚝a/n: guys am I slowly turning into a Sukuna glazer? Is that what’s happening?

“Uraume.”

“Yes, master?”

“Have you had…lovers before?”

Ryomen leaned forward over the dining table, his crimson eyes sharp with mischief, resting his chin lazily on his hand. One of his upper arms reached for the delicate porcelain cup, lifting it to his lips as he took a sip, all while gauging Uraume’s reaction with predatory precision. Uraume, ever composed, took a deep breath—perhaps steadier than expected, but not beyond Sukuna’s notice.

“No, my lord. I am only loyal to you.”

Sukuna could only chuckle darkly at his most trusted advisor’s iron resolve.

“Surely you’ve been attracted to someone before.”

It’s subtle, but Sukuna noticed how Uraume’s body tensed at the question.

“Thats…”

His eyebrow quirks in amusement, the thought of them finding interest in anything other than servitude absolutely intriguing.

“Oh?” He purrs “Tell me Uraume, who’s captured your interest?”

Uraume pauses, their mouth slightly agape about to answer until the doors to the dining hall swing open.

“Good morning~” You yawn strutting into the grand hall. Ryomen’s ears perk up at the sound of your voice. You were draped in a black silk robe, loosely fitting to reveal your cleavage. He didn’t miss the way Uraume suddenly went rigid, their spine straightening as though an unseen force had pulled them taut.

“My lady..” Uraume says quietly, bowing deeply, far lower than usual. There was a slight tremor in their voice, one that would be imperceptible to anyone else, but to Sukuna, it was as clear as day.

Something flickered in Sukuna’s eyes—something dark, cunning, and hungry. He was beginning to connect the threads. Uraume’s abnormal stillness, their faltering words, their body language—how had he not seen it before?

As a light bulb switched off in his mind. Sukuna’s eyes darken as his mind swirls with ideas.

“Good morning, peach.” he purred, his voice a rich, velvety drawl as he pushed his chair back slightly, creating space between his thick thighs. You settle between him, his lower arm wrapping securely around your waist. Your fingers plucked a few of the fruits, and with a mischievous smile, you lifted them to his lips. Sukuna’s eyes gleamed as he accepted your offering, his lips brushing your fingertips as he took the grapes from your hand, savoring the taste.

“Did you sleep well?” he hummed, his voice a rumble that reverberated through your body, his grip on your waist tightening.

Uraume was trying so hard to maintain their composure, but Sukuna was a master at unraveling even the most tightly wound strings. He didn’t miss the lingering gaze, the subtle admiration—the longing in Uraume’s eyes as they glanced at you.

You smiled softly, nodding as you fed him another grape. “I did.”

The room felt charged with an unspoken tension. Sukuna’s gaze flitted between you and Uraume.

“Uraume was just about to tell us something…” Sukuna chuckled, his voice a deep, velvet purr dripping with dark amusement.

“Weren’t you, Uraume?”

The words rolled off his tongue like a challenge, low and sultry, and Uraume flinched ever so slightly. Their mouth opened, but no sound emerged, their composure threatening to crack under the weight of Sukuna’s relentless gaze.

Uraume’s adams apple bobbed as they swallowed hard, their hands clenching at their sides. They looked as though they were standing on the edge of a precipice, unsure whether to jump or retreat. Their gaze flicked to yours—full of something raw and unspoken—before they quickly averted their eyes again, their face flushing.

“Yes…” Uraume managed, voice tight. “The preparations for the festival next week are complete. I thought it would be a good outing for you, my lady.”

You perked up, Ryomen knew how much you loved going outside the castle. And even though he despised being among the general public he never chastised you for it.

He shifted in his chair, his arm still wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling you just a little closer against him.

“An outing…” Sukuna mused, his voice low and thoughtful, malicious intent danced in his eyes. “How delightful.”

“Would you come this time Ryo?” You asked, eyes turning up to him with that innocent, pleading look he could never refuse.

His gaze flicks up to Uraume. He saw the way Uraume’s shoulders tensed, the way they remained painfully still. Sukuna could feel Uraume’s silent plea—don’t come. Don’t make this harder than it already is. But Sukuna, ever the sadist, felt the opposite.

His lips curled into a slow, wicked smile as he looked down at you. “How could I say no when you ask so sweetly, peach?” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble.

༺═────────────═༻

As the days slipped by, Sukuna’s amusement only deepened. What had once seemed like gestures of loyalty and respect from Uraume now held a different meaning altogether. The signs were there—delicate and unspoken, but there nonetheless.

He watched closely, sharper now, how Uraume’s hands lingered just a moment longer than necessary when adjusting your robes, or the way their fingers brushed your skin with a softness that would have seemed impossible for a being so devoted to carrying out the King of Curses’ bidding. Uraume, so effortlessly deadly, became something else entirely when in your presence—gentle, careful. As though you were made of glass. And Sukuna saw it all.

Of course, Ryomen Sukuna knew how captivating his wife was. You were beauty incarnate—graceful, magnetic, and utterly enchanting. He had always reveled in the way your presence could command a room, how your smile could make the world feel warmer. It wasn’t lost on him how others admired you, but he had never paid it much attention. You were his. That had never been up for debate.

The thought of his most trusted advisor being captivated by you was both amusing and intriguing. To think that Uraume, who had stood by his side through countless battles, who had remained steadfast and loyal through the bloodiest of wars, was not immune to your charm—it was almost laughable. But it was more than that. It was a game, a deliciously cruel game that Sukuna couldn’t resist playing.

༺═────────────═༻

It was bath time, the air thick with steam, curling up in soft tendrils around the marble walls of the grand bathhouse. You and Sukuna sat on opposite ends, your legs grazing one another beneath the surface. Uraume carefully washed your hair, applying the perfect amount of pressure when scratching your scalp.

Sukuna watched from his end of the tub, his crimson eyes half-lidded as he observed the way Uraume tended to you—so gentle, so precise. It was the kind of attention a lover would give, not merely an attendant.

You, of course, were oblivious. Your eyes were closed, soft hum of contentment escaping your lips as Uraume’s deft fingers massaged your scalp. The warmth of the bath relaxing you, Sukuna could see the soft smile tugging at your lips, unaware of the turmoil that brewed just beneath the surface.

“Uraume?” You question softly “Did those oils you ordered from Kuroshiki arrive yet? I think Ryo would like them today.”

“Yes…” Uraume says snapping out of their daze “I will fetch them right away my lady.”

“Bathing with fragrance oil? You really do spoil me” Sukuna says smirking.

You leaned closer to him, your fingers lightly trailing along the edge of the tub as you spoke, voice soft and inviting. “You seem… distracted as of late, my king,” you murmured, “I wish you would tell me what was occupying your mind.

A dark chuckle rumbled from his broad chest as he shifted slightly, adjusting his position as his crimson eyes traveled over your face, lingering on the way your wet hair clung to your skin and how the water caressed your naked form beneath the surface.

“My dear,” he purred, his voice low and smooth, “If I’m distracted, it’s only because of you.” He let the words hang in the air, his gaze darkening as he watched your reaction, the tension between you palpable.

Your lips curled into a slow, teasing smile, and you raised a brow, tilting your head as you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his chest.

Ryomen’s hand shot out, snaking around your waist and pulling you flush against him, your breath catching in your throat as you found yourself pressed up against his chest. His other hand trailed lazily through the water, his fingers skimming along your thigh just beneath the surface. Your heart raced, the warmth of the bath and the heat of his touch intertwining, making it difficult to think clearly.

“And you, my queen…” Sukuna’s voice rumbled with a dark edge, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck as he spoke. “What has been occupying your mind?”

Your breath hitched as you felt his lips graze your skin, the sensation sending a wave of heat through you. You tilted your head slightly, allowing him better access to your neck, your lips parting as you replied, your voice soft and laced with desire. “Only you, my king. Always you.”

“Good,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl. “I like to know where your thoughts are.”

Just as the moment seemed to deepen, the door to the bathhouse creaked open. Uraume entered with their usual calm, carrying a small, ornate jar of oils. The soft clink of the jar being set down on the table was like a loud intrusion into your private world. Uraume cleared their throat, the sound sharp in the silence.

“My lady, my lord,” Uraume announced quietly, their eyes briefly meeting yours before darting away, their cheeks flushing slightly with the strain of maintaining composure.

You pull yourself away from your husband back to your side of the tub, smiling politely.

“Thank you Uraume.”

Sukuna’s expression darkened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as he observed Uraume. His earlier pleasure was replaced by a simmering frustration, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the timing of the intrusion.

They bowed respectfully, eyes fixed on the floor as they took their leave. The door clicked shut behind them, and the room fell into an uneasy silence.

As the two of you settled back, Sukuna’s thoughts were already racing ahead. He decided he would push Uraume’s resolve to the breaking point, manipulate their emotions, and watch with dark satisfaction as their carefully constructed façade crumbled. Sukuna was eager to see how far he could push his most loyal servant before they fell apart.

The morning light seeped through the dark curtains of your shared bedroom. Sukuna sat up, his muscular back pressed against the dark mahogany headboard as he watched you.

His eyes, sharp and intent, traced the curve of your body as you slept. The way your body stirred against the black silk sheets, the fabric of your sleep robe slipped off your shoulders—revealing more and more of your skin with every rise and fall of your chest. His own arousal growing at the mere sight of you.

He leaned down to you, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone. One arm snaked up to your chest, slipping under your robe to caress your breast. You whimpered in your sleep, squirming under his large hands.

“Ryo?” You question, eyes still closed as you feel the warmth of his palms set fire to your cool skin. Your body responding to him almost instinctively, heat pooling in your core as his touch deepened, awakening a familiar hunger within you.

“Awake already, peach?” he murmured against your skin. The sound of his voice alone—low, gravelly, and undeniably seductive—vibrated through you, making your breath hitch.

You hum as your back instinctively arches into his touch.

“Don’t you have… ahhh. Meetings in the morning?”

“Mmm.” he purred in acknowledgment, peeling the robe off of your body. “It can wait. There’s something far more… compelling… that’s caught my attention.”

Your body shivers slightly as Ryomen removes the covers, he drinks in the sight before him. Removing his mouth from your neck, before dipping his head between your legs.

He inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of your dripping cunt. Ryomen flattens his tongue, the wet muscle circling your bundle of nerves. His two upper arms hold your thighs in place, nails digging into the plush flesh. The room fills with your sleepy moans and whimpers as The king of curses slurps up your essence. He latches onto your clit, sucking while his tongue swirls.

You grab tufts of his fluffy pink hair between your manicured fingers, tugging gently. He looked up at you through half lidded eyes, smirking against your cunt as you grind against his face.

You felt the pressure building in your core, Sukuna felt your heart quicken—continuing his ministrations. Just as you felt the dam about to break.

Knock knock

Ryomen let out a low growl, the vibration rumbling through your cunt. He reluctantly tore his face away from between your legs.

“What is it?” His voice laced with venom.

“It’s me, my lord.”

He pauses, gaze flicking between the door and your panting form. An idea pops into his mind.

“Come in.” Sukuna muses, his voice smooth and deliberate.

Your eyes shot open, widening in shock as the doorknob slowly began to turn. Panic flooded your veins, your breath catching in your throat as you realized what he intended. You tried to push against him, but Sukuna’s grip was ironclad, his body pinning yours down against the silken sheets.

“Ryo, please!” you whispered urgently, your heart racing as you felt the weight of the moment closing in on you, the tension in the air thick enough to cut. But your pleas only seemed to excite him further. Sukuna’s smirk deepened, a cruel chuckle escaping his lips.

Uraume stepped into the room, eyes respectfully downcast, holding a scroll of parchment.

“My lord, I—”

But the words died on their lips the moment they finally looked up. Uraume stopped in their tracks, their eyes widening in disbelief as they took in the scene before them.

“Ah, Uraume!” Sukuna drawled, his voice full of amusement. “You may speak.”

“I-if this is not a good time—“

Ryomen chuckles, his hand snaking up to give your tit a gentle squeeze. Rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger. You bite back a whimper.

“Nonsense! Continue.” He says, gaze never leaving you.

Uraume glances at you, their eyes raking over your form. They had dressed and bathed you countless times. However nothing could quite compare to the way your skin glistened with sweat, chest heaving as you tried to regain a steady heartbeat. They way your eyes were nearly black, glazed over with pleasure. They shouldn’t feel this way… they couldn’t and yet it was impossible to ignore the growing heat, the tightening coil as Uraume saw you in your most vulnerable state.

“Speak, Uraume,” Sukuna commanded again, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He relished in the discomfort radiating from his loyal servant, the way their breath quickened and their hands trembled ever so slightly at their sides.

“U-Uraume… you don’t have to listen to him.” You manage to mumble, trying to separate your rational mind from the pleasure your husbands fingers were giving you.

“Oh? But darling Uraume wants to see this.” He purrs. “Don’t you Uraume?”

They want to go, to turn on their heels and walk—no run quickly, and far away from the both of you. But every movement—every verbal protest failed to ever come to fruition. All Uraume could do in that moment. Was watch.

Watch as you writhed under their master, as your supple skin they so tirelessly cared for was marked. As your aching cunt was toyed with, as the saccharine moans fell from your plump lips.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you glance at Uraume, who watched intently as Ryomen gathered the wetness from your folds and his index finger was slowly swallowed by your walls. The lewd noises your sloppy cunt uttered as he pumped slowly into you—like sweet music. He grinned maliciously as he felt you clench around his finger. Despite your earlier protest—he knew you were enjoying this as much as him.

You bit down on your lip, stifling your moans as he curled his finger up to your sweet spot.

“Don’t hold back, peach…” He hums as he inserts another finger. “Let them hear how good it feels.”

Uraume’s breath hitches again, body tensing even more as they watch your every move from the sidelines. Sukuna’s gaze falls on your hand, gripping the silk sheets for support. His eyebrow quirks as another idea pops into his head.

“Hold her hand, Uraume.” He commands softly. Their eyes widen briefly before following his command. Uraume’s hand wraps gently around yours, intertwining fingers. Their breath is heavier now, cheeks flushed with color.

You finally make eye contact with Uraume, looking up at them through half-lidded eyes. You had never seen them like this, such hunger in their dark pink gaze. Looking upon you with pure lust. It made your cunt clench even more around your husband’s fingers.

Ryomen continues his assault on your sopping hole, pumping in and out relentlessly. Every time his curled digits brushed against your g-spot you feel the all too familiar pressure building in your lower abdomen.

“Ryo! m’close…” You whine softly looking down at him. He only grins in response glancing at his advisor.

“Don’t tell me.” He growls “Tell Uraume how you feel.”

Tears now pricked your eyes, the overwhelming sensation proving too much for you. You look up at Uraume through wet lashes.

“U-Uraume… I’m fuckkk gonna cum!” You whimper, they don’t respond—instead squeezing your hand tighter as they struggle to breathe.

Sukuna smirks as his wife and most trusted attendant share the intimate eye contact. His own cock twitching in excitement.

“Uraume…” he hums in mockery “She’s right on the edge, should we give her what she wants?”

Their eyes flit between you and Sukuna, feeling dizzy with pleasure. You looked so needy, so desperate for release. They couldn’t deny you any longer. They needed to see you come undone.

“P-please Uraume.” You choke out—hiccuping as fat tears rolled down your face. “Can’t take much more!”

Uraume lets out a shaky breath, their gaze never leaving yours.

“Y-yes! Please my lord!” Their voice almost matching your own desperation.

And with one more thrust of his thick fingers your body shakes. You cry out in pleasure. Writhing as Uraume’s nails dig into the flesh of your hand, holding your hand in a vice grip. A gasp escaping their lips.

Sukuna slowly removes his fingers from you, bringing them up to Uraume’s face teasingly before sucking them clean of your slick. A silent reminder that you would always be his.

Sukuna and Uraume fix their gaze on you, sprawled out on the sheets, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. He glances over at them, noticing how their lips were parted. How their eyes were glued to you. As if they dared to blink you would disappear.

“She’s beautiful… isn’t she Uraume?” He purrs, lightly tracing the curves of your body.

“Yes master… she is… perfect.”