#how can i inject a phone call into my veins

[starmocha]

Affinity 94 Phone Call — As You Wish

This entire phone call was so good, so I recorded the whole thing rather than try to pick a few moments.

Just...Sylus instinctively sensing something wrong from a social media post and calling to check in...and genuinely wanting to listen and comfort.

MC's feelings here are coinciding with how I've been feeling lately. I've been feeling like I'm heading into another depressive episode, so when I was listening to Sylus...I started crying IRL, because it felt like he was validating my own feelings instead of making me feel forced to bottle it up so others don't feel uncomfortable.

"I don't want to be my best self." — this hits so hard. I've been at this low point before, and it's such an isolating feeling when no one understands you and even villainize you for feelings beyond your control, so you just learn to keep things locked up and it festers horribly.

To hear Sylus say, "Give yourself a vacation" is...refreshing? It's almost like saying...you're allowed to rest. It's alright if you need to step back from everything. Find time for yourself.

"Rest if you're tired. Cry if you're sad." — the latter is what I needed to hear the most, because growing up with depression and anxiety, the number of times when I've had breakdowns, I was told to stop crying did more damage than good for my mental health. I love that he doesn't see crying as a weakness, a flaw, a hindrance, a discomfort for others, but rather, it's a necessity to help you heal.

Sylus basically saying, "Do what you need to do to make yourself feel better. I'll stay by your side." 🥺

Sylus being our ride or die ❤️‍🔥

"I'll run away with you." 🥺💞

He's not pressuring you to speak when you're not ready. He would rather you tell him yourself when you're comfortable instead of him prying.

Just...him validating your feelings, your frustration, your anger and sadness.

His voice is so soothing throughout, but especially in certain parts when he's comforting you. It felt like a warm embrace and a gentle kiss.

Group crying session - who's joining me 😭🫂❤️‍🩹

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— skeletons + sae itoshi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — sae doesn’t realise how much being away from home affects him, until he hears your voice again.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, angst, hurt no comfort, long-distance, established relationship, mentions of mental health, pro player!sae, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 2K.

⭑ notes — hi beautiful babies!! this is the first of a few fics i have queued for my week away. i wrote this a while ago and it’s based off of skeletons by keshi !! hope you like <3 - m.list ✩

in all honesty, sae itoshi doesn’t expect you to pick up. it’s way too late for you, just breaching the early house of the next morning in japan. there’s a seven hour difference between madrid and tokyo, sae knows because he’s looked it up a million times before anticipating a call or text from you. and right now, you’re probably sleeping, you’re supposed to have been sleeping.

but alas, your phone rings and you pick up on the third— voice groggy over the comforting crackle of static on the line. “h…hello?”  

for a moment, the older itoshi brother listens to you and your natural ambience. he notes your deep breathing, still recovering from the depths of sleep, and the slight whines you let out with your yawns as you stretch your stiff muscles. maybe it’s weird, but sae misses all of your sounds, he misses waking up next to them— curling his arm around your waist on nights you’d snuck over to his childhood home just to see him. 

“is anyone there?”

snapping out of it, sae clears his throat— fixing his voice as it sits hoarse in its base before he speaks. “it’s me, love.” 

“sae!” shifting from the sheets tells sae that you’re more awake now— alerted by the symphony of his voice over the shitty landline. “shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”

“could say the same for you, it’s four am over there.” he knows that he’s wrong, you’re seven hours ahead and it’s only ten pm for him — meaning it’ll be closer to five am where you are and sae itoshi is never wrong. he was born with impressive gut instinct and a quick mind but this time he’s wrong on purpose. he makes a mistake because he wants to stall for time, keep you talking a little longer and hear your voice for a few minutes more…because maybe that’ll keep the demons away.

keep his head floating above the water he seems to have fallen in. 

sae is drowning in his dreams, and if he reaches out he can’t touch them— to him, the greatest of all time…they’re unattainable.

“five actually, and my alarm is meant to go off soon. i thought you were it and then i saw your contact…” you manage to say through a yawn, rubbing your eye’s unbeknownst to your boyfriend since he’s halfway across the globe. if he could see, if he was there—he’d probably call you cute, wipe your eyes for you and force you back down to sleep. but he’s not here and he can’t see because there’s a distance between you that can only be fixed by grainy face times on your cells.

“i wanted to call.” the midfielder clarifies, cutting you off sharply but his words coat the inside of his mouth like cotton, as if they’re hard to say — melting over the line like rice paper on his tongue. 

“okay,” breathing slow, you hug your knees to your chest and let your silence tangle with the crackling static. “you don’t usually call first.” 

“i needed to hear your voice.” 

“i’m here. i miss you. do you want to switch to facetime?” sae has half a mind to tell you no. if you switch now, you’d worry— you’d see how hollow he’s become, how sleep deprivation eats at the pink tinge to his flesh and clings to the undersides of his dulling aquamarine eyes. you might think that he’s dying and perhaps he is. the pro player feels like he is. every day is harder, his bones feel heavier and his muscles weaker — he needs medicine. he needs you. 

you’re the only drug sae would ever inject into his veins— your smile, your laugh, your heart. they make him better, make him feel alive. so he relents, “gimme a sec, i’ll call you.” he grunts and taps the button to video-call, waiting for you to pick up again.

“there you are, handsome. tell me about your day.” blue light from the early  morning filters over your skin— the footage of the FaceTime call is grainy, probably because it’s still a little bit dark outside for you but you’re beautiful. to sae you’ve always been beautiful. 

the elder itoshi brother makes a small effort to smile at your compliment, the expression blooming on his cheeks which you mirror, happy to see him — he misses you too. “i don’t wanna talk about it. you do the talking. i just want to listen to you.” 

“alright well… i worked today— yesterday. sorry! timezones,” you miss the way sae winces at the mention of your time difference, the invisible divide between you both, as you settle back into your bed to admire him. “my shift sort of sucked, you know how it goes.” your boyfriend listens to you intently, makes faces at the complaints you make about customers, clients and coworkers alike. 

sometimes, the midfielder doesn’t understand you how you devote your life’s work, your beauty and intelligence to an industry that chews you up, spits you out like dirt and drives you to the edge of falling to pieces. sae doesn’t doubt you, he knows that you’re talented and wishes you saw the same value in yourself that he did. 

you deserve better. so much better.

perhaps he’s the same as you, working for someone else until he breaks and he’s better than everyone else— all in the name of becoming the best in the world.

“you hate your job. quit. i earn enough money to take care of you.” 

“and you hate yours. but you won’t come home where i can take care of you.” 

sae rolls his eyes at your quip because of how easy it is for you to read him despite the way he hides his emotions behind a clay mask. he’s always been like that, but he feels the need to tuck away the uglier parts from him even more of late— even if you’ve seen it all before. the late nights where he’s feeling sad and goes to bed, sae wakes up feeling even worse. especially without you but even now with your face on a screen, beaming at him the same way you have all your life— he doesn’t feel any better.

you’re meant to be his solace. 

quickly changing the subject, sae nods his head as if to push you in a different conversational direction. “tell me about what you did after work.” 

you hesitate, peering into his ocean eyes for a split second. “i went to see rin at blue lock. he’s…he’s doing really well, you know. you should come see him sometime. you’d be proud of how far he’s come since we were little.” 

it’s not that he doesn’t care about his younger brother, but the relationship between rin and sae itoshi is probably long past any attempts at repair. you’ve been stuck in the middle for as long as you’ve known them— pulling them close despite the boys repelling each other like polar magnets. 

you were the glue when they were kids, keeping the three of you together and to this day you still tried to manage the gap between the two brothers, despite their disputes. their differences.“can we please not talk about that half-ass piece of—“ you glare over the phone from across the globe and sae silences himself, pursing his lips to avoid scrutiny from the love of his life. you.

“you know, you never told me what happened when you first came home from Spain.” you blurt after a moment's quiet. “but i think i’ve always sorta known.”

“yeah?” the magenta haired midfielder challenges, brushing a hand over his tired face.

“yeah…” nodding subtly, you shift and roll onto your side— a solemn expression dancing across your features. “you changed. you hurt him, sae, real bad. rin changed too.” you say hoarsely, as if the words you’ve uttered burn at the insides of your throat like bitter liquor. “you’ve not shown that same fate to me, you know better than to lash out at me. but you’re different. you don’t smile anymore. not with your eyes like you used to — i miss that.” i miss you. is what you really want to say. not just physically, but emotionally. you want your boyfriend back, not the empty shell of skin and bones you have now.  

even sae picks up on the hidden meaning behind your words— he doesn’t smile at you like he used to.

for once the eldest itoshi decides to be honest with you. he thinks to tell you how stressed out he is, how he’s scared his plan for this soccer thing might not even work out. he decides to be honest  in words that he knows best and not all the details because he doesn’t want you to break over him. 

“talk to me, itoshi.” you cut through his thoughts like a knife through butter.

“i’m afraid of myself, and i hate it.” 

“then come home, sae.” it’s a nice offer, a tempting bribe. to be home with you when sae knows that would be the closest thing to giving up. he knew you wouldn’t get it. you wouldn’t understand how much soccer meant to him but you can’t be blamed for that. the thing you love most in the world isn’t your career— it’s him. “come home and be with me.” 

your wish would be as selfish as his — you don’t want him to give up soccer for you and he doesn’t want to leave soccer to feel better with you like he knows he would. 

“i need to make it to the end of the season — i have to.” 

“sae, you’re tired. you look like a ghost.” 

“i don’t even know if i’m going to make it.” he snaps, desperate and pleading with you not to make this more difficult than it already is. “but if i don’t try. then all of this will be for nothing. my goals have changed, but i worked hard for this and i will get what i want.” he spits out as if there’s acid on his tongue, burning through the little solace of love you’ve tried to wrap him up in. sae runs a hand through his silken locks, sighing as he briefly looks away from your crumpled face on the screen. “so stop asking me to come home for you because i won’t. it’s not worth it. you’re not worth it.”

you gasp, tears flooding your eyes. you know he doesn’t mean it, or maybe he does — it’s been difficult to read sae recently, he’s slipping from your grasp like sand between your fingers and you just have to let him. another beat of silence echoes between you both — but neither of you make the effort to speak. sae doesn’t correct himself and you don’t force your hand to make him apologise.

you care enough for him not to make him fight— to make sae choose his own battles. you’d never ask him to pick soccer over you, because you know what his answer would be regardless… but that doesn’t mean it hurts you any less to watch him destroy himself for it and to lose the boy you grew up loving to a sport you may never understand.

though, that doesn’t stop you from lashing out and bearing  your own fangs either — if he was going to throw salt in your wounds, you could do that too.

“i have to go, itoshi. get some rest, you look like shit, but you that’s what you want, right? it’s worth it to you.”  

you hang up before he can say a word and sae can’t bring himself to message and apologise. because he knows that you’re right, you’re telling him to pick soccer because he can’t make that choice for himself. 

sae itoshi is a pro player now. he’s gotten what he’s always wanted — he’s achieving his dreams as the corpse of the man he once was. the one who loved you proper.

but that doesn’t matter anymore, whatever his team wants out of him they get. 

since his skeleton’s out for the taking. 

[shitsndgiggs]

Could you write something about kenan and reader where they are in the relationship and she had to go on a date with him but she didn't show up and he was kinda furious. She didn't answer his calls or his massages so he went to her apartment and as he walked into the apartment he saw her laying down on the couch with pale face with IV inserted in her hand because from time to time she has really bad periods and she has some medical experience so that is the reason she knows how to insert an IV or give injection... and he freaks out because of seeing her in that way and gets worried .... can you make it angst at the beginning and fluff at the end....and long fic

Pleaseee

A/N: I just realized that I wrote this in third person

UNSEEN STRUGGLES - KENAN YILDIZ

In which you don’t show up at your and Kenans date

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Kenan paced back and forth in front of the restaurant, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. The cool evening breeze did little to calm the storm brewing inside him.

He had called her multiple times, sent numerous messages, but there was no response. His worry was quickly turning into anger. Where could she be?

Kenan glanced at his watch for the hundredth time. Their reservation was an hour ago, and the hostess had given him sympathetic looks as the minutes ticked by.

The bustling crowd around him, couples enjoying their evening, only added to his frustration. He couldn't understand why she would stand him up without a word.

When another half-hour passed with no sign of her, Kenan finally decided to leave. The drive to her apartment was filled with a mixture of anger, worry, and confusion.

He tried calling again, but it went straight to voicemail. What if something had happened to her? What if she was in trouble?

As he reached her apartment, he hurriedly parked and rushed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

He fumbled with his keys, his heart pounding. When he finally managed to unlock the door, he burst inside, calling her name.

"Y/N! Where are you?"

Silence greeted him. Panic surged through his veins as he made his way through the apartment. His steps faltered when he reached the living room.

There she was, lying on the couch, pale and weak. An IV was inserted into her hand, and she looked fragile, almost lifeless.

Kenan's heart dropped. He rushed to her side, his anger evaporating instantly, replaced by sheer terror.

"Y/N, what happened? Are you okay?" His voice was shaky as he knelt beside her, gently touching her face.

She opened her eyes slowly, offering him a weak smile. "Kenan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

Kenan's eyes filled with tears as he saw the pain in her expression. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"I... I didn't want to ruin our evening," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It's just my period. Sometimes it's really bad, and I get so weak. I had to put in an IV to help."

Kenan shook his head, his emotions overwhelming him. "You should have called me. I would have come right away. I was so worried, Y/N. I thought something terrible had happened."

"I'm sorry," she repeated, her eyes filling with tears. "I didn't want you to see me like this."

Kenan gently cupped her face, wiping away her tears with his thumb. "Don't you understand? I want to be here for you, no matter what. I love you, Y/N. Seeing you in pain like this hurts me more than you know."

She closed her eyes, more tears slipping down her cheeks. "I didn't want to be a burden."

Kenan shook his head, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "You're never a burden. You're my everything. And nothing matters more to me than your well-being."

He carefully lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he carried her to the bedroom.

He gently placed her on the bed, making sure she was comfortable. He then sat beside her, holding her hand.

"Tell me what you need," he said softly. "I'll take care of everything."

"Just stay with me," she whispered, squeezing his hand weakly.

Kenan nodded, his heart breaking at her vulnerability. He lay down beside her, wrapping his arms around her protectively. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised. "We'll get through this together."

For the next few hours, Kenan stayed by her side, keeping her company and making sure she had everything she needed.

He brought her water, adjusted her pillows, and even managed to make her laugh with his silly jokes. As the night went on, her color started to return, and she looked a little stronger.

"Thank you, Kenan," she said softly, looking up at him with gratitude in her eyes.

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "There's no need to thank me. I'm just glad you're feeling better."

As she drifted off to sleep in his arms, Kenan watched her with a mix of relief and determination.

He would do everything in his power to make sure she never felt alone or burdensome again. She was his world, and he would protect her with everything he had.

[httpseungmxn]

Funtime No-time

Protector!Quackity X Security Guard!Female Reader

🍧 - angst/horror

Authors Note: Hello my lovely Angels, I’m sure you’re all surprised to hear from me after being gone almost a month, hm? I went away on quite a bit of a hiatus due to my sister passing away the day before Halloween. I didn’t abandon you all, and I most definitely didn’t forget about this fnaf fic I promised you all! This isn’t a romantic fic at all, it will hold angst and horror, with hope near the end! Q’s face will not be revealed to reader at all, he is said to be faceless for reasons! I hope you guys can enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!<3

Warnings: Pure horror within bits, mentions of the hanging guards in the Sister Location game! Angst, reader comes to find out what happened to q while he was a guard there! And I think thats it!

Triggers: Blood, mentions of hanging, reader ends up with cuts and scratches from escaping Ennard, and a third degree burn from someone on her hand at the end!

Your first day as a Security Guard at the sister location had gone shaky. Your second day was a little easier. By your third day you had learned your tasks, but things were getting strange. Your fourth day wasn’t easy like the previous day, it was stressful and had you rethinking your life decisions.

When you walked into the location on your fifth day, you could already feel something off. All the lights were on, which wasn’t a normal thing, and there were tools all over the vents. Listening into the handy helper voice, you heard them mention that two other men had been here doing repairs.

You wondered where they were now and why they left all these tools around. Surely they knew they’d get in trouble for leaving things behind….right?

Fear felt like a hot injection shooting through your veins as you checked the lights on the right side where funtime foxy usually resided.

Instead was the hanging shadow of a man, he wasn’t moving, and only then did you realize why the tools were left behind. You tried to dial up the owner of the location while checking the left side, and let out a startled gasp when you saw another hanging shadow.

They hadn’t just carelessly left their things there for you to pick up. They had been hunted and murdered. You didn’t know what to do. Your hands were shaking so bad that you were sure you’d lose grasp of the ringing phone in them. When the owner didn’t pick up on the fifth ring you decided to leave him a very panicked voicemail before calling 911.

Once 911 got here, they could power down the animatronics, check the cameras, and retrieve the two bodies. She wouldn’t be dragged into some sudden investigation.

Thoughts and plans running through her head as she turned to leave through the vent only to realize it had been shut. It must’ve been an emergency response, but how would the location have known there was an emergency.

You jumped almost ten feet in the air when a static, hoarse voice rang loudly through the intercom that your handy helper usually spoke through, “ Move quickly. Ballora gallery. “,

You did as the voice said slowly, cautious about listening to people but the voice sounded human enough for her to follow it. Ballora was nowhere in sight as you walked quietly through the gallery.

Something watched you silently from the shadows though. Ballora wasn’t there but the mess of wires was. Waiting to make its move.

When it saw you pull open a door, it was quick to stand in front of you, slamming the door shut and reaching for your body when wire fingers. Enjoying the loud cry of fear you let out as you quickly backed away.

Pain was the last thing you felt as you ran in the opposite direction, your arm was bleeding, you could feel the dribble of blood as you ran. You had seen photos of the animatronic named ennard, but assumed it had been trashed before you were hired in due to never actually seeing it.

Oh how wrong you were though. You could hear it following close behind but on the ceiling, crawling after you fast.

You wished this was just a bad dream that you could wake up from. Looking around for another exit in the darkness of the room. You couldn’t slow down and you couldn’t look behind you. It was right there, if you stopped it would snatch you up in a matter of mere seconds. “ go right. Fast. dont even think twice. “, there was that damn voice again.

You wondered if someone else were in there with you, maybe they were watching you on the cams and leading you to them so you could escape together.

Your questions were answered as you set sight on a door with the word “exit” above it in bright red lettering. Quickly pulling open the door, the thing was quick to grab onto your shirt from behind.

Pulling away from it with all your might, but not being able to do much due to the wired monsters strength. Watching a glowing blue human shamed hand come out of the brightness of the doorway in front of you.

You grabbed ahold of the hand without a second thought, feeling a strong burning sensation as you’re pulled through the doorway. The door is slammed shut behind you. Looking forward to see who the hand belonged to, but not actually seeing anyone.

You knew they were still there, just hidden by the bright lights that felt like they were burning away your sight. Suddenly finding your voice and calling out shakily to the person,

“ who are you..? Where are you? “. The person didn’t immediately answer your questions, and even when it did, it only answered one.

“ Alexis. “, you could hear movement and a door to the left opening to reveal the outside world where you could hear sirens coming near. A door on your right opened and closed.

Only now did you realize that the man who had been talking to you had gone back into the building. You wondered why but didn’t think twice on escaping out the doors. Looking back suddenly when a sudden heat singed your clothes, staring at the fire with wide eyes.

The cops pulled into the parking lot of the now burning location and rushed to you to ask what had happened. Your only reply was, “ he helped me escape. “. They assumed you were attacked by someone who broke in based on the cuts you had and that you got the burns from pushing open a burning door.

You were driven home in a cop car after the paramedics fixed you up. The cops told you to take a bath and get some rest after the long day you had, but that wasn’t at all what you did. You needed to find him. You needed to find the man…the thing that helped you escape.

It took you hours to find his identity. An article catching your eye that had a sub-title of, “New guard found dead in Fazbear Sister Location”. You assumed maybe this was a guard who had previously worked there and maybe died, thinking this could help you find your helper.

Thats when you saw it. A name at the start of the first paragraph of the article had your eyes widening and your hands shaking. The article wasn’t about just any guard who had died there before you. No it was a name that shook you to your absolute core. The name of the man who had saved your life. The name of the thing that had helped you escaped.

There was the name Alexis in big, bold, print. Your savior.

Authors ending note; wow o wow, that was definitely something! I actually loved writing this, and it ended up being much longer than I planned, but I don’t mind! Maybe one day I’ll write a part two of this and you guys can find out more about what happened to Q! Next on my list for writing is part one of my l0ser=l♡ ver txt mini series which will consist of five parts, one for each member and based around their parts in the mv! After the first one I will probably continue with our streamer series and then part two of the txt series, and so on! Until next time, My Angels 🫶

[lucajayms]

fuckin' liar vol 3

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gerard way x reader she/her used use of y/n

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part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4

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masterlist

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warnings: descriptive drug use, angst, needles

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I don't even remember how I got this room, but it's mine for the time being.

This is probably my deathbed. I'm okay with that. Gerard hates me, so do the fans. Finding a drummer is super easy. It's almost as easy as this needle plunging into my knee as I let the high take over me once more at full force. Oh we are so back.

What is that noise? I sit up groggily as I navigate the objects on the bed. Nope, that's my bag. Fuck, what is making that noise?

Oh, of course it's the cellphone. I bring it to my face as I try to read the number that's calling but it's no use. The guys have such similar numbers I wouldn't even be able to tell who it was if my gut didn't tell me. It's obviously Gerard, who else? Now the question is do I ignore it or not?

God, I don't want to talk to him. After what he said? Nope.

As I lay back on the bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling, tears continued to slip down my cheeks. Even through the haze of the drugs, the pain is still there, lurking in the background. I've fucked up big time and there was no taking what I did back. No going back to the first time I tried heroin, no going back to stop myself from getting that first hit. It sucks, I'm going to lose everything I've pushed myself to work hard for.

If I survive this, it's the trust that's gonna be the hardest part.

The phone rings again, and again, and again. It's like it's in my fucking brain. I sigh, swinging my legs off of the bed to see if a shower will calm down my overstimulation. But as soon as the water hits my knee, I double over in pain.

"Fuck!" I scream through my teeth. The area I've been injecting has become infected, but how? I've always cleaned my needles to be sure this didn't happen. But facts don't lie, that shit's infected. But it's okay, I just have to keep it clean and the infection will go away. I'll just switch to the other knee.

Once I'm somewhat clean from the shitty motel shampoo and body wash I step out and wrap myself in a towel, careful not to let the towel swipe the side of my knee. I walk cautiously back to the bed, and the damn phone is still ringing. Could I? Should I?

Fuck.

Grabbing the phone, I flip it open and put the receiver to my ear. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Oh my God, (Y/N). Where the fuck did you go?" Gerard's voice rang from the other line. Of course it was him.

"None of your fucking business," I snap back.

He stayed silent for a second, and I contemplated hanging up, but he spoke up once more. "Fuck, baby. I thought I lost you. Please, where did you go?"

"Away," I say, bluntly. "Don't think I'm coming back. I quit the band."

"You can't fucking quit! YOU started this shit, remember?"

"That was a different me, Gerard," I say, sighing as I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'm done." I say before hanging up. Within two seconds, it rings again. Nope.

I stare at it as it rings over and over again. He doesn't care, all he wants is to say he helped someone overcome their demons. He doesn't know how good this is for me. By the fifth time it rings, I can't take it anymore, and in a second of anger, I throw the phone at the wall. Nothing happens to it, the ringing continues, but all I can do is fall backward onto the bed and cry. Cry until all I saw was black.

I stay locked in this small, suffocating space, surrounded by nothing but my thoughts, my drugs, and my tears. The world outside feels like it doesn’t exist, and I don’t want to face it. I can’t bear to confront the mess I’ve made of my life. I spend hours on the bed, staring at the walls, lost in my thoughts while the heroin courses through my veins, dulling the ache just enough to keep me going.

But when the high wears off, that emptiness crashes back in, unbearable and suffocating. It’s a cycle I can’t escape, the drugs promising relief but leaving me more hollow than before. I find myself wondering how I let it get this far, trapped in a cycle that feels impossible to break. Each moment stretches into eternity, and the silence of this room becomes a prison, amplifying the chaos in my mind.

Every time I think about Gerard—the hurt in his eyes, the moment he found me shooting up—it feels like a knife to my chest. I want to call him, to tell him I’m sorry, to ask him to come find me, but I can’t. Shame wraps around me like a suffocating blanket, and I’m too lost to reach out. I replay our fight in my mind, the instant he caught me, his words echoing: he couldn’t be around me if I kept using.

I hate myself for pushing him away, for driving him to that point. But at the same time, I don’t know how to stop. I don’t want to stop. The drugs are my escape, my only way to cope with the overwhelming fear and pain that have become my constant companions. Without them, I’m left with nothing but the rawness of my emotions, the crushing weight of reality pressing down on me. I feel trapped, oscillating between the desperate need for his support and the fear of dragging him down with me. It’s a tormenting cycle, and I’m not sure how much longer I can endure it.

By the fifth day in here, I'm out. I have no choice but to sit an deal with the withdrawal. I’ve been rationing my supply, but the days have blurred together, and now I’m left with nothing but the crushing weight of withdrawal creeping in. My body aches, my head throbs, and the nausea is unbearable. I curl up on the bed, trying to ride out the sickness, but it feels like I’m being ripped apart from the inside out.

By the sixth day, the withdrawal symptoms have become too much. I’m shaking, sweating, my mind racing with anxiety and paranoia. I’m a mess, both physically and mentally, trapped in this motel room that has become my prison. I know I need more heroin, but I don’t have the energy to leave the room. I can’t risk running into someone I know.

As I lie curled up on the bed, my body trembling with the chills of withdrawal, I break down. I want to stop. I want to get better. But I don’t know how. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to face the pain without the drugs. Gerard’s voice echoes in my mind, the way he pleaded with me to stop, how he said he couldn’t be around me anymore.

By the seventh day, I’m exhausted—emotionally, mentally, physically. I can’t keep going like this. My body is begging for another hit, but my heart is screaming for help. I need to get out of this motel, out of this dark, suffocating space that has become both my escape and my prison. The fight inside me feels insurmountable, and yet, a small part of me yearns for the strength to break free.

Gerard. My mind keeps going back to him. He doesn't care though, I'm just a junkie to him. A stupid addict who has to depend on fucking heroin to even play a show or function normal, but is this really normal. My eyes go to the phone on the floor from when I threw it a few days ago. Had he left voicemails? Or was he just continuing to call me over and over again.

My thumb flew into my mouth, chewing at the skin already gone in hopes that that would soothe the buzz that wasn't there. There's got to be voicemails on there that he left me. What did he say? Were they bad?

Curiosity got the better of me, and maybe it was time to leave this shit hole.

With trembling hands, I finally pick up my phone, scrolling through the missed calls and messages. There’s one from Gerard, left just an hour ago. His voice comes through, hoarse and broken.

“(Y/N), please, just let me know you’re okay. I don’t care where you are; I just… I just need to know you’re safe. Please.”

Tears well in my eyes as I listen to his message. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear his voice, how much I miss him. The fear wraps around me—fear of what will happen if I keep going down this path, fear of what will happen if I stop. But more than anything, I’m terrified of losing Gerard forever.

For the first time in days, hope burns in my chest. Seriously? I don’t know if I’m ready to stop, but I know I can’t keep running. Not from Gerard, not from myself.

With shaking hands, I dial his number, holding my breath as the phone rings, my heart racing with each passing second, waiting for him to pick up.

But he doesn't.

The cold reality of what I’ve become crashes down on me in waves. Gerard leaves me voicemail after voicemail, his voice growing more desperate each time. But by the time I finally call him, his patience has run dry. He doesn’t pick up. He doesn’t text back. I’m left in a void of silence that terrifies me while also offering a strange comfort. He’s pissed—he’s not going to keep playing this game with me.

My return to LA is quieter than I expect. No frantic calls from my bandmates, no texts from my family. It feels like everyone has given up on me, like they’ve let go and left me to drown in my own mess. In a twisted way, I find peace in that. I find my dealer quickly enough, and the familiar routine resumes. My addiction takes over every part of my life—my time, my thoughts, my body. The numbness becomes my normal, the one constant I can rely on.

And that's the scary part.

[fantasyandshit]

The true monsters

Type:Oneshot

Pairing: Dean and Sam Winchester x sister reader

Summary: The winchesters have hunted monsters practically their whole lives but when the youngest is taken, they find out who the true monsters are.

(I know I suck at summaries)

*****I usually don’t include warnings mainly because I forget but this is graphic guys so please be careful and don’t read if uncomfortable, this includes themes of violence, force feeding, kidnapping, torture, etc.*****

“I’m going for food.” I catch the keys Dean throws at me- my motorcycle of course. I’d never get to drive baby, especially not alone.

Sighing I leave the motel room and head to the 24/7 diner down the road, it’s late, about 1:30 am so no one’s really out except the people at the bar next door as I walk into the brightly lit Diner. “And what’s a beautiful lady like you doing out here alone?” I turn to see a very clearly drunk old man. I choose to ignore him as I turn back to the counter and wait for my food.

Finally after sitting awkwardly with the man staring from across the room I get the food and leave, failing to notice the man that steps from the shadows of the alley behind me. As I pull my phone from my pocket to text my brothers a cloth is shoved over my mouth and nose and after struggling for a moment, all goes black.

———

*Deans Pov*

“Did Yn send you a weird text too?”

“Uhh no? What does it say?” Sam leans over my shoulder as I show him the text from our sister.

Rug rat 🐀

He- foo-

“Yeah that is weird, maybe it’s just a glitch in her phone or something? I’m sure everything’s fine.”

I hesitate a moment, “Yeah, yeah you’re right.” Somehow even as I say it, I can’t shake the unease that settles in my gut.

———

*Yns pov*

I wake up in a dark, musty room, I’m laying on a table with my arms, legs, chest, hips, and head held down by thick leather straps and a cloth gag sits in my mouth. My eyes move frantically as the fog slowly leaves my head. “Good, you’re awake.” A figure from the corner moves forward before I feel a cool touch run down my torso, that’s when I notice I’m completely bare. My eyes frantically search the man’s face, recognizing the drunk from earlier. “Don’t panic darling, everything is gonna be just fine.”

A muffled scream leaves my lips as his fist connects with my kidney twice before he steps away. As the man leaves I take in the room, in the far wall there looks to be a table, bottles and needs lined across it varying in size and color, I try and fail to struggle in my restraints as the cold metal of the table bites into my skin. “Now now love, no need to struggle.” Another man steps into the room, followed by the drunk from earlier. “I should explain, see me and my boy here we needed a new test subject, and when we saw a pretty lady like you all by herself, well we just couldn’t resist.”

I try to process what he means but my brain is still slow, that’s when I feel it- a prick in my neck before fire burns through my veins, spreading rapidly. I thrash and writhe, muffled screams and sobs leave my lips as tears and drool cover the gag, slipping down my chin.

———

*Deans Pov*

“Ok, something definitely isn’t right, it’s been two hours and Yn isn’t home.”

“You’re right. We’ll go to the authorities later, this doesn’t seem like an us case. We can drive around and look for her though.” Sam seems too calm in this situation, although that’s always how he’s been while me and Yn were always hot headed.

Me and Sam decide to drive over to the diner, “Sammy.” My voice is weak as I call my brother over.

“Oh god.” A shaky breathe leaves him as we see our sisters motorcycle on the side of the road, her keys, wallet, and phone on the pavement beside it.

———

*Yns pov*

I don’t know how long has passed at this point, three hours, three days, I don’t know anymore. My body is numb from all the injections of who knows what and the beatings I’ve taken, there’s currently a tube down my throat held in place by a block to keep my mouth open as food is forced into my stomach because I wouldn’t eat, an IV runs more drugs into my bloody, bruised body. Everything hurts as I lay on the metal table, rats squeaking in the corner.

“We found her!” The door is busted open and people rush to me, “hey, hey we’ve got you.” It’s a man, he has a vest with the letters FBI on him, a hun in his belt as he gets me from the restraints. “This may hurt a bit ok?” He grabs the tube currently in my throat and pulls, causing a spluttering choke to leave my forcefully parted lips before the block is removed after the tube. next to go is the IV before I’m carefully picked up and rushed outside into an ambulance. That’s when it all goes black.

———

My eyes blink open as i feel rough sheets beneath me, panic surges through me as i feel something in my mouth and needles in my skin. I start ripping at whatever my weak body can, not understanding where I am. “Hey, hey. Yn you’re ok, you’re ok. You’re safe, you’re in a hospital and you’re safe. The tube is to help you breathe, the IVs are helping keep you stable. I need you to calm down for me.”

A strangled cry leaves me as I take in my oldest brother, care and concern in his eyes as he looks at me. Nurses and doctors flood the room and shortly after the tube down my throat is replaced by something in my nose. “Dean?” My voice is horse from lack of use.

“Yeah baby, yeah it’s me. I’m here. Sammy uh- Sammy went to go get some food and coffee, he should be back soon.”

“How long?”

“Look kid I-“

“How. Long?”

A heavy sigh escaped his lips, “two weeks, you were out while here for another week after that. God I’ve been worried sick kid, that doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Surprise hits me, two weeks, those freaks had me for two weeks. I squeeze the hand that holds mine as I look to Dean with teary eyes. “You’ll make it through this. You’re strong. I’ll be here every step of the way. I love you sis.”

“I love you to De.” With that I nod off into a peaceful sleep, my brothers hand being used as a pillow.

—————

I know it kind of sucks but here you go. I hope you enjoyed!

[hana-bobo-finch]

OKAY OKAY PUMPKIN DADDY ANSWER TIME!!! I LOVE UNSUBTLY DEMANDING PEOPLE ASK ME QUESTIONS ABOUT STUFF SO I HAVE AN EXCUSE TO YAP 🥰🥰🥰

HP’S QUESTION: Does Finch have any favorite foods? Or is there one food in particular that will send him flying into a blind rage? Or how do you push his buttons in general? I want any kind of goofy silly trivia that you have about the gourd father--

UH. YES!!! DEFINITELY. favorite is underselling it, it is an unhealthy obsession. He would kill someone with no hesitation over key limes. Key lime anything. Key lime pie especially but if he could inject key lime juice into his veins he would. Got to the point he had to have an intervention because spoiler alert, you can Not live off of key limes. The intervention was done via a mario maker level lmao luckily for yall I recreated it so you can see the wonders of a Mario maker key lime intervention:

I suppose this doubles as a voice reveal? A voice reveal through a crusty wii u microphone?

Foods that send him into a blind rage though, I’m not sure. There probably is something that I’m forgetting lmao but off the top of my head I dunno. Maybe turkey or something??? Just because he’s allergic to it and he’d probably be extremely pissed off if someone gave it to him.

Pushing his buttons though, uhhh there’s a LOTTA ways to do that. Too many to name here. He is kinda a ticking time bomb of pent up frustration but off the top of my head

• saying something unpredictable. If he doesn’t know how to respond to something it’s YOUR fault for saying something unprecedented, not his fault.

• being pessimistic!!! Your cup isn’t half empty it’s half full!!! How dare you imply otherwise!!

• being startled. It will probably end up with someone getting hurt

• APHIDS. no explanation it’s funnier without

• dinkies. dinkies are little magical creatures. He hates them.

• chiropractors

MOVING ON THOUGH because I cannot list off those things forever. Goofy silly trivia. hmmmmm goofy silly trivia. ok

• he tampers with cheddar cheese??? idk that is the most recent addition to the pumpkin daddy cinematic universe. made it up with my friend on a whim while showing off my awesome and totally impressive ability to say anything about him and have it be canon but sure, he tampers with cheese

• he has a plastic fork he once stole from a restaurant and he loves it dearly (he just in general gets way too attached to inanimate objects, someone get this guy some friends)

• in his son’s phone, he is listed as ‘this guy again?’ paired with a very unflattering picture of him

• he has a slug named after himself. The slug wears a big red boot.

• he casually has world breaking items in his pocket. like he can just pull out a black hole from his pocket. Idk how but he can. Don’t ask questions just go with it

• he is like. incredibly emotional. he once got called a mean name on live tv and was so upset he stayed in bed for a week

• a skeleton once threw chemicals in his eye (based on the time I accidentally splashed chemicals in my eye while trying to develop a photo of a skeleton. good times (this was like 3 months ago))

• HE LIKES KEYS!!!

• he breaks printers a lot. Do not let him around them, he will manage to break it and skillfully put it back together long enough so it looks like the next person to use it was the one who broke it

• he has a band??? Did I ever mention that???shit I don’t think I did, he has a band! Not the best band, but he’s made sure there’s no competition. He’s basically an industry plant because he IS the industry. it’s called the exploding pumpkins and it sucks (no relation to the smashing pumpkins. I was so fucking pissed when I learned there’s an actual band with a Very similar name but out of spite I’m not changing it. exploding pumpkins ftw). they have such great songs like one about a depression and leprechauns, one about the horrifying ordeal of accidentally leaving the stove on when you’re out and trying to keep a positive mindset as you rush home to turn it off, and my personal favorite, one about relationship problems that eventually just turns into incoherent screaming (that ones legit kinda catchy and I fucking hate it, I’ll catch myself humming it and I’ll be like girl do you seriously have a song that is in-universe meant to be bad stuck in your head). I of course wrote all of them and most don’t have a coherent melody because I’m not a musician but tbh it’s fun writing songs that are purposefully bad. Like sure go off king, we can have lyrics like “I left my house I kissed my mouse and away I drove, but then I remembered I forgot to turn off my stove.” Anyway I absolutely love that aspect of pdbc I can’t believe I’ve never mentioned it before (I forgot to list the hot wife song, that one’s fucking hilarious I love that one. I don’t even remember how it goes but I have it written down Somewhere)

• he likes to dress up as a reindeer and venture out into the woods to be one with nature…..it has resulted in him almost getting shot numerous times

• he’s a holly jolly kinda guy!!! Uh!!! The second the first snowflake falls he decorates for Christmas, someone stop him.

• speaking of which I guess Santa is real in this universe because he once accidentally sent a bunch of really personal letters to Santa??? yikes they were supposed to go to his friends so he could properly express his emotions but someone sent em to the North Pole as a prank. Santa must’ve been very confused that year

• he really likes wearing eyeliner for some reason

• one time part of his chest flew away. what. I don’t know either it was some weird-ass glitch in procreate that happened this one time, I inserted an image of him to edit it for a shitpost and even after I deleted him part of his chest just Remained in my layers but it didn’t show up when I tried to do anything with it. idk either man but I made it canon because I thought it was funny. He has a ghostly part of his chest floating around

• he made little gopher versions of himself (gopher in the sense that they can burrow but they’re essentially just mini-hims) and. oh boy. he regrets making them. Nobody likes them, they weird everyone out, even himself. they glide around really weirdly and don’t have legs and they just freak everyone out and have this weird habit of calling people handsome and nobody likes them so he put them to work in the mines

• OH NOOOOO WAIT THE MINES. HOW DID I FORGET THAT IN MY BIOGRAPHY!!! HE YEARNS FOR THE MINES. HE ONCE WORKED IN AN EXTREMELY DANGEROUS MINE TO GET SOME EXTRA CASH. I CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT THAT I’M ACTUALLY SO EMBARRASSED BECAUSE THATS BEEN AROUND FOR A WHILE. YEAH HE WORKED IN THE MINES. YIKES. THAT’S ACTUALLY REALLY IMPORTANT LORE BECAUSE IT ESTABLISHED A CHARACTER WHO ENDED UP BEING REALLY IMPORTANT LATER ON OH NOOOO I CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT THAT

I could go on but I’ll cut myself short so I don’t talk too much (it’s too late I already have)

MOVING ON!!! ALASKA’S QUESTION: Why is he called pumpkin daddy if he doesn’t have any kids

THIS IS. ACTUALLY A GOOD QUESTION. he did of course have a kid later in life (and hundreds more if you count the hybrids which. I don’t.) BUT. HE WAS STILL CALLED PUMPKIN DADDY BEFORE ALL THAT. the reason for this doesn’t have an in-universe explanation other than “he was nicknamed that and no matter how much he tried he couldn’t get people to stop calling him that” BUT it has an actual real world explanation. If ya harken back to the origin of all this pumpkin daddy nonsense, it all stemmed from a single out of context page from an old fan comic I stumbled across. IN THIS PAGE his child* (*not worth getting into the actual context there, this is about PDBC not roots) called him daddy and that was the only context I had to anything. I in fact didn’t begin calling him pumpkin daddy immediately, it’s just that in my notes I simply wrote “weird pumpkin daddy??” And after a while the name pumpkin daddy just kinda stuck I guess. So, short answer, because I called him that and I could never shake the nickname so it stuck after all this time

AND FINALLY PUPPET LIMBO’S QUESTION: With Finch being obsessed with time, do the pocket dimensions and Briar Zome and such fascinate him or drive him crazy due to different time mechanics? :0

EXCELLENT QUESTION it’s probably a bit of both. I feel like I wrote somewhere that he was eventually able to figure out how time in the briar zome works but I don’t remember where I wrote it and it’s approaching midnight and I’m not gonna dig through all those notes to find it lol. But it’s probably more so fascination I’d say, when it comes to the pocket dimensions I think the briar zome is the only one that has any substantial time differences. I guess I’ve never thought about it, and it could be interesting to implement different time rules in the alcoves and such, so I very well may just steal that idea. But for what I have in the plot currently, there aren’t any mentioned time differences in the alcoves. But the briar zome, yeah, time is wack there. I doubt being unable to figure out how time works there would frustrate him, at least not that much, but being there for long periods of time pisses him off because there’s that underlying thought that time could very well be passing like normal in the real world and he’d just be gone for who knows how long

ANYWAY YEAH THX FOR THE QUESTIONS THAT I DEFINITELY DIDNT DEMAND YOU ASK 🦅🦅🦅🔥🔥🔥🔥 IF YOU HAVE ANY OTHER QUESTIONS ABOUT ANYTHING PDBC RELATED ASK ME. AHAHA. NO PRESSURE. AHAHAAH (DO IT) (DO IT NOW) (I LOVE TALKING) /LH

[pjisskullourful]

🆄🆂🅴 🅼🅴

🚬Ethan × reader

part 6/??? [parts1-5]

NSFW🚨 literally unsafe nastiness ° Ethan Torchio/female reader insert ✨ cameo by: Damiano David ° a vacation brings out a very different side of your boyfriend [based july 2023] wordcount:::  9,318 ° 🎧USE ME playlist to add to your reading experience ° as superbly prompted by @vittoriaisfuckingpathetic: a little scene where ethan and reader are hanging out [...] it's warm out and ethan isn't wearing a shirt. and the reader is just. is absolutely [...] thirsting over ethan's arms and chest (ethan is well aware of this, because he's purposefully making her hot and bothered all day) 💋 & commissioned by the legit badass that is my girl kat (@mistressofthecats-blog) 💋 [commissions are back! secure the 7th spot in my cue here!!]

° [ITA:] facile: simple - cazzo: fuck

You had no idea what time it was when you rolled over in the hotel bed, hesitantly cracking your eyes open. Your boyfriend was gone from the bed and the world of Ibiza was drenched in sunshine.

You were surprised that you didn’t feel worse - you had been expecting the wrath of all of those martinis and cocktails you’d consumed at the nightclub. But you were pleased to find yourself nausea-free. You were feeling fatigued and a little fuzzy in your head, but with enough coffee you would be able to make something of this day, the first day of your vacation.

You eased yourself out of the bed and started to look for Ethan. It didn’t take long for you to locate him, he hadn’t left the suite, taking up a seat on the attached balcony. Wrapped in a white bathrobe, he was taking his time to smoke a cigarette. You collected a pair of sunglasses from your handbag before even considering joining him.

He turned his head at the sound of the door sliding open and acknowledged you with a smile. “Hey, party girl.” You approached where he was seated. “I thought I would have to inject the espresso directly into your veins to get you out of bed.”

“What can I say? I like to be unpredictable.” You said as you draped your arms around him from where you stood beside his chair. You slipped your hands over the soft material covering his chest as you leaned down. You kissed him on top of the head and made to take the cigarette from between his fingers. He took evasive movements, preventing your theft. “How long have you been awake?”

“A bit under an hour.” He said after a quick look at the screen of his mobile phone.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Nope, should I get the room service menu?”

“Please.” You responded, prompting him to get up.

While he was inside, you took up the seat on the opposite side of the table. You plucked a cigarette out of the open packet and lit up. Then you tried to restore some order to your hair, using your fingers to comb through the strands that had been left loose all night. You were well on your way to feeling like a human again, dodging that zombie-state a hangover could bring out.

Picking from the menu, you each ordered breakfast. There was something in the way that he was looking at you that gave you pause. It was making you feel like you were being assessed, with him looking at you more seriously than the situation called for.

“You’re in a better mood this morning, hm?” He said, giving you a small insight into what he was thinking.

But it only served to confuse you. You cocked your head to one side as you had a drag of your cigarette. What was he comparing this mood to?

Because you had only been having fun on this trip so far. Last night had been an absolute blast, it had felt like the perfect way to kick off this vacation - to you, at least. Everyone had been all smiles as you toasted in the craziness of the active club.

Not all of your memories were crystal clear, but everything that you could recall was positive. You remembered Thomas’ dance moves dominating the dancefloor. You could remember Victoria invading the DJ booth, energetically bouncing as she played as many Lady Gaga tracks as you asked for.

You had been feeling victorious over how things were blooming between her and Tatianna. You and Ethan had included your friend on the group trip to fix her up with Victoria. And you had been thrilled to see sparks flying between the two women at the airport. Things had progressed and you had seen them sharing more than one kiss before the end of the night at the club. You had been immediately happy for them, and proud of your matchmaking skills, so that couldn’t be the source of the bad mood he was alluding to.

You had video evidence of him enjoying himself, without a single thing to worry him. At one point, you had spotted him and Damiano showing off some Vogue-style hand and arm choreography for one another. This unserious dance-off had been too cute for you to resist capturing it with your phone’s camera. The old friends had reminded you of two kids on the playground, laughing and play-swatting at each other.

Your picture of the night was one of no issues for either of you. You couldn’t understand where his perspective had come from at all.

“It’s good, I’m glad you’re leaving the brat in last night.” He said.

You leaned forward. “Brat?”

“Oh, come on, you remember. You weren’t that drunk when we got back here.” He said.

Before he could add any more details to this surprising account, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. He left his cigarette burning in the ashtray as he got up to answer it.

He had succeeded in shocking you. The end of the night had been so insignificant to you that you were genuinely stunned over him remembering it at all. There had been making out in the taxi and you had been feeling that it would lead to more when you got to the privacy of your room.

But that had gotten derailed once you were settling into your room. You had realised just how tired you were, how much the travel and clubbing had drained you. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to give him your best and you had told him as much, with more than a few sassy comments colouring your delivery. He hadn’t helped you out of your dress and when you had fallen asleep, it had been on your own side of the bed.

You were staring at him, slack-jawed as he wheeled the food cart out to the balcony. You didn’t pay any attention to the dishes and drinks.

“I can’t believe you just called me a brat.” You said.

He shrugged as he set your waffles down in front of you. “Well, don’t act like one and I won’t call you one. Facile.”

He returned to his seat, his bowl of yogurt and cup of coffee set up before him. He appeared entirely unbothered by the conversation. You could tell that he thought he had made a winning argument and this incensed you. You picked up a piece of strawberry from your plate and tossed it across the table, aiming for his face.

Instead it bounced off of his shoulder and he looked at you, eyebrows raised. “You didn’t want that one?”

“I am not a brat.” You said, determined to defend yourself.

“I don’t know how you think I should be reacting here, baby.” He said, folding his arms on the table instead of picking up the spoon. He was staring you down, potentially just as determined as you. “We got back to the room, I told you how ready I was to fool around, you turned around to get the lube, then all of a sudden you were having a hissy fit.

“You threw things- they’re still on the ground, by the way. You swore at everything.” He said and you clenched your jaw as you listened to his vivid recollection of what had been a non-event to you. “And what was it about? Face cream, fucking face cream. ‘Cause you forgot to pack the whole set, so you only have nine, instead of ten.

“And when I offered to help you look, you told me to go and fuck myself with something hard and sandpaper-y.” He said.

You had to bow your head in an effort to conceal the chuckles you felt rising up. You were a drama queen when drunk, but you were also really funny. You had a way with words, clearly having enough impact to stick in his mind.

“‘Cause that was the only way I was gonna get a fuck ‘cause you didn’t feel like it anymore, and-... are you- are you literally laughing right now?”

You raised your head, no longer trying to hide it. “It’s funny. It’s a funny thing to say, it’s poetic in its way. Obviously I wasn’t being serious. Aren’t you used to my bullshit by now? I blow off steam and I blow it off in a big, crazy, loud, swearing, stupid way. But then once it’s out of my system, it’s all over, all gone, the demon is exorcised and I move on. In the case of last night, I moved straight into sleep.”

“Yeah, without even cuddling me.” He pointed out.

“You could have spooned me if you were so desperate for cuddles.”

He picked up his coffee, but held off from having a sip. “Did you even put the fucking cream on your face before you went to sleep?”

This set you off laughing again, louder than before as you slumped back in your chair. “No. I was too out of it. I didn’t even take my makeup off, I just passed out.”

He shook his head, but you could see the beginnings of a smile on his face. “You’re hopeless. You know that, right? Absolutely hopeless.”

“Yeah, I’m an idiot.”

Now he was smirking. “And a brat.”

You picked up more pieces of strawberry to throw at him. “Stop calling me that. I had one bad moment. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry that it ruined your night, or whatever. But I’m only human, Ethan. I was fucking exhausted, drunk as Hell and frustrated, so I snapped.” You found a blueberry amongst the fruit that had come with your breakfast and you chucked this at him, managing to hit his forehead. “Are you gonna punish me all day over this?”

“Not at all. If you’re happy today, then so am I.” He said, the picture of serenity.

“Great. ‘Cause I wanna get back to enjoying my vacation.” You said. You picked up your fork and stabbed into some of the berries that remained on your plate. “I’ll clean up the mess that I made on my own and then we can just move on.”

“Sounds perfect to me.” He said. “I’m amazed that you’ve gone this long without checking your phone.” You looked up from your waffles, wondering what he was trying to start now. “I was thinking that you would be dying for updates from Tati.”

You shrugged as you chewed your food. “I’ll check it later.”

“Really? Wow. Last night all that you cared about was playing Cupid.” He said.

You showed him a wide smile. “‘Cause I’m so good at it.”

You were ready to get back to focusing on the positives. And it seemed that he was, too. Because there was no more name-calling and the two of you started to discuss how you would fit in with the group’s plan for the day. The rest of the fruit went into your mouth, instead of going hurtling through the air.

*** *** ***

You were by the side of the pool, set up on one of the lounge chairs. You had just finished up your conversation with Tatianna, getting all of the details (and then some) of how things had progressed with Victoria.

You had barely had enough time to take a sip of your iced coffee before you were being approached again. This time it was your boyfriend. Ethan had ditched his bathrobe, walking around in just his speedo. This was enough to get your eyes off of your friend and her new fling.

He came over to stand at your side. “You’re not busy, are you baby?”

A sarcastic quip popped into your head immediately, you didn’t even have to go looking for it. But you thought better of it before opening your mouth. Judging by everything he had said this morning, he’d had more than his fair share of your sarcasm and sassy comments.

So you pushed the thought away, showing him a smile instead. “I’ve got an abundance of time for you.”

“Cool. Can you help me apply this?” He asked, holding up a bottle of sunblock for you to see. “I know you hate the greasy feeling on your hands, but…”

“You need my help?” You asked as you registered this unexpected request.

“Please.” He said. “I did my face, but- it’s such a sunny day and there aren’t as many shade cloths around the pool as I thought there would be. I really don’t wanna get a burn.”

“Of course, sit down then.”

He handed the product over and sat down towards the end of the lounge, his back to you. You brushed the few strands of hair that had escaped his bun off the back of his neck and got to work applying the sunscreen.

You worked it across his muscular shoulders, then moved down his back. Concentrating on the task at hand, your eyes looked over the area your fingers were exploring, leading you to notice the complete lack of scratches on his back. It was a shame, like you were looking at an unfinished painting. Maybe if you’d had the stamina for sex last night, there could be fresh claw marks all over him.

You cleared your throat and tried to give yourself a distraction before your thoughts could go too far down the wrong paths. “Do you want the tea?”

He glanced over his shoulder at you. “I thought you got a coffee.”

“No, the tea on Tati.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.”

“They did.” You said of your friends’ sexual rendezvous.

“Nice. Good for them.” He said, making you laugh.

“Turn around.” You instructed.

He readjusted, now facing you for further application. “But seriously, good for Vic, I think they’re gonna be good for each other. Obviously Tati is great, a million times better than the last chick Vic was with.” He rolled his eyes just at the thought. “The definition of stuck up.”

You couldn’t help yourself, you were trying to behave - but rubbing the sunscreen into his pectorals presented too many temptations. You didn’t even check to see if anyone was looking, you just grabbed his nipples. Between each thumb and forefinger, you pinched them, a smile forming on your lips.

He gave a full-body flinch, leaning back and pushing you away at the same time. He furrowed his brow as you started to giggle. “What was that for?”

You pulled your sunglasses down a little, meeting his eye. “You don’t have to go in the pool if you wanna get wet.”

“Baby…” He said quietly. “If you’re feeling that way- you should have said something before we left the room.”

“I didn’t want to be antisocial. It’s a group trip, after all.”

“So, what’s different now?” He asked, his eyes darting around to make sure no one was about to catch you in this conversation.

“How about we get social with just each other?”

He got to his feet, putting some distance between you. “I should have known this would happen when I asked you for help.”

“Oh, are you disappointed in me now? Was this not your intention all along?” You asked. You were surprised when he didn’t immediately deny it, even more surprised when you saw the hints of a smile tugging at the side of his mouth. “Ethan?”

“No.” He said, but there was something off about his tone of voice. “As if.” You narrowed your eyes as you watched him, trying to figure out what he was playing at. “Don’t worry about the rest, really. I’ll do the rest of my tummy and my legs, since you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

You watched his progress, all the while attempting to determine what he was up to. You were certain that something was afoot, but you were on the outside. What was he trying to accomplish, was there a point to getting you worked up over his body?

He finished applying the sunscreen to his exposed skin. “I would ask you to check if I missed any spots, but you would probably enjoy that an inappropriate amount.” He discarded the bottle onto the lounge next to yours, where his robe was already lying.

“You’ve sure got me all figured out, babe.” You said, unable to keep yourself from getting a little sarcastic with your delivery.

He blew you a kiss before turning away. Seconds later he was slipping into the crystal clear water. You pushed your sunglasses back up the bridge of your nose and had a sip of your iced coffee, biting down on the straw a little.

You reclined back in the chair, but you weren’t feeling very relaxed. You rubbed your hands on your legs, trying to get rid of the unpleasant residue left by the sunscreen.

All the while, you were watching Ethan. Thanks to the side of the pool, you couldn’t see much of him, just his head that bobbed with the flow of the water. He appeared innocent enough as he chatted with Thomas and his girlfriend.

Sooner or later, you would get to the bottom of whatever your boyfriend was plotting.

You moved your attention to your phone, replying to a message from Nico. You looked through the group chat that was made up of your co-workers, but you didn’t find anything worth responding to. Then you started scrolling through social media.

When that got old, you pulled a magazine out of your handbag. You flicked it open, but you felt no motivation to start reading. Nothing in Kerrang could drag your attention away from Ethan.

For whatever reason, your boyfriend wanted you to take notice of him and you couldn’t help doing just that.

One thing that you took notice of was that he seemed to be spending only a small amount of time actually in the pool. While still talking to Thomas and his girlfriend, Ethan had boosted himself out, sitting on the lip of the pool. He had looked back, checking up on you.

When the couple split off, he had seemed like he was going to swim properly, pushing off from the wall, but only after glancing at you again. But he only swam to the other side of the pool, using his arms to lift himself out. He seemed to move in slow-motion. This action wasn’t complete without another glance in your direction.

Then he was just wandering around the area that surrounded the pool, stopping to talk to so many of the friends that had come to Ibiza - never leaving your line of sight. He was doing a lot of unnecessary stretching. You would read one sentence of your article, then look up to spot him flexing one muscle or another.

Was he on the verge of running a marathon, what was the point of him getting so limber? And why couldn’t you stop watching?

He was clearly teasing you. Was he getting you wound up simply because he could? Was it all just for his amusement? You hadn’t planned on spending the day getting hot and bothered over him, but he knew that it didn’t take much to get you into such a headspace. You only hoped that his plan included some kind of pay-off for you.

Or else you would have to come up with a plan of your own.

Also in your line of sight were Thomas and his girlfriend, treading water very close together. They were sharing a lot of kisses and even when you weren’t watching, you could hear her flirtatious laughter as they got lost in their own world.

Elsewhere, Tatianna and Victoria were looking very cosy together. In the shade, they were sharing a love seat. Tatianna had her head rested in Victoria’s lap as Victoria slowly ran her fingers through her new companion’s hair. They were doing a lot of laughing as well.

At present, you weren’t feeling much happiness towards your friend and the connection she was exploring. Instead you were hung up on your own jealousy. You were bitter over not having your person to be similarly horny with - Hell, you would have settled for just being cute with Ethan at this point.

You were glad for the distraction of Damiano headed your way. He was very late in joining the group and he didn’t instantly strive to be the centre of attention, just quietly taking up the seat beside yours.

“How are you the last one to arrive when you literally had no booze last night?” You asked teasingly.

He smiled sheepishly. “I got lost in the gift shop.”

“Oh, cazzo…”

“No, no, it’s totally not that bad. There’s still gifts left in that shop, on God.” He said. “I had to go in to get my grandma a souvenir magnet.”

“Okay, that’s adorable.”

As you were trying to give him all of your attention, Ethan wandered back into your field of vision. You didn’t even have to turn your head, still facing Damiano even though you couldn’t help watching Ethan. He seemed to have found the perfect spot and he sat down, ass on the tiles as he dangled his legs into the water. He leaned back, bracing himself with his hands on the ground behind him as the sun’s rays beat down on his bare chest.

“Yeah, it’s like a little family tradition. If you go somewhere new, you’ve gotta buy a magnet with the name of the place on it for grandma.” Damiano was saying and you dragged your eyes back over to him. “Because she had this huge collection from all the places she’s been, back when she was travelling all the time, before grandpa got sick.”

“You are so damn wholesome.” You said.

“And I got some bits and pieces for other people, as well.” He said. “And then I had to find the right place for dinner tonight.”

He explained to you that this was no easy feat - not with a group of this size. He had to find something within a reasonable distance of the hotel, someplace that could meet everyone’s dietary requirements. The restaurant’s menu needed to have at least one dish that could meet the standards of the group’s fussiest eater, which was Victoria.

On his mobile phone, he showed you the menu. But these dishes held very little significance for you. This was the same case with the words he was saying.

You knew that it was rude. You were also aware that a large quantity of women would do literally anything to get to share a conversation with him.

But you couldn’t help yourself, your eyes were back on your boyfriend. Your mind was wandering, looking at all that was so purposefully on display was inspiring memories to pop into your head. They were rushing at you, and soon you were imagining what it would be like to go further than you had in those past experiences. These thoughts had a temperature to them and your mouth rested open.

Damiano cleared his throat. “Look, I’m trying to not take this personally, ‘cause I get that you’re probably hungover. But are you listening to a single word that I’m saying?”

“What? Yeah, of course I am. The restaurant looks great.” You tried your best to recover, training your eyes back on him. “So, did you have fun last night?”

It didn’t take long for your attention to be captured by Ethan once again. Movement caught your eye, alerting you to the fact that he was retying his hair.

Something so mundane, you had seen him complete this action thousands of times. But right now it was utterly fascinating to you, too fascinating for you to do anything but watch.

With his arms raised and his hands in motion, you tracked how all of those toned muscles worked together. You noticed every single flex and got hungry for him to let you feel his power. Having him use his strength against you felt like the most worthwhile way to be spending your time currently.

Behind your sunglasses, your eyes moved down to his nipples and you thought about pinching them again. But you wouldn’t be giggling this time around. This time would be for real, you wanted to know how he would respond. You wondered how the expression on his face would alter.

It was the thought about what he would do to you in retaliation that got your heart beating faster.

And this was probably exactly what he wanted, which was a frustrating outcome. As he finished fixing the hair elastic into place around his bun, he looked directly at you.

And there was a smile on his face - it was small, but it was there, a departure from his typical ‘resting business-meeting face’ that earned him such teasing. With no one else closeby, it was quite clear what he was smiling about. He was smug, most likely congratulating himself on getting you all hot and bothered.

“Ethan should be in jail.” You blurted it out carelessly.

You saw Damiano visibly flinch at your exaggerated statement. “Fucking Hell. What kind of feral shit were you two freaks doing to each other last night?”

You shook your head, dismissing the misinterpretation. “No, nothing like that. But just look at him- don’t you agree that he’s a menace to society?”

“I mean, I guess.” Damiano didn’t sound very convinced. He didn’t see it the same as you, he hadn’t been victim to Ethan’s obnoxious flaunting before.

It was a while later when Ethan approached you, putting an end to your solitude. Your eyes moved up-and-down his body, because your mind was still full of depraved thoughts.

“Hey creep, is your magazine a good read?” He asked.

You readjusted in your chair and took a cursory glance at the pages you were currently open to. “Uh-huh, very interesting.”

“Awesome.” He sat down on the chair next to yours. “I’m guessing that Damiano told you about the dinner plans for tonight.” You nodded your head and plucked up your handbag, shoving your mobile phone inside. “And he told you what time the reservation is for…” You returned your magazine to the bag, then turned yourself around to place your feet on the ground. “So you’ll know when you have to be ready.”

You stood up. “Yeah, Damiano made sure I knew all that. But it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?” He repeated, his brow furrowed as you took your first step. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not going to dinner.” You said, starting to walk in the direction of the pool area’s exit.

He quickly followed along. “How come? Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all.” You said, pleased with yourself in this moment. “I’m just gonna be too busy to go.”

“Busy, with what exactly?”

You made sure there was a wall between you and everyone at the pool before you stopped walking. “Fucking my boyfriend.”

He stood opposite you, rolling his eyes as he scoffed. “Fucking… because that’s your…”

While he was still talking, you put your hands to the hem of your blouse. You lifted the material and his words were halted by you exposing your bare breasts to him. Instantly his wide eyes were taking in this sight and you were feeling like you had beat him - whatever game he had been playing was now over.

You let the shirt fall back down so that you could grab his hand with yours, he was still silent, but you weren’t.

“Let’s go.” You said, beginning to lead him back up to your suite.

*** *** ***

You acted upon your eagerness before you were back to the privacy of your suite. These impulses had been gaining power for hours and you were done with holding back.

Once you were alone in the elevator, you launched yourself at him. As you shared breathless kisses, your hands had grabbed for his hair, your fingers seeking to get rid of the hair-tie. Once it was free, you wrapped the long hair around your fingers and he was holding you to his body.

You barely heard the elevator’s automated ding to signal that you had reached your level. He grabbed your hand and led the way to your door. You were grinning as you kept up with him, ecstatic that the two of you were finally on the same page.

But when the door of your suite was shut, his demeanour changed. You moved to stand in front of him (intending to secure more kisses) and found a different look on his face. His eyes were no longer wide and now he wore an expression of annoyance - not unlike how he had looked when ranting at you at the start of the day. It shifted the atmosphere and you were stopped in your tracks from getting another kiss.

“Get on your knees.” He said it without any kindness, far too firm for it to be mistaken as a request.

But you were too surprised to be able to do anything at first, so startled that you could have laughed. “What are-?”

Your words were halted when he placed both of his hands on your shoulders. He didn’t have to tell you what he was talking about when he could so easily just show you. He pushed down and you went with this movement, bending your knees. You lowered yourself to the carpeted floor, tilting your head back so that you could keep your eyes on his serious face.

“I guess you don’t feel like saying please.” You said as his stony exterior stirred something inside of you.

“I guess I don’t feel like dealing with anymore fuckin’ attitude out of you.” He said, prompting you to open your mouth because you were ready with your reply. You were ready to defend yourself, and argue if you had to. You were going to remind him of the outcome of this morning’s discussion - that he was going to be happy if you were. And you hadn’t done anything worthy of being called a brat today.

But before you could breathe a single syllable, he was snapping his fingers, surprising you again. Your mouth hung open as you stared at him.

“I’m gonna teach you a lesson about how sometimes you go too far with your attitude and it’s not the kind of thing that I’m just gonna let fly.” He said.

You found that any argumentative things to say were floating out of your head. Instead you were taking in his position of authority. You weren’t accustomed to carrying yourself like a submissive, but the way he was acting impressed upon you that it would be correct to behave as such.

Everything that you had anticipated for this afternoon was swiftly flying out the window.

But you had no motivation to resist this altered dynamic. You didn’t dislike how small you felt in this moment, positioned at his feet. You were granted a view of his body that differed from the typical, and the curves of his muscles were more defined - inviting you to stare more. It prompted more admiration, encouraging you to feel small in comparison. You registered the fact that he had all of the power, and you had none.

“Are you ready to learn your lesson?” He asked of you.

There was no fight or sass in you, all that you wanted to do was consent. “Yes.”

“Then you can stand up.”

You were already feeling a little shaky as you got to your feet, ready to be blown away by him.

His hands returned to your body, grabbing you by the biceps. You saw his jaw clench, that displeased look remaining. He pushed you backwards and you were trying to not lose your balance as he started walking forward, moving you in his momentum. Until your back reached the wall. You were pressed into the wall with him leaning in, filling your personal space. And you welcomed it, licking your lips as you tilted your head in anticipation of getting a kiss.

Before this could happen, you were being spun around. He moved too quickly for you to keep up and before you knew what was going on, your front was being shoved to the wall. Your heart was pounding, this was more than you could have imagined and your thighs were twitching.

“You want me to kiss you, is that what you want, baby?” He asked, and there was something about hearing him taunt that made you want to melt. “Because if that’s how you want it, just say. And we can kiss and have all of the eye-contact and I’ll give you everything you want.” Another shove got your face closer to the wall. “But I could have sworn that you said you were ready to learn your lesson.”

“I am ready.” You said.

“You’re definitely not ready.”

Before you could even start asserting your willingness to do all of this, he interrupted your thoughts by grabbing for the fly of your denim shorts. He unbuttoned them, swiftly pulling the zipper down. With them loosened he could tug them down, yanking until they were tumbling, falling down to the ground.

Then his hands went to your panties and he grabbed two fistfuls of the thin material (which was no longer dry). You expected these to be pulled down too. Instead he moved his fists in opposite directions, stretching the material to its absolute limit. Until you were hearing the lingerie rip, falling limp onto your skin. You gasped and it felt like there was fire coursing through your veins.

Slap. The sound of his open hand striking your bare butt seemed to echo in the otherwise-silent room.

You felt the stinging follow-up to this strike so much deeper than the surface. It rattled through you, the powerful action demanding a powerful response. Your heart skipped over a few beats as you settled into the fact that you had no idea what was going to happen next.

You were yanked away from the wall, feeling as weightless as a ragdoll when he swept you up into his arms. With the side of your body pressed to him, your feet were taken from the ground.

“You can say stop at any time, okay?” He told you, the harsh edge taken out of his tone briefly.

“Okay.” You repeated without any real intention of interrupting him with that mood-killer of a word.

Aside from showing you this small mercy, he wasn’t done with laying down the law and you soon found yourself being tossed onto the unmade bed. You landed on your chest and didn’t instantly roll over to look at him, or seek a more comfortable position. Instead, with your thoughts racing, you waited for his guidance on what came next.

This came in the form of him climbing onto the bed alongside you. He wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, applying enough pressure to keep you from raising your head.

You could get yourself free if you truly wanted to. It wouldn’t take all of your strength and you could execute it in about three moves.

But that didn’t interest you at all. You were savouring how it felt to be at his mercy. It was so arousing to know how little he was holding back. You wanted to know all of the desires that had prompted this change in him, you wanted to experience them all.

His free hand was used to smack one of your ass cheeks. Your breath got caught in your throat because this was the hardest he had ever spanked you. Immediately it set the tone, another sign of how he wasn’t holding back. This wasn’t going to be like any past spankings, it wasn’t part of a seduction or to tease you into getting hornier. There was no playfulness in how he wanted to make his point.

Your other cheek was treated to its own equally hard smack. You squeezed your eyes shut and your heart was beating harder with each passing second.

You were still feeling the effects of the second spank when the third landed upon your butt. Blood was rushing to this area, his hands leaving behind pink marks, which were only going to get brighter.

You couldn’t hold back the moan that came in response to the fourth spank. The intensity was so much, building up a pressure that dominated your thoughts, demanding that nothing else be thought of.

He took his hand off of your neck, using it to grab a section of your hair. He tugged, prompting you to lift your head from the sheets. “Did you say something, babe?”

“Nope.” You quickly responded.

“Good, because I-” He struck your ass. “-am not-” You experienced another slap. “-done.”

He released your hair and shoved you back down to the mattress. You arched your back, showing your willingness by presenting your butt to him. You were soon feeling the seventh spank. You audibly gasped, your toes curling a little.

“I’m a fan of these noises you’re making.” He said, during the fragile calm between spanks. “You wanna make some more for me?”

You turned your head, resting your cheek on the covers. “Yes.”

From your current viewpoint you couldn’t look at him properly. Mostly you could see the arm that was keeping you held down, the muscles tensed as he exerted his control. You wondered if he was erect by now, or was it just you getting all worked up?

You smiled when you felt the next spank, letting out a loud whimper as more of your body responded to this. You licked your lips, you had decided that the way your skin was stinging felt good. You were starting to hope for him to hit you hard enough to make you feel it each time you sat down tomorrow.

Your pussy was throbbing as he landed a sharp slap onto each cheek. You whined loudly for him. Feeling the absence of any shame, you were prepared to get even louder for him. He had moved you into the mindset that you would do whatever it took.

“Does that hurt?” He asked as you were waiting for the next spank to come.

“I can take it.” You said, giving your sore ass a quick wiggle.

“Still so confident.”

You continued to wait for the thrill of another spank, unwilling to catch your breath. Instead you felt him moving around the bed and his hand left the back of your neck.

From his new position, he reached a hand under your body. You hadn’t been given any kind of guidance to move, so you were still as you observed what he was doing. The palm of his hand faced upwards as he slid his hand down to your crotch.

Your heart leapt when his finger moved between your labia majora, making contact with your clitoral hood. You were already so turned on that you were instantly sensitive to the touch.

“Oh.” He said and you were biting into your bottom lip. “I can’t even pretend to be surprised that you’re this wet.”

You hummed in response, delighted by the way he had started to rub you. You shut your eyes and sank into this treatment, not bothering to question his motives.

Remaining face-down, you felt the potential of melting at his touch. He worked his finger in little circles over the hood with the perfect amount of pressure. You whimpered again, hoping this was to his liking as you indulged in this wonderful stimulation.

But before he could take you up to that next, blissful level he was taking his hand away. You froze, too caught off-guard to know what to do.

Your mouth hung open as you waited, absolutely yearning for more. He didn’t provide it, pulling his hand out from underneath you, then you were feeling the mattress shift as he got up. You were too stunned to give him any attitude about this, silently turning your head so you could watch him. He was calmly walking across the floor, going over to shut the curtains (which you hadn’t noticed until this moment).

The suite got darker, but you could still see him as he slid his swimwear off. You saw how his erect cock pointed out directly in front of him, now that it was freed. You couldn’t help squirming a little as he came back over to the mattress.

Instead of progressing and climbing on top of you, he resumed his spot sitting next to you. You grabbed for handfuls of the bedsheets as you anticipated what he would do next. You knew exactly what you wanted (the picture was so clear in your head), but you also knew that you were in no position to lay out any kind of demands of him.

He slid his hand under your body, touching your clitoris again. It pulsed against his finger as he gave you more of that Heavenly pressure. There was so much heat pooling in your cunt, which started to spread as he stroked the moist bud up-and-down. It didn’t take long for you to start making more noises for him.

These excited moans and whines were muffled when his available hand went to the back of your head, turning it, then pushing your face back into the mattress. You didn’t object, you just concentrated on how good his consistent stroking felt.

You quivered against the mattress as you giddily explored more of this pleasure. You weren’t thinking about your sore ass as your fists shook around the sheets, getting taken away from every other part of your experience.

This moment seemed to stretch out and you weren’t sure how much time was passing as he went on manipulating your clitoral hood. Even though you were hungering for more than this, you kept your greediness to yourself. Because the way that his finger worked over the slicked peak did feel really good - it was turning your legs to jelly and it was better than getting nothing from him. It was best to not push your luck with him right now.

It felt like he was settling into a promising rhythm when he stopped, pulling away a second time. Your fists continued to shake as you tried to catch your breath.

You gave your feet a little kick as the frustration rushed into you. You had to fight for it to not get the better of you, because all that you wanted to do was swear (maybe raise your voice a little). But that was the opposite of the behaviour he was currently seeking, and you had dedicated yourself to doing whatever it took. And what it took was putting up with this teasing.

He got up for a second time, but you didn’t watch what he was doing beyond the bed. You heard movements but you were concentrating on taking deep breaths, trying to find a way to tap back into your patience.

You caught your first whiff of cigarette smoke, then a second later, the mattress was shifting under his weight when he returned.

He started to slide his hand under you, resuming that spot at your pussy. Your breath came in quicker at the feel of his touch on your clitoral hood.

“Do you like that?” He asked, working his finger in circles. “Is this the attention you’ve been dying for all day?”

You squirmed with a whimper. “Fuck yes.”

You sank into the pleasure even more, obsessed with every masterful swirl of his finger. Your eyes were shut as you stopped caring about trying to predict when he would stop next, just focused on the heat that this treatment sent pumping through your body. You fell for the teasing, fell for it unashamedly.

The pressure from his finger increased, sparking more excitement from you. You put the energy buzzing inside of you to use, starting to work your hips in the interest of more pressure. You rocked your hips, trying to match his tempo as the possibility of him stopping floated out of your head. Instead you were letting the sensations build, anticipating how they could ruin you.

The smell of cigarette smoke was coming in stronger as all of your senses feasted on this moment. He was still stroking you to perfection and you made sure to keep moaning for him.

You weren’t close - more so on the path to getting close. But the disappointment was present all the same when he stopped yet again. You lamented the loss of this momentum with a whine.

“Don’t worry babe, I am going to fuck you.” He said, drawing his hand out from underneath you. “But first you’ve gotta clean your horny mess off of my hand.”

“Okay.” You said, turning your head.

He shoved his hand into your face and obediently you opened your mouth - even though there was something else you would rather be sucking on. He placed two of his fingers between your lips and you began rubbing your tongue against them, collecting the accumulated moisture. You felt somewhat dazed as you looked at him, it seemed like it had been hours since you had properly looked at him. As he exhaled a cloud of smoke, you thought that he appeared slightly bored.

He pulled his hand back, a string of saliva falling from your lip. In a flash, he was moving again. He sprang up onto his knees and moved into the space behind you. Before you had the time to glance back at him, he was prompting movement from you as well, his hands going to your hips. He pulled them up and you walked your knees forward, lifting your ass into the air.

Your head remained resting on the mattress while you braced yourself with your knees set up beneath you. He got himself lined up with you, his knees close to yours. He stayed upright as he got even closer. You arched your back, incredibly keen for him to finally do away with the dreadful distance between the two of you.

“Put your hands behind your back.” He ordered.

There were tremors in your hands as you lifted them up, crossing one wrist over the other at the small of your back. Instantly he grabbed for this, wrapping his fingers around your wrists. It was just another way for him to exert his power over you, and you gave into it, you were more than ready to lose control.

He began to lean into you, his hips meeting your butt before you felt his dick at your pussy. Instead of delving inside of you, he pushed forward, his shaft rubbing against your labia majora. His dick was smeared with your wetness as he stroked himself back-and-forth in this area. You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting back the urge to complain over how you definitely didn’t need any further warming up.

You were still waiting for penetration when he startled you with a spank to your raised ass. You could have screamed.

But you were swiftly forgetting about the pain, distracted by the sensation of him starting to bury himself inside of your pussy. Your gut tightened and for a second you forgot to breathe. He was seemingly done with making you wait, pushing his hips forward to fill as much of you as quickly as he could. You welcomed it, feeling a glimmer of relief.

You were given a moment to adjust as he leisurely took a drag from his cigarette. You heard him exhale deeply while your own breathing remained shallow.

Your body was already overly-sensitive when he started to work his hips at a quick pace. It was instantly exciting, at the threshold of what you could take. It was an effort for you to get yourself meeting his thrusts, trying to catch up with him.

You greeted almost every powerful thrust with a whimper. These vocalisations got louder when he pulled your face out of the covers, grabbing and tugging on your hair. Your desperate noises accompanied the consistent slapping of skin-on-skin as his pacing persisted, unfailing.

Your hands uselessly curled into fists and you wished you had the sheets to grip onto. At the same time, your walls were clenching around him, greedy in a way that you had no power over. You could feel yourself getting closer.

His hand pulled at your hair, bringing your head further back. Then he released the strands and repositioned to grab your throat, holding it securely. A new wave of pleasure rushed you as your ability to breathe became a little restricted.

And he wasn’t letting go, his fingers holding steady as you felt the slight pressure on your windpipe. Your mouth opened as he kept pounding you, so intent on destroying you. Your tongue slithered down, seeking out where his thumb was resting against your face.

“Oh, my God…” You rasped before you wrapped your lips around the tip of his thumb.

When his next jerk into you brought him deeper, colliding with your sweet spot, your eyes rolled up. Your breathing halted and your long-bullied composure was facing a very powerful threat. It wanted to shatter, poised to burst inside of you as the pleasure kept rising.

But would he allow that? You weren’t confident that you had enough strength left to do what it took to be obedient.

“I need to…” Your words came out in a choked sob.

His fingers loosened on your neck. “Sorry, you need to breathe?”

“No.” You said and if your hands were free, you would have pushed him back to choking you. “Need to come, fuckin’ Hell, baby.”

His concern disappeared just as fast as it had presented itself and he was back to working you over at full-force. His hand resumed its squeeze on your neck, the other still locked around your wrists. “Should I let you? Hm, do I need to let you come?”

“Oh, Ethan…” You whimpered pathetically. “Please.”

“Yes, beg me just like that.”

“Please. Pleasepleaseplease, please, please.” You rushed to say them all, stopping when you ran out of breath. You inhaled and pleaded more, your voice wanting to fail you as your effort went to keeping your body in motion with his. “Please Ethan…”

You were quaking as your body lingered at that intimidating edge. You squirmed into his jackhammering, the pleasure and the tension were an incomprehensible force inside of you. You sputtered out more pleas, existing only in this state of desperation.

It was past the point of too much and you screamed when he let go of your wrists so that he could slap you on the ass. Your body seized, unable to figure out what to do with the surprise.

“Come then, you brat.” He instructed.

You let the relief burst into you, thoroughly falling apart at the next collision of his tip at your sweet spot. Spasming, your pussy gushed out all of the pent-up desire and you forgot yourself.

The overdue climax made you go limp, your body slightly lowering towards the mattress. You cupped your burning hot face in your hands and your mind felt like a plate of scrambled eggs. You fell out of his reckless pacing.

You flinched, screaming a little when his hand fell to your ass for more spanking. In a whole new way, you were ridiculously weak compared to him.

“Don’t quit on me yet.” He growled.

You had absolutely no response to this as you were close to being overwhelmed by the friction created by his continuous fucking. You felt like you were going to melt into a puddle, so far past the point of coming as his dick throbbed inside of you.

But your state wasn’t the priority. Your job was to make it easy for him to use you. Your knees were wobbly but you kept them planted on the bed, conscious of keeping your butt raised for him. You wanted to crumple, but you didn’t, you put your effort into receiving each of his impassioned pumps.

Until it was enough, until the squeezing of your pussy milked his release out of him. Moving unpredictably, he started to unload into you, moaning as he filled your cunt with a new heat.

His hands relaxed on you as he lazily grinded into you to finish himself off. You bowed your head down to the bed, shutting your eyes as you were ready to drift off to the sound of him gasping your name, amongst other curse words.

You were grateful to finally get to lie down, moving your head to the pillow as you started to catch your breath. The scent of his cigarette swarmed into your nostrils.

He landed onto the mattress next to you, the harshness taken out of his words when he spoke. “You okay, creep?”

You opened your eyes a little, finding him lying on his back beside you. You smiled, still feeling the giddy affects of your afterglow. “I’m great. I’d be even better with a cigarette in hand, but I’ll survive.”

He lifted himself up so that he could kiss you before he got out of the bed. You rolled onto your side, planning to fall asleep before bothering to get up like him. Your eyes drifted over to the drawn curtains and you noticed that there wasn’t the same glare of sunlight pushing in around the edges, apparently the sun had begun to set.

He wandered back into your line of sight, an unlit cigarette and one of your lighters in hand. He joined you on the bed, handing these items to you.

You placed the fresh cigarette between your lips, surveying him as you ignited the lighter. “So you got all of that out of your system, eh?”

He smiled. “To tell the truth, I wasn’t particularly mad about the whole thing. Your tantrum was annoying, a really shitty note to end the night on- but mostly, I wanted to get back at you for all of that attitude.”

You raised your head from the pillow, you were feeling some of your energy come back. “You weren’t that mad, are you seri-...? I’d hate to get you actually mad, then you might reach all new levels of obnoxiousness.”

He feigned surprise, wide-eyed. “Obnoxious? I would never.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a drag of your cigarette. “Oh yes you would. You were being the most teasing son of a bitch that’s ever existed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much unnecessary titty-flexing in my whole life.”

“Well you’re the idiot that fell for the world’s most teasing son of a bitch.” He said, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips.

“Yep, that was a big-time idiot move.” You said in response to the smug look on his face.

He ran his fingers tenderly up-and-down the side of your neck. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Nope, not at all. I really liked it.”

“Yeah, I could feel how much you were enjoying that part.” He said, securing another kiss. “Maybe I should do that more…” He kissed you deeply and you draped an arm around his neck as your body naturally turned towards his.

You lightly sucked on his lower lip before allowing the kiss to be broken. “When are you gonna ask if my ass is hurting?”

“Right now.” He said, trailing his fingertips down your spine. “Did I hurt that fine ass?”

“A little, you gonna kiss it better?” You teased.

“Dream on, creep.” He said. “I love you.”

You tightened your arm around him, wanting him closer. “I love you too.” You hesitated before kissing him, your mouths inches apart. “Obnoxious son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, but I’m your obnoxious son of a bitch.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[expressingexperience]

Need

Short story following two addicts, after one is released from rehab

cw: drugs, drug use

“How’d you get this number?” Maeve says into her phone while she stares out of her window. She stands at the end of her studio apartment just a few feet from her bed, which rests bare on the floor. She had recklessly covered the floor with books, clothes, and things she’d long forgotten about in the short span she had lived there.

“We’ve been talking this long, and now you want to ask me that?” The voice says with a smile.

“Don’t pretend we’re just catching up, Jim. You called me threatening your life again.”

“It wasn’t a threat, Maeve. I just really need your help. You know how cold it gets out here, so why don’t you let me come over tonight?”

“Really? Come over? To my house? In the middle of the fucking night?” She laughs.

“C’mon, Maeve, you’re always doing this when you know I just miss you.”

“You never told me how you got my number...tell me the truth, and you can come.”

“I got it from your mom.” There’s a pause, and at that time, Maeve tries to find the truth in that. She hangs up and waits.

Jim stands outside Maeve’s apartment door. His body shivers when he takes his hand from his pocket to bang on the door. Snot pools in his nostrils, threatening to drip out while his head swings from left to right again and again before he peers into the peephole. A light shuffling is heard through the door, and he sees Maeve unlocking her many locks. The clicks seem minutes apart before he and her are inches from one another. She only grimaces as she takes in his appearance.

“Are you high already?” She doesn’t wait for a response and widens the door for him to come in. He follows her, closing the door behind him, locking it with ease. “Did you bring any?”

“Nope, thought you were quitting all that.” When she doesn’t laugh, a grin grows on his face when he pulls a rectangular case from his pockets. “Aww, did you lose your sense of humor in that rehab your mom told me about?”

“So, she really told you everything?” She meets his gaze, taking the box from him quickly. “Did you tell her you’re still shooting up before you asked for my number?”

“Well, actually, she offered it to me. She says you aren’t talking to her. About anything.”

She walks away from him as far as she can within the confines of her cramped apartment. Jim takes a moment to absorb his surroundings, looking out the window and feeling the chill of the night air just from the sight. Maeve sits on the bed, rummaging around the mess of her floor, her hand seemingly lost, before she yanks out a spoon. Jim walks to her, grabbing her wrist and making her pause.

“Will you at least talk to me?”

She gives him a look like he just spit in her face. “You look like shit.” she finally said.

“Well, you don’t. How long have you been out?”

“Long enough to need a fix, so you can either join me or keep pretending you’re my mom’s fucking spy.” She looks up at him for a moment, and her expression softens apologetically. “I’m not gonna kick you out, ok. We can sleep here together.”

He sits on the bed next to her, watching her prepare the needle, enough to share, just as they had so many times before. “This is all you brought?” She asks with a hiss, not missing the sting from the needle, like a mosquito eager and hungry enough to stay attached. She watches her blood pool into a puddle, wiping it away before she meets Jim’s eyes. They’re steady on her every move and he only shakes his head, rolling up his sleeve and allowing Maeve to inject him. She is always gentler with his veins than her own as if her need to get high consumes her thoughts of herself and her safety. Jim’s need to get high was a need to finally rest, quieter and more peaceful than Maeve could imagine.

“I have more, but you need to take it slow.” This was his only warning to her, then his consciousness began to fade, and his actions weren’t his own. Soon, he was in front of a mirror, skinny and naked, bruised and unaware. Only hearing Maeve’s soft confused voice repeating again and again for an eternity.

“This is what we did to each other.” Until the night slips away.

Jim wakes up before Maeve. He attempts to remember their night, though only snippets return. He looks at Maeve to see her on her back with vomit covering the lower half of her face; some of it spilled into her hair onto the sheets. He hesitates, but he shakes her, calling her name. There is no response, He tries again. There is no response over and over. Finally, he runs through the door and into the cold air of the streets, and then he remembers them in that mirror.

“This is what we did to each other.” Is the last thing he can remember her saying.

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

Anonymous: <p>my coworker brandon is so vein and rude to me for no reason. i wish i could trade my body with his perfect body and ruin it for him to prove my point. </p>

That sounds like a great idea. And there is a lot to ruin. Just look at him. Brandon had every right to be a cocky ass hat. Which a body that looks like it was chiseled from marble and built for one thing …. Sex.

He was in the middle of making fun of you for your poor diet when the swap happened. Instantly he was looking up at his own former form. Large. Over bearing. Muscular. He stuttered slight log asking what was happening. But you didn’t give him time to react. “Looks like the tables have turned now ! Time for me to have some fun!” Picking up a tub of ice cream from the store freezer you popped it open and ran Brandon’s beefy tongue across it. “Stop! What the hell are you doing ! It took me years to get my body like that you can’t go ruining everything ! We have to find what’s going on!” He came charging at you to take the ice cream away but you just held up a large foot and kicked him back. “I think I’m going to eat the whole thing actually. And there’s nothing you can do yo stop me!” You started to plow into the ice cream and already you could fee your muscles stomach turn in knots. “Ohh what’s this?!” The real Brandon stuck on the floor disoriented. “I’m lactose intolerant you asshole. You can’t eat that in my body!” Just to prove a point you finished off the carton. You stomach bloating and hurting. But you didn’t care. You were going to ruin his life. And undo everything he has ever worked for. You quit his job that day. He was chasing after you begging you to stop. But you didn’t care. Slamming the door to your truck you got the first look at your face. His face. And you had to come up with something else to ruin his life. Your stomach groaned as a loud dart erupted. “Damn this body really is lactose intolerant.” You sped out of the parking lot leaving your old body behind. You didn’t know how long you would be in this body. So you wanted to act fast. For someone so vein you knew exactly what you were going to do Brandon. Stopping at a fast drive through you order 5 double cheeseburgers. “Can you pour some bacon grease on them to?” When he got to the window the drive thru attendant was surprised to see such a fit and muscular jock ordering something so horrible. Your goal was to Brandon from being the fit alpha jock and slam him back down at the bottom. You were going to make him fat to the point of no return. Scarfing down the cheeseburgers in the parking lot you took pictures of yourself and sent them to your old phone. Only to get a call where Brandon was screaming at you in your own voice to stop this ! You destroying years of hard work. So you blocked his number then. He didn’t realize just how much you were going to ruin his life. Shopping online you found some bulking powders and ultra nutrition bars. With 4xs the calorie limit anyone should ever need. Order along with some shady injections from overseas and you were guaranteed to ruin his life.

You stopped going to the gym obviously. That happened on day one. Coming up on month six of being Brandon you were fully sure you had ruined his life. Credit card debt and loans taken out in his name. Obviously you never paid on any of them. What’s the fun in that. But the best part was that his muscular body was long gone. You had constantly been eating. Using your bulking agents. Coupled with the injections. You had successful replaced Brandon’s abs with a massive tank of a gut ! Sucking it in was impossible. You’d stretched his skin so much that stretch marks had appeared. You even had moobs now. You quit shaving to help with making Brandon look even fatter than hr already was. And after a few weeks you had managed to find a shady dr who more than willing to inject a joint solution in Brandon’s ankles and knees. He’s never be able to work out the way he had before. You had made sure he would be trapped in his fatter body. Struggling to lose the weight you had piled onto him. And just like before. Your vision went blurry. And you were back in you old body six months later. A call came to your phone “what the fuck did you do to me!”

March 24th, 2022 3:53pm

[v-the-nomad]

Persia, mi hermana, you're not gonna believe this nova shit. Didn't I just say how we were gonna climb? Well, strap in, 'cause we just got a rocket strapped to our asses.

Dexter DeShawn, the "Black Jesus of the Afterlife" himself just dangled a job in front of us like a chrome-plated carrot. Now, you probably haven't heard his name yet, so let me paint you a picture:

This guy's a fixer, but not your run-of-the-mill street corner variety. We're talking top-tier, cream of the crop. The kind of guy who can make miracles happen with a phone call. Word is, he's been off the grid for a couple years after some clusterfuck in Pacifica, but now he's looking to make a comeback. And guess who he wants for his grand re-entry? This chica right here.

Jackie dropped this bomb while we were scarfing down breakfast. Well, he was slurping noodles like a man possessed, and I was injecting coffee straight into my veins. Nearly choked when he told me. Apparently, T-Bug (our nova runner, 'member?) was the one who made the connection. Girl's got more strings to pull than a puppet master on black lace.

Now, don't get me wrong. Dex ain't no Morgan Blackhand or Rogue Amendiares. But in Night City's underworld, he's a big fucking deal. He is two hundred and seventy pounds of partly gold-plated cool. And he wants to meet me. Me. In person. No bullshit on the holo. Eye to eye, face to face, mano a mana. That's gotta mean something, right?

I can feel it in my implants, Persia. This could be our golden ticket. Our shot at the big leagues. We've never botched a job, and looks like that clean record's caught some very important eyes. If we nail this gig, if we show Dex what we're made of, our names are gonna spread faster than a virus in a scav den.

I'm buzzing, Persia. As if I've just jacked into a black ICE mainframe. This city's about to see what I am made of. And when it does, it better watch the fuck out.

Hasta la próxima, hermana. The next time I write, it'll be from the top.

Always, V

P.S. If this goes south, promise you'll pour out some Cenzón for me. But it won't. I've got this. I can feel it.

[homelander-rp-blog]

John is curling on the cold floor of the cage, listening to his imaginary Misty and his bad self chewing each other when he hears the door opens and it's that boy, Hughie's sound "oh my God.. Annie was serious, you really did get him.." Billy grunts "don't tell me you called to say it's 'emergency' only to come here and nag me about what I did or did not.." he stands there crossed-arms and the lanky man rushes to talk "oh, right, right umm.. Annie says you should let him go now, he has no power and won't be a threat to us anymore" "oh? that goldie locks said it? well.. go tell her go fuck yourself, love because ain't gonna do such a thing! Homelander will return to his lair, shoots more V in his veins and there you go, the previous monster-" Hughie shakes his head "I don't think he can even return.. have you seen the news? oh of course not, you hermit, now Soldier Boy is in charge of everything at Vought!" Billy laughs "so?" "meaning he can't return back even if he wants.. his own father will kill him. Annie says we should let him go because there's a girl that she knows.. erm, not her friend but she was so distressed when Homelander went missing and Annie thought if she was in her place and I went missing-" Billy throws his hands up, turning his back to Hughie "I don't have time for this shit! go tell her I don't care about Homelander's bed partner! this man dies here and today!" Hughie opens his mouth to say something but then closes it, his eyes sad "Butcher.. the revenge doesn't solve anything-" "-WHY you're still here, kid? get the fuck out!" he yells and the young man turns to look at Homelander for the last time before he leaves.. "you think your friends can help you, eh?" he goes to inject temp V to himself, not removing his eyes from his hostage "we'll see how it feels ripping you apart.. yeah.." and groans when green liquid flows through his veins. Calvin looks everywhere for Misty, Maeve calls him again "still no sign of her?" and curses when Calvin answers with a 'not yet' again. he knows Misty liked that monster but this much? "maybe she packed up and returned to her hometown? I think it had a bad effect on her now that Homelander is missing.." he searches her apartment but no trace of any being "did you mention Ashley gave her V?" he asks from the Maeve on the phone. she hums "yeah.. but I don't think that'll be effective.. if so, what she wants to do anyway?" Calvin leaves Misty's apartment "should I call Butcher and tell him about it?" and Maeve sighs "no need for that, I told him to move his place when we found that phone. I think he'll be alright. sides, I told him to just call me immediately if anything happens. we're going to send that monster straight to hell this time" Calvin nods while he knows Maeve can't see him on the other side of the line "yeah, my dad was in that airplane he caused to crash, I'll never forgive him.." they say goodbyes and after he hangs up, types a 'where are you? ;) call me' to Misty. John falls in and out of the sleep during the day, not daring to turn around and see what Butcher is about but from all metallic sounds he can say he's getting ready for the big event.. A single tear falls down his cheek "fuck.. why it had to happen for me?!" you're so pathetic, a crybaby! you're gonna die today and it's what you deserve! He covers his ear "no no! shut up!" but when it speaks, it's his Misty.. John, angel.. see that kit over there? Billy has temp V! think you can reach for it? just grab it and shoot a dose in your body.. he isn't looking over here now, come on! John turns around and is surprised to see that Butcher left his kit on the table near his cage and the man is busy setting torture objects in the middle of the barn. John crawls to that side of his cage, extends his hands for the syringe and is soo close.. "the fuck you doing, huh?" Billy turns fast, the temp V enhanced all his senses.

Maeve’s words only burn her ears. It feels like shes giving up. It wouldn’t be logical to stop now. Yet, how could she expect them to care as much as she does? None of them could love John as she had..

Her blood was boiling- not only from the anger, but from the V she’d shot up before coming all this way. The only person who knew was Ashley. Not wanting the others to call her foolish for such a last minute decision. She really didn’t need to hear Maeve’s scoldings about the choice. Especially not after she was already declaring their departure from the search.

It’s not soon after that a familiar voice rings out through the mayhem. It’s Calvin- coming to her aid with a warm blanket and even hotter coffee. At this point, she really was wondering if he was Clark Kent. He leads her to a seat, in which she follows and takes one next to him. Stressed out would be an understatement for her. Her mind was plagued with terrible thoughts. Meanwhile her body was in quiet discomfort from the V.

He gives her more reassurances, even patting her back softly. Being this close to him feels wrong. Sitting next to another man when John’s still out there. They could be doing anything to him. ‘My poor sweet Angel..’

Her eyes look up to see Maeve has made her way over. Between Maeve and Calvin’s claims she’s not sure who to give it to. Her mind juggles the possibilities before landing to Calvin, softly whispering to him. “Please.. please tell me it’s anything to help bring John back..”

-

Sooner than later, she makes her way back to the tower. Feeling just as helpless as before. Even worse, her head was pounding from that Temp V. A migraine that had almost felt skull-splitting. She needed a shower- rest. Even if she did want to find John, she was in no condition after today. She was moving too fast. Something the others had to drill into her for her to recognize that.

As the doorknob twists, she practically jumps at the sight on her couch. Soldier Boy had made himself at home- sitting on her couch, slouched back with Alice in his lap. He played with her absentmindedly before his eyes met hers. Two different sets of greens locked onto each other’s. He doesn’t say anything for a moment- as if giving her time to see that he’s here. Really here, in her own apartment.

Misty stands still, unsure what to do. Was he here to kill her? A way to hurt John even more? Her fists sit at her sides, tightening in fear before finally his voice rings out.

“So what- you’ve given up already..?”

He sounds almost offended oddly enough. His hands still working to play and mold against her tiny kittens brain.

“What is it with women and giving up so easily..? If it was me, I’d be-“

“Are you real?” Misty interrupts him, causing an almost instantaneous fit of laughter from him. He stands hearing those words, dropping sweet Alice on the couch. Sauntering over, his eyes never leaving hers. As if to intimidate her with his presence alone.

“Of course I’m fuckin real.. does this feel real..?” His hand is suddenly clasp against her windpipe, holding her up with unbridled strength. His eyes dark with a pleased grin to himself. His chest erupting once more in a low chuckle. “I don’t know what the hell you see in that brat, but I will tell you this sweetheart. If I was out there- rotting away in some fuckin cabin..” His lip sort of trembles, making Misty wonder what could’ve caused him to suddenly feel indifferent. Sure he was John’s father but did he care that much for him secretly? Little did Misty know, he was only recalling what the Countess had did to him. Only helping her as a way to enact revenge. To teach her to be better for John. Homelander didn’t deserve to feel such a betrayal.

He drops Misty, her hands immediately scrambling to her throat. Gasping, soft collective inhales followed by her own spit leaking to the floor. Struggling to regain her breaths. He’s looking down at her now- pitifully so, before he kneels down to meet her eye level again.

“He’s useless now- depowered, human.. weak.. kind of like you” He remarks as if it’s some kind of joke. She only wishes she had the strength to punch that jaw of his. However, she can only listen. Wondering what his game was here. “I can give you their locations- hell, I don’t give a shit what happens to Butcher now. I’m a free man. As long as you MAKE SURE that whiny fucker doesn’t come back here. I’m the new leader of The Seven. He can fuck off and go work at Voughtland for all I care”

Mistys heart drums rapidly, hearing the news. He’ll just give it to her like that? Her thoughts overwhelmed her.. Surely, if he wanted to kill her he’d just do it. Right? As she regained her voice again, she looked up at him with a thankful nod.

“Okay.. I-I can do that..” Her voice was shaky, trembling even. She planted her butt on the ground, listening to further instruction. Not wanting to piss off the man that’d so graciously decided to help her.

“One more thing-“ He licks his lips before continuing, eyebrows firm and furrowed. “Don’t tell any of these Vought idiots where you’re going. You just need to go. Butcher’s working with a leak that’s been telling him every time you guys have been close on them. You need to go, alone. I fuckin mean that too”

[queendeeshorrorimagines]

The Rancorous Heart: Ending One

Previous. Ending Two

Former! Poly! Ghostface x gender neutral reader

Gender neutral reader

Warnings: mentions of Canon typical violence, slight mentions of religion, mentions of death penalty via lethal injection,

A New Beginning

Religion was a thing that has been around you throughout your prison life. Hearing the quiet prayers from other people on the unit with you and the occasional preacher would stop by and talk to you about your situation and how you felt about knowing you would at the time be dying by the cocktail of drugs that the state will inject into your arm.

You never looked at death as a thing to be feared. Death was a thick fog that lingers in the distance, slowing catching up to you over the years sometimes. No matter how you would die- in prison or while being free, death is an old friend that will always be there to take you to whatever your fate was.

The conversations you've had with the prison Chaplin had more meaning to you than the older man will ever realize. The discussions of forgiveness and letting go has haunted your thoughts as you planned for this moment.

The soft prick of Billy's blade took you back into the reality that you're currently in. Small droplets of blood pebbled out of your skin as you attempted to not react to the feeling. The once welcoming smell of his cologne now only made you feel sick.

The knife that you had behind your back was still present, you hoped that you didn't have to use it but your gut is telling you otherwise. Billy leans closer to your ear, whispering to you.

"Any last words before I gut you like a fish?"

His voice was cold, causing your heart to beat faster. Were you going to actually die right now? Tara looked at the both of you, her hands weakly attempting to stop the blood flow as he waited for your to speak.

"Here's my last words.. See you in hell, bastard!"

With your adrenaline soaring through your veins, you took your knife, stabbing Billy in the stomach repeatedly. Billy lets go of you before falling onto the ground, holding on to the gaping wounds on his torso.

You moved towards Dale, shaking as you placed the knife on the corner book self. Dale kept his gun at Billy before quickly picking up Billy's knife up. Dale quickly takes off his coat before wrapping it around Tara tightly as an attempt of stopping the blood flow.

Stu took out his cellphone, calling the cops. Everything felt like a limbo where time felt slow, yet moving rapidly as the sirens echoed from the outside, red and blue lights flashed as police officers and paramedics quickly ushered Tara and Billy to the local hospital. Dale, Stu, and you told the officers what had happened.

"Do you have any other information about what happened?"

The baby faced cop asked you while a paramedic bandaged up your cut. Dale was beside you as he held the weighted grey blanket around you.

"I'm not sure how legal this is but I have the whole thing recorded. This should hopefully help you with the investigation.."

You pulled out your cellphone to show the cop the video still being recorded. You pressed the stop icon before following the instructions and handing over your phone to the cop.

"Kid, you really recorded the whole thing? As your lawyer, this potentially can be a help.. as someone whose known you for twenty years, I'm impressed with your wit."

Dale gave a genuine smile to you, causing you to give a faint smile back. The paramedic tending you tells you that you're good to go before cleaning up the bloodied gauze. You felt a wave of calm enter your body as you walked with Dale. For the first time in over twenty years, youve felt something that was different than the coldness of revenge, it was the warmth relief of peace.

ONE YEAR LATER

It was a year since you last saw Billy, with the fingerprints he left behind and your video, he's currently awaiting trial. You knew that Billy was most likely going to never see the light of day again between the murder charges and the two assault charges for you and Tara, he's looking at death.

The thing that actually surprised you was seeing Stu turn himself in nine months later, claiming that the guilt caused him to do so. Stu decided to take a plea deal of 30 years.

Tara made a full recovery, still helping people in situations like the both of you. You helped her through her recovery and fixing the lobby for her. As a token of her appreciation, she's made you her second in command.

You now help Tara give recently released people a chance to have the new beginning that Tara and now you have. Every so often, you spend late nights with Tara, helping each other out with coping with what happened.

Dale keeps in contact with you every week or two, between Billy and Stu's legal updates and just personal conversations of how both of you are doing. Dale recently told you about a book he was going to write about your situation. You offered to give him whatever information he wanted in regards to your relationship with them and being locked up.

You still worked at the bakery, finding your family in the coworkers you've worked with. CJ was like a younger brother to you, constantly joking around with each other. Ray became a father figure to you, giving you advice whenever you needed it. Mark and Geraldine were like your older aunt and uncle, making sure that you're okay and not overworking yourself.

You have a scar across your throat that reminded you of that night. It was either dumb luck or some sort of divine intervention that you were still here. If Billy had cut you a few inches higher, you wouldn't be here today.

You haven't looked at the letter that Stu gave you before everything happened. It ended up being buried in your dresser drawer, mostly forgotten about until you saw a package in front of your door from Stu.

You grabbed the package before entering your apartment, locking the door behind you after placing the box onto the coffee table. You took your box cutter, opening the box carefully as you see stacks of money in the box with a small note with Stus familiar handwriting saying "for your new beginning."

You quickly went to your drawer, digging out your prison release forms, the faded picture of the three of you. You found the letter behind the picture. Opening the envelope, you feel yourself become curious as to what Stu had to say.

"If you're reading this, one of two things has happened. One, I'm dead and you ended up surviving. Or two, we both made it out alive tonight.

If I'm alive when you're reading this, you may have known that I decided to turn myself in. I know that no apology will ever convey how sorry I am for letting you take the blame for me and me leaving you to rot in prison.

I've always loved you, I still love you to this day. When I saw you at the bakery the other day, I felt myself feeling the same feelings I've felt when I first saw you all these years ago at the movie store.

I will be sending you money within the year that will be for you to live your life as free as you're meant to be. This will never be able to pay you for lost time or your love. I believe it's the least I can do for you.

Go to culinary school, follow your dreams. You deserve it. May we meet again, Stu"

On the bottom of the letter, there was a well faded picture of you and Stu that was taken when the three of you started dating. Billy took the picture of him kissing your cheek as you're in his lap, arms around his neck.

[isaaclewis]

Quote: The Hacker's Manifesto

A comment on Hacker News led me to 0xf.at, from there to hackthissite.org, and eventually to the challenges at overthewire.org. All three sites give you some kind of system (usually a website, in the case of the first two, or a Linux machine, in the case of the third) and challenge you to break in. A lot of fun and a good way to learn things like Linux, web security, forensics, and so on.

(The web challenges posed no obstacles -- mostly trying to figure out some '90s era Javascript or running SQL injection on a PHP script. Some of OTW's challenges, on the other hand, involved things like using gdb to identify the system calls in a compiled C program and finding the memory locations that contained the relevant password string.

[if the above is gobbledygook to you, clicking through to one of the first two sites above and trying to tackle one of the beginner challenges might be a good way to learn the basics of the incomprehensible machines that surround us. This should help you get started and Google can help if you get stuck.])

All in all, a good way to learn new things -- the original commenter said that he found "hackits" to be the most effective way to keep a class of rowdy teenagers focused on learning the fundamentals of CS and programming.

Anyway... while playing with the above I found myself reading some of the back issues of Phrack magazine, including the classic Hacker's Manifesto from 1986 (!) (context). Text below:

= = =

Another one got caught today, it's all over the papers.  "Teenager Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal," "Hacker Arrested after Bank Tampering"…

        Damn kids.  They're all alike.

        But did you, in your three-piece psychology and 1950's technobrain, ever take a look behind the eyes of the hacker?  Did you ever wonder what made him tick, what forces shaped him, what may have molded him?

        I am a hacker, enter my world…

        Mine is a world that begins with school... I'm smarter than most of the other kids, this crap they teach us bores me…

        Damn underachievers.  They're all alike.

        I'm in junior high or high school.  I've listened to teachers explain for the fifteenth time how to reduce a fraction.  I understand it.  "No, Ms. Smith, I didn't show my work.  I did it in my head…"

        Damn kid.  Probably copied it.  They're all alike.

        I made a discovery today.  I found a computer.  Wait a second, this is cool.  It does what I want it to.  If it makes a mistake, it's because I screwed it up.  Not because it doesn't like me…

                Or feels threatened by me…

                Or thinks I'm a smart ass…

                Or doesn't like teaching and shouldn't be here…

        Damn kid.  All he does is play games.  They're all alike.

        And then it happened... a door opened to a world... rushing through the phone line like heroin through an addict's veins, an electronic pulse is sent out, a refuge from the day-to-day incompetencies is sought... a board is found.

        "This is it... this is where I belong…"

        I know everyone here... even if I've never met them, never talked to them, may never hear from them again... I know you all…

        Damn kid.  Tying up the phone line again.  They're all alike...

        You bet your ass we're all alike... we've been spoon-fed baby food at school when we hungered for steak... the bits of meat that you did let slip through were pre-chewed and tasteless.  We've been dominated by sadists, or ignored by the apathetic.  The few that had something to teach found us willing pupils, but those few are like drops of water in the desert.

        This is our world now... the world of the electron and the switch, the beauty of the baud.  We make use of a service already existing without paying for what could be dirt-cheap if it wasn't run by profiteering gluttons, and you call us criminals.  We explore... and you call us criminals.  We seek after knowledge... and you call us criminals.  We exist without skin color, without nationality, without religious bias... and you call us criminals.

You build atomic bombs, you wage wars, you murder, cheat, and lie to us and try to make us believe it's for our own good, yet we're the criminals.

        Yes, I am a criminal.  My crime is that of curiosity.  My crime is that of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look like.

My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will never forgive me for.

        I am a hacker, and this is my manifesto.  You may stop this individual, but you can't stop us all... after all, we're all alike.

                               +++The Mentor+++

= = =

Curious, no? I think a friend and I read this in a .txt file when we were both about 13 (I was almost never allowed to use the internet at home ... he was already all over torrents and such things in the early '00s, and I used to hang out at his house where we could play with the computer unsupervised. Oh yep, I've just remembered, he was the person in our school who discovered The Anarchist Cookbook as well.)

Looking back on this: I can still relate to the mentality and to the overall vibe of the above, though not necessarily with the political ideas. I don't think the political ideas are fundamental, though. I think the essence of the mindset (and vibe) is this:

I made a discovery today.  I found a computer.  Wait a second, this is cool.  It does what I want it to.  If it makes a mistake, it's because I screwed it up.  Not because it doesn't like me…                 Or feels threatened by me…                 Or thinks I'm a smart ass…                 Or doesn't like teaching and shouldn't be here…

Which suggests that the political beliefs and ideology are simply expressions of frustrated active minds trying to navigate the (largely) conformist, bureaucratic system they grew up in. Wanting to deal directly with physical reality, versus being forced to deal with an artificial structure created by the whims of others.

Speculation: there are some sociological, anthropological and cultural-historical* questions regarding the connections between the hacker culture of the '70s, '80s and early '90s, the early web culture of the late '90s and early '00s (typified by things like Napster, Mozilla, culture jamming and the like), and the culture of the second startup boom, beginning in the late '00s and continuing (in some form) until now.

*(Really {cultural,intellectual,ideological}-historical.)

In the case of the latter, I believe there was a fundamental cultural clash between entities like YCombinator, which (originally!) had fairly deep roots in the rebellious, piratical, outsider culture of the early internet -- and the more careerist, establishment, insider culture of the types of people who began to dominate the world of technology from the early '10s.

The latter group brought capital, connections, and masterful perception-management abilities. By the mid '10s, with their overall ascendancy achieved likely sometime between 2014 and 2016, they appeared to have suppressed and/or sidelined the rebellious types and their fundamentally unregulated* culture. *(See here: http://phrack.org/issues/69/16.html -- "Unregulated knowledge is pornography". That was the slogan of wargames.unix.se, an early hacking wargames community, and could be the slogan of various emerging groups I see in the world today.)

Or perhaps not. Maybe it was simply structural and economic issues that led to the cultural shifts in the startup world during the last decade.

(By economic issues I don't primarily mean things like the debate over wealth inequality, or government monetary policy -- though those things had a huge influence -- but more the prevalence of different funding models and corporate forms, and their effect on the agents who operate within those structures. The tension between bootstrapping and VC-funding is just the tip of the iceberg. Control of capital seems to lead to control of culture, and vice versa. There's a very deep -- and quite terrifying -- question to be investigated regarding which of the two had the most influence, but that is best left for another time. Still: whoever controls the capital controls the technology. Whoever controls the technology controls the world. The stakes are high!) At any rate, the world of technology appears to be a witnessing a nascent movement -- small, but growing -- back towards a more rebellious, free-spirited, system-breaking culture. This will be interesting to watch.

[kalorphic]

CHAPTER UHHH SNIPPET

I know it’s going in, but I haven’t quite worked out where yet lol. This is a phone call that takes place between Noah and K from K’s PoV (MC is mentioned). This is to give you a taste of K/Noah’s (early) dynamic.

This will always happen (because Noah is a little shit), but it won’t develop into feelings between them unless the poly options are chosen.

Warnings: swearing, threats (sort of).

$kname isn’t sure why they picked up the phone to a private number. After all, the number shouldn’t be known to anyone other than the team, who were all in the apartment with $kthem, and the agency leaders, who would never call first.

But, against logic, $kthey did.

Regret leaves a bitter feeling in the back of one’s throat.

Noah Caine talks.

Noah Caine talks a lot.

$kname is pretty sure $nthey haven’t drawn breath once since $kthey picked up the phone. And $kname, being completely stunned by this turn of events, hasn’t even thought of interrupting once.

“My sister yelled at me for buying the wrong milk, but I mean how is it my fault that she didn’t tell me she wanted oat instead of almond today?”

Why was the $nperson who was trying to take over the world talking to $kthem about milk alternatives?

“Anyway, on to the actual reason for this call,” Noah finally pauses to take a breath. “I saw your lovely handler again today.”

$kname feels as though someone has just injected liquid nitrogen into $ktheir veins.

“…excuse me?”

“Oh! You can talk. I was beginning to won–”

“Shut the fuck up, Caine,” $kname tries to keep $ktheir voice from shaking. Whether that’s from fear or from rage, $kthey aren’t sure.

“You sound like Manon. Although Manon doesn’t usually sound like she’s about to cry when she says it.”

Oh, $nthey are enjoying this.

“Listen carefully Caine.”

“Yes, dear.”

$kname’s jaw clenches.

“Don’t you ever threaten–”

Noah cut $kthem off, “I wasn’t. Threatening $mcthem, I mean. I won’t lie, I was going to use $mcthem to get to you, but that plan went out the window when I realised how cute $mcthey are.”

$kthey open $ktheir mouth and then close it several times before $kthey manage to choke out a single word.

“Cute?”

“Yeah? $mcname is really cute. Like handler, like agent, I suppose.”

Okay. This was okay. $kname dealt with flirtatious targets all the time. This shouldn’t be any different.

“You think I’m cute?”

“Duh. Have you looked in a mirror, $kname? Cute is only one of many words to describe you.”

“Are you flirting with me, Caine?”

“That kinda depends.”

“On?”

$kname doesn’t even need to see Noah to know that the bastard is grinning.

“Whether it’s working or not.”

Unhinged villain’s who think that $kthey and $mcname are “cute”, don’t even make the top ten thousand on the list of things that $kthey want to deal with right now.

So, $kname takes the only mature and logical solution to this problem and hangs up.

That makes $kthem feel slightly better until $kthey realise that Noah is probably laughing $ntheir arse off right now, and then it becomes a lesson in restraint to stop $kthemselves from redialling the number and beginning the threats again.

The phone beeped with a message, which $kname very reluctantly checked.

Private: we should have dinner ;) bring $mcname <3

The phone creaked in $ktheir grip.

“$kname, are you alright?”

It was $mcname. $kthey didn’t even hear $mcthem approach.

“I just…need a new phone.” …and a new job.

[daisies-and-domming]

Movie Night for Two (Can I Call it a Date?) (SFW)

Summary: Steve can't make movie night - normally you’d be sad but alone time with the girl of your dreams is just what you're looking for.

Warnings: swearing, confessions, vague hints at past homophobia, fem!reader

Let me know if you think I missed anything!!

All characters are over 18 :)

Steve Harrington is a good wingman ;) Considering making a second part where Robin and reader get it on… lmk if that’s an interest :P

– – –

Honestly, you were kind of pissed at Steve. After the embarrassment he was when applying to Family Video alongside you and Robin, you had organized a weekly movie night to “inject some culture into his veins” (Robin’s words, not yours). Now you're here, alone with the girl you've been crushing on for ages, and the only warning you get from Steve is a phone call saying he “can't make it”. No explanation, no reason, no nothing. If this was Steve’s way of telling you to make a move you swear you're going to stab him through the next time you see him.

Despite all the angry feelings you were currently harboring for Steve, a little part of you couldn't help but be grateful. Alone time!! With Robin!!! it was screaming like you weren't already hyper aware of the scenario you've gotten yourself into.

“-lo? Helloooo, y/n, you in there?? Yoo hoo, this is Robin, calling from planet Ear-”

You flail at her, face flushing. 

“Hello, commander Robin,” you say, making a face at her, “How can I help you?”

Trying her best to hold back a smile, she responds, “Well, cadet, I was asking a certain someone if they wanted to watch the movie, but for some reason they seemed to have found their way out of the atmosphere and into lala land.”

You blink back at her, a little shocked you missed it. “Yeah, I'd love to. Sorry I'm space-y, I'm just pissed that Steve ditched last minute.”

An unreadable look crossed her face before she stuck her bottom lip out, faking a pout. “How dare he. Doesn't he want to spend the night with two gorgeous ladies and watch an incredible movie?”

You both snort, and she motions you towards the couch, where a plethora of snacks are already strewn about. You plop on the couch next to her and let out a little sigh, reveling in the way her face scrunched up when she was focused. 

Cheering when the movie finally slid in, Robin sank into the couch next to you. Children of Paradise was one of Robin’s favorite movies (you had watched it with her about a thousand times) but you couldn't bring yourself to stare at anything but her. Even in her dumb pajama set and no makeup, Robin was stunning. You felt a little guilty not watching the screen - Robin loved this movie, and sharing it was clearly important to her, even if she had already made you watch it on repeat - but the light from the TV practically made her glow, and you didn’t realize she had noticed until she started making faces at you.

“I swear if you just missed the best scene in the movie because you’re staring at me-”

“I’m not staring!!” you retort, continuing to stare. “I’m just… admiring, is all.”

She snorted, but the flush that overtook the rise of her cheekbones indicated that she didn’t seem to mind. “Whatever, dorkus. That just means you have to watch it again next week when we tie Steve up so he can’t ditch us again.”

“Of course, of course,” you said, sending her a grin. “As you wish, m’lady.”

She gasped, throwing a hand to her chest. “M’lady? What am I, some sort of dashing young damsel?”

“Uh, duh,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I wouldn’t fall in love with just anyone, y’know.”

She whipped her head in your direction, blinking rapidly. Shit, that was not supposed to come out of your mouth. “You’re just my best friend and I love you very much- like platonically!! And sometimes words come out wrong, and I can’t control my brain - like right now - and I’ll accidentally say something that offends the other person and I’m so sorry and-”

“Would you say that to Steve, ‘accidentally?’” Robin said, staring you dead in the eyes. “Or would you mean it when you said it to him?”

It was your turn to blink at her. “If you think I have any intention of hitting on Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington I’d like to remind you that our relationship is platonic, like platonic-”

“-with a capital P, I know,” she said, looking away. “‘m sorry, I got carried away, let’s just finish the movie.”

Her eyes flicked back to the screen, but even you could tell she wasn’t paying any attention. You fidget, unsure. Steve had been telling you for weeks to confess to her and get it out.

“If she says no at least you’ll know,” he’d said, like it was the easiest thing to confess to someone of the same sex who could potentially never talk to you ever again. You’d moved cities to escape rumors and hatred, you had reminded him at the time. Asking a lady out also meant coming out, and you were starting to like your Hawkins friend group, thank you very much.

Your eyes flicker back to Robin, who looked just as uncomfortable as you felt. Fuck it, you thought, I came out to Steve motherfucking Harrington, this is nothing.

Except it was something. Because, sure, coming out to the stereotype of ‘straight white boy’ wasn’t a walk in the park, but this was your dream girl for fuck’s sake. 

“Hey, Robin?” you whisper, testing the waters. “Yeah?” she whispered back, uncharacteristically quiet.

“I meant it,” you said, a little more confidently. “I meant what I said earlier.”

She stiffened, and you felt panic bubble in your stomach, but you refused to let that stop you. “I don’t understand-”

“Yes, you do,” you said, staring her right in the eyes. “Robin Buckley, I’m in love with you. And I know it’s not ‘normal,’ or whatever, to like girls, but I can’t help it, and if you never want to talk to me ever again, I understand, and honestly I can’t believe I told Steve before I told you-”

“Steve knows?” she shrieked, like that was the most appalling part of your whole monologue. “Steve knows and he didn’t even try to tell me you liked me back?? That two-timer! That ungrateful sack of shit! I dropped all those Nancy hints for him and he didn’t even give me a hint!!”

Time stopped. She gawked at you, flushing under your gaze. “...back?”

“Uhm, yeah, haha, I super-like girls too, y’know, just a big ol’ lady lover-”

You reach across the couch and pull her closer to you and she stops, staring up at you. You run a thumb over her lips, and she nods like her life depends on it, letting you lead her into a kiss. While it didn’t feel like fireworks like the movies pretend it does, kissing Robin was like coming home after months of being away. It felt safe. Like nothing else mattered. Like there wasn’t a kid with superpowers and giant demon-like creatures out to get her. Like maybe your life might actually be going somewhere.

She pulled back, a cunning grin on her face. “Me thinks Stevie-poo owes Dustin twenty dollars.”

You snort, knowing exactly where this was heading. “They were betting on us and you knew about it??”

“Correction,” she said, booping your nose. “They were betting on you confessing to this ‘mystery person who you totally know Robin but we can’t tell you’- wait, does that mean that Dustin knew before me too??”

“He’s always with Steve!!” you say, face bright red. “And I mean I’ve been part of this psycho babysitter club thing we have going forever, he’s like a little brother to me.”

“Oh my god,” she murmured, giggling. “We’re so stupid.” “The dumbest,” you agreed. “Want to make up for lost time?”

“Are you kidding?” she said, grinning. “Hell yeah I do.”

Word Count: 1289