#i should've just fucking gone in and suffered

[merlyn-bane]

.

[syoddeye]

just imagining,,, going to a bar with soap, and getting really drunk and rushing back home to have the sloppiest messiest most indulgent and intimate sex ever that lasts all night even through to the next morning after many naps and cuddling in between

oof, yeah. i, uh, took a slight left into feelings town. 🧍 i hope you like this anyway. soap x f!reader. 700 words. lightly edited.

after he tucks two fingers into you on the ride home and eats your cunt for a midnight snack in the kitchen, soap helps you to bed and leaves a trail of clothes spanning the length of your home.

chin wet with your slick, he licks into your mouth as he pushes into you, groaning against your lips. his cock stretches you just right, a familiar and welcomed burn. he grinds for a bit, indulgent-like, yammering away about how good you feel, how this is what he wanted all night. guides a thumb over your offered tongue and molars, then drags it down to your swollen clit. 

soap rubs quick, concentrated circles at first. they lose their finesse as his hips gain momentum but still conjure the tense, coiling heat that makes your legs shake and pussy tighten on each thrust.

and you're so far gone, absolutely lost in the sauce, that you let i love you slip out of your mouth as you melt into your third orgasm of the night.

he's stunned, pace faltering into near-failure. he can't get the words out, can't formulate a response before you're pulling him down and kissing him even more stupid. it takes a measure of his strength to break it, big hands cupping your face, brushing your cheeks.

do ye mean it?

he doesn't believe you when you repeat yourself, especially when you tell him to pull out. it's a new experience for him—thoughts sluggish like they're swimming in syrup, body following suit. you sit him up and position yourself astride his lap, legs spread wide, bent to drape over him just right for leverage.

the feel of you sinking down onto him, taking him back in one go, cuts through the haze and draws his hands to your hips, drunkenly pawing at your ass and hips. despite all your maneuvering, you're not much more coordinated than him at the moment, so you take it slow. lifting and grinding back down onto his cock slowly, one hand reaching over his shoulder for the headboard and the other resting on his neck, thumb stroking his windpipe.

his head tilts forward, eyes fluttering shut. he mouths blindly at your tits, overwhelmed by it all—your heat, your skin gliding over his, those fucking words. the revelation strikes him more profoundly than he thought possible. he sucks a nipple into his mouth and tugs it with his teeth as you rock atop him, distracting you from the sting by slipping a hand between your bodies.

soap finds you still drenched from your orgasm and grunts, feeling you squeeze his cock when he slides his fingers over your swollen clit. he spoils it, rubbing it in tandem with your pace, giving it a few pats when your legs quiver and strain.

when you whine, he knows you're losing strength, so he rolls his hips more, flexing to drive up and deeper, meeting you on the descent. the hand on the headboard detaches and cards through his hair to the root, tugging. his head lifts in a moan, mouth colliding with yours in a sloppy, toothy kiss. you deepen it, licking into his mouth, panting again.

i love you. i love you. you believe me, don't you, johnny?

a heartbeat passes before he comes, spilling into you, hips and lips stuttering alike. this time though, as he jerks, pumping the last of his cum into you, he coaxes the words out of his mouth. doesn't let them get stuck this time.

aye. i love ye.

in the morning, he wakes you up with a tongue in your navel. you giggle, almost deliriously, and watch through the cobwebs of sleep as he heads further south. he makes you come on his mouth and fingers, gets you messy and pliant, warding off the hangovers you surely should've suffered. he asks you to say it again and again. once, while he's inside you, resting on his elbows, teasing you at the precipice of your release. another time when his head's on your stomach, your fingers idly playing with his hair.

he toys with your other hand, gently massaging it, and eyes your naked ring finger.

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-one of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

“Sure,” Tim says in a mostly-reasonable imitation of a normal person who is not in a good ten feet over their head, taking the seat Kon left him. Kon flashes him another grin and unzips his jeans. He is still wearing his suit underneath them. It still does not even slightly matter to Tim’s stupid idiot hormones. 

He tries not to stare at Kon stripping off his boots and jeans, but absolutely, undeniably fails. The situation is not improved when Kon turns his back towards him and smirks back over his shoulder at him. 

“Unzip me?” he asks, the bastard. Tim does not in any way believe he needs the help unzipping his suit, but also Tim is a stupid idiot with stupid idiot hormones and he does, in fact, lean forward on the bench and reach up to do so. He pulls Kon’s zipper down his spine and, miraculously, does not spontaneously combust in the process. 

New information: Kon doesn’t wear any kind of underlayer under his suit. At least not over his torso, anyway. Which Tim supposes shouldn’t be a surprise, but certainly is something he’s noticing right now. 

He can’t even decide if he’s hoping for him to be wearing underwear or not. He should be hoping for him to be wearing it, given they’re here to try on clothes and that’s therefore kind of necessary, but . . . 

Kon strips the rest of his suit off. He is, unfortunately, wearing boxer briefs. Very small and very tight boxer briefs, but boxer briefs all the same. Tim tries not to stare at Kon’s ass and then immediately encounters the larger problem of accidentally looking at Kon’s reflection in the changing room mirror, which offers the opportunity to stare at other things that belong to Kon. Like his chest. And his abs. And his Adonis belt and–

Fuck his life, Tim thinks feelingly, barely resisting the urge to cover his eyes before he can embarrass himself. He’s already embarrassing himself; it is way too damn late for anything like that to help. 

“What should I try on first?” Kon asks. Tim, in mute panic, grabs the first thing off the top of the pile and shoves it at him. Kon, unfortunately, accepts it. 

More unfortunately, it turns out to be a very clingy black T-shirt with a very deep V-neck. Kon doesn't have actual cleavage, obviously, but that T-shirt has not gotten the memo. 

And apparently neither have his pecs. 

Fuck, Tim thinks with great feeling, still barely resisting the urge to cover his eyes. Fuuuuuck. 

“Hmmm,” Kon says, tugging at the dip of the V-neck with a finger. “What do you think? My color or naw?” 

Tim is suffering. There is a hell and he is currently in it, right here and now. 

“Black isn’t a particularly daring color choice, most people look good in it,” he says, clearing his throat. “The fit’s nice, though.” 

“Fair enough,” Kon says, plucking at the collar again and then stripping the shirt off. While facing Tim. Directly. So Tim therefore has a front-row seat to his bare abs stretching and flexing and–

Jesus. Just–Jesus. 

“Next?” Kon asks, holding out an expectant hand and smirking at him. 

Bastard. 

Tim, in vengeance, hands over the leather pants. It immediately backfires, because Kon just smirks wider and steps right into them, and in fact the process of watching Kon get into leather pants is . . . well, it's a fucking process, alright. And then Tim is alone in a changing room with a shirtless Kon in very tight leather pants and absolutely no one else around to interrupt. Not a single convenient supervillain attack to be seen. 

Fuck, Tim reflects with great feeling. 

“Guess this still isn’t a very daring color choice, huh?” Kon asks, tugging casually at his own waistband. Tim's teeth would also like to do that, please. Like. He has never done that to anyone's waistband in his life, but he would like to start. Right now, ideally. “Maybe I should've gone for something else.” 

“They look alright,” Tim says, desperately trying not to choke and die. He may or may not have had to put one of the shopping bags in his lap. Kon seems unconcerned and just twists to check out his ass in the mirror. His ass which is in very tight black leather. With belts. And buckles. 

And straps. 

Tim is disproportionately fixated on the straps, maybe. 

“Take a picture, it'll last longer,” Kon tells him with a smug grin. 

“I . . . kinda want to?” Tim admits helplessly, then winces at himself. Oh, that was the literal opposite of smooth. Kon laughs anyway, though.

“Oh do you now,” he purrs teasingly. “Is that why you were so concerned about getting me a phone with a good camera, pretty boy?” 

“. . . technically it only matters if my phone has a good camera in that situation,” Tim points out, and Kon actually pouts at him. It’s clearly a put-on, since he’s still half-smirking, but it’s a pout all the same. 

“Aw, you don't want me to send you any pics, Tim?” he asks. 

Tim might be, like, dead now. That might be a thing. He might just be dead. 

“Uh,” he says, blinking rapidly a few times in a desperate attempt to make his brain do literally anything but go down that particular avenue.

“These are a little tight, though,” Kon muses casually as he looks back down to the pants in the mirror, and then smooths a hand down his thigh because he apparently wants Tim to die. The bright fluorescent lights glint across his earring and make those inhumanly blue eyes even more undeniably inhumanly blue, and also make all his muscle definition all very, very visible. 

Technically, Kon has muscles like these because he's a genetically-enhanced half-alien who's all jacked up on solar power. Tim is perfectly aware of that fact. A normal unenhanced human being built like this would probably need an assist from steroids and a ridiculously-specialized diet and to basically never leave the gym. And also probably they'd be at least a little bit dehydrated, to look this cut. 

Tim can tell himself all that all that he likes, but Kon still looks like the bodybuilder edition of Playgirl right now. 

“Since when do you mind tight?” he asks. 

“I don't,” Kon says, sparing him another smirk. “But if I didn't make sure to keep my TTK on them 24/7, they'd probably rip. Leather's a little less forgiving than spandex, you know?” 

Tim is fairly sure Kon said some words after “rip”, but fuck if he could tell anyone. He couldn't tell anyone with a gun to his head. He couldn't tell Batman. 

Fucking hell. 

“Then I'll buy you another pair,” he says reflexively. Kon laughs, ducking his head. He is still shirtless. Very, very shirtless. 

“Man, I don't care what you think you owe me, you cannot possibly wanna buy me this much stuff,” he says. 

Tim tries to figure out how to say “you're my teammate and ally and you deserve to be somewhere safe and taken care of and have everything you need” without actually saying “you're my teammate and ally and you deserve to be somewhere safe and taken care of and have everything you need”. It's difficult, mostly because the alternate and equally true answer is “I think I'm kind of getting off on this, actually”. Which is actually kind of weird and questionable of him even if Kon is flirting with him and acting kind of–

Yeah, he really needs to stop being weird about this. 

“I have the money,” he says reasonably. “It’s not any harder for me than using your powers is for you. And I like doing it.” 

“You like doing it?” Kon says, tilting his head. Possibly Tim should’ve phrased that differently. Or just not said it at all, more like. 

“Yeah,” he says, then quickly changes the subject in self-defense. “And you did me a favor. I want to pay it back.” 

“There’s ‘paying it back’ and there’s ‘signing a lease’, man,” Kon says, raising an eyebrow at him. “Like, you offered me an apartment.” 

“If you’d let me I’d give you a fully-furnished apartment, bills and expenses, and an allowance,” Tim says wryly, and belatedly realizes that last one maybe sounds a little bit patronizing or weird when Kon–pauses.

“An allowance?” he repeats, just barely frowning. 

“Yes,” Tim says, because fuck it, he’s committed now and trying to backtrack would just make it more awkward. If he acts like that was a normal offer to make, maybe Kon will buy it. It’s not like he doesn’t know his initial socialization and education came from a bunch of weird nerds in a lab. “You know, rent and bills and groceries and a little extra, so you don’t have to call me up every time you want something.” 

“Because I saved your life?” Kon says, fidgeting with the button of his pants for a moment. Tim pretends not to notice. Pretends very hard not to notice. It’s . . . arguably a success. Maybe. 

“Yes,” Tim lies. Kon’s saved his life plenty of times; it’s really not relevant to wanting to see him actually properly taken care of and not just ditched in a lab without any damn windows in it. 

Seriously. Kon is solar-powered and Cadmus is underground. What advantage-taking idiots thought he belonged there? 

“Just that?” Kon asks, biting his lip. Tim . . . pauses. 

That’s a weird question, he thinks. It is, right? 

He’s not sure how to answer it. He lies to Batman, so that’s not a concern, but . . .

But. 

“Not just that,” he says after a moment, and just . . . doesn’t elaborate. Kon reddens a little, and then, weirdly, smiles a little. Tim does his damnedest to deal with the sight of him half-in civilian clothes and looking very, very touchable. Just–very close and touchable. He could just . . . reach right out. And touch him. 

Kon’s just . . . very close right now, is all. Like . . . very, very close. 

Fuck. 

“Hi,” Kon says with a little smile, then steps forward right in-between Tim’s knees still half-dressed in black leather and belts and buckles and straps. Tim almost falls off the bench. 

“Hi?” he tries. He very suddenly feels like he might be cooking in his own skin and maybe needs a couple decades to recover before he actually does die here. Because he definitely feels like he's about to die right now, oh god. Did Ivy pollen the mall? Maybe Ivy pollened the mall. Maybe–

Kon leans down over him and into his personal space, and Tim ends up with his back pressed against the changing room wall. 

Nope, never mind. This is all him. This is exclusively a Tim problem. All Tim all the way. All Tim all the time. 

Fuuuuuck.

“Uh,” he chokes in mortification, feeling his face absolutely burn. Kon braces a hand against the wall and very literally bats his eyes at him, the fucking bastard. He is . . . so attractive. So, so attractive. Like every kind of attractive Tim can currently envision and then some. Why is he so attractive? Why is he this far up in Tim’s space? Why is he–

Oh, fuck, Tim thinks. 

“Oh my god, I in no way meant to make you think this was, like, a condition or–!” he starts to sputter in horror, and Kon cuts him off by putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him up tighter against the wall with a very, very pleased smirk. 

“Shut up and kiss me, you weird little nerd,” he says, and then leans in close enough to be kissed, his eyes soft and half-lidded and mouth still curved into that same pleased smirk. Tim’s brain shorts out entirely. Tim’s brain effectively electrocutes itself, actually. 

Oh god, he thinks feebly. 

He can’t kiss Kon, obviously. That would be a very stupid thing to actually do. Flirting and joking around is one thing, but actually kissing him . . . 

Kon bites his lip, a little flicker of uncertainty reflecting in his eyes. Tim has been in literal death traps that were less upsetting than that little flicker. 

“Okay,” he manages, useless and breathless, and then–like an idiot–kisses him.

[toruro]

hhu + you being jealous

tags/warnings: jealousy, sexual content (mostly non-explicit), oral (both m and f receiving), light angst (it's resolved)

w/c: 3.8k

seungcheol

he's just so hot and so charming that you can't even get mad at him when you see one of the girls at this party you're at come just a little too close, bat her eyelashes just a little too much, laugh just a little too hard. cheol may not notice anything wrong with it but you're a girl and you definitely do, sending death glares from across the room. cheol isn't looking your way right now—you know it's because he's talking to a group of people but one of the people happens to be her—and you're suddenly overwhelmed with a nasty feeling in your stomach.you aren't sure if you want to go up to him and kiss him smack on the lips in front of everyone or resort to ignoring him for the rest of the night (you know it's not technically his fault but you're in a bratty mood and the scene in front of you makes you want to burst into tears). jealousy coursing through your veins, you choose the latter. you don't look his way (although it is very hard with the way he looks so good tonight), you don't go up to him—frankly, you don't do anything. you're left alone for your jealousy to bubble up in it's own isolation, morphing into some kind of ugly sadness that's lingering in you when you come to notice that yes you haven't gone up to cheol in the past half hour but he also hasn't come up to you either.

eventually you'll end up on the sofa leaning into one of your girl friend's arm, finding solace in a person who you wished was cheol. that's when he'll come up to you (fucking finally!) with concerned eyes, "you wanna go?" he'll ask softly and for a moment you almost cave—almost. that's when you hear that girl's name (what's her fucking name...jiwoon?) calling for him, asking him when he'll be back. when cheol just calls back, "one minute," all traces of your forgiveness wither away. one second you were about to take his hand and ditch this party, but the next second you're sinking back into the arms of your friend, shaking your head. "go" you try to come off as cool but the venom is seeping through and cheol gives That Look. "baby—" you'd cross your arms over your shoulder, closing him off. "no," you say with a shrug, "go." he'd sigh, shoving his hands in his pocket, "i don't wanna stay if something's bothering you." you'd think this is your chance (about time!), "then we should've left an hour ago." he's giving you That Look again but you think you've suffered enough tonight—you won't relent. "what's that supposed to mean?" you feel slightly guilty when he says that because you know he's being genuine but you've been too upset for too long. "dunno..." your voice would trail off while you pretend to examine your nails, "maybe you should as jiwoon." he'd give you That Look times ten. "baby—" you shake your head, putting your hand up nonchalantly. "no, i don't care," you tell him, looking over at her. "you should go, she's calling you."

cheol would have his hands fisted at his sides, contemplating if he should be angry about you being so petty or upset with himself for neglecting your feelings. he'd try to get you to leave the party but it seems like you have your mind set. he'd try one more time: "no, we're going." you'd scoff at him—holy shit you scoffed at him! "no we are not," you'd shoot back, but this is when you start to feel your resolve crumble. the emotions you've been feeling for the past hour are catching up to you at record speed and having cheol stand in front of you and not sitting by your side is enough to have the familiar, stinging knot tie up in your throat. "okay fine," he'd reply, turning on his heel so fast that it'd have you spinning and reaching out to grab the hem of his jacket before he gets too far away. you won't meet his eye when he turns around, looking at the ground when you speak, "fine, let's go." you're barely audible but cheol would get the message, locking his fingers with yours to pull you up and out of this house. you won't say anything as he leads you outside and into the car, and cheol doesn't speak either as he climbs into the drivers seat. his expression would be unreadable, making the sinking feeling in your stomach plummet even further.

"i wasn't flirting with jiwoon," cheol says after a few minutes of silence, eyes still on the road. you don't say anything for a few seconds, arms crossed over your chest as you look out the window, tears threatening to spill. "well she was," you finally would shoot back, slumping further into your seat. your voice would come out wobbly and you can only pray that cheol doesn't noti—"don't cry, please," he murmurs, reaching a hand out to rest on your thigh. "we were supposed to have fun tonight." you'd think that if he's already caught you there's no point in hiding it, letting your tears fall onto your thighs with some landing on cheol. "seems like you were having the time of your fucking life," you murmur, not daring to look at him. "you know i wasn't," he says, and you reply almost immediately. "then why didn't you come to me?" you cry out, the silent tears gushing out now, not realizing that you've reached the parking lot of your guys' apartment complex. once he's parked, cheol would look over you with a frown, cupping your face with the hand that wasn't on your thigh. "baby, you were with your friends and i was with my friends and jiwoon just happened to be there, i swear i didn't even talk to her that much. if i had known you didn't like it then i wouldn't have done it." he'd wipe away your tears and honestly, him saying that would be enough to wash way your sadness too. "i know," you'd mumble, looking off into the distance. "then why're you so upset baby?" your cheeks would be on fire at the question, suddenly embarrassed by your brash actions. "she made me really mad, cheol," you would confess finally meeting his gaze, not missing the playful glint in his eyes as he plants a kiss on your forehead. "you have nothing to worry about baby, i love you so much, you know that." you unbuckle your seatbelt after that, moving to exit the car along with cheol, a small grin creeping its way onto your face. "maybe you'll have to just how much."

it's no question he basically fucked you into the mattress that night. considering your "party night" got cut early, you both had to make up for it somehow. usually cheol would be a bit of a mean dom, definitely into the idea of 'punishing' you for being bratty but after seeing and feeling your tears, he doesn't have the heart to do anything when this was pretty much his fault. definitely has you cumming at least three to four times, making sure that you understand just how much he loves you.

wonwoo

you wouldn’t know what exactly you’d had in mind for this dinner out with your and wonwoo’s friends, but it definitely wouldn’t be this. if anything, you’re friend(?) coming up to you with a smirk saying, “when did wonwoo get so hot?” would be the last thing you expect. you’d just furrow your eyebrows, shrugging off the comment as the familiar, nasty knot pools at the bottom of your stomach. trying your best to brush off both your feelings and jiwoon’s statement, which you try to justify as an ill-placed but not ill-intentioned comment, you scoot a little closer to wonwoo’s side in the restaurant booth while the ten of you get settled in. he’d wrap an arm around your shoulder instinctively, but if you’re being honest, it does little to quell the cold feeling that comes over you when you watch jiwoon glance over at your boyfriend definitely more than once or twice. you wouldn’t want to bring it up with wonwoo, at least not right now—it’s a nice night and he’s enjoying himself, and you’d be a fool to let a little jealousy try and take that away from him.

of course, a little jealousy turns into a lot and you grow increasingly quiet as the night progresses, eventually causing your boyfriend’s worried eyes to fall on your figure next to him. eyes boring into yours when you catch him staring, you quickly try to turn away before he speaks. “everything okay?” he asks quietly as the rest are eating and continuing the conversation. the grimace on your face is more than apparent—you’d be stupid to try and convince him that there’s nothing bothering you. still, you’re a bit…frustrated. jiwoon has been making off hand remarks the entire night—things like, “wow wonwoo, i didn’t know you were such a gentleman,” or “wow, you must be so lucky to have wonwoo”—and you’re slightly (very) annoyed that wonwoo hasn’t picked up on her not-so-subtle hints yet. maybe it’s the pettiness coming out—no, it definitely is. “nothing,” you’d say in response, giving him a nonchalant shrug which, despite your words, is intended to give him the message that ‘there’s something wrong but i’m going to be a brat and not tell you.’ message received, you’d think when you see the look on wonwoo’s harden slightly. “so are you going to tell me or not,” he retorts. you turn away from him, leaning forward to take a bite out of your meal. “dunno,” you’d murmur with a shrug. you can tell he’s tense next to you but you wouldn’t do anything, hoping it would give him the encouragement to figure it out on his own.

wonwoo would be pissed. he wouldn’t really know what’s got you in this sour but he knows that you only ever be bratty like this when it has something to do with him—any other case and you’d be clinging by his side and pretty much begging for his comfort and attention. he would try to retrace the events of the night, thinking of all the things he said and did to you trying to place where he went wrong. the whole situation only really clicks for him when he catches you glaring hard at jiwoon—well not really. it doesn't make perfect sense to him yet, but when he says something and catches jiwoon looking at him in some sort of way, that's when it fully clicks. wonwoo would be a bit...endeared actually. i feel like he'd love the idea that you love him enough to be so jealous and petty over a girl he couldn't give two flying fucks about, but he also knows that this isn't the time to joke around. you're obviously upset and trying to be stubborn and that is arguably one of the hardest things to deal with. you're pretty much silent for the rest of the night, hardly contributing the the conversation and wonwoo really wants to leave now knowing that you aren't having a good time, but he also knows that you wouldn't want to make a scene or anything by leaving early, so he just settles for keeping a hand on your thigh for the rest of the meal before he excuses the both of you and basically drags you by the wrist to take you home.

you'd still be silent on the way to the car, letting out a small huff as you'd cross your arms over your chest after putting on your seatbelt. after wonwoo starts the engine, he'd look over you with That Look. "baby," he'd say somewhat sternly. you'd look out the window, thinking of things to say. "i hate you," you'd say finally and you don't miss the way wonwoo grips the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles are bright white. "for looking so good," you'd add to clarify, sinking into your seat with embarrassment. whatever traces of anger that stemmed from your jealousy withered away, leaving you in a rather pouty and sulky state instead. wonwoo chuckles softly, "jealous much?" you'd frown, finally meeting his gaze so you could confide. "you know what jiwoon said to me?!" you whine. he raises a brow at you at the red light, encouraging you to go on. "she said 'when did wonwoo get so hot?' what the fuck! who says that? especially to his girlfriend?!" you start complaining, throwing your hands in the air out of frustration. "and she kept on looking at you, like who does she think she is? i swear to god if i ever fucking see her again i'll—" wonwoo laughs and puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing tightly to shut you up. "baby," he'll say sternly again. "you know you're the only one i love, right? i don't care about jiwoon." you pout. "okay? that won't stop her from caring about you!" wonwoo laughs again at your outrage, and although you're still a little bit upset, you can feel the irritation you once felt fading away, morphing into a more playful sort of feeling.

when you guys get home, wonwoo would waste no time throwing you onto the bed and eating you out until you're in tears and SUPER sensitive. his excuse would be something along the lines of how your brattiness distracted him from dinner, so you should give him a second meal agagaga something cheesy like that.

mingyu

i feel like mingyu would be the type to get jealous easily which means that he definitely knows the signs from the very start, from the way you're huffing with every word you say, your arms crossed over your shoulders, and shooting not-so-subtle glares. he'd honestly find it really...cute. you, on the other hand, would be fuming. you hate the way jiwoon is looking at your boyfriend even though you know she knows he's taken. you catch the way mingyu's looking at you and you would know that he sees your jealousy, but something inside of bubbles up in anger at the way he's...not really doing anything about it. okay, it isn't as if he's flirting back with jiwoon, and he's hardly looking at her, but you would just wish that he'd do something. you're too stubborn, and mingyu may know that you're jealous but he doesn't know that you are definitely going to drag this out. instead of clinging to his side like you usually do at parties, you huff at the sight of mingyu talking with some people (one who just so happens to be jiwoon) and turn on your heel to retreat to a different room when he's not looking.

you aren't really sure what to expect after that—you would be half hoping to just be left alone but deep down you know that you want mingyu to chase after you. to leave all those people and leave jiwoon behind. he doesn't, and you aren't sure if it's because he doesn't care (you know this isn't true, but you can't help but see this as your first option when you're so emotional) or because he's just trying to press your buttons but whatever it is it has you a mess. you lock yourself in some random bathroom after a few moments of waiting for mingyu to follow, leaning against the closed door as you try to focus on anything but the current situation. mingyu would be in the other room slightly confused. he'd see you for one moment, focus on his conversation, and then look back to find you not there. he'd know you're jealous right now but he would just think you went to go grab a snack or something for a moment, so when you don't return within a few minutes he'd have to excuse himself, worrying that maybe you were more upset than he anticipated. he'd ask around for where you were when he couldn't find you in the main rooms, one of your friends begrudgingly letting him know that you told her you were going to one of the bathrooms and hadn't been back since. after that, it takes him hardly ten seconds to find the nearest bathroom, knocking on the door asking you to let him in. mingyu won't know what he expected but it certainly wasn't you opening the door almost immediately, looking awfully tired as there was some stupid game opened up on your phone.

"what are you doing?" he'd ask, closing the door behind him as you wouldn't meet his gaze. you shrugged, bringing your phone back up to your face to finish the game, sinking to the ground. "baby, talk to me," he'd say as he crouched down to be on your level, snatching the phone out of your hands. "hey!" you'd complain, trying to reach for it fruitlessly while mingyu—fucking giant—dangled it above your head. there's a smirk toying on his lips, and you're reminded of the whole situation—the one you'd been desperately trying to avoid—all over again, this time with tears welling up in your eyes. "if you're only going to actually talk to me just to annoy me then you might as well go back to jiwoon," you'd spit out, standing up so you could leave the bathroom that had provided you more solace than your boyfriend in the past half hour. mingyu frowns deeply after that, the smirk vanishing off his face immediately as he grabbed your wrist, pulling away from the door. "i'm sorry, i didn't realize you were actually upset about," he'd murmur, pulling you into his arms, feeling more guilty than anything. "why wouldn't i be upset?" you'd shoot back, your voice wobbly, "she was basically shooting heart eyes at you and you just let her!" now mingyu would start to feel like an even bigger idiot. "i'm sorry, you're right i should have stopped her. i just thought it was cute that you were getting jealous, i didn't mean to actually make you sad," he'd ramble. "you know i love you so much—only you."

you'd be pouting right now, tears not really pouring anymore but still staining your cheek as mingyu would bring up a hand to brush them off. "i'm really sorry baby—so sorry. i didn't mean to make you cry; never wanted that." you'd let out a small huff but lean into mingyu's touch, much to his relief. after you'd murmur your quiet, "i love you," he'd be kissing you so passionately you would think you couldn't breathe. "let me," he'd gasp between kisses as he was feeling up your body and wrapping his strong arms around your thighs to lift you onto the bathroom counter, "show you how much i love you." how could you say no? he eats you out and fingers you hard in the bathroom, and you would be lying if you said you didn't moan his name extra loud when you both heard jiwoon knocking on the door, asking if mingyu was in there. safe to say she didn't bother you or mingyu once for the rest of the night—not that she'd have the chance anyways, since mingyu basically pulled you to the car after making you cum on his fingers so he could fuck you another few times at home.

vernon

vernon is interesting. it would be hard for you to get mad at him out of jealousy simply because he's very perceptive and if there's anything he hates it would be seeing you upset over something that's within his control. if he's ever in the scenario where he even thinks someone is flirting with him, or trying to make moves, he'd tell you RIGHT AWAY! like either text you or let you know personally if you are in the room with him. some things are out of his control, of course, like tonight. you were hesitant to go out with this group of friends since there would be a lot of new people that both you and vernon didn't really know. he seemed eager though, excited to try something new, so you didn't protest, going happily along with him to this day at the carnival. but currently, you were anything but happy. there's definitely a girl who's got her eyes set on vernon and no matter how much you hold his hand, how much you cling to his side, how much you try to show her that he is yours, jiwoon just doesn't fucking seem to get the message.

vernon would pick up on your sour mood right away—like i said, he's super perceptive and WILL make sure that he's doing everything he can to diffuse the situation. he'd direct the both of you away from her, although you can't help but notice how that doesn't really stop her sparring glances. "baby," he'd finally murmur to you, "let's just ignore her," he'd suggest, pulling you closer to his side (honestly, there's no way you can be mad at him in this situation). "you're right," you'd mumble in response, looking over his shoulder to catch jiwoon staring at vernon AGAIN! "fucking hell does she think i'm blind or something? i swear to god if she tries to look at you one more time i might just sock her in the face right here and now!" you whisper-yell. vernon chuckles at your heated response, pressing a kiss to your lips. "maybe you should. that would be funny," he admits. "you're cute when you're mad," he'd add too, and you wouldn't be sure if your face's burning from being jealous or from vernon's compliment. whatever it is, it has you looking away bashfully, causing vernon to laugh some more.

honestly, you won't really be mad at him BUT you would be pouty and sulky the entire day, much to vernon's amusement. when you guys finally get home, you don't even let him get to the living room before you're smashing your lips on his with a year's worth of pent up frustration. honestly, you feel bad for being a bit grumpy all day despite vernon trying to make you feel not jealous so you figure you can repay him with some really good head and let me tell you vernon LOVES head. i said it once and i'll say it again but oral is like his ambrosia and the entire time he'll be praising you so good it nearly brings you to your own release. that and you know that jiwoon would never even be able to imagine making vernon feel as good as you are right now hehe.

[vscabarca]

immediate regret - pablo gavi

summary: gavi and you fought after a game, so you made him leave your apartment.

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: swearing

———

„Can't you just shut the fuck up for once and not be so annoying? Bother someone else." Gavi yelled through the apartment, making your body flinch at his words.

„i'm just trying to help you!" You spoke in a distressed voice.

„i don't fucking need your help." He was still angry, yelling around the room without even looking at his girlfriend, throwing his hands into the air.

„Why does everything have to be a struggle with you?" You asked him in disbelief, your voice cracking mid sentence.

Barcelona lost against Real Madrid in el Clásico, the most important game of the season. Additionally to that, Gavi received his fifth yellow card, meaning he'll be suspended for the next game.

You knew how hot-headed he could become after bad games, but this was new. All you've wanted to do is make him feel better, so you tried to talk to him. The two of you had your arguments, yes, but he had never yelled at you before.

Gavi felt immediate regret in seeing you stand there almost in tears. He was quick in approaching you, trying to apologize to his girlfriend.

You backed up, feeling a familiar tightness in your throat as your vision became blurry.

Quietly, but with a firm voice you spoke to him.

„Leave my apartment." It wasn't much what came out, but enough to make Gavi widen his eyes in devastation.

„Pero nena... please, i didn't mean it like that." he argued with pity but you couldn't stand seeing him right now.

„No, i dont wan't you here tonight, not after what you've said." Your voice trembled but you still wanted him gone. Maybe that way you both could cool off a bit.

„Look, i'm sorry" Gavi wanted to embrace you in his arms, but you interrupted him.

„Just leave Gavi, i can't see you right now." Tears were streaming down your face, making it hard to breathe.

He looked at you once more with nothing but regret in his eyes and left your apartment with a huff.

In the car he scolded himself for being so reckless with you, trying to figure out why he said what he said. His temper after games often led to arguments between you two, always bickering about how gavi couldn't control his emotions very well.

You felt like time would do both good. You knew somehow you would fix this mess but didn't want to discuss this in the heat of the moment.

———

Both slept worse than usal the next days, and the guilt ate Gavi up alive. His practice suffered from your fight, his mind was often somewhere else, thinking how to apologize to you.

He spoke to Pedri, getting some helpful advice in return and made his way back to your apartment.

You were currently watching a series to distract yourself from having no contact with Gavi for the last two days.

The knock on your door made your head turn as you did not expect anyone today. You opened the door, revealing Gavi on the other side.

He looked at you with a warm, small smile. In his hands were tulips.

„Can i come in?" Gavi asked carefully, waiting for your answer.

„Yeah come in." You answered, smiling slightly too.

The truth is you missed him very much, you hated fighting with him.

As you got seated, he placed the flowers onto the coffee table.

„you know, buying me flowers won't make me forgive you pablo." You raised your eyebrows at him.

„i know that, but i saw them and still wanted to give you something in addition to my apology." he replied chuckling. „i behaved like an idiot. i should've never screamed at you, you just wanted to help me. You know what a hot-headed kid i can be and I'm very sorry i took my anger out on you amor." he continued, holding your hands in his.

You smiled up at him, realizing he meant it.

„i know it means much to you, but i just want to help you with whatever you're dealing with. You could've just told me to leave you alone and i would've given you some time." you replied sincerely.

„i'm sorry amor. i promise it won't happen again. besides i had the worst two days without you. Am i forgiven?" Gavi asked once more as he scooted closer to you.

„Mhm. i've missed you too." you answered and leaned in for a kiss.

Gavi leaned in too, placing his plump lips on yours.

„i've missed your cuddles." you said as he pulled you down to him and wrapped his strong arms around your waist.

„Then lets watch something and cuddle." Gavi placed a sweet kiss on your head and snuggled closer to you if that was even possible.

[e-rrrrin]

ONE LAST TIME |XIAO

Tw: Mentions of death and blood

It’s been months since you’ve last talked or even seen Xiao. When he broke up with you, you knew you would never be able to say his name again.

Yet here you are in a pool of your own blood, thinking about him. How you yearn to call him and maybe, just maybe you can see him one last time, feel his hands against your frame and be in his embrace once more as he looks at you with those amber eyes as he uses his voice to comfort you.

You knew you were just being delusional at this point, but you have nothing left to lose to stop you. Grimacing from the pain, you somehow found yourself whispering his name with all that you have before your blurred vision turns dark.

____

“Xiao…”

Xiao flinched when he heard it. He must be hallucinating, it’s been months since he last heard your voice. He didn’t even realize how much he missed it until now, especially when you have no reason to call him anymore. Unless… oh fuck.

Within seconds Xiao was met with your crumpled form lying in a crimson pool. His breath hitched as he rushed to you, kneeling down as his trembling hands reached out, desperately searching for a pulse.

You were cold. So, so cold.

The warmth he longed for was gone. He remembered the countless nights he spent agonizing over the decision to push you away, to sever the ties that bound you together. He thought it was for the best, to spare you from the pain and suffering that inevitably followed him. It seems Teyvat deemed his suffering insufficient regardless.

If he knew you would end up lifeless like this he would've never broken up with you. He would've kept you close and shield you from whatever harm that came your way. He could've- no should've spent more time with you. He cursed himself for his arrogance, for thinking he could protect you by pushing you away, now he's paying the price for it.

He knew mortal life was short and that you would inevitably end up leaving him. This was not the way he wanted you to leave him.

Tears welled up in his amber eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours, whispering broken apologies into the void. "I'm sorry, my love," he whispered, his voice choked with tears that he had held back for too long. "I never meant for this to happen. Please forgive me. I won’t push you away anymore. I'll never let you go again. Just come back to me, please.”

“Please, just let me hear you one last time…”

He knows well that you won’t reply. Not today, not after a century.

He can’t fix what has been done.

All he can do is nothing but cradle your lifeless form in his arms as his clothes slowly turn red from the very thing that flowed in your veins.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

You mentioned a few times that you didn’t like Book 7, both from an analysis standpoint and from a structure/pacing standpoint. If you haven’t done so already, do you think you can do a whole post on all your grievances on Book 7?

I never really made a comprehensive post I think.

Like, I mentioned some stuff under the Deathly Hallows tag here, but generally, it seems to me like book 7 made up a lot of new rules about magic that weren't built up earlier. Like people being able to supposedly learn Parseltongue.

In addition to forgetting magic that was already established. Like, I get JKR wanted the trio hungry and miserable, but even if they can't conjour food, they could summon it, steal it under the invisibility cloak, hunt it/fish it? Like, go to a river band and say "accio fish". Something Ted and Dean actually do when they're on the run in book 7:

“There ought to be a few salmon in here, or d’you reckon it’s too early in the season? Accio Salmon.” There were several distinct splashes and then the slapping sounds of fish against flesh. Somebody grunted appreciatively. 

(DH)

Like, I don't get why the main trio couldn't do that. That's all just one example.

I'm not even going to touch what I think about the wandlore in this book since it changes the rules about wands so much.

In terms of characterization, I think Ron's character suffers the most. Like, Ron is written dumber in this book than in any other. He leaves Harry and Hermione and erases his character arc 7 books in. It just, shouldn't have gone like this.

Book 7 is the only one of the books where the trio feels similar to how they are in the movies. With Ron and Harry being a bit useless (especially Ron) and staring in awe at how smart Hermione is. And Hermione seems to be the only one knowing what's up and wanting to push this quest forward while they're camping in the woods. This isn't their dynamic at all up to this point, and the entire camping in the woods section portrays them in this way.

It's not in the entire book too, just like in sections (which makes me feel JKR wrote them very separately, but I digress) — but I hate it.

Like, in general, the character arcs are not really there. At least, not the way I would've liked them to be. I already mentioned Ron who regressed in his arc to something he never was in the books, but it still felt like a regression. Hermione was basically stripped of a lot of her more ruthless streak. Like, Hermione of GoF or OotP would've been willing to steal food to keep them alive. Sure, these people didn't deserve to be stolen from, but she would've understood the necessity. Hermione of book 7 feels off to me, like, she's supposed to be the morally right one more often than not and it feels jarring when the trio had a more equal dynamic up to this point. At least outside of the camping bits she isn't always right in general. Like, Harry still has his incredible instincts Hermione belittles but he ends up being right. That is character-accurate

Harry as well, like, he has some great moments. His doubts about Dumbledore and how it clashes with Hermione's blind faith in him is a great character arc for them and I love it. I just feel that Harry's conclusion of not doubting Dumbledore because he was sick of doubting and how he got to it fell a little flat for me. Also, Harry casts two unforgivable curses easily in this book, and just, no one reacts to it? Not even him? Like, this could've been a fascinating arc and a way better point of contention between the trio than the fucking lack of food. Like, to open the question Lupin brought up at the start of the book, "How far is too far in war?" like, that theme is there, but, like, bubbling beneath the surface.

And I'm not the first to mention how bizarre it is that Hermione cooks when Harry spent years cooking at the Dursleys while Hermione's got no clue what she's doing.

I also feel like more should've been done with the Horcruxes. Like, with how great of a villain the diary was in book 2, it just feels like wasted potential. I wanted more from the locket and the cup and we didn't get time with the diadem at all. I would've liked maybe more of a showcase of cool magical protections on the cup, maybe, and, like, delving deeper into magical theory the way Dumbledore had to to understand the locket's cave. Idk, I just wish there was more.

The Deathly Hallows themselves are another thing. Like, I feel they or the elder wand should've at least been mentioned prior to this book if they were the plan all along. Like, have someone comment Dumbledore won the allegiance of his wand when he defeated Grindlewald or something. Like, a little hint. Because I love the concept of the Deathly Hallows themselves (and Dumbledore's backstory is great and makes complete sense to me with what we know of his character), I just feel the Deathly Hallows the book is literally named after aren't that big of a deal in the book. Like, most of the book should be called "Harry Potter and the Hunt for Horcruxes", the Deathly Hallows, which, again, I love, feel more like an afterthought.

I did like the theme of grief and death that existed throughout the book and it felt in line with talk of things like the Resurrection Stone. I love that that's the hallow Harry chose (actually I like that scene and which hallow each of the trio chose). Like, Harry and Hermione going to Godric's Hallow was great. Harry's grief and pain were amazingly written there. It's one of my favorite parts of the book and I loved seeing the messages of support left for Harry to show what is going on with the rest of the world. I could've done without the super convoluted plan of having Nagini wait there, that made literally no sense, I don't know why Voldy thought that was a good idea.

The romance is another weak point in this book. Since I don't like how Ron and Hermione are written (I think their dynamic was at its most compelling in GoF) and I don't like Harry and Ginny's romance in any book, but book 7 is bad for them. Like, hinny fans talk about how sweet it is for Harry to look at the map to look for Ginny, but he doesn't open the map for Ginny, he does it for Ron:

Meanwhile Harry had started bringing out the Marauder’s Map and examining it by wandlight. He was waiting for the moment when Ron’s labeled dot would reappear in the corridors of Hogwarts, proving that he had returned to the comfortable castle, protected by his status of pureblood.

(DH)

And that's what leads him to see Ginny and look at her name, but he didn't open the map for her, she just happened to be there.

Similarly, when they arrive at Hogwarts, Harry is reacting to Luna more than to Ginny. And Ginny doesn't trust him enough to send him with Cho to Ravenclaw which is so stupid (I just read that scene last night and I have grievances). Like, Harry didn't even want to kiss Cho when he thought he had a crush on her, Ginny has literally nothing to worry about.

I also would've loved to see more of Voldemort. Whenever Harry goes into Voldemrot's mind it's great to see what he and occasionally the Death Eaters are up to. I would've liked more Voldemort for the final book. (If the Horcruxes weren't so underused we could've had more Voldemort, or, at least, pieces of him)

Then there's the pacing. Now, I think I'm in the unpopular minority who likes the wedding scene. I just love Aunt Muriel. She's such a vibe, and I love her gossip. And there are a lot of other scenes I like. I like breaking into the ministry, I love all of Dumbledore's backstory. Everything once they get to Hogwarts gets better. I actually don't like the Gringotts Heist much (as I reread it recently), and the scenes in Shell Cottage leading up to it, but that's my opinion.

And like, that's the thing about book 7 and its pacing that makes it kind of a mess.

There are sections I love that are well-written and fun. Like, the high notes from book 7 are pretty high (this is why I like it more than book 1. Philosopher's Stone is much more cohesive and has better pacing and character work, but the high notes of Deathly Hallows are much better than the high notes of Philosopher's Stone). The problem is that they feel much more disjointed than they usually do. And, like, the whole flow isn't there. The book doesn't flow.

Reading book 7 is like driving at high speed down a road, and then you get stuck in traffic for an hour and then the road magically clears up, like all the other cars disappear in a snap and you're hurtling in speed again and then BAM another traffic jam that appeared out of nowhere. Instead of having the ebb and flow the books usually have, where you go from one plot point to another relatively with ease, book 7 feels like you start, then have to stop, then start again. The different levels of quality and slightly off shifts in characterization between sections also add to this start-stop-start feel I mentioned. Like, the book just doesn't feel cohesive enough.

Then, of course, there is the epilogue, but I already talked about my problems with it (here and here).

That's like, the things that bothered me most in this reread, I think.

[eowynstwin]

i have this fascination with price. hes sort of this unsulliable steel, consistently to nearly always making the (as the games frame it) correct decisions, even when hes playing fast and loose with the law. his plans always work, hes never truly failed in the sense of real negative consequences for a choice (until 3 but 3 was badly written and i did not like it). hes always (in the game's framing) right. he never shows a moment of weakness. i love him ❤ i want to see him suffer i want him to make an objectively wrong choice. i want that choice to have consequences that shake his steady foundations and rock him to his core. i want him to fail. is that weird? i want him to lose control of his carefully maintained stony exterior. i want to see that side of him that is barely acknowledged to be genuinely explored. i know people justify it by saying hes a military captain in a ridiculously tough branch to get into, so of course hes like that, but in real life those guys are just as human as the rest of us, just as capable of mistakes and taking fat Ls and making poor decisions. I do love his character, he is my blorbo, i just want to put him in a jar and shake him real hard. is that weird?

Deadass, when I heard what happens in mw3 (still haven't gotten around to watching it, I'm fond of my brain cells and I feel like it'll kill some of them)--my first thought was that they should've killed Price.

Price is always barely restraining himself but he manages to keep himself in check for the most part. I imagine he's learned the hard way that if he lets his feelings dictate his actions then a lot of people get hurt.

Gaz and Soap, however, do not have the benefit of his experience. Ghost does, but he doesn't wield authority like Price's, and I have the feeling that he believes the Price keeps him in check (in his origin comics, he has frequent nightmares in which he assaults and murders people, because he went through months of classical conditioning in captivity).

So, let's say Mak shoots Price dead instead. Suddenly there's no one there to guide the surviving 141. Suddenly the wealth of experience he had to offer, the instincts for warfare that he honed over decades, is gone. Gaz loses his mentor. Ghost loses the man who holds his leash. Soap loses the one commanding officer he had any faith in.

Can you feel how that would raise the stakes exponentially? Price's influence, throughout the reboot, has kept everyone in line. He knows how to break the rules effectively while minimizing the consequences. He knows how to ignore distractions. He is ruthlessly efficient, without being brutal. The other three just do not have those skills. They are not capable of doing what Price does. They have neither the experience (in Gaz and Soap's case) nor the disposition (in Ghost's case).

Price dying would send shockwaves through the 141--through the entire cast--in ways that Soap's death just does not. Soap should have been the one in Shepherd's office with a silenced gun, because assassinating a FUCKING FOUR STAR AMERICAN GENERAL IN THE PENTAGON!!!!! Is not what an experienced captain in the SAS would do, no matter how he feels!!!!!! That is what a sergeant with more aptitude than sense and an overwhelming feeling of rage and loss would do!!!!!!

Aaaaand this is a rant nearly completely unrelated to what you were talking about lol. Sorry. I do want to see that old man suffer don't get me wrong. It's just that the suffering he's been set up for now, in canon, is SO MUCH BULLSHIT.

[sysmedsaresexist]

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

This is Mod Quill, but this is on behalf of a mutual friend of mine and Mod Dude's. Someone we care about a lot, and someone I'm not even going to fucking name here, because I am so fucking done with my friend suffering. Besides. You're going to know who it is if you have a lick of syscourse knowledge. I just hope they know what this might bring. If you're reading this, hon -- maybe just... delete your blogs and get out of syscourse. Make something new for yourself. Trust me, I've done that plenty of times.

Anyways.

@sophieinwonderland

Let's have a chat. Okay? I mean this completely, 1000 percent genuinely. I want to talk to you. WE want to talk to you. And we want to understand what the hell is going on with you.

Context: A friend of ours is in the hospital. This friend is in the hospital... likely because of you. Well, somewhat -- I'm not here to convince you that you, personally, are at fault for someone else's actions. You did not personally give them whatever implement of choice they used to nearly off themselves. But you have got to see that what you're doing -- what you've done for a very, very long time, causes people a lot of harm. And you have acknowledged it. Repeatedly.

You know that you do. You know you're hurting people. And you've shown constantly on your blog that you're okay with that.

This isn't the first time someone has been hospitalized after you took grievance with their tumblr blog. This is the second time someone has notably been hospitalized after interactions with you, and far from the last time someone's harmed themselves over you. I should know -- I'm a user who tried so desperately not to self harm, but you are the person who brought me to that point, many moons ago in a fit of hell and despair.

Don't worry, I'm all good -- it was barely anything. But it still stings emotionally, to this day.

The user in question who's currently hospitalized is not, and has not been stable, for a very long time. They're someone I hold dear, but I think we can all admit that people with DID sometimes struggle greatly with making really dumb choices. They've made a lot. This isn't the first time they've been in the hospital.

But Dude made a promise to them when it seemed like things were going to hell this time around, something to try and encourage things to go the right way.

Your named was tossed out too. Because of course it was. Like it or not, Sophie, you are 100% the biggest syscourser on Tumblr. You post the most and have the most followers. You are syscourse. And Dude's promise was to take syscourse down.

... But I don't think anyone in this situation really understands what that means.

Sophie, you are a person. Not a blog. Not a stance. Not a slogan, or a preacher, or whatever conspiracy you're trying to lean into next to explain away the angry actions you've shown more and more lately, to somehow explain why it's okay to say the things you've been saying, even when it sometimes, just maybe, seems like... you just don't want to.

As people may know, a (from my perspective, horrifically written, incredibly inaccurate, and only harmful) callout post for Sophie was recently posted to syscourse. What people don't know is that I, Mod Quill, was approached to help write it. Mod Dude was involved in the callout post as well, though to what extent I don't know.

I flat out refused to work on it. And that's because I knew exactly what would happen. I knew my friend would be hurt, or maybe even hospitalized over this. I knew that syscourse -- that Sophie -- would drive someone over the edge again. I knew that the document -- filled with inaccuracies and vaguities and nothingburgers to the max -- would be easy for Sophie to pick apart, easy to dismantle, and it would all start with debunking so much of the very real pain and suffering my friend has gone through.

And yeah.

I was right. Go figure. Maybe I should've done more, my brain inevitably says, I need to help everyone, I should've fought harder to prevent this... Dumbass brain.

Sigh.

Dude edit/addition: I knew the doc was coming, and while I won't say that I was supportive of it going out (I made the owner sit on it for several weeks), I made no effort to stop it. Having made my own callouts on sophie (and Quill, you have, too), I understood the need, and the positives and negatives. I knew Sophie could handle it. I was approached to read and check it, as my posts had been used in it. I even offered to help add to it, though... I ended up being completely unable to. I still can't actually remember anything in the doc. I'm doubting if I actually read it because it seems I retained nothing from it. This likely stems from the fact that I have been in contact with Sophie for several weeks now, getting to know her. I'm so incredibly conflicted on this topic that I chose to stay out of it publicly from start to finish, without comment or publicity. For the first time since I started my blog, I'm not feuding with anyone, I'm having such amazing conversations with people, I feel like I'm making more of a difference than ever before. Certain people have left me alone as I stayed under the drama radar.

I'm so tired of being angry...

My thoughts on the doc and sophie are complicated. I'm sorry to anyone that was hurt through my uncertainty. Instead of helping with the doc, we talked about life, experiences, medicalization, and I was... so happy. I don't think that I really thought beyond... "I wish I had spoken to some of these people sooner."

It's important to note that I don't blame the doc or author for any of this.

Syscourse, as a whole, does not address any sort of recovery, or help, or even just acknowledgement of the issues we are facing, as human beings, as systems, as people on this earth. It is just slinging words at each other with varying degrees of value. And I'll be the first to admit that I have relished that battleground. I have loved the feeling that I might be able to throw the right words or the right punches and get someone to either change, or deactivate. I've also wrestled with those feelings, tried to explain them away, mirroring what I see on Sophie's blog constantly.

But as more and more time goes on and I grow up and I see the damage that's done to me and my friends, I have grown to absolutely despise this place. I try my best to spread what joy I can. I also know it's really not enough.

Sophie, I have sent you, if I had to hazard a guess, at least 10 anons this past year, all of them variations on themes. Either positivity, begging you to take a break, or explaining to you in excruciating detail how I know you are hurting people, and why that hurts so badly. And... each and every single one of those have been met with dismissal. With that godforsaken shrug emoji that convinced me for years that you just... did not care, at all, about other people.

And this isn't just you. I know I'm coming at you, but that's because you are the biggest source of Syscourse Grief(tm) for this particular friend. But lord knows people get enemies here, that's just par for the course. So, this goes for everyone.

Learn to fucking care about each other, for fucks sakes.

God, this really is a ramble. I thank everyone who's bearing with me.

For syscourse in general: Stop. Just... stop. For those who are considering it, just stop for a bit, and witness. Watch. See what happens. Because the ones who are obstinate -- primarily the overly aggressive anti-endos and pro-endos -- will fling their vitriol at each other. It will just get worse and worse, and you can witness syscourse eat itself alive.

For my friend in the hospital: I've already given you some advice, but genuinely, I really, really hope you take care of yourself. I pray that, when you get back, you maybe set syscourse aside. At most, discord is there, and that seems to at least be tamer. But you are young. You have so much future ahead, and coming from someone who is (unfortunately seen as) an older system, I can promise you that it gets beter.

For Dude: GO TAKE A FUCKING BREAK. You are recently retraumatized, recently through a severe surgery, and you are out here promising shit like "I'll burn syscourse to the ground for you"??? Play a fun game and pay attention to your fucking partners, take a fucking break and take care of yourself. Syscourse will wait for you. People will come and people will go, and it doesn't fucking matter. Your life is what matters and I'm so fucking scared watching you obsess over this one, small aspect of it. I'm so relieved you went to that fun pokemon blog. You aren't alone, you are so loved, and don't let this toxic ass place make you forget that.

And Sophie.

I'm going to give Dude a link to send to you. You don't have to take it if you don't want to. You don't even need to acknowledge this if you don't want to. But I'm swinging the door open and offering the olive branch. I know you don't use Discord much, but for gods sake, it's better than Tumblr DMs, and we both know how Tumblr is a mess.

I really hope you'll take me up on it.

And for everyone else.

Wait till you see what happens next.

Edit from Mod Quill: Well, what's next is evidently a need for clarification and yet another callout post. Hello, callout-post author. Thank you for your clarifications. Notably, I attempted to keep your URL out of this, for those who didn't know.

Anyways, for the fullest disclosure and context: I was approached by Mod Dude, who asked if I wanted to participate in "Sophie Drama, Anonymously." I agreed, though I'll admit I was hesitant due to my particular issues with that user. I was then added to a group chat involving an enormous callout post. Notably, it should be mentioned, callout posts are a major trigger of ours that we are still working on overcoming.

I clicked the document and saw it was a mess of grammar mistakes, poor formatting, and impossible for me to read without trembling. But given that I already have an intense distaste for the user who posted it, I wasn't about to tell them more personal details about myself, and I did not want to communicate with them any further due to my own fear of the instability of all those involved. I told them I disliked the callout post due to harassment that it would cause, that I feel Sophie is a person, and that they had better have contacted the user who was hurt -- who is once again revealed in the callout, unfortunately.

I tried to laugh it off and move on, and take care of my mental health. That's what I was lamenting above; the fact that I didn't say more. I felt bad that I didn't allow myself to damage my mental health further to craft a callout post -- something I have tried desperately to avoid since the one I made the mistake of writing years ago about the very user you wrote this callout post about -- and something I get roped into constantly.

I privately read the rest of the document after it had been posted in full, as I still have access to it and it is a publicly posted document. It was filled with things that I found to be either nothing important in particular (things that have already been discussed numerous times) or things that would just be inflammatory (i.e. the OAS sections). I talked with a friend on Discord about the document, to which we both agreed it was bad.

To the OP of the document: I didn't say any of this at the time because, as I said, I felt uneasy and could not be in that group chat. I explicitly said I would not be touching "it" (the group chat). I was taking care of my mental health.

I refused to work on it because, based on my past experiences and triggers, which I do not owe you and still alluded to anyways in my conversations with you, I knew it would end poorly. I tried my best to sway you in the moment, but I was not able to do so because of my own mental health.

So, yes, to clarify: My grievances with the document were not made known to the one who posted it, whom I never mentioned in the original post. I do not condemn the poster of the document. I was simply making my feelings about callout posts known. What is above is not a condemnation of the callout writer, nor a comment on them at all. I genuinely did not want the point of this post to be lost due to callout-post drama.

So let me reiterate the important part of all of this.

This post was about the state of syscourse and how people do not approach syscourse in a good way. It is constantly slinging hate at people, which is never justified.

Learn to fucking care about each other, for fucks sakes.

---

Mod dude, here...

I want to add something to this, but I don't know what. I mean, Quill said it all, quite well.

Hurt people... Hurt other people.

I've made the attempt, over the last year or so, to actually talk to some of the bigger names in syscourse, the ones usually active in the tags, endos and antis alike.

It reinforced that... we're all just fucking people, trying to get by.

Antis, have you even tried to empathize with the community you attack so quickly and cruelly? Imagine if people said those things to you or about CDD systems. Have you, personally, witnessed the things you claim are happening? Because I've been here a lot longer, and it seems you're making shit up. Consider that you should stop parroting everything you hear and stick to what you're actually seeing with your own eyes.

Endos, please don't forget that these are severely traumatized individuals that have probably never even been to therapy yet. If you're not yet, maybe you should get into therapy-- it doesn't automatically mean there's anything wrong, but everyone could use someone to talk to, and seeing what it's like could be really beneficial to understanding the other side and getting an unbiased view of your own behavior and beliefs.

These are real fucking people that are ending up in the hospital.

Quill, the rest of my mods, and I are real fucking people behind these screens.

Sophie is a real person. They just got a new dish washer that they saw on Circ's blog, I missed it, but she linked it to me, and now I'm looking at it. She's going to let me know how it works.

And you know what? This little countertop dishwasher feels a hell of a lot more real and important than anything in syscourse.

As Quill mentioned, I just went through a major surgery. I'm learning that...

I'll probably never be able to walk properly again. My life is forever changed, and I'm really struggling.

My cat just... passed. Feel free to go like that post, it would mean a lot to me.

None of you know that. The people who leaked my main and smeared my wonderful name don't know that.

Sophie didn't know that the last time we fought each other.

My friend didn't know that when I promised him I would bring syscourse down.

Maybe bringing it down isn't the answer.

Maybe just reminding you all that we're all people behind the screen is enough.

Fucking TALK to each other.

Make an attempt to learn and understand.

Talk about things that actually matter.

Grow the FUCK up.

Reblog to share a hug, because that's more worthwhile.

And most importantly.

Please keep our friend in mind while they're in the hospital.

Syscourse community, endos and antis, this is one of our own. A person you've likely interacted with before, that you've seen around.

We exist in this small bubble, all together. Whether we like it or not.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Obsolete

cw: nsfw themes/implications, abuse, manipulation, fear, brief emeto mention, choking. (this chapter can be skipped without losing out on plot, it's a bit heavy)

previous // T$$ Masterlist

~ ~ ~

Sahota slouches on the bed, both feet planted firmly on the tile floor as if that’s enough to keep him tethered, keep his thoughts from drifting too far. He holds the gag in both hands, turning it over and over and over, watching the metal sections that make up most of its structure catch the light. 

He doesn't know long Harbor had been there when he arrived, already shaking from the stress on his body, tension to his shoulders and core brought on by the heavy leather cuffs that secured him to the foot of the bed.

He'd tried to pull away when Sahota knelt to remove the gag.

“F-fuck off.”

“This isn't what you want, Harbor.”

“It's what Vic wants.”

He'd cursed and insulted and tried to elicit a reaction that wasn't get out from him, but in the end he'd left.

“You're jealous,” he'd spat as Sahota closed the door behind him. There was something desperate in his tone, like he hoped if he said it with enough fervor he'd believe it, like he wished a rivalry was the only thing to worry about.

Like he was willing to thrust his hand into a fire just to feel the warmth. 

“You're just fucking jealous.”

He isn't. Is he? Jealous is too simple a way of putting it. He wants Vic's gaze to linger on him the way it does Harbor, he wants the idle touches as they pass in the hall, the I'm proud of you's and I know you can do it's.

He needs his attention as much as he loathes it.

Shouldn't he be grateful his master's lust is being directed elsewhere? 

Doesn't it mean he isn't enough anymore? What then? If Vic is finally tired of him, what does that mean? Will he be thrown out, abandoned? Or will he become another loose end that needs to be tied up?

It felt like that during their mock interrogation. It's been months since he's seen Vic that angry, much less at him, he's been far too careful for that. He never should've tried, never should've given the others the hope that they could take an alternate path. He's the reason they're trying to salvage control, he's the reason Vic’s tightening his fist around them.

If he hadn't gone behind his back with the challenge, would they have been allowed to to go after Manak?

Would Manak even be lost in the first place?

Sahota can't fight a grimace. He's learned this lesson a thousand times over already; he should know better. 

You can't say no to Vic.

He knows that, knows the consequences, and yet here he is. He can only hope it won't be Harbor that suffers for it.

The handle turns. Sahota half expects it to be the belligerent trainee, back with more choice words and arguments. When the door reveals Vic, a part of him wants to curl up and hide, reduced once again to a terrified kid who should fucking know better.

He wants to shrink under Vic’s gaze as they meet eyes, silence drawing out between them, but he doesn’t, instead stiffening his spine against the fear that curdles in his stomach, instead daring to open his mouth.

“How long would you have left him here?” A safe enough place to start. Not an accusation, He lets his hands fall into his lap, the gag still held between them. 

Vic leans against the doorframe, arms crossing his chest. “Would've been going on six hours now, if you hadn't cut him loose.”

“Six hours,” Sahota repeats flatly.

“I've kept you for thrice that.”

“He isn't me.”

“And you hate that, don't you?” He pushes himself up from the wall, moving into the room, closing in. “Why? I know you don't care for him.”

Because Vic always knows everything, because Sahota can never hide things from him. He doesn’t care for Harbor. He doesn’t let himself care for anyone these days. Still, under the envy and the fear there’s a stark horror at the thought that someone else will take his place, will suffer as Vic's plaything, will render him pointless.

“Am I not enough for you?” he says.

Vic clicks his tongue, cupping Sahota’s cheek with a warm hand. “Is that what you're afraid of, little spy? Being replaced?”

Yes. No. “Why do you want him?”

“He's a flashy thing. Caught my eye.” Vic chuckles. “So desperate for any human interaction he'd disembowel himself for a pat on the head.”

Is that what it comes down to? Another person for Vic to hurt, another body in his control. He shakes his head. “Vic—”

He's silenced with a kiss. There's something foreign in it. A new excitement, amusement that he cares about this, that he's scared.

“He won't replace you. He'd make a good dog though, don't you think?” He nuzzles into Sahota's neck. “Once you warm up to the idea, maybe I'll even let you play with him.”

Sahota jerks away, a breath lodging in his throat. He couldn't, he couldn’t. The idea of Vic dragging Harbor into this stings enough. The thought of playing along—of holding the younger man down, hurting him, controlling him—is too much to hold. He wants to throw up.

“Is that a no?”

“Whatever you want to do to him, you know I can take,” Sahota says, his voice low and insistent. He’s nearly pleading. He doesn’t know why he’s pleading for this.

It should feel good, shouldn't it? To know he may never again take the brunt of Vic's affections, to be elevated to a place of control.

It doesn't. It burns like bile.

“I know.” Vic’s hand strokes his cheek, thumb coming to rest on his lower lip. “When's the last time you cried for me?” It seems more a musing than a question he wants answered, but even if it were, Sahota doesn’t think he can speak to it.

He can’t remember the last time himself.

No, that's not true. Just days ago, he was crying, but not for Vic. It feels like such a potent secret he’s nearly purged it from his mind, and now he's afraid his master will see it on his face, the weakness he dared to show to these outsiders.

Ander, my name is Ander.

His own words echo back to him in a way that makes him shudder. By some stroke of luck, Vic doesn't notice, his eyes on the gag in Sahota's lap.

His hand falls away from his face, and he fixes him with a searching gaze. “Are you afraid he makes you obsolete?”

Sahota drops his eyes. “I… Yes.” It seems too simple an answer, but it’s the easiest explanation. One that might satisfy Vic.

“And you’d prefer it if I left him alone?” He tips his chin up with a finger. “If it stays just you and me?”

“Yes.” His answer is quieter this time. Vic hmms, and the silence seems to stretch for a long moment, every wordless breath drawing more fear into Sahota, pulling tension into his body. Then, Vic suddenly pushes him back onto the mattress, one hand curling in his hair, the other cupping his chin as he kisses him, hot and fierce. Sahota returns the kiss until he’s breathless.

“Hands behind your back.”

He obeys without much thought. It’s been a while since Vic’s tied him up for this. Months, at least. Silky rope winds around his wrists, and then he’s rolled onto his back, heart hammering with anticipation. There’s fear there too, but he tries to shove it down. Isn’t this what he wants? Isn’t this what he just begged for?

He opens his mouth to say something, but Vic’s hands shoot out, locking around his throat, squeezing, cutting off air. Panic floods through him, but he has Vic's touch memorized. His body knows not to respond, to take it, no matter how much his mind wants to rebel.

“What if I did want to replace you, Ander?”

Sahota’s eyes widen at the words, barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears. His body spasms from the lack of air, heels digging into the mattress, but Vic doesn't let up.

“What if I am tired of you, hm? What can you do about it?”

His wrists burn, the rope digging into them as his arms shake involuntarily, reaching to remove the pressure. No… No, he can’t mean it, Vic can’t mean it, he’s his. He’s been his for twelve years, he can’t just be replaced, he can’t just let the fucking cycle start all over again. Tears sting his eyes but refuse to shed, his mouth opening wide, making soundless pleas.

It can’t end this way, it can’t end this way, Vic, sir, Shepard, please—

“You are everything I made you. Without me, you'd be nothing. If I want someone new, you'd better just be fucking grateful you still have a seat at the table.”

His lungs burn, body shuddering, vision blackening at the corners, closing in—

—And then Vic’s hands relax, slipping away from his throat. The spy gasps for breath, rolling onto his side and curling his knees in, unsure whether he’s shaking from the lack of air or the sheer fear, the knowledge that Vic could’ve done it, would've done it. He would’ve done it and not even batted an eye.

He's not allowed to hold the thought for long before Vic seizes him by the hair, jerking him into a half-sitting position, his face stony and empty when the spy looks up at him through blurring vision.

Something almost like satisfaction crosses his master’s face.

“There's the tears.”

~

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden ,

@snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes ,

@clickerflight , @sodacreampuff , @starfields08000 , @neverthelass

[artisticow]

gonna be so real with y'all rn. if we didn't have dams redirecting tons of floodwater, my whole town & surrounding areas would be submerged. people are still fearful the dams will fail. and the fact that people my age, people i graduated school with, people my younger sister graduated with, our PEERS are volunteering to rescue people from the waters and we are getting little to no help from any military personnel or the govt in general is NOTHING NEW for appalachia. and it's fucking scary. and to see posts saying "well the hillbillies deserve it" "they're all trump supporters" "they should've lived in a blue state" "i hope north carolina is better for my beach trip later this year" i am actually going to rip you limb from limb! i am going to melt you into lard! i am going to make candles from your body!!!!!!!!!!! there are queer people, black people, immigrants from mexico, elderly people, disabled people, THERE ARE PEOPLE HERE! people who don't deserve to drown and lose their homes and entire livelihoods. pets who were trapped and have died. "well y'all should've left" THIS IS FUCKING TENNESSEE. WE DO NOT HAVE HURRICANES HERE. this is MOUNTAIN country. THE APPALACHIAN MOUNTAIN RANGE. this is not normal climate behavior. we do not have the necessary shit in place to deal with this. we are the poorest region in the usa. there are families who will never have homes again. small businesses that will never exist again. entire towns that will never exist again. it's catastrophic. tennessee cannot lose more hospitals. the ones destroyed in this flood are likely gone forever. unicoi hospital is likely gone forever. who's going to repair it? build new ones? our state legislation doesn't give a fuck. and they're going to give less of a fuck with project 2025. that's a whole other conversation.

i see the death count has risen to almost 100. many more are still missing. locals are the ones saving lives. while the few military personnel sent here are SAVING AMERICAN FLAGS OVER PEOPLE. thank god the replies on that tweet are mostly rational.

we just don't have the money for this. we don't have the help for this. we're strong people and we stick together but there's only so much poor people can get done. our region is going to be gentrified more and more after this destruction. that's all i can think.

and the american govt sends billions to fund a genocide. while our people are suffering and will continue to suffer. that's the point we're trying to drive home to outsiders. we will continue to suffer. this doesn't end when the floodwaters dry up. we will continue to suffer.

[moonspirit]

Angst time!

• Annie is pregnant, somewhat far along maybe 16-81 weeks

•Pollitical event

•Assassination attempts and Armin is badly hurt. Doesn’t wake up for days after

•the stress causes her to loose the baby

•has to go through this without armin and ends up spending ages by his bed size with out moving eating or taking care of herself, on top of this she is still in pain from the miscarriage

•Armin wakes up and immediately checks on her and the baby like he will do

•Annie doesn’t know how to react

I love this idea but I have no idea how it will play out especially with the others like how they will react to the situation.

Holy fuck anon 🥲 You're trying to destroy these two without the possibility of repair?!

tw: pregnancy, miscarriage, extreme angst.

Tbh a stillbirth at around 20 weeks along is an incredibly traumatic event. To humour this, we will say Annie begins to suffer from hypertension and develops placental complications that... eventually lead to a stillbirth.

She's by Armin's bedside after having cried her eyes red once again because he's so still, so cold, so... eerily quiet in his sleep. He just ran a high fever the night before and it took everything in her to not imagine him dying. Still, it's been a month and he hasn't woken up. The doctors say they can't tell if he ever will. It's like the world is broken in two, unable to breathe or function.

There's no sign. Nothing seems wrong with her other than the tremors in her hands when the fear of Armin never coming back overwhelms her.

Nothing's wrong... Except her baby's been really quiet for a few days now.

Until she begins to bleed in her sheets one day.

Just like that, it's gone. Her baby, gone. Dead in her belly. Cold and heavy and so so far away.

Annie breaks down.

For the past weeks ever since finding out she was carrying life within her, she's bonded. Bonded with he or she, an imaginary wisp of blonde hair, the picture of blue eyes and a small hand curling around her finger. Bonded with the expectation of a voice gurgling and babbling, eagerly looking forward to the time when she'll finally win her bet with Armin that their baby will say "mama" first.

And Armin... She remembers how he looked when she told him. She remembers how he cried. She remembers the tremble of his hands when they caressed her stomach, still flat then. She remembers how he began to call them Mama and Papa. How he kissed her everywhere. How he brought home cake and other sweets and watched her eat away with gusto. How he laughed into her neck and fell into a comfortable silence with her as the night progressed and they lay in each other's arms, thinking about their baby. How he'd kiss her stomach and talk to their child every single day.

But he's not a Papa anymore, and she, no longer a Mama.

Their baby's gone.

The others try to help. They comfort her and wipe her tears. They hold her as she shrieks in pain at the loss in her stomach and heart. They make her eat. They make her drink. They make her sleep, but only so much works; sleep doesn't come even to help forget the emptiness in her body for a few hours.

They don't tell Annie how much they were looking forward to welcoming a tiny baby into their big happy family.

Not Pieck, not Reiner, not Jean or Connie... They mean well, but they don't help rid her of the ache, not really.

When Armin finally wakes, it's like atleast one half of the world has been righted. But he wakes, and looks at her with those blue eyes, watery and moist, relieved to see her again. Relieved to see them again.

But there is no them. Only her.

Everything that cannot be said, he understands the moment he reaches for her stomach and finds it flat and devoid of life. Empty, where a cradle used to once be. Quiet, where a voice should've been.

All is still.

[gadriezmannsgirl]

❤️💙 VAMOSSSSS🏆I have a request maybe when the guys do their bus parade you look out of your appartement but you already broken up with him (pedri/gavi) and he is looking for you

OF COURSE!🏆 This is inspired by the video of them singing to Quevedo's Quedate during the parade, thought it would fit perfectly

Quédate - Pedri González

Summary: Even if your relationship with him ended up two months ago, you still love and support him

You missed him.

Every single part of him and even with two months later, you still cried some nights because of the lack of his warmth. And the thing is... Your break up should've never happened, it was a silly thing, you were trying to take care of him and he was estressed out, it turned out to be a big fight and when you realized he was blurting hurtful things to you, when he said those words that changed everything.

"I don't even know why I'm with you anymore, I'm so tired of this, tired of you!"

"If you are so tired then I guess this is it" You replied

You nodded your head, retracted yourself from him, picked your things and left. You didn't paid attention to his words anymore, he was trying to stop you but you were so hurt, you didn't deserved any of the words he had said to you.

He missed you.

Every single day passing his longing for you grew more and more each time, kicking himself the second his mouth threw those words out, how your facial expression changed, he could see the tears making their way up to your pretty eyes, those he loves too much. He felt his stomach fall to the floor as he immediately tried to take them back.

But the damage was done.

In a blink you were gone, he tried to call you but you had turned off your phone, he went to your old apartment and you weren't there, he had ruined his relationship in a second and all because he went off with you. What hurted him the most was the fact you had taken your PG8 necklace off. When he saw it in his night side table, he dried himself off from tears.

You were really done with him.

He thanked heavens that he couldn't go to trainings because otherwise he would suck at them but at the same time he hated the fact he was all alone in your house, your scent still lingered in the air, he saw the cushions and all he could remember were the times when he was so into his play that whenever you wanted attention, you flipped it onto his face which caused him to lose and give all of his attention to you.

Everytime he opened the fridge and upon seeing your stacked up strawberries, he cried because you would always feed him some even if you told him they were just for you. Shaving his beard wasn't the same because he remembered how much you loved it and despite not wanting it to go away, helped him shave.

The almost empty side of your closet, made him almost throw up, he couldn't bare seeing his clothes and not having yours next to his, all of his hoodies on his side when they were always on yours. Everything reminded him of you. That much, he decided to move in back with his brother for a while, he couldn't be in the house you both shared so many things without thinking of those times, wanting to go back at them.

And he couldn't bear the fact of not having you in his arms. Why in the world he had said that? He didn't meant a single thing he had said that night.

He was just pissed that he couldn't play because of the relapse of his injury, you were just trying to help him out, cheer him up but he had fucked up.

He hasn't stopped calling and texting you even if Fer told him to give you some space to think, he didn't choosed your side but also didn't choosed his younger brothers, although he knew his brother did not do the right thing. Pedri was suffering enough for Fer to remember him what he had done.

Pedri still sents a good night and a good day message, tells you how much he loves you and sometimes tries to call you and see if you pick up.

You never did.

But that doesn't mean you didn't wanted to. You love him, you want him, you miss him but you can't simply let go of his words, at least not that quickly.

When you saw Barcelona had won the Ligue you danced around in your parents house, yelled in excitement and even cried. It was Pedri's first title and you were incredibly happy for him, your parents had looked at you funny when you explained why the screamings were for.

You were proud of him and extremely happy. Despite everything that happened, your love for him is still there and you know he's an amazing player but even more as a human being. You could never hate Pedri even if you want to.

For the first time ever after your break up, you picked your phone and texted him: ¡Felicidades, campeón! You worked incredibly hard for this and I'm happy you finally got it! The first one of many more, González 🎉💖 Take care, bonito.

His message didn't come in after a few hours and you imaginated he was with his teammates celebrating. You could see it in Barça's IG stories so you left the device and got yourself into your homework, but when you received it you couldn't help but smile a little.

Gracias, bonita. Congrats to you as well, you helped me get through a lot this season, couldn't have done it without you❤️ I'm truly sorry about everything, I would love to talk to you, if you like.

Are you free tomorrow? Está más que claro que estás invitada a la rua, por si te apetece ir. Me encantaría verte allá pero entenderé si no es lo que deseas... Te quiero. Mucho. Have a good night, bonita✨❤️. (It's clear that you are invited to the parade, if you wanna go. I'd love to see you there but I'll understand if you don't)

But this time you didn't answered him and you let out a big sigh.

You were debating with yourself if you should go and talk things out or if you shouldn't and just end everything for once and for all, but you stopped thinking of it because your head started hurting and you decided to call it a night.

...

When Pedri saw you, you were at your best friend's apartment, she lived in the main street where the bus was going to make a little stop so you decided to go with his home jersey and support him.

And, he honestly couldn't believe it.

He really thought you weren't going to come but seeing you cheer, clap and smile at him made him happier than he already was, his mood instantly changed and he couldn't stop looking at you, even if you were far away he felt closer than ever to you after those awful two months, he thought you looked extremely beautiful, even more than before; but then, he remembered the words he said to you and his mood fell a bit.

When you saw Pedri, your heart stopped, you felt butterflies on your stomach at the sight of his smile making you smile too, you wanted to hug and kiss him nonstop. You tried to not bring back the last time you saw and talked to him but it was impossible, your big smile slowly turning into a tight lipped one, his words coming back to you once more.

"Stop! You're so annoying, I don't feel good, I haven't feel good ever since this stupid injury and you being up to my ass asking over and over again if I need something, if I'm okay or if anything isn't helping me feel better, in fact, it's just a fucking reminder that I still can't play! You should just focus on your things, just like you do and let me be! I don't need a nanny, I can take good care of myself!"

It seemed like Pedri catched up on your mood change because for the first time after looking at you, he looked down in shame, when the song started.

Llegué al club con el combo, rápido la vi lejos. Se pintaba los labios, y la copa como espejo.

You couldn't help but smile lightly when you saw Pedri look up at you whilst mouthing the words, you always danced to that song together. Soon, the chorus had striked snd you couldn't help but join.

Quédate, que las noches sin ti duelen. Tengo en la mente las pose' y todos los gemido'. Que ya no quiero nada que no sea contigo.

Soon, that little verse seemed too much for you and Pedri right now, his eyes didn't moved from yours and his face was totally serious.

Dale, guacha, suelta. Vente pa' Canaria' sin el equipaje y sin viaje de vuelta. Por la isla te vo'a dar una vuelta.

You smiled lightly, he always said that you were gonna live for a few months in Canarias and that you were gonna end up in love with the Isle. You in reply, joked that you were already in love with him and that you'd love to stay for a while in his home.

"Te quiero" You saw him mouth those words and you with your smile, nodded your head

"Y yo a ti" You replied as he smiled widely.

You felt a weight being lifted up from your shoulders knowing you were going to fix things up between you both when the parade was done. It was worth it. By now, you had to wait a few hours for it to finish, but you could wait all the time ever. He was, is and will be yours as you were, are and will be always his.

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld

[minothtime]

hello tumblr people this is my opinion on the prisoners

YUNO/KAZUI: yeah yeah the social themes and consequences of their actions blah blah blah. afaik they didn't kill nobody ms yuno had a secretive risky abortion and mr kazui told his wife he's gay and then she presumably killed herself is that his fault? no she should've reacted better next

FUUTA/SHIDOU: afaik neither directly killed anyone, shidou just pressured families into offering bodies for science so he could use them for his personal purposes which while shitty and a crime not murder, and fuuta was a stupid teenager + wracked with guilt over his actions. both were shitty but not as bad as [bottom two tiers].

MAHIRU/ES: Need to learn more about Mahiru's entire situation bc i genuinely don't know what's going on at all (mutually abusive relationships don't exist bc abuse comes from power imbalance). I'm just v nosy about Es like what's their whole deal why did they break down when kotoko said they were being a bad warden are they also a prisoner in here what's going on

MIKOTO/AMANE: Fuck if i know how to handle these two people. Mikoto's whole ordeal is NOT for me to talk about and it's a MESS and same w amane it just feels that whatever we vote her it's bad i just want her to be happy :(

KOTOKO: FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU little ms hypocrisy she tries to put milgram's psychological violence and her physical violence at the same level when one is unavoidable and the other one is PERFECTLY AVOIDABLE. she believes to be some kind of angel of retribution when she's now shown her true colors and is going DOWNNN idc i kinda liked her at first but she's fallen off HARD. her ass needs a fucking muzzle and some more restraints bc it's clear she's delusional as FUCK

Muu/Haruka: muu's case is she's a bitch and when she was served her just desserts she broke down and killed someone like fuck her entitled ass. Haruka's thing is he's neurodivergent and a minor well guess what i too am neurodivergent and when i was a minor i suffered more than jesus on the cross and i didn't kill SHIT not even ANTS so maybe he should get it checked. buh-bye.

JACKALOPE: he's cute but i lowkey hate him. where the fuck is he now. why is he here. too mysterious too cryptic i need him GONE.

Once again this is my vibes and how I think things went so "oh but I think x and y and we don't know z" ok maybe you don't but I personally am omniscient . Skill issue

[glamaphonic]

But no for real all the "he should've gone to find Daryl/Morgan/had a protracted reunion with XYZ character instead of focusing on his wife and kids!" shit ties back into people's lack of narrative literacy and, underlying it, their lack of theory of mind when it comes to these characters and of course all those nasty implicit biases. They think that what they care about most is necessarily what Rick cares about most.

There are people who refuse to understand or accept how important Michonne and Judith and RJ are to Rick. Of course he loves his extended found family. Of course he cares about his community. But people want to act like those relationships are somehow interchangeable with (or for a lot of these clowns MORE IMPORTANT THAN) those with his wife and children. That has never been the case! For the entirety of this goddamned show, it has never been the case! Andy has outright said it: this entire story, from the moment Rick wakes up in that hospital bed, has been about a man trying to find and protect his family. That is this insane feral motherfucker's central, defining character motivation! You would think if you claim to be a fan of this character and love him so much you would know that!

And it is wildly transparent that for many people they do know that but are pretending this is no longer the case now because they don't consider the family he has made to be legitimate.

They've been "predicting" (read: wishing for) Michonne's death since the day she and Rick got together and she was "ruined" for them because they could no longer mentally sideline her as a Strong Black Woman with no internal life or emotional, physical, or spiritual needs. And the only thing they hate more than Rick having a dark-skinned black woman as a soulmate is him having a black son. Hated it so much they had a whole ass documented conspiracy theory trying to will that baby out of existence. Judith gets a certain amount of grace from a lot of them purely from the virtue of being white, but they still constantly pull out the most vile anti-adoption bullshit about her not REALLY being Rick's (or Michonne's) child too.

So they sat there and watched a six-hour narrative! A lovingly constructed narrative one of the emotional cruxes of which is the fact that Rick was separated from his wife, love of his life, for eight years, missed most of his daughter's life up until now, missed all of his youngest son's life up until now, was made to forgot his eldest son's face, made to forget his wife's face, and this traumatized him so profoundly that he literally wanted to die! This traumatized him so profoundly that when he at last had the opportunity to go back he was paralyzed by fear to the extent that he wanted to continue living an empty ascetic unlife rather than have to face the emotional turmoil of the mere IDEA of losing them all again.

They saw that and went, "Well him getting to be back with them is unsatisfying because it should've ended with him leaving them to go looking for a grown ass man whose closest interpersonal relation already fucking went to find him!"

And not all of them are stupid. They fucking know that there is a difference between one's relationship with their sibling or close friend and their relationship with their spouse. There's a difference between one's relationship with their sibling or close friend and their relationship with their children. And it's not about quantifying the amount of love, it's about the self-evidently different emotional needs and dependencies that exist in these relationships!!

They know it! They just don't want any of that to apply to this spouse and these children and they're mad af that the show unequivocally said that it does.

And to that I say: lol suffer, bitch.

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

vampire!dave mustaine x reader | word count: 4120 | ao3 link

It was inebriating, how completely surrendered to him you were. How fragile, and warm, and wanting.  How human.

✦ on this fic: NSFW!!!, dave mustaine x female!reader, +18, language, romance, mxf sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, blood mention, blood drinking

✦ a/n: It's October! And in honor of spooky month I came up with this one-shot. It's my first time writing directly in English (I usually write in my language and translate it) so I hope it's written okay. Hope you like it, feedbacks are welcome! ❤

You and Dave had an agreement.

You were close, but not too close. You both knew you could rely on each other no matter what, but you also knew there was something deeper, something you never had the guts to admit. You held onto the hope that one day the stars would align and things would magically fall into place. 

But then came the incident.

You'd always prided yourself on being unshockable, even in the wild streets of '89 LA. So when he showed up at your door looking like he'd been through a meat grinder, your first thought was that he’d probably gone and overdone it with the drugs again. It was becoming a familiar routine, taking care of him when nobody else cared. With a heavy sigh, you let him in, helping him stay on his feet and noticing how cold his skin felt.

"Dave, seriously, this time we might need to call a doctor."

"Nah," he grunted, voice strained. "No doctors. I'm good."

"What the hell happened to you?" You grabbed his hand and plopped down beside him. Whatever he'd taken this time, it was way gnarlier than his usual drug trips, and that's saying something. Dave looked like he was on the verge of sweating bullets even though it was a hot LA night. He was feverish, beads of sweat popping up on his forehead while he shook like a leaf. It should've been balmy, but if you judged by his icy-cold skin, you'd think it was the middle of winter.

"I got goddamn turned, that’s what happened" he hissed through clenched teeth, his whole body convulsing with pain. You took a step back, heart pounding like crazy. Well, that was one curveball you hadn't seen coming. Vampire attacks had become rarer than a sober rock star in the last few decades, but they still happened. You had a cousin who got bit a few years back, but luckily, the doctors managed to suck out the venom in the nick of time. That memory kicked you into high gear as you scrambled to find your damn keys.

"Dave, seriously, we gotta get you to the hospital. Maybe there's still a chance..."

"No, man, there's no damn time!" He yelled, desperate, and you just stared at him, totally stunned. "They made me drink their fucking blood. It's a done deal, I'm a fucking monster now, no way back from this!"

Your heart plummeted. Real-life vampire transformations weren't as simple as the movies and comics made them out to be. You had to get jabbed with vampire venom and guzzle some vampire blood almost right after to make it work. Plus, those bloodsuckers could choose whether to shoot their venom or just chow down on their victims.

So that meant the turnings were pretty much always on purpose.

Once it was done, it was game over.

You inched closer to Dave, your heart heavy as you gazed at the man you'd been secretly crushing on for ages. It was too painful, watching him suffer like this. You'd always held onto that hope that the stolen glances, the way you looked out for each other, and the sheer joy you found in each other's company would someday turn into something more than just friendship.

But right now, it felt like you were on the verge of losing him. Vampires weren't exactly welcome in human society; they were straight-up predators, destined to lurk in the shadows and strike when the night fell. If Dave had gone down that dark path, maybe it was time to say goodbye to the days of you two being together.

But you couldn't let that happen. You couldn't let him suffer, wounded, scared, and all alone.

Because you had an agreement.

You knew you could rely on him; he knew he could always count on you.

Dave's eyes widened as you got closer, extending your wrist toward him. He stared at you, confusion and hunger swirling in his dilated pupils. 

"Drink," you whispered, your voice trembling. He shook his head, looking horrified by the suggestion, but you closed the gap even more. "Please. You need this, Dave. You need me."

You shut your eyes and turned your head away as his hunger took over, and he sank his teeth into your skin.

It was one of those nights, the usual routine. You'd roll in from work, and there was Dave, chilling on your bed in the pitch-black room. You hadn't laid eyes on him for days, but you knew the drill. He hated having to feed, hated hurting people, but he couldn't seem to find any other way around it. Except for one option: you.

Dave had initially refused to feed on your blood ever since he had almost killed you, that night many months ago. You'd tried helping him find some alternative, but turns out, it was a way tougher gig than you'd thought. Animal blood did nothing for his thirst, and he wasn't skilled enough yet to drink from people without going overboard and killing them — or getting dangerously close to it.

The best you could come up with was nabbing a sip from folks who'd just kicked the bucket, but that meant finding fresh corpses without drawing any heat, and that was easier said than done. Maybe for him, it was a walk in the park, but for you, a regular human, helping him sneak into hospitals and morgues after dark was a recipe for disaster. Dave didn't want you caught up in the mess, or worse, in jail, because of him.

In the end, offering up your blood was the easier fix if he didn't want to go full-on vampire and start killing people. It was the one way he could hold onto a tiny shred of his former human self. At the beginning, it was rough on him, no doubt about it. You watched him suffer, saw how terrified he was of losing control.

But with time, he toughened up. After the initial shock wore off, his thirst started to chill out. Nowadays, he only needed a sip every week. You knew that if he was doing things the "old-school" vampire way, he'd be guzzling down a whole human's worth of blood every couple of months, but this was the sanest workaround you could come up with to keep the body count at zero.

You were cool with it, as long as he stuck around. As long as you knew he was okay.

At first, he used to nibble on your wrist for a meal. But after just a few weeks, he upgraded to the neck. It was smoother for him and more comfortable for you, too. Better access, and if you ever got woozy from the blood loss, he could keep you steady. But having him that close? Well, that was... let's say, unsettling. Sure, maybe he wasn't human anymore, but it didn't mean your feelings for him had just vanished. In fact, being the only tie he had to his old human self just made those feelings kick it up a notch.

"Your heart's pounding," he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours. You gulped hard, cursing how damn close you were, and how he could practically read your body like a book. After drinking your blood, his lips and cheeks had acquired a subtle pinkish tint, and his once warm, brown eyes had turned into this oddly beautiful shade of red.

"You freak me out," you fibbed, the excuse tumbling out in a rush but full of stubbornness. He grinned at your words, a playful glint in his eye.

"Do I now?" he teased, giving your hip a gentle squeeze as he pulled you closer. His chilly skin pressed against yours, sending shivers up your spine. He nuzzled your neck, his tongue brushing against your tender skin, making you whimper. "You know, they never spill this secret before they turn you – you can smell fear. And the scent of fear... it's something else. But you, you're not afraid of me, even though you probably should be."

"Why?" you breathed out, doing your best to shove aside the way your heart was practically doing a drum solo now. In the good old days, back when he was just human, you'd daydreamed about this like there was no tomorrow. To be this close to him, to feel his lips upon your skin. But now, with him all changed up, being this near wasn't anything like what you'd pictured.

"I could kill you right here, drain you dry," he growled, and you let out a little whimper as he bit down again, pulling you close and setting you down on the bed. His bite gradually turned into a sloppy, passionate kiss. You had to muffle a moan with your hand when he started sipping from your neck, taking even more of your blood. He backed off, fingers gripping your chin, making you meet his gaze. He studied your flushed face, lips slightly parted, eyes bleary. "And yet you like this. Why?"

"I dunno," you breathed out, shakily. You let out another whimper as he pressed his body against yours, his grip on your hair firm as he locked eyes with you, a fiery intensity in his gaze that revved up your heartbeat. You gasped in shock when he kissed you, his tongue diving into your mouth, the taste of your own blood making your head spin. You tugged at the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer like it was out of your control, and he let out a soft laugh against your lips.

"I can smell desire, too, you know?" he mentioned, his hand sneaking under your pants and tracing along the edge of your panties, sending shivers down your spine. You opened your mouth, caught off guard, your face turning all shades of red, suddenly feeling more exposed than ever with him. How could he read you like a book? You hated this new side of him, the side you didn't know how to deal with, the side that fully understood the power he had over you.

The side of him that enjoyed it.  

"Dave, we shouldn't be crossing this line," you managed to whisper, and he let out a grunt.

"We've already crossed so many lines," he argued. "Plus, I owe you. Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."

"I don't want us doing this just because you think you owe me," you frowned, and he huffed in response. You licked your lower lip, a fresh tension building between your legs. Even though you were still pissed at how he could see right through you, it wasn't like you didn't want this. "You can have whatever you want from me, no need to ask. As long as it's you..."

"No," he grumbled. "Don't say it like that, like I mean something to you. I'm a damn monst—"

"Oh, shut up," you whispered, cutting him off, and he gave you a puzzled look. Sure, he might be a whole new version of Dave from the one you used to know, but did it even matter? "You're not a monster. You got turned, yeah, but you're still you . And I'd give you anything, Dave, even if you were still human. That's how it's always been. I just..."

Your words trailed off as his lips crashed into yours again, his chilly hands gripping your waist firmly, and you couldn't help but let out a muffled moan.

"I wanna eat you whole," he groaned. "If you only knew how your heart races when I lay my eyes on you. It's driving me wild. If I'd known you felt like this sooner..."

"You know now," you whispered. His gaze locked onto yours, carrying a mix of anger, sadness, and something else. Something intense and deep that made your stomach twist and your skin tingle. Something that made you feel like he could have his way with you — and you'd let him.

"You're not exactly making this easy," he muttered, his voice low. You let out a nervous chuckle. You'd always pictured this — his body and yours, tangled up in your bed. In your fantasies, he was still human and madly in love with you. Was he in love with you now? Or did he only love how human you still were? How you stood by him even after his life had taken a nosedive and changed forever?

Did any of that really matter?

"I don't want easy," you replied, trailing your fingertips along his collarbone, slow and deliberate. You pulled him closer, your lips nearly brushing against his. You could feel his breath on your skin as he held you, making your heart race faster. "Everything's already a damn mess. If you wanna eat me whole, then just go ahead and do it."

He let out a deep groan as he yanked you closer, urgently, his hands roaming your body eagerly as you both stripped off your clothes. The room was dark, with only moonlight to guide you; his pale skin was smooth, soft against your naked form as his lips trailed all over you. You couldn't help but let out a throaty moan as he peppered you with kisses, drawing you closer and closer to him.

"Dave..." you hid your face in his hair as he teased your breast, biting down gently and leaving a trail of purple marks across your skin. He let out a low groan in response, grinding his hips against yours before pulling back slightly, looking deep into your eyes. He looked beautiful, supernatural; otherworldly strange, and that only made you love him even more. You wrapped your hand around his cock, using his precum as lubricant as you swiped your thumb over the tip in a slow, circular motion. He closed his eyes, grinding his hips against you as he let out your name in a strained moan. “Please, Dave, let me make you feel good.” you whispered. It was all you'd ever wanted, really — to serve him, to give him everything he craved and needed.

To be his, forever.

Dave moaned your name again, his strong arms pulling you close. You tangled your hands in his hair and locked your lips with his once more. His tongue dove into your mouth, kissing you with a fiery intensity. You wondered if it felt different for him now that he could sense the warmth of your blood, hear your heart racing, and smell how he was setting your body on fire.

He sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard as he kept kissing you. He let out a grunt when your lips traveled to his ear and then down his neck. You bit and sucked on his exposed skin while he dug his fingers into your hair, your lips and tongue exploring his chest, his stomach, his thighs.

And then his cock.

You started on his tip, your tongue slowly licking on it, pressing and rubbing it against your lips, tasting him leisurely. You raised your eyes to look at Dave; he looked back at you, his eyes bleary and out of focus as one of his hands grabbed a fistful of your hair. He wrapped his hand around his cock’s base, pressing it against your lips, and you opened your mouth obediently, welcoming him into your mouth.

“You’re so warm.” he whispered, his voice hoarse, his body tensing up as you moved your head slowly, up and down, the taste of his skin invading your mouth. He panted, bucking his hips forward. “You feel so good. Wanna cum inside your pretty mouth, oh fuck…” 

You whimpered as he started moving his hips, tears filling your eyes as he pushed your head down on his cock. He groaned, his grip on your hair growing tighter as he took control of you, pushing it slowly until you had all his length inside your mouth. He then pulled it out, rubbing the tip against your lips before he pushed again, and again, until he was moving in a steady rhythm inside your mouth. 

“Look at me.” he grunted, and you tried your best to raise your teary eyes and look at him. He groaned when his eyes met yours. You were trying your best to keep breathing while allowing him to fuck your mouth harder and harder. Your throat was growing sore as your pussy throbbed. You were such a mess. You were so happy. He needed you. You loved him. He was yours then, his lips parted as he moaned your name and his cock ravaged your throat, all control you both could have had in that moment forgotten as he arched his hips forward and moved faster, and harder, and… “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna-Oh, shit!” he cried out as he came inside your mouth. You did your best to swallow it, the bitter taste lingering on your mouth as he let go of your hair, his breath uneven as his eyes closed. 

You sat down in front of him, trying your best to clean up the mix of semen and drool that ran down your chin. He gazed at you, his red eyes shining in the dim room, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His ginger hair was like copper against his pale, bare skin; you were never gonna grow tired of how stunning he looked.

"Get over here," he murmured, pulling you closer. You settled onto his lap, legs wrapped around his waist as he nuzzled into the curve of your neck, his breath tickling your skin. He kissed your neck slowly, then moved up to give your earlobe a gentle nip, and you let out a sigh, shutting your eyes.

"Dave..." you whispered, a hint of pleading in your tone. He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he continued to lavish your neck, jaw, and collarbones with kisses.You were miserably wet, your pussy aching as you felt his cock grow hard once more against your thigh.

“Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”he whispered in your ear, and a soft moan escaped your lips as he grabbed your ass firmly. You pressed your body against his, burying your hands in his hair as you ground your hips together.

“Oh, fuck.” you whispered, tears pooling in your eyes again. Your whole body was aflame against his cold skin, fire and ice melting together. Your heart was pounding as he pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, holding your ass firmly. He grunted when you moved your hips eagerly, holding you into place and preventing you from sitting on his cock. “Dave…”

"You're gonna have to ask nicely," he whispered, his voice deep and alluring, like a predator who knew his prey couldn't escape. He whispered your name, his tone surprisingly tender, and you let out a sigh, your cheeks growing warm as he gripped your neck, his fingers urging your face to meet his gaze. "Tell me what you want."

“I want you to fuck me.” you pleaded, and he laughed at how easily he could command you. He was having fun, drunk in his power and in you, the sweet smell of your hair, of your blood, the warmth of your skin. It was inebriating, how completely surrendered to him you were. How fragile, and warm, and wanting. 

How human.

"Say please," he teased, a sly grin playing on his lips. You let out an exasperated groan.

"You're messing with me."

"Am I?" he pressed the tip of his cock harder against your entrance, and you whimpered when he penetrated you with his tip for just a bit before pulling out. “Tell me what you want.” he commanded, and you couldn't muster the strength to resist him any longer.

“Please, fuck me.” you pleaded, and he laughed before pulling you closer. You moaned as you felt his cock enter you, adjusting to his size as he pushed slowly. You gasped when he put it all inside, the tip of his cock hitting the sweetest spot inside of you. It felt so, so good. He was going so, so slow. It was maddening, you were on fire, you felt whole for the first time in forever. 

You started moving, slowly at first, but then setting into a steady pace as he held you close, burying your face in his hair. You were sure you were dying, drunk on the smell of his body and the feel of his cold skin against yours, but you couldn’t care less. It was like poison, feeling his cock thrusting deep inside of you as you moved up and down and he whispered your name, his voice strained as he moaned with you and held you so tight it felt almost as if he would break you. 

You didn’t care; you were his now. You were bonded to him. You were his.

You moaned his name as he started rubbing your clit, your pace growing faster as he pushed harder inside you. You were shaking, your legs were burning as you rode his cock; it felt like heaven. You whimpered when he slapped your ass, burying his nose on your neck and then biting on your skin, tasting your blood once again as you bounced on him. 

You knew he was close, too; his grip on your skin tightened as he pulled away, blood trickling down his chin as he looked deep into your eyes and you moaned louder and louder, your tits bouncing up and down as you chased your high, holding on to him like your life depended on it. 

“Dave, you feel so good. Dave, oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum. Dave… ” you moaned, words growing irrational and senseless as your pussy started contracting slowly. He moaned, praising you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear — how you were such a good girl. How you tasted so good, how you felt so tight around his cock, how good it felt to be inside of you. You cried out as your orgasm took every little bit of control you had left, making your whole body contract and shake. 

Dave grunted, holding you close as he kept fucking you through your orgasm, sweet, lovely words leaving his lips like honey, taking you over the edge again, and again, and again, and now he was coming too, his thick semen filling you to the brim as his thrusts grew sloppier. You buried your face in his hair, allowing him to take his cock out of you, your pussy still throbbing with pleasure, feeling suddenly faint. 

"Oh, God," you whispered, and you could feel Dave's quiet laughter beneath you more than you could hear it as he held you close. "I think I might pass out."

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he whispered, panting, and you weakly chuckled. "You lost a lot of blood. I shouldn't have taken so much."

“I think I’d be okay if you weren’t fucking me while doing it.” you grumbled, and he laughed again. His fingers traced along your back, and you sighed contentedly as he lifted you effortlessly, placing you on the bed and lying down beside you. You opened your eyes, studying his face, taking in everything that made him who he was. He looked more like the old, human Dave than ever before, with the vulnerability he showed, that old beautiful smile on his lips, and a touch of cockiness that only made him more endearing. “What’s making you smile?”

"I love you," he said. You blinked, your lips parting slowly. For someone who prided yourself on not being easily surprised, you found yourself caught off guard by him quite often.

"I love you too," you managed to whisper with a giggle. He smiled and pulled you closer.

"I know. I've known for a while," he said, pressing his index finger against your chest. You blushed when you realized how fast your heart was beating. "See? It's so loud I'm surprised you can't hear it."

"Oh, shut up, you freak," you whispered, and he laughed. You studied his face, running your fingertips softly along his lower lip. "I'm kidding. You're not a freak. But I am. I'm in love with a damn vampire."

"Do you care?" he asked, a slight hint of worry in his voice. You smiled and shook your head.

"Hell no, Mustaine."

"Then it's all good."

"Yeah."

"As long as we're together," he whispered, and you smiled, knowing that nothing had changed after all. You knew you could always count on him; he knew he could always count on you.

You were bonded.

You were his.