#imagining how different things would have gone!!

[deesseshesca]

PAC: What they would do to your naked body that they will be afraid to admit ? (18+)

(SINGLE SINCE BIRTH - ERA ~4 )

No, you are NOT dreaming ... SHE'S BACKKKK !

Pile 1 

Hey  girl/boy  hey ! How are you doing ? Miss y’all so much ! Anyways don't look at me like that … in what kind of mess did you put yourself into ? Imma move on but we definitely circling back to this next time. Now we are all about the way your next partner would dream about treating your naked body but will be too afraid to admit it. 

First thing first, y’all know I am not the one to sell y’all dreams, right ? No coming back did not change that side of me but babe you are the turning point in your next lover's life. I mean there's a clear before and after effect. Now I’m hearing the lyrics of Brokey: When a real one hold you down, bae, you supposed to drown

You ain't never fuck with no boss bitch, I turned you out (turned you out). There's a difference; the second part of the verse does not apply to you. Like you did not do anything to make that person change. You did not want that person to change. They saw what you were about and decided to change their way. You might never know how much of a trash lover they were until they decide to be honest with you. In my vision, I see a guy dressed like a bad guy in the 50s looking at the pretty preppy girl in pink from a mile away and instead of wanting to do bad to her he want to show her how good love can get.She's the only one worth his good side. I aint saying y’all fit that narrative is just an analogy. 

In their mind, there's no crazy possessive act or even passion. If we stick to my vision, they want you in their pretty car, caressing your leg, keep losing themself in your pretty brown eyes (some of y’all have green eyes and enjoying deep conversion. They don't even want to take you out at night because they want to make sure you know they are serious and this is not some kind of trap. Now sometimes, late at night in their room, they may catch a boner because they mind is almost ``forcing`` them to think of you in a more sexual manner. They will think of kissing your neck (not leaving hickeys because the mere fact that you let them this close to your delicate energy is a privilege). Most of y’all in this pile have the bra game crack and under control (I am jealous tell me all your secrets, NOW !), your tits always look the fuck good. They would love to stare at them and you letting them do so not thinking he's a creep or not risking his chance with you. Caressing your inner thigh and also maybe playing a bit with your panties does cross their mind. They never go further than that because they need to focus on the bigger picture which is a long term commitment with you.  At the end of the day, their passiveness depends on your energy. If you ever give them hint of wanting more (fuck me eyes, playing with your tits, nasty texting …), they will jump on the occasion. 

They also enjoy how strict you are and love it when you remind them that you are not the one to play with. The fact that you can drop them that easily is a turn on for them. They also imagine you, squirting all over them. Overstimulating you with their munch abilities and flipping you around on their dicks at night they cant their mind out the gutter. 

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PILE  2

Hey to my lesbian girlypop. How is your cherry doing ? I hope you had all the fun you wanted while I was gone, if not good news the fun is coming. 

Your next partner's sexual thoughts about you, that they would be afraid to admit is that they want you. I think this person presents themself as straight until they meet you and you set fire to their POV. You may actually never know this person is thinking about you that way and if you miss the clue, you are going to miss out on a beautiful opportunity for some good sex because they are pretty lowkey. I ain't going to lie no matter what, this is not going to transform into a full blown relationship. You may have a habit of falling in love with a good box so guard yourself. Don't worry, this person is a gentle soul. I see y’all being FWB. Everytime they are going to think about it in a sexual manner is going to shook them because that's not who they are. They never wanted and thought of playing in the rainbow before you. They will take extra time reminiscing about your tits and your natural curvy body. Most of y’all reading this have an hourglass body or pear body no matter slim or thick. Y’all going to have good sex after having an honest discussion regarding y’all desires and the way y’all want to deal with it. 

Her love language is physical touch. She might get extra affectionate with you because she loves the feel of your bust on her. Another hint, you may need to catch. Funny enough, she also has a habit of falling in love which is quicker than you. Idk the relationship may be chaotic not the toxic kind and the sex bomb. Maybe because it comes with forbidden feelings. Anyways the ball is in your court, you decide if you want to mess with that or keep going in your dry spell era. 

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PILE 3 

How are you doing queen ? It has been a whole month since I left and you are still bedrotting ? What happens with all your goals set in Jan 2025… huh ? No, don't go away, I'm not stepping on your neck (this time at least). I am not here for that TODAY. Today is all about love and good vibes and you deserve all that. Even when you think you don't …

Let's dive into it ! To begin with, your next partner is going to think you are porn star beautiful. Don't worry I was mad for you when I got that message. Me (yesterday) : WTF DO U MEAN PORNSTAR BEAUTY ! Are u sex addicts because I swear my babes deserve better than that … Until my spiritual team told me to calm my butt down. Your next partner is no sex addict and he dont think your makeup is cakey. What he tries to make me understand is you have every attribute to make any man fall on their knees yet you are too insecure. In his sexual dream regarding you, you are more confident. Your dominant planet may be Venus and you may have a stellium in Taurus because everything you do is so sexy and sensual. Some of y’all have a rising sign in Scorpio with all that I have mentioned, damm another day wishing I could see y’all gorgeous face. Your voice is sweet like honey but very sexually inviting. Like you can be reciting a grocery list and you would make these men have blue balls. He could be on facetime masturbating to you just doing your laundry. You have a natural pretty face, your mannerism is enchanting and your voice oulalala dont worry they will not. If in your future you are down for that, you don't have to ask them twice. Calling you is their bad habit. They love receiving voice memos from you. Also they think you are hiding some kind of sexual talent. Maybe you know how to ride it well or you give good head. They know you are uncomfortable when it comes to sex. Most of you, your ex took your spark away when it comes to being sexy (funny this is single since birth …). Or maybe somebody you thought you were in a relationship with the whole time he was cheating with you which took your confidence away and left you with nothing but guilt.They want to feel like a boss, they would probably daydream about taking charge in the bedroom. Not full blown dominatrix but telling them where you want them to put their hands. Where you want them to kiss. Holding their head down while their munching. Would love for you to express how good you make them feel and how it is only them making you feel that way. They LIVE for your validation and YOUR validation ONLY. For some it is someone from your past not the bad ex/situationship is actually somebody you have good moments with but you naturally drift away and you are going to reconnect again. Fucking them would be full of longing and euphoria. Is almost like fucking on the clouds, so dreamy and soft. They can sense a growth in you when they see again, that you may take for granted. When they left you were more of a people pleaser and when they are coming back you have an ease in displaying your boundaries which they are going to be so proud of you for changing. I keep hearing : babygirl & ‘’ I am so proud of you’’. Throughout all your relationship they are always going to celebrate your wins whether they are small or huge. 

This man is definitely a white one. There's a high chance he has blue eyes and blond hair. Also he walks around with a sex playlist … lol. 

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PILE 4

Hey my wild rides. I missed your chaos. Don't tell the other you are secretly my fav energy (y’all : I could have swear a couple post ago, you said gentle & delicate soul were your fav… me: No need to fight ladies, Shesca has enough love for all of you (no me entering my douchebag era)). Anyways what kind of mess did you create and left like it was not your fault while I was gone. Is ok, you right … How could it ever be your fault? 

That being said, let's go back to the business that pays me (shameless promo, go get a private reading !). Talking about shamelessness, you like big dicks. Don't try to hide the cards rat you out a long time ago. Since it is supposed to be for my single since birth, y’all may have a size kinks. Which shows me that your type may be tall muscles guys. You may have something for big biceps. You don't want them gym rat way but more nerds type way that still go to the gym and send you pictures after they are done. I know your pussy just did that crazy twirl, let's calm down lady. The next person you are going to deal with is going to be your dreams come true. They are going to want you to be hooked on them and to only have eyes for them. Honestly they may be quite stoic from the outside in even their sense of style is quite minimal ( just wanted to add that they smell extra good) but inside they are fucking golden retrivers. They would do anything for you to compliment them. They will put that work in the bedroom girl ! Just for you, the pillow princess to say it was good. Is like a reward for them. You guys will need to find a middle ground. That is what they think about because compared to them you are tiny. They can easily break, they are actually scared of hurting you. Or embarrassing you with a run at the emergency room because he decided to go to deep inside. He will have an Aries mars … shit. Big dig, size kink and Aries mars … don't worry I am already calling the police on your behalf. In their daydream regarding your naked body, they are not actually picturing you naked. They are pictureing y’all kissing, caressing each other's body and you asking for more and them telling you, he can't because he is scared of hurting you.  

That person is an amazing cuddler and loves cuddling. Do not joke around about cuddling time, it may be one of your couple's traditions. Maybe before bed is mandatory y’all cuddle. Y’all may also have a tradition of always showering together.  He is also very vocal in the bedroom, talks dirty, moans, grunts and may even beg …

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[differenteagletragedy]

Simon, though he'll never tell you, daydreams during quiet moments. A lull in a mission, a night when he just can't seem to fall asleep despite the warmth of you in his arms. And it's not about fantastical things, nothing bizarre at all.

It's just about you. About how things could be different.

Things now are wonderful, absolute perfection. The life you have given him is more than he ever could have imagined ... but he does imagine, from time to time, how much he wishes he could have found you sooner.

He pictures meeting you when he was a child and how you'd be a bright spot during those dark days. He thinks of those photos he's seen of you as a kid, toothless smiles and bright eyes, and he just wishes he could have known you then. He wishes you could have been childhood sweethearts, that you could have been his first kiss, that he could have proposed to you when you were young, with a paper ring but real promises.

Simon daydreams about the moments that could have been: sneaking into your room while your parents were asleep, just to talk and be together, taking you for a drive when he got his license. And he wonders just how different he would have turned out if you'd have been there to love him when no one else did.

Would he still be a soldier? Would he have ever felt like he needed the mask? Who would he be, if he would have met you sooner?

And on darker days, he focuses in on the time. He knows it's silly because it doesn't matter anyway -- he can't go back and change things, he can't magically make it so that he's known you all his life -- but sometimes he wants it so much he can't stand it. When he met you, he was already knocking on 40, and with the way he's lived, he'd be lucky to squeeze out another 40 years. Even then, it's just not enough time.

In the end, no matter what route his train of thought takes, it always ends the same way. He thinks of you, you as you are now, the you he knows better than he knows anything. Your hands and eyes and lips, the thing you told him on your first date, the way you smiled at him the first time you woke up in his bed -- he breaks all of it down, all of your parts and all your history, into little tiny pieces until the nagging thoughts are gone and all that's left is an ocean of you. He drowns in it. Beautiful oblivion.

You are the best part of him. But he's been starved for so long, it's no wonder he gets a little greedy.

[chimerafeathers]

party pov of the Siffrinless run through the House during the Loop hangout has a hold on me rn…

i spoke broadly about it in this post but each of them would have much more personal conflicts and thoughts about Siffrin just…..disappearing without a word on the day of the final battle.

i was gonna talk about all of them in one post but i kept having more to say about Mirabelle. and i don’t talk about Mirabelle in depth as much as she deserves. so!

Party POV of Loop Hangout Day - MIRABELLE EDITION

we don’t see the clocktower interaction play out after Siffrin agrees to hang out with Loop, but there’s no reason to believe it goes much differently than usual without the friendquests changing things. which means this probably happens

We’ll stay with you, Mira. Siffrin says it every time this conversation happens.

Mirabelle offers them all a final opportunity to back out. she’s felt guilty, this entire time, dragging everyone along with her on a quest that feels doomed to fail, and that more than half of the party shouldn’t even really be involved with—a child, and two travelers risking their lives for a country that isn’t theirs, just because they had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

they should be allowed to leave. she may not have a choice, but the rest of them do. so she tries to offer them this escape, even though the thought of what’s ahead fills her with dread, even if she’s terrified she was the wrong choice for something this important and may not be able to protect them, or even succeed at all. and it’s such a relief and a comfort that they all choose to stay anyway, and she doesn’t have to face the House alone. she has support, company, friends to rely on. people who believe in her even when she doesn’t believe in herself.

except when they wake up the next morning, Siffrin is nowhere to be found. not in the clocktower, not in the town. how long do they search? how long does it take them to decide this must be his real answer to the question Mirabelle posed the night before?

Mirabelle takes Siffrin’s act 5 behavior…very personally. in her hurt and anger, she decides that if nothing’s wrong, if he thought it was okay to say something like that in that moment, they must have always been a worse person than she thought they were. she was always uncertain of his motives, his attitude. she reassures herself that their teasing is friendly, like it’s something she has to convince herself is true.

but some part of her really did believe that he saw himself as better than the rest of them—even if she never treated them with anything other than kindness! she didn’t let her uncertainty or anxiety get in the way of treating him with warmth, ignoring the potential bad-faith explanations of his behavior and trusting that they had better intentions than her fears would lead her to believe…until she had evidence that, just maybe, those fears weren’t so unfounded.

the Housemaiden in the Prologue even says that she thought they were mean, at first. uncaring. an impression that didn’t turn around until Siffrin got hurt protecting Bonnie. maybe it’s cheating a little bit to bring Prologue dialogue into an ISAT discussion since they’re not perfectly identical timelines, but i think it lines up with ISAT Mirabelle thinking Siffrin saw themself as “better” than her.

Prologue:

ISAT:

she applies this judgement not just in the moment, but retroactively. whatever goodwill and trust she had read into their behavior before, it’s gone. the person she reassured herself that he was would never do something like this, so she must have failed to understand him entirely, from the very beginning.

there’s no confrontation, in the Hangout loop. just a silent disappearance. they have no context or explanation for what happens. no heightened emotions from the immediacy of insults and anger thrown in their faces. but whatever emotions bubble up have time to simmer.

i can imagine Mirabelle’s thought process might be quite similar to how it is in Act 5.

something must be wrong, for them to act like this. to disappear without a word after promising everyone that they’d stay.

but if nothing’s wrong…she must have been wrong about them. he isn’t the person she thought he was. how could they leave now, after what they already sacrificed defending Bonnie? or was it because of what he lost defending them—that he had given all he was willing to give, and no more?

did they finally decide Mirabelle wasn’t a person worth believing in anymore? that her mission wasn’t important enough to waste his life in its pursuit? that someone like them shouldn’t bother following someone as weak as her?

she gave them the option to leave. she feels guilty that it hurts so much that he took it. angry and betrayed that he would lie to their faces and leave without a goodbye, when for all they know they’ll never see each other again. did they all really matter so little to him?

or was he scared, and unable to face them out of shame? can she really blame them for that, knowing her own terror at what entering the House will bring? maybe he’s just as scared as she is, even if he never shows it like she does. it’s their choice. he has no responsibility here, no obligation to stay and put himself in danger for their sakes. she offered them this. she offered them this. they’re allowed to change their mind. what right does she have to be angry? she would have understood if they’d just!! said something!!! it would have hurt, still, but, but—

did she ever really understand them at all, if she couldn’t see this coming?

[leyavo]

| I am my father’s daughter |

💖 Dad!Price x Daughter!reader, eventual Soap x reader.

PART TEN: John Price hasn’t seen or heard from his daughter in over a year, but that changes when she calls him one night asking for help. 3k+ words

TW: hurt/angst/mentions of abuse/ complicated father-daughter relationship

Previous parts of -> [Series Masterlist]

🔈Readers view of John is different, he’s come and gone in her life etc so she thinks he’s not that great. So don’t send me hate

Growing up you'd confine yourself to your room, safe and warm under the bedsheets. Something you came back to even as an adult, as a kid though you used to imagine you were in the circus under a tent. You'd think of all the animals and performers, the ones from that book you never returned to the library, due to Lena uprooting your life once again. The tent (sheet) though always travelled with you, the one constant in your life.

Today, the circus was the guys moving around the house, you could identify them from the weight of their steps alone. One missing though, Johnny. You hadn't seen him since yesterday morning when he squeezed past you in the porch after a run. He didn't so much as glance at you, the music blaring through his headphones. You hadn't heard the creak of his door either or bumped into him in the hallway.

The duvet slung over your body though, much heavier and softer than the one you lugged around with you throughout your life. How you balled it up in a bin bag each time Lena decided she wasn’t happy and needed a fresh start, taking you god knows where. The mattress beneath you now, memory foam. No springs digging into you as you try to get comfortable. It’s why you don’t mind sharing a room with the Captain. The bed alone a luxury you aren’t familiar with. Something you could get used to.

An attainable goal to work for, a bed like this. To anyone else it might seem odd, they may even tell you to dream bigger, but you know what it’s like to be denied the basic and small things. Stuff you should have by now at your age, but the only things you own are the clothes on your back and the ones in your duffle bag. You’ll start small, that’s a promise you remind yourself each time you actually eat breakfast in the morning. You’re still trying to get used to a full fridge and well stored cupboards. Someone refills them, you’re not sure who though.

You also know what it’s like not to have your space, no room or bed to seek an escape or find that safety. Lena never let you share her bed either, stating that only her boyfriend would be in there. Least the Captain let you share his space. If you didn’t have a room or sleep in the car you were left with wherever you could find. The sofa isn’t as safe, no it’s out in the elements. Blind to those who watch you whilst you sleep, who wake you with a heavy hand or a raised voice.

It’s been years since then, you try not think about it. Shove it down, refuse to let it control you in the present. Your stomach growls in protest and you press down on it to silence it. The last time you’d eaten was yesterday lunch at work, after Lena’s ambush you just wanted to hide. You peel the duvet back and squint at the alarm clock, not realising you’d spent most of the day in bed. The room dark, yellow glow of the light in the hallway creeping underneath the door frame.

Saturday wasted, but most of your life till now had been so too, you couldn’t care less what an extra day made.

You drag yourself up though, unlocking the door and peering down the hallway. Oddly quiet for the early evening, no talk echoing downstairs or the sound of the kettle. You flicked the light on as you walked through the living room. The fridge door unnaturally light as you opened it, no milk cartons or cans of beer lining the shelf. A half grated pack of cheese and one lone egg rolling around the centre. Huh, looks like it wasn’t magic after all. You’d never seen it so bare.

“Ain’t had a -,”

You jump at the sudden voice, shrieking as you launch yourself away from them. Hand holding your chest as you turned to face Kyle.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Kyle said, closing the fridge door and smiling at you, hazel eyes softening as they met hours. You believe him too, Kyle’s presence a welcome constant since you’d arrived at the base. You felt like he could read your mind some days, knowing when you didn’t want to talk so he’d sit in silence eating dinner with you or chatting to you when he could sense that you were stuck in your head, overthinking.

“I was going to make dinner, but there’s no food. So think I’ll just go back to bed,” you say, but as you walk away Kyle’s fingers slip into your and stop you. He’s always particular with his touch, never grabbing your arm or wrist, sometimes even asking you to wait a second. Gentle, but direct with his words so that you don’t get confused or take them the wrong way. You know exactly where you stand with him.

If you were older maybe you’d even have a crush on him, he’s a good ten years older than you though. Not overly bulky like Simon and your dad, you cringe at the thought and comparison. More like an athlete’s physique, Johnny did say he was the most competitive.

“Gotta eat,” he says, dropping your hand and nudging his head over his shoulder for you to follow him. “Waiting for you to come down so we can go to the canteen.”

Your stomach drops at his confession, the fact you made him wait later than usual to go to the canteen and eat. He should have went without you. “I don’t have any money on me,” you mumble, hoping he doesn’t know about the Captains hand out. You didn’t want to explain the deal with Lena.

“That’s what my cards for,” he says, showing you his pay-card for the base canteen, even his photo was model worthy. “Come on, chuck this on. It’s cold out there.” He passes you a fleece draped over the sofa and holds it for you to put your arms through the sleeves.

There’s a military badge sewn on to the chest, the fleece doused in men’s deodorant. You walk with Kyle through the base, side by side. He keeps the same pace as you, talking to you about work and asking if the trucks running alright. The old thing goes, so it must be.

Kyle leads you into the canteen, scanning his card and pulling trays out for both of you. He talks you through the best food to get, convincing you not to go with the soup of the day. He doesn’t let you carry your tray, asking you to pick a table and he’ll bring it all over.

You sit at the furthest table away, looping round the outskirts of the room and avoiding a rowdy group of guys that looked like they’d just come back from some sort of mission. A little too loud for your liking. Kyle joins you, sliding your tray in front of you as he passes and sits opposite, fork diving into his mash potato like a man starved.

"So, how you settling in?" He asks between a mouthful, he doesn't spare you a glance as he shovels another mound of mash into his mouth.

"I've never settled anywhere," you mumble, trailing off on the thought and the realisation hits you like a bucket of cold water. You'd settled for the bare minimum when it came to other people, but never expected to make a home for yourself or fit into someone else's. There's nothing for you to aim for, not when you don't know how a normal family functions. Maybe you weren't meant to know, you've gone this long without.

Mistakes are either thrown away or corrected, you're still wondering what the Captain wants in terms of you. Some sort of correction for himself to feel better, a way to make up for the years he was absent? Thrown away if you're not moulded into something he's expecting? You never did live up to Lena's expectations.

"Mactavish, eh." Johnny says, sliding next to you on the bench. His elbow brushes your arm as he lifts his fork from his tray, sapphire eyes darting to your furrowed brow and he chuckles. "I was wondering who pinched me fleece."

You glance down at the badge on the chest and the small 'J.M' embroidered beneath it, you don't know how you missed it the first time. Too stuck in your head like always. Well that and his surname printed on the back in capital letters, you glare at Kyle who gave you a shrug, his gaze darting between the close proximity of you and Johnny.

“Didn’t realise you were part of me clan, not that I’m complaining." Johnny shrugs, bumping his elbow into your arm and nearly knocking you off the bench. He often forgets his size, pulling you back to him so you don’t teeter over the edge. The push and pull very much like the emotions you hold for him, fighting to stay away and reaching out for him all at once.

Kyle shifts in his seat, narrowed gaze darting to Johnny. The look alone making you focus on the food still on your tray, you'd been pushing the peas around with your fork the whole time you'd spoke to Kyle. You swallow the cold food, hoping to be out of the canteen and back under the covers in the Captain's room. Maybe you should have stayed there.

The two talk about some sort gossip running through the barracks, apparently Johnny's been there all day and picked up some juicy intel, if that's what you can call it. You've heard worse at school than whatever they're whispering about. Names that sound like they're out of a comic book, some ghost terrifying the new recruits and you just want to roll your eyes at the possibility of some spirit trapped in the barracks.

"Shit, Las-," Kyle says, silencing his phone as he reads the screen, "got something to do, you alright going back with Johnny?" He doesn't give you a chance to reply though, nodding as Johnny answers for you.

You don't stay much longer, Johnny even finishes whatever you left on your tray. Asks if you want some more to take back to the res' house, but you decline the offer. You can't see yourself going back there for a meal, the room too loud that you just want to cover your ears with your hands.

Johnny walks back with you, the excess of his fleece wrapped around you and twisted between your fingers. He's quiet, which is a rarity since you've known him. You've got one of the captains knitted hats shoved over your head, the usual army green that's probably travelled more than you have. The frost on the path crunches under your boots, Johnny's a step behind as if he anticipating a fall and he's ready to catch you. Thankfully you don't.

Part of you wants to keep walking, anything to distract you from the thoughts swimming around in your head. It doesn't matter if you talk or not, you enjoy the walks around the base with Johnny. The fresh air and company you could get used to.

You unzip Johnny’s fleece, but he catches your hands before you can shrug it off. "You don't want it back?" His fingers hook beneath the fabric as he pulls it back over your shoulder.

"Nah, keep it," he says, stumbling back down the stairs as the porch light turns on. "Just don’t let your Da' catch you in it."

"You're not coming in?" You ask, key half turned in the lock as you glance back at him over your shoulder.

He shakes his head, "Nah, got some training bits to do.”

Johnny steps closer and something in you snaps, your back hitting the front door before he can close the minuscule distance. Your chest shudders, heart racing as his gaze drops to your lips. He doesn’t move an inch though, the palm of his hand smoothing down your arm. Light touch ridding you of the bundle of nerves and thoughts trying to convince you he’s just being nice to hurt you. To get something from you. Because why would anyone be interested in you? There’s only one reason right.

You’ve been on edge since Lena grabbed you yesterday. Analysing every little spec of detail or action others have given you. As if they know how much the back of your scalp hurts from being pulled. How even now it’s tender to touch or lay on. A lasting reminder not to test your mother. You’ve let your guard down, with everyone and in return you’ve you got hurt. You always do.

"Alright there?" His soft voice filtering through the noise in your head. He's so gentle in his approach when it matters, as if he can sense its exactly what you need. Doesn't lose his temper or sigh in frustration when you don't hear the first time or reply straight away.

"I'm okay, a little tired," you answer, head falling against the door as you stare up at him. “Goodnight, Johnny.”

“That you, kiddo?” John calls, he’s convinced he’d heard your voice and muted the tv, looking over his shoulder to the light flickering outside the porch window.

A thump hits the front door and John’s on his feet nearly crashing into you as you enter. Your bag hanging on the crook of your elbow and his hat grasped in your clenched fist.

“Daad,” You say it like you’re questioning his and yours existence, it doesn’t feel natural falling from your lips. A forced smile faltering as if your minds caught up with your body, it’s gone as quick as it appeared. John wonders if any smile directed at him has been genuine. If you even want to call him dad. He knows he doesn’t deserve it.

There’s a part of you he can’t access and he knows it’s because he’s kept you at arms length. Shielded you from the terrors of his job and the slight risk of it following him home, to his family, to you. Even as a kid he couldn’t allow himself to get close. Ripped his heart out of his chest whenever he had to leave you for another few months or worse a year. Hated wiping the tears from your face and tugging his coat out of your tight grasp. And by the time you were old enough to understand, you were the one keeping him at a distant. Poetic justice, John likes to call it.

“What’s going on? Something happen?” You ask, tearing him out his head. The quiver of your bottom lip betrays you, gaze flitting to the stairs as if expecting someone else to be there. John knows somethings happened alright, just not what’s going with you. Always scanning the room for someone, that or planning a quick escape. He hopes it’s more of the first one.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “You sure you don’t wanna come home with me?” He asks, knowing the answer before you even respond. Angie keeps asking him if you’re going and as much as he wants you to go with him, he can’t force you.

Your bag thuds on top of the dining table and you snatch the thermos from the outer pocket. “No, I’m staying here,” you snap, the spray of warm water filling the sink drowns out the swear word you mumble. “Like I said the other three times you asked me today.”

John reaches out, palm hovering over your shoulder, but you dodge his touch. Thermos clanging to the draining board, you don’t like confrontations and he thinks maybe the previous night he scared you more than he realised.

“Can you look at me, kiddo?” He asks, stepping back to allow you some space. Always that arms length pushing him further away when all he wants to do is embrace you.

Your eyes flit to his before settling just over his shoulder. Another thing he hates, how you’re not comfortable holding his attention. “Sorry,” you say on instinct, as if by telling him that word he’ll go easy on you. Your greatest defence. When you have nothing to apologise for.

“Nah, I’m the one that’s sorry,” he says, scratching his stubbled jaw. “Shouldn’t have left it this long. You got hurt because of me and I don’t want that. The other night, that won’t happen again alright?”

There’s a shake of your head, your eyes follow his hand movements. “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean to.”

John doesn’t like how easy it is for you to brush it off and make an excuse up, because it isn’t alright. He should have sorted you a room out ages ago in order to prevent this, just like when you weren’t allowed in your parents bedroom as a child. “Well you’ve got a room to yourself now,” he says, gesturing you to follow him to the stairs and you trail after him, brows furrowing as he stops in the hallway.

“Ugh, this is Johnny’s room,” you say, not stepping inside with John as if he’s testing you. You linger in the doorway, noticing the empty wardrobe and clear surfaces that once held Johnny’s belongings.

“It’s yours now, Johnny’s staying at barracks so he can be closer for a new training course.” Lies, but you don’t question him on it. He helps you bring your duffle bag into the room, finally taking your creased clothes out and hanging them in the wardrobe.

You're perched on the edge of the bed staring out the fogged up window. Always so caught in your own head, you don't realise John's watching you. Back straight, shoulders squared as you keep the tension in your body. The line of your jaw taut, muscle flexing as you dare to look to him once again. There's many similarities between you and your mother, both strong willed and reluctant to trust, to trust him. He doesn't know what Lena's like now, but he know's the hatred she still holds for him. Sometimes that bite comes from you too and he feels like he's twenty again trying to dodge a shattering glass. Lena might have used you against him, but she'd never hurt you right? You always chose Lena over him growing up, then chose yourself when you were old enough.

Daughter!readers starting to unravel and John noticing more 🫡 please note I am dyslexic so there may be errors/mistakes. I do edit multiple times but miss out things - Leya

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[shamerli]

Gather ‘round, ye merry souls, and let me spin ye a tale so wild, so full of twists and turns, ye’ll scarce believe it true. It’s the story of a rogue, aye, but not just any rogue—nay, this one’s a beast of a different sort. Trunk Shadowveil, they call him, a Loxodon, if ye can fathom it. That’s right, an elephant, skulkin’ through the shadows of Baldur’s Gate like some great tusked ghost. Now, I know what ye’re thinkin’—an elephant rogue? Pull the other one, stranger! But I swear on me mother’s grave, every word of it’s as true as the ale in yer mug.

Picture it: a massive beast, ten foot tall, with a trunk that could snatch a coin from yer pocket afore ye even knew it was gone. Stealthy? Ha! Ye’d think a creature that size couldn’t sneak up on a deaf man, but Trunk, he’s got ways. He’s a marvel, he is, a walkin’ contradiction, and that’s what makes him legend.

Like all good tales, this one starts with sorrow. Trunk’s herd—peaceful Loxodon folk, mindin’ their own—were slaughtered by poachers. Ivory hunters, hired by some shadowy noble with a taste for rare trophies. They came in the night, and by dawn, Trunk was the last of his kin, a wee calf standin’ amidst the carnage, his heart heavy as stone. Aye, it’s a grim beginnin’, but that’s how these stories go, ain’t it?

But fate’s a funny thing. Just when ye think all’s lost, along comes a band of rogues from Baldur's Gate Guild. They stumble upon this tremblin’ calf, and instead of seein’ a burden, they see potential—or maybe just a good laugh. They take him in, raise him in the underbelly of the city, teach him the trade. Lockpickin’ with that nimble trunk of his, daggerplay—though his daggers are more like swords to the likes of us—and, aye, even stealth. Now, stealth for an elephant? Ye can imagine how that went. He’d try to blend into the shadows, but let’s be honest, a Loxodon’s about as subtle as a dragon in a library. He’d pose as a statue in the marketplace, or knock over a stall and claim it was “part of the plan.” And somehow, bless him, it worked. He was never outmatched only on one terrain - in a tomato field. No matter how hard others tried - no amount of scrying was able to find him hiding between these red veggies.

The Guild loved him for it, especially his mentor, a halfling named Sly Jack, a rogue with a silver tongue and a heart black as coal. Trunk looked up to Jack like a father, trusted him with his life. But ye know how these tales go—betrayal’s always lurkin’ ‘round the corner. During a heist on a corrupt merchant’s vault, things went sideways. The Flaming Fist was waitin’, tipped off by none other than Sly Jack himself. He pinned the whole mess on Trunk, sold him out for a fat purse of gold. Trunk, in a panic, did what any self-respectin’ elephant would do—he smashed through the wall and bolted, leavin’ a trail of chaos in his wake. From that day on, he swore vengeance on The Guild that raised him, determined to bring ‘em down, one bungled caper at a time, and he does not intend to back out of this whole revenge gig - you can say what you want about Trunk, but he sure does have a damn good memory.

But here’s where it gets interestin’. Despite his life of crime, Trunk’s got a heart of gold. He’s no common cutpurse, oh no. He only steals from the rich—greedy nobles, shady merchants, the lot—and slips the loot to the downtrodden. They call him the “Elephant of the People,” a hero with tusks. He’s got a code, ye see, won’t harm the innocent, and he’s fiercely loyal to the few friends he’s got left. Aye, he’s a rogue, but he’s the kind ye can’t help but root for.

And if that weren’t enough, there’s whispers of more to Trunk’s story. Some say he’s the long-lost heir to an ancient dynasty, rulers of a forgotten empire, beyond Chult. Some madmans claim that he is an offspring of a powerful wizard, strong enough to walk between planes of existance, and that his kind is from another world. Others mutter about an ancient prophecy, a “great tusked shadow” destined to bring balance to the underworld. Trunk dismisses it as tavern talk, but sometimes, in the quiet of night, he dreams of a crown atop his head and wonders if there’s truth to it.

But let’s not forget the best part—his signature flair. Trunk’s got a move that’s all his own: usin’ that trunk of his to snatch purses or keys while distractin’ foes with his sheer, absurd presence. “Look at me, I’m just a harmless elephant!” he’d say, all innocent-like, while his trunk’s riflin’ through their pockets. And he’s got a lucky charm, a chipped ivory die from a fallen comrade, which he rolls before every job. Street-smart as they come, but ask him to read a scroll, and he’ll scratch his head like a confused ox.

Now, I know what ye’re thinkin’: an elephant rogue? It’s madness! But that’s the beauty of it. Trunk Shadowveil’s a walkin’ punchline, a lumberin’ legend who somehow makes it all work. I’ve seen him with me own eyes, ye know. Once, he tried to sneak into a noble’s manor, got his trunk stuck in a window. Took three of us to pull him out, and even then, he claimed it was “all part of the plan.” Another time, he faced down a gang of bandits, only to trip over his own feet and send ‘em scatterin’ in confusion. But somehow, he always comes out on top.

So, if ye’re ever in Baldur's Gate and ye hear a trumpet blast in the night, don’t be alarmed. It’s just Trunk Shadowveil, the clumsiest, cleverest rogue ye’ll ever meet, bunglin’ his way through another heist. And that, me friends, is a tale worth drinkin’ to. ------------------------------- Let me know if you want to bid. Current bid is $170

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

i dont know how many asks you have built up, but hullo :3

Wondering if you could make a little fic of reader with a biting kink and sub!Steven? It could go any way you want, but I can just imagine this scene:

Marc waking up, feeling all sore and stingy in certain areas and seeing reader blissfully sleeping like they didn't just bite the fuck out of the body. He stumbles to the bathroom, looks in the mirror to see bite marks all over his neck, chin, shoulders, arms (and some on his thighs 😼). Marc, talking to Steven in the reflection, asks why the hell would he let reader keep chomping on the body like a chew toy, and Steven was just like "well, bruv, you should have seen them on top of me last night. I couldn't say no to that face" Marc, Steven and Jake have been dating reader for a while, and they know all to well about their biting kink, that a different reason they summon the suit to heal (even though they sometimes keeps the bite marks on like a display to others that they have a sex life. I feel like Jake would taunt others and be like "yeah, my lover owns me" and other people could be like wtf??)

Extra points of reader is a demihuman 😼

Thank you so much for the ask! Ahhh!

Sorry this has kind of gone in a different direction.

Love Bites

Steven Grant x Marc Spector x gn!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: Marc has a problem he needs to share.

Warnings: Kissing, biting, pet names, Marc and Steven having a conversation (bickering), fluffy silliness, swearing, not beta read, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 973

Steven moans softly as you straddle his thighs, your hands on his cheeks as you kiss him and lightly push him back against the pillows. His fingers dig into your waist as he kisses you back, leaving him breathless, lightheaded. 

Which isn’t helped by the blood rapidly rushing downwards. 

You rock against him lightly as you lick into his mouth and nibble on his bottom lip, breaking away for just a moment to tug his t-shirt up and off. Steven helps you eagerly, throwing it to the side as if the material had personally offended him. 

When you go back to dragging your lips along his throat, he groans loudly, wriggling under you in excitement, his heart thudding in his chest. 

“Love,” he moans, needy and wanting. He places his warm hand on the back of your neck, applying a firm but not oppressive pressure. 

You know what he wants, what he craves. But instead, you smile and run your tongue along his jugular. 

“Love.” He pants, a little harsher this time and you just about manage not to giggle at the indignation in his voice. 

‘Steven.’ Marc’s voice echoes in his head, clear as day and he rolls his eyes. 

‘Bit busy now mate.’ 

There’s a pause, and even though Steven doesn’t look over to the mirror, he can feel Marc shiver, the sensations starting to bleed over, his arousal. 

‘Yeah, I get that.’ Marc pauses, but doesn’t fade back. 

You nip lightly at the spot under Steven’s ear. He shudders, whining beautifully. 

‘Maybe you can…’ Marc swallows. 

‘Spit it out mate, come on. Me and Jake have talked to you about this. It’s not really fair that you’re constantly dropping in on, well, intimate moments with us, but when it’s the other way around, you get all pissy and-’

‘This isn’t about that.’

‘Isn’t it?’ 

Steven can feel Marc frown at his sarcastic tone. But neither of them comment on it. 

‘Look, it’s about the biting-’

It’s almost like you can hear them. At the exact moment the word is out of Marc’s mouth you sink you teeth into Steven’s neck and suck.

Steven yelps, arousal burning in his lower stomach. His grip on you tightens. “Oh, fuck love, yes, that’s what I want.” 

‘Steven.’ Marc tuts. 

‘I don’t care if you’re here or not, don’t act like I can’t tell when you’re in the background watching to get your rocks off. You’ve got a vouyism thing, I swear down, all high and mighty on your horse acting like you don’t when you watch all the blood time and-’

‘Steven-’

‘But do not give me the condescending mother goose voice when I am trying to have a nice time here, yeah? It’s a bit of a mood killer.’

‘I’m not trying to kill the mood!’ Marc snaps back, going from his stern slowness to matching Steven’s fast pace. His accent is stronger when he’s frustrated, and now it’s out in full force. ‘It’s the biting! Does it always have to be with the biting?’

‘First, is this really the time to be discussing it? Second-’

‘I think it’s the right time, the best time. You hardly ever-’

‘Second, you one to talk!’

‘Bullshit.’

‘It’s true!’

‘What the fuck are you talking about, Steven?’

‘You love getting bitten.’

Marc gasps, trying to sound insulted. But it falls short. ‘I don’t.’

‘Yes you do!’

‘I don’t!’

‘Protest all you want, but I know you do Marc.’

‘That’s a fucking lie.’

‘You’re a fucking liar.’

‘Steven, I’m not, shut up!’

‘You just use the suit to heal them after, but I know, Jake and I both know.’

‘Bullshit.’ 

‘What’s the real problem here?’

‘I…’

‘Yes?’ Steven waits. 

Marc sighs. ‘Look, can you, you know, heal them after too?’

‘Why?’

Marc squirms a little, embarrassed. ‘‘Cause… I get… worked up… when I see them, feel them, on the body…’ 

Steven snorts involuntarily and then quickly stops himself, internally apologising. ‘Are you saying you get a boner from some bruises?’ 

He can feel Marc’s glare. 

Steven chuckles. ‘You do!’

‘Fuck off.’

‘Oh, you really do. That’s bad mate, really bad, a fetish for sure.” Steven teases and Marc scowls. 

‘Fuck off.’

‘A deviant they’d call you.’

‘Like you don’t fucking get the same?’ Marc snaps. ‘Acting like you’ve never got turned on by anything.’

Steven relents, internally holding his hands up. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just teasing. I’m not trying to really upset you.’

Marc pauses. ‘Yeah… I know… sorry. I just…’

‘I’ll heal them after.’

‘You don’t have to.’ Marc says quietly.

‘You don’t have to fuck off either, you can stay and…’ Steven pauses, realising that your lips are no longer on his neck. He opens his eyes to look up to you, confused. “Love?” 

You smile at him. “Marc or Jake or both?” 

“Hmm?”

“Who you were talking to?” You lean down again and kiss his cheek.

“Oh, how did…?”

“You go still and sort of, move your lips a little, like you’re asleep.”

Steven blushes a little. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why?” You shrug.

“Not very sexy, is it?” 

You chuckle, “It’s fine, I’d do the same if someone was talking to me.” 

“Still…” Steven smiles. 

“So, who were you talking to?” 

“Marc.” Steven touches back into their shared space. Marc’s still there, though he’s stepped back a fraction. But he’s not pretending he’s gone. “He’s hanging out.” 

You smile and stroke his hair. 

“Now, I believe you were in the middle of something?” Steven wiggles his eyebrows at you, giving you a cheeky look. 

“Oh, was I?” 

Steven nods. “Something that you’ll have to finish, love. You have no choice.” 

You giggle at his teasing tone, “Oh, well,” you shrug, pretending as if it’s some great chore. “If I have no choice.” And lean back down to suck a love bite into his skin.

Thank you for reading!

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[sparrows4bats]

So I saw another edit of Jondami and Would you Fall in Love with Me Again from EPIC the Musical and I have gone down the rabbit hole and may never resurface. (I am obsessed with musicals and world mythos, and this is hitting all of my special interests at once) I know other people have done their versions of this, so this is mine.

What if when Jon goes to space, there isn't a dimensional time difference? What if each second of those six years of absence is felt by those who love him?

They all search for Superboy, tirelessly, relentlessly, but they can't find him. The Justice League, the Green Lantern Corp, and every ally they have ever made across space and time look for a child lost in the stars. And they all fail.

Clark never stops searching even though they all beg him to.

Lois mourns but still prepares for her son's return.

Konner and Kara pick up what is left behind because the world didn't stop needing their help when Jonathan Kent dissappears, but they ache in their grief.

Damian just stops.

After six months go by with no news, he gets desperate, studies magic and science for a way to bring his best friend home. It never works, and every empty lead and false hope breaks him.

So Damian searches and waits.

He joins Clark on his search in any way he is able, defying his father. He stays with Lois when Superman travels too far for him to follow. He sits in Jons kitchen and eats at his table consumed with longing.

When Clark comes home empty-handed each time, Damian holds them both as they cry in his too small arms. Lois and Clark thank him every time. Look at Damian and see a boy who believes just as much as they do that Jon lives still, that he will be back, that misses him.

All three hope.

Jon didn't plan to be gone long, didn't leave purposefully, or give any of them momentos. Everything he ever owned looks as he left it, ready for when he returns. His books, his clothes, his unmade bed.

Damian doesn't try to return to normalcy without Jon at his side.

Even when his father threatens to take Robin from him if he does not return to Gotham, Damian just rips the symbol from his chest and leaves the cave. What is the point of being a hero without Jon beside him? They promised they would do that together, and Damian would not betray him.

The rest of the batfamily try to encourage him to take a new name, a new team, or make new friends, but Damian refuses every attempt. He will do those things with Jon when he returns, not a second sooner.

When Bruce tells him he is waiting on a ghost, Damian feels his heart break, and he leaves permanently. Jon wouldn't be welcome in Gotham, anyway. Not with the no meta rule.

Lois and Clark take him in. So Lois is never alone, and they can wait together.

Clark refuses to give Damian back to Bruce. Damian asked to stay, and Clark will be damned if ever lets a child leave again if they dont want to. Bruce loses his temper and accuses him of using Damian to replace his dead son. Batman and Superman don't speak to each other again for a long time.

Talia, surprisingly, gives them temporary custody. She understands Damians longing and will never forsake any part of him he inherited from her.

Nightwing and the others visit the Kent house weekly and accept that Damian will not leave. They learn to be a better sort of family, loving their brother and starting to hope again for his sake. All of the bats, besides Bruce, have dinner with Lois and Clark twice a month. The seat beside Damian is always left empty.

Damians pets join him at Kent Farm, and Damian can't help but greive because this is the future he and Jon used to joke about under their covers during sleepovers. They used to imagine living together with as many animals as they wanted and building somewhere safe to come home to.

At least Damian can have one of Jons dreams waiting for him.

He never mentions how Jon used to joke about marrying him one day, a childish proposal sealed in a pinky promise while Damian rolled his eyes. He remembers the way Jon pecked his lips afterwards. The memories burn now.

Damian realised long ago that he is in love with Jon. He will tell him one day.

After some time, Lois encourages him to go back to school. When she sees how bored he is, she gets him placement tests, and when he tests out, she sets him up at an online university. He accomplishes degree after degree and starts to help Lois with her research. They take down several corrupt labs and corporations together.

Damian goes to med school after seeing how many die without proper care while working with Lois. Damian hopes that Jon will be proud of him for still saving people, even if it's different without him.

They all still search. They all still cry when they find nothing. They all still wait.

Then one day, Jonathan Kent returns.

The Watchtower picks him up, and Dick calls them as soon as it happens. Lois and Damian are home at the time and rush to the Zeta tube with a desperate speed.

Clark is already waiting for them when they arrive.

They walk, the three of them, on shaky legs, holding their breath.

When Damian opens the door, he can't believe his eyes.

"Jon."

The man turns, and Damian freezes, beside him Lois sobs.

He is taller, Damian, despite his growth spurt still has to look up at him. His hair is longer, his black curls almost in his eyes. He has lost his baby fat and instead grown broader and more defined. There is a scar on his jaw and Damian dreads to think how he got it. His eyes, though, are the same bright blue, tired and heavy as they look.

Clark and Lois embrace their son falling to their knees, but Damian stays back until they are done.

Jon hugs his parents tightly, and when they come back to reality, Lois whispers in his ear too softly for Damian to hear, but Clark smiles at them and turns to look at Damian.

Then, Jon breaks the hug and walks towards him.

"Damian." He says as he reaches for him, voice so full of emotion that Damian wants to cry.

"Is it you? Is it really you, habibi?"

"I'm not the same as I was, I don't think I could ever be. With everything I've seen and everything I've done." Jon starts hesitantly.

"I killed, I hurt people, I tricked, I manipulated, I did everything I could to come back home, to come back to you." He admits. Jon looks away in shame, and Damian can't bear it. "I'm not what you were expecting."

He closes the distance and grabs Jons face.

"I don't care!"

"But-"

"No, you remember what you promised me?!" Damian demands.

"Of course! That we'd be heroes together."

"And?"

Jon blushes. "And that I'd build you a farm, give you a safe place to come home to." He swallows nervously, "That I would marry you one day."

Damian smiles so wide, uncaring of the tears running down his face. "I have waited for six years in your house, on our farm for my future husband."

Jon gasps, but Damian continues.

"I love you, Jonathan Kent, I don't care what you have done or will do. I don't care if you're different, grown, or anything else. You are mine."

Damian takes a breath and stares into his eyes. "In this life and the next, I will always wait for you. I dont care how long or what you had to do. You came back to me, and that is all that is important."

Jonathan closes the distance between them and kisses him, pouring passion, desperation, and astonishing love into it.

When he draws back, he whispers against his lips desperately, "Always, my love. I love you, I love you so much. I will do anything to bring me back to you, oh god. Damian."

Damian feels something unwind in his chest and pulls Jon closer still. They'd never let go of each other again. Here, in Jon's arms, Damian felt whole for the first time in years.

"I missed you every moment," Jon says finally.

"Me too."

[softsunnyy]

WAIT WAIT BC I HAVE A REQUEST and i think its a good one too

so yk how there's that Halsey song (bad at love??) when it says

Got a boy back home in Michigan And he tastes like Jack when I'm kissing him

u could write one where reader isn't with Jack anymore and is fucking someone else (could literally be anyone tbh) but she keeps thinking abt how jack does it better, and comparing the two 🥺🥺

so… you should know about the thousand Jack edits i've downloaded with that song. My gosh.

🚨 emotional and physical cheating, you never really loved the poor guy, Jack is a bit of a stalker; mentions of sex with your ex. 🚨

this feels a bit like a part one

you moaned against his ear, feeling his cock slide in and out of you at a slow, patient, and gentle pace. You can feel his love, his devotion, his need to please you…

and those are some of the many things that makes him so... different.

you closed your eyes, trying not to see his face, because you knew it would turn you off, that when you opened them you'd find brown eyes, straight, light hair, skin that was too soft, and a sparkle in his eyes that was too innocent for you. And you knew it would eat you up with guilt, that it'd feel bad, so you preferred not to see it, to let yourself be guided by the sensations and imagining…

imagining other hands touching you.

because nothing had been the same since Jack and you broke up, since you parted ways, vowing to maintain respect, contact, and a good relationship. It makes it worse knowing that you broke up not because you fell out of love with each other, or because something felt wrong, but because his future is bright, and you didn't want to interfere when his life was just starting. I mean, how could you do that to him?

and so much time has passed, you've tried to rebuild your life, meet new people, change your appearance and the people you choose to have sex with. That's how you ended up with Matt, a guy who doesn't even like hockey to begin with. He´s... short, less muscular, and has friends who look at you like you're their next meal. He's not your type, you're not even sure you like him, but you'd already gotten yourself into it too much, and it was the only thing that kept your mind off things at times.

the problem is, his magic started to wear off this summer, when you took him to Michigan to meet your family, not knowing he'd be there before the regular season ended, in a sling, since he'd apparently injured his shoulder. When you saw him, your breath caught in your throat; it's like you'd gone back to your late teens, letting go of the love of your life. And your memories came flooding back, as did the feelings you thought you'd buried deep in your heart.

now looking at Matt feels like a reminder, like a constant call to wake up and realize what you're doing with your life. And you try to ignore it, to not feel this way, but when Matt slides his cock into your walls, you realize it's not working.

and you remember those big, not-so-soft hands that traveled over your body and touched you possessively, leaving bruises on your sides, and touching your tits like a toy. His cock, hammering inside you, bruising your cervix, expanding your walls, while your hands scratched his back.

you remember his head between your legs, and how his eyes were tattooed on your soul, consuming you. And his lips, his chest, his arms, his thighs.

your mind goes back to Jack, and you moan, you whimper; Your body reacts like he´s there with you, and it's when you cum that your mind betrays you, your mouth works before your conscience, and then you say his name.

Matt stops moving, perplexed, confused, offended. You don't realize it yet, but when you open your eyes and see him, you understand.

his name is Matt, not Jack.

and of course, the fun was soon over, and he had questions, valid and charged with emotion.

you´re not proud to say you lied, that you looked him in the eye and, barely able to breathe, told him "Jack" doesn't exist, that you'd made a mistake, that your mind was confused by the pleasure you were feeling. And to continue your lie, you offered him to look at your phone, to check your messages, whatever would make him feel confident that there was no Jack in your life. You´re not proud to say you breathed again when his expression relaxed, when his eyes softened and his hand touched yours once more.

and you had to pretend, letting the weeks pass, and wishing Jack had left Michigan. Sadly, your thoughts won't leave you alone, and you can't concentrate anymore, not even during sex, so you have to fake it, clenching your walls around Matt´s cock to make it look like you've come; moaning in a more pornographic way; doing it in positions where he couldn't see your face properly.

by the third week, you decide to go out, go to a bar, and try to enjoy yourselves. He knows you'd normally like the idea, and continuing to reject him would only raise suspicions again. So you get ready, put on some nice clothes, and try to remember what security feels like when you go out.

when you arrive, the place is packed, and you see many familiar faces, who greet you, hug you, and some look at you curiously, asking you about the new guy, while you just pray they don't ask about him.

the hours begin to pass, Matt has a couple of drinks under his belt, and you're still on your first drink, feeling your blood run cold. There's a pair of eyes following you, you know it, and you can't even pretend to laugh at the things Matt says to you anymore.

you know who's watching you.

because even though you haven't turned around, you know Jack is behind you, probably a couple of tables away, watching as Matt gets a little more touchy, with his hands on your waist every so often, leaving little kisses on your shoulder, and saying stupid comments that you no longer find funny.

and you know, you know he's upset, that he doesn't like what he sees, but he doesn't come closer, doesn't intervene, and the longer this passes, the more tense he makes you feel. You don't know what he wants, and you try to get away from Matt, to reclaim your space, your sanity, and your courage, but it doesn't work, and you feel heat in your curves, in your ass, in your legs, because you know he's looking at you, analyzing what has become of you.

and you wonder if he likes it, if you look pretty to him, if he still feels fucking hot when he sees your thighs.

Matt's hands return to you, and you want to throw up, you feel guilty, dirty, like you've betrayed him, letting someone else try to take you over. You feel paranoid, and you don't have the strength to look at him.

and Jack? he wants to laugh, to scream, to push you away from that guy and hit his face for thinking he can touch you. He doesn't even feel betrayed; rather, he's... almost amused.

he's just so... different, and he knows you don't like Matt. God, he even wants to correct the guy, tell him to be rougher, to put his hands in the right places, to make sure he has your attention.

does he even know what he's doing? because it seems like he doesn't know you. Not like he does.

so he watches, like you were his prey, analyzing every move so he can choose the perfect moment to attack and devour you. He's more patient than ever, enduring the tension in his body, the sweat, the heavy breathing, and the strength in his body that makes him want to get up and walk over to you.

then Matt kisses you, and it's like time stops. You try to kiss him back, but you close your eyes and all you can see is him, putting one hand on your neck so you can't pull away, while the other caresses your hip, slowly moving up to reach under your tits. It's what Jack would do, and you try to focus on that, but it's impossible. It's not him.

so you pull away, abruptly, excusing yourself to go to the bathroom, trying to make your way through the sea of ​​people, feeling cold sweats, your hands trembling, your lips burning, and you struggling to breathe. When you see the bathroom door, you try to walk faster, but a hand grabs your waist, pulling you back, causing your body to crash into the wall.

in front of you, you see him, the man of your dreams, nightmares, and deepest desires, looking at you with a cocky smile, like in these few hours he's learned everything he needed to.

your mind clouds, and you try to get closer to him unconsciously, almost instinctively, which makes his smile grow bigger.

"what are you doing?" you hear him say, and you want to cry, jump into his arms, and kiss him. You've missed him so much, and having him in front of you has brought back all your feelings, all your memories. You can't even answer what he asked because you haven't processed his words. You feel dazed, overwhelmed, and your mouth opens and closes, but you don't say anything.

he raises an eyebrow, amused, and with his good hand, he caresses your waist, as if nothing has changed, as if he hadn't acted on impulse after spending hours restraining himself from doing this.

"i asked you something. What are you doing?" he said it again, looking you up and down, taking his time, enjoying your reaction.

“what do you mean?” you asked, stunned, not knowing where to put your hands, and trying to tear your gaze away from his eyes.

“you’re letting him touch you in a way you don’t like,” he commented, like admitting he’d been watching you wasn’t important, and that slowly brought your awareness back to you.

“how do you know it’s not what i like? time has passed,” you responded defensively, trying to create some distance, though the wall made it difficult.

damn, you hadn’t seen Jack in so long, and this is the first thing he says to you?

“you never liked being touched like that.” his hand remained firm, making it impossible for you to move too far away, applying just the right amount of pressure.

and it frustrates you to know that he remembers, that he knows where to touch, in what tone to speak, what to say, and how to look at you. It’s like you’re an open book to him, because he took all the time in the world to get to know you, to learn so much about you that nothing would take him by surprise, so that you’d never have a complaint, so that he could make you happy.

“people change, Jack.” His name fell from your lips smoothly, and you saw how he hesitated for a moment, like that had been his weakness. However, soon the smile returned to his lips.

“yeah... but i doubt you’ve forgotten what you really like” his hand moved up slowly, passing over your tits, down your chest, to your neck, applying pressure near your jaw, making you look at him, unable to lower your head. “Tell me, did you miss me?”

Jack doesn’t even know what he’s doing. It wasn’t his plan. It’s not what he’s thought for weeks since he saw you when you arrived in Michigan.

it wasn’t supposed to happen this way, but now he can’t pull away. Not when his breath hits yours, and you’re so close that your eyelashes will soon brush his skin. Not when he’s drunk on your perfume again. Not when your eyes look at him in that same way they always do.

like you’re silently begging him to fuck you right there.

and his question distracts you, and you wanna lie, tell him no, but the hesitation in your voice is enough to give him the real answer, which makes him feel confident, smug, like he just won.

“well, i did miss you… and i never thought that when i saw you again it would be with… him.” The last part was said with a disgust you couldn't ignore.

and deep down… your chest felt warm knowing he doesn't like this.

“Jack…”

“are you satisfied?”

three words, three that took your breath away once again, because you know he's referring to everything. He's not just asking you about sex. His eyes don't lie. And you wanna lie, for him and for you, but you can't, you can't form a false sentence in your mind.

so you stay silent for a couple of minutes, not even hearing the music, the conversations, the people. Under his gaze, you feel small, and like it was just the two of you, like old times.

your silence might be answer enough, but he wants to hear you say it, wants to know that you wanna join your lips with his, that you too want to sneak into the bathroom behind your back and remember who you belong to.

“he's not you, Jack,” you whispered, ashamed, guilty. And he took it as a green light, attaching his mouth to yours like a magnet, like it was the sign he'd been waiting for.

and that night, when you find yourself back at home, without Matt, with Jack, and with no regrets… you know your life is about to turn upside down once again.

but you don't regret it. Not when you feel his hands on your body again, and his cock being welcomed home, forcing its way into your soaked, tight pussy.

and you're sensitive, you cry, you whimper. You feel him everywhere, and you know the night is just beginning now.

he makes you feel alive, like you're a teenager again, and you wouldn't change that for anything.

all that's left is to apologize to Matt, if Jack doesn't do something about it first.

[lyvhie]

★ ˙ ̟ ─── .“saudades”.

| summary | Was he supposed to miss you like that or is he going insane? Maybe a bit of both. | cw | fluff, gn!reader. | a/n | i love him.

Yushi’s foot hadn’t stopped tapping against the airport floor since the moment he stepped inside. Every few seconds, his eyes flicked down to his phone to check the time, only to sigh and lock the screen again. The whole thing would’ve been funny, adorable, even, if he didn’t look so close to spiraling.

Three months ago, he wouldn't have felt like this. Back then, you were just the person who made his heart stutter, made him lose track of what he was saying mid-sentence, made him feel like a walking cliché.

But now… now it was different, because you were together.

And until three weeks ago, he was totally fine with your trip. You both had made the most of the time before you left—cuddling, sleepy movie nights, texts that turned into calls that turned into “I’ll miss you more” wars. It was sweet. He thought it would hold him over.

He honestly didn’t think he’d miss you this much.

He didn’t even know it was possible—to miss someone so intensely that it started to feel physical. Sure, you kept in touch, exchanged texts, voice notes, and the occasional sleepy video call, but with the time zone difference and your packed schedule, it wasn’t always easy.

And maybe he was going a little crazy. At some point, he started seeing you in everything—more than usual. In a song playing on the radio. In someone's laugh across the street. Hell, once he swore he smelled your perfume in an empty elevator and nearly lost his mind right there. He was seeing ghosts of you everywhere, feeling you even in the tiniest things, like a stray breeze or a grain of sand that made no sense at all.

He wasn’t used to this. To feeling this much.

How could he have known that just one month without you would be enough to unravel him completely?

That’s why he was counting down the seconds, quite literally. Checking his phone every five minutes, bouncing his leg like he was wired with too much caffeine and too many emotions. Today was the day. Finally.

Of course he’d be at the airport. There was no universe where he wouldn’t show up to welcome you home. He’d been restless all day, barely able to sit still, picturing your face, your smile, imagining the exact moment he’d lay eyes on you again.

He just needed to see you. To hold you. To hear your voice, to bury his face in your neck and finally breathe you in again. To kiss you like the world had been holding its breath in your absence.

He snapped out of his thoughts the moment the screen flashed “Landed.” He shot up from his seat, like he’d been shocked with a bolt of electricity, fingers twitching nervously as he stretched his neck to see past the crowd. He bounced on the balls of his feet, scanning every face that passed with wide, frantic eyes.

And then—there you were.

Dragging your suitcase, eyes sweeping the crowd just like his had. You looked tired, sure, but somehow more beautiful than ever, like the glow of coming home clung to you. And the second your eyes found his, your entire face lit up, making his heart skip a few beats.

The moment your eyes locked, it was like everything around him blurred. Your face lit up, and he swore the world got just a little brighter. You both instinctively picked up your pace, almost tripping over your own feet in your rush toward each other.

He immediately opened his arms, no hesitation, and you barely had time to drop your bag before you were swept into a warm, tight embrace. You laughed, slightly muffled by his shoulder, as he practically clung to you. Any trace of his usual shyness was gone, he was holding you like he’d been starving for days and you were the only thing that could keep him alive.

“Hi, baby,” you murmured, rubbing slow circles on his back. “Did you miss me?”

“You can’t even imagine,” he whispered, voice almost cracking. He pulled back just enough to see your face, and yeah, his eyes were definitely a little misty.

He opened his mouth like he had something to say, but no words came. His face was doing all the talking—soft, overwhelmed, glowing. He looked like a puppy who had been waiting at the door for hours, tail wagging at full speed, ears perked up, whole soul buzzing with love. You half-expected him to start vibrating from sheer happiness.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, your hands gently cupping his face as your thumbs stroked his cheeks. “I missed you too,” you said softly, your eyes locked on his. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”

Your words, your voice, your touch, you, were completely undoing him. He’d never felt emotions this intense over something so seemingly simple. Yet here he was, melting under your hands like it was the first time anyone had ever touched him with care.

Without saying a word, he pulled you into another hug, tighter than before, like he was trying to make up for every second he spent missing you.

That only made you giggle again as you gently pulled him back just enough to see his face, only to tug him right in again, pressing your lips softly against his.

Were you actively trying to kill him?

Because it sure felt like it.

It was almost funny how he still went all weak in the knees from your kisses, even after being your boyfriend for a while now. He melted like butter in a hot pan, returning the kiss shyly, as if it were your first all over again. And God, he hoped he'd never get used to this, because nothing had ever felt better.

Yeah. There was no way he was going through that kind of separation again. Not if he could help it.

Once the kiss ended, he dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a soft sigh, his cheeks burning with warmth. “Next time, I’m going with you…”

↝ taglist: @nebularsung, @spacejip, @peterm4rker, @sinisxtea .

[linnea-parker]

Shinichiro is a loser begging for pussy

Warnings : Scent Kink, Pussy licking, Oral, Pussy Drunk Shin', Footjob.

Character : Shinichiro Sano [Tokyo Revengers]

I had this draft for a while, I decided to add a few more things to post so it wouldn't be short-

Shinichiro was desperate for a girlfriend, He had been rejected countless times, and it was humiliating to an extreme level to be twenty-one years old and a virgin, Wakasa constantly teased him about it, he just wanted to at least get a glimpse of a girl in his life. His friends decided to give him a little push, a blind date, Wakasa found a girl and told him where they would meet, he agreed, even though he was afraid it wouldn't work out.

At the meeting he was immediately surprised and shy, you had such a confident and dominant posture, very different from him for example, everything went well, you made the conversation flow smoothly, and you even had good things in common, as soon as the meeting ended, Shinichiro was surprised that you invited him to your apartment, his heart felt like it was going to come out of his mouth, anxiety consumed him, as he listened to her proposal, There was just one catch to all of this: He would have to obey everything you said and would be submissive.

Of course he said yes, no matter what would happen there, he would be happy doing whatever you told him to do, the older Sano would do whatever you said.

You accepted Wakasa's proposal out of pure boredom, and after all, it had been a while since you had gone out with someone. Shinichiro was more pathetic and desperate than you had imagined from your friend's description. But it was adorable in a way how desperate he was to please.

All the way to your apartment, his demeanor was anxious and nervous, a shyness mixed in his flushed face, and as soon as you unlocked the door to your place, and Shinichiro felt you grab his hand and pull him to your room, and just enter it, reality hit him, it was the first time he had entered a girl's room other than his sister.

You sat on the edge of the bed in front of him, and he swallowed hard as he blushed, looking away.

_ Get on your knees for me Shin'.. - The voice dripping with sweetness and lust makes him tremble, but he quickly obeys her command, falling to his knees in front of her, his dark eyes looking up and awaiting her commands.

The needy boy focus on you, as his knees go weak and his lower lip trembles, Shinichiro was so excited, would you touch him? Would he be able to see you naked? Could he maybe touch you?

As your soft hands fly to his black hair, a soft moan escapes him as he lets you grab his strands and pull him between your legs. And with his other fingers he watches with anticipation as you unzip your jeans, the white lace panties leaving him completely red. And as your clothes are pushed down, he can catch a glimpse of what a real vagina was, labia, hidden clitoris, and soaking wet, aroused smell from your entrance making him dizzy

_ Stick your tongue out.. that's it.. good boy.. try to lick it slowly.. - Your guidance helps him gather the courage to lean in and run his wet, eager tongue over your liquid-glossed pussy.

He moves his shy mouth over your intimacy in a slightly desperate way. The suffocating smell of your pussy pressing against his face made him feel intoxicated. So this was how it felt ?

_Fuck... Keep it up Shinichiro, and I can cum in that pretty little mouth of yours - At your mention he tries harder, sucking up any sticky arousal that escapes

_P-please.. cum on my face - Shinichiro begs softly, sucking on your clit after pulling the light cover over it with his tongue.

When you calmly move your leg and gently rub your foot against his forgotten erection, he widens his eyes and groans between your spongy walls, making you let out a buzz of pleasure.

Shinichiro grinds his hips against your foot shamelessly, while panting against your pussy, his tongue swirling inexperiencedly inside you. The faint sparks of pleasure running through his cock as its tip presses into your calf.

He was completely drunk on your pussy, the delicious taste, the strong smell, feeling your thighs wrap around his head and his cock leaking precum as he rubbed against you.

Looks like you found a new favorite toy, and it really felt good to use Shinichiro's tongue <3

[blazinghotfoggynights]

Huh? I miss the days of long ago when this fandom was not messy.

I'm scrolling Tumblr after a few weeks of RL chaos, don't ask, hoping to enjoy the pics, memes, gifs, etc. Then comes the off the wall posts.

I was left scratching my head and wondering where that take in those posts came from.

The take in those posts? Eddie is abusive.

What the actual...?

Because he got in Buck's face? Because he wrote a truthful note to hide the surprise he planned to make his best friend feel better and as an apology for going off? (I saw someone call that gaslighting. Sometimes you have to withhold information or even outright lie to pull off a surprise. I know that's confidential knowledge that only a few people know. 🙄)

Grief makes people act out in different ways. You want to know the funny thing? When they lash out, picking fights, yelling, arguing, they tend to aim it at people they are close to. Why? It's safe. You know they will likely understand and forgive you. Have some of you never grieved?

Please make this make sense. Eddie and Buck both lost the man who helped them find their footing in life and built a family for the 118. Eddie was right. Buck has been spiraling. Eddie getting in Buck's face was not him negating Buck's feelings. It was Eddie's sad and emotionally constipated way of saying, "I'm hurting too! Look at me! You know me. You know I'm not okay."

Did you forget he turned away from Buck and quieted himself right after? Because that is who Eddie is. He hides his emotions. He doesn't know how to break. But when he does, who does he break in front of? Buck.

That scene was the tiny crack in the armor Edmundo Diaz wears 24/7. It was his version of a cry for attention from the one person he has canonically been completely flayed open for.

So I have to ask this, if Eddie Diaz is abusive what is Tommy Kinard? Some people who are dragging the character of Eddie Diaz for his telling Buck that they are all suffering have cheered Tommy Kinard and his relationship with Buck. If Eddie is no good and abusive, what does that make Tommy Kinard?

When Buck tried to talk to Tommy about his worry for Bobby after his heart attack, Tommy coldly pointed out Buck's biological father is alive then turned the conversation into innuendo.

Tommy Kinard didn't understand Buck, and the rest of the 118, being fed up with Gerrard. That alone could be a long standalone post, so I will leave it at that.

When Buck was afflicted with that..erm..rash...Tommy added something that was clearly asking for Buck to heal so he could get some. Tommy wasn't worried about Buck, just how it was affecting his sex life.

He gave Buck basketball tickets for their anniversary. Buck? Basketball? Really? Thoughtless as hell.

Twice he saw an opening when Buck was spiraling and he took advantage of it to get with Buck. When Buck was worried about losing Eddie to Tommy, he jumped in and kissed him. When "the competition" was gone, and Buck's level of sobriety was questionable, Tommy didn't hesitate to jump into bed with him and try to rekindle that toxic relationship. The one he ended by telling Buck he always knew it would not last. Tommy saying he always knew the relationship would end with a broken heart wasn't romantic or loving. It was his way of saying he knew going into it there was no future, but he didn't tell Buck that.

Imagine someone dating you knowing they plan to bail at some point. Is that what caring, loving people do? Or selfish, lying jerks?

Eddie admitted he hurt Buck and tried to right the wrong. But he's an abuser? Tommy keeps doing wrong. But he's Buck perfect match?

Are we watching the same show?

[lokisprettygirl]

Light into the Darkness (Bill Skarsgard! Eric Draven x Female Reader) (Horror Romance) (18+) (70s AU)

Read Chapter 7 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 8

Summary : The mysterious man leaves another note for you. What is happening to Eric?

Warning: 18+, Sex, Verbal degradation, blood drinking, menstrual sex, oral during menstruation, Reader is depressed, blood kink, smut, reader has plethora of insecurities, she's passively suicidal, she's in her thirties (for some of you that's a warning I guess), when I say alternate universe i mean it

You grabbed each lock of his hair and cleaned the bed sheet until there was nothing left. You couldn't even make sense of it. Did he cut them off? Why would he do that to his beautiful locks though? You wanted to sit down and ponder over the thought but you had to go see Mr. Rogers and get updates from his doctor.

You couldn't help but also worry about your livelihood and how you were going to earn money now that you didn't have a job.

The record store was your comfort place, Mr. Rogers didn't treat you like an employee, he treated you like you mattered to him. And you were going to pray for him to wake up because you didn't want to lose him too. It wasn't his time yet.

As you reached the hospital you sat by his bedside and read his favorite book, the nurse told you that he was completely unresponsive but you wanted to do whatever you could to let him know that he was loved and cared for, there were things lurking in this world beyond our imagination. Eric was a living proof of it. Nothing was impossible for you.

When you walked into your building in the afternoon it was raining heavily, the sound of the thunder was cracking ever so loudly every other minute or so.

As you reached your doorstep you found a note outside the door, laying on the doormat. You looked around to see if anyone was there but it was quiet..

You bent down to pick it up and as you opened it, the writing only confused you.

“Susan Brown, 1900 - 1976 --K”

You turned the note to see if there was a name or any other information but you found nothing, you were able to match the handwriting with the note that the other man had left for you at the store. How did he know where you lived? What did he want from you? Who was Susan Brown? Who was this K?

In the evening as you finally got a moment of peace you called for Eric but he didn't respond. You felt frustrated by the silence all day long, usually he preferred to pester you by mumbling naughty words in your head but now he was quiet. Not just that but it was night already and he hadn't appeared like he always did. Why was he hiding from you? Why was he losing his hair? Did he know something about this K?

When your eyes felt heavy, you lit up a candle and placed it on the nightstand to let him know that you missed him.

You had plenty of questions and none of the answers..

Later that night you woke up in complete darkness but you felt his presence next to you, his distinct ancient scent was all around you.

You turned on your side and reached for him but he grabbed your hand.

“Eric what's going on?” You asked as you propped up on your elbow. You had found his hair all over your pillow this morning and now he was being distant.

“It is a ramification of the blood consumption, my body is altering” he lied to you because he couldn't tell you the truth unless you saw his real self.

“Ohkay..” you reached for the lamp but he immediately sat up and pinned you underneath him, you could tell he didn't want you to see him like that.

He knew how you were going to react, he had been in the same position several times before. Perhaps it was your luck but a moment later the lighting outside struck, giving you a glimpse of his face, you quietened a gasp in your throat as you saw his head, most of his hair was gone, leaving only patches of it on his scalp, it didn't end there though, half of his face also seemed scarred as if he had been badly burned, completely different from last night when you had caressed his beautiful blemish free skin.

“Eric what's happening to you?” You asked, not believing that it was just a side effect from him consuming your blood, you had never heard of such a thing.

Not that you had indulged yourself in a lust affair with a vampire before.

“It is not your concern, little flame” he said condescendingly which only irked you further.

“You're on top of me ..I think it is my concern”

“Do you want me gone?” he asked.

“No ..I just want an answer..you can't continue to lie to me”

He was quiet for a moment, the determination in your voice almost broke his resolve but he didn't deter, he bent down and bit on your neck, his venom filling you up instantly, clogging your mind and your judgement with the ecstasy you were addicted to now.

He didn't want to hurt you, he just wanted to bask in the comfort of your warmth before he'd be sent back into the darkness again.

“Tell me that you need me inside you” he whispered in your ear, you reached to cup his cheeks, fingers tracing over the scars on half of his face, his essence was already making you lose your mind.

“I need you” you whispered softly, a moment later he had your dress bunched around your waist and your thighs wrapped around him as he thrusted in.

You got lost in pleasure, the numerous questions you had were momentarily forgotten as he pumped in and out of you slowly. He knew what he was doing, you blamed yourself for not being able to resist him.

The next morning when you awakened he was gone, you did find patches of hair again on the bed, also a damp spot where he had laid but you knew it wasn't your blood, it was dark, almost black.

What was happening to him? You knew you'd have to be firm with him tonight or he'd never let you in and tell you the truth.

You had to get ready to visit Mr. Rogers but as you got off the bed you saw something glittering on the nightstand. A gold chain. He left it behind for you. He probably heard you complaining and worrying about not being able to make any money yesterday.

You took a deep breath as you picked up the chain between your fingers, your fingers tracing the edge of the metal, it was heavy and it seemed as old as the coin he had given you. You placed it back down on the stand, you weren't going to sell it until you had to. You still had some money left from the savings.

As you reached the hospital you sat down next to Mr Rogers..watching his chest heaving up and down slowly . The sound of the machine beeping did nothing to hide the noise and chaos you had swirling in your head.

What was happening to Eric? What was he hiding from you? Who was the mysterious man? Who was Susan Brown?

The note mentioned the years so you decided to research a bit. As the visiting hour ended you went to the local library to find whatever you could about this Susan.

After searching for hours in the directory, you finally did find four Susan Browns but you were looking for the one that died this year.

After searching you found a newspaper article mentioning a Susan Brown, she was 76 years old, she died on 22nd March 1976 in downtown New York. So It had barely been less than two months.. What connection did she have with you? Or Eric?

You were about to give up on this quest when you read something that made the hair on your neck stick up.

“A journal was collected from the old woman's apartment, her state of mind apparent in the last days as she wrote of the monster who had tormented her all her life, she called him Erikir”

You stood up as the chills ran down your spine.

Her daughter Nicola mentioned that her mother wasn't the kind to write, she didn't have a journal except in those last few months, that's why they concluded that she was delirious due to her age. An excerpt from her journal was published in the article by her daughter.

“He came to me at my lowest and he latched on, I know everyone would blame me for giving into him, a creature of the night but ohhh he was ethereal when he appeared, So ethereal and otherworldly. It was hard to resist.

Because he lied, he deceived and he took everything from me and then he began to change, he became a monster right in front of my eyes, it started small..he balded at first , then his skin began to rot slowly, he lost all of his teeth except those fangs that he sunk in me every night.

I had enough, one night I refused to feed him, I asked him to leave because I couldn't bear the sight of him and he did leave but he never unlatched..never..i still see him lurking in the shadows, reminiscing about his touch disgusts me to my core, I live in shame and fear, he'd never let me move on.

I married with another. I birthed children and then had grandchildren but yet I feel him lurking around in the shadows, like a parasite in my veins, destroying me slowly, now death is the only escape”

Your eyes welled up …that's where the excerpt ended and you didn't find anything more.

Your heart was in your mouth as you walked out of the library..on the way you went through your purse. As you pulled out the electricity bill from last month, the last due date mentioned there raised your heartbeat. 22nd of March..that was the night, you had screamed into the void. You remembered it clearly because you had forgotten to pay the bill and they had cut off the power.

He came for you the moment she died.

You ran back home before it would get dark and he'd appear again.. the moment you entered you turned on all the lights in the house as if that would save you from him.

“I don't want to see you again..ever..you hear me?”

You said out loud, you knew he could hear you. You were panicking, you felt scared. What was he really? Why did he lie to you all this time? What did he want from you?

You stood in the middle of the room, heart thrumming in your ears, arms wrapped tightly around yourself.

“I mean it, Eric!” you yelled into the empty room, voice cracking under the weight of fear. “Or Erikir—whatever your name is. Stay away from me”

Your voice echoed back at you in the silence of your apartment.

He didn’t answer but that was worse somehow. You were unraveling, and he wasn't even there.

Or maybe he was. Watching.

Waiting for the dark so he could hurt you. Your breath caught in your throat. He always came at night and the sun was already setting down. What if he hurts you now that you knew he was lying to you?

You ran to your bedroom and grabbed your bag. You couldn’t stay here. Not tonight. You needed to be somewhere public. Somewhere he couldn't touch you. Somewhere he wouldn’t dare reveal his decaying, monstrous form to you, somewhere he won't harm you.

You filled your bag with a bunch of clothes and other necessities as hurriedly as you could, the clock ticking so loudly in the background did nothing to ease your fear, you felt doomed. As you were about to pick up the money you had kept in the drawer of your nightstand your eyes fell upon the gold chain he had left behind, tears stung your vision as you picked up the chain between your fingers.

He left that for you.. he needed you to have something you could use to feed yourself and take care of yourself in the absence of Mr. Rogers.

Was it just another way he was manipulating you? Or maybe he genuinely cared and worried for you.

Your knees felt shaky as you sat down on the bed, fear slowly fading away as you thought of the nights he cradled you in his arms when you felt so low and pathetic, he hadn't hurt you yet even though he could have, he only took what you offered him from your own will.

“You have a choice” you heard his voice coming from somewhere behind you, it was already dark so you weren't surprised but you didn't dare look back because you knew what you'll see will no longer be the pretty face you had witnessed in the past few weeks..

“I told you to not come.. I don't want to see you if all you're going to do is lie to me” your voice was sharp in his ears, filled with betrayal and uncertainty.

“Then don't see me, just listen” he said, his voice almost pleading, he might be changing but his voice was still the same.

“Listen to what? Hmm?” you asked as you wiped your tears.

“What you want to hear,” he answered.

“What I want to hear is the truth and the only-” you raised your voice as you turned to look at him but you paused as you saw what he was hiding from you last night. In the stark light you could see everything clearly, there was no denying it anymore, his beautiful silky hair was gone, almost all of it, one side of his face was scarred as if he had been burned in a fire. You took a step back until you hit the closet, not in disgust but in fear.

Though even between the changes what remained the same were his eyes, the same green irises you had stared deeply into since he took you as his own.

“If you want me to leave.. I will leave”

He said as he walked closer to you. His steps slow as if he was being careful to not make you flinch away from him.

“But you'll never leave ..will you? You'll haunt me forever like you did with Susan”

You spat at him as viciously as you could, you could tell the mention of her name had brought back some memories he wanted to forget.

“I won't haunt you, little flame” he murmured, the nickname did soften you up for a moment “I will not but my memories will..like it did with Susan. And Charlotte, And Britney, and Maria”

Your stomach dropped as he mentioned other names. All you felt in that moment was anger towards him.

“So this is what you do huh? You find lonely desperate women and you ruin their lives”

He didn't answer as you said that. Even though it wasn't complete truth, he knew well that those women never felt peace after they left him so yes in a way he had actively led them to their ruination knowing well that he was cursed.

“I get no choice, I do not seek them, they seek me and i always give them a choice just the way i gave you one, and you chose me…like they all did” he answered, you felt enraged by the justification.

“You fool people with your beauty..you lure them in using your face and seduction don't you see it? Do you think they'd have wanted you if you looked like this?” You raised your voice and for once you saw his eyes moisten as if your words had hurt him deeply. Even with his scars, for once he looked completely human to you.

“I know what I am,” he said finally, his voice coming out in broken whispers. “Do you think I don’t wake up every time wishing I hadn't? Wishing I'll be allowed to rot in peace, instead of hearing the cry of another broken soul?”

Your fists clenched as he said that

“When I asked you that night how you became this you said you chose to become this …did you really?” You asked him as you crossed your arms, the anger palpable in your words but there was also curiosity.

Not one woman wanted to ask why he was turning into a monster, they never asked why he had become a vampire, they never cared to discover the truth about his past, they just took what he could give and the moment he lost his beauty they wanted to get away from him as far as possible.

“I did choose to become this”

He said to you, making you even more frustrated.

“Really you chose to become this?” You pointed towards his face, you knew you were being so mean to him, he accepted your body and your face just the way you were, he never made you feel inferior, the opposite in fact, he always lifted your spirits up but then you never lied to him about yourself the way he did. You never fooled him into being something you weren't.

“You're telling me you chose this?” you asked again, gesturing towards his face.

“No not this, I never knew it would get to this. I was kept in the dark, I was tricked by him” he said.

Who was him now?

“Speak plainly Eric, i have no patience for riddles at the moment “

He sighed as you said that before he stepped closer to you, you'd have flinched but the closer he got the more you could see that he was still the same man whose name you had been chanting like a prayer for weeks.

He just looked different. But it was still him.

“Give me a moment..I have never gotten this far with anyone before” he mumbled softly as he brought his hand up to caress your dampen cheek, wiping the tears away before he stepped away, there was a sense of hope in his eyes.

“Why did you become this Eric? I need an answer and I don't need more lies” you asked again. He took a deep breath before he turned his back to you.

“Centuries ago I was just a man with a pulse and a hope for a future, seeking love and warmth in someone who'd be by my side forever. And I was fortunate enough to find her. Her name was Evelyn. The day I saw her the first time I knew she'd be my salvation..”

That's what he thought, but she ended up becoming a reason why he was cursed forever. It wasn't her fault though, she didn't know. It was his fault.

“What happened to her?” you asked curiously.

“She caught some disease. It made her body rot slowly from within. She was the love of my life, the thought of waking up one day and not having her killed me every night, losing our future, dreams of having children, building our family, it was all being taken away from me…the sicker she got, the more desperate i became to somehow cure her of this ailment, bring her back to how she used to be.. ” his voice cracked as he continued.

Even though it has been centuries, he still remembered that part of his life, how madly he had loved her, how desperately he wanted to keep her.

“I'd come home inebriated every night and watch her breathe as she slept but one night I just couldn't take it. I couldn't bear the thought of losing her to death-”

“What did you do then?” You asked him, desperate to know the answer.

He turned to look at you, a tear rolled down his cheeks as he answered

“I screamed for help..for someone to come save her.. i screamed into the void..just the way you did”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Taglist @mariaenchanted @malenoradgn @muchwita @loushaw131460 @wiseyouthinfluencer

@a-differentbrandof-beans @urmomsgirlfriend1 @serving-targaryen-realness @mskiabbs

[squiggyyyy]

now that thunderbolts has been released, i'm once again seeing people online responding to complaints that bucky's trauma is never fleshed out, with the following similar responses:

- "his trauma had 10 years to be fleshed out, why are you guys so obsessed with seeing him suffer?"

yeah.. no. bucky may have been on the screen for all six phases but he is rendered absolutely irrelevant after civil war (where - and i'm saying this as somebody who loves civil war bucky - he kinda is just a plot device for steve and tony to have more tension between them).

it's laughable to ever describe his trauma as fleshed our when no character even acknowledges his trauma?? he has gone through the worst horrors imaginable. it's like marvel thinks if they point his trauma out, they realize his "recovery" is near impossible (which is why it wasn't shown on screen). bucky DID have all these years to be fleshed out, but he wasn't. even by the second act of civil war it was like "okay we gotta make them teamup, make bucky stop being rightfully feral and guarded and just have him chill with steve and a bunch of randos who he doesn't know if he tried to murk an hour ago."

i've always adored this scene in civil war. despite having been practically feral, at arms length and desperate to run, once caught, bucky shows that he has regained himself somewhat and accepts the name of his past enough to correct zemo. this one scene gives us so much insight into bucky's psyche.

my favourite part about the bucky in civil war by FAR - aside from that red henley - is the way for the first half that bucky is on edge, has no idea what's going on, he's anxious, guarded, like a volatile, stray dog.

the way he looks at t'challa with shock, then just starts fighting. the way he is guarded with steve, yet comes up behind him, just to lie to him. the way he runs in the tunnels and frantically swerves to avoid being hit by a car here because he just has no fucking clue what's going on yet he's still fighting the fight

one thing about bucky's mcu story is that we never see how he heals. i don't buy for one second that a man who was brainwashed, manipulated, tortured with electroshock, physically abused and spent by far the majority of his life as a weaponized soviet assassin is going to be in any way okay. for christ's sake, this dude should have the final boss ptsd. yet it's nearly wrapped in a bow in some cameos of wakanda. we. never. see. it.

you may have also noticed that a lot of bucky's trauma is not credited to the writing of it, but to sebastian stan's amazing SILENT acting that makes you feel it. seriously, the amount of praise sebastian (rightfully) got for the way he made bucky look tormented is insane. this dude carried it

tfatws was arguably the last chance to do something with bucky - finally, six episodes to focus on his psyche! wowzers! instead, we get the INSULTING storyline that bucky needs to apologise to the people HE hurt and that this also somehow cures his mental health issues, though honestly the show swept around this by laughably not even showing us anything not skin deep. he has nightmares, he's a bit angsty - sure, that's easy to recover from when that's a you show a character going through. it's clear the backstory of bucky was them biting off more than they could chew, and wouldn't fit in with their story, so they condensed it and made it easier to make bucky a sidekick by essentially retconning his past trauma so that instead of having any of the severe mental health issues we expect of bucky, he was instead just. chilling.

so no. i'm not somehow being evil to a character and wanting them to constantly suffer. i realized, walking out of the cinema (spoilers for thunderbolts!!) that the reason i wanted bucky to have a void room is because it would mean the mcu would finally acknlowedge bucky's trauma. because let's be real. the character of the winter soldier, and post winter soldier recovery bucky are so unbelievable different with barely any material for how he got here that he may as well be a different character and not a loved character who i know and connect to the fucking winter soldier movie.

so, by having bucky never acknowledge the winter soldier apart from a quip, it makes it so easy to not have to ever, ever communicate just how he got from point A to point B. i want him to suffer because it means his backstory would finally be acknowledged by him, and others, and it would be cathartic and we'd see how he healed from it instead of the mcu just TELLING us that he healed from it. or even better just having him suddenly be better because the plot requires it (looking at you, second half of civil war)

anyway.. where was i on that civil war point?

you recover from trauma, expecially with the right support system, but trauma changes you. that doesn't have to be a bad thing, but for somebody who went through what bucky did, if he was a real guy he would've found a way to commit suicide a million times over by now, it's only bearing the logic of him being a character on screen that he lives. i think bucky would've been at his best if he fundamentally stayed the way he was for the first half of civil war - constantly guarded, closed off, timid in a way, volatile and willing to fight when needed even though he's just so exhausted of it, because something in him is just urging him to survive. that, at least, would've been way more believable than "completely adjusted, a bit angsty and awkward, skirts around any real discussion of mental health in favour of prancing around how steve rogers something something" like we got in tfatws.

civil war bucky was the last time mcu was willing to establish to us that bucky has FUNDAMENTALLY changed from his experiences, he doesn't go leaping in steve's arms and is clearly constantly on guard, and i think that's important to note because it's so easy to say "well they do acknowledge he's changed and he has trauma, he had the code words erased in wakanda.." but that was not a demonstration of how he was fundamentally forever affected by this trauma at all, it was a one-off point in a series manufactured only because they needed him to be more mentally stable than he'd never be to move the cogs of the plot along. (along with the fact it's clear that somehow erasing the words is meant to heal bucky of all his problems)

so yeah. no, i don't want to see bucky suffering and i am absolutely reasonable for being upset that thunderbolts is just another movie to sweep bucky's trauma and recovery to the side, because we never saw his recovery so the only way we'll ever connect this guy to bucky is if we see. him. acknowledge his past because holy shit he is a different person and i'd love bucky to be this mentally stable if we were shown it

one thing to note is that this dissonance is always made exceptionally clear by things like fanfiction that actually show bucky's trauma and recovery and do it in a way that doesn't shy away from any scary topics, which makes it all the more realistically brutal and cathartic when he recovers. that's why i've never fully gotten past 2016 bucky - because neither did the mcu as it just made a new character, whilst fanfiction writes all the things in the gaps of the original movies, so it also never got past it

[stubbornstalwart]

Fidelio chuckled at her apology. Clearly the paripus wasn't bothered by her actions, if he was he certainly wouldn't be shy to say so.

In fact, it brought him back to the long ago nights when he'd play big brother for some of the other paripus kids on particularly difficult nights when they were still held by the Sanctists. The only difference being, she didn't ask him for stories and songs to calm down. If only he could have helped more of them escape back then . . .

Her insistence that she would have preening to do first was the only thing that spurred him to take the opportunity to clean himself up first.

❝Thanks. If ya need any help later, jus' let me know, alright?❞ Before disappearing into the bathroom, Fidelio fetched some salts he had left from his bag, figuring he could use them now of all times.

Though he knew he should have asked for her aid again, his stubborn nature caused him to struggle on his own to remove his clothing, pausing briefly to stare at his brother's shirt, hoping at the very least Basilio was doing alright. He couldn't imagine how he was faring after relying so heavily on his older brother all these years.

Fidelio was drawn from the thoughts by the relief of the warm water and salts on his aching body. With the blood finally removed from his frame, the paripus was finally able to assess the scar that now took up the majority of his torso . . . if it appeared this intense from the front, he could only imagine what it's twin on his back must look like.

He remained soaking in the water for some time, nearly drifting off a time or two from the water's comfort. It wasn't until the bath had started to become cold he finally pulled himself out and redressed himself.

Emerging from the bathroom, now feeling refreshed, well as much as he could, Fidelio attempted to remain quiet as he made his way to the bed, not wanting to disturb the Ishkia in case she had already gone to bed.

Myra nodded in agreement to the compromise fairly easily. As long as he laid in bed, she didn’t care where she’d be. Though at the mention of them sharing before, she sort of froze, watching him get up from the chair. Her gaze then averted in faint embarrassment. “A-Ah, that’s fair…Sorry.” She said, rubbing the back of her neck. Though she didn’t know exactly why she was apologizing. Maybe it was for the initial un-negotiated bunking, or the fact it was a repeated 'offense.'

Go figure he’d know. It’s kind of hard to ignore the spontaneous Ishkia in your bed. But could anyone blame her? Come nightmares or lonely nights, nothing ever beat lying down next to the two warmest, comforting forces on the Charadrius. Even then, she always took to laying above their blankets knowing full well that trying not to disturb them would be hard if she went under cover.

Though she was surprised it took this long for him to bring it up. She knew Bas was aware of it, since he had checked in on her the morning after she first snuck in, being the big sweetheart he is. Someone had to ask, since it wasn’t exactly common for there to be sudden women in your quarters.

Her eyes drifted back to him, then followed as he went past her. Mainly just to make sure he could actually reach the bathroom.

At his question, she gave a light chuckle and a shake of her head. She hadn’t even thought about a bath until he brought it up. She didn’t even have a change of clothes. “No no, you go ahead. I…Have to get this junk out of my wings first, anyway. I know it won’t wash out.” Almost like trying to emphasize her point, she grabbed one of her wings and gave it a light shake, with nary a hint of delicacy- which thankfully shook a few leaves out! Though it was far from enough.

[ofmdee]

All According to Plan (5677 words) by gaydeviants, pirate_captains_captain_pirates Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Our Flag Means Death (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet Characters: Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Stede Bonnet Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Set During S1e5 The Best Revenge is Living Well, Explicit Sexual Content, Trans Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Blackbeard | Edward Teach Has a Praise Kink, Stede Bonnet Has a Praise Kink, they both just like to be praised okay., Blackbeard | Edward Teach Wears Fine Things Well, First Kiss, Getting Together, Porn with Feelings, they are so down bad for each other, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Tender Sex, NSFW Art, Embedded Images Summary:

Blackbeard always has a plan. That's how these things work. And from the moment he met Stede Bonnet, the ending was already decided, the plan was already in motion - but maybe, just maybe, plans can change.

What if Ed really had kissed Stede under the moonlight in s1e5?

This fic contains embedded NSFW gifs!

kicking my leggies @piratecaptainscaptainpirates and i have a new collaboration for ya'll and i think u will love it!!!! first collaboration of the new year and we're not even a week in yet, we are killing it!! 😤

pls enjoy!! 😘

[freckleslikestars]

FARSCAPE | 1.06 Thank God It's Friday, Again.