#like it’s not even bad it’s just hard to process

[gojosprettyprincess]

Both are twenty, degradation n praise, overstimulation. reader is cockdrunk n has a high sex drive :3 Not proofread!!!.

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“S’good Yujiii Soo good, Mmm! Can feel your cock throbbing inside of me, ohh fuckkk!” you moaned out through gritted teeth, too caught up enjoying how deliciously his achy, abused cock was repeatedly curving into your sensitive g-spot over and over just the exact way you intended it to. You can’t even remember how long it’s been and well frankly you don’t really care. Too distracted by the overwhelming pleasure you're receiving by frantically bouncing your ass on his swollen cock.

“F-fuckkk, you’re so greedy baby Goddd, you look so sexy like this!” he huffed, letting out breathless curse—his fingernails digging into the plushy sides of your bouncing ass as goosebumps and adrenaline coursed through his bulging veins. He’s trying his very fucking best to keep up with you but God you were killing him. It got so bad that you’re more of a filthy sex fiend than he was in the past few overestimating days. Not that he was complaining but the way you’d randomly grab him by the shirt—fucking wrinkling it and pulling him into the clustered janitor closet just to feel his hard dick in your slobbering cunt at school with him pushed up against the cool wall and you manically throwing your bouncing ass back at him eagerly like little cock-hungry slut—forcing every last drop of cum from his thick balls to drain out into your horny pussy then pouncing on him four more times throughout the day at home has become a bit overwhelming…he’s trying his best to keep up with your crazy ass sex drive but fuck he was shooting blanks at this point.

His sweat-covered pinky bangs tickled his forehead as the moonlight from the illumining window glistened onto his milky abs. He bit his lips so many times that he probably ruined his gums by now, in a futile attempt to restrain his perverted urges at the way your tits were bouncing in fast circles. He’s sooo tempted to grab and fondle them but it’s like he can’t even control his own fucking body.

“Ohooo fuck! You’re stretching me so good around you Yuji, fuck I love you—Looove your cock so muchhh baby!” You cried out, tears welling up in your eyes as his pink tuffs of slick covered pubic hair grazes against your sticky clit—making the pleasure even more intense as more and more creamy rings formed at the base of his pretty cock.

They were hearts in Yuji’s eyes seeing just how much his little horny slut of a girlfriend was creaming on him, seeing you so desperate and addicted to his cock like a brainless zombie whore unlocked something primal inside of him that he never thought existed. He fucking loved being your human dildo to fuck yourself on, the thought of it made his cock throb feverishly right against your gushing, gummy walls.

“Jesus–mmmph! You’re such a nasty slut. Ohh shit-, is my cock all you ever fucking think about baby? bet you couldn't even last a day without my cock being up this needy, little pussy yeah?” His groans along with his filthy mouth filled the air as he gropes both of your fleshy ass cheeks—his fingers purposely kneading into it pervertedly as he feels you up like a creep.

You felt the mushroom tip of his length brushing against the depths of your cervix as you clamped around him harder, you playfully smirked down at him as you bent down slightly towards him to grab his biceps—moaning sweetly as you felt them flexing against your touch. “Y-yess! Need your cock inside of me at all times Yuji, gonna make me lose my mind, hnngh!”

“Yeahhh? My cock making you that dumb baby??” His sultry voice is weighed with exhaustion as he grants you a fucked-out smile. “Yuji, Yuji m’gonna cum again, fuckfuckfuck yessss!”

You continued bouncing faster and faster—grinding your hips against him fervently in the process to make it even more intense causing you to spasm around his girth, you can’t see it, but you are 100% sure his entire cock is covered in your cream. You can feel it.

Your head falls back, the strands of your hair cascading down like a waterfall. your lips parting to release loud, needy moans that mingled in the air as Yuji gazed up at you in awe, seeing you like this was one of his favorite things. You were such a mindless slut for his dick and he enjoyed it.

“I- m’cummming!” You cried out in a certain tone that was like filthy music to his ears, your cunt pulsated around his jumpy cock as streams of liquid gushed out of you, spurting every fucking where, on the bed sheets, spattering on Yuji’s abs, his thighs everywhere. Your body trembles as you try to process everything. You fucking came and squirted at the same time.

“Did you just-“

“I-“ was all you could let out before you felt the wind getting knocked out of you as Yuji suddenly gripped your branded ass that’s filled with his handprints and lifted his legs up a bit, thrusting with constrained force and fucking his throbbing, soaked cock into you with vigor. The lewd, nasty sound of “plah plah plah!” reverberated throughout the room your hands clutching the pillows tightly beside him, overwhelmed by the intense sensations.

“Yujiii, stop fuck! Too much—tooo muchh” you screamed in a frenzy. your thighs shivering as he relentlessly thrust deeper, splitting open your cunt even more with his animalistic pace. His pistoning cock brushes further against your sweet spots as it twitches inside of you. His poor, fucked out cock sooo desperate to cum.

“Such a lil fucking slut for squirting on me like that baby—God I’m gonna stuff you sooo full after this, it’ll be entwined into your slutty fucking brains”

You were so fucked out you couldn’t even fucking register what the hell he was babbling about.

It was so fucking nasty and hot, the scent of raw sex filled the air as both of your moans echoed throughout the room, at this point your eyes were rolling to the back of your skull in ecstasy as you were being overstimulated, your pussy pouring more juices onto his cock as beads of sweat glistened on his entire body.

“M’cumming m’cumming m’cumming Godddd love this fucking pussy!!” His hoarse voice exclaimed as he bit his lips, thick gooey ropes of warm cum filling up your womb as the two of you cried out in unison. You were so full, every inch of your pussy was stuffed so full of just Yuji, Yuji, Yuji. You’d be surprised if you weren’t actually braindead from his cock by now.

Your body collapsed on his sticky skin and you landed on his toned chest. both of you attempt to regulate your breaths as you cockwarmed his soft cock. Unfortunately Succumbing to exhaustion, you both drifted off to sleep in that position but within the next three hours, you were fucking him again.

[icarusredwings]

I think that Wade is a heavy switch, but the moment you offer him to bottom, he's already assuming the position.

Logan is used to topping and yes he's a service top but man sometimes wade can get him in this mood ans take such good care of him that he's a mess, ripping the sheets, trying to cover his face, doing this weird mixed whine and growl because god hes so happy and wade makes sure hes okay during the entire thing but hes also pissed off because hes suppose to be the top.

Toxic masc things tell him that being the bottom is bad. But his husband tells him such sweet things and he cant help but wrap his legs around him like hes gonna leave him.

" 'm not going anywhere, baby. Promise. Come're, yeah, you like that? Oh theres my big strong boy. Hes doing so good for me oh yes he is."

Its the death of him. And it only took once.

Wade did it exactly once. And suddenly... he understands how Vanessa could stay so long, and makes the immediate decision that he isnt leaving either without a fight.

Hes so confused after too. Like what just happened? He was just told all these nice things, held, kissed, cuddled, brought snacks and a water, Wade had even had him cleaned up before his high was even over.

He just sits there... staring.. processing the fact that he could have felt this love THE WHOLE TIME? And no one told him?

Later he finds out that wade can do the same while riding him and man.. hes gonna have to put a ring on that thang sooner or later.

Is it possible to be so relaxed and loved, but still growl? Yes. And wade coes over him and rubs his cheeks telling him "Awww my big scary wolvie. You're so mad at me aren't you? Some guy making you feel all these emotions and they're all just bubbling up, huh?"

"Gggr-....Mmmhmmh...."

"Awww yeah I know big boy. My brave honey badger. It's okay, I got you. I'd never be upset with you for having confusing feelings, Loagie."

Oh great now hes hard agian.

Just keeps being like and it becomes somewhat of logans addiction for awhile. Being talked to like this while his brains are fucked out.

If you throw vanessa in the mix suddenly everyone is playing twister because one night ness can be the boss and the next logan is the boss, and then sometimes, rarely, Wade is the boss and those nights are very cuddly and full of babbling dirty talk and kisses.

Either way- when you throw two touch starved insecure and untrusting men together you are bound to have a praise kink sesh at least twice a week.

[gilbertscurls]

Hurt Again ➵ Matt Sturniolo

summary: matt gets hurt. again.

You rushed through the door, your heart pounding in your chest. Chris had called you, sounding panicked, but it was Matt’s name he’d dropped—Matt was hurt, again.

You found Matt in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, clutching his side with a blood-stained towel. His jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed in discomfort, and even though he tried to act tough, you could see the pain etched on his face.

“Matt!” You dropped your bag and rushed to his side, panic clear in your voice. “You’re hurt? Why are you always hurt?”

Matt, trying to keep his usual cool exterior intact, looked up with a half-smirk. “It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? You’re bleeding!” You grabbed the towel from him to check the wound, and sure enough, there was a nasty gash running along his ribcage. He winced but said nothing.

“What happened?” you demanded, voice tight with worry as you grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet. “And don’t even try to tell me it was nothing.”

Matt sighed, leaning against the counter. “I was trying to fix the shelf in my room. It’s been loose for a while. Didn’t realize it was that loose, though. Came down with half my tools.”

You shook your head, your hands moving quickly to clean the wound. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You could’ve called for help, you know.”

“I didn’t think I’d need it,” he muttered, his tone defensive but softened by the pain.

You shot him a look, your eyes narrowing. “Of course you didn’t.”

The room fell into a tense silence as you worked, carefully cleaning the gash and applying pressure. Matt, as usual, was trying to act like it didn’t bother him, but you could see his jaw tighten every time you pressed down on the wound.

After a few moments, you sighed, your voice softer now. “Why is it always you, Matt? Why are you always hurt?”

Matt glanced down, his expression hard to read. He wasn’t great at opening up, even to you, but there was something in the way you asked that made him pause. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just unlucky.”

You looked up at him, frustration and concern warring in your expression. “Or maybe you’re too stubborn for your own good. You don’t always have to do everything by yourself, you know?”

He huffed, trying to shrug it off. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Your voice cracked slightly, the worry you’d been holding back leaking through. “You’re always hurt, Matt. Whether it’s stuff like this or keeping everything bottled up. You don’t let anyone help you.”

Matt met your gaze, and for once, his usual walls seemed to falter. “I’m not trying to be a hero. I just… I don’t want to be a burden.”

Your hands stilled for a moment as you processed his words. You’d known Matt long enough to understand that he wasn’t great at accepting help, but hearing him admit it—hearing the vulnerability in his voice—hit you harder than you expected.

“You’re not a burden,” you said softly, placing a bandage over the wound. “You never have been.”

Matt looked away, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “I don’t know how to… let people in. Not like you do.”

You smiled, despite the situation. “I know. But maybe you could try? You don’t always have to be the tough guy. It’s okay to let people care about you.”

For a moment, Matt didn’t say anything, just stood there as you finished patching him up. When you were done, you stepped back, your eyes searching his face for some sign that he was listening.

Finally, he sighed, his defenses lowering. “I’ll try.”

You smiled, the warmth in your eyes chasing away the tension that had been building. “Good. Because the next time you try to take on the world by yourself and end up hurt, I’m going to kill you.”

Matt chuckled, wincing slightly as he adjusted his stance. “Deal.”

You stood there for a moment, the usual distance between you replaced by a quiet understanding. Matt wasn’t one to show his emotions easily, and you had always known that, but now—now, you felt like maybe you were finally starting to bridge that gap.

“You don’t have to keep getting hurt to prove you’re strong, you know,” you said softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face.

Matt met your eyes, and for once, there was no smirk, no sarcastic comment. Just a quiet, genuine look that said more than his words ever could.

“I know,” he murmured. “And thanks… for always being there.”

You smiled, your heart swelling a little at his rare display of vulnerability. “Always.”

And maybe, just maybe, Matt would finally start letting you in.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove

[shybluebirdninja]

Sleep Striker

Summary: You discover that Bucky sleepwalks—and it’s not the calm, peaceful kind of sleepwalking. You wake up to find him in full-on combat mode with the couch.

Pairing            : Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Note                : fluff

The night was supposed to be peaceful. You’d spent the entire evening watching Netflix with Bucky, eating popcorn, and joking around like any normal couple. By the time you both hit the sack, you were expecting nothing but a quiet night’s sleep, maybe punctuated by Bucky’s usual snores.

But no.

Around 2 AM, you woke up to the sound of something crashing in the living room. Your heart leapt into your throat, thinking for a second that maybe someone had broken in. Instinctively, you reached for the baseball bat you kept beside the bed (Bucky insisted on keeping a knife there, but you’d settled on a less dramatic weapon). Slowly, you tiptoed toward the door, already mentally preparing yourself for some horror-movie showdown with a burglar.

But what you found was so much worse.

There, in the dim glow of the living room lamp, was Bucky Barnes—your sweet, grumpy, 100-year-old boyfriend—throwing punches at thin air like he was in the middle of a battle.

“What the hell…” you whispered, blinking in disbelief.

Bucky, still completely asleep, ducked and weaved as if he were dodging invisible enemies, his fists flying through the air with lethal precision. His face was set in that intense, focused expression he wore when he was in full-on Winter Soldier mode, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of fear and… laughter? This was ridiculous. Your boyfriend was sleep-fighting in the living room.

You set the bat down carefully, still trying to process the situation, when Bucky suddenly spun around and landed a full-force punch on the couch.

The couch.

It made a sad thud as the cushions absorbed the blow, but Bucky didn’t stop. He kicked out at the coffee table next, sending it skidding a few inches across the floor.

“Bucky!” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low but urgent. “Hey, babe, wake up!”

He didn’t hear you. Instead, he crouched low, as if he were avoiding gunfire, and rolled behind the armchair, his metal arm glinting faintly in the darkness. You bit your lip, trying so hard not to laugh, but it was impossible. This was like watching an overgrown toddler reenact an action movie in his sleep.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “how the hell do I handle this?”

You’d heard about sleepwalkers before, and you were pretty sure you weren’t supposed to wake them up. But you couldn’t just let Bucky wage war against your furniture all night. The man had already drop-kicked the coffee table, and at this rate, he’d be suplexing the bookshelf by sunrise.

You crept a little closer, careful not to startle him. “Bucky, babe, it’s just me. You’re, uh, safe. There’s no Hydra agents in the apartment, I promise.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he launched himself toward the couch again, this time pulling off a move that looked like it came straight out of a Captain America fight scene. He tackled the poor couch as if it had personally offended him, his arms wrapping around the back cushions in a chokehold.

“Bucky, stop! The couch isn’t the enemy!” you half-whispered, half-yelled, trying to stifle your laughter. “Oh my god, you’re gonna kill the couch…”

He grunted, still deep in his dream, and threw a wild punch that just barely missed the coffee table. You winced at the near miss. That could’ve been bad. Like, broken furniture and a pissed-off Bucky kind of bad.

At this point, you realized you had to do something before your apartment looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Slowly, cautiously, you approached Bucky like you were approaching a wild animal—because, let’s be real, that’s kind of what he was right now.

“Bucky…” you said softly, reaching out a hand. “Come back to bed, babe. You don’t have to fight the couch anymore. You won. It’s dead.”

He hesitated for a moment, his muscles twitching like he was on the verge of launching another attack. But instead of another round of couch-punching, he slowly stood up, blinking groggily as if he was coming out of a fog.

You let out a breath of relief. “Thank God.”

But your relief was short-lived. Because as soon as Bucky turned around, he spotted the kitchen chairs—lined up perfectly in a row by the table—and apparently, in his half-asleep mind, they were the next Hydra targets.

“No,” you groaned, as Bucky lunged toward the chairs. “Not the chairs! I like those chairs!”

He grabbed one, flipping it over like it was an enemy combatant, and before you could stop him, he had another chair in a headlock. You stood there, watching in sheer disbelief as Bucky Barnes—the most feared assassin in the world—battled a set of IKEA furniture like it was the final boss fight of his life.

“Bucky, babe, please!” you shouted, a mix of panic and laughter bubbling out. “I can’t explain this to the landlord!”

Finally, in a last-ditch effort, you ran over and grabbed his arm—his metal arm, because that seemed like the safer bet. “Bucky, it’s me! You’re sleepwalking!”

At first, he didn’t respond. His eyes were still glazed over, lost in whatever dream battlefield he was trapped in. But then, slowly, he blinked. His metal arm relaxed under your grip, and he looked down at you, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“...What the hell?” he muttered, blinking again.

You let out the biggest sigh of relief. “Oh my god, thank you. I thought you were gonna destroy the whole apartment.”

Bucky glanced around, still looking dazed. “What… what happened?”

“You, uh… kinda went to war with the furniture,” you said, biting your lip to keep from laughing again. “You were sleepwalking.”

His eyes widened. “I did what?”

“You attacked the couch. And the coffee table. And, um, the chairs,” you explained, gesturing to the wreckage around the living room. “It was… a lot.”

Bucky groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Shit. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no,” you reassured him quickly. “I’m fine. But the couch… not so much.”

He looked over at the couch, which was now sagging slightly from the multiple punches it had taken. “Damn,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Guess I really went at it, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Babe, you suplexed the couch. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Bucky winced. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, grinning up at him. “It was kind of… impressive, honestly. I mean, you took out an entire living room while asleep. That’s some next-level stuff.”

He gave you a sheepish look, still clearly embarrassed. “I’ll fix it in the morning.”

“You better,” you teased. “But for now, can we please go back to bed before you decide to fight the fridge or something?”

Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll… I’ll stay away from the appliances.”

You wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him back toward the bedroom. “Good idea, soldier. Let’s just stick to sleeping from now on.”

As you both crawled back into bed, you couldn’t help but steal one last glance at the wrecked living room, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Bucky?” you whispered, snuggling up next to him.

“Yeah?”

“If you ever get the urge to fight the couch again, maybe, like, wake me up first?”

He groaned, pulling the covers over his head. “Don’t remind me.”

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Goodnight, Super Soldier Sleepwalker.”

“Goodnight,” he muttered, already halfway back to sleep.

But this time, thankfully, without the couch-wrestling.

[pandapetals]

Shits and Giggles

You and Logan get drunk together and get caught by Xavier.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

“I’ve lost count of how many I’ve had,” you giggled, waving the half-empty beer bottle in your hand like it was some kind of trophy. The world felt a little off-kilter, the living room spinning just slightly as you leaned against Logan on the couch.

Logan, slouched back with his legs stretched out and another empty bottle at his feet, glanced over at you, his lips curling into a lopsided grin. “Sweetheart,” he slurred, his words tinged with a hiccup, “I think we both gave up on countin' somewhere between… hell, I don’t even know.”

You snorted, dissolving into another fit of laughter that made your shoulders shake. “Between 'hell' and 'I don’t even know,'” you echoed, the absurdity of it striking you as the funniest thing in the world. “That’s gotta be at least… five?”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for another bottle on the coffee table, nearly knocking over a half-eaten bowl of pretzels in the process. “Five? Try ten,” he shot back, popping the cap off with a quick twist of his wrist. “You’re lightweight compared to me.” He took a swig, then glanced sideways at you, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Remember when you tried to out-drink me that one time?”

You burst into laughter again, nearly spilling your drink. “Oh my God, yes! I thought I could handle whiskey,” you said, still giggling as you shook your head. “And then I ended up singing 'Bohemian Rhapsody' on the pool table.”

Logan snorted, his deep laugh rumbling in his chest. “Yeah, you were ‘Galileo’-ing so hard, I thought you were gonna fall off.” He pointed at you with the neck of his beer bottle, his grin widening. “I’ve never seen anyone get that passionate about Freddie Mercury.”

“Well,” you said, trying to compose yourself but failing as another hiccup escaped, “Freddie Mercury is worth the passion.”

You both dissolved into another round of laughter, so loud that the quiet mansion seemed to echo with it, the kind of laughter that left your sides hurting and tears forming at the corners of your eyes. It felt like the whole world had shrunk down to just the two of you—your private little universe of bad jokes and too many drinks.

Logan wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still chuckling. “We gotta be the loudest drunks in history,” he murmured, his voice low and amused. “Pretty sure we just woke up half the neighborhood.”

“Hey, it’s not our fault the living room has such good acoustics,” you said, hiccuping again, then letting out a laugh that quickly turned into a snort. “Plus, if the mansion was really soundproof like Xavier claims, we’d be fine.”

As if on cue, Xavier wheeled in, looking every bit the stern headmaster despite the lateness of the hour. His brows were raised in a mixture of amusement and disapproval. “And what, may I ask, is the cause of all this ruckus?” he said, his voice calm but carrying that unmistakable tone of authority.

You clapped a hand over your mouth, trying—and failing—to stifle your laughter. “Professor!” you said, eyes wide as you tried to sit up straighter. “Uh, we were just… um…”

“Studying the effects of… alcohol on… something,” Logan added, attempting to sound serious but breaking into a grin halfway through the sentence. “Purely scientific. For… education.”

Xavier sighed, shaking his head as he looked between the two of you. “At this hour? In the middle of the living room?” His lips quirked slightly like he was fighting the urge to smile. “You do realize there are other people in this mansion who require sleep?”

You bit your lip, trying to look contrite but still giggling. “Sorry, Professor,” you said, though your voice wobbled with barely contained laughter. “We’ll keep it down. Pinky promise.” You held up your little finger as if to seal the deal.

Logan glanced at you, then back at Xavier, and without missing a beat, extended his own pinky in a solemn gesture. “Swear on it,” he said, the grin still tugging at his lips.

Xavier shook his head again, a hint of a smile breaking through his stern expression. “I suppose I’ll let it slide this time,” he said, turning his chair toward the door. “But if I hear another rendition of 'Bohemian Rhapsody,' you’ll be on kitchen duty for the rest of the month.”

As soon as he left the room, you and Logan exchanged a look before breaking into laughter all over again, doubling over as you clinked your bottles together. “Kitchen duty,” you gasped, wiping tears from your eyes. “I can’t even make toast without setting off the smoke alarm.”

Logan’s deep laughter echoed through the room once more as he reached over to pull you closer, his arm slipping around your shoulders. “Guess that’s one more reason to behave,” he said, his voice still rough with amusement. “But I gotta admit, darlin’, there’s nobody I’d rather get scolded with.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as the laughter finally started to die down, leaving a warm, fuzzy contentment in its wake. “Likewise,” you murmured, your voice softened by the alcohol and the comfort of his warmth. “We really are a bad influence on each other, huh?”

Logan chuckled, his fingers gently brushing through your hair. “Maybe,” he said quietly, “but I’d say we’re a damn good time.”

[revelboo]

I literally can't get enough of your writing like I need it like oxygen at this point 🙌 I am not above begging for more of Everything is alright or Over it now

My heart is literally hurting for Star because he genuinely didn't know, and he finally is starting to be vulnerable, and now he knows it's not going to last no matter what. And the inner turmoil of the reader being so torn between him and Soundwave? Wanting both but not being able to hurt Star after he put everything at risk?? It's so good but it hurts my heart 😭😭

And Jazz finally getting someone who would listen to his feelings and get to know the real him under all his masks?? The poor guy needs that so bad, and he's finally opening up (even if she can't understand what he's saying)

All in all, your writing is amazing, and you are literally amazing ✨️✨️✨️

Thank you! I have a lot of fun overthinking why the characters act the way they do and trying to get into their heads

Over It Now Pt 11

IDW Jazz x Reader

• “You could just let me take you,” he says as he watches you lock the door and do an awkward shuffle to put the keys away while trying to not drop one of your crutches in the process. Leaving him for work again. Wanting to help, but also knowing exactly how stubborn you are as you eye the stairs off your porch. He’d also figured out forgiveness was much easier to ask for than permission, reaching to lift you in his servos and carefully set you down in the driveway crutches and all bypassing the steps and then backing up to fall forward into his alt mode.

• Heart racing at being picked up unexpectedly, you warm watching his antics. Because he knows you struggle with the steps and he’d saved you from dealing with them when he didn’t have to. “We both know you have better things to do than chauffeur me around,” you say, trying not to laugh when he opens the driver’s side door and wags it back and forth in invitation.

• “Come for a ride, doll. I’ll behave.” Door still open, he fully expects you to walk past him to your own ugly car, so it’s a surprise when you slide in the driver’s seat and awkwardly lean the crutches in the passenger side. And then you’re right there and he’s more aware of you this way somehow than when he’s held you in his servos. You’re warm against him, soft hands brushing the steering wheel hesitantly as if not sure if it’s okay and he can smell your soap, your shampoo, you. “Alright,” he murmurs more to himself than to you, because it’s a small thing, but you’re entrusting yourself to him. And that means so much.

• There’s no way to not overthink that you’re sitting inside Jazz and it’s weird. You end up folding your hands in your lap so you don’t touch anything you shouldn’t. Inhaling as the shifter moves on its own and then the wheel spins as he reverses. “Doll, you’re going to have to at least pretend to drive,” he laughs and he’s right. Other drivers might notice you’re just sitting there so you just barely touch your palms to the wheel, letting it move freely against your skin.

• Primus, you’re precious. Eyes darting all over his interior, trying so hard not to touch anything. “What do you do normally? I mean a phantom car driving itself has to freak people out,” you mumble, shifting against him as he turns onto the road, wheels humming. Liking the feel of having you there, surrounded by him and safe, it takes a moment to actually understand your question. It’s not nearly the same as holding you in his hands, but still comforting to him that you’re there with him. It doesn’t take a lot of energy, but he does have to concentrate to create a holomatter avatar in the passenger side seat to show you what he normally does, not bothering to make it solid at all since your crutches are embedded in the avatar’s legs and torso and your head turns as it appears. He’s not sure what he expected, but it’s definitely not for you to scream and throw yourself against the inside of his door.

• “It’s me. It’s an avatar,” the glitchy thing in the passenger seat is saying in Jazz’s voice, holding up big hands as you nearly have a heart attack. “Doll, it’s okay. Sorry, I just-frag.” And the human shaped thing flickers and fades, leaving your heart hammering against your ribs. You’re still plastered to the door, hands curled into fists. “Were you going to punch me?” Yes. You absolutely were, because it had just been there so suddenly, a fixed grin on a fake looking face that was staring right at you, Eyes closing you lean your forehead against the cool glass of the driver’s side window and try to calm down and instead start laughing. Covering your face with your hands as he vents at you in exasperation, blowing warm air across your skin and you realize he’s never asked where you work, an address or anything. So how does he know where to take you? Has he been following you?

Previous

[confiaenanaa]

Can I request an angsty one where the reader and Marshall/Em/Slim (whichever you prefer) they have an argument and at one point he tells her he doesn't need her, he can have whoever he wants and they won't complain about anything like she does. And obviously she feels hurt bc it's always been an insecurity of hers that he could have anyone. And he just confirmed her fear. Hopefully with a happy ending tho🙏🏻❤️ please and thank you! Sorry it's so long lol.

needed - eminem

fem!y/n x Marshall Mathers

masterlist

synopsis: Marshall says he doesn't need her, but what does he do when he doesn't have her?

warnings: cursing, drinking

A/N: loved this request! very fun to write. if you guys want anything written, my asks are open. hope you enjoy!

-Fuck you! 

-Oh, piss off!

Shouts could be heard from the Mathers residence that night. Y/N and Marshall were arguing over something stupid, again. They seemed to be having these arguments more and more often these days. This time, however, they were arguing over Marshall’s lack of communication. He’d have a bad day, be rude to Y/N, and when she’d ask what was wrong he’d blow up at her without telling her what bothered him. Today it seemed like he’d had an extra bad day. 

…

He got home from the studio later than usual. Y/N was reasonably worried, and when she called, he wouldn’t answer. So, once he got home, she asked him a ton of questions; questions like “where were you?” “what happened?” “are you alright?”. This angered him to no end since he hates explaining himself to people.

He refused to answer questions. Y/N knew he’d probably just had a rough day so she decided to make him his favorite home-cooked meal and some hot cocoa and treat him to a lovely night at home. But, when she brought him his food and drink, he just told her he wasn’t hungry, even after seeing all the effort she was putting in for him. 

That’s when something inside of her just snapped. She set the plate and mug on the table fecklessly, spilling some cocoa in the process. Marshall seemed a bit startled, knowing Y/N doesn’t usually throw fits like this and she usually keeps her temper in check. 

-God, Marsh! Would it kill you to at least give me a thank you? I’ve tried so hard to find out what��s wrong, and you won’t tell me! What happened to me being your #1 and your best friend? And come on! Look at this meal I made for you! Can’t you see how badly I want you to let me help you? 

-Fuck! I’m sorry I’m not living up to your boyfriend standards, Y/N! But, clearly, I had a rough day so just drop it! 

-You know what Marshall? I have bad days too! But you don’t see me bitching about it and acting like a little kid every time something doesn’t go my way! And even when I do feel upset, I tell you what’s wrong! Because I actually care about your feelings and I wouldn’t want you to worry!

- Oh, so, now I don’t care?! All I ever do is care about you Y/N! I write songs about you, I buy you everything you look at to make you happy, not to mention I make you feel pretty damn good!

- It’s not about that Marsh! God, are you even listening to me?! I don’t care that you’re upset, or that you’re in a bad mood or feeling mean; I just want you to tell me! I want you to communicate with me! I want us to work through our problems calmly, without me having to shout to get your attention!

-You always say that, but you never actually do it! Whenever you’re upset you just stay quiet! So don’t go telling me how to deal with my problems because you sure as hell don’t know how to deal with yours!

-Fuck you!

-Oh, piss off!

-Fuck, Marsh! This isn’t about me! We can work through what I do, but you seriously need to stop! 

-Stop it, Y/N! Stop already! If everything I do is so terrible and wrong, then why not just break up with me already? 

-Because I love you! I care so much about you and I just wish you could see it.

-You’re just saying that because you know I don’t need your ass. You know I can get with whoever the hell I want and they won't criticize me or complain about everything I do half as much as you do!

Y/N stayed silent for a bit. Her heart dropped and she could feel the lump develop in her throat. All this time she was with Marshall, she’d had her insecurities. But, he helped her work through them slowly. He helped her make sure she knew he’d never hurt her like that.

But, now, all that hard work was out the window. With those simple words. The tears began to prick her eyes and she looked down at the floor to try and conceal it. She felt like a little girl being yelled at. She felt helpless, and small. The man who was supposed to love her the most, to protect her, had failed her. He made her feel alone.

Marshall instantly felt a wave of regret wash over him. He felt it surge from his mind up to the tips of his ears down to the points of his toes. He looked at the girl he loves, knowing how badly he just hurt her. He opened his mouth to apologize, knowing he’d gone too far and he didn’t mean it; but, before he could, she had walked past him and into their bedroom. He quickly turned on his heels to follow her. 

Y/N was grabbing a few of her things: a hoodie, her phone charger, some gum, her earbuds, and some shoes. He once again tried to apologize but she wouldn’t hear it. He followed her all the way down to the garage and watched as she hopped in her car and sped off. He wasn’t sure where she was going, and, to be honest, neither was she. 

She hated herself for complaining and she hated him for being so mean to her. But, deep down, she knew she loved him more than anything and everything. She gripped her steering wheel harder, and turned up the volume of the song she was listening to. 

She pulled into the parking lot for some random bar she heard of from one of her friends. Her friend said it was the best place to go if you’re feeling sad or having a rough night. 

When she walked in, the bar looked exactly how she felt. It was dimly lit, the smell reeking of alcohol and cigarette smoke. There were barely enough people to call a crown in there, all sitting far apart with a drink in hand. Everyone looked glum in there, so she’d blend right in. She sat at the bar and ordered herself a few shots of rum. She downed them quickly, not feeling much different. She then ordered herself a vodka, which she kept refilling until the bartender just gave her the bottle. 

She kept feeling her phone buzz in her pocket. She assumed it was Marshall. She didn’t really want to respond, but she still looked, just in case. It was actually a text from her best friend asking what happened. Of course. Marshall texted her friend to see if Y/N was okay (since she usually goes to her best friend in times of need). Y/N decided not to answer, she was in more of a “fuck the world” kind of mood.

She set her phone down on the counter, finally feeling the effects of the alcohol. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get home or if she was going to get home at all. Before she could continue that thought, she saw a series of texts, making her phone buzz repeatedly. 

The contact name read “marsh :)”. She truly didn’t want to speak to him at the moment. She wasn’t sure why what he said affected her this way, but it did, and he knew that. She knew she was probably just being sensitive, but she couldn’t help but feel attacked. 

She looked at her phone again and saw Marshall’s concerned text chain.

“hello?”

“babyyy??”

“look baby i’m so sorry i know i messed up big time. please call me back so i can fix this.”

She didn’t bother reading the rest. She got more texts from him and her best friend. They seemed really concerned now. It was unlike Y/N, not answering the phone. It was cold, far too cold for someone of her character. However, Y/N wasn’t in the mood or the headspace to care about her character. She was too busy trying to keep her head upright as her vision blurred a bit from the effects of the white russian she was creating in her stomach at the moment. From that point forward, she couldn’t really recollect anything that had happened. The next thing she knew, she felt a pair of strong arms lifting her up by the waist and into their arms bridal-style. 

…

The next day, Y/N woke up in her bed alongside a snoring Marshall that had his arms wrapped around her tightly. She slowly shimmied out of his embrace, head beginning to pound when she stood up. She went downstairs and sat at the kitchen table with a small tonic for hangovers in hand. 

As she was washing the cup she was just using, Y/N heard a set of booming footsteps as they pounded against the wooden staircase. She turned around to look at Marshall. He looked incredible. His hair was a bit tousled and his eyes and lips were puffy. He came down and approached her without a second thought. The first thing he did was put his lips against hers. The kiss was warm, brilliant. 

Y/N crumpled under his touch. He pulled back and smiled slightly at her. His heart grew seeing her in front of him. He smiled even wider when he saw her smile back; however, he knew he wasn’t forgiven just yet. 

-Wait, look, I gotcha something.

He quickly walked into the living room and grabbed a small box and turned to the kitchen.

-I bought this a while ago. I wanted to give it to you somewhere better but this seemed like the right time.

Y/N opened the little box gingerly, a little nervous to see its contents. Her jaw dropped a tad when she saw it. 

A small ring, diamond encrusted and the exact type of metal she wears. It was perfectly tailored to her tastes. She looked up at him, eyebrow slightly raised.

-It’s a promise ring. I know what I said last night was fucked up but I didn’t mean it at all. I love you more than anything and you know that. I could never be with anyone else knowing that you’re out there in the world. 

He took the ring out of the box and secured it onto her finger. He then kissed her hand softly. She smiled taking in the view.

Then, she knew, more than anything, that she was truly loved.

[girlwithadragonheart]

I need to yap desperately about one single gripe I have with this game. MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD read at your own discretion

The first half is me ranting about how much certain things mean to me and how impacted I was, and the actual gripe comes closer to the end.

I'll preface this by saying this post is about Varric's death and my rage and despair regarding it, but more so about my Rook's.

I've seen people who said they picked up on the hints about whatnot, who knew before the Fade Prison. I was not one of those people. I was so relieved when I saw him after the Prologue that I didn't think twice, because I knew that it would destroy me the second shit started going wrong.

I was already not having a good time when I started the game simply because Varric was getting older. I don't handle aging well or death, and his design showing his age, and the comments he would make about "getting too old for this" just made my heart break.

And then shit got worse. I sobbed disgustingly when that knife went into Varric's chest.

After Rook woke up from talking to Solas and she heard Varric, I was so gods damned relieved. And my Rook was better taken care of by Varric in that year she spent with him than she was in the rest of her entire life.

I cried from the end of Ghilan'nain's fight until the romance scene and on and off after that. I got so used to visiting Varric just to be comforted by his presence. Inquisition was the biggest part of my life for a year and a half when I was just a kid.

I did really bad middle school age writing for it but regardless of the quality, those characters were built up in my head becoming even more than they were in the game. Varric was my biggest support character through everything I was going through at the time.

I don't talk about it much, but I didn't have a great childhood, and I know a lot of people didn't, but I coped with it through writing and video games. Varric was the one supporting me through the abuse I suffered and writing was the way I processed how bad things really were.

When Rook was in the prison she said "What am I going to find here?" And Varric said "I think you already know, kid." I DIDN'T until he said that. The second he said that my entire chest tightened and I just said "No" out loud as I watched Rook find his body.

Now for my real complaint!!!

Rook never gets the chance to grieve Varric. They go from talking to him every day to finding out he's dead and it was all a lie. I have personally never been more fucking pissed at Solas than I am now. But Rook comes back and they have that kind of "closing off" scene with Varric's empty bed (which was so hard to go through btw). And then they fuck their pookie LIKE I CANNOT BE THE ONLY ONE UPSET ABT THAT

FYM I gotta find out my dad is dead and then Rook is up for boning like there's no fucking way unless it's to cope. And at least pertaining to the Lucanis romance, Rook is processing everything that happened and they can say "So much has happened, I just don't know how to feel."

And rather than getting to process that in some kind of way, the devs said nah this scene serves one singular purpose, and Lucanis says "I do" and then dicks them down.

Personally, I felt very dismissed despite being overjoyed about finally having the romance scene, I couldn't even enjoy it with everything that happened prior.

Rook deserved the chance to completely break down after everything they went through. Tbh i don't know how they kept it together. Varric said "don't get all misty eyed" and i thought to myself that's way too delicate a term for what's happening here, I was fully ugly crying.

Fuck your "I had a good run" I still need you bitch.

All this to say I'm very upset, and I'm running my second playthrough and every time I look at, hear, or talk to Varric I tear up again. Wtf Bioware.

Rook should've gotten the chance to actually talk about what Solas did to them, especially in the sense that he made them believe Varric was still there. Or at least get to properly grieve the person who was their closest friend for a long time.

I have very strong feelings about this obviously

[heesimp]

cnc with sleeping yn and jake pls🙏🙏

It’s just one round.

He justifies pulling the covers off of your body by remembering a conversation from forever ago to assuage his guilt when he sees your naked body beneath him. The hand not pushing the blanket tugs on his cock and the wet squelches make him even harder.

You’re fast asleep after a long day and he can’t wake you up no matter how hard he tries (which, albeit, isn’t that hard because he feels bad when he knows how tired you were before you inevitably fell asleep). Jake’s tried to push your body with the hopes that you wake up and kisses your cheek to no avail. You’re still asleep.

It’s like your body’s presented to him with the way you’re sleeping, back against the mattress and legs spread out with your head to the side. Jake gulps and runs a hand over his mouth in disbelief. You’re so still below him. It makes his cock swell up.

“Just one round,” he whispers to himself, hand twisting around his cock once he’s spit on it to make it wet. “One round and I’ll go to sleep. Fuck, I’m so hard.”

Your pussy’s dry when he nudges the tip against your hole but he doesn’t push in just yet. Jake directs his spit where the two of you meet with the hopes of making your hole slippery and speeding up the process of you naturally becoming wet, even if you aren’t aware that you are.

And you do become wet, eventually. It’s not as wet as he’d like it but Jake will take anything. He sighs out of relief when the tip of his cock breaches your hole.

“Yeah. Like that, baby.”

It’s simply not enough. He’s careful to push his cock into you slowly but is selfish enough to relish in the sight of himself disappearing into your hole. Little by little, Jake manages to slip the entirety of his dick inside of your pussy and moans quietly in satisfaction, rocking his hips in and out of you with a slow motion. He knows he’s going to finish quick. He doesn’t want to draw it out, but he doesn’t want to wake you up if you’re really that tired.

But of course, with the building pressure against your lap, you wake up. Jake doesn’t notice it at first but he snaps his eyes down at you when he feels your pussy clench around him.

“Baby?”

“S-So good,” your voice croaks.

He swears under his breath and pushes his chest against yours after one final push and cums inside of you, letting the ropes of his cum seep deeply within you before pulling out and reaching across the nightstand for spare tissues.

[guppybibi]

Tattoo artist!Johnny who had already met you a year ago when you made an impulsive decision of getting a tattoo with your current boyfriend's name.

This was nothing new for Johnny having seen this numerous times before, in both men and women, and he knows they'll come crawling back to get them covered up after a nasty breakup. It's been a running game in the shop, all of the workers betting their money on how long it'll take before the customer comes back to cover up the tattoo.

Nothing new, right? Then why was Johnny so surprised when he saw you walk into the shop, the door chimes ringing when you swing the door open to reveal you. Eyes still red and puffy while you sniffled, not doing a very good job on hiding the fact you had been crying. His coworkers shot him a knowing look, recalling the bet from last year.

"Pretty thing, ain't she?" One of Johnny's coworkers commented, looking at the back of your figure as you stepped out of the shop with a huge grin on your face. Probably excited to show the tattoo of your boyfriend's name to him.

"Yeah, too bad she's taken. Lucky man better be treatin' her right." Johnny remarks, noticing the look he was given. "Not for long, I bet. I'm giving them a year max." Johnny blinks once, then again. "Fine, I'm giving them five years." Of course, his coworker was pretty shocked from that. Out of all the people they've bet on, this was probably the longest bet Johnny had ever put.

"Seriously? Don't ya think that's too long?" His coworker asks skeptically, raising a brow at Johnny. "Aye, the gal is lovely. If her boyfriend drops her then that's like committing a war crime." Well, his coworker couldn't really disagree with him on that.

Johnny shoots his coworker a glare that simply said he had more important matters to attend to. Luckily, Johnny was a charmer so cooing a birdie like you into comfort shouldn't be that hard, right?

I mean, it's a break up, not exactly the end of the world here. Plus, you're a gorgeous gal, plenty of fish out there you could probably catch in less than an hour.

"Morning, lass! Welcome back, I see that you've got a little problem, huh?" He points out, seeing you nod subtly. "Alright, I'm assuming it's a cover up for the tattoo you got done a year ago?"

He clearly wasn't surprised when you nodded, having seen this too many times before. He wrote down some stuff, not caring about the paperwork much..before leading you further into the parlor.

The two of you discussed how you wanted the previous tattoo to get covered up, Johnny nudging in to suggest some stylistic choices a few times, which you gladly didn't mind.

Then began the process once you agreed with the design choice, you wanted to get this over with. To remove a past mistake from your life.

Johnny cleansed your skin, disinfecting it with a cold gel. He could see you squirming and struggling not to make a sound. He also does notice another tattoo covered up above your previous tattoo, curiosity swirling around in his mind now.

He tried hushing it, it wasn't any of his business. He's here to do his job, nothing else.

He was quiet for most of the process, aside from some rather awkward small talk about the weather and a few details of what happened between you and your boyfriend. Not that it helped, it really just made Johnny even more curious.

And finally, after who knows how long, the tattoo was covered up now! You seemed to have gotten rid of the nerves from earlier, looking a lot more calmer now.

"Alright, lass. I'm sure y'know how the caring process goes so I'll leave it up to ye." He said, cleaning up all his materials in a snap. He gives in to his curiosity, finding the courage in him to ask you about the other covered up tattoo.

"Uh..before you go lass, mind if I ask ye somethin'? It's about the other tattoo you got 'ere.." You immediately knew which one he was referring to, face reddening in embarrassment as you recalled the immature decision..

"Aah..sure, go ahead." You replied awkwardly, a sheepish smile gracing your face. "Thanks, lass. Mind if ye tell me what was written on there? I- I just noticed that the way it was covered up. The artist did a great job, I'm jealous."

Yeah okay he was just making excuses to get things flowing..never mind that.

"Oo..oh! I don't mind at all, don't worry. That's all in the past..can't really reverse it, you know? It was my ex-boyfriend's name." You answer, shrugging it off. Seems like you were the type of gal to move on from a relationship quick.

"I see, glad you were willing to share that. I wonder if I know who he is." He chuckles, evidently not expecting you to actually tell him who it was. Sure, Johnny was the type to encourage people to loosen up and get comfortable. But..maybe not to this extent.

"His name was Simon, Simon Riley—" And practically everything you said after that was unheard of.

Looks like Johnny needs to pay Simon a visit at the pub tonight.

[swampstew]

One long night

Summary: short, multi-chapter choose your adventure story. not thought out a single bit. you're the main character,this is your rodeo and Captain Kid is your bull ;)

Warnings: Eustass Kid X Female Reader, consent is implied, femdom dynamics forced orgasm, exhibitionism because its at a dark pub in the back. WC: 971

There was little left of the dive bar the Kid Pirates trashed that evening. Some still-standing yet drunk as fuck local islanders scattered around the place, the busted lights cast a hazy, dim glow in the already dark bar.

Not that the Kid Pirates minded, it was how they liked to wind down before the night ended.

You, Kid and the crew had been sharing stories and laughing over jokes for a while and the chatter quieted down as they drank and polished off the food on the tables. They dwindled and eventually left with knowing glances at each other, but you and Kid were drunkenly talking and barely noticed when the table was empty.  The remaining crew drifted to harass the patrons and mingled with whoever was still around.

“I’m gonna grab us some waters,” you headed to the bar to hydrate and throw down extra cash for tips and damages. You always felt a little bad for owners of businesses they fucked up. It was your collateral-damage cash.

The bartender gave you extra-large mugs filled with ice cubes, and in your inebriated state made you a bit clumsy as you walked back to the table without spilling drop or cube. At the table, Kid had kicked aside the chairs, placing his weapons strap and loose items on the empty seats and table..

Setting the glasses gently down, you felt Kid’s fingers ghost across the small of your back, grazing them to your waist as he guided you to sit in his lap. You tried to ignore the hot buzz you felt along your body as he moved you. You shifted to get comfortable while Kid was finishing his liquor when he suddenly coughed and shuddered underneath you.

“You ok, Boss?”

He cleared his throat before answering, “Y-yeh, drink jus’ went down the wrong pipe.”

Kid prompted you to give him his water, and he let out a few coughs before his voice wasn’t as strained. When his breathing felt more regulated, you brought up a topic from earlier in the day you wanted to double back on – just looking for something to talk about and ignore the fact that you were both past the point of sobriety, and you were plainly sitting in his lap.

He listened and leaned forward to set the half-drunk mug down, and when he sat back upright you had to adjust yourself again having slid down his massive thighs.

Sculpted muscles. Muscles so ripped, you could feel the curves and edges of his quadriceps through the fabric of his pants.

You shifted once more and felt Kid freeze underneath you.

Then you felt something else.

Slowly growing underneath your ass, awakened from the repetitive stimulation. You sucked in a breath when you realized it was his dick.

“Ah-s-sorry, didn’t mean to—” you stammered out.

“It’s ok,” he said tensely. “It happens…”

“I can get off—”

“No,” he cut you off, “It’ll pass. His fingers absentmindedly trailed on the hem of your shirt, trying to steel his mind on to something else. Inadvertently trailing his fingers lower until they dipped beneath the hem touching your bare skin.

Your body broke out in goosebumps, you couldn’t help the shudder that went through your body, shifting on his still-growing erection. You could hear Kid’s jaw click from how hard he clenched them.

Truthfully, you always found him attractive and dreamt more than once about it would be like to smudge that line between captain and subordinate. Feeling for once like you were in position of all the power, you allowed your loosely inhibited state persuade you to intentionally rock on him.

You heard strained grunts as he processed your movements.

Hips dipped back and forth, pressing your wettened core against the promise behind his pants. It felt large, thick, and already so impossibly hard.

The low music that hummed around the bar droned out the others from your table. Only you and Kid existed now. In sensual silence.

You braced your elbows to the table, ass flushed backwards so Kid got a nice view as while you rocked against him. His fingers dug into your hips, trying to exert more force with your grinding.

Kid let out short huffs the closer he got to climax, brought to the brink so suddenly with purposefully long slides of your torturous cunt along his length. His cock stuttered, his arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled you tightly to his flushed torso. You felt the twitch of cock as he came with a near-silent, strangled groan.

You chuckled as you fully came to a stop. Spontaneously teasing Kid to completion had exerted you of your energy.

“S’mthing funny, ya asshole?” he muttered with face pressed to the nape of your neck.

“Nothing’s funny, I’m a lil’ proud of myself. I always wanted to do that.”

He said nothing for a minute before the room violently came to life. Kid activated his power and repelled everything in a frenzy inside the bar.

Knives, forks, trays shot out to stab, and weapons slashing and shooting down the bar tender and remaining patrons. Battering them and forcing them out the double wide door before it was barricaded.

“Is that a fact?” he lifted you up with his flesh arm and used his metal arm to clear the table. Kid put force into the way he shoved you belly flat to surface, holding your back down with just one hand.

“Since we’re sharing, this is something I’ve always wanted to do,” his kilt and belt buckles clinked when he pushed his pants down. “You had your fun, now I’ll show you my version of a fun time. Givin’ ya one chance to back out.”

Puffs of excitement prefaced your smirk, “The hell makes you think I’d so something stupid like that?”

[darklydreamingdaddydom]

He could tell his girlfriend was getting quite stressed from work and school…  She never seemed to get a break.  So he waited until she had a solid 5 days of nothing..  With no one or thing to worry about.

    A lot of planning was involved, he cleaned out an old storage room and put in a crib with plastic sheets and cuffs on each corner of the bed (good for changing naughty rebellious little girls who wet and mess themselves.)  

    There was a cabinet, filled with diapers, powder, wipes, and cute little outfits that made her look like a 3 year old..  There were also paddles, vibrators, rope, cuffs, and crops etc. depending on how bad his little girl decided to be.

    Finally it was time..  She came home from work with a sigh of relief..  He handed her cranberry juice with laxatives and diuretics.  Soon enough she would realize that she needs diapers, and Daddy’s guidance.

    “Sweetie, I want to talk to you about something..  I know things have been so stressful for you, and I want to help.  Let me take care of you this weekend, so you can just relax.”  She loved the idea of that, it sounded perfect to her…  Little did she know what was actually in store for her.

    Some time had gone by, and she was beginning to get a bit suspicious…  Why did he keep feeding her snacks and drinks?  She had all ready had so much, but she didn’t want to disappoint him..  Suddenly a need to pee washed over her and she doubled over trying to hold it.  

    “What’s wrong baby?”  I asked, as I pulled her onto my lap.  “I’m not a baby,” she responded rather indignantly.  “Now let me up, I need to use the bathroom.”  She squirmed in my lap as I held her in my arms, she gave me a strange look as she struggled.  “Listen baby girl, I’m going to take care of you this weekend, but you’re going to have to follow some rules…  Rule number 1, bathroom off limits.”

    “You’ve gone crazy, haven’t you?”  She asks in disbelief, the pressure growing in her bladder.  “Crazy for you little girl,” I teased as I began to tickle her.  Now she really began to squirm and writhe about, but suddenly froze as I felt my own crotch begin to get soaked, with a steady *drip drip* on the floor.  

    “Oh my God, Sarah, didn’t you just say that you weren’t a baby?”  She was didn’t know how to process what happened, red in the face and utterly humiliated..  She just wanted to hide, she couldn’t believe that she just wet herself, now she was soaked.

    “C’mon sweetie, lets get you cleaned up.”  Before she knew it she was being carried in his arms..  She really did feel like a baby in that moment, and it was kind of nice knowing that he was there to take care of her..  But then she saw it.  He opened a door to what looked like an adult nursery.  

    Before she could say anything he had laid her down and began locking her ankles and wrists into the cuffs attached to the four corners of her crib.  That’s right, her crib, because she was the only one in sight who wet themselves like a toddler.

    “What are you doing?!”  She yelled and she flailed about against her cuffs.  Relax sweetie, this is for your own good..  You need to give this a chance, the cuffs are just in the beginning to help you settle in..  They may be used as punishment in the future if you’re going to be a naughty little brat.  “Are you fucking crazy?!”  She yelled.  He gave her a hard swat on her butt, and that was enough for her to go quiet, with just a small whimper, as she looked up with pleading eyes.

    He began to cut her clothes off of her, until she was completely naked.  The look in her eyes betrayed her, was she secretly enjoying this all ready?  Could she finally give up control to someone else?  He did make her feel safe, even though she was completely helpless now.  But then she saw it, he pulled out a thick diaper from the cabinet, and her face grew more red then he had ever seen.

    “What are you doing with that?..  Please no..”  She begged, and she lifted her cute little ass for him without even thinking.  Before she knew it he had expertly taped the thick diaper in place between her legs.  She couldn’t help but press her diapered butt against the changing pad bringing it back and forth as the diaper rubbed against her princess parts, making her moan.  She felt so humiliated and helpless, why was it turning her on so much?

    He slapped her diapered but again, and told her no cumming without permission was rule number 2.  She pouted and looked up at him, about to plead for a second time before she caught herself..  She didn’t want to be in diapers!  This was ridiculous!

    “You’re going to behave, right baby?”  He let her out of her restraints, and lifted her onto his hip, carrying her back over to the couch.  He pulled a sheet off the couch, which turned out to be waterproof.  Important when you have a leaky baby to take care of.  Into the wash it went, to be ready again in a few hours when her diaper is at its leaking point.  

    He held her in his lap again, giving her soft kisses and rocking her..  She was still trying to get over the fact that her Daddy was holding her in nothing but a diaper, when she felt a sudden intense pressure in her bowels.  She blushed at the thought of calling him Daddy, and began to squirm.  “Please let me up, I really need to go.”

    “That’s what your diapers are for sweetie, just relax and let go”  She wasn’t having it though.  She kept trying to fight and even buck against him as he held her down in his lap.  It was to no avail, she couldn’t struggle and hold it..  She felt herself losing control, blushing as she let farted and her belly growled and grumbled.  She stopped struggling and focused all of her might on holding it in.

    She began to cry as the mess forced its way out of her and filled the back of her diaper.  It just kept coming as she grunted and struggled to push it into her tight diaper.  She was utterly exhausted and spent by the end, and a complete mess.  Makeup down her face from crying, and the fullest diaper she could imagine.  She began wetting herself, but didn’t even care at this point.  She just tried to hide in his arms, really feeling like a baby for the first time.

    He patted her mushy diaper, pressing it into her..  She didn’t even try to stop him any more.  “You’re such a good girl, you’ve gone through a lot baby..  Lets get you cleaned up with a bath and then get you in a fresh diaper.  Then we can curl up and watch a movie.

    She sighed as he was carrying her again.  She was humiliated, but she knew she was in good hands..  She would never admit it, but she might be enjoying this after all.

[loveanddeepspice]

𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖

✞ synopsis:  you've come back to the small town you grew up in for a visit. though your relationship with the catholic church and faith in general have been strained since you were younger, you find yourself drawn back to the church... or more specifically... the new priest... you aren't ready to share your secret sin with him... but you may not be able to help yourself.

✞ pairing: sylus x curvy fem!reader

✞ rating:  18+ (minors do not engage)

✞ cw:  religion (catholicism), priest, lapsed faith, adultery, priest kink, suicidal mention, dead parent, sex, masturbation, drugs (marijuana), mentions of other drug use, drinking (more will be added when/if they arise)

✞ disclaimer: this fiction explores a romantic relationship between a lapsed Catholic and an unconventional priest. it is not designed to be inflammatory or critical. catholic authors were asked to participate in the process. we hope you enjoy it, but we know that these topics can be sensitive, so please skip this fiction if it will in any way offend you.

✞ chapter:  6 / ?

✞ co-authors:  redbriony, confuseddoughnut (they do not have tumblr)

✞ ao3 link:  here

✞ chapter synopsis: "the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it." - oscar wilde

✞ index: chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5| chapter 6

Please comment on this post if you want to be added to the tag list for updates!

Despite what happened, you would have done anything to face Father Sylus again. 

He was the type of person who radiated energy from within, dedication unlike anyone you had ever met - which could be a good or a bad thing. The thoughts became an obsession, all that seemed to fill your brain. The recollection of his touch made you sweat. It was the last thing you thought about before drifting off to sleep, the first thing you thought about when you woke, and the next few days stretched.  One thing was sure: you longed to see him again, if only for the courage to apologize.  But did you even have to apologize? He was the one who had kissed you first, right?  It was so unbelievably confusing. You’d talk yourself through circles; for once, no amount of sleeping seemed to help.  You weren’t even given the option to sleep it all off anyway or mellow properly in your self-pity. Upon learning of your ‘arrest’ from Talia, your father forced you out of the house that Sunday to go to church with him.  “What’s going on with you, Y/N?” Dad raised his eyebrows and frowned as he gripped the steering wheel, and you could tell he was trying hard not to get angry or frustrated. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, hon. You came back, and you’re acting weird.  Can you just tell me what’s wrong?”  Shaking your head, you shrugged, trying your hardest to maintain eye contact on the door handle, ignoring your dad’s question and wishing he’d just leave you alone.  “You went from being happy to totally distraught since you moved out. What am I supposed to think here, huh?”  ‘Maybe everything went to total fucking shit,’ was what you wanted to say, and tried not to roll your eyes. Dad tried so hard to not act like the authoritarian or pushy father, especially after your mother had died. He was never like that. And it was because of that you figured it was time to be at least a little truthful.  “I quit my job. I don’t know what I’m going to do from here, but -” you said, “I just…needed some time to think things through.”  Your dad parked the car and turned to offer you a subtle smile. You were convincing enough, obviously. “Okay, fine. Work in the store until you figure it out. It’ll be like old times.” One hand gripped the steering wheel as he looked at you, almost seeming to peer into your brain as his eyes flicked ever so slightly. “So, uh, is this about your mom? I didn’t know you were still upset about that. I should’ve tried to talk to you more.”  You bit down your reply, feeling a bitter taste in the back of your throat, and willing it away.  “No, it isn’t. Just forget about it.”  A long sigh filled the small space as your father pressed his lips together. “Christ, I can’t be mad at you right now. I’ve always let you do what you want.”  This was strange, a particular ache settling inside and spreading to your limbs like an infection. Maybe it wouldn’t stop now that it had started. And the first instinct was to get away and run. Run and run and just get away.  “Hon, Y/N,” Your Dad’s voice was pleading, and you nearly missed it. “We can go talk to -”  “No!” You blurted, immediately regretting it, mortified at just the thought. How did you speak so fast? “No, it’s fine. Let’s just go inside. We’re gonna be late.”

You didn’t feel any better inside the church, but you weren’t expecting much to begin with. All you could do was suck it up and seat yourself beside your dad. It wasn’t crowded, but there were a few unfamiliar faces, so maybe not everyone would notice your fucked up mood. 

Everything felt surreal. You were sitting there in church with the sun streaming through the stained glass windows, and your gaze landed on the one depicting the Virgin Mary.

The word ethereal came to mind. 

Everything seemed like it would evaporate into thin air. Like if you moved too quickly, you’d wake up from one of those dreams that just turned out to be inside of another dream. 

And when a hush fell over the congregation, you had no choice but to look forward. No matter how your brain fizzes or your fingers tingle. You were forced to look at that handsome face in front of the church and feel the emotion well inside you. Something that felt different than embarrassment or frustration. 

Even from this distance, Father Sylus exudes that particular aura, daring to fill the whole church with its strength. You are once again reminded of how inescapable his presence is—not through belief or goodness, but something, someone who felt unearthly, even celestial, as absurd as it felt. 

Ethereal. Once again, with that pretty word. How could you even begin to explain it? It was so easy to feel some sort of bitterness, perhaps even selfishness. Who could blame you? Everything always seemed too simple when you looked at it from a distance. 

“Good morning,” He began, his voice taking on that strangely powerful, lilting cadence. He paused, hands clasping, and his posture was different. Shoulders broad, spine straight, chin lifted slightly. “I want to take a moment before we begin to discuss why we’re here.” 

You were drawn to his words, which had formed an invisible link to you. Maybe if you closed your eyes like you did at night, you could picture that night in the car. It felt foolish because you were certain your own thoughts were desperate. How stupid did it make you seem, trying to replay the sensation? A stupid crush. That is all you wanted it to amount to, even if looking into his fiery gaze had made you feel like you were melting.

“We’re here, in the house of the Lord. Why is this?” 

If a month’s insistence on chasing after a flame could be compared to anything -

 “Free will.” His tone picked up. “Through our actions, we make conscious decisions. As far as humankind is concerned, free will also makes us human.” 

Your breathing stilled. Something terrible seized your gut, a cramping feeling causing you to grit your teeth. 

“This is a sanctified place,” he continued, voice rich and filled with energy. “Within these walls, you should experience peace. Not conflict or anger. All are free here because it is with our actions that we build ourselves.”

How the hell did he manage this? The words continued spilling from his mouth, something pulling you further. And after a pause, his gaze filtered over the room again - and landed on you. 

Time was beginning to stand still, and you swore your face began to heat up. But, thankfully, the look didn’t linger on you, moving on as he cleared his throat. 

Well, fuck. 

There was only a tiny shift in expression, and perhaps you were the only one to notice how his pause seemed more lengthy than those before it. 

"We - uh.” Father Sylus made a show of glancing down at the notes before him and shuffling a few pages. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat again, a little louder this time. “What I mean to say is, with free will, we struggle against our urges and temptations. Sin beckons - uh,” another loud cough. He looked nervous. Vulnerable. In more ways than one. 

Father Sylus hastily pushed aside the pages, shoulders lifting in a deep breath before looking again at the people gathered. He straightened a little, and his powerful tone returned as he folded his hands neatly. “So, how do we resist? It can be hard to…admit one’s faults.” He let out a little huff of air, glancing down again. Then, he stepped away from the podium, stepping along the carpeted dais, hands clasped behind his back and thumbs tapping against each other. 

The congregation started shifting. A glance here and there, unable to guess what he would say next. Probably wondering why their priest was acting so…off. If you weren’t glued to your seat in, well, any number of the emotions you were feeling now - you would have high-tailed it out of there already. But instead, you were frozen in place, feeling like an outsider, feeling the shift in the air more than the others around you. 

“Take those feelings and multiply them by ten.” He stated, looking towards the back of the church at nothing in particular. It was as if he was somewhere only his mind knew. 

“Opportunity is often just an invitation to sin, yes. Free will is a man’s greatest power but also his biggest weakness. With that power comes responsibility. Satan doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns in the middle of the night.” 

Oh God.

 There was a tense pause and stillness, and you wonder how you managed to sit here and listen. Those crimson eyes trailed around the room, but for another second, a brief and terrifying second, they burned into you.

“Satan comes as everything you’ve ever wished for.” He laughed, bitter and slightly hoarse. Then his eyes snapped forward again, unabashed. 

He coughed, cleared his throat again, and gestured with a finger above his head. “We all - well, we all think we can overcome any challenge. Big or small. Big and small.” Father Sylus let out a shaky exhale. “Um, the point is...The point is that the devil is ready to collect when you can’t. So, the point is that - uh,” His tone shifted to something smaller that made your insides tremble agonizingly. A breathless, tight sort of anxiousness that stole through your lungs and caused your heart rate to increase. It was impossible to deny that despite the words coming out of his mouth, you actually wanted to hear him continue. “Um, sometimes I think the hardest thing is that we are human, and we are weak.” 

Before he could even continue, his voice cracked. “I’m sorry.” He swallowed, grimacing, an anguish that you recognized. “Excuse me.” He looked like he might break, the wavering tension almost stifling the room, his expression almost tormented. 

“I’m sorry. Excuse me.” And with that, he disappeared into the back, leaving everyone shocked. 

Everyone except for you. 

“And that’s why I’m never going to church again.” You rolled your eyes as you leaned against one of the shelves in your dad’s store, looking over at Rafayel, who was leaning against the counter, making it his personal mission to get every last drop out of an iced coffee. “You should have seen the look on his face. What a fuck up.” 

Rafayel wrinkled his nose, looked around the otherwise empty store, and then glanced at his phone. “Yikes. Poor guy.” He sighed and tapped his foot on the floor. “Talia came home and said he had a migraine - but it’s even more hilarious that a near-public breakdown was because of you.” 

“My God, you are awful.” You frowned and stepped forward to lightly punch his arm, reaching out and catching his elbow with a grimace as he pretended to almost fall over. “That’s a horrible thing to say! You were the one who was practically encouraging me!” 

“I would never,” Rafayel huffed, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “Anyway, it’s been almost a week now. You’re gonna have to suck it up and face him sooner or later.” With a firm nod, he shook off your hold and dusted his hand on the faded denim of his jeans, turning his attention back to his phone and shaking the ice in the cup he held. 

“How would I do that?” You asked. 

As if oblivious, Rafayel arched a brow and smiled tightly, peering at you over the edge of his phone. His tone was less-than-reassuring, sounding almost pitying. “No fucking idea.” 

You opened your mouth to argue but thought better of it as the shop door opened, just in time for the chilly afternoon to bring in your dad and Xavier. You took a deep breath at the sound of the bell and forced yourself to calm down.

As if on cue, Rafayel pushed himself away from the counter and looked in your direction. “Well, Y/N.” He said, tossing a wink in your direction that made you want to reach out and knock the silly grin off his face. “Good luck.” With that, he turned and walked out of the store with a shake of his head. 

Your dad mumbled something under his breath before tossing a wave a little too late and heading into the back of the small building. 

Unease had settled in your stomach at your friend's departure. You felt as if you had more to say, ask, or get a general idea of as you stared at the shop's door. You ran a hand over your tired face and sighed. 

“Hi,” Xavier gave you a careful, controlled smile as you turned toward his voice. “Need help with anything?” 

You tried your best not to fidget or bite your lip. “No, but it’s nice of you to offer.” You shrugged and glanced away briefly. “Why? Got nothing else to do?” 

“Uh, I work here?” He blinked as he stepped forward. You could take in his softening facial features now that he was closer. His smile didn’t quite fade as he looked around the quiet shop. “Anyway - I um. I tried to call you last night? About dinner?” 

Tilting your head in confusion, you froze. Then, you processed the sentence. 

Dinner. Shit. 

“Oh! My phone went missing. I’m sure it’ll turn up soon or something. Wasn’t the nicest phone anyways,” you brushed some hair behind your ear. “I still can’t figure out how it disappeared!” You forced a laugh at your lie and shifted uncomfortably.

You’d completely forgotten about agreeing to go out with him. How fucking stupid were you? So caught up in the idea of -

“Well, uh, I didn’t plan much. So it’s okay, we can just do something another night. Right?” Xavier suggested, and you couldn’t tell if he had let it go so quickly or was suspicious about your behavior. 

Either way, you smiled, rationalizing with yourself for what felt like the millionth time that spending time with him would be a good thing. Any way to keep your mind distracted. Clearly, he still wanted to go out with you, and you certainly wouldn’t say no. After all, who could blame you for latching on anyone who showed the slightest interest? 

This would be a step in the right direction, right? Things would get better. They had to. No matter how weird it felt for you to think so. 

“That’s fine. Sorry, my head’s all over the place.” 

The worst part of it all was the sudden weight in your stomach, the ache in your chest that was becoming all too tiring. Something pushed you in the complete opposite direction of the young man in front of you, towards what you really wanted, and had no explanation for why you did. 

“Y/N?” Xavier spoke again and stepped closer, watching your expression with careful scrutiny, his hand reaching out to touch yours, giving you a new feeling of unease. “Hey, um, - you alright?” 

Your heart wrenched a little at the worry, and you wondered exactly how pathetic you appeared. “I think so. Can you take over? I gotta step out for a while.”

It grew colder as you walked along the sidewalk, sticking your hands inside your jacket pockets. Clouds gathered in the distance, inching their way towards the suburb. The air smelled fresher, as if it might snow lightly sometime at night. A breeze swept over the street, stirring pieces of your hair from its confines, and you briefly thought you should have remembered your scarf. 

Then, you came to a stop in front of the church. 

You looked down at your outfit, the jeans and the oversized blue sweater you had found in your mom's closet, when you couldn’t be bothered to do your own laundry. Perhaps she would give you strength, or at least enough willpower from wherever she was to give you the courage to turn right the fuck around and go back home.  She was always straightforward in that way, even without the drinking. If only you had taken after her in that aspect. 

For a moment, you almost turned to leave, giving yourself the opportunity to simply walk away and go home. However, after a few seconds of mental debate, you stepped along the worn walkway and up the steps, slipping your hand out of your pocket to place it on the worn wooden door. 

Somewhere in your mind was a glimmer of hope, the possibility of resolve.

Now that you had gathered whatever courage you had left, you took one last, bracing breath before pushing the door open. A jolt of energy speared up your arms, a buzzing sensation against your fingertips. Once you were inside, everything felt eerily silent. Almost too silent. But as the familiar warmth enveloped you, your body relaxed slightly as you shrugged off your jacket. 

The last light from the day was casting through the windows, and the interior was a muted, golden glow and soft orange. It felt warm in more ways than one. Despite the hushed nature of the building, energy thrummed within you. The atmosphere was inviting, but for some reason, you couldn’t quite muster the ability to step forward any further, feet stuck to the floor beneath you. It was ironic, yet in a way, expected; you felt like crying or throwing something, but maybe punching Father Sylus would give you the most satisfaction. 

The chapel seemed alien to you as you made your way further inside. 

Loneliness was all-consuming, a fear ever present and threatening in the back of your mind. You wondered why it hurt so much. And, you considered whether you have ever experienced a real connection in your life. You zeroed in on the cross beyond the rows of pews as if you could use it for answers. It glinted a little in the evening light that filtered through the stained glass. Your eyes felt dry as they fixed upon the illuminated wood, searching, listening, walking towards the front of the church like a mouse. 

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” You asked your question out loud. The silence of the building taunted you in return, and something constricted within your chest. The rush of it all was consuming, filling your every thought with hope and expectation. A breath sucked in, and you shook your head, blinking. Everything felt off, and you had no idea what your body was supposed to do with itself. “This is so fucked. You know, this is all…just so messed up,” you choked out the whisper and, with a small gasp, swallowed. The emotions swelled. Heavy and pounding and suddenly overwhelming. 

Who gave a shit? Nothing would change. 

But, maybe - 

Would God be willing? Could He lift the spell put on you that would continue to grow? 

“Mom is dead, and she’s not coming back.” The words spilled and dropped like shattered glass. “And, uh, it’s just like, that’s fucked up. Isn’t it? Please, it’s - well, I wish I knew, God damn it. Motherfucker!” You swore louder than you should have, not recognizing your own voice. A feeling that had no name gripped your heart. This was it. You were giving up. “Totally fucked up. And you go and make me do stupid shit? What kind of test is that?” 

Only silence answered. You wondered how you should feel. As angry as you were, it felt strange to voice it. Finally, saying the words brought unusual comfort, and it was too easy to admit everything now. “Yeah, yeah. You should really apologize, God. Lord. Jesus. Whatever.” 

“I’m sorry.” The voice that spoke back did not belong to you. Echoing off the walls and the stained glass, it sent a jolt up your spine, causing you to spin in its direction. Leaning against a doorframe was Father Sylus, looking down at the floor, that shameful expression resurfacing on his face. You witnessed the repentant facade as he lifted his head and looked at you. 

It felt like a flood rushed through you, coursing, washing away the anger, seeping into every cell, and filling you with something new. Warm and soft, somehow breaking you apart as it passed. Something indecipherable but true. 

Something almost wonderful and exhilarating. 

He looked like something you could draw. That raw, exposed sort of aura. 

That same warmth enveloped your heart, the comfort expanding across your chest. There was something profound and affectionate within his gaze and the sense that you had underestimated what was truly meant by the phrase ‘care and concern.’

It could have been a few seconds. Or minutes passed as you stood rooted to the spot. The beating of your heart seemed to echo in your ears. Blood pulsed through your veins, the silence around you growing louder. 

“For what?” You were almost afraid to speak up. 

“For whatever you’re feeling,” Father Sylus stated plainly. Then he straightened, and his look shifted, and for a split second, he stepped forward, only to pause with his fingers twitching at his sides. Maybe there was confusion flickering in his gaze. Or longing. But he still didn’t move from where he stood, as if unable to break the tension he had with himself. After a time, he studied your face and added, “For everything and for nothing.” 

After a moment of thought, you shook your head. “That’s vague.” 

“It’s all I’ve got.” Father Sylus ran a hand behind his neck, almost nervously, eyes shifting and gaze searching. Another pause lingered between you, and you blinked a few times. He opened and closed his mouth, finally settling on placing both his hands on his hips, inclining his head to look at the stained glass windows. “That…and guilt.” 

His admission seemed weighted, and his voice was heavy. You watched him take a step forward, then hesitate. 

In that second, there was a great leap in understanding. You understood that he would not look directly at you because it would break this sacred reverence between you and whatever else was going on within his mind. 

Maybe it’d always been a game, and perhaps you knew deep down that this would be his next move. The inevitable, silent communication. Slowly, you folded your shaky arms over your chest. The look that flashed in his eyes made you shudder. With a new boldness, you swallowed and whispered: “Why are you telling me this?” 

Exhaling hard, you weren’t sure whether to scream, laugh, or cry as you awaited your answer.

He swallowed, his dark gaze teeming like a fire in the low light, the red burning. His lip curled. “Because I feel like you can understand it. Why I feel this way.” 

A sick urge, sharp and needy, had you crossing the space between you, the air shaking and trembling as he finally took another stride forward. Your eyes traced over his face. Deep and pained and beautiful. His chest heaved. A strange, bittersweet satisfaction filled you. 

“I - I can’t stop thinking about -” you broke off, words quivering as you spoke. “Us. The other night - it keeps going through my head, what I said, and -” your voice was breaking again, the achy, miserable desperation settling in. 

You could tell he was holding his breath, hands now clenched into fists, gaze searching and uncertain. “I didn’t mean to deceive you.” The words hung heavy as he stepped closer, finally closing the distance between you, tilting your chin, and forcing you to look at him. The grip held you firmly, though his eyes remained gentle and pleading. “I want nothing more than to pray - beg for your forgiveness. Try and restore whatever trust I’ve betrayed - but in all truth, God, I -” 

Another thick swallow, and he paused, the corner of his mouth twisting. He squeezed your chin lightly as if in search of some answer. Then his hand fell to his side, his head turning to look at the cross behind the altar. Something burned beneath your ribs. 

“What is it?” You whispered, trembling with the effort of not spilling all your unresolved thoughts. “Tell me - tell me something, anything, or - or -” You stopped yourself, feeling a little pathetic at not being able to formulate the proper words. 

“My path was never exactly clear, but,” Father Sylus swallowed thickly, sounding more scared than ever. “Someone I loved when I was younger - she -” A long sigh escaped his lips. “We were each other's firsts and…We loved each other very much.” He exhaled again. His face creased into sadness, reminiscent and haunting. A sharp pain, almost. One that lingered from emotions held within. The truth was there, plain as day, naked, heartbroken, and fragile. “She died when she was eighteen.” 

Pain squeezed at you mercilessly, tight and almost bone-crunching. You stepped closer, your brain slowly putting it all together, realization hitting. Then your bottom lip trembles as you reach out, taking hold of his hand and squeezing it. “I’m sorry,” you manage to say after a moment, “that must have been -” Another pause, trying to settle your lungs into a steadier breathing pattern. 

He squeezed your hand, looking at you, catching your gaze and holding it, unwavering. “I went to her funeral in a church far bigger than this one with twice the congregation. And later that day, when they put her down into the ground, I listened to the Monsignor pray over her soul.” He looked away again, this time up at the beams in the ceiling. “And I really listened to what he was saying for the first time. And I don’t know why, I just suddenly felt…” He trailed off, and you moved your hand further up his arm, willing him to continue by pressing your fingertips gently into his forearm. 

He smiled at the ceiling, faint and apologetic. “I felt at peace. Everything clicked into place. As stupid as that sounds. It was like something I couldn’t understand but needed. And, well,” he shrugged. 

“At last, it finally made sense to me,” he muttered. “The power God holds over us was always right there.” Then he turned to face you, his fingers reaching and resting on your cheek, tracing the soft skin of your jaw. “And now, I stand before you - finding these feelings again, the first true connection I’ve felt in years. I don’t mean to doubt anything…but I don’t know how to...” 

He let his voice drift off before tucking your hair behind your ear, movements tender. You wondered what he could see in your expression. 

“How did she die?” You asked quietly as if the question would destroy something in the air, but you needed to ask it anyway. 

The corners of his mouth trembled as he stroked his thumb along your jawline, offering you a small, grim smile. “She was mad at something, drank herself sick. Decided a joy ride on a motorcycle might be a good idea,” he turned his gaze to the ceiling again, and it finally hit you that he kept doing that as a trick to keep himself from crying. “She lost control and swerved, hit a wall head-on. Died on impact. Stupid girl with the dumbest ideas. She used to talk about seeing if the world curved or if the stars continued forever. She was funny and smart - but not as smart as she should have been. Her blood alcohol level came back three times the legal limit.” 

“That’s horrible,” you breathed. The puzzle pieces were assembled together. A crash. Drunk. How similar it was to your mother. Only your mother hadn’t met death head-on. It was still one of those things that made you wonder; which would have been worse? The chance was so similar yet unique. Still, as Father Sylus spoke about it, you swore you felt the faint sorrow he must still carry within himself.

“Sylus, I’m -” 

“Don’t be sorry.” He said, finally regaining a certain poise about his face, somehow managing to look warm even at this moment, smiling very softly. 

At his words, you realized you were breathing harder than before, and it didn’t go unnoticed as he scanned your face. You didn’t know what was wrong with you; you felt an emotion you could no longer explain. He had experienced loss, same as you, just not in the same way. 

Father Sylus let out a dry snort. “It’s not a happy memory, but something good comes from pain. Distrust to trust. Fear to courage. Hatred to love. To an extent, those things make you understand and appreciate everything.” 

You nodded, unable to stop yourself from wrapping your arms around his middle, convincing yourself you would forget how to breathe if you didn’t. You embraced him because it felt like the right thing to do, the smoothness of his shirt beneath your fingertips. His hand ran up along your side until it rested on your neck's base, soft, gentle, and warm. He exhaled a little before resting his chin on the top of your head. 

As he held you, you realized that this was what you had wanted. This was what you had really been aching for. Everything shifted again, changing, rushing with a tangle of nerves and dizziness. Nothing else would settle more easily than being cradled right there, where you could breathe him in. 

“Hey, do you -” He leaned back, both hands cupping your face, tilting it to meet his own. It took him a moment to formulate his question. “I shouldn’t ask, but - do you still want me?” 

Of course you did. More than anything. 

But even then, you should have stepped away. Should have walked out without another word, back to whatever fucking regular life you thought you had. But with whatever strength you had left, you pushed everything aside and quietly said, “Yes.” 

He had pressed you against the wooden door of the office, pinning you in place after dragging you in there and shutting the door. Not that you really had any intention of going anywhere. Not with his lips moving against yours, the desperation sending sparks along your skin.  His tongue darted out, parting your lips and moving into your mouth. Hungry and forceful and tasting every inch.

“You know,” he said as he pulled back, taking a second to breathe, “It’s so hard to be good when you’re so…” He trailed off, leaving you to only imagine what he would say. 

No, you had no words or any logical thoughts, really. Perhaps this was the closest thing to heaven you’d ever feel, surely. And Father Sylus ran his hands down your sides, slow and possessive, grabbing fistfuls of your sweater and bunching it up. Heat began spreading throughout your body as his fingertips crept underneath and stoked along the sensitive skin. 

“Will you let me in?” He mumbled, his lips now on the underside of your jaw as his palms spanned across your stomach as if trying to map out every inch of exposed skin. The blood pounded in your veins, pulsing in rhythm with your heartbeat.

“If this is what it feels like to be tempted,” you mused, gasping as he sucked on the skin above your collarbone, gripping the front of his shirt. “I have already failed. Miserably.” 

Letting out a hot breath that sounded an awful lot like laughter, he pulled away, a smile stretching across his lips, amused. “I suppose you really have,” he chuckled. His hands gripped your hips and spun you around so you were against his desk. Then he ducked down to press more kisses along your throat. The shivers returned as he lifted your sweater over your head, tossing it aside with another wicked grin. And for the first time, you noticed the hint of a dimple in the corner of his mouth. 

After a moment, Father Sylus fumbled with the buttons of his shirt until that, too, was discarded, skin suddenly bare. The sight made you stop, observing for a moment. For the first time, your fingers reached out and touched the skin of his chest, moving over the muscles and across his stomach. You marveled at the way he flinched slightly, inhaling sharply at your touch. 

Everything felt…hot, heavy, and inappropriate in the best way. 

And before you knew it, his hands were running up along the bare skin of your stomach, a barely-there brush that made your breath hitch. Then his hands were behind your back, unhooking your bra as his lips found yours again, rough and fervent. As it was removed, there was not a second of delay before his hands cupped both of your breasts, squeezing and drawing his thumbs over your nipples. 

“You’re so beautiful,” his hands shifted, fingers resting along the waistband of your jeans. 

It was like every little action was becoming overwhelming, sending pulsing waves through every nerve, vein, and muscle. When he popped the button, slid the zipper, and slowly eased the jeans down, the pulsing only got stronger—dizzying with its intensity. It was challenging to focus on anything else that would make more sense. Your mind was clouded. 

“Wait,” you breathed, sitting on the desk, pulling the clip from your hair and tossing it to the floor, the waves tumbling out. His hands never left you, still roaming over every little centimeter of you they could get access to, “I -” 

It didn’t need to be said, whatever it was. Because a grin broke out across his lips. A bright, glorious grin as Father Sylus pressed another harsh kiss to your lips like he could swallow the words down.

Stepping closer, he maneuvered you onto your back, your legs dangling over the edge of the desk. The smooth, cool wood pressed against the length of your spine and shoulders as you heard something that sounded like a book fall somewhere behind you. He gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, blunt nails digging in. Breath hitching, your heart thumped at the roughness and passion of his movements. Something animalistic and unrestrained lay just beneath the surface, waiting, ready. 

“Let me,” he urged quietly, fingers winding over the lace underwear, dragging them down the length of your legs. Fingers stroked up again, curling and caressing your inner thighs, one hand finally reaching the place where you were already desperate, soaking wet, and aching to be touched. Without hesitation, a digit dipped, sliding along your slick folds and slipping in easily. The motion made you bite down on your tongue as his other hand ran along the underside of your knee, urging your leg up and apart. 

You felt the pad of his thumb gliding over the little bundle of nerves, back and forth in a way that made you groan. 

“You are,” his voice was low, almost a growl, and his teasing continued. “So gorgeous, laying there. I can’t stop looking at you.” One finger became two. Slick and hot as they moved into you, each stroke moving deeper. All too suddenly, his lips were crashing down against yours, kissing you hard and desperately as if set on devouring you whole. 

The only thing keeping you stable was grabbing his shoulder and his upper arm. The sudden rise of pressure rushed around you. His thumb slipped, pressing down a bit more on your clit, drawing another gasp from you, a sound that filled the room. Then he pulled his hand away, an invisible weight settling when the digits were gone, leaving you empty and still aching for more. 

“I’m on birth control,” you managed, eyes blinking rapidly as you processed that this, in fact, was actually about to happen. The fullness beneath your belly was spooling tighter, coiling. 

It was only a few seconds; that’s all it took for him to undo his belt buckle, his length freed. Straining, leaking, begging to be inside you. The size of it makes you swallow a certain anxious lump in your throat. 

“Please.” The word spilled out before you could stop it. The coil inside you grew more and more tense and throbbing. You needed it now; the consequences didn’t matter, nor did the guilt or shame. “Please.”

His breathing hitched as if a long controlled flame within had been ignited. One of his hands rested on your hip, the other hooking under your opposite knee, parting you further and steadying himself. The tip of his cock pressed at your center. You didn’t have any time to prepare because, at that very moment, he was pushing further, sliding into you inch by inch. 

The heat and fullness and pleasure coursed, trembling through you. 

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, face buried in the crook of your neck, but you could hear the grin in his tone, the soft desperation in his voice. “You, you -” but his breath choked off as he pushed all the way inside, the moan that ripped through him cracked and hoarse. 

It took you a moment to feel him fully, gasping for air and dazed beyond what was really necessary. Holding tight, you wrapped an arm around his neck, exhaling hard. The room became a haze around the two of you, the entire moment almost suspended, paused, put on hold. 

When he moved his hips again, you whimpered as he hit somewhere deep, and your pleasure spiked. 

“Fuck,” he whispered against your skin, raising himself just enough to look at you, eyes glinting with a certain fervor. A little dark, a little feral, something wildly possessive and hungry and yearning all at once. “Oh, fuck,” he hissed, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes. Another jolt shot through you. Another strong thrust, this one harder than the last, followed by another. And another. It took a minute for him to set a rhythm, but when he did - you were sure the air was being pushed from your lungs each time. 

You couldn’t do anything but hang on. His mouth met yours in a sloppy, forceful kiss. Gasping and shuddering, you tried not to shout at the next jolt. The constant grind fills you every time. Deeper and sharper. The steady, thrumming pleasure. Intense and focused, as if Father Sylus were on a mission. Searching for something. Finding each sweet spot with whatever desperate greed drove him. Like now that he’d had the taste of something forbidden, he wanted the best of it - anything you could offer. 

He shifted slightly, and before you knew it, he hooked your leg over his shoulder, the deep angle making you arch from the desk. 

One hand tangled in his hair, the other on his shoulder, gripping hard and pulling him closer, trying to keep him buried deep inside of you. The friction built, the pace driving forward and drawing the pressure up, leaving you malleable and aching for release. But somehow, wanting it to last as long as possible. 

When the pleasure spooled tighter and tighter, every breath came short, coming fast and shorter. Until finally with one long, breathy whimper of an exhale, release washed over you, crashing like a wave. His name slipped out of your mouth, some deep, instinctual part of your brain keeping you present enough to utter it, still pulsing around him, shaking. 

And that brought him there, a little broken sound falling from his lips. Hips snapping, driving just the slightest bit further until he groaned into the side of your neck, spilling inside you. After a moment, the stillness settled between the two of you, heavy and thick. There was no actual sound other than ragged breathing. 

You stared at the ceiling, trembling and a bit boneless, wholly dumbfounded and satisfied. Then, with every ounce of energy left, you sat up, placing a hand on his chest.

“You okay?” 

A rush flooded through you at his question, and you struggled to make sense - to be logical and reasonable. 

“Yeah,” you said quickly, “I just. I…” What was the right wording? You trailed off, eyes focused somewhere beyond him. Struggling, you kept your eyes away. How could you possibly articulate the warmth that had settled over you, the lift in your confusion that had been gnawing at you until this moment? How could you explain feelings that make no real sense? 

“I feel at peace.” A near whisper because your words made it tangible, whatever it was. And really, you did feel lighter. It was as if something weighing on your shoulders had lifted in a way that wasn’t just because of the act that had been performed. 

“Really?” A sharp inhale of his breath. 

You nodded, reaching out to hold his face and running your thumbs along his cheekbones. Father Sylus slowly returned the nod, a tentative but wonderful, hopeful smile quirking up his lips—something bright and genuine, untouched by bitterness or remorse.

Serenity had sunken in with a comforting familiarity. Settling inside, like the feeling of returning home. Like the truth had opened its door. Acceptance and serenity. Understanding. Clarity, even. The knowledge you weren’t as broken or faulty as you thought. 

A moment passed, no words spoken. Then, still breathless and maybe a bit disbelieving, Father Sylus reached out and traced a cross on your brow with his thumb. 

“Did you just -” You blinked, a bit indignant as you huffed. “Did you just…bless me?”

He looked a bit sheepish, hands resting on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing gentle circles along your collarbone. “Guess I did.” With a slight chuckle, he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

Tag list: @celestialforce, @readerxyourbabe, @babyx91

[stucky-just-stucky]

One time Laura shot him in the head because gabby thought it would be a good idea to play "pretend zombie" and Wade didnt put two and two togerher that acting 'feral' as Logan calls it, outside with gabby would be a bad idea.

no okay bc like the fact that laura did that. the fact that if wade went feral, and even if she thinks she wouldn't know what to do, she'd have to and she will shoot wade. AND LIKE ALL THE EMOTIONS THAT COME WITH THAT. THE GUILT BUT KNOWING THAT IT HAS TO BE HER TO DO IT. TO /NOT/ GIVE GABBY THAT RESPONSIBILITY. AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

imagine laura had to shoot wade before logan knew that he'd come back alive in a while. when wade passed out, 'dead' body unmoving, do you think laura just stood there? body frozen in shock because she cant believe that she just did that? imagine gabby on the floor next to wade, bawling. and when logan comes back from his supply run and finally process what he's seeing right now, the GRIEF from thinking that wades dead. but also the GUILT of not being there to kill him and having to pass that weight to laura. the GREEDY SHAME for the SPLIT second of THANKING god because he didn't have to do it, because he wouldn't know what to do with himself if wade went feral.

and like THE WALKING DEAD AAAAAAAHHHHH!!! for context, carl (the boy) had to kill his mom because she turned into a zombie and rick (his dad) wasnt there to do it. he was just a boy god. and lauras just a girl, not much older than I am. because I personally wouldn't know what to do if my dad turned into a feral zombie and I had to kill him

There is infact some drift between laura and wade but neither of them mean it. Really they dont. If gabs is put of the picture Laura still smiles and talks to him but its like the moment gabby is near him Laura goes full protection mode and over reacts.

NO WAIT BC LIKE WADE UNDERSTANDS AND IS SOOOOO SOOOO FOND OF LAURA'S PROTECTIVE INSTINCTS. HE IS /SO/ PROUD OF HIS GIRL FOR BEING /SUCH/ A GOOD OLDER SISTER. IT MAY BE HARD TO RECOGNIZE BUT THE LOOK IN THOSE ZOMBIE EYES IS THE LOOK OF A PROUD PARENT AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

I dont CARE that it's November 9th and "Halloweens over" ITS MY BIRTHDAY MONTH ILL POST IF I WANT TOO

Anyway.

Thinking about apocolpse au.

Wade getting bitten by a zombie, Logan freaking out, Wade dying, and him coming back (Again)

"Didn't you just die?? I literally fucking burried you!!"

And wades like:

"Of course. Man, God REALLY hates you dosn't he?"

And he's bassically the same person except just saying, "Rahhah har ran re" (translation: I think the devil doesn't want me either)

"What?? Oh for fucks sake... tell me you're kidding.."

"Rah?" 🤔

"Great so now you stink more and you can't talk. Fucking lovely."

"Mmmmh..." 🥺 (would you still love me if I was a zombie?)

"*sighs, blushes and grumbles how insane this is and how much of a bad idea this is* Fine! Come on...."

"Raah!!" 😄

And sometimes his limbs fall off because I think it would be funny if you just saw him stop, turn around, pick up his arm and shove it back into place like a dislocated shoulder. (Marvel Magic)

But its very obvious that Wade is still consious and so logan leads him around, puts a leash on him, ties him up when he goes to sleep the first few nights so wade dosn't eat him, sometimes luring him with a piece of his thigh or telling him he'll feed him soon to make him behave.

The only thing about this resource wise is that it seems Wade is a bottomless pit, not ever able to get enough. It's like all the nutrients just pass right through him, so he can't get fed meals daily, but Logan will share at least one bite of his food. It makes Wade so happy and way more "wade like" than zombie.

Logan has learned that the hungrier Wade gets the worse it would be, snapping at logan a few times.

"Grr-"

"Aye! That's enough outta ya"

"GggRah!"

"Hey!! I said no! Bad! Bad wade!"

"Mmmh??"

"Bad!!"

"Mmh....rahah.."

"I forgive you. But stop trying to bite me. I feed you, don't I? I hold your hand and tell you that I love you?"

Wade is actually extremely friendly for a zombie (duh) and still yaps at logan except its nonsense. Logan tries hard to understand him and talk back.

He holds his hand sometimes, even lays next to him only to scold him if he gets too bitey. This is hard because wade already had a biting issue and seeing as he practically ate anything or anybody now it was more difficult.

"...aahh-"

"Wade- No."

"Ggr.. raahh"

"Wade! No! Bad."

"Mmmh..."

"Ill feed you tomarrow. Don't bite me mkay? You wanna hurt me?"

He shakes his head like a dog shaking off from a bath, or that ate a bee.

"Then don't bite me."

"Mmh? Mrah?"

"No. No kisses right now. Im still not even sure if thats safe.."

"Mmmh...🥺 ahrrah?"

"No, not even a tiny one."

"Mm...😔"

Until Logan grunts and pecks his hand. "There. Happy?"

"🙂‍↕️mh"

"Good."

Honestly Logan felt bad, pitited him. No matter what food he ate it wasnt enough substance to sustain him and sometimes Logan would wake up to find him eating a different zombie that made the mistake of trying to eat Logan.

You ever wake up in the morning, lose your zombie boyfriend, call for him only to walk outside and see him knawing on some poor chaps arm like a happy puppy who found a chicken leg? Logan has. Many times. And he wishes his phone would charge so he could take a picture of it but unfortunately theres no electricity in the post apocalypse world.

This being said Logan is like- THE perfect guy for apocalypse au because he can smell everything and hear anyone before they even get to you, he has better wilderness survival skills then anyone I know and he'll never NOT have a weapon on him because of his claws. The only downside is that he's tired easily, needs a lot of food, and would lowkey be withdrawing from his tabccao and alchool, therefore very moody.

"Stupid fucking apocalypse having to happen when im fucking alive!! Why can't I just NOT live through ONE major historical event! Is that too fucking much to ask? One damn decade where everything is fine and dandy and- WADE! Get your ass away from that!! It's radioactive!! For fucks sake!"

"Rahahrah?"

"NO!! You can not become Spiderman! That's not how that works!"

"Aawr..😔"

The whole thing is they're on a quest to find Laura and Gabby, because when everything went to shit, they were on a cabin trip and now Logans brain is itching because he dosn't know where his babies are and its driving him insane. Once he finds them, they're gonna shack up somewhere with food and animals to hunt, and hes gonna make a little shed outside for Wade to sleep because he'll kill him if he bites one of the girls.

He dosnt care that much about himself really and he hates himself deep down for not being able to trust wade anymore but even wade dosnt trust wade, sometimes wandering off on purpose, staying about 30 feet away from him at all times, growling and giving Logan that glazed over look of unconsiousness. The only good thing about this, though, is after he removes himself from the idea of hurting Logan (because if logaj were to become infected - HA! Your all fucked. Utterly fucked. The whole humanoid species would go extinct because he'd kill anything that moved) he feels more trusting of him and it's not uncommon for them to hug after either. Afterall Wade- Some how???- is still wade and is very affectionate and sensitive when its not returned.

This whole thing also makes him think worse about himself, kicking reflective objects or staring at himself in a shop window in utter shock and disgust with a face of 'thats me..?' While logans raiding the place for supplies.

Did you know zombies can cry? Well, Wade could. Not a lot, only able to get a bit of liquid from dehydration, but sometimes Logan will catch him just... sitting there.. crying. Upset with himself for being bit. Upset with himself for trying to bite logan all the time. Upset at how ugly he is. Upset that he's starving all the time. Upset that he can't even talk to anyone, and Logan just has to guess what he's saying 90% of the time. Bro is literally

When they DO find Laura and Gabby, the girls are doing great. Laura was going to blow wades head off until Gabby ran in the shot, hugging him instantly, only to be ripped away.

"Of course my dad is the weirdo married to a zombie." Laura grunts, but is secrelty happy that wade is still 'alive'

Gabby, being as young as she is, thinks it's so SICK that her dad is a zombie now, giggling when he talks to her and holding his hand. She's not allowed near him for long, and not at all by herself, but Gabby bassically becomes Wades number one supporter, defending him when he messes up and snaps at laura.

"He's just hungry!! He's not bad! It's not bad to be hungry!" She'll say. "You wouldn't kill me if I was hungry.." she tells her bigger, more survival oriented sister whos suggested putting wade out of his misery, for his own sake. "I tried that... he found me again 3 days later." Logan tells her with a pang in his chest. It had taken everything in him to kill him the first time, and sobbed himself to sleep the next 2 days. By the third when he noticed Wade following him from a distance he couldn't believe it.

Not even the apocalypse could keep them away from each other..

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette gulped down the last bit of liquid in her cup, slamming it down on the table as she let out a long, steady breath. "Okay, I'm ready for my lessons!"

Then, blushing when she noticed that the cup made a louder sound than intended, she raised it up and gently set it back down again. It wasn't glass or ceramic, thankfully.

Luka chuckled, taking his time with his own drink but delighted by the enthusiasm. Leaning calmly against the couch, he asked, "Do you want to get the guitar? It's under my bed."

She nodded, pushing off her seat in what was almost a bounce as she headed into the Couffaine siblings' room. In the back of her mind, she thought it was odd to put his guitar there when he usually played it all the time, but perhaps she couldn't understand his thought process when he was in "music instructor" mode. She supposed it could've been like a ritual to get her in the right mood by having her take the guitar out of herself, or he had so many guitars that he'd started reserving the one she practiced with only for music lessons.

The worst case scenario was that her bad luck had rubbed off on his poor guitar and it had to be sealed away so as to not affect the others. Alternatively, what if she was such a bad player that she'd ruined the poor instrument and Luka had to hide it away in shame until their lessons?

However, when she crouched down and pulled out the drawer under his bed, she saw not his guitar, but something large, rectangular, and encased in wrapping paper that was bright pink with white flowers. She stayed there for a solid few seconds, stunned, then gave it a poke just to make sure it was really there.

She heard a set of footsteps off to the side and looked up to see Luka, leaning against the doorframe with his cup in hand. He said nothing, taking a small sip and looking at her with an expectant smile.

Marinette's heart skipped a beat at the implications. She stared at the object - the gift - in disbelief, muttering more to herself than him, "For me...?"

Slowly, she reached inside the drawer, slipping her fingers under each side of the present. Standing up carefully, she lifted it, only briefly thrown off by the weight distribution. She had expected it to weigh the same on both sides, but it remained heavier on one of them.

"It's really big," she said a little anxiously. "You didn't break the bank, did you? I know you have a job, but..."

He took another sip instead of answering. Whatever her concerns were, he didn't share them.

Setting the gift down on the bed, she hesitated, then picked it up again to turn it upside-down. There, she saw the edge of the wrapping paper and slipped her hand underneath, moving it from one side to the other and carefully peeling the tape as she went. It would be easier to tear the wrapping paper to pieces, but she didn't want to leave a mess of torn bits on Luka's bed, even if she knew he wouldn't have cared.

With all tape removed, she undid and spread the wrapping paper fully out, revealing a pure white box underneath. She flipped it around again so she could grab the top, then held her breath and pulled it off in one motion.

Said breath promptly left her as she saw the contents: a gorgeous pink guitar that she had never seen before. She dropped the box's top to the floor in shock and touched the instrument all over, plucking the strings, turning the tuning pegs, and running her hand along the curves. Most notable of all was what she was certain was her flower pattern adorning the front, but it didn't feel like a sticker that had been merely slapped onto it.

This was her guitar, she realized. She'd initially wondered if claiming there was a guitar under his bed was just the pretext for giving her a gift, but it was the real deal; there was a guitar under his bed, and it was a gift for her.

"It's—Luka, it's—I mean, wow—" She winced at herself, finding it hard to say anything coherent when she was getting all choked up. "I-it's beautiful. It must've cost you a fortune."

"I didn't buy it," he told her, then added playfully, "I didn't steal it either."

She looked back and forth between him and the guitar, mind racing to catch up with that information. He joked around sometimes, so she could've interpreted that someone else bought it for him and he paid them back, meaning he wasn't technically lying, but she knew that wasn't the case, which meant...

"You—you made it?" She pulled away and put a hand to her mouth. "I didn't even know you made instruments!"

"I didn't." He tipped his cup to his lips, drinking the last bit of liquid, then smiled warmly at her. "Not until now."

The implication hit her like a—well, she would've liked to think 'truck,' but that had already happened with the revelation that he'd made her an entire guitar. Her mind was spinning too much to try and come up with a proper metaphor, like having a plane dropped onto her after she got hit by the truck, or a steady stream of trucks all running her over in succession.

"It's my first one," Luka confirmed, eyes soft as he gazed upon it with her. "I've practiced before and made smaller stuff, but this is the real deal. I did the best that I could and I know it's not perfect—"

He kept talking, but it was hard to listen to such utter nonsense. Sure, she wasn't an expert on guitars or anything, but not perfect?! It was the sweetest, most thoughtful gift she'd ever received! As a creative force herself, she knew what it meant to make something from one's own passion and give it to someone else; it was like giving a piece of yourself to them.

Her eyes scanned the guitar up and down, no longer feeling worthy of touching it. She felt like she should hang it on a wall somewhere, but it would fall and break into pieces considering how things usually went for her. Sealing it away in an unbreakable box with ten locks would be best to preserve it, where she could open it occasionally to admire but never touch it.

"...It's really for me?"

She was in such a state of awe that even Luka started showing a bit of shyness, blushing faintly and averting his gaze. "You earned it after everything you put into our lessons."

Her face scrunched up, eyes narrowed at him in healthy skepticism as she gestured at his work. "You mean all the times I hurt your ears with how bad I was?"

He shook his head. "I wasn't perfect when I picked up a guitar my first time either, and you did everything right. You listened, you learned, and you followed whatever I did."

He said it as though it truly meant something to him when she hadn't seen it as any big deal. He was an amazing teacher, so it was easy to pay attention while he talked, to copy the movements he'd make with his deft fingers, and remember the positions he'd show her by guiding her hands with his own.

It wasn't just a reward for all of her efforts, but a gift from someone who kept surprising her with how much effort he put towards her. If she imagined her relationships with people like the cup in Luka's hand, she'd given each person she knew a cup of a particular size and they'd pour in what they were willing to put forth to her.

He was the only one who continuously caused his respective cup to overflow, and she teared up at the thought of him.

Luka frowned, leaving his place by the doorframe to stand at her side. "Marinette... if it's too much—"

She grabbed the lapel of his jacket and he shut his mouth, staring confusedly at her hand there. He was taller than her, so she had to pull him down somewhat and get on her tiptoes to kiss him.

It was featherlight, barely lasting a split second, but she heard the clatter of his cup against the floor nonetheless. She blushed faintly, dusting off the lapel like she'd left dirt on it and dropping her gaze.

Clearing her throat, she asked, "Um, is our next lesson about putting our feelings into music? I could—ah—really use it."

She had too much energy bundled up inside, yet no urge to move away. She shifted on her feet, tracing the toe of her shoe against the lines on the floor as she waited for some form of reaction.

When she saw Luka's own shoes come towards her, her heart skipped a beat. Fingertips brushed her bangs aside and she looked up just in time to see his toothy grin before he planted a small kiss on her forehead.

"Me too," he agreed, looking extremely self-satisfied as he pulled back. "Maybe you can give me some lessons when we're done."

She tilted her head while he walked off as coolly as always, though she noted that he completely forgot about the cup on the floor. She bent down to pick it up and put her other hand to her forehead, wondering what he meant since he certainly didn't need any lessons on music from her.

Her eyes flicked to the cup, eyeing the rim where Luka had been drinking from. Realization struck a second later, the hand on her forehead dropping to her mouth instead.

Oh.

[ladyiristheenchantress]

Spotting Witches with Bad Intentions

This post is not going to be a call out post, its not even going to be a witch hunt, instead this post is aimed towards beginners who may be getting into the community, looking for mentors, and dont know how to spot bad apples yet, so lets take a look!

What am I talking about?

When it comes to magic or spirituality when you enter a new community you are being exposed to new practices, voices, opinions, and more. It can be really hard to navigate what everyone is saying, and sometimes we can accidentally fall into the wrong groups because we just lack the knowledge to spot when someone is being shady or has ulterior motives.

Accidents Happen

So, before going into how to spot bad actors we need to look at accidents. Sometimes we join a community and the person has genuinely good intentions but are accidentally contributing to stigma.

A big example of this would be creators on a short form content sites, you can make a spell, but its very hard to explain it within 15 seconds of content and a lot of people wont follow up with the reason behind something. Sometimes you get creators that follow a format, or push beliefs without really understanding why (for example "rosemary is a universal herb").

Another accident could be when you just meet someone so set in their ways, its very hard for them to see other perspectives. You can still listen to their people, see how they argue against push back, and learn something, the problem is sometimes this group has trouble taking accountability, correcting information, and that is a good thing to note.

Finally another big accident I tend to see is within heated spaces, you can learn a lot from debate, however you need to identify what platform you are on, the type of information being provided, and play devils advocate. Not only does it make you a stronger thinker, but it helps you figure out where you stand on hot topics.

These are just some accidents out of many, and I will be going into how to spot when someone is being accidentally bad faith, but the biggest thing to remember is to keep your peace. Sometimes youll meet people eager to help and accidentally spread mis-information, sometimes youll meet a mentor that is so deep in their path that they cant help you with other topics, whats important is that you process the information and fact check it and learn how to make your own opinions.

With that being said lets move onto what a 'bad actor' is

What are 'Bad Actors'?

A 'Bad Actor' is someone in a witchy or spiritual community that has bad intentions for you or someone's practice. They seek to gain something from you, whether its money, fame, followers, or even information, these people are looking to use you for a goal.

Bad actors come in all forms, whether its predatory media companies, stars on tic tok, or even one-on-one mentors, and it can be very easy to be swept up in abusive situations. These groups exist in many many forms so lets get into some examples.

What are some examples?

In all of these examples I will be getting into how to spot the good, bad, and dirty. These are not all the examples, but pretty close haha

Bigotry - This one is self-explanatory, you know you found a bad actor if their ideologies aim to harm people directly. Concepts like racism, homophobia, sexism, do not belong in our community.

Tic Tok as a tool - Something I see a lot is that tic tok can be full of bad actors who are looking to make money with your view. Whether its 'rage bait' saying someone isn't practicing right, or chasing clout by making up a hex, tic tok is filled with mis-information that can be hard to separate from genuine people. The issue with short form content is that its so short, your not getting really deep information and its hard to cite sources. (common on tic tok, instagram reels, and short form content)

Liars and Mis-information - Often times this section gets mixed up with people who genuinely are un-informed, so you may hear lies like 'you can only be a woman to be a witch' or 'you cant buy your own tarot deck, it must be gifted to you' and what's important to know is that bad actors and genuine people react different to these kind of mistakes. (Common on reddit, amino, and tumblr, mainly forum based sites)

"elder" Baiting - This is the concept of people who either purposefully play up their 'years of experience' to create a false image of themselves, or it can be people who act as if they have really complex and deep information and the only way to access it is to follow in their foot steps. (Common on tic tok, discord, and chat sites)

"Hero" Baiting - This is the concept of people who feel the need to 'fix' someone or something. They feel this need to help you on your practice, but they end up micro managing your craft and spoon feed you answers so you never learn the skills you need to think for yourself. Often time this group then leaves you when they are done molding you into what they want you to be. (Common on discord, Instagram, and twitter)

"Mentor" Baiting - This is when someone claims to be a mentor and either only teachers their way of thinking and doesn't encourage research, or becomes hostile when they advertise being a mentor so people ask questions. This group tends not actually teach anything, and instead uses people as an ego boost and for credibility. (Common on every platform)

Fear Mongers - This group of people starts rumors or spreads mis-information to create terror, chaos, and sometimes even profit off of it. A big example is when a group of trolls spread the idea they hexed a god, and then broke off and created fake stories about 'that god being mad and affected by the hex' causing beginners to panic while profiting off the videos. This group tries to spread as much as possible, as far as they can. (Common on every platform)

Cult Leaders - This is both literal, and figurative, but it represents a group of people that are preaching an ideal, and create an echo chamber of supporters to gain credibility. It is VERY important to research genuine spiritual cult movements, and also keep an eye out for spaces that seem to follow cult flags like restricting information (more on that below, common on discord, reddit, and forum spaces)

'Holier than Thou' - This is actually a complex, people who have a holier than thou complex are people that see themselves as so wise and great that they will gatekeep information, talk down to you, and give bad information because they cannot fathom that they are equal to all of us. They believe they have some divine knowledge or journey only they are on, so they talk down to others. (common on every platform)

Scammers - This is an easy one, this is your pushy tarot readers trying to steal from you, these are people that are trying to get you to take a class for sacred information that's really just on Wikipedia, these are groups try to take advantage of naivety and usually money is the goal (Common on every platform)

Religious Gatekeepers - These are groups that take an open concept but try to gate keep it, for example we saw this happen with tarot in 2020 where a group tried to argue its closed before the community came forward and said it wasn't. Their goal is to gain attention, money from post interaction, and spread mis-information. (Common on discord, reddit, and forum based platforms)

Bad Faith Activists - These are 'activists' similar to gatekeepers, who aim to be a super loud and controversial activist so that way they can gain attention and a following. Often times they use clickbait statements, don't give information till the very very end of a video, and tend to be performative online. (common on Instagram, Facebook, and tic tok)

Echo Chambers - These are spaces where everyone thinks so alike that new ideas are rarely introduced. Mainly you see a lot of dog-piling, shared sources, and empowered takes on things because no one is there to disagree or add research. (Common on forum based platforms and chat platforms)

How can I spot it?

In relation to accidents: A lot of what we just went over can happen to innocent people, beginners can take on a holier than thou complex, elders can accidentally create echo chambers, whats important is how they react to correction. People who are genuine tend to adjust or explain their behavior and are willing to hear you out, they open the door to communication, and are willing to house a discussion. Sometimes people spread mis-information on accident because something is just so repeated its hard not to believe it. Whats important is we give the benefit of the doubt to people when we first interact with others, and watch out for the warning signs. In relation to true bad actors: Some common traits exist when it comes to bad actors, its

Aggression or passive aggression

Cannot admit fault when corrected on something

Weasels out of conversations

Refuse to house certain discussions unreasonably (no danger present in the topic)

dogpiles people asking questions

Presents themselves in a position of total authority with little to back up their claims

Tries to back you into a corner for money or information

Bullies or is belligerent towards you

Talks down to you

Will discuss a concept, but when asked questions, aggressively tells you to 'just research'

Cant backup claims with specific sources, or wont identify Unverified Personal Genosis

Another big thing we have to discuss is cult behavior, especially when it comes to spaces like discord where a server owner can easily create echo chambers, its important to identify these common traits

Absolute Authority without accountability

Zero Tolerance for criticism or questions

Hiding financial topics (i.e hiding the price of a reading and trying to force you to pay whatever price they set AFTER the reading, pressuring you to join a group for a small fee, not telling you where money is going in an organization)

Creating fears about the real world which turn into conspiracies or witch hunts

A belief that people who left the group are evil or wrong, and not being able to fathom why someone would leave a group

Abuse of members, this can occur even on discord via verbal abuse, doxxing, threats, blackmail, and much much more

Records, books, articles, hashtags, documenting abusive traits of the leaders

Members feeling like they arent 'good enough' or cant live up to standards set by the group

Belief that the leader is right 100% of the time

A belief that the leader has a divine truth and seeking validation from them

Lets remember guys that Anyone can fall victim to a cult, they are very good at what they do, and they do exist in magical spaces even on social media. Its very important that you remember these people arent 'stupid' but they are victims of manipulation and it is our job to support them.

For more information click me

Finally remember BITE when looking out for cult spaces Behavior Control Information Control Thought Control Emotional Control Edit: Big thank you to the person who sent me this wonderful document, this is a model of common things that control groups use to indoctrinate people.

How can I research a claim or a person?

This is a wonderful question, here are some of my research tips and tricks, and I have made a couple posts about it before so lets take a look

Google names - This can be people, authors, organizations, servers, and this can tell you a lot about what people are saying, and if they are attempting to push an agenda.

Play Devils Advocate - When you see someone making a really bold claim, try to research things that would indicate the opposite. What demographics are on which side? Why is this happening?

Use the CRAAP test and other note taking strategies - When you see a claim its good to note it down, then do research on it at a later time and use test models to verify the credibility of the claim

Diversify your spaces - To get a good picture of what is going on, its good to check out vast communities to get a well rounded view of something, if you mainly stick to tic tok try branching out to chat spaces.

Sources Matter - If someone is saying something wild or out there, ask them where they got the information from. If they cant give you anything specific, then I would question if its coming from a source at all

Research is a nuanced thing, people research differently! Whats important is that you are comparing and contrasting things and forming your own opinions on a piece of media. Being well educated is a great tool and knowledge is power!

Final Notes

While this isnt perfect, and yes there are so many types of bad actors and traits, whats important is that we begin this conversation and start to help people identify who is looking to harm you. Its important to identify motives and keep yourself safe online! If anyone thinks of anything more to add feel free to drop it in my comments!

Fair winds my friends!

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