#only thing is why the fucking elephant

[steelyvamp]

new mario game looks kinda uncanny but hey they're trying something different so I can't complain too much

[your-17mom]

It’s canon guys. Severus is the mother of Draco 😂

I'm simply in love with this scene 🖤.

When Draco fell off his broom, Severus literally jumped out of his skin -just like the mama bear he is- but Lucius was just like "Huh, whose son is he? Definitely not mine."

[bootleg-nessie]

Rating band names based on their accuracy:

(I keep updating this list so check back later)

The Beatles: 3/10. None of these people are beetles, they’re just a bunch of fruity guys from Liverpool with matching haircuts

(Edit: changed from 0/10 to 3/10 because John Lennon beat his wife)

Pink Floyd: 4/10. There is not a single person named Floyd in the band, but some of the members do arguably look kinda pink

Nirvana: 10/10. Getting high and listening to Nirvana is roughly what I imagine actual nirvana to be like

Foo Fighters: either 0/10 or 10/10. I have never seen foo in real life so either they’re pretending to fight a problem that doesn’t exist or they’re doing an absolutely fantastic job of fighting it

The Eagles: 0/10. Same as the Beatles, there is not a single eagle in this band. The name is misleading and we have all been lied to

Queen: 6/10. Partial points for Freddie Mercury

Led Zeppelin: 0/10. I don’t think any of these guys have ever even seen a zeppelin, let alone one made of lead. A lead balloon would crash faster than my hopes and dreams

The Rolling Stones: 3/10. There is not a single stone in this band. Some points added because I’m pretty sure they rolled quite a few

U2: 0/10. Despite what the name says, I am not a member of this band

Metallica: 9/10. Naming a metal band “Metallica” is like naming your dog “doggy”

Red Hot Chili Peppers: 2/10. These guys are not chili peppers. They’re not even that hot, let alone red hot

Guns N’ Roses: 0/10. How the fuck could a gun or a flower play music

Backstreet Boys: ?/10. Depends entirely on their current given location

Simon and Garfunkel: 10/10. No notes

The Doors: 1/10. Jim Morrison is kinda shaped like a door tho

Chicago: 4/10. The number of people in this band does not come even remotely close to the population of Chicago. Points added because it originated in Chicago

Earth, wind, and fire: 2/10. This is even more innacurate than Chicago. Points added because wind instruments were often used

Def Leppard: 3/10. There is not a single leopard in this band. Some of the members are probably kinda deaf by now tho

The Beach Boys: ?/10. Accuracy depends entirely on location

The Black Eyed Peas: 6/10. Not sure what the hell an ‘eyed pea’ is but the black part is pretty accurate

Imagine Dragons: ?/10. Depends entirely on whether or not they’re thinking about dragons.

Cage the Elephant: 1/10. Why would you do that. Let the elephant go

Green Day: 0/10. They’re not even green

The Police: 0/10. There is not a single cop in this band

KISS: 5/10. I’m sure they probably kissed sometimes

The Monkees: 0/10. Are you fucking kidding me

We Butter the Bread with Butter: 8/10. I can’t verify this but I have no reason to suspect that they’d lie. Butter seems like the most logical thing to butter bread with

King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard: 0/10. I got really excited about the concept of a lizard wizard only to be let down. My disappointment is immeasurable

They Might Be Giants: 5/10. I googled everyone in this band’s height, the tallest guy’s only 6’1 so I wouldn’t exactly consider him a giant. Then again, I can’t really argue because the claim was only that they MIGHT be giants

The Presidents of the United States of America: 2/10. None of these people are Joe Biden nor are any of them former presidents. This is incredibly misleading. I’m pretty sure “Lump” was written about my first girlfriend tho so I’ll give them a point or two

Gorillaz: 2/10 Not quite but we’re kinda close genetically so I’ll give them partial credit

The Killers: ?/10. I have no way of verifying if they’ve actually killed before but the fact that they’re not in prison tells me probably not

The Offspring: 10/10. These guys are definitely somebody’s offspring

Arctic Monkeys: 1/10. They are neither monkeys nor are they from the arctic

Thirty Seconds to Mars: 1/10. It takes WAY longer to get to mars than that

Beastie Boys: 8/10. They’re pretty beast on the guitar

Jimmy Eat World: 1/10. Slow the fuck down Jimmy, you’re biting off way more than you can chew

Hole: 9/10. One point deducted because I’m pretty sure they had more than one hole

Rage Against the Machine: 10/10. They did exactly that

Alice In Chains: 0/10. This is illegal. Let Alice go

The Band: 10/10. This could not possibly be more accurate

Nine Inch Nails: 1/10. I can’t find any good pictures of their feet but from what I can tell their fingernails definitely aren’t nine inches long

Bush: ?/10. Not quite sure about this one, felt uncomfortable asking

The Who: 2/10. I’m not dealing with this “Who’s On First” bullshit

Radiohead: 0/10. Not a single person in this band has a radio for a head

Queens of the Stone Age: 0/10. This band should be called “five random dudes from the modern era” but FRDFTMA is a bit of a mouthful

Soundgarden: 2/10. Sound does not grow in the garden

Sonic Youth: 5/10. They’re not exactly youth anymore but the sonic part checks out

Talking heads: 8/10. There’s more to the band than just a bunch of disembodied heads but the heads do tend to talk

The Cranberries: 0/10. Decent music but I only added them so that the Beatles and Freddie Mercury weren’t the only fruits on this list

The Wiggles: 8/10. They do tend to wiggle a lot

Blue Man Group: 10/10. Yep!

Weezer: 5/10. They all look like they definitely have asthma

Limp Bizkit: 3/10. While the visual image of baked goods playing the guitar is hilarious, Fred durst is not a biscuit. Points added because he probably has erectile dysfunction

Stone Temple Pilots: 0/10. None of these people are accredited as being licensed to pilot anything, much less an entire stone temple. Stone temples don’t need pilots anyways

Wasted Youth: 8/10. I guess it really kinda depends on how you frame it but yeah, they probably wasted a lot of it

Them Crooked Vultures: 3/10. These are people and not birds but Dave Grohl’s posture is kinda bad and John Paul Jones is so old that his neck kinda looks like a vulture’s so I added some points

Audioslave: 0/10. Slavery is illegal

Traveling Wilburys: 4/10. Sure, they traveled a lot but not a single one of those lying bastards was named Wilbury

D12: 6/12. There were only 6 people in this band

NWA: 10/10. I’m a little too white to safely comment on this one but I’d say they nailed it

Jet: 1/10. A real jet would be way too loud

Goldfinger: 0/10. Not a single person in this band has a finger made out of gold

No Doubt: ?/10. I can’t really be too sure how Gwen Stefani felt but I think it’s probably a safe assumption that she had some doubts

The White Stripes: 3/10. I bet if you stripped them down naked and made them stand shoulder to shoulder and squinted really hard they’d probably look more like white stripes

Screaming trees: 3/10. They scream occasionally

Garbage: 2/10. I think they’re being a little harsh on themselves, their music isn’t THAT bad

Butthole Surfers: 5/10. Not even gonna touch this one

Megadeth: 3/10. To be fair, some of the former members are dead but only a little amount of death, not mega death

Dead Kennedys: 2/10. Last I checked Kennedy was still dead but neither he nor his clones are members of this band

Cake: 0/10. The cake is a lie

Cracker: 8/10. Most of them are

Tool: 7/10. I don’t know much about their music but they sure look like tools

Counting Crows: ?/10. Is this what emo kids do instead of counting sheep? Accuracy depends on whatever bird they happen to be counting at the moment

Dave Matthews Band: 10/10. It certainly is

Oasis: 1/10. Their music is the opposite of an oasis

Blur: 2/10. They are not that fast

Barenaked Ladies: 0/10. If I wanted to be this disappointed I’d reestablish a connection with my biological father instead

Meat Puppets: 10/10. Technically, aren’t we all?

Live: 8/10. Apparently they still do live shows but I deducted some points because I’ve only ever heard their music on Spotify

ABBA: 9/10. I’m still not giving any points to Guns N’ Roses but that’s mostly out of spite

5 Finger Death Punch: 8/10 I guess it probably depends on how hard you hit them but this seems to be the usual amount of fingers to punch somebody with

All American Rejects: 9/10. They’re all rejects from America so I don’t really see any issue with this

T. Rex: 0/10. Even if any of these people WAS a T. Rex I don’t think their arms would be long enough to play their instruments

Free: 0/10. Unless you steal their music, in which case it becomes a 10/10

The Strokes: 3/10. To my knowledge, none of them have had a stroke but I still added a few points because the name was probably accurate for other reasons

The Smashing Pumpkins ?/10. Another thing I have no way of verifying but this seems like a waste of perfectly good pumpkins

Therapy?: ?/10. The hell are they asking me for? I don’t know their medical history

Twenty One Pilots. 0/10. There’s only two of them and neither is a licensed pilot

Finger Eleven: 0/10. Leave the poor Stranger Things girl out of this

Fall Out Boy: 9/10. I conferred with an expert on this one who confirmed that they are in fact boys who had a falling out

Cream: 8/10. Considering this was the OG supergroup I’m sure a lot of people did in fact cream when their music came out

Edit: humans aren’t fucking monkeys. Stop saying we are

[melminli]

Love To Dream

summary - there was this one girl that thanos really wanted, though, she didn't really want to have anything to do with him. unfortunately, that made him want her even more.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: modern au, mention of drugs, enemies to lovers vibes ig, crack, yearning

a/n: i don't even know what this is tbh but I felt like we all deserved some laughs ;)

Life was good - life was really fucking good, Thanos thought to himself as he winked charmingly at a group of hot girls. They had been looking in his direction for a while now while giggling, clearly interested in him. He continued to watch them as he sipped his drink, music pumping through his veins like adrenaline. Thanos's eyes darkened as the girls continued to cast lustful glances in his direction - he knew he could easily get more than one of them into bed tonight and why wouldn't he? It hadn't been long since his last performance on stage, reminding everyone present once again of his legendary status in this club.

However, his attention was focused somewhere entirely else after the most breathtaking person ever decided to walk past him. The pick-up lines he had been thinking of for the group, vanished from his mind after this angel showed up in front of him since the other girls could barely compare. The whole thing looked like something out of a scene from a Kdrama because time seemed to pass in slow motion and your hair was swinging in the air like that of a princess - which would have been the perfect time for some product placement because it just looked so damn soft.

Thanos had his mouth wide open in shock and put a hand over his heart to check if it was still beating while his eyes never left your figure. You - who was leaning prettily against the bar right next to him as you ordered something from the bartender.

“Hey.” he finally recovered from the moment and casually moved towards you. “I'd introduce myself, but I assume you already know me.” he talked to you with his flirty face as soon as you looked up at him.

You smiled shyly. “Yeah, I watched your performance,” you answered him and seemed quite grateful that he was speaking to you right now. “You were pretty good.” you giggled slightly as you complimented him.

“Yeah, that's just how I am.” he sighed as he looked around the room as if it was a burden for him to have to live with all the recognition. His eyes met yours again and he tried to impress you by unpacking a few bars while emphasizing them with the movements of his hands. “Girl, I know you and I are meant to be because after I looked at your pretty face everything stopped being. If only you saw what I can see, you'll understand why I want you so desperately.” he rapped to you, stealing the last line from some One Direction song, but you didn't need to know that.

You shyly put your hands in front of your face to hide your smile. “Oh my god, that was so incredibly sexy, I'm so horny for you right now.” the words came out of your mouth and made Thanos screw up his face weirdly for a second.

Because first of all, those vulgar words didn't match your innocent demeanor in the slightest - and secondly, you said exactly what Thanos had imagined you would say - it was actually a bit creepy since you literally said it word for word. Thanos hardly thought that he could foresee the future all of a sudden or that you could maybe read minds, though he decided to ignore the whole thing as soon as you started touching his chest softly with your hands. He wanted you so bad.

“You don't even know what you're doing to me right now,” he whispered to you while you felt him so sensually and he was about to kiss you, hadn't you stopped his lips with your hand as you laughed into his face. “I think you should wake up now. Otherwise, the pink elephant will keep handing out balloons to people.” You told him, pointing behind him to where the bar was supposed to be.

“Hah?” he asked you confused and turned around while continuing to hold you in his arms, but all he saw were a few dogs breakdancing - and that was nothing out of the ordinary. He continued to look at the scene with a grin, even though some inner voice inside him was stressing out about kissing you immediately as if he was running out of time. He finally turned back to you and was about to continue when he suddenly heard a man speak. “You really should wake up man.” Nam-gyu's voice told him and Thanos only caught himself almost kissing him after he took a closer look. He just pushed him away from him in disgust and then -

Thanos woke up from his sleep, bathed in sweat, when he saw your face in his field of vision. “Finally, you're sleeping like a dead man. There's some guy at the door who wants to talk to you,” you told him as he sat up tiredly while slowly recovering from his strange dream.

That's right. You weren't just some hot girl he met at the club, you were his fucking roommate. Thanos discreetly pushed more blanket over his lap as he tried to shoo you away from his room with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, yeah - I'll be right there, just - give me a moment,” he said without looking you in the face.

You just sighed slightly and complied with his request, though not without letting him know how unhappy you were. “I told you to stop giving our address to these dealers. I don't like it when they show up here,” you grumbled under your breath before dashing out and closing the door behind you.

After that, Thanos let out a very heavy sigh and stroked his face aggressively. “Now she's showing up in my dreams, too? Fucking great.” he grumbled to himself and got up from the bed to put on some decent clothes. His eyes met his own reflection as he pulled a shirt over his head. “Get a grip man, what's wrong with you?” he asked himself as he grimaced in annoyance. “You're Thanos the destroyer, not some kind of -”

“Stop taking so long and come here already!” your voice suddenly shouted, coming through his door slightly muffled.

He looked even more annoyed at that and made his way to the living room while shouting back at you. “I'm fucking on it, alright!” and it only took a few loud steps from him to your front door for him to yank it open to fix the damn problem. He looked at his friend, completely bothered by his presence. “What do you want?” he asked him and was kinda glad that it at least wasn't Nam-gyu because he just really didn't want to see his face at the moment and probably for a little while.

“Hello, to you, too.” the man in front of him greeted him, already used to his weird mood swings. “I just wanted to do you a favor by bringing you some of the pills you wanted because last time you almost beat me up when I didn't have them with me,” he explained, holding the bag, which Thanos grabbed instantly before inspecting it more closely. “Don't act like you didn't deserve it, I paid you the money in advance, man. Of course, I was angry,” he complained again and would probably have beaten him up for real right now if he had ruined his morning over something completely unnecessary. However, he would still have to make sure that something like this didn't happen again so that you didn't have another reason to kick him out of the apartment.

“You know, maybe this was meant to be. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been greeted by an absolute hottie today,” he said happily as he stood there, still interested. “Is she your cousin or something? Do you want to introduce me to her?” he asked and was quite confident in the way he acted, but Thanos just looked at him emotionlessly for a few seconds until he slammed the door in his face.

"Okay, he's gone now!" he exclaimed, bored, and made his way into the kitchen, where you were sitting with a cup of coffee or something while scrolling on your phone. "Don't open the door for that guy if he shows up again," he said, grabbing a cold Sprite from the fridge. You just looked at him with a displeased look. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll make sure that he and no one else shows up after today. But, I'm just saying that in case it still somehow happens."

Thanos then opened the can and drank from it while he continued to watch your face from the side. Eventually, he sat down next to you, although, to his dissatisfaction, that didn't seem to get your attention. "Hey, you want to go on a date?" He asked, and you weren't sure how many times he asked you that by now. You kept scrolling on Instagram. "You know my answer to that."

Thanos continued to grin hopefully. "Yes?" he asked and then watched you disappear out of the kitchen with your cup of coffee in your hand - probably to your room. "You should be glad that I'm even asking you! Other girls would die for..." he muffled towards the end before he stopped talking entirely once he realized that you weren't giving him a reaction.

Maybe, I should just go back to sleep, he thought to himself dejectedly, unable to believe that he had actually better chances with you in dreams with pink elephants and breakdancing dogs.

[cvnntagious]

:: babydaddy!matt has no problem sticking up for brat!reader

matt wasn't the type to get easily riled up—especially not to where he felt the need to get physical about it. he was more the type to talk things out, most would say. and that's exactly why it was such a shock when you made your way towards the commotion in the living room to see matt with a guy under him, fists of fury hammering into the poor dude's face.

for a moment, you contemplated if this was something you even wanted to involve yourself in, given is was your child's father. but when matt's hand continued coming down repeatedly with no sign of stopping any time soon, his opposer barely fighting back at this point, you couldn't find it in him to let him just keep kicking this guy when he was so clearly down.

giving a harsh tug on matt's plain black t-shit, you pulled him off like he were a misbehaving dog. his head snapped back to see who had grabbed him, brows unfurrowing the moment he came face to face with you.

his breathing was ragged, waiting for you to berate him as the people surrounding you two scrambled to stop the guy who was once lying on yhe dloor from standing up. to his surprise, you pulled him along with an annoyed grunt, slipping out of the party amidst the chaos of the fight. "where're we going?" matt asked, only to be ignored as he followed behind you until you guys were far from the house.

"i knew this was a stupid idea," you finally muttered, letting go of his wrist to turn and look up at him as you two stood in front of his car. your eyes, scanned his face, maneuvering your head to get a good look at any injuries he may have.

matt's mouth opened, wanting to explain. he knew you didn't want to hear it. "m'not hurt," he replied simply, shaking his head as his eyes finally met yours.

you clicked your tongue, giving him a deep sigh as your eyes rolled for what already felt like the millionth time tonight. "what's your problem?" you asked, addressing the big fat elephant standing right in front of your guys' faces, "forget you're an adult now, hm? have been for almost five years... fighting's how you catch cases, dumbass."

the scoff that left his lips made you want to slap some sense into matt, giving him a look that said, 'are you a fucking idiot?' as you waited for whatever lame excuse he might conjur up. but you should've known better than that. you knew matt had never been the type to go out fighting recklessly, so you should've known something had seriously bothered him. and the fact that something so simple had slipped your mind made his reasoning all the more shocking. "kid was talking shit," he answered, eyes averting to look anywhere but you, one hand coming up to rest on his hip as if he were embarrassed to admit it.

again, you weren't paying enough attention. "yeah? what, he said your fancy little carharts weren't cool enough or something? so you had to go and risk literal jail time?" you insulted, growing increasingly more annoyed with each passing second, "i mean, seriously, i don't know what i'd do if that guy chooses to press charges—you better hope nobody recorded that."

matt looked at you with a softness to his eyes, feeling his chest tightening a bit at your words; for a moment, those last few sentences made it feel like you needed him. of course, he knew in the back of his mind that you were thinking of mazzy, but he'd like to remain at least the slightest bit delusional in the moment. "come on," he scoffed again, "it was about you... the guy was talkin' shit 'bout you. was i supposed to jus' let him?"

the confession made your breath hitch a little, head pulling back and brows furrowing in a mild confusion. then, you came back to your senses, the attitude rising within you apparent on your features. "what'd he say?" you asked with a quick work of your neck.

"s'nothing important." matt was quick to brush you off, a certain coldness washing over him.

"really? then why'd you fight about it," you pressed on, a brow raising as if to tell him you simply didn't believe him.

he shook his head, mouth openining and closing as matt thought of an excuse. he couldn't – or, moreover, he didn't want to lie to you. "jus' spewin' some bullshit about you, like, bein' overly difficult... said you rejected him an' shit earlier. i guess he was upset about it," he answered, realizing he may have overreacted a bit now that he was explaining it out loud.

"that's all?"

matt shot you a confused look, shrugging a bit. "yeah—i mean, i also saw him tryin' t'grab on you earlier, so..." even that that wasn't really all, truthfully. it was the way the guy was so persistent, eager to start some sort of smear campaign against you between all of his friends. his lack of regard for matt as he badmouthed you, knowing what matt was to you. what you meant to matt.

you were quick to push past him, another annoyed grunt as you shoulder checked him. "just let him talk next time," you mumbled through gritted teeth, "that's not your battle."

matt turned and watched you walk away, in utter disbelief that this was how he was getting treated for standing up for you. of course it was his battle. who else was going to fight it? you? absolutely not. that guy got what was coming to him, saying whatever so carelessly.

"stay if you want," you called back, head turning to look at him, "m'gonna stop by your house to pick up mazzy from chris and nick."

w/c : 971 taglist : @mattsturnswife, @br1annax, @x0x0bunny, @m4ttsmunch, @mattsnumberonehoe, @k4yd1, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @sturnstar169, @bxtchboy69, @strnilolover, @little-miss-shay, @sweetobservationface requested by anon.

[lost-romantique]

Avoidance vs. Vulnerability

I love how so much of Blitzø’s character development is rooted in his body language.

Lets examine:

"IT WAS NOT A BREAKUP! You need a relationship for one of those and we never had that... and we never will."

Blitz, after yelling at Millie's face clarifying to her that it wasn't a Breakup, only to immediately turn his head the other direction because he doesn't want to see her face.

This is Blitz being avoidant and trying his damndest to keep up that facade he always puts on.

Despite the fact, that his voice breaks when he says the words "... and we never will," Blitz is making sure Millie does not see his face. Showing to us the audience that Blitz still has his walls up around Millie.

Millie makes a joke to Blitz about "trying to not be our third anymore," fully expecting Blitz to make his usual spastic joke, deflecting the situation as he always does...

But the thing is, Blitz doesn't make a joke to avoid the question, he simply states very seriously, "No, not anymore."

Millie is confused and shocked, almost with a sad expression on her face. Millie has never seen Blitz act so seriously before and it shows.

However, with the complete obliteration of his walls caused by the trauma he suffered by Rolando, Blitz now feels comfortable enough to let Millie see the real him.

Millie states the elephant in the room, "The bird got you that bad, huh?"

Or in other words...

Wow, you really have feelings for this guy...

And Blitz simply states the words, "I guess." Showing to us, in the most simple, bare bones way that yeah, he does have feelings for him.

I love how Blitz looks straight at the camera when asked this question, he doesn't make an effort to look at Millie and he still averts his eyes the other direction showing to us how uncomfortable he is with being vulnerable.

But the biggest thing Blitz does in his body language is the fact that he doesn't try to purposely hide his face away from Millie, he just dejectingly looks off into the distance, because even though he's accepted and acknowledged his feelings for Stolas, he's still aware of the fucks up he made in Apology Tour.

Millie makes one last good-natured joke towards Blitz to lighten the mood, and Blitz simply averts his gaze Millie's direction with a grateful smile, almost giving her thanks for not dwelling on the conversation for too long.

(Stolas I get it, I am also down bad for this man. JFC if you don't want him, can I please have him?)

Blitz with relaxed eyes, simply plays into her joke, "Well you know, your husband is still a little fuckable."

I love how Blitz doesn't fully play into Millie's joke, he makes sure to add that little there to NOT downplay his feelings for Stolas.

Ghostfuckers is my new favorite episode of Helluva Boss, and one of the reasons why has to be the amazing character development Blitz and Millie went through this season.

[starmocha]

Crow in the Bedroom [Sylus/Reader ★ 666 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Sexy time with Sylus interrupted. A/N: You know…I did not expect Sylus to mention Mephisto as often as he does, and you know what? That’s adorable of him. Have something silly here.

This was weird.

This was very weird.

This was so very fucking weird.

“Sylus?”

Amid the soft kisses Sylus was adorning your neck, you heard his low questioning hum as a response to your call, though his sweet kisses showed no sign of ceasing any time soon. You laid motionless on the luxurious bed staring up at the ceiling of his large extravagant bedroom, rendered completely submissive for him to use as he pleased in the moment. Normally, you were more than ready to bed the leader of Onychinus, because why the fuck wouldn’t you be? The man was built like a god, and he was so effortlessly and sinfully sexy in everything he did, including fucking you senseless until you were a quivering mess for him and him alone.

But not tonight.

No matter how toned his delicious abs were, or the way he hungrily gazed at you with those smoldering bedroom eyes, you could not ignore the obvious elephant in the room, or rather, in this case, the crow in the bedroom.

“Does he have to be in the bedroom with us?”

“Who?” Sylus paused and stared down at you confused.

“Mephisto!”

Sylus glanced behind him at the perch where the mechanical crow was sitting. He chuckled and shook his head, confused by your discomfort. “Sweetie, he’s just a mechanical crow.”

“He is sentient! He understands things! And he remembers things! And…and…”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Am not!”

“Come on,” Sylus resumed his earlier ministration, giving your right earlobe a light playful nip, pleased when you responded in surprise, “Are you really going to obsess over Mephisto when I am right here?”

“He’s watching us.”

Sylus groaned, annoyed. He relaxed most of his weight on top of you, only holding himself up by his forearms, as he pressed his forehead to yours. “Sweetie,” he started, vexed, “You are really killing the mood tonight.”

“Me or the crow?” you glared right back straight into his crimson eyes.

“He has a name,” Sylus responded, annoyed.

“That’s what you’re concerned about?!”

“Fine,” Sylus said, gritting his teeth, “If I get rid of him, can we get back to our…activities?”

You nodded coyly, earning a smile from him. You sighed. “That’s all I’m asking.”

“Consider it done then.”

The bed shifted as Sylus lifted himself off of you, getting up to walk over to where Mephisto was on his perch. You sat up and watched curiously as Sylus led the crow out. You could have sworn Mephisto had let out an indignant squawk from being evicted out of the bedroom. Once the bedroom door closed again, Sylus flashed you a smirk.

“Feel better now?”

He walked back over to the bed and sat down on the edge, pulling you in for a deep kiss. Everything seemed to be going well in the beginning, or so Sylus thought, but after a few seconds, he couldn’t ignore the fact that you seemed to be less enthused with the current activity.

Sylus stilled suddenly, pulling away from the arguably lukewarm, one-sided kiss with a frown. “You know, sweetie,” he started, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible, “it would be nice if you could be a little more engaged right now.”

“He’s outside the bedroom.”

“Well, of course he is,” Sylus responded, staring at you in utter confusion, “I’d just led him out.”

“No, no way, this is not happening tonight.”

“What?!”

“I’m too weirded out,” you insisted, “What if…he hears us?”

“Sweetie…”

“Forget it. I’m going to sleep.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Good night, Sylus!”

You promptly laid down under the cover, turning your back to him, missing the look of absolute bewilderment on the normally haughty face of the powerful leader of Onychinus. Outside the bedroom, the two of you could have sworn you both heard Mephisto’s “ca-caws” that sounded almost like laughter.

Sylus closed his eyes, and he rubbed his temple as he gritted his teeth again, wondering with irritation if he had just gotten cockblocked by a mechanical bird.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two

“I’m really sorry,” Steve is saying before Eddie has the door fully open, but it makes Eddie smile. It feels like Steve has started saying ‘I’m sorry,’ instead of ‘hello’ as a matter of course.

It’s Sunday afternoon though, and Eddie isn’t cooking anything and Steve isn’t holding an empty plate, so Eddie has no clue what Steve could be sorry for this time.

“Could you come and help me with something? It’ll just take two moments.”

“Sure thing,” Eddie agrees easily, slipping on his adventure crocs and following Steve down the hall.

Eddie follows Steve into and then through his apartment into the small bedroom. It’s a two bed apartment, the same as Eddie’s. Eddie uses his spare room to store his guitars. He has a desk in there too; a place to write and paint his miniatures and do guitar maintenance.

It’s a nursery. It’s cute, animal themed. The ceiling is painted powder blue, which drops down onto the walls about a foot before ending in a neatly done scalloped edge. The walls are white, but have cloud shapes printed on them in the same blue. There are random tufts of painted grass popping up from the floor; some with flowers. The rocker and the other furniture, including crib and chest of drawers, are all painted the same green, and the blinds are green jungle, with elephants and big cats and monkeys hiding amongst the leaves. A lot of the soft things are yellow and white, and Eddie has not a fucking clue as to the sex of Steve’s pup, so he asks as much.

Steve smiles, “I don’t know. I didn’t want to know. I like surprises.”

“Huh. Well. I’m always the one shaking the gifts at Christmas, but I do love a surprise too. What did you need?”

“We have the fixings for the mobile there ready, but I clean forgot about it until now, and I’m too big to stretch up there. Didn’t do it at the time because we were moving furniture and I was frightened I’d break it.”

“Okay sure,” Eddie takes the dangly parts of the mobile; cute little moons and stars and sun shapes, and fixes it to the bit already attached to the ceiling. It’s nice, and easy to figure out, but it does hang low so he gets what Steve means.

He also sees why Steve can’t reach; he seems to have suddenly gotten even bigger over the last week, and he's also only been wearing these sort of loose shift dresses, like a blouse, a button up, and a tent had a horrendous love child.

He looks gorgeous though. Eddie always thought pregnancy must be pretty fucking miserable; your body betraying you almost. Needing to pee all the time, unreasonable hormones. Cravings. Morning sickness. Odd shit happening all over the place. Eddie always figured telling pregnant people that they’re ‘glowing’ was just a nice thing people said to make them feel better during what must be a pretty shitty nine months.

Not with Steve though. Steve’s actually glowing. Not like literally glowing but...he’s beautiful, and Eddie suddenly understands what all the fuss is about.

Steve clears his throat. Right. Right okay, Eddie’s creepy staring, “so I was going to make chicken parm again tonight, since I know you like it and it’s been a bit...do you maybe want to get out the apartment and come to another, slightly different, apartment?”

Steve laughs a little, looking at where his hands cradle his bump, before looking back up, cheeks pink, “I think I’d like that.”

Eddie’s laid the table as nice as he can. He snagged a little bunch of daisy looking things out of the garden and shoved them in a mug, just because he remembered Steve’s little daffodil.

He doesn’t own place mats, but he does dig out a table cloth he usually only uses for games night; it’s black, but it’s clean.

Steve settles himself at the table and Eddie goes and gets dinner, he can’t help but notice Steve shift in his seat, wincing.

“You okay?”

Steve hums, “been getting funny back pain, but it’s all normal. Could be anything really, just the weight of the baby, or maybe they are leaning on my sciatic nerve. It’s all fine. Nearly done now.”

Steve takes the first bite of his dinner and hums appreciatively. It makes Eddie warm inside, a little tickle of his brain releasing happy chemicals. Omega is being fed. Omega is safe and happy.

Eddie tells it to fuck off.

“So you’re due soon?” Which feels like he;s stating the obvious, Steve is the size of a tiny moon.

“Tomorrow.”

Eddie makes a noise, startled, then nearly chokes on a string of spaghetti, “excuse me,” he manages to get out, before drinking half his water, Steve looking half concerned and more than a little amused from the other side of the table. “Tomorrow?” Eddie asks weakly.

Steve nods, chewing and swallowing before he answers, “the due date is tomorrow, but it’s the norm really for first pups to go over that, even more normal with male Omega, don’t worry, it’s fine. Although it should be soon, I passed the mucus plug yesterday.”

Eddie nearly chokes again, “the what?” he tries his best not to sound too horrified.

“Oh. Sorry, you probably don't want to hear about the uhm, the kind of gross stuff.”

“No, no, of course it’s fine what is...uhm...that?” And Eddie is fully prepared to regret acquiring this cursed knowledge. He doesn’t even know what it is and he’s already eyeing his spaghetti sauce dubiously. For Steve though...he will learn about the gross stuff.

“Oh, well, when you’re pregnant you get sort of this...lump of...gacky stuff and blood. You don’t have periods when you’re pregnant usually, so it kind of protects everything from infection getting in and stuff like that.”

Eddie takes a deep breath and lets it out, blowing up his bangs, and makes himself eat his dinner normally, “fair enough, but that means you’re...kinda’ close?”

“Well, kinda’. Robin’s spending this morning with her girlfriend and then this afternoon sorting her place out. She’ll be over later, she’s moving in until the pups a week old or so, just make sure I’m okay.”

“She’s...a really good friend, right?” It warms Eddie to know Steve has someone like that in his life.

“Yeah...she’s been there with me through everything. Every appointment, all the classes, everything. Even when I decided I wanted to do this it was...it was right after yet another crappy breakup, you know. She could have said all the sensible things about maybe it's not the right time yet, or that I should...think about it. You know, all that things that would have been totally reasonable for her to say but I'd just...I’d just had enough of waiting and she said she’d support me whatever, and that was that. She’s the best.”

Steve shifts again, putting down his cutlery to try and stretch his back out, hissing with pain, “you sure you’re okay?” Eddie asks, concerned.

“Yeah, fine I think,” Steve bends forward then, gripping the edge of the table and breathing out harshly through his nose, “oh that felt weird.”

Eddie’s up and coming around the table before he can stop himself, hovering his hands, not sure if it’s okay to touch, “Steve?”

“I...oh. Oh gosh I’m so sorry Eddie,” Steve stands cautiously revealing a very clear wet patch on the seat.

“I...that’s fine,” Eddie squeaks out, “are you...is this. Is that…?”

“Yeah, pretty sure my water just broke. And I really wanted that chicken parm,” Steve sighs.

“I can make it again,” Eddie says reflexively, “kind of feel like there’s bigger things to think about what should- like can I help? What do we do?”

Eddie finds himself, very strangely, not panicking. Like, well, maybe a little, but not an uncontrollable amount. Which now he’s here that’s a really nice surprise.

“I’ll just call Robbie, and then will you walk me home?”

And Eddie had maybe had inappropriate thoughts about walking Steve home so he could steal a kiss, not whatever this is. But. Still. “Of course.”

Steve smiles at him with his phone next to his ear, “it’s go time Birdie. Oh, what was I supposed to say? Code red? The eagle is...leaving? I can’t remember, you couldn’t make your mind up about the-” Steve hisses, bending to lean on the table, “yep, yep, see you soon.”

Steve hangs up, telling Eddie she’s on her way as they walk down the hall, dinner abandoned on the table. Steve chooses to stand, walking little laps back and forth along the back of the couch, “is there anything I can do?”

“My bag and car seat are in the nursery, if you don’t mind grabbing those?” Eddie does, putting Steve’s things right by the door, “oh, and a towel, from the bathroom? I don’t want to make a mess in Rob’s car.”

“Sure thing,” Eddie grabs a bath towel from there, and puts it on top, just as Steve’s phone starts ringing.

Eddie can practically feel it when Steve tenses up, his scent turning bitter with distress. Despite what’s going on, Steve’s scent hadn’t changed at all until now, “your car won’t start?”

He sounds terrified.

“I. Yeah. Okay. I can wait I’ll- okay.”

“Okay?” Steve shakes his head, eyes suddenly wet, he looks like he’s biting back tears and Eddie can’t stop himself from going to him.

“She’s got to wait for Chrissy to get to her place and pick her up, then they’ll come over,” Eddie has to make this better. He has to.

“Okay, how about this, me and you go now, I’ll take you, and they can meet you there? That’ll make it faster right?”

“I mean, I’m not...I mean labor can take hours and hours, I’m being silly I just- Eddie I’m a bit scared. She was supposed to be here, it’s a bit too soon.”

They end up holding hands, which Eddie’s kind of thrilled about even if Steve is squeezing the life out of him, “would you feel better if you were waiting at the hospital?”

Steve bites his lip, clearly torn, “are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I’ll get my keys.”

Part Four

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

How could you love somebody like me?

Pairing: f!reader x Javier Peña Words count: 3032 Rating: + 18, NSFW, MDNI. Summary: Javi is under protection and has asked you to join him in the hotel room where he is confined. When you discover his secrets and lies, however, that room will become too small. Too small for both of you. Tags/warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, angst, Javi is still a DEA agent but it's a modern setting so the man has a smartphone. Reader is described having female genitalia and breasts, no other description of her is given, she doesn't blush and her hair is not described. Mention of alcohol, mention of cheating, Javi is a cheater, no happy ending, we will go through the man's phone (you're not supposed to do that but I never said my reader could do no wrong, right?), use of pet names (gatita which means kitten in Spanish, baby, darling), smut, angry sex, unprotected p in v (do better irl), cream pie, of course a little nipple play ‘cause it’s still my fic, toxic relationship, self doubt, mention of Steve, a huge pile of lies, Javi is bad at feelings, some reader’s thoughts marked in italics. I think it's all, let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: Written for @jolapeno 's "Dear-uary" challenge. This was my prompt, I struggled a little bit at first but I ended up having a blast writing this ❤︎ Heavily inspired by this song (from which the fic also takes its title), I heard it randomly on Spotify one day and I thought "wait, this is perfect for Javi!" and I ended up being obsessed with two more songs by the same artist. LOL Many thanks to: - @aurorawritestoescape , my beta, for her help and advice, she will probably dream of elephants because of me tonight hahaha Kate I own you a big one, thanks baby so much, I love you ❤️ - The person who basically pulled this out of my brain and supported me throughout the process, my precious, my peanut @joelmillerisapunk. 🥰 Love you so much it's ridiculous🥹 - @milla-frenchy for letting me blather about this thing some days ago. Love you, bb ❤︎ English is not my first language, every single mistake is still on me, I deeply apologize if you find any.

Edited - because I forgot to change the most important detail, of course. I’m not myself if I’m not doing a mess. Yay. It’s okay now.

“Why the hell am I here? Was I the only available hole this week?”

“No,” he whispers. 

“So what?” 

Javier came back and found you in the middle of the room.

You were brandishing his phone like a sword in the air, the banner of everything that was wrong.

His face went pale when he saw you like that. 

Eyes wide open. 

Mouth agape. 

He tried to say something but you immediately hit him with a vomit of words.

“I know what you’re doing,” you hiss under your breath, feeling your eyes sting.

Javier is a marble statue in front of you, his lips pressed together, his absent eyes not even looking at you, staring at a spot behind your shoulders, his arms abandoned along his sides. 

He seems anchored to the ground. 

His last words to you still burn on your skin like a fire you cannot extinguish.

A heavy silence between you fills the air of the room and makes it unbreathable. 

“Fuck, Javier, talk to me,” you whisper angrily.

You clutch his phone in your hands, so tightly that your knuckles are white from exertion, as if you were clinging to it to keep yourself from falling off a cliff. 

“You knew I was no good,” he says sternly.

You have been in this room for two days. 

Officially, Javier has to stay here because henchmen of one of the new drug lords in town are set on taking him out. 

Unofficially, he has you infiltrating the room. 

Typical Javier, spending his time under protection fucking someone. 

You foolishly almost believed it was romantic, until this morning. 

“So you’re trying to say that it’s my fault? Is that what you want to say? It’s my fault that as soon as I turn my back you go and stick your cock in someone else's pussy?” You don’t even have the strength to scream right now. Your voice comes out rancorous but low, hoarse, like a blown growl. 

Oh, you’re not going to accept being lectured by him, fuck no.

“No, I’m just saying -” he tries to explain and you glare at him, making the words die in his mouth.  

"What?" 

“Fuck, I'll never change,” he shrugs as if it were a truism that only you can't grasp.

His eyes shift to the ground, dull and absent.

“You don't change because you are convinced that you can't,” you admonish him, feeling anger rising from your chest. 

"That's not true," he murmurs, keeping his gaze on the crimson and gold carpet that lies at your feet.

“Yes, it is,” you insist, ”and you seem to like to think of yourself as an incurable asshole.”

He still fails to see the real problem, the elephant in the room that lives and thrives among you. 

"Then you tell me, if you think you know me so well,” he asks with defiance. 

“You bet I fucking know you,” you lash out. “You think you're so mysterious and complicated?! Well,  news flash, I've seen plenty like you. You’re just another man. You're not even that, you're a child. A child who's afraid of his own shadow when it comes to relationships.”

“Don’t fucking analyze me,” he hisses, finally setting his eyes back on you. 

Raven, angry and fearful. He knows you can read him like an open book and this unleashes an awareness upon him that crushes him to the ground.

You bitterly laugh, “Truth hurts, huh? I know something about it”. 

The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepens, his nostrils flare, and his mouth tightens into a line so thin you think he’s about to burst. He stays quiet instead, eyes back on the damask carpet decoration. 

_____________

“Yes, Steve, I'm fine. That jerk won't find me here, and anyway it's full of police outside the door.” 

A pause and a sigh. 

”No, no one followed her, they don't know who she is.”

You stood behind the half-closed bathroom door listening. 

You smiled. 

His voice sounded softer when he talked about you. You lulled yourself into that feeling. 

Until you heard something else. 

A booming laugh. 

Water ran in the shower, tiny droplets coated the wall as the mirror fogged up.

“Whatever. Of course I'm still screwing around. At least, I was doing it before that asshole started chasing me,” his voice suddenly lowered so you took a chance and opened the door a little more. You wanted to make sure you heard right. 

Your hand trembled against the doorknob, you grabbed your wrist to hold it steady. 

“You idiot,” he scoffed. “Yeah, we'll be in touch.”

Suspicion. The black wing of a crow that had been wrapped around your heart for a long time.

But then why did it hurt so much? 

You allowed yourself to hide it in a part of your brain where you never looked-that was a mistake. Making the hunch barely a firefly when it was supposed to be a bright neon sign.

He always places the phone with its screen down when you go out to dinner, softly smiling at it when he checks it after a few vibrations, telling you “it’s Steve” when you ask. 

But you know that crooked smile. 

He dodges when you ask him about his day "oh work, you know, just work." 

He tells you he is with Steve but you hear female voices in the background. 

Every time you try to confront him it always ends the same way, him telling you, “you’re paranoid, there’s no one else, just you, baby. You’re the only one I want.”

And then he fucks your doubts into oblivion.

You heard the thud of the phone on the blankets. And then Javier calling you. 

You swallowed the gall rising from the walls of your stomach and just smiled when he joined you in the bathroom and suggested that you shower together.

You wanted some proof before you charged him. 

If there was anything you had learned from being with him, it was that hard evidence was the key. So you played cool. 

He fucked you against the shower wall and you moaned into his neck. 

He licked your pussy like a man starved and you just bit your lips until you felt iron on your tongue.

He kissed you with that liar's mouth, and you let him.

And you fell asleep beside him, on the unmade bed of your uncertainties. 

This morning someone from outside called him into the hallway to report the latest movements of the guy who was looking for him. 

His phone was on the bedside table.

It was like a magnet, pulling your hand to it.

You were almost sure you knew his unlock code ‘cause you had watched the movements of his finger many times. 

You tried twice without success. 

The third time you let out a long sigh, visualized in your mind the movement one more time and unlocked it. 

You were in. 

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as your fingers swiped and clicked on the screen. 

And there they were.

Dozens and dozens of messages and pics exchanged with 4 different women.

You scrolled through one of the chats with a certain Maria, who regularly sent him pictures of her tits and her legs spread wide, her pussy in the shot.

There was sexting, arranged dates, same promises he gave to you, things you never asked for but he kept repeating like a broken record. Even the same pet name. Gatita. 

Blood simmered in your veins, a jolt in your heart, throat dry. 

Your finger furiously scrolled through the chat, finding tons of messages he had sent her while he was with you.

You switched to another one and you found pretty much the same. And yet another, message after message containing flirting and explicit sex.  

“Oh Javi, you keep getting better and better with that cock of yours”

“My pussy needs you, darling, can you come over?”

“I can’t stop thinking about your huge cock dripping on me”

And the more you scrolled, the more a question formed in your brain, rumbling through your temples like a deafening drum. 

Was he ever sincere with you?

________

When he looks up at you again, you see it. A veil of fragility in the dense blackness of his gaze.

He looks almost helpless. “I know you tried,” he admits, ”You tried harder than anyone else.”

“Apparently it was no use,” you chastise him.

He doesn’t reply. 

Instead he comes closer and closer. 

You pull back, responding to his every step forward with a backward one. 

“Please,” he whispers. 

“No.” 

“Don't do that.”

“You have no right to tell me what to do,” you bark.

”I know...” 

“Fuck off, Javier, leave me alone.”

You pull back until you hit the wall behind you. 

Javier approaches, bending slightly to reach your mouth, his mustache brushes against your cupid’s bow and you don't even have the strength to turn your face away anymore. 

When your lips collide you let it happen. 

It’s like when you drink too much Tequila. 

It burns on your tongue, leaving you almost anesthetized as soon as you down it, and then an aromatic taste wafts into your mouth; it is lysergic, unusual, unmistakable.

You love it, so you keep doing it.

Javier is the same. 

He's sharp, stiff at the edges, burns like fire, but he has an aura that you won’t mistake for anything and he hypnotizes you. He’s not like anyone else, despite what you told him. There is an underlying despair in him, a cry dying in his throat, “How can you love someone like me?” 

He says it only with his eyes but you hear it clearly.

He is a time bomb that explodes in your heart every time he touches you. So you keep doing it.

“Fuck,” you whisper against his lips. 

“Yeah…I know. I’m not worthy.”

And yet, you’re still here.

You let him peel off your every layer of clothing, to leave you naked and vulnerable in front of him. 

You do nothing when he undresses too. Hastily taking off his shirt, fumbling with the button of his jeans, nervous hands and short breaths.

It is like some mind fuck game, intoxicating, dangerous, capable of leaving permanent marks.

He lowers his jeans just enough to free his cock, no boxers. Always ready.

His hands run over your hips and you groan. 

His tongue slides over your neck, his eyes closed, his breath heavy and warm on your skin. 

He makes you cry, but you don't say no.

His lips latch onto your nipple and adrenaline rushes through your veins up into your head, hitting hard like a jackhammer.

You don’t pull back anymore, you push your tit into his mouth so eagerly you feel his teeth closing on your bud and you whine in pleasure. 

His growing erection leaks against your center. You are trapped. Not so much because you are between him and the wall but because you no longer know how to get him out of your head. 

Right now it doesn't matter how much it hurts. 

He slides his hands down your thighs and you know what he wants, without needing to speak. You wrap your legs around his waist. He kneels on the bed with you still clinging to him, you lie back on the soft blankets that smell of you both, arch your back and press against his cock. You folds splayed and dripping for him.

His fingers go up your rib cage, stop under your breasts and grasp there, he draws you back to him and your mouths collide again.

You let his tongue enter. You let the fleeting pleasure of this instant take over all the no's you know you have to say.

There’s no right kind of love here, this room is drowned in angry sex.

Angry at how you can never say no to him, angry at how he makes you feel, angry because you know that no one has ever fucked you the way he did, invading your body with a pleasure so addictive that it makes you sick. Angry because maybe he's right, he can't change. 

You break the kiss and bite on his shoulder, a small act of revenge that really does no harm compared to your bleeding heart. 

Your hands grasp on the golden skin of his back, leaving marks with your nails digging into it, your miserable attempt to leave marks on him in return.

You moan convulsively under his touch, your mouth wide open against his, your tongue desperately seeking him out. 

His hands tighten on your ass, lifting you slightly, his cock slides over your wet opening, a guttural sound comes out of the back of your throat without you being able to hold it back. 

You want him inside you. 

You need him inside you.

And it’s wrong, and desperate. It’s masochistic.

You don’t even care for his jeans’s zip scraping your skin.

The thin line between pain and pleasure is so blurred now.

It’s a pathetic shit show of need and urgency. 

You’d walk away from any other guy but Javier is the person you can never have just for yourself and at the same time he is the only one you want. 

He is the knife and the wound at the same time.  

When he asks “Whose pussy is this?” in his deep groaning voice that fucks directly with your brain, you can only reply “yours.”

Digging your nails deeper, biting more, wailing louder but just pleading with him.

You take his shaft in your hand and rub it against you in blind desperation, wetting it with your juices. 

He groans into your ears while his hand reaches for your nipple and his big strong arm holds you close.

You are sitting on his thighs, your legs crossed behind his back.

His fingers pinch your nipple as you don't stop stroking his big throbbing cock.

Just put it in there. You think. I just need to feel your flesh against mine, inside me, claiming me like the rag doll that I am now. 

Stupid bitch trying to have you when you’re damaged like a shattered glass, when you can bring nothing than heat to my body and freezing ice to my heart. 

“Fuck me,” you groan. 

He pushes against your core, entering you with one deep thrust.

Your pussy is weeping so much it doesn’t even hurt.

You clench on him with all the strength you have, chocking his cock with your walls.

“Fuck,” he growls. “You’re gripping me so hard, baby. There’s nothing you want more than this, huh? Me fucking you raw?” 

“Shut up,” you hiss. 

He starts moving, pumping into you as his hand reaches for your clit, brushing it in circles.

You whine, clinging onto his back, your face hidden in the crook of his neck.

You can’t look him in the eye, you can’t face your own shameful reflection in his pupils, you can’t think of anything else than this pleasure firing your body, your limbs, your mind.

Your pussy never gets the memo when it comes to him. She just clenches, and cries and asks for more.

At the verge of your brink, when you’re so utterly overwhelmed you could swear, you’re about to jump out of your skin, you hear it.

It’s the softest whisper on your skin, so low you barely catch the words, “I love you” 

You cry a single tear that slides down the column of his neck, it could be mistaken for a bead of sweat so easily and Javier doesn’t notice it. But it’s there. You’re crying again.

You come, weeping.

Grasping to him like your last shred of hope.

But there’s no hope anymore.

You know you can’t go on like that.

You cried before. You argued before. It’s all useless.

A devastating orgasm shoots through you, leaving you without defense.

It’s the last thing you want but you need to get it over with. 

You lie on the bed, feeling his last twitches inside you, his cum dripping onto your walls, his cock pressing against that spot that belongs only to him.

He lies down on you, gently crushing you with his weight, his sweaty skin against yours, the smell of your orgasm filling your nostrils.

You’re hopeless and breathless. 

He's still inside you, like he doesn't want to leave. 

You know you have to. 

Eventually he shifts, lying on the other side of the bed muttering, “god, you really are something else.” He takes the pack of cigarettes from the nightstand and lights one, taking a long drag.

“I'm not enough,” you want to scream looking at him through the cloud of smoke enveloping him. “Or maybe you're not, for me.”

When he is about to fall asleep, you get up. You pick up your clothes off the floor and put them on silently.

“Where are you going, gatita?” he grunts. 

Does he think he has solved it? Does he think you will forgive him as you did the other times? 

You don’t reply.

"You only ever tell me the truth when you think I won't hear it,” you type on your phone and send it to him, before coming out of the door without turning your back.

You leave him there, wondering, lost as he makes you feel.

There will be two broken hearts. 

You know he loves you and you love him.

He is convinced that he doesn’t deserve you and pushes you away every time you get close to his soul. 

He knows that you see him clearly; that scares him.

You are tired of fighting for the both of you.

You push the elevator button under the gaze of an unsuspecting policeman who urges, “Where are you going, miss?”

“I'm leaving.”

“Do you need someone to accompany you?” 

“No, thank you.”

“Someone could follow you,” he counters.

“No one knows me, you don't have to worry.”

You wait for the elevator, still hoping to see his ruffled raven hair poking out the door, his voice calling to you, his hand tightening on your wrist. 

None of this happens.

The only ones who will follow you are your ghosts.

Tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @almostempty , @probablyreadinsmut , @thundermartini , @gothcsz , @cas-readsandwrites , @harriedandharassed

Archive tag: @pedrostories

If you want to be added or removed just let me know! Thank you very much for reading❤︎

[soo0hee]

Too Much

Pairing — Xu Minghao x Reader

Summary — Sometimes meditating is not enough to keep Minghaos temper at bay and sometimes he says things he doesn't mean...

Genre — angst, established relationship, idol!au

Warnings — argument, Hao is an idiot

Word Count — 0.8k

Rating — pg-13

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Shocked and with your jaw on the floor you stared into Minghaos dark eyes.

You understood that with all of his busy schedules, he was tired when he came home and that all he wanted would be to relief some of his stress with a hot shower, a nice nap and maybe some cuddles. You understood all of it.

However what you didn’t understand was why he regularly would let out his frustrations on someone who had nothing to do with any of the causes he felt so tired, namely you.

It was a conversation that you had tried to have with him on multiple occasions, yet your boyfriend seemed to try and ignore the obvious elephant in the room and every single time you had let yourself be swayed into giving in.

“Can we not do this now? I promise we will talk about it in the morning.” Was what he would say, only to be gone by the time you woke up.

This time though, you were ready to insist on this conversation being held. You just couldn’t ignore it anymore!

You had a job too! A job that stressed you out too and being the on to receive his mood was beginning to weight heavily on your shoulders.

But now, after the screaming match you had just had, you weren’t quite sure if this was your best idea.

The words he had spat at you just seconds ago were ringing in your ears and you could feel the burn behind your eyes. Tears just waiting to be spilled.

“Stop annoying me with this every few day. Seriously, you’re being to much right now!”

You knew that he had surprised himself with his words, the look of shock and guilt clouding his face immediately after the they had left him, but you didn’t want to hear it.

You didn’t want to hear his excuse of why he had said it because it was obvious that while surprised, some part of him did think you were being to much.

For a second you were unsure if you even had the right to tell him this. Maybe you were being in the wrong here?

Your inner voice shook its head. No! You had just as much right to be treated like a human then he had!

“I-“ he tried to say but you held up your hand, the tears that had burned in your eyes now falling freely in silence.

“Don’t.”

You rushed away, letting those tears fall down your face as you locked the bedroom door behind you, preventing Minghao from getting inside.

You didn’t care if he had to sleep on the couch or what it would do to his back and neck. You didn’t give a fuck if he would be waking up in pain in the morning. And you didn’t want to know what kind of apologize he was trying to come up with.

He couldn’t make it better, at least not right now.

Curling together underneath your blanket, hiding away from the world while sobs spilled from your mouth you clutched your favorite pillow to your chest. It was drenched in Minghaos scent because he had the habit of sleeping on every inch of the bed he could reach. More tears fell.

Was this how he felt about you all this time? It would make sense with all the aggression thrown your way recently but why hadn’t he just broke it off if that was the case?

You were sure that it would have hurt less if he had…

Minghaos words kept repeating themselves in your head anytime you managed to calm down a little, only to send you back into a fit of tears.

Outside Minghao sat on the floor, quietly listening to your devastation with his head resting against the hard surface of the door.

He hadn’t meant to say such horrible things to you, especially since they weren’t even true. He had a temper, that much he knew but he had never lost it as much as he had earlier. Not with someone he loved so much that his heart was shattering just listening to you.

While the rest of his members knew how he could be and knew to leave him to cool down, you and him had never fought this much before.

“I’m so sorry love…” he whispered into the by now dark hallway.

The hours ticked by and the apartment fell silent. You had cried yourself to sleep and Minghao didn’t dare leave the door, wanting to stay as close as you let him be.

His ass was hurting by now and he wondered if you had locked the door or only pulled it shut…

He reached for the handle and carefully tried to pull it down, internally cheering when it opened with a silent -click-.

The sight greeting him was just as heartbreaking as your sobs had been. Your face was swollen and dried tear tracks still visible. Wanting to kick himself for being the cause of this, he knelt on the mattress next to your sleeping form.

He wasn’t sure how, but he would make sure that you knew how sorry he was and how much he loved you…

[marril96]

Mirrors

Chapter 1: Shattered

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Your plan to talk about your and Agatha's strained relationship is put on hold when she collapses after hiding a serious injury.

Editor: @fruityhahn

The latest Trial — your very own — had taken a lot out of you. You were exhausted, your eyes yearning to close and sleep the events of the day away.

The first two Trials — Jen and Alice's — were difficult to get through, had even cost you a coven member and gained you a new one along the way (who just happened to be Agatha's ex girlfriend, but neither one of you was ready for that conversation), but they were nowhere near as anxiety-inducing as yours had been.

If not for Agatha talking you through the entire thing, offering encouragement despite your strained relationship, you never would have been able to pass it.

"That was… something," you said as the two of you walked down the Road.

The rest of the Coven was a good way ahead, too lost in chatter and laughter to notice the two of you had fallen behind.

Not that you cared — Agatha even less so. You wanted some alone time with her, a chance to talk about the day's events. A chance to approach the elephant that had been in the room since before the Road had even come into existence.

You'd tried to broach the subject multiple times, to no avail. Agatha had shut down each of your attempts, claiming she needed to focus on the situation at hand — the Road that shouldn't exist; the Trials she'd had to bullshit her way through; the boy whose name nobody could hear, who may or may not have been Wanda Maximoff's son. The topic of before — of your relationship, of the things you'd both done to fuck everything up — would be dealt with later.

Only, later never came. There was always something new, something more urgent that demanded her attention. In classic Agatha fashion, she avoided, avoided, avoided. Why deal with a problem when she could pretend it didn't exist? Why confront it when she could deflect? Why talk when she could just… not?

It was one of her most irritating traits. You knew she was just trying to protect herself, that all she wanted to do was hold back the pain — as temporary as it was — that inevitably came with such conversations, but that didn't make it any less frustrating.

She should know by now that she was safe with you. That her hurt and tears were safe, never to be exploited or used against her. That, as scary as it was to open up, she had nothing to be afraid of. You had never harmed her on purpose, and never would.

On purpose being the keyword.

What you'd done by accident — or rather, what you hadn't done — was the root cause of the issue.

"It sure was," Agatha said, nervously looking around, her hands firmly placed in her pockets, no doubt gripping the fabric tightly between her fingers.

"Thanks for having my back in there," you said. Then, with a smile, you added, "Literally."

At one point, near the end of your Trial, the mirrors in the posh, castle-like room you were stuck in had started shattering. Agatha, having noticed the cracks forming, had leapt and thrown herself over you just as the first mirror had exploded.

She'd held you in her embrace, her body a shield from the flying glass, until the commotion had stopped, and the door, red as blood, leading back to the Road had appeared amidst the pale white walls.

Agatha shrugged, feigning indifference, nonchalance. "I just didn't want us to have to resort to summoning another backup witch."

You knew her better than that. "Right. It was more practical to save me."

"Exactly."

You sighed. She was a horrible liar when it came to things like this. The truth was written all over her face, woven into her voice, a tattoo that she wasn't even trying that hard to conceal. She knew that you knew the truth, that you could see right through her thinly veiled bullshit, and she didn't care.

She could always shut down and walk away from this conversation. She could always say something new had demanded her attention. She could scream at you to leave her alone, that, after what you'd done, you didn't deserve a heart-to-heart.

So far, while clearly displeased by the direction the conversation was taking, she was playing along.

You decided to make the most of it.

"Agatha." You made sure to say it in that way that told her enough was enough, that you needed to talk like adults. That avoiding it was a tantrum you were losing tolerance for.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes straight ahead, refusing to meet yours. "What?"

"We need to talk."

"Do we?"

"You know we do."

Agatha swallowed. She straightened out her coat and pressed her mouth into a line that would be cute if it wasn't frustrating. Her own little way of rebellion, one you knew all too well.

If she couldn't avoid the issue, she could pretend it wasn't there. She could pretend that she didn't see what was right in front of her, that she didn't hear the words spoken right beside her ears.

You weren't going to let her.

Noticing she's fallen behind, you stopped in your tracks and turned to look at her. She was pale as a ghost, her lips a purplish color that looked unsettling even under the Road's odd lighting.

"You okay?" you asked for your own peace of mind. Surely, she couldn't have dreaded the conversation that much.

Agatha frowned, uneasy at being asked. People usually didn't check on her. Nobody cared how the infamous Witch Killer was doing.

Nobody but you.

"I'm fine," she said abrasively. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You look a bit pale."

She scoffed. "This place doesn't exactly do wonders for one's complexion."

Fair point.

"You're sure you're okay?"

"Just peachy."

As soon as the words left her mouth, her left hand — her dominant one — shot out to grab onto your arm. Her fingers, unusually pale, deathly cold to the touch, dug into your flesh. Her nails, long and sharp as talons, cut crescents into your skin, pinching, almost drawing blood.

"Agatha?"

She responded by finally allowing her eyes to meet yours. The glassy, haunted look in them sent a concerned shiver down your spine.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Agatha pulled in a breath to steady herself. "N-Nothing, I'm-I'm fine."

In contrast to her words, her grip on you tightened. She could lie all she wanted; her body never did. Not to you.

"Don't do that. Tell me what's wrong."

She forced a chuckle. "Why? So you can leave again?"

You flinched as if slapped. Was that seriously how she wanted to play it? You'd done wrong here, of course you had, but she didn't get to twist it. She didn't get to rewrite history as if it was an article that needed revision.

She didn't get to strike that low while you were already on the ground.

"You're the one who left!" you snapped, sick of her nonsense. Waiting for days to let it all out, wild and free from the constraints of your self-control.

"And you didn't follow!" Agatha shot back.

She was right.

You didn't follow.

You'd stayed home and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

You'd cried yourself to sleep for many nights, thinking she'd left you for good. Thinking, in the years that had followed, that she'd shacked up with someone new and had forgotten all about you.

She had forgotten you, but not out of choice. Not out of want.

All she needed was for you to come and get her.

Yet you never did.

"How long are you gonna keep punishing me for that?"

As if you weren't punishing yourself enough. Every time you were alone with your thoughts, the unpleasant reality hit you like a pile of bricks straight to the face. Agatha was there, locked inside her own mind, begging for help, but it never came. You never came.

Even if she were to ever forgive you, you would never forgive yourself.

"I'm sorry," you said with tears in your eyes, begging to be let free. "For the thousandth time, I'm sorry.

You could say it a million more times — it wouldn't change what had happened. Nothing could ever possibly change it.

Agatha breathed in, taking in your words. Swishing them through her head like a mouthful of water.

"What do I have to do to get you to forgive me?"

If she could find it in her heart to forgive you, to absolve you of your infraction, maybe, eventually, you would be able to try to forgive yourself. Maybe this pain, this hurt that ravaged you from the inside — that had been ravaging you since Agatha had shown up at your door with Teen, pissed as high hell, demanding answers — would subside.

Just as Agatha took in a few resolving breaths, preparing to respond, her right knee gave way and she tumbled forwards.

"Oh, my god," you breathed as your arms, led by instinct you'd grown into over your centuries together, leapt up to catch her.

You pressed her against you, holding her upright as tightly as you could, even as the full weight of her on you threatened to topple you both.

"Sweetheart, what's going on?"

"It's n-n-nothing." Her voice was strained, tired, as if she were forcing the response out. As if each and every word that left her mouth scorched her throat.

You grit your teeth, frustrated. Exasperated by her stubbornness, by her complete and utter refusal to talk, even at times like this.

"Agatha, please, talk to me. Let me help."

"I d-don't…" The words died in her throat. She tried to raise her hands to push you away, to get you to let go, but her arms, as deathly pale as her face, remained hanging at her sides. Dead. Useless.

"It's okay. I got you," you assured her, nuzzling her neck like you always did when you held her. "You can hate me all you want. I'm not letting you go."

"I don't hate you," she uttered weakly, as if it took all of her to force the words out. Then her head fell against your shoulder, and her body, limp, unusually heavy, slumped against you.

It took everything in you to remain on your feet. Your grip around her tightened, squeezing her to you. Pressing her against you as firmly as you could.

"Agatha? Agatha?" you called, but no response came. No words. No grunts. No moans. Just deadly, deafening silence. 

Blood ran cold in your veins. This wasn't good. Whatever was going on, Agatha wasn't doing well.

"Sweetheart, please."

Something sticky engulfed your hand that was pressing against her side. You raised it to inspect it, and your eyes widened at the substance glistening under the Road's dim lighting.

Blood.

Scarlet. Warm. Vibrant.

So much of it that it soaked through her coat.

The smell of pennies clung to your tongue, so thick that you could taste it.

"Oh, god!" you exclaimed, your heart racing as you stared at your smeared hand, at the blood coating your skin. Blood that shouldn't be there. Blood that Agatha didn't tell you about. "Guys! Help! Please, help!"

The coven, far up ahead of you, turned their heads and looked back, startled from their carefree conversation.

"What happened?" Teen said, the first one to run towards you, having sensed the urgency, the sheer panic in your tone.

"Agatha's hurt," you whimpered through tears that drenched your face and obscured your vision. You kept your arms firmly around Agatha, focused on keeping her upright, on making sure whatever injury she had wouldn't be made worse.

"What? How?" Teen asked, worried, as Alice bent down to examine the bloodstain on Agatha's coat.

"She protected me when the mirrors shattered."

She'd more than protected you. She'd shielded you. Had taken on the impact of each and every shard of glass. Had grit her teeth and beared it. All for your sake. For your safety. As strained as your relationship was, the last thing she wanted was for you to get hurt.

She'd risked her life for yours.

"I didn't-I didn't know she got hurt. She didn't tell me." You swallowed a hard, heavy lump in your throat. Shook the tears from your eyes. "Why didn't you tell me? Why?"

Because she didn't want to show weakness. Because this was yet another problem she could avoid and ignore until, eventually, she no longer could. Until the pain became too much and her body had lost too much blood to keep her on her feet, and she collapsed in your arms.

With Lilia and Alice's help, you lowered Agatha to the ground, gently, carefully. The other witches removed her coat and raised her shirt, exposing her back. Her skin, usually smooth and silky, was speckled with cuts of various shapes and sizes, as if someone had marked her with a thin, red marker. On her right side, just below her ribs, blossomed a large, bleeding wound.

"Oh, my god," you gasped, bewildered at the sight.

It had to have hurt like a bitch. Why didn't she tell you? Why didn't she ask for help? Why did she think she had to bite back the pain and suffer in silence?

Alice pressed her hands over the wound, closing it as much as she could. "This is bad. We have to stop the bleeding."

"Jen, can you do something?" you asked.

The witch in question stared, unmoved, unbothered. As if the scene before her didn't faze her a single bit. As if she didn't have it in her to care.

Agatha was easy to hate, easy to leave for dead.

Loving her, on the other hand, was difficult. Challenging. Near impossible for most people.

Not for you.

Never for you.

"Do the thing you did with Teen!" you shouted; an order, a command. Leaving no place for debate.

The woman you loved was bleeding out, and there was nothing you could do about it. Your skills, your magic, everything you knew and had was useless. You were useless.

The only one who could do something,who could help her in any meaningful way, was Jen.

"Please!" you begged, holding on to Agatha, whose head was resting on your lap, as if your life depended on it. As if she would disappear if you were to let go. "Don't let her die. I know you don't like her, but please help her."

As much bad blood there was between them, Agatha didn't deserve to die. Not like this.

She didn't deserve to be abandoned again.

"I'll owe you," you said through sobs that, no matter how hard you tried to suppress them, kept coming, one after another. Choking you. Suffocating you. "Please."

Jen sighed, then shook her head. "You know how this works. Water. Moonlight."

Lilia jumped at the task, Teen following in her stead.

Rio watched the scene unfolding before her, amused, like a cat playing with her food.

As your brain registered her presence, you bent over, hiding Agatha from her line of sight. As if that would do anything. As if anyone could ever hide from Death, herself. "You stay away from her! You're not taking her!"

Rio smiled, the picture of innocence. As fake as the Road that you were on.

"Stay back!"

She raised her hands in mock defeat and walked away. Alice and Jen shot you a glance, baffled by your outburst. You must have come across as hysterical. The new girlfriend, jealous of the ex who just happened to join you on the Road. Too lost in panic, in concern to think straight.

They didn't know who — what — Rio was. They didn't know that she wanted Agatha dead. They didn't know their history.

A long time ago, Agatha had filled you in on everything that had transpired between them. Their failed relationship. The loss of her son. You'd never seen her cry as much as she had that day; not before, and not since.

Everything that had transpired between them was still a gaping wound on her heart and soul; forever to bleed, never to close.

There was nothing you could do to make that pain go away. Nothing you could do to lessen it, to soothe that never-healing ache. The woman you loved more than life itself would forever bear that pain.

The only thing you could do was not add to it.

Today wasn't Agatha's day to die. You would be damned if you let Rio try to speed the process along.

You closed your eyes as Jen started chanting her healing spell, your arms firm around Agatha. Please, work, you begged as your tears dripped onto her hair, onto her deathly cold cheek. Please, stay with me. I can't lose you.

You would forever regret the three long years you'd spent without her.

She never should have stormed out that day.

You should have followed after her.

She should have told you she was going to Westview.

You never should have thought that that was it, that she was done with you for good.

Agatha said she didn't hate you. You hoped it was true, that it wasn't delirium brought upon by blood loss. There was still hope for you to make things right. To make her forgive you.

If she didn't — couldn't — that was okay with you. You could live with that. So long as she lived.

It would hurt, probably forever, but you would learn to deal with it. You would learn to live without her, as you had for the past three years.

All that mattered was that she kept her life. Even if she wasn't in yours.

As Jen finished her spell, Alice removed her hands from Agatha's injury, allowing Teen and Lilia to pour the enchanted water over it. You allowed yourself a peek, squeezing Agatha's shoulder. Please, work. Please. Please. Please.

You held your breath as Alice, as tenderly as she could, brushed her hand over the blood, smearing it away.

Revealing perfect, untouched flesh underneath it.

You released a long breath, relief flooding your veins like a long-awaited high.

The spell had worked.

The wound was gone.

"Thank you," you whispered, loud enough for Jen to hear. Hoping she knew how much this meant to you. How much you appreciated it. "Thank you so much."

You pulled Agatha closer, holding her tightly against you, rocking her back and forth like a sleeping child. She was still as cold as a corpse, but she was no longer bleeding. Her breathing, while shallow, was steady. Her heart beat in a healthy rhythm.

"She'll be okay, right?"

You needed someone to tell you that she would. To assure you that the worst had passed.

Lilia laid a tender, comforting hand on your shoulder. "She's strong."

"She has to be okay.

"She will be." It was a statement of fact. A promise. Her tone leaving no room for doubt.

You believed her.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Alice said. "She needs rest."

You gave a small nod. Agatha would get all the rest her body required. She would be warm and comfortable. Safe from any further calm.

Anything she needed, she would get.

You would make sure of it.

"Jen, I owe you."

The witch in question shook her head and allowed a small smile to graze her face. "You don't owe me anything. Agatha, on the other hand…"

The others chuckled at the remark.

You didn't have it in you to join them, Agatha's condition the one and only thing occupying your scrambled mind. You needed to look after her. To tend to her until she opened her eyes and uttered one of her sarcastic remarks that would be insulting to anyone who didn't know her enough to know she meant it with love.

Right now, that was all that mattered.

Anything else could wait.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange @lift-heavy-be-gay @katieswain123 @riovidalharkness @revleftshark

*****

Next chapter.

[wizzard890]

The fact is that David Lynch treats the subject of evil better than just about anybody else making movies today—better and also differently. His movies aren’t anti-moral, but they are definitely anti-formulaic. Evil-ridden though his filmic world is, please notice that responsibility for evil never in his films devolves easily onto greedy corporations or corrupt politicians or faceless serial kooks. Lynch is not interested in the devolution of responsibility, and he’s not interested in moral judgments of characters. Rather, he’s interested in the psychic spaces in which people are capable of evil. He is interested in Darkness. And Darkness, in David Lynch’s movies, always wears more than one face. Recall, for example, how Blue Velvet’s Frank Booth is both Frank Booth and “the Well-Dressed Man.” How Eraserhead's whole postapocalyptic world of demonic conceptions and teratoid offspring and summary decapitations is evil… yet how it’s “poor” Henry Spencer who ends up a baby-killer. How in both TV’s Twin Peaks and cinema’s Fire Walk with Me, “Bob” is also Leland Palmer, how they are, “spiritually,” both two and one. The Elephant Man’s sideshow barker is evil in his exploitation of Merrick, but so too is good old kindly Dr. Treeves—and Lynch very carefully has Treeves admit this aloud. And if Wild at Heart’s coherence suffered because its myriad villains seemed fuzzy and interchangeable, it was because they were all basically the same thing, i.e. they were all in the service of the same force or spirit. Characters are not themselves evil in Lynch movies—evil wears them. This point is worth emphasizing. Lynch’s movies are not about monsters (i.e. people whose intrinsic natures are evil) but about hauntings, about evil as environment, possibility, force. This helps explain Lynch’s constant deployment of noirish lighting and eerie sound-carpets and grotesque figurants: in his movies’ world, a kind of ambient spiritual antimatter hangs just overhead. It also explains why Lynch’s villains seem not merely wicked or sick but ecstatic, transported: they are, literally, possessed. Think here of Dennis Hopper’s exultant “I’LL FUCK ANYTHING THAT MOVES” in Blue Velvet, or of the incredible scene in Wild at Heart when Diane Ladd smears her face with lipstick until it’s devil-red and then screams at herself in the mirror, or of Bob’s look of total demonic ebullience in Fire Walk with Me when Laura discovers him at her dresser going through her diary and just about dies of fright. The bad guys in Lynch movies are always exultant, orgasmic, most fully present at their evilest moments, and this in turn is because they are not only actuated by evil but literally inspired: they have yielded themselves up to a Darkness way bigger than any one person. And if these villains are, at their worst moments, riveting for both the camera and the audience, it’s not because Lynch is “endorsing” or “romanticizing” evil but because he’s diagnosing it—diagnosing it without the comfortable carapace of disapproval and with an open acknowledgment of the fact that one reason why evil is so powerful is that it’s hideously vital and robust and usually impossible to look away from.

-David Foster Wallace, "The Theme of Evil in the Films of David Lynch"

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

🎃 A Warm Body

Oviposition CW: egg laying Monster!Reader based on an Anon❤️ from a while ago, yandere!human, reader with male and female reproductive organs

Growling in frustration, (Reader's) long claws carved into the concrete flooring of the room they were kept prisoner.

Their swollen body ached with how full they were, going mad with how desperate they were for release. As soon as they emerged from the Earth to reproduce, a human shot them with enough tranquilizers to put down a herd of elephants, which is why (Reader) now found themselves in what was essentially a concrete box, locked in by a large steel vault. (Reader) cried out in need, craving release.

The metal door spun obnoxiously, multiple mechanisms whirring as it unlocked and squealed open. The man who shot (Reader) quickly entered, shutting the door closed again behind him. There were so many things he wanted to say, an entire romantic monologue planned for the creature he had spent his entire life obsessing over, researching and hunting despite no one else believing in (Reader's) existence. But before he could open his mouth, (Reader) had him by the leg, dragging him down beneath them.

(Reader) ignored the man's happy squeaks, ripping his clothes off to find a suitable hole. His face glowed with heat, blushing as he pitifully attempted to cover up his body. But his small, human body was no match for (Reader's), effortlessly holding the man up by his hips, unfazed by his weak flailing. With his ass presented to (Reader) they couldn't help groaning, nearly bursting just from the thought of being able to mate.

They pushed the man onto their large depositor, screaming in pleasure at how snuggly he fit on them. (Reader) slid him against them, animalistic grunts bouncing off the concrete walls as they mercilessly fucked him.

His smile and incoherent babbling was cute, but (Reader) didn't really care. It didn't matter that it felt good for their abductor, that he was in complete and utter bliss. Nor did they appreciate his erect penis twitching with his building climax, about ready to cum without touching it. The only thing that mattered was coating the insides of his ass with their protective slime, forming a type of pocket to protect their eggs from his bodily functions.

Squelching sounds filled the air as he slapped into (Reader's) pelvis wetly, creating strings of fluids stretching between their bodies. (Reader) could feel that they had pumped enough nesting liquid into him, with how round he was already becoming.

The man erratically spasmed as the first egg entered his asshole, hitting his prostate on the way in. Cum hit the concrete with the next egg, off-white droplets landing pathetically by (Reader's) feet and dripping onto his own face from the doubled over position.

But (Reader) wasn't done. Eggs continued pumping into his body, brushing past the overstimulated man's sensitive spot, bringing him to tears as his post ejaculated body was overwhelmed, fucking deep into his aching hole.

He couldn't stand or run away, his legs weak from his orgasm and his body tired from the sudden bloating from his unnatural impregnation. (Reader) carefully pulled out after finishing, satisfied from laying their first brood. The man wasn't a bad host for their offspring, still smiling through his drool and tears. His full body was cradled against (Reader's) protectively, feeling content with the new life laid inside of him.

(Reader) may have only needed a warm body, but they didn't mind using this one for the rest of their mating needs ❤️

[itspheenixbaby]

elephant in the room 🐘

rant about the state of online shifting; "get-it-off my chest" moment

part 1. scripting trauma/ being a bad person in a dr how many people are really doing "bad things" or scripting in trauma in their dr? lets be so fucking for real here. why is it that everytime someone "morally corrupt" it gets exposed months apart and the "culprit" is some small ass account with like ten followers? its not common. and im not saying it never happens. but shiftok is always on about these people and im like...who tf are yall talking about? they find one bad apple and then decide the whole community needs to be reminded how fucked up it is to do xyz.

i mean lets be realistic, how many people are going out of their way to script something traumatic or harmful? the majority of the online community (reddit, tumblr, tiktok) always talks about shifting for their s/o, adventure, frienships, family or a better life in some way. how many people are deliberately scripting to harm themselves or others? and is the number really so much that we need thinkpiece after thinkpiece about it?

aand when others behave immorally or get traumatized in their dr they will experience it. they will see the effects of any bad things they do to others. they will feel the trauma first hand and suffer from what theyve scripted in many ways. we dont need to punish these people. their dr will do it for them.

P. S what about when you shift to a dr like the walking dead? or even mha and keep in the war arc? thats traumatic. hell, even an idol / fame dr can be traumatic and those are hella common! yet nobody bats an eye or reprimands it...odd...

part 2. racebending race doesnt exist. i saw a shiftoker (a white one too??) act like someone was crazy for saying it! the whole concept was created by europeans! white mans burden, race based social classes, and eugenics all seems natural to yall? i mean logically its not odd to anyone that modern racial concepts were made by the same group of people in the same time period...? the time period people needed excuses to kill, rape, steal from and enslave other groups... search up "who created race" and then report back to me..anyways..

name one good thing that splitting people up and assigning them identities based on their background does for us? its caused mocking of those that dont fit the mold their race gives them, harmful views of other because of their racial group(s) and low self esteem from outside perceptions of your race. oh and division among groups on top of everything. so what is the point of holding on to race? abandon it! shift to be white, asian, black, indigenous, do what you want! youre not "changing your race" until you shift to become a different species (and theyres obvi nothing wrong w that!).

and some people say "if you script your another race your downplaying the racism poc face" but not every country has the same type of racism the states has. not every country is even as racist as the states. for example if im shifting to be fully south korean born & raised, and live full time in south korea, its not likely ill experience racism. and even so you can just...script out racism? like what...some people literally hate shifters who dont script out racism and expect everyone to script it out, but then turn to say that they cant change their race because of racism...huh? genuinely dont get that.

P. S im only really preaching abandonment of race so flippantly in regard to shifting. in this reality we're kinda stuck with it at this point lol.

P.S.S and it seems shifters from the usa hate racebending the most! as an american, i wonder how much of that is being intimidated that the concept of a racial hierarchy, that our nation has been built upon for centuries, can be shattered so easily...and therefore obviously proves it as obsolete. food for thought. (half joking here teehee)

[seat-safety-switch]

Visiting the zoo is a lot of fun. You can see an elephant, you can see a rhinoceros, you can see a giraffe. All of these animals don't come from where I am, and through a process I don't like to think too much about, here they are, regardless.

I know lots of people don't like zoos, but if they came with me and experienced the same things I do, they would think otherwise. Those elephants are only bored if you are doing boring things. They're just like us. Imagine if you were stuck in your house, looking out the window all day long at folks wandering by and occasionally making fun of you. You'd be mad. At the very least, you'd be bored, which is worse than being mad. Now imagine some guy does a wheelie on a golf cart. Hey – that's exciting stuff.

Yes, the zoo is gonna say otherwise. They were perfectly happy with the way things have always been. When you're number one, why try harder, right? The reason why you try harder is because you care deeply about the intellectual needs and enrichment of these proud zoo animals. And also because once you pry the restrictor out of a Cub Cadet, and shift your weight just so, you can get those front wheels in the air terrifyingly easily. Sounds great, too, if you have the brains to cut a hole in the muffler first. Giraffes appreciate that, trust me.

So I'm telling you right now, folks in the jury. Do you want frothy, high-falutin' zookeepers to keep maintaining the status quo, or do you want to strike a blow for animal rights? I say we tell this judge that the case should be thrown right the fuck out, and then we can go ride dirt bikes in the parking lot, just in case there's any animals hiding in the bushes that could do with some entertainment. I am pretty sure I saw a possum out there this morning.

[thevoidstaredback]

Adventures In Gotham

Enough Caffeine to Kill an Elephant Side Story

The first time Danny had ever been to Gotham, he swore it would be his last. He was twenty-two at the time.

In an effort to relax after finals had ended, he, Tucker, Sam, Val, Wes, and Dani had been playing a round of Truth or Dare after finishing a few movies. Sam had dared Danny to wander around Gotham without attracting attention to himself. The catch was that he wasn't allowed to use his powers except to fly there and back. His time limit was Sunday night.

They'd all been planning to stay the night at Sam's anyway, so no one would even notice he was gone. Though, the dare had seemed easy at the time, Danny should've realized his luck was not that good.

Regardless, he flew to the outskirts of Gotham City, dropped his transformation, and entered.

The first thing he noticed was that there was some kind of bubble around Gotham preventing the Shades and overall feel of death from leaving. It was overwhelming at first, but he got used to it pretty quickly. The next thing he noticed was that he had walked into somebody's haunt.

Shit.

He made himself presentable and spoke to the night, "I apologise for trespassing," His voice echoed through the open area as though he was shouting in an empty room. Ghost Speak tended to do that. "I mean no hostile intentions. I simply wish to play a game with your protectors." With any luck, whoever this was would be playful or friendly, at the very least. He didn't hold his breath, though.

A lie. He was holding his breath, but that's only because he was nervous!

The night air stilled as though considering his words. Then, a breeze from behind pushed him further into the city. Flapping wings of bats and owls seemed to hide the whispers of "You may come in." and "Be careful." and "You will lose." and "Good luck.".

A vote of confidence from the City Spirit. "Thank you." He was going to be as quick as he could, but he couldn't draw attention to himself. Easier said than done. Batman seemed to know whenever anyone ever stepped foot into his city, especially if they've never been there before. So, he had to play hide and seek with Batman and Robin.

Again, easier said than done.

Danny knows very little about about Gotham and her heroes and villains. What he does know is that Robin is fairly knew to the scene, but also very serious in what he does. He's still a child, though, and he likes to play around a bit. Batman, on the other hand, has already become something of a cryptid, despite only showing himself a year or so ago. Either way, the two balance each other nicely and work well as a team.

Batman and Robin obviously know the entire city inside out, so Danny has to somehow keep an eye on where they are at all times while not drawing attention to himself. Which would be easy, except for the fact that Danny can only sense where non-living beings are. Batman and Robin are very much alive. He's pretty sure. Unless either of them have a shit ton of Shades attached to them, which is unlikely but not impossible, then he'll have to rely on finding them first and keeping them within his sight as he tours around their city.

Why the hell did he agree to this? He so deserves a reward if he succeeds.

'When', not 'if'. 'If' is pessimistic and implies that Batman might just drop him off a building and watch him fall. 'When' at least lets him continue with the illusion that he may get out of this no deader than when he arrived in Gotham.

All he had to do was basically tour the city, then he'll be done. It went well for the first hour, but then he spotted the shadows moving around him. It wouldn't normally be a problem, but one of those shadows was made out of bright colours. Seeing as his Ghost Sense didn't go off, Danny figured the he'd just run straight into Batman and Robin.

Shit. Fuck. Okay, play it cool, Danny.

He ran. He ran as fast as he could without using his powers. When he was sure he'd lost the two vigilanties, he allowed himself to stop in an alley somewhere in the Narrows. (The map he looked at was coming in very handy all of a sudden)

"Could be worse," he said to himself, backing into a corner.

The sound of shattering glass and the scurrying of mice and rats gave the impression of laughter and taunting. Which, rude, but fair.

"Your Knights, my lady," he spoke into the darkness, "are terrifying."

"Who you talking to?"

Danny did not jump. He didn't! Liar.

The kid, about twelve years old, was in bright green, red, and yellow. His hair windswept and he didn't seem even the slightest bit out of breath, let alone tired. Shouldn't he be in bed? Did he have a bedtime? He should have a bedtime, in Danny's expert opinion.

"Did you know that humans are endurance hunters?" Robin had been smiling since he dropped down in front of Danny. And if that wasn't a scary ass line to hear from a twelve year old up way past his bedtime-

No, he's not intimidated. "It's, um, a good thing I'm not completely human then, huh?" Stupid, stupid, stupid! Shut up, Danny! Stop talking! Right now!

This made Robin frown and the shadows started to move again, Batman taking his place just behind the boy. "What do you mean?"

Damn, he's scary! Danny's a sucker for a deep voice with a growl, damn.

"I, um," Intelligent response, Danny. King of the Realm Between Realms of Infinity. Keeper of Balance, Timeless Protector of the Dead and Living, and he can't even form a proper sentence.

Batman and Robin's stares were uncomfortably similar, even as Robin tilted his head ever so slightly to the right.

For all his wisdom, Danny couldn't see how he could manage to get out of this without using his powers. So, "Gottagobye!" he let intangibility and invisibility wash over him and he slipped through the wall behind him. From there, he let the rings of light cover him and he flew away.

He'll take the L. That was scary as hell!

The night wind brushed against him, the sound of breaking bones and cackling telling him to come by to play again some time. Had Gotham's City Spirit lead her Knight and his child to Danny? Probably. She seemed like the type. At least she seems to like him? Silver linings.

"I'm never going there again," he muttered halfway to Illinois.

Storyboard

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