#i've gotten used to them being gone now. i no longer see them in the street

[queen-of-bad-opsec]

a person left my world almost half a year ago.

(expand this post to read more about my lament (warning: it is gonna be extremely shit))

they were important to me. there was a time where anything i did, i did for them. there was a time where they were the reason i pushed forward. where they were the thing that made life worth living.

that is to say, they were a good friend. the best, maybe.

i've tried to invite them back into my world many times. i think it only made it worse.

i still catch glimpses; hints of this person here or there. they clearly still exist. they are most likely doing very well outside of my world.

we have one very good mutual friend in particular. they didn't leave. i don't know what i'd do if they did. occasionally, the friend who left replies to their messages. never to mine, though.

one time, the friend asked why they had left like that. the exact words they wrote to them were "Flexx (that is me) said you became ghost again?"

they replied - "idk rly. maybe"

i had never felt dizzy before in the way that i did when my remaining friend showed me those words. my head was spinning, even though i was laying flat on my bed. i'd been dizzy before, of course. but never like that.

i still dont know what to think of those 3 words. at the time, i wrote a msg about how sad i was that i apparently had so little value that they didnt even know for certain if they were ghosting me (again - 3 months since last read receipt; that was 1.5 months ago; not a word since); that's what i felt at the time. maybe i was also trying to let them know just how bad it hurt that they left, in the hope that they might decide to return. not that it had any chance of working, but a cat can dream, can't i?

who knows - maybe they had some rlly good reasons to leave. for one, maybe there really were circumstances out of their control and mine that forced them to leave me behind. or maybe, i rlly was so bad a friend that their only chance of survival was to get away from me, so to speak. maybe i rlly was just another social obligation to them, gladly abandoned in exchange for things they actually wanted to do. maybe i deserved to be abandoned.

sometimes, i think back to those times we shared, and i remember all the little ways in which i mightve hurt them; i remember what a bad friend i was; how annoying; how inconsiderate. there are so many of moments of "ah. that is why they left".

and even if none of that is true - even if the only reason they left is because they are a bad person who's just like that, i don't think that i am capable of holding any kind of grudge. i have left my own share of ppl in my life behind unexpectedly and without warning or notification, meaning to reply eventually, but forgetting, and then suddenly finding myself unable to reply at all for fear of finding out how much they hate me if i do try to reconnect. it would be nothing but hypocritical of me to hate my friend for leaving w/out a word. who am i to judge.

i may not be capable of hating them, but i am still sad. it was all so good; we were having so much fun - and then they were gone. not a word, not a warning, just quietly walking away, leaving me behind.

and i was so close to telling them "i love you".

[soaps-mohawk]

I'm going to be honest

I'm having a genuinely hard time making this post. I've been fighting with it for a couple weeks now, but I think it's time I finally make it.

I'm not having fun on this blog anymore.

It sounds bad, but honestly, it kind of is.

I think a lot of it started from the very beginning with the precedence and expectations I put on myself. I've always tried to respond to every comment I get. Even from the beginning. It's just a polite thing to do since those who leave comments took the time to write out what they think of my fic, even if it's just a keysmash. I've always felt the need to thank those who leave comments or reblog my writing or (now that tumblr has it) replied to my fics. It worked fine before because none of my fics were particularly popular. Even my most popular fic (at that time) didn't get as much attention as CRCB has. I've never had a "big blog" before, nor a fic as popular as CRCB has gotten.

It was fine at first, responding to everyone, engaging with everyone. I was riding that high of omg so many people are reading and enjoying my fic! I've never had anything quite like this before.

Now...it just feels more like a chore. I set this precedence on this blog that I respond to everyone and I know a lot of people have said that they're surprised I responded to them and to everyone, and now I'm getting why a lot of writers don't. I'm exhausted. I feel like I've just been robotically saying the same thing over and over trying to respond to people now. I used to love seeing asks in my inbox and reblogs and replies but now? All I feel is dread because I have to respond to all of those.

Turning anon off was a big help. It lessened the sheer volume of asks I was getting a day. And while I do feel bad for all of my anons who prefer to stay anons, with everything that happened (the multiple incidents) with anon that kind of started to suck the joy out of everything. That paired with the obsessive need to constantly have my inbox cleared and make sure everyone gets a response...I can understand now too why big blogs will have 200+ asks in their inbox. It's hard and it's exhausting and I'm burning out.

First it was the fic that was burning me out. Things have gone on far longer than I planned and I just wasn't prepared for this fic to go on and for a while there it was dragging. I'll admit that. If I could go back, I'd speed up a few things, but it's done, it's posted there's no going back. I kind of hoped I would have the mental capacity to upload more than once a week too, but I just couldn't. I still can't.

I've come to dread posting chapters because I know I'm going to have to reply and respond to everyone. The only thing keeping me posting is the fact that we're in the part of the story I've been excited about since the beginning and also because I keep leaving everyone on cliffhangers and I love torturing y'all with all of them.

So that being said, this is in no way to shame anyone for interacting with me, anyone leaving comments or replies or sending asks. Don't feel bad about doing it please. I appreciate all of you that have engaged with me and it really means so much to me. Honestly, earlier this year, if I didn't have this fic and everyone on this blog, I might not have made it to now. It's been a really rough year and it's still going to be into next year. It's just getting to the point where I need a break.

I've needed a break for a long time. I thought taking days off the blog would help, and it did for a couple of weeks, but now even on the days I'm supposed to be on the blog and engaging, I just find myself queueing stuff up and just being offline most of the day still.

I'm tired. That's the best reason I can give. I'm tired and burned out on life and I'm tired and burned out on this blog.

So...I think I need a break. I need to not keep responding to every single reply and reblog every chapter. I need to not force myself to answer every ask right away, no matter how much I want to. I feel bad, but I know everyone would rather have me here and enjoying the blog than forcing myself to interact to the point where I'm dreading it and just robotically repeating myself over and over with every reply and answer and comment.

I won't be pausing the fic, I won't be not uploading. I'll still be posting chapters, I just might not be interacting as much as I have been. It's just putting such a mental strain on me still, even with anon off, even with days off. And with things getting busier for me, it's going to be too much to try and deal with irl stuff and write and try to be super active on the blog. There's going to come a point where I have to sacrifice the writing or the blog and I'd rather sacrifice the blog to keep myself sane, and also to keep trying to finally get this fic done. I love this fic, don't get me wrong, but I'm just burning out.

I'm already burned out in a lot of ways.

I was planning kinktober this year but honestly I'm considering not doing it because I know interaction is going to be insane and it's going to be a lot to keep up on. Plus trying to write that many fics is hard and I'm not sure I have the ability to do it. I have a few done but now I'm just like...is that something I want to do on top of irl stuff and CRCB.

There's just no joy in it anymore. It's not anyone's fault but mine. I put the pressure on myself, I held myself to that standard for this long despite the fact I knew it was draining me. I've tried to push through when I should have prioritized myself. I feel so guilty not responding to everyone. I feel so guilty being a day or two late responding to everyone.

I want to be here and interacting and responding to things but I just can't bring myself to anymore. It's no one's fault, and this is not a drag on anyone, or an attempt to make anyone feel bad or guilty for interacting or sending asks or anything. I'm just airing out the truth and saying what I need to say because I feel like I've been so robotic and lifeless with my responses these last couple weeks and I feel like I need to explain why. It's nothing anyone has done. It's my fault. It's 100% my fault.

Things have just gotten to be too much and it's my fault for forcing myself to be so active. The social battery has dropped into the negatives. I'm not a social person. I can only handle so much interaction and I've pushed so far beyond that, that things have gotten to this point. I want to be here and I want to have fun and I want to use this as an escape but I just don't feel that way about it anymore. It's a chore for me, a job, something I feel like I have to do and it's my fault that I feel that way. It's my own standards and expectations I set on myself, and my expectations on what I think my followers want and deserve and now I feel like I've gone on too long like this that I can't change things without hurting anyone's feelings. I don't want people to think I'm ignoring them in favor of others because I know there's writers out there that do that. They only respond to a certain group and ignore others that comment and reblog. I don't want to make anyone feel like I'm doing that to them and that's now led me to here.

I'm forcing it and I'm tired.

It's been hard these last few weeks. The life has just been draining and draining continuously. The joy and the love I have for this blog and my followers and the interactions and the fic. The last anon bullshit that happened was just kind of the last nail in the coffin so to speak. The straw that broke the camel's back. Things stopped being fun. It made me feel bad (and not in the guilty way, though that was a part of it) and I'm honestly just over it. I'm over the blog, I'm over interacting, I'm over life at this point. August is a hard month for me and every year it seems to get worse and worse. A lot of it is unrelated to anything online and I was going to make a post about it but honestly I just don't want to. Those that know, know. Those that don't...it doesn't matter.

I'm getting annoyed by the blog, I'm getting annoyed every time I look in my notifications and see an ask or a reply or a comment. I'm getting annoyed by some of my followers and that's not fair to you. Everyone always talks about how nice and kind and patient I am when I'm really not. I'm not the person I present myself to be on this blog, the way I mask myself so I can present myself as being a normal, kind human being. The mask is coming off because I'm so tired I can't keep it up anymore. It's happening here and it's happening in real life. I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm angry at a lot of things and the last thing I want is to start taking it out on my followers. You don't deserve that, especially when it's not your fault, it's nothing any of you have done. It's all me.

It's not you, it's me.

So for the sake of not burning this whole thing to the ground, I'm going to take a break. I'm not replying to everyone, I'm not responding to every reblog, I won't reply to every ask I get right away, if at all because sometimes I just don't have anything to say in response and I need to learn that's okay. It's nothing against you. It's not aimed at anyone specifically, I'm just trying to put myself first and stop things from escalating. I need a break and I'm going to do something selfish and I'm going to take it.

Don't apologize because it's not your fault. Don't apologize because you think you might have contributed to this because you didn't. It is no one's fault but my own.

I'm the one that needs to apologize to all of you because I've just not been myself because I've been forcing myself to be someone I'm not. I've been very unfair to a lot of people over the last seven months that this blog has been active and I've held a precedent that is not sustainable in the long run and made everyone believe that I was capable of maintaining that kind of interaction when I'm not.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been putting everyone through this. I'm sorry I've been so detached and robotic and ingenuine. I'm sorry I led everyone to believe I'm someone I'm not. I'm sorry I've dragged this on this long that it's gotten to the point that I have to make this post.

I considered just disappearing but that wouldn't be fair to you either. I don't want to put you through that, so I'm pouring all of my thoughts out and making you read through this fucking novel of a post. If you've made it this far, then congrats I guess. Gold metals to you who bothered reading this far.

Anyway, all of that aside, I'll still be posting chapters. I'll have them scheduled and I'll probably come on and add links places to keep things current. I'll respond and reply and answer asks when I feel like it. You don't have to stop sending them, but just don't expect them to be responded to right away anymore. I'll probably still be here reblogging things I want and doing things when I feel like it.

I just need a few weeks to myself. Time I don't have to care about the blog at all and keeping up with it. Anon will remain off for the sake of keeping asshole trolls away, and also so I don't open tumblr and have 200 asks in my inbox after a week. Sorry to my anons but it's just the way it needs to be right now. Maybe once this break is over and I've dealt with irl stuff, I'll consider putting it back on. I just can't after everything I dealt with recently on anon.

It'll be the same on Ao3, for those that follow here and read there. Comments will probably sit for a while. They won't be answered right away anymore unless I get the energy to burn through them. Even then I won't try to answer them all at once like I did this last weekend.

I'll try to reblog something every day so y'all know I'm alright. I don't want y'all to panic and it's not fair to put you through that, especially those that might not see this or bother reading it. Those that follow simply for the fic and nothing else. I'm here, I'm just not...here.

This week's chapter is in the queue to be posted tomorrow as usual. Chapters will still come out as planned since I'm not stopping writing, just taking a break from the blog itself.

Thank you those of you who stuck through to the end here. I appreciate all of you so much. You have no idea. I'm sorry I let things get to this point and I'm sorry to anyone that I've gotten rude or snappy with because I couldn't be selfish and put myself first. I'm sorry to anyone that got a robotic, repeated response to something they were probably excited to share. I'm sorry I've been so unfair to everyone and I hope you can forgive me.

Take care and I'll talk to everyone when I have the energy to.

[sundrop-writes]

are you currently open to doing reactions for teen wolf characters? cause if you are i’d love to see how you think stiles & allison would react to seeing a fem reader naked by accident hehe

yeah, as it says in my Rules, I love doing reactions and MLTs (especially cause they're fun, shorter fics that I can write quickly in order to get to know the characters better. they're a lot of fun)

so here we go

Requests for Teen Wolf are OPEN!!! Please read the rules first, though <3 also vote in this poll if you like Teen Wolf fics

How would Stiles Stilinski and Allison Argent react to seeing you naked by accident?

Warnings: mentions of sex/arousal/sexual desire (characters wanting to fuck the reader after seeing them naked), sexual themes but no explicit smut, reader is described as having breasts/is called a 'girl', mentions of Scott/Allison, mentions of Jackson/Reader (background, unimportant), mentions of the reader taking nudes/nude pictures, Allison's section is way longer than Stiles's oops (but that's because I've never written for her before and I got excited).

Stiles would be coming to visit you on a random Saturday - something that he did often. And after letting himself in with his spare key and bounding up the stairs to your room, he would hear music coming from your room and think nothing of simply letting himself in. He could imagine that you were cutely dancing in your pajamas, using your hairbrush as a microphone - something that he would tease you for, but secretly loved.

He hadn't even thought to knock. The two of you were so close - best friends since you were in diapers, having grown up together, gone through everything together.

So when he opened the door and found you standing at the foot of your bed, naked, rubbing lotion over your skin almost sensually - a towel in a rumple at your feet as you had clearly just gotten out of the shower - in seconds, it changed his entire perspective of you. Seeing your gorgeous breasts, the roundness of your thighs, the perfect swell of your ass, the softness of your stomach - it put nothing but downright filthy images in his mind. And in seconds, you went from being his dorky childhood friend to a woman he now desperately wanted to fuck.

He didn't get to stand there for long and stare before you noticed him, but the image of you so beautifully bared was easily seared into his mind forever.

"Stiles?!" You screamed when you noticed him in the doorway, and he felt so terribly caught.

His instinct was to turn and run, but he was dumb from the amount of blood pooling in his cock. He tripped over his own feet and rammed headfirst into the doorway - hard. He became dizzy from the hit fell to the floor within seconds, groaning loudly in pain (and embarrassment) as he clutched the bruise blooming on his forehead.

You rushed to pick up your towel to cover yourself, and then rushed to see if he was okay.

"Oh my god, Stiles." You sighed, kneeling down by his side. "What is wrong with you?"

Well, he could add 'intense sexual desire for his best friend' to that list now.

Allison loved having you over at her place. Between the chaos of dating and not-dating someone that her family had vowed to kill, and being trained by that family to kill others of his kind in the most traumatic and tiring way possible - you were a breath of fresh air in her life. You were the soothing relaxation she needed among the chaos.

She invited you over as often as possible because of this. Whether it was dinner with her family, studying, sleepovers where the two of you talked all night and ate junk food - you were over at her house often. Her family knew that the two of you were the best of friends, and they loved you because you were a smart, respectable, normal girl.

On this night, the two of you were having a regular study session. Nothing special - just sitting on her bed going over some homework. More so, enjoying each other's company in quiet while you worked individually.

"Do you have the notes that Mr. Hoffman wrote down today?" Allison asked you, looking up from her book. "I know he didn't want us to do all the problems, but I can't remember which numbers he wrote on the board."

"I took a picture of it." You told her, unlocking your phone and passing it to her. "Just flip through my camera roll, you'll find it. I gotta pee."

You slid off the bed and left her room for the bathroom, and she opened your camera roll looking for the picture of the blackboard that you had taken. She grinned when she saw that the first picture was of a random squirrel that you had seen outside during lunch. Very you.

Then - a picture of Stiles making an ugly face. Of course. He had stolen your phone during lunch. Then - Scott and Stiles. More Scott and Stiles. Then, pictures of your outfit that you had taken in the bathroom that morning at school. Then - wait, what?

A picture of you naked.

Allison's insides tensed.

It was a gorgeous picture of you, and though she felt a twinge of guilt over the fact that she knew she wasn't supposed to see it, she couldn't stop staring. You were laying on your bed, the morning sun pouring in through the curtains - it had probably been taken before school that morning. The picture showed everything from your collar bones to the tops of your thighs, your arm holding the camera high up to get a good angle of your amazing body.

Your breasts relaxed and your nipples peaked (it had to be from you teasing them up for the picture and not from the cold air, your room was always soft and cozy), your stomach so wonderfully soft, your pussy on display - showing off the dusting of pubic hair that you had their. Your knees pressed together, presenting your thighs in a soft, alluring position.

It made Allison's throat dry.

Before she could even think to keep looking for what she had actually needed, you came back into the room.

"Hey," You grinned at her as you moved to sit by her feet at the end of the bed. "You find it."

One thing that Allison knew by now - lying was useless and something she absolutely hated. You were one person in her life that she upheld honesty with as her greatest treasure.

"No." She said, taking a moment to re-moisten her mouth with saliva before she continued. "But - I found this."

She turned the phone screen toward you and your jaw dropped slightly before snapping shut again with a harsh sound.

"Oh." You breathed out. "That." You paused for a moment. "I - uh. Sorry you had to see that."

You took back your phone from her and locked it, staring at the floor with shame.

"I'm not." Allison said quickly. "You - you look beautiful."

It would be a few days before you fully unpacked what she had meant by this. Even Allison herself still hadn't fully acknowledged that she felt anything more than friendship for you.

You nodded. "Thank you." You took another moment. "I - just - I'm sorry it's awkward."

Allison nodded. She wasn't sure why she didn't feel as awkward as you did.

"Well - who was it for?" She couldn't help but to wonder.

She could only assume that you had taken the picture with the intention to send it to someone.

"Um, well... it was for Jackson." You told her.

The two of you had been texting a lot more frequently since he had broken up with Lydia.

Allison frowned.

"You are way too good for him." She insisted.

And that was the comment that stuck in your mind - that truly got you thinking about what your relationship with Allison meant.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA to refuse tutoring my nephew even though I'm not sure what he did wrong?

So I (24, F) have been tutoring my nephew/the son of my mum's close friend (10, M) for a couple of weeks now. His mum pays me for the hours I spend teaching him and honestly despite the kid being obviously ADHD I don't really mind him getting constantly distracted because it's clear he still understands what I'm explaining to him, so we had a pretty good relationship up until this point as I was way more understanding of him than any other tutors or even his own mother, although I don't really know him THAT well.

During our tutoring sessions my cat, Pudding (14, F) would usually stay in the same room with us. She likes to stay in the same room as other people but usually doesn't let strangers pet her and will go away if bothered too much. Well, Nephew being distractable as he is would often go up to her to pet her as he would answer a question of mine or just as a thing between answering questions. Strangely enough Pudding did let him do that and didn't seem to be THAT bothered by it, so I too ignored it and just let him do it.

Now, here's the issue: A few days ago after we finished our tutoring session for that day I left the room to wash my hands in the kitchen since we were eating snacks during the session. My house's kitchen is literally DIRECTLY next to the room where we have our tutoring sessions so it couldn't have taken longer than 10-15 seconds from me leaving before I heard a cry from Pudding. "Oh, she must've finally gotten annoyed with Nephew's behaviour, I'll tell him to stop bothering her." I thought to myself as I finished washing my hands, yet before I was even able to make it back to the room I heard a second, much louder meow, the kind of meow a cat only makes if they ACTUALLY get hurt. So now, properly concerned, I round the corner into the room and see Nephew sitting right next to where Pudding is still laying, now with her ears flat and looking at him. He must've seen the confusion on my face because the first thing he said was "We were just playing." to which I blurted out that clearly she was not in the mood to play and walked over to check on her. While doing that, I noticed that there was a blanket slightly covering Pudding's hind legs, so I assumed maybe Nephew accidentally put his weight there without realizing she had her paws there. I VERY GENTLY pulled back the blanket and VERY GENTLY touched her legs to see if they were hurt, and then she BIT me and finally ran away. Of course I don't blame her, and in fact that only strengthened my concern because Pudding is a VERY polite cat, if she's bothered by anything she will just leave and if she bites for play it's always very gentle and doesn't leave a mark, this was not that. Afterwards I couldn't get any useful information out of Nephew as to what exactly he did, he just kept saying that he was petting her and she got annoyed which was clearly not true, so I dropped the subject and just sent him home.

Now it's been a few days since that happening and I've checked on Pudding's legs a few times since then. She doesn't respond to me touching them at all and she doesn't limp or anything so either she didn't get injured, or the legs were never the issue in the first place and me touching her was simply the last straw in that already stressful situation for her. Despite that however, I find myself not wanting to have Nephew over for tutoring anymore as I'm afraid that something like this might happen again when I'm literally gone from the room for less than a minute. It really annoys me that I have absolutely no clue what happened while I was gone, I don't even have a way to know if Nephew did whatever he did intentionally or by accident since him saying they were just "playing" could very well be just his honest perception of the situation, or him lying and being vague on purpose because he knows he did something wrong. The reason why I feel like Nephew might be lying about doing bad things on purpose is because Nephew's family has two cats, so I really feel like he should know better already and be more careful. Another point is the fact that this literally happened the INSTANT I was gone from the room, almost as if he was waiting for me to be gone to do something (as far as I recall I haven't ever left him alone with Pudding before this point), though admittedly that could just be unlucky coincidence. Plus, I find it REALLY hard to believe he'd be able to make Pudding cry like that on accident, I've genuinely NEVER heard her make a sound like that, ever, not even at the vet's. On the other hand however I know that he was failing his math class badly before I started tutoring him and I'm almost certain he'd start to fail again if I stopped helping him. Not only that, I'd have to come up with a lie about being too busy to do tutoring or something else since obviously I can't tell his mother "Hey your son might've done something bad but I'm not really sure and don't really have any proof and can't even tell if it was really intentional or not", since I realize how ridiculous that sounds despite still genuinely feeling incredibly uncomfortable about the whole situation.

So with all of that out of the way, would I be the asshole for denying him my tutoring services just because I feel uncomfortable about the idea of him possibly hurting my cat on purpose, even when I don't really have any proof that he did it on purpose or would do it again?

What are these acronyms?

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 31 - All Blends 2

Holy crap is this chapter a doozy lol. It's quite a bit longer than my other chapters. Lotta stuff happens. So I hope you enjoy!

Warnings! None this time? Sad stuff happens ofc. We are introduced to someone new.

P.s. I was going to use some random son for Big Mom but like. I did a Lil research and I can't help but like Katakuri. 😬 again. I apologize if Big Mom and Kata seem a bit off. I'm trying to keep myself spoiler free for the anime.

Masterlist

Benn runs through the courtyards of Mihawk's castle, dodging swipes from the Humandrals until he hears the sound of striking steel. He turns that way, picking up speed as he goes until he arrives at a small clearing in the dirt. Shanks and Mihawk are both grinning, a joy so easy to see that Benn thinks he may go blind. Usually, he'd stay and watch, but he can still hear your terrified voice pleading for help.

He slides to a stop, and the two men sparing turn and look at him, brows raised.

“Benn? What's going on?” Shanks asks his first mate. Benn wouldn't come get him unless it was important.

“It's, _ Shanks. They found her.”

The temperature of the surrounding area plummets, and all ambient noise disappears. Neither man can believe what they are hearing. They'd both been so sure that no one would be able to find your tiny island tucked away in Paradise, so close to the Calm Belt that most ships would be torn apart by sea kings. How could this have happened?

“What did you say?” Mihawk hisses and his grip on Yoru tightens to the point of pain, his nails digging into the flesh of his palm. He ignores the feeling of hot liquid dripping down his hand.

Shanks isn't faring much better. He looks ashen, pale faced and nervous. He and Benn share a look, one that Mihawk easily catches.

“_ called the transponder snail. She said that the Big Mom pirates had made landfall,” Benn frowns, one hand running through his graying hair.

“She sounded terrified.”

Mihawk is moving before his mind fully registers what's going on. He speeds through the castle, grabbing his coat and bag he'd packed the other day in case you called them. His haki is lashing, sending furniture falling and making the old stone walls of the castle crack and fracture. The ringing of his snail grabs his attention, and Hawkeye grabs it before loping out of the castle and to the bay.

Shanks is right behind him, Benn keeping up with his captain. It is with a silent, shared look with his lover that Mihawk reluctantly steps aboard the Red Force. He isn't fond of being on another's ship, especially one as big as this one, but like hell, would he let the younger man out of his sight.

While Shanks is barking orders, Mihawk takes the time to answer the still ringing snail that he clutches too tightly.

Ca-lick

“Mihawk! Finally! I've been calling forever!”

Perona’s shrill voice is a little comfort, but fear still clutches Dracule by the heart. She is rattling on before he can get a word in.

“You've got to get back to _’s island. She thinks it might be Big Mom and her crew!”

Mihawk feels a vein pop in his brow with his hard he scowls down at the snail.

“I know! Where are you? How quickly can you go back?”

“I'm three days out! So, two and a half if the sea doesn't hate me. What if she's already gone? What if…what if it's worse?”

Mihawk can hear the thickness in Perona’s voice and knows that the ghost girl is probably crying now, having worked herself up in a tizzy. He sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Perona. I need you to calm down, girl. Listen to me when I say that _ will be fine. We can handle anything that's happened, but I need you to do something for me, okay?”

He hears the pinkette sniff over the transponder, but she sounds like she's gotten a hold of herself.

“Okay. What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to go back to her island. Find out if she's still there, but be safe. If you see her jolly roger, then you sail right to us. You've got your log pose, right?”

Perona sniffs again and nods even though her father-figure can't see it, “Yeah.”

“Good. If the island is clear, then investigate carefully.” He stresses the word, “Call me back as soon as you can, got it?”

“Yes, Mihawk. Will she really be okay?”

His heart breaks at the fear that he can hear swimming in his charge’s voice. He licks his lips. He is terrified in all honesty, but he keeps it together for her sake.

“She will be. Be safe, Perona.”

The ghost girl assures the older man that she will be careful and the transmission ends after that. Mihawk pockets the snail and looks around the ship to try and find Shanks.

The redhead is at the helm, still barking orders at his crew. Dracule picks his way past the pirates until he arrives at his lover's side. Shanks glances at him and then looks away, his haki curling tight around himself as if he was trying to hide away from the other man. Mihawk can't help but feel a little hurt.

Shanks is panicking. How could he tell Mihawk that all of this was his fault? That it had been him That had slipped up, his lips loose with drink and his heart heavy with wistful thoughts of his treasure that night so long ago.

The hawk hadn't trusted him with this from the beginning, and it killed him to admit that Mihawk had been right about Shanks after all? All the trust and affection that his lover had given him would go up in flames so quickly that Shanks wouldn't even be given a chance to mourn it. The redhead had little doubt that Mihawk would spirit you away from him as soon as he was able once he found out about his mistake.

The captain keeps himself busy for as long as he is able, but Mihawk is nothing if not patient, and he stays by his side until there are no more orders to be said. Before he can make a getaway, his hawk grabs him by the arm and practically drags him across the deck and into the Captain quarters. Shanks could have wrestled away, but then Mihawk would have been even more suspicious of him.

Shanks is shoved in a chair, and his lover putters around the room, pouring them both a drink before settling down in the seat across from Shanks. He sips delicately, but Shanks' nerves have him knocking back the glass of rum like it's a shot of whiskey. He jumps when Dracule speaks up.

“Perona is three days out from _’s island. She'll call me with news as soon as she gets there and if the island is clear or not.”

Shanks forces himself to nod. He licks his lips and scrubs his hand through his hair, “Good. That's good.”

Mihawk raises a brow at the other man's attitude. The man was acting more like a scared rabbit than the powerful Emperor that Dracule knows him to be. He sets his glass away and stands, crossing the short distance to stand between the redhead’s legs, and sets his hands on those tense shoulders. Mihawk guides him forward to rest his head against his bare chest, and his hands snake up to thread into red hair.

“How are we going to find her, Mihawk?”

The Emperor’s voice sounds shot, broken and beaten, and it breaks his heart listening to it. His grip tightens in Shanks’ hair, and Mihawk sighs softly.

“I don't know. But we'll search every island in Big Mom’s territory if we have to.”

~~~~~ Tomura ~~~~~

Tomura dashes through the streets of the city, a mischievous smirk on his face when he looks behind him and sees his little sister chasing after him. You look furious, but the expression just looks adorable on her chubby baby face. Tomura had snatched her favorite blanket this morning to try and wake up the sleepy head, and the chase had been on since.

Obviously, he wasn't going as fast as he could. Tomura was older than her by almost a decade, after all, and he didn't want his sister to get lost in the crowds of people. Not that the citizens of their Kingdom would let their only princess get lost.

The people laughed and urged her in the way her oldest brother ran, encouraging her to catch up to him. Their king and Queen had always been kind to their subjects, and in turn, they stayed loyal to the royal family.

Tomura slows to a stop, ducking behind a stall selling fruit and waiting for his little sister to dash past him. He springs out and grabs her by the waist, spinning you around in the air. You shriek in laughter, clutching at his wrists as he turns his lower body into dust and flies back the way he came, back to the castle and to where breakfast awaits.

Tomura opens his eyes, squinting when the sun makes them water. He wonders what you look like now. Had you found a way to survive and flourish after he left you behind? Would you even remember him? The thought of you not knowing who he is made his chest tight with fear and his throat clog with emotions he carefully hid from his men. Could you forgive him for leaving you behind, even if it had been the best course of action?

An angry scowl twists his lips, and Delemur lets out a string of quiet curses, mostly centered around a certain red-headed Emperor who had somehow stumbled across the safe house. Damn Red-Haired Shanks.

“Captain! We're going to make landfall soon!” The voice of one of his crew startled Tomura out of the fond memory and his less than savory thoughts. He rubs his face, sighing as he straightens up from where he'd been leaning on the railing.

“How long?” The white-haired man asks and looks at the lieutenant before him.

“Lookout said we're about thirty minutes out, Sir.”

Tomura nods. They would need to be prepared if some of Big Mom’s crew were there. Same with Shanks and his crew.

“Get the men prepared for a skirmish. Big Mom won't be here, but I'd bet she'd send some of her stronger men to get my sister.”

The news of his little sister being the reason behind his sudden disregard of orders had swept through the ship quicker than scurvy. But his marines were loyal, and technically, they were still chasing after pirates, so the higher ups could be too mad at them.

“Yes, Sir!” his lieutenant snapped, and then he was off, getting the other crew members up and running.

Tomura stalked to the front of the ship, and from here, he could see the outline of your island. His mouth twists in a grimace, and he prays that he's gotten here quick enough to beat Big Mom’s crew.

However, the closer he gets, the more his chest grows tight. There is grey smoke rising into the sky on the east side of the island, and even after so long away, Tomura knows that is where the safe house is.

The shore comes into view soon, and Delemur frowns when he sees a small ship docked at the shore, a large cross on the flag. He's seen that before, but he doesn't understand why Dracule Mihawk would have a shit all the way out here. Maybe it'd been stolen?

They drop anchor in the next couple of minutes, and Tomura flies ahead and drops to the sand, taking a look around with a frown. The beach looked awful, the beautiful sands trampled all the way up to where it became grass. Most of the lush forest had been torn down, most likely caused by the larger members of the raid party. He followed the trail up, picking up the pace until he was in an all-out run.

Tomura slides to a stop, sticken at the sight before him. The entire place is a disaster, the cottage a charred husk of what it used to be. The scent of burning wood is thick in the air, and the once lush and full gardens that you had cared for have been overturned and stomped on. He can see the broken remains of a small pen on the side of the building, but there were no animals in sight.

Carefully, he steps forward, bending down to collect a shard of green sea glass that had survived the fire. The Vice-Admiral flips it end over end then pockets it before walking inside the destruction. The living room is full of burned books and clothes, the furniture broken and ashen like the rest of the house. There is a shelf holding on for dear life, an old record player with a stack of melted records resting beside it.

Tomura moves to the kitchen, taking in the shattered glass of the window and the many planters that take up the majority of counter space, each plant dry and brittle or nothing but ash. A wind chime is still intact, and he reaches forward to brush the pads of his fingers across the metal tube, frowning when the beautiful melody fills the air. That kind of sound didn't belong in such destruction.

Onward Tomura goes, learning about his little sister as best he can through the ruins of her home. Your love for music and books could easily be seen, but how could he ever know what they were? What is your favorite song to listen to now, or what you liked to do on long lazy days. Were you all alone? The pen outside suggested his sister had found animals, but where were they?

Your bedroom was in a bit better shape from the rest of the house since the door had been shut before the fire had started. Tomura carefully sits on the ashen bed, green eyes looking at everything he can as quickly as he can see. He wanted to know everything about you. He had missed so much of your life, and the regret of leaving you behind was suffocating.

Would you have been safer in the military? Maybe, but Sengoku would have taken one look at you and your devil fruit and thrown you into training, just like they did with him. Tomura didn't want that for his baby sister. He had wanted you to live a good life, even if it would be a lonely one.

His thoughts are stalled when he catches sight of what hangs in your closet. His green eyes zero in on the long coat with a high collar decorated with intricate designs. Delemur knows that coat. He has seen it on the occasional times he had run into Mihawk.

The two of them had a mutual understanding to not speak about what had happened between them. Tomura didn't like that the older man had helped Big Mom, but being in the Navy gave him a different perspective. Not to mention his own skeletons hidden away in his closet, and in the end, Mihawk had been the reason that Tomura and his sister got out alive. They were even as far as he cared.

But seeing the Warlord’s coat made him pause. The tiny ship in the bay had already been suspicious, but the coat only added to his rising confusion. All the rumors had pointed at Shanks being the one to have found you, so then why in the fuck wasn't he seeing anything that might belong to the Emperor?

The sound of a bleating goat suddenly grabs his attention, and then he picks up the sound of his men shouting. Delemur bolts out of the house and finds Mihawk's pink charge, Perona glaring daggers at his men, specifically Private Nitchell, who points a shaking pistol at the young woman. Three chickens and an ornery looking goat stand behind her.

“What the fuck is going on out here?” He demands, and glares at the private, “Stand down, Nitchell. Does she look like a threat to you?”

The young man shakes his head, a blush high on his cheeks at getting reprimanded, “No, Sir! Sorry, Sir!”

The Vice-Admiral watches Nitchell stow his weapon and back up from where the ghost girl looks ready to tear his head off. Tomura rounds on the pinkette, cockimg a brow at her.

“Perona right? The hell are you doing here?” He demands and crosses his arms over his chest, unimpressed by the glare that she proceeds to aim at him.

“What's it to you?” She spits at him and floats up, crossing her own arms. He spots several ghosts behind her and prepares to turn himself into dust if one flies at him. He'd seen what those things could do. However, his annoyance skyrockets at her answer, and Tomura is hard pressed not to reach out and try to wring her neck.

“I asked you first,” he snarls right back, and feels like he is arguing with a little kid when Perona sticks her tongue out at him.

“I was coming to visit my friend, Navy Man. You should leave before my dad gets here.”

Tomura rolls his eyes and ignores the threat, “Your friend is my little sister. How did you find this place?”

Whatever argument that Perona was hyping herself up for deflated like a popped balloon when she registered what the marine said. She looks him over, dark eyes flickering from head to toe. The more she sees, the less Perona thinks that this man is lying. He looks like you. His cheekbones and brow are a familiar and comforting sight. But what should she tell him? Perona didn't think that Mihawk would be very happy with her if she happened to spill the beans on everything that he's been doing.

Perona licks her lips and floats back down, dismissing her ghosts and setting a hand on top of Neal's head. The goat grunts at her and butts his head into her hand, happy that the only other person he tolerated had found him and the three chickens hidden away in the intact part of the forest.

“Mihawk found this place a few years ago. After a while, he told me about your sister, and I wanted to be her friend. She seemed lonely, and I know what that's like,” Perona begins and shifts her weight with a sniff. She's been here for two days looking for anything that would help them find out where Big Mom’s crew may have taken you. The only luck she had was finding your goat and chickens. Hank and Sukuna were nowhere to be found.

Tomura's hands clenched into fists at the information. Mihawk had known about you for years, and Delemur was just now finding out about it. How were Shanks involved then? To his knowledge, the redhead and the hawk stayed away from one another. Until recently, that is.

Just what the hell had his baby sister gotten up to?

“She called me five days ago and said that some of Big Mom’s crew had found her island. I came as fast as I could, but I was too late. Shanks and Mihawk are on their way here now.”

Tomura doesn't like the thought of such powerful men working together and all for the sake of his little sister. What had you done to catch their attention? Did he even want to know the answer to that?

“How long until they get here?” Tomura asks after a moment. He would wait here until they arrived. At least he wouldn't have to go tracking the pirates down. He had a couple of choice words to give both of them now that he knows that Mihawk has been here as well. That bastard had looked him in the face not four months ago and had said nothing about knowing you.

Perona shrugs at him, her face morphing into a pout, “I don't know. Another week?”

Shanks and his crew were strong enough to go through the Calm Belt if they wanted to, and that would cut their travel time down by a lot. Gloom Island was a two week trip from here by normal means.

Tomura grumbles at having to wait that long, but he isn't that much of an asshole, and so stalks forward and offers Perona his hand.

“I apologize for getting off on the wrong foot with you. My name is Tomura. Thank you for being my sister's friend.”

The ghost girl blinks dumbly up at him before tentatively taking his hand and shaking it.

“Uh. You're welcome?” Perona has never been thanked for being someone's friend before. It was a little weird, but Tomura seemed genuine and kind like you. Just a bit more…violent it seemed.

Tomura blushes and takes his hand away, rubbing them together before pointing at Neal and the chickens, hoping to change the subject.

“Are those _’s?”

Perona nods and introduces Neal and the chickens. She couldn't remember if you had named the fowl, so she had taken it upon herself to name the rooster Henry and the two hens Harriet and Henrietta. The crew of his ship piddled around the island while Perona told Tomura stories about his little sister, and soon, the sun was beginning to set on the little island. He sighs heavily and invites Perona on his ship for dinner. They may as well get to know one another if they were to be stuck on an island together for the next couple of days.

Those days pass in the blink of an eye, and it is late in the evening on the fifth day when the lookout on his ship announces that the Red Force is entering the bay. Tension skyrockets, and Perona stands away from Tomura while they watch the pirate ship navigate to the shore. She can see two people standing at the bow of the ship, and tears of relief sprout in her eyes when she spots Mihawk's wide hat.

~~~~~~

The fear and anxiety that Shanks has felt during the entire trip explodes the moment they spot the navy vessel docked at his treasure's island. Of course, the rumors had reached your brother. Shanks should have known Tomura would be on his way here to see you. He curls his haki close to himself, refusing to let the older man feel just how manic he is right now. He needed to keep his head clear for this.

Next to him, Mihawk's haki lashes like an angry snake, golden eyes wide and full of fire when he sees the ship. He recognizes who it belongs to and cuts his eyes over at Shanks, who won't even look his way. Dracule had been silent about his concerns with just how Big Mom had found out, and he doesn't like the picture that has been painted for him. He doesn't want to accuse anyone of anything until he has all the knowledge he needs.

Mihawk and Shanks flash to the shore, and the warlord gets an armful of sad ghost girl the second his feet touch sand. Perona buries her face in his chest, arms wrapping around his waist and holding the warlord tightly. Tears sprout and run down her cheeks, and Mihawk can do nothing but sigh and hold the young woman close, one hand stroking the back of her pink hair.

Shanks steps up beside him, a kind smile that he forces on his lips as he pats Perona on the back, “It's alright, kid. We're here now.”

Mihawk shoots him a grateful look, and thankfully, Perona decides to pull away, reaching up to wipe her eyes free of smeared makeup.

“It took you two long enough to get here,” She grumbles and takes a step away, turning to look over at the Vice-Admiral, “Tomura has kept me company.”

Dracule looks up and catches the Navy man's eyes, the green dark and full of suppressed rage. He doesn't expect the younger man to bypass him almost immediately, instead, aiming that almost familiar glare at Shanks. The tension deepens, and sand is kicked up by the haki that coils between the three men. Tomura wasn't anywhere near the pirate's power level, but that wasn't about to stop him. The Emperor was the one responsible for his baby sister getting taken.

“Did he, now,” Mihawk murmurs and carefully maneuvers Perona to stand slightly behind him. He didn't want her to get caught in this, and the Warlord could tell that whatever was about to happen wasn't going to be very pretty.

Tomura isn't here to beat around the bush and cuts straight to the case, “Did you have any fucking plans to tell me that you knew my sister, Mihawk? How the hell did you even find her?”

Mihawk keeps his face free of any kind of expression that may give away his true feelings. Brother or not, Mihawk wasn't in the mood to deal with this right now. Not when you were obviously still missing. What he doesn't expect is Tomura rounding on Shanks, his tone dropping and turning dangerous.

“And you, you son a bitch. You're the fucking reason my gods damned baby sister was found.”

The silence that blankets the shore of the island is deafening. Tomura grins meanly when he sees that panic that pools in Shanks’ dark eyes and stands taller, pointing an accusing finger at the redhead. Mihawk follows the gesture, his heart seizing in his chest when he catches sight of the look of devastation that paints his lover's face. He takes two steps back, bringing Perona with him, away from the man who had promised Dracule that he could trust him.

“You promised me, Shanks,” Mihawk remarks and tries to keep the hurt out of his tone, but the younger man easily picks up on it, making him feel worse than scum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. The hurt quickly turns to anger, and the warlord reaches for Yuro, the blade swinging around to point at Shanks.

“You promised me that you would keep your mouth shut! You drunken, lying bastard. I never should have put my trust in you again.”

His ringed eyes blaze with a rage Mihawk hasn't felt in decades. Not since he was young and impressionable. His heart feels shattered, and out of everything, disappointment rings through his body like a live wire. He shouldn't have allowed the redhead to pass his walls.

Shanks’ eyes widen at the threat, and he takes a couple of steps back from the wicked blade. His own hand curls around Gryphon, and Shanks braces for the fight that would no doubt happen because of his mistakes. He didn't want to fight Mihawk, but he would defend himself if the older man made the first move. He quickly began to explain before Dracule could try and take his head from his shoulders.

“I know, and I'm so sorry, Mihawk. I was drunk that night, and I missed the two of you so much. I didn't know I was being so loud until Benn told me to shut it. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

Shanks is pushed back when Mihawk's haki lashes out, his face flushed red from how angry he is at the lame excuse. How dare he.

“When are you not drunk off your ass, Shanks? There is no excuse that you can give me that will make any of this okay. _ is gone! Most likely slated to be married off to one of Charlotte’s sons because of your inability to keep your mouth shut!”

Perona grabbing him by the arm is the only thing that prevents Mihawk from following after Shanks. He glares at her, about to snap at the girl to let him go, when he sees the unshed tears and fear in her dark eyes.

“We need his help finding her, Mihawk,” Perona says, voice thick with emotion. She doesn't like seeing them fight, and it hurts seeing what she has begun to call family fall apart in front of her eyes.

Her words seem to bring everyone back to the situation at hand, and the wild haki from the three men is pulled back and settled. Tomura relaxes his shoulders, shifting his weight and glaring at the two pirates.

“She's right. Big Mom has a lot of territory. It'll take months for us to search each of her islands if we don't work together,” Delemur frowns even as he speaks, disliking the idea of working with the men who'd found his sister. What even were the three of them?

“What is she to you?” Tomura demands and regrets it the second both men look at him like he was an idiot.

“We,” Mihawk begins and then swiftly corrects himself. He didn't want anything to do with Shanks right now, “I love her. She had no idea who I was when I found her, and it was…refreshing to have someone like that. We should move quickly. _ is in a delicate state.”

Tomura doesn't even want to think about what that means and glances at Shanks for the redhead’s answer.

Shanks shifts his weight, his hand falling from his sword once Mihawk had sheathed his own, but he keeps his distance. He gives Tomura a helpless shrug.

“My crew and I drifted close to her island one day, and we got to know one another. I can admit I was jealous of what Mihawk had with her, so we made it work. The three of us.”

Tomura doesn't know what to say to that, so he keeps his mouth glued shut. How the hell had his little sister pulled not one but two of some of the most powerful men on the Grand Line. He would ask once he found her.

“I'll use whatever resources the Navy can give me to find her,” Tomura says after a moment of rather awkward silence. He reaches into his pocket and takes out two mini transponder snails, and hands them to Shanks and Mihawk.

“I'll ring you if I find anything. I hope the two of you do the same.”

Mihawk dips his head in agreement, handing the snail to Perona and Shanks pockets his. They would work together to find you, even if none of them wanted to.

“I'm going to take a look around and see if we can't find something that'll lead us in the right direction,” Shanks says and whistles loudly to signal to his crew that it was fine to disembark from the ship now. He chances a glance at Mihawk, but the dark-haired man refuses to look his way. He frowns, guilt eating him up from the inside out before he lopes away without a word.

“Perona and I will head to the New World and begin our search,” Mihawk says and then he struts to the ship Perona had taken from his island, not bothering to look back at the Vice-Admiral. He can't bring himself to search the island. Dracule had seen the smoke curling into the sky, and seeing whatever remained of his home away from home would only make the hurt worse.

Tomura is left standing alone on the white sands, and he sighs heavily, looking out over the crashing waves. He smooths his white hair away from his forehead, and he murmurs to himself.

“Where the hell did they take you, Princess.”

~~~~~~

Thousands of miles away, you are escorted past hallways full of mirrors that make you feel dizzy if you look too closely. You cast your eyes back to the floor, one hand tangled in the fur of Hank's shaggy coat and the other holding Sukuna close to your chest. Your pets had chased after the men who had dragged you kicking and screaming from the tiny cave you'd forced yourself into.

Surprisingly, once they had seen that you were pregnant, the men had handled you with much more care and had even allowed you to take the cat and dog with you. Despite not wanting to leave, you had been much more willing once they assured you that you could have them. Hank and Sukuna were the only two things keeping you sane right now.

Sukuna wouldn't stop hissing, a constant low growl echoing in the hallway. His tail was poofed, and he glared at everyone with furious golden eyes. Hank fared no better, his hackles raised, and his ears pulled up. He stayed pressed against his human’s legs as they walked, unwilling to let you out of his sight.

It wasn't long before your group stopped at massive double doors that creaked open. You waltz inside, relieved at the lack of creepy mirrors, but that relief disappears the moment your eyes lay on who hovers in the middle of the room. She is the biggest human you've ever seen, sitting atop a cloud that glares down at you.

Beside her, another massive man stands. He has deep purplish hair, and the bottom half of his face is covered in a black and white scarf. He wears an open vest, and you can see a tattoo running down his exposed chest.

“It's about time you showed up,” Big Mom’s booming voice startles you, and you cut your eyes up to look at her. She grins down at you, her smile wicked as she looks you over.

“Such a pretty young thing. You'll make a nice wife for my son Katakuri. Don't you think so?”

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat @atricksterwithwings @black-swan-blog27 @breadedloafs @enpvrirnce @gottalovethefandom

[cookinguptales]

So I've talked about this a little bit in the past, but like... to me, the biggest tragedy of this substandard turning for Guillermo is that he's clearly always associated vampiric transformation with personal growth.

One thing that's always struck me about both Guillermo and Nandor is that both of them have this odd fixation on a nebulous "better" version of their lives that they should be living, and that fixation is so strong that it prevents them from fully living the life they already have. They both have a tendency to be so focused on how green the grass is on the other side that they forget to water their own lawn, if you get me.

Nandor has pretty obviously been on a quest for meaning since at least the first season (due to his crisis over Al Qolnidar no longer existing and his descendent dying) and he has a strong tendency to ignore all of the meaningful things that already exist in his life so he can pursue a fantasy of something better. He constantly throws aside the good things he has because he believes there must be something better. And in so doing, he often loses what he had to begin with.

Guillermo actually does things fairly similarly, except while Nandor is looking externally for something to enter into his life and give it meaning, Guillermo's fantasy life is focused more purely on his sense of self, with the anchor of it being vampiric transformation.

Guillermo has always looked at vampiric transformation as being the magic bullet that will make him good. It'll make him stronger, faster, more powerful, sure. But it's not just that. His entire sense of self-worth is attached to this. He doesn't just want physical power; he wants social power. He wants emotional power.

When Guillermo becomes a vampire, he won't get bullied anymore. When he becomes a vampire, he'll get respect. He'll be smart, strong, sexy. He'll be loved. He'll be able to love himself.

He'll be better.

Guillermo has always unabashedly put all his eggs in that basket. He's always just waited for someone to come bestow worthiness on him. But it's also circular logic, y'know? He'll become worthy once he's a vampire, but he'll also only become a vampire once he's worthy.

He has to earn it, and he'll never be happy until this growth, this vague sense of superiority, is earned.

That's really not how self-worth works, though, is it? No one can give that to you. No one can magically make you all the things you've always wanted to be, and no one can magically strip you of all the parts of you that you're ashamed of. And all the praise in the world won't mean anything to you if you don't believe it.

Guillermo, as he's gotten further away from being a vampire, has actually started to gain all the things he has intrinsically associated with vampirism. He's stronger. He's faster. He's more powerful. He's sexier. He's more confident. People respect him. People accept him. He's been able to start to reclaim his sexuality. He's starting to be able to be himself, and that self is both alluring and dangerous.

But none of that came because of anything he's done to try and earn his worth. It was all accidental; he's been so focused on this fantasy version of himself that he didn't see the way he was growing, changing, and developing in his own way.

Guillermo can't see that he's already grown up to be his childhood fantasy of himself, y'know?

So now he's gone and used all this newfound power and confidence and cunning to finagle himself a bite. But it didn't work. And it didn't make him feel the way he thought it would.

Because it's always been a fantasy. It's always been something to work toward. It's always a version of him that can't exist because it's nothing concrete, it's just the nebulous idea of being better.

Moreover, it's not just a power fantasy, though it certainly is that. I think the key to it here is that Guillermo has really come to associate this changing with acceptance. Not just anyone's acceptance -- Nandor's acceptance.

Along with all the other parts of the fantasy, Guillermo has fantasized about Nandor changing him because Nandor thinks he's worthy. It symbolizes all the longing he's ever had for acceptance and respect and acknowledgement and love and desire. Nandor's really become the center of all that for him, mostly because Guillermo is stupid in love with him. And since he circumvented Nandor's acceptance when he claimed a bite from someone else, he's really missed out on a major portion of what he was fantasizing about in the first place.

No one in the vampiric world is accepting him. If anything, they're pushing him away even more now that he's upset their social balance. No one thinks he's sexy. No one thinks he's cool. No one loves him, desires him, respects him. He still hasn't gotten the acknowledgement that he really wanted all along.

It was never just the powers. It was the fact that Guillermo hated himself. He hated his nebbishness, his weakness. He hated the way he couldn't fit in, not with his peers or his family or his religious community. He hated his timidity and his shyness and his submissiveness. He hated the way he was pushed around by everyone -- and in fact, he wanted to do the pushing.

And he thought that getting bitten would fix all that overnight. But it didn't.

So now even though he's gotten the bite he's always fantasized about, he's still deeply unhappy. And some of this really is the lack of physical power, which he's associated with social power. But I think more of it is that he always thought that a bite would change him on a fundamental level. But he has to come to terms now with the fact that he's still just Guillermo.

He can never be anything but himself. And Guillermo hates himself. He's embarrassed by himself. He's ashamed of himself. The idea of never being anything but what he already is is unbearable to him.

Then you add the fact that he doesn't feel like he "earned" this transformation, he never did get the acknowledgment from the person he needed it from most...

Guillermo was bitten and he still doesn't feel worthy. That's the root of it. He doesn't feel like the bite made him worthy and he doesn't feel like he was deemed worthy of the bite. So the bite itself? Yeah, that's worthless, too. Just like him.

Guillermo is struggling with the death of a fantasy here, I think, and struggling with idea that he might only ever be himself. And all he has to impress those around him, especially Nandor, is that self. And he doesn't feel like that self is enough, especially now that he might have fully alienated Nandor in particular.

God, I just. I really want Guillermo to come to accept who and what he is. I want him to see his own strength and his own power and his own beauty and realize that it didn't have to be bestowed upon him by anyone. It's not just his bloodline, it's not just the master he serves. It's him! It's in him! It's intrinsic! It's good!

It's enough!

I want him to be so proud of himself, because I am. My beautiful little murder machine. He's awful and I love him so dearly. ;;

God, I just want these two idiots to look at each other and realize that what they already have is enough. Nandor already has the love and acceptance he's been craving. Guillermo already has the power and worthiness that he's been craving. They already both love each other. They just need to stop being dumbasses for five minutes!

(But now who's lost in a fantasy world? lmao)

[dead-boys-club]

†  monster : aventurine.

❥ scenario: arguments, of all things. ❥ tw: nothing that i can think of, there is flinching. ❥ half beta'd

❥ a/n: yes, i have gone off track from my normal requests. this is simply because doing only requests can cause serious writers burnout and i'm trying to combat that.

the argument started over something small, miniscule even, that normally wouldn't have even touched his nerves, let alone set him off. but tonight, everything felt different, the tension thick, almost suffocating, in the air. his patience was wearing thin and he couldn't figure out why, it didn't help that the person standing before him knew exactly how to push his buttons.

'you always do this!' they snapped, voice shaking with agitation. 'you hide before that ridiculous mask of yours, pretending to be someone.. something you're not. it's getting exhausting!'

aventurine's eyes narrowed, the usual flamboyant flair of his expression hardening into something darker. he could feel the edges of his temper fraying, the carefully constructed persona he wore for the world beginning to crack under the strain.

'and, what would you know about it?' he asked, voice laced with venom. 'you think you see me? you think you know me? the real me? you don't have a clue.'

the room seemed to shrink around them as the argument escalated, words like daggers, each one cutting deeper than the last. he knew it should have never gotten so far. the person he was arguing with wasn't backing down and he could see it was coming from their own frustration and hurt spilling over, but maybe it was something that needed to happen. if he needed to be verbally abused for one of the closest people he had to relax.. so be it.

'you're a coward, hiding behind some stupid act!' they yelled, voice rising, 'you're too scared to let anyone in, too scared to show who you are and those of us who are here.. it's tiring. you're just--'

their words cut off as aventurine took a step closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. it wasn't about size of physicality, but something about him; there was something dangerous lurking just beneath the surface. something he had kept under wraps so well was creeping out.

they flinched, instinctively recoiling from him as if he'd reached to strike them. the movement was barely noticeable but it was enough. the sharp intake, the widened eyes - he saw all of it and it hit him like a punch to the gut.

the anger drained from him in an instant, his entire body freezing. he watched as they took another step back, their eyes now filled with something that cut deeper than any insult ever could.

fear.

and then the words came. words that would haunt him long after the fight was over.

'you're a monster.'

they said it so softly, so small. the silence that followed was deafening. aventurine could barely breathe, the weight of those words crushing him. for a moment, the mask slipped entirely, and the person before him saw something raw - the writhing, raw vulnerability that was buried far beneath the surface. but, it was fleeting, gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the mask once more. because, they were right. he was hiding everything from the world; even this.

'you don't mean that,' he said, voice low and tight, no longer holding any anger; no conviction. he was shaken, and it was clear to both of them.

'maybe i do,' they answered, voice softer now, almost regretful. 'or maybe you just make it too easy to believe.'

with that, they turned and left, leaving aventurine along in the silence. he didn't move, didn't call after them - he couldn't. instead, he stood there, staring at the space they had occupied just moments before. the other of their words continued to ring in his ears.

a monster.

is this what i've become? a monster in the eyes of someone i care about? have i been so consumed by my duties, my responsibilities, that i've lost sigh of who i am?

i've always prided myself on being in control, in being disciplined. but what good is that discipline if it turns me into something others fear? i thought i was doing what was necessary, what was right. but.. maybe i've crossed a line. maybe i've become too much of what i never wanted to be.

but a monster...? is that really who i am? or is this just.. anger, hurt being used..?

he closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he tried to collect himself, not wanting to get so lost in his head. the mask was still in place but felt so much heavier. he wasn't sure how long he stood there, allowing the reality of what had happened to sink in.

because in that moment, as much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn't help but wonder if there was some truth in their words. was the mask he wore the only thing standing between him and the person they now feared?

that scared him more than anything else but maybe, they were right. maybe he was a monster. if that's what he needed to be for his goals.. he would, begrudgingly, accept the title. he didn't have a choice.

[thefallennightmare]

Miracle-ten

(gif created by me, the fallen nightmare. feel free to use, simply give credit)

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.

Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.

Author Note: I told ya'll I was having thoughts about Noah's fingers.

Tags: @ada-clarence @nonamessblog @thescarlettvvitch @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @theoneandonlykymberlee @yumikitten @blackveilomens @cherrymedicine13 @thebadchic @notmaddihealy @jay02bo @beaker1636 @jakekiszkasguitarpick @punk-pr1ncessxoxo @er3nslovergirl @iamdesolate @lma1986 @jessitpwk @themodern-daywednesday @writethrough @bngurngheart @dreams-that-are-anwsered @loeytuan98 @omens-in-reverse

"I promise, I shouldn't be that late tonight," I told Lana as I was rushing though the house gathering my things.

She simply shoo'd me away by a wave of her hand and handed me my camera bag and jacket.

"Don't rush back, dear. Finish your work and whenever you get back, I'll go."

I sighed, coming to a stop at the front door. "You deserve to have the whole night off, Lana."

Her worn hands cupped my cheek, and I leaned into the warm touch. "I'll have the entire morning and afternoon off tomorrow. Now, go before Mr. Sebastian fires you for being late."

Ignoring the way my heart rate sped up at the mention of Noah, I rolled me eyes, and I called over to my mom who was sitting on the couch in the living room watching television.

"I'll see you later mom. I love you!"

She barley looked over her shoulder at me, her vacant eyes staring straight through to my soul then simply turned back to the show. Lana gently patted my cheek, dismissing me, and with a sad sigh, I let the front door shut behind me and walked towards my car. It was in the same spot I left it two weeks ago before I left for the road.

Yesterday after realizing what Noah had gotten tattooed, I ran back to my room to call an Uber to bring me home a day early. I was already on edge from the comments I read online and the phone call with Lana that when I saw that tattooed on his thumb; it was the breaking point. My mind was a fog of so many emotions and I didn't know which one to process first.

My phone had plenty of missed calls from Folio and Noah, some texts as well, but I ignored them. I meant what I said to Noah; I needed space. There was no reason for him to get a meaningful tattoo like that, we weren't dating. What if we end up hating each other and he has to look at that for the rest of his life? It was meant for the pet name he calls me but he might as well had tattooed my fucking name on him.

I got home late last night and spent the entire morning well into the afternoon with Lana and my mom, even though she didn't recognize me. That I was used to. What I wasn't used to, however, was how different my mom looked. In the two weeks I had been gone, she lost weight and dark circles surrounded her eyes. Lana also mentioned my mom had been a pain in the ass to give her meds too but did regardless. She knew she needed them to make her feel better, something I've told her countless times.

Once it reached four in the afternoon, I knew I couldn't avoid Noah any longer and had to go to work. I sent a text to Folio saying I would be at the venue by five, which he responded with four words.

Cool. Also, Noah's pissed.

Great, as if I don't have other shit to deal with.

The drive to the venue was quick considering it was only ten minutes from my house and after making sure I had everything, I walked through the back entrance to where Folio said the green room would be. Shifting into work mode, I pushed out all the thoughts of Noah and my mom, instead of thinking of differnt kinds of media I could get for tonight. Much to my dismay, the Bad Omens message boards were demanding to know what Noah's tattoo was for losing the bet and I knew I couldn't deny them that.

Loud voices echoed through the wood of the door before I stepped through it, various sets of eyes landing on me.

Jolly and Nick gave me a small wave.

Bryan was recording Folio goofing around; typical.

Matt was talking to one stagehand, probably something about making sure everything runs smoothly tonight.

And when my eyes finally landed on Noah, I noticed he was taping up his hands, his actions slow and precise. He noticed the talking stopped so his eyes landed on me as I stood in the doorway, hand still gripping the doorknob.

Before I could open my mouth to utter a hello, Noah was on me like a hunter on prey with his hand wrapping around my wrist and pulling me back into the hallway. Once the door was shut, he pressed me against the wall next to it.

"What the fuck?" I snapped, completely taking off guard by his dominance.

But also very turned on. The damp spot on my panties proof of it.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Noah's voice was eerily calm which made me nervous.

"I-uh-I came home a day early. You didn't need me for anything so I figured I'd spend time with my mom," I said.

Noah's eyes flashed as he pressed his hips deeper into me, keeping me locked in place. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep the moan quiet because I didn't want Noah to know how much his actions were turning me on.

"Why didn't you call or text me back?" he asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I told you I needed space. You got a tattoo for me before we were even dating! How else did you expect me to react?!"

My voice carried down the hall which earned a few stares from people working backstage so Noah looked around before noticing a closet a few feet away from us. He pushed me towards it and soon we were encased in darkness, our heavy breathing the only sound echoing in the small space.

A faint light clicked on from above and I saw only a fraction of Noah's angry expression.

"It's not that big of deal, Y/N. It's a fucking tattoo."

"Yes! One that you'll have on you for the rest of your life and you can't hide it either!" I snatched his hand to hold it up under the light.

If I wasn't so upset about the whole situation, I'd marvel at how beautiful the small design was.

When I went to drop his hand, Noah linked our fingers together and pulled me into his chest. He towered over me so I had to crane my neck back to look up at him, his fire eyes burning deep into my soul.

"You don't think were dating?" Noah questioned.

I gulped before shaking my head. "No, we're not."

He hummed, brushing his nose against mine. "What do you call what we've done together then?"

I was careful to lick my dry lips, not wanting my tongue to brush against him.

"We hooked up, that's it. If you could even call it that. You got me off twice, no big deal," I lied with a shrug.

Noah chuckled as he buried his face in my neck, his warm breath cascading over me as his hand gripped my throat, thumb on my pulse point.

Oh. Shit.

I squeezed my thighs together so hard I thought I would strain a muscle. I had every intention of ignoring Noah, only focusing on work, but now with his hand around my throat and wetness pooling between my legs, I knew I was fucked.

Figuratively and possibly literally.

Hopefully literally.

With a gentle squeeze, Noah forced my head to the side so he could get better access to my neck, him working to leave a red mark there. His teeth scrapped and pulled causing a harsh moan to fall from my lips.

"This isn't dating?"

I went to shake my head but realized I couldn't do to his grip on me so instead; I let out a hushed no in response. With the hand still wrapped around my throat, Noah's other hand brushed over the valley between my breasts, down my stomach, and slipped underneath the waistband of my leggings. Long fingers glided over my slit through my panties and I bucked my hips up into the touch, needing more.

"What about this?"

Noah pushed two fingers past my panties and sunk deep into my pussy.

"Fuck," I groaned as the sensation of his fingers thrusting in and out in rapid pace ignited every cell inside of me.

This hand was taped while the other around my throat was only halfway, the black material hanging loosing against my chest.

"You said it meant nothing but what's this angel?"

He pulled his fingers out, the sudden emptiness making me whine. He smirked as he held up the two fingers under the light and my pupils dilated when I saw them glisten with my arousal coating the tattoos. Noah brought them to my lips, his own pupils blown with lust.

"Lick," he demanded.

Something inside me burned other than arousal and I stood taller against him.

"Lick them yourself," I tossed back with a smug smile.

A muscle ticked in his jaw and he forced my mouth open with the hand around my throat and pushed his two fingers past my lips.

"Be a good fucking girl and lick them clean, angel."

My core clenched around nothing and suddenly wanting to obey because of the praise, I wrapped my tongue around his fingers and licked up my arousal. I didn't even cum but his fingers were soaked. Noah's chest vibrated in approval when he pulled his fingers out, a loud pop echoing in the confined space.

"On your knees," His hand left my throat and pushed he down.

Not wanting to disobey again, I felt to my knees and gazed up at him through my lashes. Noah cupped my cheek and brushed his thumb over my bottom lip.

"You did so good sucking my fingers. Why don't you do that to my cock?"

The base of my spine ignited with warmth at his words and I made quick work of undoing his black cargo pants, the outline of his hard dick pressing, almost begging, to be released from his briefs. I gaze back up at Noah, a silent question one he answered with a nod.

I pushed down his pants and briefs to mid thigh and watched as his cock bounced free, slapping against his thigh.

"Oh, God." I licked my lips at the sight of it.

"There's no god here, angel. Just us," Noah guided the head of his cock towards my mouth, pre-cum spilling out from the slit. "Open."

Not wanting to waste another second, I took in as much as I could, nearly gagging on the length of it. Noah tasted so fucking delicious and whatever I couldn't fit in my mouth, I wrapped my fingers around it. While my head bobbed up and down his length, sucking as I went, my hand squeezed and pulled. At one point, I hollowed my cheeks so I could take even more of him. Noahs hands had a death grip in the strands of my hair and the burn at my scalp made me moan which vibrated against his cock.

"So good, angel." He purred. "Oh shit, right there."

I pressed my tongue on the underside of him, right below the head, and my body vibrated with his praise. The wetness between my thighs was now warm and sticky, my clit begging to be touched so I went to slip a finger in my leggings but Noah's harsh voice stopped me.

"Don't you fucking do it. You walked away from me, Y/N so you don't get to cum."

My nails dug into the sink of his thigh, making him hiss in pain, but his grip was so tight on my scalp that I wasn't able to pull off of him to argue. I was so close that just a few short circles against my clit would be enough to tip me over the edge.

"You're mine." He enunciated each word with a thrust.

"Mhmm," I hummed.

His breath was erratic. "I'm yours, angel."

This time I nodded, working harder to make him come undone.

Noah's body tensed and when I looked up at him, his head had fallen back and lips were parted. Sheer ecstasy radiated off of him and it made me want to make him fall apart for me. My tongue circled the head of his cock while my hand now played with his smooth balls and Noah bit out a strand of curses.

"Fuck, angel. I'm gonna-," he uttered.

I moaned over his cock, edging him on, and with a loud groan Noah spilled himself deep in the back of my throat

"Every. Last. Drop," he demanded with languid thrusts into my throat.

I did, greedily.

With his grip still in my hair, he yanked me off of him to my feet and I wiped away the drool with the back of my hand. Noah lifted me on top of a set of crates in the room and kicked my feet apart so he could spread me wide for him. I leaned all of my weight back on my hands and lifted my hips when he began clawing at my leggings working to take them off.

"Noah," I whined. "Don't tease me, please."

His intense gaze flashed up at me. "I had every intention of not letting you cum but now I want to taste you on my tongue when I make you fall apart."

Noah Sebastian will be the death of me.

He slipped me out of both my leggings and panties, leaving me bare in front of him. My knees instinctually pressed together to hide from him but his large hands forced them apart, leaving bruising marks there.

"No, angel. You don't get to hide from me. Anything. Alright?"

I let out a soft whimper, knowing when he said anything, he truly meant that; anything. I could tell him things I were afraid of and he wouldn't judge me or run away. Noah didn't want me to hide from him and after this moment, I wouldn't.

Not anymore.

Seeing the answer on my face, Noah yanked me closer to the edge of the crates then leaned down on his knees becoming eye level with my drenched pussy.

"Fuck," his breath fanned over it. "It's so much prettier in person."

I was so gone in my haze of a brain that I didn't fully catch what he meant by those words.

My nails dug into his scalp to force him closer to me; I was aching for some kind of friction, almost begging for it.

"Please, Noah. I can't," my voice sounded wrecked.

His tongue darted out to lap at my clit, and I almost came. Noah licked from my clit, down the entire folds of my entrance and when he speared his tongue into me, I cried out his name.

"Say it again," he ordered.

"Noah," I rasped.

He replaced his tounge with two fingers, going knuckle deep, while his tounge attacked my clit in such an assault I raised off of the crates trying to create some distance. Noah's free hand held me down with a hand on my stomach before sliding up underneath my shirt and bra to pinch and pull on my nippels.

This was it; the dam was about to burst, my orgasm so fucking close to crashing through my entire excistance.

Noah's fingers pupming in and out, his tounge's ruthrless licks on my clit, and him rolling my nipple between his thum and finger was enough for me to strangle out his name in a prayer, my orgasm causing my body to quake underneath him. When the after shocks began to fade is when Noah finally pulled away, my cum coating his lips and jaw.

With my hand gripping his forearm, I pulled him up while I met him halfway, legs wrapping around him. I smashed my lips to his, our first kiss being inside of a dirty storage closet meant nothing to me. It didn't matter where we were, our first kiss with each other would be special regardless.

Noah didn't miss a single second of the kiss, him immediately forcing his tongue in my mouth so I could taste myself. I groaned in the most intense, teeth clattering, tongues dancing, lips bruising kiss I'd ever experience. Noah kissed me like a man starved and I was his last meal.

Finally, needing to take a breath, I pulled away and rested my forehead against his.

"Wow," was all I said because after everything that just happened, the kiss was the most knee buckling one.

Noah beamed at me before laying another quick peck on my lips. "I've wanted to do that for so long."

I brushed the hair out of his eyes and nodded. "Me too."

His eyes had softened back to their normal brown as he linked our hands together, showing me the tattoo on his thumb, the one that started our argument.

"Let's get one thing straight, Y/N. I won't regret this tattoo. If we don't work out, it'll be a great story. I didn't just do it to show you how important you are to me, I also did it because I lost a bet and I keep my promises."

Noah's last words had more meaning that he meant and I took it in with a small nod.

"Okay," I murmured.

He gently helped me off the crates and once on my feet, Noah pulled up my panties and then my leggings as I brushed my shirt back down to cover my stomach. He must have tucked his cock back into his pants without me knowing because he shut the light of the closest and pulled me back into the brightly lit hallway. I blinked a few times so my eyes could focus and when they did, they saw the three other members of Bad Omens staring at us with amused expressions.

"We were wondering where you two headed," Jolly said.

My cheeks burned red as Noah wrapped an arm around me to pull me into his chest. "Sorry, we got a little distracted."

Nick chuckled. "Well, we were supposed to go on five minutes ago so if you're ready."

"Oh fuck," I muttered. "How long were we in there?"

Folio ruffled my hair then handed me my camera. "Awhile"

I took it with a smile of thanks then turned back to Noah. "You should go, you're already late."

He merely shrugged and left another kiss on my lips. "Worth it."

Giggling into the kiss, I playfully smacked his chest then pushed him towards Jolly, who began leading him to the stage. My fingers went to my lips which were still tingling from Noah and for the first time in a long time, I enjoyed the thought of the future.

[hopefulromances]

I Feel You - Jamie Tartt x demi!Reader

A/N: Hello to my faithful followers! I'm sorry I've been so inactive for the past couple weeks I've been down in the dumps and sorta uninspired.

But the crazy thing is I've hit 1k followers! What? How is that even possible! I'm planning to put together a little celebration soon but for now, here's an unrequested fic that I wrote featuring a demi!reader on the acespec!

See y'all soon!

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Fem!Reader (she/her pronouns), Drunkenness, I think that's it

OooO

Jamie had to be the lamest footballer in the world. It was a Friday night and instead of going out and finding a club to get drunk at, he was sitting on his couch reading a bloody book. Fucking Roy Kent had gotten to him, that bastard. He wasn’t expecting anyone to come by so when there was a knock on the door, Jamie was surprised. 

There on his doorstep was (Y/N). Pacing, wobbly, back and forth seemingly trying to take off her shoes without sitting down. 

“(Y/N)?” He opened the door, turning on the porch light. 

(Y/N) was someone Jamie had been friends with for a long time. Longer than anyone else, maybe. She’d grown up with im in Manchester, and gone to college in London when he got called up. When he was busy being a prick and cutting people out of his life, she stayed, refusing to be cut. And here she was, drunk on his doorstep. 

She spun in spot, her eyes lighting up when she saw him. “Jamie!”

She fell forward onto him in a sloppy hug. Jamie caught her in his arms, realizing with a chuckle that she was beyond wasted. He hoisted her up so she was tucked into his side so he could properly assist her while closing the door and turning off the lights. 

“Jamieee,” She sang, sweetly, pulling Jamie with all her might to get them to topple over.

“At least one of us had a good night,” Jamie muttered. 

“It was ‘meh’,” (Y/N) admitted, shrugging. “Felt all wonky all night.”

Jamie pulled her into his bathroom, sitting her down on the toilet seat. She slumped back, as it finally feeling her exhaustion. He filled up his water cup and handed it to her, having to help her put her hand on and grip the cup.

“Drink,” he instructed. 

“It’s like, I’m over here, looking and waiting,” she continued, pausing for a second to glug down a large sip of water. “And everyone else is over there. Falling in love, dating, kissing, and I’m just,” she made a raspberry with her mouth.

Jamie found a cloth and the bottle of makeup remover she’d left at his house one time, dabbing some of the serum on the cloth. He walked back over to her, kneeling so he could be at eye height with her. 

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, starting to dab at her face like she’d taught him. 

“Why can’t I feel that, Jamie?” She whined, leaning into his touch. “Why can't I just find a dude and just kiss him? What’s wrong with me?”

Jamie frowned, pausing his dabbing for a moment. “What do you mean, darling?”

“I just mean,” now she was frowning too. “I try to go on dates, hook up with random guys, and I just feel… nothing.” Jamie, pursed his lips, moving the cloth gently over her face. Her eyes fluttered closed as he swished over her eyelids delicately. “But I’m so tired of waiting… I don’t want to settle anymore.”

“You shouldn’t have to settle,” Jamie agreed softly. 

“But I also don’t want to be alone forever,” she opened her eyes and Jamie stopped washing her face. 

“You won’t be alone forever,” he droned. This was a conversation they’d had before. She was afraid she’d never find the one, and Jamie reassured her that she would. Of course, she would. She was beautiful, and funny, and headstrong in all the important ways.

“I’ve only ever liked one person, in my whole entire life,” she hiccuped. “And he…” 

“He what, love?” Jamie went to stand but she grabbed onto his pants, stopping him from moving away. He looked down and she looked very small. He’d never seen her look so small before. 

“He’s been my best friend since we were kids,” she muttered, looking up at him. “When I look at him, I feel this flutter in my chest. And no matter how hard I try to feel that with other people, I just can’t.” She looked between his eyes. “I can’t.” 

Jamie could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his blood rushing in his ears. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? She couldn’t be. Either way, she needed to go to bed. 

“You… uh… you can stay here tonight, yeah?” He took the cup from her hand and filled it back up. “I’ll go put out some sleep clothes in the guest bed.” 

She looked disappointed when he didn’t acknowledge her rambling, but she nodded, taking a pitiful sip from her cup of water. He watched her a moment before pounding on the sink and walking out to grab a shirt for her. 

As he set up the bed for her, his mind was racing through what she had said. The best friend from childhood that she’d liked forever. It couldn’t be him… could it? Not after everything he’d put her through. 

When he walked back to the bathroom, she’d fallen asleep on the toilet. Chest rising and falling steadily, her eyelashes resting against her cheeks. His chest fluttered as he looked at her, a gentle smile coming over his lips. He slid one arm under her legs and another around her back, resting her head on his shoulder. She curled into him immediately, nestling her nose into his neck. 

He brought her to the room, he’d set up maneuvering her carefully so he could take her clothes off. She’d changed in front of him before, felt comfortable around him, but he still was careful of his hands and quickly putting on more comfortable clothes.

She mumbled incoherently as he laid her down and pulled the covers over her. His hand rested on her cheek for a moment, her face slightly flushed from her night out. He was tempted to get in the bed with her, keep her safe and warm in his arms but he swatted that thought away quickly. Instead he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple.

The next morning when he woke up, he went to check on her, but she wasn’t in the room. Then he heard humming and the smell of bacon filling the air. He padded down the steps and saw her in the kitchen, cooking and sipping on his coffee like she owned the place. He shoved his tongue in his cheek to stop himself from laughing as he watched her. 

She spun around, dancing to the song in her head, yelping and freezing when she saw him. 

“Oh!” She sighed, throwing her hand over her heart when she realized it was him. “Jamie! You scared me.” 

“Scare you? This is my house, you know,” Jamie laughed, leaning across the island. 

She rolled her eyes, sliding a cup of coffee across to him. “Two creams, one sugar, yeah?”

Jamie looked down at the coffee, knowing Roy would kill him if he took a sip. ‘Your body is a temple’ and ‘caffeine is a drug’ and whatever, but she was looking at him so sweetly there was no way he could say no to it. So, he reached down and took a sip. 

“That’s it, yah,” it tasted perfect. No one else made his coffee like she did. “Do you know how you ended up here?”

She slowed her cooking for a second. He couldn’t see her face, she was turned facing the wall, but he saw her back tense just the slightest bit. 

“Uh… I don’t remember, really,” (Y/N) answered. “Just woke up here… figured it was just where I thought I’d be safest.” 

Jamie felt his cheeks heat up, trying to hide it by taking a sip of his coffee. “You, eh, were out with the girls?” 

She turned around, sliding the bacon onto the two plates she’d set out. She was deep in thought, he could tell by the way she picked the skin off her lip, reaching up to pull a piece of hair out of her face. 

“Yeah…” she whispered. “It was Larsen’s birthday. Wanted to go have a hot girl night. Find some guys to go home with.”

Ah. Now he got it. She’s gone out with her friends and they’d all gone home with guys and she was left alone. She was upset because she thought she was unwanted. He grimaced at her. 

“Did Larsen ditch you again? I told you to stop hanging out with her,” Jamie comforted, reaching to grab a piece of bacon. (Y/N) didn’t answer, she just stared down at the greasy meat on her plate. “Oh, c’mon, (Y/N), you can’t really believe that because of one bad night that no one wants you.” 

She furrowed her brow, shaking her head. “No that’s….” She looked up at him, looking back and forth between his eyes. “Do you really think that I couldn’t find one person to go home with?”

Now Jamie was confused. He pursed his lips, not sure how to answer. 

“He was great. Attractive enough, I suppose, saying all the right things,” she mumbled, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “We chatted for a while. But I just felt… nothing.” Her fist open and closed as she fought the nervous energy. “He was kissing me, holding me, doing all the things that should have made me feel… something. But it was like… I felt nothing! It was like there was something blocking my brain from just latching onto something random.”

“He was… kissing you?” Jamie cringed as he said it. He wasn’t sure exactly why he’d said it and she looked at him like she was crazy. 

“Yes, he was,” she scoffed, running a hand through her hair. “He wanted to do a lot more but I couldn’t feel it. I didn’t feel anything.” She rested her elbows on the counter, her head in her hands. “God, what is wrong with me? Every other person we went out with went home with whatever stranger they’d met that night. But me? I feel so… stunted.” 

Jamie was surprised by her sudden admission. It wasn’t something he’d felt before, but he wanted her to feel the things he felt for her. The care and softness that he felt for her. 

“I know I want it,’ she continued. “I feel it sometimes… for… one person. He knows me and I know him. And I try to get myself to get over it, to feel it for someone else. Anyone else, but no matter how hard I try. I just… can’t feel it.” She shook her head, pushing herself off the island. “Sorry, I don’t know where that came from.” 

Jamie stayed still for a moment, figuring out his thoughts. 

“S’okay,” he finally responded. “I’m sorry you feel like that, you deserve to feel loved and wanted.”

Her eyes snapped back up to his, her cheeks turning red, spreading up to her ears. Jamie moved around to the other side of the island so he was right next to her, leaning against her side. She kept staring straight forward, her eyes turning shiny with unshed tears. 

“You said… there was one person,” he implored, pursing his lips into a duck shape. “One person who you felt something for.” 

She nodded, not speaking, brushing her eyes furiously. 

“Who… who is that person,” he asked. 

She let out a shaky laugh, cocking her head before looking up at him. 

“I think you know,” she replied quietly, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. He looked at her, letting his hand slide down to intertwine with hers. Her breathing hitched and her chest started to heave. “Jamie, wait, please.” She stared at their entwined hands, scared that it was going to go away. “I can’t… I’m not like other girls. I can’t give you what you want, not right away, maybe not for a long time.” 

Jamie shook his head, moving his free hand up to touch her face. “I don’t want that, all I want is to make you feel loved. All I want is for you to feel how you deserve to feel. And I’m willing to wait however long it takes, and to do whatever it takes to make sure that you feel that love.”

“Oh, Jamie,” she gasped out, reaching up to touch his face too. They stood in the kitchen, the soft morning light dappling in through the windows, holding each other's faces. He looked between her lips and her eyes. “Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“You can kiss me.”

His eyes were big and wanting as he looked at her. “Are you sure? Like really sure, like you aren’t just saying it to make me happy?” 

“No, Jamie, I want it.”

The words scarcely left her mouth when he cut her off, pressing his lips to hers. And there it was. She felt it. She felt that electricity that her friends had talked about. It rocked through her, stealing her breath away as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, his coming to creep up her back, lifting her up slightly. 

“Can you feel that, love?” he hummed, in between kisses. “Can you feel how much I love you?” 

“I can feel it,” she responded, pulling back to look up at him. “I can feel you.” 

[lukola92]

So personally, I think that there was issues between Nicola and Luke after the London premiere. I see that because she left the after party before he even got there. Then She went silent on social media. And before people comment, I know she was filming, but she was filming big mood and Bridgerton was still active on social media. We also during those early summer months she would post but she would not post her face and definitely not as much as we are used to. Personally, I think was deliberate. Clearly they somehow have made up. Or they've at least talked Because she's posting him again. And I also think she will slow down with how much she posting cuz things are slipping she showing her hand to much. And now we're getting all these songs. I also do not think that it's for Eamon or Jake. Those songs are definitely Luke coded. I think that they still have a lot to work through. But he needs to fully get out of this situation that he's in. Also, I've seen on TikTok people are mad because he's not posting a lot what do you guys expect him to do? He post you to say it's not enough. He doesn't post you say is not enough. No matter what move he makes right now people say crap to him. a lot of men I know are not big on social media. They might have one the post once in a while. They might call some videos. But they're not spending hours online looking for things the way women do. They could also be one of the reasons he didn't see this girl deviousness. I'm hoping he's seeing it now. They've all been so quiet because they're dealing with it BTS. Because since Italy, we haven't seen no pictures and we've seen pictures all summer long. Then that whole group is moving weird. Then all being quiet and S rearranging her post with her and her boyfriend being the main photos. Like I said I have a gut intinct that somethings happening. One last thing, we have all known that she leaks things to fan pages I'm 95% sure she does that. we also know that things were leaked to DM so it's not far off that things would be leaked to fan pages. so right now unless you see actual proof, don't believe anything anybody is saying. Because if he is trying to get away from her I have a really hard time believing she's going to take that lying down. She's going to try to create problems for him. And it's just so funny that we're starting to see all of these pages say that they're traveled alone (when fan pages have called that out) or talk of them getting married. It's wild rumors let's not fall into her traps. She gotten good with getting under the fandom skin.

I think that, after London N and L were ready to try to stay together, unfortunately third parties have ruined everything and L had to accept to be seen for a while with A, to protect N and not make her appear as the one who had made the "gf" betray, for sure N will have been sick but also L and we saw it clearly from his face, both have been sick these two months, but once L returned from Italy, he realized that he can't go on like this, for me he will have immediately gone to talk to nic (probably the day of the toast story) and N from that day on, has returned to being more social, returning to give us clues clearly referring to L, in italy, L will have been angry because private things came out and because they probably posted stories with the location and he didn't want it .. I think he got angry with everyone .. if you noticed the like that N gave today to chappel roan you will understand that she is tired of both her and L no longer having any privacy .. A is desperate and continues to do strange things but she hasn't understood that she is about to disappear because she is nobody, she will have to learn from her mistakes sooner or later, right? N is the only one we have to trust, I've always said that!

[13as07]

Stretch Marks

(Asuma Sarutobi Smut)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to BEHINDXA]

Requested by: Anonymous

Word Count: 4,647

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Smoking

Name Calling: Baby Doll, Daddy, Good Girl, Selfish

Soft Dom

Spanking

Body Image/Weight Issues (more or less)

Titty Play

Breeding/Creampie

Fingering (Female Receiving)

Mirror Sex

———————————————————————

My husband's hand paws at my lower stomach, his fingertips kneading at the flesh. My side is tucked into his elbow dent, his arm wrapped all around me so I'm enveloped by Asuma's whole being.

     Since we showed up at Kurenai's baby shower, he's been attached to me like crazy. I don't think I've gone longer than five minutes without Asuma touching me. Anytime he's not touching me, his eyes are locked on me with so much admiration shining in them. Every time he's spoken to me since we've gotten here has been littered with compliments or sweet nothings about why or what he loves about me.

"Baby doll?" He coos, lowering his head so his mouth is pressed against my ear. "I adore your little pouch."

"You're weird," I chuckle, heat crawling up my neck when he presses on it. If Asuma is anything, he's a man of pride, which in the bedroom translates to him pressing on my lower stomach to 'feel himself in me'.

"How is loving a specific spot of you weird?" He mutters, peppering a light kiss to my ear. "This is where our children will grow," he adds, pressing on my womb pouch again.

Another kiss and press are stamped into me before Asuma gently pushes me to the side, settling me in front of himself. His hands fall to my hips, pulling me backward before his hands slide over to continue to press on my womb. "What's your obsession with my stomach today?" I ask, leaning my head backward so I can look up at him.

"It's nothing," he mutters, glancing around with a small tint of pink mixing with his olive skin. "We should go outside for a smoke." Before I can answer, I'm being dragged toward the back door.

Asuma's nephew - Konohamaru - catches sight of us, quickly weaving through the people in the house to catch onto our heels. "Are you guys leaving already?" He asks, grabbing hold of my elbow so the both of us can be dragged out by his uncle.

     "No," Asuma answers shortly, some of the excitement from before deflating from his voice.

     "Oh, just a smoke break then," Our nephew mutters, glancing around the room, probably searching for his Grandfather. "Can I sit outside with your guys?"

     "If I tell you no, are you going to come anyway?" Asuma grumbles, letting me go long enough to pop the door open and hold it for me.

     "Yes," Konoh giggles, sliding out the door with me. I roll my eyes at my two boys, settling on the porch steps as I wait for my husband to join us. My nephew sits next to me, making sure he's upstream of the soft breeze outside. "My dad is stopping home tomorrow," the young boy mumbles, bouncing his knees as he looks around the yard.

"That's just great," Asuma grumbles, smacking his pack against his palm as he slowly sinks to the stairs. It's not a secret my husband and brother-in-law have a strained relationship, starting in adolescence over computation for their father's time or attention and now stretching to their disagreements over Konoh.

More specifically, fighting about neither of our nephew's parents being in the picture leaving him pretty much orphaned since Lord Third died. Konohamaru spends more time with us in a month than he's spent with his parents in all thirteen years of his life. It's saddening, but he's a happy kid and that's all that matters.

Asuma lights the cigarette between his lips, taking a hit of it before handing the stick to me. I take it from him, taking a puff as he lights a cigarette for himself. "Are you excited to see your Dad?" He asks, leaning around me to look at Konoh.

"Kind of, but not really," he mutters, bumping his knee against mine; I bump his knee back. "I want him to meet Hanabi while he's around though."

"The girl you've been hanging out with?" I ask, making my eyebrows jump as I softly tease Konoh about his growing crush.

"Ya," he whispers, a soft smile playing on his lips as his cheeks heat up. "Could you maybe help me get dressed up tomorrow for dinner with Dad and her?"

"Sure, Sweets," I answer, my chest boosting with joy from the simple request. I know my nephew has a mother, a role I'll never be able to fill for him despite her distance, but I'm always happy to fill in and be a good figure in his life.

Asuma's hand jumps to the side after I answer, roughly gripping my thigh as he inhales deeply. I watch the smoke cloud slowly slither out from his lips, perfectly sliding over his neatly kept beard. "You should go inside Konohamaru. I don't want you catching any secondhand smoke."

"But - "

"Inside," his uncle interrupts, sending Konoh a pointed look. The younger boy sighs, plopping a kiss on my cheek before he gets up and wanders back inside, probably off to go find his little girlfriend. "We should talk," Asuma mumbles, squeezing my thigh again as his eyes wander around the yard, most of his focus on his smoke.

"About what?" I ask, taking another inhale of my slowly dying cigarette. I smoke on occasion, well a lot more than that since I started dating Asuma so long ago, but he's still a heavier smoker than me.

He stays quiet, the both of us slowly huffing and puffing our nicotine as I wait for him to answer. "I'm a little obsessed with your tummy pouch today."

"Why do you keep calling it that?"

"You're right, womb tomb would sound better." He chuckles at his joke, making me roll my eyes. What a doofus. "I don't know," Asuma mutters, pausing to inhale the smoke from his cigarette again. I do the same, letting the burning sensation burn my lungs. "This whole baby shower thing and watching you with Konohamaru recently has me thinking."

     "About?"

     Another long pause, this time filled with two puffs. "Giving you a baby." The words hang in the air for a moment, slowly sinking into my gut. "Do you want me to give you a baby?"

     "Yes!" I answer quickly, snapping my head toward my husband. My cheeks heat up from how quickly I answered, the squeeze to my thigh and the slow slide up of Asuma's fingers adding to the stirring of my gut. "I mean..." I mutter, my eyes locking on the fingers clinging to my leg. "I think we're ready to be parents if you think we are."

     "I think we are. Besides, I'll enjoy making that baby with you." Asuma chuckles again, using his hold to pull me closer to him. He flickers his cigarette to the ground before leaning his mouth to my ear, his soft breath tickling me. "Though, seeing my creampie in your pussy will be my favorite part I bet."

     "Asuma!" I hiss, glancing around to make sure we are alone outside.

     He chuckles again, his hand finally leaving my thigh just to grab my hand. "Come on, let's say goodbye so I can get you home."

                        ———————————

     The tension stewing between Asuma and me is drowning, leaving me almost dazed as he slowly leads me up the flights of stairs to our apartment. A hand is back on my stomach pouch, slowly rubbing it as the other hand gently pushes on my hip, leading me across the way. He's buried in my neck, nuzzling my hair as his lips press soft kisses into my skin.

     I stumble over my feet, excitement from being on our floor fogging my mind. Asuma chuckles at me, clinging to me to stop me from falling. "Someone is excited about becoming a mommy, or maybe you're just excited for me. Which one is it, baby doll?"

     "Both," I murmur, trying to drag him to our front door quicker. He laughs again, letting me tug him forward. Once I get us in front of our door, I'm pressed against it, Asuma leaning into me as he digs through his pockets in search of his keys. His boner is pressed against my ass, only making me more excited. "Hurry up."

     "Have a bit of patience, baby doll. Give me a second," he mutters, shoving his key into the lock before twisting it. "Go sit pretty in the bedroom and wait while Daddy has a cigarette," Asuma orders, landing a smack to my ass.

     I let out a yelp, a smile crossing my face as I cover my butt to avoid any further taps to it. As I beeline for our bedroom, he wanders off to slip out to the porch, going to have another smoke like he said he was going to. Eagerness bubbles in me as I slide through our bedroom door, the promise of sex being the main thing on my mind with the hint of having a baby rattles around in the background.

     I do what's expected and what was asked of me. My clothes are stripped off as I work towards the body mirror propped up against the wall. As soon as I get in front of it, bare with my clothes thrown across the floor, I sink to my knees, settling onto them in front of the mirror.

     If Asuma could be summed up in one word it would be protective. Whether it's for his nephew, his students, the village, or me. He's protective over everything from enemies to my conscience. My perfect guard dog, too lazy to pick his shoes off the floor but not too lazy to go toe-to-toe with my self-doubt.

     I sit in silence, looking myself over in the mirror as I wait for him to finish his smoke. The longer he's gone the more I fester over the pouch of my lower stomach. How can I feel so sexy and loved when Asuma grabs at it but hate it when I'm looking in the mirror? I've tried every workout and diet possible to at least shrink it if not get rid of it, but no matter what I do it just stays put.

     Last week I broke down about it and he explained it was just a small amount of fat, an extra protective layer to keep lower stomach organs safe. Whether that's true or not is beyond me but he keeps insisting it's normal to have and his 'new favorite spot'. I think it's always been his favorite spot, especially since he has a habit of pressing on it during sex, but I won't complain about how he chooses to love my body.

     "Don't look at yourself like that, baby doll," Asuma's voice flutters out from behind me, startling me a bit.

     My eyes jump away from myself in the mirror, settling on the image of him left in nothing but his boxers. My sight slowly trails across his face, dropping down his defined chest and torso, ogling at his bicep muscles on the way down before settling on his exposed hard-on. It still amazes me how a man cut from God's personal hotties cloth cannot only want to be with me but physically can't control parts of himself at the sight of me.

     "Why can't you look at yourself how you look at me?" He asks, tone teasing but his eyes have a hint of sadness in them. Asuma moves forward a step before crouching down, his knees on either side of mine and a hand on my shoulders to box me in. His free hand jumps to my chin, tipping it down so I lock eyes with myself. "Give the pretty girl in the mirror a compliment."

     "She's a very smart girl," I mutter, shifting my eyes away from the mirror. It almost hurts to look at myself for too long.

     Asuma chuckles, using his hold on my face to shift me, lining my sight with myself again. "That is true, baby doll, but I meant a compliment about her looks. I think she has a sexy stomach that's only going to get sexier when it starts growing our child. Even more sexy than that after her stretch marks start setting in."

     I simmer on his words for a moment, letting them manifest in my head. I knew I was going to gain weight if we succeeded at getting me pregnant but the thought of stretch marks never crossed my mind. Would Asuma find my stretch marks sexy?

     "You'd look like a sexy tiger," he butts into my thoughts as if he could read them. "Plus it would be a permanent reminder of the precious life your body built and natured. There's nothing sexier than the mother of my child and the stretch marks left behind because of the wonders her body performed. I wouldn't choose anyone other than you to perform such wonders for me, baby doll."

     The smothering of compliments heats my body again, tingles stewing between my legs and a blush quickly covering my cheeks. My cheeks that Asuma also smothers, this time with kisses instead of compliments. "Compliment yourself, baby doll. I want to hear you say how pretty you are."

     I stay silent for a moment, glancing over my image, looking for any part of myself I find attractive. "I have pretty eyes. They're a nice shape and the color isn't terrible."

     "I love your eyes. I love the color of them. I love how they light up when they find me," Asuma mutters in response, the hand on my shoulder sliding my hair out of the way while the hand clinging to my chin tilts my head to the side. "Keeping going."

     "Um... I like my hair too. It's a pretty color and I like how I keep it relatively healthy and that I can change it in all sorts of ways."

     "You have beautiful hair. I love how messy and wild child it is in the morning," he reinforces, his lips quickly finding their way back to my neck. Asuma softly sucks in the skin of my throat, still light enough not to leave any marks but hard enough that tingles form and drop straight down.

     The hand not keeping my head tilted and eyes locked on the mirror is softly massaging my shoulder, quickly abounding that to cup one of my breasts. Asuma softly massages it, kneading it like he's done to my stomach all day.

     "Compliment your titties, baby doll," he mumbles, gripping it a bit harder as his thumb finds its way to my nipple, rubbing slow circles into it.

     My eyes fall to my chest, trying to scrape up any half-assed compliment I can come up with. "I... am happy I have them. I'm happy they'll help me nature our child."

     Asuma softly chuckles, releasing my boob just to switch his hands around and play with the other one. "I'm happy you have them too. They feel so perfect, filling my hands just right. I can't wait to try your breast milk."

     "Asuma!" I yelp, a shaky smile on my lips as my cheeks heat up again. "You're such a perv."

     He tilts my head the other way, letting my chin go to slide my hair out of the way again. "How am I a perv? You can't expect your tits to start producing milk and for me not to try it." Ya, I guess he has a point. I should have seen that one coming.

     Asuma's hand doesn't go back to my chin this time. Instead, it starts sliding down my front, stopping at my stomach pouch he loves so much to press his fingers against it. "Compliment your stomach, baby doll."

     My eyes drop down to where his hand is, stewing as I look at the spot. His hand doesn't stay there long though, quickly sliding down again, beelining for my pussy. Asuma's legs shift wider, his hand cupping my knee to pull my legs apart too before going back to its main course. His fingertips slide through my folds, taking their time as they trail over my clit.

"Asuma," I whine, jerking my hips when his fingers start moving away from my clit.

"You're not getting any attention until you compliment your belly," he mutters, his grin stamping into my throat just as much as his lips.

"That's not fair."

"I think Daddy is being very fair," he chuckles, head lifting as the tips of his fingers dip into me. They don't say long, pulling away again, sliding through me again to spread my forming wetness. "It's just a bit of self-love, baby doll."

I melt into Asuma, leaning against him as he looks at me in the mirror, eyes burning with passion as he toys with me. One or two small circles to my clit, nibble fingers tailing down to poke his fingertips into my pussy before trialing back up. "Daddy," I whine, trying to jerk my hips further onto his fingers.

"Compliment," he mutters, his hand falling from my breast long enough to shift my hips back up before it's back on my boob. Instead of kneading it this time, Asuma toys with my nipple, pinching it between his fingers as he tugs on it. "I want to hear you compliment your perfect tummy. Put those pretty lips to work for Daddy."

I let a few whines spill out, the tingles of want from my pussy quickly beating out my defiance. "My belly is perfect, now touch me," I whimper, my hands shooting backward to take a grip on his short-kept hair.

Asuma chuckles, the corners of his eyes scrunching with happiness. I love how he loves me. I love how he helps me love myself. "You're such a good girl," he coos, finally dipping two fingers completely into me. A long moan tumbles out, back already starting to arch as he curls his fingers.

Another chuckle comes from him, the hand on my tit falling to my legs to pull them further apart. "Watch, baby doll. Watch what I'm doing to you," Asuma mumbles, chin to my head to gently push it downward.

I do as I'm told, shifting my head down the mirror. Once my eyes are in place, he starts slowly pumping them in and out of me. "Compliment your pussy," he orders, picking up his fingers a bit as his hand grips my leg tighter. "Is your pussy pretty?"

"Yes, Daddy. My pussy is pretty," I babble out, trying to rock my hips.

Asuma's fingers tumble around, positioning themselves so his thumb can run over my clit as he stretches me out. "Good girl," he coos again, rubbing my clit a lot slower than his fingers thrust into me. "What do you want from me, baby doll?"

"A baby," I mutter, the buzz of my approaching orgasm already fogging my mind. "I want you to give me a baby. Your baby. Please, Daddy?"

Asuma lets out a hissed breath, thumb circling quicker as he mutters to himself. "Are you sure you want a baby? One hundred percent sure?" My head snaps up, locking with his eyes in the mirror as I quickly nod my head. "Use your words, baby doll."

"Yes, I'm sure. I want a baby. One hundred percent. Give me a baby, please." The last word comes out as a hissy whine, my orgasm quickly ticking to its tipping point. Asuma releases my leg, hand jumping up to cling to my chin again. He tips my head backward, his lips quickly finding mine as his fingers start to curl again.

The ticking comes to an end, my cunt clenching around his fingers as I come undone. Asuma's mouth catches my satisfied moans, swallowing them as pridefully as the grin on his face. "I'll never get tired of you cumming on my fingers," he mumbles, slowly pulling his lips away from me.

Even though this is the millionth time I've heard the confusion, it still makes me buzz with giddiness. "Then do it again," I whisper, avoiding his intense eyes sparked with arousal and his want for me.

"How did I end up with such a selfish baby doll?" Asuma teases, hands clinging to my hips, coating one side with my juices still coating his hand. He shifts onto his knees, positioning himself before I'm tugged on, my hands falling out of his because of the movements.

I'm lurched backward, actually positioned on my knees instead of just sitting on them before Asuma releases one of my hips, a hand settling between my shoulder blades to push my chest against the mirror. The chilled glass sends a shiver through my body, making my nipples harden even more. They almost hurt from the chill and the toying they had earlier.

My hands stumble onto the mirror, being pressed against them as I settle into my new position. I turn my head to look back at him, wondering what exactly he has planned. "Look at yourself, baby doll," he orders, his hand jumping from my back to my hair, using it to shift my head forward so I can see myself in the mirror. "I want you to see how pretty your face looks while you're taking my dick."

Just like that, the spark between my thighs starts to roar again. At the moment, my cheeks are red with a hint of sweat from the work over I've already received. My eyes flutter, watching Asuma as he lines himself with my pussy, the tip of his dick tapping against my hole. "Watch," he orders again, his big hands wrapping around my hips again as he stares at me in the mirror.

"Yes, Daddy," I whisper, letting my eyes drop again, locking with themselves in the glass. His hands feel warm as they cling to me, trying their best to keep a hold of me without bruising my skin.

Asuma slowly inches into me, stretching me so perfectly as he works on bottoming out. "Your pussy always feels so perfect wrapped around me, baby doll," he groans, squeezing my hips as he waits for a second, enjoying the feeling of me, and letting me enjoy the feeling of him.

My face is redding just a bit, eagerness for Asuma, embarrassment from the compliment, and my body temperature rising from the short interaction.

As he slowly pulls out, a hand slides down, resting against my belly pouch he loves so much. "Right here is where our baby is going to start forming," he mutters, pressing on the spot as he thrusts back into me, a bit faster than last time but still pretty slow. "Our child is going to grow from right here. Your stretch marks are going to form because of this spot. I'm going to be permanently stitched right here so I can enjoy both our wonderful baby and my beautiful wife."

My mouth stays open a bit, shaky breaths spilling out and coating the mirror with a bit of condensation, making the glass foggy. "Daddy," I mutter, trying to work my hips backward. I need more, I need him to move faster, I need something else from him. "Please?"

"Please what?" He chuckles, picking up his pace as he presses on my stomach harder. Cocky man that gets off on feeling the indent of his penis in me. "Please give you a baby? Please fill you up until I'm certain you're pregnant? Is that what you want?"

I watch the way his words affect me, my pupils widening the more turned on I get, and my tongue begging to poke out, a beg I give into. I look like an amateur pornstar, tongue hanging out as I pant and doe eyes begging for more of my husband. No wonder Asuma finds me so sexy.

"Answer me, baby doll," he mutters, thrusts picking up again as his hand finally trails away from my stomach. His fingers slide against my clit, the pads of his fingertips softly toying with me. I quickly nod my head, the ticks of my orgasm starting up again. "Use your words."

"Yes, please. All of it. I want all of it. Daddy, please?" I ramble, words coming out muffled by my moany breaths.

"You're so hot," he groans, his fingers picking up their pace. Asuma's head falls to lay on me, hot breath and sloppy kisses coating both my shoulder and my neck as he fucks me. "You're going to be such a hot mom. Repeat, baby doll. Say it."

"I'm going to be a hot mom," I echo, my back curling down as my orgasm starts to close in again. Screw Asuma, screw his talented fingers, screw him making me cum before he fucks me so it's easier to amp me up again and get me to cum on his cock. It's almost humiliating how easily he plays my body.

"Again."

"I'm going to be a hot mom. I'm going to be a hot mom. I'm going to be a hot mom," I say on repeat, already knowing he's going to make me repeat it a thousand times. "Asuma," I whine, cutting off my broken record repeat when my orgasm is knocking at the door.

"Squeeze my dick, baby doll," he mutters before softly sucking on my throat again. An embarrassing high-pitched whine spills from me, my body obeying his demand, squeezing his cock as I come undone once again during this round.

With a fresh coat of my juices coating his cock, Asuma slides into me easier, his thrusts hitting harder from the added slickness. "Are you ready, baby doll?" He starts to babble as his head lifts off me. His continued thrusts toe the line of overstimulation from the lack of a break to my body. "Are you ready for me to fill you up? For me to make you a mommy? For you to make me a dad?"

"Yes," I breathe out, letting my eyes slide upward.

Asuma's chest is pumping like crazy from the workout, his smoking catching up to him in the moment. His eyes are locked on my figure in the mirror, jaw locking when he notices my sight has shifted. "Fuck," he grumbles, gripping my thighs to tug me backward, his dick stilling in me. It's only a second or two before his cum spirts out, filling my pussy with a weird warmth I haven't experienced before.

His head falls again, his forehead pressed against mine, the sticky sweat helping us stick together better. "You're so pretty. Absolutely beautiful, baby doll. Perfect in every way," he babbles, routinely squeezing and releasing my hips from his grasp. "Fuck," he grumbles again, holding on to my hips as he pulls on me.

There's a shallow sweat-made silhouette of my body against the mirror, outlining my position against it. I'm tugged backward, pulled off the mirror before Asuma positions know he wishes; still on my knees, ass up, and my cheek pushed into the carpet of our bedroom.

"I was right," he mutters, an airy laugh following the short sentence. His hands are between my legs, spreading me open so he can get a good look at my pussy. Embarrassment crawls up my body again from being so exposed, even if it is Asuma looking at me like this. "Watching my cum drain into you is my favorite part."

"Asuma," I whine, trying - and failing - to close my legs, cutting off his view of my soaked cunt.

"What, baby doll? I can't enjoy the sight of your pussy clenching as my semen seeps into you? It's a beautiful sight, I'm going to enjoy it while I can." His fingers dip into me again, pushing his cum into me faster. I might be the selfish lover but Asuma is the impatient lover. "Lord, I can't wait for your stretch marks to start forming."

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | AO3

-----

Around the fourth of July, when Eddie's finally resigned himself to a third senior year at high school - his last one, his last chance, because he knows damn well they're going to stop letting him stubbornly try again at some point - he gets a series of lies that fill him with more dread than even the bit about the hospital.

I don't know, I don't know anything!

There's nobody else out there, swear to God!

My delivery didn't come, and my friend and I, we thought that it was left at the loading dock, so we went in the room.

But I swear to God, nobody knows about us, nobody saw us.

And I'm not gonna tell anybody about this, okay?

Come on, I told you everything I know!

Eddie panics.

He knows what an interrogation looks like, and it's pretty damn clear that his soulmate is lying to protect someone - multiple someones? His organization? Shit, is his soulmate like actually a spy, or is he just a dumb kid who stumbled into the back of a mafia run organization or something?

Whatever it is, Eddie doesn't want to leave him alone to it, but - Uncle Wayne already left for his shift, and he can't call him at work, and on top of that, Eddie's a little afraid that whatever he says will get picked up by the interrogators or throw his soulmate off.

So he waits, tense and on edge and every moment cracking him open wider and wider.

And then, after hours of nothing that leave Eddie checking over and over again to make sure the words on his skin are still stark and bold, that they haven't gone all faded the way they do when your soulmate dies -

I'm fine, they're hurt worse than me, they need it more.

He lets out a shaky, relieved sigh, even though he's beyond furious at his stupid soulmate who keeps getting himself hurt, and there's a pit at the bottom of his stomach that makes him wonder what the hell his soulmate has gotten himself involved with.

This time, he's not going to let him get away with insisting he doesn't need medical attention. Uncle Wayne may still be at work, but he's got other options.

Eddie calls Jeff.

"I think you have to go to the hospital," he says when Jeff answers, slow and deliberate and sincere.

There's a few moments of confused silence, then Jeff asks, "What the fuck, dude?"

Eddie waits for just a little bit longer before saying, "When you see what I've got for this next campaign, I think you're going to have to go to the hospital."

Jeff laughs, and they talk for a little bit about what the campaign's going to be like, what character Jeff's thinking about for it, what he'd like to do with his character and how it can fit with some of the stuff Eddie's working up, how Eddie better not kill this one damn it.

"You know all I care about is you and your safety," Eddie says before they hang up, once again making it as genuine as possible so it'll get picked up as a lie.

Jeff laughs at him again and hangs up on him, leaving Eddie all alone and jittery.

He doesn't know if his soulmate will even see it any time soon, let alone respond, but - at least he did it, at least he said something.

So he's a little surprised when he feels the sting of a new lie getting written on his shoulder later that night, so late that it's already almost morning.

I went to the hospital, but I didn't get medical attention, it says. I'm not safe now.

The last of the panic he'd felt drains out of him, and he's reluctantly but fiercely grateful that his soulmate decided to break their silence to reassure him. He's not expecting anything else, but a few minutes later he feels something else being written on the inside of his thigh.

I don't care about my soulmate, too, and I won't do anything to keep them safe. That isn't why we can't talk again yet.

Oh.

Eddie kind of wants to be stubborn, and insist on talking to him again anyway, but -

But his soulmate said them, not her, like he's open to the possibility that Eddie might be a guy. But his soulmate said yet, not never. But his soulmate said he'd do anything to keep Eddie safe, and Eddie's pretty sure he just got a little glimpse into what anything might be, and he -

Things have changed. His soulmate's probably graduated, Eddie realizes, and he's clearly found at least one person who's a different kind of friend, considering the lies he just said are no longer stilted and obscured, and all that's aside from whatever he's gotten involved with that might mean Eddie isn't safe if they talk again.

So for now, he'll listen.

—

Later that month, Eddie's in the back of Hawkins' one and only comic-slash-games shop, crouched down and hunting through their meager supply of miniatures. He's so focused on his search for one that he a, hasn't used a lot, and b, can modify enough to suit his latest campaign, that he doesn't notice someone's come up and is standing by him until he hears the rustling and clack of merchandise on the shelf above him.

He rocks back on his heels, looking over and up to who's joined him - and nearly falls over when he sees Steve Harrington standing there.

"Seriously?" he demands, because Jesus Christ, they're coming to find him in his own territory now? Then, in almost the same breath as the state of Hawkins High's recently graduated golden boy hits him, "Wait, what the hell happened to you?"

Harrington squints down at him, looking incredibly unimpressed. Eddie's not actually sure how someone can pull off looking that irritated when one eye can only barely open, but somehow, he manages it.

"I was captured by Russians who didn't like my attitude," he responds, dry and sarcastic.

Fuck him then, Eddie decides, turning to glare back at his miniatures. "Right, heaven forbid the peasantry rise above their station and show concern to the royalty."

There's an awkward silence, but Harrington doesn't leave, and when Eddie glances back up, he looks - softer, somehow. It makes his injuries look even worse, and Eddie swallows roughly.

"I was at Starcourt," Harrington says, as if that should explain it all, which -

Actually, yeah, it should. It's not like Eddie's unaware of the fact that the mall kind of spectacularly burned to the ground. It's all that's been in the papers for the last few weeks. He hasn't read many of them himself, but he couldn't avoid remembering some of the headlines - Hero Cop Dies Saving Children and Scoop Slinging Teens Save Lives and Hawkins Mourns Loss of Promising Teen Couple.

He'd been irritated at seeing Harrington and Hargrove's faces everywhere, in a strange, gut clenching way that he doesn't really want to look too closely at, considering one of them is now dead and the other apparently saves lives. In retrospect, he should have put it together, but Harrington's picture had always been him in his varsity jacket, or his tux and crown at prom, or once in the sailor outfit of his summer job. Never of his injuries, and even now, looking at him, it looks so much more like he got in another fight than he was injured in a fire.

"Is it true, then?" Eddie asks, because he can feel the most recent lies from his soulmate burning as though they're being written all over, and he still really doesn't want this asshole to be it. "Little sailor boy saving lives?"

Harrington makes a face that has to hurt, but apparently looking bitchy is more important than physical comfort. Then he shrugs one shoulder. "Yeah, I guess, I helped. But it wasn't just me. I wasn't even the MVP."

Eddie snorts. "False modesty doesn't become you."

Harrington just mutters, "Whatever, man, you asked," and goes back to looking at the shelves like Eddie isn't even there.

Which tracks, really, with how Harrington had treated almost everyone in high school, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

"What are you even doing here?" he asks.

Harrington looks back down at him. "The Hopper-Byers are moving to California."

"Did not know that." Eddie's kind of surprised that Harrington does, actually, unless he's been keeping tabs on his ex's current boyfriend, just waiting to swoop in. Sucks for the Byers, though - baby Byers will be okay, he thinks, but he knows Jonathan's heading into his senior year, and that's a rough time to - "Wait, Hopper-Byers?"

"Yeah." Harrington's expression has gone all closed off, now, like he'd rather be anywhere but here talking to Eddie.

Feeling's fucking mutual, Eddie decides.

"El - Hop's adopted daughter - she's going with the Byers."

Eddie didn't know Hopper had an adopted daughter. But then, with Harrington's parents, he's not surprised the guy's cozy enough with the chief of police to have a dumb little nickname for him and be friends with his adopted daughter.

Former chief of police, and that makes Eddie feel just a little bit guilty. Not enough to stop poking at Harrington, though.

"And that brought you here because…."

"There's a going away party, and I'm not showing up empty handed." Harrington gestures at the shelves. "Will likes all this weird shit."

Goddamn. Even when Harrington is doing something nice for someone, he's still a huge dick about it. Eddie wonders if it's hurting what counts for a brain under all that hair to be this thoughtful about an obligatory going away present for some nerd.

Harrington lets out a frustrated huff of air, pushing his fingers through his hair. "Help a guy out, man? He's leaving his party behind, so I don't want to get him something for, you know, game play or whatever, but maybe something to remember it?"

If Eddie was feeling charitable, he might think it was sweet, how much the guy was thinking about this. But, well.

It's Steve Harrington, and even if Eddie's never really interacted with the guy before, he knows enough to know he's exactly the kind of rich, popular jackass that makes life for people like Eddie miserable.

So Eddie snorts, thinks that of fucking course the guy is trying to outsource gift buying onto him, that he can't even put in the effort to pick it out himself and instead is just trying to find someone else to do it for him.

Still, he doesn't want Byers the younger to end up with a crappy gift. He might not be coming into freshman year at Hawkins High with the rest of his apparently D&D playing friends, but Eddie can still look out for him a little.

"There's some t-shirts and posters next aisle over. Couple of choose your own adventure comic books, some art books towards the back," Eddie offers.

Harrington makes a face. "Yeah, definitely not getting him a t-shirt, hopefully he can at least have a chance at his new high school."

Oh, fuck this guy and his judgemental, holier-than-thou attitude.

"He's an artist, though, his stuff is really good," Harrington continues. "I already got him a sketchbook and some paints, so maybe the art books? I'll take a look."

Harrington is moving before Eddie can get a word in edgewise, pausing only to clasp his shoulder and give it a squeeze.

"Thanks, Munson," he says, easy as anything, and then he's gone.

I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone whose commented/reblogged/liked this - I'm a little bit blown away by the response, and I'm so so glad people are enjoying this!! We'll be heading into season 4 with the next part, and they're probably going to start getting longer because this is turning into such a monster. I'm having so much fun writing these dumb boys!

-----

Part 6

Taglist (if I missed you please let me know, and always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @affablevixen @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n

[slicedmayonnaise]

I want to take a moment to talk about one of my favorite characters in RDR2: Kieran Duffy.

I've seen a few posts on my timeline recently about him and people's different interpretations of him and head canons of him. So, I'm going to add my two cents.

Now, this is my personal head canon about what type of person Kieran is and some of this may be GROSS mischaracterization.

Let's begin with the facts.

Kieran is NOT some weak, innocent, stuttering, scared man. He IS the sassy man apocalypse! He is not afraid to stand up for himself or others when he feels he needs to. He saves Arthur, for one. He is also one of the characters who can knock Arthur out and kick him out of camp when he's being an asshole. We can also see him standing up for himself to people like Javier and Sean during camp interactions. He also draws his pistol when Milton and Ross show up to camp and threaten the gang in chapter 3. He is an army vet and was part of another gang before he was taken by the O'Driscolls.

Now let's get into my personal head canons.

First of all, I don't believe Kieran Duffy is actually his name. When Arthur first asks Kieran his name, he says "I don't know" and after Arthur threatens him a bit more, he comes up with Kieran Duffy. And we of course know outlaws are notorious for using pseudonyms. We see the others use them constantly throughout the game.

Why would Kieran lie about his name though? Easy. Because he is actually secretly a badass, cold-blodded ex gang leader.

Stay with me now.

I believe Kieran was actually the leader of the gang he ran with before the O'Driscolls. And I believe he was a big time outlaw just like Colm or Dutch or Flaco Hernandez.

Why? Because why would Colm waste his time attacking and kidnapping some random guy he found camping in the woods? There had to be a reason. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's rewind.

I believe in leading his gang, Kieran became greedy and corrupt, just like Dutch did. And I believe he, like Dutch, led all of the men (and maybe women) that followed him straight to hell. One by one, they were picked off, just like with the Van Der Linde gang. And I believe the last of them were killed when Colm attacked. Maybe he was originally after Kieran for the price on his head, but decided he was more valuable to him alive. Surely if he's a big time outlaw, Kieran had thousands of dollars stashed away, which Colm would have obviously taken along with Kieran. Maybe the money he got from Kieran was more than the reward he would've gotten for Kieran's head, so he gave Kieran the choice to work for him or die with the last of his gang. Kieran obviously chose to work for Colm because he was afraid to die.

Obviously, Kieran would have felt a lot of guilt because of his gang, and would have gone through a lot of torture at the hands of the O'Driscolls. We can see in the beginning of the game that Colm is abusive towards him, which isn't surprising. He is also malnourished prior to the gang starving him as a means of making him talk. And let's look at how horrified he is at the thought of betraying Colm. He says himself that Colm is an evil man, and he expresses to Sean how scared he is of Colm. This experience would've definitely humbled him and watered him down from the tough outlaw he once was. Much like John, he no longer wanted to be a part of the outlaw life. He just wanted to live quietly with his horses and go fishing. And that's the version we get of him after he finally settles in with the Van Der Linde gang.

I also think Kieran is bisexual and gender fluid. I think he was a lot for femme presenting before he got taken by the O'Driscolls, just given his mannerisms and the way his hair is cut. It looks like he had long hair and chopped it all off Mulan style. I believe, similarly to Javier in rdr1, he stopped taking care of his looks after he joined up with Colm. He cut his hair and let his facial hair grow out, as he lost his desire for vanity.

[kitixie]

Little Girl Gone (pt 6)

word count: 2k

information: y'all, i am so sorry this took so long, i've been in a slump and clinicals just started so i've also been super busy. but i promise i am going to finish this!

warnings: smut. dirty, filthy, nasty smut. seriously, its like 3 pages of smut with some dialogue, but i won't apologize for it 🙃

taglist: @budugu, @ajmiila02, @filmtv2022, @cyphah, @ce1iat, @thenattitude, @globetrotter28, @tn22220-blog, @fudgethisyo, @geeky-politics-46, @chaengist, @lostgirl219, @amberpanda99, @sharrren, @bookishbabyyyy

Tommy’s POV 

It had been a week. It had been a fucking week since I had last seen Y/N, since I had tasted her lips on her kitchen counter and gathered the strength to pull away. Dealing with business and family had made this week drag on like months, leaving a hole in my chest that grew everyday I wasn’t around her. I had been so close to having her, her body and mind were almost mine, and then I remembered that stupid, pointless meeting in Camden, and I pulled away like an idiot. I was needed at the meeting, but still; I needed her more. 

Everytime that my mind has dared to go back to that night, it always ends the same. Me in a bathroom or closet or any other private place, jerking my cock like a madman. I couldn’t stand it any longer, I needed to have her. I knew I wouldn’t be able to see her for a while, and that only made it worse. It only made me treasure the memories more. 

“Thomas,” Polly croaked, I could still see the tear stains on her face from earlier. 

Business had not gone well, ending with Arthur and John being arrested, and Michael getting his ass handed to him in the process. Polly had been crying and screaming the entire time, along with Ada, who is ever the dramatic. Ada has now resumed her vow of silence against me, at least until I get our brothers free, and Polly won’t stop fucking crying, tears coming out between her hands as she covers her face. I understand her upset, I really do, but it isn’t my fault that her son manages to get beat to a pulp everytime we go out, and she knows it. 

“Yes, Pol?” I finally answer, the solemn look not leaving my face. 

“What are you going to do? Ya have to get your brothers, the longer their in there the more pissed they’ll be,” she breathes, “I can take care of Michael, but you’ve got to handle things with the prison.”

Finally recognizing some of the life that comes back to her eyes, I sit for a moment. It’s not a problem to get Arthur and John out, I pull people from the jail all the time. I’m just not sure what to do with them once they’re out. They’ll be angry, looking for revenge, and I’ve got a sweet girl waiting on me that overpowers all thoughts of payback. Everyone will get what's coming for them, we are the Shelbys after all, but I want to come first. Preferably all over Y/N. 

- 

Another week gone by, and still I haven’t gotten to see her. The hole is now a gaping wound, and my cock is sore from how much my hand has been on it. 

I was right, Arthur and John drug me straight back to Camden Town after they got out, and it’s taken all week to stalk and plan out our retribution. We got it, but at what cost? I still haven’t been around to see Y/N. I know she's been at the house, Pol called and told me that she asked her over and watch Finn while she tended to Michael. Hearing that made my heart swell the most it has in a long time, just knowing she cared enough to do something as simple as watch my kid brother. I am so far gone for her, and I don’t even think she realizes that she holds the most powerful man in Birmingham at her fingertips. 

The three of us eventually arrive back to Watery Lane, and I immediately notice that Y/N’s umbrella is propped by the door. The adrenaline begins to rush through my veins, waking up all of the feelings that I just got to lie down this past week. All that lust and longing comes flooding back into me, all from an umbrella by the door. I enter the house first, and hear the sounds of laughter coming from the seating room. I peek around the door frame to see Finn and Y/N, locked in some sword battle, using sticks as their weapons. They slash at each other, Y/N obviously holding back given that she has almost two feet in height on the kid, but still it’s one of the most adorable things I’ve ever seen. 

I, Tommy Shelby, just found something adorable. Something is truly wrong with me. 

I ultimately decide not to disturb them and continue walking to my room. It’s only when I get to my room however, that I notice the tent that has formed in my pants. Fuck, I can’t even see her without getting aroused. I hear John and Arthur speaking to them downstairs, and figure that they’ll keep them busy long enough for me to handle my issue. I carefully shut my door, and lie down on my bed. Loosening my pants, I free my cock from its confines. The skin is red from straining against my clothes, but it only adds to the tenderness as I stroke myself. I imagine it being her hands, dragging up and down my length, toying with the sensitive head. I run my thumb over it, letting the pain from being so hard morph into the pleasure I’m imagining in my head. I picture her mouth, those soft, pink lips wrapping around me, licking and kissing all over my skin until she finally makes her way down. She’d start slow, testing the waters to see how she could handle me, until finally sinking all the way down, my cock touching the back of her throat. The same throat that makes all those mouthy remarks, and keeps all those secrets of what she wishes I’d do to her. I even go so far as to imagine her own fantasies, picturing her getting off to the thought of my hands on her, just like I’m doing now. The soft moans that would spill out of her mouth, falling hard in the silence of her apartment. The way her fingers dive and retreat in and out of that pussy; I know it’s tight, it has to be. That leads me to my next train of thought. The warm center between her legs, that would be dripping in arousal by the time I got around to it. She’d be so wet that it would go down her thighs, it’d be enough for me to drink. I let out a small moan, the feeling of my hand and the delusions in my head becoming too powerful. I can almost feel the softness of her lower lips, as they part to let me in. The filthy sounds she would make as I drove into her, first from on top of her, then once she got adjusted to my size, the way I would take her from the back. 

The motion of my hand stops as soon as I hear a glass shatter, and I peel open my closed eyes to find Y/N, standing at my door, face flush, with a shattered glass and pool of water around her feet. Her eyes do not meet mine, and I realize that they’re dialed in on my cock, with my hand still wrapped around it. 

“Tommy, I-I am so sorry, I had no idea-” 

I don’t let her finish before I’m on my feet. I step over the glass, scooping her up in my arms before placing her inside my room so that she doesn’t step on the glass. I close the door behind her, somewhat aware that my hard on is still out on full display. 

“How long have you been watching me, bad girl?” I say, bringing the same hand that was on my cock seconds ago up to her cheek. Her skin feels better than mine ever could. 

“Not long, I swear it Tommy,” she rasps, trying to keep her eyes on my face. 

“Did you hear me moan? That was for you, Love. You were what I was imaging,” I breathe, tipping my head towards hers. 

“No-”

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.” 

“Yes, I heard you Tommy. It was a beautiful sound.” She finally admits, leaning into my touch and resting her forehead against mine. 

I smile at her, and go back to sit on my bed. When she doesn’t follow, I make the decision then and there. She can watch. 

I begin stroking my cock again, this time keeping my eyes on her. I can see that she’s a little confused, but more aroused than anything. I spot that blush spreading from her cheeks down her neck, and onto her chest. I can see how heavily she’s breathing, her eyes darting between my face and my hand. I let out another moan as I see her hand go up to her breast, palming herself through the fabric of her shirt. She’s as needy as I am, she just won’t admit it. 

I keep my pace, speeding up my hand to keep time with her breathing. The rise and fall of her breast picks up enough that I can feel my end coming near. She’s still watching, waiting to see me finish. I’ve never had an audience before, but I like that she’s the one seeing me. I give my length one last pull, and cum erupts, landing all over my stomach. I keep my hand moving until the last drop comes out, dribbling down my thumb. 

“Come here, Y/N.” I say, motioning her with my finger. 

She approaches me, staring at the mess I’ve made at myself, all at the sight of her. 

“Yes, Tommy?” She questions, that sweet voice dripping in feigned innocence. 

“Open your mouth.” I demand. 

She does as she is told, and I stick my thumb into her waiting mouth. 

“Clean it.” I poke her tongue with my digit, and she closes her mouth around it. 

She swirls her tongue around my thumb, lightly sucking at the calloused skin of my hand. She is very thorough, but if she doesn’t stop, I’m going to take her right here, with every member of my family in this house. She pulls away, letting my thumb go from her mouth with a pop. I move to sit up, heading to the bathroom to clean myself off. Before I have the chance to reach my feet, she pushes me back down, her hand gripping my shoulders. 

“What are ya doing, Love?” 

“I’m cleaning you up, Thomas.” Fuck, even just my name coming from her mouth is almost enough to have me hard again. 

She straddles my knees, bracing her hands on either side of my hips. I just allow her, wanting whatever physical contact she’ll give to me. She lowers her head, bringing it to the bottom of my stomach. She darts her tongue out, licking up the cum that pooled at my waistline. She swallows it, and I am in awe as I watch her. She traces the erratic trail up my body, her mouth leaving warmth in its wake. My skin flushes at her touch, and I jump when she lands her mouth on the ticklish part of my side, where the liquid has started to drip down. She lets out a small laugh and keeps going. Finally, when she has licked every last bit of evidence from my torso, she moves up, the crotch of her pants sitting right on top of my once again hard cock. I don’t move, in fear of not being able to stop, but she leans down, and whispers in my ear. 

“You taste delicious, Tommy.” She darts her tongue out again, letting the warm thing touch my ear before she nips at it with her teeth. 

I go to grab her hips, having had enough of her teasing, but she jumps off of me, landing her feet on the floor. 

“I think I heard Finn calling for me,” She says, turning towards the door where the broken glass still lies. 

She steps to the mess of glass and water and looks down. 

“It’s a shame about your water, Love, I’m sure you’re parched.” She smirks, stepping over the shards and sending me a wink before she closes the door. 

[littlebluentebook]

Alastor x Sewing!Reader

Hi everyone! This is my first ever fic but I have read far more than anyone should in a lifetime! Please let me know if theres any criticism. Im open to other ideas and fandoms (that I will eventually make a list for.) I'm merging some chapters I have just because they're short or make better sense that way and tried tot keep things gender neutral. If I slipped let me know and I will go back and edit! This is probably super out of character but I did my best! Hope you all enjoy :)

Chapter 1 <3

You and your husband had always gotten along like a house on fire.

Every other week a client would come in asking for costumes and repairs for a speakeasy she sung and danced at.

"-just say Anne invited you love n' they'll be bound ta let you in!" she exclaimed while picking up her newest order for the night ahead.

"Well darling I'll just have to see if I've got any sort of plans." You said knowing full well you were going to come up with new patterns until eventually falling asleep.

"Come on Y/N, Ive been coming to you for months! Don't you want to see where all your heard work goes to?" Anne was definitely pulling your strings taking advantage of your curiosity. She had a point.

"I suppose you've gotta point Anne. What time are you starting tonight?"

"Nine!" She was bouncing up and down in excitement. " I've got to get going now doll! See you tonight!"

The jingle of the bells on the door signified she was gone. You started to realize what you agreed to and panicking.

"Oh my goodness gracious!" you stressed out loud, "what even am I going to wear! Im going to look ridiculous- I don't know a single soul there! What if I make a fool of myself?!"

Your thoughts battles for longer than you would like them to eventually grabbing a paper riddled with measurements no longer needed and started writing pros and cons of visiting Anne.

Pros: Cons:

Meeting new people! Showing up alone

Can make friends Looking like a buffoon!

New possible clients

Deducting that embarrassment is temporary, your cons list could easily be eradicated by breaking out of your shell and talking to others. Plus, Anne would be there and she was your friend... kinda? You considered her a friend but was unsure if she felt the same way. Well, she did invite you to visit her tonight, at the very least she will introduce you to her friends! There shouldn't be a worry.

With your mind finally set you heard the clock strikes four. Ashamed of how long you let your thoughts get the better of you, you got back to work. The task was to complete a keepsake blanket from a wedding. You created the dress for the newlywed, sitting for hours with her finding the perfect materials and creating patterns and designs for her. In the family, it was a tradition to create a quilt from the dress of the bride using the grooms suit as a border. All the pieces were cut and you could not wait to sew them together and create a stunning memento.

Chapter 2 <3

you knocked on a door two streets over from your shop. A short lady opened the door raising an eyebrow.

"And who might you be?"

"Im Annes... friend," you tried. "She comes to me for her outfits and graciously offered me the opportunity to come a view her performance tonight."

The lady's gaze hardened, staring at you intensely.

"It looks like I have got the wrong place then, I am so sorry to waste your time," you stammered taking a step back away from the door.

"Oh Mimzy! You mustn't be giving anyone trying to see me a hard time now!" Anne's bubbly voice spoke from behind the short lady who must be Mimzy. "Y/N is a good friend of mine! Works far too hard for me and deserves a break, plenty of time to relax!"

Mimzy bursted into a smile and reached for a hug. "of course! Welcome! Sorry for being all prude- just had to makee sure you weren't anyone coming tottery and ruin what I've got going for me here" she drawled.

"No ma'am of course not! Im just here to watch my friends performance then I'll be outta your hair, away from your 'do," you explained to Mimzy while she dragged you from the door to the bar.

"Nonsense my dear! Please have a drink and stay awhile!" you sat at the bar with Mimzy talking about how difficult it was to be a female business owner. No one takes you lot seriously!

The lights dimming and shinning on stage caught the room's attention effectively hushing all conversation. Anne sauntered to the center of the stage, dress shimmering. You recognized it as the most recent dress that you crafted for Anne. It was stunning on her.

"My oh my! Look at the handiwork that went into making that dress. Must of taken days!" a familiar voice chipped. You were unable to put a name to the voice but luckily Mimzy did it for you.

"Alastor," Goodness! The radio broadcaster! You had always loved his voice, you would have his station playing while sewing- waiting patiently for songs to end just to hear him speak. "Our dear friend Y/N made that specifically for our lovely Anne!" Mimzy exclaimed.

She admired your work while Anne sung and waltzed around the stage. You were incredibly proud of your work. Every detail of that dress took so much time and effort and turned out beautifully. The fringe was all hand cut, the lace took countless hours of stitching for the perfect design and finally the beads. Each bead had to be placed individually in the right spot on the dress to shimmer. It was a fine dress indeed.

"Y/N, how would you like to make dresses and suits for the rest of those who preform for me?" As soon as the song ended Mimzy had dropped the question, ensuring she wouldn't tale any attention away from Anne.

"Oh my! Why I would be honored and ecstatic to! Thank you so much for the opportunity Mimzy!" You were so excited! Sure the flapper dresses were hard work and time consuming, but now, seeing how they looked on a stage, in front of an audience, made you realize you didn't mind all the time and effort it took into making them.

Mimzy left her seat in an excited hurry to go get paperwork for you.

"You know," the broadcaster- Alastor leaned over Mimzy's now empty seat, "she goes on and on about how beautiful Annes dresses on stage are." The comment caused you to blush but he continued, grabbing your hand gently. "I must agree with her, although the lady behind the creation of this wonderful attire is much more beautiful than what she creates."

With that Alastor kissed the back of your hand with his lips. You were speechless.

Mimzy came back with paperwork and Alastor smiled at you. The three of you spent hours conversing, telling both jokes and stories.

"Oh my!" You glanced at the nearest clock- almost one in the morning. "I have got to get going! I have to open the shop in the morning."

"Do you ever take days off darling?" Alastor asked softly.

"Only Sundays. No one is out on Sundays!"

"Goodness! -at least let me walk you home. You know its not safe for a lovely person such as yourself to be out alone this late."

"Are you sure? I don't want to inconvenience you at all Alastor."

"Of course I'm sure dear, its not an inconvenience if its you." The words were rolling off his tongue and you blushed so hard it could have matched his vest.

"Your performance was amazing Anne! You are so talented, I have definitely been missing out, I am going to come back to watch you! " Enthusiasm and pride towards your friend took over. You wanted to let her know what you thought before you suddenly ran off.

"Thank you for coming out tonight for me. Sure was nice seeing a friend in the crowd!" A jittery wave of happiness washed through you at her last statement.

"Im so glad to hear you enjoyed yourself!" Mimzy gushed to you giving a farewell hug. "Blessed to know you'll be coming back doll."

"Of course! You have an amazing place Mimzy. This is a pleasant change of scenery compared to what I'm used to!"

With your goodbyes concluded you walked out the door arm in arm with Alastor.

[sysmedsaresexist]

Psych Critical

This post is highly related to this post, and I hope you'll read both. This was written second.

I've sent a couple asks to anti psych blogs talking about my own situation.

My goal isn't to change their minds, but to see what options they think are available to my family. Not every attempt at communication is an attack on a stance. I have real questions.

If there are other options, I'd love to hear them. I want these options to exist. I want more than what my family is going to get.

However, no one has responded to my asks. Maybe they think it's bait and I'm trying to catch them in a trick, maybe they don't know the answer, maybe they don't care (if you're one of those blogs, you've forfeited an opinion on my life).

So I'm going to post, under my own name, and ask again.

This isn't bait. This is my life, my every day normal. This is my father's life, every single day.

Psych Critical is a stance that I don't have a choice in. The psych system is only one thing that my family will turn to for help, and if we don't approach it first, it'll approach us on less kind circumstances. And that's genuinely what we're looking for.

Help.

And I think blanket generalizations like the above are about as useful as trash. I shouldn't have to hate myself and my family for needing help and seeking it out.

My father has something called NF (Neurofibromatosis). You might know this as "elephant man disease," though these are distinct disorders that are different from each other. It's the easiest way to describe it, though. He has tumors all over his body, inside and out, in his case. Visible lumps all over his body.

Unfortunately, these tumors are also on his brain. This causes him to have seizures, strokes, hallucinate, and have bouts of violence towards anyone and everyone. Specifically concerning is the voice of God telling him to punish his (now adult) children, and threatening to harm people based on the colour of their skin and religion. These hallucinations likely stem from the fact that he was raised as an orphan in the church (yes, it's exactly what you think).

There was a time when he could have gotten treatment, but we're past that. Initially, he refused. He was scared, I'm sure he didn't think it would end up like this. Now, he's unable to consent to treatment, and it's so progressed that surgery isn't an option. Chemo never was. To make matters worse, he's an alcoholic, to the point that not drinking will cause seizures and will likely result in death. Not to mention the damage to his liver that's slowly killing him. It's not functioning well these days.

There is no POA or will, and he's not able to consent to signing either. He will not go to any doctors at this point. You can't even have a conversation about this with him. Every plan he's set up on, retirement, pension, disability-- he calls them constantly to fuck around with it, cancel it, take his children's names off it, tell them he doesn't need it. They've stopped talking to him and will only discuss with my mother, despite there being no POA in place.

He is only going to get worse. He is going to die, and he doesn't understand.

My father is already dead. The man that raised me is gone, the man that cared isn't in that head anymore. It's a cruel soul using his body like a puppet until it finally gives out.

At this point... my siblings, mother, and I have had to cut him out of our lives. He's mean. He's so goddamn mean and cruel. His words cut harder than his fists, only because there's nothing left to him. He's skin and bones.

I don't know how much longer my cousin can let him stay there. Then what?

At some point, he will need to be forcibly committed and treated, if only to make him comfortable during his final... years? Months? Days? Because of the unique circumstances, there's likely not a drug that can help curb any of the symptoms. Drugs might be able to get him off the alcohol, but he's not going to like that at all, and that's not what's causing the hallucinations. His memory only gets worse by the day. Simple daily things like using the stove are becoming more of a danger, because he keeps walking away and forgetting.

I have about as much choice in this as he does, and the sooner he's committed, the better for everyone, including him. I mean, he can continue to stay out, and pass out on the streets trying to get home from the bar after getting kicked out for starting fights or getting angry when he's cut off. I don't know if or when he's going to forget the way home, and even if I try not to care... I'm scared.

I fear the day he's picked up by the police. I want him in the legal system even less than the psych system, and I think he'll fight any police that try to approach him. This is a man that, I promise you, would rather be homeless than denied alcohol.

This is not my biological father. He came into my life when I was only 1 year old. My biological father was, surprise surprise, also an alcoholic. He was in a drunk driving accident before I was born that killed other people. He was the driver.

My step dad, the only dad I've ever known, scares me sometimes.

I don't want to be the child of two murderers.

So I ask again, what do you suggest? How is this ableist? Your focus is psychotic people, but that's not the only people in these facilities. That's not the only disease that they treat. I read a couple posts from a linked resource (it's tumblr posts, let's not lie), and one of them mentioned something akin to outpatient treatment. @trans-axolotl because I'm using your post. I actually appreciate the "I don't know" of your answer.

It's a lot better than, "you're ableist for even thinking about this."

Friendos, I don't have a choice but to think about this.

This seemed silly to me, though, because psych wards already act like that. Many of the patients leave during the day to work, shop and visit family, and return at night. Rinse and repeat for them, every day. There's a surprising amount of individualized treatment, freedoms, and steps for each patient.

But not everyone can adhere to that. If my dad got out during the day, he would be drinking, and this would exacerbate the symptoms. He's a dick when he's drunk on the best of days. It's why my mother divorced him originally, before the hallucinations started.

A dry house wouldn't work, either. The places this man has hidden alcohol... he's like a squirrel, it's just everywhere, and he comes across them like,

Inside the WALLS, my guys. Hidden in the basement, the wall goes up to uncovered beams and there's a gap, and he hides them down behind those walls.

Do you know how many spiders are in there? He can fucking drink them, he wins that battle. Touché, dad.

When they tear the house down in the far future, I'm willing to bet they'll find a full liquor store down there. And again, the first time someone says, "you can't bring that in here," he'll turn around and say, "then I'm not going in there, diddles," because his fucking language part of the brain is broken and no matter how many times you explain that "diddle" is a CSA word that you can't just use randomly like that, he forgets.

When I first got married, I had him over to my apartment to spend a few nights. The amount of alcohol that got into my house... I don't even think he brought boxers, just alcohol, and it ended in a fight, and I made him leave. After that, he refused to come visit me. He's never been to my sibling's homes. It was the final straw for me, the things he said to my husband are unforgivable. I keep watch from afar now, talking to my cousin about him.

I said a few paragraphs up that the man that cared is gone. Sometimes, I look back, and I'm reminded of all the doubts growing up that he ever really cared. But I still care, and loving him is painful. The fear of what he's going to do next is even worse.

I want to finish this off with one of my... I don't want to say favorite, but this documentary was one that helped me, a fair bit, when it came out. I'd genuinely like the opinions of anti psych people on this documentary, and the true extent of violence and self harm that some patients display. Heavy trigger warning for severe self harm and violence toward others. Obviously.

For some of these patients, do you see another option for treatment? If not psych wards, what do you suggest happens to some of the patients in the video? What role did the staff actually play in some of the events portrayed?

As a general reminder, this isn't to change minds but open dialogue.

"Psych crits are ableist," is a pretty harsh statement considering the number of people in similar positions to myself. I feel like there's a huge disregard and ignorance for the violence that real people are experiencing.

Again, I'm psych critical, I don't accept the system as it is now, I think there's many improvements to be made. I think there is a need, in a very not small number of cases, for this type of system. I understand and appreciate the intersection of race, poverty and mental health that leads to anti psych sentiments, and I agree. There is a large number of people in psych wards that shouldn't be. This needs to be addressed.

But how do you reconcile both? I can't figure it out. I don't know.