#drabble fic

[twistedteatime]

Care

A/N: I feel like crap today. I'm better now than I was earlier. I wanted some period care with Bucky and decided to write it myself. I've got other fics to write, but this is the one that came of today. It's not in the Scorpio AU. It's just a standalone.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x !femReader

POV: 2nd no use of Y/N.

Summary: Bucky comes home and finds you in a state of pain because of your period and takes care of you.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Strangely enough I don't think there's any LANGUAGE to warn about for once. Fluff. Care. Talk of heavy period pain symptoms (because I'm not in the tribe of periods being unmentionable). Bucky and Alpine being cute. I can't think of anything else. (I'm sure there's more but I can't remember)

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AO3 Link: Care

*******

You were still home when Bucky walked into the house. His brows scrunched together as his blue eyes looked at you as you shuffled back through the doorway from the bathroom, Alpine following you with a worried meow.

Concern bubbled in his stomach at the sight of your pale face and tired, heavy-lidded eyes, sweat soaking through one of his T shirts you were wearing. Then you looked at him as he was looking at the pulled-out drawers, tears pooling in your eyes as he stepped in with a gentle sigh and locked the door as he always did.

He knew what this was. He hated it, but not for most reasons men hated it. Bucky hated what it did to you.

Not every month, but too often for his liking your period put you in a state like this. The last couple of months had been alright, but not this one.

You sniffled, “I can’t find the heating pad anywhere. I’m so hot, though. I’ve already changed my clothes twice. I’m hungry but the thought of food makes me wanna puke. I did puke. It feels like my uterus wants to implode. My head hurts…and I’m so tired!”

You were overwhelmed. It wasn’t the first time.

Pain radiated in your lower back, your lower abdomen felt like it was a hand mercilessly squeezing a tube, your thighs ached and you could feel the start of a migraine coming that was almost guaranteed if you started crying. If you cried you were done for but you were so tired it hurt to hold it together.

He didn’t hesitate another moment.

“Shh…I’m home now, sweetheart. It’s gonna be alright.” Bucky soothed, walking quickly over to you to scoop you up in his arms to carry you to the couch, “The heating pad is in the closet. I’ll go get it. Does it help to sit or help to walk?”

“Sit.”

“Okay. Don’t move. I’ve got you, okay?” he asked and you nodded, wiping your eyes, smiling a bit when he kissed your forehead.

You’d been worried when you first moved in together that he didn’t understand what you meant when you said your periods could get bad. It worried you how he’d react to them and how long it’d take before he got annoyed with them. The first time he saw what happened in its full “glory” Bucky had been intensely worried but had also sprung himself into action to do everything he could to alleviate it.

He had even asked Sarah for help and followed her advice to the letter. Including trying to get you to go to the doctor. You found it ironic with how much he hated going to them himself that he was willingly taking you to one.

The experience didn’t improve his opinion on them. Not that you didn’t warn him what would happen. You’d been through it enough.

Just take Tylenol, Advil, Aleve, Pamprin, Midol, etc. Eye rolls. Ignored.

You were used to it. Bucky didn’t give up. He kept trying and whenever you had a bad month he was always there to take care of you. It helped more than the OTC meds and even though you found a doctor that listened, which you were slightly convinced their fear of your boyfriend played a large factor in, you still had bad months.

In a moment he was there with the large pad, plugging it in and handing you the controls to place it over your front, and he had another one of his shirts. You just raised your arms for him to pull the sweat soaked one off and let him put on the lighter dry one. He put an extra blanket on the couch behind you knowing once the hot flash was over you’d get cold. Bucky didn’t want you to feel cold just in case he wasn’t done before you did.

Next came a large glass of water with a wedge of lemon in it and three different flavors of candy canes or peppermints. He kept them in the house year-round once he figured out that one of them was usually likely to help with your nausea. The next part was the hard part.

“I know you don’t feel good, sweetie, but you really do need to eat. What have you tried?”

“Toast. It didn’t stay down…and I just can’t…think of something that tastes…good.” You answered and he nodded, thinking before carefully suggesting a few things that you usually would eat on days like this until you slowly nodded, “That…that’s not nauseating…”

He nodded and went back into the kitchen, Alpine hot on his tail. Occasionally you’d hear her meow at him and him respond to it. Soft, short, then a bit more accusatory.

“Have you been watching Kitchen Nightmares with her again?”

It made you chuckle sleepily. He brought out your food a few moments later, sitting with you to eat, putting on one of your favorite shows that you knew he secretly liked even if he said he didn’t. Still he mostly kept his eyes on you with soft, caring, and concerned ones.

The food stayed down. You’d love to say it always did when he made it, but sometimes it didn’t want to. You’d love to say the moment he got home that the pain subsided but you both knew that wasn’t how it worked. You’d love to say a lot of things you couldn’t, but you focused on what you could before the heaviness of your thoughts could pull you down too far.

Bucky was a cuddler on regular days but on these ones he took it to the next level whenever you needed it. Sure there were days you didn’t want to be touched, which he respected without question, but those days were far fewer than the ones where you just wanted to be held.

This was one of them and as soon as you were both done with your food and the dishes put away Bucky returned and pulled you into his lap, heating pad and all.

Alpine hopped up into your now vacant seat as she always did, curling herself up where you had been. Like usual she looked at you, then looked at Bucky, and then he nodded. Only then did she either lay her head down or turn it to look at the TV with the two of you.

It depended on what you were watching.

You were still sweating. Bucky noticed this and held out his left hand to you. The metal of it was cool, soothing, and even if it was a strange use for it, in some ways, to him, he was grateful for it. So were you while guiding it where you wanted, usually to your spine which sometimes required you to shift around a bit so he could run his hand up and down it. Sometimes it was just to your face. Sometimes, like today, you just slipped it under his shirt on you and around your side so he’d hold you closer.

He always did and you never failed to doze off, head against his shoulder within the next ten or so minutes. Usually less. Eyelids heavy, head foggy, you’d doze off even if it took you some time.

“Thank you.” You said softly, meekly, and his heart clenched as it always did.

To him it wasn’t something he needed to be thanked for, but, he supposed, he thanked you for things you didn’t think needed thanking for.

So he replied the same way you did, “You don’t need to thank me, but if it makes you feel better, you’re welcome.”

“Hmm.” You hummed, cuddling into him more with a small smile.

“Feelin’ better?”

“Yeah…sleepy…” you answered and he nodded, holding you close, “Sleepy and weird questions. Like: what did women with periods crave before chocolate was a thing?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, I’m not that old.” He retorted lightly, lips curling up softly when you chuckled heavily, drifting off slowly, “Probly some other sweet thing. Like honey.”

“Mh…why?”

“I don’t know. Energy from the sugar?”

“Then why’d I crave chips?” you asked sleepily.

“They’re carbohydrates. Carbs are energy.”

“Then why’m I so sleepy?” you mumbled and he just cuddled you with a small smile.

“Hormones and other things. Get some sleep, baby, I’ve got you.” Bucky said and you smiled while dozing off, knowing you were safe and cared for.

Once he was sure you were asleep, and that Alpine wasn’t watching it, he turned your show off to put something else on. Something he knew you liked even if you teased him for it being old and kind of corny. He wasn’t really watching it; he was typing into his phone.

To your doctor.

*******

A/N: Someone might be in trouble. Slight, teensy weensy itty bitty kinda sorta soft dark Bucky. Maybe. Bascially this is what I'd want from Bucky today for myself so...call it self indulgent. It helped. I feel better now. Sort of. Enough to function on my other fics.

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[honestsycrets]

Miguel does the latine mom thing where they put their lips to your forehead to check if you have a fever or not

❛ sy | drabble below. yeah, he's totally not murmuring sana, sana colita de rana. mention of chronic illness, sickness.

Miguel woke from his short-lived nap with a start, his heart strumming, constricting his breath in his chest. His sheets were laden with sweat, crumpled up over his body. Not from his preferred night of your body against his, fingers laced together, his name beating off your lips.

You slept last night. Longer than you had before, longer than you usually did. He forgot-- sometimes, the delicate nature of your existence. Your tomorrow would be better.

"Miggy, her internal temp--"

Shh, cállate. Miguel hisses over his shoulder. She would wake you up. Lyla's eyes pop wide behind her love-tinted glasses. The gentle rise and drop of your chest doesn't go unnoticed. He settles his broad forearm down, minding the splay of your hair, pulling himself free. The pads of his fingers traced your cool skin, slightly sticky to the touch. The fever-- he tests, gliding his full lips over your relaxed forehead in something of a kiss. A test.

Lyla quirked her head.

"...is normal. Por fin." Miguel finishes, settling his head back on the fluffy pillow, his arm migrating to your slight waist, pulling it against his muscular chest. His eyelids finally-- finally drew to a peaceful close. He could finally sleep.

[trixy812]

007

Part 1. - Part 2. - Part 3. - Part 4.

🅼🅰🆂🆃🅴🆁🅻🅸🆂🆃

Imagine you're walking through the university hallways with one of your closest friends, Satoru Gojo. The son of Japan’s ambassador to Germany, he’s effortlessly charismatic, always dressed to impress, and carries an aura of confidence that borders on arrogance—but somehow, you find it charming. Both of you are studying International Relations, though it seems like Gojo’s real focus is always on you.

Imagine that between you two, there’s always a spark. A constant back-and-forth of playful flirting, stolen glances, and teasing words. It never crosses the line, but it’s always there, simmering beneath the surface. Today, like many other days, he’s complaining. “Girls our age are so immature and shallow,” he says dramatically, as if the universe itself has cursed him. “That’s why I’ll never find a girlfriend.”

“(...) And that’s why I think Mimi deserved more development in Digimon," you say “I mean, I get why she was so protective of Palmon, but they could’ve dug deeper into that. It would’ve made her character so much better.”

Imagine Gojo stops in his tracks for a moment, looking at you like you’ve just said the most profound thing he’s ever heard. “Exactly!” he exclaims, his enthusiasm bubbling over. “I’ve been saying that forever! Mimi had so much potential. Palmon’s bond with her could’ve been explored way more—it would’ve been iconic!”

Then, as his excitement fades into a softer smile, the thought sneaks up on him: I need a girl like her.

“If only there were more women like you,” he says suddenly, his tone quieter now, almost wistful. His words catch you off guard for a moment, but you recover quickly, like you always do. “There are plenty of women like me, Gojo,” you reply with a smirk. “You just need to look at anime conventions.”

Imagine he doesn’t laugh. Instead, he falls silent, his playful mask slipping as he looks away with a slight pout. What you don’t hear is the thought running through his mind: But they’re not you.

Imagine how his heart aches every time you say “See you tomorrow” before running off to Kento Nanami, your boyfriend, who waits for you in his sleek BMW. Gojo watches, his usual smirk firmly in place, but inside, it stings more than he’d ever admit.

And yet… imagine how part of you feels the pull too. How his teasing words, his lingering looks, and the chemistry you try so hard to ignore make your resolve waver, just for a second. You’d never betray Nanami, of course not—but under the right conditions, in another world, maybe you would.

-

🅼🅰🆂🆃🅴🆁🅻🅸🆂🆃

[ladykettlechips]

Buttons

I saw this on a twitter thread and, after bawling, thought it would make for a cute little Anthony / Hyacinth sibling drabble. So, here we go. ------------- Anthony had always been her beginning. He was the first person she would cry for when sick, the first person she wanted to hug in the morning and, when the day came to an end, the person she would seek to put her to bed.

When it came to buying clothes, however, it was her mother or Daphne she looked for. So, the day Anthony had taken her to town for a new dress, she had been excited and perhaps a little wary; after all, Anthony was not the sort of person to help his sisters play dress-up.

Even at the grand old age of five, Hyacinth had known this to be strange. That day was special, though, because on that day, Anthony had taken Hyacinth to a fitting at the seamstresses for a brand new dress that he had commissioned, specially for her.

It was blue, similar to the colours that their mother had used to decorate their living room. The buttons, however, were much darker, a piercing mid-blue against the softer hues.

"The colour of hyacinth's," Anthony said fondly, his smile faint. "Father's favourite flower."

Hyacinth hadn't really heard him, far too preoccupied with the buttons that had suddenly caught her attention. They were in the shape of the alphabet.

"A..." she started, tracing the shape of the first letter before her finger fell to the second one. "B..."

C, D, E, F, G...

"H," she finished, and blinked up at Anthony. "Where's the others?"

Smiling, Anthony crouched in front of his sister and looked at the eight letters on her new dress. His eyes had grown fond, his smile bright while he took Hyacinth's much smaller hands into his own.

"Because you're the littlest Bridgerton," he told her, squeezing her hands. "We start from A for 'Anthony' and end with H for 'Hyacinth', a little like the alphabet. Don't we?"

"It ends with H?" she asked, confused. Didn't the alphabet end with the letter 'Z'? Though Hyacinth had always considered her biggest brother quite smart, she couldn't help but think he was being quite silly in that moment.

She didn't question it further, however; Hyacinth was far too preoccupied with twirling in her beautiful new dress to care.

#####

When Hyacinth realised the 'A' button on her dress had fallen off her dress during playtime at school, she screamed.

She had ruined her dress. The perfect dress that Anthony had asked to be made for her especially. How could she hurt her big brother like that, like the dress meant nothing to her? Sniffling, Hyacinth looked down at the place where the 'A' button used to be, and wailed some more.

She was inconsolable. Her friends, frightened by her change in demeanour, scrambled to find a teacher to help. It didn't matter, though; nothing her teacher said or did would calm her down, not unless they found the button her brother had chosen to place on her beautiful dress.

Hyacinth had to be carried away from the playground screaming, the teacher whispering soothing things into her hair while rubbing her back. By the time her mum and Anthony had arrived at the school, Hyacinth was a hiccupping, red-faced mess, her words muddled as she tried to tell Anthony how sorry she was, that she was a bad sister for losing the precious button.

"I-I lost i-it," she wailed, stabbing a finger into her chest as Anthony scooped her up in his arms and hushed her.

"Shhhh, it's okay," he murmured, pressing kissed to her head an rocking her back and forth. "It's okay, sweetheart. It's only a button."

"I-It was y-your b-button," she sobbed, burying her face into his shoulder while he held her, doing his best to reassure Hyacinth it was okay, they would find it. But how? How would they find it? The button was lost forever.

#####

It took a few more minutes for Hyacinth to cry herself to sleep. In that time, Anthony soothed his youngest sister before gently placing her down on the sofa of the staff room. Lips twisting into a frown, he turned to his worried mother and Hyacinth's teacher, Miss Sharma.

"I'm going to look for the button," he announced all too seriously.

Violet's eyes grew wide, her mouth forming into a small 'o'. "Dear, are you really sure that is wise..."

"Hyacinth is beside herself, mother," Anthony snapped, careful not to raise his voice. "You know what she's like; she won't forgive herself unless we find it."

"Then why don't you buy a new button?" Miss Sharma piped up. Anthony groaned; he knew the woman was trying to be helpful but, in this situation, he'd rather she stayed quiet.

"An easy solution, indeed," he muttered, turning his attention to one of the school's more infuriating teaching assistants. "However, Hyacinth will know the difference; the button she lost has a small chip on the top. If I bought her a new one, she would notice right away that it isn't the right one."

Thankfully, Miss Sharma seemed to accept this answer. With a nod, she turned her attention back to Hyacinth who, even in her sleep, was hiccupping and sniffling over the loss of her 'A' button.

"Then you had better start looking," Miss Sharma finally said, her gaze returning to Anthony's. "Lunch starts in an hour; I suggest you find that button before the kids take over the playground."

She smiled then, her gaze soft as she sat beside Hyacinth, a gentle hand brushing through his little sister's hair. For a moment Anthony watched, aware of how attentive she was when it came to the students, before finally turning back to his mother.

"Call Benedict and Colin," he ordered, turning on his heel. "I'll need all the help I can get."

######

Moments before the school bell rang for lunch, Anthony found the blasted button.

"Benedict, Colin!" he cried, his smile brilliant as he held the miniscule button in his muddy, grass-stained palm. "I found it!"

His shout rang across the playground, loud and clear as Benedict - who had been scouring the netball are - and Colin, who had been searching around the jungle gym, looked up, relief flooding their faces.

"Oh, thank goodness," Colin groaned, making his way to Anthony. "Now we only have to deal with your moody a--"

"Language!" Anthony snapped, pushing himself off the ground until he was standing. Closing his fingers around the button, he turned to Benedict, who was slowly making his way towards them. "I appreciate your help, I really do, but please remember where we are. The children could be listening."

Colin rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh," he said, not at all seriously. "They're locked up in their classrooms, Ant; no need to have a cow."

It shouldn't have surprised Colin when Anthony thumped him in the chest. It still managed to knock the wind out of him, however.

"Come on," Anthony grumbled, stalking away from the field towards the cluster of buildings that made up Gregory and Hyacinth's school. "Let's get back this button back to Hyacinth."

#######

Hyacinth had been awake for fifteen minutes before Anthony arrived, her eyes rimmed red and her bottom lip trembling. Hiccupping, Hyacinth burrowed further into her mother's arms while she waited for the lunch bell to ring.

Miss Sharma had given her a chocolate biscuit, the kind that was kept in the teachers biscuit tin. Sniffling, the little girl nibbled around the edge of her biscuit when, finally, all three of her biggest brothers walked through the staff room door.

"Anthony!" Hyacinth half-shrieked, tumbling from her mum's arms. She barely acknowledged her mum's stern "Hyacinth," as the chocolate biscuit fell to the floor, all but forgotten while she clung to Anthony's leg. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

She started to sob again, her nose feeling dribbly and her eyes growing wet. But then she was being scooped up again, her small body filled with warmth as Anthony pulled her close and sighed, his large hand soothing as he stroked her hair and whispered in her ear.

"It's okay, Hyacinth," he murmured. "I found it. We found it."

And then he showed her his hand, dirty with mud and grass and there, in the middle of it, sat her letter 'A' button, chipped on top and now a little more scratched and definitely a little more mucky from the playground. But it was hers. Her 'A' button.

Eyes growing wide, Hyacinth looked at her button, then at her brothers before her lips formed into a grin, her squeal loud and delightful.

"You found it!" she shrieked, joyfully throwing her arms around Anthony's neck.

#####

Later that evening, Anthony sewed the button back onto the dress under Hyacinth's watchful eye. Once it was safely back in place, Hyacinth allowed him to tuck her into bed, her dress hanging on the back of her door proudly.

"You know, Hyacinth," Anthony whispered, his voice gentle while he ran a hand through her hair. "I can easily buy another button if one gets lost."

"But it's special," she mumbled, shuffling beneath the blanket. "You got it for me."

Chuckling, Anthony leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. "It's only a button," he said. "I'd never be mad at you for losing it, sweetheart. We lose things all the time."

Of course it mattered, Hyacinth thought; it was the button Anthony had specially chosen for her dress. How could it not matter?

"Not me," she replied defiantly. "I never lose anything."

Anthony laughed. "Of course not," he grinned, kissing her other cheek. "You're Hyacinth; everything will always find its way back to you."

Nodding, Hyacinth tilted her chin proudly and smiled. "Exactly!"

#######

20 years later

"What are you doing?"

Looking up from her dress, Hyacinth beamed over at her sister-in-law with bright eyes. Kate stood in the doorway, arms folded across her chest as suspicion settled in her gaze. While Kate had no real need to be suspicious - at least on this occasion - she couldn't exactly blame her, either; Hyacinth wasn't exactly known for her desire to play by the rules.

"Nothing," she said, walking to the door. "I was just adding the final touch to my dress."

Arching a brow, Kate made her way into the room and studied the floor-length gown that now hung from Hyacinth's wardrobe door. It was beautiful, an elegant piece that would undoubtedly be ruined by mud stains and wine spillages by the end of day if Hyacinth wasn't careful.

And, knowing her, she wouldn't be; It didn't matter that tomorrow was her wedding day.

After a moment, Kate finally stepped back with a scrunch of her nose and her brows knitted together.

"You really didn't do anything to it?" Kate asked, still a little suspicious. Grinning, Hyacinth shook her head.

"Nope," she said, popping the 'p'. "Nothing at all."

Thankfully, this seemed to satisfy Kate who, after a final glance, gave Hyacinth a small smile and left the room, but not before warning her Anthony would be stopping by her room for a 'final chance to run away' chat. Chuckling to herself, Hyacinth closed the door behind her and turned back to the wedding dress, her eyes growing wet with tears.

She walked over to the dress and, turning it around, smiled down at her handiwork. There, lining the back of her dress, were eight alphabet buttons, now a faded hyacinth blue and a little chipped from years of wear and tear.

They began with 'A' for Anthony until they came to an end at 'H' for Hyacinth.

[vamp-stamp-fics]

Jet hates his face. He can't stand to look at it. He always looks away from mirrors when he's in the bathroom or ignores his reflection completely whenever he walks past water.

He doesn't believe he's ugly, no far from it. Jet knows he's not from the way girls smile shyly whenever he talks to them. The way they giggle with flustered faces whenever they're in his presence. Smellerbee always rolls her eyes whenever he indulges a little in flirting with girls whenever they pass in a town.

No, Jet hates his face because he looks just like his mother.

His beautiful, caring mother. The one that would always kiss him goodnight after telling him stories of spirits or star-crossed lovers. She was a hopeless romantic jet remembers that. His mother who would coddle him and rock her in his lap after he came home crying, another one of the village boys picking on him for how small he was. Jet used to be quite scrawny and weak if his freedom fighters could believe that.

His mother, the one that protected him from the seething hot flames the best she could the day the fire nation came to their village. while his father did his best to hold the soldiers off. And when he failed to do so, held jet tight to her as she told him to run as far as he could and to never look back. Even promising him she'd be right behind him.

He didn't keep the promise of not looking back as Jet heard the wailing screams of his mother dying. Tears blurring his view of her as the last thing he saw of her was her eyes. Only to see her killer on a Komodo Rhino in front of him with a hatred he'd never seen before.

So now jet covers mirrors. And if he can't do that, he breaks them. Letting the glass shatter as his fist covers in blood. Not only does jet hate that he looks like his mother, but he has the same hatred in his eyes as her killer. Hatred for the fire nation and what it did to him, to his own people and others.

And the thought of the only reminisce jet has left of his mother being tarnished by seeing her face with hatred in her eyes, would kill him sooner than what was to become of him in ba sing se.

[its-ya-boy-jonnayy]

Cw: suicide, death, medical themes, and psychological torture

writing illi mcmillin as the demolition woman being in a coma and having her soul horrifically tortured by the devil with terrors and then waking up and eventually killing herself in the hospital bathroom to taking a break from that and writing her in in highschool fucking your mutual in a bathroom stall and involving like four different sex toys that she just casually carries around school is a very surreal experience

Also this song bc I don't glorify any of this ofc

what do we think about this alien babies

[j4cko1antern]

Plasma Drabble

This was going to be a part of my main fic, ‘Ninjago High School AU’, but I’ve decided against it so I’m putting it here. Don’t worry there’s no spoilers for the actual fic <3

Was this what euphoria felt like? Because honestly he felt a little more light-headed than he thought he would.

Jay was moving- wait no that wasn’t right because the buildings were moving with him.

He felt himself fall to the floor, and everything went black.

“Kai? Kai!? Wake up!”  -

This was not how Jay imagined the confession would go- if there was even going to be a confession in the first place. He and Kai had just exchanged their feelings for one another whilst they were arguing and then Kai had fainted. Or at least, that’s what it looked like Kai had done. Jay wasn’t sure.

He awoke ten seconds later.

“Fuck my head hurts,” he whined.

“Damnit Kai you ruined our confession,” was all Jay could think of saying as he pulled Kai’s sleeve up to check whether his pulse was irregular. Kai huffed a small laugh and then groaned in pain again.

“Not my fault I fainted.”

Jay raised his eyebrow. “Whose fault was it then?”

“Yours. You made me lightheaded.” 

Jay exploded into a snort, interrupting his check-up. “It better not be like this every time! Come on let’s go to the nurses office. She might give you some ice to chew on or something.”

[abbonation]

Oh hey

Just thinking about how different young Joel and old Joel would fuck. Like say you somehow both survive and meet again down the line, the first thing you notice is how dark his eyes are now. Gone are the honeyed irises you once knew.

And how he treats you during sex? What was once, “Jesus baby, you’re takin’ it so good f’me,” while his hands glide up and down your hips;

Is now, “You lay there and take it, y’here me? Just be nice and don’t move.” And his callused palms reach under you to sharply pinch at your nipples, rubbing down your belly to your clit.

Where he used to enjoy getting his cock sucked, live for it, even- he now wanted, no needed, to lick you, please you. He’d spend all the spare time he had trying to wedge a finger between your labia, flicking that thick finger over your hole and fucking you as he licks over your clit.

Of course, as you dig deep and find Joel again down under all those layers, he comes back around. Thaws out. And he finds joy in things like getting head again, in feeling pleasure just because it’s nice- not to cover the pain and end his suffering for even just a few minutes.

You lay him down on his bed in his house in Jackson, and take your time- because you can. You ghost over his dark red tip with the end of your tongue, down the deep brown of his length and over his heavy balls. He groans for you, Jesus baby, and it’s been far too long since you heard that utterance from him. With a twist of your fist he’s spilling into the back of your throat, humping into your mouth just like before. But you can’t seem to be mad that it’s now.

[kipsels]

Peek-A-Boo

Dan Heng x Stelle

Dan Heng was convinced that Stelle was messing with him.

The first time had been in those fraught moments in Scalegorge Waterscape, when relief had sunk in to meet with a maelstrom of other emotions. He’d found himself gathered into three pairs of arms.

March and Stelle, even Mr Yang.

His body had just relaxed when he had felt it. A wayward hand in the centre of his back, meeting his bare skin. Stelle’s fingers curled in towards her palm, catching the lattice of the lotus design on his back between her knuckles. He had flinched against the contact, yet he could feel the way she held on tight, like she was latching on to whatever she could.

Dan Heng had brushed it aside.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Stelle to sling her arm around his neck, or to bump shoulders with him as they walked. She hugged people freely (well, maybe not as freely as March, but she was certainly up there on the physical affection scale).

But then it continued.

Whenever Stelle caught him in his high elder garb, it was like her fingers sought out whatever strip of flesh she could find. Pressed against his spine, tracing along his naked shoulder. Poking the tips of his pointed ears just to make them wiggle and flick in response.

He tried to accept her curiosity. It was understandable, really, and while he preferred to keep his personal space to himself, he gave everyone a little leeway as they navigated this new normal. He’d even let her touch his horns when she’d asked.

But now, now he was certain that she was just teasing him.

Taunting him.

Because right now, her hand was pressed to the centre of his chest, palm flat and fingers flexed wide enough to burrow beneath the edges of silk.

The tip of her middle finger finds the divot between his collarbones, lightly pressing down and he almost can’t take it anymore–

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Huh?”

“Aren’t you cold?” Stelle repeats, as if she takes his stupor for deaf ears. “You’re Vidyadhara.”

And now she’s pointing out the obvious.

“I– What?”

“So aren’t you cold blooded? Since you’re a dragon? Reptilian? How do you manage having so many peek-a-boo holes in your clothes without freezing to death?”

Dan Heng can barely process her words. What was she implying? That all the touching, all the teasing she had ruthlessly inflicted upon him was because she was worried he was cold?

“Oh, I can feel your heart- It’s racing.”

He barely holds himself together when her hand moves, seeking out the planes of his chest, digging beneath silk for more. But something inside of him snaps the moment her nails lightly rake across his skin, sparks of electricity racing through his body, launching him forward.

Between one breath and the next, he pins her to the ground, their fall cushioned by the mess of his bedsheets. Stelle lets out a grunt as she lands, her grey hair framing her face like a feathery halo. His heart patters away inside the confines of his chest, and he doesn’t know where to look. Where not to look.

Because she looks so pretty beneath him.

“...Dan Heng?” Stelle’s eyes are wide as she stares up at him, her lips softly parted.

He can’t help but follow the slow creep of her blush as it travels from the apples of her cheeks to her chin, down the gentle slope of her neck.

“Dan Heng?”

This close and he can smell her sweet scent, how it lightly perfumes the air between them.

It calls to him, because she smells like home. He wants to bury himself in that scent until it covers his own skin, wants to cover her in his scent too.

He wants to make sure that the lingering scents of March and Welt and Himeko and Jing Yuan are gone, gonegonegone.

“Dan Heng, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomf–”

“Shut up.”

He ducks his head, closing the distance between them until her lips are against his and he gets his first taste of her.

He feels the rush of air against him as she gasps in surprise, and he uses the weakness in her defences to devour her.

His tongue curls around hers, savouring her sweet flavour. Drinks it all in as he smothers her soft little whimpers with a passion he did not know he possessed.

Something inside of him begs for more, wants him to take and take when she turns supple and pliant beneath him. But the rational part of him pulls back, letting them both finally breathe.

“Dan Heng?” She asks again, her tawny eyes hazy.

He watches the way her tongue traces her lower lip, flushed and swollen from his kiss. His heart is gripped by unwarranted jealousy when she pulls it between her teeth, teasing the strip of flesh in the same way he wants to tease it.

“Yeah?” He says when he finally finds his voice.

“What was that?”

“I think that’s what people call a kiss.”

“No– I mean… You’re not mad?”

Stelle’s hand reaches up to cup his cheek, pushing lengths of black hair behind his ear. Dan Heng has to stop himself from sinking into her embrace.

“No. Not mad.”

“So you’re… good?”

“Yeah. I’m good. You?”

“I’m good,” She repeats, cheeks pink, “Very good. Great, even.”

He doesn’t fight the smile that curls the corner of his lips.

“Good.”

- Fin -

[owlsie-hoot]

How about #17 from the prompt list, if no one has asked for it yet :)

Just something funny for a change and not angsty.

17 - "You don't look so good."

“You don’t look so good.“ She had difficulties suppressing her laughter. A very wet Father Christmas stood in front of her. Water was dripping from the white beard and the coat clung to his body. Around his ankles a puddle was forming on her previously pristine kitchen floor.

“Don’t I?” Siegfried looked down at his feet, inspected the wet cuffs, shook the sleeve a few times, spraying water droplets across the kitchen table and onto Audrey’s previously dry dress. “I would like to disagree.”

“Would you now.” Her voice was suddenly much too high, and she pressed her lips tightly together. Uncontrollable laughter was threatening to burst free.

“Yes. It was a proper snowball fight after all. How am I supposed to look?” He pulled the green hat off his head revealing his rather dishevelled hair. Even going through it with one hand could not bring order into the mess. The wet beard landed on the kitchen table. “Amidst a group of excited children, Father Christmas did not stand a chance.” A grin spread across his face. “Hence the appropriate state of this rather fine costume.”

The mischievous sparkle in his eyes was too much. She could no longer keep a straight face, burst into a fit of laughter and had to turn away from him. Another glance at the bedraggled Father Christmas and she would be unable to stop laughing for the rest of the evening.  There was still a dinner to prepare as well as the last arrangements for Jimmy’s second birthday tomorrow. She had to pull herself together at some point, rather sooner than later.

“You should…,” she managed to say when she had caught her breath, “…. perhaps get changed.” Another giggle escaped her, followed by a loud shriek when his arms, still covered in the wet, green coat, encircled her from behind and pulled her close to his chest.

“Or we could both go upstairs. There’s still time until our guests arrive.” He placed a kiss on her neck. “Your dress looks rather wet now, Mrs Farnon. Can’t have you catch a cold.”

[vixenihy]

Just Between Us

a/n: i just wanted to write a drabble based on the gifs i posted yesterday!! it might not be great bc i wrote it in like 20 minutes i fear. it’s very short, only about 300-400 words. i also decided to write this in past tense instead of present tense just to try something new!! i hope you guys enjoy :) also i tried to keep it as sfw as possible but a few details might unintentionally come off weird oops

pairing: john f. kennedy x jacqueline kennedy

tags: flirting, pretty much all fluff

September 14, 1962, The American Cup Race Dinner

Jack blankly stared off into the distance as he picked up a cigar, finding himself hounded by men offering to light it. After all, who could pass up the opportunity to get so close to the President of the United States? He declined their offer with a simple shake of the head and lit it with his own match, sitting back and taking a long drag of it before blowing it off into the hall lit dimly with candles and chandeliers. Just a moment later, the creak of a chair and the smell of a familiar perfume caught his attention. He glanced to his side and noticed Jackie tilting herself between the empty chair separating them. Jack instinctively leaned towards her and put his head down to get a better listen, taking in her low voice so others won’t be able to drop in on their conversation.

“I think you look quite nice tonight, Mr. President.” Jackie started teasingly, putting a hand to her collarbone. Jack grinned and took another quick drag

“Thank you, Mrs. Kennedy. I must say that you look absolutely stunning yourself.” Jack shot back, tilting his head slightly as she began to talk once more.

“I wish we’d gotten some alone time on the 12th, but I was thinking perhaps we could find a way to sneak out of this dinner and…maybe have some time to ourselves? I wanted to make time for our anniversary, and I think it’s better late than never…” Jackie continued, grinning when her husband's cheeks turned a light shade of red as he blew some more cigar smoke out into the air. Jack knew just how to play along with his wife’s little games, and he certainly wasn’t going to let this pass.

“Well, Mrs. Kennedy, I think that you and I have some important matters to discuss. And if I remember correctly; you’re not feeling too well, are you?” Jack chuckled, tapping some ash into a tray and inching his chair closer to hers.

His hand slipped under the table cloth and found hers. There, he intertwined their fingers for just a moment and held them there. A simple gesture showing their true nature that was hidden to the public eye. They were two icebergs, but the deeper the water got, the closer and warmer they truly were.

“I’m sick as a dog.” Jackie whispered to him, breaking their hands apart and slipping out of her chair and into the dark corridor, her husband following along. The two giggled like teenagers as they disappeared into the darkness without a trace.

[morinuu]

so what if kyouya doesn't like you? so what if he looks at your commoner clothes with absolute disgust? so what if he calls you 'the second honour student' when referring to you in the third person, not even bothering to call you by name?

so what if he glares his unbelievably hot eyes at you and clicks his tongue in annoyance the moment he enters the classroom every day and sees you?

so what if he turns down your requests for his services, claiming he 'doesn't want you going into debt' when you both know that's a huge, fat lie?

he doesn't care for commoners. not one bit.

"he avoids you like the plague, are you sure you want to do this?" your friend's voice echoes in your head and you wish for nothing more than to tell her to shut up. you know haruhi just wants to help you, you know the last thing she wants is for you to embarrass yourself, but you're desperate.

your sweaty hand grabs the handle of the pink door and forcefully opens the entry to the club, which is unusually empty. but you knew this beforehand.

you knew it would be empty, nobody would be there - save kyouya. the dark prince.

the man you can't resist.

the same one who enters your dreams to firstly kiss you goodnight, and then to also fuck you silly in the host club's changing rooms.

not that you've ever been in them - you've never had the chance to stay in the club for more than 10 minutes, since you're inevitably kicked out from your lack of funds - you just imagine based on haruhi's description.

"miss l/n? our club is closed for the rest of the day. please return to your previous engagement." he warns in that strict voice of his, not even bothering to talk to your face. no 'hello, are you lost?' or 'can i help you?' uttered, like with other girls.

he feeds you nothing. he kicks you out yet again.

"actually, i'm here for-"

"goodbye, miss l/n." he walks to you and stands over you, putting his hands on your shoulders to slightly push you just a step back and shuts the doors closed.

he was rude. he didn't even give you a chance to speak. he broke etiquette.

anyone else would see this as simple, flat rejection. but you? no.

so what if he doesn't like you? he just touched your shoulders, didn't he?

[thewritersaddictions]

Day Eleven: Spencer Reid + Humiliation

The shirts that you wore to work were always work appropriate. Nothing show off to much skin, or anyting that would make anyone stare at you for too long.

Yet the idea of breaking a few rules to see how your boyfriend would react had you pushing away the work appropraite shirts, and skirts. Instead looking for something shorter, and more revealing.

A shirt that you wore to dinner with Reid that was one of your favorite. You slipped on, and grabbed a shorter black skirt. You aren't sure where the idea for teasing Specner came from it was just there.

Maybe it was the sexy dream, or the naughty thought you had of him when you were both at work. Sure you guys haven't been together for a long time, but you just wanted to see how he would react.

You slipped into work, earlier then anyone else. Putting your things away at your desk, and getting on with paper work. Reid was normally the second to be at work after you. Hotch already having made it to work. "Hey honey." Reid whispered into your ear. The rest of the team not yet knowing that you two were dating.

I nuzzled into him, as he kissed the cusp of your ear. When you turned around to catch his eye, they were huge and staring right down at your cleavage. All on the view for anyone to see. He swallowed hard, "Y/n, is that um… this is… you look good today." Reid mouth not really working.

You winked, and "Oh thank you sweetie." Then got back to work. You could feel Reid staring at you for a little bit longer. Then he was gone, and at his desk.

Your team members came in a constant flow. JJ, Emily, Garcia, Rossi, and Derek. You caught everyone attention. JJ, Emily, and Garcia surrounding you at your desk. "You got a hot date after work?" Emily asked. You rolled your eyes, "Oh I know… she's trying to make someone jealous." JJ whispered. Your cheeks went hot with embrassement. "Lookin' good Y/n." Derek said as he passed. All three looked at me.

"Derek?" All questioned, but I could feel the heat radiating off of Reid. "We've got a case, met in the conference room in ten." The girls and I continued to talk, but the sound of heavy steps and growling from being me caught my attention.

"Reid? Is everythign alright?" I asked innocently, his jaw sharp and warning eyes. "Yup, everything is just fine." "What's up with him?Emily asked as we all watched him walk towards the conference room.

From that point on the four of you walk towards the conference room. You always sat next to Reid, but today you deciced that you would rather sit across from him. Derek was next to Reid, Rossi next to Derek, Hotch next Rossi, Hotch was next to me. JJ was on the other side of me, Garcia sat next to her, and Emily was to the other side of Reid.

I stared willingfully at Reid the entire time. Shifting myself every so often so that my breasts would bluge out of the restricting fabric catching the staring eye of Reid. And as he tried desperatly to not look at me directly. I played footies with him underneath the table.

My heels slipping off my stocking covered feet, and up his slack covered legs. The further my feets inched up his thighs the harder his face got to covering up the hot blush that hit his cheeks all at once.

The further i went up his thigh, the tighter the fabric of his slacks got. The direct eye contact was hard to keep when Reid kept looking down in his lap. His hands shifted down under the table. "Are you alright Specner?" Hotch asked from next to me. I didn't stop not even has his eyes begged me to. "Yeah he is looking at flush, are you sick?" I asked. His hand landed on my ankle squeezzing tightly.

Clearing his thoart, "Yeah I'm fine just a little hot in here is all." He muttered, Garcia was almost done anyways. "Okay, just. Y/n do you mind checking him out before we get ready to leave." "No probelm Hotch." I said sweetly. Garcia was done in a matter of moments, and stocking covered feet were back in their heels.

I waited for everyone to exist the conference room. "Are you feeling alright?" I asked sweetly, walking over to his seat. "Oh, don't even start with that shit honey. You knew exactly what you were doing. Getting me all rallied up in front of everyone else with that fucking shirt, and your sweet little movement." He said in a hushed voice.

"What are you gonna do about it baby?" You hushed back to him. "You'll have to wait for that later." He said tapping your ass as he got up and existed the conference room.

Completed on: 07/01/23

Posted on: 10/11/23

Kinktober 23- @lanad3lreyscokewhor3 @homelanderscumdump @hummusxx@chvnsdimple @vvitzvafflezvv @lokisivy @claud-blood0703 @iliketoreads-stuff @all-that-glitters-is-treasure@clearscissorsbonkgiant-blog @lxonix--ac @piecesofx @mortallyswimmingpainter @playwithfire99 @fucak @everythingneytiri @lovetheos @xxxxxoseungxoooo @durazopato @hotpead42069 @oddseabiscuit @capoda @witching-hour @viviwows @lover103 @alexlovesfiction @katiecat10 @electricfans @jianasmind @max-505 @powerbun21o @the-horny-simp @missy420-0 @jaq-dav @arescosplays

Criminal Minds Master List // Kinkotber '23

[trixy812]

004 ☆ Period.

Content: Fem!Reader, Sorcerer!Reader, funny, Nanami is gentleman, Gojo is a man, piece of life, cramps mentioned.

Synopsis: We need to make Gojo shut up, don’t you think?

A/N: I wrote this thinking it could be an Omake :). I hope you enjoy it! As much as I enjoyed writing it

🅼🅰🆂🆃🅴🆁🅻🅸🆂🆃

The meeting at the sorcerers' headquarters had just wrapped up, and the air was thick with fatigue as everyone began to disperse.

But both Gojo and Nanami noticed that y/n was shifting uncomfortably in her seat, her face contorting in pain.

Nanami, ever observant, slipped out of the room. A few minutes later, he returned with a steaming cup of chamomile tea, which he handed to y/n without a word, barely even looking at her.

“Thank you, Nanami,” she murmured, taking a sip. With a sigh, she added, almost as an afterthought, “Every month, it’s the same…these damn cramps.”

Gojo, catching her comment, smirked and leaned in. “Cramps? Seriously?” he teased. “Can’t be that bad, right? I’ve seen you injured for real, and you didn’t roll around like this, looking so weak. Can it really be that bad, just some pain from your own body?”

Nanami sighed, clearly exasperated by Gojo’s usual provocations.

y/n looked up from her tea, her expression darkening as she turned her gaze on Gojo.

“You think you could handle the pain I’m feeling?” she asked, her voice calm but with a challenge underneath it.

Gojo shrugged, confident as ever. “Of course, I could. I mean, you just like making a big deal out of it so people like Nanami will worry about you and be all nice,” he said with a smirk.

That was it. y/n’s patience was officially gone.

“Turn off Infinity,” she demanded, her eyes narrowing. “Let me activate my cursed technique, Empathic Trace, and you’ll see for yourself.”

Gojo raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. “See? You’re already hyping it up, and nothing’s happened.”

y/n clenched her jaw, eyeing him with a glint of malice. “I haven't even touch you! You haven’t even felt anything yet, idiot!”

With that, she reached out, placing her hand on Gojo’s arm and activating Empathic Trace. Her cursed technique allowed her to transmit her emotions and physical sensations to anyone she marked with her energy.

In an instant, Gojo felt a wave of pain slam into his abdomen—the exact cramps that y/n had been enduring.

Gojo doubled over, his hands clutching his stomach as he collapsed to the ground. The pain was overwhelming, and he could barely speak.

“Ahhh! What...what is this?” he gasped, barely able to get the words out.

Nanami, watching with arms crossed and an amused expression, gave Gojo a faint smirk.

“Curious, isn’t it? The strongest sorcerer of our time, brought down by simple cramps.”

Gojo was writhing on the ground, his concentration too fractured to reactivate Infinity. He finally looked up at y/n with desperation in his eyes.

“y/n, please! Turn it off! I can’t even think straight enough to use my technique!”

y/n tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “Apologize,” she replied smoothly, folding her arms. “And beg.”

Gojo groaned, still doubled over, but with his pride visibly crushed, he muttered, “Fine… I’m sorry, y/n. I didn’t know it could…hurt this much.”

Satisfied, y/n held back for a second, then released the technique, watching Gojo slump to the floor in relief. Taking a calm sip of her tea, she smiled, feeling that the sight of Gojo begging had made her own pain almost disappear.

“See? It’s not ‘drama.’ Maybe you just needed a bit of empathy,” she said, grinning.

Nanami allowed himself a small smile of approval, and a thumbs up,while Gojo, for once, was completely out of things to say.

-

🅼🅰🆂🆃🅴🆁🅻🅸🆂🆃

[frozenmorningstar]

Short Story: Carry This Wish Away on the Tides — being an exploration of how I think Malenia (here known as the Nightfarer 'Blade') and Lady Maria (here known as the Nightfarer 'Beloved') would fare as Nightfarers and how I think they'd make a cute couple that should kiss. Primarily focused on an interaction they have on the beaches outside the Roundtable Hold, where they wish to see each other again once the Night ends. Unlikely, yet quite appropriate, caretakers hear their pleas. Contains amnesiac Soulsborne Ring characters summoned to fight the encroaching Night, but only Malenia and Maria get any true attention.

Done for the FromSoft Creator's Guild Discord server's summer event.

Word count: 5,670

Excerpt below the cut.

‘So then why…?’ Blade was surprised to feel the impact of Beloved against the sand, sitting next to her. Blade’s face tightened somewhat in more apparent confusion. “I… wished to thank you, madame.” If Blade had eyes still, she was sure they would have blinked before answering. “To… thank me?” “The… Blood, what was their name… Al…abasters?” “Albinaurics.” Blade knew what this was about now. Rolling her shoulders, she sat up more fully. During their scheduled expedition yesterday, they happened upon a collection of Albinaurics scavenging what they could from a ruined chapel. Survivor made to slaughter them when both noticed that Beloved refused to move, clutching at her chest with one hand, eyes wide and pallid skin somehow even more pale if Survivor’s description was correct. She was mouthing something about Blood and doing all she could, asking for forgiveness and that things were going to be okay, and how she simply needed more time. Blade did not like hearing Beloved say that, and for a moment they felt as though a faint gold glow was in their mind once more. A fleeting memory, she was sure, but she didn’t have time to consider it at the time. She made the executive decision to leave the froglike creatures be. Survivor agreed, and the pair pulled Beloved away as quickly as they could, though it took a few hundred yards before she stopped looking in their direction. After a few miles of traversal away from the Albinaurics, Beloved finally found her center and was able to focus on the task at hand. She claimed later that she was still off balance, yet Survivor praised her swordplay as ‘better than usual’. She still had a tension in her voice, a primal hurt that she attempted to wave off concern over. ( Blade’s chest tightened at the thought. She didn’t know why, but the words had touched her soul in a way that felt almost raw to the idea of someone pushing down the pain they felt inside. )

Me when I asked my partner for this moodboard template last year: Oh, I'm sure I'll just throw whatever in there, it'll be fine!

Me, making this moodboard: Okay so if Maria's on the bottom all the stuff related to her has to be on the bottom and Malenia has to be on the top, so the relevant items to the fic will be on the middle left and-

( Local autistic invents rules for her creativity. More at 11 )