#WE DIE LIKE MEN

[almond-tofuuu]

Do it for me...

Zayne x fem! Reader smut

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, porn without plot (this is pure smutty goodness), PiV sex, nipple play, cervix fucking, soft dom! Zayne, consensual sex (bc asking for consent is hot af), cunnilingus, tongue fucking, fingering, squirting, creampie, raw sex (wrap it up ppl), sex on a desk, Zayne's fat cock (bc that shi needs its own warning label)

Lmk if I missed anything

Word count: 2.9k (I am so sorry)

Thinking about Zayne

His pupils blown wide with lust, chest heaving with every breath he takes, icy hand gently but firmly holding your chin in place, forcing you to maintain eye contact as his other hand explores your body. Cold fingers gliding so softly over your exposed collar bones, making your skin tingle and goose bumps forming in the wake of his fingertips. His eyes locked on yours as his hand travels lower, following the valley between your breasts, stopping just under the curve of your left breast, fingers toying with the lace of your bra.

"May I?" His voice is low and husky, breath fanning over your cheek as he leans closer, searching your face for any signs of discomfort.

You nod your head, desperate to feel his cold hands on your bare skin again, but he doesn't move, his eyes narrowing slightly as a deep chuckle rumbles from his chest.

"That's not how this works, darling, if you want something you're going to have to tell me" he leans in closer, lips ghosting over yours, teasing you but not giving you what you want "Go on, use your words, I'll give you whatever you want, just be a good girl and tell me what you need."

His words, so full of promise and dripping with desire spark a fire within you, a heat that radiates down to your core. Swallowing down the last of your anxiety, your eyes meet his own, voice barely above a whisper as you try not to stumble over your words.

"Please Zayne....I need you... need you to touch me...need to feel you, please-"

Your pleading is cut off by Zayne's mouth as he captures yours in a searing kiss, his hand that was previously holding your chin now tangling into the hair on the back of your head, pulling you closer as his lips devour yours. His tongue darts out to lick at your bottom lip, silently asking for entrance which you willingly grant, allowing him to explore your mouth. At the same time his other hand has made quick work of removing your bra, now kneading your left breast in his large hand, cold fingers pinching and rolling your nipple until it hardens before moving onto your right breast to give it the same attention. Reaching up you grab onto his broad shoulders, needing something to ground yourself, fingers burying themselves into the fabric of his doctors coat, tugging at it slightly. Zayne pulls away for a moment, chuckling at the adorable neediness of the gesture.

"What's the matter? Do you not like my coat anymore?" You know by the small smirk on his lips and mischievous glint in his eyes that he's teasing you, know that he wants you to tell him exactly what it is you want.

"Want you to take it off, 's not fair that I'm sat here shirtless and you're still fully clothed" you mumble with a small pout on your lips, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Hmm You're right, allow me to correct my error" Zayne's eyes remain focused on yours as he shrugs his doctors coat off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor of his office with a soft thump. However, you're still not satisfied, wanting to see more of him, so you grab onto his tie, pulling him closer to you so you can get to work on removing his shirt. Zayne is quick to stop you, large hands engulfing yours, halting their movement as he leans down to peer into your face.

"If your hands keep being mischievous, I can show you how surgeons tie knots" although his tone isn't harsh, there's a quiet dominance to his words, almost like he's challenging you to keep going. And you're not one to back down from a challenge, so you tug on his tie again, bringing his face closer to yours, trailing soft kisses along his jaw before you whisper seductively into his ear,

"Is that a promise, Doctor Zayne?"

Before you can even react Zayne has you laid on your back on his desk, one strong hand pinning your wrists above your head, the other loosening his tie further as his imposing form towers over you.

"It would seem that someone can't control their hands, perhaps I should teach you a lesson, maybe then you'll be more obedient" as he speaks Zayne takes his tie and uses it to restrain your hands, his movements quick and precise, being careful not to tie the knot too tight but enough to limit your movement.

"That's much better, now be a good girl for me and stay still" satisfied with his work Zayne leans in to capture your lips in a quick and passionate kiss before moving onto your neck, biting and sucking the sensitive skin there, spurred on by the soft moans spilling from you. He then moves lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses along your collar bones and between your breasts, pausing to swirl his tongue around one of your hardened nipples before taking it in his mouth, his free hand coming up to tease the other. He repeats his movements on your other breast, not wanting to neglect it and relishing the way you whine and how your back arches up into him. Once he's done toying with your nipples, Zayne resumes his path downwards, lips and tongue leaving behind a wet trail on your stomach as he stops at the waistband of your jeans.

"Can I remove these as well, love?" He looks up at you, waiting for your permission, needing to hear that you want this.

"Yes, please Zayne, need you" this time you're quick to respond, your body feeling hot as the tension builds in your core becomes nearly unbearable, needing to feel some kind of relief.

Zayne gives you an approving smile, obviously pleased with your response, his hands moving to the buttons of your jeans, undoing them and removing both your jeans and panties in one go. Seeing you completely bare beneath him, your soaked cunt on full display, Zayne let's out a deep groan, whispering a soft "fuck" under his breath as he takes in the sight of you. The feeling of his piercing eyes on your exposed pussy is too much for you and you close your legs subconsciously, trying to shy away from him. But Zayne simply grips onto your thighs, prying them apart and slotting his hips in-between them.

"Don't hide away from me, love, you're beautiful, each and every part of you is perfect." His voice is soft and full of adoration, letting you know he means every word, that he truly thinks you're the most beautiful woman he's ever met. And you do believe him, because the way he's looking at you, the way he's holding you makes you feel so special. His hands give a light squeeze on your thighs, holding them in place as he lowers his head to plant soft kisses along the sensitive skin on the inside of your right thigh, nibbling every so often, inching closer and closer to where you need him most before switching over to your other thigh, giving it the same treatment. You buck your hips up, a desperate whine leaving you as you plead with him, "please stop teasing...wanna feel you... Can't take it anymore"

Zayne let's out a breathy chuckle, his warm breath fanning over your weeping cunt, "very well, you've been a good girl so far, I suppose you do deserve a reward"

And with that Zayne dives into your glistening pussy, tongue licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, taking it in his mouth and sucking it, repeating the motion several times as you writhe in pleasure beneath him. One of his strong hands moves to firmly hold down your hips, the other begins to play with your clit as his tongue delves inside your dripping hole.

"You taste so sweet, I may have just found my new favourite desert" he lets out a low moan of satisfaction that vibrates against your pussy, his mouth latching onto you again as he drives his tongue further inside you, lapping up all the juices leaking out of you. The feeling of his fingers on your clit and his tongue inside you has your thighs quivering and locking around his head, back arching off his desk as moans fall freely from your lips. Your hands, still bound together by his tie, reach down and tangle themselves in his hair, tugging slightly causing Zayne to groan into your cunt. He eats you out like a man starved, drinking down every drop of the juices flowing from inside you, his nose bumping against your clit adding to the intense pleasure coursing through your body. Your orgasm is rapidly approaching when you feel Zayne's tongue leaving your pussy only to be replaced by two of his long, slender fingers, he slides them inside you easily, making a scissoring motion as his mouth latches onto your clit.

"Zayne... gon- ngh! Gonna cum!" You manage to stutter out between moans, your cunt clenching tighter around his fingers that continue to pump in and out of you, his pace increasing as he curls them to hit the spot deep inside your cunt that has you seeing stars.

"Go ahead, love, cum for me" he mumbles his encouragement into your cunt, the added vibrations sending you over the edge as your orgasm hits you full force, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as you soak his hand and the lower part of his face. Zayne works you through your high, not stopping his movements until you push his head away, the over sensitivity becoming too much. You lie there catching your breath, looking down shyly you meet Zayne's gaze as he rises from between your legs, and he looks like pure sin. His eyes have darkened with lust, the bottom half of his face glistening with your juices, a smirk rests on his lips as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean. It's the most erotic sight you've ever witnessed, and it has your cunt throbbing in anticipation.

"Do you wish to continue, love? I need you to tell me now if you've had enough, because once I start I'm not going to stop until I've ruined you for every other man" his voice is steady but there's a hint of tension behind his words, as if he's fighting hard to maintain control of himself, trying to keep his ever stoic demeanor intact. In a sudden burst of courage, you reach down and palm his painfully hard cock as it strains against the front of his dress pants, causing a low moan to resonate from deep in his chest. His hips involuntarily buck into your hand, his eyes fluttering closed as he allows himself indulge in the feeling of your warm hands as they stroke his cock.

"I want this, Zayne, want you" your whisper to him sweetly, hands unbuttoning the front of his pants, pulling down his underwear and freeing his gorgeous cock, letting it slap against his toned abdomen. It's thick and lengthy, pale with a prominent vein running up the underside of his shaft, pearly beads of precum leak out from the tip that's a few shades darker then the rest of his cock. You've never thought of using the word 'beautiful' to describe a cock before, but his truly was a sight to behold, enough to make your mouth water and pussy clench around nothing. You shuffle forward in an attempt to get off his desk, ready to sink to your knees and worship him the same way he did you, but Zayne's firm grasp on your chin halts your movement. You blink up at him in confusion, worried that you may have done something wrong, but the lust clouding his eyes and desire dripping like honey from his voice tells you otherwise.

"As much as I'd like to indulge in feeling that pretty mouth of yours, I'm afraid I can't wait that long. I need to take you, now. So be a good girl and lay back down for me"

Licking your lips, you do as you're told, resuming your previous position, the cool surface of his desk pleasant against your flushed skin. Zayne stands between your open legs, one hand resting on your thigh, the other takes hold of his thick length, guiding it through your slick folds, coating his shaft in your wetness, the tip nudging your clit with every slow thrust. Once he's satisfied that his cock is lubed up enough with your juices, Zayne positions himself at the entrance to your cunt, the tip prodding at the tight hole causing a near pathetic whimper of need to fall from your lips.

"Apologies in advance, love, I'll try to be gentle" and with that Zayne slowly enters you, his thick shaft stretching out your tight pussy, the steady, shallow thrusts allowing you to feel every delicious inch as he works you open until he's buried to the hilt. A shaky exhalation leaves Zayne's lips followed by a quiet "fuck" whispered under his breath, his eyes closed briefly as he revels in the feeling of finally being inside you, feeling your drenched cunt throbbing and clenching so nicely around his cock. He wants to be gentle, wants to take his time with you and keep true to his words.

But Zayne is only a man, and like all men he has a breaking point, and the sight of you laid beneath him, half-lidded eyes locked onto his, mouth hung open as you moaned his name in ecstasy, soaked cunt throbbing so perfectly around his cock was just too much for him. His self control that was hanging by a thread finally snapped, he began pounding his cock into you like a man possessed, driving his length deeper and deeper inside of your sensitive hole, the fat tip hitting your cervix with every rough thrust. Broken moans flow from you, combining with the rhythmic slapping of skin and wet squelching of your pussy, it creates a sinful melody that's practically pornographic, it would be enough to make your cheeks burn if your brain could actually focus on anything other than the delicious drag of Zayne's cock as he ruts into you. Meanwhile, the man above you has lost all composure, fingers digging into the plush of your hips as he drives his length into you, his rough thrusts enough to cause the desk below you to scrape across the floor. Somewhere, deep in your fucked-out brain you register the tightening of the coil in your lower stomach, knowing your orgasm is near, you try to warn Zayne, although it's difficult to form any kind of coherent thought with how good he's drilling into you.

"Z-zayne.... Aghh! gonna....mmh...gonna cum!" You manage to whimper out between moans, your eyes closing as you throw your head back, body arching up off the desk as his cock hits the spongey spot deep inside your pussy, causing you to clench even harder around him. Zayne brings one hand up to tilt you face to look at him, his eyes held an almost predatory glint as they locked onto yours.

"Keep those pretty eyes on me, love, I want to watch as you fall apart" his words came out breathy and low, a deep groan rumbling up from the back of his throat, his hips never stopping their brutal pace, icy fingers coming up to play with your clit, rubbing figure eights into it as his heavy balls smacked against your ass with every thrust. It's all too much, all of your senses are overwhelmed by him. His cool fingers on your clit, his piercing eyes boring into yours, his musky scent surrounding you, deep groans and warm breath fanning over your face, and his hard cock moulding your pussy to his shape. Your orgasm is blinding, your body convulsing and cunt spasming erratically around his length, squirting your release all over his toned abdomen as your vision turns white. A high-pitched moan leaving you followed by the chanting of his name, whispered almost like a prayer as he consumed your thoughts. Zayne doesn't stop, his thrusts speeding up as his own is release fast approaching, but he doesn't even realise, too focused on you. Watching intensely as you come undone beneath him, wanting to remember every second, every moan, every facial expression. It only takes a few more thrusts before he's cumming, hips stuttering before burying himself deep inside you, a broken groan of your name falling from his lips, cock pulsing and twitching as he coats your pussy with his thick, creamy seed. He continues to shallowly rock into your spent pussy, feeling how your cunt milks his cock for every last drop of cum.

His strong arms rest on either side of your head, holding him up as he pants heavily, sweat-covered forehead resting against yours as you both bask in the afterglow of your release. Zayne Is the first to move, pulling back slightly he presses a tender kiss to your forehead as he takes in your fucked-out form below his. He can't help but be entranced by how beautiful you look, skin glistening with sweat, chest rising and falling heavily as you try to catch your breath, cheeks flushed as you come down from your high. To him, you look absolutely ethereal, and he can't stop the soft smile that spreads across his face, because finally, after so many years of wanting and waiting, you're his.

[cosmichymns]

Devouring Desire

Not my gif. NSFW. MDNI. I’ll eventually put this on AO3. Smut. Just smutty smut.

She pulls you closer and encourages you to rest your forehead on her bare shoulder with a kiss to your temple. You sigh despite yourself. Her scent, the dim light of the corner she pulled you into, and the soothing rhythm of the music has lulled you into a state of pure contentment.

“Don’t get too comfy over there in that dark corner!” Morgan yelled over, catching Emily’s attention momentarily. She smirked, rolled her eyes, and playfully flipped him up. He shook his head laughing and swatted at the air in her direction before turning back to the group.

It was just supposed to be another casual night at Rossi’s mansion on the hill but after dinner, people quickly paired off. Alex and Reid. Morgan and Garcia. Luke and Lisa. Tara and JJ.

You and Emily. Oh, you and Emily.

Rossi’s outdoor patio and garden had always been spectacular but you had a sneaking suspicion that Garcia had coaxed him into letting her string fairy lights across the yard to the pool and down the pergola near the fence. Which was currently where you and Emily had found yourselves.

Emily’s arms wrapped possessively around your waist, hands sliding down to grip the sides of your hips as she lead you in an impromptu intimate sway. You ran your nose up along the length of her long, pale throat and inhaled deeply. Her signature jasmine and clove scent, which you have now begun to associate with safety, intimacy, and peace, filled your nostrils as you let out a heavy sigh.

“You okay, my sweet girl?”, she cooed into your ear as she ran a hand up your spine to cup the back of your neck gently.

“Mmhmm”, you mumbled before remembering she liked you using your words. “I absolutely am”.

Emily hummed pleasantly at that as you moved to drop chaste kisses along her throat where your nose had just been. She pulled your bodies impossibly closer as she brushed your hair to one side and gently started stroking circles along the nape of your neck.

You felt it was too needy to admit out loud but you wanted to be pressed against her always. You wanted your bodies to melt into one. You didn’t want to know where she stopped and you began. Never have you found a love like this. These thoughts in combination with Emily’s swaying and beyond gentle touches had you tearing up. You felt your face begin to flush at your embarrassment as you tried a few deep breaths to try and regulate yourself.

Emily must have felt you shudder against her throat because she pulled away slowly and inhaled sharply again at the sight of your tears.

“Oh baby…” she spoke softly, bringing up her hand to swipe a warm thumb across your cheekbones. She kissed the corners of your eyes, the rest of the world shut out as she focused solely on you. “Wha… oh, sweet girl, don’t cry, baby. How can I help? Hmm?”

You let out a self deprecating laugh at your less than sexy sniffle and looked up into her intense, dark eyes.

“I’m okay just…” you tilted your head as you thought. “I never imagined I would have this. Have… you.”

You dropped your gaze and brought your hands to her upper chest, playing with her small white gold dainty celestial padlock necklace that you had given her after a year of dating. Without knowing it, she had gotten you the corresponding key necklace in the same celestial fashion. You remember the words “disgustingly sweet” coming from Garcia’s mouth.

Emily’s expression softened even further at your confession. With one hand still securely wrapped around your hips, the other threaded through your thick, natural auburn curls reassuringly. She knew you well enough to know words were wind.

Holding the back of your head in place, she closed the small gasp between your lips tenderly. She explored your mouth for a few minutes, the two of you lost in each other, and bit down on your bottom lip gently as she pulled away smiling. Despite having seen it a hundred times, the sight of her beautiful smile always took your breath away.

Your chest heaved now as you watched Emily’s face flush slightly. Your hands caressed down her body, stopping underneath the swell of her heavy breasts. You raked your fingers against the underside of them, almost impatiently, as you looked up at her through your lashes.

It took her no time to understand the meaning of your gaze as she tugged you by your hips over to the darkened corner under the pergola. A loveseat had been dragged over by a mischievous Garcia earlier in the night under the guise of ‘making more room’. You allowed her to pull you onto her lap so your knees were on either side of her hips.

“Let me see how beautiful you are, hmm?” Emily said softy, racking her eyes over your body as you leaned back a bit away from her.

Your fingers played idly at the hem of her navy off the shoulder top before dipping underneath and skimming the soft skin of Emily’s waist. You loved that as she aged she filled out a bit more in the best of places. It gave you a comfort you didn’t know you needed.

“So lovely”, Emily muttered almost to herself as she used a hand to push your hair back behind your shoulders as you tried to clench your legs together.

She eyed your slightly protruding clavicle hungrily and ran her tongue over her bottom lip before sucking it in as you attempted to slip your hand under her linen pants. Her hand immediately caught your wrist and it made you internally smile.

“You’re awfully bold this evening,” Emily chuckled, never once did her eyes leave yours to look at the others around you but the darkness of this corner was not lost on her.

“I just want you so bad,” you said in a thick voice that was even a shock to you and Emily licked her lips. “I need your hand tightening on my throat, your teeth on my shoulder… I need…”

“What, my pretty girl?” Emily’s voice was barely a whisper now, the lust fully taking over.

“I need you inside of me more than-“, you whine quietly. “-more than I need to fucking breathe. Please?”

You could see the instant blowing of Emily’s pupils at this confession as she gripped your wrist a little tighter. You knew she wouldn’t outright take complete control of you in front of both your friends and colleagues so you sometimes pushed her boundaries a bit in public… and you paid for it at home.

“A desire so violent it seemed devouring…” the dark haired woman breathed out unevenly and so softly that you almost didn’t hear her over the noise of the rest of the team.

“Anaïs Nin.”

Emily hummed in approval while her eyes finally dragged from yours and scanned the outdoor space quickly, though you’re sure she had tracked their movements in her periphery. It had gotten late all of a sudden. Luke and Lisa were sitting on another outdoor loveseat, playfully smacking the other’s thigh deep in uncontrolled laughter. Emily smiled. The boys were hanging around the wet bar laughing and Tara, JJ, and Garcia were sitting around the bonfire in the middle of the yard, drinks in hand. She noticed JJ’s gaze falling to the two of you every so often and as you turned to see what Emily was looking at, your eyes locked with JJ’s. As quickly as it happened, JJ ripped her eyes away, blushed, and pretended to rejoin their conversation.

“I told you she liked to… watch us every now and again,” you whispered, turning around and slipping your wrist from her grip. You couldn’t read the look on Emily’s face. “I’ve caught her half a dozen times already tonight.”

Emily’s possessive, jealous side flared in her eyes now as she secretly wished you had brought a shawl of some sort so she could cover you. You enjoyed this protective, territorial side of Emily. It turned you on far more than it should. She pulled you closer to her body, the apex of your thighs brushing the softness of her belly before leaning in to kiss you hungrily. You started to slip your own hand under your already hiked up dress, gliding your smooth fingertips under the band of your lace underwear

“Let her look. Just touch me please”, you say breathily. You had always known JJ longed for something more but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was true you had caught her watching the two of you with curiosity and maybe envy? Whatever the reason, you felt empathy with whatever war she was waging within herself. “Please?”

“You. Are. Mine”, Emily practically growled, leaving harsh kisses against your throat and wrenching your hand from your underwear. She repositioned her arm so her palm was flat against your belly as it sunk into your underwear.

“I am absolutely yours. Always.” You breathed out, letting the statement hang in the air for a moment. “I don’t think it’s me, per se, but us. Some people are drawn to intimacy, to closeness. Voyeurs, you know?”

A moment passes before Emily speaks.

“You like it when she watches, don’t you?” Emily states matter-of-factly as she cups your wet cunt. “A type of exhibitionist.”

“What? No… I mean…” You take a deep, shaky breath as the short fingernails on Emily’s free hand start tracing up your arms, fingers toying with the thin straps of your sundress. “I like… um, when we are *almost* seen…”

“Mmhmm, exhibitionist”, Emily whispers as she pulls down the front of your sundress, exposing one breast. She leans forward and circles her tongue around your nipple, careful to not actually touch it. “You’re so goddamn wet for me, baby. So warm and slick.”

You can’t help the groan that tumbles out of your mouth and you can feel her smiling against your skin. Her fingers slip in between your wet folds to gather a generous amount of slickness and rub it on your clit.

“Emily…” you breathe out as you arch your back slightly, eyes fluttering shut. Your hands don’t know what to do with themselves so one ends up running your fingers through your hair and the other rests on Emily’s bicep. “Em…”

“Hmmm?”

Emily can feel your hot arousal flush against her palm and finally has pity on you, wrapping her lips around a rosy, sensitive nipple. Her index and middle finger start tortuously slow, wide circles around your clit.

You bite back a loud whine, trying to remain as quiet as you can but Emily has other plans. She bites down gently on your nipple and her thumbnail drags over the wet lace over your clit simultaneously. You cry out, mostly muffled by the music but out of your periphery you see JJ’s eyes focus in on the two of you.

You try to pull your body away in vain as Emily’s teeth continue to bite down, pulling your nipple taut as she refuses to let go. Her free hand holds tightly to your hips. Your body reacts immediately to the painfully pleasurable sensation as a higher pitched whine escapes your throat.

“Oh fuck, Em…” It’s high, needy, and loud. “We can’t… not here…”

Emily grins devilishly against your breast, giving it a pop of her mouth before answering you.

“I know, I know, baby. Just breathe for me. There you go. Good girl. They can’t really see us. Maybe just a shadow of the back of you”, she said as she trailed a line of saliva from one breast to the other, pulling against your dress as she went.

The affirmation sent a shiver down your spine as you let your head loll to one side, resting on your shoulder. Letting her eyes fall from your face to where she had been working so diligently, the sight of your reddened, angry nipple sends a punch right to Emily’s pussy. Humming, she takes the other nipple in her mouth, gently this time, and suckles lightly on it. The same way you do when you’re in a certain headspace.

Your face is hot and you feel slightly dizzy. A thin layer of sweat starts to gather at your temples. The sight and sensation of Emily pulling most of your areola into her mouth makes you breathe faster. Her cheeks are flushed, she’s looking right at you, and it might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. You let out a shaky breath as you run your hand through her hair and grip the back of her head, holding her in place. You try to grind against her fingers but they remain slow in carefully controlled circles. You whine as you feel her fingers tighten their grip on your hips. You feel wet, hot cum pool at your entrance now.

“Emily…”

“Hmmm?” she answered, releasing your breast from her mouth as you notice JJ rearranging herself in her lounge chair, trying desperately not to be noticed. “Use your words, princess.”

Your back arched at the nickname you can only tolerate when you’re too turned on to argue with her.

“Please, it’s not enough. Faster, please. I-I-inside, I need you…”

“Hey, that’s my girl…” Emily coos sweetly in your ear as she takes her hand off your waist, light purple marks already blooming, and tucks a wild curl behind your ear.

A shuttered, frustrated sigh erupts from your throat as she abandons your clit and kisses you gently, your eyes being teary and lips pouty. She tuts you softly with a smile. Without warning or a second thought, Emily slams three fingers easily into your drenched cunt. Momentary pain morphs quickly into an intense, bottom of your foot tingling sensation as you buck your hips roughly.

Emily’s free hand reaches up quickly, palming the base of your skull, and crushing her mouth against yours as she swallows your shocked, long groan before it can leave your throat. You instinctively try to arch back but her hand has you trapped in place.

Exactly where she wants you.

Her thrusts piston in and out of you with such force that you know you’re going to be incredibly sore later. You feel the warmth in your belly seep into your torso and into your limbs. Your body feels like pure electricity as your increased moans and whines become music to Emily’s ears.

Neither of you notice but JJ is staring under lashes now and, though more than 30 yards away, Morgan has noticed a few odd noises coming from your corner of the yard. He eyes Garcia and she looks your way now. Panicked, she stands up and starts to loudly sing along to Africa by Toto in a mostly successful attempt at diverting attention away from the pair of you. JJ’s curious blue eyes still flicker between the shadows under the pergola and Garcia.

None of that matters though because you’re so close and Emily is swallowing your moans purposefully now. One hand anchors itself at the base of soft grey hair while the other tightly grips the forearm of the hand she’s fucking you with. As gently as you can, lest Emily completely deny your request, you push her forearm deeper between your legs. You press yourself flush to her skin now and nestle your face in the crook of Emily’s shoulder. She places sweet kisses wherever her mouth can reach.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, baby. They’re so deep inside you. You’re my good girl, aren’t you, baby?”

“Mmhmm, yes.”

“Yes what, baby?”

“Yes… Mommy”, you end up moaning the last part of the sentence as she rewards you with deep hum that vibrates through your body. “I love it so much when you fuck me hard.”

“I know you do. Are you going to make Daddy proud and cum right here on David Rossi’s patio? With JJ trying soo desperately to catch a glimpse of something and the others able to hear these desperate whines? Look at me, baby.” Emily whispers into your ear as you look up at her and nod furiously, your head still pressed against her long, pale throat. “Then show me. Fall apart for me.”

Emily quickly pumps her fingers once, twice, three times while curling her fingers to hit your g-spot perfectly while she eyes messy, tight circles around your clit. Everything catches up to you all at once. Her fingers. Your clit. JJ watching. The others trying to ignore your moans. Emily’s warm skin. And you come.

Hard.

Your hips momentarily stall out and Emily takes full advantage of the slight position change and fucks you as deeply as possible. She whispers sweet nothings into your ear, talking you through your orgasm. You see the most beautiful stars behind your scrunched eyelids. Or were they the fairy lights? Were you floating?

You don’t remember to stifle your loud groan until it’s halfway out. Emily quickly covers your mouth, only adding to your peaked arousal. You flood her hand with warm, sticky cum as she fucks your through a powerful orgasm. Your open, gasping mouth is pressed against Emily’s throat as you arch yourself into her. You can feel Emily kissing your jaw, your cheeks, your temple, then finally your lips.

This is pure bliss, you realize, as she slows her hand and coaxes involuntary jerks out of you by still rubbing slowly at your clit. Emily sweetly shushes and whispers praises into your skin and lips. She rubs your back soothingly and stills her fingers deep inside you, so very content to feel your muscles flutter occasionally around her. She knows how much you enjoy staying physically connected even after your orgasm.

“You did so well, my sweet girl. You were so beautiful moaning my name.” You soaked up her compliments like a sponge as you blushed even more than you thought possible.

For a long few minutes you both stay like that. So content to be intertwined with the other that you almost lost sight of where you were. Your breathing had stabilized and the fine sheen of sweet covering your body had either dried or had been kissed away by Emily’s full, red lips. You pulled away from her reluctantly, still able to feel her unmoving fingers buried inside you. Emily’s face was still only slightly flushed as she smiled at you but her lips were swollen and her dark irises were still no where to be found.

Emily started to very slowly and carefully withdraw her fingers from inside you after gazing down at you first. You nodded, took a deep breath, and relaxed your muscles that had molded around her. She pulled them fully out, immediately brought them to her mouth, and sucked each finger. Your eyes never left her fingers as she diligently cleaned them.

“I need to taste you, Mommy”, you murmured quietly, still watching Emily’s tongue as she now licked her lips. The need suddenly became overwhelming. “Please?”

Emily let out a breathy sigh and shut her eyes briefly as the pleasure of your words washed over her. “We can’t. Not here. They’ve already been privy to too much. We should get out there and at least make an appearance.”

Emily chuckled softly at your horrified look.

“I can’t go out there! And look at them. In the face!”

“Well as nice as this little cozy corner is, we can’t stay here all night. I’ll be right there with you.”

You sighed and took one last grounding inhale of Emily’s skin before lifting your head up and kissing her sweetly. Always taking care of you, she started trying to make you more presentable by pulling the front of your sundress back up, smoothing out the skirt, and running her fingers lovingly through your hair. You closed your eyes at her gentle touches, enjoying being take care of by this beautiful woman.

“Emily?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you know how much I *utterly* adore you?”

Emily smiled wide before leaning in and kissing you lovingly. “You’ll have to remind me when we get home.”

On the other side of Rossi’s backyard, the group waited anxiously for the two of you to step out of the partial shadows of the pergola before letting out a cacophony of overly sexualized moans. All but JJ and Rossi. The later had to be told something was going on over there because he simply couldn’t hear a thing over this “new fangled music”.

You could have died right then and there but Emily wore a goofy, almost proud smile as she playfully swatted your ass as you both made your way to the group.

Emily took a seat on a loveseat closest to Tara, holding out an arm for you as you snuggled into her side, blushing bashfully. She possessively wrapped her arm around your waist, resting her hand on your outer thigh.

“Get it, dude.” Tara said with a straight face, raising a single fist that Emily immediately pounded with her own.

Alex studied your reaction curiously while Garcia was just flat out relieved it was all over.

“Y’all nasty,” Derek said, playfully rolling his eyes and smiling before getting up to get another drink. “Anyone? Y/n? You must be thirsty after… all that.”

You inwardly groaned but the vibration of it reached Emily and she couldn’t help but laugh. You hadn’t been able to make eye contact with anyone but managed to nod your head.

“Yeah, something strong.”

You chanced a look at your longtime friend, Garcia, and smiled briefly before mouthing a silent thank you.

“Wait, what’s nasty? What happened?” Spencer suddenly interjected, looking around between you and Morgan. The group, including you, laughed at his utter lack of social awareness.

[ignoredbellyaches]

YOU LOOK LONELY... I CAN FIX THAT.

Sequel fanfic based ENTIRELY off of @void-dude 's AMAZING, beautiful, and incredibly scrumptious work

If Bill could sweat, he would be sweating bullets.

Ever since that damned dream of his, he had an even harder time getting Sixer off his mind.

What the hell WAS that anyway?

Ford was so... large. Larger than life. Like he knew everything, that he was strong and Bill-

Bill so... small. tiny. helpless.

Is that what Sixer had felt like when he?—

Bill decided it better not to think about that.

Tonight, he HAD to get that dream... nightmare... thingamajig back for research purposes, of course. It was the only thing he had thought about, and if there's one thing he's learned in this infernal hell known as "The Theraprism™", it was that exposure therapy could be effective.

After all, how hard could it be? Bill was a master of the mindscape, and even if his powers were... slightly nullified, he could surely still control HIS mind. It would be a piece of cake. He would reenter that dream, investigate, and be out in a jiffy. Before he could lose his nerve, Bill lied down and began the meditation to slowly empty his mind. It had come easily to him, slowly shifting from reality to his distorted brain, and then gradually transitioning that world of chaos-filled memories to an empty canvas he could manipulate. For the first time in a long time, Bill felt in control. His mind returned to him, and not the sobered one he was forced to endure during therapy, but his REAL one. His safe place. His kingdom. It was momentary bliss.

Bill, holding onto that relief, opened his eye. He suddenly remembered why he was so hesitant to return to this.

There Ford was, in all of his glory. Bill didn't have to look down to know he was once again bare to the giant in front of him. He was vulnerable. Ford, or at least a cruel representation of him (was he forgetting what he looked like?) smiled down at Bill.

"My muse." Ford breathed out, a crackling pop sound overlaying his voice, one that was infinitely louder than any thought Bill had.

Ford reached out, plucking Bill up like he was nothing. He carded his fingers between Bill's limbs, caressing the triangle with such agonizing care.

Ford brought him closer, reminsicent of a kid looking at a strange bug they had found. "You've finally returned to me."

Bill felt just as exposed as the first time, blinking back unexpected and unwelcomed tears. He weakly extended his hand to touch Ford-

"Ah, ah, don't move yet."

Bill quickly drew his hand away, almost hurt at the command yet still obeying without thought.

"I want to admire you, just a second longer."

Bill breathed out heavily, his vision beginning to blur. It was getting too clouded, too close, too much- Bill wanted out. he didn't want this anymore, he didnt want to be near him again, stop TOUCHING me, DON'T TOUCH ME, STOP-

The overhead light glared at Bill, screaming at him to get up.

The dream was over.

Bill was alone again.

...

requests/asks are open : )

[ninvic-art]

i wouldn't fall for someone i thought couldn't misbehave

[grlpartdoll]

Hi here's anotha bodyguard ghost thingy bcoz I miss him :3 this is not proofread or nothing, crucify me or whatever !! 18+ but no smut in this one yet again!!! Oops. Maybe next time :] this one is about how you two became closer nn pretty much just reader being scared that Simon s'gonna leave her :(

At first, you had been so very reluctant to have a bodyguard, you'd actually hated the idea of having someone watching you day and night. After the day someone climbed through your window to get pictures of you sleeping, though, it had been a suicide mission to try and convince your team that you didn't need one.

You'd been given multiple choices for the head of your security team — and against all odds, you picked Simon. A disgruntled, ex-military with more scar tissue then he had clean flesh. Despite it, though, he was the one who seemed to genuinely care the least when you interviewed him with your team. So you figured it'd be easy to avoid him, to live without having to have a shadow twenty four seven.

At first, it's a tense affair because you have never been so wrong in your life. Your bodyguard cared — and not even just in a casual way. He spent every second of everyday watching you, and you spent that same time trying to act like he didn't exist. You tiptoe around him, and he walks on eggshells around you. He doesn't like you, and you don't like him. Still, though, he refuses to hire more than what he strictly calls "his best men", and he refuses to have anyone else but him interact directly with you, so you have hope that with a team so small, and so avoidant of yourself, you'll be able to shake them off easily. But you're wrong, again.

So, as annoyed as you are at the situation, you act out. You disobey when he asks you to stay away from the barricades, and you treat your safety like it's something so very unimportant that Simon actually wonders if you're suicidal.

But now, after months of Ghost thinking he's fighting against an endless wall he can't actually break down, you start listening to him — or you're trying to behave, at least.

You're trying. That's as much as he can admit. He doesn't know if it's because the last time you were sick he actually stayed with you all night, and every time a cough roused you back to the real world, he rocked you back into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

He doesn't know if it's because he recently almost killed a man who had attempted to climb onto your stage during a performance at a festival.

But he knows that after that day — your eyes had become softer around him.

Generally, Around your staff, you always kept a professional, sharp-eyed look about you, always making sure your fans were treated with respect, always keeping them in check and always making sure they didn't overstep your boundaries.

But Simon, him, gets this doe-eyed, empty headed look from you whenever it's just the two of you. Whenever you're backstage, having your makeup done with him sitting on the couch behind you, and your eyes meet through the mirror, your spine mellows, and your constantly tapping fingers relax.

Or when you're in the rehearsals, and you leave the stage to fetch yourself some water. He finds you blanking out in the corner, staring at him as he goes over all the exits with the security team, two strong hands splayed over the blueprints of the obscenely big venue. He has his uniform on — the one with the bulletproof vest, which makes him bulkier — harder to move around. He wonders if you notice all of that, or if youre just spacing out in his presence because you feel safe enough to.

Simon doesn't know what, but something's changed.

It's late at night, the day after another incident forced him to shove someone out of your way, and then show the creepy fan the colors of his fists upclose when he tried to grab at you, that it all comes to a head. You haven't gotten out of your bed in what seems like days, and he can hear you crying at night — nightmares, he's learned, make you cry in your sleep.

Your manager has been trying to get into your room for hours now — only because the people you partnered with for the tour documentary aren't too happy you aren't giving them content, and it's only for his worry about the fact that you haven't eaten since you got home that night that he lets your manager bribe him into trying to coax you out.

He knocks at your door, his tell-tale rhythm igniting a sound from you. He's not sure what it is.

"C'mon, little one. Let me in."

This time he hears you drag yourself out of bed, and slowly pad to the door. He hears you unlock it, and then move back into your bed.

When he's sure the cameras won't catch you, he quickly slides into the room and closes the door again behind him.

He sighs, watching you for a moment as you sit on the edge of your bed, pushing a hand through your messy, tangled hair. You grimace, and lean forward onto your knees.

He steps closer, only because he knows that if he speaks too loud, his words could end up somewhere he didn't want them to be.

He crouches in front of you, forcing a gentle, rough and calloused hand up to cup your cheek, using the other to push your hair out of your face.

Your eyes are puffy and red, and your face pale from a lack of.. well, everything, really.

"Look'atcha." He grumbles. "Right mess."

You push his hands away, frowning in your short lived anger.

"I don't feel good."

"I know." He pins you with a severe glare. "Does tha' mean you don' got a job to do?"

You sigh, and shake your head, pressing two shaking hands between your thighs.

He nudges your chin, connecting your gazes again so you see the concern in his.

Before he can say what's on his mind though, you pipe up, hesitant and low. "The military — you see a lot of violence."

"Yes." He replies on instinct, not knowing why.

"But I'm... you..." a shaky breath makes it out of you, and you force yourself to keep eye contact in case he starts to think you're afraid of him. "You almost killed a man."

"I was doin' m'job, lamb."

"I know." You purse your lips. Shake your head. "But I'm not used to that."

"It's happened b'for. And it sure as hell g'nna happen again, love. Youre gonna have to get used to it."

You nod. Try to breathe regularly when you remember the sight of him — muscles hidden underneath his uniform rippling against the fabric, bloody fists, fury in those dashing, stormy eyes.

You shift again, your hands going to toy with the shiny thing at his neck. His dogtags.

"You killed a lot of people. Before." It's not a question.

Still, he replies, nodding his head once, even if he feels like you're speaking yourself into a downward spiral.

"Yes." You swear you hear a tremble of restraint in his voice, his eyes traveling to your hands playing with the dogtags.

"Does that bother you?" He asks when you say nothing.

"No.." you whisper. You knew who he was when you hired him. Had been made aware of his history, too. In vague words and short and sweet versions of the facts, but you could imagine. Which is what had made you choose him. You had imagined that, surely, his history would have made him aloof, bored by you, and exceptionally checked out of reality. But he had been the exact opposite — always so tuned into you, always so in sync ; catching you right before you tripped, as though he could see into the future, always ready with a water bottle when you were just about to ask a staff member for one. And he was aware of everything — of so much. And though somehow, you did miss your freedom a little, you couldn't say you didn't like such attention being veered towards you. It was.. different. In a non-shallow way you'd never had before in your life.

"Why are you here?" You ask, suddenly. "I'm not.. I'm just.. me."

"What are you asking, exactly?"

You didn't know, yourself. You are just you. A happy go lucky idol who somehow had made her way to immense fame. You weren't exactly the army, the grith and the danger and the adrenaline he needed.

And when you'd come across those accidents — at first it had made you feel safe, but now, after watching with how much passion your Ghostly bodyguard beat someone's face in, you wondered if he would get bored of you, if you weren't enough for him. Just when you'd been starting to get used to this careful attention, this devotion.

And that is the reason why, for the past few days, you've been hiding away and crying. Because you'd realized, too suddenly, that you couldn't let him leave. That as much as you hated the idea of having a bodyguard, you now hated the idea of him leaving you.

"Are you going to leave?"

Simon's eyes shift underneath that balaclava. He blinks. Twice. Thrice.

"My contract's not over, is it?"

You sigh, pushing at his chest. He doesn't even budge at all. "I'm serious, Simon."

He nods, moving his hand to encapsulate yours, which are still toying with the iron around his neck. He holds them tightly, warmth pooling between the two of you. He brings his face closer — barely a few centimeters away from your own now.

"I'm yours, little lamb." He murmurs. "For as long as you'll have me."

You swallow thickly, and though the words register, your brain immediately twists them around — making sure to put them down in the "DO NOT REVISIT OR OVERTHINK THIS SHIT" jar.

"I don't want you to go back there." You confess as quiet as your voice can go.

For now, you let your eyes close, and you try to convince yourself that it's fine. That he is not going anywhere.

"I'm not." He promises. He closes the space between you, and you feel the ghost of his lips behind his mask as he presses them against your forehead.

[kamimarroco]

The first one is a warning to @anatheyma

You have been warned.

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

Sunday morning Bunny hybrid!reader x owner!Gojo

MDNI 18+

Gojo x reader | 500 something words. | Smut, soft, comfort, fluffy fluffyyyy fluffyyyy, gojo is soft.fuck it's 12:53 I should sleep I have work tomorrow. Umm what else. Established relationship| bunny reader, hybrid. Etc. ok read the story now. Not edited point out typos thx.

Lazy. Lazing. Laze. That's all your morning could be described as. Gojo had only just returned from a mission and having to leave you behind made him extra clingy.

Not that you were any better. Your bed was covered in his clothes. A pile of expensive sweaters and shirts. All which smelled faintly of laundry detergent and of your owner. The same man who returned home the night before and picked you up, crawling into the bed with you in tow – entirely unfazed by the moat you'd created in his absence.

In your sleep, the two of you had managed to push off a good amount of the structure onto the floor, but it didn't matter now. Gojo was here.

You’d met him at one of his missions. You say met but he'd actually rescued you. Being a large bunny breed, your previous owner hadn't expected you to grow to the size you had, and had abandoned you, dropping you off at an abandoned building. An abandoned building haunted by a particularly nasty curse. It was here that you were found by Gojo. He'd picked you up, not minding at all how large you may have been, and taken you home with him. He nursed you back to health, making sure to treat any and all wounds left on you by the curse, and looked after you. After this, you were inseparable. You hated when he'd leave for missions because it meant you couldn't go along. Apart from work, you'd follow him everywhere.

The weak winter sun filtered through the curtains in your bedroom and you felt Gojo nuzzle against your fluffy ear. “Good morning, Bunnie.”

“Good morning, Toru!”

“Did you miss me?”

You nodded your head vigorously in response. “So, so much.” Gojo placed a little kiss on your nose, you couldn't help but blush.

“Look how much I missed you, Bunnie” His eyes moved downwards and yours followed. A large bulge had formed in his boxers and he grinned at you when you looked back up at him. “Think you can take it, bun?”

You nodded again, barely containing your excitement. You ached for him. Even though you had plenty of toys to use, nothing felt as good as Gojo.

He lifted your leg over his waist and carefully prodded at your entrance. Just the thought of having him in you had you feeling ready. But to be safe, he reached over and took out a bottle of lube from the bedside table, generously squirting it over his cock. Then slowly, he pushed in, an inch at a time. He pulled you close and gently kissed your lips.

“Is that alright?” He asked, voice heavy and sleep laden.

“Mmm. More please!” You whispered to him.

He pushed in further, the lube cold for a second on your skin but soon earned by the heat of your bodies. All while Gojo kissed and pecked at your lips. With his free hand, he reached up and cupped a large breast, lightly brushing his thumb against your hardening nipple.

“Feel good, Bunnie?”

“Yes Toru!”

“I'm gonna start moving then, cutie.”

Gojo gently rocked into you. A slow and steady pace. Almost like he was half asleep. His lips found yours again and he sucked on your lower lip nibbling it into a plump red. Then he moved to your neck, nuzzling, kissing, licking.

His slow thrusts gradually grew faster and the room filled with only the wet squelches of your pussy and breathy moans. Gojo turned over on his back, lifting you on with him. His pace didn't once falter as he thrust into you with a new force. Born of desperation and longing his hips moved with minimal spurring; pushing his cock deep into you ready to spill at any moment. He came with a strained groan, empting in you. You could feel it filling you up.

Panting, Gojo asked, “Can we just lay here for five minutes before I clean you up, Bunnie?”

You cuddled into his chest like a giant living blanket. “Mmhmm. Not letting go, Toru.”

The sun had already risen quite high, but Satoru Gojo couldn't deny his sweet little bunny. He cuddled you and felt his eyelids getting heavier. Breakfast could wait…

AN: yeah, sorry this was late. I'm depresso af. Still needed something soft and comforting ok bye.

[darkmuffinstudios]

Was bored and decided to create a silly little one-shot of Errormare for @inkywellcrow 🤭

Who knows, I might get more motivation to make more parts, I might not haha

Baking One-Shot (Errormare) (1.7k words)

Darkxsoulzyxcaliberx

Dream’s birthday (and by extension, Nightmare’s) was only a few days away, and the two most dastardly villains of the multiverse were in the middle of making something for it.

You see, after many decades of struggle, the two guardians grew weary of the constant back-and-forth and had since settled on a truce; No more bloodshed and no more overbearing war meetings. After so long, however, the two had long since forgotten times of peace. It was nothing more than echoes of what could have been, as well as what once was… So, as always in their relationship, Nightmare decided to be the first to extend one of many olive branches that will occur down the line.

To show a sign of good faith and to celebrate the occasion, Nightmare had his boys come up with gift ideas that they would give to his brother. The dark king had hoped that, whatever the gifts may be, that the action alone would show that he intended to support this truce and to keep friendly relations with his other half.

But asking a band of miscreants and murderers was a bad decision in hindsight, and so after many, MANY days of brainstorming, he eventually caved to Horror’s insistence on a birthday cake.

Which brings us to the present…

“Error, you’re whisking batter, not pummeling it into submission.” Nightmare scolded lightly. He wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing, trying not to get too irritated at how sloppy of a job his partner was doing.

“This is stupid.” Error grumbled.

“Error— slower, slower.”

“Don’t— !” His body locked up at Nightmare’s complaining, and he drastically slowed down his pace to a glaringly slow tempo. He gave Nightmare a frustrated look, to which the king easily brushed off. “Don’t tell me what to do. I read the recipe too.”

“Uh huh.” Nightmare deadpanned, setting a metal tray on the counter. “You're also as blind as a bat without your glasses, my dear.”

“They would have just got in the way.” Error huffed. After a few more mixes, he decided that surely was enough of that, and he dropped the bowl into the counter with a loud CLANK. “There. Done mixing.”

Nightmare rubbed his temples. What was that method of reducing stress? Counting back from five? Whatever it was, it surely wasn’t working as well as he had hoped. “Please don’t slam the bowl down.”

“Mmhm.” Error leaned against the counter, dismissive.

For his own mental (and Error’s physical) wellbeing, Nightmare opted to ignore him for a little while. Once he sprayed down the baking pan, he glanced over Error’s work. There was still some dry clumps of the batter mix floating around, but he wasn’t going to correct any of it since he knows how much his partner loves to throw his tantrums. Besides, Dream has been a pain in his ass for decades— the least he can do is crunch on some raw flour to save him from future headaches.

Carefully, he lifted the bowl and poured the mixture into the baking tin. Using a tentacle, he grabbed a spatula he set out beforehand to scrape any excess, and quietly put the bowl down. He gave Error a mild look.

Error met his gaze and paused, looking to either side of himself. “… What?”

“That’s how you put a bowl down. Silently.” Nightmare said, his voice dripping honey and tar.

“Oh, fuck you.” Error griped, rolling his eyes so over dramatically that his head went with it. Nightmare couldn’t help but smile at how stupid he could be.

After making his point, he walked over to the oven with the pan. After opening it with a tentacle (fashioned with a cute little baking mitten), he placed the pan inside and shut it with his hip. Making note of the time, he finally allowed himself to slump against the counter.

Nightmare looked up at the ceiling. How the hell does Horror do this every single day? Willingly?? He couldn’t even imagine how difficult it would be to order his men around such a small space, never mind how destructive all of them already are. Just the thought started to give him a headache…

“So,” Error started. “Why didn’t you ask your uh…” He thought for a moment, his body glitching a little from the effort.

“Horror?” Nightmare offered.

“Yeah— the big, freaky guy— to do this for you? Doesn’t he do this stuff already?”

Nightmare sighed. “… Well… Monster food is magic—”

“Uh. Yeah— I know.”

“I know that you know—“

“Then why say it—?”

Nightmare turned and glared at him. “Just let me talk!” Error held up his hands defensively, glaring right back at him for a moment, before Nightmare eventually continued.

“Well, because monster food is made of magic, then cooking monster food involves magic too. It incorporates the chef’s intent, and can communicate unspoken feelings through each bite.” Nightmare idly messed with one of the spoons on the counter, staring at the oven glass as he spoke. “To put it simply, it has to be made by me. I may not be the best at baking, but he will understand and appreciate the gesture anyways. He is that kind of guy, unfortunately.” He scoffed.

“So why drag me into this?” Error groused. “I couldn’t care less about making ‘Mr.Sunshine’ feel any better than he already feels.”

“Oh.” Nightmare turned to flash a smug look at Error. “Because I didn’t want to suffer alone.”

Error stared at Nightmare. For a long, long moment. A quiet, high-pitched sound began to come from Error’s body— the telltale sign that he was starting to crash. “You’re joking.”

Nightmare shrugged. “Am I?”

Error grabbed the whisk from the counter, chucking it with all his strength at Nightmare. “YOU ASS!! I COULD HAVE LEFT AT ANY TIME?!?”

The king chuckled, letting the whisk hit his shoulder. “Of course you could have. You weren’t obligated to do any of this.”

Error threw his arms around, already hellbent on destroying the kitchen. He ripped the toaster from its electrical socket, threatening to throw it on the ground when Nightmare continued. “But you stayed because you love me.”

That got Error to freeze in place. He stared at Nightmare, bewildered for a few seconds, before slowly lowering the toaster onto the counter. “… Whatever.” He mumbled, stewing.

Nightmare smiled at Error’s obvious admission of defeat, finding himself slowly walking over to him. He stopped a good few feet away, settling on leaning against the counter once more. “You love me, and wanted to help me because you loved me.” He teased lightly.

Error bristled. “I will leave!”

“But then I’d be so sad if you did.” Nightmare touched his own chest, right over where his apple soul would be. “All alone… abandoned…”

Error huffed, crossing his arms. “Good! Feel bad!! Feel bad for tormenting me for HOURS while I slaved away in this kitchen for you!!”

“It was only an hour, dear.” Nightmare chuckled.

“NUH UH!! You’re wrong!!” Error scowled, swinging an arm out to the side and ripping a portal open to a random, unsuspecting world. He gestured wildly to the setting sun. “See!! HOURS!! It’s already growing dark!!”

Nightmare rolled his eye. “Mmhm.” He knew he wasn’t winning this fight.

Error smiled triumphantly, leaning a little closer to Nightmare. The portal fizzled next to them, disappearing soon after. “Apologize.”

Nightmare raised a metaphorical eyebrow at Error. “For what?”

“For being mean and awful and terrible!” Error demanded, counting on his fingers as he went.

Nightmare rolled his eye for the second time. “Mmmmmmno. I don’t think I will.”

Error leaned back, pouting now. “Asshole.”

Nightmare sighed. A brief moment of silence grew between them as they waited for the cake to bake before Nightmare sighed again, shoulder sagging. He looked at the clock hanging on the far wall of the kitchen, then back at the oven glass. The cake wasn’t rising at all.

“… Do you think he will like it?”

Error didn’t look at Nightmare, arms still crossed. After another beat of silence, Error’s shoulders sagged a little and he quietly responded. “What do you mean.”

Another beat of silence. Error didn’t like it. He turned back to glance at Nightmare, only to see the other have his hands folded against his chest in a sort-of self hug. His tentacles were curled inward on themselves, and Nightmare hadn’t looked up once from the oven glass.

It bugged Error. He tried again, softer. “What... do you mean by that?” Nightmare sighed again, a third time, and it was starting to get to Error. He shook his head. “No one hates chocolate cake. If I find out he does, I’m throwing him.”

“Not the cake.” Nightmare answered quietly, though he did smile a little at Error’s threat. The spectacle of the destroyer of worlds tossing his brother like a football was amusing, to say the least. He gestured vaguely, trying to find the right words. “My… message.”

“Message?” Error echoed, clearly confused.

“My intent.” Nightmare tried instead. “It’s… I want this to go well. I want this to be our first steps in making up with one another, and I tried to put as much as I could into this cake… I tried to not fill it with…” he sighed, the fourth time. “… with my lingering feelings of the past.”

Nightmare raised a hand. “I’m certain I didn’t, and I know this won’t make up for everything that has happened between us… but…” He slowly brought his hand back towards himself, back to where it was wrapped around his chest. “I don’t know… I lack the proper words at the moment.”

Not that Error needed all of the words to understand. He thought a little bit before he spoke. “That’s why you asked me to help you with this.” The dots started connecting more in his head as he turned to Nightmare. “You didn’t want to do this alone.”

Nightmare considered Error’s words. “… I suppose I didn’t.”

Error stared at Nightmare, trying to get maybe just a little bit more out of him, before turning to look back at the oven. “… I think he’ll like it.”

“You think so?” Nightmare’s voice sounded uncertain.

“Yeah.” Error shrugged. “He is that kind of guy, like you said.”

Nightmare smiled a little. “I guess you’re right.”

[tainted-liquor]

Sea Grillz✧˖°

'I wont hurt you, mama c'mere' - Miles G. Morales e42! Miles Morales x BlackFem!Mermaid!Reader TWs: I don't think there are any ! Ingredients: Sugar, Kisses, and smiles! A/N: Reader is slightly Caribbean-coded! Other than that enjoy luvs :P W/C: 1,410

The moon illuminated the ominous night sky, painting gentle highlights on the surface of everything that can be seen by the naked eye. Miles was keeping watch of a cargo ship he had just taken over 20 minutes earlier, relying on his prowler mask to aid his eyes through the deep dark sky. He was cold, and even though everyone on the ship prior had been robbed of their life, he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't really alone. The soft crash of the waves and the rock of the cargo ship touched the drum of his ear in a hypnotizing lullaby, allowing him to shake the fleeting sensation of a pair of eyes on him. He took a glance over the sea-line, and everything was clear. But just as he turned his head away from the eastern side of the Caribbean sea, he caught a sudden movement sandwiched in between the low tide.

As you swam through the tide, weaving through the seaweed and coral on your way back to your safe haven, you notice an unfamiliar silhouette standing perfectly still against the rock of the waves. You halted your movements, freezing in place as the end of your tail twitched in anticipation. Having spent all of your life out deep in the sea, you had never really seen anything like this strange shadow before and slowly approached the surface to take a look. It looked like the little sailboat you had in your glass bottle, which you had found whilst swimming slightly closer to the shore than you normally would. You quietly swam closer, before you caught an identified figure turn your way. Was that a human?

You quickly ducked down into the water, baby-teal tail perfectly hiding in the sea as you swam closer. If it truly was a human, he wouldn't follow you down. Especially if they knew just how deep the water was, and what could possibly reside. You saw the human stand up, straightening his posture as he clenched his...claw? You caught the shiny metal glimmering in the moonlight, common sense leaving your body as you began to swim closer toward the man.

Up close he was hella intimidating, a purple sort of...chunk of glow-y metal obscured your view of his face, small white slits stationed where his eyes would have been. You poke your head out of the water, remaining a comfortable distance away from the man, hesitantly leaning back as he turns to face you. The small white cuts on his mask squint, indicating to you that he's examining the little that he can see of you, your big beady brown eyes, slightly furrowed brows, and hair stuck to the top of your head like a smooth glove due to the weight of the water. He turned his head to the side as he walked closer to the edge, standing with both claws at his side, tightly clenched and ready to fly at the slightest mishap. He beckons you closer with his two fingers, nodding his head backward as if to say 'Come here.'

You stay still for a moment, narrowing your eyes before swimming closer, still making sure to keep your tail out of view just in case he felt like having a fish dinner. He chuckles lowly as he holds out a sharp claw, titanium twinkling in the moonlight as he extends it out to you. You swam closer, bringing yourself up out of the water a bit more so he could see your whole face and tensed shoulders. You put your smaller hand within the palm of his cold claw, watching as the faded-blue ombre of your skin faded to your original melanated shade as it came into contact with the crisp air. He gently pulled you forward, causing you to swim fully up out of the water, tail keeping you afloat as your body finds its resting harmony with the waves of the water.

the small slits on his mask widen for a moment, before quickly squinting as he mumbles a low "I won't hurt you, mama. C'mere." You reluctantly allow him to pull you closer, placing your top half on the freezing floor of the cargo ship as you inhale sharply at the sensation. He laughs before shaking his head and returning his confused gaze back on your tail. "Eres tan fascinate, chica bonita..." he mumbles as he walks around me, taking in most of my form as he studies the scales that create a smooth transition to my tail. I tilt my head to the side in confusion, eyebrow-raising as I attempt to decipher what it was he just said.

He gave another chuckle before crouching down, placing his wrists on his knees as he gives me one final scan. "What's your name?" he asks as I frown slightly. I point to the gills on my neck before making a talking motion with my hand and crossing my arms. Without exposure to water, my gills would make it virtually impossible for me to speak. He looks around quickly, ripping a piece of a dead man's shirt, dunking it in water, and tying it lightly around my neck. Admittedly, it probably looked odd but he was probably just really curious as to what I would sound like, but desperate times require desperate measures.

I take another sharp inhale, my voice recalibrating as I feel my vocal cords return to their lively harmony. My voice was smooth and laced with a thick Islander accent. "I am Y/N." I nod, any fear I had of the strange man dissipating almost immediately as I reach out to feel the strange material of his mask, the projected purple glitching and running away from my touch. He nods slowly before he gets his next question ready. "You live here? Like, always?" he asks. I nod again as I begin to toy with the pointed triangles on the back of his suit, attempting to bend the solid material under my fingertips.

"You a handsy lil' thing, huh?" He remarks as he gently removes my hands from his suit, mask disappearing before my eyes as I watch his smug smirk grow. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he murmurs a small "Don't touch. My tech is dangerous, and mad expensive" He grins as he watches me visually analyze everything he was wearing, confused at why a human would need such things in the first place. My first thought was that he was a pirate, stealing and taking things that weren't really his, but if pirate, why kind? I stare deeply into his eyes, face mere inches away from his as I internalize every feature of his. I knew I'd never see him again, so I committed every small detail of his to memory.

"Who are you?" I ask with a puzzled expression, trying to make sense of his whole get-up and why he was acting so sketchy. From the body sitting just mere inches away from him, him sitting on a boat that he clearly doesn't own, and me practically being in his lap as he makes no attempt to harm me whatsoever. He was absolutely gorgeous as his deep brown skin seemingly glowed under the night sky, a slight smile on his lips as a couple of his teeth peaked from under his grin, and strange jewelry was visible on his teeth. He chuckled as he placed a gentle claw to the side of my face, his pupils bullying their way through my soul as he tilts my face up slightly.

"I'm the Prowler, Mami. But I'll be back for you, Chiquita. Sometime when I'm off work" He winked as he rested his hands just above my hips, dangerously close to my shiny scales. He didn't seem to care about the unfamiliar texture under his skin as he watched my fins flap madly in the water, indicating my mix of surprise and joy. I nod as I feel him release my hips, allowing me to slip back into the water before his mask silently reforms, encasing his seemingly perfect face behind the purple hologram-like features. He walked backward as he got one last look at me before turning around and walking himself to the helm of the ship. I gave him a small wave, free hand resting on the piece of fabric wrapped thickly around my neck as I swam away, feeling slightly somber about having to say goodbye.

[brainrot-goes-brrrrrr]

Savannah Squad Presentation Night Headcanons/Drabble [2/3]

it has been forever :'D (everyone say thank you to @moonbiine)

ANYWAYS, here's part 2 :}

Part 1: Taylor & Logan Part 2: Ben & Tyler Part 3: Aiden & Ashlyn [WIP]

Logan's POV

Two hours and twenty-eight minutes. It has been two hours and twenty-eight minutes and we've been stuck at 76% complete for forty minutes. Whoever made Windows deserves to burn and I stand by that, cause what do you mean that they can push an update and force restart my laptop.

"Logan when was the last time you updated this?" "Logan, why are there fifteen updates that need to be downloaded?" "Bro, when was the last time you actually shut down your laptop?" ... "I've been busy, okay--"

So it might be my fault. Partially. I will admit that much, but the laptop's never given me a problem before and it was running fine. It's just old, and has a few odd... kinks? I mean, the left half of the mousepad is jammed to the point where it can't click, and, sure, the screen does go black every now and again, but just hit it a few times it works! It's character, charm even (and I can't be bothered to fix it...)!

It was, honest to God, easier for Aiden to run back to his place and grab his laptop.

"So we agree that Logan is off electronic duty right?" Taylor had asked as Ben was setting up the other computer to the television screen with Aiden helping. It was a unanimous decision. Ben and Aiden are the new tech guys.

"Yeah, that's probably for the better," I had conceded.

Ben Clarke

Ben goes next because he saved the groups sanity by suggesting that Aiden just gets his laptop. Everyone, thank Ben for the night not failing.

To address the obvious, Ben has a text to speech app on his phone, which is connected to a speaker, that he uses to present. I will say that there is a sort of humor in this for two reasons. One, the voice can either be monotoned like a typical text-to-speech program with funny pronunciation errors, or two, it will sound like one of those videos on tiktok where an AI is reading a tumblr post about SuperBats or something and gets progressively more expressive as time goes on. Personally, I want to hear exasperated robot Ben voice explaining to Aiden why "Life is a Highway" on repeat can and will be considered a torture method.

Ben's music taste is GODLY. And he's more of a eclectic listener too so he has experience with a good amount of genres. This man does not bash other genres of music that he doesn't care for, he thinks its rude to the person he's talking to and to the artist.

Aiden is the exception to this rule^^

DESPISES having to subscribe to music platforms. What do you mean that you can't listen to a song on repeat without paying, what do you mean that you will interrupt his carefully crafted playlist with a recommended song that does not fit the vibe. This end up derailing his presentation couple times.

He has a set criteria that he judges on: length, vibes, transitions, and replayability. Good playlists should at minimum be an hour, have similar vibes/sound while still being unique, the transitions between songs shouldn't be jarring, and the playlist shouldn't be painful to listen to after a month.

Taylor and Ashlyn helped him judge everyone's playlists by acting as secondary perspectives. Taylor is more open to everyone's music tastes while Ashlyn scrutinizes them more. They pretty much just took a playlist that everyone listens to regularly, one that they made but listen to it every so often, and their liked songs.

I would also like everyone to remember that the series is set in 2016... they would have songs mostly from the 2000s-2010s with the exceptions of some 90s and 80s songs. I'm not saying that's a bad thing, I'm just saying that I looked up 2010s hit songs and I'm filled with nostalgia.

Overall, Ben's criticisms and recommendations are genuinely thoughtful. Especially the recommendations. For each person, after critiquing their playlists, Ben made a slide of genres and artists that each person should check out to expand their tastes.

(I'll probably make a bit about what songs were on their playlist, idk tho)

Group Reaction (how they ranked in comparison to each other)

Personally, Tyler and Logan getting the best ratings because their playlists are very consistent in their vibes and are replayable. I also think that Ben's music taste fits the most with these two for some reason, so they got the most song recs out of everyone.

Ashlyn is third in the ranking. She has one or two that she listens to occasionally, and they're pretty short. They are absolute polar opposites though. One of the playlists is rock, since she canonically likes Paramore (if you don't, get well soon), and the other is classical music for her ballet performances.

Taylor is next. Her playlist isn't bad, its just... a bit everywhere. Like it starts pretty good, but you can tell that somewhere along the lines of creating this playlist she just added songs that she remembered that she likes. It mostly fits the same genre. Ben makes her a more organized playlist after the presentation.

Aiden is dead last. It's not because his music taste is shit. Aiden actually has a pretty good music taste. No. Its because he only listens to his liked songs on repeat like a monster. It is musical whiplash. You go from a movie theme song, to crying, to listening to white girl club music, to rock, to crying again, and then for some reason the Home Depot jingle???? The only playlists that he makes are for jokes really. Do you know the John Mulaney bit where he plays "What's New Pussycat?" 27 times. Yeah, that's Aiden.

Tyler Hernandez

Tyler's next, and, I'm letting you know now that he sprayed the fuck out of Aiden for interrupting. Yeah, Ash pulled them a part.

Motherfucker is so pleased with himself, like its honestly so funny. Aiden had him by the collar and Tyler was just fucking smiling. Taylor does throw her slipper at him for being rude, but he could honestly care less.

The slideshow itself is the most soulless thing ever made, man used the Blank Google Slides template and called it a day. Like one stock image on each slide, and its so pixelated. He probably did it like an hour ago. That's why his presentation is funny because he's just jabbing at Aiden over and over with a basic slideshow that you'd see someone pull out in a Spanish 1-2 class.

You know what? He probably had another presentation about what piercing he think would suit the group best, and just did this one out of spite cause Aiden was being loud. I take back my previous statement about him doing it an hour before getting to Logan's place, he did this on his PHONE WHEN THE LAPTOP WAS UPDATING!!!! Like Logan was taking a walk, Ben was trying to fix the computer, the girls went to make sandwiches, Aiden was running errands, and Tyler made this in an hour.

His presentation is based off a tier system where it gets more effective with each method. Methods 1-3 are pretty basic where its just stuff like duct taping his mouth shut, 4 and onwards just gets funny

I'll be completely honest, each way he put is wild, and it gets progressively more deranged as the presentation goes on. These one's my favorite

"Number 9: Dying You know, I thought this would be the best way, but the bastard got crushed by a ceiling and walked it off. I want you to try and convince me that Aiden wouldn't crawl out of hell just to ruin my day. " "Number 10: Put him in a room alone with Ashlyn's mom and dad *insert a picture of Aiden sitting not so comfortably in between Ashlyn's parents* I don't even think I need to say anything else, I mean, I will, but like... look at him"

This is honestly the shortest presentation of the night but so far it's the most chaotic (he will quickly lose this title).

Tyler went through two spray bottles, mainly for Aiden, but he did spray Taylor once or twice. She threw a shoe at him. It's only fair.

Groups Reaction

Aiden is standing to the side with a towel around himself because Logan said his grandparents would kill them for ruining their couch. He's not exactly pissed but he is kind of sulking. Honestly this just makes his presentation so much better for him.

You know how Tyler asked for suggestions in the beginning, Ben and Ashlyn give him genuine ideas. Mainly Ben, just out of good humor you know. And Tyler's taking notes.

Taylor is giggling, but she does feel a bit bad for Aiden. At some point she gives him a consolation sandwich to raise his spirits.

Logan, however, doesn't and he's just quietly enjoying the scene that's unfolding around him.

The end of these two presentations are by far more chaotic than the first two, and it feels like its only going to get worse from here(/pos). Because right now Aiden is fighting with Tyler, getting him soaked too, Taylor is filming them while Logan provides commentary, and Ashlyn is standing with Ben setting up the next powerpoint.

While it was initially decided that Aiden would go last, Ashlyn suggested that she and him switch. Mainly so that he can drip dry while presenting, and sit down when he's done.

Aiden is following a presentation that was just jabbing at him, how do you think his is going to end up now?

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Snow Day

Title: Snow Day Prompt: There's a snowstorm, and someone's been gone since before it started. They were supposed to come home hours ago, so a member of the group heads out to find what happened to them. Fandom: ROTTMNT Word Count: 3681 Author: PhoebePheebsPhibs Rating: Gen Characters: Casey Jones Jr, Raphael, Leonardo, Baxter Stockboy cameo Warning: Casey gets real freaked out and has a minor anxiety/panic attack Summary: Casey goes out just before a snowstorm happens and gets caught right in the middle of it... Notes: No Beta, We Die Like Gram-Gram! Reused old art for illustration lol, you can see it on AO3

@cheetochild989 @tmnt-write-fight

Posted on AO3 <-

"I won't be gone long," Casey promised. "It's only a few things."

"Still, it's your first time buying groceries alone," Leo mumbled, the tap tap tap of his crutch echoing against the floor. He didn't always need it, but some days were harder than others. "I could go with --"

"No," Casey interrupted him, holding a hand up and stopping Leo in his tracks. "If I'm ever going to figure out how to live in this time period, then I need to learn to do these things on my own."

"Sheesh, alright!" Leo joked. "And don't say 'time period', this isn't the Victorian era! It's only what, 20-plus years into the past? Time period. Woof! You make it sound like we're ancient wizards or something..."

Casey laughed at the idea. The only one he could truly call a 'wizard' was Mikey, but he hadn't really gotten to that stage just yet. Mage, yes. Wizard? Maaaaybe in a few months, if he kept up the training with Draxum.

Casey and Leo went over the list one more time, adding one or two last-minute items that Leo suddenly thought of as they made their way to the exit. Casey stuffed the list into his pants before shoving a large and slightly oversized jacket over himself, struggling slightly with the arms.

"Don't forget your hat and earmuffs," Raph reminded him as he walked past. "It's really cold out today."

"Gotchya," Casey nodded, handling the earmuffs like they're some new and exotic species. "We didn't really have cold weather in the future..."

"Really?" Leo asked, his head tilting to the side. "What were winters like?"

"I dunno, like 60 degrees at the lowest?" he shrugged. "What with all the planetary devastation and laser blasts and global warming... weather became sorta nonexistent."

Raphael shuddered at the thought of such a thing. No weather meant no rain, no snow, maybe even no real wind or cloudy days. 

"Well, try to be home soon okay? I think there's a call for heavy snow later."

"Sure thing," Casey replied, half-paying attention to Raph as he walked out the door. After all, this is the past, and everyone has it so cushy! There's nothing dangerous here except for idiot muggers and a few mutants. What could possibly go wrong?

"And don't forget the mittens!" Raph called after him. Casey walked back into the lair, retrieved his gloves, and then walked back out.

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Casey Jones Jr was starting to really like New York City, circa 2020. It was a different kind of hectic, but Casey had lived his entire life in chaos.

Instead of dodging missiles, he was dodging taxi cabs.

Instead of wild krang dogs, there were people walking a dozen angry chihuahuas and poodles and dobermans to earn money.

Instead of corpses laid to waste on the ground, there were a few homeless people sleeping in cardboard boxes.

Differences with small similarities.

The biggest difference was the turtles. Sensei Leonardo was no longer a tall and hulking king of the apocalypse with a robot arm who took no slack from anyone or anything -- he was now an ego-stripped teenager with a knee that had been so twisted up that it counted as a physical condition and they could qualify for disabled parking with the tank. Master Michelangelo was no longer someone who looked older than time and could create lavish magic spells with a flip of his hand, but an untrained child with an unbridled adoration for drawing and reality cooking shows. Uncle Tello was not the cybernetic scientist in overalls with a hundred extra technological advancements, but a nerdy teenager with 'secret' plans for anarchy against the US government. Raphael... well... Casey couldn't remember Raph firsthand. There were some photographs and video recordings of him, a few stories passed down, but the big red giant had been killed in action a few years after Casey Jr was born.

But this time period -- er, the past was still nice. It was crazy how many people he recognized. Baron Draxum, Commander O'Neil, Master Splinter, Todd 'The Sasquatch' Capybara, Big Mama... Casey would just be walking down the street and he'd see a couple with a child, and he'd realize the kid was one of the medics that helped him when he'd broken his leg. He would be buying pizza and the cashier was one of Uncle Tello's tech apprentices. In the Hidden City, an octopus Yokai would offer to sell him some mystic potion and Casey would recall they were one of the cooks in the mess hall who always gave him extra portions to help him grow, even when rations were low.

Casey reached the end of memory lane when he found the grocery store he'd been looking for. He casually walked inside just as a few unnoticed flakes of white began to fall from the sky above him.

"Hello, and welcome to the Stock & Shop!" an older woman greeted. "Holler if you need anything!"

Casey nodded with a smile as he started to gather everything on the list.

Chicken soup: got it.

New batteries for the remote: donezo.

Flaming-hot chips: three bags procured. 

Four different brands of soda: orange blast for Mikey, sugar-free cola for Raph, flavourless juice for Donnie, and diet blueberry bubble waters for Leo. Check.

Popcorn for movie nights: not yet.

The popcorn in question was placed on a hard-to-reach shelf high above him. Of course, this one particular brand that Mikey so desperately needed was at the very top. As Casey was reached up for the requested snack, a voice chimed in behind him.

"Better hurry, there's supposed to be a wicked snowstorm tonight!"

Casey jumped back, startled by the sudden sound. He looked down and saw a short, scrawny kid with a comparatively huge head looking up at him.

"Oh, hey. You look familiar...?"

"This is my parent's store, I work here all the time. Or maybe you've seen my videos? My channel? STOCKBOii?? Cybersleuth??"

"Stockboy? As in Baxter Stockboy?" Casey wondered, his eyes widening as the corners of his mouth turned up.

"Yeah! You've heard of me?" the child asked excitedly.

"Kind of," Casey replied, not exactly sure how to explain that Baxter had worked as one of Donatello's apprentices to create warships and mechas during the golden age of the Resistance, despite Sensei's reluctance. "I heard about the whole 'Mutant Menace' fiasco."

Baxter groaned loudly.

"Uggggh, that whole thing. My parents still won't let me leave the house unsupervised. It's ridiculous! One mass panic and riot instigation, and they turn on me! At least the judge agreed to let me work off community service in the store..."

Casey smirked just a little.

"Hmm. Anyway, you said something about a snowstorm?"

"Oh, right. The weather report says it might get up to two inches."

"What might get up to two inches?"

"Um... the snow? Look, it's started snowing already!"

Baxter Stockboy pointed out towards the front entrance. A small sprinkling of white could just barely be visible beyond the glass.

"Oh," Casey shrugged. "Doesn't look too bad."

"You say that now, but it's supposed to get below 30º Farenheit!"

"Oh. That is kinda cold," Casey agreed. "...But I'm sure it'll be okay."

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Ten minutes had passed.

Raphael received a notification from the weather app, informing that the previously predicted 'heavy snowfall' was now a full-blown snowstorm.

That probably wasn't good. But it wasn't terrible, either. Just some snow.

"Boys, it looks like tomorrow is another snow day!" he announced to the rest of the Hamatos.

From various rooms in the lair, Raph heard them shout in excitement.

"Yes!"

"Alright!"

"Snow day, hooRAY, baby!"

Raph smiled. He couldn't wait to introduce Casey to his first snowfall...

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Casey had finally gotten all the items on the list and was preparing to check-out, when an announcement went over the loudspeakers.

"Attention shoppers -- we encourage all patrons to finish up their errands, as we will be closing soon due to the weather. Thank you."

Huh. They sure were getting all riled up over this 'snow' stuff. Casey had witnessed a few storms before in the months prior, but it was never too bad. Thunderstorms were freaking terrifying, but only because they were loud and Casey's first thought was always that an air attack was happening. But he loved watching lightning. It reminded him of a few magic spells Master Michelangelo had performed on occasion...

Casey finished up the last of his errand and purchased the items. He needed a little help when trying to decide on paper or plastic, and for a moment he forgot the pin number for the card Splinter had given him, but other than that all had gone well.

He stepped out of the store, the glass doors sliding past him gracefully.

And he was greeted by a harsh blast of cold. It almost knocked him over, the icy wind biting his face so much he dropped the bags of groceries in order to cover his face with his regrettably un-mittened hands.

Okay. He was starting to see what people meant now. He hurriedly pulled his mittens on and scrambled to cover as much of his head as he could with his hat and earmuffs.

It had been cold these past few months, sure, but not like THIS! This was arctic.

And what's more, the sky was raining ash. That only ever happened when Uncle Tello sent missiles to blow the Krang vessels to kingdom come. So why was no one terrified, or hiding? Besides, there were no more Krang ships to incinerate. So then, what was...?

Casey happened to glance to the side and saw a kid sticking their tongue out. Their parents did the same. They caught a few of the flakes on the tips of their tongues, laughing as they shivered. Casey watched in wonder. He held a hand out. A single fleck of white flittered down to his palm, delicately touching down onto him, and melting upon impact with the glove. Casey was gently bewildered. He looked up at the sky. The heavens above were masked over with clouds of grey, hiding the universe from him, guarding him from the wonders he couldn't understand or comprehend. And yet, the universe deemed this wonder fit for him to comprehend?

Casey's mouth hung open as he gazed at the sky, confused. Snowflakes fell against his cheeks, his eyelashes, his lips, his chin. He stuck out his tongue and closed his eyes. It took a few minutes, but finally he felt one land and melt in his mouth.

...Underwhelming, if he was honest.

It was just water. He kind of expected a flavour.

The wind suddenly whipped against him. It had calmed for the brief moments that Casey stood there, but now was circling back in full fury. Casey gasped at the fierce chill, bundling himself up more and more before gathering the supplies and shuffling back to the lair. The wind swirling around him, the snow raining down with a vengefulness.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Twenty minutes had passed.

Raph had started to feel like he was forgetting something. He wasn't sure what, though...

Donnie had re-fortified the lair and central heating system, so now it would stay extra cozy despite the freezing temperatures outside. You could hear the wind start to roar if you went to the exterior tunnels and big exit door.

Raph remembered how in the early years when they were all teeny tiny turtle tots, Splinter had them all stay in the same room to conserve heat. He'd set up tons of heat lamps and space-warmers, bundle each one in extra-fuzzy blankets... Looking back, he could clearly see the panic that Splinter would be hiding at the idea that maybe they could all freeze to death if they weren't careful, or maybe that the power would go out when they weren't expecting it and he'd only have a few minutes to come up with a plan before hypothermia could creep in like a ghost. It was probably extra terrifying considering that they had minor cases of brumation when it got way too cold. They got better at combating it, wearing warm clothes to help stay warm. And it helped that they also had some minor mammalian DNA too, meaning that they had to be utterly and agonisingly cold for brumation to actually take effect. 

Still. Raphael had mad respect for Splinter now. He'd kept his cool and kept his calm, never once displaying the fear that probably filled his mind day in and day out. Raph wished he knew how to do that...

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Was Casey even going the right way?? He couldn't tell anymore.

The downpour of snow particles was starting to get so heavy that Casey couldn't even see ten feet in front of him, even with his mask on. Constantly blinded, he relied mostly on the lights from cars or neon signs to help guide him down the sidewalk. He couldn't remember the last time something like this had happened...

Maybe... during the dust storm incident. Sensei and Casey were in a losing battle against the Krang one day and in a sheer panic, Leonardo portaled them away and into some random place far, far away. Leonardo had initially assumed it was some inhospitable desert in the middle east or something, based on how much sand and wind there was. But after a quick look at the tracking device Donatello had installed, they realized that it was actually just New Mexico. Or, what was left of it. Sensei Leonardo had sent them right smack-dab in the middle of a dust storm, where the drought-riddled land had become so dry that the wind created massive walls of dirt and dust that engulfed everything. It could suffocate you, dehydrate you, blind you, etc. The might've died if Leonardo hadn't thought quickly and found a shelter for them to hide out in. He'd dropped one of his swords during the storm, so the two were forced to wait it out. Sensei Leonardo never did find that other sword. He'd had to create a new one with his ninpo.

Anyway, this snowstorm felt like the exact opposite of the dust storm.

Rather than hot and dry, this was cold and wet. But the stabbing sensations of small things constantly flying into you was the same. The wind that threatened to carry you away was the same. The loneliness was the same.

Casey was convinced that he'd gotten turned around somehow... He wasn't sure where he was.

Forget being able to see ten feet away, he could barely see his own hands in the storm!

This was not good. Casey reached up, feeling around his mask for a specific button that would activate a distress beacon. He'd modified it so that Donnie's tech could receive the call, and hopefully it would go through. But if the storm was as severe as it felt, then it was possible that the lines would be down and the lair's internet access and phone lines wouldn't get the message.

Casey found the button. He'd have to hope that they'd get the signal.

He pressed it, and then pressed on, hoping that he could find his way home on his own...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Thirty minutes.

The lair was starting to get terribly frigid. Raph waltzed into the kitchen, shuddering from the chill as he did, hoping that maybe Mikey would start making something hot to eat and that in turn would warm up the kitchen. He only found Leo in there, swirling a mug of hot cocoa that he'd heated up. 

"Brr-rr-rr, it's cold! I thought Donnie fixed the heat?"

"He did, but it's still pretty frigid," Leo sighed. "I'm starting to get worried..."

"You think the power might go out?" Raph asked.

"No, I'm wondering where Casey is."

Casey?

OH SHOOT, CASEY.

"Raph completely forgot that Casey was out!" Raph screamed, hands flying through the air. "I thought he came back fifteen minutes ago! You mean he's still out there?!"

"Relax, it's just snowing. Not that big of a deal," Leo said as he took a long sip of cocoa from his mug.

"Leo, you do realize that Casey's never seen snow before?!" Raph reminded him. "And this ain't no ordinary gentle snowfall, this is practically a blizzard!" 

Raph huffed angrily before rushing to the lair entrance. He grabbed a coat, some galoshes, a scarf, gloves, snowpants -- the whole shebang. Leo followed casually, sipping his cocoa gently as he walked after him.

"Where'ya goin'?" he asked with a smile.

"I'm goin' after Casey, of course!" Raph yelled.

"Do you know where he is?"

"I got him right here on the little tracker thingy."

Raph held out his phone to display to Leo the small signal coming in from Casey Jr's mask.

"Mhm," Leo hummed. "Okay. Well, when you get back, maybe bring home a pizza too."

"Leo, can you be serious about this?!"

"Okay, fine. When you find him, call me and I'll portal the two of you home. Okay?" Leo suggested. "No sense trudging through the cold back and forth."

"Great, thanks," Raph grumbled before running out the door, pulling his collar up to prepare for the wind and wet.

Raphael ducked out. Down the corridors, up a ladder to the top of the street. He pushed the manhole cover aside with ease. He was instantly met with a barrage of wind and ice, the snow and slush that had been atop the cover sliding down and splashing onto his face.

Raph sputtered softly, wiping his face off before heading into the fray...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Casey was huddled against something. A wall, a stone, a tree, a car -- he could hardly tell. It was so cold, his skin felt like it was peeling off. His eyes stung from the wind, his feet ached from the chill, his arms hurt from the cold and from carrying all the groceries with him this whole time. The straps on the plastic bags were digging into his arms, cutting off his circulation. It was so windy and loud, he couldn't hear the traffic of the city anymore. His jacket was coated in white.

He'd hoped that he could shield himself with whatever he was leaning against, but the wind came from all sides.

It was terrifying. Being alone. He hadn't felt alone like this in so long...

He remembered sitting alone, like this, long ago...

The wind whipping around, the sky dark, the battlefield torn and scarred, white flakes of ash raining down from above. It was cold that day, too. Casey couldn't be older than four years old at the time.

The ground was covered in grey and white from all the ash and cinder. Casey was covered in the powdery residue himself, his face white as a sheet, his messy and greasy hair holding in the flakes and embers from the explosion that had decimated the world around him.

But the worst was the silence that followed. Nothingness. Loneliness. Agony.

Casey started crying. Four years old, having watched the world end, having seen his mother die, and so many of her comrades, and only to be left alone and scared? Of course he was crying.

In the distance, a figure began to move. Casey gasped, trying to cover his mouth and keep silent as the looming creature lumbered towards him. The monster was huge, it must be a krang mecha or --

"Casey?"

He recognized that voice. It wasn't Sensei, but it was just as comforting.

"Casey, where you? Casey!"

The child meant to answer. But his voice was lost in his own throat.

"Casey! I see you! I'm coming, kid, I'm coming!"

Casey reached out for the Red Giant to take him home... The silhouette of his figure in the smoke and smog that surrounded them...

But as the figure stepped through the fog, it wasn't a red giant.

"Casey! There you are!! I was so worried, what happened?!"

Casey Jones Jr was taken back to the present moment, and stared at Raph in shock.

"R-Raph..?"

"Geez, Case, you look frozen solid! Are you okay?"

Casey nodded softly, getting back up on his feet as Raph gave him a hand.

"I'm fine," he whispered. "It... it, uh, started snowing."

"Yeah, I see that," Raph chuckled. "Sorry, we had no idea it would get so bad."

"It... it's okay," Casey responds quietly. "How did you find me?"

"Well the snow's dying down a bit, so it ain't as hard to see," Raph mentioned as he pointed up. Casey did notice that during his anxiety attack, the wind has calmed a bit more and the downpour of frozen particles was much gentler. "Besides, the tracker helped. Although, I am curious how you managed to get all the way into Central Park?"

"Wha-huh?" Casey gaped, turning around and examining the area.

He had been huddled against a tree trunk, and a few feet off in the distance was a playground. Ahead of him was the cityscape, behind him the rest of the wooded little area.

"Wow. I didn't realize that I came this far..."

Raph chuckled as he grabbed the groceries from the ground.

"So, you ready to get home? All I gotta do is call Leo and we can be back in the lair with some hot chocolate!"

Casey glimpsed at the park behind them. It was... actually quite lovely.

It was a magical world, sparkling and quiet. Undisturbed. Serene.

Raph noticed Casey's stare and looked back at the scene, smiling knowingly.

"It sure it pretty, ain't it?"

"...It's peace," Casey awed. "It's absolute peace. This... I've never seen anything like it before."

Raph took in a deep breath, inhaling the peace with gratitude for a world that could give you something so gorgeous after something so terrible.

"Yeah. It's really beautiful. Tell ya what, the guys can wait for a bit. Want me to show you around the Winter Wonderland for a bit?"

Casey nodded with a dumbfounded smile on his face.

The two walked out into the park together, enjoying the peace that they both had fought tooth and nail for.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆The End⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

[ignoredbellyaches]

RESONANCE

Pre-portal Billford fluff blurb, angst if you squint, not proofread we die like men

Ford had a tendency to calling Bill his muse. It was, in Bill's humble opinion, a well-earned title; One he deserved.

And, although he would never admit it... Ford really didn't need Bill to make art.

There's only so many interdimensional bars, space mom and pop shops, and authority centers you can raid and burden before you feel tired of it all. That's when Bill would resort to his palace, the Mindscape. That's where his real entertainment began, seeing the creations of others and how he could easily distort their most personal thoughts.

Yet, somehow, Sixer was different for Bill.

He didn't need to manipulate, or even make his presence known, to enjoy Ford's dreams. He simply watched in awe as this human, he had to remind himself, HUMAN made such beautiful imagery in his brain. Detailed and complex meteor showers, large libraries of scarily accurate knowledge, and Bill's favorite...

Vast, endless galaxies.

Floating through the space that Ford had made himself, even without being off Earth— It was a masterpiece. Every constellation down to a point, a serene silence keeping company, and the stars. Bill couldn't comprehend how magnificent they were. Dainty yet bold explosions of light bursting and disappearing like a disco, every color imaginable to human, every experience having true to tale math behind it.

Bill had never seen anything so brilliant.

Yet, the most curious of Ford's mind was the center. Just next to his conscious, Bill could see... Himself. The radiant, glowing center piece of it all, with Ford at his knees in front of him.

He was Ford's light. And Ford, his.

...

requests/asks are open : )

[lemonlightt]

[brain-depositary]

I was looking at @smol-lydia’s Jewish Viktor Arcane headcanons and though they’re mostly fluffy cultural things it’s really gotten me thinking about with in comparison how Jayce’s arc and surrounding milieu is so 19th century and by that assumption maybe calling Viktor Jewish-coded makes a lot of sense.

Like we look at other characters from Zaun and even given what we know eventually happens to Vi, there’s a definite undercurrent of loyalty to their position societally, geographically, that Viktor, despite apparently being from the same place, doesn’t seem to have, despite being passionate about problems that have affected him and people he knows due to geography (water purity, mining safety, etc). Considering the way the rest of the show handles matters of national/ethnic identity this is actually very weird. What’s his deal?

Well, look at this through the 19th century lens, and consider if Viktor was Jewish, well, a LOT is going on for Jews during that time — Jewish Emancipation was happening piecemeal in Europe and Jews were slowly gaining equal rights to Christians and integrating into mainstream society and struggling to navigate what that meant. With this as the backdrop, Viktor not feeling especially connected to Zaun vs Piltover makes more sense. His family may have only recently begun integrating and he would likely still consider himself an outsider to both words, possibly symbolized by his accent. To him, Topside and the Undercity may be the same (derogatory), to the point that he rarely mentions anything about it to Jayce despite being very close and only begins pushing back when Jayce starts being weird about it. He seemingly only caves to ideas of national identity under huge pressure — which is exactly what the conflict in the show continuously ratchets up. So, we’ll see how he fares in season 2.

I’m not knowledgeable enough in LoL lore but I have a feeling this analysis would make Arcane Viktor Jewish and LoL Viktor a gentile.

[gatheredfates]

For the relationship ask thing: Kor & Alphinaud!

Have your followers send you NPCs and you describe your OC's feelings/relationship to that NPC! I have nothing to say except I went insane.

He is just a child.

She reminded herself of this fact through gnashed teeth and folded arms; he is just a child, he does not deserve your ire.

But Kor was very tired of children. She had only recently interred one to the sea — to the crabs, the fish and the three-day rot — and the arrogant intervention wore thin in the repetitive belief that Alphinaud knew better simply because he was the prodigal grandson of a man who gave his life to Eorzea. He intermingled with the potentate, both of city-states and non, and she watched with loosely contained annoyance how he prattled on.

But she watched. That was one thing the Captain was good at, she supposed — watching. Guarding. He monopolised it with lazy gestures and self-assured smiles, and she fell easily into the role of dog to its master. Not because she respected him exactly, but because it was all she knew. Because she couldn't be better.

Should she have said something? Should she have intervened? She saw the way they looked at him like he was a thing to be used, a stepping-stone to their aspirations, armies and Warrior of Light. When Ilberd glanced to her she could see intention in the edges of his easy smile, "Daughter of Ala Mhigo, don't you see the opportunity?"

If looks could kill she'd encase him in the amber of her eyes, right at the juncture where equitable manner bordered on ridicule.

Why didn't she? Because the last time she had said something, the last time she tried to intervene, it only sent the child running.

Right into the jaws of the deep.

He is just a child. He was tired. Alphinaud doesn't complain (perhaps he knew better the limits of her patience), but she could see the weariness in his eyes — exhaustion hugging the corners, hoping to fuse with the rest of the cold truths.

And they were cold. Not just of the temperature, for Ishgard was abysmally frigid, but of the loss of their comrades and the fall of their station; how their pedigree had diminished to the kindness of an foreign nation determined to arise from the ice, even if their sanctuary to accused murders might isolate them all over again.

Or heresy. Koret thought herself more superstitious than religious, though maybe it was all the same in the end. An offering to a deity, a prayer for good luck (give Llymlaen a Dagger just so she can throw it at the bastard again), click your heels three times or whatever-the-fuck. She wasn't praying to anyone when she rescued Tataru and he from the Tribunal. She only knew outrage and the acrid taste of bile in the back of her throat at the thought she could lose them too.

"Are you alright?" It was the first time she reached for him since the banquet, her fingers just a little too tight on the groove of his shoulder. Kor hadn't even thought about it, so natural was the movement, but when he jumped and fixed his gaze to her, she immediately knew her misstep.

"...I am fine, my friend," he answered, and before she could whip her hand away he had laid his own atop of it. They stood there for a far too long in their strange silence until Kor thought to squeeze once and finally relinquish her hold. She stepped back, awkward in her intimacy, and could not look directly in the eye.

"Good."

She soon realised he was learning the values of leadership, too. He saw them in Aymeric's careful navigation, Estinien's brute force and Ysyale's hope. All had their merits but all had their flaws. He internalised them and stepped carefully over the ruins of his mistakes until his friends were whole and hearty again.

Not a leader, just a comrade... a friend.

He is just a child, but fucking hell he's a clever one. Kor couldn't deny his intelligence, especially given what she knew of Sharlayan, but she was reminded of the old idiom of teaching a man to fish: teach a boy bureaucracy and he might become a man through it. Show him what it means to lead, to plan and to prepare; allow him the privilege of the floor, but be prepared to challenge him when he oversteps. Do not squander his inexperience, but allow innovation to bleed through tried methods.

Frankly, she appreciated his methodology, for it allowed her little room to think about herself. He was the enthusiastic foreigner, not the diaspora grasping at the hems of the little culture his father felt prudent to leave him. He could meet the gaze of M'naago, Lyse and Conrad instead of staring just a little too far to the left.

She only had the left these days. When she woke up screaming in the night, disorientated from a lack of vision, his were the hands intermingled among the many that grasped her frantic fingers. "You are safe," he reassured her, squeezing tightly in the din. "Koret, you are safe."

She wasn't sure she believed him, but it was comforting all the same. There was a familiarity in their company now, whether she liked it or not. Kor teased him for his whimsy and his innocence (the art, the sword — fuck, he was a terrible swimmer) while he offered wisdom beyond his years and a hope they could make a difference in the world.

So who was holding him — why did he need to be held? It was her job to protect him, her job to guard; she knew the job well well since the banquet, it was the one thing she was good at. Kor ran to him so desperately, wrenching his lifeless figure out of their arms as if her violence might be the one thing that would bring him back to her, yet his weight was like an anchor that pulled them roughly to the ground.

"Alphinaud!"

She cradled him, one hand in his hair while the other gripped him far too tightly, but he did not wake. Not even when she shook him, not even when the other Scions had to pull her from him, not even when her voice cracked in its snarl. "Wake up you fucking — WAKE UP!"

She wondered if he was a child in body only, given all the things he'd seen. Weeks for her was a whole year for him; a year of separation, strife and sorrow. Alphinaud was so infuriatingly formal when she found him, as if embarrassed by his failings on the Source, and balked when she wrapped her arms tight around him to prove to herself he was real.

"A-Are you alright?" By the navigator did she laugh! It was a desperate, pained sound, but how could she hope to encapsulate anger and relief in the same breath?

"Just dandy. Now shut up."

And he did, bless him. He hugged her tightly back.

She wanted... a lot of things then. Mostly she just wanted to apologise. She wanted to apologise for failing him and forcing him to this foreign world. She wanted to tell him that she was alright, even when she was igniting from the inside and spewing hot ichor across the floor.

Kor wanted to lie to him, but she was a terrible liar. When she writhed on the floor of the Crystarium, and the veins in her hands turned a vibrant gold, she wanted to scream that he was just a kid! He was a child discussing how much time she had left, contemplating how they might survive if she were to purify in front of them. He did not deserve it. Alisae did not deserve it. Ryne did not deserve it.

He had weathered the brunt of her suicidal ideation for far too long. Enough. Enough.

"If the fucking bastard is going to disown you, I'll just adopt you myself. It can't be that hard. You're like, what, seventeen —?"

The way Kor paused was enough to make them snort with laugher, so stunned was she that she rendered herself speechless. The Captain looked like she had swallowed a lemon, as if she only just became reacquainted with the passage of time, and her single eye narrowed to glare at the twins suspiciously.

"How old are you?"

"Literally or figuratively?" Alisaie asked, slicing through the tension of the hour with impish wit.

Koret Swan threw up her hands as she came to the horrific realisation they weren't really children anymore. But they were hers — they were her kids — and they only laughed harder despite it.

"I think I should like to watch you contemplate a bell longer," Alphinaud teased, that self-assured smile appearing when Alisaie snickered, and she had a mind to strange him anew.

"I think I should like to kick your arse," Kor answered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fuck me."

"Brother, we graduated! She swears openly in our company!"

Never mind, she was going to kick both their arses. They could be orphans.

The end of the universe was no place for anyone, least of all them. They held her hands in theirs, small when pressed against the leather of her gloves, and it was their steps that carried her to the precipice of apathy.

It wasn't that Kor would not continue (they had come so far, seen so much, done too much), but that she knew what taking those last few steps meant.

She thought she knew death a thousand times. She swore It was her friend when her sister died, a siren calling her so sweetly from the craggy rocks as it ushered her into the king-tide. It wore the faces of friends — occasionally her enemies if it suited — and soothed her aching bones when exhaustion became almost too much to bear. "There is a solution," it cooed, "if you're brave enough to take it."

No! She wanted to live! For fuck sake, she wanted to live — and she wanted them to live! She didn't want to walk towards the yawning void with its songbird's dead-eyed stare; she wanted to be home in Mor Dhona with the their annoying merrymaking and cheap, frothy beer. She didn't want to keep stepping over ground earned with her loved ones' lives while the Endsinger herself prised her ribcage higher with her butchers knife. I will take everything from you, and you will only know despair.

Kor did not feel worthy. Tears streaked her cheeks as she tried not to cry, and the tension in her jaw was excruciating when she stalled.

There was no bravery in death, but they were so brave. Alphinaud sensed her pause and took the first step forward, turning just enough to face her, and smiled as he squeezed her fingers in his.

"Come, my dearest friend," he softly encouraged, "There's not much farther left."

I love you, I love you, I love you. She wanted to tell them more than anything but her mouth would not make the sound. Instead, Kor looked to both of them, desperately trying to memorise every inch of their faces on the chance she might lose them forever. I love you. I don't want you to do this. I don't want to do this.

Acceptance was the swallow that felt like ingesting razor wire. When this was over she would bring them back, and she would give them everything.

They deserved everything.

Hence, she walked.