aaagustd · 3 days ago
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movie night | choi seungcheol (m)
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title: movie night pairing: seungcheol x (f)reader genre/rating: established relationship, pwp; 18+ summary: You’re definitely still mad at him, but he’s so hot. wc: 1.6k warnings: mentions horror movies and stuff, reader is trying to “i’m scared” her way into getting some dick, mentions periods/pms, kissing, missionary, makeup sex, big dick!cheol, unprotected sex, they’re so cute lol, i think that’s all note: i wrote this one day bc i was in my feelings lol. i hope you like this little october parting gift. it’s unedited bc i've been super busy so i apologize for my trash lol.
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“That’s not my scarecrow.”
You clutch your blanket close to your body as you sit surrounded by darkness on your living room couch. Your boyfriend, Seungcheol, is seated beside you. Although he’s only inches away it seems like you’re miles apart emotionally. 
There haven’t been too many words exchanged between you over the past few days. You can’t recall the subject of the argument, or the catalyst—but you’re days away from your period and if you’re being honest, deep down, you miss your man.
However, you’re as stubborn as they come. Hoisting your white flag isn’t an option for you. He’s usually the one who resolves these things. You can’t understand why all of a sudden he has to match your energy. He’s doing this on purpose to torture you.
As you stare at the screen, already knowing what is in store for the elderly woman with the shotgun in hand, mischief creeps its way into your mind—conjuring a sinister but genius plan to grant you some of your boyfriend’s attention. You’ve seen this movie more times than you can count, and have added it to your Top 10; but tonight, you’ll pretend it is too much for your poor little heart.
After the gunshots, the TV is dark and quiet, and then suddenly the lady appears. She comes closer and closer to her front porch, her cats screeching and scurrying in fear as they lay eyes on a sight not visible to the pair of stranded siblings and the movie viewers. You hold your breath, waiting for the perfect moment—and then, it happens.
The creature drops the woman’s limp body and reveals himself, leaving everyone shocked by the sudden character death. You pretend to be frightened by the jumpscare, purposefully shifting closer to Seungcheol as you bounce out of your seat with your false fear.
Instead of offering one of his strong arms for comfort, you’re given a cold side-eye, but the failed attention doesn’t falter your determination. You wait for another startling scene, and once again, you stage a dramatic reaction. This time, whether it’s out of annoyance or concern is unknown, he acknowledges you.
“Scared?”
Timidly, you offer a small nod. You secretly hope it is as feeble as you strived for it to be.
“Come here,” he beckons, opening his arms for you to come over and snuggle against his chest. 
You leap at the opportunity faster than you intended, but he either doesn’t notice or just chooses not to say anything. Once you’re next to him, head resting on his chest while your leg is thrown over his lap—he wraps his right arm around you and surrounds you with warmth. You smile, but only until the movie is over.
After about 30 minutes, the credits roll, and the movie is over. You stretch, knowing it’s time to go get some sleep because you have work in the morning. As you stand and start walking to your bedroom, you’re puzzled when you don’t hear the familiar sound of Seungcheol dragging his feet behind you. 
“You’re not coming?” you ask, turning around to see if there’s any sign of him preparing for bed.
Unfortunately, he seems comfortable where he is. It’s not like he has work tomorrow, like you. However, you always move to the bedroom at the same time. You’re taken aback by the random change of plans.
“Later.”
You hope the darkness conceals your disappointment. Tomorrow morning you’ll wake up horny, but you’ll probably die if someone touches you while you’re PMSing. You want to fuck now, so tomorrow your hormones won’t be all over the place, but you won’t ask. Your pride is too high.
“Okay. Well, goodnight.”
“Night, baby,” he replies, not even watching your defeated figure walk away.
Your legs carry you to your room and you fall on the bed face first, burying your head in the comforter to mask your sigh of frustration. You aren’t sure how long you lie there, but you begin to fall asleep. However, the sound of your boyfriend’s voice makes you jolt with surprise.
“Shit! What the fuck!”
His laughter fills the room, but you don’t find anything funny. He nearly scared your soul out of your body. You send a pillow flying towards his head.
“When did you become such a pussy?” he asks, catching the object in mid-air.
“Shut up, you just startled me.”
“Sure, I did. Did the movie startle you too?”
Rolling your eyes, you return your head to the covers, shielding yourself from his teasing. You don’t bother making room for him because you’re still a little pissed. You figure he’ll just leave you alone and sleep on the couch but then his cold fingertips touch the back of your thigh and your mood changes drastically.
They begin to travel across your exposed skin, eventually crawling under your large t-shirt, a “borrowed” item of his. You can only imagine the look on his face when he finds nothing but panties underneath. Sure, he knows how you sleep, but he probably wasn’t expecting you to dress so conveniently tonight.
You exhale a soft moan as his fingers tickle your inner thighs, and he’s quick to notice the way you’ve crumbled in a matter of seconds. 
“I mean… it’s okay to be scared, baby.”
“I’m not scared, asshole,” you mumble into the fabric. “Just go back to the—”
“Want me to ease your mind?” When silence falls over the room, he mistakes it for rejection and withdraws his hand. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” 
Your reaction leaves him smirking, but you don’t care how desperate you appear.
“No, come to bed,” you insist, grabbing his shirt. 
As he slips one of his arms around your waist you pull him closer, making his knees hit the edge of the bed.
“Is that what you want?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
It only takes seconds before your lips connect for a slow and gentle kiss. It’s a silent peace offering, a surrender to all the desires you both have held onto out of stubbornness. Seungcheol naturally gains all the control, using his dominance to take the lead. His confidence earns your submission, and you allow him to gently guide you back on the bed. 
Climbing on top of you, he can’t bear to pull away. He removes his shirt in a swift motion, tossing it across the room while he continues his trail of kisses down your neck. Your body arches off the bed as he removes your panties, aiding him by kicking your legs until they slip off your ankles. Once you are bare, you spread your legs for him and he settles between your thighs.
“Look at you,” he taunts, leaving you squirming beneath him. “Not so bratty now, huh?”
Seungcheol’s hand finally touches your pussy, leaving you gasping for air. Words get trapped in your throat, making you croak out responses to the pleasure you’re feeling between your legs.
“Please.”
Your begging grasps his attention and he pauses briefly to look into your eyes.
“What are you asking for?” 
He continues to slowly massage your clit, causing your crevice to become soaked with your arousal. You hear the lewd sounds it makes as he dips his fingers in and out of your heat. It’s almost shameful, but there’s no room for modesty in your bedroom.
“This,” you say clearly while your palm presses firmly against his crotch. His dick feels hard and solid; even through his thick sweatpants. You’re pleased to know you aren’t the only one eager for some relief. 
Seungcheol hisses in agony as your hand lazily strokes his sensitive length. His sculpted forearms tremble as he struggles to hold up his weight while watching the scene unfold. 
“I need it.”
In an instant, your wish is granted. He springs into action by standing up and pulling down his pants and underwear in one motion. You prop yourself on your elbows so you can watch the way his dick stands at attention, begging to fill your soddened center.
Seconds later, he returns, climbing on top of you and lowering his head. As you chase each other’s lips, you feel him near your opening. Your hips rise off the bed, trying to meet his tip so he can sink into your warmth. 
You gasp when he slips inside, relieved that the teasing is now over. Wrapping your limbs around his body, you pull him closer, wanting to feel his lips on you once more.
Your moans pour into each other’s mouths as your boyfriend begins fucking you with deep thrusts. You hold onto him tightly while he whispers the filthiest things in the sweetest ways you’ll ever hear.
He brings you closer and closer to your peak with every snap of his hips. The tension building in your core starts to become unbearable. Seungcheol can feel the way you’re clenching around him and delivers his final thrusts with precision.
As your cries of pleasure fill the dark bedroom, you can hear the neighbors banging on the wall. Both of you laugh, knowing a nasty note will be left on your door in the morning.
“Can you do me a favor?” he asks.
You nod, of course. “Anything.”
Feeling invincible in your post-orgasmic high, you’re ready to take on the world.
“The next time you wanna act scared, pick a movie you haven’t watched a thousand times.”
Instead of throwing another pillow at him, you smack him with it instead. He falls over dramatically, but his giggles can’t be controlled. You can only roll your eyes and take his advice. 
Damn. He knows you too well.
---
If anyone can guess which movie they were watching without using Google, I will hug you lol.
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cinnamorollcrybaby · 2 days ago
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Hello love!! How are you doing? 💕
I LOVE your works so much!! You are so amazing and talented!! I wanted to thank you for writing the 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 cursed technique Nanami fic, and especially not judging me for it 🫶🏽. I don’t know you but you seem like such a nice and cool person, with that being said… I was thinking about a fic I saw where Saturo Gojo got his wisdom teeth removed and he falls in love with you over again and I thought that would ADORABLE but with Kento 😭 (also I can’t remember who wrote the fic to give credit sorry) So like yeah Nanami would get his wisdom teeth removed and you’d take care of him and he would be such a charming man (he already is) but like just the most fluff thing he’d be like “you’re a very beautiful nurse” “I’m not a nurse but thank you” you feel me? Anyways that was it lol
Much love and take care!! 💗💗
(I don’t know what anon is 😅 is it like your followers cause I see request and people ask if they can be added as anon and I’m like so confused)
You’re my…. my wife?
Tags: Nanami x fem!Reader, established relationship, crack, fluff, suggestive at the end.
An: Hey Anon! Tysm for requesting again. I’m glad you liked the freaky energy fic!! Also, ofc I’ll never judge you for any fic idea (as long as it’s not like straight up deplorable with nasty kinks).
I hope it’s okay, but I changed this fic idea a little because I fear it was a bit too close to the original creator’s idea, and I don’t want to encroach on their idea. However, I hope the vibes are still there that you wanted!!
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Your normally strong, doting, intelligent husband has been reduced to a confused mess. Lying in the bed in the sterile infirmary, Shoko carefully monitors his vitals while Satoru recites exactly how it all happened for the nth time.
Your loving, sweet, charming husband was hit with a very specific cursed technique while he was out on a mission with Gojo. Luckily, he was physically unharmed and mostly mentally unharmed as well… except the cursed technique is one that messes with the memory.
The curse didn’t just want to kill Nanami; it wanted to break him. The curse robbed Nanami of his memory of his most precious moments: the one’s that included you.
His hazel eyes scanned the room, wondering why everyone was making such a big fuss over him. He was fine - really.
You sat beside his hospital bed, wanting to hold his hand, but you didn’t want to overwhelm him. Shoko said that his mind may be a bit fragile after having such a crucial part of his memory tampered with.
When his hazel eyes met yours, Nanami stared at you for a moment before shifting in his bed slightly. He looked to be uncomfortable with your sheer presence, which only broke your heart more.
“Were you hit with the cursed technique too?” He finally speaks, looking over at you with a bit of a confused look. He was really trying to piece together why you were here with him.
“Oh, um… no..” You quietly respond with a forced smile. Your heart longed for your husband, and he was right here but he wasn’t your husband.
“Forgive me… Are you Shoko’s apprentice..?” He tries once again to remember. He’s seen your face before. Maybe in a different lifetime.
Satoru and Shoko are silent as they both witness what’s going on between you and Nanami. Holding their breaths, they’re hopeful that he’ll regain his memory at some point. The curse couldn’t just extract memories. As Shoko explained it, the curse probably just kept the memories hidden from Nanami. Your husband will probably slowly start to remember you over time.
“No… I’m not Shoko’s apprentice.” You politely answer again. As bittersweet as this is, it’s certainly a cute scene to see Kento trying to make conversation with you.
“Hm.” He hums to himself quietly before he gazes at you again. His hand combs through his hair, trying to fix it up from lying in the hospital bed, and Satoru quietly snickers.
“Trying to look good for her, Nanamin?” He teases lightheartedly, earning a death glare from your husband. You softly giggle too, realizing what’s going on. Your poor husband isn’t uncomfortable with your presence. He’s nervous.
“Don’t be crude, Satoru. There’s a lady in the room.” He huffs, shaking his head at Satoru’s audacity.
“Aww, thank you, Nanami.” Shoko grins, subtly playing along with Satoru’s tactic.
“I wasn’t talking about you.” Nanami responds flatly before his eyes shift to you in another “secretive” glance, except everyone notices how he keeps looking at you. Your husband can’t keep his eyes off of you.
“I.. apologize for being a bit forward, but do you think we could…” His eyes flicker down to the wedding band that’s proudly sat upon your finger. His face subtly drops to a disappointed look. “Ah, I see. forget what I was saying.”
Shoko and Satoru are nearly losing it. The irony that Nanami is disappointed that he can’t ask you out because you’re married to him is hilarious. You give them a look, and they both quickly excuse themselves from the room, so they can go laugh together.
Once the two are finally out of the room, you smile softly before placing your hand over your husband’s, using your thumb to gently stroke the back of his hand. He looks at you with an unsure look, but he doesn’t remove his hand. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows harshly.
“If you were my wife, I wouldn’t like you touching another man like that…” He mutters quietly, causing you to softly giggle.
“Well, it’s a good thing I am your wife.” You finally reveal to him, unable to keep the secret any longer.
Nanami’s eyes widen, and he looks at you with sparkling eyes but also utter confusion written all over his face. His heart is racing in his chest. The heart monitor starts to beep at a more pressured pace. The pretty woman that has been sitting next to him is his wife…?
“You’re my… my wife?” He asks quietly.
“Mhm.” You hum in agreement before lacing your fingers with his. Your wedding band rubs against his. Both of the gems were cut from the same diamond. His eyes then focus on the joining of your hands, and he notices it too. “We’ve been married for a few years now.” You explain in a calm tone, trying to ease him into the idea of it all.
“I… I’m sorry… I don’t-“ Nanami is rarely off kilter like this, but he’s just trying to wrap his head around it all. You’re his wife… You’re his wife. “I’m sorry- I just can’t seem to remember…”
“It’s okay, Ken. Take your time.” You encourage as you rub on his hand gently.
His eyes fall to his lap, and a small smile curls on his lips. He may not completely comprehend what’s going on, but he knows in his very soul that he’s the luckiest man alive because you’re his wife.
Watching Ken fall in love with you all over again and rediscover all his daily pleasures was a treat. He slowly regained his memory over time: prompted by his senses randomly picking up on familiar sighs, smells, or even tastes.
Ken didn’t only fall in love with you all over again. He fell in love with the life he cultivated with you again. He found himself laughing a bit harder. He squeezed you a bit tighter. He lounged in bed for an extra ten minutes in the morning time to bask in your presence.
Oh, and that’s not to mention the literal tears he cried the first time he felt your cherished cunt after the incident. The way you squeezed around him so intensely… the way it’s so fucking wet — greedily sucking him in… Goddamn, he’s so lucky to have you.
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pastabaguette · 6 hours ago
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colored the little comic, since i felt like it. more doodles too. sorry that they’re in a different art style in each image. i don’t know what happened.
i’m trying to work out dialogue and how each of them talk, so sorry if it’s a bit clunky. keep in mind, though, that they aren’t supposed to be EXACTLY like the trolls’. i’m trying to make them a bit different.
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shybluebirdninja · 3 days ago
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Haunted House Hero
Summary: Logan tries to be brave in a haunted house attraction but freaks out more than you do at the jump scares.
Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Gf!Reader
Note                : fluff
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You wrap your arms around yourself, the leather jacket Logan bought you last year doing its best to keep the cold out.
Logan’s beside you, wearing his usual flannel, sleeves rolled up like he’s immune to the cold, even though you know he feels it. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, and he's been grumbling about this haunted house since you both got in line.
“They better have somethin’ scary in there. Not some cheap-ass jump scares,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, the way it always is when he’s trying to act like he doesn’t care.
You stifle a laugh, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh, come on, babe. It’ll be fun. Maybe they’ll actually get you to flinch for once.”
He glances down at you, eyes narrowing, but there’s a glint of amusement there. “Me? Flinch? Yeah, right. These places don’t scare me. It’s all fake.”
You grin, leaning into his side a little. “Sure, sure. You’re the big, bad Wolverine. Nothing scares you.”
He grunts, clearly not convinced by the haunted house’s ability to impress him, but there’s a hint of nervous energy in the way he shifts his weight from foot to foot as you approach the entrance.
The door swings open with a loud creak, and the two of you step inside. The air changes immediately—stuffy, thick with the smell of fog machines and something vaguely like burnt wood.
It’s dark, too, except for the occasional dim flicker of fake candles and red lights illuminating the path ahead. The place is eerily quiet, save for the distant sound of chains clinking and faint screams.
Logan rolls his shoulders back, pretending like he’s unfazed, but his hand brushes against yours, and you can feel the tension there.
“Stick close, babe. Don’t want you getting lost in here,” he says, even though you know he’s the one who needs a little reassurance.
You bite back a grin. “You mean you don’t want to get lost.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes a step forward, leading the way. His body moves with purpose, like he’s walking into some kind of battle, not a cheesy haunted attraction. His flannel sways slightly with each step, and you can see the way his muscles tense under the fabric.
You both turn a corner, and the hallway suddenly gets narrower. The walls close in, decorated with fake cobwebs and plastic skeletons, and you can feel Logan’s posture change—he’s bracing himself, even though he’d never admit it. His breathing’s a little heavier, and you can tell he’s hyper-aware of every creak, every distant sound.
That’s when the first scare hits.
A figure jumps out from behind a hidden door, dressed in tattered clothes, face covered in white makeup, screaming right in Logan’s face.
“Fuck!” Logan shouts, jumping back, his hand instinctively shooting out to grab your arm. His reflexes are faster than the scare actor’s, and for a second, he looks like he’s ready to take the poor guy down.
You burst out laughing, holding onto Logan’s arm to steady yourself. “Oh my god, Logan, did you just—”
“Shut up,” he growls, trying to play it off like it didn’t just happen. He straightens up, taking a deep breath, and glares at the actor who’s already slinking back into the shadows. “They’re lucky I didn’t pop claws.”
Your stomach hurts from laughing so hard, and you have to take a deep breath to calm down. “Sure, babe. Sure. No claws in the haunted house.”
Logan mutters something under his breath, still clearly irritated that he got caught off guard, and continues down the path, but his hand hasn’t left your arm since the scare. His grip’s not tight, just…there. Steadying himself, maybe, or making sure you don’t pull any pranks on him.
As you walk further in, the air gets colder. It’s like they’ve cranked up the AC to make it feel more like an actual haunted mansion, and the temperature drop has Logan rubbing the back of his neck, trying to shake off the chill.
You’re halfway through the house when a low moaning sound echoes through the hallway. Logan stops in his tracks.
“Babe,” he says, his voice quieter now, like he’s actually starting to buy into the atmosphere. “Did you hear that?”
You can’t help the mischievous smile that spreads across your face. “What? You scared?”
He shoots you a look, but before he can respond, another figure leaps out from the shadows. This one’s dressed like some sort of ghoul, with glowing red eyes and a mask that looks a little too realistic. Logan jumps again, but this time, instead of swearing, he just wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him.
“I wasn’t scared,” he says quickly, his breath a little uneven. “Just…protecting you.”
You rest your head on his shoulder, grinning like an idiot. “Oh, yeah? Is that why you almost punched that ghost?”
He doesn’t answer, just keeps walking, but you can feel his arm stay around you, like he’s not taking any chances.
The rest of the haunted house is full of the usual jump scares—screaming clowns, sudden loud noises, and creepy dolls—but Logan’s reactions are priceless every time. He tries to act tough, like he’s not affected, but the way his shoulders jump or how his grip on you tightens tells a different story.
By the time you both reach the exit, you’re practically leaning on him from laughing so hard. Logan pushes open the door, and the cool night air hits you both like a welcome relief.
He stops just outside, letting go of you for a second to rub the back of his neck again, looking almost sheepish.
“You gonna make fun of me for this all night, aren’t you?” he asks, glancing down at you with that familiar gruff expression, but there’s a softness behind it.
You smile up at him, sliding your hand into his. “Nah, babe. I’ll give you a break. For now.”
He grunts in response, but there’s a hint of a smirk on his lips as he pulls you closer, his arm slipping around your shoulders again as you start to walk back toward the parking lot.
“Next year, though, we’re doing somethin’ with actual danger. No more of this fake shit.”
“Whatever you say, babe.”
But deep down, you both know you’re coming back next year.
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wonderjanga · 2 days ago
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When Billy was a Newbie
I like to think some of these scenarios happened when Billy was first starting out as a hero.
Villain: *monologging*
Marvel: *doesn’t even let them finish and socks the shit out of them and takes them to the police department*
This happens a good twenty times until one villain has enough.
Villain: *monologging*
Marvel: *about to attack while they’re talking*
Villain: “OKAY WAIT WAIT WAIT, STOP RIGHT THERE YOU BASTARD.”
Marvel: *stops, confused*
Villain: “I know you’re new to this whole thing, but you do realize you’re supposed to let us monologue and tell you our evil plan, right?! You’re not supposed to cut us off!”
Marvel: “I’m not?”
Villain: “No!”
Marvel: “Oh. I’m sorry about that, Mx. Supervillain. I’ll let you and the other ones talk next time.”
Villain: “Wait, really?”
After this, he actually does end up letting them talk and all that.
I also think something like this would happen when he was getting used to fighting crime.
Marvel: *throws one of the big blue mail boxes at some low level, human, emphasis on human, crooks* “Oh… my bad, guys! I was a little too harsh.”
Crooks: *severely injured* “What do you mean ‘your bad’?!?????? That was a little more than harsh!”
Then, there’s the fact I think he wouldn’t care about where he’s saving people. By that I mean, Billy has a lot of free time because he doesn’t go to school. Because of this, you’ll casually see Captain Marvel in flipping Milwaukee helping some people who got into a car crash, then in Orlando helping out with a fire, then in San Jose helping someone who lost their dog. Point is, if there’s someone to help out, he’ll help. Through this, he met Superman actually. Funnily enough, it was while holding up a building.
Marvel: *holding up a building*
Supes: *flies down* “You’re Captain Marvel, right?”
Marvel: “Huh? Uh yeah?” *looks over Superman, seeing his suit and thinking he’s another hero (Billy doesn’t know most heroes because this was when the time bubble recently popped)
Supes: “You need a hand with that?”
Marvel: “Yes, please.”
Supes and Marvel: *work together to move the building to somewhere safe so it won’t hurt anyone*
Marvel: “Thanks.”
Supes: “No problem.”
*awkward silence*
Supes: “If I can ask, what brought you to Metropolis?”
Marvel: “I’m here to fight crime…?” *says like it’s super obvious*
Supes: “Wha? Don’t you have your own city?”
Marvel: “I mean, I guess. Fawcett isn’t really my city though. I just protect it.”
Supes: *blanking and trying to come up with something to say* “Captain, you can’t just go around in other hero’s cities and fight crime for them. It’s a breach of territory.”
Marvel: “It is?”
Supes: “Yes, it is. Honestly, I’m just happy you didn’t do this in Gotham. Batman would’ve been furious.”
Marvel: “Oh. Okay then… so just stick to cities that don’t have heroes?”
Supes: “Well, I guess but don’t you normally-”
Marvel: *beaming smile* “I appreciate the advice, Mr. Superman.”
Supes: “Your…welcome? Wait, what do you mean ‘stick to the cities that don’t have heroes’?”
Marvel: “Oh, well, when crimes slow and nothing’s going on in Fawcett, I kind of just fly around everywhere looking for stuff to do. Just the other day I helped these two old, farmer people, husband and wife, lift their tractor out of some mud.”
Supes: *a little astounded he has that much time on his hands* “Really? Where was that?”
Marvel: “Kansas. I think the town they lived in was Smallville or something?”
Supes: *nearly shits himself* “Ah… I see.”
Then there was the time he met a random Green Lantern. He had no idea what the Lantern Corp were, but any information Solomon gave him made them sound cool though. But you want to know the worst part of this interaction? The Lantern was trying to give Marvel a ring.
Random GL (RGL): *talking about how he wanted to give Billy the ring and yadayadayada*
Marvel: *not even listening due to the Gods talking a whole lot*
Mercury: “BILLY STEAL THE RING!”
Marvel: *saying this out loud* “What? What ring?”
RGL: *confused, says something Billy isn’t paying attention to*
Mercury: “THE RING ON HIS FINGER. KEEP UP WITH THE PROGRAM.”
Marvel: *still talking out loud* “Oh okay okay… how do I do that?”
Solomon: “You are supposed to use your will.”
Marvel: “Huh? Solomon there’s no way that’ll wor…” *trails off as he wills the ring off the lantern’s finger* “I take back what I said.”
RGL: *starts to fall*
Marvel: “Holy moly!” *rushes down to catch him*
RGL: “Earthling what the hell is wrong with you?! Why would you do that??!?”
Marvel: “I’m sorry! The voices has told me to.” *gives them back their ring*
RGL: *flies off grumbling how he’s a psychopath*
Then there was when Marvel joined the Justice League. When he got the communicator, he put it in his pocket dimension and promptly forgot about it.
Marvel: “The Justice League hasn’t contacted me. I wonder if I’ve done something wrong…”
Meanwhile…
Batman: “This is like the third meeting he’s missed, Clark.”
Supes: “I know, I know! I’m sorry! He didn’t seem like the type to skip out on meetings. He talked like he had a bunch of free time.”
WW: “You should go talk to him. You are the one who invited him.”
Supes: *sighs* “I will.”
Back in Fawcett…
Marvel: *helping a cat down from a tree*
Supes: *flies down when he sees him* “Captain! Can we talk?”
Marvel: *hands cat back to its owner* “Mr. Superman. Of course! I’ve actually had something I’ve been meaning to talk about with you too.”
Supes: “Right, well I guess I’ll cut straight to the point. Is there a reason you haven’t shown up to the last meetings?”
Marvel: *stares at him with the most confused face* “Meetings?”
Supes: *confused at Billy’s confusion* “Yes? You get notified on your comm about them.”
Marvel: “Comm… Comm?” *thinking face before recognition flits across his face* “Wait, this thing?” *reaches hand into pocket dimension and pulls out his JL comm*
Supes: *slightly horrified when he saw his arm disappear for a moment* “Yeah. That.”
Marvel: *taps comm and sees over 45 unread notifications* “Oh.”
Supes: *wondering how in the world Marvel never checked his comm* “Oh indeed.”
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emmyrosee · 2 days ago
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*hoping this is the inbox lol
I’d like to request something for Bakugo, if you haven’t done something similar already!
the scenario could be something like, the reader is on her way home at nighttime to their + Bakugo’s shared apartment and she starts to feel like someone (or a villain) is following her, so she starts trying to subtly contact him (before the villain knows she’s onto them) and eventually needs to start calling/running because the follower/villain is directly starting to attack.
Bakugo could probably be waiting for the reader to get back home and wondering why they’re taking so long, or also on his way back from work as he gets the messages. Reader may/may not get hurt or taken, lol.
but yeah overall, I am in my feels for dramatic and protective Bakugo 🤧 sorry if it sounds too specific, I’m not holding ya to that at all, just sharing the overall idea and would love to see your take!
I hope you have a great day/evening!!
tw // insinuated attacks with NO intense details, angst, dangerous situations, no comfort.
———-
SENT please, for the love of all that is holy, answer me
katsuki im so scared rn Please
im sorry about earlier
But now is not the time to be petty
Katsuki please
Please
whatever happens I love you
I love you so much
you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me.
You’d gotten into a fight this morning.
It was over something minuscule, about throwing away the empty cartons of milk, but apparently it was more than enough to upset Katsuki to the point of silencing your notifications. It had been building up for weeks, little jabs here and there until of course, this morning.
But now’s not a good time for him to not take the high road.
Not when there’s someone only twenty paces behind you, walking step for step with you. Fear grips your heart as you try to muster the courage to face them, so you keep your head down and spam Katsuki with as many messages as your fingers can.
Every once in a while, they clear their throat, just to remind you that they’re there, they’re right behind you and dare you to say or do anything to make them pounce. You don't want to risk it, not when there's no one around to help you. No witnesses, no cameras you know of, nothing to keep you any semblance of safe, only you and your mental gymnastics of debating on confronting the culprit head on, or continue this predator and prey game. You could duck in this little alcove, the alleyway adjacent to you, in an attempt to get away.
You clear your throat. You spin on your heel.
“Is there a problem?”
You choose to face the situation, heart beating faster than an engine, and hands clenched into fists. You wait for your phone to do something, vibrate, chime, ring, anything. But nothing happens.
Katsuki isn’t coming.
The terror looks at you and shrugs, “no, no problem. Why?”
“Because you are directly behind me, breathing down my neck.”
“I was trying to go around you,” they say simply.
You furrow your brows and clench your fists, “then fucking walk around me. Go.” You step to the side and extend your arm out, gesturing them to keep walking. “Go. Go around.”
They click their tongue and shake their head, taking strides to get past you, with their hands jammed into their pockets. You watch with frightened eyes as they approach, ready to fight back when need be.
They pause right in front of you. Your heart leaps in your chest.
“Ain’t anyone ever taught you beware of alleys?”
The world slows down as you watch a massive hand dart up to your face, grabbing your maw and forcing you in the alley, keeping you from screaming. They jam you deeper inside, and your vision blurs with tears of fear as the streetlights grow smaller the farther they move you into the alley.
Your phone clatters to the ground as your adrenaline kicks up, and bile rises in your throat.
This is it, isn’t it?
bk 🩵 the fuck?
What’re you on about?
Why’re you scared?
Im with deku, my phone was off
What the fuck
No, you’re going to answer me
Right now.
You think I’m playing?
Where are you
Babe, please
You’re scaring me
I love you. I’m sorry I yelled
But you need to answer me
You’re okay you’re fine we’re fine
We’re on our way I got your location
Stay put. Don’t you fucking move
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hoe4hotchner · 2 days ago
Note
heyy can you write about hotch being protective of oblivious reader when the officer of the local police they’re working at is hitting on her and being a little too stubborn and when she finally catch on one time when she had been left to work on the case at the station with whoever you want and the officer get them alone and she get uncomfortable and hotch show up 🙏🏽 you can make it gn thank you if you write it !!
Boundaries | [A.H]
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Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | WC: 0.7k | CW: harassment
A/N: This was so fun to write despite the stupid officer harassing r. I would like to kick his head in ;)
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You were sitting at a desk, sifting through files when Officer Daniels approached you again. He’d been lingering around your workspace for days, offering to “help” and making casual comments you didn’t quite catch onto. You just assumed he was trying to be friendly.
“Need any help with that?” He leaned on the desk, his voice smooth as he looked down at you with a grin that made your stomach twist a little. You glanced up, offering him a polite smile.
“No, thank you. I’ve got it under control.” You refocused on the file in front of you, missing the way his eyes lingered on you.
Hotch had been observing from across the room narrowed his eyes. He had noticed Daniels’ behavior from the start, and it irked him. You were oblivious to it, brushing off the officer’s attempts, but Hotch saw it for what it was: an overstepping of boundaries - of your boundaries. His jaw tightened as he watched the officer lean in closer to you.
He approached then, clearing his throat. Daniels straightened, but the smug smile never left his face.
“Agent, I need you to come with Dr. Reid and me to the crime scene,” Hotch said, his voice calm but firm, his gaze never leaving officer Daniels. You nodded, gathering the files and following him out, completely unaware of the subtle tension between the two men.
Over the next couple of days, Daniels' advances didn’t slow down, but you remained too focused on the case to realize what was going on. Hotch, however, became more protective, sticking close by whenever Daniels was in the vicinity. You didn’t question it, but you noticed he seemed more on edge than usual.
One afternoon, Hotch left you at the station to work with Morgan while he followed a lead. Officer Daniels took the opportunity to corner you while you were alone in a small office near the back of the station.
“You’ve been working hard. How about I take you out for dinner later? You could use a break,” Daniels suggested, his tone made you uncomfortable. His body blocking the exit, and suddenly, you realized what had been happening all this time. The flirtatious comments, the lingering touches - it all clicked, and a knot of anxiety formed in your chest.
You swallowed hard, trying to remain polite. “Uh, no, thank you. I’m not really interested.”
“Oh, come on,” Daniels pressed, stepping closer, his smile widening. “You’ve been here for days. I’ve been nothing but nice. You owe me at least a drink.”
Your heart raced, and you backed up instinctively, your eyes darting to the door. “I don’t owe you anything,” you said, your voice shaky now. Panic was starting to creep in, but just as Daniels took another step closer, the door swung open with a force that made it slam against the wall.
Hotch stood in the doorway, his eyes locking onto Daniels. His expression was deadly calm, but the tension radiating from him was palpable.
“Step away from her,” Hotch ordered his voice low a low growl. Daniels immediately froze, the smugness draining from his face as Hotch advanced into the room.
Daniels hesitated, clearly debating whether to argue, but one look at Hotch’s cold, unwavering stare made him rethink it. He stepped back, hands raised in mock surrender. “I was just talking to her, no harm in that.”
“There is when it’s unwelcome,” Hotch snapped, his gaze never leaving Daniels. “You’re done here. Get out.”
Daniels shot you one last glance before leaving the room, muttering something under his breath as he passed Hotch. The door clicked shut, and the silence that followed was thick with the remnants of tension.
Hotch turned to you, his expression softening as he stepped closer. “Are you okay?” His voice was gentle now, his hand reaching out to rest on your arm.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just… I didn’t realize until just now what he was doing.” You shook your head, feeling foolish for not catching on sooner.
“It’s not your fault,” Hotch said, his voice firm but reassuring. “Some people take advantage of kindness. I should’ve intervened sooner.”
You met his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through you at the concern in his eyes. “Thank you,” you whispered, grateful for his presence. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up.”
Hotch gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You never have to worry about that. I’ll always be here.”
With that, he led you out of the small office, his hand resting protectively on the small of your back as you walked down the hall, a sense of safety settling over you that you hadn’t felt before.
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thebigbadbatswife · 2 days ago
Text
OCT 29th - Sex Pollen
Pairing - Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader
Title - What Happens In The Safehouse...
Summary - During a mission, you come in contact with a strange substance and the only person around that can help you with the effects is Ghost.
Warnings - Sex Pollen, Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Simultaneous Orgasm, Military Inaccuracies. (If I missed anything lmk!)
Word Count - 3.4k
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You feel strange. Really strange. It’s not a good type of strange either. Not that you would have been expecting to feel any type of strange while on mission. Especially while on a mission with your Lieutenant. 
Captain Price had assigned both of you to this mission, and only you two, in an attempt to get you to learn to work together. After all, it was no secret that Ghost had not been happy about your assignment to the 141 taskforce. It had worked and hadn’t worked, at the same time. 
While you were working seamlessly with each other, quickly dispatching enemies side by side and wordlessly following his orders. Over comms, you were both still taking every opportunity you could to dig at each other. With that aside, it was a rather simple mission. Secure the illegal weapons shipment before it could trade enemy hands.
Securing it hadn’t been an issue. The group guarding it had been small and they had been easily taken out. The only issue was that the crates weren’t filled with guns. When Ghost had crowbarred one of them open, a cloud of white dust had puffed up into the air. 
Is that why you’re feeling so strange? Is whatever that powder was, affecting you? 
You can feel your heart beat slowly starting to thump hard and fast against your chest despite the fact that you’re currently sat down on a wooden crate. And it feels like it’s getting harder to breathe, but not in the panic attack type of way. It’s in the “I’m getting way too hot and there’s nothing I can really do about it underneath all of this gear” type of way. 
If this is that powder affecting you, then why isn’t it affecting Ghost? He was the closest to the dust cloud considering that he had opened the crate to begin with. Right now he’s pacing just ahead of you, talking to who you’re assuming is the Captain, on comms. You’re not tuned into whatever station they’re using so you don’t know what they’re saying. 
What you do know is that you are starting to desperately want to be out of your clothes because of how uncomfortable they’re starting to get. Which definitely isn’t normal. 
Before you can contemplate it, Ghost is roughly pulling you up onto your feet. The grip he has on your arm is bruising. 
“We’re headed back to the safehouse,” he states.
“What about–” 
“Captain Price is sendin’ Soap and Gaz to secure it. Both he and Laswell doubt that the Russians will be able to get any reinforcements here before they arrive. And we’ve been given orders to leave.”
You nod. If the orders are coming from the Captain… and if it’s to do with that powder. What the hell have you inhaled? 
When you move to follow him, you become aware of just how soaked your underwear is. And not because of how much you’re currently sweating. You take a deep breath and do your best to ignore it. When you’re back in the safehouse, you’ll have a chance to check yourself over and try and figure out what exactly is going on. Here, you can’t do a damn thing. Especially in front of your Lieutenant.
With the way the fabric moves as you walk, rubbing against your extremely sensitive clit, you have to bite your tongue, to the point you taste blood, to stop any sort of sound leaving you. And things only get worse once you get into the car.
Ghost has never been very good when it comes to driving, but somehow he seems to have got even worse. He manages to hit every bump and pothole, which is making it harder and harder for you to stay quiet as they go straight to your core. You almost think that he’s doing it on purpose, but considering that his driving isn’t all that straight either, you can’t help, but think that whatever the hell that stuff was, it must be affecting him as well. 
As soon as the car pulls up to the safehouse, you’re out of the car before he’s even stopped it fully. You don’t care how strange or weird it looks. You beeline for the bathroom as it’s the only place in this safehouse that will give you an semblance of privacy, as the rest of the place is open plan. 
You lock the door behind you and immediately start removing your gear, as fast as you possible again. In all honestly, you’ve never removed your gear so fast or efficiently before. Though, usually, you’re back on base, exhausted after a gruelling mission, which leaves you fumbling with the various straps and clips. Right now you’re super focused on the task at hand and before you know it your gear is hitting the bathroom floor with a thud. Your boots and clothing are quick to follow.
Your underwear is absolutely drenched in your slick. As are the insides of your thighs. Your clit is swollen, peaking out from your hood, shiny from your arousal and begging to be touched. 
Chucking the ruined clothing to the side, you bring two of your fingers to your clit. Your body jolts as you gasp as the lightest of touches almost has you cumming right then and there. You pull your hand away and grip the sides of the sink, taking a deep breath as you try to regain control over whatever the hell is going on with your body.
You catch sight of yourself in the mirror. Your hair’s a mess and your body is slick with sweat like you have just run a marathon. Not to mention how fucking horny you’re starting to feel. With nothing around to distract you, like trying to hide your condition from Ghost, you’re now fully aware of it. 
You’re growing desperate to touch yourself and fuck yourself with your own fingers. So much so that the longer you go without doing that, things are actually starting to grow painful for you. 
Maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s the fix. An orgasm. If you’re experimental touch is anything to go by it won’t take you long to reach it. You’re only problem will be trying to stay silent. On the other side of the bathroom’s door you can hear Ghost moving around. It sounds like he’s freeing himself from his own gear, which means he’ll be checking his guns not long afterwards. He won’t even be paying attention to what you’re doing in here. 
Taking another deep breath, you bring your fingers down to your clit once more. 
It’s a fight for you to keep silent as you touch yourself. Your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you rub tight circles against your clit. You expect some sort of relief, but there is no relief. The more that you touch yourself the more that 
it seems to hurt. At the same time you can’t stop. You need to touch yourself. It’s the only thing that you’re capable of focusing on.
Soon enough touching just your clit isn’t enough anymore. Your cunt squeezes around nothing, begging to be filled. Your mind drifts to thought of Ghost and how the only thing between the two of you is a door. It’s no secret that he’s packing, at least that’s what the rumours across the base suggest. The thought of his cock and how good it would feel inside of you.
You know that you shouldn’t be thinking about your Lieutenant like this. He’s your CO. Not to mention how much you can’t stand him. Even if he wasn’t your CO, he’s not someone you would think about taking to bed because of how much he pisses you off.
You do your best to push any thoughts of him and his cock out of your head and push three of your fingers inside of your needy hole. For a brief moment you finally feel some form of relief. Which almost has you moaning loudly, but the sound of footsteps reminds you that you’re not alone and you keep your teeth in your bottom lip. The pain from before returns as you fuck yourself and you can only hope an orgasm gives you a more permament form of relief.
The squelch of your fingers in your pussy is loud in the enclosed space and you can only hope that the walls aren’t so thin that Ghost can hear what you’re doing.
With a combination of your fingers inside of you and your free hand rubbing your clit, it really doesn’t take you very long to reach your climax. Relief floods through you as your body clamps down onto your digits. You ride out the aftershocks before finally pulling your fingers out and grip the sides of the sink again, panting heavily.
Your body is shaking as you come down from your high. Is that it? Is it finally over with? 
Just as you begin thinking that you must be in the clear, the need and the pain that comes with that need comes back tenfold. You whimper. When will this stop?
Several hard knocks at the door catches your attention. Ghost.
His voice is as rough as ever as he calls out your callsign, but it also sounds extremely strained. The thoughts you had back in the car come back to you and you wonder if he’s being as affected by whatever the hell that stuff is as well. He must be, right? He was the one that had opened the crate and therefore had had that cloud of dust puff up right into his face. 
“It hurts, Ghost,” you call back. There’s no point in hiding it any longer. He’s definitely already heard what you’re doing in here and if he hasn’t, he’s still under the same influence that you are.
“I know it does,” he replies. “Got us both in a bit of bother, haven’t I?” 
Yeah, he has. At the same time it’s not entirely his fault. The intel said it was guns in those crates. There was nothing about any sort of drug being inside of them. If he hadn’t opened the crates, you would have.
“Laswell’s intel says we’ve got one of two ways of dealin' with it,” he continues.
“Which are?” You really hope that means that there’s some form of antidote and that Laswell not only knows where it is, but she’s sending someone to go and get it.
“We wait it out.” 
That one is definitely not a option. You feel like you might go mad if you have to wait it out. No, you’re still holding out for that antidote.  “Or?” 
“We shag.”
He’s so blunt about it that you almost want to laugh. As well as at the entire situation itself. Of course those are the only two ways to deal with this. You want to scream. 
“There��s no antidote?” you ask.
“As far as we know, no there's not. Guessing neither option takes your fancy?”
“No, but since I have to pick, at least option two won’t make me go crazy.”
“You sure? Don’t want you to feel forced.” 
“I’m not feeling forced to do anything,” you reply. And it’s the truth. Shagging Ghost, funnily enough, is the most appealing of the two options you both have. You have already been fingering yourself to the thought of him taking you and he’s clearly not against the idea. “But only if you’re as naked as I am.” Which you think is more than fair. Though you seriously doubt he’ll ever take the balaclava off. He never does. 
He huffs a laugh. “Give me a minute, yeah?” 
You hear the rustling of clothing, followed by the same thud of gear hitting the floor. Soon enough, he raps his knuckles against the door again, letting you know he’s finished undressing. Taking a shaky breath, you move away from the sink, unlock the door and step back. 
The door swings open and you’re met with the sight of Ghost’s naked body. He’s fit. As soon as that thought enters your head, you’re immediately telling yourself that it’s the drug. Especially as your eyes follow the dark hair that leads from his belly button down to where his cock stands proudly, the head purpling from the lack of attention. Your pussy throbs at the sight of it and all you can think about is how good it’s going to feel when he’s finally inside of you.
“Eyes are up here, Sergeant.” 
“Could say the same to you, L.T,” you reply as your eyes finally meet his. He’s also been blatantly checking you out as well, his eyes lingering on a knife scar on your hip.
“You sure you still want to do this?” he asks. 
“Yes.” Your reply comes out far faster than you meant for it to. He chuckles, stepping forward as he pulls the balaclava up just enough to reveal his lips.
His large hand comes up to cup your face and keep your head titled up to look at him. He surprises you with a kiss. It’s far more gentler than you thought it would be. Everything about Ghost screams rough and harsh so you certainly weren’t expecting this, but it’s very much welcomed. You surrender yourself entirely to him, letting him take control. 
Ghost directs you backwards until your back is pressed up against the cold tiled wall. Goosebumps radiate across your skin and your nipples pebble as you gasp at the sudden temperature change. He takes advantage of it and pushes his tongue into your mouth. 
Your nails dig into his shoulders as he presses his body against yours. You can feel his cock pressing against your skin and it has your body screaming for him to stop kissing you and fuck you already. You break the kiss, gasping for air.
“Please,” you whimper. As of right now you don’t care how needy and pathetic you’re starting to come off as. You expect him to tease you, but he must be as desperate and needy as you because he does nothing of the sort.
Instead he effortlessly lifts you up and enters you with a single thrust. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you pussy squeezes his cock as you cum only from the feeling of him filling you up. Ghost groans deeply, the feeling of your cunt tightening around him almost having him blow his load. 
“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, his grip on you almost bruising. “You’re wound up really fuckin’ tight, huh?”
There’s no opportunity for you to answer, not that you could form words anyway, the feeling of his cock deep inside of you rendering your brain to mush. He doesn’t even give you time to recover from such a sudden orgasm as he begins to slowly pull out. Once again you expect him to be rough with you. To take you hard and fast as he gives into the need burning through his body. 
He pushes back in just as slowly, taking some time to build up his pace. Showing a level of restraint that both surprises you and doesn’t surprise you at the same time. He’s doing his best not to hurt you. Which you think is nice of him, but at the same time you’re not sure if it’s even going to be worth the effort. You are almost positive that once this is all over you’re likely not going to be able to walk straight for at least a week.
As he fucks you, Ghost starts kissing you again. He swallows your moans as your tongues invade each other’s mouths. You really don’t want him to ever stop.
With the position that he has you in, there’s not really much for you to do other than hold on and enjoy the ride. Which is absolutely fine by you. Already you can feel another orgasm quickly building up as his cock hits against a sweet spot deep inside of you that has your toes curling and nails digging into the meat of his shoulders and back each time he hits it.
“Fuck, Ghost,” you gasp. “Don’t stop!”
“Couldn’t even if I wanted to,” he grunts. 
He’s no longer being gentle with you. Each thrust is rougher than the last and his grip is definitely going to leave marks on your skin, but you’re too far gone to care. Almost as soon as his thumb touches your clit you’re cumming again, your cry of his callsign is bouncing off of the walls of the bathroom, stars dancing behind your eyes. Ghost cums with you. His groan deep and guttural as he hits his climax, shooting his cum deep inside of you.
You expect him to stop, to take a breather before this stupid lust filling drug drives you both to do it again, but he doesn’t. He keeps rolling his hips, his cock remaining hard, as short gasps and groans leave him. He’s not wrong. He really can’t stop. Your cunt feels so good wrapped around him and he can’t stop himself from continuing to thrust into you despite how sensitive he’s starting to get. 
It’s a blur from there. Ghost takes you on every surface available to the two of you in the safehouse. Wringing orgasm after orgasm out of both of you, pleasure searing through your veins to the point that you’re almost sure it might drive you mad. That is if you don’t pass out from exhaustion first.
By the time that you hit the bed, that’s exactly how you feel. You think that the drug might have finally run its course. At least for you. Ghost adjusts your position so that your ass is up in the air and reenters you, making you whine. 
You’re really starting to feel how sore and used your body is. Your cunt is aching and dripping with the mixture of both yours and his fluids and you’re drenched in sweat.
He takes you much more gentler this time; a stark contrast to the rough fucking you’ve been subject too for however long you both have been going at it. He’s nearly at his end as well. There’s no longer a rhythm to his thrusts and he’s slowly growing more vocal again. 
Draping his body over yours, getting you to look at him so he can kiss you again. If this wasn’t Ghost fucking you, you might think the kiss is sweet and tender, but since it is Ghost you can only think it’s because he’s too tired. He grinds his cock inside of you, flooding your pussy one last time. 
He collapses against you, but you’re too tired to care. You just accept that this is your fate now as your eyelids drop shut and sleep claims you. 
When you wake up, the first thing that you’re aware of is how sore you are. Even shifting a little bit has you aching in places you didn’t know you could ache. The second and third things that you notice, one after the other, is that Ghost had taken the time to clean you up and cover your naked body with a blanket.
You groan as you sit up, holding the blanket against your chest to keep yourself covered up. You immediately spot your clothing and gear, all haphazardly folded and left on a table. 
“You alright, Sergeant?” Ghost is stretched out on the sofa, his arms folded behind his head. He’s already fully dressed in his gear again. 
“I don’t think boot camp hurt this much.
He huffs a laugh as he sits up. “Yeah? Well I’m not fuckin’ carrying ya, so get up, get dressed and let’s go. I’ll be waitin’ in the car.” He gets up from the sofa, grabs his gun and leaves the safehouse. At least he’s nice enough to give you some privacy. 
It takes you longer than it should to get dressed. Your body protesting every single move you make, but you push through it. By the time that you get into the car, Ghost is clearly getting impatient waiting, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel.
He looks over at you as you hiss as you sit down, slamming the door a little too hard, at the same time. You adjust your position so that you’re a little more comfortable.
“What happened in that safehouse, stays in that safehouse,” Ghost says.
“Agreed.”
204 notes · View notes
lizzieolseniskinda · 3 days ago
Text
RAFE CAMERON - i’m here for you, always
x FEM!reader (POC!friendly) - MASTERLIST
SUMMARY: rafe takes care of reader who has pneumonia
WORD COUNT: 792
GENRE: fluff
CONTENT WARNING: not proofread, soft!rafe cameron
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the october rain drizzled gently outside. you didn’t remember how long you’d been lying there, staring at the ceiling, bundled under layers of blankets. your whole body aches, ribs burning every time you cough or breathe in, your lungs feel like they’re on fire. pneumonia had taken everything ounce of energy out of you, between the fevers and the breathless nights.
rafe pushed open the door to your bedroom, his steps light but quick as he made his way over to you. you were so lost in the thick haze of your fever when you felt someone’s touch—gentle and a little bit hesitant at the same time. you blinked, squinting to see the familiar silhouette of your boyfriend standing by your bed, eyes full of concern.
you hadn’t wanted rafe to see you like this—tired, vulnerable, so weak you could barely keep your eyes open. but he’d insisted in coming, claiming he wasn’t going to let you face it alone. and right now, you were grateful for his stubbornness.
“hey,” he murmurs softly, brushing a stay hair from your forehead. his hand lingers, checking the warmth there. “still burning up?”
you nod weakly, barely able to muster the energy to respond, and rafe lets out a small sigh as he moves around the room. there were soft sounds of him organizing things, and a minute later he’s beside you again, propping up pillows behind your back with careful movements, trying not to jar your bruised ribs.
“easy, okay?” he says, lifting you gently so you can rest against the cushions without straining yourself. you wince, but he’s quick to stroke a comforting hand over your shoulder, steadying you.
“it’s alright,” he murmurs, “just relax.” he grabs a glass of water from the nightstand and brings it to your lips, holding it steady while you take a slow sip. he’s quiet, a little too quiet for the rafe you know. there’s no sarcasm, no teasing edge—just worry lining his expression.
“rafe…you shouldn’t have come,” you croak, voice barely a whisper. “you’ll get sick.”
ge raises an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips, but you can see the worry in his eyes. “and leave you like this? yeah, not happening.” he brushes his thumb against your cheek, lingering in the small gesture. “i know you’d never admit it, but you’re too damn stubborn to ask for help”
“so, i won’t leave, i’ll be right here with you.”
you almost want to laugh, but the motion would hurt too much, so you settle for a soft smile. rafe shifts closer, his hand finding yours under the blankets. he gave it a gentle squeeze, his thumb rubbing comforting circles over your knuckles.
“if you need anything, just tell me,” he says, voice low and soft.
he reaches for a damp cloth, pressing it to your forehead, easing some of the heat. the cold feels like heaven, and you close your eyes, savoring the relief.
“you really don’t have to do this,” you whisper, feeling a little self-conscious.
rafe’s fingers trail down your cheek as he looks at you, a look in his eyes you’ve rarely seen. “i want to.” his hand moves to rest over your bruised ribs, as if he can protect you from the pain. his thumb strokes soothingly, gentle enough not to hurt. “and i’m not going anywhere until you’re better.”
as you leaned back in your bed against the pillows, he reached into a bag he’d brought with him, pulling out your favorite soup in a thermos. “you need to eat a bit,” he said. “just a little bit, alright?”
despite the pain and discomfort, you managed a small smile as he carefully fed you some soup, his touch gentle and reassuring. after you’d eaten as much as you could, he adjusted the blankets around you and sat by your side, his hand still in yours.
for a while, the room was quiet, with just the soft patter of the rain and the warmth of his hand in yours. you drifted in and out of sleep, rafe’s presence a calming anchor. each time you coughed, you could feel his hand tighten around yours, as if he could somehow take on the pain for you.
at some point, you opened your eyes to find him brushing his thumb over your knuckles and his phone in this other hand, his gaze soft. he met your eyes and offered a small smile.
“get some rest, okay?” he murmured, tucking you back under the covers. “i’ll be right here if you need me.”
“i’ve got you.”
and you knew, without a doubt, that he meant it. besides, he knew you’d take care of him when he’ll get sick. (probably catching a case of pneumonia;))
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chleem · 20 hours ago
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Hallow's eve
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Oneshot; exes drew x yn
Summary: drew wasn’t the type to get jealous. And tonight, on hallow’s eve, is his first time experiencing this bitter emotion. 
Genre: exes to lovers, smut, angst, fluff 
Warnings: cursing, unprotected sex, etc
⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read
♡⸝⸝ happy halloween!
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
“You can’t be fucking serious,”
Drew laughs bitterly, his eyes landing on you. 
The light blue corset, leathered mini-skirt, police badge, duty belt, and bunny ears are all too recognizable to him. A seducing touch to the costume of Judy Hopps from Zootopia. It shows off your curves beautifully, everything about it made you look more sensual than usual. 
But the main reason for his bitterness isn’t because of your costume, rather…who you’re matching with. 
His friend Paul. Whose wearing what was supposed to be Drew’s, the Nick Wilde costume. 
Fuck. It’s been a month since the breakup, and you show up with his friend?
“Shit, did you know about this?”
Drew forces his eyes away from you, turning the Keith. His lips are pursed, clenching on his jaw tightly. All the emotions are coming back to him all at once; regret, anger, and confused. “Does it look like I know?” He doesn’t even try to hide the sourness in his voice. 
Keith nervously glances to the side; he knows Drew isn’t over you. Hell, Drew didn’t even try to get over you, and everyone knew it. Dated for a year…how is one suppose to forget about that? “Shit man…”
Drew sighs, turning his gaze back to you. He hasn’t seen you for a whole month…and you looked beautiful. 
And Drew of course knew how much he missed you, shit, everything he did he thought of you. Waking up? Why weren’t you in his bed. Showering? Why weren’t you helping him wash his hair. Eating? Why weren’t you sitting in the seat beside him. 
And seeing you hold Paul’s hand, greeting others with a soft smile; that should be him standing beside you. 
“They’re…probably not even together,” Keith tries to make the situation look better than it is. 
Then, while you’re talking to someone dressed as a mummy, Paul distracts himself by planting kisses along your jaw. “Not together, huh?” Drew snickers at the audacity of Paul, doing that to you. He should know better than to touch what’s his. 
Drew’s whole costume feels annoying now. Obviously, breaking up with you meant having no costume. So, he improvised to dress up as Patrick Bateman, from American Psycho. 
He shrugs the clear raincoat off, hanging it on a random coat hanger that happens to be in a kitchen. He loosens his tie, pouring himself another round of drinks. 
When Drew glances at Keith, he sees a sly smile on his face. What the fuck-
“You’re jealous, man.”
Jealous? To Drew, it was an ugly and immature emotion. Only insecure people feel that way. Drew wasn’t insecure, god no.
No. That just wasn’t who Drew was, to be jealous. 
Besides, what’s there to be jealous of? He knows you too well, you’re definitely just bitter. Because out of all his friends, you hate Paul the most.
His mind was just playing tricks on him. 
But fuck- how much he wanted to punch Paul still, and claim the spot next to you. 
“No,” Drew laughs it off, sounding as if he’s being held at gunpoint. He downs the drink in his hand in one sip, and says more firmly this time, “no.”
Keith raises an eyebrow at him; obviously not believing his friend. “Nah, you jealous. Jealous that Paul gets all that now.”
Ew. That thought disgusts Drew. “Fuck off-“
Someone yells for a game of truth or dare in the living room. Drew’s eyes immediately find themselves on you, even with the huge amount of costumes in here. Paul ushers you to join; reluctantly, you follow him. 
Seems like Drew’s also playing. 
——
Amidst the loud Halloween party, a game of truth or dare begins. Refusing to answer or do the dare, results in a penalty drink. 
Paul’s hand on your thigh makes you want to throw up. You hated this guy; why, out of anyone, did you ask him to be your date?
Your stupid pride got the worst of you, refusing to show up at the party alone, especially with the chance of seeing Drew. You suspected that he must have moved on, so you decided to show how ‘well’ you were doing.
Wrong. Everyone close to you knew how many sleepless nights you’ve had in the last month, depressed and withered away in your room. Really, getting ready tonight was an impossible task too. 
Paul is…disrespectful, awkward, inappropriate, the list goes on. He’s not close with Drew; but still, it bothered you that he was always at hangouts. Once, he made a move on you (a rather rude, pushy one) while you were still with Drew. 
Yep. Now thinking back, you would’ve preferred to come alone instead of with this prick. 
“You good?”
Yeah, if you take your hand off me. “Lovely,” you manage to breathe out, focusing your gaze at the circle that has now formed in the living room. 
Your eyes land on Drew; pulling a random chair and sitting down, manspreading. He never looked finer, in his American Psycho costume. And plus, his hair. The last time you saw him, he had bangs. Not that this new buzzcut looked bad; it gave a whole new demeanor to Drew, one that was more matured. 
Wow. Looking at him, you realize how much you miss him. You wanted to go sit next to him, run your hands through his buzzcut, and just talk to him, hear his deep, calming voice. 
Shit. He makes eye contact with you, and for the first time, you can’t tell what’s on his mind. Is he mad? Regretful? Or does he…even care? You watch as his eyes scan down your body, lingering longer on your legs. Or rather, Paul’s hand there. 
“Alright…who wants to go first?” Some person you don’t know, speaks up, sitting down on the couch. 
The eye contact breaks, with Drew turning his face away, drinking the cup in his hand. 
Huh.
Someone volunteers for a dare, but you don’t show much interest. This is a stupid game anyways. 
During the game, Paul would whisper something dirty in your ear, which honestly, pissed you off more. When he kissed your jaw earlier, that was already crossing the line. But you could feel someone watching you intensively, so you go along with it; smiling, whispering back, responding to his touches. You hoped that someone would call on you, just so you could leave Paul’s side for a while. 
And as if some angel heard you, halfway through the game-
“Drew, truth or dare?”
That caught your attention, but you try not to show it. You make subtle glances in his direction, wondering what he was going to chose. 
“Dare,” his voice is deep, just like how you last remembered it. 
The person asking was his friend, Keith. He hung around so much, that you can easily recognize the mischievous glint in his eyes; he’s gonna say something crazy. 
You’re right; because he says, “7 minutes in heaven. With y/n.”
The people in the circle all murmur and woo, in anticipation. Great. Was there anyone here that didn’t know about the breakup?
You can’t help but smile down at your lap, at how ridiculous this dare is. Surely, Drew wouldn’t say yes, right? You couldn’t tell; his face showed no emotion towards that dare. 
“Say no, alright?” Paul’s disgusting voice forces you to look over at him. 
Did you want to say no? 
You take a good look at Paul’s face; maybe saying no isn’t the worst idea. Being locked somewhere awkward with Drew sounded better than…actually, better than anything. 
Suddenly, you feel a heavy presence standing close to you. And when you look over, it’s Drew. He stands in front of you, and he holds out a hand for you to take.
You look up at his face, hints of eagerness only you could notice. He nods gently towards his hand, telling you to take it. 
“Yo dude, she doesn’t wants to go-“
You take it. Your hand comes in contact with the familiar warmth, the hands that you always found comfort in. You let him pull you out of Paul’s arms, a little too rough, and you stumble a bit. 
You smile awkwardly, holding onto his hand hard to regain your balance. “Hey, I’ll be here waiting for you,” Paul continues to say. 
“Sure,” you force out, adjusting your skirt. Deep down, you’ve never been more glad to be rescued by Drew. 
——
He’s walking at a fast pace, and with his grip on your hand tight, you can tell how urgent he is. His patience slips away with each tug he gives to each door he passes by, occupied by strangers already. 
“Maybe we should just give up-“
The last door is budged opened, and when the two of you glance inside, it’s empty. 
“Great,” you murmur awkwardly, before forcing your hand out of his. You don’t want to do so; but given the current situation between you two, it’ll feel weird if you continue to hold his hand. 
You brush past him into the small bedroom, and sit yourself on the bed. This bunny headband was getting itchy, so you take it off, putting it beside you. 
You watch as Drew locks the door behind him, sliding his suit jacket off. Woah, woah, woah, is he stripping? “Um…what are you doing?”
His blue eyes stare blankly into yours; as he lazily rolls his sleeves up. “the walking, it gets hot.”
Oh. He…yeah, it might get too hot from all the fast walking. Why would he strip? Drew wasn’t that kind of person, what were you thinking? You look down at your lap; embarrassed of your own thoughts. 
Well…this is awkward. The only sound in here was the faint music from downstairs. 
And then Drew sits down on the bed, next to you. The mattress dips under his weight, his scent (he smells real good) hitting you, and just his overall presence. 
That damn buzzcut. What even motivated him to get his entire head shaved? You were curious; and you wanted to know what happened to him in the past month. Was he also miserable like you? Or did he forget about everything-
“Paul, huh?”
He’s leaned forward; so you can’t really tell his expressions. But his voice comes out deep and almost hushed, like he needed to force it out. 
Your heart was beating fast, why were you nervous? It was just Drew; you’ve dated him for a year, known him for more than that. Yet, every action and word he says can still made you flustered. “Well, he has a thing for me.”
Was that the right response? You weren’t sure; Drew answers a few seconds later, “I know,” you watch his back muscles through his see-through button up tense, “just didn’t know you had a thing for him.”
Almost forgot how well he knew you. “People can change,” you shrug, trying to act cool. 
That earns a ‘tsk’ of disapproval from him, and he leans back. He turns towards you; the pretty blue of his eyes staring into yours. “Not you.”
“Could say the same about you,” you bitterly reply, referring to the breakup. It was out of character for him to just dump you, saying he was ‘busy’. A dick move, to be honest. 
Drew rolls his eyes upward; as if thinking of a response. His lips are slightly pursed; and you see the amusement in them. 
“Am I wrong?” You press, and suddenly, the depression from the past month has surfaced into anger. Anger towards Drew. “You have no right to say that-“
“You’re dating Paul,” he emphasizes on the last part, his eyebrows furrowed at you. “Paul, for god’s sake.”
You shake your head, a sour smile on your lips. The anger inside of you begs to be released, and as a way of spreading it out, you stand up. So mad, you can’t even sit still. “So what? Why do you care, we broke up-“
“A month, only for a month!” He raises his voice slightly louder than yours, and he also stands up now. This escalated fast. “And Paul. Are you fucking serious?”
“Yes I am! More than ever, you got a problem with that?” You provoke, the two of you standing in less than a meter from each other. He stares down at you, and even with your angered mind, his proximity still drives you insane. “Let’s not forget that you dumped me-“
“You’re dating Paul?” He asks once again, realizing that you didn’t correct him from earlier. His face shows it all; betrayal and disgust.
 You laugh at him, rather distastefully, “Do you not hear yourself right now? You’re worried about that-“
“You dating him or not?”
He just stays in place, towering over you. That question lingers in the air, his jealousy heavy. He watches you, and you see a mixture of longing and frustration in them. He’s practically begging you with his eyes at this point. 
The devil on your shoulder pushes you to lie, “we’ve been seeing each other.”
He immediately steps away from you, pacing around the room with his hands running through his scalp. He turns back around to you, but stands at a distance now, “y/n, what the fuck-“
“Why are you getting mad at me?” You yell back, your voice cracking. 
“I don’t believe you,” he harshly denies, shaking his head. 
Fights with Drew was never like this; he would apologize quickly and fix the problem. Tonight? You might’ve just pissed him off to the point of no return. 
You tuck your hair behind your ears, before placing them on your hips firmly. “Well, that’s the truth, whether you like it or not-“
“I don’t fucking believe you, y/n,” he denies once again. 
“You saw him around me, what else do you-“
“I don’t believe you,” he repeats, closing the distance between the two of you again. You gulp at his presence towering over you; this time, there’s an edge to his demeanor. Knowing that you lied, it felt dangerous to be standing this close to him. “You’re bluffing, I know it.”
The sharpness in his eyes glints with challenge, searching for the truth in yours. He won’t be easily swayed; he knew you too well. 
You cock your head to the side, the same challenge in your eyes that mirrors back to him. You don’t miss it; the jealously in his. He’s jealous right now! 
No wayyy he’s jealous. Years you’ve known him; never once have you seen him jealous. Drew was that kind of person; unbothered and sure about himself. At first it frustrated you, it seemed like he didn’t care. But you soon learned that it just meant he trusted you, never questioning about your friendships or interactions.
But still, he’s jealous right now! For the very first time! And you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t tease him about it. C’mon, this man was jealous of Paul. How cute. “You’re jealous,” you say, failing to hide the amusement in your tone. “You’re fucking jealous right now-“
“No,” he firmly denies it. 
“Yes, you are. You, Drew Starkey, is jealous-“
“I’m not fucking-“
“Yes! You’re jealous!” You point out, a bit too cheerful at that. You almost forget that you’re suppose to be angry at him, “You’re bitter that it’s not you-“
“Gosh, you’re driving me insane,” he groans, throwing his head back in frustration. “I don’t feel that way-“
“Oh, you totally are,” you say, taking a few steps back and snickering. Gosh, this is fun to make fun of. “Drew Starkey’s jealous for the first time-“
Drew’s lips come in contact with yours, his tongue thrusting into yours urgently. 
Woah.
You didn’t even realize he had closed the gap again; his hands cupping your face to trap you into him. You hit his chest to push him away; but the longer his lips attach to yours, the softer your hits were. 
Alcohol. You taste that on his lips, pretty sure yours too. 
Yet, like a second nature, your body and brain reacts to Drew in a submissive way, kissing him back. You can’t help it; the warmth of his hands on either sides of your face, his soft lips…everything about him. Everything about him is endearing to you. 
In this moment, you realized you could never truly get over Drew. And quite frankly, you don’t want to. 
He pulls away, but his hands still remain on your face. “I’m not jealous,” he murmurs, his lidded-eyes gazing down at your lips then back your eyes. His chest under your touch rises and falls, the beat of his heart fast. 
The urge to fight or tease him disappears; you just want to be in his presence, in his touch, feeling the warmth of him. As if it could solve all your problems.  
“Shut up,” you breathe out, pulling him down by his tie and kissing him. 
Drew immediately kisses you back; never been more glad to be ordered to shut up. His hands move down your body, until they come in contact with the strings at the back of your corset. 
You feel him struggling with undoing it; probably distracted by your lips on his. 
Gosh, was it so hard to undo a couple of strings?
You force him onto the bed, and he immediately readjusts himself to a nice position. You quickly put your hands behind you and untie the strings, while Drew undos his own tie, his eyes never leaving yours. 
“Was that so hard?” You tease him, letting the corset fall off you. Drew’s mouth is slightly opened as his eyes drift lower down to your naked chest; his fixated gaze giving you a confidence boost.
“Mmhm,” he lazily replies; hands pull you into his lap by the waist. His lips attach them to yours again, and your hands work on unbuttoning his shirt. He kisses down your neck, laying love bites on it. 
“Shit…” you moan. Drew’s lips were skilled, and they knew where you liked it. 
His hands knead your breasts, just as you got his last button undone. Your hands roam around his chest, abs, then coming back up to run through his scalp. Huh. It’s gonna take some time to get used to no hair to tug on. 
His lips move down to your chest, and he starts to suck on your nipples. He fully makes out with them; his tongue sloppily tugging and devouring them in. It sends pleasure down to your core; and you start to rub against him, feeling the material of his pants harden. 
“Drew…” you voice out, hands feeling his scalp. It feels, weird and comfortable. 
He pulls away, his chest heavy as he looks up at you with hungry eyes. “Yeah?”
“Lay back,” you order, wiping the saliva that drips down the side of his lips. 
Drew gulps, before nodding. His hands remove themselves from you, hurriedly discards his shirt, and he scoots himself further down the bed. You get the clear look of his boner through his pants; damn. 
Your hands go to undo your duty belt; when they come in contact with metal chains. 
Huh? You look down and see, that it was the handcuffs you got for Judy Hopps’ character. 
The dirtiest idea pops up in your mind, and you look back up at Drew with a smile. His eyes are squinted at you, eyebrows furrowed. The two of you share a look; and then he shakes his head in disapproval. “No. I’m not getting handcuffed.”
This was never tried over the course of your relationship with him, and now that the opportunity presented itself, you had to try. You pout, taking the metal chains in your hands. You dip onto the bed, crawling between his spread legs. “Please, baby. It’ll be fun,” you flirtatiously say, your hand crawling up his thigh. “I’ll make it feel good.”
“You always make me feel good,” he murmurs, his arms tucked behind his head. 
“Pretty please then?” Your hand comes in contact with his boner, and you grip it through his pants. 
He moans under your touch, his mind fighting the battle to not be seduced by you. 
You knew how much Drew liked to touch you, always having his arm around you either lovingly and protectively. He took pride in being the person that gets to touch you whenever he wants and wherever. So of course, he wouldn’t be so happy to be handcuffed. 
You swing the handcuffs, giving him a soft smile. 
After a few seconds, he moans again, this time out of frustration, “fine. Do it.”
You smile ear-to-ear, happy that he agreed. You straddle his waist, as he offers his hands to you. You fasten one around his wrist, the material digging slightly into his skin. “Does it hurt?” You murmur, even though you were already moving onto his other hand. 
“I’m good,” he assures you, and when you glance down, you see that your breasts are directly in front of his face, a distraction provided. You shake your head, a soft smile on your lips as you bring both handcuffed wrists and hook it on the headboard. 
You ignore the kisses he trails on your chest; and tug on his hands to make sure it stays there. “Hey, stop it,” you warn him, before getting off. 
By instinct, he tugs his wrists wanting to keep you atop of him, but the handcuffs stop him. “Ride me, c’mon,” he whines, getting impatient with the restraints of his hands. Look, you haven’t even started and he’s already whining. 
Drew looks very hot in this angle; usually in charge, to be in a position where he physically couldn’t do anything. 
You giggle, undoing the duty belt and shimmying your skirt off. You lean forward between his legs, looking up at him with intrigued eyes. “Have some patience, baby,” the nickname drives him crazy, throwing his head back in frustration. 
His reaction makes you grin. You can see the struggle on his face—wanting to be annoyed but unable to resist the pull of your playful teasing. It’s the kind of tension that makes your heart race, as your hands go and undo his belt. 
The belt comes off, next was the zipper, then his pants. You tug it down to his knees, his dick piercing through his boxers. It’s begging to be sucked by you. 
You pull it down, his dick practically springing out. “Fuck,” you moan, leaning down close to it. 
Drew thrusts his hips, making the tip hit your nose. You look up at him, furrowing your eyebrows. You didn’t like how impatient he is right now, “stay still.”
“Sorry,” he murmurs, biting down on his bottom lip. “You look pretty from this angle, though.”
You give him a smug smile, before opening your mouth and taking his tip in. He immediately groans at that, as your mouth moves lower. 
The tug of the handcuffs is heard, as well as Drew saying, “wanna touch you.”
You smirk against his dick, one hand gripping on his thigh, another one going up to his balls. You massage one side; while your mouth skillfully takes Drew in. 
But Drew decides to take a step further, and thrusts his hip upward. That makes you gag; his tip hitting almost the back of your mouth. You immediately pull your mouth out, “stay still,” you say, more firmly this time. “Or I’ll leave, and you’ll stay here handcuffed.”
Another tug of his handcuffs, “didn’t mean to.”
“Be a good boy and stay still, okay?” The lust, tipsiness, combined with Drew’s vulnerable situation serves as a huge boost to your confidence. 
“Yes ma’am,” he murmurs, relaxing his entire body now. You’re in charge now; the handcuffs remind him of that. 
You give him a glare as a warning; you don’t miss the small curl at the corner of his lips. You take him in again, your hand squeezing his balls gently. You start to bop your head up and down, tongue wrapping and sucking his dick. 
“Shit,” you hear him groan, “just like that, babe.”
His soft moans ensure you that you’re doing a great job, as well as the occasional tugs of the handcuffs, his hands dying to touch you. Your head bops faster with each passing second, the pleasure of sucking his cock pooling in your undies too. 
It’s when you feel his cock twitch inside your mouth, you pull away. 
“Babe, what?” He manages to breathe out, he couldn’t believe that you just denied him of an orgasm. 
That nickname sends a bigger impact to your core than it should’ve. You sit up and lean forward, planting a sloppy kiss against his lips. He kisses back immediately, eager and needy. You pull away, “didn’t know you were this whiny.”
He forms a small frown, which makes you giggle, “I’ll let you cum, stop whining,” you kiss along his neck, down his chest, abs, and stopping right before his dick. “You got a condom?”
“You think I planned this?’ He tugs on his handcuffs. Right. He definitely wasn’t planning on fucking his ex-girlfriend. 
You get off the bed, rummaging the nightstands, hoping for condoms to be here. Nope. “Fuck,” you frustratedly groan, pushing your hair to one side. “Now what?” 
That question lingers in the air, the two of you staring at each other. No condom, and two horny adults. There was only one solution. No, two solutions. But who in their right mind would suggest that one-
“Raw,” Drew speaks up. 
“Raw?” You’ve never gone raw before; the risks of it overpowering the pleasure of it. You glance that Drew, seeing how calm he was to suggest that. Then at his dick, which was still erected. 
“Unless you want to go back downstairs.”
Oh god. You didn’t want to; you wanted to have sex with Drew. But you had to be honest; the idea of raw sex was terrifying. 
“Y/n?” His blue eyes meet yours, “sit down first.”
You sit back down beside him, placing your hand on his lower stomach. “Raw?” You’re more asking yourself, yet you look at Drew’s face. 
Drew. Going raw with Drew. Drew. Not some random guy. The Drew that you’ve found yourself get really into. Okay. Maybe if you two didn’t break up a month ago, you would’ve gotten to that point with him anyways, right? 
“You okay?” He asks gently. 
You give him a soft smile, getting yourself between his legs yet again. “Can’t be any different than a condom, right?”
He smirks at your agreement of this, “hope so.”
You lean forward and give him a quick peck on the lips. “Stretch yourself out first,” he reminds, looking down towards your core. You take your underwear off, sitting back and spreading your legs. It gives Drew the clear view of your pussy; and he groans at that. “Need help?”
He tugs on his handcuffs. Pretty sure it’ll bruise his wrists if he continues to move against them. The sly smile on his lips tell you everything; “I got it,” you assure him. 
You line two fingers against yourself; and then put it in. “Shit,” you groan at how wet you are already; thrusting your fingers in slowly.
You can’t help but compare your own fingering to Drew’s; finding his more satisfying to your core. Nevertheless, you stretch yourself out just like Drew says, picking the pace after a few seconds. “Fuck,” you hear him groan; and after a couple of sloppy thrusts, you pull out, finding yourself stretched. 
“Good?” He asks, watching as you straddle yourself on his waist again. 
“Perfect,” you practically purr, leaning forward and kissing him. You feel his smile against your lips; him kissing you back tenderly. 
You pull away and look down; aligning yourself with his dick. Shit. 
You sink down, feeling his cock enter you slowly. You moan loudly at the feeling; no barriers between the two anymore. When you sit down fully, you’re sure his tip hits the back of your core. 
Drew throws his head back in pleasure, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Feels real good,” he murmurs, his eyes fluttering to stay open. 
You giggle gently at his reaction; and you raise your hips, ready to start moving. You move up, then slide back down on him. “Shit,” you curse, the sensation unreal. 
Raising your hips again, you start riding him, at an unusual slow pace. Your nails dig into his shoulders, transferring the pain there. “Wanna touch you,” he voices out, tugging on the handcuffs. 
“You touch me all the time,” you hum, continuing to slam yourself up and down him. He groans at that, a knowing smile on his lips. 
“Touch yourself for me, then,” he thrusts his hip upwards, causing you to moan at the friction. 
You do as told; bringing your hands up to your breasts and squeezing them while bouncing. You’ve never felt this much pleasure; the feeling of Drew watching you while you ride him, your hands all over while you imagine it being him. 
The sound of skin slapping, heavy moans, and the tugs of Drew’s cuffs fill the room, as well as the rising temperature in here. This sex experience reminds you just how much you and Drew are compatible for each other; easily kinky and fond together. 
You feel the familiar hotness fill up your core, your movements getting more sloppy. “Close?” He asks, sounding breathless. 
“Yes,” you moan, your hands back around his shoulders. 
Drew leans himself upwards with his upper body, and he gives you a messy kiss. His kiss sends you over the ledge; and you feel the knot coming undone. He pulls away with a smug smile, “came all over my cock.”
“Shut up,” you smile, pulling him back and kissing him again. You liked kissing him more than you should. 
“Hey, can you undo these for me?” He tugs on the handcuffs for the nth time tonight. 
“Should I?” You cock your head playfully to the side. He playfully thrusts upwards towards your core, and you groan at that. “Fuck, Drew.”
“C’mon, undo me,” he begs, his blue eyes staring teasingly into yours. 
Gosh, this man. It’s unfair how attractive he is, from his looks to his actions. Everything, just touches your heart. You pull out of him, the stickiness around your legs don’t feel as gross as they should. But you do miss the warmth of him, feeling bit empty. 
You search around for your duty belt; grabbing it off the floor. It had three little compartments around it, and you rummage around each one. The cheap material makes it hard to open each. 
“Babe, you’re taking forever,” you hear him behind you. 
You ignore his comment; working your way to the last one. Surely the key had to be in the last one, right?
Is it; and you throw the belt back down, turning back to him. “Were you always this impatient?” You ask, unlocking both of his wrists. 
The handcuffs shoot down as soon as you’re done; and he flips you under him in one fast motion. You let out a shriek, not expecting to be pinned in mere seconds. He looks down at you with a small smirk, “my turn.”
“What?” You let out a nervous giggle, his hold on your wrists tightening. 
You let out a loud gasp when he shrinks his length down into your core; pushing it fully in at once. Shit, shit, shit. His lips attach themselves to your neck, leaving love bites, eventually moving down lower. “Drew,” you manage to breathe out despite feeling the weight of him down on you. 
“Yeah?” He mumbles against your skin, one hand intertwining with yours. 
“…feels good,” you admit, even though it was unexpected to be pinned down. Having his cock fully in you; felt like heaven. Now, he’s gonna give you your second orgasm of the night; halloween? Must be Christmas. 
“I’know,” he kisses your jaw, his other hand now kneading your breasts. “Besides, haven’t cummed yet.”
Oh. You were consumed with chasing your own orgasm, you didn’t realize that Drew hasn’t had his yet. 
Drew starts to push his body into yours, picking up the pace after each thrust. He hits your exact g-spots, knowing your body all too well. You moan loudly in his ear, mixed in with his. Just like that, your second orgasm slowly forms.
“Shit,” he curses, his hands locking tightly with yours. 
Okay, raw sex definitely felt better than condom ones. Or was it because it’s Drew? Either way, you want to do this more, honestly. Maybe the handcuffs too. 
“Close, Drew,” you breathe out between thrusts. 
“Same, babe,” he kisses your cheek.
The knot comes undone for the second time tonight, and you cum over his dick. At the same time, you feel it twitch inside you; his turn. 
Drew gets ready to pull out, but you hurriedly wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Cum inside me,” you urge him, wanting to feel yourself filled with his orgasm. 
Drew gives you a lazy smile, lips leaning towards yours. And this kiss, was more endearing, his tongue moving in a soft tempo. He cums, and you feel the warmth of him mixing with yours. 
You smile back against his lips; you’ve never had such mind-blowing sex. 
He eventually pulls out of you, reaching for the tissues on the nightstand. You let him clean you up, leaning against the headboard; the two of you staying silent to recover from what just happened. 
And slowly, the realization of what happened, fogs up the both of your minds. Lust is gone, now only left with clarification. Clarification of what’ll be next, between the two of you.
“Drew?” You speak up, as he finishes and cleans himself up quickly, throwing it in the trash after. 
He sits by your legs, his blue eyes looking up and meeting yours. “I miss you.” That confession catches you off guard. You gulp, looking down at your lap. “I’m sorry,” he adds, voice cracking. 
Your heart aches at that; and you feel him move to the spot besides you. He pulls the covers up, covering the both of you. “I’m sorry,” he repeats once again, “I’m, I’m a stupid fuck.”
“You are,” you agree, still looking down and playing with your fingers. 
“I just…we dated for a year. And, I just got scared?” The last part was almost as if he also didn’t believe himself for feeling that way. 
“Why?”
“I don’t know, just…something I feel. But I realized, not being with you was worse,” his hands wrap around yours, and you look up at him. His blue eyes are mixed with regret, sincerity, and…love. Well, at least you interpret it that way. 
“Took a month away from me to realize that?”
“Yes. I think that just shows how idiotic I am. Trust me, the past month was horrible.”
You giggle, “you can’t just dump me whenever you feel like it.”
“First and last time,” he promises.
“What?” You look at him questionably. 
“If you’ll take me back.”
Do you want to take Drew back? Your mind was screaming no, but your heart was telling you to spend forever with him. He really hurt you, and he really is an idiot. But he’s your idiot. And one year of dating has told you that he does make stupid decisions, coming to regret them later. 
Fuck it. You always listened to your heart anyways. “Fine, if you insist,” you playfully say, your hands intertwining with his again. You missed holding onto these hands. Then, your eyes drop to his wrists, seeing the red spots around them. “Drew, those handcuffs-“
Drew’s other hand cups your face, and he sends an attack of his kisses to your cheek. You laugh loudly at that, which just drives him to give you more. “Hey-“ he kisses your lips, the two of you leaning down until your backs hit the mattress. 
“I…”
“Hmm?” You stare into his eyes. He stares at you all smitten, his lips slightly open in awe. 
“I…love you,” he confesses. 
Oh. Oh. The butterflies in your stomach fight to get out, and you let them. You love Drew. Yeah, you love Drew. After everything you’ve been through with him, you deserved to be loved, to be loved by him.  “I love you more,” you emphasize on the last word. 
“Fuck,” he kisses you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer into his arms. “Driving me insane. Insane, y’know that?”
“I’know,” you giggle, the two of you staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. You’ve never felt happier. And when your hands run through his scalp; you’re reminded of his buzzcut. “Hey, why did you shave your hair?”
“It got annoying,” he rubs circles around your waist, “and, well, I missed you.”
“so you shaved your hair?” 
“…yeah,” suddenly he gets shy, burying his face into your neck. You smile at that, feeling like he’s a little baby. 
After a few seconds, he murmurs against your neck. “Hey, y’know what you should dress up as next year?”
“Next year already?” You look down at him, him looking back up at you. 
“Yeah,” he pulls away, “Lola bunny.”
Lola bunny? Wasn’t that the cartoon character? From Loony tunes? You furrow your eyebrows at Drew, “why?”
He gives you a grin, “kinda…my childhood crush.”
“Really?” This is the first time he’s telling you this; and you can’t help but grow amused at that. Lola bunny? Maybe that can explain why he’s so weird sometimes. Cute weird. “Will you be my Bugs then?”
“Of course,” he immediately says, “not Paul, that’s for sure.”
Paul. You’re suddenly reminded of that gross man you asked to come with you; and also of Drew’s jealously. Hey, he’s jealous! That thought is bought up in your mind once again, thanks to Drew himself. What girlfriend would you be if you didn’t tease him about it? “Oh, you were so jealous.”
“Jealous? No,” he denies, even with the small smirk on his lips. 
“So it’s okay if I see Paul-“
“We’re together, now. Like, literally a few seconds ago,” he cuts you off. “Screw Paul. Or any other guy.”
“That’s jealousy,” you smile, pointing at his face. 
He bites on your finger, causing you to shriek and put your finger down. “Just love you a lot.” 
Your heart warms at that; but it doesn’t change your mind about how jealous he was. “Drew, you don’t need to be jealous. I’m yours.”
He chuckles, “I’m not jealous!”
Okay. He might never admit it. His pride, and his overall aura, jealousy just won’t be something he wants to bow down to. 
“Of course,” you rest your chin on his forehead. “Of course.”
“I wasn’t jealous!” He continues to hum. 
“Shhh,” you coo at him, rubbing the skin around his shoulders, which feel firm yet soft. Your eyes are falling heavy, and in Drew’s arms, you knew you could get some comfortable sleep. The first time; for the past month. 
You close your eyes, ready to drift to sleep, when Drew says, “I think we went over 7 minutes.”
“Huh?” You lazily reply, your brain ready to turn off. 
“Nothing.”
That was the end of the conversation; and you drifted off to sleep, knowing that Drew was beside you. The familiar scent of him dozes you off, and you feel safe knowing he’s going to be taking care of you. 
Lola bunny. Maybe you should dress up like her next year, fulfill Drew’s nasty fantasies. Huh. Maybe. 
-------------------------------
word count: 6.6k
ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: petition for drew to be patrick bateman 🙋‍♀️
happy halloween! what are you dressing up as??? hope you enjoyed this oneshot, kinky and got really sweet in the end. pls ignore any mistakes; i hate proofreading. anyways, happy halloween! ik im already looking forward to christmas ;)
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That One Friend…
Twisted Wonderland: Trey Clover, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Kalim Al Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Idia Shroud, Lilia Vanrouge, 
JJK: Suguru Geto, Megumi Fushigiro, Mei Mei
Demon Slayer: Douma, Shinobu Kocho, Giyuu Tomioka, Tanjiro Kamado
Obey Me: Satan, Asmodeus, Simeon, Solomon, Barbatos
Hunter X Hunter: Hisoka Morrow, Chrollo Lucilfer, Shalnark, Shaiapouf, 
OCs: Rhiana(Witch), Wille (Elite Serial Killer), Fantasy Villain
There’s always That One Friend who you pass by in the market across the street or at the cafe you frequent before work. This one friend is always sweet–a kind soul you can trust for some intelligent conversation or to sit in silence with. 
Whether you’re married with kids or dating your long-term partner something in you tends to wander. Your mind drifts to That One Friend who you know would have picked up on your silence. They would have reached over the table to hold your hand as they demanded you tell them what was wrong–letting their worried eyes never leave yours as they searched the troubled depths of your own. 
There’s just something about That One Friend who has you daydreaming about what it’d be like to be with them instead. A dark sliver of you that entertains the idea of straying from where you're trapped but you’ll shoot that down…eventually. While you’re certain you love That One Friend you do love your significant other even if they stopped saying ‘I love you.’ It would be wrong to betray them for That One Friend—who can verbally assure you that they care. Who makes an effort to tell you how much they care about you daily. Besides it’d be wrong to base a betrayal on only a side of That One Friend. 
For all you know, they could be just being a good friend–showing a side of themself that you need. Besides they have their business or another partner or their long distance relationship so even if you were brave enough to confess your little crush to that dear One Friend it would never work out. 
So when it’s finally decided that you’ll shut down these invasive feelings put more time in improving your current relationship. You’ll limit yourself from That One Friend if only to get it into your brain that they’re just not an option. Diving into work, trying with your partner, spending more time with your kids, or just visiting a different place for lunch. You’ll make an excuse when That One Friend starts catching on and hope that they don’t take offense. Finding a steady routine that no longer relies on That One Friend. 
But that all goes to shambles when something terrible happens to your significant other. A car crash, leaking gas pipe, or a mysterious drive-by shooting—they’re gone. Your world–as dysfunctional as it already was—comes crashing down. Since you can’t fall because of your kids or because you worry you’ll never begin to bring yourself up again you have no choice but to rely on That One Friend. 
That One Friend who is at your apartment the second they’ve learned what’s happened. That One Friend who comes along with you to the police station when you promise that there’s foul play. That One Friend who cooks and cleans when you just don’t feel like moving. That One Friend who will even invite you, your kids, or your pets into their home so they can look after you because they are just so worried.
That One Friend who licks their lips as they watch you curl into their bed wearing the hoodie they let you borrow. That One Friend who invites your kids to call them something closer than their first name. That One Friend who reminds you to eat while you obsess over your significant other’s case. That One Friend who encourages you to cuddle with them since you’ve been having so much trouble sleeping. 
That One Friend who has been waiting for the perfect opportunity to get them back on your market. That One Friend who is like a predator lying in wait as it becomes years before you start wanting to date again. That One Friend who will make sure they’re narrowly injured on a train accident so that their emergency contact–you comes running and kisses their forehead because you were so scared. That One Friend who knows it’ll be a matter of time before you accept or propose yourself. 
That One Friend who can’t help but relish in the way you’re attention and love belong to them. 
And That One Friend will do anything to make that happen.
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girliism · 21 hours ago
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patrick who recently got pegged by tashi and can’t stop raving about it to art. every time they’re together patrick just goes on and on about how good it felt, how you and him have to try it. art, who’s already shy about sex, feels his cheeks burn. patrick’s words rattle around in his head for days before he gets curious and does some research… three videos later and a sticky bedsheets, art starts to consider it. like patrick, tashi had already told all about it, you were just waiting for art to bring it up first. and when he did you had to bite back a smile. art, too embarrassed didn’t go inside the sex shop with you, he stayed in the car while you shopped for everything you needed. on the day it was supposed to happen art made sure to eat light and you where giddy the entire day. all cleaned out, art laid on his back with you in between his legs easing a lube slick finger into his hole. tashi told you to make sure he was nice an open before fucking him. art was whining and clenched around your three fingers as you fucked them in and out, you knocked into what he assumed was his prostate. you kissed up his chest, your tongue flicking against his nipples every so often. once he was a little bit looser, you slid your fingers out and stood up on you knees. art’s breath hitched at the sight of the pink silicone cock attached to the black harness around your hips. you made sure to use lots of lube and to slip a pillow under art’s hips before you pushed in. art thought that this must be what you feel every time as he grips the sheet. the pinching pain he felt quickly went away with every slow thrust and soon art was begging you to go faster. you already knew art could get a little sloppy when fucking, his head would bury in your neck and he’d slobber. but this was different, art was louder and whinier, tears spilled out his eyes, his head was thrown back and his leaking cock was bobbing with the movement of your hard thrust making crude smacking noises on his tummy. you pulled his knee to his chest, going deeper and art’s cock jumped, his back arching up into you. with a whoreish moan, long white roots shot out landing on your tits and his neck. you pulled out and unstrapped yourself, you held art’s head in your lap pressing kisses on his cheeks and lips. “how was that baby?” you asked, pushing his hair back, nails scratching behind his ear. “so fucking good.”
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hypnoneghoul · 1 day ago
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Hyp my good sir, I beg you for more on touch sensitive Dew 🙏
Touch for ghouls is a need. It might be said that it is for humans, too, but it’s different.
A ghoul that isn’t touched would…deteriorate over time, mentally and physically. They’d lose their mind and give in to the wild part of their soul.
The process had already started for Dewdrop, days before Rain was summoned.
Aether and Mountain had all but begged the young water ghoul to help with their mate once they'd noticed how Dewdrop fell in love with him at first sight. They realized quickly that Rain was that last chance; the last glimmer of hope.
And indeed, he helped Dewdrop slowly come back to life by reintroducing him to touch. Step by step the fire ghoul is healing and after a couple months he and Rain are preparing to take yet another step; sleep in one bed.
Before they do that, Rain sets up a wall made of bedding in the middle of the nest, to keep Dewdrop comfortable. The fire ghoul is grateful, wanting nothing more than to be able to sleep next to Rain, but scared of what unexpected touch would cause.
They decide on attempting to intertwine their tails—considering that the skin on Dewdrop’s is different than on the rest of his body, and that Rain’s own is very smooth; like the fire ghoul’s used to be.
“Goodnight, Dewdrop,” Rain mumbles when they’re all set. “See you in the morning.”
“Night, Rainy,” the other replies, and silence falls. Dewdrop’s anxiety makes it hard for him to fall asleep for a while, but when he lets it dissipate and focuses on the comfort of having Rain’s tail tangled with his own, sleep does take him.
Rain wakes up first in the early morning, to something heavy(ish) and warm spread out on top of him.
It takes a moment for him to wake up properly, open his eyes and realize that it’s Dewdrop.
At first he grins sleepily with pride, but then he panics.
What if the fire ghoul will freak out when he wakes up and fall back on his healing journey? No, no, Rain can’t have that. As much as it pains him to do it, he gently pushes Dewdrop’s sleeping body off of him and back onto the other side of the—somehow still existent—pillow wall.
Rain can’t stop chewing the inside of his cheek as he waits for the other to wake up. When he does, Dewdrop doesn’t notice the water ghoul’s anxious behavior. It’s a good half an hour later when he decided to tell him what happened—and ask how he feels about it.
“Okay, so…” Rain starts, “I need to tell you something.”
“Yeah, sure,” the other smiles at him kindly, “is everything alright?”
“Yes, it’s just–I feel like you need to know you…you slept on me.”
“On you?” Dewdrop repeats with confusion. “Like…like I was touching you?”
“Yeah, you must’ve rolled over and you seemed–uhm, quite comfortable.”
The fire ghoul stares at Rain with his mouth agape for a little while before speaking again, “Uh–first of all, sorry–sorry for squishing you.”
“It’s alright,” Rain chuckles, “you’re not that heavy.”
“Sorry, uh–I…” Dewdrop’s voice cracks, “I have to process.”
“That’s fair, take your time,” the water ghoul assures and moves away to do something unrelated, not to stress the other out even more than he already is. He disappears into the bathroom for a moment, too, to give Dewdrop space.
“So…looks like it’s all in my head,” he says when Rain comes back out.
“Seems so,” he agrees with a twitch of the corner of his lips.
“Do you think if–if I was able to sleep on you,” Dewdrop asks shyly, “do you think we could try hugging…now?”
“I don’t want you to–”
“Please. Please, Rainy, just for a moment,” he begs and Rain would be the most cruel person to have ever existed if he denied Dewdrop his hug.
He opens his arms and waits for the smaller ghoul to move. He’s nearly shaking—as excited as he is terrified.
Dewdrop closes his eyes before stepping forward. He gasps and clenches his jaw as Rain’s arm grazes his shoulder.
“I’m okay,” he whispers. He’s not giving up now.
Dewdrop lets out a hurt little sob and melts against the other ghoul, knees buckling. Rain wraps his arms around him and holds him up as the fire ghoul cries in relief.
He leans in and hits Rain’s chest and it’s…it’s fine.
He’s fine. 
“You–you’re so–you smell so nice,” he giggles through the tears. He can finally smell Rain like he's been wanting to for months.
“And you’re so warm,” Rain replies, nearly as emotional himself.
Just like that, Dewdrop is alright.
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ofmermaidstories · 2 days ago
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do we think we can make a silent hill x mha crossover work? is that a thing The Vibes would permit? Us, leaving the city during a golden afternoon after a shitty day at work—driving into the night trying to get to a small town in the mountains. Maybe we stop for petrol, a bottled drink. A snack pack of gummy worms we throw onto the passenger seat next to us. Are we tired? Does it matter? We keep driving and driving until the world narrows down to the curve ahead in our headlights. Maybe we’re just outside of the town’s limits when it happens: the kid appearing in the middle of the road.
Do you scream? Do you even remember? Does it matter? Whatever noise you make, you manage to jerk the wheel, a sharp twist that sounds like a bone snapping, somehow, as the pale concrete of the pylons alongside the road are illuminated by your lights like headstones as you spin straight into them.
And when you wake up? When you blink, laid over your wheel and your horn blaring, screaming into the now white blanket of a foggy day—do you even remember the kid? How slight he was? Does it matter?
Maybe it doesn’t matter to you, right now, sitting up. Nothing aches, you’re not uncomfortable, you’re not even thirsty—you’re just there, still in your car, the horn now silent. Why is it daylight? Where did all this fog come? Did no one really drive past in all the however many hours you were out? Does it matter? Pray to God but row to shore—it’s a Russian proverb, supposedly, but you’d heard it on a TV show once, or maybe read it in a book. You can sit there in your car that smells like fog and pineneedles or you can get out and get yourself help. You get out, stumble; and then you follow the curve of the road down into the valley.
You almost feel relief when you see the tiled rooftops. Civilisation. Driving in the dark always felt like driving between worlds, suspended in time, only you and your music, low, the twin lights of other cars, other ghosts going past. But now you’re broken free of it, running down that road, now, your footsteps sharp and echoing against the rockface of the cliff above you—following you down into the ground levels out and leaves you standing there, at the edges of a rice paddy, your relief curling back into the bitter weight of fear when you realise it’s still so quiet. Where is everyone?
You make your way past a couple of small cars, parked up. One of them has a smashed window; you skitter around the edges, something thick in your throat.
“Hello?” You call out, when you make it to a small cluster of homes, the residential street small and tidy.
There’s a scuff of shoes—like they’re kicking off from a wall, or in gravel—and then you startle as just a few houses in front of you, a small boy jumps from behind a wall and bolts—leaving you to call out, “HEY! WAIT—”
He disappears around the corner before you can even reach him and when you turn you scream—coming face to face with a man in the green and gold of a Pro Hero suit, his hands up, catching hold of you as you scream again, twisting.
“Whoa!” He says. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I heard you call out and—I’m sorry, this must be so weird. Are you okay? Are you okay?”
His hands squeeze your arms tighter, reassurance or warning you can’t tell but you—you try to pull back, as much as you can, your eyes flitting over his face as he does the same with you, brow furrowed, big green eyes worried under a riot of dark, green curls.
His lips part, and he swallows. “Are you okay?” He asks for a third time, a whisper. “You’re the first person I’ve seen here since—since I got separated from the others. Please. Are you okay?”
Your heart is thumping hard but you’re no longer trying to fight against him and instead of answering you shake your head—you don’t know. You don’t know. But does it matter?
Wide, firm hands squeeze your arms once more—and then release you, letting you stand, the Pro Hero’s face (and he must be a Pro Hero, you think with a frown, although suddenly you can’t remember ever having seen him) grave.
“Everything will be okay,” he says, firmly. “I’m here. We’ll stick together, find the others, and get out of here.”
From his belt, there’s the click and fuzzy roll of static, coming from a small radio. You swallow, and nod.
(His words sound familiar to you—why do they sound so familiar? Maybe it’s just the script all Pro Heroes say. But it nags at you. It’s nagging at you. Why? Why does it matter?)
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wonderjanga · 1 day ago
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TikTok Challenges
Here’s some stuff I think would’ve happened if the JL had a TikTok ran by the Marvels. Like for example, Billy:
Marvel: “So today we’re doing the spoonful of cinnamon challenge! Only, I’m going to be eating the entire thing because I’ve wanted something sweet to eat for a while!” *proceeds to yap for 3 minutes and 47 seconds about some drama he heard from two hookers who live nearby him while eating big ahh spoonfuls of cinnamon*
Of course, he didn’t tell them it was a hooker who told him. No, he said it was ‘friend’. Meanwhile, the people who watched this are all wondering who the heck he’s talking about, because you can’t just say:
Marvel: “And she was like, ‘bitch stop talking.’ *eats another spoonful* “And then they fought. Hair pulling, scratching, the whole nine. One of them tried to rip another’s earring out of their ear. And now you might be thinking, Marvel, why didn’t you step in? Let me explain, let me explain.”
People are thinking the two women he was talking about were heroes but no. Little do they know.
Then there was the tide pod challenge.
Marvel: *has a small basket of tide pods and is salting and eating them while he yaps about another random topic*
Mary: *walks by and does a double take* “What are you doing?”
Marvel: “Eating?”
Mary: “Tide pods…?”
Marvel: “Yeah, they’re good. A little spicy. Want one?” *offers her a salted tide pods*
Mary: “Wha? Hell no.” *smacks it out of his hand*
Marvel: “Hey! No need to be wasteful.”
The rest of the video is Mary bullying Marvel, and Marvel finally bullying her into trying a salted tide pod.
Mary: *chewing slowly* “Stop…” *hand slowly moves to cover her mouth* “Why’s this actually good?”
Most of the comments on the video were talking about how Mary bullies him even though he’s (supposedly) a grown man.
Then there’s the candy bucket trend I’ve seen every now and then.
Marvel: “Hi, I’m Captain Marvel and when I was 8 years old, my uncle kicked me out of the house and left me to starve in the streets. I brought the bowl.” *holds up a bowl*
Flash: “Hi, I’m Flash and when I was twenty something, I was struck by lightning. I brought smarties.” *empties them into the bowl*
Marvel: “Hi, I’m Cap, and when I was twelve years old, I was also struck by lightning. I brought gummy worms.” *empties them into the bowl*
Flash: *“Hi, I’m Flash, and when I when I was younger, my parents divorced. I brought mini twix bars.” *pours them into the bowl*
Marvel: “Hi, I’m Cap, and when I was young my parents died. I brought whoppers.” *pours them in* “That’s actually why I had to go live with my uncle.”
Flash: *looks between Marvel and the camera cause this is the most he’s found out about Billy in one sitting* “Dude are you okay?”
Marvel: “Yeah, why?”
Flash: “No reason.”
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literaryvein-reblogs · 13 hours ago
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Writing Notes: Plot Structures
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A Quick Reference to 5 Plot Structures
8-STAGE PLOT STRUCTURE (Nigel Watts)
Stasis: once upon a time
Trigger: something out of the ordinary happens
Quest: causing the protagonist to seek something
Surprise: but things don’t go as expected
Critical Choice: forcing the protagonist to make a difficult decision
Climax: which has consequences
Reversal: the result of which is a change in status
Resolution: and they all lived happily ever after (or didn’t).
HOW TO TELL A STORY (Peter Rubie)
Once upon a time, something happened to someone,
and he decided that he would pursue a goal.
So he devised a plan of action,
and even though there were forces trying to stop him,
he moved forward because there was a lot at stake.
And just as things seemed as bad as they could get,
he learned an important lesson,
and when offered the prize he had sought so strenuously,
he had to decide whether or not to take it,
and in making that decision he satisfied a need
that had been created by something in his past.
MONOMYTH / THE HERO'S JOURNEY (Joseph Campbell)
Separation
The Call to Adventure
The Refusal of the Call
Supernatural Aid
The Crossing of the First Threshold
Belly of the Whale
Initiation
The Road of Trials
Meeting with the Goddess
Woman as Temptress
Atonement with the Father
Apotheosis
The Ultimate Boon
Return
Refusal of the Return
The Magic Flight
Rescue From Without
The Crossing of the Return Threshold
Master of Two Worlds
Freedom to Live
22-STEP STRUCTURE (John Truby)
Self-revelation, need and desire - combination of steps 20, 3 & 5
Ghost and story world - the hero’s counterdesire
Weakness and need* - the hero’s flaws are keeping them from having the life they desire
Inciting event - outside event that spurs the hero to action
Desire* - the hero’s story goal
Ally or allies - the hero gains an ally
Opponent and/or mystery* - an opponent or mystery that keeps the hero from reaching their goal
Fake-ally opponent - a shapeshifter or false friend
First revelation and decision: changed desire and motive - a revelation causes the hero to make a decision that results in a change in direction
Plan* - the hero’s plan to overcome their opponent and reach their goal
Opponent’s plan main counterattack - the opponent’s plan to overcome their opponent and reach their goal
Drive - increasingly desperate (and possibly immoral) series of actions the hero takes to defeat the opponent and reach the goal
Attack by ally - an ally confronts the hero about their increasing desperation and immorality
Apparent defeat - lowest point when the hero believes they’ve lost; for fall arcs, this may be an “Apparent victory” instead
Second revelation & decision: obsessive drive, changed desire and motive - the hero receives a new piece of information that allows them to continue towards their goal
Audience revelation - the audience learns a vital piece of information that’s kept from the hero
Third revelation and decision - the hero learns something about the opponent that will help them win
Gate, gauntlet, visit to death - pressure on the hero grows and they’re forced to face difficult trials
Battle* - a final (violent) conflict that determines who wins
Self-revelation* - the hero learns who they truly are
Moral decision - a decision that proves what the hero has learnt in the self-revelation
New equilibrium* - the need and desire have been fulfilled and the world goes back to normal, though the hero has changed
Stars (*) mark the minimum 7 steps that, according to Truby, are essential to every story.
ONE PAGE NOVEL (Eva Deverell)
Brainstorm 3...
...names:
...wants/goals/needs:
...locations:
...objects:
...obstacles:
...things lost/sacrificed:
...occupations:
...things on your mind:
Plotting Order
Resolution
Stasis
Shift
Trigger
Quest
Power
Bolt
Defeat
Story Order
Stasis: character isn’t living to their full potential - opposite state to Resolution.
Trigger: an internal or external impulse (or both) forces the character to take the first step towards their Resolution state.
Quest: character enters the new world of adventure, meets mentors or allies and makes a (bad) plan to solve the problem the Trigger created.
Bolt: (bad) Quest plan inevitably goes wrong.
Shift: character makes the paradigm shift necessary for them to inhabit their Resolution state.
Defeat: character makes the ultimate sacrifice.
Power: character finds a hidden power within themselves that allows them to seize the prize.
Resolution: character is living up to their full potential in their Resolution state.
NOTES
Choose a plot structure that works best for you.
Deviate from it as needed. It is a guide after all.
Some writers and editors advice you stick with a plot structure you have chosen:
Don’t look for an alternative as soon as you start to become frustrated with your first choice. You’ll only end up wasting time.
As with everything else, there is no single perfect choice.
And it may be the case that different projects need different methods.
Keep experimenting. Keep writing. Keep improving.
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