#choose memory foam

[family-bed-mattress]

The Family Bed™ is designed for extreme comfort for the entire family. This amazing mattress, uses luxurious materials that provide the perfect sleeping experience. This includes, cooling gels and supportive memory foams, allowing the maximum comfort available. The Family Bed is ideal for the perfect movie night, with adjustable friendly options. When you decide to purchase the Family Bed Gel Memory Foam, you're investing in superior quality and durability. Enjoy a spacious, comfortable sleep environment that caters to every family member's needs.

[vvolkulja]

measuring my feet today to see my shoe size to buy comfortable shoes that also look cool and i need them to fit first try bc i can only get them online, idk if i should wear out my current ones tho. they're not too good of quality bc sole is already letting in water

[igetnosleep]

Kind of having a writers block but I have a stupid idea involving sleeping habits.

Leon is the kind of person (I think) would cuddle and like to be cuddled. Big spoon, little spoon doesn’t matter he just needs some sort of physical attachment when he’s asleep otherwise he can’t especially when he has a partner. Idk he seems like he just needs to hold something alive to make him feel grounded.

Chris finds you sleeping peacefully and chooses violence, just lays down on top of you the weight of many boulders pressing you down on your mattress -you have memory foam so you sink down if not, not a pleasant experience-, I don’t care that man looks like a menace for no reason. “Oh you’re hogging the blankets well it’s basically -4° in here so now I’m gonna be a problem.” On the plus side he’s basically a free weighted blanket.

Idk that’s what I’ve gotten with their vibes. I could be wrong.

Might make a small fic for either one.

[joels-shitty-puns]

Kings & Queens

Pairing: Post-Outbreak!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: I saw a list of reverse writing tropes, one of which was "too many beds" which I thought was hilarious until my brain went crazy. So here's where my mind went when there are oddly... too many beds.

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: None! This could even be read as platonic.

Other stuff: No descriptors. It can be romantic or friendly. Choose your adventure.

To those of you who are reading this: Thank you! I know I haven't written in months. I have barely even been on here. I want that again, but mentally I just haven't been feeling like much of anything lately. That being said, I saw the trope and I had an idea and quickly scribbled this down. It is short, not my best work, and doesn't have much emotion, but I did it :) To those of you who might also be struggling, I see you! You'll get through this. I hope all my tumblr buddies are doing well. I miss you guys.

_________________________________

It had been nearly a year of patrols with Joel. A year of nasty buildings and hard rocky floors to take shelter for the night, a year of either taking turns on watch, or being stuck sharing the same sleeping bag. Or the same mattress. Your only reprieve was your nice bed in Jackson, which you knew was safe, and warm, and most importantly… yours.

Joel was… alright. You two were friendly at best. But for the most part, it was all business. He didn't like to talk much, and you became tired of receiving looks or grunts when asking about Ellie, or Tommy, or his former life. But you worked well together, you made a good team, and you trusted each other to stay safe. You had run into trouble before, and you always had each other's backs. Words were often left unsaid, but you both knew what you meant to the other.

So when you stumbled upon an abandoned shopping mall while scoping potential areas of left-behind goods, it was a breath of fresh air. Malls could be dangerous with so much ground to cover, and so many potential hiding places and dark corners for the cordyceps to fester.

But the mall could also be a light at the end of the tunnel. A plethora of abandoned items to loot and sell or keep for yourself.

After hours of digging through every nook and cranny, you managed to fill a couple of bags full of items, and planned to make it a regular stop on your raids. But as the time grew later, the long-broken clock didn't tick on, and the windows grew dim, you knew it would be an overnight stay. However, choosing a sleeping spot was becoming exhausting with Joel around.

“I saw a sporting goods store. They probably have some sleeping bags, or maybe even a tent,” you provided.

“Nah, we're indoors. I wanna sleep like I'm indoors,” gruffed Joel.

“Oookay. How about that old food place? I think I saw a conveyer belt in the kitchen, next to the oven! It looks like it was used to make pizza,” you chirped excitedly. “I bet we could set up some blankets and make it like a bed.”

“Look, I know that machinery and oven have been dead for years, but on the off chance there's some malfunction, that just seems like a Final Destination event waitin’ to happen,” Joel shook his head.

“Wow you're difficult..” you huffed. “What if we go into the old children's photography studio and make a fort! The walls are even painted to look like a sky,” you offered with doe-eyes.

Joel just looked at you before grumbling back a “no. My back would kill me. There's gotta be a bed in here somewhere.”

Upon finding an old, faded mall map, Joel studied it before picking up the pace with a clear destination in mind.

He came to a stop in front of “Royal Mattressty.”

You raised a brow before saying “royal… mattress-tea?? What?”

“It's a play on words. Royal majesty.” 

“That's the stupidest thing I ever heard,” you rolled your eyes.

“No, no, it's because mattresses come in Kings, Queens, and-” he broke off at your grimace.

“You're such a dad!” 

____

The two of you made your way inside, only to find nearly 100 beds. Memory foam, spring, water, reclining… the possibilities were endless.

“WOW!” You squealed, running from bed to bed. “There's too many beds. I can't choose!”

Joel stretched, moving to a bed near the back corner. “I'm gonna set up here for the night. Sleep where y’want,” he gestured.

Sitting on a few different beds, you finally settled on one. A perfect, firm yet soft bed at the far end of the store. It was against a wall, allowing you to still see the door and keep your back safe. Perfect.

____

But as the night ticked on, you tossed and turned. You weren't at your home in Jackson. This bed was nice… but it wasn't your safe, cozy cabin.

When you aren't home, you're with Joel. All this time you've been wanting space at night, but now you feel scared and alone. Even a bit cold. But Joel was over on his own bed, probably sound asleep. You wouldn't dare take that away from him.

___

Until what felt like an hour passed.

___

And then another hour…

___

Finally, it had been about an hour and a half when you gave in. You wouldn't be getting any sleep at this rate. Fatigue is a dangerous fate when you need to be alert in this world. So you swallowed your pride and walked over to Joel's bed in the far end of the store.

But he wasn't there…

You wandered back, a bit nervous, until you spotted him. Curled up on a mattress only a row away from yours, you saw him blink in the night.

“You moved beds?” you whispered.

“Yeah, there was a draft over there…”

“A draft? In a mall with no electricity and no windows in this store?” You asked skeptically.

“Mmhm…” he grunted, sleepily.

“Sure. Well… turns out there was a draft over in my corner too. Move over,” you nudged.

“Draft, huh?” He wiggled over, letting you in the bed.

“Mmhm…” you mimicked his earlier grunt, settling in next to him.

“Good night Joel,” you whispered.

“G’night,” he replied, pressing his body closer to yours in the king sized bed.

Maybe there is such a thing as too many beds after all.

__________

Thanks for reading!!! Let me know what you think, and be sure to check out my masterlist for more. Reblogs are appreciated! Xoxo

[foldingfittedsheets]

Greetings, oh fairy of blessed sleep, I hope you are doing well!

Could you maybe talk a bit about finding a good bed for couples/families that share one matress?

I am a lot smaller than my partner and weigh about half. So if we have any kind of soft bed, gravity happens and I either unvoluntarily roll onto them (not in a cute and cuddly way but like uncomfortably pressed up against them) or have one side of my body elevated which sucks for circulation. If there is any "bounce" or flexibility to the bed, I will be almost catapulted out of it whenever my partner moves. Two separate mattresses is also not an option, because my sleep persona is a bit dim and ALWAYS falls into the crack and I wake up in a horrible ache.

At the moment we sleep on the firmest queen size mattress we could possibly find and threw a high quality memory foam topper and a protector on top of it. This solves the gravity and catapulting problem and is actually very comfortable. We rotate the topper regularly, BUT they usually wear out after about 2 years and have to be replaced, no matter the price range, which sucks.

Any advice on how to make toppers last a little longer or how find a bed that doesn't turn you into a sleepy projectile and fire you accross your bedroom would be greatly appreciated!

Sidenote: I wanted to thank you for sharing the story of how you are sometimes unable to continue eating your food, because "it stops being food" to you. I never realised that this is exactly what happens to me A LOT and I am not actually a picky eater. I haven't gone to bed hungry in a week because your post enabled me to get something else I could eat and don't feel guilty about it. So truly, thank you!!

Aww, you’re welcome, I’m glad that helped.

As to the bed, your bowling ball analogy is apt. There’s two types of technologies that can really help solve your problem.

The first is individual coils. Simmons Beatyrest had a rather famous commercial where they dropped a bowling ball on their bed and the other side didn’t move because the coils separate the different impacts on the bed.

So beds with individual coils are way less bouncy or reactive to multiple people. These are now the standard coil in most beds, but the bounce you’re experiencing seems more in line with old interconnected coils so it’s worth mentioning.

The other bed technology that helps, you’ve actually already discovered: memory foam. Tempurpedic ran an ad campaign where a lady walks across the surface of the bed leaving a wine glass untouched. All-foam beds are the best at keeping you and your partner separate. They also feel good to partners at different body sizes the way coils beds tend not to.

Now, you have two options from there. There’s hybrid beds which is just a few slabs of memory foam over individual coils. These are B rank at keeping you guys separate. Or all foam beds which are A rank at keeping you separate.

Given what you’re going through I’d lean you slightly toward Tempur. The first time my cat scared me in bed because I literally couldn’t feel her jump up was wild. Serta also makes a mean all-foam that’s super comfy. The danger is cheaper all foam beds or beds in a box, they’ll wear out quickly and sleep hot, so choose carefully.

My last note though is that the bed may be perfect but your sheets and protectors will still create partner drift. Sheets with a little stretch in them will help keep you in your own orbit better, and a protector with flex in the sides will be better than a really taught one.

[hanckocks-dagger]

oh, the night's so blue

masterlist

John hancock x f!reader

Description: After a drunken one night stand with your boss and mayor, you'd planned on hiding out in your room for several months. Those plans get delayed when Nate, general of the Minutemen and your childhood friend, asks you to join him on a quest in the west of the Commonwealth.

Tags: Drunken one night stand, Hancock is a pining simp, and a slut. Reader is not SoSu, has afab characteristics and is referred to with she/her pronouns through the story. No y/n

Warnings: Smut! Drunk sex, consentual but I'll throw in the dubcon tag anyway, talk of violence, guns and drugs a lá Fallout ofc

Word count: 6.1K

Notes: So this is a one-shot that sort of feeds into an idea I've had in my head for a while, of a reader that knew Nate from before the bombs, who either ended up in Vault 111 as well or something similar, but got out about a year before Nate did. This might end up turning into a series of semi-connected one-shots or I might just cut it off here, but I definitely have some other ideas for this story rolling around in my head. More story focused than some of my other fics, delving a bit more into what actually living in the game's story would be like, but of course a hefty dose of our lovely Hancock. But I really like Nate, and I didn't want to make the reader the Sole Survivor so we could see the two of them interact. Also my Nate build is usually high charisma, high strength and low intelligence (idiot savant perk ofc), so he's a bit of a himbo <3 my fav type of man.

Also just a small and totally irrelevant thing, but I headcanon Nate/the sole survivor as choosing not to smoke, just because the player isn’t able to smoke in the game. Just a fun tidbit I threw in there. Also, I’m a smoker and I have friends who aren’t and the relentless back and forth teasing is always fun. They all vape anyway, so it’s just a race for who gets cancer first lmao. 

Cross posted on my ao3!

"What's the status on the top shelf stuff?" You yelled out from the back room, wiping drops of sweat from your forehead before they could drop into your eyes. Sure, the new beer tap was ingenious, making the closest thing to actual fresh beer since you'd come out on this side of the cryo-chamber, but goddamn were the canisters heavy.

"Almost out of moonshine, luv," Charlie called from the bar, tinny cockney accent carrying through the open space.

That was fine, you could drop by and speak to Vadim tomorrow before opening, as long as Hancock could supply the caps and lend you some help to carry the bottles back.

"Anything else?" You grunted, heaving a full canister back out to the front, bending down to connect the pipes.

"I think you should start carrying some Fireball, I know how much you used to like it," A new voice spoke up from the other side of the bar, startling you into banging your head on the underside of the bartop. You cursed, shooting to your feet, finding a ginning, familiar face on the other side.

"Nate!"

He said your name back with the same amount of enthusiasm, slouched in one of the barstools, familiar bright blue vault suit looking a little worse for wear.

"When did you get in? How did you get in?" You asked, eyes flitting about. Sure enough, there in the background, spread over one of the couches was mayor Hancock, speaking with a smiling Magnolia and a broody looking MacReady.

"Just landed in town, figured I'd come say hi before crashing at the Rexford."

"Well, shit," You breathed, wiping your sweaty hands on a dishrag, "Can I get you a drink? I want to hear about this oh-so-secret mission you were on."

"Sure, I'll take a beer."

You fished over a clean-ish looking glass, gave it a quick wipe for good measure, and poured. The movements were practiced, muscle memory from a lifetime ago taking over as you tilted the glass, filled it, flicked the spout the other way for some top foam. You slid it over the bar, accepting Nate’s smile as payment. 

You grabbed yourself a glass, calling out to Charlie as you filled the glass with ice, “I’m calling it a night, just leave me a list of whatever needs to be done in the morning.

You poured yourself some of the top shelf stuff, nothing good by pre-war standards, but nowadays it was rare and mostly didn't taste like it was 200 years old.

You stepped around the bar, planning on planting yourself on a stool next to Nate, but he was already rising to his feet, heading for the rest of the group.Hiding your awkwardness, you trailed after him. You knew MacReady tangentially, sometimes bringing him drinks into the backroom, keeping an eye out for disagreements and sometimes running up to get Ham when things were getting out of hand. Magnolia was your coworker of course, and there was plenty to talk about after long shifts, but she was– technically speaking– about twenty years your senior, and married to her job in a way you weren't.

Then there was Mayor Hancock. A charming flirt at the best of times, happy to stand up for you on the job, as the owner of the bar, after all, but there was always something about him you never managed to crack, never straying away from genial small talk. Small talk, of course, these days, meant discussing the last Super Mutant raid, or let him rattle off about his favorite chems. As you approached, he tipped his hat at you and you responded with a little curtsy, using your free hand to tug on your apron like a skirt. 

You fell onto the couch beside Nate, stirring your drink with a finger, using your other hand to untie the apron around your waist. Being off your feet felt good. There were no clocks in the Third Rail, and no windows, so your sense of time tended to get a bit skewed, but seeing as Ham usually tossed out the stragglers by 5 am and you'd had a mess and a half to clean up, you assumed it must be closing in on dawn. A rough 12 hour shift made your liquor feel earned, as you sipped at it, feeling the warmth spread through your chest.

"So," You said, catching Nate's attention before he could get sucked into the others' conversation, "What was the notorious General of the Minutemen up to this week? Liberating some more settlements?"

"Mmm, actually doing some work for the Railroad," His tone went hushed, unnecessary and strangely endearing, as everyone in the bar knew and was at least non-committal about their activities.

"Ahh," You replied, matching his tone. "Did it go well?"

"It went fantastically. I brought my own team in," He motioned with his beer toward Hancock and MacCready, "But we ended up getting some help from another agent, too. And, man, what a lady," he went a bit starry eyed, making you laugh.

"Got a little crush, Nathaniel?"

He snorted, and you spotted the tinge of red in his cheeks with glee. 

"Nothing like that, but what a powerhouse. You should have seen her, mowing them down with a minigun."

"Don't sell yourself short, Nate, I've seen you in Power Armor before. Unstoppable force and all that."

Ever humble, Nate's cheeks turned rosier, and he glanced down at his drink. You watched his Adam's apple bob, the shy smile that graced his features.

To put him out of his misery, you turned to the group at large, "So, does this mean you've returned our beloved mayor back, or are you heading out again?"

Hancock's attention snapped up from MacReady so he could grin at you, "What, you missed me doll?"

"Well, you do sign my paychecks," You smiled back at him, then remembered, "Oh, yeah, speaking of, I have to go over to Diamond City tomorrow to get more of Bobrov's best, maybe I can steal Nate to help me ferry it all back."

He hummed, "What d'ya say, brother? 100 caps to keep my favorite employee safe?"

From behind the bar, Charlie gave his best impression of a grunt, "I resent that, mayor!"

"'M sorry, Charlie, you just don't have her charm."

"Or her tits," Magnolia chimed in, twirling an unlit cigarette in her fingers as she smirked at you.

You flushed, eyes flitting around, finally landing on Hancock and MacReady's empty glasses, "Refills, boys?"

"Thought you'd clocked out," MacReady said, even as he handed over his glass. "Well, I'm the club's ambassador even after hours, gotta keep the reputation up."

"You best not be giving free drinks to every sorry brother that walks in here," Hancock called after you as you stepped behind the bar.

"Mm, no," You sing-songed back, "Only my favorites."

The night passed easily. You stayed by Nate’s sidelistening to him tell tales of the people he'd been meeting, the farm he recruited for the minutemen last week. He didn't delve too far into this last mission, always the good soldier who followed orders. You spent about twenty minutes trying to guess his secret Railroad code name.

"Mmmm, buttercup."

"Not even close."

"Sugar bomb?"

The look of offense he gave you was so scathing it had you spitting out half your beer over the table, doubled over in laughter as he complained.

"It relates to my prowess as an agent, not some pre-war pet name!"

"Fine, fine, uhhhh. Striker? Shadow? Tank?"

"Honestly, these are terrible. Never open a baby naming business."

"Uhm, excuse you," You said, taking a sip of beer to try and reduce the heat in your cheeks, "I would make excellent raider names. Chainsaw, evil-eye, uhhhhh," You cast your eyes around, searching for inspiration, "Ricky."

"Ricky?" MacReady asked, eyebrows knit in confusion, "What's wrong with Ricky?"

"Dunno," You shrugged, "Doesn't he just sound like an asshole?" You put on an air, repeated 'Ricky' in an ominous voice, which got MacReady and Nate to crack up again.

Magnolia vanished up to the surface after a bit of flirting with Hancock, insisting on her beauty sleep. As was your usual, you whistled after her, calling lewd, joking comments as she walked up the steps. As was her usual, she gave you a scowl and the middle finger.

"Ehhh, I'll get her to crack one of these days," You murmured into your beer, that tipsy, never ending giddy smile stuck on your lips. You caught Hancock's eye where he sat, now alone on the couch, spread eagle with his gangly limbs. When he spotted you, he gave you a grin, cigarette in his teeth.

Suddenly you desperately wanted a smoke. You patted your own pockets, found that you'd left them at home. You cursed the you from the morning for whatever logic had made that choice, suddenly desperate for nicotine.

Your head, resting against the back of the couch, lolled to look over at Nate. Who, of course, didn't and had never smoked. Goody-two-shoes.

So, you clambered to your feet, ignoring the ache that made itself apparent, and collapsed over besides Hancock.

"Does the good mayor have some cigarettes to share?" You asked, hand on his knee, leaning in close to be heard over a playful argument MacReady and Nate had started.

Hancock's smile got wider somehow, those deep dark eyes crinkling at the corner, giving the appearance of crow's feet.

"For you? Always." He dug around in the deep pocket's of that crazy coat, pulling out a cigarette case. Instead of handing you one, though, he plucked the one from his mouth and stuck it into yours.

Brain slowed by a long shift and plenty of alcohol, it took a moment for the action to catch up with, fingers rising slowly to pluck at the cigarette. You blinked at him, but he seemed unphased, pulling out another cigarette from his case and lighting it.

You leant back in the couch as your brain caught up on his move, staring blankly at a gesturing Nate, MacReady equally engrossed, somehow having missed the interaction that now had your brain reeling. Hancock's arm was stretched out behind you, tantalizingly close, fingers almost tickling the hairs at the back of you neck. You felt the chill of goosebumps, shook off the urge to shiver.

You puffed at the cigarette instead, slowly sinking back in the couch, reverting back to the sort of talk you were used to with the mayor, "How'd you like the trip? Nice to get out of the city?"

Hancock took it in stride, as he did everything, "Oh, yeah. Makes you forget what's out there, staying too long in these walls."

You hummed your assent. You stuck to Goodneighbor because you wanted to stay alive. The furthest you'd ventured in the last year was scoping out that brewery for the Rexford. But Hancock was a ghoul, and even so was more careless with safety than anyone else you knew. Getting out of the city, with only yourself and the stars as company... it was a romantic idea.

"So, what, we're gonna become the Railroad's home base now?" You teased,

"Not exactly," Hancock replied, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette, "But Nate knows his shit, and he trusts them. They're doing good, dontcha think?"

You considered this, rolling it around in your liquor soaked brain, "I guess it depends on whether you think the synths are just robots or... y'know, slaves being put through just as much pain as we are."

Hancock nodded, eyes trained on you, expression curious. For all his flirting, Hancock was easily one of the more respectable men you'd met, always willing to listen, even if he was usually a bit too out of his mind to interpret it. He was whip-smart, too, when he was sober enough to put a thought together.

"I suppose it depends on if you believe in the soul. Do you, Mayor Hancock?" Some deep-seated, long ago buried urge reared his head. You remembered being a kid, sitting in a diner with high-school friends, batting your eyelashes at a crush of yours, a coy smile on your face, trying for a sultry voice and missing it by a mile. But now you were about two hundred years older, and had a few years of experience under your back.

So when you looked at Hancock through lidded eyes, purposely hollowed your cheek as you sucked on your cigarette, the one that had been in his mouth before yours, you could appreciate his reaction. The widening of his eyes, the way the hand behind your head seemed to move just a bit closer, the minute shift of his hips as his body turned further towards you.

"I think I'm a bit too sober for those kinds of questions," He snickered. Being a Ghoul made determining age difficult, but sometimes you were sure Hancock was young, younger than you even, the way he carried himself, the carelessness of a teenager.

You smiled back, soft, put your cigarette out in an ashtray on the table, picking up your glass instead.

Hancock said your name, sultry, and that hand finally brushed your shoulder, a gentle, teasing touch.

You answered with a smile, a tilted, " John," followed by a sip from your drink, one you concentrated all your effort into drinking as normally as you could. If you let your tongue slide over your lips to catch the lingering taste, well, no one had to know.

"You know," You said, voice hushed as if you were revealing a great secret, "I feel like I don't know you well enough. You haven't been around enough since you hired me."

"I knew I left the bar in good hands," As if to prove his point, his fingers teased over your bare forearm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Maybe, I should- ah- give you a tour of the Old State House sometime."

The innuendo was painfully obvious, accompanied by a lecherous wink, but you felt your face flush anyway, ridiculously charmed by his brazenness.

Charlie ended up kicking the four of you out, insisting on sweeping before the sun came up. On the way up the stairs, conspicuously a few steps behind Nate and MacReady, the two of you got a bit too handsy, after you'd spent the last couple of minutes petting the velvet of his coat, hypnotized by the luxurious softness of the ancient costume, as Hancock rattled off history facts about Boston, some of which you'd half remembered from history class.

"Found the old fucker's diary in a closet on the second floor," He'd said, as your fingers traced down his arms, across his chest, barely disguised fascination. You wanted to steal his hat, tuck it onto your hair, flick it the way Hancock often did.

"That old bastard was– was kinkier than you could ever imagine," His voice stuttered as your fingers traced near his navel, studying the stitching on the waistcoats he wore.

"Oh yeah?" You snickered, loose enough with drinks to lose your impulse control chasing after whatever felt good in the moment. Mostly that had been cigarettes, but now it was the idea of kissing him, of feeling that mouth on you, anywhere.

"The mayor of Goodneighbor," You breathed, smoothing out his collar, "Keeping himself busy with five hundred year old porn."

Hancock laughed with you.

Outside, the two of you stumbled apart, leaning against the brick wall to share a cigarette, Nate and MacReady somehow still talking, even if Nate was shooting you curious glances and MacReady smirked every time your eyes passed over him.

Eventually, though, when a too loud sentence awoke a grumbling drifted who threatened to hurl a bottle at Nate, it was time to call it a night.

Nate clapped Hancock on the shoulder and kissed your cheek, which got him a punch on the arm, a bit harder than you meant to with the alcohol in your system. He took it like a champ, of course, calling out, "Have fun!" As he rounded the corner towards the Rexford.

MacReady vanished with a tip of his cap, leaving you with smoke in your mouth and the morning sun in your eyes.

"You want to take that tour now, doll?" The brush of a teasing hand over your lower back.

You thought about your dusty apartment, of waking up in a few hours to repeat the same shift for the millionth time. A cold bed, empty.

"Yeah," You breathed, hand catching on the fluttering sash around Hancock's waist, setting a firm pace and tugging him along with you like a dog on his leash. His hands found your hips before you even made it to the door, pinning you against the old wood to kiss you, deep and warm and wet. Your arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer, till you stood hip-to-hip, chest-to-chest.

Somehow, one of you got the door open, falling through the door, walking each other in an embrace towards the staircase. The kiss deepened, Hancock licked into your mouth as you bumped into the banister, struggled to keep your balance.You let him lead, pushing you backwards up the stairs, hands always gentle, ready to catch you if you tripped.

It was a drunken fumble, your shirt rucked up, trying to get all his stupid buttons unbuttoned as you staggered to the stairs, his lips suddenly attached to your neck.

His hands moved to your exposed waist as you reached the second floor, greedy hands moving over the expanse of skin. You huffed against his mouth, finding it unfair as you struggled to even get under his ridiculous fucking shirt, finally managing to sneak a hand under it, nails gently scratching against rough skin. You weren't exactly versed in Ghoul anatomy, but you'd heard enough complaining from drifters at the bar about the lack of feeling in their skin to know you'd have to push a little deeper, press a little harder. Sure enough, as Hancock lead you stumbling towards his bedroom, you pushed your hand up to his chest, pressing down into the meat of one of his shoulders, you received a deep groan against your mouth.

Then suddenly you were in the Mayor's bedroom. Clean enough, by the wasteland standards. Strewn with chems, as you'd anticipated, but the bed looked as clean as you could be.

Hancock had ended up behind you, hands sneaking around to your ass, your collar pushed to the side so he could kiss the exposed skin of your shoulder. It felt... nice. Soft. Softer than you'd anticipated from him. It sent an ache through you, not to your core, though electricity tingled, desperate for attention you hadn't provided it with in years. The ache was in your heart, extending out to your lungs, stealing your breath the way his kisses had, as he gently guided you towards the bed.

You spun around in his arms to capture his lips again, nipping at his bottom lips, hands moving to his waist, sneaking down into his waistband. The two of you danced around the room, lips locked, hands moving as clothes were unbuttoned, tossed to the side, shoes pulled off.

Then you were naked, falling onto a surprisingly plush mattress, as Hancock dropped his coat onto the back of his desk chair, pants unbuttoned and half falling off his skinny hips. He left the hat on, even as he stripped everything else off, and it made you huff a quiet, airy giggle. He grinned back at you, always happy to be happy, as he crawled on top of you, bracketing you between his legs.

His dick was the same as the rest of him, scarred and pocked, but you found you didn't mind in the slightest as your hands wandered downwards, teasingly gentle touches running over him, drawing out airy breaths and groans.

You were quick to guide him into you, pulling him down for a kiss when he entered you, sending shocks of burning pain through you, uncomfortable but manageable. Still, he noticed, unfocused eyes blinking down at you, a frown on his face.

"What's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong," You breathed, even through the tension of your muscles, "Just– uh– been a while. Gimme a moment."

He seemed unsure for a moment, looking as if he wanted to pull out, but you forced a calm through your muscles, slowly feeling him inch his way further inside, until the two of you were hip to hip. You breathed through the sting, shutting your eyes and guiding his face to your neck, happy when he got the hint and nipped at your skin. Your breath got shaky when he found a perfect spit by the junction of your neck and your shoulder, feeling his teeth sink into the flesh, soothed quickly with his tongue, with his spit-slick lips.

"Okay," You breathed eventually, one hand holding the back of his neck, the other clutching at the muscle on his back, "You can move."

"Are you–"

"Hancock," You said, voice firm. In a more sober state, his caution would touch you, but you were desperate to feel the drag of him, to feel his hips working. "I'm a big girl, it's okay. You can move."

He bent down to kiss you as he slowly pulled his hips back. With conscious effort to keep your muscles calm, your side of the kiss was a bit half hearted, but you gasped into his mouth as he pushed back in, the stretch not painful but, "So fucking perfect," You breathed, "Just like that."

Hancock was amazingly receptive, somehow cataloging every moan and twitch, and he had you pushed into the mattress within minutes, gasping and shaking beneath him. His hips drove into you at a perfect pace, his mouth moving to your tits, gentle bites at the soft skin, pulling your nipples into his mouth to flick at them with his tongue. Your whispered words of direction quickly dissolving into moans and gasps of his name.

Almost the exact second the thought of your clit popped into your head, his fingers were there, moving tight circles, pressure just the right side of too hard. You arched into him, a moan so loud it would have made you self conscious if you weren't too focused on driving him deeper, getting him closer, getting as much of his skin on you as you could.

Your orgasm approached with mounting tension in your muscled, strangled cries of more, harder, "Please, John."

You came with a strangled cry, every muscle in your body tensing and then going completely limp, gasps of air as your peak faded, replaced by a pleasant buzzing sensations. John's pace slowed as you shook, hands leaving your clit to grab at your hips, pull you towards him as he chased his own release. You were happy to let him, your hands exploring him leisurely, gripping at his biceps, his shoulders, wrapping around his neck to guide him into another kiss.

You could tell when he got close, the way his hips jerked, thrusts growing rushed and sloppy, desperate, the way his breath quickened, the way his dark eyes seemed to darken even further. At the last moment, he pulled out, wrapping his hand around his cock, haphazard pace the same as he fucked into his fist, a few more pumps and he came over your stomach. You tensed under the surprising heat of it, but relished the soft groan that escaped his mouth, head tilted back, mouth open,

He half collapsed on top of you, breathing against your mouth, only his arms holding him from falling into you. With every inhale, his expanding chest brushed against your breasts, every touch sending electric shots through you.

He collapsed beside you, still panting, one arm curling around your chest, just under your tits, pulling you into his side. "Just– give me a second, I'll get you something to clean up."

"Mmm," You breathed, relishing the heat of him, positive he was warmer than a normal person, the way it radiated off him, heating your skin at the contact points, "Don't worry about it. Deal with it in the morning." Your words were slurring, eyelids heavy.

"Mmm," Hancock agreed, tucking his face into your shoulder. He held you tight, like little kids held onto teddy bears. It was... nice. Unfamiliar to you, but, as you buried your head into the soft pillow, you supposed it was something you wouldn't mind getting used to.

You woke with a start, unfamiliar footsteps thudding above your head. It took a moment to reorient yourself, to recognize the walls you were blinking at, the hand tucked around your waist, the soft snores in your ear. Your head thudded, your mouth dry as a desert, tasting like cigarettes and whiskey. 

"Shit," You whispered, slowly extracting yourself from Hancock's warm arms, getting to your feet. Stark naked. Your pants were slung over a chair, one sock still in the pant leg, the other tossed onto a desk, surrounded by several tins of mentats and empty jet canisters.

"Fuck," You breathed, hopping around trying to get your socks on. One of your boots was on its side, halfway under the bed. Your shirt was hanging on the fucking doorknob and you tugged it on, ignoring the stale smell of sweat and alcohol that clung to it from last night’s shift.

You swept the room, but couldn't for the life of you find your underwear. The thought of leaving them somewhere was mortifying, but when Hancock shifted in the bed, you decided not to risk staying. You pulled your boots on, leaving them unlaced as you crept over the ancient floorboards. Seeing as Hancock was managing to sleep through the ruckus of the drifters on the top floor, you doubted the creak of the house would wake him, but you were still extra cautious as you cracked the bedroom doors open, just enough for you to slip through and rush down the staircase, pointedly not looking at any of the Neighborhood Watch.

Out in the semi-fresh morning air, you took a deep breath, mumbling another curse to yourself as you began a quick jog home, trying to avoid any knowing glances as you rounded a corner and shouldered the door to your apartment building open.

Shower, underwear, find Nate, get him to ask Hancock for the caps while you cowered in the background with sunglasses and a baseball cap over a dark hoodie. Fuck.

The shower was cold, obviously, and you counted your blessings for having running water at all, even if it was a bit too irradiated for comfort. You did your best to scrub fast, hands brushing through sweaty, greasy hair, soaping the necessary areas. You very pointedly did not linger on the dried, flaking cum on your stomach, exorcizing it with a washcloth and curses.

You were busy drying your hair with your dirty shirt, because whenever the water lingered too long it left an uncomfortable sheen over your hair and smelled a bit like a bog. A knock sounded at the door, sending ice through your veins, a response equivalent to the roar of a Deathclaw or the clicking of a Mirelurk.

For a moment, you contemplated crawling onto the rusty fire-escape outside your living room window and walking into downtown Boston to let some Super Mutants eat you.

Instead, though, you stepped over to the door, moments quiet as you contemplated what the fuck you were going to say. Last night was a mistake. You're my boss. I haven't had sex in two years and I'm sorry for leading you on, can I please have my panties back?

Another knock startled you out of your thoughts, fast and panicked, followed by the call of your name from a voice that definitely did not belong to Hancock.

You opened the door to a panting Nate, already back in his suit and armor, gun tossed over his shoulder.

"Nate?"

"Hey! Have fun last night?"

You flushed, even though his expression was nothing but kind; curious and happy for you, like a good friend should be.

"Uh. What's with the get up?" You deflected, which Nate took in stride.

"Distress call from the Minutemen, they asked me to head out west to Graygarden."

"The... farm run by robots?"

"Oh, that's what it is?"

"Wh- Never mind. What are you doing there?"

"Something about the water supply and Super Mutants. I'm leaving in a few minutes"

"Okay, that's fine, I'll drag someone else with me to Diamond City, no stress."

"No, I want you to come with me."

You blinked, hand tensing on the door frame, "Nate I'm not a fighter."

"Yes you are," He said, looking so genuinely confused it made your heart seize a bit, "We fought together. At Anchorage. Did you forget?"

"No, I didn't–" You swallowed. 

After returning home, witnessing massacre after massacre, you'd sworn to yourself you wouldn't get involved in that kind of shit. Even after the world ended, you'd managed to keep that promise. At night, alone in your cold bed, you could still hear the hissing of sentry bots, the creaking of power armor, the whistling of bullets. "I don't do that anymore, Nate."

Nate pulled one of his more serious faces, a rare sight for a man with seemingly endless drive and relentless optimism, even after losing more than you could imagine.

"Look. I understand what you're feeling–" You took a breath to interrupt him, because his blind patriotism had driven him forward when you'd lagged behind, weighed down by the blood on your hands. Nate pushed forward, "I know you don't believe me, but I really do. And nothing helped me heal those wounds like helping people."

"Helping robots." Your voice was flat.

"Who provide food for over a dozen settlements. You'd be doing good."

You bit your lip, casting your eyes over your apartment to avoid the earnest look in Nate's eyes. Sure, you were... content in your life. Goodneighbor was as safe as any settlement could be, you had steady income, some sort of purpose. But you remembered the day Nate had walked into the Third Rail with Nick Valentine on his heels, bleary eyed, vault suit still pristine. The way your heart had sung, the way an aching loneliness you'd felt since coming off the ice had faded.

Was this what the rest of your life would be? Slinging drinks, small talk with coworkers and bar patrons, waiting for the next time Nate would walk in through the doors like some yearning wife waiting for her husband to return from war?

Besides, you weren't going to be able from Hancock in his own fucking town, not for long.

You shut your eyes, feeling the phantom weight of a gun in your hands.

"Fuck. Fine."

The smile on Nate's face was like a kid's at Christmas.

"Great! I'll meet you at the front entrance in..." He glanced down at his pip-boy, "Thirty minutes?"

"Okay."

And he was off, leaving you standing in your doorway, blinking at nothing wondering what the fuck you'd agreed to.

Under your bed there were some loose floorboards you'd been using to store the important things. Your spare caps, your vault suit and pip-boy, your 10mm pistol and your combat shotgun. The former was familiar to you, used centuries ago in a war no one understood anymore. You'd grabbed it on your stumbling way out of the vault, and it was a good thing to or you would have gotten gored by some very territorial mole rats before even making it to a settlement. The shotgun had been stolen, in your trek to downtown Boston, taken off a raider you'd knocked out with a lead pipe. He'd clearly made some adjustments to it, with a hair trigger, less recoil than expected and a scope you'd never needed to use. You'd been meaning to sell it since you'd gotten in, but it had ended up in the floorboards where you'd simply hoped it would stay unless you were strapped for cash.

A knapsack was quickly filled with everything you needed, a change of clothes, a portable water purifier, all the food that would go to waste if you didn't take it with you. You tucked some spare caps into a hidden inside pocket, wrapping them in cloth to keep them from rattling. Your spare 10mm ammo, a few packs of cigarettes, a lighter, a flashlight.

The pistol was strapped into a thigh holster, a gun belt held your shotgun rounds. The shotgun went around your shoulder. They felt heavier than you remembered them being, their weight an oppressive reminder with every step you took out of your apartment. You'd need to let Charlie know you wouldn't be in for a while, and you'd need to stop by KL-E-0's for some spare parts. Easy enough, it was just the matter of avoiding certain tricorn-hat wearing mayors.

You kept your head down as you made your way through the street. You cut a more imposing figure with your armor, with the glint of weapons. People moved out of your way as you jogged towards the Third Rail, sliding in through the door like a mouse darting into its burrow.

You rattled like a tin can chime as you walked down the steps to the bar, announcing your approach before you could be seen, a cat with a bell. You were skittish, pausing at the last step to peek into the lounge, trying to spot a red coat, a familiar smile. Coast was clear.

"That the new uniform, then?" Charlie's voice nearly sent you flying, a squeak leaving you as the Mr. Handy suddenly appeared in view. The three eyes didn't exactly convey emotion well, but you could hear the dry amusement in his tone, maybe a hint of judgement.

"No, I uh–" You shook yourself, loosening the cotton in your brain, "Nate asked me to accompany him on a mission. Shouldn't take more than a week."

"Seven days and I'll file a missing person's report." Dry, dry, dry.

"Right," You breathed, gripping the banister like a life line, "Right. I appreciate the uh– The thought, Charlie. I'll see you around." Saliva filled your mouth, and you had a second to panic about throwing up on the floor as your stomach rolled, before the feeling faded.

Charlie didn't dignify you with a response, going right back to... whatever it was he did when the bar was closed, so you turned around, rattling right back up the stairs. First vacation in two years.

Again, you kept your head down as you walked through the alley towards Kill or Be Killed, pointedly avoiding letting your gaze slip to the Old State House, like the building itself would summon him. Something burned in your chest, not quite shame, but the next thing to it. In another life, you would've considered chewing on a baby aspirin, kept the landline in view, ready to dial 911, if you were having a heart attack. Now, though, you shrugged it off, grabbing your canteen and taking a greedy drink, washing away the cigarette taste that still lingered in your mouth.

KL-E-0 was in her usual place, piercing red eye landing on you.

"Well, don't you look dressed to kill."

You'd wondered, sometimes, if she had been especially programmed to sound so sultry, or if it was just her natural charm.

"Heading out for a while," You dug your bag of caps out of your pocket, placing it on the table as your eyes roamed over the wares available, "Think you could spare some grenades and shotgun shells?"

"Let's get you outfitted, killer."

The word left a sour taste in your mouth that had nothing to do with the cigarettes. You made it through the trade quickly, enough ammo to last you several encounters, enough grenades to get you through a couple rough spots. You left with your pockets lighter, your bandolier, pack and shoulders weighed down.

"Have fun, baby."

"Yeah, thanks, Kleo."

Nate was standing by the entrance, a respectable distance from the Neighborhood Watch, a focused frown on his face as he fiddled with his Pip-boy. He looked up when you approached, frown turning to a bright smile.

"So," you said, shouldering your gun, "Ready to head off?"

"Not quite, we're still waiting on the rest of the party. You know how he is, always fashionably late."

You didn't manage to get out your confused "Who?" Before a familiar hand was clapping Nate on the shoulder, saying, "So! Ready to get this show on the road?"

Fuck.

Notes: This is so insanely self indulgent it’s crazy, but I do hope you enjoyed at least a little <3

[elektramustdie]

𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬.

Hi!! so this is my first time writing on Tumblr, but I think I can do it lol so yeah!!

NSFW BELOW >_<

warnings , Dom/sub dynamics, unprotected sex ( don’t be silly wrap that willy ) , choking, oral (fem receiving) slight daddy kink.

Agreeing to go on tour with Ronnie was one of the best decisions you've ever made, travelling to every corner of the world and watching your boyfriend perform in front of thousands of people in the most extravagant outfits every night was honestly a dream, but now after four months being on the road with him you we're finally going home for a break. "Wake up darling'' Ronnie said stroking your cheek, it was only 7'o'clock in the evening in the us, but jet lag was getting the better of you so Ronnie being more accommodated to flying here there an everywhere gladly drove you two home from the airport whilst you napped. You give him a lazy smile stretching your arms in the air "we're home" you say excitedly looking at the front of your home, you honestly thought you forgot what it looked like after not seeing it in 4 months. He smiled, admiring his girl and how cute she looked rubbing her sleepy eyes with her whole palm like a child.

He opens his door and climbs out of the car, quickly making his way to your side to open the door for you like the gentleman he is, "m'lady" he gestures for you to get out the car " well thankyou kind sir" you giggle at him, pecking his cheek on your way to the back of the car.

You two make a quick job of getting all your luggage into the house, only dumping them in the porch already agreeing to deal with it in the morning. You walk into the kitchen to be greeted by Lacy your cat, You felt bad for leaving her for so long but a friend insisted that nothing would happen while she house sit. "hey dais how are you, missed you soo much" you coo towards her she let you stroke her for a maximum of two seconds before she spots Ronnie in the doorway and bounds over to him. You chuckle, Daisy had always had a soft spot for Ronnie and you couldn't really blame her "not giving mama cuddles huh, missed your daddy too much" he said with the cat laid in his arms, her paws up as if she was in surrender, Eventually she scrambled out of his arms going to her bed in the living room you presumed. "Wanna go and watch a film in bed baby, I can choose whatever, Your not making me watch The Notebook again"

"You cried at the end but whatever" she rolls her eyes and smiles walking to grab his outstretched hand. The two of you trudge up the stairs, and when you finally make it to the top you run into the bedroom that you and Ronnie shared, and jumped onto your California king bed, making Ronnie laugh at your antics. You had truly missed this bed after being in a tour bus for what seemed like forever.

There was just something about the duvet and the memory foam mattress cover that you couldn't get enough of. The sheets were extra soft and smelled like fresh flowers, You laid flat on your back with your arms and legs splayed out like a starfish. "This is better than sex" You say jokingly but sounded quite serious due to how comfortable you were. This made Ronnie spin round to face you with his eyebrows raised and a smirk on his lips. He made his way to the bed, you had your eyes closed so when you felt his breath against the side of your neck it made you jump and a shiver ran down you spine. "You sure about that sweet girl?" You open you eyes in shock, not knowing what you said would get him riled up that quickly, or bruise his forever increasing ego, but you knew if you kept playing along he would give it to you really good just so that he could prove you wrong, and you were all for it.

"Are you saying that this bed is better than my cock…my fingers…and my mouth?" Kissing you on the sweet spot on your neck between his words.

‘Hmm, | don't know you'll have to show me can't remember."

"Oh baby you don't know what you've gotten your self into, I'm gonna make you remember it for days" making a moan escape your lips, he pounced on top of you pinning you arms above your head kissing you on you lips multiple times before pecking all the way down you chest and tummy.

Ronnie knew you were probably joking but he loved having his way with you and for the last 4 months being on tour the only sort of intimacy you two had was quick fucks in dressing and hotel rooms with being so busy all the time and at night Ronnie was understandably tired after doing a show. He wanted to dominate the shit out of you tonight and you had just added fuel to the fire, so with no fear of someone walking in on you both he was going to let loose. 

He pulls back and releases your arms, "strip for me baby, then | want you to sit at the top of the bed with your back against the headboard" you moaned softly at his words, already putty in his hands and instantly start undressing as he did the same.

Once you were naked, and sat against the headboard you couldn't help but stare at your boyfriend pulling his t-shirt over his head making his arms flex, your pussy become slick with your wetness as you watched him. Once he freed his cock from the confines of his boxers, he gives his shaft a few tugs trying to relieve some of the building pressure.

‘Jesus, Your so hot’ he groans crawling up the bed, you legs spreading even more on instinct to give him more room. He lays on his belly once he is closer to you wrapping his arms around your thighs swiftly dragging you so that his face was barely centre metres away from your sopping cunt, you drape you legs over his shoulder heels digging into his back.

"M'gonna use my mouth… and my fingers and I'm gonna make you cum so hard sweet girl" you squirm in his grip his, eyes looking directly into yours. He gives you no warning as he ducks down pressing a kiss directly on your clit, then licking a bold stripe up your entire pussy "always to wet for me, you taste just like a strawberry angel." You throw your head back, your hands gripping onto the sheets to prepare yourself for what was to come.

He focuses back on your clit flicking his tongue from side to side, he teases his middle finger round your entrance making you buck your hips "patience dollface " he says removing his lips from your clit to suck a hickey onto the inside of your thigh. "Feels so so good Ronnie" the first words you had spoken except moan after moan since Ronnie started, your fingers pinching your nipples, he smirks up at you, his cock twitching against the sheets. He decides to give you his fingers, inserting two at the same time, you whine at how easily they slid into you. He gives no time to adjust curling them into a ‘cone hither’ motion then pumping them in and out going knuckle deep every time hitting spots that you would never have been able to fine with your own, a calloused finger rubbing tight circles around you clit. "How good is daddy making you feel, tell me"

"So f-fucking good, your fingers feel amazing inside me daddy" you can't stop your eyes from rolling into the back of your head as his mouth finds it's place back on your clit, adding a third finger into you cunt, still thrusting at a delicious pace, You could feel the knot tightening in your belly, but not only that you felt like a balloon was ready to burst within you.

You tangle your lingers In his hair, knowing that he loved it when you tugged on his curls, but you also did it so that he wouldn't pull away and deny you of an orgasm when you were almost falling off the edge. "Clenching around my fingers baby, know your gonna cum, stop holding back let go for me"

‘Fuck Ronnie , I'm so close’ you cry out "Yeah you gonna squirt for me, soak the sheets?" "Yes!" You scream "Go on then, cum for me pretty girl"

You couldn't hold back any longer, after a few more thrusts of his fingers you let go screaming as you do, the ballon inside you also bursting, he moaned out. Your legs were shaking, your head was thrown back, and your back arched as he continued thrusting his fingers inside of you to ride out your intense orgasm. After a few moments you took in a sharp breath having forgotten how to breathe "holy shit" you barely mustered up, you felt like you were floating in mid air, you don't think you've cum that hard in a very long time.

After a couple of minutes you start to come down from your high, you look at Ronnie who was still in the same position, his eyes were glazed over in lust "that was so fucking hot swear | could've cum just right there and then" Ronnie swore he could spend hours between your legs, he couldn't get enough of your taste. Eventually he presses one last kiss on your clit, before blowing air directly onto the small bud, making you squirm at the overstimulation.

He moves up your body, pressing kisses against your skin along the way, swirling his tongue around your hardened nipples then blowing air only each in just like he had done to your clit making a shiver run up your spine. He reaches your lips kissing, dipping his tongue into your mouth so that you could taste your juices.

"Was that good baby" his words muffled by your lips.

'Yes, m’kinda sleepy now though’ you say shutting your eyes a lazy smile spreading across your face. "No falling asleep on me now, haven't even fucked you yet" This makes you perk up a bit, now yearning to be filled with Ronnie's cock, you had only just come down from your last orgasm but you were ready for another one." ‘Want you to come deep inside of me, want you to fill me up so bad" you whine.

"You want my cock baby’

'Yes please’ you were desperate now.

"Well since you asked so nicely’ he reaches down tugging his cock a few times spreading pre-cum over his length, before slipping into your warm cunt both of you groaning at the feeling, he thrusts all the way inside you his length stretching your walls deliciously. " Ohhh sweet girl, swear you pretty cunt was made for me, can | move now? " You nod. he instantly complies not being able to stay still any longer. He starts a steady pace pulling nearly all the way out before thrusting back in hitting the deepest spots within you. You reach your arms over his shoulders tracing some of his tattoos along the way then gripping onto the soft skin. Whimpers and groans filled the room as. Ronnie buried his face in your neck, your natural scent mixed with your favourite perfume intoxicating him, you take your chance to suck a hickey onto his neck after not having much time to mark him up. He was fucking into you at a fast pace now, getting lost in pleasure "so deep" you moan. He moved his face from your neck, gripping onto the headboard with one hand to get more leverage, the sight of him above you pounding you into the mattress turned you on even more if that was possible. 

His hand flies to your throat gripping it just enough so it restricted you breathing slightly, "like that baby, you love it when daddy rough with you, don't ya?"

"Yes daddy, fucking love it' you scream as he starts hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

" Oh shit, I'm gonna cum, you gonna cum with me" he groans hand getting slightly tighter around your throat.

"'m gonna cum too, please keep fucking me like that" you mumnle out as your eyes roll into the back of your head your heels looped round his back and crossed at the ankle to keep him as close as possible. His thrusts start to falter and his cock twitches telling you he was about to fall over the edge ‘cum inside me ronnie want you to make me yours forever. please daddy want it soo much" you whimper also starting to tumble over.

" I'm cumming" he growls sheathing into your cunt his cock twitching one last time, he emptied his load inside you, the sensation of his seed filling you up also made you cum, Ronnie's grip on your throat giving you a head-rush as you do, you both felt euphoric. After the waves of your release come crashing down in you. your body goes limp, you know that you will be sore tomorrow and probably the day after but it was all worth it. Ronnie takes longer to come down from his high, his cum now dripping out of your pussy. "You okay?" you say sweetly looking up at him.

‘Oh I'm more than okay baby, feel fucking incredible’ He takes his loosened hand off of your throat before resting his body on top of yours, his cock still buried inside of you ‘I take back that last statement about this bed being better than sex’ you whispered breathlessly into his hair. "You better’ he tiredly laughs into your neck. 





































[hanlimz]

[midnight thoughts: enha + cuddles]

pairing: ot7 x reader (separate!) genre/warnings: fluff!! / none that i know of lolol :))) wc: ~700 words (abt 100 words per member) a/n: pls be proud of me i Never write in small chunks like this LMAO T_T .. but i hope this will suffice while i'm working on other longer things <333 love u all pls enjoy !!!

heeseung adores the sensation of your heart beating against his cheek. the rhythmic patterns of your pulse are a lullaby only he is allowed to hear. while the gentle fabric of your sleep shirt kisses his face, you card your fingers through the soft layers of his hair. heeseung knows you’ve fallen asleep when the rise and fall of your chest evens out and your hand falls away from his head. it’s peaceful here—with you. heeseung knows he’s home when he relishes in the warmth your body exudes.

jongseong takes comfort in the way you seem to melt back into his arms. as he ghosts his fingers over the skin of your forearms, he can feel the tension leave your tired muscles. jongseong whispers corny pick up lines and sweet nothings into your ear; he loves the way you let yourself laugh, no matter how heavy the happenings of the day happen to weigh on your heart. jongseong knows he’s home when you sink into his loving embrace and allow him to take care of you—just as you care for him.

jake has his bottom lip tucked under his top one as he tries to suppress yet another bout of giggles. the two of you are swapping stories about anything and everything—from sunoo laughing so hard he shot water out of his nose to your boss face-planting in the lobby of your office. jake’s hands are clasped in yours, and he nearly squeals when you pepper feathery kisses along his knuckles. an unceremonious piece of your hair falls in front of your eyes, and both of your resolves crack within nanoseconds. jake knows he’s home when his stomach hurts from laughter and his chest is fuzzy with love.

sunghoon can’t even fathom a reality in which your position would be comfortable enough to sleep in. he’s positive that you’ll wake up with a crick in your neck and pain in your back, and he knows his sternum isn’t nearly as soft as the memory foam pillow he bought you last christmas. perhaps it’s a bit selfish—but, sunghoon can’t bring himself to change a thing as he feels the gradual rise and fall of your chest against his own. sunghoon knows he’s home when the weight of your body and the tempo of your breathing beckons him closer to the drooling jaws of slumber.

sunoo shivers as you play with the hairs at the nape of his neck; he giggles at the sensation of your lips brushing against the plush skin of his neck, but he can’t will himself to tease you. sunoo runs his hands over the length of your spine while letting you relax into him. truthfully, he cherishes quiet moments like these—you curled up in his lap, breathing in the lingering scent of your perfume and taking in your presence. no words are exchanged, but love is shared nevertheless. sunoo knows he’s home when he can finally hug you close and bury you even further into the warmth of his heart.

jungwon is distracting himself from the waves of heat washing over his face; he’s tracing triangles and circles and squares into the skin of your back. jungwon finds his eyes starting to drift closed, but he wills himself to stay awake. his resilience is rewarded when you begin to hum a gentle lullaby he recognizes from his childhood. jungwon chuckles as the nerves settle in his stomach. he presses his lips to the nape of your neck, and sings along to create a beautiful harmony. jungwon knows he’s home when every path his thoughts choose to take always leads back to you.

nishimura riki is exhausted. with every step past the threshold of your door, fatigue seeps further and further into his bones. after a few moments of searching, riki finds you on the couch and collapses into your sitting figure. your hands thread their way through riki’s hair in mere seconds, and he nuzzles his head into your stomach while attempting to hide the blush blooming on his cheeks. riki knows he’s home when he can let all the walls he’s built around his heart crumble to the ground.

[lesinquietes]

A truly scary thought is breaking up with Dabi, because you figure he never really acted like he gave a fuck about you anyways, and him turning into a total yandere

Tw; burning, kidnapping, noncon

At first, he’s chill about it. K. Fine. Good riddance. He doesn’t need you. You were simply something to pass the time with, and he’s sure to let you know precisely that if you badger him too much. It turns out you’re kinda cute when you cry. Makes him wish he’d been around more to tease the little droplets out of you instead of ruminating on the past.

Your lack of presence hits him after the first night. Having the bed to himself isn’t as nice as he thought it’d be. Maybe it was comforting to have you warm the other side of his mattress — or the space beneath him, when he used to cage you between his chest and the memory foam. Growing up close to Natsuo, he became familiar with having someone else nearby. But it can’t be just anyone; it has to be someone he cares about. And he guesses that means he cares about you, after all.

He was so preoccupied with getting revenge on his father that he neglected you; likewise, he isn’t in-tune with his emotions enough to own up to his mistakes. That makes his next step challenging. How is he supposed to get you back if he doesn’t bother to apologize? You won’t accept that. So, naturally, instead of causing himself a molecule of personal discomfort, he decides it’s in his best interest to kidnap you.

God help you if you’re the type to move on from relationships by slutting it up. Dabi won’t like that other people have touched you. He’ll have to kill them; then, he’ll have to burn some sense into you. Where would you prefer his mark on your body? It doesn’t matter. He chooses your tender inner thigh. Screaming only motivates his effort, so by all means, sing.

“Think it’s hot when you scream for me.” He grins as you wriggle on his grasp. “Should’ve done this sooner.”

If you’re the type to heal on your own, in the presence of yourself and a few close others, your punishment won’t be nearly as bad. In fact, he hesitates to even brand it as a form of discipline. Sure, he still burns you — because you can’t get it in your pretty head that you have the choice to up and leave him a second time — but he makes sure to be gentle. He knows he’s the reason you left; he can’t fault you for it.

“Don’t give me that shit, doll. I know I fucked up. That’s why I’m here.” He murmurs, advancing toward you with a single blue flicker igniting from his index finger. “But be a good girl and bend over the couch for me. I’ll make this quick.”

When he finally takes you back with him, he doesn’t let you out if his sight. He lets you blow up and yell at him. He lets you curse and cry. He doesn’t let you wallow for too long, though. It pisses him off that you’re still acting like being with him is horrible. He said he’d have more time for you now. He said he’d speak to you nicer. What the fuck more do you want from him, an apology? You’re not getting that.

Dabi is delusional in every sense, except he’s a little bit more so in bed. He thinks fucking you will fix things. It always did before, didn’t it? He’d make you cum and you two would forget about your argument. It didn’t even have to be addressed. He’s confused as to why it isn’t working now.

“Not good enough for you anymore?” He hisses between several deep thrusts. “This dick doesn’t stretch you right, princess?”

Moaning is the only correct answer. If you talk back, he makes it worse. He remembers where your pain threshold is. He thinks he can literally drill a good attitude into you. There’s no escaping how terribly deranged he is.

And pretending life is good won’t get you anywhere. He knows you. He’s studied you enough to detect your deception. Don’t worry — you’ll love him for real again one day, when you have nothing but a modicum of your sanity left.

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 47

chapter 72:

1. “The day of Marlene's memorial is the first time Dorcas decides she's going to kill herself.” oh shit, oh fuck wait

2. bro dorcas is unwell. like holy shit. i forget that the war started because of dorcas’ love for marlene. like. this is just as much of a dorlene fic too

3. dear god i wanna help dorcas so badly

4. call it instinct, but i knew dorcas’ hair would be a crucial part of her healing journey 💃🏼💃🏼

5. i love well rounded female characters but at what cost. dorcas is well rounded but at what cost? she’s suffering and it hurts to read

6. god damn. finding out that dorcas’ mom was in charge of a quarterly quell is fucking insane. considering that dorcas all but ran the resistance

7. “”You said it first, didn't you? There are no good people in war. I lived by those words, did you know that? All that you were wrong about, but that…" She gives a brittle laugh. "You were right about that."”

foaming at the mouth oh my god. i wanna chomp glass

8. DORCAS NO! (she started drinking fyi)

9. dear god dorcas, you aren’t the only one who knew the “real” marlene. people other than you loved her.

10. dorcas finally admitting that if she could choose someone other than dorcas it would be lily hurts. especially since lily has mary.

11. “Marlene was the love of her life, and that's it. Simple as that. She'll never love another.” OWWWWW

12. “She will make sure Lily never knows that Dorcas looks at her now and thinks before this life, it could have been us; maybe in some other life, it is. And that's more than enough.”

DNDNSMMSJSKEJNS AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

13. brb i’m sobbing

okay i’m back. dorcas just found out marlene was gonna propose and now i’m a sniveling mess

14. so much thanks to bizzarestars making the effort to learn about the way war vets healed and dealt with ptsd

chapter 73:

1. sirius having an emotional support dog >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

2. also imma make predictions now: this is the chapter where sirius goes home. it’s time

3. YES YES YES YES THEYRE GOING HOME FUCK YEAH

4. “A homely little home with a porch-swing under the stars. Sirius is homesick for that, too.”

this is my dream too. like it’s been my dream for so long. i can’t even fathom how sirius isn’t bawling like a baby over this. IM bawling like a baby over THEIR porch swing

5. regulus saw sirius and was willing to risk it all just to hug him omg

6. “Barty was the sort of person who needed no outside guidance into being a bit insane.” LMAOOOOOO

7. they’re running a business together and they’re gonna do it forever and now i want to gnaw on wood and glass and plastic and anything i can get my hands on

8. lmao not sirius sitting like a spoiled puppy dog as james and regulus argue over him for the wedding

9. “"Oh, please," James scoffs, rolling his eyes. "One, I'm not stealing your brother away from you, and you know it. Two, who the fuck else would be my best man, hm? Who? Go on."

"Oh, you want to go there?!" Regulus shouts. "What about me? Yeah, didn't think about that, did you? My best friend is dead. Oh, and so is Barty. Who do I have, James? Hm?"”

FUCKING CACKLING

10. awwwww sirius’ compromise is so sweet omg. i’d literally cry if i was james and regulus

11. ugh gay people are so confusing. like you’re allowed to be freinds with the same people and freinds with any gender. so like, it makes wedding planning so hard. who goes on who’s side? what if i said that when i found out about gay people, my biggest hold up wasn’t religion or anything like that, but instead wedding side logistics

12. canonical genderqueer tonks!!!!!!!!!

13. regulus went to aberforth to cause a scene, and damn if he didn’t succeed

14. damn they’re both stubborn. and both got their way jfc

15. full circle. dorcas is designing their wedding clothes. i’m losing my mind, actually

16. the bookshelf. the fucking bookshelf from the first arena. i’m losing my mind oh my god

17. CACKLING OMG. REGULUS WAS WORRIED THAT JAMES WOULD BE SCARED OF THE DAGGERS, BUT INSTEAD HE GOT SO FUCKING TURNED ON OMG

18. STILL FUCKING CACKLING OMG

19. i didn’t know i needed insecure james, but oh i did

20. i get to read the crimson rivers jegulus wedding and oh my fucking god i’m losing it. i am so unbelievably happy

21. “For him, it's easiest to show love when it's a tragedy.”

dksjdjjsjdjsmdjske holy shit

22. “You're hesitating, love."”

AHDHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

23. “You might wish to know a lot of things about their wedding, and their love, but frankly, it's no one's business but theirs.” so feral over this. that’s literally one of the biggest themes of the story omg i love this

24. hi, anyways, i am so unwell

25. the authors notes about the wedding are golden

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 57: Gallifrey at War Part 8

Normal TWs for these parts apply: for war, death, injury, disturbing behavior

The Gramoryans were paradox eaters that used to be monitored by the Time Lords but began to run amok after the Last Great Time War. They collected important historical people and kill those who they deemed insignificant. They were attracted to Tudor Era England when the Monk disguised himself as King Henry VIII. (Audio: Divorced, Beheaded, Regenerated)

Paradox anxiety refers to the fear of falling under the influence of the Faction Paradox if someone caused a paradox. In more extreme cases, people might believe they had already caused a paradox and were thus already under Faction Paradox control. (Novel: The Book of War)

While not a declared "war" that Gallifrey took part in, the Quantum Archangel was created by fusing a human with the energy of the Lux Aeterna, the quantum foam making up reality. This resulted from the Master trying to use a TITAN Array to rejuvenate his body and destroy the Chronovores. The Quantum Archangel became basically an omnipotent goddess with the ability to create pocket universes and rewrite history. She intended to get rid of suffering by putting everyone in their own individual pocket universes and letting them live their best lives possible. (Novel: The Quantum Archangel)

The Quantum Archangel did not realize that the Chronovores would start to eat the small alternate timelines she had been creating. The perfect universes collapsed into nightmarish versions. (Novel: The Quantum Archangel)

To fight the Quantum Archangel, the Sixth Doctor bathed in the Lux Aeterna himself to get the same powers. He went to the higher dimensions and tried to make her see reason. This failed, so the two of them did battle on a truly cosmic scale, using entire suns and planets as weapons. The Doctor in his godly form and Kronos managed to revert the Quantum Archangel back into her human form (Novel: The Quantum Archangel)

The Ninth Doctor told Rose he was 900 years old because during the Last Great Time War, such as during the Battle of Rodan's Wedding, years became ammunition. The Doctor could remember being aged to five million years old when hit by one volley of shrapnel and then being de-aged to a baby by the next. Because of this mess, the Doctor could not be sure of his exact age but decided that he "felt" about a thousand years old, which he rounded to 900. (Short story: Doctor Who and the Time War) If you recall from TV: The Invasion of Time, Rodan was a Gallifreyan who was responsible for maintaining the transduction barrier.

The Bygone Horde was made up of all the species that had been erased from existence during the Last Great Time War, surviving only as a memory. They planned on returning to existence using the sacrifice of the human race, but the Ninth Doctor and Adam Mitchell stopped them. (Audio: The Other Side)

Ollistra attached an artron leash to the War Doctor, thus linking him to herself. These artron leashes were made by Gallifrey and forced the person on the receiving end - in this case the War Doctor - to stay close to the other. If they moved too far away, they would be given an intense electric shock. (Audio: A Thing of Guile)

The Fifth Doctor was forced to lead a military campaign against Morbius during the Civil War. He took on the alias the Supreme Coordinator (or the Supremo) and led a large army composed of Ice Warriors, Draconians, Sontarans, Ogrons, and Cybermen. The Daleks were not part of this Alliance, but the Doctor had a nightmare where they offered to help. (Novel: Warmonger)

The Ogrons had been the Doctor's bodyguards in this time in order to avoid jealousy that choosing one of the other species would have caused. (Novel: Warmonger)

Peri Brown had become a guerilla leader on Sylvana after the Doctor had sent her away to heal from a serious injury. She only met back up with the Doctor after he became general of his massive army. (Novel: Warmonger)

The Supreme Coordinator had such a big impact on those in his command that the Sontaran Battle Major Streg sacrificed himself to save the Supremo in battle. His last words were ones of thanks to the Supremo for giving him a glorious death in a legendary battle. (Novel: Warmonger)

An additional Time War was averted during the Eleventh Doctor's era. This clearly caused the Doctor a lot of distress, causing him to break down alone in his TARDIS and speak about how he didn't want to be a Warrior again. (Audio: Daleks Victorious)

A predicted timeline of this averted Time War suggested by a sentient Dalek time machine (named Tim) stated that the best end to this war (and the way to destroy the Daleks) would involve Valarie going back in time and changing her own personal history. Even in this best case scenario, however, the Time War would last billions of years and result in the Doctor’s death. (Audio: The Last Stand of Miss Valarie Lockwood)

The Loomstacks on Gallifrey 8 became so overworked during the War in Heaven that thick black smoke blocked out the sun over the Capitol. To create more troops for the War, Gallifrey would incinerate their dead soldiers, break their bodies into raw fabric, and reweave them into brand new troops. (Novel: The Taking of Planet 5)

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[muffinsin]

Hello my FAVORITE child, your Mother stopping by to drop a HC request if ya don't mind humoring me. I give you free reign with the maidens.... they are replaceable . But my vases and flowers are off limits still. You still do no wrong and are so perfect, smart and intelligent.

Also make sure u drain the blood the way Alci showed with the maidens. Now to my ask...... *unfolds a long ass piece of parchment paper and puts on my glasses*

Ok so hear me out. You know my HC on Feral Cass after her Cadou implant. Like babygirl is dumb ass rocks. She cant speak, talk, read, write, like nothing. Her whole brain gets wiped from something going wrong w her Cadou. She ask like a legit animal, like growling and snarls instead of words. U know feral feral.

SO like I would LOVE to hear your HC's on what Feral Cass would be like if she is like on a hunt and finds a pregnant women in the woods. For some reason or the other the women is lost from the village cuz preggo brain. Like she can smell that the women is with child and gets maybe curious about just what that means. *dumb ass rocks Cass but still has those baser instincts to know that this isn't normal prey* And maybe Cass like ends up protecting the women from an attack *cuz u know those woods aint never safe* so she is even more confused on why she did that. Why protect this "bloated "human ? Its just a human... right? She kills humans just to kill, what was different about this one type.

OK I go now... I ramble. BYYYEEEEE MY FAVORTIE CHILD!!!!!!

Hello, Mother @darkittensniper ! I suppose the vases and flowers being off limits is acceptable aims hatchets at the windows Being right and correct and all😌🙌 Dw, I know how to drain em >:)

Nooooow, abso-freaking-lutely! We love sum feral Cassie in this house🙌

Let’s get into it :)!

Masterlists

Noises, smells, visuals, everywhere. Cassandra loves and hates it at the same time

Her head jerks, from left to right, up and down. Her eyes wide, her lips parted enough to allow a glimpse of sharp, white canines dripping blood

Every little sound has her attention

Every little movement has her twitch and glance in the direction

Every scent makes her growl quietly

A hunt- a good hunt, this one will be. Certainly

If only she could settle on a prey. There is simply so much to choose from, she’s foaming at the mouth and growling in excitement already

Birds, boars, rabbits, villagers and hunters, Lycans and bears, even a varcolac!

She turns her head to the right, so fast it feels as though her neck is snapping

Cassandra snarls at the sensation, and for a moment it’s enough to drown out the noise she has just heard

Ah, but it returns. Panting

Yes, unmistakably

Female. Exhausted. Panicking. Crying

Cassandra’s eyes flash dangerously for a moment

She snarls for a mere moment again, her claw-like nails digging sharply into the handles of her daggers. For a second she considers dropping them, before the memory of the special engravings on its handle remind her not to do so

Then, a smirk appears on her face when she catches the direction of the strange scent

She is ready to hunt

She runs fast, uncaring and unaware of her dress getting stuck on twigs and thorns and ripping free again seconds after

Often, it nearly makes her trip. She pays it no mind, only keeps running

She can’t think, can’t talk, can’t do a thing but follow the noise and follow her basic instinct to discover, claim, and kill

The closer the gets, the more feral she seems to become

Her mouth waters at the loud heartbeat she hears, her eyes widen at the overwhelming scent that hits her

Suddenly she stops in her tracks, so sudden it’s as if she’s run into an invisible wall

She snarls, then whimpers, as though in confusion

Certainly, this scent is different than a normal one

Hunger and brutality is met with curiosity

As her legs come to a final halt and she stalks quietly, she finds her prey

She moves under twigs and through bushes, quietly snarking and smacking them away with the sharp sides of the daggers

Her lips curl upwards when she finds her prey again, this time being granted a closer look

Panting, crying, hissing and groaning, clutching her bloated stomach. Poor thing. Not that Cassandra understands

A woman. This much is clear

You’re unaware of the feral, beast-like brunette watching you from among the trees

You don’t hear her growl, her snarl of frustration when she can’t figure out what’s different about you

You don’t care, either, though

Not when all your attention is pulled to your foot and the harsh metal spikes piercing it

The flesh of your ankle is swollen and red, pulsing and radiating heat. You cry out and pant to yourself as you attempt to work on the sharp metallic teeth

A bear trap

Cassandra catches wind of this, too

Her lips are all too dry, and as her tongue darts out to lick them, her eyes flash to the blood covering your ankle

Hunger takes over her again, and as she inhales sharply, a small, excited squeak passes her lips

Her head jerks sideways again when a roar is heard, loud enough to cover her hiss and growls of displeasure and loud enough for even you to hear

A bear

She feels excited again, her bloodlust returning wholly, among something else

She needs to slay this beast

She practically tastes your panic in the air as the sound rings out and scares nearby birds

Is she about to watch the bear devour you? It doesn’t seem so

With a mind too clouded, the feral brunette can’t even entertain the idea of it

Instead, she swarms fast, the tip of her dagger grazing your shoulder as she stands in front of you

Protectively, even

She bares her teeth at the large animal coming from among the twigs and bushes, her own, sharp canines on display, blood and drool forming at her mouth

The beast stares for a moment, as though to think this over

Both are locked into a staring match, neither advert their eyes, neither moving at all

She takes in the black fur, the brown eyes, the mouth pulled to form a snarl similar to hers

Sharp teeth, perhaps even sharper claws on the animal’s paws

She practically vibrates with excitement, her flies buzzing both excitedly and aggressively

After a few seconds, she can’t stand the anticipation any longer

She charges, a growl and snarl coming from her

Yet, in her dizzying bloodlust and excitement, she is once again too fast and little strategic

As the bear moves sideways, Cassandra hisses. She slams against one of the trees, the wood hard against her shoulder

She snarls angrily, her body turning back to the bear running at her. It too is ready to charge now

She rips herself from the tree, her daggers slicing harshly into the bear’s massive neck

As blood spills and slaps her in the face, she laughs, the sound almost high pitched in excitement, the most human one she has been able to make so far

Clearly, she is enjoying herself

You watch in awe as she fights the beast, the show temporarily distracting you from the aching and biting pain of your ankle

The bear falls fast, a loud roar the last sound coming from it when daggers and teeth dig into its neck and rip brutally

A quick death, albeit a bloody one. You wonder if yours will be the same

The brunette hasn’t yet turned her attention back to you

She’s studying the body, sniffing and prodding, cutting and licking the blood off the blades, uncaring when she accidentally makes a cut at her own tongue or lip

You watch her, elegant, yet not elegant at all at the same time…her movements are fast and animalistic, feral

She snaps her head when she hears something, sniffs and tilts her head to examine the corpse

And yet, the way she holds her daggers, the way her back is just slightly arched as she has a look…she has something regal about her, a mere trace of elegance deep within

You turn your attention back to the bear trap

When you attempt to grasp one of the metallic claws and tug the trap open, you nearly scream in pain. It doesn’t budge, and you can’t see it properly with your stomach disallowing you to sit up as you’d like to

You bite down on your lip harshly, so that only a whimper comes from you, and gently stroke over your stomach to calm yourself

You remember what you have been told. To stay calm. To avoid stress. Well, that’s working out well for you…

Yet, you don’t realise that your pained whimper immediately has her head snap back to you

She’s back at you in an instant, her eyes following you when you flinch backwards

She feels- confused

Why did she save you?

Cassandra hovers over you, the blood at her face immediately catching your attention

Yet, with your leg stuck, you can’t even pull away as she climbs over you, the slightly torn parts of her dress almost ticklish against your trapped leg

You watch her face lower to your stomach, her expression almost confused

Cassandra snarls for a moment. No response comes from you or your stomach

Why is it like that? Why do you smell so odd?

She catches the scent, yours, and your blood. And another. A light one. Coming from your stomach

You tense as she inhales, her cheek brushing against your covered stomach

Cassandra only grows more curious. Uncaring about you, she sinks her teeth into the fabric of your shirt and pulls it up

Yet, when she doesn’t find a human curled against you like expected, but a large stomach only, she jumps back in surprise

Had it not been for the quick beat of your heart and the painful ache of your leg, you might’ve laughed at the strange view of this woman being startled by your stomach

However, she is quick to approach you again

With her head tilted sideways, she eyes you curiously

You realise- she isn’t going to hurt you. Nor is she going to hurt your unborn baby

Instead, she keeps sniffing about, eyes wide, fingers poking and prodding as though to confirm it’s your skin

When you attempt to sit up, you scream, having momentarily forgotten about the bear trap

Her eyes flash and widen, and for a mere moment the beautiful gold in them catches you off guard

You watch her move down your body, sniffing and inspecting you, as though checking for more wounds

Then, she is right at the beartrap

She grabs it, and with a firm yank, it comes loose

You scream, and for a moment, clutch your stomach tightly

Confusion sets in when Cassandra copies the action, her bloodied hands on top of you too

She seems unsure of her own actions, as though they’re driven purely by instinct, rather than actual thought and consideration

She watches you for a few more moments, before leaning close to your stomach again

You gasp in surprise when she suddenly smears her face against you, her bloodied cheek rubbing against you

Affectionately, almost

She growls as she repeats the action, again, and again

At last, she faces you again

Her head tilts. She takes you in, you realize. She is curious about you

“I’m from-the village”, you clarify for her. You wonder whether she can even understand you

She certainly looks human

“I got lost”, you admit, your voice raspy from screaming and crying

You don’t dare look down at your injured leg, instead keep your eyes fixated on her golden ones

She whines and snarls for a moment, then seems to come up with whatever she has been trying to think of

You shriek in surprise when her arms wrap around you and you’re lifted off the dirty ground

With certainty, she begins to walk, seemingly bringing you deeper into the forest

[rat-rambles]

I want to uses gravity falls to talk about how/why I ship ships becuase I don't see people over analyzing there own behavior enough.

For context the 2 ships I'm foaming at the mouth for rn is Billford and Fiddlestan two seemingly opisit ships.

The thing they have incommon is there both well intresting ok I'll be more spefic than that. Both relationships are ones where both participates gain something form the relationship besides just some one to kiss. I think a lot of time romance is used as a bandade on story's when there isn't enough stakes for example in gravity falls the writes kept truning back to dipper haveing a crush on Wendy becuse it's a easy conflict. Boy wants girl Bing bang book plot and that's ok some times but there's not any real drama or tention espicaly in that case when everyone knew it wasn't going to go anywhere. Even in cases where tenicaly it could go some where like Wendy and robbie it still feels hallow becuse it feels like the only reason there dating is to have someone to kiss and hold hands with witch is basically true. Dipper thinking Wendy is hot tells us nothing meaningful about him it dosnt tell us how he vibes the world or him self it dosnt even really tell us how he viwes Wendy besides her being "cool".

Now Billford tells us a lot about both charters involved. There are both in the relationship to fill a need, a void created by childhood trauma. Bill needs to be told he's the best, most special, and strongest boy in the galaxy because if he's not that he's just some monster who destroyed his whole dimension for no reason. Ford needs someone to tell him he's the most special, smartest, cleverest boy becuse if he's not he's just some freak form the lead district of new jersey who threw away his relationship with his brother for nothing. See that's intresting and even better is that they both get this thing they've craved there whole life and they both chose something else over there relationship Bill chooses world conquering and Ford choses well the world. That's conflict that's drama that's juicy.

Now fiddlestan speficaly au where they get together after Ford falls into the portal is also conflict filled. This is the most insecure money version of both Stanley and Fiddleford. Fiddleford has just lost his best friend and porbaly crush also money bag man to a god dam triangle, he's lost his wife and kid, probably his house, and basically all job opertunitys what is Ford going to be his refence, and worse he's loseing his mind to magic gun addiction. Stanley is at rock bottom he's makeing the mystery shack sure but he's feeling INCREDIBLY guilty for pushing his brother though the portal, he'd pretty poor still, he has a lot new reponciblitys, and he has no one.

Bonus points becuse you know fiddleford and stan are going to get into fights about the portal, and Ford, and the mystery shack, and the memory gun situations. So there's alot of conflict there but there's also alot of solutions the characters have. Stan wouldn't let fiddleford destory his mind. Fiddleford wouldn't let Stanley self isolate. They would be good for eachouther healthy even but not conflictless.

Conflict is the back bone of a good story. Shipping is just likeing a type of story.

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: afab!reader. no character mentioned, but implied to be male (he/him) and well-built. reader and character implied to be older adults (reader has smile lines/light wrinkles, etc); self-doubt/body image issues discussed.

You lay back against his bare chest, your body nestled between his spread legs, his thighs pressing into the softness of your hips. He hums and reaches across you to turn the page of his novel, lowering his hand again to settle on your stomach. The soft rise and fall underneath you isn’t enough to soothe you like it usually does, isn’t enough to keep the nagging thoughts neatly tucked away in their compartments,

“You’re restless,” he murmurs, setting his book aside and running his free hand down your arm.

“Will you still love me when I’m old?” The words leave your lips and the instant taste of regret floods your mouth.

The tip of a finger lightly drags along the outside of your mouth, tracing a smile line. “We’re not exactly young anymore, darling.”

You sigh, and suppress an annoyed smile, even though he can’t see it—he knows. “I know that. I mean like, old-old. I mean decrepit-old. I mean bog-hag-old.”

“I’ll answer your question when you look at me and tell me why you think you’re not allowed to age.”

You grunt and grumble and hoist yourself up to your knees, turning around to straddle his lap, the softness of his jogging pants brushing against the inside of your thighs. It’s hard to meet his gaze—he demands honesty, and your addled mind prefers not to be seen, not to be exposed under the harsh spotlight of his concern.

“Because.” You pause, drawing an abstract pattern over his chest, feeling the hard muscles of his form tense underneath your touch. “Because all men care, don’t they?”

“About?”

“About looks. About youth.” Your voice is cracking. You’re louder than you ought to be—this is all louder than it ought to be, every miserable bit of it. “About having some pretty young thing on your arm. About a tight body and perky tits and—well, you know.”

All that shit that I don’t have.

He places his hands on the sides of your face, his thumbs grazing the crinkles around your eyes. He breathes in deep, seems to consider the weight of your worry as he tilts his head, the corners of his mouth raising and lowering as he examines the pain that has etched itself in your features, years of experiences written all over your skin.

“You exist in a body well-lived. And you’ll live it in even more. And I’ll live in mine even more. And I’ll still want to rail you every waking moment,” he says with a grin, letting a hand drift down to cup your ass, squeeze it through the cotton briefs that cover your warm skin. “Just as much I assume you’ll want my old ass to keep railing you.”

“Of course I do. And I will.” You lean in and place soft kisses along his jaw, down his neck to his clavicle. God he’s hard to resist, even when you’re sad and fucked up over nothing except your own anxiety.

“Well, then it’s settled.” His hands settle on your waist and grips you, lets his fingers sink into the soft, pliable flesh that memorizes his touch like memory foam.

You chew on your lower lip, swallowing down a hiccuped sob. He can see the way your eyes glisten with tears, but you choose to pretend he cannot, that you appear stoic and unfeeling, even though you’re falling apart at the seams. “Will you say it, then? Please?”

He wraps his arms around your back and pulls you against him, his heart beating under you, beating only for you. He holds you tightly, firm arms like steel cables strapping you to him, and you wish he could just squeeze the doubt out of you, wring you out like a wet washcloth and rid you of your bullshit. But his warmth, and his soft sigh, and the steady rhythm of his love in his ribs will have to suffice.

“I’ll still love you when you’re old. I promise.”

[thegaininggod]

Would you rather lay on someone like a weighted blanket or be played on by someone like a bed?

I’d totally choose to be played on like a bed. Why would I wanna be a blanket when I can be the whole cozy mattress experience? Think of me as the deluxe memory foam that molds perfectly to your every move lol

[twin-disaster-tutel-brainrot]

Been thinking about the turtles' sleeping habits and such for a fic. This was meant to be a short one but I ended up having too many ideas so enjoy.

Raph:

Likes to sleep with his door open to be able to hear everything around the lair.

Somehow both a light and a heavy sleeper at the same time. Will wake up from the quietest suspicious sound, will be up on his legs in a second when his brothers come to him at 3AM because of a nightmare, but also won't budge when they literally jump on him to try to wake him up for breakfast.

Sleeps with a single quilt he and Mikey made together, with no pillow and with a LOT of teddy bears.

Belly sleeper.

Will use his teddy bears as a pillow when needed.

Will use his brothers as pillows during turtle piles as well.

Snores.

Used to sleepwalk a lot as a kid, happens way less often as a teen but could still happen once in a while.

And he has a sleepwalking stink of course.

Sometimes talks in his sleep too.

Has a very consistent sleeping schedule and wakes up pretty early without an alarm clock, but only on weekdays.

On weekends it's almost impossible to wake him up before 11 and definitely not before 9.

Takes him a while to get out of bed after he wakes up, and he's pretty slow during the morning, only really waking up after breakfast.

He also likes reading comics or play some idle game on his phone before going to sleep.

Donnie:

Sleeps with his door closed and locked.

Prefers to have white noise on.

Prefers sleeping with a weighted blanket.

Uses a either a gel pillow or a memory foam pillow. (Those ones that hold their shape that are good for back sleepers) - I actually went back to "The Purple Jackets" episode and it does look like he's using a gel/memory foam pillow.

I was gonna say he's a back sleeper and then I saw the scene in "The Purple Jackets" again and he changed his sleeping position like three times there, so I'm gonna say he falls asleep on his back and rolls around a lot during sleep.

While he likes the white noise and weighted blanket he doesn't actually need them to sleep. If he closes his eyes while sitting/lying down he's gonna fall asleep after 5 minutes max.

He also falls asleep if he just touches a bed for long enough.

And it also takes him exactly 5 minutes to get ready for bed. So 10 minutes from when he walks into his room until he's completely asleep.

Likes sleeping in small confined spaces. (Wrapping him in a blanket like a baby counts as a small space. The space under his desk is also a small space. The space under the sofa is too. And space between his brothers during a turtle pile.)

He has strict rules about his sleeping schedule. He wakes up at either 7:40 or 9:10 every day. He will stop working and go to sleep at either 1:30am or 3:00am. If he misses both he'll just work through the night and go to sleep the night after that.

He misses both marks quite often.

The only way to make him break those rules is with a turtle pile.

One thing he cannot tolerate though is scratchy beddings. He will not fall asleep if something scratchy is touching him.

I feel like he doesn't like ignoring his notifications so he always makes sure he didn't left anything unread before going to bed, and he makes sure to do that during the 5 minutes it takes for him to get ready. But sometimes someone sends him something dumb that makes him angry enough to drop everything and start a stupid online argument that lasts all night. So sometimes he just stays standing in the middle of his room without moving for hours instead of going to sleep, or he'll end up sitting in his chair with his phone. If he chooses to sit on his bed tho he ends up falling asleep almost immediately.

Leo:

Insomniac™

Sleeps with his door open a crack, enough for light and some sounds to get in but not enough to make him feel vulnerable.

But he also gets sleep paralysis once in a while and having your door be open just a crack is like perfect nightmare fuel so when that happens and his sleep paralysis demon peeps in he probably goes to sleep in Mikey's room for like a week.

Also definitely just have nightmares in general almost every night. He's used to it by this point. He does wake up from them like three times a night tho.

^ Definitely not projecting.

Has a nightlight. Cannot sleep without it.

And a digital alarm clock with glowing numbers that's always facing the bed so he'll know how long he slept for.

It takes him like half an hour to fall asleep on a good day and three hours on a bad day. Usually spends that time scrolling his phone until he can't possibly keep his eyes open for a second longer.

Uses like 5 blankets - a quilt over his legs, a fuzzy throw blanket around his shoulder, two more summer blankets and finally a comforter over everything. Or maybe swap one of the summer blankets for a weighted blanket, I haven't decided yet.

If he does use a weighted blanket though then he can't sleep without it.

He likes sleeping completely covered up from head to toe. Uses one of the summer blankets to cover his head to not get completely overheated, and to be able to see his nightlight and hear the noises from outside his room.

Uses three pillows - gel/memory foam pillow, understuffed normal pillow and an overstaffed normal pillow. The overstuffed one is to lean on when he's sitting scrolling on his phone, the other two are for sleeping on.

Has a small decorative pillow he got from April that he hugs to sleep every night.

Other than scrolling on his phone for the few hours before he falls asleep he actually makes an effort to only sit on his bed when it's nighttime.

He also always has a fan on for the noise and the airflow, but it's never directly facing him or it'll wake him up.

On really bad nights he can't fall asleep he gets up and makes himself something hot to drink (yes this is also inspired by "The Purple Jackets" episode how did you know?)

And then he'll go bother Donnie.

He loves sitting in Donnie's lab while Donnie is working. He either watches him working quietly, or he whines like a little bitch until Donnie gives up and talks to him, and then they spend all night talking about the most random stuff.

He likes reading comics before bed too, or fanfiction/fancomics on his phone. He'll read the most garbage incomplete fic that was witten in half an hour at 3am and posted 5 years ago, unironically enjoy it, and screenshot his favourite lines and send to Donnie.

I also think he sleeps in fetal position, but wakes up in the most absurd positions.

Mikey:

Prefers sleeping with his door closed, but doesn't actually mind if it's open.

Can sleep anywhere, anytime. Will fall asleep in the most awkward positions and awkward places.

Sometimes sleeps inside his shell, especially if it's somewhere with too much light.

Can lucid dream. Might be something he can do by mixing his lucid dreams with his mystic powers? Didn't think this through yet.

Sleeps with a huge thick comforter during winter and a super thin throw blanket during summer, just switches between them one day during fall/spring.

And he also has a blanket Raph knitted him that he always sleeps with. Like they all have blankets Raph knitted them but he's the only one who consistently sleeps with his every night. Hugs it more than covers himself with it.

Has a million different pillows and always burrows himself between them when he sleeps, in a different position every time of course.

Has a pretty healthy sleeping schedule, he gets tired at a reasonable hour and goes to sleep, sleeps for 5-6 sleeping cycles per night.

Goes to sleep early and wakes up early. He and Raph are the first to wake up, but he's the first to get up and get ready usually.

Really energetic during the morning. He's the only one of them who's like this, and Leo is the only one who can really keep up with him before breakfast.

He also has a lot of plushies on his bed but he sleeps with them less.

Will always sleep hugging one of Raph's arms during turtle piles.

I went a bit overboard with the headcanons whoops. This was supposed to be like 3-4 ideas for each one of the guys and mainly focus on like, the door and the blankets, and I ended up adding way too many things~