#leave some good horror movies down below

[reallybadblackoutpoems]

secrets of farming (1863) - john w. large

"yeowch augh taking damage ough eurgh"

[meltingmidas]

Coachella Rut

Paring: Idol!Hongjoong x Non Idol!Reader

CW: DomJoong/SubReader, Joongie is aggressive :))), pinv, unprotected sex (don’t do this plz this is not sexy!), creampie, mentions of marks and bruises, degradation, pls lmk if i missed anything!

WC: 920

Midas's Notes: So I literally started this right after watching the Coachella stream.. holy shit. Joong really did something to me and idk if I’ll ever be the same. Is there possibly a Mingi one in the works? Maybe. Uhhh this is NOT edited cause I’m too tired and this is just raw horniness so please enjoy (and excuse) this messy fic! PS also didn’t have a fuckin clue what to name it so enjoy the random title <3

🔞 Below 🔞

“Fuck Joong, slow doowwwn- ugh please!” You whimpered as he roughly pounded into your abused pussy, your legs over his shoulders, his arms beside your head. He’s been at it for nearly 2 hours now, rejecting your every single orgasm, giving you no time to rest. Your neck is littered in bruises, cheeks red from his previous slaps, eyeliner dragged down to your jaw. He’s always like this after a concert; but for some reason Coachella has him in a rut.

He’s aggressive, raw, and borderline psychotic. A wild smile plastered on his face, the shitty red dye running down his face over his eyes and around his cheeks, down to his chin and neck. He locks eyes with you as he brings his hand up to roughly hold your jaw, your cheeks uncomfortably squishing together. “You are fucking mine, got it? Your heart, your soul, your thoughts, your pretty pussy, everything. You belong to me. Yeah?”He whispers out, inches away from your face, he’s movements never faulting. You nod, and mewl out a small “Yes sir” before he gives the corner of your lips a small kiss and returning to the side of your head, giving light nips to your neck. Hongjoong looks straight out of a horror movie; and it’s fucking sexy.

You’re dragged out of your thoughts by a particular hard thrust, kissing your velvety sweet spot inside you, making you sing his name like it was a prayer. “You look so fucking good underneath me. All fucked up on my cock, yeah? You can’t get enough of me, can you?” He grunts out, his voice course from the previous show he put on. You nod eagerly, your nails scratching at his shoulders, bound to leave your mark all over him. “Yeaah that’s right slut. Tell me how good I am.” You moan loudly at his request, surely others would hear (not that you cared), starting to attempt to form a sentence. “Cock feels to-fuck feels too good Joong. Need you to fuck me harder. Please!”.

He chuckles deeply, heavy into your ear, soft grunts and pants leaving his lips. “You feel so fucking good, you were made for me, whore.” You scream out his name as he starts fucking you faster; harder than he’s ever gone before. You whine and whimper, begging for your release, “Please Joong- pleasepleaseplease fill me up sir, I need it so bad. Need your cum inside me so bad.” Hongjoong moans loudly in your ear, his breath fanning against the shell. He lifts up to look at you, the fully sits up, your lower half now slightly lifted up off the bed thanks to your legs still over his shoulders. He gives you a wild smirk, eyes dark and full of love and lust. His hands find the plush spot of your hips, nails digging his shape into it. You whine, tears spilling out as you keep your babbling pleas for his seed. “Fuck- such a good girl, asking so politely for my cum.” One hand moves from your hips and finds your clit, your eyes shoot open and a drawn out moan leaves your lips, a new spark shoots up your spine and your release edging closer and closer.

He grunts, his thrust growing sloppier and harder, you can feel him twitch inside you as he gets closer. “Gonna make you mine sweetheart. All mine- fuck.” He peers down at you, a smile and his signature laugh, “Cum for me, doll.” That was all you needed as you find yourself twitching, hips bucking up into his, you feel your walls convulsing around his, feeling your sweet slick run down to your ass. He moans, voice scratching as a string of “shit” leaves him, as you feel hot ropes of cum fill you up. You whine, feeling so full of him and his milky cum. “So so good. Fuck you’re mine. Mine all mine..” he whispers out, more to himself, as he pushes his final spurts of cum inside you.

You look at him through your wet lashes, admiring the scene of his sweat drenching him, basking in his post sex glow. He catches your eyes, a soft smile leaving his lips as he leans down to meet yours. Hongjoong gives you a soft, gentle kiss, completely different to the ones you received earlier. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t do too much did I?” He asks, slowly pulling out of you, a mix of both your cum oozing outside of your puffy pussy. You shake your head, “No, not at all Joongie. But holy shit, I don’t think I can get up after all… that.” You laugh, and you hear him quietly joins you. “Here.” You look over to find him handing you a glass of water (that he already prepped beforehand, what a gentleman), and a towel in his hand beside you. You gladly take it, shaking as you hastily take a sip. You feel him gently lift one of your legs, softly patting and wiping you off. “I’ll start you a bath, and we can take one together. Or would you rather eat first? Which sounds good?” He quietly asks you, throwing the towel to a dirty clothes hamper and grabs your hand to give it a kiss. You giggle, “Bath, then food, please.” He nods, slowly rubbing your knuckles in his hands. “Sounds good sweetheart.” He gets up to start your bath, you sit up, sipping your water and wondering if you should get chicken or a burger.

[cambion-companion]

BG3 Companions on a Halloween Date

YES I was itching to do something for the BG3 gang for the season. You could say it's been bugging me. Hah. Ok sorry it's the influence of my pfp.

Let's start with

You want a cozy night in under the covers, watching scary movies (or puppet shows or whatever the heck is the equivalent in Faerun) but he's not sold on the idea. "I've seen enough horror to last me several lifetimes, darling."

Instead Astarion would take you out in the crisp Autumn air, under the distant sun, for a walk crunching through the dried leaves of brown and red.

He'd want to go to the pumpkin patch to find the perfect gourd for a Jack-o-Lantern.

When the sun set so very early in the afternoon, you'd retire back to your cozy abode and set to carving faces into your pumpkins.

Astarion of course would make short work of his, dexterous as ever with those knives, and he would do his best to shape the face into what he hopes he looks like.

Either that or, depending on where you're at in his character arc, he'd remake Cazador BEFORE gutting it and making a whole show of utterly eviscerating the poor Halloween decoration. "Astarion, this is supposed to be relaxing." "This IS my ideal downtime."

You want someone who will snuggle under the covers and watch Hocus Pocus with you? Wyll is your man. But sorry I'm trying to keep to a less modern AU.

Wyll seems like the kind of guy who would put on some fitting music as you two cooked together, dancing in the kitchen intermittently and almost forgetting to check on the cookies before they burned.

He's such a sweetheart, checking to make sure you're happy with just spending an evening indoors with him. "We can go out on the town if you desire, sweetheart." "No, Wyll, I've told you this is absolutely perfect."

Depending on the choices you've made with him thus far, Mizora might pop in to dip her finger in the batter and bamf out again, giving ya'll a cheeky wink. "Ta ta, love imps. You make me physically ill."

Sigh, you're back for more bones hm?

Alright I'll entertain you.

You ask Withers to dance to Spooky Scary Skeletons. He looks at you, unimpressed. "Get thee hence." "Wilt thou harass someone else?"

Ideally I would propose and she'd say "yes". Oh what? Sorry, I was miles away.

For a Halloween date. Hm. A corn maze. Definitely.

She'd be all about her tutelage under Shar's freaks followers and want to show off her sneaking skills.

It would turn into a game of hide-and-go-seek and then it'd get a little creepy before she'd inevitably pounce on you and you'd end of in a fit of laughter together.

"I wasn't going to hurt you!" "Well, Shaddy, sometimes I wonder." "Good to keep you on your toes, then." "Careful, I saw a pond on the way in."

Then you two would go and get some candied apples and chat about memories and flowers that bloom in the gloaming.

Oh Gale.

He'd love to read to you out of a classic gothic novel (cough cough Dracula cough cough) while you two cozy up under some blankets.

He'd probably get fresh with you and run a hand up your leg or something, OH SORRY this is post the patch that fixed that? OK. He'd wait an extra hour.

Tara would curl up next to you and listen as he read from the book, the firelight crackling and warming your bodies as the night grows dark outside.

Afterward he would ask if you'd like to be guided into the Astral plane where you can look down on the All Hallow's Eve festivities below.

yeah, gotta give Tiefling daddy some love. Especially since I still feel bad for massacring them all my last playthru.

Zevlor is another who has seen his fair share of horror, and he would opt to do something more lighthearted with you for a Halloween date.

He seems like a family kind of man, so I expect he would invite the whole gang over for a delicious dinner. Mol and her friends, Arabella and her parents. Rolan and Zorru and maybe even Auntie Ethel will sneak in there. Then it really WOULD be a Halloween experience.

After the dinner and the guests are snoozing or already left he'd wrap an arm around you and pull you close. "Would you accompany me outside? I would like to show you the stars and tell their tales. It's been so long since I've gotten to properly admire them. Or you."

Of course I have to include the daddy devil, who do you think I am?

Raphael would take you to a haunted house, of course. OF COURSE.

Hell, what better house that is haunted than the House of Hope?

It would be horrifying for you, since the no touching rules don't apply there, and most amusing for him.

You'd practically climb the cambion in your efforts to avoid the ghosties, especially that one who constantly says "huuuurt meeee, pleeeaaase."

Raphael would enjoy watching you squirm, and remind you such a fate would not be yours only IF you followed his rules.

Oh yeah, and maybe if you're lucky, or perhaps very unlucky, he'll invite you to his Boudoir.

Oak Father frowns on dissecting pumpkins for the sake of creating superfluous lanterns (or something...I heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend, ok)

Instead, Halsin would druid craft you vines and harvest fruits in whatever shapes, sizes, and colors you desired.

He'd also want to go trick or treating so BADLY. "But Halsin, you're eight feet tall and built like a linebacker. No one is going to mistake you for a kid." Then he'd cast Disguise Self and you'd be forced to take him out on the town in hunt of candy.

Poor guy didn't have much of a childhood and wants to experience the finer things in life. Get those king sized candy bars...just once.

You are a bit huffy, having expected a more...romantic evening than this. But he'll make it up to you later winkwonk , till you can bearly stand it.

Aw

You guys would get all CUTE and gussied up together.

Go out on the town.

Pick the best looking victim to be a sacrifice to Lolth.

Wait...what?

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟕: 𝐒𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬/𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬 - 𝐂.𝐒 ♡

You Make Me, Make Sense

【Synopsis】 : Halloween is filled with spooky ghost stories and haunted places. But what if you end up walking right into a nightmare that was hiding a dream?

『Word count』 : 3.50k

-> Genre: Dark Romance. Fluff. Suggestive.  

Paring: Human!San x Succubus!Reader

[Warnings] : Mention of rape. Non-con [doesn’t involve San.] nudity. Imprisonment. Slavery. Use of the name master. Swearing. Withc craft. Kissing, mention of sex. Kind of character death? Lots of heart aching romance. petnames.

Thank you, @sanniesbunnie, for requesting San for this day. ♡♡♡♡

Note : I'm really proud of this story arch even though there isn't any smut ehhe. I enjoyed writing this style so much, and I'm definitely making more in the future. ♡

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“Come on, please. Let’s just go home.” Seonghwa stated, hugging his chest with tight arms. Hongjoong was rubbing slow circles in his back trying to calm down the older male but in truth, he was just as scared as he was. The only ones in fact out of all the men who weren’t scared were Jongho and Yeosang. They all thought it would be a good idea,  instead of spending one of the spookiest nights of the year watching horror films, they picked one of the closest abandoned estates. It also happened to be a church just outside of the city. So here the eight of them were, exploring the eerie run-down building. At first, they poked fun, none of them believing in such myths of demons or the supernatural.

But as they went deeper into the church, heading down towards the basement. Something felt off. And they all started voicing their concerns. Well everyone but San. For once he went silent. No longer say how stupid this trip was and how he was the only one who didn’t want to be there. He stopped cracking jokes. No, he was as quiet as a mouse and it made everyone else worried. “Uhh, maybe we should go now before it gets dark.” Wooyoung tugged on San’s arm, but the male did not budged, almost hypnotized in a way.

“Hey, San. Let’s go.” Seonghwa yelled from the back of the group. But again, San did not respond, he just kept walking down the flight of stairs leading to the basement. He felt the sudden need to be in the dim room below. Like something was calling from him. The voices of his friends were muffled in the background of his mind, and a thick ball of saliva was cut in his throat. The others had stopped in their tracks hearing the wind whispers and whales. Something was wrong, something unworldly. All the guys felt like someone had walked over their graves. But San felt a pull like a siren was calling a pirate at sea. Comfort and safety that hid nothing but death.

Everyone looked at him again before bickering amongst themselves, trying to decide what to do. But it was too late, San had opened the door to the basement and walked right into it. “Wait San!” They all yelled, but it was useless. The door shut in their faces, locking them outside. The loud bang of the old oak door snapped San out of his hazed state, suddenly and frantically looking around in the pitch-black room. His breathing quickened and he yelled for his friends calling their names out one by one. But no one answered.

He was alone.

Or so he thought. A soft smell of rose petals and sage caught his attention, seeing a small flame appear on the other side of the room. He watched slowly as candles on the walls, tables and shelves began to light all on their own. The room was painted in an orange hue from the fire, letting him finally see his surroundings. There was a large old carpet in the middle of the room, around it was some tables with or sorts on them. Potion-making material maybe? San wasn’t very knowledgeable on the witchy arts but he’s seen enough movies to know what it looked like. “H-Hello?”

He called out, desperate to know why he was in this strange room by himself. The fear he felt moments ago was dissipating quickly, leaving an innocent-like curiosity. Why was he not fearing for his life? Why did he not want to run and find an exit? He couldn’t understand, letting his fingers rake over old books and instruments before making his way over to a lectern. It had an ancient textbook open on it, showing a key to the book. He flicked through it, feeling the old leathery-like paper under the pads of his fingertips.  But he had to stop on one page as if the book was calling for him to stop. There was that feeling again. The pull. The urge to do something? But what?

Read…

“By the forces of heaven and hell. Draw to us this woman fell. In dreams, she comes, but wake is stronger. Send thu an enchantress before the night ends to somber.” San had no idea what he just said aloud or what the language could be. Maybe Latin? He thought. Or some type of old ancient language. One that’s been dead longer than he was alive. He couldn’t explain to himself let alone to his friends once he finally managed to get out, why was he was here, nor why he was reading Latin. Nothing was making sense. Yet everything strangely felt right.

The next moment before San began to think, a shift in the floor caught his attention. Followed with a loud rumble, in the centre of the room it seemed to open a crack in the floor. San had to rub his eyes at what he was seeing, sure candles lighting by themselves might have been enough to convince him of magic or the supernatural but the large opening in the floor which seemingly looked as if hell broke through surely took the cake.

Blinking his eyes rapidly rubbing them in an attempt to see what was happening in front of him and then suddenly all the candles blew out and the light from the crack in the floor was gone. It was pitch black once again. Until a small pink hue illuminated his view. The soft light was pouring from what seemed to be two hard objects. Wait no, a person? “H-Hello?”

The creature that was laying on it’s knees jumped up, frightened from the noise. The creature was a mixture of pinks and black shades. Wings stretching out as if they had been curled up for centuries. And a tail, one so long it could wrap around the little demons body. It turned to face San and he had to hold his breath. You were the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. Your bright glowing pink eyes were wide and almost innocent. While your roses hued skin fell contrast to the pitch black horns decorating your head. Your long black tail swayed curiously with the glowing peach pink catching San’s eyes. You weren’t human, yet you looked almost human. “M-Master?”

Your voice was sweet, like a siren. It was smooth, and somber, drawing him in just like the book had done prior. Were you the one calling him with the book? But why? “w-who are you?” San wanted to ask what are you but chose against it. You stood up with wobbly legs, wanting to get closer to your saviour but you ultimately fell back down onto the soft dusty carpet. San noticed your weakness, moving faster than his own thoughts he was in front of you in seconds, gabbing your hands as if that would hold you up in a way. You gulped at his touch, sending a shock wave of pleasure towards San without meaning to.

He felt hot, like a motion of a summer heat blared through his veins. Your skin felt so soft, smooth. Unlike any type of silk San had ever felt. Now that he was closer to you, he was able to take a lot more details, noticing tattered cloth around your bust and lower parts. The only thing humanly in nature on you was a collar, with a thick padlock on it. “Are you okay?” he had to ask feeling a sense of worry with the chain around your delicate neck.

You looked at him with warm eyes. You don’t recall anyone ever asking if you were okay. Then again you had been a slave, bound to the very book San had just read aloud for over many centuries. Stuck in a loop of waiting for another to summon you. None of them freed you or even wanted to know what, who or why you were bound and alone. Every single man that awoken you only wanted one thing. “I...I’m fine master.”

It felt like he was playing such a cruel game. Trying to trick you into thinking he cared. But from all the experience you’ve had with men you know, he would be just the same. So why not start it yourself? Hoping he’d be quick like the others. You gripped the knot on the rag you wore as a shirt and started to undo making San look down in confusion but before he could voice himself your lips locked on his making him gasp. Why on earth were you kissing him, or better yet, why would you undress yourself? Your lips were so soft, so plump, almost hypnotizing but San managed to snap out of it, frantically grabbing your hands so you’d stop undressing.

Pulling away he looked at you with worry making you scared that you might have done something wrong; “Why did you kiss me!?” he didn’t mean to sound aggressive but his deep voice made you flinch. Lowering your head you could feel a tightness in your throat and a groan in your gut.

“I-I’m so sorry master. I didn’t m-mean t―will you stop calling me that.” he cut you off. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to understand what was going on. He could see you playing with your fingers, not looking at him but only at the ground. For a demon, you were as human depicted. He would have thought of some scary soul-hungry beast that hated the human race. But you were completely different. You were cute, shy, and definitely not a beast of any kind. Using his fingers, he lifted your face up by your chin making you look at him. His eyes were soft making your watery ones shift between his features.

“I have no clue what I did to bring you here but I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression…” his words seemed genuine making you feel like a weight was lifted from your shoulders. He would have been the first person to look at you like a being and not something to use. Your pink cheeks grew hot tainting them a deep red from embarrassment. He cleared out his throat trying to find how to express why he was even there in this dark basement in the first place. “I felt like I needed to read the book. Even though I had no clue what I was saying or if I said it right.” he chuckles trying to lighten the mood but you stayed silent listening to him. He had a nice voice, a caring tone. You never knew how much you missed conversation until now.

“Hmm…” You didn’t know how to respond. He begins to ramble, hoping that if he opens up more it will somehow comfort you. He told about his friends and why none of them including him really wanted to go to the church but since it was Friday the 13th they all decided it would be a great idea to scar one another. You chuckled, lightly making San smile. He was glad he was able to make you smile, heck even laugh. He then decided to brave it and asked you some questions.

“oh, and I’m San by the way. I might be a bit rusty but I know demons don’t tell mortals their real name…but could I ask; what do you want me to call you? Can I ask why happened to you?” His voice was shaky, heart racing like a sports car. It was silent for a moment but San waited, finding patience for you.

“It’s a curse. I uh.. angered the men in my village. They thought I was a witch and killed the priests' son…”

“Oh…” San was not expecting that.

“To be fair I was a witch. But I didn’t kill that babe. He was a stillborn but he needed to blame someone for his genetic ‘sin’. the village witch would suffice…” you looked up at him, giving him a defeated look. He felt terrible that this all happened to you. “they used one of my demonology books I was studying at the time and turned me into a succubus. Forcing me to please the same men that damned me. I guess all men love this idea to taint a creature other than human.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you. If I could time travel, I would go back in time to stop you from being imprisoned. Kill every man that tried to hurt you.” he doesn’t know where this protectiveness is coming from but it felt like he needed to. Protect you from men, protect you from anything. Keep you safe. Hold you close. Have you as his—

“I...Uh, is there a way to unbreak it?” His words made your heart stop. You never thought someone would ask you such a thing. Your eyes swelled, lip quivering. Jumping over to San to give him a big hug. He wrapped his arms around your bare waist without hesitation, bringing his face into the crook of your neck. You smelt like strawberries, and fresh cream, with a hint of fresh grass. Your body sat so perfectly against his and your skin was so soft. Your hair brushed slightly against his nose tickling him slightly. You were so perfect, no matter how “beast” like others would say you are. Everything went silent again but it was not awkward. He just slowly stroked your hair, letting you cry against his chest, wetting his shirt.

Once you calmed, you sat up but not moving off his lap. Looking around the room you see some red candles, sage and other ingredients for a curse-breaking spell. Your hands dug into his shoulders while his hands never left your hips. Your tail swayed slightly,  grazing against San’s hand. “Okay if I prepare the addictive’s then you can read the spell out…given I cannot touch the book.”

San quickly said yes, helping you stand. You wobbled over to one of the tables picking up things San couldn’t even begin to understand what they’d be used for. You directed him to take the objects to the floor where you were both sat. While you wrote down some scribbles, sigals? Defineifty sigals.

“Okay ready. Uh, if you go to the back of the book there will be reversing spells. Look for the one that says sex demon.” you said it so casually he had to stop for a moment, choking on his saliva.

“S-sex demon.” That’s what you were. He guessed that the men used you in, defiling ways. But the fact you were a sexual demonic being made his stomach turn. “I’m sorry…” was all he could say.

“hmm, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.” You stopped drawing the sigal, beginning to play with the chalk, feeling a sense of oddness from hearing San be so forgiving, so caring.

“Will you become human again…” He asks making you step back into your mind for a moment. “would you stay the age you were before you were a demon? Having lost no time. Or would you rapidly age…” you never thought about it like that, feeling so giddy about finally being able to get to be human and yet you had no idea what would truly happen if you completed the spell.

“I don’t know… but anything is better than being this thing I’ve been for centuries. If I do become human again and I do get to live.” you hiccuped a little. “I want to see the sun again.” a tear spills of your cheek. “I want to feel the grass on my toes. Sense the cool breeze on my cheeks.”

You sounded almost poetic in a way. You old tongue making language sound more elegant than it was today in modern society. “I’ll show you.” he smiled. “I’ll show you the world when we get you free. I promise.”

San sighed, gulping slightly at the thought his promise could be emptier than he would have wished. But he wanted to be hopeful, not just for him. But for you. He needed you to taste freedom, even if it was just for a moment. Everything was set quickly after, and you sat down in the circle you had drawn up. You were ready, looking at San to give him the all-clear. “Uh before we start could I ask for one thing.”

He had been humming and haring about this thought. It rattled in his brain for a good few minutes. If you were about to die he wanted to say something, even if he sounded like a fool for it. “Go on.”

“We just met and I don’t even know your name but I’m glad to have met you. For the first time in a long time, it felt like my world was making sense. Like life wasn’t on its own head. You…” he paused looking anywhere else in the room other then your cute figure. “you make me, make sense…”

He didn’t know if he knew to himself it was a confession of love, or friendship or anything. The words felt right and he needed you to hear them. And before he could take back anything playing it off as he was being stupid you whispered something catching his gaze. And then you spoke again, repeating a single name a loud;

“That’s my name…and you also make me feel like I make sense.” you both had to laugh at how ridiculous the meaning sounded. But it was now your meaning. The phrase you both could secretly share.

“Can I kiss you one more time…” His voice slipped off his tongue before he could say anything. You blushed again, but not out of embarrassment this time but bashfulness. You nodded your head letting San jump from his position at the lectern stepping carefully but quickly over the markings before cupping your face to kiss you. It was a kiss you’ve never experienced before. One of passion, not pure disgusting, lust or ownership. He kissed you as if you were a goddess in front of him, giving him the pleasure of sealing your lips against his own. Not like some pig looking for somewhere to put his tongue down.

He pulled away letting you catch a breath, your noses rubbing against one another and your breaths mixing like a perfect combination. “I swear, you live and I won’t let you go,” he promised.

You giggled, “deal.”

He finally let you go moving back to the lectern finding the page he needed to read. Once you gave the all clear he began to slowly read the foreign language out. You had to bite your tongue, finding it a little funny how even though he is getting the words right they sound so choppy coming off his non-Latin tongue. The wind started to whistle and the candles lit one by one, smoke drew around you and your heartbeat slowed, then slowed until your eyes grew heavy. San got to the end of the passage finally done with the incantation, looking up he saw you hunched over on the ground. Your palm flat on the cold concrete and your tail swaying had slowed. Your pink eyes soon faded, becoming grey. While your horns turned a pitch-coloured dusting away along with your tail.

The spell was working.

Your skin turned from a soft coral pink back to what it once was and your hair, too. Everything was working. Everything was going to plan. And then a gust of wind rawred towards San, punching him back against the book shelf behind him successfully knocking him out.

-

San groaned, sitting up slowly while rubbing the back of his neck. His hazy eyes glance at all the papers and books around him. Wait had the spell worked? He stood up fast, shaking off the sudden head rush looking to see a normal human girl lying unconscious in the middle of the room. It was you. “darling!”

He ran towards you, dropping down to his knees so he could place your head in his lap. You weren't breathing, and he couldn’t feel a pulse. “Nonononono. Come one!” he rambled laying you down he checked your vitals, seeing your heart was in fact beating. He got to work, thanking his parent for teaching him how to give CPR. Starting compressions he counted. And counted. And then some. But you weren't coming back…

“No….I… I was supposed to show you the sun.” Tears wet his cheeks, as he sat there for a second, minutes, hours. He did not know anymore. He promised to set you free and he had failed. “I’m sorry…I’m so.. so, sorry.”

He hugged you, held your lifeless body tightly, until a lone arm wrapped around his neck. “Why are you sorry?”

“Oh my god!” he pulled back just to kiss you, holding you once more. You laughed in the kiss, crying tears of relief, joy... He had helped you be who you once were and you would never have to see the grim basement you were forced to call home ever again.

You were free.

[chouxsardine]

the absolute urge for me to be tied down and get railed by Jake now

NSFW below cut, this is unedited, just sth. I write under influence of my DESIRE

the hoop, the eyeliner, the hair. Lord this man is EVERYTHING.

79 days since he was last on stage and all the pent up energy is pulsing through his body. It was only standing on stage and holding his guitar that he truly feels that he's alive, that music is his calling and his fate. Only for music has he the imperceptible urge to drop down to his kneels and sacrifice his everything. Meanwhile, it is a source of reassurance and a constant reminder that what he is doing is correct, that he has come a long way, that he still has many more days to come and a longer way to go. He can feel the adrenaline rush while sitting in the golf-cart as the band leaves after the show. He was being louder and more talkative than usual, laughing more frequently with such genuineness that he can feel it rumbling in his chest.

he was touch-starved, craving to hug someone with his whole body like craving for a scrumptious cheese burger after a hangover. He knows you are waiting for him back in his room.

"baby you're awe-----" your sentence ends in a yelp as Jake rushes towards you, and nuzzles his nose against your neck and together you stumble backwards, his hand comes just in time behind your head to cushion the thud against the wall. His other arm is fully wrapped around your midsection. He is breathing heavily, lighting little fires everywhere around your collarbone, your neck, your chin. You snake your hands into his still damp curls, combing through and brushing it backwards in comforting strokes. You fully understand that he needs a place to vent it out, needs something to ground him. This is truly the moment where physical and mental needs can't be separated. And you are prepared to give him whatever he needs, whatever he wants.

You love the moment of clear give and take under moments like this, where you know instead of being used, you are being needed and chosen under the premise of love.

"You're fucking unreal." He grunts as he fully sinks into you. You control the urge to throw your head back, kissing up and down the side of his head.

"I'm here, baby, and I am so, so proud of you.”

He was there faster than usual, his teeth sinking into the flesh of your shoulder as he spills and trembles. You hug him in your arms like he is a throw pillow you hold onto when watching a horror movie. He is a panting mess, quiet involuntary moans and whines occasionally escape from his breathing. Time stands still, you blink away the tears that are pure physiological reaction from all the stimulation and do your best to talk him through it.

It feels good switching to the other end of care taking, knowing that you are the perfect and the only fix to the problem, that you are offering the help like no other.

He was sinking, or more like gliding down to his knees when you firmly tug on his elbow to pull him up.

"No," you put a finger against his lips, following by your lips, "tonight it's all about you. You did so good up there for everyone, and here for me."

You see the flush on his cheek turning a shade pinker. His features soften. His puppy eyes dreamy and dilated. Pussy-whipped, you'd say.

"I'll go start a bath for you, alright?" You said, but he was hanging himself on you, holding onto you like a baby koala. You laugh, ruffling up his hair.

With Jake dosing off leaning his whole weight on your back, his face a little squished, his lips pouty, you got the two lines of some tunes stuck in your head as you turn on the faucet,

Let me love you like a woman /(let me hold you like a baby)

Take you to infinity

[devildom-moss]

Punishment (Lucifer)

What has Lucifer done wrong, and how will MC try to punish him?

(Lucifer x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (sub!Lucifer / dom!MC) (plot-heavy) (NSFW tags: degradation for Lucifer, "puppy/pet/good boy" used with varying descriptors, puppy/pet play, bondage, tail butt plug, use of aphrodisiacs, jealousy, mild cuckholding, neglect, leg humping)

Word Count: +2,900

It had been a long day. On top of your classes, you had just spent four hours reviewing for an exam with Satan in the library. Sure, you were prepared to do well when the test came around in a few days, and it was worth it to have the weekend free so you could relax, but the effort was draining. The last thing you wanted to deal with was one of the brothers’ stupid antics. Yet, you rushed to Mammon’s room the second you heard his blood-curdling scream just as you stepped foot in the entrance.

“Mammon! I’m coming into your room!” you shouted through the door before entering. His only reply was an agitated wail.

When you got in, Mammon was strung up from his ceiling, struggling and sobbing. He wouldn’t even acknowledge you. Instead, he muttered weakly, “go away. Make it stop, please. Please, stop it.”

The tears were flowing down – or rather, up – Mammon’s face, dropping onto the glass top table below. He looked so miserable and pitiful that you would have expected the entire house to be ablaze in order to justify this punishment. You dragged the table out of the way before throwing every pillow from the couch and all of Mammon’s bedding onto the floor below him.

“Mammon, can you hear me? I’m going to get you down with magic. I can’t reach the rope from here. Relax, don’t thrash around too much, and you’ll be fine,” you yelled up at him. He still ignored you, crying even harder in response. You felt a few tears hit your arm. What could he have done this time?

You released the rope from the ceiling and Mammon came crashing down – almost safely, barring a few bruises. Still, Mammon was sobbing and begging for some invisible threat to leave him alone. If he had appeared less horrified, you might have assumed he was telling you to go away, but Mammon wouldn’t look at you and had never seemed so afraid of you before. Something was horribly wrong. From this distance, you could sense a curse concentrated in that rope. Luckily, when you tried to untie him, no harm came to you.

The second the rope hit the floor and was removed from around Mammon’s body, he seemed to awaken from his previous state. Tears were still coating his face, but he was finally staring directly at you. With a few more seconds to process, Mammon wiped his face and jumped into your arms.

“Ya saved me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you! That jerk, Lucifer, put a curse on me and everything I saw was right out of a horror movie. I was up there for three hours, MC. Why didn’t you come to my rescue sooner?”

Lucifer had strung Mammon up and cursed him with horror movie hallucinations for something as small as ditching one class – which was practically insignificant as far as Mammon’s antics are typically concerned. That was the last straw.

Admittedly, Lucifer had been acting like a little bitch all week. He was snippy and moody – an unrelenting and unforgiving presence that added to your stress instead of alleviating it as he often attempted to do. Maybe he would behave of his own accord, and you could have a relaxing weekend for once, but you weren’t chancing it. You headed to his room to squash the problem at its roots.

“Lucifer, are you in there?” you shouted through his door after a few harsh knocks. “Open up. I don’t want to kick your door in.”

Lucifer opened his door, flustered to see you. His brows were scrunched in confusion, “the door was unlocked, you know.”

“I,” you started. Fuck. “Well, I’m not in the habit of opening other people’s doors without permission.”

“My brothers are resistant to retraining,” Lucifer sighed and stepped aside for you to come in. No, fuck off, you do that too, asshole, you thought. However, that wasn’t your point of argument this time, so you decided to drop it.

“So, what the fuck is wrong with you?” you questioned him.

“What?”

“You’ve been so bitchy all week, and this stunt with Mammon – seriously? He ditched one class, and you’re torturing him for it. That was way too far. He’s been pretty normal all week. What kind of bullshit are you taking out on him? He’s not your punching bag.”

“That’s none of your business,” he retorted, failing to look at you. “Stay out of it.”

“Are you fucking kidding me with that?” You stepped forward. Now his eyes were on you – cautious and unblinking like some wary animal. “I live with you all. Every one of you drags me into your shit. How was I supposed to stay out of it? I had to heat up a pack of Mammon’s favorite noodles and hold him until he stopped crying. How is that an appropriate punishment?”

“I’ll repeat myself,” he adjusted his gaze and straightened his posture, “stay out of it.”

“That’s all you have to say?” It was as if his pride had blinded him to the pain he inflicted on others. His lack of explanation only cemented his wrongdoings. He knew he was in the wrong, and instead of apologizing and correcting himself, he dug his heels excruciatingly, irritatingly deeper. You grabbed the collar of his uniform roughly, inching yourself closer instead of pulling him in. Summoning all your annoyance, you spoke: “what the fuck? You come to me with so much, and now that I ask you directly when something is clearly wrong, you keep that mouth shut? For what? So you can cause me more trouble?”

No one else could pull those terrified doe eyes out of Lucifer like you could. When you glanced down at his offensively silent mouth, his lips were slightly parted, and his lower lip trembled ever so subtly that it appeared to be a trick of the eye. He shrank in the face of your anger – crumbled at your justice.

“I didn’t. . .” Lucifer trailed off as he averted his gaze – his voice lost in the short oblivion between your lips and his.

“What?”

“I didn’t mean to take it all out on him.” Lucifer admitted, slowly suffocating his pride.

“Why did you?”

“He was texting you when he ditched.”

“And?”

“I wanted to be the only one you paid attention to – not just then, but all week.”

“You were being a little bitch all week because you were jealous?” you scoffed at him. That was a poor excuse.

“And pent up. I keep touching myself to the thought of you – but it’s not the same.” Lucifer took one of the hands grasping at his collar and lowered it to the bulge in his pants. He lowered his gaze to the floor, face flushed pink, and muttered, “see?”

You only left your hand there long enough to feel how hard he had gotten in your presence before pulling back. “That’s a sorry excuse. I’d rather you just be sorry. I think a punishment is in order for you.”

“Me?” Lucifer hesitated, but the glint of hatred in your eyes – the kind of hatred that exists temporarily in moments of extreme annoyance that seems indistinguishable to participating parties – terrified him. He nodded cautiously. “Okay.”

You guided him to the foot of his bed and commanded him with a firm “sit and stay.” Lucifer obeyed while you left briefly to find a rope that Solomon had enchanted and gifted to you (don’t ask). You tied his hands together and instructed him to try and break free. He failed, much to his visible irritation.

“Solomon really is a talented man,” you chuckled. Lucifer let out a low growl in frustration.

You untied his hands, and he rubbed the mild rope burn from his escape attempt. Now that you had confirmed the strength of the enchantment, you could tie him up properly. With no display of lust of affection for him, you stripped Lucifer until he sat bare at the foot of his bed. You tied his hands behind his back prettily and transition that tie into a harness around his torso before securing the end of the rope to his bedframe with about 4 feet of slack for him to utilize. He couldn’t move far, but he could move.

“Isn’t this suitable: you sitting at the foot of the bed like a dog on a leash?” He looked so pretty with the deep red rope digging gently into his skin and his face flushed pink up to his ears, but Lucifer didn’t deserve to hear how gorgeous he was. “I already know you’re a thirsty little bitch, so I brought you something.”

When you left to retrieve the rope, you brought a few other items of interest, including a shallow bowl and a pastel pink moon milk with an aphrodisiac in it. Asmo had been gifted several cases of it and gave one to you with the (inevitably crushed) hope that it would work on humans. It would, however, work to toy with Lucifer a bit more. You placed the bowl in front of Lucifer and poured the milk in. Lucifer stared at you with the disbelief of someone who knows they are in no position to deny a request: frantic and submissive.

“Must I?” Lucifer questioned you.

“I’ll put a record on for you while you enjoy your drink.”

Lucifer crawled back towards the bed on his knees, so when he bent forward, he was face to face with the bowl. It was as if the tint in his cheeks was reflected in the soft pink surface of the milk. He felt humiliated and had no idea how to proceed and best please you. When Lucifer looked up at you for guidance, your back was turned to him as you perused his cursed album collection in search of the right one. He self-consciously tested lapping at the milk like a kitten before attempting to sip from the flat surface and accidentally dipping his nose in it. Neither was an ideal course of action, but he didn’t know what else to do.

You found what you had been looking for: the album with a deep crimson apple on the cover. Every time that album played, Lucifer became incredibly, uncontrollably horny. You both figured that somewhere along the cloudy history of the album, the magic imbued in the record had turned romance into lust and now served as an audible aphrodisiac. As the first few notes played, Lucifer became aware of what you were planning. He hesitated in his messy drinking, anticipating the overstimulation you would subject him to.

“Ass up,” you commanded as you grabbed the last item of interest. He obeyed, arching his back for you. With no other warning, you placed a pre-lubricated tail plug up his ass. He whimpered and looked over his shoulder to give you a half-angry look, as if reprimanding you for not giving him more notice. “Perfect, a little bitch with his tail between his legs. That went in so easily.”

“I told you I was pent up,” Lucifer remarked with the rough, matter-of-fact edge of a brat.

“Did you?” You teased. “Well, that’s that for now. I have to get ready. I have a date with Solomon planned, and after dealing with you, I only have 20 minutes left.”

“What?” Lucifer shot up. His eyes were wide and pleading, “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not rescheduling for your sake – especially not after the stunts you’ve pulled this week. I should be back at 9pm. That’s two hours from now. You’ll be fine.” You started towards the door.

Lucifer’s jealousy intensified and he tried to break himself free. He crawled towards you until the rope between him and his bed was pulled taut. The rope dug into his skin harshly, but any pain he felt was overshadowed on his face by a pitiful combination of despair and lust. “Please, don’t go. Not to him.”

“Be a good boy while I’m gone.” You ignored his pleas and reached out to pet his head. He savored the feeling of your touch, knowing that it would come to an immediate end. You heard a sniffle and a low groan – simultaneously pained and pleasured – before you shut the door behind you.

Cruelly (at least as far as Lucifer was concerned), you dragged your date with Solomon out so that by the time you entered the House of Lamentation, it was already half-past 9pm. You knew that Lucifer would have kept a keen eye on the clock regardless of how the aphrodisiacs and his innate lust ravaged his senses and control. When you walked into Lucifer’s room, you were pleased with the results of your punishment.

Lucifer looked up at you, his tear-stained face pressed against the floor next to his bowl. Pitiful moans escaped his mouth, low and strained as if they had been fighting their way back down his throat. He didn’t want you to see him like this: desperately grinding against the small bump he had managed to create in the area rug after well over an hour of repeated thrusting against it. His precum dripped and stained the rug, with some of it even dried into his tail plug, but he had failed to get enough friction for release. Despite the dejected look in his eyes and his ragged panting, he mustered up a cutting tone to tell you, “You’re late.”

What he meant was that he missed you, craving your touch in every second that he awaited your return like some despondent pet abandoned at the peak of its need for attention. If he was honest, he’d thank you for coming back and ask you to bring his punishment to an end, but he wasn’t, so you had no problem teasing him a bit further.

“Solomon held me up. That man can’t keep his hands to himself.”

“What?” He had intended to say it harshly, but the single word trembled out of his mouth – more of a whimper than a question. His hips halted their rhythm, his tail slowing from a mild rocking to still. A low growl escaped Lucifer from some deep, enraged pit in his chest whose emptiness you prodded mercilessly. Despite that rabid noise, fresh tears washed down his face along the dried trails as if they wished to make a pristine mess of him. “Why are you being so cruel? I’d rather you whip me all night than break my heart.”

You clicked your tongue at him before walking over. “Up.”

Lucifer followed your command with the lethargy of a defeated man, but you let the speed of his obedience go. He rose to his knees, still as hard as when you’d walked in on him. You wiped the tears off his cheek with a gentle touch, as if he were something fragile, and at that moment, he was – but not so fragile that he couldn’t take a bit more. He shuddered under that miniscule touch, leaning into it affectionately. You licked the tear from your finger and spoke in a honey-sweet voice that underscored your disapproval of him: “you really are so pathetic, Lucifer.”

“I know.”

“Good. Then, I suppose I can untie you, can’t I, my pretty little puppy?” Lucifer gasped softly at the nickname and nodded, slow and uncertain. “Stay perfectly still.”

Lucifer followed your command as you untied him. Even when he was finally free, Lucifer refused to move until you gave him permission. You leaned down towards his neck and before he could question your intentions, you sunk your teeth into his shoulder, biting down until an erotic groan filled the room. When you pulled back, deep marks were indented into his skin that glistened with saliva. You kissed over the mark sweetly, causing Lucifer’s face to turn pink up to his ears. He reacted so well to the smallest sign of affection.

“Now you’ve been marked as my slutty little puppy,” you cooed. “Would you like to cum, pet?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you should do something fitting a puppy. I’ll permit you to hump my leg. Will that be enough?”

“Yes, I think so.” It was pleasant to see him be so uncertain.

You sat at the edge of the bed and beckoned him to your side. Lucifer waited for a reassuring nod before touching you. He thrust himself against your leg slowly, rolling his hips deliberately and moaning like a bitch for you. Every inch of your skin that he could rub himself against was savored, but he still wanted more.

“Could you pet me?” Lucifer asked, uncharacteristically timid, as if you would continue to deny him.

“Greedy boy – marking your scent all over me and still asking for more.” You chastised him, but your hand still wandered down to his head so you could run your fingers through his hair and scratch his scalp affectionately. The small show of adoration intensified his pleasure. Lucifer picked up his pace slightly and the sound of ragged panting weaved into his delicious moans. You could feel him twitching against your leg, and you moved your hand from his hair to under his chin. “Look at me, my pretty little puppy.”

You caught those dark red eyes, softened by pleasure and love and clouded with lust – dangerously beautiful, just seconds before he came. Admittedly, the comfort of staring at your face combined with your touch had pushed him over the edge more than the few thrusts that preceded his cum leaking down your leg.

Lucifer sighed a quiet “thank you” before sinking into a sitting position and resting his head on your knee. You felt a few tears drip onto you, so you stroked his hair and hushed him.

“There’s my good boy,” you hummed. When the tears stopped, you could take a nice, warm shower together, but for now, you just needed to be there and let Lucifer cry. He just needed you to love him again.

~

Punishment (others)

Belphegor | Barbatos | Asmodeus

A/N: I feel like I went a little feral on this one. I just want to make Lucifer cry and suffer. I'm still sick, and I still have one more fic to do this month, so... really misspelling trial because I'm putting the try in trial. Forgive me if the proofreading isn’t great on this one.

[chadillacboseman]

Pairing: Homelander x F!Reader Warnings: Well, it's Homelander. He's fucked up, he's irredeemable, etc etc. We fuck monsters here. Violence, a little bit of a praise kink and some rough fucking mentioned. Homelander is a bit of a creep.

--

"What's your name?"

You had dropped the documents you were carrying, sending papers and folders flying in the cramped hallway. A towering figure in dark blue had stopped to help you, had knelt down beside you and swept the documents into his hands before straightening.

Homelander.

You told him your name and he repeated it with a shark-like grin. His canines were just a little too sharp, his eyes just a little too blue.

"How have I never seen you before? You should be front and center here."

You worked for Vought, a low-level secretary and a glorified "gopher" as Stillwell had so often called you.

But suddenly, you were front and center. A promotion came the day after he had stopped to help you. A new desk that overlooked the city awaited you on the 18th floor. "Supe Coordinator" they called you- the person who arranged their press appearances and made sure they were prepared for the media.

Deep, you learned, had a fear of public speaking. Black Noir, despite his silence, loved a good joke.

And Homelander, oh, Homelander. He was every bit as charismatic to you as he appeared on TV. He doted on you, always telling you how wonderful you were, how much better you were than the others at Vought.

"I think he likes you."

A coworker gestures to the Supe in blue and giggles behind her hand like a schoolgirl.

"He looks at you- like a lot."

Oh, does he look. His eyes linger on your every move, watching as your hands touch the other Supes. He thinks of breaking Deep's neck when he makes a crude joke about you.

Homelander isn't used to feeling like this- humans are below him. But he aches for you, wants to make you his. He wants to parade you around like a trophy at his side.

He envisions a perfect life with you at his side- a kid, a dog, a fucking picket fence. The whole works.

A stroke of luck for him comes at your expense.

In the parking lot, a madman rants, holding a sign that decries supes, calls them evil. He's waving a knife. He's blocking your car.

Homelander hears your shriek from the top floor.

He bursts through the window, sending a spray of glass to the pavement below. In an instant, he has the man by the throat, shoving him into a nearby car.

Homelander looks like something from a horror movie, shark teeth bared, eyes glowing red. He snaps the man's neck and drops him to the ground without flinching.

You're shaking, trembling like the helpless, powerless human you are. He scoops you into his arms, holds you tightly against his broad chest and takes flight, delivering you home despite your protests at leaving your car behind.

You don't think to ask him how he knows where you live.

After the parking lot incident, Homelander keeps you close.

"Wouldn't want you to get hurt."

"I'll protect you."

An excuse to have you by his side- to fly you home every night and bring you to work in the mornings. He's insidious like that, isolating you from others before they can warn you about him.

One night as he flies you home, you finally ask the question that has been burning in your chest like a coalfire.

"Why do you do this?"

He makes a sound, like a rumble deep in his chest, before glancing down at you. In the darkness, his features are even more striking, his blue eyes boring into yours.

"I like you."

Your stomach does somersaults that have nothing to do with the flight.

After that, you're his before you even realize it.

Headlines abound-

"#1 Supe Settles Down"

"Homelander Finds Love in a Surprising Partner"

He brings you on press tours, keeps a protective gloved hand on your thigh as they ask you questions.

"What's it like being with the most powerful man in the world?"

The hand tightens. He's smiling but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"It's amazing."

The grip loosens once more.

--

"Say it. Say you're mine," Homelander's hips snap against you and you cry out, head lolling back as he fucks you.

"Say it," he commands between thrusts, his hand coming to your throat in a warning.

"I'm yours!" you wheeze as his hand tightens on your windpipe.

"Good girl," he croons, "Such a good, good girl."

He releases your neck from his grasp and focuses instead on your breasts, hands wandering over them like he's committing them to memory.

There's something about your fragility, something about the way he could so easily hurt you if he felt compelled. It drives him, makes him feel like an animal.

He cums inside you over and over until you're so sore you're almost begging for reprieve. He pulls back to examine his handiwork, eyes hungry as he drips from you.

He isn't always this rough.

There are times when he finds you in your apartment, defeated and longing. Times when all he can do is lie back while you ride him, begging for your praise.

And you give it to him.

You use his real name, run your fingers through his hair while you sink onto his cock.

"John," you whisper and he's putty in your hands, whimpering and burying his face in your chest, "My good boy. My Homelander."

And he is yours- so completely and totally that it frightens him.

You're a target now- a target for not just the media, but for his enemies too.

Billy Butcher smells blood in the water the first time he sees you at the Supe's side.

"We could use this. Use her."

Butcher threatens your life and Homelander sees red. He vows to go scorched earth, to kill him and his "Boys" if they ever lay a finger on you. He's ranting, pacing the floor of your apartment, his cape billowing in his wake.

"I'll crush his fucking skull-"

"John, please," you're pleading, wringing your hands in desperation.

"I'll rip his throat out!"

"John!"

He snaps back to reality and clutches your hands in his, kneeling before you in a stunningly human gesture.

"No one will ever hurt you," he promises, steely blue eyes never wavering from yours, "Ever."

You believe him.

[ykiwrite]

priorities

description: you end up tangled in the accident. how will jenna take this?

words: 1.2k

*requested by anon

Two things kept manifesting in Jenna's mind throughout this shooting.

You.

Sleep.

You?

Some more sleep. Here you are once again.

She never lied about her love for acting but it was just one of those days. Lines were particularly hard to remember, retakes were in dozens and the crew kept picking on her mistakes.

On top of that, there were few hours left of work that dragged on tortuously slow. But she wanted this role and she got it. Another horror plot but without any mentions of Wednesday thankfully. Fresh start was needed.

"Good job guys. Let's take a break. One more and we're closing it off," let the director be known with a clap of his hands.

Jenna let out a weary sigh. Her face relaxed and the scripted character left her mind in an instant.

Slap on her shoulder broke her out of the trance that kept her unconsciously stuck on the spot. Turning her head hastily and realizing who it was, she silently wished someone else was casted instead.

"You good? Wanna maybe take a break with me and the guys over there?" asked the guy she didn't really try to catch the name of these past days.

"Yeah, uh, i'll just go outside for a breather alone if you don't mind." Sprinkled with the best false smile she could've mustered up right there.

"That's fine but let's say coffee's on me?" said the guy with a spark of hope that was quickly smothered by her phone ringing.

Not really leaving any room for his answer her hands were quicker and steps advancing with a mind of their own. She didn't really care who was calling as long as it bailed her out of this situation. Without sparing a glance she swiped to answer.

"Hello?"

"Jenna?" echoed on the other side.

The feeling of hearing your voice combined with the fresh outside air gave her five more years of life down the line.

"Thank god it's you. Called just in time," she told you with relief. Knowing the problems will melt away by themselves because you said so.

"Really? No problem but uhh- I'm kinda..." you stopped your sentence with a shaky exhale. And the fact only traffic noise could be heard further annoyed her wait.

"You're kinda what?"

Another exhale, "I just might be in a hospital bed right now. It's nothing serious though. That's why i called."

For some unknown reason, your wording made it sound like it's an everyday thing she should not worry about. If it were not the panic would most likely be over the roof. Now, it's a bit below that stage.

"You're where? What, why? Are you okay?" she uttered quickly.

With a poor attempt to calm her down, you said "No don't worry, i'm great. If i were not, i would not call you, right?"

There was a scared smile behind your phone and the absence of words on the other side made it worse. No one can blame you for not wanting to burden her.

"Are you kidding me? You're even making jokes right now? Where are you?"

And just like that she didn't let another second slip by before she was staring at the room's hospital number.

279

Ironic, she thought.

She genuinely tried to be nice to everyone that spotted her on the way to you but she simply could not waste any more time. She pushed the door open not knowing what to expect upon seeing you. How bad is it? Did you barely get out alive? Can you walk? Breathe? Stress was taking her apart piece by piece.

What made the weight fall off her heart for the slightest bit was seeing you act like it was Sunday evening and you just occupied your shared living room with no care in the world. Seeing the TV mounted high up in the corner with some movie playing.

Only your hand in a cast and hospital's repellent uniform with happy motives all over it brought her back to earth and the worry struck again.

She didn't leave you a chance to take her in before she basically teleported to your side, continuously repeating the question of what went down.

"Car accident. Not my fault though, i have license for a reason," you tried to blend in a joke but Jenna was not having it. At all. Instead, she pulled the offered chair closer and sat next to you. Your free hand never unlinking with hers. This was the last straw of her day. You generally don't have the need to be thankful someone survived an accident if you're lucky.

But Jenna did. For the first time and her mind is currently not present.

"Jenna?" you shook her gently but strong enough to break out of the stare she holds somewhere in the distance.

She moved her soulless gaze to look at you which made you discover her eyes were red from the tears. The ones she never acted out by the script. Especially in an empty room with you next to her.

You understand. You do. Her reaction does not differ far away from what yours would be if the position switch. Reasonably she was worried. Terrified and head filled with various outcomes of this.

Still, you pushed the rosy persona to speak instead of your true one, "No, no, no. Jenna, love, don't do this. I'm fine i promise you."

Well, that persona did not hold up for much longer before it shattered and you were back to true self. One that matched hers. With your shaky speech of an attempted comfort that reached the point where you had no idea what you were even saying. Tears escaped as you realized "Yeah, this could have been a very bad ending. But it's not. Maybe it is? Maybe this is heaven and Jenna is here for a last visit."

With such wariness that was needless because it was Jenna, you slowly extended your hand that reached her tear stained cheek. You wiped them away leaving a trail of actors' makeup behind. There was no tension or excessive silence. Only monitors beeping that neither of you acknowledged at this moment. Room was dimly lit which only added to both of your appearances. Causing you to capture each other in the sheerest emotions that are not easily shared.

The other hand removed yours just to create a clear pathway for falling into your chest. Jenna was longing for this but not here. On an outdated chair but oddly comfortable bed with an awkward position.

"Come up here," you said as you freed the space for her to join you. "Let's watch TV or something."

"No, we don't have to. I mean unless you want to." Her intentions were bright as a day through the way she burrowed impossibly closer to you. Locking you in her grasp.

You stared at the clock on the wall in silence. Not sure if Jenna's up for talking it out or not yet. "Also, i'm sorry for crashing our car and taking you off the set. I know how much you wanted that movie-"

The words made her look up in disbelief, "Can you not apologize for that? It's not even your fault to begin with. Did they drug you with something that heavy?"

You weakly laughed at her, "Yeah, your love they said. A lifetime dose."

Jenna let out the biggest sigh of embarrassment upon hearing it. But not without a smile following right after. "You're sooo...whatever."

It just further approved to her you're back to being you.

notes: society if i could write one single story that doesn't have unnecessary "i love you so much" moment like this one at the ending

hope u enjoyed and thanks for the request🖤 and i am SO SORRY for being so slow with this i was just ultra busy behind the screen

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.56)

(Sneak Peek) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: In the wake of Namjoon’s rut you and Hobi try to get yourself back on even footing, if only his co workers weren’t so...creepy towards you. 

Tags:  Depression, anxiety, ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, excessive babying, courting, omegaspace, Mommy! Tae, Non-sexual nipple play, m/c sucks on tae’s tits for mental health reasons, implied/discussed sexual content, 

W/c: 9.2k

A/N: LISTEN, i know the nipple play stuff might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it reads very comforting if you’re willing to give it a chance, that being said, i tried to make it as ‘skippable’ as possible. 

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

~-~

(16 days post rut. The day after Halloween.)

Yoongi lets out an inhuman screech. 

He’s holding his sweater in his hands, nude from the waist up interrupted by his changing from what you just said. Staring at you open-mouthed while Jungkook rolls in the remnants of your nest. Remnants because you honestly hadn't put it together much after Namjoon's rut. 

You’ve been spending the last few weeks slowly bringing everything upstairs, alternating between sleeping spots, not a single one of them exactly feeling right. Last night you spent your first night upstairs with Jimin, Jungkook, and Tae. Four pups all cute and nesty with the rest of the Halloween candy between the lot of you in multicolored bowls. 

Yoongi had gotten to watch as you all giggled and completely abused the projector he’d installed for a movie night of the Addams family and some horror movie that you’d changed within the first 15 minutes. Too scary. 

There are more and more moments where he gets to appreciate his hard work these days. He savors them whenever he can. He’d been a little worried that the bed would be too big or too small for the height of you. But it looks just the right size. Just enough space for the others. 

After you’d fallen asleep, he’d carefully tiptoed around you and removed the bowls of candy, kissing each of your heads like a special spell to guard it from monsters and cousin it. 

Now Jungkook grins up from the last little bit of the nest that’s still down here, hugging a pillow to his chest, "I knew something happened." It's not often Yoongi squeaks, like a cat suddenly picked up, heart all in a tizzy just thinking about it.

“What do you mean you and Hobi kissed? And you didn't tell me!?”

You go red ear to ear, “It wasn’t-I don’t even think he meant to do it- it wasn’t like a kiss kiss-“

“Ahh,” Jungkook drags out the syllable. Reaching for your hand and tugging you to sit. Closer, because Jungkook’s wandering fingers have half a mind of their own. You look so good- have been honestly since Namjoon’s rut, something about the health of you that makes him want to touch more and more. 

His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs appreciatively and you squirm away, pouting at him. “Heat of-the-moment kisses are so hot- not to mention first kisses.”

Yoongi sits on the edge of the bed. Knees pulled together. 

"Tell me everything."

Coming Saturday July 15th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

[ohbo-ohno]

Literal man hunt!!

Ghost and Soap who are protective of their land like they're Americans, literally guns everywhere and shooting anyone suspicious on sight because they have many enemies and a lot of people would love to kill them once they're retired.

But our girl literally just...got lost. She stumbled across their cabin like a baby deer because she is either got lost or was running from someone. It was the first time ever when Ghost missed a shot...and he is happy he did because now they have an adorable injured darling!!

Her leg is no good so they help her, get her treatment from a real doctor even but of course you have to stay with them, you're cold and hurt and delusional because you're their soulmate and their perfect little pet who can't even resist because they are providing food and shelter. Living cottagecore life with your two murderous husbands but you really don't want to be here.

And you want to ran away but you physically can't. Soap is constantly doting on poor us, supports us when we have to make food because they are horrible at it, Ghost is adoring the sight. Retirement is nice when you have a little pet near you.

Eventually they even force us help them with other victims!! Like cleaning the blood from Ghost and Soap in the shower, listen to their various hunting stories, hold the ammo for them once we can escort them in the forest.....the possibilities are endless. Other victims think we can help them, but we just cry and apologize over and over as Soap bashes their brains with an axe

being forced to help with their other victims... my guy you should read Brother by Ania Ahlborn, man is forced to help his serial killer family dispose of their victims

also below the cut i kinda barely touched on the concept you sent but it's so good and i had nothing to add im sorry :(

cw below for like... very light gore? description of murder fitting of a horror movie

wandering around lost through the woods and randomly getting fucking shot, only for someone to come running out of the trees and asking if you're ok??? has me going bonkers

also this is totally giving the most dangerous game so i present you: soap and ghost kidnap groups of people and hunt them for sport, but when you wake up they realize that they want you to stay alive. maybe soap pretends to be one of the victims, teams up with you to help you (help keep you alive) and herds you in the direction of their cabin without you knowing

you only realize what's going on when he slaughters another person, someone who wants to team up with you two. sure the way the new guy looked at you made you uncomfortable... but johnny split his head open with an axe when he reaches for you, splits him right down the middle and leaves you staring up at him, both of you covered in blood

and now what, right?

you learn you've been kidnapped to be prey in some sick bastard's idea of fun, and now the one man you thought might help you through this turns out to be that sick bastard?

and johnny's pretty pissed, he'd wanted to play along with you for a little longer :/ but that other motherfucker had forced his hand, had tried to touch you, and he couldn't just let that happen. and now you're screaming and crawling away from him, which is bullshit because he was literally protecting you

so now you've got pissy serial killer johnny, grabbing you by the elbow and dragging you behind him despite your best struggles, grunting and asking can you just fuckin' relax for a minute while you stare up at him like ?!?!!?!?!?!

anyway he drags you to where simon's been hunting the others, drops you at his feet and crosses his arms all angrily. ghost just raises an eyebrow, "i thought you wanted to play along with them this time?"

and johnny's pouty about it, damn near tapping his foot in complaint. "wanted to play along with her, but some bastard got touchy."

you manage to scramble away, get up and fucking sprint through the forest because oh my god the guy johnny took you to had a fucking crossbow, only to trip over a wire and end up locked in a net, six feet off the ground

and here comes johnny and ghost, sauntering out of the woods and looking up at you in the air. johnny laughs at you, and you're crying so hard you can hardly even see them

anyways, they leave you in the net while they deal with their other prey <3 come back for you at the end of the night and take you home with them

[physalian]

On Writing Theme (Or, Make it a Question)

An element of story so superficially understood and yet is the backbone of what your work is trying to say. Theme is my favorite element to design and implement and the easiest way to do that? Make it a question.

A solid theme takes an okay action movie and propels it into blockbuster infamy, like Curse of the Black Pearl. It turns yet another Batman adaptation into an endlessly rewatchable masterpiece, seeing the same characters reinvented yet again and still seeing something new, in The Dark Knight. It’s the spiraling drain at the bottom of classic tragedies, pulling its characters inevitably down to their dooms, like in The Great Gatsby.

Theme is more than just “dark and light” or “good and evil”. Those are elements that your story explores, but your theme is what your story *says* with those elements. 

For example: Star Wars takes “dark vs light” incredibly literally (ignoring the Sequels). Dark vs Light is what the movies pit against each other. How the selfish, corrupted, short-sighted nature of the Dark Side inevitably leads to a self-fulfilling prophecy of doom—that’s what the story is about.

A story can have more than one theme, more than one statement it wants to make and more than one question to answer. Star Wars is also about the inevitable triumph of unity and ‘goodness’ over division and ‘evil’.

Part of why I love fantasy is how allegorical it can be. Yes I’m writing a story with vampires, but my questions to my characters are, “What makes a monster? Why is it a monster?” My characters’ arcs are the answer to my theme question.

Black Pearl is a movie that dabbles in the dichotomy between law-abiding soldiers and citizens, and the lawless pirates who elude them. Black Pearl’s theme is that one can be a pirate and also a good man, and that neither side is perfect or mutually exclusive, and that strictly adhering to either extreme will lead you to tragedy.

Implementing your theme means, in my opinion, staging your theme like a question and answering it with as many characters and plot beats as possible. In practice?

Q: Can a pirate be a good man? A: Jack is. Will is. Elizabeth is. Barbossa is selfish and short-sighted, and he loses. Norrington is too focused on propriety and selfless duty, and he loses.

Or, in Gatsby.

Q: Is life fulfilled by living in the past? A: Mr. Buchanan clings to his old-money ways and is a sour lout with no respect for anyone or himself. Daisy clings to a marriage that failed long ago, to retain an image and security she thinks she needs. Myrtle chases a man she can’t ever have. Her husband lusts after a wife who’s no longer his. Gatsby… well we all know what happens to him.

The more characters and plot beats you have to answer your theme’s question, the more cohesive a message you’ll send. It can be a statment the story backs up as well, as seen below, questions just naturally invite answers.

—

Do you need a theme?

Not technically, no. Plenty of stories get by on their other solid elements and leave the audience to draw their own conclusions and take their own meaning and messages. Your average romance novel probably isn’t written with a moral. Neither are your 80s/90s action thrillers. Neither are many horror movies. Theme is usually reserved for dramas, and usually in dramatic fantasy and sci-fi, where the setting tends to be an allegory for whatever message the author is trying to send. That, and kids movies.

Sometimes you just want to tell a funny story and you don’t set out with any goals of espousing morals and lessons you want your readers to learn and that is perfectly okay. I still think saying *something* will make the funny funnier or the drama more dramatic or the romance more romantic, but that’s just me and what I like to read.

When it is there, it’s right in front of your face way more often than you might think. Here’s some direct quotes succinctly capturing the main theses of a couple famous works:

“He’s a good man.” / “No, he’s a pirate.” - Curse of the Black Pearl

“What are we holding onto, Sam?” / “That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it’s worth fighting for.” - LotR, Two Towers

“Even the smallest person can change the course of the future.” - LotR, Fellowship of the Ring

“A person’s a person, no matter how small.” - Horton Hears a Who

“You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” - The Dark Knight

“Can’t repeat the past? Why of course you can!” - The Great Gatsby

“Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should.” & “Life finds a way.” - Jurassic Park

"Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind." - Lilo & Stitch

“But… I’m supposed to be beautiful.” / “You are beautiful.” - Shrek

“I didn’t kill him because he looked as scared as I was. I looked at him, and I saw myself.” - How to Train Your Dragon

“There are no accidents.” & “There is no secret ingredient.” & “You might wish for an apple or an orange, but you will get a peach.” - Kung Fu Panda

*If any of those are wrong, I did them entirely from memory, sue me.

Some of the best scenes in these stories are where the theme synthesizes in direct dialogue. There’s this moment of catharsis where you, the audience, knew what the story has been saying, but now you get to hear it put into words.

Or, these are the lines that stick in your head as you watch the tragedy unfold around the characters and all they didn’t learn when they had the chance.

When it comes to stories that have a very strong moral and never feel like they’re preaching to you, look no further than classic Pixar movies.

“Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere.” - Ratatouille

“I’m not strong enough.” / “If we work together, you don’t have to be.” - The Incredibles

“Just keep swimming!” - Finding Nemo

Ellie’s adventure book, to live your own adventure, even if it’s not the one you thought it would be - Up

The Wheel Well montage, to slow down every once in a while, because in a flash, it’ll be gone - Cars

The entire first dialogue-less section of Wall-E, to stop our endless consumption or else

The real monsters are corporate consumption - Monsters Inc

One cannot fully appreciate happiness without a little sadness - Inside Out

With enough loud voices, the common man can overthrow The Man - A Bug’s Life

A person’s worth is not determined by their value to other people - Toy Story

These are the themes that I, personally, took from these movies as a kid and later in life. If I remembered the scripts any better I could probably pull some direct dialogue to support them, but, sadly, I do not have the entire Pixar catalog memorized.

—

After you’ve suffered through rigorous literary analysis classes for years on end, the “lit analyst” hat kind of never comes off. Sometimes you try to find a theme where none exists, coming up with your own. Sometimes you can very easily see the skeleton attempt at having a theme and a message that came out half-baked, and all the missed opportunities to polish it.

Whatever the case, while theme isn’t *necessary*, having that through line, an axis around which your entire story revolves, can be a fantastic way to examine which elements of your WIP aren’t meshing with the rest, why a character is or isn’t clicking, how you want to end it, or, even, how you want to approach a sequel.

Unfortunately, very, very often, a movie, book, or season of TV has a fantastic execution of a theme in its first run, and the ensuing sequels forget all about it.

No one here is going to defend Michael Bay’s Transformers movies as cinematic masterpieces, however, the first movie did actually have a thematic through line: “No sacrifice, no victory.” They didn’t stick the landing but, you know, the attempt was made. Where is that theme at all in the sequels? Nonexistent. They could have even explored a different theme and they abandoned it altogether.

Black Pearl’s thematic efforts fell away to lore and worldbuilding in its two sequels. Not that they’re bad! I love Dead Man’s Chest, but to those who don’t like the sequels, that missing element may be part of why.

Shrek and Shrek 2 both centered on their theme of beauty being how you define it and no one else. Fiona finds true love in her “true” form, then strengthens that message in the sequel when she has the chance to be “normal” and conventionally attractive, and still chooses to be an ogre, to be with Shrek. Shrek 3’s theme is…? 

When it was never there, that theme is missing isn’t so obvious. When it used to be there and got left behind, it leaves a crater in its wake everyone notices, even if they can’t pinpoint why.

—

TLDR: Theme is more than just vague nouns and dichotomies. Good, evil, dark, light, selfishness, altruism, beauty, ugliness, riches, poverty, etc are what your story uses. Your theme is what your story has to say with those elements, using as many characters and plot points as possible to reinforce its message. Is it necessary? No. Is it helpful and does it lead to a richer experience? Yes.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Bestie we need a part two 💳💥💥💳💥💥💳💳💥💥💳💳💳 ASAP u can’t leave this beautifully made fanfic without a  sequel, this made me kick my feet in the air and giggle like schoolgirl 😀 lolll I’m down bad for Eddie/riddler

yo call me FedEx because I deliver (not sure this the package you wanted tho)

Imagine the Riddler being your secret admirer. - Part 2

[Part 1] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

What you thought was a single, queer occasion, became something regular. The notes and cards would appear every other day and soon you found yourself expecting them with excitement. You had your own little, deliciously sweet secret. Realizing how the situation might look to others, you didn't dare tell anyone else about the strangeness you've been a part of - they wouldn't understand. People were quick to jump to conclusions, to assume the worst of others even if there was no malice. Just like there was none in the bizarre friendship or relationship, you had with someone whose identity you couldn't even begin to guess.

The question of the secret admirer's identity was something that wouldn't let you sleep. Some occurrences were too tailored to you and your mundane life for the enigmatic person to be someone completely estranged. Like that one day when the whole world seemed to be against you and nothing would go the way you wanted, you found a cinnamon bun with a birthday candle at your doorstep. So whoever they were, they simply cared.

Was there a piece of you that remained wary? Yes, of course, there was - if your life did not transform into a chick flick, it sure became a good buildup to a horror movie. That part of you, however, was silent most of the time. After all, what kind of malice, if any, could reside in a heart of someone who showered you with small gifts and words of affection?

That day, you were greeted with a bouquet of pink and red flowers strung together with raffia. A small tag was tied to the decoration:

What flowers are kissable?

You looked closer at the flowers in the bouquet - they were all of one kind...

"Tulips?" you slowly said to yourself. You couldn't help but laugh. "God, you're so corny."

Shaking your head with amusement, you entered your apartment and went straight to your bedside table to change one mysterious bouquet for another. The previous flowers barely even began to wilt.

"Wish you had a name," you said as your hand caressed the tag attached to the flowers.

Having let out a heavy sigh, you decided to change into something more comfortable. You let your thoughts wander, conjuring up various possibilities about the secret admirer, as you took off your top and pants - completely oblivious to the lovesick voyeur following each of your steps.

He felt a little ashamed for not immediately looking away. But, in the end, it wasn't his fault, was it? How could he ever be blamed for succumbing to your luring beauty? Could sailors truly be responsible for following the siren's song?

Although his eyes were still fixed on you, his mind was already fantasizing about the next gift he should make for you but most importantly - the little wish you had made that he couldn't help but grant. Truthfully, Ed couldn't deny you anything; he was but a humble servant to your ethereal glory.

The next day, when you were about to leave the comfort of your home and face the responsibilities of the real world, you found another envelope laying on the doormat outside your front door. Inside, there was another cheesy card to add to your abundant collection. This one, however, did not have a riddle written on it but a torn-out page from what looked like a vintage collection of poems:

My lady hath of charms her lion’s share; Grace, beauty, wit and a sweet thoughtfulness, Which rests serenely on her gentle face, Sweet as the flowers are, and pure as air.

Below the ripped-out page was a small scribble that made you audibly gasp, although softly: '- Ed'.

"So you do have a name... Eddie." You smiled to yourself feeling how easily the name rolled off your tongue.

His heart stopped for a moment. The world grew silent and the only thing that mattered, truly mattered, was the soft affection with which you spoke his name.

[thesamoanqueen]

Way back Home

Raiting: 14+

Warnings: Angst; Fluff; The drama I dont want to talk about…

A/N: Morning break before WM39 and Im here to throw some angst around 'cause I'm going to have a meltdown tomorrow and that's it. Enjoy.

They had moved away from the city center for a while, streets were almost empty now, it must have been a residential neighborhood. Or so she thought, there were so many trees on the properties that it looked like a jungle out there and almost made houses disappear. Roman continued to swerve and follow the directions, but Y/N had looked at the map and there didn't seem to be anything nearby at all.

- Where we going? - she asked curiously, looking away from the window and at him, with that expression.

- I want to show you a thing – he announced with a smile, his attention still on the road, although by now there was no one except them.

Silently she looked out again, trying to understand. It was clearly a residential part of the city, an upmarket one probably. The streets and sidewalks were neat, the houses hardly visible, but the letterboxes and fences were, and even those made a decidedly good impression. She really didn't understand what there could be to see in such a place, perhaps a foundation, a small private museum maybe? a club? There was a connection to the bay across the river out there somewhere… all those trees were confusing her, it looked like a maze.

- We've been in the car for hours Ro.

- Are you tired?

- No, but you're keeping to go around, with all these houses, the empty streets... it seems like the beginning of an horror movie in which a serial killer drags a girl to his cabin in the middle of the Florida swamps and chains her there to torture her - she joked with a snort and Roman laughed, turning to face her for a moment.

Yes, she was exaggerating and yes, she was getting impatient, she knew it.

- There are some good people living here Y/N and if there was a chance one of us was a serial killer, it wouldn't be me. We both know that.

- True, but-

- Be good. Its here - Roman stopped her, slowly taking the last cross.

The news silenced her immediately and she moved her eyes to the road, which after the wide curve became a shaded and empty strip of asphalt. There were black railings along the sides and a few light stone pillars to space everything out, but no houses could no longer be see. Maybe there were some, but the properties must have been larger than what she had seen coming this far and after a few seconds, she realized the street wasn't even that long. It ended in a roundabout beyond which they had placed an elaborate iron gate and a lay-by with an intercom.

- What's beyond the gate? - she asked again as Roman rolled down the window to press the button just below the "for sale" sign.

- Not a cabin. – she heard him joking, before someone opened to let them in.

She had a few days off that week. A break in anticipation of what would soon happen and for which everyone would have to give their all. The idea of going home hadn't even crossed her mind for a second. It's not that she didn't like it, but she spent so much time away from there that it became a warehouse for the things she couldn't keep in her suitcase and with the mood she was in, Y/N really didn't want to set foot there to get away the plug. She needed to keep herself busy, to distract herself and continue to be absorbed by work had been one of her ways to overcome those moments for years. She had taken a car and driven almost half a day to get there, a flight would have been more practical, but sitting looking out a window with headphones on helps you think and she didn't want to. It was already afternoon when she had opened the door of the hotel room where she would stay until the next show and she had to take a shower. Leaving the suitcases in a corner and together with them her heels, she took off the earrings, rings and necklace, looking at her phone one last time.

The last message was from that morning. No calls, no news. He had yet another busy day. She took a picture of the city from the window to send it to Roman, an excuse to find out if he was all right and turned off the screen, breathing deeply to regain control, while she turned on the TV to fill the silence a bit and lock herself inside the bathroom.

Work had sucked her in one day and spat her out the next in a worse state than the previous one, Roman wasn't there, he wouldn't even be there the following week and to her it really seemed like an endless nightmare. She heard her co-workers talk, saw the show go on, people sit and stand as usual, but Y/N had the impression of being stuck in quicksand. She had tried to keep busy, to wear herself out physically, she had agreed to go out with some friends in an attempt to distract herself and resume a normal life, but just like with quicksand, moving had made things worse. She slept badly at night, head always elsewhere, clinging to those few moments in which Roman showed up and then disappeared again. She couldn't go on like the others if she didn't let go first and part of her, more than a part to say the truth, was refusing to do it… even to her own detriment. She should have faced things, cleared up, faced reality for her own good, but she was worried about Roman not herself. She trusted him, but knew how big the change was, how hard it could be to loosen his grip and lose control of something he'd driven and been responsible for for years and she didn't want him to go through it alone.

He didn't need her and had clearly chosen to keep her out of that phase of his life, yet Y/N felt she had to be there for him at that moment, she wanted to be there, to support him and in her own small way reassure him, even if her role it boiled down to a few texts and a couple of calls. Y/N'd never been the kind of woman who would give herself up to a man, her priorities had always taken precedence, but this time she just wasn't able to.

The garden looked like a little paradise, a peacefull island in the middle of nowhere. Nothing could be seen beyond the trees and the outline of the hill behind which the river flowed into the sea. There were other houses around it, yet everything seemed to be there to shield the place from the rest. Distracted, she watched the clear water of the pool stir in the wind and only when Roman sank onto the couch next to her, she turn around smiling. Y/N hadn't imagined something like this when he'd asked her to stay in Florida with him for a few days, but it had been fun.

- So, does it deserve a vote? - she heard him ask seriously, arm sliding behind to caress her bare shoulder.

- The color of the walls at the entrance is horrendous, this is not Tahiti – she reflected just as seriously.

- It can be changed.

- And living room and dining room should be reversed. There is more light on that side of the house, the windows are wider. It's strange that no one thought of it…

- Something else? - Roman inquired, looking at her with the tip of a smile.

- No, the floors are beautiful, bathrooms and fornitures too with all that marble. Rooms are huge and the garden alone is half the value of the entire house, your parents will love it.

Y/N couldn't say she knew them well, but she'd spent time with them for a variety of reasons, from PPVs to trips that Naomi and the twins had taken her and Roman was their copy. They loved having family together, keeping busy in the outdoors, that house would be perfect for everything. He had chosen well and the thought made her instinctively reach out to stroke his beard: he was a walking guarantee fund.

- It's not for my parents, my mother would be angry if I spent money on them. Its for me.

The carelessness with which he said it astounded her and Y/N hand slid down his arm as she stared at him in silence.

For him? Buying another house? Did he want to move or he just want a second house? Did make sense to have a second house so close to the first? Same state? When had that idea occurred to him? Why was the first time she heard that story? And what was she doing there with him?

- You take me to choose your house? – she asked confused, while he insisted on stroking her shoulder.

Because during their visit it didn't seem like he had already decided to take it and just wanted to show it to her. The real estate agent had asked him what was his first impression. First. Had he taken her to choose a house with him? It's not the kind of thing you do with… well, she wasn't that one for him. Maybe she was misunderstanding things, she must have misunderstood. That was a life choice to share with someone special and yes, they were more than friends, they had a unique relationship in their own way and they had added quite a few, lot, benefits over the last year, but that was a serious thing.

- You have more taste than me and it's an important step. I wanted you to be there – Roman admitted without too much trouble and Y/N abruptly swallowed the boulder that had risen down her throat.

They weren't that. There wasn't that between them. It would have been nice, but it wasn't like that, she knew it. She was, she… it was just her misunderstanding, because he had a natural talent for attracting attention and destroying pussies in any way possible. This one was new and unexpected, but still a way.

- You should have brought your mama or one of your sisters, it's an investment.

- I'm old enough to know how to manage my life. I wanted you. - he insisted and Y/N made an effort with all herself to remain lucid on that patio, because the moment he said it, her mind had gone elsewhere.

He wanted her. He had chosen her for a step like this. And it wasn't a fallback, he'd planned it because they'd planned those days in Florida together weeks ago, not out of the blue. Roman had really wanted her to be there with him, to be next to him and it was a good feeling. She knew well that they weren't planning anything, that it wasn't about choosing a house for some kind of future and that things between them wouldn't change once they stepped out of that gate again, but it was still a good feeling. Knowing that he wanted her with him, that somehow she needed her support. It was comforting.

She felt his hand tighten lightly on her shoulder and instinctively followed suit, squeezing hers on his arm, an uncontrolled smile creeping across her lips when she saw him smiling a little bit too. He was so-

- That area can be expanded if you want, maybe put in some children’s games, all permits are in place. - the real estate agent broke in out of nowhere, without even trying to hide her knowing look.

- Add them to the contract and let's review everything - she heard Roman add, with a cocky smile and the woman’s eyebrows raised so much that they almost touched her bangs, as she returned inside the house.

Whether it was because of his smile or the idea of having closed a contract with all those zeros was not clear.

In the last two months so much had changed for her… and Y/N really couldn't understand when that jump into the void after a bad moment had become everything. Maybe it was inside his private bus on the road to Charlotte or maybe on the trip to Portland with Jey and Jimmy. She remembered the endless days in the stadiums, breakfasts in the car and nights in the parking lots or inside hotel rooms before leaving again the following day. The night in the gym when she had decided to go over the limit and he hadn't hesitated for a moment, even tearing the air out of her lungs to fuck her senseless, the moments together that lasted a life or the absurd day when she had seen him sign a check for that which had become his new home with her next to him.

He had been in and out of that house for the past two months, planning and planning perhaps even with someone else next to him, while she waited for him, only suspecting what was inside his head and silencing her own. Y/N didn't want to think about it, she didn't want to focus on that, it would have been useless and more painful than it already was. She just wanted to be there for Roman. And so firm in her purpose, she waited for him to finish his round of greetings and let himself fall in the locker room next to her.

- That was a big pop - she recalled, still hearing the noises of people in her ears as Roman entered the ramp with Paul.

It was amazing how everything changed when he was around. For people it was moments, but for her it had become something else and being able to be there, alone, even if it was just a little, made her feel better.

- It played well yes… I like your hair – he commented, turning to look at her with a smile.

- Thank you. – she said softly, moving playful on of her twists from the shoulder and Roman nodded slowly, returning to stare at the floor of the locker room.

Having the opportunity to spend time away from that routine was doing him good, he was physically less tired, but there was still something wrong, she could see it.

- I have to thank you.

- For the hair?

- You know what I'm talking about Y/N – he said heavy, turning back to look at her and she felt her stomach crumple, because he had always been able to see beyond her and Y/N had almost forgotten how it was like.

He had chosen to keep her on the sidelines of that story from the first moment, whether because he wanted to face it alone or because her place wasn't at his side, Y/N really didn't know and wouldn't even ask. Not with Roman, not with how she felt about him. It hurt and she wished badly for things to be different, no matter what had or hadn't happened between them in nearly a year, but she was happy, immensely happy, that he was aware of her attempts to be there for him. Because it was all she ever wanted and it was worth it.

- Don’t say that. There’s no need. – she denied quickly, gritting her teeth so as not to collapse and let everything flow all over her, but Roman stopped her when her shoulders hadn't even had time to physically shake off those words.

Something was already ringing somewhere, probably a reminder for who knows what appointment or communication, but neither of them turned to check, not this time, not yet. Y/N felt his hand caress her cheek as it hadn't done for a long time and a part of her, the one beyond the impeccable facade, the one that had thrown herself upon him for comfort and was now seeking him like air, curled up in that point as if it were home.

- I had to do it. Another month, just one. – he swore seriously, rubbing her cheekbone with his thumb, eyes devouring her as they did every time they met.

It was a bad time of the year in their parallel universe to make promises and predictions for the future, but Roman was a man of his word and whatever came next, Y/N would go along with it anyway. That moment was enough for her to know that she was a safe road for him in that chapter of his life. Past or future. A month and then she would move on with her life, she could do it for him.

- Raise up. They are waiting for you.

One month. One.

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[lieslab]

The depths between: Prologue

Trigger warning: Reckless alcohol consumption and drowning.

Intro

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

The ocean isn’t much different from the land. Predators and prey all share the same space. The intelligent creatures overpower the smaller ones. The plankton is consumed by krill. Putting up little resistance, the krill is consumed via squid. 

There’s a filling snack of squid for the seals. The seals and sea lions are left alone for the larger sharks and whales. Some of them can be swallowed whole. There’s no forgiveness in the vortex created by whales sucking in and swallowing large amounts of water. 

The treacherous dark waters demand your caution. You’re either predator or prey. Even if you’re a human, you’re not immune to the murky depths of vast nothingness. There are things down there that humans have yet to fully understand. 

Thousands of feet below, there are creatures just out of reach. Some stay closer to the sunlight and others trail the murky darkness. Don’t ask how they find their way, it’s one of the many mysteries of evolution. 

They say that there are two types of humans. Good and evil tend to go hand and hand. You’re one or the other; there is no other choice. Are you full of resentment and wicked bitterness? Perhaps your blood is filled with something lighter and softer, something sickly sweet and pure. 

The concept of sirens isn’t much different. In the world of sirens, there’s good sirens and there are evil sirens. One cannot live without the other. Year after year after year, the siren world keeps growing. 

There are secrets hidden out of human sight. Things far beyond the realm of our understanding. At the top of the food chain, there are still things we should leave alone. There are things that aren’t quite right. 

There’s a reason why survivors in horror movies are the ones who don’t go searching. The ones who think intellectually and choose logic over basic curiosity. Curiosity has the potential to kill the cat. 

Go exploring and you might unearth something far out of grasp. You might find something that changes your life forever. If you’re not careful enough, it can and it will kill you without any hesitation. 

_ _ _ 

In the beginning, there was a deep darkness. You couldn’t see your hands in front of you. The whole earth was nothing, but a void, then came the existence of light. 

The humans bicker about the origins of earth. The creation of everything is constantly up for debate. It doesn’t matter what you believe because you’re here, aren’t you? You are here and the truth is that nobody knows. Nobody knows and that terrified people, so they came up with answers. They call those answers faith and to strengthen that faith, they created religion.

Since the beginning of whatever you believe, there’s one consistent theme; stories have been around since the origin. Parents pass them onto their kids and then their grandkids. Grandkids dish it out to their kids and their grandkids. Over and over again, the cycle repeats. 

Lee Felix knew about stories. He remembered learning about God and good and evil. To be good guaranteed your place in heaven. All you needed was some faith, a clear conscience, and a dash of kindness. 

He lived by the golden rule; treat others as you want to be treated. As a young man, he secured himself a job on a cruise ship. He loved that job more than life itself. 

He liked making small talk with the guests. Some were more kind than others. As the days passed by, he collected more and more stories from people. Stories from younger couples with newborns. Stories from grandparents who appeared on the cruises with their entire families. There were the tales of singles hoping to find a summer fling. 

There was something so joyous and vibrant about all of it. On the massive cruise ship, it was easy to forget that the vessel was floating on water. For months, Felix walked the upper deck and checked upon passengers down below. 

He went wherever management told him to. Some days he found himself cleaning restrooms and other days, he helped out down in the kitchen. Every few days, there was always something new to do. 

Along his time there, he got to know quite a bit of the crew and a variety of the guests. Since he worked there, he had his own room. Workers were granted the same things as first class passengers.

One of those things? Free unlimited alcoholic drinks. Not everyone could hold their liquor on the cruise ship. Perhaps it was a poor choice on behalf of the management, but it didn’t matter. It was already set in stone, everything was already done. 

When Felix’s birthday came around, some of his favorite co-workers celebrated his birthday together. They shooed away the last guest and closed up the bar. After Felix’s first drink, things got hazy. 

He knows that someone brought out a cake. He faintly remembers the artificial taste of chocolate. Everything was going great; people were laughing, alcohol was flowing, candles had been blown out and smoke lazily drifted into the air. 

Then came the party games. Nobody is in their right mind after countless shots. Cheers of joy and chugging the bitter taste of alcohol. He remembered the stinging sensation that crept up his throat and the burn that followed. 

The rest were muted voices and swirls of color. A bit of confusion here and there. The bright bar lights tilted and he couldn’t keep his balance. He stumbled, but nothing kept him upright. He was light as a feather and then there was darkness. 

He stumbled back, his back pressed into a rail, and then he fell. Down, down, down, into the warm waters below. Too drunk to understand what happened, he went beneath the waves. 

The salt water burned his nasal canal and then it filled his lungs. His arm shot out and brushed against something scaly. He shrieked silently. His voice blubbered and blew bubbles towards the surface. 

He squirmed weightless beneath the water, but it was just a void. No air to breathe and no light to see. Nobody to hear your screams, no person to depend on for help, not a single soul to save you. 

The warm water filled his lungs. The burning sensation was so raw that it struck something primal deep inside of him. His head dipped back and his fingers grasped nothingness, trying to find something to stop his descent into the dark waters below. 

The feeling was intense and it didn’t fade. The burning and the choking, the coughing and the sputtering. In his woozy thoughts, all he could think about was oxygen, but it never came. Instead, his body sank further and further into the darkness. 

Like the thousands before him, the clock struck out. There was too much water and not enough air. Humans aren’t equipped for billions of gallons of water. The darkened world stopped and so did his breathing. 

The whites of his eyes rolled back into his head. Long dark lashes closed for a final time. The frantic movements and sloshing around him went still. Down, down, down he free fell. 

The ocean swallowed his body whole. Another victim of the tides and another murder beneath the waves. Life is a tricky and funny thing. You can be a saint in this life, but death does not care. 

When your time is up, it is up. There is no forgiveness and no mercy. Your soul is sucked out and a hollowed shell is left behind. Where does it go? Nobody truly knows. Faith doesn’t save everyone from the unknown. 

Sometimes miracles happen, but unfortunately for Lee Felix, tragedy struck instead. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Next part: Chapter one

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[t-lostinworlds]

500 miles of fluff: peter + "this movie is really scary, but you're into it so i'm trying not to cover my face the whole time, but-what is that?" and "i mean... i-i'm cool with sharing the bed if you are"

-cutetomholland (ignore this if you get a lot of requests!!)

A/N: i couldn't stop laughing while writing this help. peter's the scaredy cat in this one. a mood. bc this is basically how i am with horror movies lmao. hope you like this @cutetomholland <3 also consider this my valentine's gift to everyone! (even tho there's nothing valentine-esque about this 😭)

peter parker x avenger!fem!reader | wc: 1.2k | best friends to lovers | prompts in bold!

You and Peter had the whole compound to yourselves.

He was yet to decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

Not when you two were in the cinema room taking absolute advantage of the new screen Tony bought that took up the whole wall along with the modified 3D glasses he helped tweak himself to make it more realistic and featherlight like you weren't wearing anything at all.

It was a great upgrade.

If only it wasn't a horror movie you were watching.

Peter's body jolted when a shadow crossed the screen.

"You okay?"

"Y-Yeah, yeah, I am perfectly fine."

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," you joked as if the main character in the movie wasn't being hunted by a ghost at this very moment.

"Ha. Funny." He rolled his eyes, pressing his tongue against his cheek to stop his smile at the sweet sound of your laugh.

He flinched when the house lights in the movie flickered.

"Peter, we can stop the movie if you want," you said, sincerity coating your tone. "If it's too scary for you, we can turn it off. I don't mind."

Shaking his head, he shot you a smile. "This movie is really scary, but you're into it so I'm trying not to cover my face the whole time, but—WHAT IS THAT?!"

Peter's eyes widened when he saw something crawling toward him, a distorted body of a girl, dark, long hair, eyes white, veiny, mangled face.

Then, it lunged, Peter shrieking at the top of his lungs as he jumped away from it, heart pounding, lungs heaving as he pressed his burning forehead against the cool concrete.

He only realized how far he'd leaped when he heard your laughter, right below him.

Peter was on the goddamn ceiling.

"Glad to know you're leaving me to fend for myself if some ghost attacks us," you snorted, head on the back of the couch to meet his eyes. "I didn't even know you could jump that high."

"Stupid 3D glasses," he grumbled, truly regretting his improvement on it. He glanced at the screen, yelping as he screwed his eyes shut. "Y/N! Don't fucking pause it there!"

"Oh shit! Sorry! I'm—" You burst out laughing, rolling onto the floor with a soft thud before you clicked back to the Netflix menu screen.

Peter glared as you clutched your stomach, throwing the glasses at you.

You only laughed harder.

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

Yeah, he truly didn't.

It was quite the opposite if he was honest.

"Come back down," you said in heaps of giggles, sitting back on the couch and tapping the cushion. "Let's watch the new Puss in Boots movie, get your mind off it."

•••

Sometime in the middle of the night, hours after you'd already bid your good nights and went to your separate rooms, a storm graced New York.

He was hoping it'd help cool the grueling heat. 

Peter was sweating.

It definitely wasn't because he'd been lying still on his back with the blankets pulled up to his chin, making sure his feet weren't out the duvet let alone hanging on the edge of the bed.

He flinched at the sudden crack of thunder.

He swallowed as his eyes darted around the room, the lamp on his bedside warming the walls.

Shit.

Now he was really thirsty.

"Oh my God," he groaned, throwing the blankets off him, shivering at the cold, conditioned air. "You're fucking Spider-Man, an Avenger. You've fought aliens. You can deal with a fucking ghost."

That was his mantra as he ventured out of his room and into the kitchen, over and over as he pulled out a glass from the cupboard, filled it with water, drank it empty, refilled. He said it repeatedly as he made his way back to his room.

But then he saw it.

A shadow moving on the wall.

There was a flash of lightning, his eyes widening as his blood ran cold.

Four limbs, twitching and convulsing as its body crawled down the stairs.

Thunder boomed.

Peter fucking ran.

High-pitched screams echoed through the compound, ones he didn't even know his vocal cords could ever achieve as he bolted down the halls toward the opposite direction.

Then he bumped into something, a body.

Peter fell on his ass with the most lady-like screech as he backed away from—

"Jesus Christ, Peter! It's me!"

He blinked, only for a second before he scrambled to his feet. You squeaked when he all but threw you on his shoulder, arms around you securely and ran toward the elevator.

"What the fuck are you doing!"

"Something's crawling down the stairs! She's coming to get us! We should leave!"

"Peter, STOP!" your voice boomed, stunning him enough for you to wiggle out of his hold and get your feet on the ground. You hastily cupped his face, exhaling deeply, "Breathe."

"B-But—"

"Nothing's coming to get us," you reassured, a soft smile on your lips. "FRIDAY, turn on all the lights, please."

"Yes, miss, Y/N."

Peter squinted at the sudden brightness, barely making out the slight tug on his arm as you interlaced your fingers together.

"Come on."

"I-I don't think it's a good idea to go back there."

"I'm sure it's nothing," you said, squeezing his hand. "You trust me, right?"

He did.

Frankly, he'd probably follow you anywhere even if it led to his death—most likely strangled by a ghost.

"See?" you hummed once you reached the stairs, squeezing his hand and gesturing towards the vacuum with four mechanical arms attached to it. "It's just a hoover."

"Who the fuck thought giving that thing tentacles was a good idea?"

"Easier for it to go down the stairs. Come on."

Peter didn't question where you were taking him next, but then all of a sudden he was standing in your room, brows furrowed as he watched you settle on the bed.

"Hey," you called, patting the space next to you. "Come here."

"B-Beside you?"

"I mean…I-I'm cool with sharing the bed if you are," you said, smiling shyly.

With heated cheeks, Peter climbed onto your twin-size bed, leaving enough space in between as he lay still, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"That was so embarrassing," he grumbled, rubbing a palm over his warm face.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about. Horror movies just aren't for everyone and that's okay."

He turned to you. "You don't think I'm a coward?"

"Absolutely not," you said without hesitation, laying on your side to fully face him. "You're one of the bravest men I know, Pete."

"Except with creepy-looking ghosts."

"Yeah, except that," you giggled. "Go to sleep."

He sighed, smiling sadly. "I can't. It's stuck in my head."

You hummed, shuffling closer, the tip of your nose nudging his.

Peter held his breath, letting it out as a low hum when his lips met yours.

At last.

Fingers in his hair, your sweet sighs tickling his cheek, a taste of mint mixed with the taste of you was all that ran through his mind, rendering him dizzy, breathless.

"Does that help?" you whispered after a moment, thumb caressing his cheek tenderly.

Peter smiled. "Only when it includes cuddles."

You laughed, opening your arms wide, and he didn't even hesitate as he snuggled into them, cheek against your chest, your steady heartbeat and the warmth of your skin lulling him to sleep.

"Good night, Peter."

Who would've thought his cowardness when it came to horror films would finally get him the girl of his dreams?

⤷ still accepting asks & requests! come join and frolic with me!

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[mostlymaudlin]

hi!!!! i’m not sure if you take prompts, but if you do would you be interested in doing some kind of thing about neil’s relationship w sleep? like, now he’s no longer in the run and safe (ignoring the whole Bad things if he doesn’t make it professionally) his body is just like we’re tired we will sleep anywhere at any time. thank you if you so, obviously no pressure if you don’t want to! love your works :)

hey! i am fine receiving prompts, tho i make no promises on filling them haha. however, this one did spark an idea for a little flash fic!

ALSO, i recommend in the aftermath by @seasy33. it picks up right where TKM leaves off, and neil is soooooo sleeby !! it's one of my fave post-canon series for sure.

sleep debt

andreil, rated t, 500 words / series: flashes of intimacy

Nicky and Kevin are hovering in the kitchenette when Andrew returns to the dorm with extra cardboard boxes. Andrew’s eyes sweep the existing half-packed suitcases and bins before settling on Nicky’s face.

Nicky shifts uncomfortably, then gestures toward the closed bedroom door. “You told us not to wake him. We didn’t want to be loud.”

read the rest below or on AO3.

Figures. Ever since the championship, Neil’s been dropping into frequent, impromptu naps. In the dorms, in the car, in the court lounge — once, during a late dinner at the dining hall, Neil slowly slumped against Andrew’s shoulder. Abby is not worried, because Neil only ever lets himself doze off when he’s with people who will look out for him. She says that he’s catching up on years of sleep debt, and it’ll only be concerning if it gets worse, or if it’s still happening after a restful summer break. Bee agrees, though Andrew didn’t tell Neil that. 

Still, Neil doesn’t like that it’s happening. 

“It always seems like a great idea to rest my eyes, but I hate waking up not knowing where I am,” he told Andrew. “And I really hate when I don’t recognize the hand shaking me awake.”

Andrew is the exception, apparently. “You always make me feel safe.” Andrew ignored Neil for a whole day after he shared this information, stewing in the wretchedness of getting himself involved with this man. The silent treatment had to end when Matt — who was among those warned that morning that if they ever wake a napping Neil, they’ll die — knocked on Andrew’s door to tell him Neil was conked out on his couch.

Now, Andrew opens the bedroom door. Neil’s sneaker-clad feet are the only thing immediately visible behind boxes, which is a little too horror-movie-esque for Andrew’s tastes. Neil is on his back, lips parted, an unfolded sweatshirt loosely gripped in the hand resting on his chest. 

Andrew crouches down. He checks Neil’s watch, then the faint purple stains under Neil’s eyes, then the state of the bedroom around them. They were supposed to be checked out of the dorm an hour ago. Andrew doesn’t care that they’re breaking the rules, but moving is tedious, and he wanted to be done by now. Sighing, he reaches out and touches Neil as only he is permitted, dragging his fingertips from temple to jaw and loosely gripping Neil’s chin.

“Neil,” Andrew says firmly, and Neil slowly blinks open his eyes. He focuses first on Andrew’s face, then takes in their surroundings. When he realizes what happened, he groans. 

“You’re supposed to be good at packing,” Andrew says as he stands. 

Neil yawns, sitting up. “I have too much stuff now.” 

Andrew kicks the nearby box, watching as Neil rubs his face and runs a hand through his messy hair. He feels that dangerous flicker of a thing in his chest when Neil looks up at him. 

Andrew kicks the box again, this time with slightly more force. “Better get used to it.”