#phone batter power

[prismatica-the-strange]

So Charlie Chaplin just killed my power.

[evilgoosegoose]

It was a tough battle, and they were losing, they needed help, it didn't matter how powerful, but they desperately needed it, the Justice League called upon every hero and rouge that had the possibility of helping them.

Danny arrived first, making record speeds using a portal made by Wulf to get close, he rushed over to help and assess the situation, after getting the absolute snot beat out of him, he announced "This is a problem for Future Me!" before pulling out his phone and calling someone, leaving the heavily battered Justice League stunned. He had a brief talk with someone named Dan, whoever that was and hung up, turned to them and said in the cockiest voice they had ever heard from someone that had bones sticking out of them "Now we sit back and enjoy the show."

Another portal formed right in front of them, this one was blue rather than green, and out stepped, or rather floated, an absolute monster of a 24-year-old.

[gdjyho]

PILLOWTALK

synopsis ; a late night , much needed, hot fück session. pure smut.

pairing ; jungkook x f!reader

warnings ; s€xual content, slapping [face and ass], crying, big d!ck jk, choking, unprotected, mentions of smoking, not really proofread, lemme know if there’s any more.

i love to hold close, tonight and always…

his doe eyes pierce right through yours, stare feeling as if it’s entering your soul. your mouth lays slightly ajar. your lips and tongue get drier by what feel is like the second. jungkook’s slender fingers snake around your battered neck and your head rests against the head board slightly leant back.

he grins ever so slightly before soaking your lips with his own spit. before you get a chance to react, his lips are smashed on yours and moving in all sorts of directions. your chests stick together and your rise up to claw at each others’ sweat clad necks. “ you’re always so good f’me” he whispers out.

jungkook roughly grips your shoulders, easily flipping your on top without breaking the intimate eye contact shared between the two of you. you feel the oxygen seep back into your lungs like a sponge from the release of your neck. in the silence of the room, he enters you with no words. his cock mauls your gummy walls as he navigates your sweet spot.

So we'll piss off the neighbors…

you fail to let out any words at the pleasure your receiving. in doing so, your whimper and moan along with a whole other string of sounds. you begin to move up and down on jungkook’s abdomen as the biting pain of his length subsides. you let out even more pornographic moans which make a melody with the sound of your crotches meeting and tearing away.

you lean down to kiss his mole under his soaked bottom lip. he kisses your forehead and praises you simultaneously. your eyes clasp shut as your brain digs up from the ecstasy jungkook gives you. it’s indescribable how deeply far in you are for the man under your body.

“you’re fucking me so good!” you tell him. the smell of the room, all stuffy drives jungkook insane. he begins to attack your neck and your back forms a snake shape and your hips move round. his dick stuffs your to the brim, forming a visible lump in your tummy. he chuckles, prodding the hill he’s made. your toes curl as you feel your climax.

you fight it, wanting him to fill you up first. his face scrunches up into and unreadable expression. he’s gonna fill me up you think. you chuckle slightly, finally getting the sweet release you’ve needed from him. you grip his sleeve of tattoos tightly, as your tight hole reaches max capacity.

in the place that feels the tears..

your eyes well up like swimming pools as his cum slides around inside of you. you grind your hips harder on him insatiably. you throw your head back and groan as he does. you emotionally give yourself up to him, submitting yourself to jungkook and become completely vunerable.

“ahhhhh princess look at you milking me” he sort of slurs out, being drunk on pleasure and your mixed juices. he slowly and dreadfully pulls out and places you on your side of the bed. he gets up and strides along to your en suite. your smile as you get the perfect view of his god-sent ass.

after some cluttering is heard and cupboards close, he walks out and reaches for his black calvin klein briefs. he slips back next to you, creating a dip in the bed. he toys at your bangs, swirling and twisting what’s not dampened by sweat. “oh baby. if only you knew how cute you were”

he grabs his phone from the low nightstand and steals a picture of you and fucked out and cheesing at the camera while trying to grab his phone from him. “jungkook !” you laugh out, while he pins your hands back down. he laughs at his ability to easily control and power over you.

yeah, reckless behavior

he pecks you before getting up and lighting stray cigarette from the nightstand and placing it in between his lips. jungkook has to flick the lighter a few times before managing to make a spark. he inhales before blowing out a pillar of fog into the room. you pinch it out from between his lips and place the dampened stick between your lips.

it swirls around in your lungs for a short amount of time before you let the air loose. he opens the window, letting the various smells exit the room. you get up and move closer to him. you step infront of jungkook and he sneaks his hands around your waist. his lips meet your neck softly and withdraw along with a sloppy trail. you sigh in satisfaction.

it’s our paradise and it's our war zone.

- quickly crafted this one. 😶

[valeskafics]

"Unknown Caller" - Ghostface!Rafe Cameron x Reader

from an anon request! 🩷

Summary: The power's out on the island, and you're home alone. Or are you?

Word Count: 3,500

Rating: 18+, MDNI

TW: dubcon, stalking, toxic rafe, afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, knife kink, mask kink, blood kink, overstim, tiddy succin, oral f receiving, fingering, fuccin with a knife, breeding kink, creampie, unprotected sex, p in v sex, daddy kink, corruption kink

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Outer Banks characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

Never have you hated your parents so much for moving you to the Outer Banks from sunny California than you do tonight. Hurricane Elizabeth is currently wreaking havoc, battering the Carolina coast, having turned unexpectedly and made landfall. Your parents, out for date night on the mainland, are busy sheltering in place. Though the OBX has been spared from the worst of the storm, there are still heavy rains and the power is currently out all over the island - including Figure Eight, where you reside.

You’re home alone as you hear thunder clapping, laying in bed, trying to distract yourself by reading a Nicholas Sparks novel. So far, moving to North Carolina hasn’t brought a Landon or Noah your way, but it’s only been two years. You’ve found a best friend in your fellow Kook, Sarah Cameron, however, the two of you becoming thick as thieves fairly quickly. You’ve had countless sleepovers at her place, hung out with her and the Pogues many times, and it’s made leaving home a little less difficult of a pill to swallow. Kie, John B, JJ, and Pope are awesome, and you love hanging out with them.

However, you still maintain friendships with some of the Kooks as well, in particular, Scarlett, Topper, and Kelce. Well, friendship may be a stretch, but you’ll say hi to them in the halls, and you’re spared the dirty looks that Sarah and Kie often get.

Then there’s Rafe, but that’s a whole other story.

When you and Sarah became friends, she warned you about her asshole older brother. But the thing is? He was always so nice to you. Sure, you’ve seen him be a jerk to John B and even Topper on occasion, but when it comes to you? He’s always been so fucking sweet and charming. You know Sarah hopes that you’ll develop a crush on JJ or Pope so the two of you can double date or whatever the hell it is she has planned. But in reality? You’ve got a massive crush on her douchebag big brother.

Pining over your best friend’s brother. What a cliche.

With the power out, you’ve been trying to hold off on using your phone, wanting to keep its battery charged in case of a real emergency. You set your book aside, standing up and stretching your arms over your head, your tiny little pink silk pajama set doing precious little to shield you from the chill that pervades the house. You rub your upper arms with your hands, pacing the room, when suddenly? Your phone rings.

You rush to grab it, swiping to answer even though the caller is unknown. It might be your parents, and you know your mom will freak out if you don’t answer.

“Hello?”

You hear a voice on the other end of the line. One that you know immediately doesn’t belong to anyone you were expecting to call. It’s low, gravely, with a strange seductive undertone to it, like honey in your ears. It makes a chill go up your spine, and not in a way that’s entirely unpleasant.

“Hello, cutie. What’re you doing all alone in the dark?”

Outside your window, unbeknownst to you, stands someone quite familiar to you.

None other than Rafe Cameron.

He smirks up at your window, a Ghostface mask covering his handsome face as he watches you pace back and forth in your room, looking adorably confused at the fact that someone has called you.

“Um, it’s three in the morning,” you reply, “It’s obviously gonna be dark.”

“But what’re you doing all alone, pretty girl?” He coos, “Isn’t anyone else in the house with you?”

Not thinking anything of the somewhat intrusive question, you answer, yawning quietly as you stretch again, your tiny little pajama top rising to reveal a sliver of your stomach to Rafe’s greedy eyes. He licks his lips beneath the mask, waiting for you to answer, thinking to himself you look like an adorable little kitten, stretching out like that.

“No, my parents are on the mainland. No more ferries cuz of the storm.”

Perfect.

“Aw, you’re all by yourself? Do you need someone to come keep you company? I could come over and keep you safe, baby…”

You giggle, shaking your head, “I don’t know who you are!”

“Why don’t you let me come over there so we can introduce ourselves to each other then?” He smirks, “And I can keep you safe. We can share the bed, there’s plenty of room for two in there.”

He watches as you smile to yourself, biting your lip, “You’re funny, but no.”

“Aw, come on, baby. You must be scared being home all alone with the power out,” a grin crosses his face at the way the silk fabric clings to your curves, “Come on, lemme come over.”

“Is this Topper? Prank calling people isn’t funny, you know.”

“I’m not Topper, baby,” he assures you, “I’m someone else. I’m just a guy who wants to come over there and keep you warm and safe.”

Rafe sees you flop onto your bed, on your stomach, crossing your legs at the ankle, the sight of your adorable pink pedicured feet kicking the air making him want nothing more than to be in the room with you.

“JJ? This isn’t funny.”

“Not JJ either, baby. And I’m not calling to be funny. Think of me as a secret admirer,” Rafe’s voice drops an octave, growing husky, “Look out your window, baby. Look outside. I see you.”

“I…” Your breath catches in your throat as you walk toward the window. And you see your mystery caller, wearing a Ghostface mask, rain pouring down on him in the storm, donning a hoodie and jeans. You freeze as you whisper, “Pope? John B? This is not cool, I’m so serious right now…”

“It’s not Pope or John B, pretty girl. Neither of them are here. It’s just me, looking up at that pretty little face, that sexy little body. And I really like what I see.”

You quickly shut your curtains, not wanting your stalker to see any more of you than he already has. Rafe, for his part, has never been so fucking hard in his life. Seeing you all scared like that? He waits with bated breath for you to speak again, listening to your soft little pants.

“What do you want?”

“I wanna come in there and get to know you baby,” Rafe purrs, “I want you to let me inside so we can have some fun together.”

He watches from a new vantage point as you walk down the stairs, those gorgeous legs of yours coming into his view ever so slowly. It’s like you want to tease him. Like you want to make him want you. Little fucking tease.

“I’m gonna call the cops,” you threaten, unconvincingly, as you go to lock the front door.”

“How’re you gonna do that, baby?” He hums, “Power’s out on the whole island. Nobody’s gonna answer that call, no matter how cute and helpless you sound.”

You lean against the door, realizing he’s right, “Please leave me alone…”

“Not happening, baby. There’s nobody coming to save you tonight. No one’s gonna save you from me.”

“Well the door’s locked, there’s no way you’re getting in here.”

“You seem to have forgotten something, baby,” he snickers, as if he knows something you don’t.

“What did I forget?”

That’s when you hear it, reeling at the sound like you’ve been slapped in the face. The sound of the back door opening. Shit. You hear his footsteps, his dark little chuckle. This bastard is enjoying how scared you are. Your phone falls to the floor, the sound echoing throughout the foyer as your stalker comes closer and closer. You let out a scream and make a mad dash up the stairs, running into your room. You hide in your closet, behind your laundry hamper, curling yourself up into a ball, making yourself as tiny as possible.

Rafe just laughs, removing his mask to run a hand through his hair, relishing in the thrill of the hunt, before putting it back on and making his way up the stairs. If you want to play hide and seek, ready or not, he’s coming for you. And he’s going to find you. He pushes the door open to your room, kneeling down to check under your bed. He knows you’re here, he can smell your sweet perfume, that coconut scented shampoo you use, your vanilla body wash. All of it so quintessentially you. His little sister’s innocent, beautiful best friend. Fuck, he wants you so bad.

Your heart pounds as you hear his footsteps nearing the closet, stopping just before it. And he speaks.

“I can hear you breathing, honey. Why don’t you make this easy on both of us and just come out of that closet, into my arms, huh?”

You whimper quietly, covering your mouth, and the little sound is enough to drive Rafe to madness. He shoves your hamper aside, grinning beneath his mask when he sees you. You get up and try to run past him, but he grabs you by the wrist, pulling you back to him.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going, angel? I just got here.”

Your wrist is so small and delicate in his grip. The sight of his large hand wrapped around it alone makes his cock twitch in his pants. You move your free hand to try to slap him across the face, which just amuses him. And arouses him. He grabs both your wrists with one hand, grabbing some duct tape from his pocket, binding your hands.

“That was a nice try, baby. Real cute.”

You struggle against him, beating your bound hands against his chest, “No, lemme go!”

Rafe shakes his head, Nah. I’m not gonna let you go anytime soon. You look so cute like this. All small and helpless. I’m going to keep you with me so we can have some fun together.”

You let out a noise of surprise as he manhandles you onto the bed. His body weight pins you down, holding you in place as he pulls a knife from his back pocket, tracing it along your jaw. Your lower lip trembles with fear, though deep down, a primal part of you can’t help but think you enjoy the feeling of the blade against your skin. Its coolness as he brings it to your chin.

“Why are you doing this?”

“You don’t understand?” He asks, almost mockingly, tracing your lips with the blade, watching as you shiver, “It’s obvious that you want me. I’ve seen you looking at me. I’m just giving you an opportunity to act out on your fantasies. You should take it, baby. Take the opportunity to be bad for once. Let me show you how good it can feel…”

You shake your head, “Like you? N-no, I don’t even know who you are! I like Sarah’s brother.”

“Oh, baby. I know.”

You freeze at the implication behind his words, immediately going into denial, “N-no. You’re not Rafe. Rafe is nice to me. He’s sweet to me. He wouldn’t do this, you’re a liar!”

It’s sick and twisted, but watching you refuse to admit the truth makes Rafe’s blood burn hotter than ever, watching your innocent little face, your brows knit together as you try to make sense of all this, “Oh, I’m definitely Rafe. You want me to take this mask off so you can see who I really am?”

“You’re not Rafe! You’re just some psycho! Get away from me!”

“That’s the point, baby,” he says, his blade moving down to your throat, the feeling making your breath catch in your throat, “I want you to admit how psycho I am. You enjoy it. You want it. This is the real me and you fuckin’ love it.”

You watch in horror as he uses one hand to pull the mask from his face, your heart in your throat, your chest heaving as you struggle for breath. And you see him. The boy you’ve had a crush on for the last two years. Your best friend’s older brother.

Rafe fucking Cameron.

“N-no…”

Rafe runs a hand through his hair, shaking it out, before pressing his knife to your throat, “There it is. That look of shock that I was waiting for.” You whimper as he brushes your hair off your face with the knife, blinking rapidly, as if you’re trying to wake up from a bad dream, “You’re so sweet. So innocent. And when you see how bad I can be, it scares you. But deep down inside? It turns you on. You get off on the idea of the bad guy wanting you. Just admit it, baby.”

“If you knew I liked you, why didn’t you just ask me out like a normal person?” You question, squirming against him, doing your best to ignore the throbbing between your thighs at the little groan he lets out when you rub up against his cock.

“Where’s the fun in that? This is so much more exciting isn’t it?” There’s a manic glint in his eyes as they bore into your own, almost burning through you, “You might’ve said no if I just asked you normally. This way? You don’t have a fuckin’ choice. And deep down, we both know you don’t mind that. You don’t want to be in control. You want me to dominate you. You want the bad boy to take control.”

“Please let me go,” you plead, your eyes watering, the sight of your sweet, teary eyes driving him wild, “I won’t tell Sarah or anyone-”

“You’re crying, baby?” He coos, “You’re so pretty when you cry.”

Tears begin falling down your cheeks and all it does is excite him even more, the sight of you so vulnerable beneath him, “Rafe, please, let me go…”

And he fucking laughs at the idea, “I think I’ve finally got you right where I want you, angel. How am I gonna let you go?” He watches the way you shiver as he traces your breast over the silk fabric of your pajamas, your nipple hardening at the feeling, your entire body trembling, “Aw, baby, you cold? Let Daddy warm you up.”

“Are you gonna hurt me?”

“Hurt you? I could never hurt you,” he replies honestly, continuing to tease you with the blade, “I just wanna show you how good it feels to be bad. To let out your secrets and desires. You can trust me, baby. Tell me how much you like this. Me teasing you with this little knife. I bet you’re so fuckin’ wet from this.”

“I…” You gasp as he cuts open the strap of your pajama top, the blade nicking your skin.

Rafe moves to lap at the crimson blood that stains your soft flesh, groaning as he tastes it. You press your thighs together, the feeling of his tongue lapping at your blood being almost too much to handle. He cuts the other strap, and then? Cuts the shirt in two, a lascivious smile spreading across his face at the sight of your soft, full breasts, lips moving to wrap around one of your nipples, those icy blue eyes staring into yours as he suckles at you, his knife held to your throat.

It’s so obvious you’re enjoying this. He just needs you to fucking admit it. He drags his knife down between your breasts, down your stomach, before he reaches the waistband of your shorts. He flips the blade, so that the handle is facing you, and begins to tease your pussy over the silk fabric, making you gasp, feeling the hilt rubbing against your clit.

“Just admit you like this, baby. Be honest, I can feel how fuckin’ wet you are, soaked through these pathetic little shorts. Just tell me you want this and I’ll give you what you need.”

Desperate for him, wanting to feel his fingers, his tongue, anything, you admit, barely above a whisper, “I like it. It’s sick and wrong. But I like it.”

Rafe grins, leaning in close to you, his lips nearly brushing against yours, grinding his hips against yours, “Good girl. Such a good girl for me, baby. Now, let’s see how much you can handle from me.”

He kisses you, and it’s everything you ever fantasized about. His kiss is hot and sloppy and desperate, his tongue moving against yours as his mouth dominates your own. Rafe slices your pajama shorts open as he continues kissing you, the hilt of his knife brushing against your bare cunt, pushing inside you. You gasp against his lips as he moves the instrument in and out of you, teasing you with what’s yet to come. You moan against his lips, raising your bound hands to rest around his neck, his forehead pressed to yours as he gazes into your eyes, fucking you with his knife. It doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself, your head falling back against the pillow as you let out a cry of his name.

No, not his name.

“Daddy.”

Rafe grins, lips trailing down your chest, your stomach, down to your pussy, lapping up your juices eagerly, moaning your name as he begins to suckle at your swollen clit, your toes curling at the feeling. He makes the most lewd slurping noises as he alternates between sucking at your clit and fucking you with his tongue, pumping his fingers in and out of you at a pace that has your head reeling, over and over, finding your sweet spot and rubbing against it furiously, making you squirm and writhe against him. He presses his knife against your thigh, a silent reminder of the power he holds over you, and the small action alone is enough to send you careening over the age, your arousal coating his tongue as he eagerly tastes you.

You watch as Rafe undoes his jeans, just enough to free his cock. You pout slightly, wanting to see all of him, but this is just another way for him to remind you who it is that’s in charge here. You’re naked and vulnerable beneath him, your body all but screaming for his touch, he has control over you. So fucking pliant and soft, he thinks to himself, stopping short when he hears you voice a request he never thought he’d hear from you.

“Can you wear the mask while you fuck me?”

Rafe nods, pulling the mask on immediately, grabbing his cock by the base, slapping the tip against your swollen clit. You whine, bucking your hips against him as he pushes inside you, excruciatingly slow, the sting being almost unbearable at first, but the pain giving way to pleasure like you’ve never known before. Rafe fucks into you like a feral, depraved beast, his hand wrapped around your throat, restricting your airflow, watching you gaze up at him with hazy doe eyes, his knife to your chest as he ruts against you.

“Gonna fill you up so good, baby,” he snarls, “Can feel that pretty little pussy squeezing around me so fuckin’ tight. You’re so wet. So fuckin’ warm. Feels so good. Gonna keep you with me forever. You’re not gonna ever want anyone except for me, isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you sigh contentedly as he pounds into you over and over, your walls hugging him tight, getting closer and closer to your peak, soaking his cock, “Fuck, it’s too much, Rafe-”

“Not Rafe,” he taunts, squeezing your throat, moving against you faster and faster, his stomach tightening as he feels you clenching around him, your poor little cunt oversensitized and already halfway to your next climax, the thought making him grin, “Call me Daddy, baby. Be a good girl.”

“Daddy, it’s too much,” you cry out, clinging to him, “Too much-”

“No, baby, you can give me another one,” he chuckles darkly, “I know you can. You’re gonna come with me this time. Wanna feel that sweet little pussy creaming all over me again while I fill you up. Gonna watch my cum spilling out of you. You’re gonna love it, baby.”

One, two more thrusts, and you’re crying out as you reach your peak again, your body shaking, trembling as he gives another thrust, thick hot ropes of cum spilling inside you. He moves to take off the mask, kissing your forehead, your nose, then your lips, soothing you as you come down from your high, slicing the tape open to free your hands. You cling to Rafe, startling slightly as the lights come back on. You meet his gaze, brushing your lips against his, wanting his warmth.

“It’s okay, baby, go to sleep,” he murmurs softly, cradling you to his chest, “I’ll be here when you wake up. I’m all yours and you’re all mine, baby. Daddy’s here to take care of you now.”

[liannaessi]

Some people don't know how bad things have become. This is a rape shelter in Vancouver. First they got sued because they only have women volunteers on their phones.

Some guy really wanted to hear all the rape stories and they said no.

Then the rape shelter was vandalized. Talk about punching down! The ultimate abuse was they had funding stripped from them. Why? Because they dared be a shelter for women. And that’s not allowed any more. Not even for rape victims.

When they say who can any of this hurt? It can hurt those women. It can hurt those women a lot. The women who are traumatized and frightened and battered.

This shelter fought back and now depends on private donations. Other shelters have given in.

Imagine being a rape victim and just asking for one space where it can be all women. Even just one room. And being told you must include men or you can’t get help.

At the heart of it, rape is a crime of forced inclusion. You weren’t allowed to say no. Part of healing is being given back your power and that includes the ability to say no.

If a rape victim wants a healing space that only has redheads born on a Tuesday in it, I’d try to find her such a space. She has been traumatized. She is terrified. We would all do anything to help her be less frightened. At least most of us would.

To be clear, I can’t be sure of the motive of any particular person who demanded to be a volunteer at any particular time, but there are men who love to hear women’s rape stories and some women don’t like telling their stories to men.

And don’t think these are rare situations. There are many shelters across the world that have been facing the same pressures. It’s a huge story. When JK Rowling funded a shelter just for women she was swarmed by the fly lords! (See my pinned thread for that reference).

(All text and photo I took from twitter: babybeginner)

[mayfieldss]

Mess it up - Carmen Berzatto

Summary: it's your birthday, and Carmy will be damned if he doesn't make you a cake. But he keeps messing it up. Based on the mess it up music video, maybe...?

Content Warnings: language, fluff.

I'm just going to be posting fics i wrote months ago from my phone until my computer is fixed guys, so I'm sorry to all those waiting on requests. I promise I'll finish them all when I get my computer back!

Carmy hated proving himself wrong, but today was one of the days where it was all he seemed to be doing. He'd woken up early, 5:35 in the morning, to be exact, and made a mad dash to his kitchen as if his life depended on it. It was your birthday, as he could recall, and he couldn't stand to not do something special, but he'd thought it would have been easier than this.

A cake. One simple cake. Everyday ingredients and Carmy's years of experience should have boiled this down to the perfect match, but one simple cake has now become his worst enemy.

"shit" Carmy mutters out to the empty apartment as he cracks an egg horribly into the bowl, eggshell painting the rest of the contents. "Stupid fucking-" he grabs a teaspoon, scraping out each individual piece of the disaster with very little patience. It takes him forever and in the end, he trashes the whole thing, starting from scratch. It's the best choice he could have made, and the second time everything is easier. He's mixing everything together as fast as he can, one eye on the clock as the time ticks by.

He's fully capable of success at this point, and when enough time has passed Carmy is ready to reveal the best cake he's ever made. But of course, the powers that be have found it humorous to test him, and as he pulls the pan from the oven, it all goes downhill. He watches it slip from his hands and feels the burn of the tray. He hears the harsh crash as the cake and the pan plant themselves face down on the half-open oven door, and a part of him dies when it all registers in his mind.

He thinks he can save it at first, and when he goes to lift up the tray he believes that everything will be fine, until the cake crumbles out of it hopelessly, sitting sad and broken before him. "Fuck!"

His hands come to his hair for a moment, and he thinks it over, eyes drifting to the clock once more as though it might have an answer for him. It only tells the time, as per usual, and that's when Carmy decides. He can do it all again if he hurries.

And so he does. He makes another cake, and this time he manages to get it out of the oven and right over to the kitchen bench. the icing is the easiest part of it all, and though Carmy isn't a fan of sprinkles himself he adds them on top, hoping that they might make the whole thing a little more special. And it all seems fine for a while, Carmy leaving the house with cake in hand as stress clouds his mind.

Until he drops it. Again.

"Fuck!" he says it so loud that the neighbours have to hold some kind of concern, and to his own surprise he finds himself moving back towards the front door. He knows he should just give up, but as the time passes he's back in the kitchen again mixing everything together for the third time that morning, as if he isn't pissed out of his mind.

"C'mon," he mumbles as he stares blankly at the oven, watching the cake cook through the door of it as if that will somehow make it bake faster than before.

When it's finally done, iced and sprinkled and probably better than the first one he made, he's out the door again, rushing down the steps and into the street. He can catch a bus if he's lucky, though clearly he's not.

"I need this seat." Carmy is trying to be nice, the man sitting on the seat at the front of the bus he's managed to jump on frowning at him as though he's got something on his face. He does, though Carmy doesn't know it. There's flour all over him, and cake batter splattered lightly on his cheek and believe it or not, he has sprinkles in his hair. "I need to make sure I don't drop this fucking cake, seriously, so I know it sucks but if you give me your seat I'll, um, I'll pay you."

The man in front of Carmy raises a brow in intrigue before standing with a shrug, and Carmy takes his place gratefully, the cake now safely in his lap. The stranger, though, stands before Carmy expectantly, and he realises then that the man wants his payment now.

"Oh, uh—hold on." it's tough, but Carmen manages to swing his backpack up to his side and pull out his wallet. He's damn near broke, and the contents are even sadder than Carmy remembered them as he looks inside, pulling out five dollars for the man who'd so kindly given his seat away. "Here." He holds out the money but the stranger shakes his head.

"Dude," he mutters, and Carmy knows full well he wants more, but he doesn't have much left to give.

"It's all I can give you in cash." The cake slides to the side in his lap, and Carmy just manages to stop the thing from falling, bumping some of the icing with his thumb as he does so. But it's safe and in tact other than that, and Carmy is willing to accept that as a win.

"What about the cake?" The man beside him asks, eyeing up the pink iced treat Carmy is trying so desperately to protect. "Can I have a slice?"

"Fuck no." Carmy's response comes so fast that the words seem to hit the man like a bullet, leaving Carmy's new travel companion with a harsh frown.

"Jeez, screw you, dude." The guy seems mad, and as the bus pulls to its next stop, Carmy thinks he's made a new enemy. He wants to feel bad about it but can't bring himself to as he looks down at the cake on his lap.

He's done it. He's kept the cake safe.

And it's all worth it when he sees you, bright-eyed and beautiful in your blue apron, ready for the day. He's later, very late, but all his cares in the world seem to disappear the moment you look at him.

And of course it can't be that easy. As easy as locking his eyes with yours and finding a peace, a calm between himself, this cake and you.

"Corner!" The shout comes loud as Richie appears out of nowhere, at work earlier than Carmy for once, but the shout isn't enough warning as the mans chest slams against Carmen's shoulder. It's like slow motion after that, as the cake tumbles from his grasp. It hits the floor with a pathetic slap, and Carmy wants to scream. So he does.

"Fuck!"

He's staring down at the cake as Richie mumbles a half-apology.

"I said corner dude, I'm sorry, but we gotta get going couisn." Richie moves off before Carmy can shout any more profanities, and when he raises his gaze, he sees you. Your lips are open in an 'oh' shape, but when his eyes meet your own, the expression turns into a smile. Sweet and gentle, and filled with a genuine compassion that Carmy doesn't often receive.

When you take steps toward him and his fallen cake, pink icing splattered hopelessly on the tile, he sighs. "Happy birthday."

Your smirk turns to a grin, accompanied by a soft laugh. "Thank you, Bear." You shift your gaze to the cake on the floor, head tilted to the side. "It's still salvageable."

Carmy can only shake his head as you say it but watches you crouch down and grasp a handful of the cake that hasn't touched the floor yet. Your fingers press into the icing, and you smile into the bite of it you take.

"Best birthday cake ever." You mumble as you chew, before moving off to continue with your work, and of course, wash your hands.

And after all of it, Carmen feels okay.

It hadn't worked out how he'd planned in any form, but he'd achieved the main goal he supposed. Delivering you a cake on your birthday was a part of it, but really, he'd done it to see you happy. To see you smiling from something he'd done. And somehow, his mess of a cake had done just that. And your smile was the best prize he'd ever won.

- ♡ -

Reblog to support your writers!!

CARMEN BERZATTO TAGLIST: @thrutheburnout @diorrfairy @norriebunny @yeschefthankyouchef

THE BEAR TAGLIST: @live-love-be-unique @kpopgirlbtssvt

[sserpente]

A/N: Can you believe that I couldn’t bring myself to watch the Loki Season 2 Finale more than once yet? Maybe this little piece of fluff will help us heal a little more!

Words: 837 Warnings: HEAVY SPOILERS FOR THE SEASON 2 FINALE, fluff

Christmas felt off. Yule felt off. You’d set up your tree, you’d decorated, you’d bought all the Christmassy food including half a dozen bottles of mulled wine and you were listening to Christmas music non-stop. None of it worked. Something was missing. Someone.

The promise that had hung from Loki’s lips remained heavy and it had clawed its way deep into your heart. You’d talked about it one night, resting after hunting down an actor-turned-TVA-agent. About your future together. About where you would go and what you would do once all of this was over.

That was before everything fell apart. Before Loki realised that the only way… no, stop.

Right now, you were baking Christmas biscuits—you were forcing yourself to. Christmas music was blasting from your phone in the background, the warm air in the kitchen smelled like vanilla and gingerbread and outside, it was snowing, making you appreciate the warm and flickering candlelight coming from the wreath on the dining table even more. You were supposed to be happy, you ought to be joyful, no? He had sacrificed everything, sacrificed himself in order to protect… to protect… it was all so complex it went above your head. All you knew was that thanks to the cheeky God of Mischief, the multiverse was free.

Thanks to him, you were alive and well, thanks to him you could live a life you’d always dreamed of having. And yet, it meant nothing without him. And yet, all you wanted to do was to break down, ram your fists into the ground over and over, and wail for the loss of your one true love.

Yule, Christmas, whatever you wanted to call it, wasn’t the same if the one person you wanted to spend it with was gone. But you knew he could see you. You knew he was watching over you. And it wouldn’t be fair to let him see your grief after what he’d done for you all.

So you swallowed it down, again and again, and, humming along to the Christmas songs, focused all of your attention on the cookie batter. It was his favourite kind. The only kind you’d be baking this year.

“Hmm… this does smell delicious. I do hope they’re all for me…”

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you flipped around, flour landing everywhere around you in the process like a smoke cloud.

For a moment, you simply stared at him, lips parted, eyes filling with tears. “Please… please tell me you’re real.”

Loki smirked, extending his arms—a smug invitation for you to hug him. “Why don’t you find out, love?”

It was all he needed to say. You all but flung yourself into his arms, face pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. No illusion. No duplicate. Him. He was actually here.

“Loki… oh gods, Loki…” The tears came before you could stop them. Worsening your sight and making you sob, you hugged him so tightly you feared to cut off his air supply. “But… how… how? How is this possible?”

“It appears that not only have I become the new temporal loom but… my powers have been feeding on the multiverse and vice versa. I became stronger and stronger until I realised I would be able to move around within it freely. I tested it, carefully, for what felt like an eternity until I was sure the threads of all the realities wouldn’t snap on me.”

“So… you’re saying the entirety of the multiverse is still flowing through you right now?”

“It is indeed. You just can’t see it.”

“You’re not going to… explode on me, right?”

“And turn into golden glitter?” He lifted your chin up, smirking and you chuckled but when his smile faltered, yours did too.

“W-what?”

“I’m sorry.”

You frowned. “For what?”

“For leaving you. For being the reason you cry yourself to sleep at night.”

Once again, your heart dropped to your stomach. “You… know?”

“Of course I do.”

“I was trying to hide it so hard…” Loki wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb, a gentle smile tugging on his thin lips.

“I know,” he said, pressing you close. “I came here as soon as I could to be sure it would be safe to do so.”

“You… haven’t seen anyone else yet? What about Mobius?”

“Mobius is with his family, setting up a Christmas tree with Jetski decorations.”

You giggled.

“No. You were the most important. And I want to spend Christmas with you just like I promised I would. And I see you have already made sure to set the mood.” He looked around, noting all the decorations around you.

Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “There’s no Christmas mood without you.”

Loki pulled you back toward the door threshold leading to the living room. You looked up at him, gaze wandering up to where you’d put up the mistletoe. And as far as kisses went… this one was the most magical and wondrous yet.

A/N: I'm really bad at reposting my Insta and Clock App stuff on here too and it's a New Year's resolution to change that next year so that you guys will be up to date as well but basically... I've published too books in my absence in case you were wondering why it got so quiet, lol. Aaaand I'm currently working on an English (my first English series!) paranormal Dark Romance series with demons and witches so if that's something you're interested in, do follow along, yes? ♥♥♥ We're all mad here! :D

PS: Loki becoming the wireless battery of the multiverse is my headcanon, thank you.

[publicenemy212]

Part 1 of Love Potion (dom!Velvette x f!sub!reader)

There's two parts to this story since it's porn with plot (yeah yeah no one reads smut for the plot I know) and Part 1 is gonna be pretty SFW other than some cursing. Part 2's (the actual smut) in the works and will be out in about two days!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Word count: 1,199 words

Summary:

You're a well-known Sinstagram influencer with hundreds of thousands of loyal followers. Yet, each time you post, you're only really looking for the attention of one person: Velvette, Hell's high-end fashion designer and fellow influencer. After posting several pictures taken during a night out with friends at Klub Kaiju, you wake up to a much-wanted message that you formerly could only dream of.

“Alright, stay safe! Thanks for the ride,” you called out to the designated driver for the night. As the car sped off, you sighed and walked to the entrance of your apartment building, wincing with each step. Your feet screamed in pain from being in heels all night long—you couldn’t wait to just fall down into your comfy bed.

The bedframe squeaked as you practically threw your battered frame onto the mattress. You groaned with relief as you loosened the corset and kicked off the heels. Though your eyes threatened to glue themselves shut with each blink, you forced yourself to stay awake. There was no chance you’d fall asleep before posting the new flicks from your night out. Such were the responsibilities of an influencer like yourself.

You dug through your purse, praying your phone didn’t somehow fall out while you were on the dance floor. Thankfully, it didn’t, and you promptly opened the Sinstagram app to create a new post.

Scrolling through your gallery, you chose a few pictures of different angles to best showcase your outfit and, of course, your body. You weren’t only posting for the measly 400,000 nobodies who would scarf up any and all crumbs you’d throw to them, no; you had somebody to impress. A very powerful somebody, whose opinion could make or break your career. Velvette. Arguably the most well-known and respected fashion designer in all of Hell.

You chose three of the best contenders and minimally filtered out any slight imperfections, be it an unsavory onlooker in the background or the club or a speck of dust in the camera lens. Any filtering beyond that was unnecessary and would probably only decrease the quality of your pictures.

Satisfied with the pictures, you began laying out a caption and all the usual hashtags to increase your reach.

When the night calls

#pentagramcity #pridering #klubkaiju #model #VVVmodels #VelvetteScouting

The last two tags were the most important. Everything else was almost trivial at this point—you had amassed enough followers to gain a steady stream of likes, comments, and shares. All you needed was to catch Velvette’s eye to reach the next step to power and success.

After you gave your post a final once-over, you tapped “Post.” As usual, the notifications started flooding in almost immediately. You glanced at the top of your Vphone to check the time—4:52 AM—and rolled your eyes. Just how pathetic were these sinners that you could post at the buttcrack of dawn and thousands would still flock to your post nearly instantaneously? 

You closed the app and your Vphone, determined to get some well-deserved shut-eye. You had never been so grateful it was a Friday night and not a weekday night. Though you didn’t get hangovers often, you absolutely despised not being able to get all eight of your beauty sleep hours.

Sleep quickly enveloped your tired body like a warm blanket.

The next day, the sound of screaming outside the window roused you from your hibernation. Perhaps once it was the sound of birds chirping that would wake you up, but such days were long gone ever since you found yourself amidst dirty streets and red skies. Not that you cared much, anyway. Your past life was a speck compared to the time you’ve now spent in Hell. 

You blinked slowly and turned over to reach for your phone. Obviously, notifications were off, so you manually opened Sinstagram to check if any of your friends had messaged you through the night and morning.

You scrolled through your list of unread DMs to check how many people you needed to respond to. This was all muscle memory for you and your eyes almost glazed over with boredom until an unfamiliar profile picture flashed by. You frowned in confusion. Did one of your friends change their profile picture? You were certain you set your settings to only allow people you followed and were followed back by into your primary messages channel.

You scrolled back up to investigate this unfamiliar face.

Your heartbeat froze.

Velvette (✔)

Hey darling! I saw your re… · 2h

There’s no way. Surely this had to be a prank?

You carefully tapped on the profile just to make sure it was really Velvette, being mindful to avoid prematurely opening the message in case it truly was her. Could it be somebody impersonating her? No, that couldn’t be, no lowly fan account could obtain a verification mark. Maybe one of your celebrity friends was pulling your leg? That couldn’t possibly be either. Impersonating an overlord was equivalent to poking the bear and asking for death. Not to mention the fact that it would ruin their own online persona and brand if they randomly changed their account so drastically.

Your heart had seemingly defrosted while thoughts and questions ran through your brain. It was now pounding with the ferocity of a thrashing, turbulent river. Could it really be…? 

The account was real. Velvette messaging you was real.

All your hard work had paid off, and you were on your way to being part of the Vees.

You swiped back to the messages screen and stared at the unread message from the fashion icon. What should you say to her? What if she would notice the second you opened her message? Oh god, what if she was judging you for taking so long to respond to her this very minute?

Breathing deep to calm yourself, you tapped on her message.

Hey darling! I saw your recent post. You’re quite lucky to get a DM from me directly, just so you know. I have my assistants reach out to most people who’re trying to get scouted via Sinstagram. What do you say to coming in for an interview tonight? x

Blood pounded in your ears. You tapped out a quick reply.

Hi Velvette! Thank you so much for your consideration! I’d love to join you for an interview tonight. Just to be clear, is there anything I should bring?

You nearly jolted out of your own skin when Velvette read your message barely a minute after you sent it.

Just yourself. No makeup, the stylists will take care of that when you arrive x

You double tapped her message to like it before shooting a final confirmation and thank you message and your phone promptly flew across the bedroom and thwacked against the wall. Shoving your face into the pillows, you rolled around back and forth and kicked your legs madly. Holy fuck. Holy fucking shit. You finally did it.

You screamed into the pillow before lifting your head up and gasping for air. Giggles bubbled up your chest and erupted out of your mouth until it turned into full-on laughter.

As the initial high of being noticed by the fashion overlord subsided, doubts crept up into your mind once more. You weren’t one of her models just yet. There was still an interview to pass before you truly worked under Velvette. You groaned in displeasure at the idea of not quite reaching your goal just yet.

Sitting up from your bed, you decided to get ready for the day and night ahead of you.

-

Part 2 is out! <3

[ofsappho]

Summertime Sadness (part 1)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Second chance romance, heavy angst, hurt/very little comfort

Later’s better than never… right?

Ten years ago, Simon and you met at the same therapeutic boarding school. You fought, he said some shit, he left. He thought he’d never see you again.

Until one day, a hospital calls and informs him that you’ve listed him as your emergency contact.

(title from the song by Lana Del Rey)

-

Tags: mental illness, abuse, addiction, self harm, suicidality/suicidal ideation/suicide attempts, angsty shit in general, Ghost being very mean as a fucked up 17 year old boy

There’s an old battered flip phone he hides in the back of his locker wherever he’s deployed. Ghost doesn’t turn it on all that often. Everyone who knows the number is dead.

But sometimes he does, just to stare at the contacts and click through the photos and remember what it was like to talk to them.

Today is one of those days.

He can only take so much talk from his team about families, friends, dogs waiting back home, and pretty girls before feeling the urge to break things.

So he excuses himself to hide in the bathroom like a fucking pussy and takes the phone with him. Simon can pretend he’s waiting for his own phone call from people who love him for a few minutes. Then he promises himself that he’ll put it away and not touch it for another six months.

It takes forever to power on. It’s still janky from the last time Ghost threw it at a wall, it seems.

One (1) missed call.

…What?

They left a voicemail.

His fingers shake as he listens to it.

There’s a long, tinny beep. “Hi, Mr. Riley, I’m…” A woman says in a rushed, businesslike manner. “I’m one of the nurses at-“ Ghost hears a bustle of background noise; faint murmurs, emergency sirens, doors sliding open and shut. “…Hospital. I’m calling because a friend of yours,” The nurse says your name. A name he hasn’t thought about in years. “…Put you down as her emergency contact when we admitted her to our psychiatric inpatient ward. Unfortunately, she did not provide us with anyone else. Please give me a call back at this number if you’d like to speak with her.” Click.

Ghost starts packing an overnight bag before he even realizes it.

Then he’s on a plane.

-

TEN YEARS AGO

“I hate you.”

You’re crying as you run after him in the forest. He speeds up, trying to lose you in the trees. “Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Simon. I’ll never bring it up again.” Snot covers your upper lip and your eyes are bright with tears.

He hates this fucking place. He hates this fucking school, the kilometers of wilderness separating him from his life because the fucking shrinks think he’s crazy. He hates you for trying to keep him here.

And just when Simon was about to fly the coop, you spilled the beans. “Leave me the fuck alone. Never, ever, ever talk to me again,” He barks, stopping abruptly and turning to loom over you.

When you reach for his hand, he slaps you away. “But you promised you wouldn’t leave-“ You end up on the ground, the pine needles biting into your bare knees as if Simon shoved you.

That makes him angrier. You’re too soft for a world like this. You’re practically begging for someone to hurt you again, someone like him, with your vulnerability and open, bleeding heart. Well, he’ll fucking oblige. You’re not strong like you think you are. You’re the weakest person he knows, and weakness is something Simon could never respect.

“I lied. I fucking lied, you dumb bitch. Didn’t you realize it?” Simon snarls, wishing desperately he’d never let you befriend him on his first day at this therapeutic program.

You're sunshine and innocence and friendship bracelets, the kind of girl who will always be a victim because this world devours little girls like you. Simon is nothing like you. Simon is a survivor. A warrior. Simon is steel where you are china.

Your American accent is almost as unbearable as your pathetic weeping. “…What?” Your bottom lip wobbles.

Hopefully this will teach you a lesson about tattling. Nobody likes a snitch. “Forever doesn’t fucking exist. You were the only tolerable person in this shithole, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to be friends forever. What are you, a fucking infant? God, you’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass.” If anything, Simon is letting you off easy. You told the counselor things Simon told you in confidence about his dad because you were ‘afraid for his safety.’

But you just don’t get it. Simon can’t spend another day here. And the longer he stays, the angrier his dad will get. You just earned him another week of shit and black eyes.

“Newsflash. People lie. Everyone’s been lying to you. Nobody likes you, not even your mum. And I can’t stand you. You were useful, but I don’t need you anymore. I’m better,” Simon hisses as cruelly as he can, using every blade in his arsenal to cut at the sensitive parts of you where he knows you’ll bleed. Just like you did when you told.

You’re only stuck in this place because your mum left you here. You don’t have anyone, not like he does. He has Tommy and his mum. He has a future. You’ve got absolutely fucking nothing.

“I was just trying to help.”

“I’m getting out of here. I don’t need your help. I’d tell you to keep it, but it wouldn’t even help you.” Simon pauses. You’ve stopped crying. Good. A crying fox is easy prey for the hunting dogs. “They won't believe you. And you wanna know why?” It feels good to be the hunter instead of the fox for once. You make excellent prey.

“‘Cause I told them the truth. That you’re an obsessed freak who’s hyper fixated on me and you’d do anything to keep me here. That you’re a sick, compulsive liar and that you’re the one who’s a danger to herself, not me.”

You fall silent. Finally, blessed silence. You look up at Simon with glazed eyes and a still tongue. He feels better. Good, even.

“Goodbye. I hope I never see you again,” Simon says flatly.

-

TODAY

You picked a good place to get yourself locked up in. This is one of the nicest hospitals Ghost has been in recently. Shiny floors, no dirt caking the walls. New York City puts Kabul and Moscow to shame.

He’s wearing a plain black balaclava. Nothing identifying or particularly memorable. This is going to be a short visit. Ghost will see what you want and then leave. That’s it.

You look tired, exhausted to the very bone.

None of the shiny pinkness that drew Ghost to you in the beginning when you were fifteen and he was seventeen. None of the glow, the round cheeks, the wide doe eyes.

There’s dark circles chiseled into your face, so dark he almost thinks they’re bruises. A couple of IV bags run through a drip hidden under bandages covering your arms from wrist to elbow. Your eyes are as quiet as you are. A couple of marbles would be more lively. You look almost like a doll forgotten in a corner.

The nurse gave Ghost the run-down as she guided him to your bed. Police picked you up on a bridge trying to off yourself. Your fifth time this year. Unless you show some real improvement, the doctors will recommend an indefinite hospitalization.

You’ve been busy in the decade of his absence. Multiple addictions, more attempts than he can count, and some small stints in jail. A list of disorders he wouldn’t know how to pronounce. And nobody left to call.

Is this his fault?

When Ghost rounds the corner, you smile like he should be proud of you. “You came,” You say.

I have absolutely no business starting a new fic. Absolutely none. Idk. I have brainrot. No clue when this will be updated. But here, have it.

[nev3rfound]

strike twice : b.b

bucky sure knows how to put his foot in it sometimes. but when a storm causes a powercut throughout new york, he's quick to make amends. (1k word count)

warnings - just a fluffy piece :)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop

feedback is appreciated!

"Fine!" You scream in response, exasperated from the argument that arose between you two other such a trivial matter.

Scoffing, Bucky picks up his bag and heads for the door to your room. "Night, Y/n." Bucky manages to say through gritted teeth, not daring to spare you a glance in response before slamming the door shut, almost breaking it from the hinges.

"Asshole." The word leaves your lips in a whisper as you collapse onto your bed with a heavy sigh.

The rain lining the windows mirrors the tears falling down your cheeks, all of which slowly link together before disappearing through the cracks and quickly replenishing.

Reaching over, you grab a hold of your phone, only to see it's dead. "Fuck!" You groan, throwing your phone at your wall before bringing your legs to your chest, allowing your cries to increase in the comfort of your own room with the rain battering down on the windows.

On the lower levels of the compound, Bucky sits with a scotch in his grasp, nursing it tenderly whilst Steve sits beside him, slightly dumbfounded.

"So what were you guys even arguing about?" Steve asks, brows remaining furrowed following Bucky's slightly rushed explanation.

"Doesn't even matter now." Bucky huffs, taking another swig of his drink. "But she's not happy, and neither am I frankly."

Humming in response, Steve glances behind him noticing rain starting to hammer against the windows. "And you had nothing to do with that?" He dares ask, hearing his friend's glass slam down on the counter.

"No." Bucky is too quick to respond, knowing for a fact it is his fault this time. "Possibly." It passes his lips softly in defeat. "I might've messed up, pal."

"You don't say." Steve chuckles, now fixated on the rain lashing down, and the rumbles of thunder following suit. "Storms on its way." He motions, oblivious to Bucky tensing at the statement.

"A stor-" Before Bucky can finish his question, the lights above start to flicker, TV monitors start to glitch and FRIDAY blares gibberish. Quick to stand up, Bucky heads for the door just as the entire compound is submerged in darkness. "Oh no." His lips turn to a frown upon hearing a well-known cry from across the compound.

Your eyes frantically search the room for your phone, only to find it and remember it's out of battery. "No, no." Mumbles pass from your lips in a panic whilst the rolls of thunder boom closer to your window, causing you to jolt with every sound.

Reaching for your blanket, you quickly grab a hold of it before stumbling into the bathroom and quietly close the door behind you.

Eagerly running through the compound, Bucky hears numerous conversations happening at once, but none of them concern him as he runs several flights of stairs to reach your floor. Once there, he slowly lets himself into your room, trying to see your silhouette through the lightning strikes.

"Doll?" Bucky calls out, now fully in your room but you are nowhere in sight.

With a sigh, Bucky turns to exit your room, wondering if perhaps you went to find solace in Natasha or someone else. "Bucky?" He pauses, hearing you whimper from the bathroom.

Wasting no time, Bucky opens the door to vaguely see you in the bathtub with a blanket wrapped around your body. "Hey, it's okay, I'm here." Apprehensively approaching you, Bucky can see you shaking frantically and tears lining your cheeks. "Let me get in the tub, yeah, baby?" Bucky ensures his tone is soft, tensing at the drums of thunder and your immediate panic.

"I, I heard the thunder, then I saw," Struggling to form words through your shaking lips, Bucky hushes you into his embrace. "and then the power went." Sniffing, you wipe your nose with your sleeve. "I'm such a wimp." A watery laugh sounds from you, and you can feel Bucky chuckling behind you.

"You're far from one, Y/n. Everyone has irrational fears." Stroking your arm with his right hand, you focus on that feeling, his fingertips circling. "When I was a kid, I was terrified of snails." Bucky smiles at your laughter bouncing the walls.

Glancing up with a grin etched on your lips, Bucky only shakes his head at you. "Of all the things, snails?"

"What can I tell you, doll." He shrugs. "Steve used to help 'em out. He'd see them in a weird spot, pick it up, and," Bucky shudders at the thought, only furthering your amusement. "yeah, so I don't exactly love snails, even now."

Now leaning back against his chest, your breathing has finally evened out. The storm outside is dull whilst Bucky continues to tell you stories, anything to distract you, make you laugh, smile and reminisce.

"And then I stopped in my tracks, nearly went face first into a-" Bucky cuts himself off at the flickering lights above you both. Within seconds you're both submerged in warm-toned lighting. "Would you look at that." He nudges you, now able to see your blanket clad self. "You look so snug, doll."

Sighing heavily, you shuffle to stand up with your blanket around your shoulders. Bucky rests his hand on the edge of the bath to help, following you out afterward into your bedroom.

"Thank you," You reach for your phone, finally placing it on charge. "for all of that."

"Y/n," Bucky starts, reaching for your hand and squeezing it lightly. "I'm sorry for earlier, but I'll always be there for you, through storms and all." He tugs your hand and brings you into his arms.

"I appreciate that, Buck." You mumble into his chest. "And same here, if a snail dares appear I'll show that sucker who's in charge." A laugh sounds from Bucky as he tugs you onto your bed.

"Wow, my hero." He rolls his eyes, now lifting the blanket up to join you for the remainder of the night.

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@raajali3 @daisydark

[sainzfilm]

First snowfall with lando or Pierre. Maybe they have a child who is experiencing it for the first time

pairing: lando norris x reader

a/n: me suffering from this because i havent experienced snow just yet 🥹 but this would be so cute im gonna cry

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

“You know,” You grinned as you stirred the ingredients in the bowl, “I bet she’s going to say mama first.”

Lando scoffed as he rolled his eyes playfully while he fed your daughter, “Of course not! Sloane’s a daddy’s girl, aren’t you, honey?”

Sloane babbled as she clapped her hands together, looking at you while you made Christmas cookies for the family.

“Told you so,” You poked your tongue out at him, placing the batter on the baking sheet before walking over to your little girl, “You’re mommy’s girl, aren’t you?”

Smiling as you wiped your hands on your apron, you reached down to carry your daughter in your arms, “My love’s so pretty.”

Lando smiled as he wrapped his arms around the two of you, kissing your cheek, “And you my love are, as well.”

“Look, daddy’s getting cheesy,” You gasped, looking at Sloane as she giggled, “Anything special as to why you’re extra sweet?”

“Just want to shower my lovely wife with affection,” He replied, caressing your hair and kissing your temple, “And be- oh my god, it’s snowing!”

You looked out the kitchen window, in awe of the snowflakes that started falling and covering the ground, “Baby, did you hear what daddy said? It’s snowing!”

“Wait, let me get her jumper!” Lando called out as he ran upstairs to Sloane’s room, “It’s her first snowfall!”

Laughing at your husband’s antics, you bounced your daughter on your hip as you walked over to the coat rack to grab your coats.

“Sloane, honey, it’s your first snowfall!” You smiled as you gently placed her on the chair, tickling her stomach, “You excited, hm?”

Lando hurriedly ran down the stairs and kneeled down in front of Sloane to dress her up in a bright orange jumper, “A certified papaya girl.”

“Love…” You snickered as you covered your mouth, “She looks like an orange.”

“Then she’s my little orange slash papaya,” He smiled as he carried her in his arms, kissing her cheek, “My girl’s first snowfall.”

As Lando carried Sloane, you put on your coats and gloves, helping him put his after yours. You grabbed your phone, walking out to the garden with your husband and daughter.

Sloane giggled and clapped her hands as she saw the snowflakes fall around her, covering her jumper, and even touching her little cheeks.

“I’m glad that you’re home with us,” You leaned your head on his shoulder, “It wouldn’t be as special without you here.”

“You know that I’ll drop media things to be with my girls,” He replied, bouncing Sloane on his hip, “Plus, I’ll miss the little papaya girl when I’m gone.”

Sloane babbled as she placed her little hands on Lando’s face, squishing it with all her power.

You laughed as you took your phone out and took a few pictures of her, “My pretty little angel…and some man.”

“Hey, I’m not some man,” Lando huffed as he fixed the beanie on her head, “I’m your man.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Norris,” You teased, sitting down on the ground and reached out for Sloane, “C’mon, baby, let’s make your first snow angels.”

Lando handed her over to you, smiling as he watched you help your daughter make her first snow angels. He never imagined that he’d be at this point, experiencing his daughter’s firsts with the most special woman in his life. But of course, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

bonus scene!

Liked by danielricciardo, georgerussell63, and 634,272 others

landonorris my little papaya’s first snowfall ❄️🧡

view all 272,374 comments

danielricciardo little papaya’s growing up so quickly, i miss her, buddy!

yourusername you better come visit us asap 😤

carlossainz55 so cute, glad she looks more like Y/N than you, muppet 😝

landonorris suddenly i dont know how to read

lando4norris MINI LANDOOOOO she’s so cute, she looks like the both of them so much 😭

norrislovebot i bet he’s saying she’s a daddy’s girl all the time 🫡

papayaupdates i have a slight feeling she’s a mommy’s girl though 🤔

georgerussell63 here to attest that sloane is a mommy’s girl through and through

landonorris THE BETRAYAL, GEORGE. 😫

[likehoneyandsilk]

Hold Me Close, Hold Me Tight

Hello there loves! Wanted to share one more little piece given it has been a while. Thank you again for the ongoing support and love to each and everyone of you. Lots of love and positive energy to you all! 💖

. . .

Jora sleeps soundly in your arms. His left cheek pressed against your breast. Those soft pink lips curled into the most petite smile. His belly full of milk. You watch him in his slumber, your little bubba perhaps dreaming of all elated pleasures in life. Tucked in his orange sleepsuit, cocooned within his cashmere blankie. A smile remains on your lips, heavy eyes in awe of this tiny human being that's kept you and your husband somewhat coherent during these last few withering weeks.

He sleeps in oblivion, in the sanctuary of his cordial nursery adorned with cartoon animals. Glowing stars across the ceiling his father placed precisely. The yellow hue of a tall lamp in the corner paints your golden boy gold. Breaking your gaze from Jora, your eyes traverse to the large window capturing Cincinnati beyond the suburbs you reside in. From this angle, you can see the twinkling orange lights of Paycor Stadium. The place was filled with exhilarating energy earlier today and quickly depleted as the Bengals fell to another loss.

The cinder block of disquiet settles on your chest, familiar to the one while you watched your husband frantically run a massage gun along his right calf. You recall the tears brimming your eyes as you recognized the sentiments pass across his face.

Frustration. Vexation. Annoyance. And defeat. Every failed throw. Each hit. Every missed opportunity. All of it raged inside his head. Too far to console his mind. Too far to hush the noises in his head. Far too many hours before he'd finally be home. You felt helpless sitting in front of the television, gripping Jora's teddy with all your power.

Your breath hitches, toes curling against the plush carpet as an icy feeling ripples through your veins. Darkness devours your vision as you shut your eyes. As if feeling his mother's abrupt change in aura, Jora moves within your arms. Your eyes fall open, the hasty motherly instinct forcing you to push aside your trepidations to tend to your sweet baby boy. He settles immediately at your velvety voice, tranquil and faint, but enough to calm his mind and lull him back to sleep. And before you know it, as the darkness outside wraps around the house, warmth from the carpet creeps into your toes, you rest your head back just for a mere second as drowsiness swallows you.

While you fade away, all you can think about is Joe.

It is just past 8:00 p.m. when the front door shuts gently. From the entryway, Joe can see the trail of yellow light peering from Jora's nursery from the story above. He drops his bag on the floor and clumsily removes his shoes before placing his keys in the nearby dish. With defying ease, he maneuvers the spaces within the main floor. He checks all the locks and windows, shutting stray lights off as he moves. Upon finishing, Joe lingers in front of the medicine cabinet for a painkiller. His body, battered and bruised, aches. He wishes for nothing more but your embrace and Jora's soft skin pressed to his cheek. Suddenly, amidst the failure and vexed calf, Joe realizes he's missed Jora's bedtime again.

His large hands run through his shorter hair, pulling at the ends as he sighs. He feels like he's sinking. Estranged because of his limited time with his four-month-old. A messy beginning of a season. And the unwavering desire to support his wife as you navigate through motherhood. Rolling his head a few times and stretching out his arms, he slides the black Nike hoodie from the nearby couch over his head. His phone buzzes and he curses under his breath, setting a mental reminder to shut it off after this. A link to his post game conference stands out amongst the blue bubble. With one tap, Joe's ears fill with the sound of his own voice and his eyes witness the tired state he fought past to get out of Paycor as soon as possible.

Impatiently dismissing the rest of the visual of what he did hours ago, Joe throws his phone onto the loveseat nearby, making his way up to stairs towards the nursery. Soft and steady, halting after every few steps to give himself a break while holding back a frustrated groan. It feels like Mount Everest when he's made it to the top. As he rests his head against the wall outside Jora's partly open door, he takes a deep breath, counting to ten in hopes of alleviating his mind. It doesn't do much, but his heart settles at the sight before him.

Jora sleeps peacefully within his mother's embrace, the sling keeping him in place. He's quiet and safe, head tilted towards you, his tiny little hand grasping a strand of hair. And then there's you. Joe's serenity. His respite. His everything.

He's quiet as he approaches you. His long strides imperceptible. The sound of your breathing, steady rise and fall of your chest comforts his mind. Joe debates placing Jora in his crib and carrying you to bed, but his heart fights back as his eyes fall to Jora, innocently asking his father to hold him in his sleep.

Joe runs the back of his hand endearingly over your cheek. It's pink, sand warm against his touch. The lamp light trickles over your skin, draping over you in gold. Your hair has its evient shine, the curls loose. Goosebumps litter your skin against your forearms. Your eyebrows crease slightly, those big brown eyes opening as sleep flees your body. You shudder, the realization that you're merely in your white satin night slip, the fabric doing nothing to keep you warm. As your vision adjusts and you resolve back to your senses, your space fills with the familiar scent of eucalyptus shampoo.

"Hey, mama." His voice is soft, almost inaudible and you crane your neck, meeting those blue-grey eyes. His presence transmits a wave of warmth up your spine, calming some tension as he leans down, wrapping his fingers within your long dark strands and kissing you with such delicacy you feel yourself melting.

"Hi," you whisper, skimming the word past his lips that hold no desire to separate from you. Carefully, you hand Jora into his protective arms, advancing to stretch your rigid limbs.

"Hey buddy, dadda's home." You beam, your heart welling as Joe's stiff body unwinds ever so slightly, a small smile appearing on his lips, which you presume was last seen hours ago.

Joe holds Jora with such fragility as a relieved sigh vacates his body. His eyes soften at his sleeping son, mumbling apology after apology for missing his bedtime. Squeezing Joe's bicep in return as a measure of reassurance. You refrain from intervening more, knowing very well that Joe had called you post-game, frustration and gloom apparent in his voice as he lumbered towards his conference. He'd wanted nothing more than to come home to his family. Against his wishes, duty called, and you persuaded him with the utmost motivation, watching a few minutes later as he remained poised and courteous, despite the longing for home in his eyes. Jora leans into his father as Joe presses his lips to his forehead with tenderness. You brush your hand across Joe's arm as he tells Jora he loves him. And you leave them be, letting your husband relish in the tranquility of your baby.

Forty-five minutes later, you hear his footsteps proceed down the stairs. The diffuser in the corner of the living room carries a faint hum. It fills the air with lemon, juniper berry, and black spruce. A cotton blanket rests over your bare limbs, your upper body secluded within a silk robe, the ties hanging loose. Much to your dismay, you feel fatigue, rebelling sleep as you wait. Your fingers skim over the unread pages of the novel in your hand, and you tuck it away as Joe enters your peripheral vision. You rise, patting the space your head occupied, long hair falling over your shoulder now exposed as the robe slips off your smooth skin. His silhouette creates pictures on the wall against the dim lights encapsulating your bodies in a homely glow.

Joe drops to the couch with a muffled groan, his body immersing into the cushion as he closes his eyes. You carefully adjust yourself next to him, cautious not to worsen any more bruises that already hurt. You examine his face, distant and near all at once. His eyes closed, long lashes falling against his cheeks. His jaw clenches in torment.

In hopes to ease the frenzy running in his head, your fingers dance over his cheek, as if freeing the tensity. He takes a cavernous breath, opening his eyes as he wills himself to surrender to your touch, turning to face you, and suddenly everything is serene. All the discomfort. All his affliction, Every inch of frustration yields as he gazes at his muse.

The familiar look of profound worry etches in your equally tired eyes. Joe wishes to replace that look with the cheerful, vibrant glow he knows well. You purse your lips as you lean into him, muttering words of endearment he hardly registers.

"Talk to me nine, let me inside."

It appears more like a plea than a command, a reminder that Joe, regardless of his strengths and intelligence, needs a portal to pour his woes into. Somebody to hold him. Love him. Remind him of all the rationale when all else feels frantic. You pull the blanket onto his long legs, resting your head against his chest so gently you barely hear the thumping of his heart. His arm cascades around your waistline, fingers trifling with the lacey ends of your night slip. His lips press to the top of your head, inhaling your fragrance, lingers of Jora's scent, decompressing further against the couch because he knows it's just you and him now. With Jora sleeping above, the white noise from his room filtering in over the baby monitor.

He's safe and sound.

He's home.

You blink a few times, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. As he gathers his thoughts you pepper kisses on his neck, light and airy, letting your breath fan over his skin. And you wait, patiently wait, until he's ready.

Finally he speaks.

"The whole world feels like it's watching me screw up. Every decision feels rushed. I feel different, lost if anything, thoroughly confused". You gulp, drawing stars along his free hand that rests in his lap, giving him space to think and resume. It's a sign you're ready waiting for more, so he opens his mouth to speak again.

"All that money". He pauses, letting out an airy laugh that looms over your head mockingly. His fingers linger on your skin, pulling the flimsy lace above the tattoo on your hip. You nod, the tickling sensation of your hair underneath his chin bringing his head lower, lips grazing over your hair smelling like coconut.

"The contract feels like it's hanging over my head. And why shouldn't it?" His voice is stern, fury articulated at himself as he scoffs in aggravation. You feel his muscles tense against your body. "I should be playing like a fucking perfectionist. But instead…"

The sentence remains incomplete as a shaky breath leaves his lips. It's silent for the next little while. You process your thoughts, doodling imaginary stars on his palm that rests wide open. He seeks words to describe the reflections in his brain, tracing the lines of the tattoo on you hip he has engraved in his brain. The hum of the diffuser persists, the dim lights encompassing you within your safe space. You shift against him, an uneasy flush of regret washing over you as he groans at your impulsive movement.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to." Joe shakes his head vigorously, presenting you with a boyish smile. "S'alright, don't worry." He holds your face in his hands, rubbing your cheeks with the pads of his thumb before leaning in for a kiss. It is firm, not soft like before, and within the ripples that surge through your body, you know it bears all the emotions he cannot fathom words for. He hoists your legs from under you, grunting as he lays you flat on the couch before towering over you. Before you can oppose, call claim to the bruises and his calf, he parts his lips from yours, resting his forehead against yours in submission knowing very well the concern running through your head. You lock eyes for a split second, carefully searching for any sign of relief in his. Your hands intertwine briefly, until Joe falls next to you, the blanket long forgotten as it descends to the ground.

Your cheeks burn under his touch as he rests his palm against it. You draw in a quivering breath, bringing a delicate hand underneath his clothing, and connect with his skin. Trailing over every pane and defined muscle as if to obliterate all the reminders of today.

"Nothing makes much sense right now." You nod, fighting back tears as your husband pours his heart to you. "Nothing makes sense but you and Jora."

Your eyes close as his fingers dance in your hair. You digest and taste every word, every act of affection. You permit him control where he can.

"I need to think through what I need to do next. The cost of my body and sanity, I can't. . . " His words trail off into a whisper, as he envisions the inevitable decisions he must make as the sun ascends tomorrow. Sacrifice out of a selfish desire to prove his worth, or take one for himself, his team, and most significantly, his family. All while listening to his body.

Joe's hand feverishly draws you close, tugging at your robe. His large palms, calloused from today, find residence against your honey-like skin, beneath the fabric separating your bare body from his loving lips.

"You don't have to know now what you want to do. What you need to do". Your fingers dance idly in his hair, thumbs rubbing away the tension in his temples.

He listens intently to your words, eyes following every so often to your lips. "That said, Jora and I will never judge you for your job. You're an amazing father and husband. You do the most when you can only do so much."

And before you can speak any further, you find the words stuck in your throat as you hold back a hopeless cry. "And Joe, I wish you could see how much grace you give others. If only you could do the same for your own sake." You draw back your hand from him, wiping away the sole tear obscuring your vision.

Something seems to click in him then. In all of the years you've spent in similar positions, one anchoring the other back to the ground, it's always a few words laced with love, depth, and admiration that seem to bring all distress to tranquillity.

The remotest of space closes between you as your lips near, your lashes fluttering against his skin while his hands work their way down your body. The robe slips off your skin, the warmth replaced by all the heat Joe radiates. He hovers above while your arms wrap around his torso. You inhale his scent, feeling those silky strands tickle your neck as he dips toward you, holding you as if you'll perish away.

"Some losses, mistakes, and sloppy plays don't define your worth. It's how you come back from these moments like you have numerous times before." Hushed whispers from lips as your body shudders. Your eyes close in splendor, the warmth bubbling through you riveting at his proximity. His teeth graze over the delicacy of your neck, drawing an impatient sigh from within you, sending chills down his spine because for once today he feels in control.

"I believe in you nine". Your voice is like velvet, dripping with sweetness and sincerity. A well-fought whimper escapes from within you, as he gently presses his teeth against your skin. You feel the expected warmth ripple in your core, the eruption of a million butterflies fluttering uncontrollably inside you. Drawing back his head from your neck, he holds his gaze with yours, easing ever so gracefully into your touch as you guide his lips closer to you, letting his weight drop with caution against you. His clothes are warm and soft against any of your bare skin, seeping through the silk.

Joe mutters against your skin as he slowly works his lips and hands down your body, stopping at your sternum as you resist the urge to raise your hips off the couch. His body needs rest, much deserved rest. And you know he's relying on his left leg to make his rounds on you. Your knees bend impulsively as his large hands ride up your legs, travelling underneath the slip. You gulp as he nears you again, breath fanning over your face, the remnants of mint sending you in a haze. "Joe . . . " His name comes out flushed, a plea to ease himself and leave it be. "Thank you." Two words, simple yet effective. A notion that says you've gotten past the barrier in his head.

Unable to speak, you nod while cupping his cheek. He leans into your caress. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"I love you." You release a relieved sigh, all the pent-up uncertainty soothing out of you as Joe places one final kiss following his words on your jaw. His hips press into yours and for a brief second, as you release a lovely whimper, you think he'll take you all the way despite your worries. But you both know it ends here. You'll hold each other tonight. Heal one another with embrace.

"I love you nine." You whisper when you've found solace within his arms, the straps of your dress lowered as he presses one faint kiss to your shoulder. "I love you so much." He relishes in your affirmation, enveloping you against him. Shielding you from the fears he holds beyond. Protecting you, protecting Jora from all that may disturb the peace hanging over your heads right now.

And when your breathing settles, the pink tinge calms on your face, and your eyes fight more sleep, because you haven't debriefed the game or asked about his cald. Yet Joe finds the last little peace he needs to rest tonight. As sleep consumes you, his fingers drafting spirals over the skin on your back, with your hair hanging loose, Skin littered with the reminders of him, Joe smiles.

It's all clear now. It's always clear with you.

[f0r3v3rm0r3]

Bakin' with ghostie

Pairings: ghostface x afab!fem!reader

Suggestive but not real smut, I think.

2,359 words

She sighed with annoyance at the phone ringing, her attention taken away from her baking for just a moment and instead falling onto the annoying noise. "Hello..?" She grumbled, taking her eyes away from the mixing bowl to grab the receiver. She brought it up to her head and placed it against her ear, still holding the floury spoon in the other. "Who is this..?" She asked bluntly, she was in the middle of a nice recipe after all

. "It's your favorite psycho…" The voice on the other end of the line said. The voice itself? Unbelievably attractive. Seductive. There was this dark, sinister undertone to it, the voice of a complete psychopath. And yet, despite the danger that lurked behind it… It was hard not to be drawn in… His voice was like a drug. It was like he knew that his voice had the power to manipulate others… To control

them. Just like that, his voice sent ice-cold chills down her spine..

"why hello" she said in a flirty tone back as she smiled and continued to mix the flour, "where were you this past month, young man?" she asked jokingly like a parent would to their child.

"I've been.. Busy.." He responded with a low, smug chuckle. The way he spoke was like someone who was talking down to another person as if they were lesser than him. A slight bit of disdain was mixed in with the playfulness, but it was so subtle as to not be noticeable. "What about you, my sweet angel?" He asked with a small smile, his tone turning back into something a little sweeter - but it was hard to miss the underlying threat in his words.

"i havent decided on the flavor yet..what do you like?" she asked as she cracked the eggs in.

"oh you know, uni and then home, the usual" she said as pressed the phone to her ear and used her other hand to hold the bowl, "I'm baking a cake," she said in a cheery tone.

"Oh? What kind of cake?" He asked with a small, charming smile. His voice was soft and caring now, as if the whole 'psycho with a knife' bit never even happened. He talked to her like he had always cared about her.. Like she was some princess that needed to be protected.. But you knew that it was just a big game.. What was he planning? What was his goal in being so kind right now?

"Now.." His tone returned back to that dark, menacing edge as his smile faded once more. "What are you doing?" He whispered, his voice taking on a serious, stern tone. "Anything interesting..?"

"Oh.. I'm not picky.." His voice was smooth, his charming smile coming right back. "Surprise me."" He let out a soft, seductive chuckle as soon as the words left his mouth.

she smiled as she started mixing the melted chocolate and cocoa powder into her batter, a little bit of the hot chocolate splashed to her neck and a little of her cleavage and she let out an inaudible wince because of the temperature, "nope just baking" she said smoothly as she licked off the chocolate on her collarbone with her finger.

"Oh? Just baking?" He responded, his voice dripping with an almost smug, sarcastic undertone. "Nothing else?" He asked in that same low, soft tone as before. Once again, it was hard to miss the coldness behind it.. The hint of malice there. He gave off this air like he was always playing… Always watching. "Just.. baking?" He said again, but this time with a laugh that made him sound dangerous.

she smiled that smirking smile of hers as she very slowly licked off the chocolate off her finger,

"Is it working?~" He teased, his face showing the smallest shred of that same old 'charm', but at the same time.. There was something sinister to him once more. He didn't respond at first, but then he let out that dangerous chuckle again.

"mhm maybe trying to seduce you" she said in that sickly sweet tone of hers, that slight hint of darkness leaking in at random times.

"Is that so..?" He asked with those same subtle hints of danger in his voice as he watched her. There was a coldness to him still.. But there was almost something else. A slight hint of.. What was it? He was a little hard to read.

"is it? you tell me, stranger" she said as she mixed the batter again and then set it aside and started turning on the oven as she bent down very obviously to show off her rear.

His eyes followed her as she bent down.. She had that same effect on all men.. It didn't take a psychopath to figure out that she looked beautiful in that baking outfit, and in her tight shorts. He let out an amused, subtle laugh before speaking, almost to himself.

"You're certainly looking quite appealing.." He spoke with a teasing tone, as if his voice was dripping with lust as he spoke now.

she flinched to find him in her house suddenly but then she signed and let out a giggle as she walked over and gently booped his nose, '' hi" she said sweetly as she went back to mixin the cake.

A little 'hmpf' escaped him as his nose was booped, an almost instinctual reaction. "That was incredibly cute." He commented with a small chuckle, as if to tease her, but he also seemed to enjoy it. "What are you baking anyway?" He asked, a little bit of that cold edge coming back into his voice - not enough to ruin the moment, but just enough to point to his previous mood and let her know it was still there.. Looming.

"What else can you bake, princess?" He asked, his voice holding that same soft, sweet tone. He was very good at this.. It was almost natural to him.

"cake, or would you like cupcakes? i can do both, i just feel like baking" she said with a hum as she mixed the batter.

"Surprise me..*" He said with a teasing, smoldering smile as he leaned over the counter. "Just make sure it's delicious.." He added with a subtle smirk, coming a little bit closer to her as she stood there in that 'baking outfit' of hers.

she smiled and dipped her finger in the batter and poped her finger in his mouth as she kept her eyes on his lips and only looked up when he took her finger in. she knew exactly how to get him excited.

He let out an almost satisfied groan as her finger was placed in his mouth, his eyes widening a bit at the sensation. She sure knew how to keep a man on his toes.. He was practically eating out of her hand. He enjoyed the taste of the batter as he looked up at her, a small smile still on his face.

she took her finger out and licked the remainder off, very seductively. "mm I'm still learning" she said as she went to her cupboard and got out cupcake liners and a cupcake baking tray, her backside looking adorable paired with that cute apron.

she walked back over and smiled at him innocently, a false thing to cover up how she was intentionally doing this to him, she started lining the liners on the tin. she glanced up at him ever so often, the only thing separating them is the counter.

A little shiver ran down his spine as he watched her do that, and it was the first time in a long time that his predatory instincts actually kicked in. He stepped towards her slightly, his eyes running up and down her body with that same lustful, hungry look in his eyes that was always there… But this was stronger. The kind of look you'd give a particularly tasty dessert that you know you're ready to.. Devour.

"You look delicious.." He mumbled, before speaking once more in his smooth, charming voice, but there was an undertone of hunger to it now, like some kind of animal desperately waiting for its meal. It was almost.. Scary in a way. "How can I help?" He asked, his eyes still running down her body as he spoke like some kind of predator watching its prey.

she smirked when she heard his comment, "could you get the whipping cream from the fridge?" she asked sweetly as she started to pour the batter into their molds, concentrated.

He stood up, his eyes lingering a little longer than they needed to as he made his way to the fridge. He made sure to let his eyes travel up and down her body a couple more times.. He took the time to admire her curves, before he came back with the cream he had gotten for her.. He set it on the counter, almost reluctantly.

"Anything else, princess..?" He asked, his voice once more dripping with that familiar charisma of his as he leaned on the counter, one arm resting on it as his body leaned over.

"no this is good, thank you, sweetheart," she said in that smooth voice of hers as she went over to the oven and put the tray in, bending over just right, and arching her back.

His breath hitched.. Just a bit, when she bent over in that tight apron, his gaze following every motion of her like his life depended on it. He couldn't help it.. She was too good at what she did. He was always staring, but this was different.. He was staring like a starving animal. Like a man that was ready to.. Consume her.

she came back up and grabbed a bowl to start mixing the whipping cream in, he watched again, his eyes lingering more than he should be.. He was a lot of things: charming, charismatic, and dangerous.. But he was a hungry man, and he was starving for her. He continued to watch her movements, his body leaning in against the counter as he let his eyes travel over her body once more. "Need any help with that?" He asked eventually, still staring. His voice was soft and alluring once more.

"nope" she said as she started the mixer and making the whipped cream. the cream kept slattering on her apron and again on her collarbone and a little bit on her cleavage, god shes making this difficult. His eyes stayed on her, glued to her every movement. He was in her control, and he knew it.. He didn't even know how she had managed to get him to this point already. He leaned on the counter even more, that hungry look on his face now very noticeable.

"I've never had the pleasure of learning some more details about you.." He said with the faintest hint of a grin, his warm breath hitting her face as he leaned closer. "What else can I help with, angel?" He asked, his eyes roaming over her body again.

"you wanna be of use to me?" she asked, very obviously suggestive. she let out a giggle when she looked up from the cream and saw how desperate he was gettting.

There was no mistaking it now.. He was desperate for her in that moment. A desperate, hungry animal. "Tell me." He said with that same suggestive tone in his voice, leaning in as close to her as he possibly could.

"How can I prove myself the biggest help to you?"

she leaned in and put one whipped cream-covered finger on his cheek. she looked at him like she was gonna let him have her right then, "do the dishes" she said with a cheeky grin as she pulled away.

There was a small pause before he chuckled and responded, "Whatever you say, princess." He said with a flirtatious grin, his eyes lingering on her lips as if he was waiting for her to kiss him. She was truly a master at this, he couldn't help but feel both impressed and a little scared. She was the first person to make him feel this way.. This feeling, this.. Hunger was so intense for her.

"hmm..maybe im not sure..let me finish baking first" she said as she turned off the machine and walked over to the oven and took out the cupcake tray with kitchen gloves.

"Anything else?" He asked.. "Anything at all..?"

"Of course, princess. Anything for you." He said, smiling as he stepped aside and let her walk by him. He continued watching her.. Her movements, her body, the way she moved. It was like watching an artist create the most beautiful painting.. Or a model posing on a set. He was a man that appreciated beauty, after all. He appreciated it a lot.

as soon as she finished her baking and he did the dishes, he was all over her. he put her up on the counter and started kissing her like he was starved.

She let out a quiet gasp as he took her and put her up on the counter, but she didn't resist.. Not even for a single second as he kissed her. She kissed him right back, the kiss starting off sweet and soft.. But as it went on, it grew more intense, deeper.. More passionate. As if there was nothing else in the universe right now that mattered. All that mattered was the two of them.. Just the two of them. She was all he wanted.. And she wanted him, he was prying off her apron and shirt in an intense hurry.

"desperate, are we?" she teased.

The way she teased him made him laugh a bit even as he kept taking her clothes off of her.

"Do I seem desperate to you..?*" He whispered his voice low and full of need, his hand on her thigh.

"If I seem desperate it's only because I'm dying of thirst right now.. And you're the only thing that seems.. Bountiful enough to quench that burning thirst."

and fin :]

[mikobeautifulheart]

Omg where is the inturder alert post 😭 😭

I. Searched thru ur masterlist and ur postsss it just disappeared 😔

HUH 👁👄👁, i'm sorry?? I've never actually written an intruder alert post, i've written stalkers, creeps, a bit of pervs but not an intruder...

but that's okay because I'm bored and that's a good idea.

TW: Attempted murder and a creepy stalking Ex.

Idk how it even came to this but...yeah unedited btw.

When there's an intruder alert/intruder

INCLUDING: MEGUMI AND YUJIIIIU

Megumi

You were waiting for Megumi to come home from a mission. It was late and you had already finished your missions for the day and got ready for bed; that was until the intruder alarm went off on your phone.

It didn't help that the sound of a window smashing was heard.

You sat still on your bed just staring at the notification. Uh oh. They were inside the house.

You were tired and recovering but in that moment you just felt adrenalin course through your vain.

Whoever or whatever came into the house was busy, you heard it kicking down doors down the hall from you. What were you supposed to do? We it looking for you?

You got up off the bed and ran to the other side of the room, as far as possible from the door. Yes you were a strong sorcerer but after using cursed energy all day your body was wearing out and you weren't sure how much more you could take.

Finally a loud sound of a door hitting a wall happened.

"YUJI?!" Was all you said in shock eyes imediatly falling on his pink hair. But as you looked at his face, you saw the black tattoos. It was Sukuna.

"Finally, I was starting to think you weren't here." He said with a smirk.

You could handle strong curses but Sukuna was something entirely different.

"I just came to say hello." He said walking closer to you.

No you couldn't give up or go down with out a fight, no matter how tiered you are you had to try.

You felt you back against the wall, your body was automatically moving to defense.

Before you even had a chance to strike Sukuna had his hands around your throat.

What.

Was this how it was about to end? Eyes watering unable to speak, not being able to say goodbye to Megumi?

"HEY" You heard some one yell before the hand released you, making you fall on your knees.

Your eyes were wide as you looked up to see Megumi battered and bruised but still standing in your door way just looking down at you in concern.

"Uh oh brats coming back" Sukuna said stating at the hand that let you go.

In that moment Sukuna looked down at you serious. "I will kill you" Before Yuji came back, collapsing on your floor.

"What was tha..." You were cut off by your own coughing as your airways finally started to open up. Megumi rushed to you and inspected your neck.

"Y/n don't talk right now okay, i'm sorry I didn't get here sooner, I just-I'm sorry" He said as you rubbed your burning skin.

"Maybe-you should deal with Yuji first." You said in a hoarse voice looking down at Yuji's unconscious body Infront of you.

Yuji

The T.V randomly turned off and the lights in your house flickered. Weird? Maybe it was the wind messing with power lines or something. You get an alert on your phone that there's someone outside of your house. Oh no.

Yuji wasn't back yet from his late training session and you were there, alone, in darkness. You weren't to scared, sometimes you would get these intruder alarms when birds or other wild life came to close so maybe it was just that. Or so you though until you heard someone rattling the door handle before being blinded by a torch shining through the window.

You jumped off the couch and ran into your bed room, locking the door behind you. There was no way any animal could rattle the door handle and shine a torch inside.

You felt your hands start to shake, if it was Yuji he would have used his key to get in, or the emergency key in the lock box opened by the code you both knew off by heart. You picked up your phone and texted Yuji.

Is someone coming over or is that you?

Someones trying to get in

Please come home

You nearly dropped your phone when you heard the front door creek open, they got in. You put you hand over your mouth and leaned against the door to hear where they might be. Heavy foot steps echoed through your hall and you heard a familiar voice...

"Y/nnnnn where are youu"

Your heart dropped when you realised that it was your Ex.

You know Exes are Exes for a reason, sometimes things don't work out, sometimes people aren't ready, BUT sometimes they turn into creeps. The reason you guys never lasted long was because of the last reason.

How did he find you? Why was he here?

You looked down to see the bedroom door knob turn.

"Open up" He said into the door.

Your eyes welled up with frustrated and confused tears, why, why?

"Y/N" You heard Yuji yell as he ran through the house before you felt the door knob being let go and a loud thud on the ground as you heard a mix of struggles and fighting.

You opened the door quickly, looking down to see Yuji get the guy in a choke hold.

"YUJI!" You said more relived then ever.

"ARE YOU OKAY, I GOT YOUR TEXTS BUT I DON'T KNOW IF ITS TO LATE."

"YUJI IM FINE" You said looking down in shock, the man he was holding disgusted you to your very core as you walked up to them and kicked him in the stomach.

"Take that prick" you said as he finally passed out.

"Yuji-" You said before you realised he was hugging you and you were crying into his chest.

"I'm sorry, I should have been here" he said

"Thank you"

THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

AUTHORS NOTE: YES I HAVE A THING FOR THESE THINGS. I WANT TO BE SAVED FROM DANGER. I want to be wanted okay? 🥲. Anyways have a good whatever time and reblogs r okie.

[mosaickiwi]

Soft - Light

Your attempt to cook on a date night goes from bad to worse when the lights go out. Redacted always has you covered, though. 900ish words, GN reader as per usual c:

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

~

"I definitely did something wrong," you muttered and wrinkled your nose at your creation.

"Hmm, maybe they just look like that?" Ren unhelpfully commented from behind you, hovering just as close as always. You didn't have to see his face to know he was grinning. 

"You know what they look like." Smoke began rising from the pan, accompanied by a rather burnt smell as you desperately tried to wriggle the spatula under the lumpy, oversized pancake. All you managed to do was tear its dark brown edges to a mess and reveal the insides—somehow still raw with bits of unmixed batter. You sighed and switched off the burner, turning around to dump the hot pan in the sink and blast it under the faucet. Rather half-heartedly, you scrubbed at the surface. “Breakfast for dinner shouldn't be this hard.”

They watched you with amusement as the water immediately sizzled and steamed from the pan. Curiously, he picked up the box of pancake mix at the stove, turning it in his hands. "You know I'd love t'help, Angel, but…" he trailed off and you could easily fill in the blank.

"You'd do a lot worse, yeah." You quickly gave up on saving the cookware and moved to your boyfriend's side, peering at the box in his hand. Your eyes narrowed on a few words in the first step of instructions. Prepare a nonstick skillet or griddle. One glance back at the shiny metal mistake soaking in the sink told you right away: it was doomed from the start. "You know what? I don’t care. Let’s just order—"

A sudden crack of thunder drowned out your voice and you jumped. The evening sky was perfectly clear when Ren arrived, but the weather in Corland Bay loved to change on a dime. You could hear rain pelt harshly against the windows in the living room as another thunderous roar boomed, much louder than the first. Only a second passed before the lights flickered and died to shroud the apartment in darkness.

“Are you kidding me!?” came Violet’s muffled scream of frustration through the walls. She must’ve been in the middle of a very important gaming session.

You clung to the dark-haired hacker's arm as your eyes took their time adjusting in the dark. He didn't seem all that phased though, casually wrapping an arm around you while he pulled out his phone. The kitchen was tinted in a faint glow from the screen. You expected him to turn on the flashlight like any normal human would, but he began scrolling through a delivery app.

"Ren," you started, utterly confused by his actions. "Who do you think is going to deliver in a storm when their power is out?"

"The whole bay isn't out. Look," he said and carefully guided you into the living room with a nod towards the windows.

He took a seat while you drew back the curtain to peek. Sure enough, most of Corland was lit up like usual. In fact, it only seemed like your apartment building and a few adjacent ones were completely dark. Another point in the long list against your landlord for being cheap.

The lights from outside weren't much, but you could see a lot better once the curtain was open completely. You walked back over to the couch and Ren immediately held his arms open for you, still searching his phone. 

His hair tickled against your cheek as he pulled you into his lap and rested his chin on your shoulder. "Y'liked the place we ordered from last weekend, right? Wanna try 'em again?” 

"Yeah," you answered and settled against them. He turned his cheek to place a quick kiss on your neck before reading the options aloud. His voice was a soft whisper, blended with the now gentle patter of rain against glass. Their hand rubbed careful circles on your back to soothe you. It was more than enough to put you at ease in his embrace, the disaster in the sink long forgotten.

Quiet minutes passed as he spoke and you responded silently in turn. The barely there nods or shakes of your head you made were all you could muster as exhaustion caught up. He finished up the order and soon you were pressing yourself further against the warmth of their body.

He made no comment when you maneuvered in his lap, merely tilting his chin up to welcome the kiss you needed. The phone slipped from his hand not a moment later. You felt the shape of his smile against your lips and giggled softly at his reaction. It was sweet to know how much he always wanted you. Cool fingers came to rest at your thigh as you kissed him once more, then pulled back.

"Tired?" he asked and looked up at you with a smile, leaning into your hand that traced along the shell of his ear. The faint light filtering through the window caught on his piercings when you pushed his bangs back.

"Mhmm," you said with a lazy nod. "Still gonna kiss you 'til the food's here, though."

"Lucky me." He tugged you forward, gentle as could be, and softly kissed the corner of your mouth as he mumbled, "Yippee."

The surprised laugh you let out was only muffled by the fevered press of their lips.

[susvale]

M.I.A. Homelander X Reader X Steve Roger

Title: Missing In action

Pairings: Homelander X Reader, Steve Rogers X Reader, Dark Steve x Reader, Dark Homelander x reader [Crossover]

Summary: You were an avenger, one of the more magic ones. People called your name in excitement and felt safe being around you, then thanos happened… when you weren’t snapped and after a police call you were somewhere else. Now all you know is there is a man with a cap calling himself Homelander calling himself “Americas Hero” and the world is different… is it isn’t so bad though.

I made this is 2022, It’s been sitting in my drafts for that long… so yeah!

[Part One] -> [Part Two]

It was overwhelming at times. Cameras in your face after a mission were you were left battered and bruised, nevertheless you smiled, you gave a proud smile to the reporters reporting. They had risked things coming here did it make your job harder, yes, the helicopters flying around while you try and fly. It added pressure to keep people in the air safe. At least you weren’t Steve, they made him do dumb shit, like that time he was in a Detention video spouting nonesense. You job was only to keep people safe. People may offer you movie rolls but you always decline, you weren’t an actor your a hero. Even if declining meant buying an okay-ish apartment with a broken Landry machine. You weren’t a millionaire, just a lady with the power to say “bang” and a mans head would explode if you wanted to. Even then, you had the option to live in Tony’s tower. Maybe then some random wouldn’t show up ever week looking to kill you. A sigh left your lips as you looked down at the TV, Thanos killed half the population and vanished. That is what’s in the News again. Men lost daughters, mothers lost sons but everybody lost someone. Even so it still stung he wouldn’t pick up your calls, you wanted to shout at him ‘your not dead yet and neither am I! stop ignoring me before one of those things change!’ Missions still came in, unsteady but they did come in.

“Maybe I should get a real job, part time.” You mumbled to yourself while you stared at the TV. Everyone you ever knew had distanced themselves or been snapped, maybe getting out would be good… people have been starting to expect that this is life, ‘maybe thanos was right my gym has been less crowded lately!’ Kinda people, jokes that might not be jokes anymore.

You still think about it, maybe he was right. It was horrible, you know. So many people lost and yet you didn’t lose anyone significant, Bucky of course but you were only just starting to get to know him… Steve maybe but you could still see him, feel him breathe, he didn’t get snapped. He was just distance, like he wished he did get snapped…

Witch hurt…

You didn’t have a family, friends outside of the avengers, hell you never had a boyfriend before Steve. How could you? Caged and trained like a dog, feed needles and pills like food. Given faces and names to quietly kill, you never had your own name till the avengers… Y/N… it was a nice name though. you named yourself off the first person you ever killed, you didn’t know if they would ever have agreed but they were dead… so it didn’t matter.

Steve and therapy, You remembered. Keep breathing don’t think about it. Or maybe it was think about it regret is good? Your therapist had been snapped so it’s been a while. The police called you once in and while about cases. Maybe answering back wouldn’t suck? You were lonely and bored, nothing to do then unsteady mission that lacked any sort of life.

Grabbing your phone you called a man. He was your contact to the police, you could never remember titles or anything like that but he was pretty high up.

“Thank god you called, you use to be so active I was starting to worry you got snapped too.” He joked, people cope with humor, you know that. Still, it irritated you that you and your friends put your life on the line and failed only to be joked about by people who didn’t know anything. Nevertheless, you gritted your teeth and held your tongue. “More and more people are disappearing. We think it may be an aftershock effect of some kind.”

“I doubt it.” You mumbled to yourself, he didn’t hear you and went on about the investigation. A group of people who agreed with Thanos’s ideals has been here and there, left and right. They think a select group talking it too far and hurting or making more people disappear. That sounded more likely, he told you about peoples corpses. Looked like they had been shot with high power lasers, or they’re heads have been smashed in. They had a certain person in custody, maybe if you worked with them you could find a way to undo the snap? That’s what the officer proposed anyway. You said your goodbyes and hung up the phone, you would be their for the interview is what you told them.

You should call Steve. This looked like such an important case, he had to know people were making more people disappear… it could lead to something. He would want to know.

So you did call him. He didn’t answer, instead you were greeted by the all so familiar call after the beep speech. It was nicer then actually speaking to him nowadays, though. “Heya, it’s Steve. Leave a uh… voicemail..? After the beep? Did I do that right?” You’d hear him call to someone in the background, “yeah, other then forgetting what a voicemail was called.” You heard your own distant voice greet you, “Steve you have to-“ you were the last thing you hear as the beep signalled the end of the recorded ‘can’t get to you’ message.

A sigh left you when you realized you’d have to speak now, “Hey Steve, the police called me and they have a case of more disappearing people. A group of Thanos supporters popped up making even more people disappear.” You paused, “I think it’s something you’ll be interested in, might lead to something, heh… listen, I miss you, it’s been so long since we’ve spoken. I… can’t…” your voice trailed off, you breathed in deciding not to do this over a call. “Anyway, call me when you get this. Can’t make it too long.”

That’s right. You couldn’t keep the police waiting… So you grabbed your bag and left. Off to the police station.“Hey, we put the suspect in the interrogation room.” The man spoke, he opened the door to a standard interrogation room. Blue walls, four barely cushioned chairs and a table in the middle closet to a wall. The suspect looked like a regular man. You frowned.

This all felt too… cultish? It made you uncomfortable, the look in his eye. He looked at you like you were a god among men.