#please tag it for the first week or two..

[koenigami]

don’t you ever- i repeat, ever! keep your kisses from caleb.

tags : fluff, tiny bit suggestive, just caleb on his knees and begging for kisses

“Baby, come on.” You hear him nearly whimper into your ear as he leans his chin on your shoulder, while you busy yourself with washing the dishes.

The fact that you’re even doing the dishes while he’s right there, next to you. What else would he be good for than helping you? But that’s a discussion fir another time.

Right now, he has to ease your current annoyance and anger pointed toward him.

“Hey-” The frown on his face deepens when you obviously dodge him, his lips landind on your cheek instead of your own mouth. “Don’t do that to me now. I told you, I was sorry.”

“Well, sorry is not enough.” You grumble before wringing out the sponge in your hand. A little too violently, dare I say. The plate in your hand squeaks as if in agony from your foreful cleaning. You've been standing there and rubbing it for quite some time while the anger inside you kept bubbling up. “This is the fourth time this week, Caleb. The fourth! I'm tired of waiting for you every night just because you keep putting your Fleet duties first.”

“I know, I know-” The warmth of his palm envelops your wrist as he frees the plate and sponge of your tight grasp, and instead tries to turn you towards him. But you won’t let him, and instead decide to keep your gaze turned to the side out of the kitchen window. “You have every right to be mad but there’s just been going a lot recently and- Baby, I swear to God. Would you please-”

Caleb's shoulders sink in despair as you dodge another kiss, this one having been destined for forehead.

“I get that, and I'm not saying that you have to choose between me and work.” You sigh, and he swears his knees nearly buckle when you unexpectedly reach one hand out to cup the side of his face. “But you have to put yourself first too sometimes. I don’t want you to keep skipping dinner, or ‘getting something quick’. You're not invincible, neither unbreakable, Caleb.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” He nods mindlessly. You could cuss the shit out of him right now, or claim that the sky's green and that cilantro tastes amazing, and he'd still agree with anything you say. If you could just- “Please, let me kiss you then. Let me make it up to you.”

“Nuh-uh.” His lips collide with your palm once you push his face away from you, his nose smushed against your hand. You truly have to give your all not to give in to those puppy eyes of his. “I'm still mad at you. Now, go take a shower and change first.”

Fuck. He watches you dry off your hands quickly, acting so nonchalant and unaffected by his desperate attempts at giving you the kind of affection that he wants to. That he needs to.

And just as you are about to pull away, you feel a sudden shift in the air, until your body's suddenly pinned in place and pressed against the counter. You know very well that there is no escaping now.

Especially not when you hear the soft thump of knees hitting the floor, and a pair of strong arms encircling your thighs.

“Pips, you’re killing me over here.” Caleb's voice is muffled with his face nuzzled against your stomach. And as if the sole act of peppering a few small pecks over the soft expanse of your skin there were enough to partially satiate his cravings, his body slowly relaxes. “I'll take better care of myself from now on. I promise. I-I'll be good just-”

Your entire body tingles as you watch him prop his chin against your abdomen, two purplish jewels shining brightly right back at you.

“Please, I beg you. Let me kiss you, yeah? I'll give you everything, no matter what it is, you can take all of me but… let me feel those beautiful lips.”

And once you let him, he claims you like a starved man. Teeth, and tongue, and spit, and it’s just so much. His lips nearly swallow your own, and they’re all over your face, his rough hands on your cheeks and waist, and then back in your hair. His body pressed against yours, his knee slotted between your thighs- He's everywhere. And you wouldn’t want it any differently. You wouldn’t trade Caleb’s all consuming love for anything even if it meant that you’d have to rot in hell together with him.

For him it doesn’t matter either way. Because amidst all this already existing hell that he has to carry in form of burdens on his scarred and marred shoulders, you’re truly the only one allowing him to get a few brief glimpses of what heaven must be like.

[sunoosdesire]

𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒎 ¡! ❞ 𝒍.𝒎𝒉

summary ── .✦

despite knowing yourself better, you truly never intended to fall into this little routine. two bottles of water, one small treat, and the same seat in the same convenience store two blocks from your apartment. the company was the same, as well. a nearly silent clerk workin the night shift. he was there for every study session.

pairing ── .✦

soft!convenience store au!lee know x fem!reader

genre ── .✦

fluff, smut, convenience store au ˎˊ˗ first part in potential series

likes, comments, and weblogs are appreciated ! please consider sending in reqs

Two full weeks of grueling late-night studies, two weeks of 2 A.M in the 24-hour convenience store a couple of blocks down from home. You tried to convince yourself that you were more productive when the temptation of your bed wasn't set in your mind, but really, it was an excuse to enjoy a small snack. Your new routine was practically set in stone, a habit in the works.

University had been unforgiving as of late, your choice of major not exactly a peaceful one. Studying wasn't a maybe anymore; it was, unfortunately, what your life now revolved around. That's exactly why these convenience store trips started happening. The small counter set against the window provided work space, and it was usually quiet at this time. No distractions, no excuses.

Tonight wasn't particularly different from the others; same routine. You left your apartment, school bag hanging from your shoulder, and walked right to the Byeol Mart. Entering, though, bells jingling, your subconscious sense of autopilot was interrupted when he spoke. The stoic clerk, who was always there, and had never once spoken a single word to you.

"You're twenty-two minutes late."

You could only blink, looking around as if there was anyone else to pin his accusation on. Of course, per usual, there was no one. Ignoring his cat-like stare, you slowly approached the refrigerated shelf, grabbing your two bottles of water. You let out a small breath through your nose, noticing your typical treat was, seemingly sold out.

When you approach the checkout, the exact snack you were looking for was tossed onto the counter. The clerk stood silently, observing your shocked expression. "I was about to restock," he tells you, ringing you up like he hadn't just given you a mini aneurysm. "You're late. You usually come in at 2:10. It is now... 2:36."

You slowly hand him your card, trying to comprehend how this total stranger, who seemed so uninterested in you before, had now commented on your own nightly schedule. You glance down at his name tag, which hangs sideways on the pocket of his apron. Lee Minho. Nice. You would add that name to your internally stored creep list.

"I see that," you respond wearily, taking your card and very important studying supplies. "You gonna write me up?" He doesn't respond, doesn't even give you a second glance. Nodding through the silence, you take your typical seat, deciding not to pay the strange man any mind. He was just another night shift weirdo who got off on being creepy.

Throughout the next few nights, you do have to admit that you've fallen into a routine of making small talk with the strange clerk every time you come in. He starts leaving out your snack before you even arrive, and you start sitting in the seat closer to the checkout counter. He wasn't bad company. Not great company, but not bad.

In fact, you may have started to look forward to your little study sessions. Minho opened up more each visit, the last one having been the most eventful. He greeted you and showed you a picture of his cats. Not much, but from him, it felt like an offer of friendship.

"Fourteen minutes late," he states simply, not even looking up from his phone when the bells on the door jingle. When you finally come to the counter with your water bottles, he tosses his phone onto the chair behind him, the device landing on top of his jacket. "Why do you look like that?"

You raise a brow, handing him your card. "I'm tired. It's two in the morning," you answer, clearly unamused. He hums, sliding the card and snack back to you. "You don't usually look like that," Minho says, pulling out a slim can from behind the counter, offering it to you. Staring blankly, he shakes it in front of your face. "It's an energy drink."

"Yeah, I know what it is. I don't want it."

He gives you a look, one full of judgment. A look you often received from him. After a pause, he turns around and heads into the back. You take that as your sign to sit down and begin studying. Now or never. Only a minute later, Minho returned without his apron. He collects his things, slipping on his jacket, and spinning a set of keys on his finger.

"I'm closing early. Go home."

You can only stare in disbelief as he starts shutting off the lights. "Can you do that?" You scoff, standing and shoving things into your bag. He ignores you, holding the door open. Minho blinks twice. He wasn't joking. "You should go to bed," he tells you, just as you're walking out.

Oh. So that's why he was doing this.

He walks out behind you as you roll your eyes, locking up. It only got weird when you looked behind you, and he was there, walking at a slightly slower pace. "What're you doing?" you question, pausing to stare at him. He looks behind him, and then back at you. "Going home? We live in the same building."

You narrow your eyes, glancing towards the empty street. As much as you knew that Minho wasn't capable of kidnapping you, it was odd that he said that. You never noticed him before. You assume he could tell what you were thinking, because he raises his hands walking past you now. "I'm not lying. Apartment number 504. You're 512."

You suppose if he were just trying to follow you, he wouldn't necessarily know that, but he could be a crazy stalker. You let him lead, not wanting to risk it. "You're fucking weird," you mumble under your breath. He looks back at you and shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Apparently, he wasn't lying, because when you get to the building, he pulls out his own set of keys. "Do you want to meet the cats?" Man, was this guy a total loser. You linger at the end of the hall, looking towards your own door. "Are you gonna kill me?" You ask, pursing your lips. "Do you want me to?"

You let out a breath, turning to face him now. "Not necessarily." You felt like you probably shouldn't go into this random's house, but, at the same time, this is the same guy who ate pudding and watched romance dramas during his shift at a convenience store. That's why you ended up going inside.

He turns on all the lights, clicking his tongue a few times. Three cats come running from another room, circling Minho with vibrating tails. "That's Soonie," Minho introduces, pointing to the cat at your feet. "This is Doongie and Dori." You squat, offering your hand to one of the orange cats, allowing him to smell you.

"How handsome," you coo, scratching the base of the cat's tail. Minho hums, walking further inside. He steps into his kitchen, grabbing a small tube of whatever disgusting squeeze treat was in the jar by the fridge. He tears off the top, pushing some of the chicken substance out. "They go crazy for this stuff," he mumbles, the three cats circling him like hungry sharks.

"Why do you work late every night?" you suddenly ask, gaining his attention. He shrugs, kneeling to offer the demons the treat. "I like it. It's quiet. They pay me pretty well," Minho lists, patting Dori's butt. You begin to look around, seeing several photos of friends hanging on the walls.

It isn't long before the two of you strike up a conversation, and the words and questions start to come naturally. You and Minho naturally migrate to his couch, his three shadows following, lounging either on him or the armrests. "It was hard not to notice you," he tells you. "I just thought it was weird that you came in so late every night."

"That's the only reason?" you joke, kicking up your feet as you observe him. He was so much more normal in his own home. "And I thought you were pretty," he adds, staring you dead in the eyes. You stare back, eyebrows slightly quirked in surprise. "One night, I left my number in your spot, but you stopped sitting there and never saw it."

You laugh at his confession, looking down at your lap. "That's hard to believe," you respond. He only shrugs, moving slowly to pull the small slip of paper out of his pocket, holding it up for you to see. Snorting, you take it from him. "Well, now I have it," you tell him, putting it in your own pocket.

There was no lying to yourself; Minho was handsome. Horribly, devastatingly handsome. You didn't mind one bit that you now had his number. In fact, you wouldn't mind getting closer. "I want to kiss you," he says abruptly, pulling you from your thoughts. "Excuse me?"

He pushes Doongie out of his lap, sitting up. "Can I?" You pause, totally thrown off guard. Yes, you saw this guy every day. Yes, you had been talking to him late into the night for about an hour now. Yes, he just called you pretty and gave you his number. However, you were totally not expecting this from him.

You open your mouth to respond, only to close it a second later. There was something about him that was drawing you in. He was just so charming. In a... Minho kind of way. You find yourself leaning in, Minho's hand coming up to the side of your face, and just like that, you are kissing a guy you hardly knew, but totally wanted.

As he tilts his head slightly, you take this as an opportunity to take the lead, assert your dominance, because you thought he wouldn't. Oh, how you were so, so wrong. He's grabbing your jaw in an instant, pushing his own tongue into your mouth. The sudden switch sent a quick heat into your chest.

Minho hooks his arm under your knee, pulling you closer. He moves the hand on your chin to the back of your head, keeping you in place as he bites down on your lip. "Do you want to keep going?" he asks, his soft voice a contrast to his rough hands and aggressive mouth. After you nod, he shakes his head. "Tell me."

"I want to," you answer in a whisper, giving him the green flag he was looking for. He wastes no time in unbuttoning your top, clearly growing impatient as he rips through the last three buttons. "Pretty girl," he purrs, letting his fingers lightly trail up your abdomen, tugging your bra strap and letting it snap against your skin.

"Minho. Let me see you," you mumble, his lips back on yours. He fumbles with his jeans, tugging them off slowly, no longer in a rush. He kisses your cheek, and then your jaw, before his lips land on your breast, a ghost of a kiss this time. "You'll see me, baby. I gotta take care of my pretty girl, first"

You look down at him, fingers in his hair. "Your girl?" He bites down on the flesh of your tit, gently sucking until he was sure it would be bruised. "Mine." You suppose you weren't opposed to the title, though he could've taken you out first.

His other hand finds your shorts, pulling them down your thighs. Nimble fingers find your clit through your panties, pressing down as he marks you. "Quiet now, but just wait. You'll be so loud for me, won't you?" His words dripped from his lips, thick and heavy like honey. It was a promise you knew he'd keep.

"Minho. I want you. Now," you tell him, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck, eyes fluttering as he touches you so gently. He slides out of his boxers, thick length bobbing. He had a clean cock, pale with a maroon-ish tip. Average in length, but not so average in girth. "Don't even wanna warm me up? Needy girl," he coos, pumping himself as he takes his thumb, pulling at your bottom lip.

"You need it, angel? Tell me you need it," he sweetly demands. He wasn't messing around, but his voice was so gentle. "I need it, Minho. I need you. Please don't make me wait," you beg. He looks down at you through lidded eyes, tilting his head. "Such a sweet girl, slutting yourself out to someone you just met. Only for me, though, isn't it?"

He pushes your panties out of the way, rubbing his excited tip against your glossy folds. "What a cute pussy. Think she can take me?" Before you could answer, he's pushing in, no prep, no warning. You let out a heated moan, hands immediately flying to grip his shirt. He pushes the decorative couch pillow under your head, ensuring your comfort like he wasn't splitting you open on his dick.

"What a sweet girl. You can handle it, pretty," he soothes, pressing down lightly on your belly, making sure you feel him. "Minho, please, please," you breathe, reaching for his arm. "I've got you, baby. You can do it."

He slowly begins to move, keeping your legs pressed to your chest. "That's a good girl. Just relax." He leans forward, kissing the inside of your thigh. He picks up his pace, finding his rhythm. His heavy balls begin slapping against your ass, and your moans pick up in volume and frequency. "So dirty, baby. You hear that? You hear how wet you are?"

It wasn't long at all before you felt that burn in your tummy turn into a tight squeeze. "Cumming, cumming, cumming," you cry out, reaching up to tug on his soft hair. He covers your hand with him, hitting deeper. "Good girl, you've got it. You're doing so, so good. You can do it," he praises.

As you squeeze around him, crying out, eyes squeezed shut, he groans, chasing his own high. He pulls out, grabbing your ankles so he can push your legs back, cumming all over your puffy pussy lips. "Fuck. Fuck! You're so good, did so good," he breathes, kissing the heel of your foot as he collects himself.

He leaves for just a moment, coming back with a warm rag, carefully wiping you up. "All better. Come here," he tells you, pulling you into his hold. "I'm gonna take you on a date. Tomorrow morning. We'll go get breakfast," he whispers, and in your sleepy state, it makes you laugh. "Okay. Sure."

Sorry for the poor quality, I'm exhausted

PLESE REAQUESTS PLREASE PLAES PLEASE PLAESE

[mullermilkshake]

Surviving bad dreams

Part 22 <- Part 23 -> Part 24

Jinwoo's bad dreams are only the start of a shitty day.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Pregnant!Reader Tags -Heaviliy pregnant reader, Pregnancy stuff, Intrusive thoughts, Nightmares, Spiders

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

TAG LIST CLOSED

“Look at you, you’re pathetic.” 

“You’ll never succeed in this.”

“Being S-Rank doesn’t mean you aren’t a poor excuse for a father.” 

Jinwoo’s nightmares often went this way, doubling down on all the hard work he’d put in to keep you and the twins safe. But it was his inner saboteur that doubted him. His weak little E-Rank body before the system graced his life, his trembling form at his feet before he utilised the system to make his body what it was.

“You’re still not good enough to keep her safe. I see it in her eyes, she doubts you.” 

“She’ll fall for Hunter Choi eventually, if she hasn’t already.” 

“You aren’t good enough to protect her, or your children.” 

The degrading comments were soon beginning to stick, soon praying on Jinwoo’s conscience that he was starting to believe it the nearer you got to your due date. Thirty five weeks, at least one more to go.

Jinwoo hoped it would get better once they arrived, so that he could get a solid night's sleep. If not, he was sure to go out of his mind and make his own self fulfilling prophecy. After the first few nightmares, he actually quizzed his own mother about it rather than you to avoid further stress. Not directly to her, but as a series of hypothetical scenarios until she gave him an answer he could use.

They’re not real was one of the common responses, as though she knew who he was referring to yet never outright confirmed it. They were introduced because of the looming world of change being fatherhood, baby brain, the fact that there would be two little people that needed constant attention, food and love to keep alive.

She always supported it, never judged it. ‘People often forget about the fathers when mom is having the baby, but dads go through a lot of things too, silently.’ Then, his mom would encourage him to speak to you if he was ever feeling that way.

But, she had to know he was experiencing already, right?

Jinwoo still hadn’t spoken to you about his nightmares, he just didn’t see the point, it wasn’t like you could take the darkness away from him, or change them in any capacity. You were growing his children inside of you, that took enough energy as it is.

What if it’s the babies doing this? 

Jinwoo laid awake in bed, awoken from another nightmare staring at the clock coming up for five o’clock in the morning. He blindly placed his hand out before looking, resting his hand on your belly as you laid the other way. The doctor had expressly stated you sleep on your left side for the rest of the pregnancy, and Jinwoo being the way he was, never allowed you to sleep on the right side of the bed to face him because that side was closest to the door.

The closest side if anyone broke in and came into the bedroom.

So, for weeks, you were facing away from him. Maybe he was just lonely? But he was consumed too. Time swept by him, leading up to a moment he had been looking forward to sharing with you, and all of a sudden it was potentially a week away.

Jinwoo listened out and paid attention to the babies mana that had completely consumed yours, you were practically invisible now, Igris was having a hard time keeping track of your shadow. Perhaps that was why Jinwoo was getting anxious? Time was creeping up on the two of you and and without Jinwoo at your side twenty-four-seven, there was always the risk of danger if Igris couldn’t see you with his own eyes.

Even Beru had stepped up for promotion to second guardian, relying solely on the mana from the twins to keep track of you. A heartwarming sentiment that he was growing attached to them, painfully formal, and joined with Igris in treating you the way they did. Kneeling, copious amounts of respect and servitude. Jinwoo should have been ecstatic, but something wasn’t sitting right with him.

He just couldn’t place it.

The twins seemed to sleep when you slept now, having their own sleep cycles and were currently the size of a honeydew melon. 

Two honeydew melons inside her belly… How is there any room? 

Well, there was, barely. And right now, the twins were sleeping, their mana was nothing to shake a stick at, but it was as level and monotonous as it could be, that’s how he knew they were sleeping. Both of them.

As time went on, their aura separated completely, taking on their own characteristics from each other. Jinwoo rolled over and got as close as he could to you, reaching over the pregnancy pillow and nuzzling his face into your hair, the silent room almost deafening over your little, relaxed snores.

What would his children turn out to be? The types to help people, go out of their way for others, or maybe the kind to do everything in life with a smile? Jinwoo didn’t want to think it could be the other side of the scales. The kind of people that became arrogant or looked down at the weak because of their S-Rank status from gestation.

What if they turn out like me? 

A murder. No. A hunter who became absorbed in obsession and struggled to hide it like he did. A burden, an anxiety-inducing lifeline that held on to nothing. The babies would have to struggle to swim on their own if they turned out like Jinwoo. They couldn’t turn out like Jinwoo, he prayed everyday to whatever higher being would listen to him, that they would have to take after you, in personality and temperament. 

Everything Jinwoo did was for his family, that's all. He didn't want to be like this, but he just couldn't fight the compulsion.

If they didn't take after you, how on earth would you even be able to control them on your own, even with your abilities? If your mana never returned, you’d have no chance in caring for S-Rank children by yourself. Jinwoo could stop them, sure. Even so, what would happen to providing for his family if he couldn’t leave the house in fear of it burning down, or them accidentally harming you?

I can't leave everything down to Beru and Igris. I didn’t think this one through, did I? God, I’m an ass.

He’d need to stop fighting. Disappearing for hours and potentially days at the presence of a red gate. What could Jinwoo do to ensure he’d be around most of the time, at least?

Growing pains. Of course it would take time to fall into a suitable routine, nothing came to mind in his big and stupid head, but what did was his business with Jin-ho.

He’d been putting it off since the first time you caught his eye, he should have put together his guild over a year ago and he hadn’t gained any motivation or momentum to do it. Jin-ho had called him several times, well more than several times, wanting to discuss it and go over the finer details. Chairman Go gave Jinwoo the go ahead right after Jeju island and he’d done nothing with it.

Originally he wanted to fight, but as times changed, maybe a desk job wouldn’t be so bad? It worked out for Jong-in most of the time, only venturing out for higher rank gates, Jinwoo could do that too if he really wanted to.

He didn’t. He wanted to keep leveling up and gaining more experience. The whole process could take ten times as long sitting behind a desk most days.

She’d be safe though. It’s a no brainer, really. This is all based off of her not gaining her mana back. If she does, then things might change. 

No finding that out until you gave birth.

Jinwoo rolled on to his back and huffed out of perplexion, nowhere to go backward or forwards until the future became present. He laid there watching the ceiling until the alarm went off in the bedroom, Seven O’clock.

You stirred, automatically yawning and stretching in the confines of the pregnancy pillow. “Ten more minutes…” 

“Sleep in, baby.” Jinwoo said, leaning over to kiss your cheek, pulling some of the hair away from your face. “I have a raid today, I’ll be back later tonight.”

An B-Rank dungeon, easy as anything. The pay off was huge, apparently.

“Mhm… I remember.” Still half asleep. “I’ll cook your favourite….” 

“Thank you, I’d love that. Take it easy though.” Another quick kiss and he was out of bed, getting dressed and out into the hallway to put his shoes on.

“Igris, Beru, watch closely today. I could be a while, but I’ll be going as fast as I can. Keep her in the apartment, watch the perimeter. Nothing gets past either of you.”

“Yes, sire.” Beru saluted instead of bowed.

“Where did you learn that from?” Jinwoo looked puzzled, eyes confused of the tall ant perform a military pose.

“Uh… my show.”

“Huh… well, I’m leaving now. Don’t trash the apartment, Igris is in charge.” 

“Yes, my Lord!”

The B-Rank gate appeared two days ago, three reconnoissance teams had gone in and half of the hunters came back, the same number every time.

“This better not be a double dungeon. I could really do without that today… on the plus side, it’s not a red gate. But still- now I have to bring people back. It makes this so much more complicated.” Jinwoo rubbed his neck and hugged, seeing the distraught teams come back and say nothing about it.

It was like they were suffering from traumatic stress but didn’t know why. They told anyone who would listen, not step foot inside that gate in fear of what existed on the other side yet could not explain what it was.

“Don’t go in there!” A hunter who had lost an arm waved at Jinwoo, tearful and bloody.

He ignored him, casually answering his phone instead. “Hey, Jin-ah. Everything okay?”

“Hey! Yeah everything is cool, are you still coming over for dinner tomorrow? Mom's going grocery shopping and wanted me to check.” 

One last family dinner before the family expanded by two.

“Yeah, we’ll be there. Look, I’ll call you later, I’m about to head to a dungeon. Ask mom if she wants us to bring anything to the house.”

“Okay, be safe as always!…” Jin-ah paused briefly. “Uh, mom did say she wanted some of those buns from that bakery, ooh could you pick me one up too? Thanks!” 

Jinwoo could barely contain his amused snort over the line. “So what you’re saying is bring you two buns, is that it? Jin-ah you have your own money, get your own.”

“What?! It’s not everyday someone’s brother is an S-Rank hunter, you can afford it big brother, I expect two buns tomorrow, bye!” 

“Get them your- okay, she hung up.” Jinwoo put his phone away and kept his hands in his pockets, wandering over to the gates entrance where Jin-chul was inspecting it.

“Hunter Sung, you’re here.”

“I am, I have the Chairman’s permission to go in alone so assume?”

It was pretty much expected by now that the Chairman allowed Jinwoo to operate alone. Bigger loot, and it allowed the mining team to clear up without incident. Limited casualties and drove Jinwoo’s pay day up to crazy level money.

Taking a look at Jinwoo’s bank account, it was more than enough to live comfortably while ensuring his mom and Jin-ah were comfortable too. 

I think I’ll move us out of the association's back pocket after the twins get here. 

“You are correct.” Jin-chul nodded, “You are free to enter when you are ready. Though do so with caution, we haven’t been able to get any credible information on what lies in wait, everyone here is exhibiting signs of short-term memory loss.”

“Ahh! Get it away from me!” A hunter panicked on the floor, crawling away from an insect, a spider.

“So they’re afraid of a little spider too?” 

This is going to be a piece of cake. 

“See ya later then.”

Jinwoo stepped through completely unbothered, his hand deep into his pocket for his wallet. A picture of you and the twins sonogram.

“I’ll be back later.” His voice echoed down the long tunnel, silence screaming back at him. “Be safe.”

He kissed the pictures, now already creased in the corners and slightly crumpled with each pull from his wallet.

“Okay then… time to kick the dungeon bosses ass and go home to my future wife.” He liked the sound of that. “My wife… yeah, that sounds perfect.”

By the time Jinwoo reached deeper into the tunnel, it stretched for at least two miles and not one magical beast in sight. Odd. Even the door to the dungeon boss was open right at the end of the tunnel, the miniature glowing torches just visible and flickering into the poisonous abyss beyond it. When Jinwoo reached it, he stepped inside without caution, without bothering to even acknowledge its boundaries.

“Huh?” The only reason he looked up, was because of the little muffled whimper he noticed.

Pods, or cocoons of white material, string or rope? Cocoons wriggling on the wall with an arm hanging out, or a leg, a trapped section of hair or clothing either side of a larger pit in the wall.

Are those cobwebs? 

Jesus christ, not again. 

Now, Jinwoo knew why that hunter panicked from that little eight legged thing on the ground. It look eerily familiar to the eight legged monster coming out of that wall. It was a spitting image to the last one Jinwoo fought all that time ago, however it was three times the size.

At least Jin-ho isn’t here, he would have hated this.

Part 22 <- Part 23 -> Part 24

Thank you for reading and all of the support on this fic! ❤️ Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated and I appreciate you all! See you next time 🤗

Tag list - @bubera974 @snowy-violet @sky2lar @starrynights23x @kamiliora

@yessirr7 @qmabailor @yihona-san06 @mashiromochi @daiyanomochi

@justatimidcreator @alia-17 @otomegamesforlife @m00n-estelle @towomatos

@stormnightingale @johnnysactualgf @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved @johnnysactualgf @notleclerc

@minkuro @misakicchi @lovingyeet @soft-dots @gina239

@sabrina-senpai @tsukimoon-chan @afkmylajah @livelaughlovekuni @keiva1000

@delusionillusion322 @dreamingoftomorrow @gina239 @blxuqueenie @stardust0709

@chahaezii @athanasia10 @crutoyu @thetruepair @lostpsycho13

@dragoonsuki @sashagaming1012 @maria-trisha @dyavorange @mommydelicious5272

@shortchubbytat @celesteelysia @forgotten-moon94 @sleepyamaya @applepi405

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[tinytalkingtina]

If anyone wants a tutorial on how to make stuff in canva I recommend thecutestgrotto's very helpful guide

Rules: Send me an emoji in an ask, and I'll write 3-5 sentences and/or paragraphs from that WIP. No limits to the amount of emojis you can request, please feel free to send multiple!

Thanks for the tags @turinspeachjam @hbyrde36 @cloudsurfing42 and @madaboutmunson!

✨ My steddie BB "Cursed Prince Steve and Bard Eddie" fairytale AU is at 12k now! working on the task of strength this weekend, so having fun making familiar faces pop up

🏴‍☠️ Eddierotica: "Eddie writes the world's worst erotica about characters who are just poorly disguised versions of himself and Steve. They're not dating" now features plot and an actual set up outside of the erotica! Going to aim to have the first two chapters done for the Switch Eddie week event, so be ready for pirates and vampires!

👽 Back this week to actively working on my Star Trek AU Enemies to Lovers! Gonna do my usual hopping around writing chapters concurrently, so you may get various stages as Eddie and S'tevan's relationship evolves

Tags and a SFW snippet of ✨ under the cut:

Shockingly, the prince didn’t call for the guard as he expected. Instead, he gestured for Eddie to come closer, beckoning with a gloved hand clad in fine leather.

As he drew near, Eddie raised an eyebrow. The prince had a chessboard set up halfway through a game. A quick glance around showed no one else around to play against.

Maybe he was trying to figure out how the pieces moved in private?

“If you’re looking for a job at the palace you’ve come to the wrong person. Try the kitchens instead.” With that, the prince turned his attention back to the board.

Eddie clutched at his makeshift disguise.

“I uh, have no need for a job, I am of noble blood!”

“No you’re not.”

Curses.

“I beg your pardon, of course I am!”

“No, you’re not.” The prince finally moved a white pawn. He then got up and sat down on the black side of the board while pointing towards Eddie’s feet.

“Putting aside how worn your boots are, your footsteps are light and quick. The only nobles who walk with the same pattern are either away from the capitol for the season or taller than you. Except Sir Brenner, but Sir Brenner walks with a limp. Besides, your clothes do not bear the colors of any noble house in the region.”

“I...I could be visiting!” Eddie retorted, grasping at any thread he could to get out of this alive. The prince tilted his head. Eddie could have sworn the mask had taken on a smug expression in the last thirty seconds.

“Hmm, a visitor who was not present at this afternoon’s royal luncheon for the king and queen to interrogate? Or did you mysteriously fall ill during those exact hours.”

Eddie blinked. Was the prince mocking him? Before he could reply, Stephen moved quickly to ensnare his hand. Eddie’s heart beat out a wild staccato as the prince proceeded to slide his glove off and trace the calluses on his palm.

“No one of noble blood would work with their hands uncovered enough to grow these, would they stranger,” the prince said smoothly. His tone, so self-assured and full of himself, grated on Eddie’s nerves.

Stephen then lifted the edges of Eddie’s mask and pressed a finger into the space where his neck met his shoulder.

“Odd how your skin is burnt here too.” Eddie didn’t dare breath. This close, he could see the prince’s eyes peeking out from his mask. The last few rays of the setting sun caught shimmering flecks of gold and green as they crinkled in amusement.

“Let’s see. We’ve proven you’re not a noble. And the fact that you tried to continue with this honestly terrible disguise means you’re not in search of a job. Which just leaves the obvious: you want something from the Crown Fool. So tell me stranger, what do you wish for me to do for you?”

Tagging a few folks to join in and work on their own WIPs!

@queenofshenanigans @queenie-ofthe-void @runninriot @apomaro-mellow @augustjustice

@vthx @pearynice @lingeringmirth @kikidoesfanfic @sunflowerharrington

@bellandora @wynnyfryd @zombiethingy @fkinkindagauche @scoops-aboy86

@little-annie @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @onirislanding @strangerthingswritersguild

[exquisiteserotonin]

All We Had Was Time

Thanks to the encouragement from some kind folks, here is the sad Eddie story I wrote a few weeks ago.

Rating: Teen+ I guess this could be for most people?, SFW

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader, EddieMunson x Reader, Eddie Munson x You

Word Count: 1891

Summary: As you sit in the shelter wondering and worrying about your boyfriend, Eddie Munson's whereabouts, your memories of him come flooding back. A sea of emotions overtake you the moment you see Dustin Henderson walk into the makeshift shelter that is your high school gym, without your Eddie.

Warnings: Talk of drug dealing, a lot of ANGST, grief, fluff

A/N: If you are reading this, first of all, thank you so much in advance. This has a lot of emotion and sadness and I wrote this pretty quickly but also because I was feeling some kind of way. I suppose writing it was some kind of catharsis. I hope you enjoy! 

Taglist: @eddiesvixen

Please let me know if any of you are interested in being added to my tag list for any future Eddie fics or Joe Quinn fics

Read on AO3

You remember the night before Chrissy died so clear in your mind. You remember warning Eddie about dealing to any of the popular kids. 

You navigated the kitchen at the Munson house like it’s your own. You were over there enough anyway.  You maneuvered around Eddie’s uncle with a smile before offering him a drink of water. He gave you the warmest of smiles, the wrinkles around his kind blue crinkled before he took the glass you had already filled for him. You filled two more glasses, one for yourself and one for Eddie. You walked past Mr. Munson towards Eddie’s bedroom. 

The door was wide open and your boyfriend sat at the edge of his bed, messing around on his guitar.  He looked you up and down with a playful grin, his dimple emphasized by the light and dark like some perfectly balanced renaissance painting. He set his guitar on its stand and turned all his attention to you. He took his glass that you held before him and then pats on a spot next to him on the bed. You join him and watch as Eddie’s uncle gathers his things, ready to leave for work. 

“Now,” he says with a raised brow, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

“That doesn’t really leave us with many parameters, now does it, Uncle Wayne?” Eddie called out. 

“Very funny, Eddie, nice to know you inherited your mom’s sense of humor,” he replied to Eddie before he turned to you. “Watch out for this kid, OK?”

“Always do, Mr. Munson,” you answered and turned your gaze towards your boyfriend, “always will.” 

After a few moments, you heard the sound of Mr. Munson’s truck leaving. Immediately, Eddie moved up on the bed and beckoned you to come lay next to him. You crawled towards him and planted a long kiss on his beautiful lips before you curled up into his arms. Sex was always great with Eddie, but cuddling him was a very close second.  He held you close as you wrapped your arm around his waist. You closed your eyes to amplify the sound of his breath and his heartbeat. They were better than any song he’d ever composed. 

“You know my uncle really likes you,” he told you as one hand caressed your back and shoulders while the other caressed the arm that was draped over him. ”He’s not easy to impress, you know?”

“He’s a good man,” you said quietly, “I can see where you get it from.” 

A quiet and grateful laugh left Eddie’s lips before you pressed yourself up to bring your face close to his to kiss him. You settled back into his arms and you began to notice how fidgeted with the bed sheets and then his rings. You hated seeing him worried and you sat up, straddling him before you cupped and caressed his face with loving hands. 

“Is this supposed to calm me down,” Eddie smirked as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “or get me going?” 

“Maybe a little bit of both,” you teased before you kissed his forehead, his nose, and finally his lips. “What’s going on, babe? You’re more on edge than usual.” 

Eddie fell uncharacteristically silent and full of anxiety as he looked up at you with his big brown eyes. You didn’t need to search for an answer in them. Instead, you waited. You continued to caress his face and dance your fingers through a few strands of his curls. Each gentle gesture was your act of love. As you slowed your breathing, he matched it and his shoulders relaxed with each passing second. The lines of worry began to fade away and he smiled and let out a sigh. 

“Chrissy—you know, the cheerleader?”

Your stomach tightened with anxiety as if you had taken all of what he had and put inside you. He sensed it and responded with a gentle caress of your back and shoulders with his strong hands. 

“It’s not—“ he started, searching for the right words, “apparently she needs some stuff, you know?”

“Eddie,” you paused and pressed your lips tightly together in worry, “that seems like a terrible idea.”

“She’s been through it,” Eddie explained, his voice soft with earnesty, “she just needs something to take the edge off.” 

The sigh built up inside you and shook your chest. His brown eyes glimmered in the light of his room, filled with compassion as he spoke of Chrissy. You knew her, of course, especially since you ran in the same circles by virtue of being the co-captain of the Hawkins High dance team. She was one of the sweetest girls you met since moving to Hawkins, but your intuition told you how guarded she was. Her kind demeanor was too often overshadowed by her douchebag of a boyfriend, Jason.

“Eddie, if her boyfriend finds out---if the rest of that crew finds out,” you urged him, feeling your chest tighten in a way that was almost painful. “You are too good, too kind, too amazing for anyone to come at you like they will.” 

Your heart swelled and pleaded to him in silence as you looked at him. Inexplicable tears sprung from the corners of your eyes. His face softened and he placed a strong hand at the back of your neck, pulling you close until your forehead met his. 

“Hey, it’s my year, remember?” He said with a reassuring smile. “Let them try.”

“Eddie, please,” you couldn’t help but sense a feeling of dread as it welled up inside you like a volcano about to erupt. “I just…you’re my—“

“Hey, remember you just told my Uncle Wayne?” He reminded you as he caressed the curve of your face with a gentle and gratitude-filled touch. “I know you’ve got me.”

“Always will,” you confirmed. 

You wrapped your arms around each other tightly. His embrace was warm and secure, but at the same the time desperate, as though he was holding onto a life ring. You squeezed just as tightly kissing his jaw, hoping that each touch you gave him showed him how you would never leave. 

You snap away from your memory. It isn’t supposed to be this way, you think to yourself as you wring your hands repeatedly. And now, Crissy is dead and Eddie, your Eddie is missing. They think he did it. You know in your heart he didn’t. But no one is telling you anything.

Your dad is M.I.A. He tells you it’s a work emergency. How convenient. You can’t find Robin. You can’t find Harrington. You can’t find Dustin or anyone else in the Hellfire Club. You’ve never felt more sick in your life. 

Your body trembled, still reeling that you somehow managed to survive this freak earthquake that hit Hawkins. You and Eddie’s uncle somehow find each other in the sea screams of fear and the buzz of chaos. He asks you if Eddie is with you and your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach. You shake your head “no” and you see the color visibly fade from his face in real time. It’s like the world is falling apart. 

Eddie’s uncle wanders away in a daze and starts asking different people in the shelter if they’ve seen his nephew, your boyfriend. Most shrug, too busy to help the uncle of Hawkins’ public enemy number one. You sit on your cot in a daze until Vicky brings you a small cone of water. She offers you a quiet smile before giving you a soft touch on your shoulder. 

“Try to get some rest,” she says softly before walking and checking on other people sheltering with you. 

You drink the water and crumble the flimsy paper cone in your hands before settling into the uncomfortable cot. You stare out the window looking at the darkness, the heavy fog of everyone’s collective worry hovering in the dark school gym. Somehow, against your will, you fall into a restless sleep. 

You wake up, feeling Eddie’s uncle tapping you gently on the shoulder.  He holds several papers with your boyfriend’s photo on them, the words “missing person” center squarely above the photo. You gulp and feel your chest shudder as he walks away to pin the paper onto a bulletin board in the gymnasium. 

You see Steve, Robin, and Dustin walk in through an open set of doors---but Eddie is not with them. You feel your heart sink and your knees shake restlessly, wondering why no one was approaching you. Not Steve or Robin leaping to you to let you know Eddie is OK and would be along in a little while. 

Dustin walks past you with his shoulders are slumped as he approaches Eddie’s uncle. You can’t hear the conversation but you see it in every movement. How Dustin shakes his head in disbelief, how Eddie’s uncle nearly loses his footing beneath himself, how both of their bodies display a subtle tremble before you see the tears slip down their respective faces. 

The tightness in your throat closes even more, threatening to cut you off from any source of oxygen. You stare straight ahead of you as Dustin shakes Mr. Munson’s hand before he makes a slow path towards you. 

Suddenly, you are wondering if you even want to know. It’s stupid train of thought, you already know. But did you really want to hear it? 

Dustin looks at you and sits next to you in your cot. You see he is still weeping and you feel your lips turn downwards. The corners of your mouth and your jaw begin to shake until you unwillingly join him with tears of your own. 

“Oh God, no, no, no,” you sob, feeling your breaths come out faster than you want. 

“I—I’m so sorry!” Dustin cries. “He wanted to see you—I wish you could’ve seen him. He is—he was a hero.” 

At that moment, your heart shatters into innumerable pieces. You bury your face in your hands, shaking your head, your pain leaving the back of your throat in audible sobs. You feel the cot shift as Dustin scoots closer to you and wraps an arm around you. You lean towards him and pull your hands from your face. You know your eyes must be red and puffy. 

“Did he—did he know I lo—,” you try to breathe between tears, trying to find a way to compose yourself so you can get the words out. “Do you think he knew I loved him?” 

You can see Dustin’s heart break again along with yours. And he nods vehemently. 

“He knew, he knew,” Dustin confirms with the steadiest voice. “I just know he loved you, too.” 

Dustin takes your hand as you sob. Your head is pounding as you look up at him, your face drenched in your tears. He opens your hand and places something within. It is cold and made of metal. You look down to see Eddie’s mood ring in your hand and you gasp and let out an ugly, guttural sob before mouthing the words “thank you” before you clutch the ring close to your chest. It isn’t supposed to be this way. You are supposed to have more time.  And now all you have left are the memories and his ring.

[maraudereestauderelb]

Dirty Secrets on a Tour Bus (Nikki Sixx x Reader)

My 666 Followers Special — Thank you so much, guys!

Let's celebrate this unholy milestone with style🖤🔥

After weeks of no privacy on tour, you finally get a moment alone – just you, some wine, and your own wandering hands. But of course, Nikki Sixx always knows how to show up at the worst (or best?) possible moment. Tension, teasing, and everything you've been trying to ignore boil over fast…

“Fuck, what were you up to before I got here, baby?”

Warnings:

smut (18+), masturbation, oral (fem. giving), thigh riding, semi-public risk, power dynamics, teasing, language, voyeurism mention (Tommy 😬), light choking, first-time oral (giving)

Tagging some moots, I think might like this: @calicodarkling, @rock-n-roll-queen, @southerntigress, @nyxxnoir, @their80smichelle, @estrangedillusions, @emerysposts, @angelsixxdoll

Alone... you couldn’t even remember when you had been alone for the last time during the past two weeks. Definitely not more than ten minutes in a bathroom. So, you had decided to stay in the tour bus while the others went out to party. Just a few hours to yourself with silence... 

You had wanted to simply read some things, to get a little inspiration, to get some ideas for songs. But Jesus, only God knew when you’d get the chance to be alone the next time! Touring as the opening act for Mötley Crüe was fun but definitely draining.  

You were lying in your bunk completely undressed with an almost empty bottle of red wine and were gently caressing your skin. All this talk about sex all the damn time, and guess who wasn’t getting any? 

You were almost unbearably tense, but you’d take matters into your own hands. Gentle touches over your breasts and thighs sent goosebumps all over your body. It had been way too long! But you told yourself to keep it slow... you had hours until the others would be back, no need to rush. You had thought about putting on low music but you didn’t bother to get up. 

You repeatedly teased yourself by getting closer and closer to where you needed to be touched without ever making it all the way. And while one of your hands was caressing your body the other was buried in your hair. You were getting completely lost in your thoughts and fantasies when out of a sudden someone banged against the door of the bus. 

You opened your eyes alarmed and grabbed the blanket. Luckily, you had remembered correctly, the door seemed to be locked. Who the fuck was already back?! And why?! Fuck, you were way too tense to be interrupted now! How on earth were you supposed to handle this?! You needed a shower. A cold one. But there were no fucking showers! 

Maybe whoever it was would go away if you didn’t react. Or maybe whoever it was didn’t have a key and had to get one first... enough time to... 

„Y/N?!“ 

Your head dropped back to the pillow with an annoyed sigh.  

„C’mon open the door! What are ya even doing? Gonna get you to the party!“ 

Hadn’t you made clear that you didn’t want to party for once?! 

„Please?“, Nikki asked hopefully and although you hated yourself, you got up. Quickly, you grabbed an oversized Shirt, that was long enough to cover everything, from underneath your bunk and walked towards the door. You’d quickly tell him that you didn’t want to party. That would be it. 

„What do you want, Nikki?! I said, I’m not going out t’night“, you told him annoyedly as you opened the door. You were tense and wanted him to piss off. 

 „Gosh, why so angry, baby?“, he smirked.  

„I’m not“, you sighed: „What is it?“ 

It was always complicated with Nikki. Never easy. You had known each other for years and he had pulled the strings to get your band on tour with them. You knew he cared, which made it even harder to understand what the hell was going on between the two of you. 

„Wanted to take you to the party“, his smirk didn’t fade. 

Why did he have to look so darn cute?! 

„I don’t wanna.“  

„Why? Ya havin’ your own party here?“ 

If he only knew... 

„I- No. I’m just tired.“  

„You don’t look tired.“  

You knew. You weren't tired. You were tipsy and horny! And he was the absolute last person you needed to see right now. There was always tension between the two of you, whenever you were together but besides a few make out sessions, nothing had ever happened. Kisses, no one ever bothered to talk about. It was confusing. You knew, he wasn’t the type for relationships, but whatever was going on between the two of you was more than a stupid friendship as well. 

„Nikki...please...“ 

„Let me come in.“ 

Why? Why? God, why?? 

„Don’t you wanna go back to the party?“ 

„Nah“, the black-haired shrugged and walked past you into the tour bus: „Not without my baby girl.“ 

You rolled your eyes.  

„Why do you even care? “Like you won’t just disappear after an hour to fuck some bitch in the restroom.“ 

„Wow, someone’s tense tonight“, he realized and turned around to you amused: „Why are ya angry with me, doll?“ 

„I’m not angry with you! I just-“  

„Need some dick?“ 

Your mouth fell open. 

„Piss off, Nikki!“ 

And while you were getting more and more angry, he seemed more and more amused. Which only infuriated you more. 

„Calm down, Y/N“, he said low and slowly walked towards you. 

Hopefully he’d just walk past you and leave the stupid bus! You were so done! 

But instead, he stopped in front of you and softly raised your chin, so you had to look at him before he gently placed his lips on yours. You closed your eyes in response and kissed him back. You tasted the whisky on his lips before he broke the kiss for a moment with your noses still touching. 

„Better?“ 

You nodded almost unrecognizable before you kissed again. This was such a stupid idea. Usually, it wasn’t a great idea but, in the state, you were in currently, it was outright stupid. But you savored the kiss too much to break it. God, you needed this. 

You let him pull you back to one of the sofas at the front of the bus where he sat down and pulled you onto his thigh. 

The kiss got more and more heated, and you couldn’t stop your hips which automatically moved against him in a pace that was fast enough to ride up your shirt. 

Nikki had his hands on your hips and helped you move when he realized you weren’t wearing anything underneath the shirt at all. With a devilish smile he said: „Fuck, what were you up to before I got here, baby?“ 

You didn’t answer but pressed your lips onto his even more desperately. Nikki’s grip got tighter on your hips until he moved them underneath your shirt to cup your breasts, forcing a soft sigh out of your lips against his. 

Your entire body tingled when he whispered into your ear: „Get on your knees for me.“ 

Nervousness ran through you. 

„Nikki, I-... I’ve never done that before“, you admitted and looked away, knowing you were blushing. He used one hand to turn your face to him again. 

„And you think that does make me want you less, babe? Because fuck, now I want your mouth even more.“ 

His words didn’t take your nervousness away, but they made you smile so you nodded and he kissed you again before you slipped down between his legs. 

He watched as you tentatively placed your hands on his thighs before you opened his black leather pants and freed his already hard shaft. Your left hand continued its way upwards to caress his stomach tenderly while your right moved to grab hold of his shaft. You weren’t sure what to do. It wasn’t like you had never seen what you were supposed to do, but your heart was beating right out of your chest. 

“Grip me tighter,” he said, voice low and rough. “Don’t be shy, baby.” 

He kept his eyes on your face, catching the slight furrow of your brow as you focused. 

Your hand was warm against him, and when you slowly stroked up and down, you hoped it felt right. His pleased grunt told you it did. A blush bloomed across your cheeks as you glanced up at him. 

“Getting the hang of it?” he teased. 

You squeezed him firmly in reproach. Nikki just grinned down at you and bucked his hips, fucking himself into your grip.  

His teasing gave you more and more confidence, so you took him into your mouth. 

„Shit“, he swore: „Do that again.“  

You gave him an innocent smile, but did as he told you. 

“That’s it”, he rasped, fingers threading into your hair as he lost control. You were breathless now, your chest rising with each inhale. 

“Shit, baby”, he groaned, completely mesmerized by the way your lips moved around him. He tried to be gentle as his grip tightened, guiding you lower with a trembling hand. 

“Y/N”, he warned, his voice strained, right on the verge - yet when he attempted to pull you back, you pushed forward, taking him deeper and sucking with purpose. You didn’t stop until he came, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer. 

„Fuck, baby, that was awesome“, he moaned and looked down to you again before he let his head roll back: „Come up here...“ 

You followed suit, sat back down on his thighs and sighed into the following kiss. 

„Are ya sure that was your first time doing that?“, he smirked between lazy kisses and closed his pants. Without answering him you just sealed your lips again and moved your body against his. Gosh, this had just gotten you more tense and needy! 

You blamed the wine. 

„Do ya need to get off?“, Nikki asked challenging and kissed your neck with his hands on your thighs again. You nodded desperately. 

„I can’t hear you.“ 

What an ass. „Yes...“ 

„Yes, what?“ 

„I need to get off...“ 

„Alright, angel“, he smirked and moved you over his left thigh. Automatically you grabbed his shoulders for balance. You couldn’t help but sigh the moment the fabric touched your already sensitive and bare core. What was he doing? 

“Go on, then”, he said with a smirk, guiding your hips gently against his thigh in a slow, steady rhythm. You let out a louder moan, biting down on your lower lip as your fingers dragged across his chest, nails short but sharp enough to leave faint pink trails. With a shaky breath, your hand found the waistband of his pants, gripping it for support as you prepared for what came next. 

Nikki exhaled deeply, settling back against the couch, clearly enjoying the view. You rolled your hips once, then again, using him for balance as pleasure began to build fast and hot in your core. God, you hadn’t expected it to feel this good. 

His palm slid across your stomach, making you flinch slightly at the sudden contact. But it didn’t stop. His hand glided up your torso, tracing between your breasts beneath your shirt. The other hand came to rest around your neck, firm but not forceful, and your eyes fluttered shut, rolling back slightly from the sensation. That was just the kind of effect Nikki had on you. 

Neither of you spoke. He let you move at your own pace, eyes fixed on you, his hand around your neck offering just enough control to ground you. You’d never done anything like this before—but it didn’t take long to figure out exactly what made you feel good. 

When suddenly the door to the bus sprung open with a loud bang against the wall. 

„Dude, what the fuck’s takin so lo- Oh“. 

You quickly stilled your movements and turned around to where Tommy was standing. You knew that from where he was standing, he wasn’t able to really see what was going on because you were still wearing the very big shirt, but he wasn’t a complete idiot so he quickly must’ve realized something was happening. 

„Fuck off, Tommy!“, Nikki shouted at him annoyed. 

„Okay, okay, I’m sorry“, the drummer smirked and raised his hands in defense: „Didn’t know ya guys are busy.“ 

You were completely still when you felt how Nikki started to move his thigh against you. It took fuckin everything in you not to moan! Why was he doing this to you?! 

„Tommy, jus’ close the fuckin’ door“, you told him with a shaky voice. You probably sounded utterly needy and desperate. 

„From the outside or are you gonna let me watch?“, he grinned. 

„Next time“, Nikki answered with a smug smirk. 

Tommy laughed as he walked out of the bus and closed the door again. 

Fuck, this was so embarrassing! 

„We should’ve probably locked that door...“, you mumbled unsure of what to do and being completely still. 

„Forget about him“, Nikki told you: „Look at me.“  

You did as he said, your gaze locked on his gorgeous eyes as he guided your hips with steady control. Breath quickening, you panted softly as he worked your sensitive core against him, sending sparks through your body. When his hand returned to your neck, squeezing the sides just enough to make your pulse jump, a low moan slipped from your lips. 

„That’s it, baby. Make yourself feel good“, Nikki whispered, thoroughly enjoying watching you lose yourself like this. You were so close - just a few more rolls of your hips - and then it hit. Your climax crashed over you, thighs tightening around his as waves of pleasure rippled through your body, leaving your mind blank and your limbs trembling. As you panted, still lost in the aftershocks, Nikki let go of your neck and leaned in, catching your lower lip between his in a slow, possessive kiss. 

When you regained your senses, Nikki was rubbing your thighs with his rough palms and kissed your neck.  

„Enjoyed that?“, he asked cheekily, as if he didn’t know you were absolutely crazy for him. 

„Uh-huh“, you grinned dumbly, satisfied and a bit drained. 

„Let’s getcha to bed then, doubt you gonna be able to party tonight on these wobbly legs“, he said with a smirk and placed both of your legs around his waist again before he got up carrying you. 

Lazily you placed your arms around his neck and hung onto him, feeling entirely at ease and satisfied.  

„Only if ya stayin’ with me“, you said hopefully and looked at him with big eyes. 

-> MASTERLIST

[gh0stvi0lets]

𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘶𝘯𝘵,

────────────୨ৎ──────────────

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺. You gave him the break he needed.

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨. Sam Winchester x reader

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. +18 smut, explicit sex (mdni).

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵. 653

The motel room smelled like aged wood, whiskey, and salt rounds — the usual trappings of a Winchester stakeout. You sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed, flipping through a local lore book while Sam paced behind you, his long fingers tapping anxiously against the edge of the dresser.

“This thing doesn’t match any wendigo patterns,” he muttered, eyes scanning the screen of his laptop. “But the burn marks on the victims—it’s too controlled to be a demon.”

You didn’t respond at first, too busy staring at the curve of his back beneath that flannel. Even stressed, Sam was devastating. Broad shoulders, furrowed brow, hair falling into his eyes—he looked like a Greek statue cursed with a savior complex.

“You’re staring,” he said, not looking up.

You smirked. “So are you.”

He finally turned to face you. “I’m trying to figure out what this thing is, y/n. And you sitting there in your tiny shorts isn’t helping.”

“Well, if I am a distraction,” you said, closing your book, ���maybe you need a break.”

There was a beat of silence. The tension that had been bubbling under the surface since you’d arrived in town finally snapped taut. Sam stepped forward slowly, letting the laptop fall shut. His voice was lower now. Rougher.

“You want me to take a break, sweetheart?”

You nodded. “I think you need one.”

Sam was on you in two strides, hands gripping your waist as he pulled you up into a kiss that was all teeth and heat. You moaned against his mouth, fingers sliding under his shirt to feel that toned stomach you’d been imagining since Kansas.

He walked you back against the wall, grinding into you as he pinned your wrists above your head.

“I’ve been patient all week,” he murmured, lips brushing your jaw. “And you’ve been teasing me since we left the bunker.”

“Wasn’t teasing,” you breathed. “I was waiting for you to make a move.”

He chuckled darkly, his large hand keeping your wrists firmly pinned while the other roamed your waist. His mouth was at your neck now, biting and kissing in rhythm with your racing pulse.

“You always say the right thing,” he muttered, freeing your wrists long enough to slide your shirt up and over your head. His hands returned to you instantly — one bracing your hip, the other tracing a path down your stomach.

His mouth followed the trail, kissing lower, slower, until he was on his knees in front of you, looking up with those smoldering eyes.

“You always taste so fucking good when you’re desperate,” he said, and before you could reply, his tongue was between your thighs.

You whimpered, legs trembling, the cool wall behind you contrasting the inferno between your legs. Sam didn’t let up. He licked and sucked with maddening precision, using his fingers to spread you open and tongue you until your knees gave out.

“Please,” you moaned, desperate for his touch.

He rose smoothly, one hand wrapping around your throat — not tight, just possessive.

“You gonna come for me?” he whispered.

“Y-Yes, Sam, please—”

And with a few more strokes of his fingers, you shattered against him, crying out as pleasure crashed through your core. Sam kissed you again, hungry and demanding.

Then he picked you up, carried you to the bed like you weighed nothing, and unbuckled his belt.

“You think that was intense?” he said, voice hoarse with need. “I’m just getting started.”

A Few Hours Later…

Your legs still trembled when you tried to stand. Sam was sitting at the edge of the bed, shirtless, laptop back in place on his thighs.

“I figured it out,” he said nonchalantly. “It’s a fire wraith. Only comes out during lunar eclipses.”

You stared at him, utterly spent. “You figured that out after three rounds of mind-blowing sex?”

He smiled, smug and soft at once. “Told you I needed a break.”

୨ৎ tags: @bowbowrry @mostlymarvelgirl @littleladydemon

[casstheasswrites]

NO SAINTS, NO SAVIOURS (EPILOGUE)

pairing: frank castle x reader (female)

summary: wrong place, wrong time. he saved her life, she patched him up. that should’ve been the end of it. some nights, you survive. others, you change.

trigger warnings: PLEASE NOTE this epilogue mentions sexual violence in a vague, non-descript way. DO NOT READ if that is a trigger for you.

chapter length: 2.8k

authors note: i just want to sincerely thank each and every single person who went on this ride with me the last few weeks. it has been an incredible journey and i so appreciate every person who has lurked in silence, hit the like or reblog button, or dropped a comment. thank you so so much for being here, please know you are seen and valued and loved! my heart hurts a lot for this story and these characters... it really hurts to say goodbye!!! but i am not saying goodbye forever, not for sure, but it is goodbye for now. we may return to continue on where we've stopped at some point... but we'll just have to wait and see. i am working on an original story at the moment, taking a little break from fanfic. then i want to write a joel miller (the last of us) fic, and then maybe i'll return to these two... until then, thanks again everyone. please drop a comment or send me a DM, let me know your thoughts on this story, your favourite part, what you loved, what you hated, what you would want to see next if there was a next! 

tag list: @thelastemzy @its-in-the-woods @wkhannah @h0neylemon

archive of our own / feedback appreciated!

The café was nearly empty. Late enough in the day that the lunch crowd had cleared, early enough that the dinner rush hadn’t begun. A quiet lull stretched across the space, made softer by the low hum of conversation at the counter and the hiss of steaming milk from the espresso machine. Outside, the sun dipped low behind the buildings, casting long shadows across the sidewalk, where the wind stirred petals from the nearby florist’s display.

You sat near the window, tucked into the farthest corner, one leg crossed tightly over the other, your fingers wrapped around a half-finished cup of coffee that had long since gone cold. It was a good spot— back to the wall, view of the door. Old habits didn’t die; they settled into the bones. All thanks to Frank. What you’d once seen as paranoia, you now knew as necessity.

You’d arrived early. Not because you were eager, but because you needed time. Time to calm the undercurrent of tension in your chest. Time to reacquaint yourself with stillness. This wasn’t about confrontation. It was something closer to closure. The first step towards freedom, closing the loop on something that had been chasing you your entire life.

The door opened with a soft chime and Karen stepped inside.

She didn’t search the room. Her gaze landed on you with immediate certainty, like she’d known exactly where you’d be. You gave a slight nod— acknowledgment, not greeting— and she crossed the space slowly, careful in her movements, her coat half-buttoned against the chill still lingering in the early spring air.

She slid into the seat across from you and didn’t say anything right away. Instead, she set a manila folder on the table. Thick. Heavy. No markings. But you knew.

“I knew there was something,” she said quietly, after a long pause. Your gaze was locked on the folder. You didn’t blink. “Something behind your eyes. The way you carried yourself. I just didn’t know what.”

You didn’t respond right away. After a beat, your gaze lifted, taking her in. Her pale cheeks were flushed pink from the cool air spreading through the city outside. Her hair was pulled back and away from her face, secured in a tight bun low at the back of her head. Her eyes were wide and open in a way you hadn’t remembered seeing them the first time you’d met.

Your gaze flickered back to the folder. “Did you start digging before or after I asked?”

Karen gave a half-shrug, almost apologetic. But not quite. “Some before, some after. Before… when I realized what it was… I stopped. Something about it felt wrong. Like I was reading something I had no right to know.” She paused, those ocean blue eyes settling on yours. She watched you for a moment in sheer silence, like maybe now, she could really see. “And then when you asked, I kept going.”

You nodded slightly, the corner of your mouth twitching, though it didn’t quite become a smile. You’d figured as much— couldn’t deny the way she’d watched you that night in the bunker, nothing but questions making up the storm that raged in her eyes.

“I did what I could. Tried not to leave any stones unturned.” Karen’s voice softened, a little worn at the edges. She lifted a hand and it drifted towards the center of the table, her index finger gently tapping the edge of the folder. “There’s a lot in here you might not want to know.”

You nodded. You knew, without having to read what was inside, that you didn’t really want to know any of it. But you had to.

And so you reached for the folder, slid your fingertips beneath the flap. But you didn’t open it— couldn’t. Not yet. You stayed rooted like that for a beat, trying to slow the racing of your heart within your chest.

Karen watched you, but not like a reporter. Not like someone gathering information. Just a woman who knew what it meant to live with ghosts.

“Where is he?” you asked, quietly. You knew the folder would tell you— but you needed another minute. Needed to hear it from her. Your eyes slid away, studying the display case across the café, as if somehow the chocolate croissants and blueberry muffins could shield you from whatever was to come. Like you could blur the edges of the moment just long enough to stay upright.

“Upstate.”

With that, with that tiny piece of distance, you found yourself returning to the moment. So he’d never left, then. Never gone far. Meanwhile, you’d spent years circling the wreckage— trying to outpace the trauma, trying to escape it.

Your gaze flickered back to the table before you, and your fingers twitched at the edge of the folder. You could still feel Karen watching you, but she knew enough not to fill the silence.

Then, slowly, you pushed it open.

The first photo hit harder than expected. A recent image. Older now, but still recognizable. The shape of his mouth. The lines around his eyes. Beneath the photo, a home address, some notes about comings and goings. A name you hadn’t spoken aloud in years.  

And then— a marriage certificate.

Your body went very still. You didn’t breathe— couldn’t. Not for a full ten seconds… maybe longer.

The letters on the page before you blurred slightly as your eyes caught on them, and the ache that bloomed in your chest wasn’t sharp, wasn’t sudden— it was slow. Crackling. Like something deep inside had been straining for years and finally gave way.

Your jaw clenched and your pulse roared in your ears. You could feel heat crawling up the back of your neck and over your face, staining your cheeks with a crimson so sharp it burned. Fury waged a war within you, shredding through your insides with no hesitation.

You stared at the page like it might change if you looked hard enough.

“He’s married?” you whispered, though you’d seen the proof— didn’t need the confirmation. You gaze lifted, desperate, begging with her to correct you, tell you the information was wrong.

Instead, Karen nodded. “Eight years.”

You turned to the next page, your movements no longer careful. Your grip was too tight, your hands clumsy with tension, and the paper crinkled loudly beneath your fingers. You didn’t pause. Didn’t breathe. Just kept going until the images landed in your lap like a slap across the face.

Two school ID cards.

They stared up at you with the blank innocence of children who didn’t yet know how dangerous the world could be. Two little girls— maybe seven, maybe five— with pale hair, pale eyes, pale skin. One had a faint dimple in her left cheek. The resemblance was so uncanny that nausea began to claw at the back of your throat.

Your breath caught somewhere between your ribs.

“He has kids,” you said, voice hollow.

“Daughters,” Karen confirmed. Her tone had flattened entirely, every ounce of opinion pressed back behind a wall of control. She was trying not to let it show. You appreciated the effort, even if it didn’t help.

Something in your chest twisted hard, then dropped. Not in fear. Not grief. Something colder. A sharp, clean cut of rage that carved through you without warning and left the rest of your body humming with the aftermath.

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered. “He has daughters.”

You stared at the pictures until your eyes blurred, until your throat began to tighten and your jaw locked against itself. The thought sank its teeth into your gut and refused to let go. He had daughters. Two little girls who shared his blood. Two little girls who looked like you once had— soft, trusting, unguarded.

And for a moment, your mind betrayed you. Pulled you away from the here and now and threw you into a place you’d fought like hell to escape.

You were back on that rug, the scratchy fibers burning against the backs of your legs. The air was stale— humid with the weight of summer and sweat— and the ceiling above you, speckled with pale stucco, seemed impossibly far away. The room was bathed in overnight darkness, only a small glimmer of light pouring in from the moon outside the window.

You remembered the noise of it— low and constant, like static in your ears— how it blurred everything around the edges. The walls didn’t look like yours anymore. The room smelled different, too— dust, skin, something sharp and sour you couldn’t name.

You remembered trying to move. To twist. To kick.

You remembered the way your limbs stopped obeying you, after he’d hit you once or twice.

Your body had fought— at first. On instinct. A knee jerked. An elbow landed somewhere. You’d kicked a picture frame off the wall; it cracked when it hit the floor. But it hadn’t changed anything. The weight bore down anyway. Pinned you like a butterfly beneath glass.

The worst part wasn’t even the pain.

It was the silence.

Not just his, but yours.

The awful quiet that settled afterward, thick and unnatural, like the air had been vacuumed out of the room. You remembered the way your breath came in strange, shallow hiccups. The way your hands stayed where they were, fingers twitching uselessly, like they were trying to find something to hold on to and kept coming up empty.

You hadn’t cried. Not then.

You’d just stared at the ceiling and disappeared.

And now, all these years later, your body remembered it before your mind could catch up. The pressure. The paralysis. The slow, creeping sense that you weren’t really inside yourself anymore. Like you’d been pushed out of your own skin and left hovering just above it, watching something you couldn’t stop.

It wasn’t a memory. It was a return.

Not a thought. A presence.

It wrapped itself around your spine and sank its teeth in.

You swallowed hard, forcing it back, crushing it down with the heels of your teeth. There wasn’t room for that now. You couldn’t afford to feel it— not in the way it wanted. But the anger— that you could use. That you could sink into.

You swallowed hard, the taste of that room still thick at the back of your throat. It settled there, bitter and metallic, threatening to pull you under all over again. You forced it down— dragged it into the deepest, darkest corner of yourself and slammed the door shut. You clenched your teeth until your jaw ached, grinding it into something smaller. Something manageable.

You didn’t have the luxury of collapse. Not now.

There wasn’t space for what you’d felt— not the fear, not the helplessness, not even the shame that still stuck to your ribs like old glue. But the rage? That you could use. That you could carry. It filled the hollowed-out space like molten lead, anchoring you back in your body.

“I should’ve found him sooner.” The words scraped their way out, rough and broken at the edges— not because you were falling apart, but because you were holding too much in. Your voice didn’t tremble with grief. It cracked with fury. “Who knows what he’s doing to them?”

Karen didn’t flinch. Her hands hovered near the edge of the table, fingers twitching like they wanted to tap the surface, just for something to relieve the pressure inside of her. Her posture had gone rigid, too— shoulders drawn taut, spine upright like she’d braced herself against the weight of your words.

“There’s no record of complaints,” she said, and even her voice had gone still. Careful. Controlled. “No calls. Nothing documented.”

You let out a bitter, joyless laugh— one sharp exhale through your nose that didn’t sound like anything human. “Doesn’t mean it’s not happening,” you said, and you meant it with every cell in your body.

She didn’t argue; she didn’t have to. Because you both knew the truth. There were too many girls without bruises. Too many children who kept their mouths shut until they couldn’t anymore.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was weighted with everything that couldn’t be said. Everything that had already happened. It settled between you like a second table— something to work around, something to carry. You could feel Karen sitting in it with you, not trying to fix it. Just holding the space.

You looked back at the photos. You couldn’t stop staring at their faces. You imagined them climbing onto countertops, leaving glitter trails through the house, sleeping with the closet light on. You imagined them laughing in the backseat of a car that smelled of treats from the bake sale and coffee poured into stainless steel travel mugs. And then you imagined them frozen, silent, breath held, trying to make themselves small. You imagined them enduring, for a while, and then breaking— the same way you had.

You didn’t even realize your hands were shaking until your knuckles scraped against the edge of the table.

He had a life. A house. A wife. Two daughters. A future.

And you were still trying to convince yourself that what happened hadn’t been your fault. That that entire miserable summer hadn’t been something you’d deserved, somehow.

You wondered, not for the first time, if the past could’ve unraveled differently. If you'd spoken up sooner. Louder. Made people listen, made them believe you. Maybe then he wouldn’t have gotten a second chance. Maybe two little girls wouldn’t be sleeping under the roof of a man who should’ve been buried beneath it.

The thought hollowed you out. Left you scraped raw.

Your gaze dropped back to the marriage certificate. His name was still bolded at the top of the page— unbothered, unpunished. Just there. Neatly typed in twelve-point font, like it didn’t belong to the person who had split your childhood wide open. The person who’d opened a rift between you and anyone who had once been there, who had once cared. You gritted your teeth and stared at it like you could set it on fire with your eyes. You wanted to rip it in half, tear it until your fingers ached, until there was nothing left to recognize. But instead, your voice came— quiet, uneven.

“I never told Frank,” you murmured, slowly lifting your gaze to the woman across the table from you. “Still haven’t. Even though he helped me reach you.”

Karen’s eyes flicked up. Her expression didn’t shift. She just nodded once— simple, assured. “I figured. You didn’t need to.” She paused, tilting her head just slightly to one side. “Still don’t, if you don’t want to.”

You studied her face then. Not the public one— tight-lipped and analytical— but the quieter version she wore in rare moments like this. There was strength in her stillness, but underneath it, a familiar tension. Like she was always waiting for the next call, the next fire to smother. But here, now, she wasn’t a fixer. She wasn’t surveillance or strategy or control.

She was just someone who understood what it meant to carry the kind of pain that doesn’t show up on X-rays. Someone who knew what it was to walk around with a wound that never fully scabbed over.

You still didn’t know most of it— or any of it, not from her, at least. But as you stared at her and really looked, you recognized her. As someone who knew. Someone who understood.

“Thank you,” you said.

She offered you a soft, barely visible smile, and nodded back. Then she stood slowly, sliding her chair back. The legs made the faintest screech against the tile floor. She took a deep breath and then began to move past you, but just as she did, she reached out. Her hand landed on your shoulder— light, deliberate. Not hesitant. Not uncertain. Just enough pressure to remind you that she was still with you, even if she was about to leave.

“Make it slow,” she said, voice low. Measured. “He deserves to suffer.”

You didn’t respond. Just turned your chin to the side and looked up, holding her gaze for a beat. There wasn’t anything else to say so you simply nodded, a fire beginning to burn within your eyes.

She released you, nodded back, and then she was gone.

You sat there, the folder still open on the table, the air around you colder now. The café buzzed on, normal and unconcerned. Someone laughed near the window. A blender hummed from behind the counter. The scent of roasted coffee hung thick in the air. But you barely noticed.

You stared at the papers in front of you for a long time. Not thinking. Not planning. Just remembering. Not the moment of violence. Not the way your hands had shoved him. Not even the sound of his body hitting the rock. You remembered the after. The silence. The way it filled the room like smoke. The disbelief in their eyes. The suspicion. The names they called you. Liar, liar, liar. And then the things they didn’t say but let hang in the air like poison.

You reached for the folder, your grip not wavering, and slid it into your bag.

You weren’t a victim anymore. You weren’t just surviving.

You were choosing.

And this time—

No one was going to take that from you.

[elodiah]

Lokius Week Day 5

S2 E1 - Ouroborous

Ahhh, the episode that in the space of 40 minutes turned me from, "Loki... oh yeah, I think I remember this show. That's right, Owen Wilson was in it, wasn't he?" to, "… Right then. I- I think I might ship these two. They're very shippable, aren't they? They're just- they're so... oh CRAP. I have a new OTP."

In lieu of writing about my fave Lokius moment from this episode (read: the WHOLE FLIPPING THING), I thought I might instead make a list of fics I devoured that pick up right from the end of the ep. Post-Ouroboros fics to this day remain my fave "genre" for Lokius, and although there are many excellent fics under the post-ep tag, I've limited myself to ones that deal specifically with the immediate aftermath of 2x1, if you get me.

In no particular order:

Rest Up by Specter_Ross

Summary: With B-15 searching for Sylvie, Loki and Mobius finally have some much needed downtime to recover from the recent events. Some food, a shower and sleep are in order.

Breathing Room by @kcscribbler

Summary: In the immediate aftermath of S02E01, both Loki and Mobius are a little worse for wear.

A Moment by Ailendolin

Summary: After the events of 2x01, Loki and Mobius are not okay.

Safe & Sound by @lokimobius / 19960821

Summary: After fixing Loki's time slipping, Mobius forces him to take a rest before they set off on their next mission.

Like Real People Do by midnightdragons

Summary: After Loki stumbles back into the Temporal Loom with Mobius, his exhaustion and overexertion finally catch up with him. Short and sweet missing scene.

Portraits of your fidelity by Aliencritters

Summary: After the events of episode 2x1, Mobius convinces a panicking Loki to calm down and take a much needed break.

Mercy in Ignorance by @kcscribbler

Summary: In the immediate aftermath of S2E1, both Loki and Mobius have a lot to unpack emotionally, mentally, and physically.

And for some shameless self-promo, my own contributions to s2e1 fic include Redux (my first ever fic, please don't judge!!), Crash and Burn (You're Not Alone), and an AU-ish thing that I was pestered into writing, Return (To You); a re-imagining of the episode where Loki was stabbed by Sylvie instead of kissed (because we all agree that would have been wildly more realistic).

Happy reading!! 💚🧡

@lokiusweek

[momijiba]

my dear mutuals as 4.0 is almost upon us that also means ARCHON QUEST!!! please... please.. tag your posts with a spoiler tag and put it under read more so that the people who are starting the story a bit later can also enjoy the story as much as you did.

[tagarilaghost]

I SWEAR CELEBI'S THINGY IS COMING SOON BUT I REALLY WANTED TO POST THIS ALRIGHT

yeaah... future trio got me too...

and Darkrai is there too, because of course he is.

hey look i drew a cute Drifloon :D

...ignore the rest

whatever started at Darkrai doodles ended in brainrot of future trio + darkrai and I'm blaming @scribz-ag24 for this

[cobaltfluff]

suuuuper late pocky day akeshus ;w;

[geraiodli]

Hey)) hey litwtc Tumblr)))) did you know... That I made an animatic))))))))

[pothame]

I used to think that he was too slow and that I was too fast. In reality, it was the other way around. Despite dating many people, I had never put a relationship above everything else in my life. I realized too late that he was someone I could have made a long future with.

Love in the Big City x Grieving by Dhruv

[secretidentie]

My Superbat prompts

I've been reading superbat since forever and I finally got a tumblr account so I thought I could ask some writers to use these.

Clark kent is at the manor to interview Bruce Wayne when Dr Freeze attacks and they're basically snowed in. Bruce trying to hide secrets and Clark getting the chance to write the story of the year in the form of an I depth exposé from inside the home of billionaire blah, blah, blah... Chaos and fluff.

Bruce is in a love triangle with superman and Clark Kent. Clark assumes Bruce knows he's one person. Bruce decides to solve this by brooding and going on a series of dates with them both until he decides who's his perfect match. (you decide if Clark knows Bruce is batman but think both versions are hilarious)

Bruce Wayne has to go undercover as a carnival worker in a small town on batman business. After the Daily Planet is bought out by corrupt government officials, Clark quits and goes back home to Smallville. He feels like he's changed and isn't as fulfilled by the simple life, not to mention how much harder it is to keep being superman. He doesn't even feel useful on the farm and can't find a job he enjoys to make some money of his own and leave the house. He starts visiting the fair to take his mind of things and meeting this handsome carnival worker who he definitely would have recognized in a small town like this.

LexCorp frames Wayne enterprises for some shady dealings putting the company under investigation which might even lead to it filing for bankruptcy. While Fox and others fix this, Bruce, as the face of the company, is advised to lay low and leave Gotham for a bit. He decides to get an apartment in the cheap side of Metropolis, since all his assets are frozen and he only has one working bank account. On top of that he has to deal with his hot new roommate (or neighbor depending on how you write it) who keeps leaving and coming back at the weirdest hours while also trying to keep tabs on Gotham and maybe getting himself a job in the mean time. (to be clear Clark is the roommate)

During an argument batman says he could easily do superman's job and superman says the same. So they swap cities for two weeks. First to call for backup looses. (feel free to add romance if you want but it's not compulsory)

Clark final gathers the courage to ask out batman but right before he does, green lantern starts flirting with batman too. Harvey dent is recently released from arkham and claims to be reformed and wanting to rekindle his well known public relationship with his collage sweetheart Bruce Wayne. This causes Oliver queen to also try to win his childhood best friend's heart. It's a very long week for Bruce. (all povs if possible. Also Bruce knows everyone's identities but no one knows his. This also doesn't have to end up superbat, choose your favorite ship. Make this love-pentagon as messy as you can)

These are just a few of my personal favorites. I have a lot more. Let me know if you want me to post them. If fics with these premise already exist let me know coz I would love to read them. You can make it as explicit as you want or make it for general audiences but for my sake please add fluff. If you use these prompts also make sure to tag me here or on AO3.

[ashpkat]

in my idealized version of the books (the Good timeline), jericho and constantine’s relationship is not the one aaron and calls relationship parallels — it’s constantine and joseph. in this essay i will *gets taken out by cassandra clare’s snipers*