#this was just supposed to be about him waking you up

[aakeysmash]

prompt:

sukuna skipping gym to sleep in and later on does his workout in their living room, using her as a weight when doing push ups, may turn heated hehe

college Sukuna's masterlist

turned this into a college!sukuna drabble lmao sorry!! no smut this time, i wanted to elaborate a bit on sukuna's protectivness toward yuuji :)

You're humming a song from your studying playlist when you hear someone knocking at your door. You look at the clock you keep on your desk near a plant Yuuji gifted you last week. On the terracotta vase there's a scribbled note in the obvious handwriting of a child.

To: baby peach, but no more annoying screams when we play, please!

You smile. He always chooses to be baby mario when you play Mario Kart together because he doesn't want you to feel alone in case you're the only baby character. He's such a cute kid, you're lucky to have him as one of your almost-roommates.

You get up (it's still pretty early anyway) and stretch your back, hearing it pop. You open the door, and standing in front of it is the same kid you were thinking about.

"Hey," you wave at him, a happy tilt to your voice. You look at him shuffling and avoiding your gaze.

"Is everything okay, Yuuji?" you start getting worried. He mumbles something you don't hear clearly, so you make him repeat himself. He juts his lip out, then looks straight at your face.

"Can you take me to school please?"

You raise your eyebrows. Usually, this is a big brother kind of duty: where is Sukuna? Yuuji takes your silence as rejection and starts backtracking.

"Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you, I can just go alone-"

"Sure, let me grab my purse and we can go," you stop him, changing your expression to one of calmness, ruffling his pink, unruly hair.

"Are you sure it's not a bother?" he asks you hesitantly. "Big bro closed his door and I can't seem to be able to wake him up... and I'm supposed to be accompanied by an adult..."

"It's not a big deal, Yuuji. I'll take you in my passenger seat, okay? We'll be there shortly," you reassure him, nodding.

"Thanks," he says, blushing, giving you one of the biggest smiles you've ever seen him do. Your heart melts a little, and he looks at you like you've physically hung up the sun shining outside.

When you get back home, you're not even able to get to your room when you find yourself being squished between the nearest wall and a hot, rapidly rising and falling chest.

"Where the fuck is my brother?" Sukuna grits out his teeth, breathing down your neck. You wince. He's controlling his strength, but he's still a mountain compared to you, and your ribcage is starting to hurt.

"Get off of me right now or I'm calling the police, Itadori."

He notices he must have been too rough and takes a step back, mumbling an apology while still looking at you menacingly. You pat your clothes, making sure there are no wrinkles before answering him.

"I took him to school. He told me he was being neglected by his own caretaker, so I had to intervene," you shrug.

"He did not say that. He doesn't even know the word neglect," he says, sighing. His shoulders drop and he takes on a more relaxed appearance.

"What's wrong with you? You've never gotten up later than 6 am," you ask him, trying to sound nonchalant, walking toward your fridge to make yourself a toast. The truth is, you're starting to get attached to him. In the last couple of months, you've created some sort of bond, and it's probably also thanks to Yuuji and his stubbornness in making you do things like you're a family. Just last night, he forced you both to make cookies with him because apparently his friend Megumi was coming to play this afternoon and "he wanted to make a good impression".

Sukuna, on the other hand, can be a lot. The majority of the time he nudges you to get you to move out of his way (he just does it to see your annoyed face, but he's not going to tell you that), huffs in your face when you say he hasn't cleaned his dishes from the night before, and flips you off whenever you try to have a civil conversation about who's turn it is to choose the film on Friday night. But he's also pretty attentive. It's not like he makes you notice it, but he does feel bad for you when you get out of your room after an all nighter because of your studies. He thinks you're annoying because you're always trying to pry into his private life, but when you're not home Yuuji always asks of your whereabouts. Yeah, that's definitely why he can't stop thinking about you laughing with the boy he literally raised. The boy whose disappearance was driving him insane this morning.

Because sure, Sukuna tells Yuuji he's a brat 95% of the time, and the kid yaps way too much for his taste. He also manhandles the kid badly, telling him he's way too weak to be called his brother, and more often than not Sukuna tells him he's adopted and that he'll kick him out as soon as he can. But you've seen the way he prepared soup every night when his little brother caught the flu in December—he's just full of shit. He'll never admit how hard it was to raise a brother he didn't want at 13, alone and broke. But he'll make sure the child never doubts of having someone to fall back into like Sukuna did since he was much younger than Yuuji is now.

"Didn't sleep well and I missed the gym," he responds, munching on an apple. You hum in acknowledgment, not turning around from the stove.

"You know that pilates class you suggested to me last week? I found their videos on YouTube. I was thinking of starting them today," you quickly change the topic. You know you won't get more than that; him admitting he didn't sleep well was already a win.

"Wanna start them with me, chipmunk?" he asks you. You turn around to slap his arm slightly.

"I told you to stop calling me that," you say rolling your eyes.

"No."

You whine. "Yes, by the way. I want to see you suffer like the men I see on TikTok."

"Come be my weight and I'll do pilates with you today," he suddenly says. You're biting your toast and you're so caught off guard that you start coughing up crumbles. He hands you a glass of water while telling you you're too fucking dramatic.

"What does it mean to be your weight?" you tentatively ask him when you can breathe properly again.

That's how you find yourself sitting crisscrossed on his back, gripping his shirt as hard as you can, while he does pushups and tries not to laugh every time you scream about him moving too much and almost making you fall.

[hes-a-plant]

Rewatching the part of FOTR where they’re in Rivendell and I noticed a few things:

We all joke about Elrond being super done with Gandalf after he recites the ring’s inscription in the Black Speech. But fun fact, if you pay attention you can actually see Elrond facepalm at this point. He is so done.

A bit after Frodo wakes up, we get a look at his bed. There is a statue of a winged elf(?) carved into the headboard. Elwing??

The pedestal that the ring is on? Fëanorian star carved into it.

I need Elrond’s shirt. The embroidery is so perfect.

Hobbits have gorgeous shirts made of linen (? That’s what it looks like, at least)

The collar of Sam’s shirt is clearly hand stitched, a neat detail separating him from the other hobbits, as the only working class one!

It is all the rage for elves to wear horrible velvet cloaks.

Boromir’s collar at 1:40:16. Wow? What? It’s very cool. He also has some very neat clasps that have the tree of Gondor on them!

At 1:42:05, there appears to be another Feanorian star on the ground surrounding the pedestal that the ring is on

There are lots of elf statues surrounding the Council of Elrond. I can’t make out anyone specific, but I’d be curious if anyone else can.

Legolas really likes jumping up and yelling at Boromir, lol

Wow, it looks like the number 8 is a recurring motif in Elrond’s decor. I wonder what that could mean. That’s certainly not a meaningful number at all.

Gandalf is really just wearing rags, huh. I’m glad Galadriel ends up giving him new clothes, but he could have used some a bit sooner.

While Frodo is staring at the ring, the black speech inscription is echoing in the background! Never noticed this before!

Elvish shingles are shaped like leaves

“On you who go with him, no oath nor bond is laid to go further than you will” and cut to Aragorn, who gives a grim smile to Arwen. Hmm. This one could be a stretch, but wouldn’t those two have grown up on tales of Oaths-Are-Bad?

Right as Frodo is walking through the gates of Rivendell, there’s a statue. Again, I don’t know if it’s supposed to be anyone specific, but one of y’all might be able to identify it.

Unfortunately it wouldn’t let me screenshot anything so I can’t share pictures

[malchai]

jegulus microfic | 440 words | @sixlane

James loves slow mornings. Time stretches out sweet as taffy, and there’s nothing pressing on the to do list. On mornings like these, he lets Regulus sleep in. James untangles himself from his husband, careful not to wake him. He watches Regulus’ nose scrunch in displeasure before he rolls into the warm spot that James left behind and his expression smooths out once again. Even after all these years, seeing Regulus like this - sleep rumpled and soft beyond measure - makes his heart skip a beat.

James pads over to the kitchen to get started on breakfast. He has this familiar dance memorized. He grabs mixing bowls and flour from the pantry, milk and butter from the fridge, and sets about making the batter with practiced hands. He cuts up strawberries as the waffles cook and refreshes the water for the yellow roses on the counter as he sings along to his chosen playlist for the day. Halfway through the second and third batch, arms encircle his waist. Regulus tucks his face into the middle of James' back and mumbles something unintelligible into his shirt.

“Good morning to you too,” James says and laughs when Regulus’ hold briefly tightens in acknowledgement. “You weren’t supposed to be up yet. I’m not done with breakfast.”

“What does that matter?” Regulus asks, finally letting go. He moves around the kitchen, grabbing a fork from the drawer by the stove. 

“I was trying to woo you with breakfast in bed.”

“James, we’ve been married for years. I’m pretty sure I’m not going anywhere now. Besides, I was the one who wooed you, or is your memory getting spotty in your old age?” Regulus leans his hip against the counter, a small smile playing on his lips. He reaches for the cooling waffles, and James parries his hand with a spatula.

“My memory’s just fine. You forget I was the one playing the long game. You wouldn’t have even spoken to me if I hadn’t given you free coffee on that first day,” James reminds him. “And stop trying to steal the waffles. I told you they’re not ready yet.”

Regulus rolls his eyes and sets down the fork, raising his arms in surrender.

“Wait,” James tells him. He pours a bit of syrup on the stack and adds a few strawberries, before cutting a small piece and holding it up for Regulus. “Perfect bite.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Regulus says but leans in to accept the offering. Regulus hums and his face splits into a blinding grin. James can’t look away from him. Not that he’d ever want to. They’ve got many slow mornings left to go.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"concrete" - hotch x fem!bau!reader

your crush on your boss is so nearly at its breaking point; based on the request found here

cw: canonical violence, mutual pining, mild miscommunication, not a happy ending but not an unhappy ending lmao sorry luv ya

word count: 1.4k

------

You’ve been crushing on your boss for exactly ten months and nine days. You’ve known him for close to a year, but when you think about it, that two month difference in time is just about what it takes to warm up to Aaron Hotchner. 

He was a statue when you first met him. Unwavering, stoic, and maybe even a little strict (definitely very strict). He didn’t crack a smile around you until the first case you ever worked with the BAU was wrapped up, and he definitely didn’t make any jokes until much later on. You discovered underneath the stalwart, brick wall you met was the same man, only softer. Like one of those hard-shell candies with a jelly center. He was incredibly kind, patient, observant, and honorable. 

And he would do anything for anyone on his team at the drop of a hat. 

You also got to see the more playful side of him as you got to know him, as your caseload with the BAU only grew. Sure, he was a stickler for paperwork and procedure, but was he though? 

You once saw him take over a report JJ was supposed to finish so she could make it to Henry’s t-ball game. You definitely witnessed him reassuring Penelope that it was okay that she hacked into the Interpol database for info on an UnSub, and when Derek needed help tracking down his cousin in Chicago, Hotch had the whole team pitch in, which was certainly some kind of ethics violation. 

Little did you know that Aaron was crushing on you, too. He didn’t word it that way in his head, of course, but the second he watched you stride into the conference room to consult on a case, he knew he was in trouble. He expedited the transfer paperwork himself, even followed Strauss in the elevator on her way out one night to make her sign it. 

He grew fond of you quickly, of your insights, your compassion with victims’ families, your quick wit. You always bring homemade cookies or cupcakes for the entire team when it’s someone’s birthday, and you always have a different perspective to offer on cases. He especially loves when you are clearly thinking hard about something, so you cross your ankles - sitting or standing, he’s noticed - and tap your toes against the floor. 

Aaron’s ways of showing affection were not lost on you. He brought you coffee on more than one occasion, but he also brought coffee to the rest of the team. He straddles the invisible line between Caring Boss and More Than That so well. You’re not exactly sure what his actions mean.

Like today, for example. The team is in a small town in Kentucky, and you’re deep into a case - a spree, four murders in four days. You have been awake for about twenty straight hours, give or take, and the world around you has turned hazy. 

You are combing through a suspect’s letters with Spencer, your eyes growing heavier by the second. Your chin is propped up by your arm, and you finally close your eyes, just for one second of respite. Your arm gives out and your head whacks against the table, a wake-up call no amount of espresso could ever provide. 

“Shit, Y/N. Are you okay?” Spencer’s out of his chair in an instant as you lift your head, rubbing the already-formed welt on your forehead. 

The spot is tender and red and you’re dizzy, the wheels on your chair not helping matters. Why are there three Reids hovering over you? They meld back into one Reid after you blink a few times, and as you’re nodding to reassure Spencer you’re okay, you hear Hotch walk in. “I heard a thud. What happened?” 

The conference room in the police precinct is teeny and already cramped, so Spencer has to move out of the way for Hotch to get to you. 

“She smacked her head on the table,” Spencer explains hurriedly. “I’ll get you an ice pack,” he scurries off, likely to ask one of the local officers, leaving you alone with Hotch. 

You’re still reeling and a bit disoriented from the contact with the solid oak table. Hotch takes the rolling desk chair beside yours, previously occupied by Spencer, and is hunching to meet your eye line. “You should really go back to the hotel and sleep for a little bit,” he says.

“Nobody else is,” you protest just as Hotch squares up to you to examine the welt on your forehead. You see him visibly grimace, his lips pressing deep into his face.

His thumb is suddenly on your forehead, padding around the bruise. It’s tender, and you know it would hurt if he touched you even a centimeter to the left, but he’s hitting it at just the right spot. You can see the lines on his palm.

“Yeah, well, no one else just concussed themselves,” he points out. You can tell just by looking at him that he’s tired, too. His eyes are heavy, the bags under them puffier than usual. 

“If I’m concussed, then I really shouldn’t go to sleep,” you point out, and Hotch’s expression tightens. 

“What day is it today?” He asks, retracting his hand and pulling back into his own space. 

“Wednesday,” you reply, then your eyes dart to the clock on the wall. 12:17 AM. “Thursday,” you correct. 

Hotch releases a pressure-cooker sigh and narrows his eyes at you scrupulously. You lean forward in your chair in a challenge. “I’m fine,” you insist. 

“I just wish you’d take care of yourself so I wouldn’t have to.” 

This catches you off guard. Your brows furrow and you frown at Hotchner, crossing your arms over your chest. “Excuse me?” you ask, feeling offended. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “You don’t think I take care of myself?”

Hotch’s mouth is hanging open just slightly, and he’s shaking his head. “No, Y/N, that’s not what I-” 

“You and I both know you would tell me if my performance was inadequate,” you decide in that moment - maybe it’s the potential concussion, or maybe it’s the exhaustion - to rip into him. “I don’t need a babysitter, Aaron.” 

Hotchner shakes his head again. “I know you don’t need a babysitter,” he says calmly. Irritatingly calmly. “I just meant that there are many other things I’d rather be doing…” 

Your mouth goes dry. Obnoxiously, with the cadence of a confused basset hound, you say, “huh?” 

Aaron’s cheeks are pink now, and he swallows hard. “I’d better go check on Reid and that ice pack,” he murmurs, but before he can roll away, you grab the arm of his chair.  

“Aaron,” you breathe out, and suddenly he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, like there’s a spotlight shining down on you from the ceiling of a little police precinct in Middle of Nowhere, Kentucky. 

His brown eyes are so soft at this moment. His eyebrows have softened from their usual piercing, investigative furrow. He knees press into yours, and you want so badly to bridge that gap between his face and yours. His mouth is hanging open, only slightly, and you watch with bated breath as his tongue juts out - just barely - to moisten his lips. 

The door flies open at that moment, and Spencer’s shifting three different ice packs among his hands. “I’ve got gel, I’ve got water-based, and they also had one of those beaded eye masks that people put in the freezer for self-care at home,” he laughs at this, stopping at the head of the table when he realizes he very clearly interrupted something. “Should… should I go?” 

You’re rolling back from Hotch, crossing your ankles and shaking your head. “No, you’re fine, Spence,” you say hurriedly and squeakily, just as Hotch clears his throat and rises from his seat. He lingers in the door on his way out. As you’re taking the gel ice pack from Spencer and placing it gingerly against your forehead, your gaze meets Hotch’s. 

He’s boring into you with those beautiful molten chocolate eyes, and he purses his lips pensively for one fleeting moment, as if to say, to be continued. 

“What was all that about?” Spencer asks as he sits back down. You shake your head. 

“Nothing,” you feel concrete tension in your jaw that radiates all the way down to your toes. You grab the next pile of letters and open one. The fact that you have to pretend like nothing just happened, like you didn’t just share an absurd amount of tension with your boss? It feels like your entire body is on pins and needles. “Let’s just keep going.”

[joostsblog]

joost klein x fem!reader who has a thing for his hands? loving when his hands wander all around her body.. fingering her during a pre-party then dragging her to hus room to finish the poor girl off both of them competing in eurovision

maybe joost even whispering things in her ear.. lots of neck kisses and reader wakes up in the morning neck, thighs, collarbones basically her whole body having hickeys ☺️

tysm if u do this

here you go :)

the one about his hands and also waking up covered in hickeys ~ joost klein smut

My masterlist here ✨💌

Pairing: Joost Klein x fem!eurovision contestant!reader

Description: Only fantasising about Joost's hands just isn't enough. You need to get the fellow eurovision contestant to actually touch you where you need to be touched.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: in this version of eurovision no drama is happening, no dq etc, everything is just nice ❣️ i'm leaving for vacation tomorrow (to the netherlands actually lmao) so i probably won't be able to write anything for two week, i'm sorry babes :( filling up my inbox with requests, thoughts, feedback etc is still encouraged tho 💌

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, SMUT, nsfw, fingering (f receiving), protected sex, piv, swearing, consumption of cigarettes, not proofread

His hands were the first thing you noticed about the man. The way he held out his hand in front of you, greeting you with a handshake (which you thought was a bit odd). His hand felt firm yet gentle in yours and you couldn't help but admire the digits tattooed on his fingers.

"Nice to meet you," he had smiled at you and your heart had fluttered just a bit.

Your quick infatuation with Joost and his hands really was poorly timed. You were at eurovision to represent your country and you were supposed to be on your best behaviour. Absolutely no distractions allowed. Too bad thoughts of the blonde dutch man doing ungodly things to you kept intruding into your mind.

So you really shouldn't be spending as much time with him as you did. Always finding an excuse to talk to him in between rehearsals or at breakfast (your favourite because it meant you saw Joost's messy hair in the morning and maybe sometimes you imagined your hands were the ones responsible for that). Your vocal coach would be furious with you if she found out that you had been starting to sneak off with Joost whenever he went for a smoke. Just talking and laughing with him as you watched him smoke. Always paying close attention to those hands when he lifted one of them to his mouth to take a drag in between sentences.

"I think I might be a bad influence on you," he said. "You need to take care of your pretty voice," he mused with a smirk and you swear you caught him eyeing you up and down.

"Don't worry about me, I'm already corrupted," you joked.

"Really, how so?" Joost asked with a grin.

You watched as Joost took another drag, his cigarette delicately placed between his fingers. Oh, what those hands could be capable of doing to you. You couldn't help but let your thoughts wander off again. You wondered how his hands would feel on your hips if you were sat on his lap, his hands guiding you to grind against him. How his hands would feel in your hair, pulling on it while his mouth would kiss along your neck. How his hands would on your throat while he would thrust into you. How his fingers would feel slowly pumping inside of you, hitting all the right spots.

Joost raised an eyebrow when he noticed your absent state.

"You will have to find out," you said smirking.

"Mysterious, I like it," Joost said and finished off his cigarette. "After you," he said after he opened the door. You walked past Joost and your hands lightly brushed against Joost's. Shivers on down your spine.

You decided that maybe the only solution to your problem was to actually get into Joost's pants. Because then all your thoughts and fantasies about the man wouldn't have to plague your mind anymore when they would become reality. So you decided you would do anything in your power to achieve your goal.

~

You were sitting across Joost in a waiting area. He was handsomely dressed in that black jacket with the dark europe tie and his glasses with the thick brims. His fingers were nervously playing with the cord of his headphones. He looked ravishing. You crossed your legs which caused your thighs to be on full display with the short skirt you were wearing. You hoped Joost would notice and maybe also think about how his hands would feel so good on your thighs (and other places also).

"Excited for tonight?" you asked Joost.

"Huh?" he asked confused.

"The semifinals preparty," you reminded him.

"Oh, yeah," he nodded as he remembered. "Are you gonna be there?" he asked.

"Only if you're there," you said and Joost smiled.

"Then I'll be there, anything for you," he said.

"Anything?" you asked cheekily. Joost narrowed his eyes at you and gave you a grin.

"You will have to find out."

~

Joost's eyes immediately landed on you as you saw him enter the party. You were swaying your hips to the beat, hands up in the air as you enjoyed yourself on the dancefloor. You grinned at Joost and he didn't need to be told twice as he made his way over to you. You wrapped your arms around Joost's neck to hug him hello, still swaying to the music. Instead of hugging you, Joost put his hands on your hips and smiled at you as he probably assumed you wanted to dance with him. You didn't complain. The thin fabric of your skirt didn't serve much as a barrier between your skin and Joost's grip and still you wished the skirt was gone. Your fingertips cautiously dipped into the hair at the nape of Joost's neck and Joost responded by pulling you closer to him. It still wasn't close enough. Joost leaned down to whisper into your ear.

"You look very nice," his breath ghosted over the skin on your neck and your breath hitched.

"You do too," you said and it was almost sweet. You needed to get him out of here as fast as possible. "You wanna go for a smoke?" you proposed.

"I don't have any cigs left," Joost said.

"I think I saw a cigarette vending machine in the lady's restroom," you said and took Joost's hand in yours to lead him through the crowd. As you reached the door to the restroom you could feel Joost hesitating. "Don't worry, there's no one inside," you said and scurried through the door frame. The door closed behind Joost and the music was reduced to some sounds in the distance. Beside the vanity was the vending machine you had spoken of.

"This is a condom vending machine," Joost stated.

"Oh," you giggled. You took out a euro from your purse and proceeded to buy one condom. "Well," you said as you took the condom from the slot. "There's always other vices you could indulge in instead," you smirked at him.

"What are you proposing?" Joost asked, his hand leaning against the wall beside you.

"What does it sound like I'm proposing?" you looked up at him, condom in hand.

Joost took the condom from your fingers and put it in his pocket before he leaned down and his lips crashed into yours. His right hand held the back of your head, the other grabbed you by your hips. Your lips hungrily moved in sync with each other before they opened and your tongues met. Your arms wrapped around Joost to pull his body closer to yours. You wanted him to feel your breasts pressed against his chest. You sighed into the kiss as you could tell that this kiss alone wouldn't satiate either of you. You blindly reached for the door of one of the stalls and pushed it open before you both stumbled into it.

You broke off the kiss briefly to lock the door of the stall, Joost's mouth eagerly kissing along your neck instead. His hands were resting on your waist, slowly pushing up the fabric of your top to reveal your stomach. You were pressed against the wall of the bathroom stall, not an inch left between you. Joost's lips found yours again. You opened your legs slightly so Joost's leg could slip in between yours. His right hand trailed down your hip until it rested on your upper thigh. You couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hip against Joost's thigh as vivid images of him fucking into you flickered through your mind. You moaned against Joost's lips as you desperately needed to make your wants known.

"I- I- I need," you tried to get out in between kisses. "I need you."

"You got me," Joost murmured against your skin as he kissed down your neck again. "Don't worry, m’en meisje."

His hand ghosted up your thigh and pushed up the hem of your skirt. Your arousal was hot with anticipation. As his hand reached your panties his fingers softly grazed over the fabric right where your clit was. Your hips bucked lightly and Joost grinned against the skin of your neck.

"So eager," Joost tutted.

His fingers carefully pushed your panties to the side until his fingers could dip into your folds. Your head fell back and you bit into your lip to stifle any moans you otherwise would have let out if you two were in private.

Your folds were slick with arousal eliminating any friction as Joost's fingers started circling your clit.

"You're so wet for me," Joost whispered against your ear. Your hands were desperately grabbing onto his shoulders, keeping yourself upright as your knees buckled. Joost's other hand was resting by your side, keeping you close to him. "So ready for me," he said, voice as soft as ever.

Joost stopped circling your clit and you almost let out a groan in frustration. His fingers inched closer to your entrance until they slipped inside of you. Your mouth slacked open, eyes tightly squeezed shut and Joost's hand caressing your side. Your nails dug into Joost's skin as his fingers slowly pumped in and out of you.

"You feel so good," Joost murmured against your ear. "I bet you would feel so good around my cock." You let out a loud moan as his words triggered your vivid fantasy. "Would you like that?" Joost grinned against your skin. "Me fucking you properly?"

"God, Joost," you could only whimper.

"God, you're barely holding it together," Joost whispered. "You're so good for me," he said as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you.

Suddenly you could hear the restroom door fling open and the voices of two women enter. Joost swiftly pressed his hand on top of your mouth but still continued moving his fingers inside of you. Your mind didn't even register what the voices outside the bathroom stall were talking about as all your mind was occupied with was Joost. Your body was trembling and you did everything in your power to keep yourself from orgasming right then and there as you knew that you would not be able to keep quiet through it. Joost pressed gentle kisses to the skin on your neck as your heavy breathing only intensified.

A few moments later the door closed and you were alone again. Just as you were about to allow yourself to climax Joost withdrew his fingers from you, leaving you trembling uncontrollably.

"Pleaseplease, Joost please," you could only press out. Joost's hand caressed your side and his lips trailed along your neck.

"Sshhh, mijn lieverd," Joost shushed, slowly brushing your hair behind your ear. "I need you to be a little bit more patient," he looked at you fondly. "I'm gonna take you back to my room and we're gonna do this properly." You let out a frustrated groan. You could feel your slick arousal almost dripping down your legs. Joost smoothed down your skirt and top (and his own pants that hid his raging boner) and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. "Come on," Joost said with a grin, his hand held out for you to take as you still stood there dumbfounded.

Reluctantly you took Joost's hand and let yourself be led outside the restroom. You didn't take too many steps before you noticed Mona, one of the stylists on your delegation come up to you.

"(Y/N)!" she hugged you. "How are you?" Mona asked and you just stared at her blankly for a few seconds.

"Yeah, I'm good," you managed to sound out. Mona raised her eyebrows amused.

"Are you drunk? I thought they didn't serve alcohol here," she laughed. Joost looked at you with a knowing smirk.

"Aaaww, she's just a little exhausted," Joost saved you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders playfully. "I was just gonna walk her to her room."

"Oh yeah, she probably just needs some rest," Mona agreed. "We need her on her best game tomorrow," she joked and squeezed your shoulder lightly. "See you tomorrow!"

"See you," you smiled weakly as Mona walked away. Joost giggled beside you. "Shut up," you said and rammed your elbow into his ribs.

"Alright, let's get out of here."

Joost could barely close the hotel room door behind him before your lips were attacking each other again. Hands quickly roaming each other's bodies, grabbing onto any piece of clothing you could get a hold of to get rid of it. Joost's t-shirt was the first to go, swiftly followed by your top and bra. Your fingers fiddled with Joost's belt as the back of your knees hit the bed and you fell on it. You lay on top of it, only your short skirt covering you. Joost grinned down at you, observing your body spread out in front of him as he unbuckled his belt and took off his pants before he joined you on the bed.

You anticipated his lips to press onto yours again but instead, they found your neck again. His hands held onto your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried them in his hair, softly massaging his scalp. As Joost situationed himself in between your legs you could feel his hard-on press against your vulva through the fabric of your clothes. You let out a moan and Joost hummed approvingly against your skin as you could finally voice your lust for him.

Joost's mouth slowly moved down to your collarbones, alternating between peppering your skin with kisses and sucking at it. His fingers found the hem of your skirt and as he kissed along down your body he pulled the skirt down as well until you were only left in your panties. Your chest was heaving with how heavy your breathing was, anticipating Joost's next move. You let out a groan as his lips connected with the skin of your inner thighs.

"Stop being such a tease," you groaned and Joost grinned against your skin. Joost's fingers hooked in your panties before he finally pulled them down.

"What is it that you want, mijn lieverd?" Joost asked innocently.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you moaned frustrated. "I want you to fuck me finally."

"With pleasure."

Joost got up from the bed and you watched as he got rid of his underwear and you admired his length.

"Hurry," you nagged and Joost rolled his eyes with a soft laugh before he put on the condom you had bought earlier and got back in bed.

"So needy," he tutted, his lips just softly grazing yours. You held onto Joost's shoulders, his hand holding the side of your face before he slowly pushed into you. Your eyes momentarily blacked out as the pleasure spread throughout your body. Joost grunted against your skin also being lost to the pleasure. "So good for me," he praised and you wondered how much longer you would be able to keep it together.

He started slowly moving in and out of you. The slow rhythm, your hands in his hair and his lips pressed to your neck made all of this almost romantic. You wrapped your legs around Joost's hips to help him penetrate into you even deeper. With your hands in his hair, you grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head from where he was still kissing your neck until his lips found yours again. You moaned into the messy open-mouthed kiss before you softly pulled his hair again to make him look at you.

"Harder," you begged and Joost grinned at you.

Joost snaked his arm around your body to keep you in place, your bodies almost pressed against each other before he started pounding into you. Your nails dug into the skin on Joost's back as the moans tumbled out of your mouth uncontrollably. With each thrust, you were edging closer to your orgasm as Joost hit all the right spots inside of you. The sounds Joost was letting out of his mouth were heavenly, his grip on you dominant yet caring.

"You feel so good," Joost grunted and the sound of his voice pushed you over the edge.

Your back arched off the bed, your breath hitched and your muscles clenched until the wave of pleasure crashed down over you and you came with a series of obscene moans. As you were still riding out your high you noticed Joost's thrust becoming slopier and his moans louder until he came with stuttering hips and plopped down beside you.

You looked at each other breathing heavily and both let out a soft laugh. Joost lifted his arm to invite you to cuddle up to him. You rested your head on Joost's shoulder, your fingers softly drawing along the lines of Joost's tattoo on the side of his stomach.

"Was this okay?" Joost asked. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," you smiled. "This was perfect."

~

The ringing of your alarm on your phone woke you two up in the morning. Your limbs were entangled with Joost's, his heartbeat steady where your hand was laid on his chest. Joost rubbed his eyes, his hair messy and you never saw him look any cuter.

"What's this?" he complained before you got out of bed to turn off your alarm. As you turned around to face Joost again you noticed his eyes widen in shock. You stopped.

"What's up?" you asked blushing as Joost stared at your naked body. Confused you looked down your body and let out a gasp. "Fuck fuck fuck," you whispered, your hand in front of your lips. "This is bad." You sat down on the edge of the bed and you could feel Joost shift behind you to get closer to you. You looked down at your thighs which were littered in pink and purple hickeys. You desperately rubbed your fingers over them as if doing that could help you get rid of them.

"Oh, liefde," Joost said, his hand cautiously resting on your waist. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," you laughed unconvincingly, trying to calm yourself down. Joost's fingers softly grazed your collarbones and you looked down only to discover even more hickeys. "Oh god," you groaned.

"On your neck as well," Joost said meekly.

You put your face into your hands and cursed yourself for having chosen a very revealing stage outfit. "It's fine," you actually laughed this time.

"Are you sure?" Joost looked at you like a puppy who had just been caught breaking an expensive vase.

"Yes," you said and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Nothing some good foundation and an impromptu costume change can fix," you said although you already dreaded what you would have to tell your delegation about those hickeys. You leaned forward to gently kiss Joost's lips. "It was worth it," you said after pulling back and Joost gave you the proudest sweetest smile you had ever seen. Definitely worth it.

[bonny-kookoo]

Can we maybe see Snowball Princess reacting to Jin coming back?

Warning for angst, idk why it got angsty

You've never been very good with time.

Even when you were younger, you've always struggled with telling how much time has or will pass. It never got better the older you got- and especially nowadays, you've kind of given up on trying to learn such a skill altogether.

You didn't have to.

Yoongi took care of you- most of the time. When he had to go to his own basic training, you had to stay alone with staff- and that period of time was enough to.. change you, as the producer and rapper notices quite quickly.

You've become.. calmer. Quieter.

In order not to unnerve any of the other members, Yoongi had kept that to himself however- not quite thinking that one trough, since Seokjin’s discharge was still so far away. To him, this change has become the norm by now. He doesn't notice it any longer.

But now, Jin is back. And of course- he wants to see you.

He can't help but smile as he enters his apartment- it's obvious that you've been occupying it occasionally, blankets and pillows and other little items he doesn't remember being there. It's nice to see that you took everyone's invitation and advice to seek out their homes whenever you'd miss any of them- but what he's now curious of, is where are you right now?

Jin worried this would happen at some point with him gone.

He's been one of the people to always manage things so that you'd never feel like a spectator, always trying to include you to make you feel like an important part even if you had to be away from them here and there. But with him gone, these habits must've been neglected- because he can't get a hold of you now.

Yoongi informs him that you're at his place- but that reassurance doesn't last long, because he notices that once he enters the producer's apartment, you're sleeping.

It's not at all your usual routine.

"She.. now that you mention it, she has been sleeping a lot more these days." Yoongi notes, most likely not having noticed this change much since he continued to be close to you the entire time the other members were gone.

But to Jin, who hadn't had that luxury of visiting you often due to both company restrictions and time, the change to him is..

more than drastic.

He wakes you up with a hand on your shoulder, and once you do spot him and realize that he's back, your tail instantly begins to wag. But you don't tackle him down like you would've done before his enlistment period- you instead hug him tightly, simply wanting to be held for the moment.

"You're still sleeping, basically." He teases, though he can't hide his slight concern over it. "Let's have breakfast tomorrow, yeah?" He asks, and you shake your head at that, continuing to cling to him. "Hey- I'll be back tomorrow morning, promise!" He says, but you stubbornly shake your head. "Well, I guess I'll steal her for the night?" He laughs into Yoongis direction, who simply nods and smiles.

And while Seokjin still worries about the change in you, and what that might mean, tonight, he finally sleeps at home, with you close.

Just how it's supposed to be.

[goodomensafterdark]

GOAD Writer's Guild Presents: Tethered - Ch 10 - Anthony (AKA "The Gleafer Scene")

Chapter 10 of work in progress. Featuring the long awaited "Gleafer scene"

Inspired by artwork by the incomparable Gleafer

Go support Gleafer on Patreon! It will improve your life in ways you may never fully comprehend!

TW/CW: Angst, discussion of attempted suicide, implied character death, internalized homophobia, discussion of conversion treatment

Summary: Crowley wakes up in a mental hospital with no memory of how he got there. Without his demonic powers, neither the doctors, nor the people who claim to be his family will believe he is who he says he is. With the evidence against him mounting, his only lifeline to the real world is a cryptic note left by an unseen messenger. The longer he stays in this hospital, the harder it becomes to recall for sure, is Crowley really a demon of Hell? Or has his entire existence been nothing more than a delusion conjured by a grieving mind?

Excerpt:

He woke to the sensation of a depression in the mattress, a light squeeze on his arm and the sound of someone saying his name.

“Crowley?” they whispered sweetly.

He stirred and groaned. Peering through his lashes, he saw that most beautiful angelic face, the same one he had just been dreaming about.

“Hello, my dear,” Aziraphale sighed.

It was still dark. Angel must have just come home. He closed his eyes again. “Angel… Howwuz y’r trip?” he mumbled.

“My trip?” Aziraphale asked. “Oh, erm… alright, I suppose. A little disorienting. I brought you something to keep you warm.”

He shuffled closer to curl around Aziraphale’s form seated on the edge of the bed. “Mmmm… you keep me warm,” he hummed, blindly feeling for Aziraphale's hand and covering it with his own.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale cooed.

He felt Aziraphale gently comb back a tuft of hair from his face.

Wait… Crowley?

When he opened his eyes, reality rudely dawned on him. He wasn't at home, he was in a hospital. And this thing touching him, the thing he had sleepily snaked himself around, wasn't his husband.

Continue reading on AO3

Or start from chapter 1 - Dies Lunae

Special thanks to my beautiful betas

[hotmessmaxpress]

Rosquez Horror AU, part 3

Vale notices the bags underneath Marc’s eyes on Wednesday afternoon, when he lands at the airport and sees Marc for the first time in over a week. Marc had a break between races and Vale expected him to have gotten at least some rest, while Vale is joining from a WDC weekend. He’s surprised to find that Marc looks so tired. 

“Vale!” Marc greets, happy to see him despite looking so exhausted.

“Marc,” Vale says happily. He doesn’t comment when Marc gets in the passenger seat of the car, forcing Vale to drive. Judging by the exhaustion on his face, it’s probably safer for Vale to drive. 

“You look exhausted,” he finally says, as he watches Marc’s head loll to the side and then jerk upright for the fourth time. “You should sleep while I drive.”

Marc gives him an apprehensive look. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be bad company.”

Vale smiles. 

“I’m happy to have you around, even if you’re asleep.”

Marc gives him a genuine, blinding smile, and Vale takes his hand. 

“Sleep, love.”

Marc falls asleep almost immediately, snoring softly in the passenger seat as Vale drives them to the track. He’s given up pretending to stay somewhere else, and isn’t wasting time checking into a hotel. He knows he’ll end up staying with Marc in his motorhome anyway, so he may as well go directly there. 

When they arrive at the track, Vale parks the car but doesn’t wake Marc. He wants to give him time to sleep, because he clearly needs it. Vale engages the parking brake and then opens a game on his phone, content to sit there while Marc gets the rest he desperately needs.

Vale finally wakes him up an hour later when he decides Marc’s neck is probably pushing its tolerance for the position he’s in. 

When he gently touches Marc’s shoulder, he’s shocked when Marc sits bolt upright, jerking away from him with a gasp. His eyes are wild and his breathing turns ragged. Vale holds his hands up in surrender.

“It’s just me, love. We are at the track. We can sleep when we get to the motorhome.”

Marc rubs the sleep out of his eyes and nods. 

“Okay. Good idea.”

Vale doesn’t mention the terrified look in Marc’s eye when he woke up, and he instead climbs out of the car and grabs his bag. 

The paddock is only sparsely filled, with only mechanics roaming around and getting work done. The media and medical staff will all come tomorrow, but for now Marc and Vale are left alone as they make their way to the motorhome. 

When they step in the door, Vale is surprised to see that all the lights have been left on, and the blinds are all open. 

Vale steps toward them to shut them. 

“Lay down,” he says gently. “I’ll close the-”

“No!” Marc protests. “Leave them open.”

Vale pauses, turning to look at Marc in confusion. 

“You want to sleep with the lights on and the sun in your face?”

Marc nods. 

Vale considers for a moment whether or not he wants to press Marc on this, but thinks better of it. He knows that Marc has been having occasional nightmares about the Cavities; he told Vale what he saw happen to the Pramac woman, who still has not been found. 

He hopes that maybe his presence can help stave off the nightmares enough for Marc to catch up on some sleep. 

“Okay,” he says, gently. “Let’s lay down, then.”

He climbs into the bed and Marc wastes no time climbing into his arms and falling asleep. 

Marc wakes up in Vale’s arms, finally feeling rested for the first time since the Shadow started haunting him. He’s at once both happy to have Valentino around and seized by terror that the Shadow will terrorize Vale along with him. 

Marc tenses, dragging in a shallow breath. 

“Good morning,” Vale says with a smirk. “Or, good night, I suppose.”

Marc slept all the way until night. He feels panic well up in his throat. The lights are all on, but that doesn’t mean they can’t go out. He swallows thickly. 

“I didn’t mean to sleep so long,” he croaks.

“That’s okay,” Vale says gently. 

Marc is so in love with this man. It nearly brings tears to his eyes that Vale is being this kind to him. He knows part of the flood of emotion he’s feeling is that he’s still so tired from sleepless nights, and the torment of the Shadow, and the memory of the days when Vale didn’t have so much compassion for Marc; didn’t have any compassion, really. 

“We should eat,” Vale suggests. “We can go pick something up.”

The thought of walking through the paddock right now makes Marc’s heart pound in his chest, but he doesn’t want to call attention to the Shadow. He hasn’t seen it since Vale arrived, but it’s only a matter of time before he sees it standing in the darkness, waiting for him to make a wrong move. 

“I- I am not hungry.”

“I am,” Vale says with a grin. “Come on.”

Marc allows himself to be tugged out of bed. He tries to keep his hands steady as he puts on his shoes, though his hands are shaking. 

When he looks out the window he sees that the lights in the paddock are all on. They’ll stay on all night, keeping the area illuminated to protect the valuable machinery housed in the garages and various buildings. He knows it’s meant to be secure, but he can’t help but scan the dark areas between motorhomes where the streetlights don’t touch. He holds Vale’s hand as they walk toward the parking lot, keeping the two of them in the center of the walkway and directly beneath the lights. 

It’s not until they reach Vale’s car that Marc sees it. 

It is frozen beneath a streetlight on the edge of the lot that has burnt out. It’s a circle of darkness among spots of light, and panic wraps around Marc’s lungs. He stares at it, knowing that it won’t move when he’s staring at it in the light. He takes a chance and looks in a panic at the car, seeing that the inside of it is cast in shadow. Without explaining, he turns his phone flashlight on, illuminating Vale as he opens the door and steps in. 

“Ow!” Vale says, covering his eyes as he turns the key. “What the fuck?”

The interior lights come on, and Marc turns his flashlight off. When he looks up, the Shadow is gone. 

Marc checks the backseat, a lump in his throat. 

“Marc?” Vale asks, and Marc realizes how odd he must look. He finally slides into the passenger seat. 

“Sorry,” Marc says. “I just thought you might need help seeing the keys.”

It’s a stupid excuse, but Vale keeps with his theme of giving Marc grace and doesn’t press him on it. 

Marc’s eyes keep drifting to the back seat, which is bathed in darkness every time they pass between street lights. Marc feels like he’s in a haze as Vale drives them to a takeaway place. Marc plays along as Vale orders and pays, and he holds the food on his lap when they drive back. He can’t shake the feeling that the Shadow is close by, and his tired eyes scan the side of the road. 

He sees it when they’re almost to the track. It’s still, standing, watching. Marc fights the urge to cry out. They’re safe as the car pulls into the lot, and Marc flips the overhead light on. He knows that it would only take seconds of being bathed in darkness for the Shadow to appear, slitting his throat with its claws. His hands shake as he thinks of Vale being hurt, and he opens the car door. He turns on his phone flashlight again, and Vale holds a hand up to block his eyes but doesn’t complain as he shuts the car off and climbs out. 

Marc nearly throws up as he shuts the door and sees the Shadow, now watching him from the dark backseat. Marc stumbles backward and nearly drops their food. Vale comes up to him and rests a hand gently on his back. 

“Marc, are you okay?”

Marc sucks in a deep breath. He can’t manage to respond. His eyes are locked on the eyes of the Shadow. Its eyes are lifeless, so dark that Marc’s panicked brain wonders if he’s really looking at eyes. It’s smirking at him, and Marc whimpers.

Vale grips Marc’s shoulder. He gasps and looks away for only a split second, and when he turns back around it’s gone. 

“You have to tell me what’s wrong,” Vale begs. “Now. I thought you were just tired, but I’m scared.”

Marc swallows.

“I’m being stalked by a Shadow.”

Vale’s eyes widen, and he looks around them. 

“No, an alert would have gone out by now,” he insists. “If one were detected in the area.”

Marc shrugs. “Maybe they missed it.”

Vale looks at him in concern. 

“Okay,” Vale says gently. “Okay. We can go back to the motorhome and figure this out together.”

Marc knows there’s nothing to figure out. There’s nothing that can stop a shadow. If he’s being stalked, there’s nothing he can do. He has to hope it gets bored and finds someone else or he will slip up and be killed. There’s no fighting, no running. Just surviving. 

When they wake up in the morning, the lights are all still on and they’re both alive. It’s a relief for Marc, but that doesn’t mean it can’t find him. In fact, many people who are hunted by Shadows are killed in the daylight; they’re lulled into a false sense of security and get careless.

Vale doesn’t seem concerned, even as Marc’s paranoid eyes scan all around the motorhome. 

“It’s okay, Marc,” he says. “Let’s have breakfast.”

Marc is on edge through breakfast and remains anxious the rest of the day. He does his media duties with a smile, practically a professional at lying through his teeth about how he’s feeling. 

Marc’s anxiety grows as the sun climbs across the sky and begins to set, casting longer shadows across the paddock and creating pockets of darkness. 

Vale seems to sense Marc’s unease, but he’s unfortunately as concerned as Marc. They’re walking along when Vale steps into a particularly dark corridor and Marc yanks him back. Vale turns to him with a flat look. 

“There’s nothing there, Marc.”

He’s not wrong, and Marc doesn’t want to argue, but he knows that it doesn’t matter if the thing was standing in the darkness. It doesn’t take them any time to travel between patches of darkness, and standing there for even a moment could call it to them. Marc makes sure to walk squarely in the light for the rest of the evening, hoping that Vale will stick close enough to his side to keep him safe. 

Things are fine until they get to Marc’s trailer after dinner, and Vale closes the blinds and begins dimming the lights. 

“No,” Marc says. “Please leave them on.”

Vale sighs but does as Marc asks. The air between them is oddly tense, but Vale leaves the lights on as they slip into bed together. Marc’s exhaustion overwhelms his anxiety, and he falls asleep tucked against Vale.

When he wakes the lights are off. 

His entire body seizes up with fear. The lights are on in the other room, so he realizes with horror that Vale must have turned the lights off. 

Marc looks up in terror and finds that the Shadow is standing in the corner of the room, staring at him. 

Marc is frozen. The terror of looking at it has overwhelmed him. It’s so horrifying to see the creature blending into the shadows, waiting to attack. It doesn’t move while Marc stares at it, and he finally manages to free his arm to reach over and grab his phone. He turns the flashlight on and the monster disappears, and he stumbles out of bed to turn the lights on. 

His knees are shaking so badly that he collapses there, leaning against the wall and gasping for breath. 

Vale sits up, and Marc immediately wants to scream at him.

“Why would you do that?” he says, sounding pleading rather than angry. “Why would you turn the lights off? It was- it was there.”

The look on Vale’s face is nearly bored. 

“Marc, I checked with the Anomaly Bureau. There is nothing. There’s no Shadow stalking you.”

Marc wants to scream. He points to the corner where it was. 

“It’s here. It was in the room with us! It could have killed us. Why don’t you believe me? 

“There’s nothing there,” Vale says. “Marc, it’s not there. There’s nothing there.”

“No,” Marc insists. “It’s there! It moves when the lights are off, I swear.”

“It’s not,” Vale soothes.

Marc sobs. “I saw it!”

Vale reaches over and turns off the light.

There’s nothing. 

He turns it back on. “You’re tired and under stress,” Vale begins. 

Marc’s stomach jumps into his throat. Vale doesn’t believe him; he played along last night but now that he has managed to go this long without seeing it…  He doesn’t believe Marc is seeing one. 

Marc schools his face into a politely blank expression. He doesn’t want to fight with Vale over this. He is tired and under stress. He is coming down from his shock and horror and now he’s just tired. He stays where he is, simply staring at Vale.

“You’ve been through something terrible. I know that what you saw happen to that woman must have been terrifying, but it’s making you paranoid.”

Marc hears the undertone. Get over it is what Vale really means. Vale doesn’t believe that Marc is dealing with something real, he just thinks he’s gone crazy. 

“Okay,” he says, not allowing himself to agree or disagree. 

If Vale doesn’t believe him, there’s nothing Marc will be able to do to convince him otherwise, short of letting the thing kill him. As mad at Marc has been in the past, he really loves the man too much for that, so he has to accept that Vale will simply not believe him. There’s no point pushing back. 

“Come back to bed,” Vale suggests. “It’s not sunrise, yet. You need sleep.”

Marc shakes his head. 

“I won’t be able to fall asleep again.”

Vale sighs, and Marc wants to cry. He keeps his face impassive, not wanting to let Vale know that he’s in absolute despair. 

Vale observes him for a moment and seems to deem it not worth arguing over. He lays back down, and Marc manages to pull himself into a seated position.

“Turn the lights off,” Vale says, from where he’s shoved his face against his pillow. 

Marc hesitates, then stands on shaky legs. He turns the lights off and slides under the covers next to Vale.

His eyes lock on the corner of the room, where the Shadow has returned. It stands there, staring, until morning.

[thelovelywriteress]

➷ Night without pillow

▶︎sᴀᴋᴜʀᴀ xғ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

────────────────────────────

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╰┈➤ After so much nagging you are finally in Sakura's home. Now what events this beautiful or funny night at his home will take?

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Sakura was pretty nervous to have you in his home. No wonder it take you so much time to make him take you his home.

You were pretty excited and Sakura almost hated it. He told you there is nothing special about his house, so why are you smiling like some kid in amusement park?

You enter his house and fact word that your mouth was 'small'. Sakura almost hit you but then you added 'cosy' too and now that cutesy word is stuck in his mind.

It was small apartment but you still happily look around while Sakura just gaze at you from main room and soon you joined him too.

"Finished your tour?" Sakura ask in sadistic manner but your next sentence just made him almost exploded due to flusteration.

"Was just looking around at the place I got to live after marriage." Oh boy, I am suprise how he didn't just choke after your blunt reply.

"W-What marriage?"

"Don't you know idiot, people who become couples later married each other too. You are just so innocent Sakura-chan!"

Of course he know that's what couples are supposed to do but many break apart even before reaching twenty. But still his heart flushes at the thought of you being his wife. He would die to experience that part of life.

Soon night arrived and the question he despised the most, came up.

"Do you got some extra pillows?"

"Actually I don't have pillow at all."

Sakura hide his face feeling ashamed. He didn't even have such a basic thing, what else will you expect from him now?

You, on other hands was confused. Did he have any problems taking pillows? You did question him but he simply replied never own one.

"Why you poor child?" You tear up and hug him with your hands continuously patting his hair for comfort.

Sakura was blushing message. He can never come embarrassment he get from your physical affections.

"Don't worry we will spend whole night talking without any sleep and then we wouldn't need pillow anyways!"

Sakura was confused but he let out a brief smile. When it comes to talking no one beats you and now you need to make Sakura feel interested, you will definitely do your best (talking).

You both side against wall, under window as you started to told him about some cat you saw on roadside two days and so on. You didn't even notice but then you heard light snoring.

As expected Sakura had fallen sleep. You quickly take a glance around empty house, pulled his head on your shoulder and then put your cheeks on his soft hair and with this you both fall sleep under the shade of moonlight.

At morning you wake before Sakura. He was still sleeping but now he even had his hands wrapped around you. With tinted cheeks you smile at his gesture.

You was about to pat his head when you realised about if he never owned pillow, he probably never even sleep on one. And for some reason a embarrassing solution also came to your mind that made you almost awkwardly giggled to yourself.

Sakura wake feeling his head being stroked and his face on something. . .soft? He fully grasped the situation he was in and break down with his face red as tomato.

His face was on your chest and for some reason you didn't seem to be mind,"Oh? You wake." You nonchalantly ask,"What the hell?" He yelled as you scold him for being so loud in morning.

He quickly take his head up, questioning you about previous position you was in. He knew you were nonchalant but this was too much!

"You said you never owned pillow . So this means you never sleep on one. So I decided to make you rest on softest pillow around."

You said with the wink as his face remained red. With a quick giggled you again pulled his face against your chest as he almost scream while you just ruffle his hair in amusement.

After that he was afraid to spend night with you alone. . . .and especially if their weren't any pillows around."

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Yeah guys so I have watched first episode of Wind Breaker and safe to say fall for our mc at first sight. 😌🫶

Like Sakura is literally my type of boy. Can resist a punch but no a kiss?🤭 Definitely.

Okay so at same time I am watching Fruits Basket too and he reminds me of Kyo too!😗

Maybe I will write about him or someone else from series too, I don't know (⁠◔⁠‿⁠◔⁠)

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[pacienties]

Oh so like I have been thinking about ot5 emo txt as your academic rival lol it would've been better if you add smut🎀 shy reader x mean txt

— emo txt as your academic rival!

warnings <3: !mean txt + !shy sweet reader, !smut, cursing, !txt nd reader r in college, !rich reader + !broke txt, parties with mentions of txt being a pot head! + fluff! &&& reader n txt like each-other, txt struggles with mental illnesses basically, pervy stalker txt kinda, txt has one sided beef with reader so (kinda enemies to kinda friends with benefits)

a/n <3: idk why i thought of chuck bass n gossip girl..

!emo txt as your academic rival who would down play all your achievements; constantly taunting you until you were brought to tears. “you’ve got an A on mr. callahan’s paper?“ the emo boy would ask you eyeing the red marked A on your assignment. with a timid nod you’d reply making the taller male scoff, “bullshit i bet daddy’s money is the reason why you got an A” he stops in his tracks before lowering down to your height “or maybe you fucked the professor? seems like something you’d do” before turning to leave you alone as you began to cry confused on why the boy hated you so much

!emo txt as your academic rival who would shove you into lockers and slam your books out of your grasp chuckling at how you struggle to compose yourself with whimpers :( he secretly thought you were so cute

!emo txt as your academic rival who would also be secretly jealous of you, how easy life was to you compared to him. you always got the highest marks while he was second despite him studying more than you did, you had a loving and rich family meanwhile his parents were never around much due to working shitty jobs and them emo boy was living in poverty.

!emo txt as your academic rival who hated sharing with you, the older male hated sharing the title ‘smartest in the whole grade’ with you, he hated sharing friends with you as well not really understanding why you were so perfect

!emo txt as your academic rival who hated that they liked you deep down, the emo boy liked your shy personality and how you always were nice to him even though he’s a total piece of shit :(

!emo txt as your academic rival who would throw the biggest parties on weekends, which surprised you when you first found out. you didn’t know the emo guy was that way, frowning at the sight of seeing the boy you secretly had a crush on smoking pot in the comfort of his bedroom apologizing frequently once he came charging at you at full speed with an angry face and a slam of his door. you were shaken up, you thought that was just a guest room

!emo txt as your academic rival who would be even more mean to you when you asked him about what he was doing in his bedroom earlier :( “what do you care about what i was doing? and who the fuck invited you over my house anyway? aren’t you supposed to fucking some professor for your next A?” the ravenette scoffed not buying your genuine concern. “why do you have to be so mean? im just worried about you” you’d say in your sweet voice making the boy in front of you melt “well don’t worry about it okay? now go home before the rest of the guys get here i don’t want you getting taken advantage of” the boy nonchalantly replies shooing you away “no im not leaving until you tell me what’s going on” you’d pleaded making the six foot male sigh in defeat. “fine just stay in my room and wait for me”

!emo txt as your academic rival who would dread the party ending meaning he had to explain your pushover ass what he was up to earlier, sighing as he watches you peacefully sleep on his dark sheeted bed. smiling faintly as you cling onto on his pillow quickly gathering that you needed something or someone to cuddle in your sleep ):

!emo txt as your academic rival who would wait until you were awake to explain himself not having the heart to wake you; “it just helps with my anxiety y/n it’s nothing serious like meth or coke” “you do know that cannabis such as marijuana actually can worse your anxiety right? it makes you so dependent on it too” “okay well i didn’t ask for a health lesson y/n”

!emo txt as your academic rival who would grow a soft spot for you after that night, he began to keep a close eye on you and would secretly be nice to you which shocked you to say the least. “another A cool congrats” the black haired male half smiles with a thumbs up. “you sure you don’t want a ride? it may not be a nice car like your dads but” the lowkey troubled boy asked you when you whined about your dad being swamped at work

!emo txt as your academic rival who secretly follow you in their beat up car home as you kindly told him you would be walking instead not wanting to burden anybody and the emo boy was half pleased because at least now he was able to find out where you lived <3

!emo txt as your academic rival who would sneak through your window every night just to steal small things he knew you wouldn’t notice, such as panties you rarely wore since you always bought new ones, and old bows you out grew he thought the way you dressed was just so cute ):

!emo txt as your academic rival who would freeze in his tracks as he watched you pleasure yourself through your window; he thought he were too innocent for that type of stuff. but what really shocked him was you whimper out his name the emo boy was so sure you hated him

!emo txt as your academic rival who would convince you to sleep with him and lucky for him you gave in; “okay but we’re using a condom and even then you’re pulling out and not making me suck your dick because i don’t know where you’ve been no offense” you stated matter of fact pulling away from the heated make out session you had with the older male making him roll his eyes with a nod

!emo txt as your academic rival who immediately bottoms out once he’s inside of you, the tip of his cock slamming in your gummy walls kissing your cervix making you squeal at the overwhelming feeling his length as you reach for his biceup. you weren’t a virgin but this definitely made you feel like you were due to his large size :(

!emo txt as your academic rival who was shocked when you didn’t wanna be together just yet; you wanted to take things slow and the right way but whatever you wanted txt were able to provide <3

a/n <3: the huening kai mistreatment is making me wanna..

[worldofkuro]

I love your writing, but Can you please do an Alternative Reality Where the reader dies in the frozen lake? or from how cold the lake is?

Thank you, dear. It means a lot. You really enjoy making Alastor suffer, don't you?

I will catch you.

You fell down the lake.

You fell down the lake.

He didn’t wait any longer and punched the ice with his bare hands, trying to widen the hole. He jumped into the water, not even caring about the cold. He opened his eyes and there you were, sinking peacefully away from him. He swam toward you, tugged you against him before swimming toward the surface but he couldn’t find the hole he came from. He punched the ice, trying to break it once more. He punched it again, one time, two times, and then his hand traversed the ice, breaking his skin. He was feeling his body trying to force him to open his mouth to catch some air.

Not yet.

He smashed the ice with his fists and lifted you out of the water, he didn’t care if he didn’t have air yet, he needed you to be safe first. He pushed you out of the water before getting his head out of it. He gasped as he grasped the edge of the ice, cutting himself once more. He lifted himself off the water and immediately went toward you.

“ No, no, open your eyes. Look at me!” He shook your shoulder but you stayed silent. He put his head against your chest. His heart was beating so fast he couldn’t manage to say if he was hearing his own heart or yours. He didn’t have time for that, he needed to be sure you were breathing. 

The snowstorm around him was raging, almost as strong as the feeling of anxiety he was feeling. He carried you until he was inside the cottage and took your clothes off, lighting up a fire and tried to hear your heart. He was breathing hard, sweating so much and yet you remained cold.

He inhaled deeply, calming himself. He couldn’t help you if he was drawing in his own emotions. He calmed himself then put his ear against your chest and waited to hear your heart.

He waited.

He waited.

How odd, he was supposed to hear your heart now that he was calm.

He freeze.

No… 

He jerked his head up, looking at your face. He touched your cheek, your skin so weirdly cold. 

“ Dear ?”

He poked at your cheeks multiple times before resting his head against your chest. He could only hear his own heart, yours has stopped beating. He stared at the fire in front of him, well maybe you were too cold, he needed to warm you up. Your heart would start beating once more then.

But what if you were really dead?

He laughed out loud. Nonsense ! You couldn't be dead, not before he had asked you to bound your souls together. You wouldn’t do that to him. You just needed a little help to wake up, nothing serious. He stood up and roamed in the cottage, looking for blankets before putting it on you.

He sat next to you and waited, he was known for being a patient being. He could wait. That was a close one.

“ You almost scared me, dear. How vile of you, I let you rest the time you need, I’ll wait.” he laughed as he stared at your face, waiting for you to open your eyes.

He waited.

He waited.

“ Oh my lord, Alastor !”

He turned his head toward the door, watching as Alice and your parents entered the room. Why were they here? They were going to disturb your rest. He almost pounced on your father when the man rushed toward you, touching your neck. You needed to rest!

“ Please, let her rest. She fell into the lake minutes ago, she needs to rest, I took care of her.”

He raised an eyebrow as your father stared at him, tears in his eyes. How overdramatic, you would wake up. He looked at the ladies behind him who looked at him with horror. 

“ Alastor… When did my daughter fall into the lake?” your father asked, his breath shaking.

“ Almost one hour after I came here. She should wake up soon.” he said, stroking your cheeks. Still cold even with the fire… 

“ Alastor… You’ve been gone for three days.”

…

Alastor looked at the windows, seeing as the snowstorm wasn’t raging outside. Three days?  You’ve been asleep for three days? He knew you always liked to laze around but three days was too much, you needed to wake up now. 

“ Well, she's been sleeping since then.” Alastor tilted his head as your mother began to sob, stroking your hair. Why were they crying?

“ Oh god… My little girl…” your mother cried as she stroked your hair. Alastor frowned as he looked as Alice walked toward him, sobbing. What was going on? He tugged Alice toward him, piercing her wrist’s skin with his nails, making her gasp.

“ What is going on?” he whispered, his voice cold.

“ Alastor… She is dead.” cried Alice.

Dead, huh?

It couldn’t be. You weren’t meant for death. You weren’t meant to be held by death’s sweet embrace. You were supposed to be inside his embrace. He stared at your face, your skin paler than usual, almost sickly. 

He felt cold. 

Dead..?

He killed so many animals, he knew what death was about. You would never open your eyes again, you would never smile at him, never stick your tongue at him because you didn't know any witty comeback. You were…

Dead.

Alastor began to tug as his hair, laughing, his smile wobbling. You left him? In this world? You left him all alone. How was he supposed to act? You were always the one coming back to him even if he couldn’t catch you, but he would always find you. And now, you decided to go somewhere he couldn’t follow?

He stopped laughing, as his body froze. Your body was going to be buried… You would be out of reach, materially speaking. 

He stared at your face, his smile getting darker with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

It was a new game ! You were always fond of finding news games to play. Weren’t you too old for that now?

As your parents and Alice were crying on your corpse, Alastor’s grin was getting bigger and bigger. With his new founds on voodoo, maybe he could trap your soul to him forever. You would be forever his, no one would see you but him, no one would interact with you but him. That was your new game, right, darling?

You were challenging him to find you once more! How cute of you.

He stood up and walked toward the big window, smiling. The snowstorm had stopped but he could feel its energy inside him as a new goal had germed inside his twisted sick mind. He laughed maniacally as the cries of the other could be heard, his smile beaming.  He was laughing until tears were falling from his eyes, making his view blurry.

Maybe that’s why he thought he saw his eyes reddened when he watched his reflection in the window.  

[soupangel]

gojo x reader having a baby girl 🥹🥹 I wanna see girl dad satoru plsss 🥹😭

Papa-Michi Day

Synopsis: Michiru loves spending time with her Papa

warnings: reader is referred to as mama, very very brief pregnancy mention (just in the first sentence)

wc: 1.6k (wow.. are we proud)

a/n: I have an unhealthy obsession with dad!gojo so thank you for this request

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You would think that because you were the one to carry her for nine months that she would at least look a little like you. But Michiru came out looking one hundred percent Satoru. Bright blue eyes, white hair, and she even got his smile. It didn't help that she was also attached to Satorus hip, always following him around like a little duckling. It's absolute hell trying to get him to work on time because he always gives into Michirus' cries of “ just one more kiss papa, one more”.

The sound of tiny grunting is what woke you up this morning. Blinking to wake yourself up you sit to see little Michi trying to climb up onto the bed.

“Michi, honey what are you doing?” you whisper as to not wake Satoru.

She huffs and says ” I get up.” looking at you as if it was obvious, and you suppose it was seeing as she does this almost everyday you should've expected her this morning. Satoru was already looking into tiny steps to put by the bed because of course he was.

You go to pick her up and bring her onto the bed with you to end her struggling. Sitting back against the pillows with Michiru in your lap you brush through her bed head.

“How did you sleep my darling”

“Good mama” she says leaning into your hand.

“Yeah? Did you have any fun dreams?” 

“Ummm there was a unicorn in the livingroom and Papa got mad because it made a poo poo on the carpet” she giggles

“Oh my that's so silly Michi!” 

She sits up straighter in your lap and looks at the sleeping Satoru next to you. You know she wants to wake him up, it's why she came in here in the first place.

“I wake up papa now?”

“Yes darling you can wake up papa now.” You laugh.

She beams at you then crawls over to where Satoru is sleeping, lying on his back, vulnerable to  the attack that is about to befall him. You have to hold in your laughter as Michiru flings herself onto Satorus chest.

“Wake up papa Michi is here!”

Satoru wakes up with a start, all the air in his lungs getting knocked out of him. He has to catch his breath before he can answer Michi, his sweet little angel who can do no wrong. He brings her closer to his face and hugs her tightly and pets her hair. 

“Michi, what have I said about jumping on me while I sleep”

She hums as she thinks before answering.

“To not do it.”

“Yes and what did you do just now?”

“I jumped on papa”

“Right, we need to work on our listening skills, I think.”

Michiru picks up her head from her Papas shoulder and looks at him with her puppy eyes that make Satoru melt every time.

“I'm sorry Papa, I just so excited to see you.”

Satoru looks as if he's about to cry when he dramatically throws his arms around Michi declaring how he can never be mad at his little Michi. You just shake your head as you get up to start on breakfast Pancakes of course because Michi also inherited Satorus sweet tooth.

Your Husband emerges from your bedroom not even five minutes later with your daughter on his hip. Bed hair not yet fixed he looks just like Michi did when she first came to your room.

“Good morning Mama!” Satoru says before placing a very dramatic (and wet) kiss on your cheek, making Michiru laugh.

You make a show of dramatically wiping the residue of his kiss off your face. 

“Good morning Papa, good morning Michi,” you turn back to the stove to flip the pancakes. “Go sit down, breakfast is almost ready.”

“Yes ma'am” Satoru salutes.

He makes airplane noises as he flys Michiru throughout the dining room, her laugh echoing off the walls, and plops her down in her chair. As if they prepared this, which you wouldn't put past them, they both picked up their fork and knife and started banging them on the table, shouting “Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes!”

You walk through the doorway leading to the dining room holding a plate of steaming pancakes in one hand and  a bottle of syrup in the other. 

“Alright, Alright, it's ready!”  you say, putting down the plate in front of them. It takes them all of three seconds to grab their pancakes off the plate.

“Thank you Mama!” They say in unison, digging into their breakfast.

You sit down to start eating your own, taking the seat right across from Satoru, with Michiru to your right. 

“You're welcome my loves”

It's silent for a few minutes while everyone is busy enjoying their breakfast. That is until Satoru loudly sighs and leans back into his chair. He lifts his head to look at you.

“Thank you for breakfast y/n.” He smiles.

“You're welcome Satoru.” You smile back. 

He gets up to take all of your plates into the kitchen but not without giving his favorite girls a kiss. While Satoru does the dishes you take Michi up to her room to get her ready for the day. Since it was Saturday that means it's what Satoru and Michi call a ‘papa-Michi day’. Where Satoru takes Michi out for the day doing whatever fun activities they can come up with, and you get the day to yourself.

Today Michi has decided to wear a pastel pink dress with her new sparkly shoes that Satoru just bought her. She does a little twirl in the mirror to see her dress poof before she looks at you and runs into your legs.

She tilts her chin up so it rests on your thigh and asks “ Do I look pretty mama?”

You swear you almost melted into a puddle right there. 

“Oh Michi, you are so beautiful!!” You kneel down so you're now face to face and kiss her forehead. “Let's go show papa how pretty you look.”

She quickly exited the bedroom and carefully made her way down the steps because there's no running on the stairs. But once she made it to the landing she sprinted to the kitchen, where they last saw Satoru, Shouting “Papa! Papa! MIchi’s ready!”

He turns around before she has a chance to crash into his legs and scoops her up into his arms. 

“Nooo this isn't my Michi, this has to be a princess!” He tickles her stomach.

She laughs as she says “ No Papa it's Michi! It's really me!”

Satoru pulls back to take a better look at her outfit. Quite different from how he saw her this morning, her hair is now done in two little pigtails. 

“Michi, you are the most beautiful girl in the whole world.”

She puts her head on Satoru's shoulder, she always gets shy when receiving compliments, something she did not get from Satoru, but you instead.

“Even prettier than Mama?” she questions.

“Of course but we have to keep that between me and you okay?”

“Okay!” She beams at him. She loves keeping secrets even though she's horrible at it.

“Hey! I heard that!” 

They both turn their heads to look at you in the doorway of the kitchen with your hands on your hips.

“Heard what?” Satoru asks, playing dumb.

Michi doesn't catch on to the fact that Satoru is only pretending because she turns her little head to his and says “That I'm more prettier that Mama.”

You hold in your laugh so you can torture Satoru a moment longer.

“Michi, it was supposed to be a secret.” Satoru whines.

“Oops sorry” she says and then quickly slaps her hand over her mouth.

You walk over to them both and give your daughter a kiss and lightly glare at Satoru.

“It's okay Michi, you can be prettier than mama.” You then turn to Satoru. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop teaching our daughter to keep secrets from us?”

He looks down sheepishly and softly apologizes

“It won't happen again.”

“Good, now you two better get going and start Papa-Michi day.”

You walk them to the door kissing them both Goodbye. They wave to you until you're out of their sight.

Michi decides today is a good day for the Park. She's not really dressed for the park but he, you only live once, and Satoru cant say no to her. Satoru helps her on the monkey bars, which really just means he held her up the entire way across. They raced down the slide and of course Michi won. To end ‘Papa-Michi day’ they stop for ice cream, which is usually how they all end.

As they walk home Michi spots some flowers growing on the sidewalk and tugs on Satoru’s hand.

“For Mama, we have to get them for mama.” she says pointing to the little yellow flowers.

“Of course mama would never turn down a gift from her Michi, Go pick them.” 

She hops over to the little flowers and plucks them out of the ground. She runs back to where Satoru is waiting for her and resumes holding his hand.

“Ok lets go '' she pants out, because running no matter the distance is always tiring for a four year old.

By the time they make it home, dinner is ready. You placed the little flowers Michi picked for you in a little glass vase in the middle of the table.  While you ate Michi told you all about her exciting day with her Papa.

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I would love to know what you thought! likes comments and reblog are always appreciated!

[spinchip]

Bloat

(Warnings: disrespectful discussion of self harm/suicide by a side character. murder. Lots of death.)

They're here about a series of murders. Nya doesn't know why they dragged the ninja out to this nothing town with its stone castle and still water lake, with its missing persons and their empty spaces. The ninja aren't detectives, even if Zane likes to pretend. With twelve people missing, Zane keeps his fedora at home and approaches this delicately. Nya wishes he'd put on that stupid hat.

She's also not sure why she keeps slipping up and saying murder when it's really just missing persons, officially. Eight men, four women, varying ages. All different kinds of backgrounds vanished without a trace.

The ocean mourned each dead fish, every shrimp swallowed alive, but it didn't interfere. Nya struggles to find the point to this. Everyone is somber and cold in the rainy afternoon fog. Jay tries and fails to speak to her several times, slinking away with his tail between his legs each time. She could have been nicer, less blunt, when she ended things. The river does not apologize to the stone it shaves to dust. Her thoughts still feel disjointed and off. The lake's surface is so serene it's mirrored, reflecting gray clouds and dark nights.

The first two victims were teenage boys who snuck out to buy cigarettes. They were supposed to meet a mutual friend but failed to show up. The living boy is distraught, a mess, consumed by guilt and grief and fear for his friends. Kai takes Nya by the upper arm and hauls her away from the group when she says something uncouth, insensitive, cruel. The ocean had no use for manners.

She dreams of drowning in a bathtub, but she doesn't struggle. She simply sinks under cold water, closes her eyes, and-

She wakes up vomiting brackish water over the edge of her bed and doesn't tell anyone.

The seventh victim is hardly considered a victim at all. She'd tried to kill herself three weeks before she went missing, and the rude cop with the badly trimmed beard scoffs at her inclusion in the list. Probably snuck off to the woods, he sneers, finished slitting up her wrists. Nothing to do with these other cases, just lumped in there to do it.

But her mother said she'd changed her mind. What is the significance in wanting to live when death will come for you regardless? She thinks about that girl the most, and hopes she found peace.

Nya feels more aligned with the blood under her skin than the rest of her body. Flow. Liquid. It rushes through her veins like whitewater rapids.

She dreams of inky blackness, encased by water. She wakes up vomiting water again, but Zane is sitting by her bedside with a bucket and paper towel. His eyes are cold despite how he tries to hide it. They're always cold, now.

Bad dream? He asks, reserved. It's a trap but she doesn't know how.

Go back to bed She says instead, rolling over and ignoring him for the rest of the night. He doesn't leave. She doesn't fall back asleep.

Cole gets her to eat even when bread and eggs taste like salt water and seaweed. She hates the taste of the water from the tap. The lake is covered by a thin layer of mist and it smells old and stagnant. Settled water, too much of it.

Charles, the older man who tends to the castle grounds, tells her it's a man-made lake. Put together by the previous lord and lady of the land, dug out by workers paid pennies. He worked on it when he was just a boy. He doesn't say much, and he doesn't do much around the castle. Old and feeble, his mind has gone spoiled. He looks at Nya like she's inhuman.

The last victim was the lord's son, Albert. He's the only one whose name they learn immediately, the police placing his file on top of all of the others and ranking him at priority number one. It's time to do something now that the lord's son is missing.

He'll have my head, Lord Vonnet will, if I don't return his son safely The lord's royal guard dabs his sweaty forehead with a damp towel.

You poor bastard, Nya says before she can think, get your affairs in order.

Lloyd is the one to drag her out of the room looking mortified. Zane follows him out and they exchange a handful of quiet words that Nya can't hear behind the raging waves crashing in her ears. Zane takes her out to the lake.

They are all dead he says simply.

Since before we even set foot in town she confirms.

They are in the lake.

She closes her eyes and sees still, black water. At the very bottom.

The wind blows a sour smell off the surface of the lake. It might have been beautiful, once. When it was fresh and the water was clear and blue. Before it was filled with rot.

I do not know who did it he confesses I keep having bad dreams.

I dream I'm drowning she offers.

I dream I am throwing bodies in the lake he gives back.

She stares at the horizon I feel nothing. Isn't that awful.

He shrugs the ocean does not care to investigate every whale fall.

Interesting choice of words. Whale fall. There are no fish in this lake, it's all man-made she looks at him with dull eyes you think something is eating

When I toss them in the lake i Am certain they will never be found

You're not bothered by this either

He shrugs again, an entirely human act for a man whose eyes are so detached, an Emperor does not care to investigate the death of every subject

She stands and ties her hair into a bun, I'll draw them up, can you make them float?

She doesn't bother waiting for an answer, sinking her awareness down down down to the bottom of the lake. She focuses on the vaguely human shaped masses in the water, cupping them and hauling them to the surface where she lets them go and returns to the bottom. She's so powerful now she doesn't need to step foot into the water to raise up the bodies. She begins to find cow and deer carcasses alongside men and women. She finds bones. She finds old jewelry and clothes.

Finally, she finds the animal.

It was given the name stronsay by the whales and sea lions up north, where these things are typically found. Giant sea serpents, rare in the ocean- non-existent in freshwater lakes. Especially never found in man-made ones like this, too barren to support life. It was juvenile, small, and had not yet shed its baby skin. It was not thriving in this fresh water, but it would have lived until it was too big to move in this thing.

Zanes frozen the bodies of the dead and dragged them ashore.

The lord's son is one of the dead, his body in a poor state. When the rest of the ninja and the police come, after they thaw out his body, they find a leather-bound journal where he talks about the pet he hatched from an egg he found in the cold waters on his last holiday. He wrote extensively about how hungry it was, and exactly how he fed it.

He couldn’t keep up with its appetite, Nya says, staring down at his wet, bloated body.

Icarus Zane mutters at her side.

What will become of the beast? The mustaches policeman asks.

We shall slaughter it! The Lady of the land wails, And stick its head on a pike!

It will be safely and humanely relocated Nya corrects her cooly, Do not allow anyone near the lake before it is moved. Unless you don't like them.

Nya Kai warns.

Later, while Lloyd oversees the beasts removal and the others are likewise occupied, Zane asks do you think we are like them?

Dead?

Changed forever. Call it rot, putrefaction, trauma- altered and, ultimately, lost He murmurs.

I would prefer to just be dead she says without thinking, a thrum of shock at the admission the first tangible emotion she's had in days. She remembers the seventh victim. She'd changed her mind.

Zane grins and it's all teeth, a baring of bone.

Where does that leave us, if we are changed? She looks away, staring out at the lake.

Alone He says simply.

We have each other, don’t we? You understand me. I understand you.

We do He looks at her and she looks at him.

The kiss tastes like saltwater and blood. She kisses him again.

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (11)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: Explicit (PIV, choking) Words: 2.2k Summary: Hidey-Hole

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Were you supposed to look him in the eye now?

You’d fallen into a deep sleep almost immediately after that earth-shattering orgasm and woken on the ground by yourself, a pack under your head for a pillow while he sat a few feet away and watched the wasteland. He hadn’t commented on the events of the night before, just given you a sly grin and asked you to put on something for breakfast since you’d slept through your watch.

Never mind he didn’t wake you for it.

You finally seem to be heading north, towards the mountains. You have a vague memory of traveling through here before.

“Do you think it’s better to try to find the old road or just head up?”

He’s walking a few feet ahead of you and doesn’t stop when he answers. “Lotta raiders on the roads, we’ll be better off cross-country.”

That made sense. It was a perfectly normal thing to say. Just two people walking companionably together.

It was going to drive you bonkers.

“Hey Cowboy,” you shout, taking a few running steps to catch up with him. He turns as you fall into step, his blank look almost making you falter. But you steel yourself and give him a winning smile. “Do we need to talk? Or not talk, maybe, but acknowledge? What happened?”

“You mean when I had my fingers in your cunt?”

Well, okay, that was one way of putting it.

“Don’t figure there’s much to talk about. You liked it?”

“Yes,” you say quickly.

“Wanna do it again?”

“Now?”

Your spluttering question puts a grin on his face and he makes a show of looking around. You’re in what used to be some sort of rest stop, several different buildings still mostly standing.

“Well, I wasn’t thinking right this minute but a fella could be convinced-”

A roar rends the air between you and you both freeze. You wait for him to verify what you really hope isn’t true.

“Deathclaw.”

Your heart drops. Scanning the horizon you try to pick out what he is seeing. “I thought they were further east than this?”

“You wanna be the one to tell him he needs to go home?”

They’re a rumble, almost like thunder, shaking you to your core. “Is that it?”

He’s got your arm in one hand, dragging you towards a run down building. There’s no door, and the interior is half filled with dirt. “Inside.”

“Inside what?”

The Cowboy gestures towards the ground, at a hole you had barely noticed. With his other hand he unslings his rifle, checking the chamber with a practiced flip. The hole itself is not big, large enough to crawl into on your hands and knees and extending back God only knew how far.

“What if something is in there?”

“You can lose a toe to a rad roach or your head to a deathclaw, sweetheart. I know which I would pick.”

He’s posted at the door, squinting off into the distance and you suddenly realize he intends for you to go in there alone.

“What are you going to do?”

“Hold it off,” he shrugs, “try to lead it away.”

“Can it smell us?”

“What?”

You grab his arm, pulling him into the house with you, “Can it smell us?”

“No, but it can see your ass just fine so-”

“Feet first,” you shove him at the hole. He glares but does so, sliding in without comment until you can’t see him any longer. His hat sits dejectedly by the entrance and you try to decide if you can pick it up when an earth-shattering roar splits the air. 

Well, nothing seems to have bitten him. 

You throw him your pack and then slide in feet first next to him, pushing with your hands against the fallen rocks and dirt. He reaches out a hand to help and between you you manage to shimmy down a few feet - maybe four in total from the entrance to the top of your head.

It’s not so tight you can’t move, can’t put a little space between you, but it’s difficult. You feel the arms he’s laying on move, a hand coming up to cover the shoulder dug into the dirt, and then he’s shifting you both until you’re lying beneath him.

“Both hands free now,” he grunts, pulling his pistol from its holster and laying it just past your head. Sure, he can see now but all you can see is his chest and dark concrete. He’s crouched over you, shifting upwards so his elbows are by your head, his knees on each side of your hips. You both stay silent as the ground shakes.

Shit, what if this hidey-hole collapses?

Another roar and you clutch at him out of instinct, burying your face into his chest. How close is it? Can it reach you? You try to slip further down but your feet hit more rock. 

Well, at least there’s nothing living in here.

Another roar, this time maybe slightly farther away. The Cowboy lets out a breath and shifts down so he can look you in the eye.

“I think it might have seen us, sounds like it’s hunting.”

His voice is barely over a whisper and you answer in the same low tone. “How long will it look?”

“Hour? Maybe two? Depends on if something else grabs his attention.” He glances down and seems to suddenly realize the position you’re in. A slow grin moves over his face and he shifts one foot between yours, kicking your legs apart and settling his hips down until they’re flush to yours.

“Seems like we might have a fair bit of time to pass.”

Your eyes widen in shock even as he pushes his half-hard cock against you. He looks pleased as punch about the fact. “You can’t mean to-”

“I do, and I will - unless you’re about to tell me no. That what’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

You consider it for only a moment before shaking your head. “No. I mean… yes.”

He tilts his head and licks his lips. “Well that’s about clear as mud.”

“I want you,” you finally settle on, getting a warm feeling when he gives you a genuine smile in return.

“No kissing, right?” he confirms, fingers playing with the strap of your dress. You nod silently, too afraid of what will happen now if you try to speak. It’s enough for him, slipping his hand beneath the fabric and twisting it down until it’s shoved under your breast.

“Well ain’t that a sight.”

His mouth feels like a brand, lips hot with a dry, almost raspy tongue laving against your skin. You should stop this, should tell him this isn’t right. It wasn’t right last night either but you didn’t care then and you can’t make yourself care now. It feels amazing and when he pulls your nipple between his lips there’s no thought left but how good he’s making you feel.

You groan, fingers digging into the rough skin on the back of his neck. He bites down, maybe a little too hard, and you nearly arch the both of you into the ceiling. 

“Thata girl,” he mumbles, fingers working at the other side of your dress until he’s got it pulled down too. You help as best you can, shimmying the straps down and then letting him push it to your waist. He rubs his face against you for a moment, pressing your breasts to his cheeks before turning and sucking your other nipple between his lips.

It’s too much and a harsh cry leaves you before you can stop it. There is an answering bellow from the deathclaw a half second later and suddenly a hand clamps over your mouth. The leather smells of blood and bile and you recoil.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he whispers, “if you can’t be quiet we’re going to have to stop.” One knee pressed at yours, pushing them further apart so he can hitch your thigh up on his hip. “And that sure would be waste of all this here attraction.”

You jerk at his hand, pulling it from your mouth then yank at the fingers of the glove. He understands immediately, using his teeth to pull first one, then the other off.  Staring directly into your eyes he covers your mouth with one palm, fingers digging into your cheek.

“Quiet as a church mouse,” he warns before ducking back down and nibbling at your breast. His other hand is on your thigh, pushing the skirt of the dress up slow enough you can tell he’s waiting for you to stop him.

You don’t, spreading your legs wider instead and shifting so he can cup his hand over your panties. It’s his turn to groan, albeit quieter than you had, fingers jerking at the cotton and twisting so he can slip against you.

“Ah, darlin’, you’re fucking soaked.” His accent is coming thicker somehow, laying over you like a blanket. His fingers toy between your thighs before pushing further, flicking over your clit.

It’s a good thing he’s got a hand over your mouth because you can’t hold back the noise you make. Suddenly he’s gone and you want to protest. You’ll beg, you’ll promise him anything, just…

He’s jerking at his belt and in your befuddled state it takes a minute to realize what he’s doing. But then you’re there with him, unzipping his pants and pushing them down far enough that his cock can spring free. It’s even hotter than the rest of him, enough to make you wonder if he’ll burn as you take him into your hand. He thrusts into your palm before knocking it away, guiding himself towards your center.

You try to brace yourself, try to relax into what you know is coming. But you can’t help the small muffled cry, or the way your eyes widen when he shoves himself into you. Your body goes rigid and his eyes meet yours, rounded with shock.

“Oh darlin’,” he mutters, his grip on your jaw relaxing slightly. He’s wide, almost impossibly so, even barely inside you can feel the stretch. “You sure about this?”

You nod, gripping his waist and trying to adjust your legs to take him easier. He watches you this time, easing forward in short movements a quarter inch at a time. Your slick eases the way and he finally seats himself, hips flush to yours.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, every twitch of him hard and hot inside of you. It’s scorching, almost uncomfortably so, but you can’t get enough. Soon the pain fades and you clutch your knees to his hips, arching your back to take him deeper. He growls when you do, tilting his head to bite against your neck.

It’s not gentle, not slow and rocking like you imagined it might be. No, it’s one hand over your mouth while he fucks you into the floor. You can feel his panting breath against your skin, hear the scrape of his knees on stone, smell the lingering scent of the chem he takes.

He arches over you, stilling suddenly and you feel a surge of disappointment. You knew it was likely this was how it would go - every bit of your education had been centered around your partner’s pleasure. Yet after last night you can’t help but feel like you’ve missed out, that this could have been so much better. He’d taken his time then, had seemed to enjoy getting you off.

“Not a peep,” he says lowly, eyes fixed somewhere over your head. You listen, so caught up in what was happening you had entirely missed the shuffling footsteps not ten feet away. Whatever it was was heavy, the ground rumbling beneath you.

Not thinking twice, you arch your back so you can tilt your head, trying to see what is happening. The movement causes the Cowboy to slip deeper inside of you and he hisses. The hand on your mouth goes to your throat, almost slamming you back to the floor and holding you there while he glares down at you. 

He hadn’t finished after all.

The warning look is all you get before he begins to move again - the new angle punching something delicious inside of you. It’s too slow, not enough to come, but you can feel it building even as the monster in the room roars. He fucks you like that until the deathclaw leaves - slow, almost angry thrusts that make your entire body rock. By the time he speeds up you can feel tears at the corners of your eyes, your hands clawing against his back.

“Please,” you whisper, eyes pleading, “please.”

He glances over your head then leans down, lips next to your ear. “You wanna come for me, darlin’? Squeeze that little pussy around my cock til I fill you up?” He snarls at the last word, shaking his head slightly and adjusting just a fraction.

It’s enough, you come with a strangled cry that he cuts off with a fist around your throat. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced, the edges of your vision going black as your body shudders beneath his. You hear him curse, feel him move, and then he splashes across your stomach and thighs.

It takes a moment for his grip to loosen, for him to let you take a gasping gulp of air and blink up at him with wide eyes. He looks just as dumbstruck, his lips parted and you can see his pink tongue run along his lower teeth. He leans down slowly, his eyes dropping to your lips…

You turn away.

☢ ☢ ☢

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[mintedwitcher]

I had a terrible awful no good very bad scene pop into my head and so now I must inflict it on you all.

(bucktommy, MCD)

Its a miserable fucking day. Gloomy and humid, with the promise of a storm on the horizon. He's got a flat tire and he's pulled over to the side of the road to change it. He thinks it'll be fine, he's got time before the storm hits. Time to get home. Time to see that gorgeous smile and those big blue eyes.

He's got time.

The storm comes out of nowhere. Drenches him in a minute flat. It's the kind of storm you can't even breathe through. Hard, heavy rain. Earthshaking thunder. Blinding lightning. His coat is soaked through in a matter of minutes, water rushing over his head. It doesn't feel like rain. It feels like he's under a faucet. Just constant water pouring down on him. His grip on the wrench slips as he tries to fasten the last lugnut on the tire. It's the last one, come on, he's so close to being done. Then he can get back in his warm, dry car, and get the hell out of here.

His grip slips again and this time, the momentum makes him tip forward, whacking his head against the tire well and his fist into the asphalt. He swears and shakes out his fist. That's not great. His boyfriend is going to worry. He always does. Those big blue eyes go so soft and concerned, his mouth tilts down, his brows cinch together. It's miserable.

He loves it. Loves him. There's a little velvet box in his car right now, hidden in the bottom of his duffel bag.

The last lugnut goes tight, and he sighs. He picks up the spare and throws it into the back seat. He'll worry about proper storage later. It doesn't matter right now.

He's still got time. They agreed on nine tonight. It's only a quarter til eight. He's got time. He opens the driver's door.

The headlights come out of nowhere and too late to react.

With a scream and a drawn out honk and the sickening crunch of metal-hitting-flesh-hitting-metal, all there is now is pain. Agony. Denial.

He's got time, right?

The car was so fast.

There's a woman in the rain now, screaming and sobbing into her phone as she stands over him.

"-out of nowhere-"

"-dont know, I think-"

"-y God he's still alive, you have to-"

He's... he's got time. Right?

Flashing red and blue. Sirens. More shouting. Thunder booms. Lightning flashes.

An ambulance. He knows what they look like. Seen enough of them. Worked in some too. Cleaned more than he can tell you.

He couldn't tell you his name now, if you asked.

He should've had time.

He's going to miss the movie.

Sterile, white, bright lights. A hospital.

No one's shouting now. Someone's crying. He can't turn to see who it is.

The slam of a door, a sudden hush.

"You don't need to be here, man."

"Yes I do."

A face hovers over his now. Those big blue eyes. That sad, concerned pinch in his mouth and across his brow. His eyes are shiny and wet. Is he crying? Why is he crying?

"Don't cry," he says, but it comes out garbled. Misshapen. Someone gasps. There's more crying.

"Don't try to talk," that sad, concerned mouth says. "You just sleep, okay? I'll be right here when you wake up, I promise."

"Thank you," he tries to say. Those big blue eyes go soft. He puts a hand to his face.

"Of course, Evan."

He closes his eyes. Tommy holds it together until the monitor flatlines.

They were supposed to have time.

[bellarkeselection]

Hi! I’m the person that requested the one shot for jay halstead x reader with fibromyalgia. To simplify it’s a chronic condition that causes pain all over the body. On some days the pain can be worse than other days. It’s called a flare up. (From personal experience my pain is about a 4 all over my body. When I experience a flare up it’s mainly in my legs and that can range from a 7 to a 10) Fibromyalgia also causes fatigue, brain fog/ forgetfulness and an increased sensitivity to pain. I hope this helps you and explains a bit of what fibromyalgia is.

A Great Caretaker

Hey there, thanks for sending me the description of fibromyalgia. I’m sorry this is short but I hope I wrote am okay request for you.

Coming out of the bathroom in my apartment I suddenly stopped gripping the doorway underneath my fingernails. I winced biting my lip hoping that I didn’t wake my boyfriend Jay who was sleeping in the next room. I tried walking forward but my legs suddenly flared up with more pain and I collapsed against the nearest wall. “Y/n!”

“Jay! I’m – I’m fine.” I called seeing him coming around the corner rushing to me instantly where he bent down on his knees in front of me.

He brushed my hair from my face helping me sit up with my back pressing against the wall. “You’re not fine. Okay, how many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three. Uh – Jay I’ll be fine.”

He stared at me silently scanning across my face knowing I was lying to him. He had seen it before when we went on our first date where we were supposed to go out to a restaurant but my flare ups prevented when I had some pain spreading throughout my back. We ended up ordering take out because of it.

I had been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia when I was very young. I had told him about how it effects me when I do have a flare up. It wasn’t easy having to deal with this.

He shakes his head no moving his arms underneath my back and my legs carrying me into the bedroom across from the bathroom. “Let’s go. I’ve got you babe.”

“Jay, there’s not really anything you can do – ahh!” I gasped feeling the pain begin to go up my back now along with the current pain in my legs.

Jay comes to sit down beside me on the bed. “Hey, hey, look at me. You’re not fine, okay. So how many fingers was I holding up a minute ago?”

“Uh – um two – no three.” I stuttered feeling frustrated that my brain was foggy over this illness that I have.

Jay nodded getting up to get me a drink and some medicine that was supposed to help me get through this flare up. Laying my back against the pillows I ran my hands down my face. “Jay, what about work today?”

“I’ll call Voiet. Don’t worry about that and just take the medicine.” He came back with some water and two pills watching me swallow them and take a drink before sitting the glass on the table beside me.

I winced sharply again feeling like my entire body was fighting a very harsh sunburn in the inside of my skin. “Ugh! I just want this to stop.”

“Anything I can do?” My boyfriend asked sending me a half smile, hating to see me in discomfort.

Closing my eyes I slide down underneath the covers patting the side of the bed next to me. “Come here please.” I figured I would just try and get some sleep instead of just laying here awake in agony.

“Just get some sleep, Y/n. I’ll be right here when you wake up and you’ll be all better.” He climbed back in bed, wrapping his arms around my waist. I snuggled into his warm embrace closing my eyes and instantly falling asleep in his arms.

Comments really appreciated ❤️