#— 🎃 . entries

[inga-don-studio]

I learned tonight that some of my coworkers DON’T pretend to be ghostbusters when using the backpack vacuum and I’ve never been more disappointed in my peers. Like look at this (stock image) and tell me what self respecting adult wouldn’t have the dang theme song playing in their head on loop ]:<

[joannes-journal]

A Revelation - Entry #3.5

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I have a really bad feeling about today, I can't shake it.

Bifrons has a meeting he's been attending and can't miss. Also, someone came to the door last night. This place isn't supposed to be found but, Abaddon came by to see the kids.

His kids...

He's also in hiding.

He left early this morning to meet with Bifrons, but I can't remember why.

Anyway, it's forbidden for any sort of angel to conceive a child with a human because the offspring usually become more powerful than the angel that helped to make them.

And these offspring have names: nephilims.

What if that's why that faceless guy is after them?

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[lix-ables]

new theme how we like?? also confession time cause why not? but also bc i was thinking about a scenario actually AND ALSO planning to write something cause i feel bad about not having kinktober

[elixirfromthestars]

A Night of Frights & Delights

Pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader (College AU)

Summary: It’s Friday the 13th and the college kids in town decided to host a weekend camping trip on the outskirts of town. Your best friend convinced you to go much to your reluctance. What could go wrong when the one guy you can’t stand is also there?

Word Count: 7k

Warning(s): slight horror themes / suggestive tones + implications / mentions of a past murder (not in graphic detail just campfire storytelling) / slow burn / suspense + other elements of spookiness / touch starved elements / be prepared for lots of back and forth + tension

Prompt: Campsite + forced proximity + “ It’s not bad enough to have Friday the 13th, we’ve gotta have a full moon too?”

a/n: here’s my entry for @witchywithwhiskey ‘s summer slasher writing challenge. Any chance to celebrate summerween and I’m there 🤭✨ I got carried away with the spooky element of it and this ended up longer than expected. Thank you for reading! 🧡 Feedback is always appreciated!! 🎃🧡

a steamy part two ❤️‍🔥

“ It’s Friday the 13th! Gather ‘round, for some good ol’ scary campfire stories!” Sam Wilson called out to anyone who would listen. A task that wasn’t the easiest thing to ask for when all the college students in the area were trying to have their last bit of fun before fall semester started. Amongst the ones that weren’t already drunk or passed out, a few were trying to find the perfect opportunity to sneak away into the night.

You on the other hand sat near the bonfire, appreciating the warmth it provided on this chilly night. Your back was resting against a log. The scratchy surface grazes against your black sweater at the slightest movement. Camping wasn’t your ideal choice for a weekend getaway, but when your best friend Jane insisted on you coming along it was hard to say no. Especially, since you had already said no to multiple get-togethers throughout the summer. 

It’s not like you didn’t want to hang out with her. The issue was that wherever she was her boyfriend was—and wherever he was his friends were. And his friends included one smartass star pitcher for your university’s baseball team who made it his life’s mission to be a thorn in your side. 

Needless to say, you couldn’t stand the man.

“ It was actually 1982, not 1985,” Jane whispers her comment to you, nudging your arm lightly. You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at her, your clueless eyes meeting her amused ones. 

“ You’re not paying attention to Sam’s story, are you?” She quietly calls you out, leaning slightly closer. You shake your head sheepishly,“ No. Kind of got lost in thought,” you admit. Jane nods in acknowledgment,“ You’re not missing much. He’s just telling the story of the murders that happened here in ‘82,” she explains. You nod slowly, an eerie chill creeping up your spine. Everyone within fifty miles of the town knew of the horrific crime. It was the worst the town had ever seen. 

A group of teenagers had snuck off into the woods to party a week before their senior graduation. They brought their camping gear to spend the night under the full moon to celebrate the milestone. They had gone so deep into the woods no one heard their music blasting all night. 

No one heard their screams either as their life was taken from them. 

You took a shaky breath, your fingers tracing random patterns into the dirt beneath you. Even though you could recite this story from memory it was different hearing it told in gruesome detail. Something Sam was not shying away from doing. 

“ Don’t let Sam’s story get to you—here have a s’more,” Thor spoke up, handing you a small disposable plate with a freshly assembled s’more. His way of trying to comfort you. 

“ Thanks,” you shot Thor an appreciative smile, taking the sweet treat. Jane’s boyfriend had always been kind to you and you got along well. The mutual friendliness extended to all of his baseball friends.

Well, the friendliness extended to all his friends except for one.  

“ He’s telling it wrong anyway, so don’t pay it any mind,” Jane says causing you to let out a small laugh. Leave it to Jane to alleviate your nerves by just being herself. 

You try to drown out Sam’s true crime retelling and focus on the sugary gooeyness on your lap. Jane and Thor snuggle into each other beside you and a small smile appears on your face at the sight. You take a bite of the s’more, letting the flavors melt into your mouth. 

“ The next morning the cops led a search party into these very woods. Everyone searched day and night for three days straight. Scouting every inch, no stone unturned, to find them. And then one day, one member of the search party found something. That member being my Titi—so listen close,” Sam sets up the big reveal. 

“ Wanna know what they found?” A voice you know all too well whispers into your ear from behind. The hairs on the back of your neck stand as his breath fans your ear. 

“ I already know,” you grit out, turning your head to glare at him. Bucky can’t help the cocky grin that overcomes him when you look at him like that. He makes his way over the log and sits right next to you. You don’t hide the displeasure on your face. 

“ Couldn’t find anyone else to annoy, James?” 

 “ None worth my time, sweetheart—and it's Bucky.” 

You roll your eyes biting back a snarky comment. No matter the number of times he insists on you calling him by his nickname, you refuse to. Only his friends call him Bucky, and you're not friends—far from it. So to you, he’s James and nothing more. 

“ We’re not friends, James. Friends don’t make you miss your biology final,” you remind him bitterly. He looks at you with slight disbelief,“ You’re still stuck on that? How is it my fault the party went until four in the morning?” You bristle at his defensiveness. 

“ I don’t know. Maybe by not kicking everyone out of your apartment?” you retort, taking another bite of your s’more. Hoping to lose yourself in the sweetness of it before the distaste of his presence taints it. 

“ At least the professor let you make it up…” he mutters under his breath. 

“ That’s not the point,” you snip, unable to let him have the last word. You pretend to focus on Sam’s story, but really your attention is on the flames in front of you. The way they dance and crackle as if telling their own story alongside Sam’s. 

Bucky stares at you, his eyes scanning every detail of your face. His favorite pastime is finding all the ways to push your buttons. There’s something about your reactions that he can’t help but want to see more of. He openly enjoys being the only one who can elicit such responses from you. Hell, you could say he was proud of it. 

“ Stop it.” 

“ Stop what?” 

“ The staring.” 

“ Don't want to.” 

You turn to give him a piece of your mind but abruptly stop when you see the way he’s looking at you—or more so the way he’s examining your lips. His eyes reflecting more than just the golden flames in the bonfire. There was something deeper and not entirely unfamiliar. He had looked at you this way before, and yet it was still unrecognizable to you. An emotion you couldn’t pinpoint, but that was heartstopping nonetheless. 

His hand lifts to your face, his thumb brushing away at something on the corner of your mouth. Your tongue instinctively darts out to lick your lips and remove whatever remnants of the s’more are left. Something unreadable flashes in his eyes. You wonder what he must be seeing in yours when his eyes drift from your lips to your gaze. 

“ You had a little something there,” his voice has a deeper cadence to it, contrasting the cheeky grin plastered on his face. That damn grin. It’s all you need to snap out of whatever trance you were just in. 

“ You’re insufferable,” you hiss out, getting up from your spot on the ground and stepping away from the bonfire. You hate how he does this—how easily he’s able to mess with you. It’s like it's his second nature to know exactly how to get a reaction from you. Almost as if he knew you better than you knew yourself.

The vulnerability of it all is what ground your gears the most. Bucky was used to this. The flirting, the back and forth, the teasing, and having girls wrapped around his finger. The last time you were in a relationship was your freshman year of college—a few years ago. It had been too long of being touch-starved that the slightest of touches or gazes brought about a yearning deep within you. One that you swore Bucky could see right through and it made you detest the man more. 

You hated feeling like you were being toyed with. But above all, you hated how much you actually didn’t hate the attention he gave you. 

You make your way over to one of the many trashcans around the campsite and dump the last bits of your s’more in along with the disposable plate. Your appetite for the treat long gone after his little stunt. 

You use your phone as a flashlight as you walk over to where all the tents are stationed. It’s not too far from the bonfire, but far enough that the voices of everyone drown out into a low hum. A few people are already in the tents enjoying the night without the warmth of the fire. 

“ Y/n! Hold up!” Jane calls out to you from behind. You face her confused expression, “ Everything okay?” You nod, your hands hiding in the pockets of your grey sweatpants,“ Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just gonna call it a night,” you say tiredly. You don’t want her to worry or keep her from enjoying her night. 

“ Okay…Are you sure? Because you seemed off after Bucky—” 

“ Please for the love of everything don’t mention him.”

Jane drops the subject entirely, “ Okay, okay. I won’t,” she assures you and pauses for a moment before she adds, “ By the way, I’ll be staying with Thor tonight, so you have our tent all to yourself.” 

“ Oh? Oh…behave yourself, Foster,” you warn her playfully. She rolls her eyes waving off your tease,“ No promises.” You laugh together—the exchange alleviating the heaviness in your shoulders.

After a light farewell, your best friend retreats to the bonfire. You find your eyes drifting from her figure to the back of Bucky’s head. He’s still sitting in the same spot, right next to where you had sat. He was drinking away at a beer as Sam continues his story. You look away, ignoring the way your heart feels a small pang as it wonders if it would have been so bad if you had stayed.

Only Bucky had this way of infuriating you, but enticing you at the same time. A magnetic push and pull that tugs at you whenever you’re near him. 

You crouch down and unzip your humble abode for the night. Gazing up at the sky before heading in. The moon is bright and full amongst the dark hazy clouds. 

“ It's not bad enough to have Friday the 13th, we've gotta have a full moon too?” you grumble before entering the tent. The knowledge of being in here alone all night sounds less appealing now. You wish Sam had told a different story to set the mood for tonight. 

For the next couple of hours, you lose yourself in your sketchbook. Every corner of the tent became your makeshift desk as the soft scratches of graphite filled the air. A small LED lantern casting just enough glow to guide your intricate curves and shadows across the paper. At first, you were sketching a flower you had seen earlier in the day along a trail. You don’t recognize the species, but the cluster of pretty violet petals vividly lived in your head and you wanted it forever memorialized in your sketchbook. 

At some point, however, the petals turn into doodles and then unrecognizable scribbles. The creative flow taking a life of its own. You soon find yourself drawing a pair of eyes on another page. Giving them a space of their own. These eyes you recognize deep down, but they still have the same unreadable expression from earlier. Almost as if you hoped to decipher it by putting it on paper. 

Maybe then it would be easier to look at them without being affected—without feeling that pull. 

There’s a loud thump that echoes close to your tent. You freeze at the sound. By this point, everyone had called it a night and retreated to their sleeping arrangements. It had been at least half an hour that you hadn’t heard a single sound except for the chirping of crickets amongst a chorus of other creepy crawlers. 

When no sound followed the thump you decided to ignore it—acting like you hadn’t heard a thing. And yet, your fingers swiftly moved to turn off the lantern and close your sketchbook, neatly tucking it beneath your pillow. 

Another noise rang out—the skidding of dirt. And this time it was closer to your tent. Not directly outside it, but almost. You don’t know why your heart dropped or why your fingertips went cold, but they did. You tell yourself it’s probably just someone going out to use the bathroom or some other related activity. 

Your body betrayed your mind as it started to feel enclosed in the tent. Like a prey caught in a trap. Hopelessly awaiting the moment the predator decided to take them out. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and with numb fingers, you grab your phone. The tent shrinking around you as your heart pounded in your chest. Going out to investigate the source of the noise wasn't the smartest idea. However, continuing to be a sitting duck in the tent was distressing you more—and that helpless feeling overpowered anything else. 

You slowly unzip the tent, trying to make as minimal noise as possible. You slip on your moccasins, putting one foot in front of the other as you step out into the night. Your surroundings are cast in shadows as the moon seems to be hiding behind a gloomy cluster of clouds. You look around and notice no one else is awake. Only dormant tents with sleeping residents inside accompany you in the night. 

You scan the area, training your ear to see if you can pick up any noise. 

That’s when you hear it—a rustling in the bushes. 

You peer into the woods, your eyes narrowing hoping to center on something, but you can’t see anything. There’s a slight fog that encases the lines of trees encircling the campsite obstructing your view. 

You take a few steps forward, hugging your sweater closer to your body. The outside air catches you off guard with its falling degrees. The shadows at every corner of the woods become creatures of the night if you stare at them for too long. 

Why were you doing this? Why had you decided this was a good idea? 

You questioned yourself. An unpleasant shiver goes up your spine at the thought of you walking straight into a creature’s claws. Your footing stumbled, and yet you found yourself walking further in the direction of the sound, the faint glow of your phone illuminating your path. You decided against using the actual flashlight on your phone as it could easily alert whatever was hiding in the foliage of the woods. 

You don’t go too far from the campsite. Your legs only take you a few feet away from the perimeter of it before tensing at the way the hoot of an owl cuts through the stillness of the night. Your breath caught in your throat, and you gripped your phone tighter. The edges of it digging into your skin. 

“ What are we looking for?” A voice too close for comfort whispers behind you and it causes you to shriek, your phone tumbling to the ground as you jump away from the source. Your eyes zero in on the culprit—your blood boiling when your gaze meets his ceruleans. 

James Buchanan fucking Barnes.

A deep chuckle erupts from Bucky at your reaction. Not only at the way you jumped, but also at the way you’re now seething. He stands there in a basic white tee and black joggers, his hair slightly unkempt from lying on it earlier in the night. 

“ What the hell is wrong with you?” You hiss, bending down to pick up your phone from the ground. The anxiety from before dissipating into irritation. 

“ Me? What’s up with you? Sneaking around in the woods at night. That’s kinda creepy, sweetheart,” he jabs with a smirk. You roll your eyes, exhaling to steady your breath,“ Stop calling me that. And I'm not sneaking around—I heard something.” 

“ And you came to check it out?” 

“ Yeah.”

“ You have no survival instincts, do you?”

“ And you do? You're out here too.”

Bucky crosses his arms, his eyes roaming over your figure. He’s thoroughly entertained by your attempt to catch whatever is out there in your cozy outfit. It’s not exactly monster-hunting material. 

“ I let my buddy have the tent for the night. He’s got a girl in there. Thought I'd sleep under the stars like nature intended,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. A wry smile appears on your face,“ Aren’t you a great friend,” you reply sarcastically. He’s about to give you a snippy retort when a branch breaks ahead of you, causing you both to snap your attention to it. 

You both go silent—wondering if you’ll hear anything more. Bucky takes a few steps forward to stand in front of you. Positioning himself between you and the unknown noise. 

“ Is that what you heard earlier?” He asks, his voice a hushed whisper. Your eyes drift up his form and the way his arm is slightly outstretched in your direction in a protective stance. He’s looking in the direction of where the sound came from, but then his head turns back to look at you. 

It takes you a second to gather your words,“ Sort of. At first there was like a loud thud by my tent and then some rustling—and now this,” you describe the unfolding events thus far.

He frowns,“ Is your tent the one by Wanda’s?”At his question you nod,“ Yeah…why?” He tilts his head slightly as he tries to recollect something. 

“ The two-person one with the purple edges?” 

“ Yeah…” 

His features soften, dawning on a sheepish expression. His protective stance faltering as he scratches the back of his neck,“ The noise was me then—sorry. I tripped over something while looking for a place to piss.” 

“ Oh…” Is all you manage to say. Feeling utterly foolish for getting so worked up over nothing. What you had thought was something going bump in the night ended up being Bucky stumbling to relieve himself. 

Another branch cracks in the murky fog. Reminding you that although the noises you heard outside your tent were explained, the ones here, not too far from you and Bucky—weren’t. 

“ I’m gonna go check it out,” he takes a step forward, but you stop him. Your hand shoots out to grip the hem of his shirt,“ Don’t! Are you crazy? You’re going to get yourself killed or something!”

His eyebrows raise, not expecting you to have that reaction.“ Are you worried about me, sweetheart?” A smirk spreads across his face, a twinkle in his eye.“ As if—screw you,” you deny harsher than you intended, removing your hold from his shirt. This only provokes him more, his smirk turning into a cheeky grin,“ You wanna?” 

“ You know what? I hope whatever is out there gets you.” 

“ Oh, you’d miss me if it did. But don’t worry—if it gets me, I’ll make sure to let it know you’re the one worth chasing." 

Bucky doesn’t give you a second to process what his words really mean. Instead, he takes out a small flashlight from the pocket of his joggers. He turns it on, shining the area ahead of him. A brazen expression is the last thing you see before he wanders into that direction of the woods as if there wasn’t potentially something dangerous up ahead. 

You wanted to protest, but you didn’t. Rather, you end up standing there amongst the wilderness, watching as his form gets smaller and smaller until it disappears into the haze of the fog. 

You feel uneasy as soon as you don’t see him. Your chest feels heavy with the unknown. You call out to him. Thinking maybe he’s doing this to prove something or to mess with you. When he doesn’t call back you find apprehension in the sinking pit of your stomach. 

Behind you, the campsite is still in sight. The smart thing to do would be to go wake someone up—like Thor—to go after Bucky. However, your feet work faster than your mind does, pushing you to follow after him. 

This time you use the flashlight on your phone to light your path. The luminescence cuts through the fog as you trudge through it. Leaves crunching beneath your feet, and hands outstretched lightly to use the passing trees as support to persist onward. 

You walk for a good few minutes before you finally spot him. He’s standing by a tall pine tree, his right hand tracing over something etched into the bark. 

“ James! Come back to the campsite!” You whisper yelled, approaching him. He hummed,“ So you are worried about me,” the smugness in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you. When he turns to face you his eyes tell you he was expecting you. Like he knew in the end your stubbornness and pride wouldn’t matter because you’d end up following after him after all.

You are worried about him. He needs no further proof than your actions. 

There was a prickling of annoyance building up in your system. More than anything, you wanted to get out of the woods as soon as possible. The campsite feels like a haven awaiting your return. 

“ Can you stop being so insufferably cocky for one second and just come back to the camp before I drag your ass back?” You say through gritted teeth. You wanted to have more bark to your bite, but the inkling dread of what could be out here stopped you from crossing that line. 

He stepped closer to you, the glow of his flashlight reflecting in his eyes in tiny glimmers,“ Why? I thought you didn't care if ‘whatever is out there’ got me.”

“ I don’t—but I’d hate to be an accomplice to that thing.” 

“ Admit it. You’re worried about me.”

By now Bucky was mere inches away from you. Having slowly sauntered right up to you. His eyes were daring you to speak the truth—his arrogant smile tempting you to do even more. 

“ I came to get you back, but if you’re determined to stay here then stay,” you huff, spinning on your heels to storm off. 

Bucky’s hand reaches out and encloses your wrist gently. Just enough to keep you from walking away. He sighs with defeated ire. 

“ Sweetheart, why won't you admit—” he’s cut off by the swift movement of something dashing past the both of you. He immediately pulls you in closer, his arms encasing you protectively—his body a shield. One arm is wrapped around your waist while the other holds your head. Your own body leans into his as if bracing for impact. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see the culprit of the racket. A deer dashing through the woods like it had somewhere to be. You held back a laugh at the revelation. 

This is what had you so worried this whole time? A deer? 

Even so, your heart races in your chest. And Bucky has you so tightly pressed into his that you can feel the way his own heart is thrumming rapidly. Both of your breaths work to steady from their instability as you realize there is nothing truly to be worried about. 

You stay like this for what seems like an eternity. Finding comfort in each other’s arms. The fog dances around your figures as if pushing you closer. The tips of your fingers tingle from where they’re pressed at his chest. 

When you finally register whose touch it is, you pull away. Bucky reluctantly lets you go. His arms awkwardly falling to his sides. You don’t know what to say. He doesn’t know where to start.

Why was his instinct to protect you? To keep you from harm’s way? 

And why had you felt the safest all night in his arms? 

You swallow the questions that desire to escape. There’s a part of you that feels like you should thank him, but then the other part feels stupid for wanting to do so. Knowing how much it would feed his ego to vindicate him as a hero. 

“ Guess it was just a deer, huh?” Bucky tries to cut through whatever tension is starting to build. 

“ Yeah…silly us…” you reply, half-heartedly. Your mind still reeling from his touch. 

You both go quiet again. The silence welcomes you where words fail to. 

Out of nowhere, you feel a tiny bead land on your head. Followed by one on your hand and then your cheek. It's beginning to drizzle. The rain cutting through the trees and promising to kiss every inch of your skin. 

“ We should get going,” Bucky says, his palm cupped to catch a few droplets. 

“ Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you agree, clearing your throat. In other circumstances, Bucky would rejoice and point out how, for once, you aren’t arguing with him. But not right now—not at this moment. Not when the memory of holding each other stirred something within you both. 

No, now instead you walk back to the campsite in silence. You’re a few steps ahead as Bucky decides to tow along at a slower pace. Seemingly lost in thought. 

When you’re back at the campsite your eyes dart to your tent. It’s within reach. A safety you can hideout in until the emotions Bucky arose in you fade away.  

“ Can I chill in your tent for a while? Just until the rain stops,” Bucky surprises you with his request. Until you remember he gave up his tent to his friend for the night. 

“ What? No,” your response is immediate. The thought of you and Bucky alone in your tent causes many scenarios to run through your head. You didn’t think you’d make it through the night with him in it. You were barely hanging on as it is. 

“ I just saved your life.” 

“ You did not.”

“ Did too.” 

“ James, you absolutely did not–” 

“ Please,” his soft plea tugs at the very part of you that wants to say yes. He’s not the kind of guy to beg, but he’ll do anything to not stand out in the cold rain. You being in an enclosed space with him was just a bonus. 

An extremely tantalizing bonus. 

“ Fine…but only until the rain stops,” you concede. You weren’t heartless enough to leave him out in the rain. 

You zip open the tent and climb inside. You remove your moccasins and leave them by the entrance. The inside is spacious enough for the two of you, but you still find yourself going into the furthest right corner of it. You sit crossed-legged as you turn on the small LED lantern to illuminate the tent with its muted glow. He makes his way inside, his hair glistening from the rain. He leaves his muddied slides by your moccasins. 

“ This tent is way nicer than the one Sam and I got,” he comments, running a hand through his hair to dispel the droplets. He’s trying to make light conversation, keeping his distance as he sits in the corner by the entrance diagonally from you. 

“ Jane’s family is really into camping so she had this one laying around…” you mention. The oddity of small talk between you fills the space with a foreign dynamic. The rain goes from a sprinkle to a pour. Hitting the top of the fabric cacoon in harsh strokes.  

He chooses to pivot the conversation.“ Do you have everything ready for fall semester?” He asks you, maneuvering to sit with his knees bent, his shirt hiking up the smallest bit to expose the skin at his hips. You avert your gaze when your heart does a little flip. 

“ Almost. I still have one or two textbooks to get,” you reply, playing with a few loose threads of the blanket beneath you. Anything to not have your eyes wander back to him. 

He scoffs lightly,“ You already got your textbooks? There’s no way. I always get ‘em after the first week.” Unlike you, he can’t seem to keep his pretty blues away from you. Your features heightened in the gentle sheen of the lantern. Intricate shadows scattered across your figure that made you look ethereal. The way his heart hammered in his chest romanticizing the sight of you.

“ That's because I’m responsible and you’re not.” 

“ I am responsible. As captain of the baseball team—”

“ Spare me the team leader speech, please,” you groan, stopping him from continuing. There’s only so much you can take for one night. And hearing Bucky light up as he talks about the one thing he’s passionate about—the one thing that humanizes him to you beyond his usual cheeky self. It would do more to you than just make your heart do a little flip.

You’d end up saying or doing something you wouldn’t be able to take back. 

“ Look, Y/n, I’m just trying to make conversation here. You don’t have to be so difficult all the time. Just talk to me,” Bucky brings you out of your thoughts not only by his exasperated tone, but by the way your name rolls off his tongue. He so rarely calls you by it. He’s called you sweetheart endlessly—and he’s even slipped a few sunshines in the mix—but your name was foreign to his vocabulary.  

 Bucky is usually good at dealing with your constant back and forth. Some days it's the only thing he looks forward to. However, right now it was irritating him how much you pushed back. He wanted you to give in. To what, he wasn’t sure. But he wondered what normalcy felt like with you—what just a damn friendly conversation felt like. 

You sigh, meeting his eyes.“ I don’t want to talk. Sorry, I think I’m just tired. Maybe we should go to bed,” you suggest, hoping that if he says yes you can sleep away the bubbling of emotions in your chest. 

You can see the way he contemplates something, biting the inside of his bottom lip. Now he’s the one holding back. A beat passes and you nervously wonder if he’ll turn down your suggestion. 

“ Fine—it's late anyway. But only if I get to sleep next to you. I promise I’ll keep my distance. It’s just there’s water leaking through the zipper at the entrance,” he mentions, his hand motioning to the entry. Your eyes dart to where he’s pointing and sure enough there’s a small puddle of water pooling by it. Not knowing how long the rain would continue, you knew you had to deal with the issue.

You grab Jane’s camping gear that holds numerous amount of supplies in all of its various pockets. She always came extra prepared no matter the occasion. You take out a washcloth, scooting over to the entrance to soak up the forming puddle. You decide to leave it there neatly tucked underneath where the water was finding its way in.

“ Alright, but if you snore I'm kicking you out,” you warn, but it’s more playful than serious. Something to lighten the mood before you go to bed. A way to dissipate whatever tension’s built up so you'd be able to fall asleep. 

It’s hard to cut through the tension and alleviate its symptoms when your shelter from the storm seems to shrink the more you chat with Bucky. And now sitting right next to him—shoulder to shoulder—it seems like a damn near impossible task. 

" I’ll take my chances. But just so you know, I don’t go down without a fight,” he winks at you, your shoulders brushing. Your heart rate picks up and it takes everything within you to stare into his eyes and not focus on the way that simple contact sent a shiver down your spine. 

His eyes drift to your lips causing your breath to hitch. The implications of where this could go are enough to pull you away from his spell. 

“ Goodnight,” you choke out. Subtly rushing over to your sleeping bag and settling into it. You don’t see when he shakes his head, but you do hear how he chuckles lowly. He mumbles something under his breath, but you can’t pick it up. 

He makes his way over to Jane’s sleeping bag, but lays on top of it instead of nestling into it. Choosing to cover himself only in the maroon fleece blanket that was draped over your body too. 

“ Goodnight,” he finally says, his body turning to face away from you. You respond by turning off the lantern. The space is now engulfed by darkness. Only the faintest of light shines in from the outside, letting your eyes trace the outlines of objects. 

 You turn to your side. Your back facing his. You take a deep breath, concentrating on the sound of the rain to hopefully lull you into a slumber. But the air felt too thick and your body was burning up from the heat radiating under the blanket. There was a good foot or so separating your body and Bucky’s. And yet, you could feel the heat radiating off of him as if he was pressed up right against you. 

It was too much. You swore you started sweating, so you shuffled under the covers and out of the sleeping bag. Every movement slow and deliberate as if to not snap the rope keeping the palpable tension in place. 

When only the plush fleece covered your body, the heat radiated less. But the fluttering of the blanket caused Bucky’s cologne to waft your way. A pleasant scent of musky woodiness with a hint of something that was entirely him. You gripped the cover tightly and counted to ten in your head. You were going mad. 

“ Would you stop hogging the blanket? ” Bucky muttered from beside you. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell you to stop doing. Because you and your constant fidgeting were driving him crazy. Every fiber of his being holding back from doing something to snap that rope. 

You didn’t realize you had been pulling it your way until he mentioned it. Your grip on it loosened,“ Sorry. I wasn’t hogging it though,” you argued for no reason other than to fill the silence. 

“ Yes, you were.” 

“ No, I wasn’t.” 

There was something about the proximity of your bodies that made the blanket seem smaller. Like there was no possible way it could equally cover both of your sleeping forms. Maybe this is what caused you to then tug at it, however, he holds it firmly to himself too.  

Persistently you pull at the blanket again. He pulls back—a tug of war ensues between you. You can hear him huff in the darkness, but you're not letting up. Bucky couldn't care less about the blanket. He only cared about not letting you get the upper hand. His competitive streak showing.  

While you solely really didn’t want to let him win. 

You wrap the end of the blanket around yourself—almost like a cacoon. The delicate fleece encases you. Leaving the bare minimum amount for Bucky to cover himself with. 

“ You have got to be one of the most stubborn people I have ever met in my goddamn life,” he practically growls as he yanks forcefully on the blanket. A tiny yelp escapes you as you get pulled along with it. 

You underestimated the strength of the star pitcher. 

You end up on top of him. The blanket now an extra cushy barrier between your bodies. In the dim light, your eyes lock, and you can faintly see the outline of a boyish grin on his face. You don’t move away. There’s like an invisible force that keeps you there. Your body pressed against his feeling his warmth tenfold. You can’t tell if either of you are breathing because all you're aware of now is how his heart beats in time with yours. 

“ You’re insufferable you know that?” you swallow hard, your voice lacking its usual bite.

“ You sure about that, sweetheart?” he challenges, his voice barely above a whisper. His lips brushing against yours with feather-light contact.

When had your lips gotten so close? 

You don’t know who leans in first. The one who finally breaks the standoff because your lips seem to meet at the same time. The kiss is sweet, but with a slight hesitance to it. As if neither of you are completely sure the other wants this. Or more like neither of you believes this is happening. However, when his hands grip the back of your thighs, sliding your legs from on top of him to his sides so you straddle him—you believe it. And when your hands find themselves threading in his hair—he believes it. 

One kiss that tests the waters turns into one that slowly sinks into the feeling. Until the two of you fully submerge into the depths of whatever has been simmering between you for what seems like too long. Delicate kisses that get more heated—more intense as your lips continue to meet. Bucky beams at the fact that you’re no longer pushing, but pulling into him. His craving for you only increasing now that he’s had a taste. 

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, slow and gentle. Asking for permission to deepen the kiss. Bucky Barnes isn’t the type to be slow and gentle—but when it comes to you he finds himself wanting to relish every second he gets. Not knowing when he’ll get another moment like this with you again. 

Your lips part enough for him to slip his tongue in to truly kiss you like he wanted to. As soon as you grant access he takes full opportunity to explore every corner of your mouth. His tongue molding with yours in fervor. Your fingers lightly tug at his hair while his hands roam your body memorizing every curve and dip. Wherever he gripped and caressed, his touch left heat in its wake. 

A heat you had to contain before it consumed you both. 

“ If you think you’re getting lucky tonight—think again. This is the most you’ll get,” You say breathlessly, pulling away to help your lungs remember what oxygen is. 

He groans, breath panting, the outline of his pout evident in the dim light,“ Don’t do this to me, sweetheart. Can’t leave me like this.” His voice a desperate whine that allured you to keep going. 

“ Too bad. You're dreaming if you think this is going any further.” 

“ God, you don’t wanna know what I've dreamed about.” 

“ Shut up,” you cut off his groan with another kiss. Fierce enough to silence him immediately. He hopes you shut him up like this more often. 

Your lips meet again in a hasty lock. No hesitation now as your tongues meet quicker. You seem to be obsessed with his hair as you run your fingers through it again. He shivers at the touch. His hands slide under your sweater to trail along your soft skin. Keeping his hands along your back and waist. Teetering around the boundary you drew, so he didn’t get carried away. But it was hard when kissing you felt as good as throwing the perfect game—maybe even better.

He realizes the emotions you bring out of him are worth a lifetime waiting for.

He pulls away this time to catch his breath, his hands sliding up your body to cup your face,“ I’m in no rush, sweetheart. I’ve got all the time in the world to take it all the way—make you fall for me.” 

You hum, leaning into his touch,“ You seem sure of yourself. ”

His voice is rough yet affectionate when he speaks,“ I’m sure of you, sweetheart. You’re worth every second, and I’m not stopping until you see it too.” 

He gives you one final tender kiss. One that's full of promise for the future. You weren’t sure if it was his words or the meaning in the kiss that stole your breath away. 

After a few seconds, you both pull away. Separating your bodies from each other to provide that much-needed space before lines were crossed.

“ Goodnight, Bucky,” you say, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how you would keep your hands and lips to yourself come tomorrow. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat when you called him by his nickname. Bringing a genuine smile to his face, loving the way it sounded coming from you. 

“ Goodnight, Y/n.”

Even after saying goodnight, the two of you can’t fall asleep immediately. You try to, but there are small moments in the night where you drift back to each other. Where in the darkness your lips meet again and again—satiating the tension in parts. Where your hands find themselves under the covers and layers of clothing. Flaming the fans of desire just enough so it doesn’t completely burn out, but smoldering to be reignited at any moment’s chance. 

You don’t realize when you fall asleep. Your eyelids growing heavy at some point tangled up in his body under the covers. Your face in the crook of his neck. His head resting on top of yours. Your bodies fit like puzzle pieces like they were meant to be connected in every way. 

It’s not until that morning when you wake up and find yourself in his arms, snuggled into his side, that the events of last night sink in. You pull away the tiniest bit. Merely enough to be able to get a look at him. The brown strands of his hair tousled and clinging to his forehead. The slope of his nose, his dark lashes fanned delicately against his skin, and the tiniest parting of his lips. He looks peaceful—almost angelic as he slumbers. 

You’re itching to sketch the image in front of you. 

You can’t stop yourself from reaching out to touch the strands at his forehead. It’s enough to have his eyes flutter open, their color brighter in the daylight. He gives you a lazy smile the instant he realizes last night wasn’t a dream and you really were here, nestled in his arms. 

No words were exchanged, but both of you were conscious of the line you had drawn last night. And yet, you both also knew that in time, that line would be crossed again and again. Until the line blurred into oblivion.

[kikis-artsy-cat]

Actually, Vox is very happy to help! 🛐🕯

My halloween entry based on the "my hot witch wife" meme that i think has been done a million times already but i love it so idc 😂. I forgot to post it here but i hope you had a wonderful day! 🎃🍬

[simplygojo]

The Witch's Surrender

Authors Note: Here is my entry for a fun collab event, Monster Mash, hosted by @nanamiscocksleeve for a spooky szn! I encourage every writer to join in, I had lots of fun writing this ;) This was a great way for me to practice my smut writing...which is definitely a little rusty, lol.

Thanks for hosting this event Ray!

🎃 Happy start to the spooky szn 🎃

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/Witch!reader

Word Count : 2.1k

Warnings : 18+ content, SMUT!, fingering, intercourse, dirty talk

The forest was silent, except for the crackle of cursed energy and dark magic swirling in the air. The moon was full, casting a silver hue over the earth beneath it, setting the tone for that crisp Halloween night.

Gojo stood casually at the edge of the clearing, his white hair tousled by the breeze, a smirk curling on his lips as he eyed you. Power pulsed between you, thick and intoxicating—but the heat in his gaze had nothing to do with the battle.

The two of you had fought before, and it was always a draw.

You enjoyed causing trouble for the jujutsu sorcerers; you liked watching them struggle to keep up. But Satoru Gojo was a different story.

Gojo had been sent on a solo mission to hunt down a powerful witch—you.

Your tight black dress clung tightly to your body, though it was now ripped in a few places due to the battle between you, exposing just the right amount of skin to the cool autumn air. You lifted your wand to point toward the white-haired man, throwing your pointed black hat to the side.

“They really sent me for you? I almost feel bad,” Gojo taunted, voice low, playful. His eyes, impossibly blue, gleamed with something far more dangerous than any amount of cursed energy—desire.

You squared your shoulders, the wand in your hand crackling with magic. “Don’t get cocky, Satoru. You’ll regret it.”

Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, eyed you with his signature smirk, but you could see the calculating glint behind those cocky blue eyes. “I knew you were strong,” he drawled, casually adjusting his blindfold, “but I didn’t think you’d give me this much trouble.”

Magic exploded from your wand, ripping through the air with a loud bang. But Gojo dodged with infuriating ease, his Infinity shimmering in the air as he closed the distance between you in a blur of speed.

With a wave of his hand, a barrier of pure cursed energy shot toward you. You barely managed to deflect it, the force of the impact sending you skidding back, your boots digging into the earth.

In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

You barely had time to react before he appeared behind you, his hand raised to deliver a blow. But you were ready. With a flick of your wand, you summoned a shield of dark energy, the force of his attack clashing against it in a violent burst of light and shadow.

Gojo let out a low whistle as he jumped back, his grin widening. “Not bad, witch. But let’s see how you handle this.”

He moved faster than you could track, his Infinity shimmering around him as he launched a series of cursed techniques in your direction.

You dodged with precision, your own magic swirling in the air as you countered with a blast of raw energy.

The ground trembled beneath your feet, trees splintering around you as your powers collided. You finally had an opening; you readied your aim to finally bring this battle to an end, but he vanished before your eyes.

“Too slow,” he murmured, appearing behind you, his breath hot against your ear. “But god you’re pretty, I’ll give you that.”

Before you could retaliate, his one hand snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other held both your wrists tight above your head.

The fight was still fresh, but your pulse quickened for an entirely different reason now.

You could feel every inch of him pressed against you—the firm muscles of his chest, the heat radiating off him, the unmistakable bulge growing hard against your lower back.

“Gojo—” you breathed, your wand dropping from your hand as his grip on your wrists tightened.

“Getting distracted?” he teased, his voice a smooth, teasing purr. His hand slid down your body, tracing the curve of your hips. “God, you look even better up close.”

“Let’s call this a draw,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I think I found something a little more interesting to play with, hmm, pretty witch..”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you knew it, he had you pinned against the nearest tree. His mouth was on your neck now, nipping and sucking, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

God, you wanted him—bad—and the worst part was that he knew it, he knew it because this is what happened…every. fucking. time.

You gasped loudly, struggling to keep control, but the way his fingers skimmed over your waist, under the hem of your soiled dress, was driving you insane.

You felt a wet heat build between your legs as you squeezed your thighs together—a weak attempt to suppress the inevitable.

His mouth claimed yours in a hungry kiss, all starvation and dominance. His tongue slid against yours, hot and demanding, while his hand roamed freely over your body, grabbing your tits roughly.

You moaned into his mouth, the taste of him intoxicating, head spinning as he pressed you harder against the rough bark of the tree, it piercing the exposed skin on your back.

“Satoru—” you gasped when he pulled away, his lips trailing down your throat, over your collarbone.

“Say it again,” he growled, his voice rough with lust. His hands found the waistband of your pants, tugging them down in one swift motion, leaving you bare beneath him. “Say my name.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers dipped between your thighs, finding you already wet for him. You did as he asked, “Fuck, Satoru.” You moaned in reaction to his teasing touch on your pulsing cunt.

He chuckled, low and dark, fingers teasing over your clit, circling the sensitive nub with slow, deliberate strokes.

“Already soaked?” he taunted, voice thick with arrogance. “And here I thought you wanted to fight.”

You whimpered as his fingers worked you with precision, each stroke sending sparks of pleasure racing through your gummy walls. Your knees buckled, but Gojo’s body pinned you firmly to the tree, his breath hot against your neck as he continued his torturous rhythm.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, head falling back against the tree as he works you over with skilled precision, each thrust of his fingers drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it, pretty witch," he coos, his lips ghosting over your skin. "I want to hear you beg for me."

You clench your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction, but it’s a losing battle.

The pressure builds and builds, and when his thumb grazes your clit while his two long fingers continue to pulse in and out of you, you can’t stop the broken–put pornographic—moan that escapes your lips.

"Good girl," he purrs, his fingers quickening their pace, fucking you with a practiced, almost lazy confidence.

“You’re so good,” you whimpered, hips bucking into his hand, desperate for more.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your skin. “Now let’s see just how well you can take me.”

In one smooth motion, Gojo brought you away from the tree that had previously acted as your fucking-post, and turned you so your back was to him, and his large bulge was pressed up against your ass.

He reached one of his hands to roughly cup your tit, twirling your hardened nipple between his fingertips. His other hand left your dripping cunt, and he brought it up to your mouth, holding out his fingers for you.

“I want you to have a taste before I get to. I bet it's so sweet.” He growled, his voice laced with desire, his eyes watching your sweet lips, as you took his long fingers in, sucking them dry for him.

Once you finished sucking the life out of his fingers, he let out a satisfied sigh before roughly sticking them back into your warmth, moving them around, feeling every inch of your insides.

You let out a loud whimper as he did so, feeling his cock jump against your ass in response to your seductive noise.

He removed his fingers once again and inserted them into his own mouth, You were left panting—no—gasping for air as he enjoyed your sweet nectar.

“God…I was right, baby you’re sweet like candy.” He said in a low whisper before undoing his pants with one smooth hand motion, freeing his hard cock.

You barely had time to process it before he lifted your dress up over your hips, exposing your ass to the crips air.

He pressed the thick head against your entrance, teasingly slow, the heat of him making you dizzy.

“Beg for it,” he growled, his voice a dangerous whisper.

You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction quite yet, so you bit your tongue. But he sensed your hesitation and reached his hand up to your neck, his grip firm but not painful.

“You know,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, “I’m not even close to being finished with you.” He placed a sloppy kiss right under your ear as he tilted your head back. “Now beg for it.”

His demanding voice sent you well over the edge, your body trembling with need. “Please, Satoru! I need you now. P-Please fuck me.”

That was all it took. With a low groan, he thrust into you, stretching you wide as he buried his thick mass deep into you.

The sensation was overwhelming—he was so big, filling you completely, the stretch almost too much, but the pleasure hit just as hard.

Your screams could probably be heard from miles away, but you couldn’t help it. Your eyes were wet with tears from the sheer pleasure of his dominating rhythm, and your mouth wouldn’t stop letting the world know his name.

“Fuuuck,” Gojo groaned, his head falling to your shoulder as he suddenly slowed his rhythm savouring the way your walls clenched around him. “So fucking tight.” He moaned as he pushed himself further into you than either of you knew was possible.

“Satoru—oh god—” you gasped, your voice breaking as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot deep inside you that made your vision go white.

Your nails dug into his lower arms as he picked up the pace again, each thrust harder, deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the quiet of the forest.

The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, each movement bringing you closer to the edge, as he held your back up against his chest so he could watch how your tits bounced as he fucked you.

He smirked against your neck, one hand sliding down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. “That’s it, pretty witch. Cum for me.”

Your body obeyed instantly, pleasure crashing over you like a wave as your orgasm hit.

And then you’re falling—tumbling over the edge as pleasure crashes through you in waves, your body shaking as he coaxes every last ounce of pleasure from you.

You yell out his name, a trail of moans follow closely behind as your walls clench around his long cock, his own eyes rolling into the back of his head with pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Gojo groaned, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release. With a few more rough thrusts, he buried himself deep inside you, spilling hot and thick as he came with a low growl.

For a moment, the forest was silent again, the only sound your ragged breathing as Gojo slumped against you, still buried deep inside.

He pressed a soft, almost tender kiss to your temple, his usual cocky grin returning.

“Don’t you just hate when a battle ends in a draw..” He teased, his fingers wiping away some of your orgasm-caused tears with a smug look on his face.

“You’re fun,” he whispered, pulling out slowly, a trail of his cum dripping down your thighs. “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

You couldn’t speak, but you readjusted your dress and picked up your wand from the muddy forest floor, still reeling from the intensity of what just happened.

But as he pulled away, adjusting his clothes with a satisfied smirk, you knew one thing for sure—this wouldn’t be the last time Gojo Satoru got the best of you.

“Oh, and Happy Halloween, pretty witch.”

[freyjas-musings]

My Last Entry for @valkyrieappreciationweek

This was supposed to be for Free Day prompt but I am not here on that day so early entry it is

@lib-arts you are Supremely talented my friend and I can never stop working with you because your art is a gift to this fandom 💜

Valkyries as Totally Spies - Also a Halloween 🎃 special for all of you ....

[paleopinesofficial]

🚨WIN OUR NEW DLCs! 🚨

Enter our 👻🎨Spooky Paleo Pines Art Competition for a chance to win the new Paleo Pines Halloween DLCs before anyone else!

Entries are accepted until September 25, 2024 1:00 PM BST - keys will be set out to the winner that day!

Entry Rules Below 👇

👩‍🎨 RULES 🎃 All types of visual art is acceptable - digital, paint, clay, etc! 🎃 Reblog this post with your entry! 🎃The winner will be chosen by the Paleo Pines Dev Team. 🎃 We are accepting entries across all our social channels! 🎃The winner will receive a full copy of Paleo Pines with the DLCs on Steam.

Happy creating! 💚

[rizuluv]

Radioapple DTIYS ENTRY FOR @snazyros ♡ ❗️🎃

#snaz1kdtiys

[tsukimefuku]

that's spooky af, honey :: jjk characters

They’re not the biggest fans of horror movies, but they might make an exception just for you - feat. Gojo, Toji, Nanami, Higuruma, Kusakabe, Shoko

cw: gender neutral reader, crack, comedy, i’m flexing here so some ooc, and a lot of fluff. roughly proofread. notes etc.: happy spooky season, guys 🎃 Entry for the spookinky event.

⛧ GOJO SATORU

(The Exorcist - 1973)

It was a very hot night. The type of night in which even mosquitoes could drop dead from the heat at any second. It felt like you were in an oven, so surely, it made no sense that your boyfriend, Satoru, kept you in the death grip of his hug like a koala hanging from a tree.

A pretty desperate koala latched with his abdomen to your back.

“Toru, please, I can’t breathe,” you insisted, trying to move his hands from your waist just to get a few inches back of freedom. It backfired, and he tightened all around you. 

“You don’t, babe,” he cooed, nuzzling around the sweaty nape of your neck, “you just need to be here.” 

He sounded cuddly, definitely a little clingy, but you thought it was cute how after you both turned off the classic rendition of The Exorcist, Satoru gripped you and didn’t let go since.

You huffed, accepting defeat. 

“Okay, but I need to at least drink some water and I also need to go to the bathroom,” you told him, shuffling around over the bed sheets.

Satoru didn’t flinch, still gripping on you like you were the last flatscreen on sale during a Black Friday. 

“Satoru.”

Your voice contained a warning (a warning coming mostly from your bladder). 

“Go in the morning! It’s so cozy,” he whined, letting go from you just enough for you to slightly turn back and look at his messy white hair covering his playful blue eyes, which decorated a remarkably adorable pout.

It would be cuter if you weren't on the verge of peeing yourself on the bed. 

“It’s not! Satoru, it’s searing hot, we’re both drenched and I need to pee!” 

Satoru pressed a quick kiss to your lips and rested his mouth over your hair. 

“No, you don’t.” 

“Sir, you’re not the boss of my pee.”

He chuckled softly and made it abundantly clear he wouldn’t let you go willingly.

“Oh, I’m not getting a urinary tract infection because you’re too scared to be in the room alone after a cheesy horror movie!” you protested while chuckling back, starting to wrestle around with him, failing miserably to free yourself from the giant’s grip, “I have to go to the bathroom now!” 

“Then I’ll go with you!” he conceded, finally freeing your waist and jumping himself up off the bed with a grin.

You sighed with a half smile on your face at his antics. 

“Dear Lord Almighty.”

—

⛧ FUSHIGURO TOJI

(Hereditary - 2018)

You had barely managed to get around the second isle in the grocery store before your phone started blowing up with calls. You had left Toji watching a horror movie while Megumi was napping in his own room as you took a quick run to the shop. You had forgotten to buy a few things for dinner earlier that day. 

Your phone had already vibrated a few times, the tell-tale sign you got fired up with quite a few text messages.

“Yes, Toji?” you said while answering the phone, “I left you watching a movie and just came down quick to get some groceries, what’s up?” 

“The movie is finished,” Toji answered in his characteristically nonchalant way, but offered no further explanation. 

“I still have some things to grab around here. How’s Megumi?” 

“He’s fine, I’m in his room. He’s still sleeping.” 

“Oh, good.” 

You had committed to memory the way Toji would every night sit on little Megumi’s end of the bed, and silently look at him before smiling and leaving his room. He never connected the dots of how you would always, somehow, need something from the kitchen during that same time, just to walk by the door and see them both.

However, this was too early for his nightly ritual. Megumi was sure to wake up from his nap soon.

Then, a thought crossed your mind. 

“Toji.” 

“What?” 

“Are you scared? After the movie? That’s why you’ve been texting and calling me like crazy?”

He scoffed on the other side of the line. 

“Of course not, I’m not a little kid.” 

You kept silent for a few moments, and he didn’t say anything else, still lingering on a bated breath. 

“Well, if that’s the case, then I think I’ll just run to the convenience store quickly and get us some-” 

“No! Just come home already,” he complained, and you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“Only if you ask nicely.” 

Toji groaned.

”Please, babe, come home and let’s eat dinner.” 

“Fine, I’ll be back in ten.” 

—

⛧ NANAMI KENTO

(It - 2017)

A ritual you and Nanami had after you broke your leg — and got prescribed lots of bed rest for that — was watching a different movie every night before sleeping. 

You’d usually doze off shortly after while your husband would keep reading his books by himself, in his own personal nightly routine. He’d make good use of that extra time he was always awake to get a water jug from the kitchen and leave it by your side, just in case you felt thirsty during the night (which, to be fair, you always did).

This time, however, after watching the “It” remake of 2017, you weren't feeling quite sleepy, so you decided to doom scroll on your phone while your husband read. 

You did notice a funny thing, though.

An hour had passed, and he hadn’t moved from the bed.

“Kento,” you called, blocking your phone’s screen and looking at him.

He put his hand over your thigh softly, not to disturb the cast under the knee that was already propped up comfortably by a pillow, and kept reading, holding his book with his other hand.

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

“Aren’t you going to get the jug of water for the night?” 

“Soon,” Nanami replied, his eyes making the quickest glance down the dark corridor, so quick you barely noticed, “soon.” 

“Ken, honey, I’m getting thirsty,” you cooed, resting your hand over his.

He looked over to you and put his book with open pages down on the nightstand.

“I apologize, darling,” he replied, leaning over and planting a soft kiss on your lips. “Would you mind if I just finished this chapter?”

His voice sounded so velvety and sweet, honestly, how could you say no?

“No problem,” you replied, and he smiled before sitting back and pulling his book into his hands again. However, once more, his eyes glanced down the dark corridor.

“Kento, I have a quick question, though. I promise not to keep interrupting your reading.” 

“You can interrupt me whenever you want. What is it?” 

“Why do you keep staring down the corridor?”

Nanami was clearly taken aback, even if he attempted to feign nonchalance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, love.” 

“Oh, come on, you do…” you began, right before the realization dawned on you.

“Kento, did you get spooked from the movie?”

Nanami turned his head to look at you, but his expression was not exactly surprised. He seemed more like a kid who had been caught stealing cookies from the jar before dinner time.

“Excuse me?” 

“Light of my life, you never take this long to get the jug, and also, you are staring at that dark corridor. I’m sure of it.” 

“I will get it, right after I finish the chapter,” he replied with little to no conviction in his voice, “and you’re always fast asleep when I do. How do you know how long I usually take?”

You stared at him, in all his 6 feet tall glory, and bit down a chuckle. 

“I didn’t know you were afraid of clowns,” you said, trying not to grin. 

“Darling, I’m not afraid of clowns,” Kento replied sounding slightly offended while he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, let me go get your water.”

Nanami put his book down, walked towards the room’s door, but didn’t fail to take a second before turning the corridor’s light on prior to walking towards the kitchen. You heard the kitchen’s light being turned on too.

Shortly after, he was back. Nanami put the water jug accompanied by a cup on your nightstand, and laid down.

“Thanks, Ken. Good night, I love you.”

“Good night. I love you too, darling.”

There was still something off, though.

“Ken, why are we sleeping with the night lamp on?”

He pretended to not hear you.

—

⛧ HIGURUMA HIROMI

(The Shining - 1980)

You had noticed it happening for the past hour of the movie you were both watching, The Shining. Hiromi wasn’t someone very vocal about his discomforts, but his body would occasionally betray him. 

With each passing twenty minutes or so, you noticed your fiancée had inched himself closer and closer to you, with the feeble excuse that he wanted to be closer to the popcorn. His hand was diving in the pot, picking a single popcorn at a time, as the rain tapped violently against your windows.

His eyes were glued to the screen, and for a second, you couldn’t quite remember the last time he had blinked ever since the movie started. 

“Hiro,” you whispered at him, “are you enjoying the movie?”

Hiromi simply nodded, not looking away from the screen. 

“Are these actual ghosts or is Jack just going insane?” he asked just below his breath, putting another single unit of popcorn in his mouth. 

“I mean, going from the book, the Overlook Hotel is haunted,” you whispered, “but Kubrick wanted to dive more into that psychological aspect of the horror. Stephen King really hated this movie,” you concluded, shoving a handful of popcorn in yours. 

“Did he? Why?” 

“Mostly because the hotel should be the corrupting factor, Jack wasn’t supposed to be cuckoo crazy from the start like Kubrick made him to be,” you replied with your mouth full.

Hiromi huffed, blinking for the first time in God knows how many minutes. 

“I guess no one is, truly.”

You smiled and laid your head on his shoulder, cozying up against Hiromi’s body warmth. 

“Oh, this one’s good,” you stated, heightening his already sharp attention to the events unfolding in front of him.

This was the scene where Hallorann, the cook, went back to the hotel after Danny managed to ask him for help. By this point, Jack was already roaming through the Overlook with his signature axe and well, what would happen was pretty obvious, but still.

Hallorann came walking down the corridor, his steps against the linoleum floor being the only sound filling the space. The tension grew, Danny’s face in the dark showed up, and you propped yourself for the big jump scare.

However, at the very moment Jack jumped into the frame bearing his axe…

The lights in the entire house went out.

You didn’t get a second to process it, though. Before you knew it, the popcorn bowl flew over, meeting its fateful end on the ground, popcorn spread all over you both and the floor, the blanket you and Hiromi were both under became a crumpled messy ball while falling over. He yanked you over with his arms around you so violently your lungs struggled for a second. To call that a hug would be sugar coating it (a lot).

Hiromi was holding onto you for dear life.

The power took a few seconds to come back, and when it did, you realized he had his eyes sewn shut, opening them softly as light hit his eye lids. 

It took you a few labored breaths to ask, 

“Do you want to watch something els-“ 

“Yes.”

—

⛧ KUSAKABE ATSUYA

(Cabin in the woods - 2011) 

“Get up!” was the only thing you heard before falling off the side of the bed in utter disorientation. Seconds before, you had been sleeping peacefully, and your boyfriend, Kusakabe, should’ve been by your side.

However, as you regained your senses, you saw him standing with his back against the wall beside the bedroom door, in the dark, holding onto his katana. 

“Atsuya, what happened?” you inquired, still half dazed, but adrenaline definitely kicking in from the way he was carrying himself. Alert signs went up in your mind. 

“There’s something in the house,” he whispered urgently, signaling for you to pick up your weapon too.

Your sorcerer instincts came fully awake and you pulled your dagger from the bedside table, walking towards him in a crouch. 

“What grade do you think it is?” you asked, looking up at him. 

Apart from him being like this, though, you didn’t sense anything. Not yet.

Before answering you, he darted himself out of the bedroom — something considerably uncharacteristic for him — and you followed him, alert and confused. 

“The assistants, and the lab, they-“ you heard Kusakabe mumbling to himself as he was walking around the house, “always giving me more work. Them and the teens, no one can do their work right, shit.” 

… What now? 

“Atsu, what are you talking about? Where’s the curse?” you insisted, “what grade is it? What is it like? Should I call Gojo?” 

You were now definitely starting to feel the pain in the back of your neck and the base of your back from falling off the bed. 

“No, we can handle it ourselves, we always have to, no one knows how to do their job and-“ the senseless mumbling ensued, “and the merman…”

Oh, no. You finally realized what was going on.

Irritation instantly hit you, and you walked towards Kusakabe, yanking his katana from his hands, looking very seriously at the sorcerer before chastising him. 

“You gotta be kidding me! You woke me up in the middle of the night and scared me half to death because of a nightmare?!”

He blinked multiple times, shaking his head, and looked back at you. 

“You’re not listening, the merman-“ 

”There is no merman, love of mine,” you replied, sighing and pinching the bridge of your nose, “this was one of the monsters in the movie we watched before going to sleep. The one where there is a lab, and monsters, and young uni students going on a trip, being idiots and getting killed… Don’t you remember?” 

After a few seconds, the realization finally dawned on him, and he put his hand on his forehead. 

“There is no merman?” 

“There is no merman, Atsuya. I promise.”

You had to hold down a laugh before leading a very confused Kusakabe back into the bedroom, tucking him for a — hopefully — calm night of sleep.

—

⛧ IEIRI SHOKO

(The Autopsy of Jane Doe - 2016)

Your girlfriend had the pokerest of poker faces. So you didn’t expect her to be jumping around from fright or anything of the sort.

However, the cigarette she let burn out completely untouched, still hanging from her mouth, betrayed just how scared shitless she was. The entire thing had become one continuous trail of ashes that ended on her lips, and funnily enough, it hadn’t fallen.

Yet.

Discreetly, you picked up the ashtray from the coffee table and hovered it under the cigarette, just in time for the tube of ashes to fall perfectly down in it.

Still, no movements from your girlfriend. 

You waved your hand in front of her face, but she just stood there, sitting down in the exact same position she had been ever since the movie started, like a marble statue.

“Shoko, sweetheart, are you okay?” 

Shoko only hummed what could be interpreted as a “yes” in return, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle. Trying to ease her out of the fear, you tried joking a little. 

“So, this cursed corpse is kind of different from the ones Principal Yaga makes, hm? His are cuter, for sure.”

Another soulless mm-hmm came out, and you wondered if you had maybe taken this horror night a little too far. She did autopsies for a living, after all. Perhaps this was too close to home. 

“Honey? Love?” 

No response. 

“Do I have to call Gojo to pull you out of this?”

This finally elicited a you can’t be serious right now response from her, and it eased your worries, even if just a little.

Picking up the remote, you paused the movie, and put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Shoko, would you like to watch something else?”

She sighed, seemingly relieved, and turned her face to yours. 

“I want to watch my actual autopsies videos. Like, ones without curses in them.” 

You chuckled softly before planting a tender kiss on her lips. 

“You’re weird. Of course, love you.”

written by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost. copycatting is for losers.

[syoddeye]

kinktober 2024! 🎃 completed

all prompts are x reader.

some entries are dark (contain noncon, etc.) and will be flagged/tagged as such.

this will definitely spill over into november and beyond. my bad.

primarily using this list by @/absurdthirst, but skipped/changed some themes.

breast worship, nikolai x f!reader

double penetration, ghost/nikolai x f!reader [dark]

public sex, ghost x f!reader [dark]

leather, soap x gn!reader

rough sex, price x f!reader

rut, price x f!reader [dark]

virgin, gaz x f!reader

cockwarming, ghost x gn!reader

anal, nikolai x transmasc!reader

lingerie, ghost x f!reader [dark]

shaving, price x f!reader

sex toys, gaz x f!reader

aftercare, kate x f!reader

makeup sex, ghoap x reader

jealousy & outdoor sex, soap x transmasc!reader

anonymous/stranger & belt, kate x f!reader

period sex, soap x f!reader [dark]

massaging, kate x f!reader

morning sex, gaz x f!reader

threesome, gazsoap x f!reader

bath sex, ghost x transmasc!reader [dark]

deepthroating, price x gn!reader [dark]

breeding & cnc, price x f!reader

free use, gaz x f!reader

borrowed clothes, soap x f!reader

seduction, price x f!reader

lap dances, nikolai x f!reader [dark]

phone sex, gaz x f!reader

hunter & prey, kate x f!reader [dark]

sex pollen, nikolai x f!reader [dark]

reflection

banner by @/cafekitsune

[joannes-journal]

=+=+=+=+=

I was going through one of Jo's old journals while settling down at our new place. It's this beautiful cabin out in... well...a forest. Bifrons was a sweetheart and helped us move in. He even sat down and colored with the kids for a bit and told them about the local plants.

Jo said before that she couldn't get photos of DISC0RD without the camera distorting. Her solution? Draw the beast. The journal was wedged between a copy of Stephen King's IT (the book) and an empty journal.

=+=+=+=+=

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 1: lost pet, meet cute

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

When Spencer entered his apartment, he was unpleasantly surprised by the mess he found. There was trash strewn across the floor, as if someone had kicked over the garbage can he kept next to the bookshelf. There were some clothes scattered on the floor and also sheets of paper with obvious bite marks, as if someone had chewed on them.

It was ridiculous to think that this was the work of a thief since the valuables were still in their place and there were no signs of forced entry; the window was still ajar, just as he had left it that morning.

Spencer moved cautiously through the apartment, assessing the possibility that this was due to some rodent. The building had hired an exterminator just a month ago, and he feared that the company hadn’t done a good job. He continued to wander, somewhat frustrated at the thought of having to deal with such a problem, and that was when he heard a noise coming from his bedroom, as if something had fallen to the floor.

The man walked in that direction and was even more surprised to see a lump moving beneath the sheets. If what was there was a rat, he swore to God he would buy another mattress if necessary, as he didn’t want to expose himself to the collection of germs that those animals harbored. Fearful, he set his briefcase down beside the bed to approach and discover what it was.

He was taken aback to see that what was writhing peacefully in his sheets was a long, beige little animal instead of the gray furball he had expected.

“A ferret?” he spoke to himself, immediately identifying what kind of mammal it was.

Spencer extended his hand and confirmed that it was a friendly specimen, as it climbed up to his hand to sniff him, making him laugh. While he held it in both hands and petted it, he wondered how it had managed to get into his apartment. He thought it plausible that another kind of intruder might have appeared, but ferrets were hardly common on the streets of DC, let alone sneaking into apartments.

Could it belong to a neighbor? he also thought, considering the possibility that in the morning, when he closed the door, the stowaway had slipped in.

In any case, the best option was to keep it safe until someone showed up to claim it, or, in the worst case, to ask Penelope for help in posting it on social media so that the owner could be found. He just hoped it would be sooner rather than later, as he didn’t feel capable of taking care of an animal of that kind if it proved to be as disastrous as it had shown.

The ferret was docile with him, as Spencer was able to carry it to the living room to keep a closer watch while he prepared to review the papers of a pending case. The little animal ran back and forth, climbed onto the couch, and even used one of his dirty socks as a ball to play.

He had never had pets that required so much attention because it broke his heart to know he couldn’t give them a happy life, knowing that cases sometimes kept him away for weeks in another state and it would feel extremely lonely.

For a long time, while he read here and there, he reflected on his guest. It was a pet that could be considered exotic, and he hadn’t seen one in a long time; the last time he remembered was during a visit to the zoo many years ago that wasn’t worth counting. Its color was, as he had already noticed, beige with brown: the stereotypical image of a ferret. During that reflection, he wondered what the name of the little furry creature running around his apartment was and, above all, to whom it belonged.

Fortunately, the answer didn’t take long to arrive at his door, presenting itself with three soft knocks and the image of a girl soaked in tears through the peephole.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, sir,” he heard, in a sob. It was a young girl, just a few years younger than Spencer, and looked completely desperate. “But I… uh… I’m your upstairs neighbor, and I was wondering if you happen to have seen a ferret around the buildi—Gwin!” you suddenly shouted, which was met with another shout from inside.

The mustelid immediately ran toward you, recognizing its owner, and then you bent down to grab it, happiness reflected all over your face as you showered the pet with kisses.

“Stupid little brat! Here you were. I nearly died when I didn’t see you. I don’t want you to leave the house again, or I’m going to take you to a shelter where you’ll get fleas.”

“In fact, it’s more likely that your ferret would catch fleas from coming into contact with wild animals like hedgehogs; they’re uncommon hosts if they live indoors.”

It was then that you finally noticed the man in front of you: that messy golden hair, his awkward posture, an incomplete formal suit, and a calm smile on his face. He avoided looking at you, perhaps due to nervousness from being unfamiliar with the person in front of him, and you wondered how old he was.

You had been so mesmerized by him that you didn’t realize how uncomfortable the silence had become.

“I’m Spencer, by the way,” he cleared his throat, noticing your lack of response. He thought that the random curious tidbit he had shared might have frightened you, but you smiled widely to reassure him.

“Oh, how rude of me,” you exclaimed, embarrassed. You then told him your name. “I was so excited to have found Gwin that I forgot about courtesy.”

“Is he your pet, I assume?”

“He’s a mischievous little rascal; I was terrified thinking he had escaped. I… left the window open and he went out through the fire escape. I guess that’s how he got to your apartment.”

“Oh! Yes, that’s most likely. I also forgot to close my window.”

“It’s a blessing, otherwise he would have run all over the stairs, and I don’t know where the hell he would be right now,” you expressed sadly, continuing to pamper the animal in your arms. “I’m sorry for the trouble, Mr. Spencer.”

“Just call me Spencer; otherwise, I feel old,” he complained, half-smiling. “You can’t be more than one or two years younger than me.”

“I’m in college; I just moved because I need more space,” you replied, trying to justify yourself. “Are you in college?”

“No, I work in a government agency. I was very young when I graduated”

“Are you some kind of child prodigy?”

Spencer laughed at her question.

“Something like that.”

The two of you looked at each other for a moment, smiling, trying to remember all the possible characteristics of the strange presence. It was a somewhat hypnotic moment, to a certain extent, interrupted by the pet squirming in your hands trying to climb onto your shoulder.

“I think I should go. I promise to take better care of my love; he won’t cause any more trouble.”

“It was no trouble at all. He’s very cute, in fact.”

“He’s my best friend in the world; he has kept me company since I started college, haven’t you?” you exclaimed cheerfully, kissing the animal again, who squeaked contentedly. “I always wanted pets, but I could never have them; I’m allergic to fur.”

“And ferrets are hypoallergenic animals, right?” he hastily said, wanting to impress you with this. Although, of course, you already knew that.

“What a clever man,” you replied playfully, perhaps even a bit flirtatiously. You had a pair of eyes, and your neighbor was very handsome. “Gwin, thank this good person for taking care of you.”

You brought the animal closer to him, and as if the ferret really understood, it rubbed against his cheek, causing him to laugh.

“It’s good to know you found him,” was all he replied.

You hesitated for a moment, teetering on your toes, and then let Gwin climb onto your shoulder as he usually did.

“I guess we’ll see each other around, Spencer. Goodnight, and thanks again.”

He waved goodbye with a smile on his sealed lips, and then you started down the hall.

You hoped to run into that man again, and who knows, maybe every once in a while you’d let the ferret loose to have an excuse.

[autisticempathydaemon]

🖤Redactober 2024🖤

🎃It’s that time of year again~!🎃

Event Notes:

If you don’t have the voice for Talktober or the dirty mind for Kinktober, why not take part in Redactober- a fun, low-threshold event meant to bring us together as a fandom and inspire us to create and share?

This year, we’ll be going a little more freeform. I give you a Redacted man, listed alphabetically, and you choose the prompt as long as it starts with that man’s first initial. (We’re gonna have to get creative with A-words, y’all.)

With that prompt, create something! Write a fic! Sketch some art! Put together some headcanons, draft a song, canva together a moodboard, wherever the Halloween spirit takes you!

Whatever you create, please tag it “#Redactober 2024” so we can look through them and share. Though I won’t be participating every day due to prior engagements, I’ll be making an effort to reblog all the entries 💕

Have fun 🎃

[artistmitchy]

My entry for the Twitter Guilty Gear Halloween art contest. 🎃

If you recognize who Faust is dressed up as, then you're my friend.

Bonus doodle:

[sweetdevil-sims]

Simblreen 2024 Gift #4: Doom Eternal Maykr Symbols as tattoos

Kar En Tuk! 🤘 (again!) A Simblreen can't go by without me showing appreciation for the modern DOOM games, in which I've been engrossed for roughly the past 3 months now. And, once again, it takes the form of tattoos!

This pack features a whopping 56 tattoos vectored from the art of Emerson Tung. As an aside, one brave person went ahead and translated all the Maykr writing in the codex entries. That sure is something!

⚠️ While these tattoos are availabe in 1024x1024px and made as vector shapes, the game will inevitably pixelate them. Some tattoos look best in larger sizes!

These are proper tattoos, NOT accessories, so you will find them in the Tattoos tab in CAS.

Available for teen-elder, unisex.

All come in 3 presets and 2 recolorable channels, except for the mirrored Z-like symbol, which only has one channel.

Designs © Emerson Tung, id.

You can find my other set of Doom tattoos HERE.

🎃 Download: SFS | Mega

🎃 My other Simblreen things 🎃

To be able to place tattoos on so many areas of the body, I'm using Nraas Master Controller with the ExpandedTattoo module, plus cmar's XCAS mod from the same page (not the one on MTS!).