#PLEASE STICK THE LANDING PLEASE STICK THE LANDING PLEASE STICK THE LANDING PLEASE STICK THE LANDING PLEASE STICK THE LANDING PLEASE STICK TH

[mattslolita]

now this might be a ...little much BUTTT drummer chris spanking sweetheart reader with his sticks?????????????????

( i can't tell if u meant this sexually or not but I am in a fluff mood i fear )

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

the only thing you could focus on was your chem homework ─── but chris didn't like it.

he had been at his band practice again, which had run late. his original plan was to come to your dorm room and spend the remainder of the day with you, but his wishes ceased to exist when he found you sprawled out across your bed, engrossed in your studies.

chris tried every possible way to distract you, but you wouldn't judge, which he knew ─── but he was stubborn. he wouldn't give up so easily.

you were laying on your stomach, humming a random song under your breath as you head bopped up and down. chris's ears perk up when he hears you, beginning to hum quietly under his own breath.

the soft plush of your ass causes him to grin as an idea suddenly plagues his mind ─── he reaches off to the side of the bed where his drumsticks rest idly, holding them in his hand. chris grins and licks his lips as his eyes rest on the mound of your backside.

a small gasp leaves your lips when chris's drumsticks come down to land on your ass softly, in tune with the song you hummed.

"chri- what are you doin'?" you ask, eyes widening as you turn to face him incredously.

"what?" he mocks, grinning as he bops his head up and down, playing the rhythm of paradise city on your ass.

you can't help the giggle that leaves your lips as you continue bopping your head, singing the words under your breath. "take me down to the paradise city where the grass is green and the girls are pretty..."

"oh won't you please take me home?" chris sings along with you, hitting the drums a little harder on your ass.

"okay, too hard!" you warn him, moving your butt to the side causing it to jiggle.

"that's what she said."

chris's eyes follow the movement with a hungry glint in his eyes, causing you to roll your eyes and shake your head as you look back down at your homework. "you little perv..."

[strangelysamantha]

after hours ✧

steve harrington x fem!reader.

warnings: 18+, NSFW, MDNI. smut, blowjob, swearing, hanjob. possible sub steve ;) fluffy ending.

summary: giving steve head after your shift at family video.

a/n: jj fic coming next, i was going to write about him but then i saw a steve harrington edit and i had to. LMAO LOVE YOU TY FOR SUPPORTING ME. <333

——————————————————————————

you pulled steve into a kiss, one hand gripping his jaw. you pull away softly. “isn’t this so hot steve?” you smirk, you place your hand on his bulge, palming him through his pants. he let out a pathetic whine, “mhm baby.” you fidget with his belt, undoing his jeans. you slide your hand into his underwear, gripping his cock, he shivered underneath you. “you like when i touch you steve?” he breathlessly let out a “yes,” he finally reached your gaze, his eyes locked on yours. “you’ve never touched me in public.” you bite your lip, “are you worried someone would see?” you tilt your head to the side, a small laugh escaping you. you fully grip his cock now, slowly jerking him. “what if someone could see you crumbling beneath me?” he threw his head back, profanities fall from his lips.

you grabbed his hand, placing it on your chest. this move caused him to touch you more, his fingers tracing every part of your body. “steve.” your stern tone caused him to retreat. you pull his cock out, and you look at him, raising a hand in front of his mouth. “spit,” you stare at him, and he happily obeys. you rub your hands together, using his spit as lubricant. you completely wrap your hand around him, jerking him. he watches you, his chest heaving. “don’t tease me baby.” you shake your head, “i’m not teasing, i want your cum.” your words turn him on more. “cmon stevie, you had a long day at work. don’t you want some relief?” he nods his head, his hips thrusting forward. “fuck, you’re such a slut.” he musters between breaths, causing you to roll your eyes. you speed up, massaging his balls as well. “and? you love it. don’t you?” he forcefully settles his lips against yours, his tongue fighting for dominance. “yeah i love it.”

you glance around, checking to make sure the coast was clear. seeing no one, you bend over, your mouth taking him whole. “shit baby.. you don’t know what you do to me.” you wrap your lips around the head, your tongue swirling against his tip. you use your hand to jerk the rest of him. you deepthroat him, slobbering against his cock. he grabs your hair, thrusting into your mouth. “fuck i’m not going to last long.” you continue, desperate to make him reach his high. you lift off of him, taking a breath of air. “cum for me steve.” you quickly jerk him, sticking your tongue out for his load. he closes his eyes, his head falling against the head rest. ropes of cum land on your face, he inhales deeply, catching his breath. he reaches in his glove box for napkins, quickly cleaning your face. “you’re perfect steve.” he looks away, embarrassment flooding his cheeks. you continue, “i’m so lucky to call you mine.” he looks at you, smiling softly. he looks away for a moment, "i don't deserve you."

you frown in response. "you are too good to me, i want you. only you." he kisses your lips, his hand on your thigh. "i love you so much." you grin, "i love you more." he chuckles, "wanna go to mine?" you nod, "yes, please."

[bekolxeram]

I was reading a lot of fics about Tommy discovering Buck's new found stress baking habit post reunion, then this cringy idea popped into my mind. Now you get to suffer with me.

NSFW-ish

Lukewarm water, 360 grams. Honey, 10 grams. Dry yeast, 7 grams. Mix. Flour, 5… wait, no, wrong flour. Where’s my god damn bread flour? When was the last time I made bread? Oh yes, last month, right before Tommy and I got back together, it should be around… Ah, there, found it! No...

No!

Don’t get sentimental now, there’s no place for melancholy tonight.

“Sexy thoughts. Sexy thoughts.” Buck mutters to himself, desperately trying to stop his wandering mind from ruining his mood.

Think of Tommy. Hot, sexy, pilot.

The cyclic looks so small in his big yet surgically precise hand. It almost seems like he’s telepathically flying the chopper with his mind, not with his strong, steady arm. His fingers are long enough to engulf the control stick completely and more, sometimes he has to twist his wrist around just to flick the top… uh… the button on top.

He can feel the fabric of his sweatpants straining against his hip. The tight cotton shirt he picked out especially for the night feels extra tight around his rapidly warming skin. Good, it seems like his tactic is working.

And his pecs… that time when he wore nothing but his flight suit, umm... They’re so fun to play with, squeeze them, bite them, lick them, sleep on them, make them bounce. I don’t need to “explore” to be sure how much I love them. It’s not even about gender, I know a good pair when I see one.

Stop. No. He’s apologized. I’ve apologized. We’re all good.

It feels like all we do these days is to apologize, then have make up sex. Not saying it’s not good sex, but I want that light, fun sex we used to have, before we…

Don’t, don’t go there.

Anyway, oh, his beautiful face. The one stubborn strand of hair on his forehead that always refuses to comply with any hair product. The constellation of freckles scattered across his perfectly shaped nose. The sensual curve of his lips. The creases around his eyes and his cheeks when his whole face is lit up by that classic scrunchy smile. I swear they look even more prominent now… Oh! How could I forget, that delicious cleft on his chin. If there’s one saving grace coming out of the breakup, it’s his decision to double, no, triple his effort at the gym. His facial features look that much more striking on his now leaner body. Who gets over a heartbreak by becoming a Greek statue anyway? Pick up baking like a normal person, please.

Wait, I’m thinking about the breakup, aren’t I? Don’t. Don’t! Ugh… too late.

Buck lightly bangs his head against the counter in frustration. Deciding to focus on the task at hand instead, he promptly weighs out his flour, sprinkles in a pinch of salt, then pours the bubbly yeast mixture into the dry ingredients.

Just as he’s about to put his hands to work, he’s interrupted by a familiar rhythm at the door. Quickly wiping his hands on his apron, then pushing the waistband of his pants down by half an inch for Tommy’s viewing pleasure, he goes on to greet the man he’s been waiting for.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Tommy apologizes as he’s entering the loft. “I believe the infamous LA traffic still hasn’t recovered from the emergency freeway landing last year.”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Buck shoots him a reassuring smile, clearly delighted by having his beloved in his space again. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be right with you. I need to finish this dough first.”

“But I thought you said you wanted to relax tonight? Aren’t we just gonna order takeout?” Tommy’s visibly confused by Buck’s ongoing culinary endeavor.

“Oh, this? This is not for tonight. It has to proof until at least tomorrow morning,” Buck replies absentmindedly, his hands continue kneading the dough without pause.

“You don’t have to, Evan. I’m okay with no breakfast at all,” Tommy walks around the kitchen counter to give the hardworking baker a kiss on the temple. “As long as I’m with you.”

“Um… no, I’m making these because my parents are coming to town.”

“Tomorrow morning?!”

“In a month. They’re coming to see Maddie in a month. I’m just stress baking because they…” Buck lets out a sarcastic laugh, “they stress me out.”

“Ahhh… is that so? Well, I’m happy to have learned this about you. I never knew you could bake.”

“I couldn’t. I picked it up recently, after you…” Those dreaded words have already slipped out of his mouth before Buck realizes. He’s been trying his damnedest to steer the night away from this particular direction, but as it turns out, he’s utterly powerless against the freight train of emotions he’s been keeping deep inside. He briefly considers changing the subject, but Tommy’s heard him already. He perks up his eyebrows, signaling Buck to finish his sentence.

It’s better to rip off the band aid now, than to let it snowball into something unstoppable.

“...after you dumped me,” Buck comes clean reluctantly.

Tommy drops his eyes and sighs in understanding, before gently wrapping his arms around Buck from behind. “I’m sorry, baby,” he presses his lips onto the golden curls in front of him.

“Chimney told me, you have a tendency to run away if you’re being pushed too hard. I should wait for you to reach out instead of… the other way around.” Buck keeps working on his dough, intentionally averting his gaze from the man behind him.

“Mmhmm.”

“It was… agonizing. I saw you everywhere. I saw you at home, I saw you at the fire house. I saw you at the coffee shop. I saw you when a helicopter passed by in the sky. You were like… a ghost, haunting me, every waking moment of my life. You know what? Not even just waking, you were haunting my dreams, too. The only thing that managed to stop me from texting you was baking. I had all the supplies at home because I was planning to surprise you with a cake for your birthday but…”

Tommy abruptly lets go and backs off. While Buck fully expects the night to be ruined after his long winded ramble, he mourns the sudden loss of contact nonetheless.

Still not looking up from the increasingly elastic mass on the counter, Buck continues, “I just have to knead it for… um… 5 more minutes, then I’m all yours. Let’s start over, yeah? I’m over it, I’m okay now. Let’s forget about it and just… chill. There’s this movie I…” He’s cut off by Tommy’s return, arms secured around his waist once again, chest pressed firmly against his back, the only difference being that Buck can feel Tommy’s body heat radiating this time.

“Ghost, you said?” Tommy whispers, lips barely grazing the hair standing on Buck’s nape.

“Yeah…” Buck shivers. He turns his head slightly to take a peek at the man behind him.

Yes, Tommy’s shirtless.

“Mmm, keep going,” Tommy demands, hands sliding under the hem of Buck’s shirt to roam around his midsection, lips softly connected to the side of his neck.

So Buck keeps going. Press. Rotate. Press. Rotate. Press. Rotate. Press. Rotate.

He feels two big hands caressing his shoulders, along his arms, then all the way down to his own busy hands.

“What are you making?”

“Ba — Bagels.”

“Umm… I love bagels,” Tommy lazily drags his mouth from Buck’s neck to his shoulder, leaving a trail of delicate kisses behind, “do you know how I like to take it?”

“How…?”

Tommy props his head back up, chin resting on the younger man’s shoulder. “Plain, with cream cheese,” he breathes straight into Buck’s ear. “So much cream cheese that it… oozes out everywhere. Leaking from the side, through the middle…” his tongue darts out to give that spot right underneath the earlobe an inquisitive lick. “I love it when it gets all over my face, painting my mouth white.”

Buck’s previously regular cadence starts faltering. He doesn’t know when to press or when to rotate the dough anymore.

“Hey, let me help you with that,” Tommy grabs a hand full of the dough, and squeezes, hard. Yet, the dough barely budges. “Oh, am I doing it wrong?”

Buck can’t help but giggle. “You have to knead with your palms, not your fingers. Here, let me show you,” he covers Tommy’s right hand with his own, and pushes the heel of his palm into Tommy’s wrist. “You want to fold the dough onto itself, then roll your palm out while pressing down. A bagel dough is supposed to be pretty stiff, so feel free to put your whole body weight into it.”

“Like this?” Tommy mimics exactly what Buck just showed him.

“I’ll give you an A,” Buck turns his head around, meeting Tommy’s gaze. Their faces are so close together, they can feel each other breathing. “You’re a fast learner.”

“I have the best teacher,” Tommy murmurs.

They naturally gravitate towards each other, like two stars on a collision course, until their lips clash together into a sloppy, filthy open-mouthed kiss.

Pulling back slightly to gasp for air, Buck’s pupils are completely blown out, leaving merely a thin icy ring around his dark pool of arousal. “You can use both hands if you want…”

“Let me try that,” Tommy surrounds Buck in his arms, pinning him against the kitchen surface. Then, he starts working on the dough, using his entire body, making sure to time every pressing motion with a thrust from the hip, rocking the younger man into the edge of the counter.

“Mmm — Ah…” the friction generated by Tommy’s movement alone is enough to make Buck moan. He never thought baking could be this erotic. “That — That works…”

He allows himself to enjoy Tommy’s sweet show of strength for a few moments before firmly gripping Tommy’s wrists, stilling him. “It’s — It’s done. Now we put it back into the mixing bowl,” he hastily drops the dough into the metal container, causing a loud thud, “and leave it in the fridge overnight.”

Tommy gives him one more kiss on the cheek, and a pat on his lower back, “go,” then steps aside.

Buck nearly trips over his own feet walking towards the fridge. He hears water running in the background, probably over Tommy’s talented hands. Wrapping up the stainless steel bowl with more than enough plastic wrap, then shoving the whole thing into an empty corner of his fridge, Buck is all too eager to return to Tommy’s touch.

Slamming the fridge door close, Buck whips his head around in a millisecond to catch an eye full of Tommy in his shirtless glory for the first time in the night. He’s drying his hands with a kitchen towel, finger by finger, his biceps flex every time he rubs a digit clean.

Buck walks straight up to the object of his desire, waiting no time to close their distance. Hooking an elbow around Tommy’s neck, he pulls him into a deep, urgent kiss, while his free hand travels down from Tommy’s clavicle towards his nipple.

“Wait,” Tommy stops the exploring hand on its track, “wash your hands first.”

Buck groans in frustration. He unties the knot in his back, takes off his apron, then swiftly treks towards the kitchen sink to prepare himself for the ensuing nighttime activities.

Tommy follows him, settling snugly behind Buck while he’s cleaning his hands. Tommy slowly dips his mischievous fingers into Buck’s waistband, pleasantly surprised to find bare skin underneath.

“Oh, no underwear? Someone’s eager tonight,” Tommy says in a seductive tone.

Roughly drying his hands on his own shirt, Buck spins around to face Tommy, “I’ve been waiting for you to notice…” Feeling Tommy’s fingers tapping the hem of his top, Buck peels it off right away, letting those enormous hands roam free across his body.

“Bed?” Tommy asks in between kisses.

“Couch.” Buck pants.

Just when Buck’s calculating in his head the logistics of moving to the couch without breaking contact with his man, Tommy withdraws his hand from Buck’s bare skin.

“Hold on tight,” Tommy suddenly grabs onto the back of Buck’s thighs and lifts him clear off the ground, carrying him towards the underside of the loft.

[desertfangs]

Candy Cane [AO3]

Armand/Daniel - Explicit - 3,491 words

When Armand learns Daniel likes candy canes, he gets him a large novelty version and then finds unique uses for it. (Read: Daniel gets railed with a candy cane.)

I... don't know. I saw a novelty candy cane, my dirty little mind spun and landed on this idea, and it was all I could think about when trying to write a holiday fic this year. Come for the Devil's Minion color, stay for the horny misuse of a beloved holiday icon and porn without plot.

Posted for @vamptember's 12 Nights of Christmas' prompt "Candy Cane."

Short (Non-Explicit) Excerpt:

The line inched forward.

Armand struck up a conversation with the woman behind them in line, chatting about her job and how often she came to the bank. She found Armand charming. They always did. If Daniel tried to ask half the questions Armand asked strangers, he’d get slapped in the face, but people always seemed eager to please Armand. 

Not that Daniel was any different. That desire to make him happy was why he was stuck in this long line. 

When it was finally Daniel’s turn, he endorsed the check in front of the teller and handed it over. She smiled genially as she checked it against his deposit slip, Armand watching her every move with unbridled eagerness. Then she counted out the withdrawal amount he asked for in twenties and put his check and deposit slip into an envelope she pushed through a slot labeled “deposits” to her left. “Anything else?” 

Daniel said no and wished her a Merry Christmas, even though the holiday wasn’t for another week. She beamed and produced a bowl of candy canes, winking. “A little holiday treat.” Daniel took one. So did Armand.

And with that, they left the bank.

Daniel breathed out in relief once they were on the street. He looked at Armand. “So, what now?” 

Armand almost always had an ambitious list of activities planned out but now he was staring at the candy cane. 

“What? You’ve never seen a candy cane before?” Daniel knew that he had,

Armand looked up at him. “Why did she give us these?” 

Daniel shrugged. “She was being nice. She probably keeps them for kids but I wished her a happy holiday and she reciprocated. It’s what people do.” 

He unwrapped the plastic and put the end of the stick in his mouth. The peppermint was sharp against the sweetness of the candy and it made his mouth feel cool, a strange sensation in the cold winter air. 

Armand watched him intensely, as if he’d never seen Daniel eat candy before.

“It’s minty?” Armand asked, frowning slightly. “The same as your toothpaste?” 

Daniel laughed. “It’s different. This has sugar which tempers the flavor.” 

Read the Rest on AO3

[spotaus]

Hey! The ask!! Lets see if i can manage to type everything i thought about in the time i got my break!!

So. I got thinking. (This was also a half baked drabble idea but didnt feel like making it a full one so you are getting the idea like this!! >:D)

We spoke about how Killer would be guarding Nightmare in the raid where Dream manages to steal him.

The problem is. If Killer can still move this guy WILL throw himself at Dream to save Nightmare. Meaning that Killer has to be mortally wounded. (Also works with why Nightmare rushes to shield his older brother)

So we got Killer just laying in whatever room Nightmare and him ahd been in. Probably slowly bleeding out.

On one hand. You can have the Knights run in right after. But then what is stopping them from splitting up, one part staying with Killer and one part rushing after Dream? And it has been YEARS since Dream last visited the castle. He may not remember everything quite right.

So... in theory. It should take more time for the Knights to get to Killer. But Killer is mortally wounded.

So. In comes!! Ccino (my beloved).

Ccino had been going towards killer and nightmare after helping the servants and maids evacuate or go to the bunker.

He gets there to see Killer pretty much laying there dying on the ground, Nightmare no where to be seen.

What does he do?

Ccino's crisis management skills activate. He wants to find Nightmare but he has no clue of where Nightmare went and he has no way to fight whoever took him. Killer is in front of him actively dying.

He goes to Kilelr's side.

Killer, the romantic idiot, probably realises he is fucking dying. So maybe he is like. Maybe i can confess? (Add some extra angst and make it that the hit was by either his neck or spine or soul. Making him unable to communicate)

Ccino is trying to keep the wound closed but he has no healing magic. He doenst even have first aid kit on him beyond the bare minimum. What does he do?

Well... he knows there is one being still in the castle. He does a little prayer and asks for help.

For Killer? Killer is slowly falling unconscious. He tried to confess but cant speak. He cant even apologise for failing everyone and losing Nightmare. At least Ccino is here in his last moments. He isnt alone. So he falls asleep.

Maybe some warm light guides him. A familiar voice that was once a friend? He tries to follow only to be stopped. Stopped by something sharp and pulling him down. Back into the darkness. It feels like when he fell into a bush. The way those thorns prick his bones.

Killer at first tries to follow the image of his friend (were they his friend? They saved him right? So why shouldnt he follow them?)

Only to hear so soft. So quietly from the darkness. 'Please dont let him die...'

And that sounds like Ccino... so Killer follows that voice. Goes into the darkness and it feels as if he traveled through a overgrown forest with sticks and stuff all pulling on his limbs.

And he wakes up. His skull in Ccino's lap as Ccino keeps the wound closed and did the best first aid he did. Moments later the Knights rush in to assist.

(Yes. The tree pulled Killer's soul back to the living side while the memories of chara were trying to pull killer into oblivion and get him to die)

Okay that is all. I wanted to get that out of my system.

Okay. Hi. As always, losing my everloving mind over this. Gonna make a Cut so it's easier to scroll hehe-

First off, you are SO right about Killer fighting till he physically can't move. I think that the combat between Dream and Killer is actually decently drawn out, because Dream is kinda in a frenzy (Storm growing outside + just obliterated Cross as far as he knows) and as a mostly long-range attacker it was stupid of him to try and fight Killer alone in a confined space. Killer's fast, and has a lot more to lose if he loses this fight (Nightmare is still hidden but low key stuck, and Dream is very adamant about ending his life) so he gets up close and personal for a while and lands quite a few solid attacks. However, Killer has also heard about Dream. He saw the distress on his little face when Cross admitted who had sent him and why. How Nightmare refused to send an assassination party to end things prematurely. This is Night's brother, so Killer won't kill him. As much as he wants to.

This leaves him at a direct disadvantage, and anytime he backs off to recoup Dream shoots arrows at him. (I also think he took a couple on purpose, because where he'd hidden Nightmare was the trajectory and he couldn't block it fast enough). And then, I like to think that when Killer gets in really close one time, Dream summons his blades, the ones he was still a novice with. But! One of Them peirces Killer's outer ring of his soul, and Dream jabs upwards (kinda using his other hand on the hilt to have more force) and wedges it into Killer's spine just past his ribcage. When Dream does this it his the magical equivalent of a vein, and when he shoves Killer away and off his blade, the other can only stay upright for a few stumbles before he teeters and falls onto his back.

Soul out in the open, covered in wounds (I like to think Dream's arrows peirce and burn), and now bleeding and seemingly paralyzed, Dream pulls out his bow again, ready to shoot Killer straight in his target soul. But, he's still selfish, and he wants to monolgue a bit, curse Killer (who he believes has been controlling his brother for so long) and shoots his hand, then a gash in his neck from a well-placed arrow, until he can see that dusty layer rising on Killer's bones signaling it'll be a slow death.

But, when he finishes cursing out Killer, is ready to fire the final shot? Nightmare had been hiding in a wardrobe, when Killer had stopped talking he'd gotten worried and peeked out against his better judgement. Now, with the scene, he rushes into the crossfire and, like we've discussed, the arrow ricochets off the mask and knocks it off, revealing Night in his teen form.

And it's a quick pleading, a desperate little plea from Nightmare not to kill Killer, or hurt his knights or the people. To just stop. And Dream, after his moment of shock + probing Night's emotions to find this really is him, scoops him up. His intention was to finish Killer off, but the storm outside roars louder and he can feel a strong emotion hurrying his way, so he decides to retreat. Killer should bleed out anyways.

And now finally to your point!!! Ccino is absolutely the best option! The Knights have no idea what's happening inside, and all they can. Do to help is keep Blue and Ink occupied. Cross is down for the count and looking rough, and they just have to trust that Killer got Night out or somewhere safe. Ccino? Ccino finished his part of the job, efficient af, and is rushing to go find Nightmare and Killer. He doesn't know Dream got in, he doesn't know quite where they'd be, but he can kinda sus it out based on carnage and wet steps in the halls where *soneone* got it. If they did, Killer would probably be stalling with Night nearby.

And like u said, he gets there and finds Killer actively dying, and crisis management kicks in! Ough everything about this moment is so perfect... Ccino never learned medicine, and has no healing magic, so he can only make Killer a little more comfortable and put pressure on his wounds to try and stop the bleeding. And he *sees* that soul injury. No matter how well he staunches the blood flow with his apron, that would surely kill him without treatment. And Killer seems to still be conscious, but barely. He's fading. And silent, which is deeply eerie and Wrong.

And good gods. Killer wanting so so bad to confess because, he's gonna die anyways so he wants to get it out, but he Literally can't say anything?? Wauhh!!!!!

And Ccino reaching out to the Veing in the castle... praying, begging for Killer to be saved, because Ccino refuses to leave him alone, and also refuses to lose him. Killer was Night's first knight, the most important person in that kid's world (Ccino doesn't count himself). All the Knights rely on Killer for guidance and support. Ccino needs Killer in his life, this idiot, this criminal, is somehow one of his favorite people in this castle. Please, please, please don't let him go. Keep him here until help arrives. *please*.

And the Castle obliges. Not only is Killer the one who protected Nightmare, the prince who is restoring this land, but Killer is one Ccino values. Ccino is here, stopping his wounds, begging for help to save a life. He hasn't done that before.

And!!! The description from Killer's perspective!!!!! For all intents and purposes, it seems the warm friendly voice (Chara!!!) Should be the one he follows. It's gentle, beckoning towards a soft glow, it's peaceful. And then the tree's method of getting Killer back is to snag him. Darkness, unpleasant contact that stabs and pricks and scratches. It's not nice, it's not subtle, it's dragging him back into pain and agony of his injuries (even if it's not immediate). But Killer doesn't fight because he hears Ccino! Even if he doesn't process that it's him, it unlocks something in his core that makes him decide to take the hard route and push back through that dense forest until he's back to the living realm. Still on death's door, but alive!

Oh I love this visual so dearly, frothing at the mouth about it....

And ofc the aftermath. Dream couldn't find the main entrance, so he snuck out a servant's door and signaled from outside that he was ready to go. The militia (I think the guard was busy holding off militia members from entering the castle walls) retreats first, scattering into town and Rogers demands no pursuit, hold the walls strong. Then Blue and Ink narrowly escape by simply using Ink's magic puddles, appearing somewhere else in the city through a big enough rain puddle. (Though, miles out they're still dodging the occasional lightning strike).

Only after they're too far off do the knight rush back. Horror's got Cross (in critical condition due to a blow to the side of his ribs+spine but ultimately stable) and Dust leads the way to search for Night and Killer, also following the trail Dream had left, and... they find Ccino and Killer. Killer is very very much limp in Ccino's lap, they're basically sitting in a pool of Killer's blood, and Ccino upon spotting them rapidly tells Dust to go find a healer and bring them here. Immediately.

Horror sets Cross nearby and focuses his efforts on trying to help Ccino put pressure on Killer's wounds but he can't do much either.

But, y'know, the healers who have magic for it are able to stabilize him (they are flabbergasted that he's not dead) and Cross is alright too. Dust + Horror go searching for Night. Nowhere to be found.

[woso-story]

Lazy Days

Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon

In the heart of Barcelona, in a cozy apartment filled with soft light and the gentle hum of the city outside, Ingrid and Mapi were living their perfect lazy day. The kind where nothing urgent demanded their attention, and all the time in the world seemed to stretch out in front of them.

Ingrid was lounging on the couch, her legs stretched out, a book in her hands. Though she had every intention of reading, her eyes often wandered, distracted by the quiet joy of the moment. Across from her, Mapi was curled up in an oversized sweater, her hair messily pulled back into a bun, her favorite pair of sweatpants snug around her waist. She had her phone in her hand, but it was clear she wasn’t doing much with it—just scrolling mindlessly, occasionally stealing glances at Ingrid.

The apartment was peaceful, the soft light filtering in through the windows and casting a golden glow over everything. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of flowers Ingrid had picked earlier that day—a perfect complement to the warm, contented atmosphere.

It wasn’t just the setting that made it perfect, though. It was the presence of one other thing:

Bagheera, their black cat, who was sprawled out on the windowsill, enjoying the warmth of the sun. Her sleek black fur shimmered in the light as she lazily watched birds flutter outside. Every now and then, she’d stretch or flick her tail, but otherwise, she was content to bask in the sunlight, much like her owners.

Ingrid set her book down, the words on the pages having blurred into the background. She shifted slightly, her eyes landing on Mapi.

Mapi noticed Ingrid’s gaze and smirked playfully. “What?” she asked, her voice teasing as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Ingrid chuckled and closed her book, setting it aside. “I was just thinking how lucky I am,” she said softly, turning her body to face Mapi.

Mapi raised an eyebrow, her playful expression softening into something more tender. “Lucky to have me?” she teased, her tone filled with warmth.

“Very,” Ingrid said with a grin. “You’re perfect, even when you’re being lazy.”

Mapi rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding the smile tugging at her lips. “I’m just... taking it easy,” she said, leaning forward and nudging Ingrid with her elbow. “Someone’s gotta balance out your energy.”

Ingrid raised an eyebrow, playfully looking Mapi up and down. “Your energy is... mostly naps and snacks, Maria.”

“I do a lot more than nap,” Mapi said, giving a mock-offended look, though it quickly dissolved into a laugh. “Besides, I’m just giving you time to focus on being productive. Someone has to make sure you don’t overwork yourself.”

“I’m not overworking,” Ingrid said, sticking her tongue out at Mapi. “But maybe you’re right—you're my professional relaxer.”

“I prefer to think of myself as a relaxation consultant.” Mapi gave a dramatic wink, making Ingrid laugh.

Just then, Bagheera jumped off the windowsill with a soft thud and sauntered over to the couch. She hopped up beside Ingrid, who immediately reached down to scratch behind the cat’s ears. Bagheera responded with a purr, leaning into the touch as her tail flicked lazily. 

“You’re not as relaxed as she is,” Ingrid teased, glancing up at Mapi with a sly grin. “You could take some notes from Bagheera.”

“Oh please, she’s a cat. She does nothing except sleep and act cute,” Mapi said, but her eyes softened as Bagheera made herself comfortable next to Ingrid, curling up and resting her head on Ingrid’s lap.

Ingrid chuckled, gently running her fingers through the cat’s sleek fur. “Maybe she’s onto something. Look at her—she knows how to live.”

Mapi grinned, leaning back further into the couch. “Alright, I admit it. I could probably stand to be more like her.” She propped her feet up on the coffee table and then dramatically flopped her arms to her sides. “From now on, I’m only going to do what Bagheera does. Nap, eat, and look cute.”

Ingrid laughed, her hand still gently petting Bagheera, who was now purring contentedly. “You’ve been doing that for a while already,” Ingrid said, giving Mapi an affectionate look.

Mapi smirked and gave a little shrug. “Hey, I’m just ahead of the curve.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence, only broken by the soft hum of the city outside, the occasional chirp of birds, and the rhythmic sound of Bagheera’s purring. Ingrid took in the peaceful scene, her gaze flicking from Mapi to the cat, her heart full. There was something about these simple moments—no expectations, no rush—that made her feel so connected to everything around her.

After a while, Mapi turned her head to look at Ingrid, her expression shifting from playful to something softer. “I really like days like this,” Mapi said quietly, her voice a little more tender. “When we don’t have to do anything except... be together.”

Ingrid smiled, her heart swelling with warmth. She leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair from Mapi’s face. “Me too. It’s perfect.”

Mapi's hand found Ingrid’s, and their fingers intertwined, a simple gesture, but one that meant so much more. Ingrid squeezed her hand gently, feeling the bond between them. The connection wasn’t just physical; it was an understanding, an unspoken promise of always being there for one another. In that quiet, lazy moment, everything felt exactly as it should.

Bagheera, seemingly sensing the moment of calm, let out a soft meow and nudged Ingrid’s hand with her head. Ingrid chuckled, scratching the cat behind the ears. “You’re not going to let me get distracted, are you?”

Mapi laughed softly, squeezing Ingrid’s hand once more. “I think she’s trying to make sure we stay here forever, just like this.”

Ingrid glanced up at Mapi, her gaze soft and affectionate. “I wouldn’t mind.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon like that—Bagheera curled up between them, the three of them sharing the kind of quiet moments that didn’t need words. Ingrid and Mapi occasionally exchanged light-hearted teasing, their easy laughter filling the apartment, while Bagheera drifted in and out of peaceful naps. In the end, it didn’t matter that there were no grand plans, no rushing to meet deadlines, or the weight of the world on their shoulders. All that mattered was that, for this one perfect afternoon, everything felt right. 

And as the sun began to set, casting a golden glow across the room, Ingrid rested her head on Mapi’s shoulder, feeling a contented smile curl on her lips.

“I love you,” Ingrid whispered softly, her voice almost drowned out by the quiet purring of Bagheera.

“I love you too,” Mapi replied, her voice just as soft but filled with all the warmth of the world.

And in the peaceful embrace of their apartment, with their lazy cat at their side, they drifted into the kind of happiness that only came with days like this—simple, slow, and full of love.

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐥𝐥

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → fluff, morning breath?

Summary → Peter whines for a morning kiss, but you're not kissing him until he brushes his teeth.

You wake up to the faint sound of birds chirping outside and the warm morning light filtering through the curtains. Your eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep, and you feel the soft sheets wrapped around you like a cocoon. Beside you, Peter shifts, his arm lazily draped over your waist, holding you close. His face is mere inches from yours, his hair messy from sleep, eyes barely open as he gives you the sleepiest smile you've ever seen.

"Good morning, beautiful," he murmurs, his voice raspy from sleep. His eyes roam your face like he’s memorizing every little detail.

You return the smile, blinking slowly as you stretch a little. "Good morning, Pete."

He leans in closer, his lips just a breath away from yours. "I want my good morning kiss," he whispers, his lips curling into a soft grin.

But before he can close the gap, you place your finger firmly against his lips, stopping him mid-kiss. "Morning breath, babes."

Peter frowns, pouting immediately, his bottom lip sticking out like a little kid. "But… I’m your fiancé now!" He whines, his voice still groggy and a little slurred from sleep. "Doesn’t that mean I’m entitled to all kisses, morning breath or not?"

You shake your head, laughing softly at his adorably grumpy expression. "It doesn’t change the facts, Peter. Morning breath is morning breath."

He lets out an exaggerated groan, burying his face in the pillow. "Just one kiss, please? I promise it won’t be that bad," he pleads, his voice muffled in the pillow as he peeks up at you, his eyes wide and innocent.

You raise an eyebrow and shake your head firmly. "Brush your teeth first."

Peter groans even louder this time, throwing his head back dramatically like it’s the most inconvenient request ever. "Ugh, you’re so mean. I'm being denied love in the morning. I should have known what I was signing up for," he whines, squinting at you with that goofy, teasing smile.

"Brush. First. Go," you repeat, trying not to laugh as he grumpily sits up.

"Fine, fine," Peter grumbles, dragging himself out of bed like a kid forced to do chores. "But I’m doing this under protest!" He huffs as he trudges to the bathroom, throwing one last pouty glance over his shoulder before disappearing.

You hear the sound of the sink running and the faint noise of him brushing his teeth. You snuggle back into the covers, trying not to giggle as you picture him scowling in the mirror, probably making funny faces to himself.

A few minutes later, Peter comes back, his face lighting up with a triumphant smile as he jumps—literally jumps—back onto the bed, landing next to you with a soft thud. Before you can react, he practically pounces on you, his hands cupping your face as he presses a kiss to your lips, quick and eager.

"Mmmph—Peter!" You giggle, trying to push him away, but he’s relentless, kissing you over and over, peppering your face with playful pecks. "Peter! Okay, okay, you win!" You laugh, your heart swelling as his infectious energy pulls you fully out of sleep.

He finally pulls back, his face hovering over yours, eyes sparkling with that mischievous glow you love so much. "See, I brushed my teeth," he says proudly, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against yours. "And now, I’m gonna kiss you as much as I want."

You roll your eyes, still smiling as you run your fingers through his messy curls. "Yeah, yeah. And what about me? I haven’t brushed my teeth."

Peter grins, leaning in to kiss you again. "I don’t care," he says in that soft, endearing voice, his breath warm against your lips. "I love you. Morning breath, bed hair, everything." His hands gently cradle your face as he speaks, his touch warm and comforting.

You can’t help but melt a little as he continues, his lips brushing against your cheek. "In fact, I love that you stopped me earlier," he adds with a teasing smirk. "Gave me an excuse to show off how much I don’t care about morning breath. Because I love you soooo much," he stretches out the word, planting exaggerated kisses on your cheeks, forehead, and nose.

You’re laughing now, your heart fluttering as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close. "Alright, alright, you’ve made your point," you say, smiling up at him.

But Peter’s not done. He gives you the biggest, most exaggerated puppy dog eyes, his lip quivering dramatically as he whines, "But I didn’t get enough kisses yet."

You roll your eyes, but you can’t resist him. "Alright, you big baby," you say, pulling him down for another kiss.

Peter practically beams, his entire face lighting up as he leans in, kissing you softly, but this time it’s slower, sweeter. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his eyes half-lidded, completely content.

"I’m never going to get tired of this," he whispers, his voice soft, the goofy energy replaced by something warmer, more intimate. "Waking up next to you, kissing you, just... being with you."

Your heart swells as you reach up, brushing your thumb gently across his cheek. "Me neither," you whisper back.

Peter grins again, a little less goofy but just as sweet. "Good. ‘Cause you’re stuck with me. Morning breath and all."

And just like that, he presses his lips to yours once more, the perfect start to another day with the man you love.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[vanmarkus]

just to be clear Oliver never in any way, shape, or form has confirmed as of today that buddie was supposed to go canon in s4 or that they were having an 'oh' moment during the shooting arc or otherwise at any time or that Buck has been in love (?!?) with Eddie since he joined the 118.

all he said was; there was a pitch about the bi Buck storyline in s4 that got shot down (at whatever stage we don't even know, there might not even have been a single scene written for it, for all we know) and that in retrospect and considering the slow-mo and the music in the scene, Buck was possibly confused about his feelings around Eddie when he joined the team — which is something Tim has already talked about before.

please stop acting like the conclusions you're jumping onto are facts or canon — even if the shooting was meant to be an 'it' moment, it didn't end up happening in canon so, as interesting out-of-universe info this is, it doesn't have an affect on the in-universe canon at the moment.

and I promise, I'm not saying all this because I hate fun, hell, not even because I necessarily disagree. only because I can already see this leading into Oliver and the cast being harassed in case the show doesn't end up confirming these ideas that are currently being passed around as cold hard facts.

[1000wordsonly]

[secriden]

Oh wow, what a monumental step for Diew to offer this!! I very much expected it to be something God would have to ask for.

But it also doesn't feel unnatural or unearned for Diew to be willing to try, because God is so clearly different from his ex. God has done such a good job of being honest about what he wants (in big and small ways) but giving Diew the right to choose whether he's ready to step out of his comfort zone. It makes so much sense that Diew feels safe enough to trust that God wouldn't bring him into a situation which will make him feel as terrible as his ex did.

Also it was really sweet how God offered to hang out with Game first, like he's showing how it's not a one-way street of Diew having to step out of what he's familiar because God is 100% willing to get to know the people Diew cares about and engage with what Diew likes (like with the puzzles). Unlike with his ex where it was Diew being told that he needed to change to be more like his boyfriend, God is showing he wants them to grow towards each other.

The show also makes it clear they DO have things in common - eg their love of dogs, their appreciation of peaceful spaces (since it was God who brought Diew to the riverbank), and art (even if they both have different styles, they both enjoy art/drawing). This is just such a believable relationship because it really feels like 2 people who have genuine compatibility whilst also having enough differences that each finds the other fascinating and being in this relationship is growing them both.

And God really continues to not disappoint!! Like, I definitely don't think he'd abandon his friends (he's not that kind of person) but he's also making it clear that he's willing to hear feedback from Diew and is actively checking in on Diew's comfort levels. <3

This whole episode was such a natural lead up to their becoming official boyfriends. And just look at the happiness radiating off the both of them!!

The swelling music; the way everything is shot in this kind of dreamy light, with the literal fairy string lights; the way their first kiss is so so soft and God clearly looks at Diew to check if he's okay with it before continuing! Just, great job, MND!!

[sourweather]

WWDITS NATION WERE SO FUCKING BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[benevolenterrancy]

SHERLOCK HOLMES -- his limits

decided to try my hand at an art nouveau style for holmes -- belladonna and poppies

[stormyoceans]

IM SORRY BUT FIRST NOTE OF LOVE IS JUST SO SATISFYING NARRATIVE WISE like every single interpretation i give just turns out to be right and that's because despite having only 20ish minutes of run time per episode the show still gives the viewers all the key elements they need to understand the emotions driving the characters without having to spoonfeed informations left and right I JUST LOVE THIS SHOW SO MUCH

[sheneniquan]

I've come to the realization that one of the things that has made playing Jeff The Land Shark a little bit harder on console for me is that his controls are the reverse of Splatoon. I keep trying to alt fire with Splatoon's bomb button and swim with Splatoon's swim, but this isn't Splatoon so that doesn't work. I should maybe change the controls next time I play

[creativenicocorner]

I sing my song But not out of gaiety It’s sorrow that sings From my sad heart -Hungarian Songs as performed by Márta Sebestyén

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Fic Summary: A strange case takes Reigen and Serizawa to a small (intimately so, a detail Reigen might be hesitant to comment on) village North in the mountains, where they quickly discover things are far stranger than they both realized. Not only that, but they might be more than just a little out of their depths.

Nature, the past, it all has a way of being heard - even to those reluctant to listen.

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Reblogs, Kudos, and Comments are deeply appreciated ♡

[caesarsaladinn]

with the fall of Assad, the centrist terrorism epidemic claimed another victim