#SORRY FOR ALL THE YELLIN

[misquigley]

This is me for the foreseeable future fyi. Like...

@rabbitbled / @scatcrccio

[flybcll]

kai angry to me is both funny and boring at the same time because?? it's not yelling angry, it's fucking punchy angry. keep yelling in his face if you want to, if he doesn't know you, he's gonna try and drop you.

[kirrafoster]

i hate friendships that remind me of high school bc it’s not my friends fault it’s just why are you literally popular as a grown man

[greatshell-rider]

played chapter two of halOPE . . . ;-;

[basically-fabulous]

thank god elon did that stupid fuck salute so ppl on here can remember bad things are happening

[its-like-looking-in-3d]

..

[undyingdecay]

thunderbolts bob is a cutie patootie and we all love him but my body and soul yearn for pre!thunderbolts bob. like, give me that meth addicted, minimum waged loser of a man right now

(tw: do not romanticize this shit, sex while under the influence)

a relationship with pre-thunderbolts bob would be awful. i don’t think people really sit with that long enough when they fantasize about it. it wouldn’t be ‘damaged boy needs love’ it would be ugly, it would be sharp-edged and heavy and uncomfortable in your chest all the time. it’d hurt you, and you’d hurt him, and somewhere along the way neither of you would know who started it, because it was always gonna end like this anyway.

there’d be nights you’d have to physically shake him awake. not in some cute oh babe you overslept, time for work kind of way, but in that panicked, stomach-twisting way where you’re not sure if he’s breathing right. sometimes he’d wake up swinging, teeth bared and pupils blown so wide they ate up whatever color used to be in his eyes. sometimes he wouldn’t wake up at all, not really — just mumble something about a guy named rick or i swear i paid him, i did and then roll over, leaving you sitting there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, counting how long his breath stuttered between inhales.

and you’d stay. like a goddamn idiot, you’d stay.

you’d clean him up when he came home reeking of chemical sweat and bar bathroom mildew, eyes too shiny, jaw working like he was chewing something invisible. you learned real quick how to tell when it was a good high and when it was the kind where his skin itched too much for him to sit still, pacing holes in the floor, muttering to himself about things you couldn’t see.

and when he got mean — because he always did, sooner or later — you told yourself it wasn’t really him. you told yourself it was the pipe, it was the lack of sleep, it was the impossible weight of existing with a head like his. even when his voice got sharp, slicing clean through you like it was nothing, even when he knocked over a chair or punched the drywall so close to your head you felt the plaster dust in your hair. you still reached for him.

“it’s okay, baby. i’m here. it’s alright.”

he hated it. hated the way you tried to soothe him, hated the way you wouldn’t leave like everyone else did. made him feel small, made him feel weak. you could see it twist in his face, that war between craving your touch and wanting to shove you away so hard you never came back.

and he’d disappear. because of course he would.

for days sometimes. no calls, no texts, not even that half-lucid voicemail he usually left at 3 a.m. the ones where he sounded like he was underwater, like he was already halfway to dead. there were nights you sat at the kitchen table with your phone in your lap, screen dim, thinking about filing a missing person’s report. you never did. because he always came back.

a little more broken than before. a little more frayed around the edges. sometimes limping, sometimes bleeding. once with a bandage on his neck he refused to talk about.

and every goddamn time, you let him crawl into your arms like nothing happened.

maybe you told yourself it was about love. maybe you told yourself it was loyalty. but deep down, it was survival. because no one else knew how to handle him when he was like this. no one else could get him to lie still long enough to remember he was human.

the worst, lowest, filthiest part was the way he’d fuck you after.

not hard. not rough. not some tender, making-up-for-it kind of thing either. he wouldn’t even move half the time. just be inside you, soft sounds shaking loose from his throat like it hurt to talk, lips pressed to your neck or your chest, sometimes just mouthing there like he could crawl inside you and stay.

“‘m sorry for yellin’,” he’d mumble. voice small. a little slurred. “‘m sorry, baby. promise i won’t leave again.”

liar. but you’d forgive him anyway. because in those moments, with his cum leaking out of you, with his heartbeat stuttering against your ribs, you could almost believe it too.

and then he’d be gone again.

because that’s who pre-thunderbolts bob was. a thousand contradictions in a body that barely held itself together. a ghost you kept chasing even when you knew he was dragging you down with him.

and you wouldn’t leave.

you never would.

[hibiscus-whore]

Talkin’ bout innit

Summary: You were assigned to cook for a party, but it’s sundown. The party doesn’t start until a few hours. And Mr Chow here can’t take another moment without you, even though you’re right next to him. That isn’t what he meant when he said he can’t have another moment without you. However, your daughter could come in at any moment so he has to be quick yet efficient with it. Wouldn’t wanna leave his baby unsatisfied would he?

Contains: the confirmed munch of the hour, Bo Chow. Established/martial relationship. Y’all have a kid, named whatever you want. No use of Y/N, couple nicknames instead. Fem reader in a 2nd POV. No vamps (sorry), but a good ending because ANNIE’S PREGGERS! Also, everyone is southern.

Warning: Eating out, multiple orgasms, piv, yearning, overstimulation?, slightly public (y’all are in the damn kitchen. Perverts😒)

Word Count: 1209

(Part 2 for Remmick is indeed coming soon but I needed this nigga Bo out my brain.)

Smoke volun-told you to cook for them since Annie was well with child. When you tried to get Stack’s opinion on it, he almost got popped in the mouth. So now you had no choice BUT to cook. Still, you tried to retaliate against it.

“Nigga, are you serious? I got shit to do,” you told him off.

Smoke scoffed, blowing a puff from his cigarette at you, “like what? Girl, it’s just some fuckin’ catfish. All we need. Annie gotta be fully rested for our baby. And you make the second best catfish.”

You slapped the cigarette out his hand, “if you gon’ smoke, go on head and do it outside. Not where I got my customers up in here. Now you got ‘em all scar—“

Before you could finish, your husband came out the back. Using his apron to dry his hands as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, giving a kiss on the forehead. Then he went up to dap up and hug Smoke, did the same for Stack.

“Baby, what’s goin’ on? Why are you over here yellin’ like that?”

You smacked your husband’s forehead, “lean back, ya stupid ass tryna tell me that I have to cook for their party.” Stack stifled a laugh, quickly looking away while Smoke sighed. Bo held onto his forehead in pain before shaking it off.

“Now, why’d you hit me fa’ like I did something.”

“Guilty by association,” before you could hit him again, he grabbed your arm. Pulling you close to him.

His voice gently whispered into your ear, giving you a slight chill in places that you were all too familiar with, “tonight, we’ll cook. Our lil’ girl heading to her friends anyways. You won’t be alone in this, okay?”

You nodded. Once he let go of you, you swatted him in his shoulder. The twins awkwardly backed away as you continued on.

~~

“Baby, are you cookin’ with stale grease?”

Your head snapped around to look at him, “boy, have you lost ya’ mind?”

Bo only laughed at you, wrapping his arms around your hips as he began to plant kisses on the back of your neck. Humming in response the random affection as you continued to drop the fishes in the oil.

“Missed you,” he muttered, his face was in your neck. Consuming your scent before beginning to kiss on it.

“You see me everyday, baby.”

His hand began to move to your breast, gently squeezing them, “that ain’t what I meant and y’know it.”

You attempted to push him away but it didn’t work completely. He did let go of your breast, still lingering near you like a hungry dog. When you moved to the sink, he was mere centimeters away. Then you moved to a counter, still centimeters away.

“Can you back the hell up? Our baby’ll be back at any moment now,” turning to him, “y’know it too. We can do whatever later. Besides I’m cooking.”

Bo began to drop down to his knees, looking up at you as he began to move his hands under your skirt, “I can make it quick then.” Suddenly, Bo’s head disappeared inside your skirt. You completely gave up on attempting to stop him. He is a stubborn, thing. Like a triton or incubus. Kissing up your thigh until Bo met your under garment. Pulling them away, met with your pussy.

“You ready,” he asked, muffled due to his head already being an inch away from your pussy.

A shaken sigh left you, “y-yea…”

Immediately attaching his mouth to your cunt. His thumbs opened you up more, licking your folds as his middle finger found his way inside you. Your hand cupped your mouth so the moans wouldn’t be so loud. Almost biting your hand until he reached your clit. Since you couldn’t see what he was doing, all you could do was feel him.

Moans intensified until you came in his mouth. He detached from you with a low chuckle, making your thighs quiver even more. Bo left the depths of your skirt , nonchalantly getting up to check on the catfish. Leaving you there, shaking. Taking the catfish, putting in on the platter, then putting in two more battered up fishes into the oil. He went to wash his hands. You took this as your opportunity to try and walk away from him. But he grabbed you by the arm,

“baby, we ain’t done.”

Helping you up then pushing you against the counter. Back facing him, Bo pulled your skirt up completely. His hand still your skirt balled up in one hand, his other was undoing his pants until his cock was out. Erected, twitchy, and dripping of sperm. Stroking it then pulling you up.

“Spit on it,” and you obliged. Spitting directly on it. He gave you a kiss on your neck, “good girl.”

Going behind you, stroking his cock until he was ready. But he also had to make sure you were as well. He uses his fingers to open you up, then he asked, “you ready for me?”

All you did was nod, but Bo only laughed, “I need some words come out your lips, sweetheart.”

“I-I’m ready…”

He inserted himself into you. Bring your bodies closer together, marking up your neck and shoulders as he pounded into you. The house was filled with your moans and pleas for him to slow down or at least stop going so deep inside of you. Pushing your hand on his abdomen but Bo grabbed your arm to put it behind you.

“It’s okay, I-I’m almost done— fuck. feel too good, baby.”

“Mhh, too deep,” was all you could mutter. He was all up in you and you couldn’t do a damn thing. Your husband eventually started using his finger to play with your clit again. Legs wobbling all over the place, the only thing holding you up was Bo. Your body tensed up before releasing on Bo, soon after he released inside of you. Then you heard foot steps on your porch. Bo quickly left you, pulling up his pants, then pushing your skirt back down. You both heard your daughter enter the house.

“Mama? Daddy? I’m home,” she slammed the door behind her. Walking around the house, “what y’all makin’?”

Bo saw the girl enter the kitchen and spoke, “hey, sweet thing, Mama started to feel uneasy so help her on the couch if you can. We’re making some catfish for our friends but I’ll save you a piece, okay?”

She nodded, you steadied yourself but held onto her. The living room couch wasn’t far, it wasn’t horrible to drag you along. A kiss on the forehead was placed by her before she oblivious walked away from you, “rest, Mama. You need it.”

A few moments later, Bo went into the living room to ‘check’ on you.

“I’ll take better care of you in a second, twins are pulling up soon. Catfish is almost done. You think they’ll notice even though I’m using your recipe?”

You just glared at him, causing him to laugh.

“You’re disgusting, Bo.”

He faked a pout, “y’know you love me,” then he planted a kiss on your forehead.

“I love you, baby.”

“Mhm, I love you too.”

[ebodebo]

no thoughts...just simon discovering you sitting on the grimy curb outside a club and pretending to be your boyfriend bc of unsavory men being nasty towards you. (tw: men)

-

A chill lingered in the air as you sank down onto the curb, the cold concrete pressing against your thighs while your short dress bunched up, revealing even more skin.

It wasn’t the wisest choice, considering you were just inches away from the road, but your aching feet and pounding head begged for a break.

And not only did you feel a mess, but you also looked it too.

Your eyes were bloodshot, and your eyelids feel heavy and sticky, weighed down by smudged eyeliner, mascara, and whatever glittery eyeshadow you had tossed on in a rush.

What had once been a carefully styled updo was now a tangled mess, with strands of hair falling haphazardly around your face.

You couldn’t be bothered to put it back up; even the thought of managing it made your head spin more than it already did.

Your friends were off somewhere, probably with people you didn’t know, and honestly, you didn’t care anymore.

You just needed to escape that stuffy club.

The lights were flashing so intensely and rapidly that it felt like you might faint.

Now, here you are, sitting on the grimy curb, your mind racing with anxiety.

You had hoped the alcohol would dull your worries, but all it did was amplify them.

Stressing about the rent that you can’t afford this month.

The difficulty of finding and keeping a decent boyfriend.

And let’s not forget about your terrible job that pays next to nothing!

On top of it all, your mother won’t stop calling and complaining about her new boyfriend, who you can’t stand.

“What a pretty girl you are,” a low voice calls out from behind.

His words feel distant, like an echo floating in your mind.

You turn your head slightly to catch a glimpse of the guy, vape in hand and hoodie pulled up, flanked by two friends grinning widely.

You roll your eyes, turning your head away, choosing not to engage with him or offer any response.

"Hey! I’m talking to you," the same voice calls out, its tone growing more assertive.

You turn your head again; this time, he’s closer than before. "Will you just fuck off?" You groan, your eyes barely hanging open.

"The fuck did you say to me.”

Okay.

Now he is mad.

And usually, you could take care of feeble men.

They touch you; they get a knee straight to their balls.

But, right now, you can’t even walk straight.

Let alone balance and swing your leg.

“Sorry—I,” you sputter, carefully standing and almost falling as he draws nearer.

“Think you can talk to me like that?” He snarls as he moves to stand right in front of you.

You look up at him.

His eyes are dark.

You feel your stomach churn.

"Sweetheart," you hear the deep British, gravelly voice before the man who carries it steps beside you. "Been lookin' for you.”

Your eyes dart to him in an instant.

He’s tall, like really, really tall.

Quite built, and looks intimidating as hell with an ominous mask covering his face.

And…fuck, he’s decked out in black and gray military gear.

You feel an odd sense of security, so you thread your arm through his and tuck yourself into his side.

“You yellin’ at my girlfriend?” His voice is so deep, and raspy.

The guy’s eyes nearly bug out of his head at the sound and sight of the man at your side.

“No, no,” the guy scramble. “I—I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend. I would have never—”

“Shouldn’t do it anyway, you pisshead,” the man next to you spat before turning to face you, voice softening. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m—I’m alright,” your murmur, voice uneven.

The man next to you turns his head to face the guy, his eyes darkening at the sight of you upset. “Get on your knees and apologize to her.”

“Wait, wha—”

“I’ll bash your head in.”

The guy fell to his knees, desperately searching for the right words. “I’m sorry. Fuck—I’m really, really sorry. I shouldn’t have done that; I fucked up. I’m so, so sorry,” he word vomits, voice trembling.

"Thank you," you whisper, your eyes widening in surprise at how readily he complies.

Your gaze drifts down to catch sight of a small friendship bracelet adorning the wrist of the man beside you.

It looked so out of place on him.

The bracelet features a black-and-white pattern of beads, with "Simon" spelled out in gray letters at its center and two skull beads surrounding it.

"Simon," you murmur, simply glancing at the letters without much thought.

His head swivels to you.

“Yeah, baby?” He quickly responds, eyes on you in an instant.

"We should—we should get going," you manage to say, feeling another flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

He nods, his hand lingering near your waist. You shift slightly, allowing your hand to slip into his, where you intertwine your fingers effortlessly.

Simon leans in closer, lowering his head to hover near the guy's ear, and whispers so you can barely catch what he’s saying.

“If you ever yell at my girlfriend, let alone another woman again,” Simon’s voice goes down an octave, low and stern. “I’ll find you and crack every fuckin’ bone in your body.”

The guy's face drains of color as he frantically tries to escape—not just back to his friends, who are just as terrified but well out of reach.

"You’re so…tall," you manage to say, your words coming out a bit slurred.

He lets out a gruff laugh. “Come over here.”

Simon tightly grips your fingers, gently guiding you around the corner and away from the club.

“Shouldn’t be alone,” he utters. “You’re drunk.”

“I know,” you admit, a hint of embarrassment creeping in. “I just needed to get out of that crazy club. It was too bright and too hot and too stuffy!” You let out a dramatic sigh. “I thought the alcohol would help clear my mind, but it only made me more anxious, you know?” You look up at him and shake your head.

“My rent is overdue; I can’t get a stupid boyfriend, and, oh God, my mother,” you continue to ramble; you were drunk, after all. “I’m a mess,” you exhale softly, tears clinging to your lashes.

Had you been crying that whole time?

“Listen,” he urges, hand pressing onto your shoulder. “If you want, you could live with me. Been lookin’ for a roommate. Could be nice,” he adds with a casual shrug.

You sniffle, hand wiping your tears. “You—you would do that for me?” You ask, heart warm from his generosity.

“Eh, sure. Why not?” His tone is relaxed and straightforward.

You’re beaming as you pull him in for a tight hug, burying your face in his abdomen while repeatedly expressing your gratitude.

He doesn’t say anything, but he wears the stupidest grin under that mask.

He wouldn’t tell you, but he was so, so ecstatic at the prospect of you living with him.

He could use a few more friends, and you vowed to ensure he stayed well-fed.

Besides, it certainly didn't hurt that you were a hot little spitfire who had him straining in his cargo pants.

He would hold out for you.

Roommates now, husband and wife later.

-

author’s note: crazy how he’s the only man ever

[yeagerprincess]

Casual (Onyankopon x Black Reader)

"Baby, wai-"

"Boy, fuck you!" You scream, slamming the door behind you in your boyfriend's face. Tears stream down your honey colored cheeks as you throw yourself into your bed, sobbing loudly into your heart shaped pillow.

The sound of Onyankopon's knuckles on your bedroom door only piss you off even more. "I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT," you wail like a banshee. Your anger contrasts your outfit: a soft pink skirt with a matching tube top and white converse with frilly white ankle socks.

"You gone quit yellin' at me, girl," his voice rumbles through the door, making you sob even harder. He respects your wishes though, and storms out the front door without another word.

Nearly an hour had gone by before you finally calmed down, staring blankly at the wall as you recounted the day's events. You were all dolled up and ready to spend the night out with Onyankopon, just the two of you, when you happened to peek over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of his messages.

It was all downhill from there. Whatever bitch he was texting could have him.

At least, you wished you really felt that way.

Your mind is swimming as you drag yourself out of bed and into the bathroom. After lazily cleaning off your makeup, you find yourself staring into the bathroom mirror. Your eyes are all puffy and red from crying, your once perfect edges were in total disarray now, your ponytail askew and the ribbon loosely draped around your scrunchie.

You're a mess. One final tear cascades down your cheek before you finally begin to draw yourself a bath. You dim the lights, get a few candles going, light some incense, then turn on your shower playlist. You douse your bath water with lavender oil and vanilla bath salts, then slowly ease your way into the steaming water, letting out a deep sigh of relief as the water warms you to your bones.

Your phone buzzes on the sink and you just know it's him. Who the fuck else would it be? Ignore.

it's only when the water starts to freeze that you finally rise from the tub and check your phone. It's Onyankopon, asking if you're okay asking if you're ready to talk. But you don't answer. You'd rather pout and let him figure it out.

You throw on a tank top and some shorts, then head to the kitchen in search of your favorite comfort snacks: wine, cookies n cream ice cream, a blunt, and some popcorn, only to be stopped dead in your tracks by the sight of Onyankopon sitting on your sofa in the dark.

"I thought you left," you ask, voice barely a whisper. He only shakes his head. You can tell he's been crying too. His nose is red and he usually gets quieter when he's upset, the complete opposite of you. "You really want me to leave?"

"I really want you to tell me why you talkin' to them bitches when you got a girlfriend."

"I thought we was just casual."

"Casual? Why don't you casually get the fuck up off my couch and ask that other bitch if you can casually sleep on hers."

"You know, you got a smart fuckin' mouth, girl" Onyankopon growls, rising from the sofa and making his way towards you until he's right in front of you, peering down at you with those piercing, dark eyes. "I like that about you," he continues, lifting his hand to caress his thumb over your pouty lips.

As much as you hate him right now, he's so fucking sexy in the dim light like this, his gold grillz shining in the dark, features softened by the darkness of the room. "Stop playin' with me," you sigh, gazing up at him through hazy, half lidded eyes.

"Ain't nobody playin' witchu, girl," his deep voice rumbles through his chest, making you squirm underneath his gaze. "I really ain't know you felt like that. That we was supposed to be official. I'm sorry." He punctuates his apology with a kiss, plump brown lips gently pressing against yours.

As if on queue, the waterworks start right up again. Against your own better judgment, you give into him, albeit reluctantly. "I-I hate you," you whimper into his lips, snaking your arms around his broad, hulking shoulders as he lifts you into his arms and carries you off to the sofa. "You'ont hate me, baby," he answers, shushing your verbal protests with another sweet kiss.

You want to argue so badly, but the way that big sexy mocha man effortlessly manhandles you has you reconsidering everything you though you felt about him. You allow him to undress you, instinctively lifting your hips as he rolls your pajama shorts down your thighs. He bites his lip as he takes in the display before him. You're already wet.

His clothes come off soon after, his big veiny dick just as ready as your pussy, your both shameless in your desire for each other. He sinks down into your aching pussy, watching as your face contorts with pleasure. Every inch has you thanking your stars that he didn't actually leave earlier.

"Onyyyyy," you whine as he begins to rock his hips, stroking your pussy slow and deep. You suck in a breath through your teeth, the slow pace making your eyes flutter shut. He carefully pulls one of your thighs up over his shoulder, gripping tightly onto the other as he rolls his devilishly skilled hips down into yours.

"You gone be nice to me?" he teases, watching you slowly fall apart for him, a deep chuckle escaping his lips when he sees you shaking your head 'no.'

"You cute," he answers before repositioning his hips, now drilling down straight into your sweet spot, making your eyes shoot open to lock with his. "Oh, fuck, oooouuh, Ony!" His pace his still pretty lax, but he's stroking you so deep and intensely that you can't keep up. Your faces are so close that your noses bump. You stick out your tongue to flick across his lips, making him groan desperately for you.

Your pretty, manicured nails dig into his bulbous biceps as he fucks you thoroughly, his fat dick filling you perfectly. "I'm sorry for making you cry," he moans against your lips before kissing them, only to pull away and apologize once more. The wet sounds of his dick stirring up your pussy fill the air alongside the lewd, smacking noises of your tongues and lips, making your eyes roll back from all the sensations. You make the mistake of peeking downwards where the two of you collide, only to be met with the scene of Onyankopon's unforgiving dick bullying away at your deliciously creamy pussy.

Long, drawn out whines and whimpers fall from your mouth as you watch Onyankopon's two huge plums slapping against your jiggly cheeks with every thrust. No one fucks you as good as him. No one's dick is as good as his. Nobody does this to your pussy except him.

"I'm finna cum, Ony!"

"You gone talk to me nice?"

"Oh, FUCK! Yes, Ony, yes Imma be nice! Imma be nice, daddy!"

"Get this dick, baby," he responds, prompting you to cream yourself all over his thick dick. You writhe and thrash beneath him, squealing blissfully into his pierced ear as he fucks all the girl juice out of you, watching intently as you fall apart on his dick. "Uuughh, fuck, Imma cum, baby, I'm finna cum all in that pussy," he groans as loses himself inside you, picking up the pace and ramming into you as he floods you with his precious cum.

It takes a minute for you both to regain your composure, just laying there in each other's arms and bathing in the afterglow. "We still casual?" you ask, playfully smacking him on the shoulder when you hear him laughing on top of you.

[vrystalius]

Never giving up on Sanemi, even after pushing you away

He flinches, he yells, he can’t sleep and keeps trying to push you away, but you won’t give up on your husband that easily.

Pairing: Sanemi x gn!reader

(Post-story, infinity castle arc spoiler warning! Traumatised-ish Sanemi)

You two haven’t slept in separate beds yet, but you might as well should. Ever since settling down in the outskirts of a peaceful village and starting a life without demons lurking, Sanemi has changed a lot. He isn’t the loving, cuddly and sometimes overprotective husband. He is flinching every time you come close and immediately pulls away when you try to touch him. His words drip of venom as he tells you to just leave him be, he’s not in the mood for lovely dovely things right now. But he really is anymore.

All your husband does is sit on the porch with his katana and stare into the woods. Watching. Checking. Paranoid demons may be lurking even after watching the demon king be beheaded and eradicated. His grip on the sheath of his katana was tight and if you tried to gently slip it out of his hand, Sanemi’d aggressively pull away and yell at you to just leave him alone, damn it!

You were incredibly worried about your husband and how obviously he is traumatised about everything that happened. You know he tends to suppress his emotions, especially during his hashira years. All this anger and fear that he bottled up is all overflowing now, affecting you.

You laid on your side of the bed, showing your back to him. Sanemi was having another nightmare, you could hear it. The sheets were shuffling beside you and his breaths came out in a short, ragged rhythm. You wanted to roll over and reach out, touch his shoulder and wake him up, pulling your husband into your arms, telling him it’s okay. But it might make him feel worse, you watched how he jumped everytime you touched him so innocently to pull him into a kiss or just a hug. Now that you were thinking about it, when was the last time you kissed him?

Then finally, Sanemi gasped sharply, his arm reaching out for something in the darkness, before tiredly falling back onto the mattress. Everything got silent, only yours and his breaths filling the quietness between you two. You slowly and carefully rolled over to not startle him. His eyes were unfocused and oh so tired. You wanted to brush some hair out of his face and caress his scalp like you used to, remembering the calming effect it had on him, but you didn’t.

“Sanemi, please.”

He didn’t blink, still staring at a non-existent point in the darkness above.

“Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong so I can help. You’re hurting so much…”

Silent tears began to well up in your eyes but you quickly wiped them away. Sanemi remained silent, rolling over and showing his back to you. A deep sigh escaped your lips as you did the same thing, burying your face in the sheets in an attempt to muffle any sobs daring to exit your mouth. You thought he fell asleep when you didn’t hear him speak.

“I keep seeing him, my brother.”

Your husband mumbled. His voice was deep and raspy, but quiet. You listened, letting him talk.

“I keep thinking he’s there in the corner, or the guys with the black hairs in the village. I’m dreamin’ of him all the time.”

The sheets ruffled beside you and you sensed how Sanemi was facing you now. You didn’t turn around yet, wanting to let him vent.

“I see the six-eyed-freak, blood, fucking blood everywhere. The corridors, Himejima.. I see it all. Every night.”

You heard how his voice began to break slightly. That finally made you turn around, seeing your husband tearing up. You hesitantly reached out and cupped his cheek. Sanemi closed his eyes, carefully leaning into your touch. His lower lip was quivering and his brows furrowed together.

“I’m sorry I keep yellin’, I’m just fucking messed up. I couldn’t protect my fucking brother, couldn’t protect shit…”

Tears couldn’t stop running down his cheek while he was rapidly trying to wipe them away. You moved closer, using both of your hands to cradle his handsome face, wiping the salty tears with your thumb. Sanemi sobbed, holding onto your clothes desperately. He pulled you closer slowly snd wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. You felt how his whole body was shaking.

“Shh, shhh… It’s okay, you’re going to be okay…Shhh..”

You tightly held him against you, your hand rubbing his back soothingly. He was still sobbing, maybe even louder now, wrapping his legs around you. You sighed quietly.

“We’re going to get through this, okay? You’ll be fine… It wasn’t your fault. You’ll be okay…”

Sanemi shook his head, clinging onto you for dear life.

“I’m sorry, I’m fucking messed up. You shouldn’t be with me, you need someone normal, a fucking healthy person. Not me, not me damn it…”

It was like he was apologising for being severely traumatised, as if it was his fault. Your tight embrace of him never wavered, giving him a little comfort. His tears stopped flowing, now being reduced to just sobbing and shaking. Your hand began working through his hair like you always used to do.

“No, I want to be with you. I choose to be with you, Sanemi. You’re my husband and I love you so so much, more than you can ever imagine.”

You planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

“We’ll get through his together. I’ll stay with you, we can do baby steps. One at a time.”

You wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders, pressing his head against your chest. Sanemi closely nuzzled against your warm skin, listening to your heartbeat. His hands were still having a death grip on your pyjamas. He nodded quietly.

“Okay… Okay.”

“I love you, Sanemi. I always will.”

Your husband nodded slowly, finally regulating his breathing, his grip loosening.

“Me too. I love you.”

🎃

Fictorber prompt: “I will never give you up.”

Oh jeez I’m so tired. I debated writing today but managed to do it, but now off to bed I go! I’m completely spent for no reason XD

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough.

Take care of yourselves <3

My event Masterlist 🎃

[judesmoonbeauty]

Ikémen Villain's 2025 Vil Fest - 400 Hearts Story: Jude Jazza

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

(Jude’s still not finished….)

As I was anxiously waiting for him to come back, the door opened.

Jude: ….Oh, yer here?

Kate: Jude, welcome back!

Kate: Are you hurt anywhere? You must be tired, please sit down and rest!

Jude: Quit yellin’. It’s annoyin’.

Kate: Sorry, I just got a bit worried while I was waiting, or rather...

One of Jude’s arms was hanging limp, while his other hand was holding his shoulder.

Kate: What’s wrong with your shoulder? Are you hurt?!

Jude: Somethin’ like this ain’t gonna hurt me.

Kate: Then…?

Jude: ……..This is.

Here Jude uses "korehanaa," which can be translated to several things, but primarily "this/this is." I am assuming Jude's meaning popping his shoulder back in place is what will actually hurt. However, take this line with a grain of salt.

Jude tautly bends his elbow —

Jude: Mm……

The moment his supporting hand pushed into his shoulder….I heard bones crack.

Kate: That sounded terrible, are you okay?

Jude: Just popped my shoulder back in place.

Kate: Your shoulder was dislocated?!

Jude: Yer always fussin’. It’s fixed so it’s fine now.

Kate: But what if you force it back and it gets stuck in a weird position?

Kate: We need to be bandage it up immediately…!

Jude: Huh, y’know quite a bit. Where’d ya learn that. That quack doc maybe?

Kate: Nope. While I was waiting for you, I read a book about how to treat injuries.

Kate: I thought it might be of some help.

As I was explaining, I brought over a first-aide kit I’d prepared.

Jude: Ain’t had nothin’ like this in my room?

Kate: I prepped it in case of an emergency.

Kate: I was worried that you might get hurt, but I couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

Kate: Anyway, you’re always getting hurt Jude, so this this will be a good opportunity to always have a first-aide kit handy!

(Is there any kind of cloth to suspend an arm with….)

I open the lid of the medical box...but I couldn’t find a sling inside.

(I didn’t anticipate a shoulder dislocation at the time…..Oh!)

Suddenly, I had an idea and pulled out the large ribbon from the chest of my blouse…..

Kate: Raise your arm, please.

Jude: Ah?

I forcefully threaded the ribbon under the complaining Jude’s armpit, tied it behind his neck and wrapped his arm in it.

Jude: Haaa….yer overreactin’. ‘N it’s cack-handed.

Kate: I-It’s just a temporary measure.

Kate: I think Roger likely has the supplies to treat it.

Kate: I’ll go them now, so just wait here a bit.

Jude: …..It’s fine like this.

Kate: Huh? Why…

Jude: …..Can’t understand ‘less I spell it out fer ya?

The eyes staring at me seem to have a feverish look in them, and it startles me.

Kate: Uh…..Well, I don’t understand.

Jude: Figure it out yerself.

Kate: So, you don’t have the slightest intention to tell me…..

Jude: If I tell ya, you’ll get carried away.

Tilting my head at his words, heat rises in my face as I realize the possibility.

Jude: Whatcha turnin’ red fer.

Kate: It’s like you’re saying….You don’t want to take it off even if it’s “cack-handed,” because I’m the one who treated it….

Jude: Just how self-conscious are ya, that ain’t it.

Kate: Huh, which part was wrong?

Jude: All o’ it. Start to finish.

Kate: ………….

Jude: Why’re ya poutin’?

Kate: I’m not pouting.

Jude: Yer poutin’. Yer right easy to read.

Jude bursts out laughing.

Jude: …..Lookin’ at yer cute face's made me wanna violate ya.

Kate: Hey, what are you sayi-Nnha….

I was pinned from behind, and my lips were wedged open with his fingers…

Kate: Don’t use your injured arm….

Jude: Don’t move ‘n it’ll be fine.

Jude: I can make ya feel good with just one hand.

Kate: Mmm, ahh!

His other hand pinches my nipple, and the crawling pleasure down my spine makes my back arch.

I want to touch you because of I love you, I want to tell you how I feel - such ordinary logic doesn’t work with my lover.

The sweet pain he gives me, always reminds me of that love.

[Event Master List]

Kate: You don't want to take it off because I wrapped it. Jude: That ain't it. The fandom: /eyerolls at the TSUNDERE.

If you wish to be added (and 18+ YO), or removed from my translations tag list, please let me know!

Tag List:@sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @yuoi-the-magnificent @husbandosandladders @nawlink @justgiulia @vickietickie @greedyqueensfavourite @sharigax @belphiesleftpinkytoe @reimy1164 @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @goustmilk @kraiyne @midnightsrunaway

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

In The Woods Somewhere

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: kidnapping, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), hella praise, dubcon (he kidnapped her bro), breeding kink go BRRRRRRR, cockwarming technically

Genre: smut

Summary: Didn't anybody warn you not to go off into the woods alone at night?

A/N: This is egregiously self indulgent and I regret nothing

***

First it was your scent that drew him to you. He could smell it from miles away.

Immediately he zeros in on it, trying to figure out where the intoxicating aroma is coming from. Logan's eyes dart around as he follows the trail through the woods. He finds you walking through the trees, alone.

Logan creeps up on you, slow and careful.

When he's close enough, he leans forward to really breathe in your scent. Only then do you flinch, having not noticed him this entire time.

 Your arm swings up but he's quick to catch it before you can strike him. You try to lean back but with his hand still wrapped around your wrist.

"You smell... fucking incredible." He practically growls at you.

"Get away from me!" You shove his chest with your free hand. He doesn't budge, you can feel your heart pounding in your chest. You need an escape plan. Clearly, brute force is not on your side.

"What're you doing all the way out here, little mouse?"

"Let go of me!"

"I can't do that." He wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"Get off of me!" You yank your arm trying to get out of his grasp but his hold on you tightens. The screaming is pretty useless out here in the woods, he knows that.

Logan lifts you into his arms, princess carry. It catches you off guard a bit, it's- sweeter than you'd expect him to toss you over his shoulder or something.

He starts to move and that reminds you that you're being kidnapped.

You thrash, claw at him, push against his chest, anything to get him to drop you. He grunts as he tries to maintain his hold on you while walking.

"Hold still. You could hurt yourself it I drop you." Logan forces the words out between angry huffs struggling to keep you in his arms.

"No! Let go of me you fucking brute!" You grit out. Out here in the woods you're sure nobody 

"I can't do that. Just- hold still dammit."

"PUT ME DOWN!"

"Quit yellin', you're in my ear."

"Oh I'm sorry is my unwillingness to be kidnapped inconveniencing you?" You huff. Quit yelling. Honestly what an absurd thing to say.

"Hey, I'm trying to be careful with you. You are not making this easy."

"Do you hear yourself? Why would I make this easy for you?"

"Knock that off." Logan curls his arm enough to cover your mouth with his hand, inadvertently pulling you tighter against him.

"Name's Logan by the way, you can tell me yours once we get to where we're going." His hold restricts your movements a bit more but still you fight against him as best you can, even as he walks into what must be his home.

Logan only puts you down once you've reached a particular room. He's put himself between you and the door. A quick glance around tells you it's a bedroom, probably his.

"I'll tell you right now darling you're not getting out of here unless I let you." He says.

"So let me."

"You wandered all the way out here all alone, hasn't anybody warned you about what kind of creatures roam these woods."

"Child's tales." You scoff.

"I assure you, I am no child's tale." Logan says. He stalks towards you, and with each step he takes forward, you take one back until your back hits a wall. Shit.

"What do you want from me?" You ask quietly.

"I'm going to put a baby in you." He says.

"What?" You barely get the word out. There's no way you heard that correctly.

"Your scent is so intoxicating I tracked you miles through the woods. I have to have you." He says. He leans impossibly closer, buries his face in your neck and breathes you in. You hold incredibly still, even as he nuzzles his nose against your throat.

When his tongue snakes out, you gasp as the wet muscle drags slowly against your skin.

"I will take such good care of you."

"I just want you to let me go." You whisper. Logan lifts his head to look you in the eyes and one hand actually comes up to caress your chin,

"No can do little mouse, but I promise to make sure you enjoy this as much as I will." He says and if you weren't his captive those words paired with the sincerity in his gaze might sound sweet.

Logan kisses you, but doesn't linger long, lips trailing down, littering your throat with kisses and nips. When one particular kiss makes you jolt ever so slightly, Logan somehow picks up on it and chooses the spot for the first of many that he plans to mark you.

Aside from one noticeably harsh inhale, you do what you can to disguise your reactions as Logan sucks a hickey into your skin. You squeeze your eyes shut, ball your hands into fists, brace yourself against the wall, anything to not give in to the slight tug in your abdomen from his lips against your neck.

"Your heart is racing."

"You've trapped me against the wall in your house in the woods." You remind him.

"I won't hurt you."

"Call me crazy, but I'm not inclined to trust the words of my captor." You say slowly. You pace your words to maintain control of your reactions.

"Well, I'm more than happy to prove it to you." Logan says. He squats low enough to grab your legs and lift you up. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck so as not to fall and crack your head open.

Logan carries you over to his large bed and lowers you onto it.

"How attached to these clothes are you?" He asks.

"I quite like them."

"Then I won't rip them." He tells you.

"Gee thanks." You scoff. Logan pulls your shirt over your head and kisses down your chest. He doesn't bother taking your bra all the way off, he simply tugs the cups down enough to free your breasts.

He places his hand underneath your tits and practically swallows one into his mouth. His tongue swirls around your nipple while his thumb circles the other and you shudder. It's hard not to respond to his touch even as you try to resist.

When he trades the almost lackadaisical licks for harshly sucking on your nipple, you gasp out a sound that dissolves into a moan. You cut it short, gripping the sheets and biting your lip to suppress any more stray sounds.

"That was pretty. I wonder what other little noises I can get from you." Logan hums, peppering kisses down your abdomen. He reaches the waistband of your pants and tugs them off, tossing them somewhere in the room. Your underwear gone just as quick.

Logan grabs one of your legs kisses up your inner thigh. As he travels closer and closer to your center you'll admit your insides clench in anticipation. It's so strange, though your mind obviously understands the apocryphal nature of the situation you've ended up in, your body can't help but respond to every perfectly placed touch, kiss, caress- it's maddening.

He glides his nose against your skin until it's buried into your mound. Logan sniffs deeply.

"Fuck you're intoxicating." He groans. His tongue rolls over your slit, your juices coat his mouth and he groans again at your taste. He wraps his arms around your legs, locking you in place as he devours you.

Logan's tongue is everywhere. He swirls it around your clit, laps at your entrance, thrusts it inside of you, he's feverish, aggressive, frenzied, but every move is clearly intentional. He responds to your reactions- as restrained as they are, he listens for the slight hitch in your breathing, a hiccup in the pace of your heartbeat, the shuffle of the sheets as you grasp onto them. He watches your face squeeze, feels your muscles tense, every minute thing he can pick up on he uses to adjust his ministrations.

You feel your orgasm creep up on you. It builds slowly and you do your absolute best to fight it off, but it seems Logan is as aware of it as you are. He wraps his lips around your clit and focuses his tongue on the bundle of nerves. With so much attention on it, you can't hold it anymore, you cum with a loud whine.

"More pretty noises." He hums against you. His tongue keeps moving against you, greedily swallowing your release. He makes no effort to hide his enjoyment, loudly slurping, and moaning as he savors the taste of you.

You expected him to pull away by now, waves of your orgasm starting to subside, but no, he continues to eat you out with the same intensity, as if he truly can't get enough of you.

 It's overwhelming, his mouth against you, unrelenting, and you can't even stop the sounds of pleasure from periodically slipping from your parted lips. Each moan, whimper, gasp, only seems to spur Logan on.

He laps, and sucks, and licks, grunting and groaning throughout as he works to pull another orgasm from you, and then another after that. You're not sure how long he's at it, but you know by the time he comes up for air you're at least 5 orgasms in, sweaty, panting, and feeling dangerously floaty.

"If I could spend the rest of my life doing nothing but tasting you I'd consider it an absolute blessing." He sighs.

"I can't tell if your mouth is more dangerous when you're speaking or when you... use it for other things." You huff out.

"I'll give you more information to reach a conclusion." Logan crawls up your body and kisses your neck again. Your head lulls back and over, allowing him room to nip and suck at your pulse. You're so distracted by it that you don't realize he's undone his jeans and freed himself from his boxers until he's lined up with your entrance and begins sliding it.

You gasp and jolt at the first breach. Even without seeing him, you know he's huge. He rocks forward slowly, each roll of his hips pushing a little more of him past your entrance. It's a true test of his self-control to enter you incrementally, especially with your breathy cries each time he moves and the way your soaking wet pussy hugs him like a vice.

When he finally sinks all the way in he groans heavy and deep in his throat. He holds still for several moments, panting, trying to rein in his burning desire to fuck you into the mattress like a wild animal. He doesn't want to break you. Though the wet heat of your walls pulsing around him is certainly not convincing him to be gentle.

"God you feel so fucking-" Logan's breathing so hard he doesn't even finish the thought. You start to squirm against him, the fullness starting to get to you.

"Keep moving like that and I'm going to put you through this mattress." He warns you through gritted teeth. When your walls clench around him at the statement he grunts. Fuck he is in trouble.

"Logan." You grab his arm.

Shit. It's then he realizes you haven't said his name this entire time and he was completely unprepared for how sweet it would sound from your lips.

"Again. Please. Say my name again." Logan says. The request comes out breathy and soft but you can hear the desperation in it, as if you saying his name is the only thing keeping him alive.

"If I do will you fucking move?" You ask. The feeling of him inside you is... odd to say the least. You can feel your walls sporadically fluttering around him, and so can he.

"Yes, fine, anything you want just- please say it again."

"Logan."

"God. I've never loved the sound of my name more than right now." He grunts. As promised, he starts moving. His hips roll rhythmically against yours. He makes no effort to muffle his sounds of pleasure as he fucks you. And he's full of noises. Moans, and grunts, curses even, as though he's lost in the feeling of you. Then come the string of praises, dazed ramblings that you're not even sure are meant for you to hear.

"You feel so good." He mutters. "You're so gorgeous." He sighs. "I love the way you sound." He grunts. "I never want to stop." He moans. "You're gonna look so fucking hot pregnant I won't be able to keep my hands off you." He huffs. "I already can't." He groans.

Your hand drags up his arm, nails digging into his skin. It's almost too much, between his words and the feeling of him rutting against you.

"F-fuck, Logan." You whine.

"So perfect." He whispers. His hips are relentless thrusting into you, his hands grasp tightly at your hips, he kisses along your throat, he's everwhere, as if he truly can't get enough of you. You're already so sensitive from your earlier orgasms you quickly feel your body bracing for another.

Logan seems to notice it too, he reaches a hand between your bodies and circles your clit with a decisive thumb. Your back arches at the touch, breathy moans urging him to make you cum again.

"Come on little mouse, wanna feel you cum on my dick, let go for me, let me feel it- fuck let me feel it so I can pump you full of my cum. I need to, need you to cum first." Logan forces the words out through gritted teeth. He must be close himself.

A few more of those perfectly tight circles and you're tumbling over the edge yet again, clawing at his back in the process.

He hisses from the sting, relishing in the burn left by your nails. He'd let you mark him any way you wanted to, so long as he never had to live without feeling your warmth again.

"Say my name again little mouse, please." Logan grunts. His movements are more frantic now. He must be really close to the edge.

"Logan." You pant out. After a handful of sloppier and sloppier thrusts, Logan slams his hips into you one final time and with a deep growl spills into you. The heat and force of it shocks you a little and you whimper as his release fills you. He stays seated inside you even after his orgasm subsides, even as your walls pulse around him and he can feel his cum leaking around him.

He'd be mad over the waste but, if it didn't work this time he'll have every excuse to keep trying.

***

[6okuto-moved]

AN INCH BETWEEN US

osamu x gn!reader | ~800 words, he calls you hon once, you're getting married! :3

“you don’t usually get nervous.”

“well,”—osamu fiddles with his cufflink, eyes trained on the metal around his finger—“today’s kind of a big deal, isn’t it?”

make sure you don’t see each other before you get out there, atsumu warned as he pat your fiancé’s back. bad luck or somethin’.

doesn’t make sense if we��re doin’ a first look, idiot.

oh, shut up. don’t look at each other ’til then, then!

your back rests against the door, his on the other side keeping it from closing. maybe it’s just a silly superstition, but it cements today as something real, reminds you that it’s happening.

you reach your hand around to search for his own. “at least we’ll be together the whole time. and then we can say goodbye, and go home, and get out of these clothes, and sleep—”

osamu groans and rests his head against the wood—you don’t think he’s slept properly in two weeks, head scrambled and busy with preparations and the same nervous buzz as yours; the fact that he fell asleep before 1am last night was a miracle.

his hand finds yours, engagement ring resting cool against your skin, palm warm and a little rough. he mumbles, “thank god i closed the shop for a few days, if you told me to wake up any earlier than 9 tomorrow i think i’d die.”

“why are you- we haven’t even gotten to the actual wedding, ’samu.”

“okay? i’m tired and ’m gonna get even more tired. i just wanna cuddle at home. can a man not dream?” he defends, and all but whines. you snort but relent, letting him pull your hand closer and settle into a quiet.

“what if i fall?” he blurts out.

“...what?” a laugh escapes you. “you won’t fall.”

“i could trip down the aisle.”

“you won't.”

he squeezes your fingers. “didn’t realize i was marrying someone who could see the future?”

“’samu. you won’t fall, but if you get in my head and i fall, i’m blaming you,” you warn with a teasing lilt.

a beat passes, and you can tell he’s smiling as you stare at the couch ahead of you.

sitting on a wooden hotel floor, wedding attire on and hair not done, bed covered in supplies and friends’ outfits, the buzz of the air conditioner making it a little too cold in your room—you think you’re content like this, because at least you’re here with him.

shuffling a little closer, he says your name.

“hm?”

the inch between you feels a little bigger as osamu lifts your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles, lingering on your ring finger a second longer than the others—“i’m glad i get to marry you.”

your grip tightens, and if osamu listened carefully, you think he could hear your heart trying to beat out of your chest in search of his.

the elevator dings somewhere down the hall.

“i’m glad i get to marry you, too.”

“samu!” his twin’s voice rings out. “are you done cryin’, or do i haveta drag y’back to get your hair done?”

“god, ’tsumu, yeah, i’m comin’, stop yellin’!” he chides with a huff.

atsumu scoffs before replying—something about his twin being ungrateful for all he does—then walks back to the elevator. you hear a sigh. “guess i should go, huh?”

a thumb rubs the back of your hand, and you almost tell him to stay, but there isn’t much time, and it won’t be long before you’re pushing it. taking a deep breath, you let go to stand up first. “mhm.”

the door squeaks at the weight now gone as you both stretch.

you turn to say goodbye, the open door and shadow in the hall taunting you, but freeze when a familiar hand starts to push the door open.

“wh- samu!” your hand flies up to push his grey bangs out of view.

“woah- what- shit- sorry, sorry. habit, was gonna kiss ya,” he apologizes with a stumble.

panic evaded, your heart rate comes down and he huffs. “my- seriously, hon, you’re lucky my hair isn’t done yet.”

“...sorry, i—” you try to hide a laugh. “i’m sorry, i panicked.”

“no, really?”

“’samu,” you whine, embarrassment painted across your face, though he can’t see. he laughs outside, and you try to ignore the heat in your face.

“...at least you’ll kiss me later, right?” you ask quietly.

“....yeah.” there’s a smile in his voice, a pause, a rustling of fabric as he pats down his suit once more. “see you out there?”

you place your hand on the doorknob. “see you out there.”

@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @kuroaka @sunaslay @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist @chirikoheina @sleepyxxhead @milkbreadforlife @itsukkie @sirimirihiro @mylahrins @aria-chikage @akari-fujikawa @chocopuchino @hearts4itoshi @ur-local-simp @tnshjfk

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

FICMAS - DAY 4 - CHRISTMAS WITH HIS FAMILY

Title: Scottish Christmas

Synopsis: Going to Johnny's Mother's house for Christmas.

Warnings: I need to say this before ANYONE, especially someone who IS Scottish reads this. I AM NOT SCOTTISH. I DO NOT CLAIM TO BE SCOTTISH. I researched off of a glossary of slang derived from Scots English and Scots (Scots, Scots English, Scottish Gaelic, and English are ALL spoken in Scotland) and there is no clear location that Johnny is from within Scotland, so I kept it very general, and used slang to make up for my lack of knowledge. If ANY OF IT IS INCORRECT AND YOU NOTICE, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DM ORSEND AN ASK CORRECTING IT, I don't like being wrong and I don't want to offend anyone. Happy reading and Merry Christmas

AN: I tried to write this best as possible, I'm so sorry but it might be inaccurate to some degree, I'm merely an American (not to mention currently in busy because of the season) who's trying their damnedest to make this seem really accurate, yeah?

You're in a sweater--red--and jeans, your coat hanging over it all and black. Johnny is beside you, still struggling with his mittens a little, fidgeting because after all, this is the first time you're staying for more than a dinner with his *parents.* Your suitcase is behind you--obviously with the matching pajamas Johnny forced you into for Christmas photos because "His mam will simply die if she doesn't have a good photo!" Along with other effects, the things you'll need for the next bloody week.

Johnny fixes his mits entirely and grabs your gloved hand, reaching up and knocking on the door. He makes sure the cross his mother bought him for his 18th birthday is visible. He adjusts his cross, then his sweater.

Johnny's mom opens the door, pleasantly surprised to see you both.

"Ah! You're here!" She says with the largest grin, ushering your both inside.

"Johnny, lovie, go set your gifts by the tree, yeah?"

"'Ey, Mam, missed ya, too," he remarks with a devilish smirk, causing her to glare.

"You're lucky your thlittle burd is 'ere, keepin' me from yellin'. Love ya, too, John."

He shudders from his real name being used and walks off, trudging about in his snow boots all through the house. It makes his poor mother, Mrs. MacTavish, clutch her little necklace and scoff.

"D'ya see 'im? 'E's draggin' snow 'round the feckin' hoose," She says, absolutely offended by his actions.

You shrug, "He's like that at our home, too," you admit, taking your coat off.

Mrs. MacTavish scoffs, shaking her head in disdain, "Ye poor thin', 'ere, I'll take yer coa' an' ye go sit yers'lf doon."

She practically snatches your coat from you, pointing to where to take your shoes off.

You make it about.. three steps from the living room entrance and then you're positively bombarded by Johnny's three nieces and nephews- or, at least, the ones currently walking--Amelia, Noah, and Fraser. Johnny's sister shouts for them in Scottish Gaelic, sighing as those kiddos just don't listen.

You laugh as you're tackled to the ground, each one shouting "aun'ie," or "Aunt!" or your name horribly butchered by those cute little toddlery, Scottish voices.

You hug them all, slowly getting back up from the ground, to go say hi to his sister.

"Hey, Eden. How are you?" You ask, giving a nice, polite grin to her.

She smiles fondly, "'Ello- Haw! Simmer doon, 'Melia, aff yer brot'er!" She cuts herself off, glaring daggers to Amelia, who's currently tugging the hair of her brother, Noah.

She looks back up at you, "'M dooin' brand new," she says with a sarcastic glint in her eyes, before her newest baby who's she's currently bouncing in her arms starts to fuss.

She coos to him, before sighing and kissing his forehead, singing him some nursery rhyme to try to calm him.

That's when you feel two arms snake around your waist and pick you up, causing you to yelp.

"Johnny!" You shout out in a panic, squirming as he laughs and laughs. Eden's baby turns his little head and looks up all wide eyed, starting to laugh and laugh.

Eden seems to relax, sighing in relief while you're being brutally attacked loved on by Johnny.

You finally turn around to face him with that unamused expression you give him and he sighs, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling your neck lovingly. You let out an annoyed huff, rolling your eyes with a small grin.

Dinner that night is lovely--a nice brisket with the promise of a big Christmas dinner tomorrow. Tonight Eden, the kids, and Mrs. MacTavish all bake a mince pie, a Scottish tradition you never really.. understood.

You sit beside Johnny, curled up to his side, his feet on the ottoman. He has an arm wrapped around you, rubbing your shoulder as he and Mr. MacTavish, along with his brother-in-law all gather around to watch whatever Rugby match played earlier in the week--the highlights of it. Your eyes shut and you snuggle up to his side a little further, wrapping an arm around him and letting yourself fall asleep.

He looks happy down at you, sipping on a (spiked) eggnog, reaching up to stroke your hair as you start to just... drift.

[lunememes]

🌙 * ― 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐓 ( a collection of sentence starters from season one of amazon's fallout show. feel free to adjust the wording and pronouns as needed! do not add to the list. )

❛  and in that respect, he could be a cannibal or just like, crammed full of tumours. ❜ ❛  flesh is weak but steel endures. ❜ ❛  unless you know what to find and preserve, you're more useful as a corpse. ❜ ❛  how do we know they're not feral? ❜ ❛  well what makes you think i give a good goddamn about that? ❜ ❛  well what the fuck would you know 'bout where i'm from? ❜ ❛  but for me, well, i do this shit for the love of the game. ❜ ❛  you come from a place of rules, of laws. this place is indifferent to all of that. ❜ ❛  question is, will you still want the same things when you have become a different animal altogether? ❜ ❛  you earn the suit through acts of bravery. this is an act of bravery. ❜ ❛  and i'm telling you you're gonna go through a whole lot worse if you stay 'round here. trust me. ❜ ❛  clean hair. nice teeth. and all ten fingers. must be nice. ❜ ❛  the vaults were nothing more than a hole in the ground for rich folks to hide in while the rest of the world burned. ❜ ❛  you know your kind ain't welcome here. ❜ ❛  you gotta be fucking kidding me. ❜ ❛  you'll be lucky if you can make it to fucking breakfast. ❜ ❛  i'm sorry for yellin', been shot in the leg. ❜ ❛  do you have anyone else you can trust in this town? ❜ ❛  do i really have to kill him? ❜ ❛  well, if you like the taste of lavender, why not just drink a bottle of perfume? ❜ ❛  that's the worst thing i've ever put in my mouth. that's horrible. ❜ ❛  do unto others as you would have done unto you. ❜ ❛  thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time. ❜ ❛  water water everywhere, and not a drop to drink. ❜ ❛  where do you think you're going? you ain't going nowhere. ❜ ❛  there you are, you little killer. ❜ ❛  no! what a disgusting idea. i'm simply going to harvest your organs. ❜ ❛  i may end up looking like you, but i'll never be like you. ❜ ❛  i really wanna believe you but practically every person i've met up here has tried to kill me. ❜ ❛  listen, hey. you don't get this medicine, you're gonna pass out, okay? and if you lose consciousness, we're both gonna die. ❜ ❛  i've seen these in old engineering manuals but never in real life. ❜ ❛  now, seeing as everyone on earth seems to be after that thing, i'm guessing that's what you're looking for too? ❜ ❛  and you could've killed me when i collapsed back there and you didn't. ❜ ❛  i get that trust doesn't come easily up here. but you can trust me. ❜ ❛  i hate it up here. ❜ ❛  the things i'm willing to do for you never cease to amaze me. ❜ ❛  hey, hey, hey. come here. i'm sorry. i know you always try to do the right thing. that's what i love about you. ❜ ❛  trust doesn't come easily to those of us with a guilty conscience. ❜ ❛  in my experience, the apple tends not to fall too far from the tree. is that true in your case? ❜ ❛  these people are hiding something from us, and i'm gonna prove it to you, okay? ❜ ❛  there's always some new little faction, ain't there? brand new team of believers with their own dumbass ideas about how they gonna save the world. ❜ ❛  so what d'you think [name]? am i really walking out of here today, or are you gonna try and draw on me for what i did? ❜ ❛  a good bad guy doesn't see themselves as the bad guy. ❜ ❛  and yet power is taken, not given. a lesson you seem to have learned. ❜ ❛  war never changes. ❜ ❛  you look out at this wasteland, looks like chaos. but there's always somebody behind the wheel. and that's who i wanna talk to. ❜ ❛  maybe you can stop them. maybe you can't. maybe all you can do is try. ❜