#Why do his pajamas have sleeves if he doesn't have arms?

[desultory-novice]

Two items of note:

First, I finally finished the cover to MariPav Arc 2! (After already uploading Ch.5 Pt.1) I only redesigned Gryll’s costume, oh, about six times. I’ll probably redesign it a seventh but this’ll work for now...

And secondly... Marionettes’ Pavane is now up on AO3! 

I thought it would be useful to have a backup location for it / a place to read the whole thing in one go. I’ve also added fresh chapter notes to the end of each chapter, as that’s a thing you can do there!

[xiaowhore]

intoxicating.

premise. your boyfriend dumps you and says he doesn't love you anymore. of course, being the petty bitch that you are, you have to prove that you don't need him in your life either. and of course, intense emotions often lead to rash decisions, so you go to a bar in hopes of finding a new man.

somehow, even when all you've managed to do is scowl at anyone who approaches you and mope at the bar counter, you still manage to get one.

Wriothesley has dealt with his fair share of unruly drunks before, but they were something more along the lines of aggressive and sloppy, not depressed and sappy.

He finds that he'd rather manhandle angry alcoholics than a person who makes a slobbering mess all over his shirt, clinging to his arm and sobbing to his sleeve. Your body starts to sway even when he supports your weight, your footsteps unstable as your attempt to walk in a straight line fails entirely.

Okay, so maybe you are sloppy after all.

Wriothesley sighs and tightens his grip on your shoulders. There's no point in losing his patience with a drunk person. He didn't even mean to pick you up, it's just that as a police officer, his sense of responsibility makes him want to fix a troublesome situation whenever he sees one. Even when he isn't on duty, he often leads disruptive drunks out of bars and restaurants, forces them out when he has to, and is always on the receiving end of owners' gratitude.

However, he has no experience dealing with drunks that just got dumped by their boyfriend and chugged away the sorrow with alcohol. You know, like the one dragging their feet as he drags their inebriated body away.

At first, he thought you were hitting on him when he felt your head lean on his shoulder in the bar. It's a common strategy, one that he's dealt with enough times to know when someone is just pretending to be drunk and trying to get his attention. He was still thinking of what to say when tears actually rolled down your cheeks and you started retelling your life story that he never asked to hear about.

Wriothesley isn't actually trying to listen, but he still gets the gist of it. It would be hard not to when you're still prattling on about it beside his ear as we speak.

“He said...” You hiccup, warm liquid seeping into his shirt as you sob into his arm. He hopes that's from your tears and not your snot. “He said he doesn't feel anything for me anymore...”

So you glammed up for tonight and tried to have fun at a bar so you could prove to yourself you didn't need him in the same way he didn't need you. He can already recite the story perfectly from the amount of times you told him. Your plan is irrational at best, and he doesn't see himself doing the same if he were ever to be in the same situation, but he can't berate you for it. Not when you looked so miserable and hopeless to the extent he didn't think it would be safe to leave you alone back at the bar.

“You can't force yourself to be happy,” Wriothesley grumbles, finally giving up on carrying you by the shoulder and instead hoists you up on his back to give you a piggyback ride. Your shoes slip off your feet, so he sighs as he crouches down to pick them up. “At times like this, you should find other ways to feel better.”

Your body jolts against him as you hiccup once again. “Like what?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs, and he can feel you gradually getting used to being carried. It takes only a bit more for you to melt against his body, your chin snugly tucked in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. “Watch movies at home in your pajamas, I guess. Treat yourself to good food. Go on a trip. You look like the type to enjoy that. Much safer than getting involved with guys when you're still emotionally unavailable.”

You sniffle. “Romance movies only remind me of him. Eating at restaurants will make me remember the dates we've gone to. And going on trips will make me wish he's there with me.”

Why do they have an argument for each point I make? And I never said anything about the movie having to be romance. “Well, you still have to go through that,” he gives up on making you think otherwise. “But one day, you'll feel a little better about it. Maybe you'll want to start dating again when you watch that romance movie, or you'll want someone else to eat with on that restaurant you once went to. And when you're on a trip, maybe you'll even think you want somebody special to go with you.”

You go quiet. For a moment, he thinks you've fallen asleep. But then your head slowly rises from his shoulder, dazed eyes peeking at him unsurely. “You really think so?”

“It won't be easy,” Wriothesley says, because nothing ever is. “But you want to say you don't love him anymore, right?” He glances at you, at the dry tear streaks on your cheeks, at what glitter remains around your eyes from all the times you've rubbed away your tears.

For the first time that night, he sees you smile. “Yeah... I want to say it without feeling hurt anymore.”

He turns away, and he feels himself smiling without meaning to. “That's good.”

“...So do you like watching romance movies? Or eating [hometown] cuisine?”

“...No?”

“Then I'll settle for a movie you like. And I can make good food from anywhere.”

“...Are you hitting on me? Using my advice?”

“Is it working?”

Wriothesley laughs, looking at the person he's carrying on his back, who he is escorting to his apartment because you lost your keys and your roommate won't be back until tomorrow, whom he wrapped his leather jacket around because he felt you shivering against him, and who caught his eye the very moment he entered the bar.

“That's not a no.” He knows you're pouting even when he isn't looking anymore.

“Yeah,” he agrees with you, almost indulgently. “It isn't.”

When you wake up in an unfamiliar bedroom, dressed down to your undergarments and a t-shirt you definitely do not own, and with hardly any recollection of events from the past night, you think you've made a terrible, terrible mistake.

But then you spot the hangover medicine on the bedside table, your alcohol-spilled clothes drying in the laundry room, and possibly the most gorgeous man you've ever seen cooking breakfast in the kitchen, so whatever you did last night couldn't really be that bad.

“Oh, you're awake,” he says once he notices you standing in the middle of the room, completely awestruck. You don't even know what you should be staring at; his chiseled face, his strong arms, his tight tank top that faintly traces his muscled torso, the gray sweatpants that-

Okay. You are not going to look anywhere below his waist.

“Yeah,” is all you can manage, simply glad you didn't fuck up that one syllable. You feel like you're on the verge of either saying something really stupid or making really weird strangled noises. You prefer the former, if you can help it.

“Sit.” He pulls one chair from the dining table, gesturing for you to take it. You meekly take your seat, eyes shifting everywhere but his face. “You're rather quiet today,” he muses, taking one glance at your reddening face as he fixes the plates of pancakes in front and across you.

“...How was I yesterday, then?” You ask, though you don't actually want to hear the answer.

The man hums in thought, taking his sweet time while pouring coffee over two mugs. “Troublesome,” he decides to say. “You nearly puked over my rug, after all.”

You sputter, making all kinds of apologies and promises of compensation when all of a sudden, he laughs. “Nah, I'm kidding. But this means you don't remember anything at all, right?” He sits across from you, sliding the mug to your hand.

“No...” You take a sip, but you barely register how it tastes. “I remember ordering a lot of drinks, but that's pretty much it.”

“That's a shame.” He sighs, leaning back on his chair as he sips coffee. “I suppose that means our dinner plans are void, then.”

“Absolutely not!” The words come out of your lips before your brain-to-mouth filter processes it fully, your hand slamming down the mug on the table in protest. “Uh... that is... if you're available whenever...” You get a hold of yourself and feel your cheeks burning in shame.

He doesn't try to hide the amused smirk on his face. “Sure. I'll be looking forward to your hometown cooking, then.”

Just what on earth did you do last night...?

???

[tender-rosiey]

hiii 😭 I REALLY LOVE UR GOJO X YN SO MUCHHH 😔😔 I was also wondering like maybe what if y/n has a wound, like any where 🥲 it could be either on her back, arms, legs but she doesn't wanna tell gojo abt it and she hides it, then he will find out about it either she winces when gojo hugs her, starts wearing long sleeved clothes or her shirt lifts up while sleeping 🤧 TYSMM❤❤

strain — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I am honored that you like my works, love! hope you enjoy this as well 🫶💕🫶 also happy birthday to the man, the myth, the legend: gojo satoru!! (it’s still his birthday in my country so hush I am not late)

you are more than a capable sorcerer. in fact, you are one of the strongest in the field.

however, like anyone else, there are some moments where things get a little out of hand, and you come back bearing a rather long slash on your left arm.

but since it’s pretty late, you decided you will bother shoko about it in the morning. that is how you’re finally in your home, with satoru nowhere to be found.

you frown lightly at the fact that he is still out there fighting curses, but a part of you feels relieved that you don’t have to explain your situation right now.

the night should pass by smoothly, and you will go to shoko tomorrow: a fool-proof plan!

so you do what you can to sanitize the wound, and cover it until you can get it treated properly. you also take the chance to indulge in your favorite snack as a good job treat.

after finishing your food and tidying up for the day, you’re finally in bed, all-cozied up and avoiding anything touching your wound as much as possible.

a deep breathe in, a deep breathe out, and you slowly drift to sleep.

not much time passes before satoru’s familiar footsteps echo throughout the house.

your husband has an abundance of energy.

but it seemed like today’s missions have drained him a bit more than normal, so he skips eating anything and heads straight to your shared bedroom.

his heart softens, and his muscles relax upon the sight of you tucked in bed. he walks to press a small kiss on your forehead, quickly changing into his pajamas and settling right by your side.

he stretches a bit and turns to spoon you as per usual, eyes closing in contentment.

but you wince, even if adeptly, and it sends alarms ringing through his head.

he jerks up, and his hand is instantly placed on your arm again, softly. there is an ever so faint change in your expression as your eyebrows furrow, and he has never pulled his hand away so fast.

he keeps debating in his head whether to wake you up or not, but he swiftly settles for the former.

he needs to know what happened. so he, regrettably, nudges your sleepy form, “y/n?”

you groan, but, nonetheless, you reply, “…what?”

while satoru often likes to base theatrics around his every move and phrase, but he also knows when to get straight to the point, “did you get hurt on today’s mission?”

you’re no longer half-asleep, and you quickly sit up, eyeing your husband. knowing there is no escape nor denial, you fidget with your fingers and nod slowly.

then you hurriedly utter, “but I was going to see shoko first thing in the morning; I promise!”

he nods slowly, holding your hands in his own. you’re left to look him in the eyes. satoru’s eyes being exposed makes him feel so vulnerable, or at least that’s how he is with you.

you can see every wrinkle, and every crease; you can see what he is thinking about in real time. he has long given up hiding anything from you, and, besides, it feels fresh to just let go.

but right now, as you look into his eyes, you see them swarming with confliction, pain, and worry.

he doesn’t scold you about not going right now because he knows that you will tell him that you either thought it wasn’t a big deal or that you didn’t want to bother shoko with it.

instead, he settles on a hushed whisper of “can I see it?”

you throw him a confused look, “why? I am getting it treated tomorrow anyway,” then you smile, “it’s not going to permanent if that’s what you’re worried about.”

he shakes his head, “it’s not that; I just—“ he takes a deep breath then looks at you pleadingly, “just let me see it.”

perhaps it’s to silence his thoughts and to show him that you’re truly okay, as okay as you can be.

you’re still alive, and that’s what matters, he thinks. nevertheless, he feels the need to see just how serious is the wound anyway.

reluctantly, you slowly take off your jacket to reveal the poorly bandaged gash on your arm.

he looks up at you, asking for permission because even if he needs to see it for his own selfish reasons, he has to put you above anything and everything else.

you nod, giving the free reign to slowly take off the bandages. you can barely hold back any pained noises, but you can’t help the wincing of your body.

satoru’s frown deepens, and with every move, your husband’s heart aches. it goes like that until the wound is finally unveiled.

you feel satoru observing the cut so intently that you look away. satoru curses everything that he can think of, and never has we wanted the ability to heal others more than right now.

he straightens his back, “that’s a deep cut, y’know.”

“I know…”

“you also realize that the wound could’ve hit your chest and inevitably heart, right?”

you huff, “listen, if you’re going to give me a lecture or keep making me feel bad about it then I will have you know—“

“you could’ve died.”

you notice the strain in his voice, so you turn to finally look eyes with him. he looks pained, so hurt, maybe even terrified at the fact that there was a chance that he could’ve lost you.

your expression immediately becomes that of sympathy, “but I didn’t, and dwelling on the fact that I might’ve died will only bother you for no reason,” you hold his hand, “I am here and alive, aren’t I?”

your husband sighs, resting his head on your right shoulder, “you’re hurting my poor little heart whenever you put yourself in danger like that.”

a giggle escapes your lips, and your hands naturally find their way in his hair, fingers gently carding through, “whatever shall we do.”

“if things went my way then you would just stay home looking all pretty like you always do,” he states, and you roll your eyes.

“well, they’re going my way tonight, so—“ the clock strikes twelve, “happy birthday, silly boy.”

his eyes widen and he pulls away to look you in the face. he blinks dumbly then looks at what’s in your hands: a cupcake with a candle.

a wide grin of unbridled joy appears on your husband’s face. his eyes shimmer in the moonlight as he laughs, “I really didn’t expect it this time!”

“you outdid yourself, pretty girl,” he hums, hand caressing your cheek.

“I still have a lot more things for you,” you beam with pride. satoru can’t contain himself anymore, and he pulls you into a loving embrace.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs beside your ear, pressing a light kiss to the side of your neck.

you pat his back, “I love you too, ‘toru,” you laugh, “but you’re pressing on my wound, and I think I am just going to cry and not because of overwhelming love.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[feefivefoe]

I guess I'm unintentionally working my way up the age ladder, so Jason next-

This is the first part that contains backstory stuff I gave my reader, so unfortunately this is where a lot of the "they can be anyone" immersion dies, sorry y'all.

Genuinely, he thought he might hate you at first. Even at the preteen age of 12, where children were usually trying to start striving to independence, you had been so...bland.

It's not that you didn't stand out. Quite the contrary. Anywhere Alfred could be found, you were just a step or two behind him. A leech. Only ever speaking in a hushed voice, making the old man strain himself to hear you, surely.

He doesn't think you've ever even looked him in the eye.

It isn't until that summer he starts connecting the dots. You still cling to long sleeved shirts, pants over shorts, even when it's clear you're struggling to not overheat.

Then he catches you in the kitchen in the middle of the night, t-shirt and pajama shorts.

Burn marks, healed yet gruesome, decorate your arms and legs. Based on how they're positioned, he'd argue they probably exist on the rest of your body, too.

And yet, despite his invasion of what you clearly(?) wanted kept hidden, you merely bow your head in shame and offer a meek apology.

That's when he stops seeing you as a problem, but as a victim of consequence.

Not a bratty child who doesn't care enough about the lower class to speak to your new 'sibling,' but a lonely child who had never even once considered he might want to speak to you.

"Mister Wayne and Mister Grayson are very busy." You had said once, matter of factly rather than bitter or sad. "I'm sure they'd spend time with me if they weren't. But they have two lives, so they have less time than anybody."

He doesn't have the heart to tell you that they make time for him. And the rest of Gotham.

As you do with Alfred, you begin to shadow him. Meandering behind him without a care as to what his plans are, happy to receive the barest of acknowledgments.

You hesitate when speaking about yourself, as though taking up his time with mentions of you is an issue. He's starting to understand why.

Jason isn't sure if it's pity or growing affection that keeps him around, at first. For a while, he sees you as more of a sad, wet dog than as his family.

But you begin to connect with peers at school, finding validation outside of those that feel forced to give it to you. You mature, grow up more than you should, and realize the reality of your home life.

And Jason is thrilled! ...and...a little sad? He's happy for you, sure. Having friends is probably what you needed. People who want you around, genuinely. Who choose to make time for you.

But he'd be lying if he said that the way you used to stare at him didn't make him feel like a hero. Like he was doing so much, changing your world, simply by existing.

You still speak, of course. You're friendly siblings that get along well. You give him various foods you've tried making, courtesy of Alfred inspiring a desire to learn to cook and bake on your own. You talk about books you've read together, and listen intently while he rambles about his favorites.

You even peek in after particularly rough patrol nights, just to make sure he's gotten through it okay.

But it isn't...quite the same. No, but it's...it's for the best.

And he is still a hero! As Robin, he's protecting the whole city alongside Batman!

So he's still a hero.

He's still your hero.

"Jay? I was wondering if I could ask you for some help. The show my club is doing is one of those old books you like-"

"They aren't that old."

"-and my character doesn't show up much in the movie-"

"You watched the MOVIE before reading the book!?"

"-so I wanted to ask if you'd help me with characterization!"

He remembers groaning at you and rolling his eyes. "I'm busy tonight. Go watch the dumb, BAD, movie again." He pauses. "Uh, but I can tomorrow. I'll make sure I don't have anything planned, promise."

He saw you pause, and sees the constant same promises pass through you.

"I...have other arrangements. I'll make it up to you next time."

"Ah...sorry, kiddo! Big kid stuff. But next time! You trust your big bro, yeah?"

But this is Jason. Jason doesn't lie to you.

Jason keeps his promises.

You smiled. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

...

Then he died.

[nana-au]

Best Friends Know Best

Suguru Geto ♡

MDNI

₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: Your trip to the mall stresses Suguru out, so you treat him to some head when you two get home.

₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: possessiveness, praising, immodest clothes in public, toxic ideology from geto, oral m! receiving, slight slut shaming, throat fucking, dirty talking (did i miss anything.. lol)

₊˚ପ⊹ an: this is sorta an extension off of my fic Best Friends Forever! (also sorry for not posting in a while i’m working on longer fics while also struggling to keep up with life lol)

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 1.8k

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

He doesn't really understand why you insist on dressing up to go to the mall. You were there to buy new clothes, does it matter what you have on? Typically he would never complain about your fashion choices – You look darling in your girly little outfits. 

But today? He cursed himself for not making you change while he still had the chance. He didn't want to be cruel, you were so excited to wear your new dress. It was a pink gingham number – it was so you. What he didn't like was how your chest spilled out of the low neckline and how anytime you shifted in just the right way your sheer panties were on display. He wanted to cry upon noticing how see-through your panties were – there was no mistaking the outline of your plump cheeks. Did you not know how many creeps there were in this world? Did he protect you so well that you were blissfully unaware of the dangers of looking this good? Tempting any man that is so fortunate to breathe the same air as you. 

All throughout the day Geto followed closely behind you, shielding what he could of your body while trying not to make it obvious. You didn’t really notice what he had been doing until his hand reached to cover your chest from the employee at your check-out lane when you bent over; looking at the cute bracelets set up on the counter in front of you. You slowly stood up straight, giving him an odd look as he pocketed his credit card and grabbed your bag of items from the clerk. “What was that about?” you asked him while walking out of the store. 

“Nothing baby,” he said from close behind you, your multiple bags in his arms, “Let’s go get you a latte.”

“Ooo that sounds good,” you mused, daydreaming which flavor syrup you wanted before you quickly snapped out of it, “Don’t change the subject! Why did you cover my chest? Is it really that noticeable?” You ask, looking down to see your cleavage spilling out the top of your dress. “It’s not that bad…” An exasperated sigh left his lips, seemingly exhausted by spending the whole day trying to keep you modest. “Geto? Does my dress upset you?” you stopped in the middle of the mall, turning around to meet his dead eyes. Your brows furrowed, noticing just how tense Geto was compared to when you first arrived. “Do you not like my dress?” your voice is drenched in worry.

“No baby, your dress is very pretty,” he meant it, your dress looked amazing on you. But that was just the problem he was having. “You look good… Just a little too good, y’know?” he forced a chuckle, trying to convince you that he was less upset than he really was. The two of you had been there for three hours, and for three hours he was at war with every guy’s wandering eyes. He had endured three hours of men checking you out, some were so indiscreet about it that the handles of your shopping bags were barely managing to keep the straps under his tight grasp. “Let’s get you a drink and head home, hmm?” he said, pulling together all of his energy to sound fine.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Even after a couple of hours went by at your shared place, Suguru still looked as wound up as he did at the mall. He sat on the couch, drinking a beer and staring at the show on the tv, obviously not really watching it. His grip on the beer bottle was loose, only sipping it when he remembered it was in his hand. 

You grew more and more worried as time passed. You lost the outfit as soon as you got home, opting for pajama shorts and a long sleeved shirt – hoping that he would forget about whatever issue he had with your dress if he no longer had to look at it. That didn’t seem to be the case. 

“Sugu?” you barely said above a whisper, “Is everything okay?” he only hummed at you, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Do you want to talk about it?” you meekly asked. His head shook while he took another lazy sip of his beer. You bit your lip in thought, taking in his still tensed figure that leaned back into the couch. He never changed out of his jeans and black tee, opting to prioritize drinking over unwinding for the day in his usual sweatpants attire. An idea came to you while your eyes trailed his figure, and you hesitated before speaking. “Do you want your cock in my mouth, Suguru?”

He nearly choked on his beer hearing your words, turning to see your face. You looked desperate to hear his response, so eager to hear you can please him. “Of course,” was his response to you, he could never turn that down. You crawled down from the couch and placed yourself between his legs. He sat up, moving to the edge to make it easier for you to reach. He pitched a tent almost immediately seeing you between his thighs. You began to undo his belt, working slowly as he watched with bated breath. 

“Will this be a good apology, Sugu?” your doe eyes met his and you can see him melt at your words. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, waiting patiently as you pull down his zipper. He lifts his hips off the couch, helping you slide his pants all the way off. You rub his cock over his briefs, slowly stroking it and watching the fabric grow a wet patch. You decide it best not to tease for too long, so you pull his cock out and run your thumb across his wet tip. 

“F-fuck,” he sighed, his hips following you as you began to stroke his cock. You twisted your wrist as you slid your hand up his length, teasing the head with your thumb each time you reached the top. He watched you behind his lidded eyes, waiting to feel the warmth of your throat. He dropped his beer onto the end table, preferring to stroke your hair as your wet tongue reached out to lick a fat stripe from the base of his cock to the tip. He groaned at the feeling, leaning back as your mouth finally took him in. You started slow, only taking him halfway and stroking the half that was left out with your hand. It wasn’t long before Suguru started his usual dirty talk that made you squirm. “You feel so good, princess,” he grunted, “This is what I deserved after a long day of putting up with you, hmm?” His hips bucked up, his tip hitting the roof of your mouth. “Having to keep you safe because you wanted to dress like a slut,” his other hand reached down to pull up his shirt, exposing his toned stomach that flexed every time you showed his tip extra attention. You licked the slit, pulling back just to spit all over it and using your hand to guide the lubricant down. He shuddered as you took more of him into your mouth, massaging his length with your tongue as his tip neared further down your throat. “Just couldn’t help showing yourself off,” he let loose his frustrations while his dick was stuffed in your mouth, preventing you from talking back. “Gotta suck my cock to make it up to me, princess,” he snickered. “You’ll do a good job? Hmm? Take me all the way?” it was your turn to react to the pleasure he was giving you. The way he talked to you always riled you up, his words always going straight to your clit. You shifted on your knees, desperately trying to give yourself any form of relief. As if he knew, his foot reached out for you and you took it, rubbing your clit shamelessly against the spot where his ankle and foot met. He laughed darkly at you, completely in awe as he watched you hump his foot while you drooled around his cock. “Look at you baby,” he purred at you, “Getting off to sucking my cock…” his Adam apple bobbed in his throat while he tried to collect himself before he came too soon. Your tight shorts were already growing wet as you rutted into him, sucking him even more feverishly. You took all of him, your eyes watering at the heavy feeling against your tongue and in your throat. “Fuck your throat feels so good. S’warm and wet,” he was moaning now, not capable of keeping it back anymore. “Almost as good as your little pussy… too bad she doesn’t deserve my cock right now…” you whined at his words, causing you to gag against his cock. You pulled back, coughing and wiping the tears from your eyes. “Am I too big for you, princess? Can’t take it?” he teased and you shook your head, readying yourself to go back down. Instead he guides you back, standing up and pulling his briefs completely off. “Gonna fuck your mouth, okay?” he asks you and you nod, moving in to take him back in your mouth. As soon as his tip hits your tongue he is pushing himself all the way in, gripping your hair and shoving his cock down your throat at a brutal pace. You feel his trimmed hair tickle your nose with each thrust of his hips. Your cheeks were covered in tears and drool seeped from your lips and onto your chin. “You’re so good t’me,” he moaned out, throwing his head back as he used your throat. His hips stuttered and you felt his dick twitch in your throat, you could tell he was close. “You’re gonna swallow it all… else you’re gonna have to try again until you get it right. Fuckkk, can’t waste a drop,” you dug your nails into his thighs, waiting eagerly for him to reach his peak. Eager to taste his salty cum. 

When he finally came you did as you were told, cleaning up anything that spilled out with your fingers, before popping it back into your mouth. “Such a good girl,” he murmured to you, smoothing out the hair he roughed up previously. “So beautiful,” his dark eyes showed nothing but adoration for you, kissing your forehead as he spoke, “A little too beautiful…”

[chimindity]

Pillow humping

Moodboard

Summary | reader needs help from her beloved stepbrother!jj during the night.

Pairing | stepbro!jj x reader

Warning | fingering, pillow humping, reader being inexperienced

A/N | MY FIRST SMUT!! LET'S GOO

୨ㅤ࣪ㅤ︶︶︶︶ㅤㅤ꒰୨ ୧꒱ㅤㅤ︶︶︶︶ㅤ࣪ㅤ୧

In the middle of the night you wake up feeling the heat growing between your legs, you have no idea what made you this worked up, you feel the urge to get rid of this arousal.

As you start hiking up your long white shirt you place your thighs between the pillow and begin slowly humping the pink cushion beneath you.

You've always struggled getting off by only riding the pillow, but tonight you wanted to really experiment it, your hands grips the comforter infront of you as you pathetically speed up your movements.

-"Please! Please come on!!" You whine wanting to feel anything that could give you some relieves.

You were maybe inexperienced but it doesn't mean you don't have needs, that's what jj usually tells you.

After few minutes of humping the pillow, your eyes start to well up with tears out of frustration, you slowly stand up out of your bed, and drag your feet to jj's room, which was already ajar.

Huffing and sniffing you use the sleeve of your pajama to wipe off your tears while you whisper quietly his name, hoping he wasn't already asleep.

-"Jayj?.."

He doesn't respond, you walk near his bed as you about to nudge him, he quickly wakes up, a surprising look on his face.

-"shit, sweetcheeks you scared me, what you doing still up mh?" He speaks as he sits up against the headboard.

-"I uh I can't do it, been feeling weird" you pout feeling ashamed for waking up your stepbrother.

-"here, come sit in my laps" he guides you with his hand as you climb on his laps, when your soaked panties meets his thigh he chuckles.

-"damn it what got you all worked up uh? Been needing me?" He smirks as he lifts up your shirt taking a look at your pink panties.

You blush looking away, holding his hand.

-"jj! Stop doing that" you squeal, placing down your shirt meanwhile he wraps his arms tightly around you, pulling you closer to him.

-"you're the one crying at me because you can't make yourself cum yeah?" He huffs starting to gently bounce you down on his laps, but against his expectations you wince at the action.

-"hey why is the crying for uh?" He pulls away to look at you, a pouting expression forms on your face.

-"s'hurt too much" you mumble, he rolls his eyes, as he feels you're getting too sleepy to make an effort, he gently lays you down on his bed.

-"want my fingers?" He whispers taking his time to look at you, you quickly nodd at his question, he drags his fingers under your panties removing it slowly.

-"ah shit, look at her" he chuckles to himself as he looks at your soaked pussy, which has been craving attention, his attention.

You whine at the cold air hits between your legs, making you spread your thighs.

-"let me care of my step babysister" he towers over you, you close your eyes when his fingers finally touches your sensitive area, spreading your wetness on your clit, making you jolt, bucking up your hips.

-"easy princess, easy" he kisses your cheek as his fingers enters in, your hands quickly hold firmly onto his forearms.

-"jayj!" You squirm beneath him.

-"I know cupcake I know, s'all good, just relaaax" he smirks not even looking at you as his speed quicken, -"why need a pillow when you've got a nice step brother uh?" You look away feeling embarrased at his words.

-"nah you can't get all shy on me now when my fingers are deep into your sweet cunt" he leans down kissing the crook of your neck making you breath faster.

-"jayj! I oh gosh, I'm cumming" you moan griping tightly his arms, letting out few whimpers, feeling the knot in your lower stomach getting warmer.

After you've cummed, he waits a moment letting you calm down from your high, feeling you small figure shaking under him, he can't help but be proud of himself for making his little step sister cum.

I mean he was just being nice for helping you out right?

-"feel better sis?" He speaks as he crawls beside you, pulling you further in his arms.

-"mmh" the tiredness hit you instantly.

-"think i've made you quiet for a little while, didn't I?" He smiles tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You simply nodd and start drifting off in his embrace, he kisses your forehead chuckling when he notices that you were already asleep.

-"got it.. love ya too sweetcheeks" he mumbles at you, as he hugs you firmly.

[runa-falls]

hi runa happy 3k! can you write something based on the lyric "i know who you pretend I am" from washing machine heart with mig?

cw: smut (18+), ANGST, divorcee!miguel au, toxic relationship, hurt/no comfort, sad :(, unprotected piv sex, afab!reader, creampie, no kissing/barely any foreplay

---

miguel: come over

you've gotten used to waking up to the chime of your phone in the middle of the night. in fact, your body has started to wake itself up, just in case he texts.

it's pathetic how desperate you are for his attention, to be his call girl for his rough days. it's even more pathetic how ready your body is once you see his name.

you swipe open your phone, eyes squinting against the bright screen. a string of 'come over's stare back at you tauntingly.

you: ok

it's not like you live close to him, you have to take the train to get to his neighborhood then walk a few blocks to get to his house. he never comes over to yours, barely even talks to you in the daylight, but you've never complained. you've never denied him.

---

you fiddle with your jacket sleeve as you wait for him to let you in. the whole walk there was miserably cold and you curse yourself for going out in your pajama shorts instead of changing into something warm.

it's been a while since you've seen him. the last few weeks, there's been radio silence from his end (not that you've every talked a lot before anyway).

you wonder why he keeps calling you back, why he doesn't try to find someone else and settle down with them. why he doesn't settle down with you...

the door opens swiftly, revealing a dark house behind the familiar stoic face that you dream about every night. he doesn't say anything, just gesture for you to come in by moving to the side.

"com'ere, honey" he sits on his favorite arm chair, the one to the side of the couch, and pats his lap condescendingly. he never calls you by your name, just pet names.

honey, sweetheart, baby. somehow, the sweeter the name, the more it hurts. you take off you jacket and hang it by the door, and then walk over to him to perch yourself on his thigh.

long fingers wrap around your jaw and force you to look at him. his eyes are dull, staring at you vacantly as he decides what to do with you.

his cologne fills your senses as you're pulled in closer, your chest pressed flush against his. you sigh as warm lips hover gently over your jaw before meeting the side of your neck.

he kisses you there, slowly, eyes closed as he trails his lips downwards toward your shoulder. your shirt is pulled off with care and discarded to the side, and miguel continues his descent down your body.

you don't know how he does it, how he can make you feel so wanted in the moment. it's addictive. he treats you like you're his then throws you on his doorstep when he's done.

he captures a nipple into his mouth, tenderly suckling the bud until it's nice and wet. you whimper when he pulls too hard, but he won't stop.

your back arches at the intensity, inevitably pushing your tits closer to his face. he does the same to the other nipple before flicking it with his tongue and blowing on it teasingly.

he pulls away and shifts under you. you can feel him, his cock juts against your inner thigh. he makes you sit up so he can pull his cock out and stroke himself a few times.

miguel doesn't bother to take your shorts off, merely shoves them to the side before pulling you to sit on top of him.

if it were anyone else, you wouldn't be ready yet, but he hasn't even touched you there and you're soaking wet.

his tip slides against your slick pussy, thoroughly lubricating his shaft until he's soaked in you. he doesn't waste time as he nudges against your dripping hole, slowly pressing in until he's filling you up completely.

"f-fuck, mig--" you're cut off by a hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to shut you up.

"don't talk." his voice is dark, but it still sounds like he's holding himself back. "just sit there and let me use your cunt, sweetheart. i don't need any commentary." his jaw is clenched as he begins to snap his hips harshly against yours.

you grab onto his arm as he continues to hold you by the neck, needing some support as he fucks you roughly from below. his eyes are locked on your body as he disappears into you again and again, never meeting your gaze.

he stretches you so completely, sliding against every sensitive nerve inside of you with delicious precision. you swear you're seeing stars when he pushes your body away from his, forcing your into another position that angles his cock right against your g-spot.

you gush with slick as you're rushed to the edge, moaning helplessly as everything builds so quickly. miguel groans deeply as your pussy flutters around him and you're cumming before you know it.

you look down at him through bleary eyes as your body spasms with bouts of pleasure, wanting him to look at you when he makes you cum. he doesn't.

his eyes are shut as his thrusts falter and his breaths stutter. his hands drop down and squeeze your waist as finishes inside. “f-fuck, baby–yeah”, his head is tilted up, baring his glistening neck for you, flushed in ecstasy.

his eyes are still closed when he lifts you off of him and sets you back on his lap, body leaned back as he recovers. when he finally opens his crimson eyes, he sighs discontentedly and looks at you. you want to curl up when you see that expression. his disappointment that you're not her.

you feel messy under your shorts, his cum still leaking from your cunt. the warmth drips and seeps through the fabric and is probably all over his pants now.

"you can use the shower if you want." you can tell he's waiting for you to get off of him.

"i'm ok. thanks though." you slip off his lap and search for your shirt. it lays crumpled on the floor next to the chair. you slip it on, suddenly very cold and aware of your bare body in front of his clothed one.

"ok," he pulls his pants back up and gets up from the arm chair, "you know where the door is."

you smooth down the wrinkles in the shirt and ignore the knot in your throat and the sting in your eye.

"yep."

you quickly make sure you have everything, slip on your coat, and walk out into the cool night without looking back.

you refuse to watch him leave you again.

[hailuchiha]

Hi! Love your blog <3 If you're taking requests, I was thinkin something along the lines of cockwarming or cock sleeve?

your wish is my command anon. i didn't think i'd be able to do much for it but then i started writing and look what we've got ;)

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

!! 18+ NSFW!!

!!MINORS DNI!!

!!ALL characters involved are 18+ NO MINOR CHARACTERS!!

incest; cock warming; somno; noncon; sibling incest; taboo; infatuation; gentle; clinginess

Resting Place

Itachi adores his sister. Some say a bit too much.

He doesn't care.

He likes being close to her, to have their scents intwined together and be closest to her as he physically can.

During the day, the firstborn Uchiha hugs her when passing her in the hallways or across rooms, and takes any chance to pull her into his embrace and hold her there.

Their parents don't find anything wrong with the displays of affection since all their kids have been very close since childhood- after all, that's why Sasuke is still so coddled by his older siblings.

At night, Itachi will slip into his sister’s room, his ANBU training allowing him to move through the sleeping house unnoticed. He takes a moment to gaze at her, a gentle smile in place, while she sleeps like an angel.

His sister sleeps curled into a ball, and it's easy for Itachi to slip in behind her, wrapping himself around her before adjusting her fluffy blanket around them.

For a while, Itachi just nuzzles into her neck, holding the sleeping young woman in his arms. He wants to kiss her soft skin so badly, but he holds back. He doesn't wanna disturb his sweet sister's sleep.

Instead, he'll gently maneuver her pajama off of her, revealing her soft, smooth legs. He'll then remove his own pajama, his bottom half now just as naked as hers, and bring his hips flush against her soft rear.

Like every night, he's unable to hold back his groan of pleasure upon the feeling of her soft plush ass against his twitching cock.

He's not fully hard yet, his cock starting to stir, and he'll gently slip into her warm folds, which have become slick since he slipped into bed with her.

It makes Itachi smile that his sister loves him so much that her body accepts and responds to his touches so eagerly even in sleep.

The slickness of her walls makes it ever so easy to slip in, and he pulls her back against him so their bodies are flush together, muffling another groan into the soft juncture of her neck. His cock twitches, growing to full hardness gripped by her slick heat.

Itachi continues to hold her, nuzzling into her and rubbing her soft belly where his hands are holding her. He's careful not to jostle her or move, just content to be in her embrace, buried into her as close as two bodies can get.

He sighs contentedly, breath fanning against her cheek as she squirms the tiniest bit in his hold, settling in her sleep. He pauses, letting her adjust herself, before resuming to cuddle her as she continues to drift in the land of dreams.

It goes without question that the heir of the Uchiha clan loves being affectionate with his sister throughout the day, taking any chance to show how much he loves her, especially because she returns his affections, rewarding him with sweet forehead kisses and letting him hold her. However, getting this proximity, this total closeness at night time is by far his favourite way of spending time together.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE AMAAAZING @treedaddymcpuffpuff 😘😘😘) - Chapter Thirteen ---> (all chapters)

TW's: abuse of police authority, manhandling, unfair power dynamics, unreasonable hotness in a man this annoying

Days go by, and you don’t hear from Tom Ludlow again. You think to yourself that it’s fine, that that’s exactly what you wanted, but deep down you’re a little pissed off, and more than a little needy. 

Maybe that’s why the next time you have to drive home late at night, you go back to your old, faster route of taking the highway. Defiance roils in your bones like lava churning in a volcano, and you just refuse to be intimidated by that man, even if it means digging your own grave. Figuratively speaking, of course. Officer Ludlow doesn't want to hurt you. He wants to fuck you, and maybe even buy you dinner first, and you might have come around to him eventually if he just hadn’t been such a fucking dick about it.

You’re not hoping that you get to see him again, here on the empty highway. But if you do…you kind of want to fight him. Because someone should tell him what a reprobate he is. Not because you love the fiery feeling you get in your veins, or the spark of wicked enjoyment in his dark eyes.

You’re almost to the exit, and there is no cop car in sight. No flashing red and blue lights. No little wooo of the warning siren behind you. Why are you worried? Why are you disappointed? Why are you pouting like the baby who got their candy taken away? 

There’s a few options, and none of them appeal to you. Sure, maybe you should be delighted that this meathead has decided to either let it drop or get fatally injured—your stomach lodges in your throat at that second thought. That means you won’t have to deal with his antics anymore. But, god damn you, you were starting to really like those antics. 

Tom Ludlow pissing you off has become a vital reason for your willingness to get out of bed, and that thought terrifies you, because this shit never ends well. At least not for girls like you who love too much and expect the same in return. You pulled your heart from your sleeve and zipped it back into it’s protected, designated cavity after a slew of failed one-sided relationships (whether the friend or romantic kind), and now the treacherous organ is trying to claw right back out again for Tom Ludlow to squeeze dry in his big hand. 

You get home, and you feel empty. Bored. Worried about a man who has made your life kind of, if you’re being honest, a living hell. Does that stop you from sticking your hand down your pajama pants and fantasizing about him? From wishing he’d call again? No. Not at all. 

You are loath to admit it, and you’ll take this to your grave, but you’re actually relieved, the next night, to see the twinkling red and blue lights following behind you while you’re pushing 90 in a 70 only half on purpose. 

Your heart transforms into a mini circus as he walks up to your driver's door and taps on the window glass. 

Before he can even open his big mouth, you start in on him. You’ve been planning this spiel for days now, after all, and it would be useless to waste it. “You.” You have to take a minute when you see that he doesn’t sport his usual smirk. “What is a detective like you doing working the complaints desk, and now working traffic at night?”

“So what?” He folds his arms over his chest, biceps bulging through the thick uniform shirt, distracting you from your resolve and switching on cavewoman brain for a minute. 

You almost have to shake yourself to snap out of it. “Are you just playing cop? You’re not even actually on duty right now Officer Ludlow.”

This smile is less ‘playground bully’ and more ‘hungry wolf’. “Are you challenging the law, Miss y/l/n?” 

“No, I’m challenging some dickhead who thinks he’s top dog just cuz he wears a plastic badge. Where’d you get it, anyway? Fisher Price?” 

“Please exit the vehicle, Miss y/n.” 

“This is bullshit.”

“Please be calm.” 

It is the absolute worst thing he could possibly say to you. After a twelve hour shift, your feet are killing you, you’re covered in the grime of your long day, and to add insult to injury–you’re mad at yourself as much as him, because he made you miss him. That is when you do exit the vehicle, and your finger stabs into the middle of his broad chest (and you know part of that bulk is a vest but jesus fucking christ this man is burly in all the right places) and snap, “I’m tired, I’ve had a long fucking day and I don’t need this shit from you.” 

Officer Ludlow takes one amused look down at that finger in his chest and suddenly you are turned around, your palms on the hood of your car. He is tall and broad and warm behind you and fuck you if the cavewoman part of your brain does not respond in the worst possible way, a soft but utterly audible little cry escaping your treacherous lips. You know he hears it by the way he pauses behind you, the way a wolf perks his ears at the sound of a rabbit in the brush. You seem frozen in this ridiculous position for several seconds longer than what is necessary (not that any of this is necessary) and you get the sense that this man is savoring this closeness with you.

“Resisting an officer is a misdemeanor, you know,” he says in your ear, and that low baritone sends a thrill to the marrow of your bones, ties your belly up in knots, makes you wet between your thighs. Hearing him through the phone is one thing, having his breath tickling your skin is an entirely different beast. 

You turn your head slightly towards him, and you know some of the venom goes from your tone but you just can’t help it.  

“What about harassing a civilian?” 

“Depends on the civilian.” Well, isn’t that the truth. Like you needed a reminder that you are, in fact, a nobody with no connections in this town. Although, you doubt that he's telling the truth about it “depending on the civilian”, because he handcuffed and assaulted a popular, lawyer ready ER doctor just days ago. Which is just great, because if he felt entitled enough to do that to Julian, what’s stopping him from doing much worse to you? “Are you armed?”

“Clearly,” you snark, because you’re wearing your cute blue scrubs and it would take a miracle to hide something under the thin fabric. 

“I mean besides that fiery temper.” 

He kicks your legs a little further apart, just hard enough to make your feet slide in the loose gravel of the shoulder, and you think you might self-immolate right there. It’s all you can do, not to arch back into him like a cat in heat. It really has been too fucking long since you got laid. Something firm pokes into the curve of your behind, and it had better be his fucking utility belt. 

He actually starts to pat you down, the cheeky fucker, those big hands making their way lightly down your sides. You know he can feel you trembling under his touch–with fear or excitement, it’s hard even for you to tell. Maybe that’s what makes him bold when he reaches your thigh, those long fingers giving you an appreciative squeeze. 

It reminds you of that time not so long ago, when you’d drunkenly wanted him to slide his hand up your skirt, and he’d refused you. You shouldn’t want that from him, but you do, and that makes you so angry you could spit. Now he thinks he gets to feel you up? Your foot flails out, catching him in the shin with your Croc-clad heel. It totally throws you off balance, sending you down onto the hood of your car, but you are mad and you don’t care. 

“Watch it!”

He, however, couldn’t be more delighted. You can hear the practical glee in his tone as he sings out, “Assaulting an officer? Someone’s just asking to get booked.” 

Maybe you’re a healer by nature, but there is just something about this man that makes you want to commit murder. Just the once. You even think Florence Nightingale would understand. 

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

That’s when you realize he probably, absolutely fucking would dare. So far he has proved that he gives jack-all for the rules that should apply to him as an Officer of the Law. And you cannot have that on your record. Even if you told the truth and it turned into some He-Said She-Said bullshit that would drag out for months–years, possibly, even–your license could be suspended. You live paycheck to paycheck in this expensive fucking city. You cannot afford something like that. 

“You asshole.”

“Maybe. But you’re lucky I’m not actually a bad guy, y/n.”

“How do you figure?”

Somehow, his voice lowers an octave, and no matter how livid you are, your lady parts absolutely rebel with an almost violent ache between your thighs. “Because if I was I’d spank that beautiful behind of yours for kicking me. With crocs? Really? I’m going to have to show you a few things, you scare me honey.” 

Is this man offering to teach you to defend yourself in the same breath he’s using to blackmail you? You’re nearly cross-eyed from the whiplash.

“Sorry, I’ll be sure to wear boots next time.”

“Great. Wear them to dinner, tomorrow night. And we’ll forget this ever happened.”

How he knows you’re free tomorrow, you don’t really want to know. 

You feel yourself deflate, knowing he’s finally got you over the proverbial barrel. The thought should not excite you the way it does. “You’re serious.”

“I tried asking nicely.”

“Most men get the picture when you tell them ‘no’ more than twice? A million times? I forget how many.”

“Maybe, except I see the way you look at me, when you think I’m not looking and my ass is hanging out of a hospital gown. I know how pretty you sound, when you orgasm to my voice while I talk you through it over the phone. And when you’re in trouble, I’m the one you know you can call, because I’ll drop everything to make sure you’re safe. So, you’re finally going to give this thing between us a chance, whether you like it or not. Pick you up at eight?” 

You sigh, shoulders slumping, head resting against the warm car. His eyes immediately hone in on the column of your throat, and the way he wets his bottom lip doesn’t seem intentional, which just riles you up even more. You grit your teeth, but it doesn’t really look like you have a choice. “Sure.” Asshole. 

This time, you’re smart enough to keep that to yourself.  

As though he heard you think it, he spins you around, practically picking your feet up off the ground, and braces you against the door of your car, one hand on either side of your head, full wolfy grin sending a thrill of danger through your spine. The way he can just manhandle you like you weigh nothing crosses some vital wires in your brain–you cannot think. 

You try to stay defiant, raise your chin to look up at him, keep some semblance of pride. It’s not fair that he has such sway over you and you seem to have absolutely none over him. You have to even this playing field somehow. 

“Maybe you have a badge and you think that makes you hot shit, but at the end of the day you’re just a bully, Tom.”

His gaze travels up your neck, over your face, until he lands on your own guarded, defeated stare. Something changes in his expression. “You think I don’t know you? Well, maybe you don’t know me either. But you’re going to find out, sweetheart, I’m not a bad guy.”

You eye him suspiciously. “I guess I don’t have a choice, right?” 

He leans down, brings his nose an inch from yours, invades your personal space. For a second, you think he’s going to kiss you, and it makes you go stiff and lax all at once. The heat of his breath tickles over the nerve rich plump of your lips, and they part for him despite your brain’s vehement protest. 

“Right.” He’s gone as soon as he comes, dropping your stomach from throat to feet. You hope he doesn’t hear the desperate, quiet sound that you try to burrow under your tongue.

You think he’s just going to walk away and leave you here in the warm, damp, lonely, dark highway like a sitting duck, but instead he opens your door and motions for you to slide back into your seat. 

“Don’t forget to buckle up, honey.”  As he saunters away, thumbs looped through his belt—God, he’s fucking painfully sexy—you don’t bother hiding the way you watch his ass move this time.

[nyxiswrites1200]

💚𝑺𝒂𝒎 𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔💚

Sam Winchester x GN!Reader

Warnings: NSFT, MDNI, Early seasons Sam (spoilers S1-3), Romantic, Mentions nightmares, Mentions of sex, fingering, This is my opinion based on Sam's character and what I've watched so far

An: I'm so insane guys, I just had to dump out all my Sammy thoughts <3 I'm working on the Leon thing but I hated it and started over :( anyhow, enjoy my insanity.

----

Sam is a gentle lover, his nature alone is naturally gentle. He doesn't see the world in black and white but rather shades of gray. He doesn't like lying or doing things he considers unnecessary.

I feel like Sam doing things irrationally comes from being pushed to the edge. He gets put under so much stress or such a drive to save someone that he does stuff that isn't like him. Even then, he tends to have a plan of what he's gonna do.

I personally think Sam has nightmares. Between the psychic visions he would have and all the tragedies he's witnessed. I especially feel like his mom, Jessica, and Madison are recurring ones. I would say he takes sleeping pills but I also think maybe he's too on edge to make himself that vulnerable.

It would be hard to get Sam into another relationship. With all the tragedies of the other girls he fell for, he'd be worried to indulge in someone else..

Sam smells like pine trees, very earthy I can imagine. If you've ever walked into a motel room, it's freshly cleaned, that kind of smell is something I also associate with him.

When thinking of products he uses specifically. He definitely has some good smelling shampoo and conditioner for that hair. Also thinking of maybe old spice products such as deodorant (not sure why, it just feels right.) Maybe it's something Jessica introduced him to and he's always stuck with it now, not wanting the trouble of changing it. That is if he has the option of choice, free motel products are probably the norm for him.

Imagining a sleeping Sam in those plaid pajama pants and a gray T-shirt, or no shirt preferably.

But if he did allow himself to be with someone again...

Sam is a gentleman. We see him opening doors and comforting people all the time in the show. He would open any door for you, hold you, comfort you, whatever you needed.

Sam is a big baby at times! Sometimes he is so pathetic and I mean that in the most loving way ever. He definitely loves cuddles and not having to sleep alone, especially if he has nightmares or visions. It helps having you there to comfort him, just knowing he isn't alone.

Imagine giving Sam a bracelet or anything he can wear honestly, he'd wear it all the time. My first thought being just some simple bracelet you think would suit him, he'd never take it off. Pulling his jacket sleeve over it during hunts to make sure it doesn't get damaged.

If Sam was worried about your safety in a situation, he'd keep you so close. If he could, he'd hold your hand or keep his arm around you. Beforehand, he'd definitely try to make you stay at the motel and wait.

Sam seems like he'd hold his jacket over you if it suddenly started raining. He never cared if he got soaked by the rain. But you? He'd go the extra mile, or he'd just give you his jacket if you looked cold.

But also kissing in the rain?? Stupidly cliche but maybe after a day of researching with him you get caught out in the rain. However, you don't mind as you drag him into a kiss, tangling a hand into his wet hair. Who is he to deny you?

After stressful hunts, you and Sam will curl up in the motel room together. Sam laying face down between your legs, his head resting on your stomach or chest. His arms wrapped around your waist or rubbing your hips/thighs.

---NSFW---

You love to mess with his hair and he loves when you do. Just running your fingers through it brings him a sense of calm.

Pet names he would call you would consist of baby, sweetheart, sweetie, lovely. He'd love calling you affectionate names but wouldn't overuse them.

Sam is definitely a dominant person in bed. He likes the sense of control he can have in this situation when he loses control of everything else in his life.

He's a soft dom though. Lots of praise and making sure you're okay with everything. He wouldn't wanna push you too far or hurt you. He prefers it to be an intimate moment with mutual pleasure and care.

His favorite positions are anything where he can look into your eyes or see your face. He likes holding you in his lap, facing each other, while you ride him. Just so he can lean in and kiss you when he wants or just press his forehead against yours. A good old missionary is also fine by him! Just being able to hold your hips and see himself thrusting in you, it makes his cock twitch.

I have this image of Sam lazily fingering you. Sam's arms and hands are so attractive (the veins!!). He's got you stretched out on two fingers as he slowly pumps them in and out. He's holding you, back pressed into his chest, and his free arm around your mid-section.

He'll make you cum multiple times, at least two if you're willing. Whether he's got you stretched on his fingers or his cock, he knows exactly what you like.

"Does that feel good?" He coos into your ear, his fingers moving faster inside of you. "Doing such a good job..." He praises into your ear before kissing your temple. "Can you finish for me, sweetheart?"

Aftercare is a must! Sam always does aftercare. Whether that's just praising you and making sure you are okay before you both fall asleep or giving you a nice shower/bath. He always makes sure you're taken care of, even if it was only a one night kind of deal, he wouldn't just up and leave.

Anyhow, I just think Sammy is amazing and he'd be such a good boyfriend <3

[riaisnotok]

☆ ARCADIA

(Enjoy this one from my Wattpad, I'm still working on requests)

2007! Tom x fem! reader (males are welcome too)

Warning ⚠: Angst, S3lf-harm

— unedited

You and Tom have been together for 4 years. But lately you've noticed that Tom behaves more strangely with you and most nights he's often gone. Which made you suspect something.

Tonight, you stay in bed and wait for him to come home. He said he went to the studio, but you don't believe him anymore. You once went to the studio and there was no one but Bill and Georg there, and when you called him he said he was at the studio even though he wasn't.

It was already 2 o'clock in the morning and Tom wasn't at home even now, maybe he cheats on me, you thought. You think about calling him again, but even now he doesn't answer.

Suddenly he heard the front door slam, "Coming at this hour Tom?" You said to yourself and got up from the bed and went to see what Tom was doing. When you came out of your bedroom you saw Tom dead drunk with a tall thin woman next to him with dirty blonde hair. Shre was holding his arm so that he wouldn't fall. That woman looks at you with a disgusted face and whispers to Tom:

"You said you're single" But Tom was too numb to understand. The woman puts Tom down on the sofa. "Leave him alone, whore!" You told that woman. "And who are you little girl? You look like you're 14, pffff!" She said laughing at you. Her words really hurt you and a tear ran down your cheeks. How can Tom cheat on you with such a woman?

"Go away!" You shouted at her, took the nearest object to you and threw it at her. "You're CRAZY, bitch!" She said running out the door. You quickly closed the door and locked it.

"Tom?" You sat down on the couch next to him. Tom had already fallen asleep and didn't answer you anymore. You lifted him from the sofa and took him to the bedroom, like a good "girlfriend" you dressed him in pajamas and covered him with the duvet. Tomorrow when he wakes up you want to know everything, he can't hide this thing anymore.

All night you thought about what woman Tom could cheat on you with, and about those words. Do you really look like a 14 year old girl? Is that why Tom is cheating on you with a whore who looks like a 50-year-old woman when he's only 23?

You can't anymore, it's already 5 in the morning and you can't sleep at all, you keep thinking that maybe people think you're 14 and you're dating an adult. You got out of bed and went to the bathroom.

"I look like a 14 year old girl..." You said looking in the mirror.

You trrned your head to the bathroom cabinet, went to it and open it, you took the blade.

WARNING! If this part triggers you, you can skip it! TW: SH

You took the blade in your hand, pulled up the sleeve of your blouse, put the blade on your hand. Tears flowed from your eyes, you loved Tom and he didn't. He cheated on you with a cheap street whore. You feel hurt, you couldn't imagine Tom would do such a thing, especially to you. You really thought he loved you, but actually he was hanging out with cheap whores at night instead of staying at home with you.

You fell on the cold floor of the bathroom, blood was flowing from your veins. You really think that this is not the first time he does this, how many nights he was not with you in bed and he was with bitches. You don't understand why he is like that, why he goes to bitches when he has you at home. You've also asked Bill many times if he knows where Tom goes these nights when he's not at home next to you in bed, but he doesn't know either. Tom doesn't even say anything to his brother. You can't anymore, Tom is already starting to destroy you mentally.

"Y-Y/N?"

That voice, those steps...

TOM.

You quickly get up from the floor and cover your hand, you quickly closed the door. "Y/N!" He was still a little under the influence of alcohol, but he was more sober than a few hours ago. "N/N are you there?" He asked knocking on the door. Maybe he wanted to throw up, who knows, but you still don't open the door for him.

“Y/N open please…” You finally opened the door. Tom looked at your face and leaned in to give you a kiss but you pulled away. "N/N…?"

"Tom...go back to sleep..." You left the bathroom and went back to the bedroom, hoping that Tom would come too.

The next day you didn't have the courage to ask him who that bitch was, but tonight you want to spy on him to see what he does at night when he's not at home and comes late at night.

It was time to leave home, it was 10 o'clock at night, You were pretending to sleep.

You heard the front door open and close, then you jumped out of bed and got dressed quickly. You dressed in black so you could be harder to see in the dark of the night. You quickly put on your shoes and rushed out the door. You locked the door and saw Tom on the street corner, and with that two-penny cheap whore. Wait...

That was not the same woman....it was another, a redhead with short hair, short and thin. This man really goes to whores. Suddenly you see them kissing, how gross.

"The jerk he cheats on me again!" You whispered looking at your watch. "Where are they going after this?" You saw how they started to walk, you followed them.

On the way to who knows where they are going, you saw that 3 more girls came and among them was that dirty blonde and 2 tall brunettes. Then you saw that they were heading together to an adult store. Tom and the blonde entered it. After a few minutes they came out, you looked to see if they bought anything. The blonde was holding a net with sex toys (😭 kms).

All 5 then went to a hotel where you don't even want to know what they did... you could hear all the screams and moans from outside.

You felt so disgusted that your boyfriend cheats on you with 4 cheap whores every night and also lies about going to the studio. You called Bill to tell him what his brother was doing. He couldn't believe it. "Tom is stupid." Bill said.

You asked him if he could come and encourage you, he agreed.

After a few minutes, Bill arrived at the hotel. "So you want to tell me that he entered the hotel with 4 women?" He asked, he was a little surprised. But you were hurt and angry, your heart was broken in pieces. Tom thought you wouldn't notice, but his plan with the studio didn't work out. Maybe next time Tom, who knows ;)

You and Bill both waited until Tom left the hotel with those women. "TOM." You said walking towards him, Bill was behind you if anything happened.

Tom's eyes widened when he saw that you suddenly appeared in front of him. "Y/N! IT'S NOT WHAT IT SEEMS!" He said scared. "For months now you've been cheating on me with these 4 cheap whores." You submitted by pointing the finger. They sigh deeply when they hear what you told them. "I'm sorry Y/N. It's not happening again!" He said, tears flowing from his eyes down his cheeks and down to the ground. The 4 women ran away quickly, they really didn't want to be involved.

"Tom it's happened so many times, I can't believe you anymore. We'll end it here." You said you took off the necklace he gave you 3 years ago for your birthday, and you put it in his hands. "I can't forgive you, Tom. You have hurt me enough. Time to go separate ways, so you can go to your cheap whores more often." You said leaving from there. Bill offered to take you back home.

Tom made the biggest mistake of his life. And now the girl he "loved" leaves him after 4 years of relationship.

Tom now feels empty, he made a mistake. It's his fault.

It's his fault, only his fault. He shouldn't have talked to those women in the first place.

You and Tom haven't kept in touch anymore, just you and Bill. Your life has become sunnier since then, without problems, without suspicions, without Tom...

[zmediaoutlet]

soon or never

for @wincestwednesdays - choices

A hand on Sam's shoulder. Hard at first, making him jerk like waking up from a coma, and then softer. "Hey, hey." He blinks, sniffs, wipes his own hand hard over his face. Takes a few seconds to see: the sun sliding toward setting, over a long low motel, with a nearly-empty lot, in which the Impala's parked in front of room number eleven, the engine off and Sam pulled out of a dead sleep with Dean, yes, still holding his shoulder. Warm through his spare jacket.

"Where," he says. Croaks. Jeez.

"Boise," Dean says, and Sam frowns. That's—three hours from Grangeville, the way Dean drives. He thought they'd be a lot closer to home before they stopped for the night. He squints over the seat and Dean's mouth goes thin, and then he shrugs, and takes his hand off Sam's shoulder. "You were moaning in your sleep. Not the fun kind."

Room eleven is blue carpet, blue thick curtains, blue blankets on the two queen beds. Two. Sam's still kind of dizzy. Not enough sleep and too much bloodloss. Dean brings in all the bags himself, moving around where Sam's pinned in the entryway, and then he says, "You planning on taking up work as the human statue?" and so Sam moves—to the table, with its blue-upholstered chair. He tries not to flinch when he sits but that's a lost cause. He keeps holding the bandage on his side. Even with all the stitches it feels like his guts might just spill out, everywhere. Ruin all this blue.

"Dude, you are out of it," Dean says. A thin kind of jocular. Somehow when Sam wasn't paying attention he lost his jacket, his boots. Rolling up his bright-red sleeves. "You getting your weird antibiotic thing again?"

Could be. A little dizzy, a little off. His stomach warm, partway to queasy. There's a hole in it, so. Queasy isn't so bad, as these things go. "Guess that means you're not gonna want the hot & sour I just ordered, huh," Dean says. Sam wrinkles his nose and Dean huffs. "You're gonna have to use your words at some point, buddy-boy."

"I'm not your buddy, pal," Sam says. Throat crackly again but he tries to smile.

"I'm not your pal, champ," Dean says, eyes crinkling at the corners, but he's hardly smiling at all.

Dean brings Sam a glass of cool water from the tap. Sam sips, careful. He's watched for a second, for what Sam doesn't know—in case the glass explodes and cuts him to ribbons, in case he chokes on water and suffocates on dry land—but then Dean seems satisfied that he won't immediately expire and goes to dig in his bag, set on the bed closer to the door. The room full of light, suffusing gold against the sea of blue, and it's good just to sit and look at his brother. The tips of his hair backlit amber. That red shirt, which somehow escaped the day without bloodstains. His square capable hands, tugging out pajama pants, and his forearms ringed in bruises, and his face the familiar set of—just getting to the next thing, and the next thing after that. Like if he sits down he won't ever get up.

"Why am I always the one getting hurt?" Sam says. Dean jerks. "Hole in my gut, last night. My arm, last year. Basically in a coma the year before that. When's it your turn?"

Dean leans one thigh against the bed, pajama pants held up against his stomach. After a second just looking at his bag, he says: "Broke my leg, back when that Levi nearly caught us at Bobby's."

"That when I went into a coma the first time?" Sam says, bright, and Dean snorts and says, "Don't think that was the first time, Sammy," but he says it a little more relaxed.

The water did help, and the sitting up in the light, and just—Dean. Here, and not somewhere with a monster where Sam didn't know what he was doing. If he was okay. Sam takes another moment to drink him in, until Dean finally looks up from his bag and meets his eyes, and Sam smiles again and Dean—Sam doesn't know what that expression is, but Dean's here instead of in some black pit in his head and so that's good enough for Sam.

It's hard to take his jacket off sitting down, strains his gut. "Don't pull your stitches," Dean says. "Hey, don't roll your eyes. That's some high quality fake insurance paying for those stitches."

"Doctor would've done it for free," Sam says. A grunt. He gets free of the second sleeve and drops it on the table. Boots then, but—

"Oh, this is pathetic," Dean says, but soft, and Sam stops toeing at the heel when Dean's suddenly there, on his knees on the blue carpet. His hand sure, dragging down the back of Sam's calf, and Sam picks his foot up obediently when Dean taps the heel and lets Dean tug it off. He makes a face and—yeah, that's not great. He sets the one boot down, though, and Sam gives him the other foot and Dean pulls him clear, and then just—holds Sam's foot, braced against his thigh. Fine with Sam, who wiggles his toes inside his socks. "Don't try to fumigate the room, man," Dean says, nose wrinkled. "Swear, you could've just waved these things at the werewolves and they woulda gone down, quick."

"You love it," Sam says. Dean licks his lips, and presses them together. His eyes some other place.

Dean's fingers flex around his ankle. Sam presses down with his toes, rocks a little, and when Dean looks up Sam raises his eyebrows. Dean shakes his head, but he slides his hands up Sam's shin, and then go around the back of his knee, up the back of his thigh. Squeeze there, hard. Hard enough it hurts, but then the muscle shocks into softness, and Sam sighs, and so then back down to his calf, Dean's fingers moving in hard firm circles. To the tendons in his ankle, squeezing, so that Sam scoots down further into the chair, his body turning slowly to jelly. "Oh, yeah?" Dean says, quiet, and picks up Sam's other foot to set on his other thigh, and repeats the whole process—not making it sleazy, or like he's trying to get Sam going, but just—making all the parts of Sam that are sore as hell after nearly two days in the dark hunted woods back into something that feels like his again. Or like Dean's again. Hard to tell anymore where the line between those lies. These days Sam isn't looking that hard.

When Dean's finished with the left leg he slides his hand back up Sam's calf, hooking there behind his knee. Quiet on his knees, and quiet in the room, too. Not even the sound of traffic outside. Just the two of them breathing, in all this blue. Dean's bruised forearms, and his throat ringed in murky purple, too, and dark under his eyes. The doctor, after stitching up the bullet hole but before she gave Sam the bottle of antibiotics, telling him to look out for his brother.

He lets his feet slide off to the outside of Dean's thighs, and reaches out a hand. Dean ignores it but lifts up on his knees, between Sam's legs, and Sam touches the corner of his scabbed eye and his jaw with too-thick stubble and drags a thumb down the column of his throat. Feels how it bobs. Waits, then, relaxed in the chair, while Dean unbuttons his flannel shirt, and lifts his undershirt, and touches the bandage. Running his fingers along the tape.

"Gonna rip some hair out when we gotta change that," Dean says. His eyes tight at the corners. "Free wax day at the spa."

"Lucky me," Sam says, dry, and watches the air go out of Dean.

He could ask. Right now, he could ask and he'd get the truth. Only—what's the point of asking a question you already know the answer to?

"Hey, Dean," he says, soft. Dean's eyes meet his. Everything in them, unsaid. Sam smiles, small. "When we get home, am I getting another massage?"

Dean scoffs. Stands up using Sam's thighs to brace—"Oof," Sam says, gamely—and Dean says, "You're gonna be lucky to get any at all, if you don't shower off all that werewolf stank." Sam smiles bigger and Dean rolls his eyes. "Oh, yeah, you're adorable."

A knock on the motel room door, then—the Chinese delivery—and before Dean goes Sam catches his forearm, squeezes. Dean takes a deep breath. "Yeah," he says, quiet.

Sam watches him take the delivery, tip the kid in cash. The room filling immediately with the smell of fried wontons because Dean always asks for a triple serving. "You eating, or what?" Dean says, dumping the bags on the table, and Sam sits up straight, ignoring the strain on his gut. "I'm eating," he says, and Dean sets the carton of soup firmly in front of him, and Sam thinks—if he hadn't made it back in time—

But he did, and Dean's alive and sitting here, bitching about how they put in way more broccoli than beef, so there's no more call to think about it. He eats his soup, and steals Dean's wontons.

[gazsluckyhat]

Sarah's House

Seven - Sunlight

Masterlist

So first off. Super important. A lot of victims of SA become hypersexual. It's normal and happens alot. SO DO NOT COME AT ME WITH BULLSHIT. Unless you have been through it hush.

Now, this one is SMUT. Super long and dirty. So enjoy!

Price knew he shouldn't take the mission. The outcome seemed obvious, or so he thought. Until he wasn't anymore.

or

Like calls to like. Or something of the sort.

Price sits with Sarah in his lap until her breathing finally evens. Her head tucked into his neck, his hand rubbing circles and humming in her ear. Anything to calm her. He knows Ghost is long gone with her father by now, his flight rapidly approaching. His shirt is damp, snot and tears soaking the sleeve.

"Lets go inside, Lovie, ya'?" She nods agaisnt him. Price stands with her in his hold easily, her weight nothing. He catches Johnny at the door, he pulls it open so they can easily come inside. Sarah shivers when they get in, the air conditioning colder than she expected. Reaching for Johnny's arm she tapped her finger agasint it. -.. .- -.. / --. --- -. . Dad gone?

"Ya' lassie. Ghost took 'em." She turned back into Price's chest and started to cry again, this time much softer.

"Shhh. It's okay darlin'. It's all gonna be okay." Price spoke sweetly, doing anything he could think of to calm her down. Gaz nodded towards her, arms outstretched.

"Let me 'ave her." Price shifted her over, her body easily molding into him. "Promised I'd do your' hair, ya'?" Sarah nodded, closing her eyes as he carried her upstairs.

Gaz has her sitting on the bathroom counter, back facing the mirror. She'd almost freaked when they'd walked in. He still didn't fully understand why. She kept her eyes closed as he cut her hair. Making it even and adding some nice layering. She'd whimpered and leaned into him when he'd started brushing her hair. The knots not even bothering her. Gaz had set up his phone, music playing softly.

"This looks good on you. Wanna see?" Her eyes snap open, fear clear as day. She shakes her head, silently begging him. "Hey, easy. What's wrong?"  Tears are pricking in her eyes again. What does she say? I can't look at the pathetic girl in the mirror because she quite actually makes me sick to my stomach? Or The girl in the mirror is nothing but a broken shell of who I spent my life avoiding to become? No, she can't tell him that. She couldn't stand to have him look at her with pity.

"U-g-ly." He pushes her hair out of her face and holds her head straight. Getting eye level as he talks. She can't look away, not with how he's holding her cheeks, but she doesn't even want to. Gaz's eyes are dark but light at the same time. They're so different from Johnny's. But she could stare at both forever.

"Listen to me. You are not ugly, love. Never could be. Don't let them take anything else away from you, okay? You make my heart race, have since I saw you all cleaned up for the first time. Prettiest thing around here. Way better than them boys downstairs." Sarah chuckles and Gaz kisses the fallen tears off her cheeks. Lingers there for a few minutes, Sarah drinks him in. The warmth of his breath, the way his lips feel and how he smells. She wants to stay like that, wants to actually kiss him. Wants him to tangle those hands in her hair, leave bruises along her neck and collar bone. He pulls back and Sarah swears she sees something like hunger in his eyes. He hides it with a smile and places his hands at his sides.

"Would you be willing to try and shower? Need ta' get that hair off ya'." Sarah straightens up. She knows she needs one. Hasn't been really clean in two years. Whore baths only going so far. But the fear is there, along her shoulders and in her chest. "I'll be right here, or I could get Price or Soap." Sarah nods, reaching for his hand.

"Don-t leav-e?" Gaz squeezes her hand and smiles at her.

"Never." He starts the water up, back to her. Sarah slips off the counter and kicks off her pajamas. She steps closer to the shower, fear enveloping her. Gaz turns around and quickly averts his eyes. He tells himself to be respectful, even if he wants to just trace her body with his fingers. He can tell she's scared. She is shaking her hands a little. "Is it warm enough?" She's frozen beside him. Sarah tells herself this is different, she's not being hurt, she's gonna get clean. She suddenly has a idea, not sure if Gaz will even agree. She turns to face him, trying to use her best puppy dog face.

"Sh-ow-er wi-th me?" Gaz blushes, eyes studying her face. She's batting those pretty green eyes at him and God, he can't say no to her. He nods. Her lips forming a smile.

"Of course, pretty." He strips to his boxers, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. But she stops him before he can get in, her fingers pointing at his hips, a confused look on her face. "Oh, don't wanna make you uncomfortable." She's shaking her head, pointing at her own naked body. Gaz was trying really hard not to look at it, man. Even malnourished she's beautiful.

"Naked." She touching his hips, finger tips slipping into the waistband and snapping it. Fuck, Gaz has to take a deep breath. Beg the blood to stay where it's at. But he nods and pulls them down his legs, kicking them to the side. He catches the way her eyes wander over him, focusing on each section. He's worried he's ruined it, made the moment weird. "Hand-some." She takes his hand and pulls him into the shower with her. She hides in the dry spot, right out of the stream. Water is warm and Sarah tries to relax. She wants to be able to enjoy the water again. Used to love swimming and bathing and long hot showers. Gaz stands in the stream, droplets splashing off him and onto her.

"Let me help you." And he's grabbing her, placing her back to his front, ignoring the need he feels. "Take deep breaths love. Try and relax for me." And she does, even leans her head back on his shoulder. Allows the water to wet her hair, face and body. It's nice. Really nice. With Gaz behind her, rubbing her arms and humming in her ear she relaxes. Allows the tension to wash away with the water. She also tries her best to ignore the heavy and warm body part resting agaisnt the base of her back. Ignores how it's dribbling something sticky onto her skin or how her brain is imaging it agaisnt her tongue. She has a feeling it'd weigh it down and fill the space easily.

"Want me to wash yor' hair?"

"Mhmm." He does, takes his time and scratches her scalp. Lathers the conditioner in it and lets it sit. Hands her a loofa with a nice smelling soap on it and looks away when she runs it across her chest and between her legs. Washes her back for her, then happily rinses the thick hair clear. They stay like that until the water runs cold, Sarah immediately getting out. Gaz chuckles and wraps her in a fluffy towel, chooses to wrap one around his hips. He towel dries her hair until it's just damp. Helps her get dressed in a pretty pink top and the softest sweats she's ever had. And of course wears the pink slippers he bought her. She follows him to his room, watches as he grabs his clothes. Loves the way his back muscles move as he gets dressed. Almost drools when he drops the towel and she gets a clear view of his ass. Thanks whatever God sent this man her way. She always was a ass girly.

"Enjoying the view?" He smirks at her and she nods. He flexes his arms at her and kneels right in front of her. "So pretty." Sarah surprises him. She leans down an grabs his face, planting her lips on his. It's quick and simple and then she's pulling back. Leaving Gaz shocked and frozen. Johnny calls her name down the hall and she jumps up to follow. Gaz stays stuck to the hardwood.

Ghost closes the door behind him and is greeted with Sarah firmly placed between Johnny and Price, a game on the telly. They're explaining the rules and what is going on to her. He can see from here she's confused. Even chuckles to himself as he makes his way in. He decides to save her from boredom by asking her to help.

"Flower, wanna help with dinner?" She's standing up and by his side in a instant. Her green eyes shining as she follows into the kitchen. Ghost easily lays out the ingredients they need, pork chops, flour, eggs, cream and various other things. "Come 'mere. Stand in front of me." He puts her where he wants, and wraps his arms around her.

"Gonna teach you how." And he does. But she doesn't process a damn thing. No, because she is too focused on his breath agaisnt her neck, or the feeling of his arms trapping her agaisnt him. The rhythmic beat of his chest and the way he massages the seasoning into the meat. His hands are the opposite of Gaz's. Way bigger, thick fingers and callouses. But god if she doesn't wanna taste them. Feel them in her mouth, suck the cream right off of them. Two would burn so good inside of her, might even ease the feelings away. Wonders if he'd use one or both. Maybe his mouth? God she hasn't had that even before she went missing. Hard to find a guy that actually enjoys eating her out. Or who's even good at it. Maybe Gaz is good at it too. Fuck, what about both of them, together. That causes her moan, just a little bit. She doesn't mean too and tries to hide it but Ghost has super hearing.

"You okay Flower?" Her cheeks are bright red. He can feel the way her heart is beating. Knows that she moaned, but he wants to know why. What has her moaning, her back tense, her breathing labored. She nods agaisnt his chest but he knows she's lying. Can feel it in his bones. "Wanna help me put it in tha' oven?" Sarah nods and goes to step away, trying to put as much distance between the two as she can. His touch doing nothing to stop the beating in her vagina. She thinks he's knows too. His brown eyes stayed glued to her face, catching every movement she makes.

"What's got you so worked up, huh?" He's got his arms crossed, the question hanging in the air. She shakes her head, averts her eyes. Think about anything but how he looks so fucking delicious in the Henley and jeans. Or how Gaz felt agasint her back. "Lying to me isn't gonna help." She once again shakes her head and shrugs. "Use your words." He's gonna be the death of her.

"No-thi-ng." Lies. He squints at her and then turns away, showing the bakeware into the oven. He stops beside her, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

"Yer' ah' bad liar, Flower." Leaves her in the kitchen.

Dinner is uneventful, the food amazing. The boys praise her while Ghost just smirks. She catches Gaz's eyes a couple times, can maybe see the want in them. But he doesn't hold her eyes long enough to truly see. His cheeks flush when he catches her looking at him. Sarah can't help but wonder if she made things worse. Should've just kissed his cheek. Stupid. So stupid. Russian scu- Johnny is talking to her. Electric blue eyes focused on her face. He's so pretty. Can't help but think it.

"Mhmm." She agrees to whatever he's saying. Doesn’t care what it is. His lips are moving and all she can think of are the marks he could leave with them. Fuck. Get it together Sarah. Can't figure out why he mind is so set on sex. Why all she can think of is hard cocks and skilled fingers. She just spent two years being raped and used like a sex doll. Sex should be the last thing on her mind. But yet at the sound of Price's gravelly voice all she can think about are nasty things he'd whisper in her ear as he fucked her. She still has bruises on her from fists and batons. Still hears their voices screaming in her head. Can still feel their touch on her skin. But god if she isn't horny. Feels like a teenager again. But feels ashamed at the same time. Who would touch her knowing what she'd done? Who'd she done. She truly was nothing but a Russian whore. They'd turned her into it. Fucked it into her skull. She was dirty, the kinda dirty a shower wouldn't fix.

"Where'd ya' go?" It's Johnny, eyes shining bright. She stares for a second before deciding to just go to bed. Her dinner ruined. By you. She thinks. She doesn't want them to see her wallow. She's afraid they'll she what she already knows is true. She doesn't hear them coming after her, maybe because she's not seeing shadow people. She closes the door behind her and breaths. Takes a second and finds a nice soft set of pjs then heads to the bathroom. Keeps her eyes closed as she sets her clothes on the counter and just tries to calm down. Counts to ten before she opens her eyes. The woman staring back is so different. She's bone thin. Her once full breasts now gone. The woman left is scary looking. Her hair is still thick but colorless. Her skin pale and lifeless almost. The eyes that mirrored her fathers now look with horror. She doesn’t see any semblance of the Raven. The once strong and fierce soldier. Everyone used to stare in awe but now all she gets is pity. Doesn't even realize her hands are shaking until hers are covered by another set. She looks up into the brown eyes of Ghost. He's watching her. Eyes studying her face, the tears that have leaked down once full cheeks. The quiver of her lip as she holds back a sob.

"Don't do it." He speaks softly. But sternly. "Flower, you are killing yorself'. I know what you went through. What they did to yo-" She cuts him off. Eyes going wide.

"No." He doesn't know. No one knows. "You- don't." She's stumbling over words. Trying to put them together. "Raped me." She lets the tears fall. "Would put food-" Takes a breath as she stutters. "In front of me-e-e. Te-ll me to w-ork for it." Ghost stays still, using his body as a crutch for her. Keeps her hands under his.

"You don't have to tell me." Ghost tries. She doesn't listen.

"When I'd bleed, from how raw I was-" She shakes her head. "They'd use another hole. Until it was bleeding. Joked about taking my teeth so I could suck their cocks better." Ghost has to tighten his hands on hers, actually feel her because he's on the brink of losing it.

"When they learned I could speak Russian they would spit at me. Say vile things. Make me repeat them. Ask for them." She closes her eyes. "Made me their whore." She barely has the words out before Ghost has her spun around and pressed into the counter. His hands locking her in place.

"You are not a whore, Sarah." He's shaking, she can feel it. "You are a survivor. The strongest person I've ever met." His eyes are damp, the lashes sticking together. "What they di-did to you is disgusting and inhumane. Should've never happened. If I could I would personally break every single person's neck who hurt you. Make them beg like they did you." He's angry she realizes. Beyond angry even. And not at her but at them. The men who'd touched her and spit on her. "I'd take you home. Away from them and with me." Her breath hitches in her chest. Him? Sarah stares. She can see it in his eyes. The need, the want. For her. She takes her fingers and places them just under the start of his mask, pulling up. Asking a question. He covers her hands.

"Flower." She tugs on it again. A plea this time. She points at her scars. "I can't."

"Please." He can hear it in her voice, something new. He can't tell what it is though. There's something about how she's holding the fabric, her fingers pulling it taunt. He can't tell her no. And it'd be nice to be Simon with her. Simon who loves bluebirds, Simon that likes to hike, and maybe even Simon that sleeps with his arm around Sarah. Maybe even just Simon.

He pulls on the hood, her fingers pushing the mouth up and away. Closes his eyes as he throws it to the floor, fear metallic in his mouth. He can feel her fingers. They're tracing every scar and bump and valley. She lingers on his lips, humming to herself. He expects her to back away, leave him there alone and ashamed. But she doesn't. She stands there then pushes herself onto the counter and pulls him to her by his belt loops, doesn't even give him time to adjust before shes pulling his head down and kissing him. It's soft, that of someone who's testing the waters. Simon pulls away, her face unreadable.

"Flower." His tone is warning. Sarah sees it then. His grip on her thighs tells her as much. What she had seen in Gaz's eyes was right. She sees the same in Ghosts. Desire. It's bright and eating away at them. Any other person would have just acted but not them. No, they took her feelings into consideration, put themselves aside. Her heart swells from it. So she leans forward again and kisses harder. He pulls away again, just not so fast. "Flower, stop. We can't." He's saying it more to himself then her now.

"I wa-nt to." It's short and simple but no, he won't accept it. Not from her.

"I can't. I won't be able to hold back and If I hurt you…" She cuts him off, setting his hand between her legs. Where a damp spot had been made. And fuck if it wasn't warm. He closes his eyes and sets his forehead agaisnt hers.

"Ple-ase Ghost."

"Simon. My names Simon." Then he's kissing her. Hands in her hair and actually kissing her. She fits perfectly agaisnt him. And she's so fucking warm. She moans into his mouth and reaches to his pants. He pulls back with a groan.

"I'm not fucking you on the bathroom counter for the first time." Sarah giggles as he lifts her effortlessly and carries her to the bed. He pulls his shirt off first and yanks her pants and underwear down her legs. He takes them over his shoulders and dives head first. Breathing the scent of her skin in. Of her. He nibbles on her inner thigh. "Three taps for red Flower." And then he's in. The hair that is there is minimal, malnourishment does that. He licks up the middle, the sweetness causing his eyes to roll back in his head. She moans, loudly too. Takes her hands and grabs a fistful of hair. He moans into her. Finding her clit he swirls his tounge around it, feeling as it pebbles up. When he adds pressure she whimpers and arches her back. He chuckles at her.

"Mmmmm. Taste so pretty Flower." He presses a finger into her mouth and her lips suck onto it instantly. Lets her soak it with her own spit before slowly pulling it out. He slips the finger inside her, making sure to ease it in. There's discomfort on her face, so he pulls it back. Sarah's eyes open and she shakes her head.

"Wanna feel good." It comes out a whimper, but he understands. He kisses her inner thighs and nods. Going back to devouring her he presses the finger in more, working it inside her. He feels her rolls her hips agaisnt his mouth, whining. He needs her to cum on in his mouth first. Wants to taste it. So he goes faster, presses harder. Sarah can't breath. The pleasure snapping at every nerve ending. Can feel it licking up her spine. She's moaning, her words unintelligible. But that's okay, Simon doesn't need her to talk, no he needs her to writhe on his tongue. And she does. Her grip tighter as he feels her tighten around his finger. He quickly slips in another, needing to work her open if he's gonna fuck her. That does it. She sobbing agaisnt him. Her release covering his hand and mouth. And still he stays there, slurping up every drop until she's pushing his head away. Licking his lips he crawls up her body, kissing along the way. Slips his fingers into her mouth, makes her suck them clean.

"Taste how sweet you are, such a good girl. Cuming on my tongue." She whimpers around his hand, a shiver going down her back. Pulling them out he pushes her top up and off, quickly kissing between her breasts. "So fuckin' perfect Flower." She moans pulling him closer and slipping her tongue into his mouth. He pulls her hear, tilts her neck to the side so he can kiss it. Leaving  couple marks as he does, the way her body convulses making her so much harder.

"Ne-ed you, Si-mon." She whines it, yanking on his bicep. He chuckles. His girl is impatient. He kisses her again as he kicks his pants off, fisting himself a couple times before leveling it with her cunt.

"'Member, three taps." She nods agasint his forehead and he sinks the tip in. She grips his arm, digging her nails in. He kisses the corner of her mouth, slowly pushing in further. Her eyes squeeze shut and he wonders if he should stop, but she's not tapping yet. She's breathing deeply and just trying to relax. He kisses her cheek now. Try to comfort her. When he finally is fully seated in her, he rubs her arms. After a few minutes she opens her eyes and smiles.

"Feels go-od." He nods, rolling his hips slowly. Her eyes roll in the back of her head as she moans. "Fu-uck." He takes that as permission to go a little faster, and fuck, does it take every last ounce of self control to just not bully into her. To fuck her pretty little head empty. To replace every last memory of what they did to her away and leave only him. His cock imprinted on her cervix.

"Fuck, flower, so fukin' tight." He drops his head to her neck, his pace killing him. And apparently she knows it, smacks his ass a little.

"Fast-er." He checks her eyes, wanting to make sure she's still here and not lost in her head. When he's satisfied he does as she asks. Rolls his hips faster, pounds harder into her. And god if it isn't the best feeling in the world. She's so tight and warm, he knows he won't last long. And neither will she, she's already groaning loudly and trying to meet his thrusts. He can see she's close, she just needs a little more. So he gives it to her. Angles her hips up so he can hit deeper, thrust a little hard. And she's gone. His name coming off her lips in moans and mumbles. He can feel her release coating him and dripping down, the sound lewd. The way she's chanting his name like a prayer gets him so fucking close. She's scratching his arms and shoulders and back. Her body jerking with each thrust. Just a little more.

"Simon, please." Her eyes are locked to his and that's all he needs. With one finale thrust of his hips hes spilling into her, his body falling onto hers. She doesn't try to push him off or complain, just weaves a hand in his hear and rubs his back. Ghost closes his eyes because, god, it feels so fucking good. To just be touched. To be cared for. He knows he's squishing her, can feel how her chest struggles to expand. He feels almost bad, afraid he's hurt her. But when he rolls off and actually looks at her the feeling goes away. Her face is that of bliss. She's completely relaxed. Her muscles limp and pliant. He kisses her head before running to get a rag to clean her up with. She lets him, doesn't say a word. And when he's done and crawls into be beside her she snuggles into his chest, wrapping her legs up with his. A hushed thank you whispered into his skin.

[ummpati]

After Date Jitters

Krew never gave us the angst we needed after Funneh and Alec's date.

That's where I come in.

~~~~~

Crickets chirped around the dorms as Funneh approached her front doors, still cradling a froyo cup in her hands. She looked over her shoulder as she reached for the handle. Evan was standing by the entrance, watching to make sure she made it inside. Funneh smiled and lifted a hand to wave, Evan returned the gesture before turning and going back to his own dorm building.

Funneh yawned as she opened the door, stepping in quietly. It was long past dark, the lights were out and the dorm was quiet. She assumed Gold was upstairs; she was never one to stay up this late. Shutting the door behind her, she flicked the lock and walked over to the trash can. Scraping out the last bits of Froyo, she tossed the cardboard cup inside.

“Hmm,” Funneh paused at the small sound, glancing back towards the living room. “..Funneh?” Gold popped up from behind the back of the couch, hair tousled and rubbing sleep from her eye. 

“Oh, Gold, what’re you doing up?”

Gold yawned, “waiting for you.” Funneh walked around the couch to stand in front of her. The brunette sat up fully and fixed one of her sleeves that had rolled up in her sleep. “How are you? Thought you would be back earlier.”

“I'm fine!” Funneh chirped, clapping her hands in front of her, “Evan bought me Froyo!”

Gold glances to the left and Funneh follows her gaze. On the coffee table were two tubs of ice cream and spoons to go along with them, rings of condensation spread around the base of the cartons, infecting the grooves of the wooden table. Funneh winced, she hadn't thought Gold would wait up like this.

“Doesn't matter,” Gold shook her head, waving the ice cream away. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Well, you remember how I told you Evan was playing for Ocean Metal? He totally flunked!” Funneh laughed, reaching her hands up to play with the end of her braid. “You shoulda seen him, he got a slushie spilled on him too! Then we went for Froyo, ate it on the sidewalk, got more, and came back here!”

Gold smiled, “well, that's good, I'm glad you had fun. But, uhm,” she hesitated and bit her lip, “what about Alec..?”

Funneh paused. A feeling of…. Actually, she didn't know what she was feeling. But it washed over her; she tried her best to shake it off. She plastered a smile on her lips. “Mhm, Alec got a phone call. I told you, right?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“No, it's fine!” Funneh waved a hand in dismissal, but couldn't help the lump that rose in her throat. “He said it was an emergency so it's fine.”

“It's not fine if you’re upset, Funneh.” Gold reached out a hand, grabbing Funneh’s clammy ones in hers.

Funneh sniffed, forced her smile brighter but turned her head away nonetheless. “Well, he said he was sorry?” Gold kept quiet, rubbing soothing circles into the back of Funneh’s hand. The silence overwhelmed her, she had to keep talking.

“It's no big deal, yeah? This kind of thing happens all the time! I'm sure he’ll make it up to-!” Funneh’s voice broke off into a sob. Immediately, she brought her free hand to cover her face. Tears started to stream down her cheeks and fell to soak her newly bought hoodie.

Gold stood up immediately, placing a gentle hand on her friend's cheeks as she hiccuped and sobbed, her shoulders shaking. “Oh, Funneh..”

“Why am I cryin-g-G-g?! This is so stu-u-u-upid!” Funneh choked out. She felt so pathetic. She told herself that it was barely a date, and it wasn't like he never showed up; they had fun until he had a family emergency. An emergency! Was she so entitled to think she was more important?

“No, honey, no,” Gold wrapped her arms around her, Funneh buried her face into her best friend's shoulder. The plush pink pajamas were soft and warm. “He left,” Funneh sobbed harder. “You have a right to feel upset.”

“But-!” Funneh tried to raise her hands to wipe her face, to hide from her friend. Gold didn't let her, grabbing her hands in a firm but comforting hold. Funneh looked up, and through her tears, she saw Gold’s face. Perfect, as it usually was, flawless, but burdened. She looked so sad, so hurt.

But why would Gold be sad? Was it because of her? Was she making Gold sad?

Funneh felt her knees shake and Gold gently lowered them to the rough carpet. Funneh’s exposed knees rubbed against the carpet, they burned as she shifted her posture to lean against the couch, still facing Gold.

“I-I’m sorry!” Funneh lowered her head, too afraid to look her in the eyes. It seemed like she always ruined everything. She didn't want Gold to leave too.

“‘Sorry’? Why are you sorry?”

“I'm making you sad!”

Gold hummed, squinting her eyes and tilting her head in sympathy, though Funneh didn't see it. “Funneh, Funneh, Funneh, no.” When she failed to raise Funneh’s head, Gold sighed. Funneh hiccuped, it was getting hard to breathe through her sobs. She felt Gold rest her forehead against hers. Brown and blue hair tangled together. “I'm not sad because of you, I'm sad for you.”

Funneh’s brows furrowed. What did she mean? 

She finally looked up, only to be greeted by Gold’s smile. “What happened sucks, and I’m so so so incredibly sorry this happened to you, Funneh. It was a jerk move and he needs to apologize.” Gold paused, waiting for a response. When Funneh nodded, shakily and unsure. 

“You’re tired,”  Funneh couldn't help but laugh, a wet chuckle escaping her lips, slipping past the slowly dying sobs. “How about we go get you cleaned up and head to bed? Clear your head and talk more in the morning?”

“Mhm..” Funneh mumbled, wiping her face frantically with her sleeves. She winced, she would need to wash the hoodie already. She felt a feather-light weight she had become accustomed to being lifted from her head, Gold laying her flower crown on the couch cushions beside them. “I’m sorry-”

“Funneh,” Gold interrupted gently, raising herself to her knees. “There's absolutely nothing to apologize for, especially not for crying. Your hurt, it's okay.”

“Okay…” Funneh repeated as Gold pulled her to her feet and lead her to the stairs. She didn't brush her teeth or do her normal skin care, but she did wipe down her face, wiping away the tear tracks burned into her cheeks, the black of her mascara a reminder of their existence. Behind her, Gold stood, undoing the hairstyle she had created but hours ago; gently pulling out bobby pins and rubber bands. 

By the time they left the bathroom, Funneh felt sluggish and tired and still sad but more numb and the tension of tears was  building again and-

“Can you stay with me?” she asked meekly as a lone tear streamed silently down her raw cheek. She fiddled with her sleeve, she would probably sleep in it. 

She wondered if Alec had taken his off yet.

Gold smiled at her, connecting their hands together once more. “Of course. But, can we stay in your room? I doubt we’ll both fit in mine.” 

Funneh chuckled, opening her bedroom door. Stepping inside, they neglected to turn on the lights, only slipping under the covers together. 

“Goodnight, Funneh.”

“G’night, Gold.”

“....thanks..”

Funneh was asleep practically before she finished talking.

[whumpbug]

Night, armor, road and canvas for Gene and Cassidy?

HI ANON! i've been hoping someone would ask night, i love talking about Sleepy characters. ONTO THE POST!

✮⋆˙

night: what does your oc wear to sleep?

gene:

gene is a simple man. whenever the weather permits, he sleeps in nothing but his underwear. he has been doing this since he was a child and even he doesn't know why. he just likes the feeling of being Free. its kind of ridiculous to think about though, because he's this big bad deputy that sleeps practically naked.

when it's too cold, he wears a typical union suit though he hates it. he just hates sleeping and feeling Constrained

cassidy:

he usually just sleeps in his day clothes if i'm being totally honest. he grew up moving from place to place with montana mostly, so he didn't have the oppurtunity to get too settled or comfortable . he slept when he could where he could, comfort was an afterthought

when he knows he'll be staying in a place for a little longer, his pajamas usually consist of a union suit or, if he's feeling really fancy, a nightshirt and linen pants!

armor: what kind of armor does your oc wear?

neither of them really wear armor only because it wasn't a common practice for people in the old west-- there really wasn't a need to. the closest thing i think they have to armor is the various sun protection they had!

gene wears a hat whenever he's riding in the sun and almost always wears long sleeves to prevent sunburns. he still somehow gets them.

cassidy almost always has a bandana around his neck (or face when hes robbing places) and, of course, his pinch-front hat.

wear spf folks!

road: what does your oc wear while traveling?

gene:

when gene does travel, he usually has very little time to prepare because its most likely due to some chase or unfortunate circumstances. HOWEVER when he is able to plan it, it depends on how he's traveling

on a train, he wears comfortable clothes and usually has his luggage right next to him, pretty normal. but whenever he's on a train he ALWAYS has his revolver on him. always. train trauma and all that. he gets away with it because he's the deputy

if he's traveling in the wilderness, he goes back to his Farm Boy roots and wears worn working jeans and a button down with a jacket he can layer if he really needs to

cassidy:

his entire life is just traveling so he's learned to pretty much pack everything he owns into satchels and saddle bags at the drop of a hat.

the supplies he lugs everywhere are his satchel that has some clothes, provisions, weapons etc, and his bedroll incase he needs to sleep quickly somewhere. he takes care of his supplies very well because. well. it's not exactly ideal to have a tent break in the middle of a rainstorm or have your gun jam while in a shootout. he takes care of his stuff so he can have them functional incase of an emergency or Situation

canvas: does your oc have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings?

(mostly going to focus on scars because piercings and tattoos didn't really exist back then)

gene:

gene doesn't really have any significant scars except for the one on his wrist i mentioned in a previous post and some other miscellaneous scars from his childhood.

he has one on his eyebrow from when he started learning to ride horses at age 10. the first horse he ever rode was his father's stallion called Ol' Mac and this horse was NOTORIOUSLY ill-tempered but clint figured if gene could ride Ol' Mac, he could ride any horse. unfortunately, there was still a learning curve and gene was aggresively bucked off and scraped his brow on a jagged fence post

he also has a few bullet-graze wounds. not necessarily bullet wounds but where the bullet just grazed his arm or leg.

cassidy:

oh boy. this man is a mosaic of scars. fic coming soon (possibly).

cw: mentions of child abuse and also being tortured/held hostage

i'm gonna go over some of his main ones but know that there are many from just. the amount of Situations this guy has gone through.

his most noticable and prominent scar is the one on his mouth. this was given to him by montana during a particularly harsh fight-- it was one the very few times montana pulled an actual weapon on him.

he also has several long, jagged scars across his back (i didn't know how to draw them when i drew that picture of him and gene </3) and those are from when he was captured by o'malley's boys, the rival gang to montana's. they wanted information, and, well, figured a good way to go about that was whipping the kid. even montana's heart broke a little when they found him. he slept on his stomach for weeks after that.

he also has a pretty nasty bullet wound scar in his left thigh from a shootout. that one was more recent, about 2 years ago and the thing still hurts him sometimes.

those are some of the most prominent ones! but remember, he has em all over. his body tells a STORY. and he hates almost all of his scars too tbh. he thinks they're ugly and are reminders of his weakness. (shhh that will be resolved soon.)

✮⋆˙

THANK U FOR THE QUESTIONS ANON! i hope you enjoy the answers!!

[judelijah]

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Happy Holidays!!!

So I tried to draw the #riseoftheguardians characters on how I remembered them. Yep there are totally details that I've missed, added, and changed entirely. 😝

Now let's see how did I do with my memory art game with the comparisons below:

Starting off with the prime JACK of the whole FROST in countries experiencing winter today:

Ran out of white pen so I got to have to think on how to execute the snowy effects on his hoodie though. Dunno why I gave him some sort of like colds with his ruddy cheeks and red nose when he basically is responsible for the chill! 😅

Now up to the NORTH Pole

I say, almost though. Could've made his beard more grey than white though. Was originally gonna include the elves but they would definitely be an additional time to render so...

Next holiday stop, Easter and boy, lezze the atrocity I did with BUNNYMUND

I've always remembered that he has some lines like some sort of tattoo running around his arms and legs. I had also put in my memo that he kinda resemble Nicholas ( ̶S̶t̶.̶ ̶N̶O̶R̶T̶H̶) Cage but never achieved it. Didn't know how I remembered him with a bangs though

Now onto something much sweeter that will definitely lose some tooth (or teeth?) :

TOOTHIANA!

I was actually most definitely proud of her among the others on how I imagined her in spite of her having the most changes to her design so... 😊

Now, let's journey to the SANDY realm of dreams and meet another fellow I didn't get quite right

Didn't know how I remembered the idea that his sleeves look like sands trailing around him though. All I know is he's in his pajamas which also kinda explains the frizzy hair like he just woke up but I definitely had given him a strange-looking bathrobe 😝 Sorry SANDY, I hope this doesn't summon the nightmares in your own dreams if you also do dream

And speaking of Nightmares... Hope we don't meet the Boogeyman when the room's all PITCH BLACK!

Wanna take pride that I got him accurately if only I didn't actually given him a high collar. Well thanks for the shading that it kind amade that collar vanished into the soupy black shadows I surrounded him. I've always imagined him as some kind of a Dracula or a vampiric figure (it didn't help that I remembered him on how basically most people saying that he looks kind of like Edward Cullen.)

Overall, I kinda had given some human figures pointy ears since they seem elf-like to me since they are similarly fabled creatures in stories about fairies and dwarfs and all sort of enchantment.

Hope you enjoyed them as well as I've enjoyed painting them. Might try this kind of challenge to other animated characters because it will definitely test your memory skill and how you pay attention watching, and simply, this is just so much fun!

Happy Holidays Again! And hoping for a blissful New Year of 2023 Ahead! May Father Time make way to a new-born year in a form of a bouncing healthy babe to all of us!