#almost everything sucks until the kid gets there. and then it slowly gets better

[shaunamilfman]

Where the Lovelight Gleams

pairing: Shauna Shipman x reader summary: Christmas drabble Christmas Masterlist

You hold Shauna's hand tightly against yours, stuffed in the pocket of her jacket in a pointless search for warmth. Shauna has insisted that you had to go out to see the light tonight, even though you would be there for the rest of the week. Why it has to be the coldest night in your entire stay, you aren't sure, but she was so insistent on it. 

It would be one thing if the town square was anything particularly impressive, but like everything else in her hometown, it seems to be disappointingly small. The worst part is that Shauna herself doesn't even seem to be impressed by the whole thing, which leads you to question why she wanted to come so badly in the first place. 

It's not that she's having a bad time, not with how eager she is to drag you from place to place with an adorable skip in her step. Every so often she stops in front of something utterly inconspicuous–a lit storefront or a lamp with an uninspiring wreath on it.

She'd gotten you to take no less than four different pictures with her in front of the big Christmas tree, even resorting to bribing you with paying for the hot chocolate in order to get the last one. You decided to be the bigger person and not point out that she was always going to be the one paying, if only to watch the way her face lit up as she handed it to you. 

Her cheeks were flushed, either from the cold or sheer excitement. It wasn’t like your girlfriend to be so interested in a place like this. Truthfully, she had never seemed all that interested in holiday events, so it had really caught you by surprise.

Shauna rolls her eyes as she catches you eyeing her hot chocolate, glancing away to pretend to look at the lights above you until she wordlessly lifts the cup up to your lips. You had your own cup, of course. But the keyword was had. That cup has long since made its way to a trash can. 

Besides, Shauna's tasted better anyway. 

You grin over at her as you take a sip, enjoying the way the twinkling lights look reflected in her eyes.

“It’s kind of lame, isn’t it?” She asks, bumping her hip playfully against yours.

“...I wouldn’t say that,” you say slowly, wondering if she’s trying to lead you into a trap.

“I would. I always thought so.” She looks around slowly, dragging you back toward the tree. You laugh joyfully, breath coming out in white puffs of air as she brings you to a stop. Shauna rests her head against your shoulder as she looks up at the tree.

“Then why…?” You ask, trailing off as you rest your head against hers.

“Jackie always used to drag me here with Jeff. Always insisted on not doing stuff like this without me, since we used to go together as kids. It just sucked, having to follow them around with the camera this whole time while he was all over her.” 

Shauna pauses, squeezing your hand tightly in hers with a bitter smile on her face. “They’d be laughing together, and I’d just also be here. I kept thinking about how much I hated it the whole time and how much I wanted to come here with someone who wanted to be here with me one day.”

You can almost see it: a teenaged Shauna getting dragged around the square by an equally teenaged Jackie, her gloomy expression matched by Jackie's enthusiasm as she directed the show. The thought of Shauna's broody expression behind the camera as she glares at Jeff almost brings a smile to your lips, but you brush the thought away in favor of imagining how lonely it must have felt. 

Despite how close she and Jackie obviously were, a lot of Shauna's stories from high school seem to have a common theme. The more you hear about it, the more you start to suspect that Shauna was the only one making herself feel that way, but it still felt real to her. Having an unhappy girlfriend this close to Christmas simply won't do. 

Shauna breathes out a sigh. “Well, it’s not that Jackie didn’t want to be here with me, but it just wasn’t–”

“The same?” You finish. Shauna nods slowly, pressing a kiss against your shoulder.

You want to kiss her right now more than anything, but the two of you are getting enough suspicious looks as it is that you don't dare to risk it. 

“I guess you got your wish, then.” 

Shauna laughs softly. “I guess I did.”

“It still sucks, though,” she admits in a low whisper as she looks around. “I don't think they even try.”

“How about we get some more hot chocolate–” 

“Highlight of the night,” she agrees. 

“And then we'll drive around to go look at lights instead,” you finish. 

“And maybe while we're in my car…” Shauna trails off expectantly, a hopeful note re-entering her voice. You could always count on her for one thing. 

“Ask again when the heater’s on.” 

Her laugh is quieter this time, but it feels lighter than before as she drags you back toward the coffee shop.

[multishipper-baby]

Having weird cringefail thoughts tonight.

[aothotties]

Happy belated birthday, Gojo Satoru 💙

Warnings: MDNI, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, oral (m. receiving), Satoru calls y/n mommy, reader calls him Daddy, overstimulation.

Picking out a gift for the man who has everything is not easy by any means necessary.

It also doesn’t help when he tells you that he doesn’t want anything at all, just to be in your presence.

You damn near start to pull your hair out of frustration until you realize what you can get your husband… well not so much get, more like make?

A baby!

From the moment you met Satoru, he’s always been very vocal about wanting to have a family one day.

You’ve always been on the same page about wanting kids, you just wanted to start a little later than he did.

And honestly, now is a better time than ever. You two have been married for almost a decade, you’re at the height of your career and have enough money saved up to go on a long break. (The moment you tell him you’re pregnant he has you quit your job)

After a few more days of thinking everything over you conclude that this is what you truly want.

So on the day of his birthday, you spend the entire day trying to get pregnant :)

Before his eyes can even open your thick lips are wrapped around his cock and your tongue is leaving messy licks on his tip.

Poor Satoru can barely get a word out before you lift your sheer nightgown and slide down on his length.

“I-is this all for me, baby?” He bites his lap at the sensation of your tight hold wrapped around his long shaft.

You slowly nod your head and throw it back at the feeling of his thrust against your g-spot.

“ ‘m ready Toru. I’m ready for a baby.” You lean down and suck small hickeys along his jaw and neck.

His eyes widen and his tip begins to twitch and leak at your words.

“H-huh, baby are you serious?” He holds your thighs down against his pelvis and looks you in the eyes.

You giggle at the shock on his face and nod your head in return.

“Yes baby I’m serious, now’s a better time than ever don't you think?” You lean down so your chests are pressed against each other, he gives you a soft smile and rubs a thumb against your cheek.

“This is the best fucking present ever baby.” He smashes his lips against your own and starts controlling the motion of your hips.

You moan at the speed of his thrust and grab the sheets near his head. The sound of wet skin slapping fills the room as you two ravage one another’s bodies.

After he fills you up the first time, he flips you on your side and holds you close against his chest.

“You’re doing so good for me baby.” He whispers in your ear, he holds your leg in one hand and holds the back of your neck in the other.

“Oh god!” You moan, your head resting on his shoulder as a pool of heat stirs in your lower stomach.

“You close sweetheart? Gonna spill that pretty pussy all over me?” He bites at your lower lip and you desperately nod in response.

“Go ahead and let go princess, let daddy fill you up again, yeah?”

And after he fills you up for the third time, you think you’re safe…. until you feel him lifting your hips.

“S-satoru!” You grip the sheets at the way he playfully rubs his tip against your swollen clit.

“Don’t you want to make sure it sticks princess?” You’re cut off when he fills your tired cunt once again.

Your entire body shivers at the feeling of being so full and you immediately feel an orgasm arising.

“That’s it, mama, you’re almost there.” He pulls you against his chest and wraps a large hand around your throat.

Tears form in the corners of your eyes as the pleasure continually rises to the breaking point.

“D-daddy!” You cry out and grab the back of his hair as your back arches and you fall apart in his arms.

He holds you against his chest and rides out his third orgasm for that morning. He rests his face on your neck and pulls you against him as you both fall back against the sheets.

“So, you wanna try again in about… an hour or so?” He checks his watch and looks over to see you already back in a state of slumber.

He pouts at how quickly you went back to sleep and opts to cover you both with a blanket instead

Ari

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: Hi.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You drift into that sort of sleep that makes your head hurt. Even as you detach from consciousness, you feel the tempo in your skull driven by the pulse of your fatigue. The void behind your eyelids is painted in dull hues in splotches and smears. 

The residue of stress from your waking hours remains. It coils your muscles and knots under your shoulder blade. Just behind the curtain of sleep, it waits for you. A flight, your family, all that mess. 

You groan as you wake slowly. You shift as the blankets lay heavily over you, almost holding you down as you try to stretch out the stiffness. You arch your back and stop as you feel a firm prodding against your ass. 

You slap your hand down on the arm hooked around your middle. No way. Lloyd squeezes you and draws himself flush until you know exactly what he’s pushing against you. Ew! 

You jar away from him, ripping his arm off as you bounce and sit up in disgust. As you do, the blankets slip off his torso and he grumbles. His naked arm and shoulder bulge.

You huff and clutch your head. “Jesus, Lloyd, what are you doing?” 

“Mmm,” he curls his arm over his head, “shhhhh.” 

“Are you drunk?” You accuses. 

He giggles, “a lil.” 

You roll your eyes and reach for your phone. Your hand hovers over the night table and you frown. It’s gone. 

“Where the hell is my phone?” You hiss. 

“I unno,” he babbles. 

“Mr. Hansen,” you poke him, “where the heck is my phone? It was right here, now--”  

Your eyes skim to his side of the bed and pinpoint on the digital clock. Your heart drops. What the hell? You leap out of bed in a panic and rush around to the table, grabbing the clock as you whine. 

“No, no, it’s-- I missed my flight! Lloyd,” you slam down the clock, “what did you do with my phone?” 

“If you must know, I plugged it in. For you.” He raises a hand groggily, his eyes still closed. “I was being nice.” 

“Nice?” You spin and search around. 

You spot the cord plugged in beside the television. You don’t fail to notice the empty samplers of whiskey either. You storm across the room and pick up your phone. You tap the home button and it stays black. You gnash your teeth and push the power button on the side. The boot screen flashes on. 

“What-- you shut it off! You made me miss my alarm and my trip out. Everything else is booked up!” 

“Family sucks,” he gurgles. “You’re not missing much.” 

“That’s not fair,” you snap. “You don’t know my family, okay? Not everyone came from a cult of spoiled rich kids.” 

“I’m not spoiled,” he argues and stretches, the blankets slipping further down. 

“Oh, because that’s what’s important right now,” your anger spikes and you shake. You aren’t emotional. You do your best to repress everything, for your own good as much as his, but you’re at the end of your rope. After last night and now this, how can you not be enraged? “Ugh, are you naked?” 

“Can’t sleep in clothes. Gotta let it breathe,” he spreads over the bed with a yawn. 

You stand speechless, staring at him, helpless to the flurry of emotions coursing through you. Disgust, rage, disappointment, frustration, every last stitch holding you together snaps. You drop your head and sigh. 

“Fine, I’m just going to go home.” You surrender, “I give up.” 

You shake your head and traipse away. You go into the bathroom and shut the door. Before you resign yourself to the long journey back, you just need a moment. 

You sit on the edge of the tub and stare at the tile. You feel foolish. You don’t know why you came all this way for such an ungrateful brat. He might be your boss, you might need your job, but you deserve better.

Well, you don’t always get what you want, do you? No, it's people like Lloyd and his clan that do.

The handle turns and before you can react, the door swings open slowly. You look up and gasp as you raise your hand to block out Lloyd’s lower half. He shamelessly stands in the doorway, leaning on the frame. 

“Hey, Pixie Puff, it’s okay. How about we drive up to see the family? Me and you? We could make a road trip of it.” 

“Drive? You mean me? You’re still tipsy. Plus, you are not invited,” you snarl and look down. You don’t know how you forgot, or how you managed to sleep in it, but the ring still clings to your finger. You tear it off as you stand. You stomp up to him and shove it into his chest. “It’s all just a joke. Or maybe I’m the joke.” 

“No, Pix, you saved me,” he slurs. “Really. Last night... was amazing. I’ve never seen you like that. Fiery.” He reaches to touch your cheek and you dodge him. You grab his hand instead and put the ring in it. 

“I wasted my time,” you let him go. 

He watches you silently, swaying on his feet as you turn to the sink. You unwrap the sample-sized toothbrush and uncap the mini tube of toothpaste. You try ignore him as he looms in the door. 

“Please don’t leave,” he says. “You can’t Pixie pie. Please,” he staggers forward and you turn your face away before you can see everything. “Look, there’s Christmas brunch today and I can’t go alone.” 

You spit a mouthful into the sink and rinse it away, “well, you’re going to.” 

“No way,” he argues. “Mom’s been blowing up my phone and dad left me a long voicemail. I’m in trouble.” 

“It’s not my problem.” 

“But, but—you're my assistant. I’m your boss.” 

“And I’m not your fiancee.” You counter. 

“I demand it, I—I--” he blusters as he braces the sink. “I’m in trouble, Pix. I’ve been a bad boy.” 

The words make your insides crawl. How can he be so pathetic in both the most revolting and most pitiable way? You've never seen him like this and you never really wanted to. It’s embarrassing. 

“Like I said--” 

“No, no,” he grabs your wrist and you flick foamy paste onto him. “I’m not asking. You do this or—or you’re fired!” 

You stare at him. You weigh the consequences. It might be nice to be free, yet then again, you’ve been applying for jobs since you started working for him and haven’t gotten anything better. Only jobs with lower pay and menial work. 

“You want me to beg? I can beg,” he says. 

“Can you put some pants on?” You tear away from him and grab a towel. You throw it at him and go back to brushing your teeth. 

“Pixie,” he pouts. 

“I want a raise.” 

“Fifty cents.” 

“Fifty-- Five dollars at least. And a Christmas bonus. And vacation days,” you rinse the brush then your mouth. You use the hand towel to dry off. “And I want it in writing.” 

“What? You don’t trust me?” He challenges. 

“You lied to get me here. Then you sabotaged my alarm.” 

“I was helping--” 

“You know what you did.” 

“Christ, Pix, when did you get so mouthy? It’s making my balls hurt.” 

“That’s gross,” you avert your eyes to the ceiling, “cover up. I can’t focus.” 

“Ugh, fine,” he wraps the towel around his waist. “I’m sure you’ve seen one before. Probably not any as big but--” 

“I want to know why you’re doing this.” 

“You met my family, you know they’re a handful,” he crosses his arms and shrugs. His chest bulges and the thick hair brushes against that on his arms. 

“There’s another reason.” 

“No,” he denies unconvincingly. 

“I’m not going to go along with this dumb play if you don’t tell me. Don’t you think I deserve to know? If you keep me ignorant, than how can I be convincing, huh?” 

“You’re smart. Sneaky even,” he unfolds one arm and points at you. “Alright, cards on the table.” He drops his other arms and adjusts the towel around his waist as he grimaces. “That inheritance my sister mentioned. It’s... substantial. And I want it.” 

“Okay, but... wouldn’t that mean someone needs to die?” 

“Nah, the old bat’s been dead forever,” he sneers. “I get it when I get married. Well, a portion of it. Then the rest is all mine once I pop out a mini Lloyd.” 

You squint as you take in his explanation. It still doesn’t make sense. 

“Right, but you’d have to present legal papers. And a child. That’ll be harder to fake.” 

“Yeah, almost impossible.” He agrees and flutters his fingers over his mustache. He stares at you. Intently. 

Heat creeps up your back and across your shoulders. It curls around your nap and crawls up your cheeks. He can’t mean-- 

“Absolutely not,” you yipe. “You really are out of your mind. We are not getting married and I’m definitely not.... not doing that other thing.” 

“It’s just a piece of paper,” he says. 

“Just-- no way. No!” You wave your arms vehemently. “Not in a million years.” 

“Ouch,” he frowns, “you know, that hurts my feelings.” 

“You’re my boss, alright? It's just... deranged.” 

“I can be,” he shrugs. 

“Lloyd! Mr. Hansen,” you have to calm yourself before you continue, “I’m not going to sell myself because you want some trust fund--” 

“I’ll give you a cut,” he says suddenly. “How about it? Then you won’t even need a raise because you’ll be rich.” 

You go quiet. It’s fishy. You know you can’t trust him. He already lied to you a dozen times over. Besides, giving you a fair share means cutting you loose. Is it that much money? 

“How much?” You ask. 

“Ten thousand.” 

“All this for ten thousand? Sure. It’s more. I know it. So you give me at least a million or I’m going to fill up my tank and go home, right now.” 

“A million--” he coughs. “You drive a hard bargain for someone making less than 100k.” 

“And who’s fault is that?” You retort. “I want a million and I want that notarized.” 

“Notarized?” He whines. 

“Fine, can’t lose what I never had--” 

“Fine, fine, you can have it. I’ll get it notarized,” he nears and offers his hand, “but it’s Christmas and I think everything’s closed so... shake on it?” 

“I’m not having a kid. We’re going to a courthouse then I’m getting mine and going.” 

“We can do a surrogate--” 

“No kid.” 

“Adopt--” 

“Don’t push it,” you grab his hand and shake. “One million and I will suffer until the New Year.” 

He grins triumphantly, “you know, Pix, I always appreciated that about you. You always got my back.” 

“Go. You need to sleep off the Jack Daniels,” you retract your hand sharply. 

“And I’ll dream of all that money we’re going to get,” he giggles and rubs his palms together. “We’re going to be rich, baby.” 

“Lay down before I change my mind.” 

“Too late, we shook on it,” he winks and backs up. The towel catches on the rod next to the door and you quickly turn as it slackens. He lets out an oops as it falls off and you avoid looking back. “This show’s for free, baby, don’t worry.” 

“Get out,” you say. “I’m gonna need some coffee if I’m going to deal with you all day.” 

“Grab me some too, pookie? Pweez,” he taunts, “oh, and if they’re serving bacon, I’ll have at least a dozen strips. The grease is good for my hangover and once that hits, I’m gonna be a baby.” 

“That’s great,” you mutter dryly, “coffee and bacon. Now please, give me some space.” 

“It won’t be that bad, Pixie stick. Trust me. You got me.” 

“Not making it better,” you turn to the sink and lean on it. “Please.” 

“Right, okay, I’m going,” he picks up the towel and slowly pulls on the door. You sigh. “I’ll be in bed if you need me.” 

You shake your head. The door clicks and you look at your reflection. Are you really doing this? It feels like you’re selling your soul. You should’ve asked for more. 

You finally find your strength. You go out into the suite and grab your bag. You pull out your sweater and throw it over your head. You ignore Lloyd as he lays on the bed. 

You take your wallet and the room key. You don’t bother with your phone. You might just leave it there for the day because once your mother finds out you missed your flight, you’ll be in for an earful. You already feel rotten enough. 

As you find your way down to the dining hall, your anger returns. He did that on purpose. He spoiled your plans all for his stupid selfish ploy. The payout might be hefty but you’re already regretting this. Still, he as good as backed you into a corner...right? 

You get the coffee, two cups on a tray, and some muffins, and a greedy handful of bacon. You’re not hungry, you just need caffeine. You head back up to the room, basking in the silence of the mostly empty hotel. Everyone else did what you should have and hit the road by now. 

You make a sluggish return. The only thing you have to look forward to is the coffee and you’re sure that hotel fare is not gourmet roast. You balance the tray and slide the card in the lock. You enter the room, roiling in your thoughts. 

You’re too distracted to notice the noise before you get too far. You put the tray down as your ears prick at the dulcet groan. You glance over at Lloyd as something moves beneath the blankets. Is he-- 

“Oh god!” You exclaim and spin on your heel. “Jesus!” 

You race out of the room and slam the door as you enter the hall. You lean against and stifle a scream. What is wrong with him? Well, you know exactly what’s wrong with him. Daddy issues, mommy issues, sister issues, and maybe even uncle issues. He’s entirely corrupt and you just made a deal with him. 

This is going to be a nightmare. 

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

listening to music in his car

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

(cw: age gap 25/41, nsfw, pure smutty smut, consensual somno, light degradation, butt stuff, mdni)

👑 (king): whats going on? is something wrong? you’re much less chatty today me: I just had a really shitty day at work do you have some time? 👑 (king): yes me: can you pick me up and we just drive around and listen to music in your car? 👑 (king): be there in 10

He’s right, I am being much less chatty today. The truth is he has been on my mind all day, but work has been kicking my butt.

We didn’t see each other ever since he brought me to work yesterday in the morning. He insisted on it after almost making me late – for reasons. We hurried along, and I made us some coffee quickly, then we were out the door, into the car, and driving to my workplace.

The goodbye was a little awkward because I needed to get into work, but I couldn’t really tear myself away from him. His hand grabbed my chin and he kissed me one last time.

“Come on now, before I’m making you late again.”, he said, those words finally getting me to go, even though his hooded lids and the way he was looking at me made me want to climb onto his lap and fuck him again.

To say I had a hard time concentrating at work would be an understatement because I kept thinking about that morning. How he woke me up.

Soft licks on my pussy slowly but surely coaxing me awake, and the first thing I saw, was his head between my legs, his tongue dipping into me, the rosy tip disappearing inside me, which almost made me come on the spot. His hair was falling to the side, covering my thigh, brushing over the skin when he moved his head.

A soft moan escaped my lips which had him look up at me, his brows raising slightly, as I squirmed against his lips. “Good morning.”, he whispered softly against my pussy before he licked it again.

Heaven. I slowly stretch myself, grinding myself on his face, his nose nudging against my clit. Answering with a little tired “good morning”, a breathy sound, that made him chuckle, little puffs of air hitting the sensitive wet folds.

His hands gripped my thighs, spreading me for him, as he started to lick and suck more eagerly now that I’m awake. The zaps of pleasure, that shook me when he nipped at the sensitive skin, pushed my sleepiness away until I was a writhing wet mess coming undone on his tongue.

He didn’t stop at the one, this time using his fingers as well. Slowly and sweetly coaxing the second release out of me while he was sucking my clit. Licking up my arousal, even cleaning up his fingers that had been deep inside me.

I caught myself looking into the void, my mind coming back to his head between my legs more than once. My god, I needed to get a grip.

Such an event came in the form of our boss firing half the department. I didn’t get laid off, but I have been picking up the scraps ever since. Trying to figure out how the others managed their clients. How to distribute the tasks between the remaining workers.

Yesterday evening I met with a friend, one I have known for a very long time and who already has a husband and kids and the whole shebang, that’s why I didn’t wanna give her a raincheck. To be honest, I needed somebody to talk to about this whole mess. And also brag about my new acquaintance.

I fell into bed after coming home from having drinks with her. I maaaybe had one too many which almost made me late again (which is not a good look after half your department had been fired). Working on double speed to get everything done that piled up just overnight. And I sent König a few messages. But not nearly talking as much as before the concert.

Now that I see his message again “is something wrong?”, a pang of guilt hits me. I could’ve explained it to him better. I could’ve just texted him more. I could’ve just said that I’ll tell him later. That I just was busy and it had nothing to do with him. Shit.

I leave my apartment and wait for him on the curb, waving at him, when he drives closer and parks right in front of me.

“König Private Chauffeur inc. – at your service.”, he jokes as I get in the car, which makes me laugh.

“Thanks for picking me up.”, I tell him, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden. Can I kiss him? Is he… mad at me? He wouldn’t have made a joke like that or even picked me up, if he is, right?

I decide to first talk and then maybe steal a kiss later if he still feels up to it. I clasp my hands together and place them in my lap. The music from the speakers is a bit more quiet than last time, but I still recognise Dark Tranquility’s ‘Lethe’. He pulls out the driveway and starts driving at a pace above the speed limit that won’t get him in trouble if we get pulled over.

“I need to apologise.”, I start. He just looks at me for a moment, the expression on his face unreadable, before looking to the front again. And I’m aware of his serious intensity, while there is something still bubbling underneath. The same thing that just made him make the joke about being my chauffeur.

“Something happened at work and I was superbusy and yesterday in the evening I met with a friend, I told you about that, didn’t I?”, I yapp, not waiting for an answer. “And when I saw your messages, that was when I realized that I had barely texted you and didn’t even explain myself, and how that must’ve look after…” I trail off.

“I started to get worried.”, he admits. “But I didn’t want to press you because it’s not my place.” He clears his throat. “And for a little bit, I thought you maybe regretted it. What we did.”, he says with a wry smile on his face. And my stomach drops – just a little bit.

“What, no?! I just had the shittiest two days ever at work, so I didn’t have that much time to text you.”, I exclaim, reaching my hand out to touch his arm, and his gaze drops down to it for just a little bit, panning back up to me. “I swear, it had nothing to do with you. I’m sorry.” I smile at him and he nods, some of the worry dissipating. “And I don’t regret sleeping with you. Not in the slightest.”, I tell him, looking directly at him, so he knows I’m serious. I can feel the tension drop out of him, at least some of it, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t wanna… I thought that maybe the age difference…”, he starts to explain, but breaks off twice. “It seems, I was overthinking it.”

I shake my head. “Don’t be sorry.” To be fair, I would have never thought that it would give him some kind of insecurity – this kind of insecurity. But his messages and his words make it clear that he cared more about the whole ordeal than I thought. I pull my hand back, hesitatingly, not really knowing what else to say. His doubts were only in his head, not in mine.

"I’m gonna be honest with you, I didn't have any dates or sleepovers of that kind in like… probably four or five years?”, he says, the sentence more sounding like a question. “So, I’m a bit rusty.”

To say I’m flabbergasted by his admission would be an understatement. “Really?”, I ask. How? would be the next question. But I bite my tongue.

He shrugs his shoulders, seeming more nonchalant than he perhaps really is. “Yeah. I was too busy with work.”, he just says, but I can still see little nervous ticks happening all over his body. His thumb drumming on the steering wheel, his left leg bouncing up and down a bit. His other hand fidgeting with the gear shift, dropping down, grazing my thigh ever so slightly. Just the slight touch against my jeans makes me hyperaware of how close he is. The interior of the car is spacious enough, but due to his sheer size that doesn’t really matter. I lean more to the side, towards the center console, even closer to him.

“So, what happened at work?”, he asks then, seemingly not wanting to talk about his dating life anymore. I tell him about the whole mess with the department, and how I’m surprised that even though my boss doesn’t like me very much, I didn’t get cut, and that I now have all of Rhonda’s clients and they’re not happy about that either.

“So yeah, I’ve been extra busy and I can’t really slack because they’ll probably fire me too then.”, I conclude my extensive retelling of my last two work days.

“I see.”, he says.

Silence falls over us, ‘Spiritual Healing’ from Death sounding from the speakers.

“And… it really wasn’t anything I did?”, he asks then, his eyes darting to me.

I tilt my head at him, like ‘you’re seriously asking me this?’. “No, I swear. Everything is good. It was…” I look to the front as red-hot blush floods my cheeks. My god, this man made me cum twice on his tongue right after waking up without wanting any favours – sexual or otherwise – in return. And he feared that he did something wrong.

I clear my throat, trying to calm myself down, thinking about that whole ordeal, but it wasn’t working at all. Especially because he catches on how flustered I am. “It was good. Had a hard time thinking about anything else, when I really needed to focus on work.”, I confess. And not just the thing in the morning, right. The concert we went to together, the conversation in the car afterward, when we hooked up and he stayed over… A very dreamy first date – if you can call it that – in my book.

“I see. That’s…” His lips quirk as he’s trying to stay serious, but I can see him breaking, turning his mouth up into a smirk. “That’s good to know.”

“Don’t grin like that.”, I tell him, a little pouty, which only makes him laugh, while he takes a turn, so we’re heading down the road that leads outside the city.

His hand mindlessly wanders to his lips, his thumb softly stroking over his lower lips, like he’s also thinking about what we did, the reminder of how we kissed making my mouth drop open ever so slightly.

He sees the way I’m looking at him, and the pointer finger hooks in a ‘come hither’ motion. It doesn't take more than that. I lean towards him, bending up to reach him, my hand gripping his forearm, and I press my lips to his, feeling their softness. Just a short kiss because he’s still driving, but it is enough to make me sigh when he breaks away.

“So, tell me again, how good was it for you?”, he asks, a devilish grin forming on his face while his eyes dart between my face and the street in front of him.

I shoot him a look, but he only chuckles, a cocky sound. Oh, two can play this game. I’ll just remind him how desperate and turned on he was as well.

I lean closer to him once more, this time letting my hand trail down his stomach, placing kisses along his jawline, and I can almost hear him falter instantly, especially when my fingertips reach the waistband of his jeans. I lick his neck and a slight shiver shakes him, before I suck on it, leaving a small little hickey, like the one he left on my collarbone.

“Please.”, I say again, palming him over the zipper. His breath goes harder, the leather of the steering wheel squeaks with how hard he’s gripping it, while I softly graze over the hard tip that’s already poking out his jeans, his erection straining against the fabric.

“I need you to fuck me.”, I almost moan into his ear, a little bratty smile stalking onto my face. “Need you deep inside me.”

I can hear his restraint snap. He grunts, pulling the car to the side, parking it on the side of the road. “Get on the backseat.”, he orders, looking at me all stern, pure lust glinting in his eyes, and I scramble to get the seatbelt off and climb back through the seats.

That tone in his voice and that look on his face could make me do anything, my god. I suppress my need to answer with a “Yes, Sir” and watch him, while he gets out the driver’s side and opens the door to the backseat.

“Lie down, ass up.”, he tells me, gravelly and hoarse. I do as he told me and he pulls at my pants, pulling them far enough down to expose my ass and pussy. He climbs in behind me, onto the seat, his jeans grazing over the exposed skin of my thighs, and I have to hold myself back not to press back into his groin. He closes the door behind him and dwarfs the backseat with his sheer size, trying to fit under the car’s roof.

His hand comes down on my left cheek, the slap resounding in the space around us, drowning out the music for a split second. He spanks me again, a few times actually, which has me squirm, needy, wet and desperate for his touch. His fingers lightly graze over the reddened skin before he slaps my cheeks again, while his other hand finds my wetness, fingertips rubbing over my clit.

“If I had known that you are such a needy little thing…”, he says, pushing his fingers into me roughly. I whimper, his words only making me wetter, as I grind against his hand.

“Oh, you like that, huh?”, he asks, a rather rhetorical question.

“Yes, please, fuck.”, I groan, my nails digging into the firm black leather of the backseat, desperate to hold on to something, while the pushes of his digits alone almost make me slide forwards. Trying to fuck myself back onto him, my hips buck of their own volition.

“Please, I need more.”, I beg, and he grumbles, pulling his finger out of me and trying to grab his wallet to get a condom.

“That’s not more.”, I comment, meekly, teasing him, the little smirk on my face hidden, but he knows anyway. One of his hands slaps my ass again, harder this time, and I whine and giggle, wriggling underneath him.

He opens the foil packet with his teeth while his other hand fumbles with his belt. Hurried, rushed movements. I hear the snap of the rubber and then he pushes into me. The sudden stretch makes me scream, my back arching.

“Is that what you wanted, Kleine?”, he almost growls, as he starts to fuck me hard, the whole car shaking from his onslaught. “For me to take you right here on the backseat, hm?”

The “yes, yes, yes” from my mouth is more moans than actual words.

“Fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”, he grunts, the inflection in his voice getting more and more unhinged while he pounds into me. “Like a good little slut.” The light degradation washes over me, stoking my arousal. My fingers clasp over my mouth, moaning into my hand, while I struggle to hold on with the other one-

“Oh no no no, I need to hear you.”, he grunts, pulling them away from my lips, letting his hand rest on my shoulder then, using his hold on me as leverage to pound me even harder. The sounds that drop from my throat are almost obscene, drowning out the music.

With him fucking me from behind like that – he is so deep inside me, I feel his tip nudging against my cervix every single time, the intense feeling making me shake. The soft pillow of my asscheeks is softening every blow, but the slap against my skin reminds me that he spanked my butt before.

He spits, the dollop of saliva running down my crack. I can feel his thumb dragging the spit over my puckered hole, until he pushes into it, and the sensation makes my arms weak. The side of my face is getting pushed into the leather seat, my ass high up, his dick driving into my pussy, while he slowly pushes his thumb into my other hole, using the very same hand to pull my hips against his lap.

“Oh fuck.”, drops from my lips as he starts to also fuck me with his thumb, not at the same pace, slower, but the added pressure is driving me crazy. I won’t make it long like this.

I can feel how my thighs start to shake, the one leg almost dropping from the backseat, my pussy is squeezing him, the sensations of his finger in my ass- it’s all too much.

My toes are curling inside my boots that press against the nice leather of the seat, dirtying it up. His lap collides with my behind again, his length bottoming me out, while the digit inside of me presses down, just slightly, and I can feel the tension snap like a rubberband, the zap of pleasure getting flung through my body.

With a loud incoherent curse, I cum around him, pulsing on his dick and thumb, the convulsions shaking me hard. He’s still fucking me through the orgasm, the continued stimulation taking my breath away until I feel tears prick in the corners of my eyes, and I slump down into the cushioned seat, when he pushes into me one last time and cums too, his fingers digging into my ass, almost bruising the plump skin.

The next few moments are filled with our panting breaths and some song playing that I can’t recognize while my brain is still hazy with pleasure.

“Are you okay?” The first question he asks.

“Yes, I’m fucking perfect.”, I mumble I’m not even exaggerating. This was everything I needed.

I straighten myself up and he pulls back, almost hitting his head on the roof of the interior, and I have to clasp my fingers over my lips to hold back the giggle. He shoots me a look nonetheless and quickly gets rid of the condom, pulling it from his softening dick and putting both away, while I more or less put my clothes in place again, which is more difficult with arms made of putty.

“I’m sorry, I feel like I got carried away.”, he breathes, his chest rising with every breath, his hands reaching for me, pulling me onto his lap. His eyes are searching mine again, the same as last time.

My hand shoots up, cupping his cheek. “Don’t you dare fucking apologize, that was great.”, I tell him. The look on his face is painted in surprise.

“Mein Gott, I don’t know what I did to...”, he mumbles, hiding his face in the crook of my neck, the rest of the sentence getting swallowed up.

We stay like that a little longer, my fingers scratching over his scalp, caressing him softly, as he snuggles into me, his arm thrown around me like a weighted blankie. Music is still coming from the speakers in the car, ‘Love You to Death’ is currently playing which makes me chuckle to myself. I could have stayed here for hours, in his car, the scent of leather and himself engulfing me. The soft vibrations of the bass shaking the seats. Sitting on his lap, cuddled into his arms. The warmth of his body almost lulling me to sleep. The way he presses kisses to my cheeks and temples every so often. Little small touches, soft and tender.

“I’ll bring you home, okay?”, he says after a while and I nod. I pull my panties and pants up properly and climb into the front seat again.

I turn the music up louder, and ‘Sulfur’ from Slipknot is shaking the speakers while he gets in the driver’s seat again. I hum along to the song, sitting in my seat, looking up at him like nothing had happened. The way he’s looking at me, serious on the outside, but I can see the bubble of mischief in his eyes, and it makes a grin form on my lips, while I sing “like breathing in sulfur.” That pulls a laugh from his chest, and that hearty full-of-life sound makes butterflies flutter in my stomach.

“What?”, I ask him, grinning up at König.

He shakes his head, his grin at least as wide as mine. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.” He starts the car and mutters something, that I can’t quite hear with the music so loud. “It’s great, even.”

next part: sending him a naughty pic

~ More Stuff in the Masterlist ~

[withwritersblock]

Hard Sometimes

~Hard Sometimes by Ruel~ Author's Note: requested, more blurby Summary: Nico had a hard game while away from his family Warnings: none Word count: 966 Nico Hischier x fm!reader

The Devils had just lost a game against the Kraken they should’ve won. They had a three goal lead halfway through the second. Due to two penalties the team took, they went into the third tied. Nico felt like a bad leader, he had nothing good to say in the locker room because his penalty was the reason the game was tied. 

They ended up losing 5-3 and it was safe to say the entire locker room was angry and frustrated with how everything planned out. All Nico wanted to do was go home. Except they had four more games left on the road trip and at least a week until he would get to see his wife and daughter.

They were staying in Seattle for the night and would be traveling to San Jose in the morning. He laid onto his back, his hoodie covering his frame. He pulled his phone towards his face as he began to FaceTime Y/N. He needed to see her face and Lily’s. She answered after the fifth ring, it was very late on the east coast. “Hi baby,” she rasped out. The only light on her face was her phone screen. 

He instantly felt his body relax as he heard her voice. He let out a long breath, “Did I wake you?” he asked. She smiled widely as she blinked slowly.

“You did but you know I don’t care,” she let out as she took a deep breath. He rolled onto his side as he stared towards her. “I miss you,” she mumbled. 

He frowned slightly, “I miss you too, wish I was home,” he let out. 

“The next few games will go a lot better, my love,” she expressed, smiling towards him. He nodded as he shook a deep breath. “Sucks that the games are all starting at ten here. Lily can’t even watch the first period,” 

He took a shaky breath, tugging at the pillow beneath his head. “Maybe that’s why I played so poorly,” 

“Oh Nico, you didn’t play poorly. You scored two goals,” she let out a small pout on her lips. He rolled his eyes as he took a deep breath.

“Took a costly penalty, got benched for most of the third. Those goals don’t matter in a game we lost, my love,” he explained.

“It was one game, I promise you it’ll be better against San Jose. You still played amazing and you were still a good leader,” she mumbled. He smiled softly.

“Hey, can you put Lily on the phone?” he asked, he perked. She furrowed her eyebrows harshly.

“My love, it’s almost one in the morning, I’m not waking her up-”

“Please, baby, I need to see her,” he pouted his lips. She sat up in the bed, staring down towards the phone screen. “I need to hear her little voice,” he asked. 

“You’re not the one that has to deal with her in the morning when she’s cranky,” she countered. He continued to stare towards the camera with a pout to his lips. She clenched her jaw while taking in a long breath. “Fine, you’re lucky you’re cute,” she mumbled as she pointed towards the cameras.

He smiled widely as he sat up on the hotel bed, staring towards the phone screen, watching her shuffled around. She walked into Lily’s room. “Miss Lily, my dear,” she let out as she knealed down beside the bed. Lily stirred as Y/N delicately ran her fingers across her tiny arm. “Do you want to talk to Daddy?” Y/N asked her. 

Lily instantly sat up, her eyes and head still heavy, “Daddy?” she asked. Nico smiled widely once he saw her sleepy features. “Hi, did you win?” she asked, brushing her hand against the hair across her face. 

“No, I didn’t but that’s okay. Wanted to say hi to my baby girl,” Nico said. Lily pouted as she took a hold of the phone from Y/N’s hands. 

“Did you score?” she asked. Nico felt his chest tighten, all he wants is to fly home and be with his kids. 

“I scored twice,” he let out. She gasped.

“Two times?” she questioned holding up two fingers. He chuckled as he nodded. “Nice!” she said excitedly.

“Okay, sweetheart, tell Daddy good night,” Y/N offered, Nico’s smile faltered slightly. 

“Good night,” she said as she stared towards Nico. Nico smiled widely as he kept his eyes on his little girl.

“Sleep good, Lily love,” he mumbled.

“I love you Daddy,” the words left her tiny lips as she handed the phone back to Y/N. She quickly rested her head down onto her small pillow. Every sad thought left his body as he heard those words. Y/N slowly walked out of the room, whispering something twoards Lily. She walked out of the room. 

Y/N stood outside the door, resting her hand onto the doorknob as she stared towards Nico through FaceTime, “Thank you, love,” he let out as he smiled widely. 

Y/N slowly walked back towards their bedroom, keeping her gaze on the phone, “Do you feel better?” she asked him. He nodded. 

“Wish I could kiss you,” he mumbled. She rolled her eyes playfully.

“Oh stop it,” she let out, “Don’t make me even more sad than I already am,” she said as she pouted her lips. “Stupid west coast roadtrip,” 

“I know it’s only three hour time difference but it’s awful,” he mumbled, smashing his face into the pillow. “Can’t talk to my girls, like at all.”

“You guys will win the next set of games, I know it,” she muttered. 

“If you let my girl stay up to watch the first period, then maybe we’ll win,” he offered.

She rolled her eyes playfully, “Not happening, Captain,”

[hypnos333]

Better Place

Cha Hyunsu x Reader

Synopsis: As Hyunsu turned into a monster you took it upon yourself to sacrifice yourself to turn him back human and you died or so Hyunsu thought

Part 1 - Ill see you again

Chains were wrapped around you as you were on your knees like the life was sucked away from you. You haven’t heard from your monster ever since they tortured you. You lost yourself.

They found you flying and shot you down like a prey. Like you, yourself was a monster….

You don’t know how long you been in the dark room full of chains. It must been long because you were so hungry and thirsty.

Until the chains were yanked off from you. “Get up” Sang-wook said lifting you up to your feet. You groan in pain, almost falling at your feet before Sang-wook held you up until you had balance.

“I-I can’t fly, t-t-they c-cut m-my wings” You stuttered out.

“___ listen to me carefully Hyunsu isn’t himself anymore so I need you to go hide” Sangwook said as he used his monster to get you away.

That was the last time you saw him or Hyunsu.

it’s been days and your monster still wasn’t talking or haven’t taken over. That’s when you found Eun-yoo at night making you follow her. She didn’t mind, she missed you a lot since everything changed.

You were human in her eyes still but every time you get frustrated or hungry your eyes just changes black thats all.

“Don’t you feel at least bad for leaving the soldier?” You asked as you both walked in the night again.

“I would give up anything to let me free except you of course” She answered honestly making you nod before grabbing her hand smiling at her cheerfully.

Until they heard a noise making Eun-yoo panic before pushing you to go hide.

“The people they’re all bad” A little girl said to Eun-yoo as she walked up to her. “Did you say “mom”?” Eun-yoo asked making the little girl ignore her.

“You’re no different” The little girl continued to say before pushing Eun-yoo in a trap hole.

“EUN-YOO!!” You yelled out as your desire to catch her grew strong making your wings grow back but before you could catch her. A familiar man with sharp wings catched her and grabbed you.

He dropped her but he continued to hold you, “Hyunsu?” You gasped as you stopped struggling from a grasp. He smiled before pulling you closer with his one hand before kissing your neck. “Your never leaving my sight again” He mumbled before walking away with his hand on yours.

“Cha Hyun-su” Eun-yoo yelled out making him turn around slowly still holding you like you were his possession.

“Are you really gonna leave like that?” She asked he stayed silent not caring for the girl.

“Were you expecting a hug or something?” He mumbled bluntly gripping you like she was trying to take you away far from him.

“Yea, I was. I was at least expecting a ‘glad to see you’ How’ve you been?” She said disappointed but didn’t show it.

“But i’m not glad to see you, I knew ___ would be with you” He bluntly said.

Hyunsu knew she was gonna rant so he gently pushed you along knowing you were sleepy. The kid leaded you somewhere to wait for him as your wings slowly disappeared.

Minutes later he was back with his arm back to normal, He lift you on his back as you drifted to sleep. Getting your wings back took a lot of energy out of you.

When you woke up Hyunsu was cuddle up next to you. He was creasing your back and you knew he changed you too because you felt more cleaner and less blood on you.

“Where are we?” You asked making him open his eyes and smiled instantly at you.

“In a better place my love I promise” He answered before closing his eyes at you tracing his naked chest as you hum.

For now you two were at peace and united together and that’s all that matters.

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

Hello<3 can you do Masky, Toby, Jeff and Ben with a mean teen readerr? Like there just mad all the time but its because of trauma or something?:0 I LOVE YOU SMM TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF MLLL!!<33

Jeff and Tim are NOT gonna take that shit 😰

Thank you so much for requesting!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masky

Honestly the dad in him comes out a bit

Like his whole thing is "what makes you think you get to act like that?"

He gets it, you've had a rough life but so has EVERYONE ELSE HERE

Just because your life sucked doesn't mean you get to be an asshole

He will treat you like a baby

Partly just to tick you off, and partly because if you act like a baby, you're gonna get treated like one

He'll put you in time out, he'll take things away, he'll put hot sauce in your mouth, etc

And the thing is, you can't even tattle to slender because slender agrees with Tim!

I think maybe here and there he'd ask you why you're always so angry, and what he can do to help, and if you don't answer, he doesn't mind because he understands

But if you do answer, your relationship begins to grow, and he learns how to help you out better

He doesn't want you to be mad all the time, because even though it might not seem like it sometimes, he does care about you

But as much as he cares, he also isn't gonna let a literal child bully him

He's way too old for that shit >:/

Toby

He's kind of scared of you

He just stays out of your way

His relationship with you is similar to his relationship with Jeff

He and Jeff are friends, yes, but they aren't close

And most of the time, Toby will choose to avoid Jeff rather than hangout with him

That's how he sees you too

You're a good kid! He just doesn't wanna upset you

The very few interactions you have with him are typically just him sucking up to you, or him doing his best to tiptoe around everything that could upset you

And because of this, you do take advantage of him sometimes

"Toby go get me a snack"

"I dunno y/n, don't you think you could go...get it yourself this time?" As he says this almost every word has a whistle or click after it, showing how nervous he is

You will slowly turn your head to look at him with a glare "I know you aren't calling me lazy"

"No, no! I-I would never! I'm just saying-"

"OH! So you're calling me fat then?"

"No!"

"Then go get me a snack before i make you regret the day your mommy queefed you out"

He REALLY needs to learn to stand up for himself smh

And typically he is pretty good at standing up for himself but yk

Kids scare him

Jeff

With his explosive anger issues you will not last more than 3 seconds around him omg

He is not above fist fighting a child btw

I mean yk, he'd get punished for it but that doesn't stop him

The second you try anything around him he checks you real quick

If you back off, he will get a boost of pride and say some shit like "Yeah, that's what I thought"

If you double down with it, it will likely turn into an all out screaming match

Until someone pulls him away and is like "dude you can't be fighting with little kids :/"

He will always call you names and always be sour around yo

Crotch goblin, little shit, failed abortion

you know, the usual <333

Honestly im gonna be so real with you for a second, the way I see yalls relationship going is only to one drastic side of a spectrum

You could bond over your anger issues and become best friends/siblings with an unbreakable bond

OR you could become so sour towards each other that the caretakers of the manor literally have a meeting about changing your schedule a bit to get around Jeff's

No in between its only one of those two

Yeah, Jeff doesn't take no shit from anyone

Even children, gotta teach em young <333

Ben

Ben, being so chill genuinely does not care what you do to him

Since he doesn't have a physical body, you can't fight him either

So sometimes he will pick fights with you just to make you mad

I'm desperately trying to make Ben's section more than 3 bullets long

I'm telling you he literally does not care, does not react, NOTHING.

You could be screaming at him and he will just continue about his day like you aren't even there

Which of course, makes you more mad

But again, he doesn't care

Making you try harder and harder just to get a reaction out of him

The only reaction you will get is out of Jeff, and we already talked about his dramatic ass

[achenetype]

better the devil you know. — dealer!ares

pairing: dealer!ares x reader

content/warnings: suggestive content, no sex in this one sorry but i do have a sequel planned, age gap, modern au, reader's parents are implied to be abusive, ares drives recklessly, Inappropriate Thigh Touching (TM), drug mentions, dealer!ares

listening to: home by daughter

In hindsight, you should have gone to a college further away from your hometown. It would have been harder for your parents to convince you to come home if you weren’t living forty minutes away.

It would have been easier, actually — easier because you could have been hanging out with your friends, studying and drinking and smoking, instead of sitting with your back pressed against your door while your parents fought in the kitchen down the hall.

Jesus fucking Christ, your mother yells, muffled by the door, you don’t even care about this family!

You can’t hear what your father says in response, but the crash of a plate shattering against the wall makes you jump. Your hands shake as you pull your phone out of your pocket and scroll through your contacts until you reach the last number.

“Hey, kid,” Ares’ voice crackles through the speakers of your phone. “What’s up?”

Another thud sounds against the wall. You let out a shuddering breath, clutching your phone in your hands. “I, uh—I need, like, a favor,” you say.

You can almost hear Ares raising an eyebrow through the phone. “A favor?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I need—are you at your apartment?” You chew on your lip, pulling your sweatshirt tighter around your body. “Cause my—uh, things aren’t the best at my place right now,” you say.

Ares sighs, the sound made crackling by the speakers. “Thought you were at school?”

“I went home for the break,” you say. Another piece of glassware smashes against the wall; the sound crystallizes in your mind, piercing and terrible. Tears well up in your eyes.

You flinch and gasp, pressing your back against the door. “My parents—they, uh, they’re fighting, again.”

Ares clicks his tongue. “Shit, angel.” The sound of a lighter flicking on rasps through the phone and you squeeze your eyes shut.

This is the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. Ares isn’t a friend—he’s something different. Your dealer, yes. A smoke buddy. And sometimes, sometimes, there’s this weird tension between the two of you—this energy that makes your stomach turn and your head spin.

But asking him a favor like this…it could ruin everything.

“Can you,” you say, “can you, um. Come pick me up?” You bite your tongue as Ares lets out a slow exhale.

You’re about to retract your request when he says, “Send me your address.”

“Huh?” You blink, your breath catching in your throat.

“Send me your address,” Ares repeats. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

It feels like the air has been sucked out of your lungs. “Okay,” you breathe. “Okay.”

You’re not sure whether he hangs up or you do.

A few taps at your screen later, and a location pin pops up on in the black space of your messages.

You slowly stand up, still leaning against the door. The world feels like it’s moving in slow motion as you grab your backpack and absently start to fill it. Clothes. Your wallet and keys. The last dregs of the weed that you’d bought from Ares a few weeks ago.

You slide the panel of your window open, wincing at the scrape of metal on metal. You were used to sneaking out, but your legs had never shaken like this before—you’d never been running from something. You’d always been trying to get to somewhere, never away from it.

You step out onto the roof and shuffle to the edge of it, shimmying down the fire escape and jumping down to the pavement. Rain soaks through your sweatshirt as you walk around to the front of the building, dampening your skin and hair and chilling you to the bone.

You’re sitting on the sidewalk when Ares’ car—a battered Jeep—pulls up. You hear the door slam before you see him, but he kneels in front of you and gently brushes your hair out of your face.

“Hey, angel,” he murmurs. “C’mere. Up you go. Let’s get you inside.” His hands are warm and strong, pulling you to your feet, and his arms bracket your chest as you lean against him. “C’mon, angel. In the car.”

You nod numbly, stunned from the cold and the fear swirling in your chest. Ares’ eyes are dark as you climb into the passenger seat of his car and pull your knees to your chest. He tosses your bag into the backseat.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

Ares looks over at you and sighs, turning the key in the ignition. “‘S nothing.”

You tuck one soaked piece of your hair behind your ear as he pulls away from the curb. Cold air wafts through the air conditioning, making your sweatshirt stick uncomfortably to your chest and your arms. Your legs, exposed by your shorts, pebble with gooseflesh as you shiver and shift in the seat.

Ares’ eyes snap from the road to you, up and down, and one of his hands slides from the steering wheel to rest in the empty space between the two of you.

Despite the AC, it is suddenly and dizzyingly warm in the car.

Ares’ hand wavers in place for a split second before moving again, settling against your bare thigh. His thumb draws small circles on the flesh of your thigh as he drives.

“You okay?” he says, low and rough, not taking his eyes off the road.

You nod. “Mm-hmm,” you murmur. Your legs part even more, shifting your hips up slightly, and Ares’ grip on your thigh tightens.

The tension in the air was so thick you could have cut it. Your eyes flick from Ares’ hand to his face, back and forth, and the car speeds up as he merges onto the highway.

“Hold on,” he says, maybe more to himself than to you—his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thigh. You can feel a bruise forming under the skin, and the thought makes you just the slightest bit wet.

Just a little. You’re not that depraved.

Ares slides his hand higher, his fingertips grazing the seam of your torso and your leg, and you shudder as he slips a hand under the hem of your shorts.

Against your better judgement, you spread your legs that extra inch and lean back.

“[Y/N],” he says. “Tell me not to do this.”

“What?” You blink and look over to where Ares is white-knuckling the wheel. The speedometer on the car ticks up—Ares had already been speeding, but now it reads eighty, eighty-five. Ninety. You feel gravity pressing your back to the leather seat.

“You need to tell me to stop touching you,” he says lowly. “If you don’t want this, tell me no.”

You bite your lip. Oh.

“We can’t do this, angel,” he says, still pressing the gas pedal down. Ninety-six. Ninety-seven, eight.

“What if—what if I want you to?” The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them. Your heart batters against your rib cage. Ninety-nine.

Ares takes an exit—you're going too fast to see the sign—and leans on the brake, stopping just short of the crosswalk. The momentum throws you forward.

His hand moves from your thigh to rest across your collarbone, holding you back from hitting the dashboard.

"We're going to my place," he says roughly. "And we're gonna finish all this." He gestures with his free hand in the space between you and him.

You lean forward, so sweetly, and press a short kiss to Ares' lips. "I look forward to it," you say softly.

When the light turns green and Ares' eyes flick back to the road, you sneak a glance at his legs. Something satisfied and a little giddy curls up inside your stomach when you see that he's hard in his jeans.

[an-gothamite-aka-zannalial]

I always want to see Damian get what he totally deserve to get. NORMAL LIVE, not some Hero and assassin shit

Like he got to so much problem that his family can't take it anymore, so they send him to Boarding school in another country. Just make sure he wont get into some gofy ass scenario without any guard

He knew when all his sibling talk in the room that this is his last change to not mess everything and get their full trust, and damian actually already tired of all this shit

Form his only bestfriend become full adult, his girlfriend break up and leave him, ra's comeback try to kidnap him, and there more shit that happen to him recently

So in his new school he just act normal, like Literally he became a avarage student. No one know he a Wayne cause he never tell anyone and his Appearance in media is Very rare, make being normal much Easier

He just be like his father and sibling when they are in public, playboy/girl, rich kids shit, charismatic, and so on

He even slowly Bond with everyone with no problem, make him worse but better at the same time.

He start to show up in night prom or party everytime there a Invitation, being The center of everyone's attention, a bright sun in everything he join and enter

Even get drunk on some party Unintentionally because he got carried away by the atmosphere, until that just become his new habit when join something that has alcohol in it

He also uses drugs and smokes because he follows his friends, without realizing that what he is doing is wrong in the eyes of his family because he almost forgets he has one.

He often plays truant and gets involved in school problems but no one really wants to scold him, because he is a perfect kid and very rich, he doesn't even notice he's a bit off the mark.

Flirt everyone is his right to do anywhere, but there is one girl who he thinks is different from the others, making him return to the stalker's path for some time. Before realizing they like each other

In the end they became the school's best known couple, because no one with two healthy eyes could see how much they loved each other.

He only goes home on Christmas Day and on graduation day, because he is too comfortable and used to his surroundings now. Alfred almost didn't even manage to bring him home

When he returned home he was given the choice to decide his next path, to become a hero again or to continue what he had built over the last few years. And he chose his new life over the old suck life he had

Goes to the same college as his girlfriend and doesn't care about superheroes shit, Get a normal and enjoyable life without being bothered by mental health problems every night or severe insomnia every day

After graduating from college he decided to propose to his girlfriend and get married, having his own family. Forgetting the person he used to like is far behind Or the unfunctional family before because now he is part of a different family

[zigrethsnotebook]

The Child

Stan and Reader

words: 1,065

tags: sfw, platonic/familial bonding

a/n: okay so the idea this is based on was a little more thought out than this, but i felt like it would have been more fitting for a longer story with muliple chapters. That's just not really something I do, so I decided to just write the scenes that were the clearest in my head: meeting each member of the family. Hope that'll do and be enough<3

Freedom. That’s the only thing that crossed your mind when you saw the glowing blue whirlpool appear in front of you. Your home had been destroyed by none other than Bill Cipher and only you had survived. He didn’t care about you though and just threw you at the feet of his henchmaniacs, letting them decide your fate.

But now, here was your way out. Anywhere would be better than this wretched place. With no doubts in your heart you leapt forward, into the anomaly.

Everything around you was swirling blues and whites that left you feeling dizzy. You passed out before you reached the other side.

Stan. He had no time to process his own twin brother being sucked into an interdimensional portal when another creature flew his way. Its body hit him directly, knocking him backwards onto the floor. He pushed the unmoving thing off of him and tried to restart the portal that had sputtered off again.

Eventually, he gave up. He turned back to the lifeless body on the floor. He walked towards it, its body covered in bright green feathers. It looked like a weird twisted version of a bird. Like a bird was meant to look human but didn’t quite get it.

Stan was about to do something rash when the body moved and groaned. He stopped dead in his tracks. That voice was so high pitched and tiny, it sounded almost like a… child.

Now that he took a closer look, it was rather small as well. When you opened your eyes and saw this strange creature in front of you you immediately jumped up and backed into a corner behind some crates, chirping in fear.

Stan took a deep breath, gathering himself. It was hardly your fault that Ford was gone. You were just a child. Although it felt like the universe was playing some sick joke on him.

He slowly and carefully made his way over to you, trying his very best to be non-threatening and calming you down. It took some effort, but eventually, you realized that he was way less dangerous than the nightmares that had surrounded you not long ago. Slowly, you began to trust him, even though you didn’t understand each other.

Soos. It was more or less a regular day at the Shack. Except for one thing. A little boy was at the shack today. He was sad. That is, until Stan offered him a job and gave him a green shirt with a question mark on it. You watched the boy’s eyes light up and the way he looked at Stan.

You and Soos bonded very quickly and you took him under your wing. He had essentially decided that Stan was his father now and you couldn’t blame him. It had been more or less the same for you.

Now that Soos was older he’d sometimes take you with him to the arcades or something. There, whenever you two met some of Soos’ friends you had never met before he would introduce you as his ‘sib of another crib’ and each time it warmed your heart.

In every way that mattered, Soos had become your little brother.

Ford. Somehow, Stan had managed to reactivate the portal and convinced the kids that they should let him open it. It was chaos. But eventually, a bright, piercing light filled the room and you saw someone step through. Stan’s twin brother he had told you so much about.

They fought and the only reason you didn’t help Stan was because he had insisted before that whatever happens, you were not to interject. Eventually, they settled their conflict enough to let Stan tell him about the kids. Ford was so happy when he realized they were his family.

Then Stan gestured towards you. “And this is the kid I adopted back when…” Stan swallowed hard and Ford furrowed his brows at him in confusion. “Well, you went into the portal and they fell out.” Ford raised his brows and looked at you as he realized what that meant. For example, that you most likely weren’t human, even though you looked like one.

You took a couple of steps towards him, stood there for a second, and spoke. “If you and I hadn’t switched places then they would have killed me. I owe my life to both you and your brother.”

Then hugged him. Ford raised his arms away from you in surprise. You didn’t know why but for some reason it felt only right to utter your next words in your native language that you hadn’t had a chance to use in the last three decades.

“ Ḭ̵̆̓̊̔̃ć̷̖̩̺͖̋̌̇͠ͅa̷̪̩̬͚͊̀̽̾͛ ̴̪̖̬͍̺̈́͑̕ķ̴̹̱͈͈̾̎̈́̽̕ǎ̶̰̬̈̈͝͝ŗ̵̜̦̤͙̐s̵͓͆̒k̸͈͕̖̥̠̒̈́̉̋ ”

You chirped, each word feeling heavy on your tongue. A beat of silence passed as Ford tried to decipher the words. Eventually, he did. “You’re welcome.” He said and finally put his arms around you as well, hugging you.

Stan looked at you both in bewilderment. “You speak their language?” Ford looked up at him, loosening his grip on you a little. “Yes. Although I never had a chance to learn from a native speaker. I honestly thought they were ext-” He cut himself off, the word he was about to say sinking in. Ford looked down at you again and hugged you tighter.

“Oh Lord, I am so sorry.”

The kids. Mabel and Dipper didn’t know that you weren’t human. At least not until you all met Ford. The only reason they didn’t was because Stan had insisted that you do not tell them. He was so worried for their safety that he decided to deny all mention of supernatural happenings and such. It didn’t really work out that way but he tried his best.

After they had found out though and the whole Ford business had settled a little as well, they started drilling you with questions. Eventually, on a long day of many questions from both the kids and Ford, you decided to just drop the human act completely and show them your true form. Lime green feathers, a beak…

They were even more fascinated after that, the questions never stopped.

It even felt good to talk about your home again, cathartic even. Especially, because your audience was glued to your every word, their eyes lighting up with joy… it was hard to feel sadness when you were surrounded by so much love.

[mamawasatesttube]

Reading the list of fluff prompts I was struck by a deep desire for “I’m so proud of you, you know that?” from Lois to Kon.

Kon drifts.

Everything is vague, hazy, and distant, lost in a fog; exhaustion weighs at his limbs, although his perception of them is tenuous at best. He'd be content to keep his eyes closed, to fall back down into sleep, if not for this niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he needs to... he needs to... there's someone, there's someone he needs to protect...

Weary, confused, too tired to think, he turns that need over and over in his mind a few times. Pokes and prods it from different angles through the fog. Who is he protecting? From what? And why is his body so, so heavy?

God, he's so tired... Surely he can protect them better after he just... sleeps a little more. Yes. He can let himself drift back into—

And then it hits him. Metallo. Jon. Kryptonite. The explosion.

Adrenaline spikes through his chest, an echo of the metal rod that speared through his ribs a lifetime ago. It takes every ounce of his desperate strength to open his eyes.

The haziness slowly settles into the vague but recognizable outlines of the medbay at the Fortress of Solitude. He's lying on a cot, bathed in sunlight; his head hurts like Bart's in there taking out fifteen espressos on a drumset. In a chair to his right, a tablet computer in hand, is...

"Lois...?"

Lois looks up immediately at the sound of his voice, her sharp eyes softening when she meets his gaze. "Hey, squirt," she says, leaning forward. Her hand is warm against his clammy skin as she strokes his hair back from his forehead. "How're you feeling?"

Kon shakes his head a little, and instantly regrets it as the pain in his temples reverberates back and forth tenfold. "Wh... where's Jon?"

"Don't worry. He's fine, thanks to you. Barely a scratch on him." Lois smiles, but it's wan and slight. She looks tired. "He's with Clark right now. I'm not supposed to tell you, but he wanted to make you cupcakes so you feel better faster."

Fine. Relief floods through Kon's whole body; it's a double-edged sword, though, because as the adrenaline and panic fade, every bit of pain from his... everything... hurts way more. Ow.

God. Kryptonite and then a big-ass building getting exploded and falling on him would do that, but still. Ow. Owie. Ouch. Kon is not a fan of buildings falling on him. Has he ever mentioned that? He's seriously not a fan.

Still. Better him than Jon. That kid is barely fourteen. He doesn't need to be dealing with all this. Thank goodness he's okay.

"He's a good kid," Kon rasps. His throat is dry. Ugh. His head hurts. His back hurts. His legs hurt. Hell, his toes hurt. This sucks. "Ngh..."

Lois smooths his hair back from his forehead again. That's a welcome distraction from the pain, and at least the sunlight feels nice. She's probably here because Clark kicked her out of the kitchen, Kon thinks, and almost smiles at the thought. Still, it's nice not to wake up alone.

"Do you want some water?" Lois asks. She leans over and picks up a bottle from the bedside table that Kon didn't notice until now. "Here." She twists off the cap, scoots forward, and slips a hand beneath his head to help him lift it; her other hand gently tips the mouth of the bottle to his lips. "Sip slowly so you don't make yourself sick."

Obediently, Kon sips slowly. The water is cool and refreshing against his dry tongue and throat, and with Lois's help he drinks around half the bottle before he's had his fill.

A drop lingers on his lips, runs down his chin. Lois sets the bottle aside, plucks a tissue from the box on the table, and wipes it away.

Kon stares at her. She's so... she's being so gentle with him right now. His weary, confused heart skips a beat in his chest.

He takes a shaky breath as she helps him lie back against the pillows. "Lois... 'm sorry," he breathes, closing his eyes against the pain radiating from his skull. Kryptonite always triggers his stupid TTK overuse migraines. Sucks. "For... not getting Jon outta danger."

"What?" Lois sounds incredulous. "You—oh, you Kent boys will be the goddamn death of me, I swear, always taking the world on your shoulders for everyone—" She cuts herself off with a huff. "Conner, you have nothing to apologize for, least of all to me. I'm not—I'm so proud of you, you know that?"

Now it's Kon's turn to be baffled. What?

It's befuddling enough that he opens his eyes to blink at her. Does he have a concussion? What's going on? What did he possibly do to make Lois proud? Like, don't get him wrong, he's thrilled to hear it, but...

Lois pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. "Alright, squirt, listen to me. You did an amazing job keeping everyone safe from Metallo today. Everyone except yourself, at least. I... lord, don't give me those eyes, now. Yours are even worse than Clark's."

What eyes? Kon blinks again, still bewildered. He's just looking at her normally? And he just did what he was made to do, so why is she proud...? What is going on?

"Huh?" he manages, eloquent as ever.

Lois heaves another deep sigh and rakes a hand through her hair. Another lock falls out of her already-disheveled bun. "Look. We can talk about all this later. You need to rest up so you heal now, alright?"

That does sound good. Kon is very tired. And everything hurts. Has he mentioned that his everything hurts? Because his everything hurts. "Mmkay."

Lois smiles down at him. Then she stands up from her chair, leans down, and—Kon's breath catches in his throat—presses a warm kiss to his forehead.

"Get some sleep, squirt," she tells him, fondness clear in her voice. "I'll be here when you wake up. And so will your cupcakes."

"Yeah," Kon agrees, his chest tight. He closes his eyes before she can catch a glimpse of any tears that definitely, one hundred percent, are not forming. "Sweet."

As he falls back asleep, he's still smiling.

[lalaluvvs]

vampire bf satoru

cw: slightly suggestive, fluff, bloodsucking (??)

Contrary to popular belief, Satoru Gojo definitely has a morning routine- one he follows from beginning to end. It's the only constant in his life, not including Suguru.

In fact, it was Suguru that suggested the routine and helped him stick to it. Gojo would probably be nowhere if it weren't for his best friend.

When Gojo wakes, he palms the bed groggily, searching for the familiar warmth beside him. It takes him a few tries before he finds purchase on a bare shoulder, its' owner grumbling with annoyance.

As part of his routine, Gojo will hold him close, chest to his chest as he runs a gentle finger down that sensitive part of his neck. He'll linger there a moment too long, hesitant to savor the skin there. He can smell the dark blood rising to his cold touch, eager to be released. His fangs extend from his mouth, small for a typical vampire but just the right size to stab into Suguru's neck. He winces at the sensitivity- he hates that part the most- and grazes them across his neck until they catch onto the scabbed lumps along the base of his nape. Meanwhile he holds his best friend like a lover, gliding careful fingertips over his back. Those same fingers dig into the flesh of his back while he slowly presses his fangs through the healing scabs.

If it were up to him, he would feed all over his neck, covering the expansive canvas in little love bites to mark his claim.

Suguru is almost never fully awake before feeling the fangs puncture the lower side of his neck. He prefers it this way, so he can get it over with. He's trained his body to sleep through a good amount of it, though he would generously trade his sleep for Satoru. He would be happy to give him everything- body and soul- if it could benefit Gojo in any way.

The blood-sucking idiot has to restrain himself half the time, his body feeling the overwhelming urge to drain. While he feeds, Suguru stirs and leans into the embrace, running his fingers through snow white hair. A warm smile pulls from his lips as he thinks of the times Satoru would hide his face, or be too embarassed to feed. Luckily, he could only go so long before he ran out of options and was forced to drink his blood.

After moving away from the Gojo clan and moving in with Suguru, it was hard to find ways to feed himself. The Gojo clan always had new sacrifices, and when they ran out they would just start feeding from their employed humans. Satoru only knew starvation in the Gojo clan. He couldn't bring himself to feed from innocent people. He can recall the pain, and how badly he wished for a death that would never come.

His body hates him for that. He's sure of it. But he can't help but feel anything short of blessed for the situation he's in now.

When he's finished, Satoru politely wipes off the blood from his neck and stares in awe as it pools. He takes a small lick before dressing his wound, causing Suguru to grunt in disgust.

The world stops for him when Suguru meets his eyes, a grin pulled taut across his face. He looked ethereal in the morning light as the sun came down to set in the sky.

Suguru yawns, stretching his limbs before pulling Satoru close again- careful to avoid pulling him to his neck. He trusts Satoru with his life, but not his own self control.

"Mornin'." Gojo yawns, eyes barely open. He smiles lazily, dark blood dripping from his retracted fangs.

Suguru pushes him back by his chest, staring at him incredulously.

"Are you kidding? Go wash out your mouth, I don't wanna see that shit."

Satoru pouts, whining as always, "But Sugu, it's your blood. There's nothing nasty about it!"

He tries to reach around him, pull him back into his strong arms, but Suguru knows better by now.

"No, brush your teeth first. Fuckin' animal."

"Hey, that's totally unnecessary!"

Suguru raises a brow. "Only animals would have manners like yours."

The other man pouts deeper, brows furrowing contemplatively before giving it up.

He rolls over, pushing himself out of bed and makes his way toward the shared bathroom. He drags his slippers against the cold tile, only because it feels nice to wear the things Suguru gets for him. Even if he only bought it to keep Satoru's dirty feet off the bed after walking barefoot.

Well- he did forget a few key parts to his routine, but Suguru was there to keep him in check. The other part of the his routine is the cleanup- which he can't stand but he does it because Suguru asked so nicely. If he gets to drink his blood, it'll be on his terms. Not that there would need to be blood involved for Satoru to give him what he wants. He would always spoil his best friend.

His mind wanders to other pleasant Suguru thoughts while he brushes his teeth. Warm arms wrap loosely around his waist, pulling him out of his dream-like state. His radiant smell alerted him before his touch did.

Suguru rests a sleepy head on Satoru's shoulder, leaning into his back. " 'M so cold. You should quit feeding from me so early in the winter."

Gojo gasps loud, pausing his brushing and turning his head to see him. "You mean... you want me to skip breakfast?"

Suguru grimaces and shakes his head, pulling away to lean against the doorframe.

"You don't need a full meal in the morning. It's just convenient for you."

And it's true. Having a full breakfast means he'll be full of energy throughout the day while Suguru recovers from his blood defeciency. Even with the iron supplements, he didn't seem to be getting much better with that.

Suguru grabs the small blanket at the edge of their bed and wraps it around himself. "You could just feed from the bag for a while, right?"

Gojo has to turn his whole body to face him, mouth agape as if he'd heard the most vile thing from his mouth.

"Dude. No."

He continues with his routine, putting away his toothbrush and walking around the room to pick up the remnants of bandages and bloody napkins.

"Don't 'dude no' me. It's my blood." Suguru crosses his arms. "I say you're getting too spoiled."

"Spoiled?" Satoru shouts, pausing his routine yet again. "It's my food! I need it to live!"

"You don't need a whole liter of blood a day, 'Toru."

Satoru huffs, continuing to clean his mess. "Oh, it's not a whole liter." He waves his hand dismissively. "Trust me I keep track. It's two."

All Suguru can do is stare at him, dumbfounded. Two whole liters?!

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"Not particularly, no. I don't think I'll ever find someone with blood as sweet as yours." He says, matter-of -factly.

His features darken noticibly, his hyperactive mind returning to thoughts of life without Suguru. It would come, when Suguru goes grey and his bones wither beneath him. Gojo would have nothing but distant memories to keep him alive.

But they were so far from that now. It didn't make sense to ruminate on something so depressing before it even reached that point.

Suguru sighs, fingers brushing against the bandage on his neck. He felt the lumps underneath, tender and sore. He's lucky Jujutsu High was so flexible with dress codes- he'd need to cover this up.

"Listen... we'll talk more about this when we get back. You need to get ready for work before I leave your ass here."

Gojo's eyes widen and he swears there are tears forming. "You wouldn't dare!"

Suguru chuckles, running into the bathroom before he does. "Watch me!"

a/n: this is my first posted fic but it was so much fun to write, i love my boys :PP

[mayblossomss]

Whumptober Day 1: Panic Attack

By early October, the trees had almost all began to change from green to a bright spectacle of warm colours that littered the lawns and roads beneath them. The weather was finally starting to cool down and frost started to shine in the early mornings. Winter was certainly coming and what better way to say a final goodbye to the summer than with a bonfire?

It was Darry's idea. He had spare logs that he needed to get rid of and the idea hit him right away. He always did love a good evening around the fire growing up. Sodapop of course thought it was an amazing idea and suddenly the entire gang was over for the night. Both brothers hoped that maybe it would be a good way to ease Ponyboy out of his depressive attitude ever since he'd lost Johnny and Dally, but they were wrong.

The sun was a bit from setting when Darry tossed the logs into a pile and threw in the matches to get the fire going. Two-Bit, who was leaning forward, a marshmallow already attached to his stick, looked on eagerly as the fire grew and began to eat away at the logs. Soda grinned before grabbing a marshmallow of his own, and roasting it above the fire, while Steve chugged the Pepsi bottle he brought along.

Ponyboy sat between his brothers, watching the fire rise with a sad gleam in his eyes, before the fire jumped and embers landed on the grass in front of him. It wasn't until one of them landed within the tear in his jean, and extinguished on his skin that he was sucked into a memory of the past. 

No longer was he sitting at a bonfire, surrounded by his friends, but now he was inside of a flaming hot church that threatened to cave in on itself at any second. Distantly, he could hear the cries of children begging to be saved.

His heart pounded in his ears at the all too familiar scene. Ponyboy could feel the heat on his face, and the stinging of smoke in his eyes. He wanted to run, but he couldn't move. He wanted to scream, but his voice was dry. He wanted to stop dreaming about this, but it was like a parasite that had burrowed into the part of his brain that replayed memories on loop.

As the screams grew louder and the fire burned hotter, his chest began to constrict. He couldn't get air into his lungs. He should've been worried, but he couldn't even think right. All he was thinking about were the children and Johnny. Where was Johnny? Did that scream come from him or the kids? Why was everything blurring together?

Darry noticed something was wrong when Ponyboy's breathing grew laboured beside him. At one glance, Darry recognized what was going on. The faraway look in his eyes was too familiar lately, the light gasps for air, and the tears brewing in his eyes as he stared at the fire all clicked into place and made Superman act at once.

He kneeled before his younger brother, one hand on his knee and the other cupping his cheek. "Ponyboy, look at me."

Sodapop glanced at Darry before the other brother did, and his heart sank. He dropped his conversation with Steve and rushed to his brother's side. "Pony?"

Ponyboy's breathing quickened, his eyes remaining unfocused as he gazed blankly ahead at the raging fire. Darry turned to Two-Bit and Steve and instructed sternly, "Put the fire out."

They obeyed quickly, Steve dumping his drink out on it and Two-Bit stomping on the smaller embers. Darry gave his brother a light shake and Ponyboy's eyes slowly focused on him.

"There you go," Darry murmured, squeezing his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

But Ponyboy was far from okay. He was shaking and hacking, unable to breathe. All he could think about was the fire and how bad the guilt hurt him. He was the first one to run in and the only one to leave unscathed. It wasn't fair.

Nothing was fair.

"Pony, please breathe, honey!" Soda begged, holding his brother's arm tightly.

Ponyboy didn't. Ponyboy kept sobbing and coughing and shaking until his head dropped against Darry's shoulder, exhausted and dizzy from a lack of air. Darry's arms wrapped around him tightly, protecting him from any external dangers.

There wasn't anything that Ponyboy needed protection from externally, however. It was what was inside of him that was killing him. And nobody could save him from that.

[crescxntmoons]

OKAY SO I MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE WRITTEN AN INTO CUTSCENE FOR @norinenglish’s RANCHER SDV AU

I haven’t been able to get it out of my head so it all kind of just fell out. Scene is under the cut :)

The buzzing of the fluorescent overhead lights is loud in the silence of the warehouse. It’s freezing, but Jimmy’s been working for so long in this miserable place that he barely feels the cold anymore.

Jimmy glances to the side, his focus lingering on the Joja observer for just a second too long. The green light on his desk buzzes - his first warning to get back to work before a supervisor comes out to set him straight. He shakes his head and focuses on the screen again.

All around him is the sound of the lifeless husks he’s supposed to call co workers doing their own work. They’re basically Joja robots at this point; unresponsive, bland, fun-resistant bags of flesh. Its crude, but it’s reality. It’s what Joja does - the place sucks the life out of you until you’re nothing but a cog in the corporate machine.

When Jimmy first moved to the city he remembered being full of spirit. He was ready to take on the world, to make his own way in life. Then the money started running out and he had to resort to working for Joja. He’d forced himself to endure the soul sucking 9-to-5 with the intention of only working there for a few months until he found something more permanent.

That was three years ago.

Joja has a way of sucking you in. When you want to leave they offer some new bonus or minor pay rise, often barely better than what you were making before. If that doesn’t work then it’s time for the guilt trip. You feel obligated to stay because Joja helped you survive in the city up to this point. Whatever you do, you can’t leave.

Jimmy is twenty-three now and his life has gone nowhere. He had prospects as a twenty-year-old moving out on his own, he had it all going for him! Uni, a loving family, friends by his side. That was until he joined Joja, until the hours got longer and the gap between him and those he loves grew wider and wider until it’s now too far to fix.

He’s totally and utterly alone. He was given a harsh reality check moving into the city. When he couldn’t afford his rent and was almost kicked out before he marched into that small Joja branch with his resume in hand, needing work for a couple of months until there was something better. Now he’s still there, and he hates it.

The realisation comes crashing over Jimmy like a wave. He hates his life. There’s no ignoring the fact - he just hates it. Now that he thinks about it there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where he hasn’t lamented his situation, hasn’t missed the true things in life.

Jimmy misses it all. He misses running through long grasses in the park as a kid, chasing his friends to the swingset. He misses his mum taking his hand and leading him out to the garden, spending Autumn afternoons picking blackberries. He misses reading a book in the light of an oil lamp during a thunderstorm - listening to the rain pound against the window.

A memory springs forth in his head - of a firelit cabin and his grandfather’s warm hands clasping his for the final time - and it clicks. Jimmy slowly reaches for the drawer beside him and pulls out the yellowed parchment letter with a purple wax stamp. He opens it with shaking hands.

Dear Jimmy,

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

The same thing happened to me, long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life… real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.

That emptiness you feel, the misery, that’s not what life is supposed to be like.

I’ve enclosed the deed to the place i mentioned, my pride and joy: The Ranch. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life.

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honour the family, my boy.

Love, Grandpa.

PS. If young Grian is still living in town, do say hello for me. I believe he’s around your age.

Jimmy folds the letter and tucks it close to his chest, tears spilling down his cheeks. He remembers his Grandfather clearly now that the Joja fog has dissipated. It strikes him how the images of his life before Zuzu City have faded into a blur, and how empty he feels inside, living here.

He needs a change. He needs to start over.

***

It takes less than a day to get his affairs in order.

After reading the letter, Jimmy stomped into his manager’s office and quit. His house is full of rented furniture, and what he does own he can fit into a big duffle bag. He paid the last of his rent then ended his month-to-month lease with his landlord.

Now he sits at the bus stop, bundled in his Grandpa’s old cardigan, waiting for his ride into the valley. He has the barest memories of the place from when he was a child - a small, homely cabin with an expanse of painstakingly grown crops out the front, the old oak tree he used to spend his afternoons in while his Grandpa worked on the farm.

The letter is a weight in his pocket, and the words that his Grandpa wrote loop through his head like a broken record. It’s his driving force, a reminder of why he’s leaving.

This isn’t what life is supposed to be like.

Jimmy gets on the bus when it pulls into the stop, and for once, he doesn’t look back.

[a-hundred-jewels]

ptsd made me a hardcore marauders fan for seven months

Ao3

content warning: the following contains discussions of school violence, teen violence, (briefly) domestic violence, mental health issues, depression, and trauma. if any of these are sensitive topics for you, please proceed with caution. in addition, if you feel i've missed a warning, please nicely let me know in the comments.

I don't like Harry Potter. 

Sure, I binge-read the entire series in a bored, undiagnosed-ADHD-induced haze at the age of thirteen, have spent countless hours reading and even writing fanfiction for the series, have followed tumblr tags, listened to playlists, watched youtube videos, and am in the process of very slowly hand-binding myself a copy of A Black Mass Over Highway Ninety, but—

I don't like it, but nevertheless, I was sucked in. 

~

"Some kid overdosed," one of my classmates said. 

"What?" 

"They're clearing the hallways."

Our principal had just come on the loudspeakers to issue a "shelter in place" order, telling us to ignore all bells and stay in our current classroom until he came back on and told us otherwise. I was actually glad, hoping the extra time would allow me to finish my Spanish homework before second period, since I'd spent most of the weekend thinking about the Strictly Come Dancing finals and my King Lear presentation in English class. 

I hardly thought about the order itself—they're extremely common in United State schools, both as drills and as actual occurences. "Shelter in place" originated as a milder verison of going into lockdown where, instead of hiding from a potential shooter, students and teachers must simply not leave the room. In any case, I saw no reason to worry, and set about doing my homework. 

~

In fall of 2022, I started my senior year of high school at the age of seventeen. I was having a rough year—my younger sister's depression was at an all-time high and my mother was recovering from a health scare—but, fandomwise, I was doing great. After all, Our Flag Means Death had come out that spring and I was in love. All I wanted to talk about were the gay pirates, and I even bought myself a "Team Edward" t-shirt with Taika Waititi's face smack in the middle as a "back to school" present. Everything was supposed to get better. 

School sucked, because I went to a big public high school that looked like a prison and had equally-shitty Wifi, my (still undiagnosed) ADHD was worsening, and my grades were getting kind of bad. Even so, for a couple of months, I remained confident that my senior year would be my best one yet.

~

Third period was gym class, meaning I was only about an hour and a half away from the King Lear presentation. Senior year was actually one of the few years where I liked gym, which was awesome. It was just me and six boys, all of whom were nice to me, and our teacher was great. I think we were playing badminton that day, when our principal came on the loudspeakers to say that we were, once again, under a "shelter in place" order. 

We were nonchalant about this, just as we had been in the morning. I cannot stress how desensitized children in the U.S. are to things like this, these days. When my little sister was in elementary school, there was a day when the whole school was put in a "shelter in place" because a man was walking around outside with a bunch of knives. When I was a junior, a boy severely beat up his girlfriend in the school hallway, giving her a concussion and leading to two mass protests. There were violent fights at my town's public schools almost weekly—and all of this is very, very normal. I would go so far as to say that my situation was pretty mild. 

So we sat on the floor and did homework as time crept on, wondering vaguely what was going on, but no moreso than that. Third period ended, and we stayed. It should have been lunch time—we were getting hungry—but there was still no word about the lockdown ending. We stayed. Surely, it could only be another ten minutes or so?

And then, one of my classmates looked up from his phone screen, which was displaying a chat on Discord. 

"Oh my god—someone was stabbed."

~

Before, I get properly started, I'd like to be totally clear: the point of this essay isn't to bash the Harry Potter fandom, not as a whole, and certainly not the sections of it I've been in. I met some incredible people while in my period of rabidly consuming Marauders content, and I don't want to put them down or dishonor the beautiful things they've created with my attitude. I loved my time in the Marauders fandom as much as I could love anything at that point in my life and have nothing but respect for the writers, artists, and tumblrinas who welcomed me into their space. 

All of that being said, I think it's fascinating that I fell into a fandom like this one, particularly when I was doing so badly mentally. My dislike of Harry Potter only increases as I grow, as does my indifference, and, while I understand that's a fairly common sentiment shared among Marauders fans, I also get the impression that nostalgia plays a big part in their participation in the fandom. A Harry Potter- loving, bookworm child grows into a cynical teen, and then into a kind, brilliant adult with a "well, fuck it" attitude towards the world, using their limited free time to take that nostalgia from a childhood book series and write the kind of queer narratives they wish they'd had in adolescence. I could, of course, be wrong, but that's more-or-less how I understood the specific parts of the fandom I was in. (I know pretty much nothing about the tik tok side of the Marauders fandom, so we're just not factoring that in at all). Also, note that I said "adult" before, because the majority of people I interacted with were in their twenties and thirties. Being eighteen at the time and still in highschool, they all seemed at least moderately grown-up and untouchable to me. 

All this to say, once again, that I literally didn't care about Harry Potter until I was almost fourteen and, even then, I only started reading it out of sheer boredom. I have pretty much no nostalgia or happy childhood memories associated with the series—I even skipped large sections of the fourth and seventh books because it irritated me whenever the main characters were fighting with each other. I was, at best, a casual fan. 

There's something comforting, though, about being in such a big fandom, especially when your bad habit of choice is binge-reading smutty fanfiction in order to feel less dead. And, regardless of how I actually felt about Harry Potter , the concrete safety of a completed, unchanging series of books and movies where the author was already widely disliked definitely appealed tome and my less-than-stable life. You don't need to worry about a scandal if they've all already happened and, no matter how hard she tried to on Twitter, Joanne can't actually change the contents of the books. In my world of current fandoms and kind writers and actors all accessible on social media, the fuck-ass Harry Potter fandom was a bit of a refuge. 

So that's why I think it was specifically the Marauders that I got into.

~

I don't actually remember how long we were in that gym. It must have been at least two hours, including the class time beforehand, but I barely remember any of it. I texted my friends, frantically trying to determine that everyone I knew was okay, and I told my parents what was going on. To this day, the thing I am most thankful for is that my sister, who we'll call Tabitha, wasn't there. I don't know what I would have done if she'd been in school that day. The other main thing I remember thinking about was my King Lear presentation, which was supposed to happen right after lunch, and, as the time stretched on, I became more and more worried that I wouldn't get to do it that day. 

Shortly after my classmate saw the Discord messages about the stabbing, a video of the fight was leaked across Snapchat, as well as an image of the wound. We all looked on in horror, including my teacher (who we'll call Mr. Blake). It's objectively horrible to watch footage of a child being stabbed, no matter how grainy the video is, but, so far, we'd received no official information from the school, so this was literally all we had, and it had happened in the same building. Our principal wasn't allowed to make any statements (at least to my understanding) without it going through our superintendant and, for whatever reason, she didn't feel it necessary to get ahead of social media on this. 

I was trapped in a school with thousands of other people, one of whom had just assaulted someone. 

~

The night before my second semester of senior year began, I stayed up past midnight reading Dear Your Holiness by @mollymarymarie fleabag AU where Remus is a priest by day and a local rock musician by night, and Sirius has a popular music magazine. I had also spent much of my winter break listening to a podfic of All The Young Dudes (made it to sixth year) and generally rooting around people's bookmarks and gifts to get out of my head, so it's safe to say that, by the time I got to school in January, my brain was practially deep-fried in this new fandom, and it would only get moreso. 

~

Mr. Blake felt, after an hour or so, that we'd be safer in the boys' locker room. He brought us down through a stairwell I'd never seen before, tucked away in corner of a closet in the gymnasium. I was thrilled by the opportunity to explore and filmed the journey on my phone. It's a weird, haunting video, not just for the grim situation and shadowy rooms, but because I'm so lively behind the camera. We're all fairly upbeat, joking about how big the school is and what things must have been like when it opened. I won't share the video here, as I don't feel like doxing myself, but I did rewatch it in preparation for writing this and it's truly disconcerting to look at the inside of a building I haven't been in for over a year, to hear the voice of a past version of myself and know I'm seeing snapshots of a day that changed me forever. 

All there was to eat in the locker room were these Gatorade protein bars—mine was supposedly cookies and cream flavoured. I still remember the taste, sickly sweet and artificial. On an empty stomach, particularly an overly sensitive autistic one like mine, it was a horrible idea, and I felt sick afterwards, but god, I was so hungry. 

I sent a selfie to my parents and Tabitha, then tried to read fanfiction while listening to one of my classmates talk in what sounded like Hatian Creole with his family on the phone. Boys were constantly being paraded in to use the urinals. The walls were painted concrete blocks, the benches were narrow and hard, and so I sat there. 

~

In February, I spend a weekend binge-reading A Black Mass Over Highway Ninety, which kickstarted an obsession with seventies music and fashion. I read and reread the sex scenes during my final few months of highschool, trying desperately to shut my brain up and keep me from feeling so trapped in my daily life and the school I still attended. I got into the works of @spookymoonie, who was incredibly kind to me, and used to visit and refresh their blog every day to see if they'd (sigh) written more porn. Look, man, it was really good porn. 

On the day of my high school graduation, I got dressed in pants that were too small for me, a shirt that was too big, and a cap and gown that made me look like a walking body bag. I mingled with my friends beforehand, taking pictures with people who I now haven't spoken to in months. The ceremony was long and boring but I'm a sucker for that kind of symbolic stuff, so I kind of liked it. I did say for weeks afterwards, though, that I didn't feel like I'd really graduated until I was cycling home, listening to "Telephone Line" on my tinny iPhone speaker. That was my graduation. 

And I only knew that song from the official Black Mass playlist. 

~

By the time we were finally released from the "shelter in place" and sent for lunch, it had been about three hours since our principal's initial announcement back in third period. There was little fanfare to the whole ordeal, and I don't recall any actual information being given to our parents from the school at this point, either, though I could be misremembering. Our principal simply came on the speakers and told us that the lockdown was up and we were to go for lunch. I had a pre-packaged turkey wrap that day—my mum got them from the store sometimes as a special lunch for me. I'm a vegetarian these days, so I wouldn't eat it regardless, but, even if I weren't, I don't think I could bring myself to eat one of those wraps again, not without remembering. 

We'd only been in lunch for about ten minutes when somebody pulled the fire alarm. I don't know who did it, only that it was a student and there was no fire. I hate the fire alarm for the same reasons I hate all sudden, loud noises, and I was so overwhelmed already that I remember crying as we were paraded out into the parking lots, shivering in the cold, late-December air. I sat on a curb and ate my sandwich, wishing I had left when some of my classmates had, as soon as the "shelter in place" was lifted, or at least that I had my jacket and keys with me so I could get my bike and leave right then. 

The fire drill was over as quickly as it had started and, god, I wish I'd left right then. Just grabbed my shit and got the hell out of there. But, well…my English presentation. 

To anyone with rational mind capabilities, it would be incredibly obvious by now that said English presentation was absolutely not happening. A child had been stabbed, we'd all seen it on video and then been trapped for three hours— King Lear was far from a pressing concern. But I was traumatized and one of my groupmates was leaving the next day, so it felt like an emergency. So long as I was focused on my presentation and the soap opera-like melodrama of the play, I didn't have to think about what was happening around me. 

Anyway, we did nothing English related fourth period, instead sitting in a circle and letting our teacher talk us through how we were feeling. I'm very grateful to her for giving us the space she did to feel our fear and anger without judgement, and I will never forget her telling us that we were to use the teachers' bathrooms for the rest of the day, and if any administrators had a problem with it, they could take things up with her. It might not seem like much, but when the stabbing had occured in a student bathroom, it was really nice for someone to acknowledge that we might be scared. 

Another hour, or so, and the day was over. 

~

I also want to get ahead and make sure I'm not framing my leaving of the Marauders fandom as a particularly good thing, or a good time in my life. I was still depressed and unemployed and, even after I finally got a job in August, I managed to hit several more crushing lows before the end of 2023—I was just reading different fanfiction to cope. At the very least, though, I was reading fic for stuff I was actually a fan of, which is typically a good place to start. 

The feeling reminded me a bit of the one I used to get after I'd finished writing and posting a piece of puppet erotica—just this overwhelming sensation of "Wait, what was that?" It's like post-nut clarity, except clearly not. My time as a Marauders fan feels, in retrospect, like a bastardization, an appropriation. I was not a real fan because I didn't really care—I just needed something safe to numb my pain and confusion. That's why it feels so important to make sure I'm not trying to represent or bash the fandom in any way. It wouldn't be fair, because I wasn't really, genuinely a part of it. 

~

When I finally had cycled home and let myself in the back door, I only remember collapsing. My mum was in the living room and I just stood there, I think. All I really remember is this image of how I think I looked, as though my mind had floated out of my head and taken a photograph. My face is very pale and completely blank, my bag somewhere on the floor next to me, and I'm staring at nothing, the performance of being okay just…evaporating. I know my mum told me she'd been facetiming my grandparents and aunt throughout the day and they were worried as well. 

One thing I often forget about that day is that, barely an hour after coming home, I had a violin lesson over zoom. I assume it must have been a similar situation to the King Lear presentation, where I had to act as normal as possible in order to not completely freak out. I told myself that I couldn't cancel, because then I'd have to pay the fee, but, like. I'm pretty sure he would have made an exception. I remember telling him "oh, by the way, I'm a little out of it because someone got stabbed at school today," and seeing the utterly baffled look on his face. He offered to postpone, and I declined. I was not a very good student that day—I think I'd forgotten what we did in the lesson before the hour was even finished. 

I went downstairs afterward and told my mum everything—I think. Either that or I lay in bed. The next thing I remember is going to school the next day, because I was still clinging to that King Lear presentation. Or maybe it was just because I didn't know what to do with myself? No idea. The next night, I was feeling sick and tested positive for Covid. 

So that was nice. 

~

My high school was never the same after the stabbing. Rules got stricter, a mass of teachers quit or transfered, the classes graduated and moved on, and I truly think something died that day. No matter how bad things were beforehand, there was always this hope I felt—this optimism. Even if I'd been cynical for weeks, all it took to love that shitty old building was an orchestra concert or a school play. It was trash, but it was home. That love didn't come back. 

My love for the Marauders proved to be just as fleeting. I literally woke up one day last July with a craving for this Good Omens/Buzzfeed Unsolved crossover fanfiction (called video appeal by ravel_aorla) and that was the end of my phase. Poof! Avada Kadavra! 

I'm proud to say, though, that I'm doing much better now. I'm writing and editing this in my college dorm room, which I moved into just yesterday. I'm also very into My Chemical Romance now, and am able to share that interest (and a long furby) with one of my best friends, @vriska-serketboard. It's been a year and a half since my high school has darkened the door of my feet and I am worlds better for it. 

Call it instinct as a former GSA leader, but that's how I want to end this. It get's better. I got better, and you can too. 

Thank you.