#and let’s not forget the climbing exercises

[wrenhavenriver]

irving telling hickey he can stave off gay urges with watercolors 💀💀💀

[frudoo]

I beg for more slasher 141 pleeeease 🫶🫶🫶🫶

Part 2 to this <3

Warnings: Dark!Fic/DDDNE, hopefully that's obvious. Gore, slight torture, infidelity (not by 141). Fem!Reader.

     “Thank you for staying with me,” you hum, leaning up from where you sit on the bathroom counter to plant a kiss on his stubbled jaw.

“You know you don’t have to thank me, sweet girl.”

     John finishes wiping off the last of your face mask, grabbing your moisturizer and gently rubbing it in with his fingertips. Wiping his hands off on a towel, he bends down to press a kiss to the luscious layer of fat beneath your chin. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, allowing him to lift you by your ass and carry you back to his bedroom. Yours is far too lonely right now, and frankly, John likes having you all to himself from time to time. 

     He lays you down on his cozy bed, making sure you’re all warm and comfortable beneath the covers before he strips himself of his clothes. You smile at the sight of his body, muscular and strong but with some fat on his gut. Tufts of dark hair make themselves known all over his torso and teasing a delicious crescendo down his tummy, the peak of which concealed by his boxers. John climbs into the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms and coaxing your head to rest on his cushy chest. 

     “John?” You ask softly.

     He hums, tilting his chin down to see you better. You bite your lip, about to tell him to forget about it, but he senses your unease. 

     “What is it, darlin’?” John sits up and rests his back against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap so he can look into your eyes. 

     “I-it’s nothing. Just… earlier, when I was in the bath, you said… you said I’d get a turn on that guy soon enough. What did you mean by that?” You fiddle with your hands nervously. 

     “What’s it sound like, sweet girl? The boys are bringin’ him back, figured you might wanna join in on the fun,” John explains, big hands kneading the plush of your waist. “That somethin’ you wanna do?”

     Your breath hitches in your throat. You know what they do, of course, but you’ve never actually been involved in a kill. They’ve never even exercised the idea of having you help until now. It’s overwhelming.

     “I-I don’t… I-” You stutter, your chest starting to heave with anxiety.

     “Shh, baby, it’s alright. You don’t have to if you don’t think you can handle it,” he coos, baby blues softening as they stare you down. 

     “I- can I just… talk to him? Before you do anything?” You ask quietly, resting your trembling hands on his shoulders.

     “Yeah, darlin’. Whatever you want,” he whispers, cusping the back of your head and pulling you down for a tender kiss. “Let’s get some sleep, hm? We can talk more about it in the mornin’. Sound good?”

     You nod at the same time he readjusts back into the previous position, his back to the mattress, your head on his chest, legs all tangled up. Sleep comes easy despite all the chaos you’ve been through today, snuggled up with one of your protectors. 

     Typically, you’re woken up with a pair of lips trailing kisses down your neck, or the smell of breakfast cooking in the kitchen. Today, however, it’s the pained screams of a man being dragged around outside that startles you awake. John’s not in bed when you open your eyes, and it makes your heart drop. This is all too real. Your men are expecting you, one way or another. 

     Nervous hands pull one of John’s sweatshirt’s over your trembling body, followed by a clean pair of his boxers. It’s hardly appropriate clothing considering what you’re about to involve yourself with, but it smells like him and you could use some comfort right now. Not even bothering to put shoes on, you carefully step down the stairs and walk outside, eyes frantically searching for the source of the pathetic sobs.

     When you find it, the sight causes bile to rise in your throat. Simon’s holding the man up by his armpits, and there’s a burlap sack covering his head. His knees are broken, calves protruding forward where they should bend back, and upon further inspection, you discover that most of his fingernails have been ripped off. Tears flood your eyes when you finally find your voice, a whimper escaping your throat. It alerts Kyle whose head instantly turns in your direction. He beckons you over, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

     “This is him,” he whispers, kissing your temple soothingly. 

     “How are you so sure?” Your bottom lip wobbles as you look up at him, eyes wide with fear and remorse though you’ve done nothing wrong.

     “Checked your dashcam, dove,” Kyle explains, massaging the shoulder his hand rests on. “Looked him up online. Real clean-cut fella.”

     “Sick fuck has a wife, three kids,” Simon joins in with a sneer. “Guess where we found him?”

     “A fookin’ motel,” Johnny answers before you get the chance. “Shaggin’ a prostitute. Paid ‘er a fair sum fer ‘er silence. Nae cop would listen tae ‘er anywey.”

     John is the last to arrive, tool belt full of sharp weapons jangling with every step he takes. He calls your name but you can’t tear your eyes away from the living ragdoll. The bile has settled itself back into your stomach, and in place of your uncertainty is a gnashing anger begging you to do something about it. In the back of your mind you know you can’t do any true harm to him, but you’re going to do something.

     You gently pull free from Kyle’s hold, stalking toward the weeping man. There’s no tremble in your hands when you pull the burlap sack off of his head, letting it fall to the dewy ground. It’s definitely the man who harassed you, there’s no doubt about it—from the dirty blonde hair adorning his head to the ugly scar that runs across his cheek. He opens his eyes to look around, and when they land on you, he lets out his most pathetic wail yet.

     “No! F-fuck, is that- are you- fuckin’ bitch! You… you fuckin’-” He sputters, and that familiar voice makes your head pound.

     “Does your wife know you’re a pervert?” You ask calmly. “How about your kids, hm? Do they know Daddy likes to go around touching women who aren’t Mommy?”

     “Y-you don’t know wh-what you’re talkin’ about,” he defends, hot tears falling down his flushed face.

     “Don’t worry, they’ll never know what a sorry excuse of a man you were. Do you think they’ll mourn your absence when you’re reported missing, or are they so used to it that it’ll be a weight off their shoulders?”

     “Fuck you!” The man shouts the best he can through a raw throat, and you laugh, leaning in closer to whisper into his ear. 

     “Not a chance.”

     As you turn to walk away, you pretend not to hear his screams as your men drag him into the barn, nor the sounds of Johnny’s chainsaw roaring shortly after.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Butter

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: None

Summary: What if Joel doesn't forget to buy himself a cake for his birthday? But by the time he remembers, all the bakeries in his neighbourhood are closed - except yours.

Warnings: No outbreak AU, pure fluff, mentions of baking and food, meet cute, some sexual tension but very mild stuff compared to my other fics, single dad!Joel being a sexy menace, reader has a nickname related to her job, reader has an accent similar to Joel, very lightly edited, not my best work, but I'm in my writing for fun era 💁🏻‍♀️

Word count: 3.6k

Notes: It's here! This was an exercise in speed writing, and just putting words to paper without overthinking anything. I really enjoyed writing this sweet little piece, this is dedicated to @psychedelic-ink who has been the biggest cheerleader for this idea since day one. Happy birthday to our favourite single dad who never lived through a cordyceps outbreak ❤️

September 26, 2003 was supposed to be a good day.

It’s Friday, after all. Not that the weekend is relevant to you anymore, with Saturdays and Sundays being the busiest days for business. But you have a date for once tonight, and you’re determined to enjoy it.

If you can get the goddamn security shutter to close, that is.

Standing on your tiptoes, you pull futilely at the bottom of the metal shutter with both hands, but it refuses to budge. You lament the sweat seeping through the fabric of the nice dress you changed into, the hem reaching almost indecent heights on the back of your thighs where it’s climbed up. And you don’t have to look at your reflection to know that stress has already smudged the edges of the eyeliner you hurriedly painted on as soon as you got the last customer out the door.

You can be forgiven for not noticing the wash of yellow headlights over the windows of the shop front and the sound of rolling tyres as a truck pulls up on the curb outside the bakery, until a gravelly voice pipes up behind you alongside hurried footsteps.

‘Ma’am, please tell me you’re still open.’

You tap on the ‘Closed’ sign through the window without turning around, determined to wrangle the shutter into submission. ‘Bad luck buddy, come back tomorrow. We open at nine sharp.’

‘No I can’t, I’m so sorry, but I need a cake now.’

Curiosity turns your head, and over your shoulder, you find a broad-shouldered man in a dark tshirt and casual jeans standing a respectful four paces away. Under eyebrows sloping downwards in a pleading angle that matches the slant of his moustache, his warm and imploring eyes are on you.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I really need to go,’ you say. ‘Can you give me a hand?’

‘Look, I’ll do you one better. I’ll fix the shutter for you for free - if you sell me a cake.’

You purse your lips, the prospect of saving on what looks like an inevitable repair bill tempting. ‘You can fix it?’

‘I’m a contractor,’ he replies, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a battered looking wallet. ‘Here’s my card, if you think I’m bluffin’.’

Miller & Associates is printed in bold across the top, and underneath, is presumably his name and cell number. Glancing up at him, you say, ‘Look, Mr. Miller, I really want to help, but I’m late for a date, and I’m all sold out of cakes today -’

‘I’ll take anything you got. Cupcakes, cookies, whatever you have left,’ he cuts in, then apologises in quick succession, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I’m sorry to be so pushy - I’m not, usually - but I promised my daughter I’d bring something home, and by the time I remembered, this is the only place I could think of. Please.’

You feel the exact moment your resolve crack, and then fold like a goddamn lawn chair. What can you say, this contractor really knows how to work those puppy eyes, and you can never say no to a man who refuses to let their kid down. 

Especially when the man looks like this.

Shooting off a text to your date to push back your dinner plans, you nod towards the door. ‘Alright. C’mon in, Mr. Miller.’

‘Nice place you got here,’ he remarks politely, hovering by the entrance as the fluorescent lights flicker on, his manners impeccably southern. 

‘You don’t have to flatter me, I’ve already let you in,’ you joke, lips quirking at the way he flusters. ‘But I appreciate it. You been here before?’

When he smiles, you notice the corners of his eyes crinkle charmingly. ‘No, but I know I’ll be comin’ back.’

‘I wasn’t lying when I said I was out of ready-made cakes,’ you tell him, holding the door open to the kitchen so he can come in after you. ‘But I have some cake layers in the fridge so I can put together something fairly quickly.’

He ducks his head in a manner that tells you he’s not used to demanding things, and protests, ‘I don’t want to put you out. I meant it, if you just have some cupcakes or somethin’ -’

‘Listen, you promised your daughter a cake, didn’t you?’ you interrupt.

He shrugs. ‘Well, yeah I did -’

‘I’m guessin’ it’s for a birthday?’

He nods sheepishly. ‘It is.’

‘Well, as a baker, ‘mfraid I can’t let a cakeless birthday happen on my watch, Mr. Miller,’ you insist, opening the fridge door with a flourish. ‘Let’s see what we have here. Cake for three, I assume?’

‘Two, actually.’

Hopefully you’re as discreet as you think you are when your eyes drop to his left hand - his fourth finger is conspicuously ringless.

Interesting.

You hum, considering the mismatched options in your inventory. ‘It’s gonna be a bit of a Frankenstein’s monster of a cake, if you don’t mind. How does chocolate and vanilla layers with cookies and cream frosting sound?’

‘Sounds perfect,’ he answers without skipping a beat. ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

You shake your head, hands full of cake rounds wrapped in cling film as you nudge the fridge close. ‘Please, call me Bri, Mr. Miller.’

‘And you can call me Joel,’ he says in return. ‘Is Bri short for somethin’?’

Laying the cakes on the work surface, you reply, ‘Yeah, Bri for brioche, like the bread. It's a silly nickname.’

The single dad surprises you with a low whistle. ‘Can’t say I saw that comin’.’

You grin. ‘You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Joel.’

You don’t often have an audience while baking, and you find yourself talking Joel through the steps while you prep everything for assembly.

Swirling a spatula through the tub of buttercream you made earlier that day, you explain, ‘I just need to whip up some of this frosting so that it’s nice and soft for putting the cake together. You wanna help me break up some Oreos so we can make it cookies and cream?’

‘I’m all yours, chef,’ he says, one corner of his mouth curling into a teasing smile that has no business warming the apples of your cheek as it does. ‘Just tell me what to do.’

While your Kitchenaid whirrs to life, whipping air into the buttercream, Joel wields a rolling pin, smashing a generous helping of Oreos into crumbs in a Ziplock bag. The almost exaggerated care with which he moves speaks to inexperience in the kitchen, and you muse that either his kid makes up for it in that department, or they live off takeout.

Eventually, he picks up the bag and looks at you in a question. ‘I think I’m done?’

You smile and tap the lip of the mixing bowl. ‘That’s perfect. Why don’t you tip in the crumbs straight in here?’

Before you can step back to allow him space, Joel’s taken two strides towards you, and his arm brushes your shoulder when he lifts the bag and tilts the contents into the frosting. He’s warm and solid, and damnit, he smells good - like sawdust and sweat.

The thought comes to you unbidden - what a man.

There’s a lull, and only when you feel the weight of eyes on you do you realise that you missed his question.

‘Did you say somethin'?’ you squeak, embarrassed.

‘I said, is this ok?’ he repeats, nodding at the mixing bowl.

You nearly stumble over your words. ‘Yes, yes it’s perfect.’

He watches you closely, a touch of concern in his brown eyes. ‘You ok there, honey?’

‘Yup,’ you chirp, far too cheerfully. ‘Just need to mix it all up now -’

If you had your wits about you, you would stir in the crumbs first and set the machine on low. But this man somehow stole said wits by sheer proximity to you, and you accidentally start the Kitchenaid on high, an indignant yelp escaping you when Oreo dust flies aggressively out of the bowl along with a splatter of white buttercream that lands squarely on the front of your dark knit dress.

‘Oh shit!’ you cry out, frantically turning off the mixer. ‘Shit shit shit!’

Over your panicked mantra, Joel is calmness itself. ‘Hang on, honey, I gotcha.’

He makes a beeline towards the sink, grabbing a tea towel and wets it under the tap with a bit of dishwashing liquid. It all screams competent single dad, and you find yourself staring at his unfairly large hand, mapped with thick veins, holding out the damp towel for you to take.

‘Thanks,’ you stutter self-consciously, the tips of your ears hot while swiping at the stain. ‘That was a rookie mistake. I promise I’m actually a good baker.’

He gives you a wink to put you at ease. ‘Don’t worry, I believe you.’

Starting over, the mixer hums as it gently incorporates the Oreos until the buttercream is a speckled grey and doubled in volume. ‘Looks like it’s ready. You wanna taste, Joel?’

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘D’ya have a spoon or somethin’ for me?’

‘You can use your fingers,’ you reply, and it's too late to take it back.

You feel the back of your neck heating up when he shoots you a meaningful look, just a touch of mischief in the tilt of his lips. 

‘Can I, now?’ he teases.

You try a nonchalant shrug that probably comes off as painfully awkward. ‘This batch is just for you, I won’t tell the health inspector if you don’t.’

Joel chuckles, his strong shoulders quaking. And so you watch, shamelessly, as he raises his right hand, index and middle fingers at the ready, before diving into the metal bowl, scooping up a generous dollop of buttercream. There’s a peek of his pink tongue when his plush lips part, and then he sucks his fingers into his mouth with a gratuitously loud moan, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

When he turns to you with a pained expression on his face, maintaining eye contact all the while licking an errant streak of frosting off the side of his middle finger, you gape at him for a whole five seconds before you manage to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

‘Good?’ you barely manage to squeak.

‘You betcha, honey,’ he declares, then adds, ‘Mind if I double dip?’

He doesn’t mean anything by it, you know it, but a hot flush runs through your body and you swallow thickly. ‘You can do whatever you want, cowboy.’

You don’t think you’re imagining the wicked glint in his answering stare - you’re getting yourself into trouble, and don’t you know it. 

Clearing your throat, you attempt to thwart your mind's dangerous descent into the gutter by changing the subject. ‘So, I can do somethin’ really snazzy that I think your daughter would like - do you know what a piñata cake is?’

He shakes his head. ‘Sounds dangerous.’

‘Hardly,’ you chuckle. ‘It’s a cake filled with sprinkles, so when you cut into it, it’s a sprinkles surprise!’

He lets out a playful sigh of relief. ‘As long as there’s no whackin’ involved, it’s good by me.’

You gesture at him to follow you across the room. ‘And here’s the fun part - you get to choose the sprinkles.’

Joel whistles at the reveal of your compulsively organised sprinkles cabinet, each shelf sorted by colour, shape and size. He quips, ‘Is this what the inside of your brain looks like, honey?’

You grin. ‘Pretty much. What’s your daughter’s name?’

‘Sarah.’

‘What colour does Sarah like?’

‘Any and all shades of pink.’

‘I can work with that.’

Now that everything is ready and waiting on the work surface, you pull out a lazy Susan and plonk a cake board on top of it, dusting your hands dramatically. ‘Alright, Joel. Ready for the magic to happen?’

Making himself comfortable next to you, he leans on his elbows, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the way his tshirt stretches and strains over his back. ‘Go ahead, I’m ready to be impressed, honey.’

Filling a piping bag full of the cookies and cream buttercream, you ask, ‘You wanna get your hands dirty?’

He raises his palms in surrender. ‘I’ll leave it to you, I don’t want to make you any more late for your date.’

You’re used to working with much bigger cakes, so this one doesn’t take you long. With a cookie cutter, you carve out a small circle from each cake round, then you stack and fill the layers with buttercream. After loading the shaft in the middle with all manner of pink sprinkles, you stopper the top with the cake cut-outs.

‘How old is Sarah turning today?’ you ask conversationally while you spin the cake around, smoothing on the crumb coat.

Joel looks up, surprised. ‘Oh, it’s my birthday today, not hers. ‘

‘Wait, what?’ you cry, throwing your hands up. ‘I made this cake with Sarah in mind - it will literally be vomiting pink sprinkles!’

‘I’m a girl dad. I like pink,’ shrugs Joel easily.

You huff, using an icing smoother to make sure the buttercream is even all over the cake. ‘I would pop the cake into the freezer to firm up before adding a final layer of frosting if I had the time, but this will have to do.’

‘It looks great,’ Joel assures you as you put the finishing touches to the cake, with buttercream swirls all around the top and a final baptism of sprinkles.

‘There, all done. Lemme box it up for you and this bad boy is ready to go.’

‘Amazin’, thank you so much,’ he grins. ‘Please, lemme do the washin’ up while you’re at it.’

‘Oh, Joel, you can’t,’ you protest, but he’s already grabbed the mixing bowl and all the bits and bobs stained with buttercream. ‘You’re the birthday boy!’

‘Least I can do,’ he shoots back over his shoulder, already halfway to the sink.

‘Well no, you promised to fix the security shutter for me, remember?’ you call after him.

‘Damn, I was hopin’ you’d forgotten about that.’

Joel cleans up with a practised air, humming under his breath as he waits for the water to heat up and the soap to lather. You watch him from the corner of your eye while you secure the cake inside the box, throwing in a birthday candle for good measure. You’ve just tied a nice ribbon around the cardboard box when he puts away everything in the drying rack and wipes his hands dry.

‘Didn’t expect you to be good at that,’ you tease, moving towards the door.

‘Sexist much?’ he jokes, no real bite in his retort. Then by way of explanation, he tells you, ‘I work late, so Sarah usually cooks and I wash up afterwards.’

‘Sounds like you guys make a good team.’

Joel helps with the lights and locks the door, and you stand to one side when he grabs the security shutter and forces it into submission by brute force. You can’t help but stare when the bottom of his tshirt rides up, revealing a soft sliver of belly underneath, his biceps bulging and back rippling as the shutter is finally forced shut in a metallic ripple.

You give him a smile. ‘Well, happy birthday, Joel.’

‘Thanks again for the cake.’ He looks around, as if looking for your car, but the sidewalk is empty except for his truck. ‘How are you gettin’ to your date?’

‘I was just gonna call a taxi.’

‘No, you ain’t,’ he nods towards his ride. ‘C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.’

‘Oh, no, it’s late, and you should be getting back to Sarah -’

‘I spoiled your date, so please, let me,’ he insists, holding the door open on the passenger side. Hop in.’

Joel takes the cake off your hands and puts it in the backseat carefully, putting the seat belt over it while you climb in. Glancing over your shoulder, you see toolboxes and newspapers on the floor, and it smells like paint and wood dust.

‘Sorry it’s a bit messy, occupational hazard,’ he apologises as he straps himself in. ‘So, where are we goin’?’

‘Do you know the steakhouse on Third Street?’

‘Vaguely,’ he replies, pulling smoothly away from the curb. ‘It sounds fancy.’

‘You been?’

‘Nope, I barely have time to go anywhere nowadays. It seems like I’m only ever in bed, or at work, or in my truck.’

You turn to smile at him, admiring the way his his thick fingers around the top of the steering wheel, making it look so small. ‘I feel you. Small business owner, am I right?’

‘I hear ya,’ he shoots you a smile. ‘So - what’s the deal with tonight? First date?’

‘Fourth, actually.’

He wriggles his eyebrows suggestively. ‘Fourth date? You know what happens on a fourth date, honey.’

‘I don’t, actually. Tell me, what happens on a fourth date?’

He blows out his cheeks, and admits, ‘Honestly, I can’t tell ya. I haven’t been on a fourth date since 1991.’

You burst into laughter at his unexpected answer. ‘You’re such a dork, Joel Miller.’

When the truck rumbles to a stop outside the steakhouse ten minutes later, he looks at his watch and announces, ‘Here we are, only fifteen minutes late.’ Squinting through the windshield, he points at a man smoking outside, an impatient frown on his face. ‘That him?’

‘Yeah, that’s him,’ you nod, but you stay put in your seat, in no hurry to make a move.

Joel nods, tapping his tidily trimmed nails on the steering wheel. ‘So I’ll swing ‘round tomorrow after work with my toolbelt? ‘Round six thirty?’

‘A toolbelt? What a sight to look forward to,’ you rib, slowly reaching for the seatbelt and unbuckling it.

‘Hell yeah, it’s got a special clip for my Nokia and all,’ he adds mischievously.

'You must fend off the ladies by the dozen,' you tease.

'Daily,' he answers without skipping a beat.

You probably shouldn’t have, especially not with the guy who you’re supposed to be on a date with glaring daggers at you through the windshield. But there’s something cackling in the air between you and this man you just met not an hour ago, and the way the streetlight filters through the window, backlighting his messy curls and scraggly beard, that has you throwing caution to the proverbial wind.

Impulsively, you lean across the gear shift, your left hand finding purchase on his knee before pressing your lips to the side of his whiskered jaw, your kiss fitting right into that little heart-shaped patch on his beard. 

You’re not sure who’s more taken aback, but you don’t have time to find out. 

‘Happy birthday, Joel Miller.’

He smiles after you as you hop out of his truck.

You’ve just sold your last cupcake of the day when the bell over the bakery door rings. And sure enough, it’s Joel Miller crossing the threshold, right on the dot at six thirty.

‘Hey, Bri,’ he waves, hovering half-in and half-out of the shop, a slight awkwardness having set in overnight.

But it's ok, you're happy to pick up where you left off. Putting your hands on your waist and a cheeky grin, you quip, ‘Wow, you weren’t kidding about that toolbelt, huh?’

Your chest swells as you watch him thaw with an easy smile, and he banters back, ‘I’m a man of my word, honey. You ok with me gettin’ to work now?’

‘Yes, thank you. I’ll be cleanin’ up back in the kitchen, I’ll join you when I’m done.’

Joel shoots you a thumbs up. ‘Great. I’ll grab the ladder and get right to it.’

When you emerge fifteen minutes later, he’s on the fourth rung of the ladder, tinkering the rolling mechanism with a screwdriver and a studious frown on his brow. He looks like he’s wearing the same thing as yesterday - you can believe that he’s a man who buys the same tshirt in bulk - and he smiles at you when you duck out of the shop.

‘Did Sarah like the cake?’ you ask in casual conversation.

‘She went nuts over the piñata surprise,’ he replies. ‘And the cake was delicious, there were hardly any crumbs left when we were done with it. She says we’re definitely ordering a cake from you for her birthday.’

‘I like the sound of that.’

‘How was your evening?’ he asks, glancing down at you from his perch. ‘Did you find out what happens on a fourth date?’

You let out a dry laugh. ‘Yeah, I did, actually. He dumped me.’

Joel freezes, a scowl darkening his countenance. ‘Oh shit, what? Why?’

You shrug, leaning your weight on the ladder as you look at the ground. ‘I mean, I did show up an hour late in some other guy’s truck. And I guess probably shouldn’t have kissed you on the cheek right in front of him.’

You startle when Joel’s fingers slip under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. ‘It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.’

‘Honestly, you don’t look that sorry, Joel Miller,’ you joke.

He cocks his head to one side. ‘Well, I can't lie, I think you deserve better than him.’

‘Do you now?’ you prompt. ‘Who do you have in mind?’

Joel peers at you from under long lashes with a half-smile that's almost shy. He dodges your question, and says instead, ‘I didn't mean to ruin your night, let me make it up to you, honey.’

‘How?’

Deftly, he climbs down the ladder, landing squarely on two booted feet, his presence comforting as he looms over you, his eyes warm. ‘Can I buy you dinner?’

‘Like - a date kind of dinner?’

‘Yeah, like a date,’ he nods.

You can’t help the dig. ‘And you were just sayin' you haven’t been on a date since...?’

He flashes you a smirk, and you shiver when his hand brushes your waist. ‘Since 1991. Tough sell, I know - but I thought I’d give it a shot.’

Running a finger along his sharp jawline, softened by the endearingly untidy beard, you have to bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from giving away too wide a grin. ‘Why, I think I have a good feelin’ about you, Joel Miller.’

Catching your wrist in his fingers, he presses a sweet kiss to your knuckles, the rough graze of his stubble chasing goosebumps across your skin as his eyes smile at you. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then, honey.’

More notes: I hope you enjoyed this sweet little oneshot 🥰 I really leaned into the fluff and I have no regrets. Comments/reblogs/asks are much appreciated as always! I don't have plans for a second part right now, but a smutty follow-up is always a possibility...

The adorable dividers are by @firefly-graphics 👩🏻‍🍳

[billieshrry]

I’ll Be Watching You • B.E.

Summary: Billie has had her eye on you for awhile, you don’t know just how far she’ll go to get you.

Warnings: violence (dv from a m*n), psycho!billie, stalker!billie, ummm murder?, sorta bimbo!reader, age gap (not mentioned but billies a few years older)

Authors note: hi guys I’m trying to write so more ppl see my posts and blog and follow me so i can make friends Lol. I hope u enjoy!

The wind blew through your hair as you walked home from work. The chilly fall weather was soothing, but you could feel your cheeks turning red the closer it got to sunset. You walk in the door at 6:34pm on the dot, bending down to pet your cats before tossing your keys in the dish by the front door and sliding your shoes off.

He followed you inside, his arm on your back.

You didn’t notice the girl across the street watching your every move from her garage, where she was pretending to focus on her exercises.

You just waltzed into your home, into her sight, oblivious as ever. It was kind of cute to her, how clueless you had been for the past 3 months.

You didn’t bother to wonder who could’ve been watching through your bedroom window. She saw it all. She watched your midnight dances in your tight little tank tops and matching underwear. She watched you study, enamored by the way your eyes squinted when you focused. The way you nibbled on your pen, probably so confused because your little head could only process so much. She watched you fuck him, how short and unpleasant it looked. How quick he was, how he never paid attention to you.

You never once closed the blinds, the curtain, or shied away from the window frame.

It’s like you wanted her to keep watching, she felt like you were inviting her into your home. You wanted this. You wanted her. So, she did what anyone who felt wanted would do.

She gave you want you wanted. She never stopped watching, never stopped taking mental notes on your every action, your every emotion.

So when she saw him take you upstairs, she thought she knew what she was about to watch. She mentally prepared for the 4 minutes she was about to endure.

She watched you stand on your tippy toes, your entire body in frame, as you tried to find a specific set of lingerie in your drawer. You wanted to look sexy for him.

For him? Or for her.

It almost reminded her of the first time she saw you, when you were walking home from your job at the café in the quaint little town you lived in.

You accidentally let your cat out of the house, and it climbed up into a tall bush in front of the house. She watched your struggle, your short limbs unable to reach the poor cat’s hiding spot. She watched as you looked around, wondering if anyone could help you. She watched as you skimmed over her, not even noticing the pale, black haired girl who was pretending to work out in her garage. She just kept lifting the dumbbells, wondering how dumb you were.

Silly little thing, she thought. What a silly, little girl.

She placed the dumbbells down and put her headphones onto her collarbone, wiping the sweat from under her nose before crossing the street to your house. You turned quickly, hearing the leaves rustle as someone approached you. You jumped slightly when you heard the deep yet smooth voice from behind you.

“Need a little help, babe?”

You turn over your right shoulder, seeing what you think is the most beautiful girl in the world. Her eyes pierced yours, her teeth glimmering in the sunset lighting, her skin bright and so clear. You stutter over yourself, looking up at her. Her clothes stuck to her chest with sweat, her arms glistening and her bra strap just barely hanging out of the tank top she was in.

“Y- yes please! My cat, my stupid little cat, she got stuck in this bush! I knew I shouldn’t have opened the door so wide, my music just made me completely forget about real life! I’m so stupid, I’m so sorry!” You ramble to the stranger in front of you.

“Hey, hey, shh,” she says, calming you down although now her own heart rate is through the roof. “I’ll get the poor kitty, you just go inside.”

You oblige, running in to make sure your other cat was okay. You watch through a front window as she climbs into the bush to get your scared little fuzzball, your heart swelling with appreciation. She pets Oscar’s (your cat’s) head lovingly before smiling at you through the window. You come back outside, your smile wide and your eyes bright, practically skipping to get your cat from the sweet stranger who lived across the street.

“Thank you! Thank you so much! Seriously I owe you! That could’ve really scratched you up!” You say, looking at the light red scratches on her upper arm from the twigs in the bush.

“Really, it’s no problem. I’m right across the street if you need anything. The name’s Billie.”

You smile at the girl, and although you feel bad for interrupting her workout, you believe her sentiment. You introduce yourself to her before she walks back across the street, slipping her headphones on before laying down on the bench and lifting the dumbbells again.

And that, that was the last interaction you two had.

To your knowledge, at least.

Billie, on the other hand, became obsessed with you. Watched your every move. Watched where you drove, watched when you came home, watched who you invited into your house. She was intrigued by your innocence, by your trustfulness to have people in your house without knowing what they would do. Without knowing their true intentions. Without knowing that she was watching everything.

So when she watched you pick out a little lace bra, with the cutest little bow in the front, she took a deep breath, slouching down in her chair, feeling herself get hot.

She watched you bend over, ass toward the window, as you pulled your old pair of panties off. She watched your back arch, your cute little ass right on display for her. She watched you slip on the matching thong to the bra she saw you choose, biting her thumb and taking mental photos of you. She never wanted this to end.

But then, she saw something that she never expected to see.

She saw that man, that boy that had the luck of the draw with you, storm into your bedroom and slap you across the face. She watched as you tumbled over, your hand immediately holding the sting on your cheek. Billie shot up out of her chair, full of shock, which quickly turned into anger. She watched as he pulled his fist back again, but she quickly pulled the blinds. She wouldn’t watch anymore. She physically couldn’t.

Billie paced her room for an hour, peeking out of her front window every few minutes, checking if he was still there. If your light had shut off, if the blinds were closed, if he was gone.

Finally, at 10:12pm, she watched as he stormed out of your room. You were sitting on the bed, sobbing, with your face red from tears and your arms bruised from him. She watched you get up to turn the light off, and then she watched him exit your house.

She knew exactly what she had to do.

She couldn’t do it today, it’d be too obvious, she thought. But she started to watch him instead. She knew everything about him in the span of 24 hours.

Where he worked, his address, his parents, the name of his first pet, his license plate, his first grade teacher.

Billie found it all.

So it was no accident when she drove to the mechanic shop 2 days later. She pulled into the parking lot across the street, watching everyone leave their job for the night. But when she laid her eyes on him, her heart sped up. She was excited.

Billie was ready to kill the man that hurt you, all while you were watching a cozy show in your cute little bedroom, oblivious to it all.

She followed him to a gas station, and as he got out of his shitty little car, she pounced. The station was empty, the night was silent, and she made sure nobody would hear him scream. The hood she used around his head was full of chloroform, so his weak little body went limp in her arms in a matter of seconds. She shoved him into the backseat of her car, and sped home.

As she pulled in, she watched you dig into your bowl of popcorn in your bedroom, your eyes never leaving the screen. How ironic that the movie you were watching was Scream. How festive.

When she pulled into the garage and dragged his unconscious body into her basement, she tied him up to the chair and felt herself get excited. It had been a minute since she had been in this position, ready to kill for a girl. That’s why she had to move into your neighborhood in the first place.

She waited 2 hours, perfecting her tools on the table, waiting for him to wake up. So when he did, and he realized where he was (or realized he didn’t know where he was) the boy started to scream. He wailed and cried, looking at the knives in front of him, feeling his hands and legs tied down.

“Shut up you pussy.” Billie said, almost laughing at his pleas for her to not hurt him. “You fucking hurt my girl, so I’m gonna fucking kill you, alright?”

And so, she did exactly that.

She turned on her speaker in the basement, singing to herself some old classic rock, grabbing her favorite switchblade out of the 4 she had on her tray.

Her feet crinkled the tarp that lay underneath her and your boyfriend.

His eyes locked with hers one last time before she took the knife across his throat, watching the blood spill out of his stupid, ugly body.

Billie carved out his organs, ripping his beating heart out of his chest and holding it up in pride after an hour of torture. Holding the little bitch’s life in her hands, the little bitch that had the audacity to hurt you.

She smiled to herself, thinking of you and how happy you’d be to know he’s gone.

She saved you.

All of this happening while you snuggled up in your bed on the cozy October night, dreaming of the girl you had met that one time from across the street.

Dreaming of the girl who just murdered your boyfriend.

🙂🙂🙂 sorry guys but i felt spooky and im def gonna make a part 2 or make this a series or something if you want it. Also i didnt proofread so sorry

[lagomoz]

Proseka headcanons

-as rui’s childhood friend, nene has extensive fire safety knowledge

-shizuku is adopted, hence why she looks so different from shiho. she was adopted shortly before the moon rabbit event and it contributed to her clinginess

-shiho forgets this fact sometimes. she’ll casually mention something like shizuku got all mom’s good genes so unfair and ichika has to be. um. shiho

-kanade is mildly nearsighted/myopic but spends so much time at her computer she hasn’t noticed

-emu is buff. she climbs multiple stories without breaking a sweat and is canonically part of the swimming, handball and rhythmic gymnastic clubs, you can’t tell me she doesn’t have some muscle

-saki helps out as a human notepad for tsukasa, reminding of him things he would otherwise forget within 5 minutes

-the vocaloids also help. at first it was unnerving to have hatsune miku be an extension of his psyche that knows his darkest secret (stole saki’s candy when he was 6) but now his phone has a more reliable catgirl themed reminder system

-you know that classic nightmare of leaving the house without pants? tsukasa has legitimately done that as a kid. he forgor. (saki will never let him live it down)

-in the kamiyama student council/hall monitor room, an has put up at sign saying “_ days since last kamishiro incident”

-the shinonome siblings both figured out the other one was gay before they figured it out about themselves

-airi’s great at trivia from her time as a variety show star. she still can’t beat minori at idol trivia, though

-ena keeps a diary with fort knox level security. try to read it and you’ll lose a finger

-saki learned to crochet from the old ladies in the hospital

-shiho’s most treasured phenny is a somewhat lumpy crocheted phenny holding a very lumpy crocheted bass guitar

-tsukasa snores. he falls asleep in 10 seconds and sounds like a dying lawnmower

-mizuki has learned a small bit of french from their sister and uses it exclusively to teach rui and an how to swear in french

-emu still celebrates her grandfather’s birthday, even if he’s not there to celebrate with her

-ena is allergic to dogs, the middle point to airi’s cat allergy and akito’s dog phobia

-rui has various small scars from his experiments over the years, but nobody ever believes the real causes (rocket launcher, robot bite, exploding balloon animal, etc.) so he just makes up a new cause every time someone asks

-mmj! has had repeated incidents of minori and airi’s little siblings walking into frame when streaming at their houses. shiho understands the concept of a livestream but has still been caught failing at creeping past like that one new broadcast of the guy crawling along the floor

-kanade has pots & eds, this one I have a reason for look at her symptoms. chronic exhaustion, heat and cold intolerance, comorbid sleep issues and depression, dizziness when standing up, fainting after standing up, very pale skin, family history of medical issues, pain at normal physical activities, exercise intolerance, vertigo at mild exertion, she just fucking dies during the entire baseball event, I could go on. she canonically gets pain in her hands from opening a jar girl that is not just being out of shape that is physical disability. this one I will go conspiracy board on listen to me I’m right

-kohane ate bugs as a kid. an is horrified, toya is confused, akito is impressed

-ena and airi got in trouble in middle school because they’d keep starting fist fights in defense of the others honor. if they saw the other in a fight they’d jump in guns blazing no hesitation no questions ask ready to throw the fuck down

-vbs!rin and len were given a skateboard by an and then promptly had the skateboard confiscated by meiko for property destruction

-haruka is horrible with slang. she asks the stream chat what poggers means and immediately uses it completely wrong, killing all viewers on impact

-minori is torn between thinking it’s cute and wanting to die

-toya has been banned from arcades before because he made them lose too much money/they suspected he was cheating

-ena brought kanade over for girls night and nearly scared akito half to death because he went down to get a late night snack and there was some Ghastly Creature looming in his kitchen

-kohane's parents stick out like a sore thumb when going to her live shows. it mortifies her that everyone on vivid street can recognize them as the only milquetoast middle aged couple dressed in normal clothes loudly going YOU'RE DOING GREAT SWEETIE that don't know the first thing about music

-minori knows basic programming. she mostly uses it for forums, blogs, html, other web design things usually related to idols as a hobby, but she's become the groups designated anti-shizuku tech support

-mafuyu has always been able to see ghosts but after adults figured she was just playing pretend as a kid so she shrugged and figured it was normal and not worth bringing up again

-honami has one of those massive extended families and somehow keeps track of them all. at any given time cousin #57 can crawl out of the woodwork and she remembers their new job, favorite food, past three romantic relationships and list of allergic reactions

-mizuki does doll customizing as a hobby. they prefer making human sized clothes, but it's fun to make them miniature too. they've introduced shizuku to it and she loves it, but doesn't have the heart to do anything that would hurt the doll (sawing limbs off, dunking them in boiling water, shoving wires in them, etc.)

[shomatoriashi]

08/12/24; 09:40pm

sung jinwoo x fem.reader

{ request - drabble - 18+ thirst post }

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

anonymous asked: r u gonna hear me out if it's a sjw thirsty ask. k so… what if his neck's starting to hurt lately from being too tall, smh he always has to look down most of the time bc he's a tower and instead of healing himself like he always does, an idea came to his head: he makes you ride him. his face. for hours. to take the pain away. he says it's like an exercise. he does it until you're crying and shaking from (it all)

your legs were trembling, with jinwoo keeping his hands on your waist while forcing you to grind your slick heat against his hot mouth.

quite some time ago, jinwoo came home with complaints of his neck hurting so much. he grimaces while trying to ease out the kinks from his sore neck. when you appear before him, you asked if there was anything you could do to help with mitigating the pain.

you should have known something was amiss when jinwoo flashes you a wolfish grin, not disclosing how you could help him when he takes your hand and leads you back into your shared bedroom. it’s while you were in the comfort of your locked bedroom that jinwoo strips you of all your clothing. as his eyes rake down your naked form, he gets on the bed first while snapping his fingers, practically demanding that you straddle his face and suffocate him with your thighs.

despite how you felt the heat against your cheeks (further accentuating your embarrassment), the ache and moisture that was quickly beginning to mount was far stronger than any inhibitions you once had. so, with your body practically trembling with need for him, you climb on top of him and place your pulsating sex over jinwoo’s lips, barely putting your weight on him when the man suddenly snapped forward, burying his face within your soaked core.

you lost count of the sheer amount of times you had came on his tongue, feeling the wet muscle prodding and exploring at your center, drinking up each drop of your honeyed arousal like a man starved. with your legs practically trembling, you found yourself quickly losing focus-

yet still, jinwoo remained relentless.

his mouth was felt tracing at your pussy lips, lathering it with the evidence of your prior release with his tongue as you felt his teeth lightly grazing at your hardened bundle of nerves. your clit had long since hardened into a stiff pearl, and yet despite the slight pain you felt each time jinwoo brings you to heaven, you couldn’t help but crave for moremoremoremore!

time was lost when all you could feel-

all you could comprehend-

was the sheer amount of pleasure the shadow monarch had given you.

once jinwoo had his fill and finally removed his face away from your trembling legs, you were dimly aware of the way your thighs felt wet and sticky, your legs shaking at how they had gotten numb from how long your beloved had kept you in place. a lingering smirk paints his handsome expression when he leans down closer to you, his full lips still shining with the evidence of your release-

needless to say, such a sight was enough to make a painful pang shoot across your veins and into the spot between your legs, feeling your cunt aching once more. as if reading your mind, jinwoo lets out a growl of your name before surging forward, capturing your lips within his in a deep kiss, (making you moan as you tasted yourself against his lips.)

he manages to distract you with his heated kisses, and you were dimly aware of the shifting of fabrics when something velvety and hard presses into your thigh. your mind was still in a haze due to the onslaught of pleasure jinwoo had given you, making you momentarily forget about how thick his erection was straining against his pants the entire time he had been devouring you-

however, you quickly remember it all the moment jinwoo successfully thrusts inside of you, sheathing his cock to the hilt as you arched your back against the bed in response.

“j-jinwoo!” you gasp, hands already gripping at the ruined sheets below you. your lover’s dark chuckle was all you could hear when he works on tirelessly pounding into you, his stamina seemingly endless.

jinwoo’s eyes were dilated when he takes a hold of your leg and tosses it over his shoulder, pistoning his hips faster against you all while biting down on his bottom lip. the pleasure had taken over for him as well when he admits to you in a guttural groan, “my neck finally stopped aching… but now, it’s time for you to help my cock cease aching as well.”

feeling the way he slams his cock inside of you, the squelching sounds being evident of your sensitive cunt being pounded into, you could only manage to let out a whimper while burying your face within the pillows.

if it took him several hours of eating out your pussy to help his neck feel better, then you could only imagine just how long it would take for him to get rid of the ache within his pulsating cock-

however, you suppose you had already resigned your fate as being unable to walk the moment sung jinwoo was finished with you…

end notes: i was thirsty for jinwoo and finally did something about it 🫠🫠🫠🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[Smut Challenge - Neighbor Series] John "Soap" MacTavish*Fem!Reader

Soap with a Jogging partner!Reader neighbor.

Word Count: 2.1k

CW: 18+, mdni, pet names, shower sex, thigh fucking, I’m practicing writing smut :) (maybe poor Scottish accent I tried sorry)

pls tell me if I forget to tag something in CW! tyvm!

Johnny loved his neighborhood quite a lot.

Near both the base and a gym, not far from a lake with fresh air and kind people greeting him when he was off from the base and going on a jog every morning.

so it was not exaggerating to say he missed his flat so much when he finally came back from a 3 months mission and was fortunate enough to have 2 weeks off to recover from the injury he gained during the mission.

The injury wasn’t that severe, just a bullet grazed over his right hand, but since the mission was successfully completed and all his teammates were going home during the vacation (or Simon munching chips in his flat near the base too) there was no reason for him to stay at the base.

Johnny climbed up the stairs to his flat at midnight, the whole neighborhood was silent, only the moon was his company, so he tried his best to stay quiet too, but just as he passed by the room next to his, he noticed it wasn’t vacant like the last time he came back here.

Maybe he could find out who his new neighbor was tomorrow after he washed off all the grime and dirt from his body so he wouldn’t leave a nasty weird man first impression for them.

Johnny still kept up his morning routine — jogging, since the wound wouldn’t be affected by simply running around.

Putting on his sweatpants and a hoodie, he stepped out the threshold and bent down to tie his sneakers.

A creak from the next door drew his attention.

You came out from the next door, and his eyes traveled, from your joggers, up to your sports bra, then stopped at your face.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to you the moment his eyes laid on you.

You looked majestic, even though you were just wearing normal clothes for exercise, but he adored your body’s curves, the lines of your muscles on your thighs, firm abs on your tummy but still got a little belly, hair tied high up into a cute bun.

“Oh, Good Morning!” He watched you recognize his existence and greeted him with a dazzling grin.

“Mornin’ lassie.”

“Haven’t seen you since I moved in, nice to see my neighbor is enjoying morning jog too.” 

Johnny strolled to your side, and the sight of you raising your head to meet his eyes almost made him want to squish you into a hug.

“aye, ye wanna go with me? used to have a run along the lake.” He invited, jogging alone was a bit boring, and now there was a pretty girl in front of him, of course, he wouldn’t let the chance slip from his hand, and from how your eyes brightened to his words, he knew he made a right step to the relationship.

“that’s where I always go for!” You signaled him to follow you “Of course, I would be happy to have someone with me.”

It became a morning routine since the first day you two went to jog together.

Every morning, Johnny stepped out of his flat and was met with a smile that he thought was too pure for a man like him.

He wasn’t a stupid man, he could sense the sparkles between you two, the blush when you handed him a bottle of water and accidentally touched his hand, the fluster and attempt to cover your face when he flirted with you, how you stared at him while he was looking at other direction and unaware of he noticed it.

Not like he didn’t enjoy your affection, Johnny told you his job when you asked about his injury, and when 2 weeks passed and he went back to work, he no longer stayed at base when he could choose to live at his flat, so he could continue the morning routine you two had.

When he told you he was deployed and won’t be back for weeks even months, he always got a lot of things from you to bring to base, from snacks and sweaters to handwriting, spoiling him with your love.

He realized you became the person he thought of within the arduous missions. He recalled your laughter the times he told you jokes, your relaxing sigh when you two were resting from a run, the breeze blew away the heat, and he turned around, eyes unable to move away from your smile.

but he ate his own words, this time he came back from a mission, but he got shot in his left shoulder, he didn’t come back without injuries as he promised you.

Johnny felt a bit guilty when he knocked on your door, and your face changed from excitement to concern when his bandaged left shoulder came into your sight.

“Johnny! How do you get this?” You quickly but carefully pulled him inside, pushing him to sit on the couch.

“Nothin’ to worry about, jus’ a bullet.” Johnny playfully squeezed the hand you used to inspect him, but you glared at him.

“No way a bullet wound is ‘nothing’, how many days do you have this time before you need to go back?”

“3 weeks?”

“Good.” Your voice firm “From now on, you’re not allowed to do anything except sit still and recover, got it?”

“I ken ye worried but-“

“I said do you got it, John MacTavish?”

“aye, bonnie...”

Johnny obediently sat on the couch after you threatened him to not move around then headed into the kitchen to make some food. He couldn’t help but let out a laugh, sometimes you’re adorably stubborn, especially when it was regarding his health, but 5 minutes later, he still sneaked up to your back.

“Hey...”

“Ah!” You let out an incredibly monster-like squeal when Johnny snaked his arms around your waist, and you looked over your shoulder, the face of the man you secretly liked was just a few inches away from yours.

“Didn’t I tell you to sit on the damn couch?” You scolded.

“can nae jus’ sit right there and look at ma bonnie busy in the kitchen.” 

Johnny nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck, he loved the scent of yours so much, mixed with the shampoo, lotion, and your detergent, he couldn’t describe the smell, but it never failed to fascinate him.

“you know...” abruptly, you stopped the hand cutting the vegetables “You shouldn’t do this to people other than your girlfriend.”

You hanged your head and stayed still, maybe it was time to tell him your feelings. This time he was lucky enough to come back alive, but who can guarantee the next time? Every time he left, you swallowed down the confession that was just about to slip out of your lips, you were afraid, you knew he must be good at his job, but each time you saw him with bruises and wounds, you were scared at the possibility of not having a chance to tell him you want your relationship not only stay at jogging partner or friends.

but Johnny just let out a question, voice full of confusion.

“You aren’t?” 

You turned your head and faced him “Wait, Am I?”

“Aren’t we together for months?”

“but you didn’t tell me you like me!” 

“Oh.” He smirked, “So you don’t want to be my girlfriend?”

“...” mouth agape, you literally can progress what you just learned.

“ye gonna drool all over ye shirt, bonnie” Johnny’s pinch on your cheek brought you back to reality, the gear in your head finally started functioning again, and you pouted at his laugh.

“You are an idiot.” You said.

“aye aye, I’m an idiot, your idiot, okay?” He just shut you up with a kiss on your lips.

You were not going to complain.

You and Johnny finished the dinner and cleaned up the kitchen. You wiped your hands on the towel and called out at Johnny — who kept following you around.

“Alright, you go to shower first, tell me if you need anything, okay?” You handed him some towel, but he just stood there, and the smugness on his face told you he was definitely planning on some weird things.

“I can nae lift my arm, I can’t wash myself.” He spoke.

“I can help you wash your hair first.”

“I can’t reach down to wash my feet.”

“I can-“

“Do ye really want yer poor boyfriend who’s severely injured wash himself?” He stepped closer, shoulders slumped and eyebrows collapsed.

“You said it’s just a bullet.”

“It hurts.”

“...fine.” You obliged, and you watched his smile become wider, this man just understood how to let people fall into his trap by his fucking doe eyes and begging.

so now here you are, standing next to your naked boyfriend who took off his clothes suspiciously too fast, and now he was staring at you again, feigning innocence on his face.

“Why ye haven’t taken off yer clothes, baby?” 

“I'm going to help you wash your body, not wash mine with you, Johnny.”

“But ye will get yourself wet if you don’t.” 

“You sure you won’t do other things?” Your eyes narrowed, asking him a question you weren’t even sure you could accomplish.

“I won’t, please?” 

“...” You sighed and started taking off your own clothes. Fuck this man and his fucking beautiful eyes.

Johnny turned on the shower, and just as you stepped into the shower, the steam had already filled the bathroom.

“bend down a bit.” You commanded, and he did what you said, lowering himself so you could put shampoo on his hair, and massage his scalp.

You heard him let out a sigh, and you chuckled.

“Is it comfortable?”

“aye.” his eyes closed, indulging in the sensation.

Keeping massaging his scalp and making sure every inch of his hair had been washed, you rinsed the bubble off his hair.

Suds flew past your feet, and just as you turned around and ready to squeeze some shower gel, a pair of feisty hands settled themselves on your hips without warning.

You should know this man wouldn’t stay still from the start.

“Yer so fucking beautiful, bonnie” You could feel his chest pressed against your back, and something was prodding at your thighs.

“Didn’t I tell you nothing but a normal shower just a few minutes ago?”

“Just can’t help myself when my pretty lass is right here helping me.” He nudged forward, now you could feel his shaft sliding between your thighs.

A moan came out from you when Johnny licked a line from your shoulder to your neck, resonating in the cramped bathroom.

“Hey! Johnny! ahh...! You will tear your stitches!” you tried to reprimand him, but you couldn’t even convince yourself, voices shudder and pussy dripping juices on Johnny’s cock when he started sliding it against your slickened folds.

“Then ya can help me, lovie, hmm?” He suddenly halted his movements, only teasingly slapping his tip at your folds.

“You bastard...” The eagerness you had for this man finally conquer your rational mind, you stuck your ass out and humped back, whines rolled off your tongue uncontrollably when Johnny’s thick cock kept stimulating your clit every time you shifted, whilst Johnny moans out his pleasure, you slightly plumpy thighs with some muscles added the proper pressure to massage his cock.

You could feel his shaft twitching, indicating his high wasn’t too far away, so you quickened your hips, making the man let out a sexy groan that made your cheeks flush redder than rose.

“gonna cum if you keep moving like that... fuck...” Johnny panted right into your ears, his Scottish accent heavier than usual, voice sweet like candy, alluring you to reach an arm back, shove him down and pull him into a passionate kiss.

The squelching sounds fueled the impulses in your mind, tongues dancing with his, and you felt like your orgasm was just a step away.

“Johnny... ahh... I’m cumming!” Your legs trembling due to the bliss, and Johnny just swallowed all your moans down with another deep kiss, and just as his tongue swipe through your bottom lip, the knot in your tummy untied, your muffled scream was drank down by him, and you heard Johnny broke the kiss few seconds after and groan, warm and milky cum staining your inner thighs as his groan lasted long.

Both panting hardly, Johnny hugged you against him with his good arm, your ear abut on his chest, and a warm feeling occupied your chest when you listened to his steady heartbeat.

“Guess we gonna clean ourselves again.” You muttered.

“Ye mad?” A peck landed on your cheek, you saw the sly glints in Johnny's eyes.

“Well, not that I can’t forgive you for this time.”

[spasmsofthought]

you fell hard, I thought good riddance (j.s. x reader)

An angsty thing inspired by “Best” by Gracie Abrams. (I wrote this at work cause I had the free time and couldn’t help myself.) Let me know what you think! (Probably some inaccuracies, especially if you squint - my step-dad may have done a career in the Navy, but I did and will not lol.) Wrote this all at once, so please have grace for any spelling or grammar mistakes. xo 

Next

https://open.spotify.com/track/5HO2RD12vZ5NcIdAULo43M?si=0ce82485daa44829

+++

Jake knows what he did. 

While not at the forefront of his mind, it weighs on the deepest part of his consciousness and he’s reminded of what he did in what feels like the most random moments. 

When he’s swallowing the last drops of beer in the bottle that’s pressed to his mouth. Or when he’s standing on the beach as the waves are softly rolling against the shore and it’s quiet. Or when he ends up on the couch watching crappy television at 3 a.m. because his flashbacks are keeping him awake and the moment his eyes close, he feels like he’s startled awake because a brightly-colored ad is flashing on the TV screen. 

He sees you every once and a while, he thinks. Whether it’s when he’s tipsy at The Hard Deck and sees someone turn the corner who looks just enough like you from the back. Someone can laugh just the right way down the hall when he’s in the office at work and he has to do a double-take to make sure it’s not you that’s laughing. 

He’s never actually, though, confronted with your physical presence until he finds himself at a joint military exercise in European waters and you are on the same carrier. He’s walking into the cafeteria after a morning of training exercises and immediately zeroes in on you. Once he’s aware of you, he can’t look away. 

It takes a moment for your senses to catch on. (To be fair, the cafeteria is not really known to be an oasis of peace. It’s loud and busy. You’re sitting with friends anyhow.) Your eyes flit to the area where he’s making his way in and he can tell the moment your mind makes sense of what you’re seeing. You glance at him for one long moment, and then you turn towards your friends and stay that way until you all leave. The only thing that has changed about your demeanor is the frown that settles on your expression throughout the rest of your meal. 

He thinks you look even better now than you did back then. 

He thinks he took you by surprise. That you’ve gotten so used to not seeing him around on your deployments and where you’re stationed that you didn’t think you would need to brace yourself on this go around. 

Jake knows what he did and he feels terrible. He didn’t then, but he does now.

Seeing you in actual flesh and blood makes him remember. 

He remembers your utter devotion during your brief time together. 

He remembers that the first time he approached you, he made you laugh. The kind of laughter that leaves a person gasping for air and makes their eyes water. You fell hook, line, and sinker. He remembers the way you would try to make time and space for him whenever you could, despite how busy you were trying to progress in your career. He remembers how he didn’t do the same. 

He remembers that on your off days, you would come over and stay the nights. He remembers the smell of you when you would climb into bed next to him after showering. And when he couldn’t sleep, when his mind was churning and taking him back to things he just wanted to forget, you would sit next to him on the couch at 3 a.m. as he turned the television on. When he closed his eyes, he knows you were the one to turn to TV screen off so he didn’t wake up. He remembers how you would kiss him: sweet and complete and open, always moving in step with him. 

He remembers how wholehearted you were when you were with him. Giving your whole self, all the time. 

Even when he would say sharp, caustic words that would make tears form in your eyes, even when he shut his bedroom door so he wouldn’t feel responsible for making you cry, you stayed. 

He remembers the way you stayed. 

And he remembers how his half-hearted attempts, quarter-hearted attempts really, to draw you back in eventually ran you dry. You were willing to do so much, and he wasn’t really willing to do anything. He was young, but he knows that’s not an excuse now. 

He remembers the light in your eyes changing. He remembers the way you stopped coming over. He remembers the way you didn’t have the courage to tell him you wanted to leave. 

He remembers that you held onto him until the bitter end. 

He knows you won’t talk to him. Every time you see him on the carrier, you make a point to avoid him or walk the other way. He knows you probably resent him (there’s a reason he can’t find you on any social media platforms). He understands why you don’t seem to want anything to do with him. 

So, he investigates. He does what he knows how to do best: he talks and charms and weasels his way through the crowds of people on the carrier. Making his way from one group to another, day and night, Jake gleans for information and eventually finds what he needs. He knows your bunkmate’s name now (and their shift and their position, and even where they like to hang out and what time they prefer to go to the gym). 

You may never read it, he knows. You may can it or tear it up and throw it out into the ocean. You may even wait until you can set it on fire and watch it burn. 

But he knows he has to try. 

So when he finds your bunkmate, he hands them a piece of paper and tells them it’s for you. It’s small and doesn’t take up much room. Your bunkmate only nods, a look of confusion passing over their face. He says it’s important that it be delivered to you. Those are his only instructions. 

If he had the opportunity to talk to you in person, he might have the chance to elongate. To say more, be more. But he might not ever get the chance to do that, so he’s going to take what he can get. 

You pass your bunkmate between shifts: you’re just getting back for some sleep, and they’re heading out. They say there’s a piece of paper you need to read on your pillow. Hand-delivered, they say the instructions were. No follow-up is required. You wait until they leave. Until you’re left alone. 

You open up the folded-up piece of paper. 

This is what it says: 

I’m sorry. You deserved better. 

[thirsty-lakedream]

After a long day of practice, the football team retired back to the lockers. The arid scent of sweat coming from the burly strong men filled the air. As the athletes freshened up and went along with their day, only two were left, cooling off; shooting like shit like normal. The first was the teams head linebacker Jensen and the second, his best bro and star quarterback of the team, Ryan.

The two jocks first met when they by chance got paired up as roommates in the freshman dorms. They’re synergy only heightened their football prowess. Thanks to that, they became the dynamic duo for the front liners. They’ve been inseparable since… well until Ryan broke the news.

A knock echoed from the locker room entrance. Jensen walked over and opened the door slightly ajar to see a lanky boyish latino standing there. “Oh uh, hey Mateo,” It was Ryan’s boyfriend. “What’s up?”

Looking evidently intimidated by the broad athlete, he he timidly spoke. “H-hey, I’m looking for Ryan. He asked me to meet him after practice.”

“Oh, yeah. Come on in.” Jensen pulled the door open to let him in. “Hey Ry, your- um, your… Mateo is here.” Though he wants to be supportive, Jensen still had his reservations. When Ryan came out to him he was shocked. All this time he never sensed the impression that his best bro was gay. He would always bring the hottest babes to their room, but was that all just a cover to his real wants?

When he laid on eye on his boyfriend, something clicked in Ryan’s eyes and he put on the warmest grin. “Teo, there you are babe!” The smaller guy walked over to where the football player was, sitting in his personal football cubby and climbed into his lap, teasing for a kiss. Ryan happily obliged pulling Mateo close, locking into a kiss.

Jensen tried to shy his eyes away. He was still adjusting to this new development, but whenever it was him and the two of them, the lovers couldn’t take their eyes and lips away from each other. It was especially awkward since the two got so lost into each other they were practically dry humping during their last hang in the frat house. It could also be cause of some slight jealousy. He wasn’t gay or anything, but he did miss spending quality bro-time. Maybe I should just give them some space, Jensen thought. “I’m gonna head out. I’ll just see you man.”

Ryan pulled away, to the dismay of Mateo. “Ok man I’ll catch you later!” Jensen walked out of the locker room.

He turned back to happily continue the make out section, but at the sound of the door shutting, Mateo climbed off of the man and rolled his eyes. “Finally I thought he’d actually stick around and we’d have to pull that grinding act again.”

“Oh come on, don’t you think that the intense PDA is making the guys too uncomfortable? We don’t want to ruin the real Ryan’s image.”

Mateo cruelly glared at the athlete. In a new mocking tone, he asked. “I’m sorry, are you actually questioning my plans?”

In response Ryan’s cool and confident smile demeanor crumpled. “N-no… sorry Mateo.”

“What did you call me?”

“Sorry, Sir”

Mateo coldly smiled. “That’s better. Do not forget who holds the power in this ‘relationship.’ Now back to business, what is your status on integrating into Ryan’s life.

“Well, everything appears to be fine. No one has suspected anything amiss.”

“Is that so?”

“As far as I’m aware, sir. I did as you told and continued to do the weekly calls with his mom and sister, and I’ve kept up both his grades and exercise regimen to a tee.”

Mateo took a moment to reply, but then simply asked. “What is Ryan’s moms name.” ‘Ryan’ hesitated to answer, which caused his partner to replayed. “His mother’s name, what is it?”

“Uhh I know this, it’s Ana, right?”

Mateo rolled his eyes, reaching out and pulling Ryan by the ear. “You idiot! It’s Amanda! What if that came up in conversation? You would have tipped anyone off immediately!”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry! I promise I will read the character notes you gave me again! I promise I will get it right next time!”

As ‘Ryan pleased, Mateo took note of something else. As he held onto Ryan, it looked as if his skin was stretching unnaturally, almost as it was being pulled away from his head. Pulling tighter, Mateo stretched Ryan’s face harder. From the offices of his eyes and mouth, paler skin much different then Ryan’s sun-touched complexion could be seen. “And let me guess, you haven’t been applying the glue like I instructed you.”

Ryan sounded so small and timid, “I-I’m sorry I forgot to do it the last couple days…”

Mateo let go of his boyfriend and walked over to his duffle. Digging through the sweaty gear he found what he was looking for, a long metallic tube of cream. Without hesitation, he squeezed a hardy dollop of goop into his hand and rubbed it vigorously onto the jocks face. Performing another experimental pull, Ryan’s face held rigid.

“You are really fucking this up. What would you have done if something happened during practice, or in the shower. How do you think those dumb jocks would react if their star players face distorted or came off, revealing some loser posing to be him, wearing his skin like some kind of costume?”

“I-I… I don’t know.”

“Now, is there anything else you want to confess to me before I find out later.”

Ryan bit his lip, but eventually admitted, “There was one little thing. I may have been talking to Jensen and gotten something wrong. Instead of remembering he has a sister, I asked about his brother… But I got him to believe it was a bad joke! I promise he doesn’t suspect a thing!”

Mateo simply rubbed his temple, trying to massage away the pounding headache “You’re on thin ice. Thin fucking ice.”

Ryan hesitated, before standing up. Using his large stature to try and intimidate Mateo, he barked aggressively. “I made some mistakes but I’m getting better, why don’t you get off my back.”

Mateo let out a sigh, turning away from the groveling man. “Do you know why I chose you for this job, Brian?”

At hearing his real name, the guy inside Ryan shuddered. “Umm, because you knew I would do anything for you.”

The Latino man scoffed, “The reason I chose you to put on Ryan and take over his life was because I knew as an actor, you’d be able to slip into the role seamlessly. Besides you even had a fairly convincing impression of the real Ryan. Clearly I was mistaken as your performance has been lackluster at best. What would stop me from taking you out of that suit and replacing you with someone else better suited for the job. I could even get them a voice changer and no one would notice a difference.” He pulled a small remote from his pocket. “One click of this and you will be ejected from Ryan’s suit, forced to go back to your sad, pathetic life as Brian. Just some gay loser no one wants or would ever want?”

Terrified by Mateo’s threat, Ryan fell to his knees, pleading to Mateo. “No please, anything but that! I’m so sorry please don’t take this away from me I promise i will do better, much better!” His voice sounding a bit off, now squeakier than his normal bravado.

Mateo hesitated, teasing his finger on the remotes button, before finally putting it back into his pocket. “Fine. I will give you one last chance. But listen to me… no more screw ups, no more forgetting to maintain the suit, got it? Let this be the last time we have to discuss it. After this, you are Ryan Griffin- my cocky quarterback boyfriend, but in private you are my loyal dumb servant.”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Repeat it,” Mateo demanded.

“I- I am Ryan Griffin, I am your cocky quarterback boyfriend, but in private I shall loyally serve you.”

A sinister smile crept on Mateo’s face. “Atta boy.” He placed his hand, caressing his dumb, stubbly cheek. “Now get changed cause your taking me out to dinner tonight.”

[delusinaldreamer19]

Ok yeah Dadbastian is a thing, but I propose a new concept…✨Demon pet owner Ciel✨

This includes but is not limited too,

-Ciel has to make sure Sebastian gets appropriate amounts of enrichment time and exercise so that he doesn’t tear up the furniture.

-like he has to take Sebastian to a big field to let him get his zoomies out (I’m a horse person so ofc I’d think of this but if a horse hasn’t been ridden for a bit they sometimes act like their on crack and forget half their training when they get ridden again)

-use a spray bottle whenever he does something bad

-needs only one look at a guilty faced Sebastian to ask “what did you do” (he shit on the floor killed someone)

-honestly idk this all started cus I saw videos of indoor rock climbing and thought wow Seb would love the enrichment

-Ciel has to take him to playgrounds

-Ciel is working on clicker training him

Basically Sebastian’s just an animal in a humans body cus u know demon. I mean he’s already named after a dog 🤷‍♀️.

[salty-autistic-writer]

Whumptober Day 10: Blow to the head

Title: I Love You (AO3)

Summary: Tommy has trouble talking after suffering a brain injury. All he wants is to tell Buck that he loves him.

~

Tommy looks at Evan and feels the urge to tell him how much he loves him.

Evan is looking out of the window, his eyes shining so very blue in the bright sunlight and his mouth slightly open. He seems to be thinking.

I love you, Tommy thinks. I love you. There. It’s not hard. It’s just three words. He can do it.

He clears his throat. “I …”

Evan looks at him, a hopeful smile spreading on his face. “Yes, babe?”

Tommy grits his teeth and curls his hands into fists. The words are stuck somewhere. He knows them. He can picture them in his mind. But his mind refuses to let them out.

“Take your time,” Evan tells him softly.

Time. There’s that word again. And Tommy learned to hate it. He’s been here long enough. Time is running through his fingers. Lost in a coma. Wasted in this hospital bed. Spent trying to re-learn things that once had been so easy. Like talking. Like … like saying “I love you”.

Rage floods him in one violent wave and Tommy can’t stop himself. He grips the glass of water standing on the bedside table and throws it with a desperate scream that’s more of a roar. He doesn’t have that much strength, so the glass doesn’t fly far. It shatters on the ground.

They both stare at the mess. At the shards and the liquid seeping into the tiles.

“F-Fuck,” Tommy blurts, breathing heavily. And isn’t that amazing? He can curse. But he can’t tell his boyfriend he loves him. It’s ridiculous. It makes him burst into tears.

Evan’s arms close around him immediately. Holding him. “I know,” Evan whispers into his hair. “I know this is tough. I understand you’re frustrated and angry. But we have to remember what the doctors said. Troubles speaking are to be expected after this type of brain injury. But it will pass. All we need is time and practice. We will get through this together.”

Tommy closes his eyes and lets Evan’s voice calm him down. I love you, he thinks and wishes he could just send it straight to Evan’s mind. I love you …  

* Tommy stares at the tool in his hands and scrunches his nose in confusion. 

“It’s a spatula,” Evan tells him. “You use it to flip the pancakes.”

Spatula. Flip the pancakes. Right. Tommy nods and does his best to turn the pancakes around before they turn black. Cooking is supposed to be a good exercise for his fine motor skills. But to be fair, everything Tommy does is kind of an exercise now.

“You want them with blueberries?” Evan asks, raising a brow and pointing at a pack of round little blue balls, no, berries. Blue berries. Blueberries. It makes sense.

Tommy shakes his head. “Chips.” He frowns. No. That isn’t right. “Cho. Chips.”

“Chocolate chips,” Evan combines and grins. “Got it.”

Tommy smiles at him. I love you.   * Sometimes Tommy's head still really hurts. The pain is so bad that it feels like his skull is about to crack open. All Tommy can do then is pull the curtains down and curl up in his bed, buried underneath the blankets.

Evan brings him the meds Tommy usually forgets about and makes him swallow them, then sits beside him and runs his fingers through Tommy’s hair until the pain fades some and he manages to fall asleep. 

I love you, is his last coherent thought. *

Tommy doesn’t need his crutches anymore, so they do longer walks in nature.

They are still way slower than in the past, but it doesn’t matter. They’re climbing a hill, holding hands, and Tommy likes to look down at the scenery. It makes him remember flying. Sometimes, it also makes him remember falling and crashing. But for those moments, he has Evan’s hand which he can hold on to so he doesn’t feel like he’s floating away into the bad thoughts.

On a meadow covered in wildflowers, they are having a picnic and after they lay down side by side, looking at the clouds.

“Look,” Evan says, pointing and laughing. “It looks like a unicorn.”

Tommy smiles. “You. Love. I love you,” he says.

Evan inhales sharply and reaches for Tommy’s hand, interlacing their fingers tightly. Feels like he’s trying to keep them from drifting apart. “I love you too, Tommy," he says with tears in his eyes. "I love you so, so much.”

[my-on-and-off-writingstuff]

Troublemaker PT. 4 | Daemon Targaryen x reader

Summary: When I said I would not write another part of troublemaker, oops. here it is. Daemon worrying about his pregnant wife. part 1, part 2, part 3 of the troublemaker serie.

111 AC

“Y/n Targaryen what in the gods name are you doing?” she looked over her shoulder to see your husband and you feel the horse stiffen underneath you. For a split second you have the fear that it will buck and run for the hills, but it calms down enough to shake its head and relax. You softly stroke her neck and praise her for not running away in fear. Anya is a beautiful black mare, who could be clumsy at times, but she trotted and jumped as the best. She did not like men around her much and at times she could have a bit of a temperament, but she was a gentle soul and very curious. As soon as the two of you had meet. She had instantly bonded with you and you with her. She had been a gift from Daemon for your first marriage anniversary. According to him, the horse’s temperament had reminded you of him when he saw Anya for the very first time. He had been away for business and when walking through the stables with a lord he had come across Anya.

“Anya needed exercise!” You yell back at your lovely husband who looks like he had just recovered from a panic attack. He has been way to worried about you for the last few months and today his concern was shining bright as ever. “Get your lovely ass of that horse before you break something, the maester said no horse riding anymore, you need to rest.” You laugh softly but do not make any moves of climbing down instead you direct Anya with your knees closer to Daemon. “He is an old man; exercise is healthy for the three of us.”

You almost feel sorry for your husband, but the maester was old and conservative, you knew your body the best and had seen your fair side of pregnancies in your life. You know that you were not too far along yet to ride a horse and exercise is just as healthy if not more than staying in bed all day. However, your poor husband was not that convinced the exercise part and had asked a maester for advice. Since you had told him you were pregnant, he had not let you of his eye, always fussing over you and making a scene out of it wherever you went. You knew deep down that he was scarred of losing you like he had lost his mother. He would save you in a heartbeat over the child if it came to it and you both knew it. As he had said he did not need child perse, but he could not live without you. Nonetheless you were pretty sure that as soon at the little one was born, he would all but forget about you.

He slowly comes closer, and you saw the worry on his face. “I just worry, for you and the babe.” You smile at him and reach out your hand for him to take while still sitting atop of Anya. “I know but I am not made of glass or sugar for that matter.” Daemon takes your hand and brings it to his mouth placing a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. “Even if you where you would be the strongest type of glass, but it’s a husband’s job to worry.” Before you can reject that statement his arms quickly lift you up from the saddle and he settles you down next to him, tucking you into his side. “However, you are trouble whenever you go, and I rather not find my wife with a broken neck.” You huff and lightly hit his chest. “I am a better rider then you are.” He smiles down at you, and you twist yourself out of his arms. “That you are but you also currently have a condition which has not made you less clumsy.”

Your face flushes with anger and quickly turn around to focus on Anya and ignore Daemons last statement. Anya is not faring much better as she is breathing harshly through her noose and stomping her leg on the grass. Apparently, Daemon has also reached his limit with her. She shakes her head at Daemon and before you can even intervene throws him on his ass right in a puddle of mud. You stifle your laugh as you know look down on your husband who looks at the both of you with a look of shock and acceptance. “I don’t think Anya, nor I approve of you calling me being pregnant a condition.” With those words you turn around leading Anya back to the stables leaving Daemon behind in the mud.

Daemon shakes his head still in disbelief as he watches his little troublemaker walk away with her little helper. He knew he should not have said those words and the universe had found a way to punish him for it. Groaning he lifted himself up to his own two feet and followed your form to the stables like a puppy.

111 AC

Everybody you came across today was not meeting your eyes and it was getting old real fast. Because you were concerned that something was wrong with your appearance you had looked in a mirror, but both your hair and face looked perfectly fine. You had racked your brain to try and come up with an explanation for why everybody was ignoring you but the only thing that came to mind was that Daemon had found a way to get himself, and to an extension you exiled again.

You smiled at the approaching lord coming from the council room, which you remembered to be working alongside your husband. But like many before him his eyes widen and immediately turn to the ground, rushing past you like you were hideous. You feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment and anger as you walk into the council room to find your husband. As soon as you enter a silence rolls over the remaining lords halting every conversation. One of them even has the audacity to awkwardly cough while looking at Daemon.

Your husband however unashamedly stares at your chest and slowly you feel horrified as you notice the wetness at the chest of the bodice. You groan softly as your eyes find two wet sticky splotches on your bodice. Your body is leaking milk unbeknown to you. It made sense if you thought about it being at the end of pregnancy, but it does not mean you have to like what your body is doing to you. As if walking around like a duck and not being able to see your feet because of your belly wasn’t enough. Only the gods know for how you had walked around with it. Well, nobody had shamed you all had instead chosen to look away to at least grant you some decency. But you would rather have had somebody tell you, that you were walking around with two bloody milk dots. Men are all so stupid.

“Alright out with you all!” Daemon voice booms through the room as he pulls you into his chest. With flushed cheeks you press your face into his chest. “I have been walking with these for a while now, everybody saw, how stupid. I even cursed out some lords after not greeting me.” Daemon only laughs and softly kisses your forehead. “Well at least they listen to my wedding speech about not looking or even thinking about sexualizing you. You look up at survey the room but the only two people still left are Daemon and you. “Well, you did promise to cut out their guts and feed it to them if they did so it think your point was clear. “He lifts you up and gentle sets you down on the table. “Damn straight, you are mine, all mine.” His lips find the border of where your neck and jaw meet, and he possessively kisses the little spot.

“Uncle Daemon…” the soft voice of Rhaenyra carries through the room, but Daemon does not stop instead he attacks your neck with more kisses. “Oh, never mind.” You hear the secondhand embarrassment in her voice as she took in the sight in front of her, but neither Daemon nor you could care at this moment. Moreover, you have had your share of embarrassment for today and having to have a little chat with Rhaenyra after she had just seen you two was not really on things you wanted to discuss today.

113 AC

Daemon was enjoying the sight in front of him. you were laying in the hollow of his arm, your hand laying on his chest, while your head was resting on his arm near his shoulder. Sun was coming through the window as the night sky made space for the sun. your belly was slightly in the way, but he did not care much as he could feeling nothing else then being contempt. You were going to give him another heir and he could not be happier your first pregnancy had been a breeze and he had eased up on the worrying bit the second time around but still he liked it best when you were close to him and engaging in too straining activities.

The door to your shared room opened with a little creak and he looked up, trying to make out who was the intruder. His other hand automatically found the knife hidden by the nightstand. However, the sound of little feet made him halt in his actions as he recognized his first-born son. “Dada, I stay?” Daemon felt you stir in his arms as your eyes fluttered open. You looked over your shoulder and saw your little toddler standing there. Immediately a smile crossed your face. Daemon wondered how the little Baelon had been able to make his way out of his crib and find his way towards your room but let it slide as he saw his soon tiredly wiping his eyes.

You had opened the blanket for Baelon and gestured that he should nestle himself between the two of you, scooting just so slightly back his little body could fit in-between the two of you. Baelon did not need any more encouragement as he climbed his way over Daemon legs to nestle himself in-between. His head rested on your chest, and you closed your eyes again as you hand made its way to Baelon’s back, drawing small circles to sooth him. not long after Daemon heard your breathing pattern change and he knew you were back to sleep. He smiled at himself as he ignored the sun coming into the room even further and nestled back in with his little family. Business could wait he had everything he needed right here. Daemon closed his eyes but not before tightening his grip on his wife and his son. 

[devotedtosadpoetry]

a break from the usual angst to do a silly little exercise for the @tmntaucompetition

Donatello kept himself from rubbing at the scars on his face or scratching his arms not only from the sheer amount of people, but the weirdness of it all. A lot of Leo’s, both older and young for some reason liked to wear scarfs, he spotted a few Donnie’s wearing horns or a helmet of some kind, and that just weirded him out more. A few Raphael’s were too huge for his liking and all the Mikey’s were… well, Mikey. Sighing, Donnie wandered through the competition hall not sure what to do since he came by himself to scope out what the fuck was actually happening when another Donatello in a tutu strutted past him muttering “Lake, lake, lake, lake, lake, lake…”

Gaping, he watched the Donnie round a corner at his quick pace, and pinched his forehead. “Shit, I need a…” It was there, right in front of him. The most glorious sign he’d ever spotted. Speakeasy: THIS WAY.

“Thank fuck,” he muttered, and hurried to the hall and down the stairs and past the doorway and lucky for him they had so much alcohol. He went to the bar with tapping fingers when a tiny Donatello climbed a stool and slapped a competition ID card down. “Little Subjects Donnie NOW GIVE ME FOUR BEERS!”

Donnie picked up the little Donnie, who squeaked like a dog toy when he lifted him, who then scrambled and yelled, “Hey! Put me down!” He set him down and tapped his back. “Go back to the others in your universe,” he muttered. The little Donnie stamped his foot and walked out, and groaning, Donnie sat in the stool and handed over his competition ID card. “Stockholm Donnie. Give me something strong enough to forget I saw myself in a tutu.”

it was fun trying to figure out how a more grim donnie would respond to the silliness and chaos happening everywhere.

thank you @tangledinink for allowing me to use swanatello and @allyheart707 for letting me have fun with your little subjects.

if you guys don’t know these creators please check them out, as well as everyone else in the competition. so much talent and beautiful and heartbreaking stories are all at our fingertips ♥️

[borderlinereminders]

hi april, thank you so so much for this blog <33 about two years ago, I lost two favorite persons at once when they started dating and we cut contact, and it's been an uphill climb with my BPD ever since. In that time, though, I've started dating my wonderful boyfriend and I've made a lot of strides in communication and managing my feelings. No small part was due to your advice and insight, and I've come to understand my own feelings and urges a lot more rationally. That said, though, I did want to ask directly for your thoughts on something. I'm not sure if its a common experience for other borderline folks or if its just me, but a lot of times when I'm with my boyfriend/FP in person and I get mad about something, I turn away or leave the room to gather myself. However, almost every time I do, being alone (even while in the same room) lets my thoughts spiral out of control. I don't want to constantly rely on my boyfriend's presence because then I risk blowing up at him. But, I feel like I risk making myself more upset whenever I leave too. Do you have any tips on how to manage your feelings in a face-to-face conversation with your favorite person? Or, failing that, how to collect yourself when feeling isolated and abandoned? thank you so much!! <33

Hi anon,

I definitely feel similar when I walk away. I deal with this by distracting myself with something. For me, TikTok or my puzzle game are super distracting and give me something to focus on. ACCEPTS is a great skill for distraction. Sometimes I might need to start by using my Urge Surfing skill first though!

Things like self-care boxes, fidget items and grounding exercises can be good for calming down.

Once I’ve done that for a little, I look at a list of things my partner has done that made me feel loved or happy. Things like surprising me with flowers, or times he’s really been there for me. I might also read cards or letters he’s given me, or read screenshots I’ve saved. This part helps me with the black and white thinking. Reminding myself that there is so much good about him is important to me because of the black and white thinking. When I’m upset, it’s easy to forget.

Once I’m reminded of the good and how much I love my partner (lack of emotional permanence sucks) I think about the conflict and analyze it. I check the facts. Sometimes it’s my irrational thoughts creating a conflict, and in this case, I might challenge my irrational thoughts. Sometimes I need to talk it out with my partner but I do it in a way that is more me asking for reassurance.

Sometimes there’s an issue we need to resolve, so I figure out what that is and possible solutions or compromises.

Then I go back to my partner, and if he is also ready to talk, we talk. We both give each other a chance to have our feelings heard. We both validate each other’s feelings and remind each other we love each other. If there is something to take accountability for, we make sure we do that. Sometimes it’s one of us. Sometimes it’s both.

And then we discuss the problem with the intent of solving it together.

I may use things like DEAR MAN, GIVE and FAST or a combination of more than one of them to help me communicate. (I’d try and plan out a rough idea of this in my planning stage). But how I communicate largely depends on the situation and the goal.

For handling the conflict itself, I wrote a bit more about handling conflict in this post.

Make sure you don’t forget to give yourself credit for trying. And don’t beat yourself up if you mess up. I still sometimes mess up and have to apologize. It’s normal. And I think it’s amazing you’re aware of this and working on it.

[bruinsbabydaddyy]

Desert Sunsets

He was nervous, Like sweating from every pore nervous. But of course, you wouldn't have noticed that between the steep climbing and the Arizona sun, you could only focus on surviving this beast of a hike you for some reason agreed to go on. You wouldn't have if he wasn't so weirdly adamant about going. Usually, when you tell him you don't wanna exercise with him he just sighs and walks away. But not this time, this time he practically begged, and played every card he had including a movie night of whatever you wanted and multiple promised coffee runs. What made things even worse was you weren't even in the cool air of Toronto you had grown accustomed to in the multiple years of living with Auston.

 but you were back in AZ and usually, you did okay with the summer heat when you had AC in the comfort of your Scottsdale apartment even with the sun setting it was still scorching, but on the plus side apparently, Auston couldn't take the heat either and had lost his shirt about a mile and a half ago and that was the only motivation you needed to keep your head up, as you were approaching what you were praying to be the top he looked back at you and you noticed something in his eyes, a kind of fear like he was waiting for you to run for the hills and not look back but you couldn't, you wouldn't dream of it these past few years had been the best of your life, you would walk to the ends of the earth if he asked you too. A shaky voice broke your thoughts “babe come up here for a sec” “give me a second felix is really into this bush” as you pull the doodle to your side and make your way up the little pathway the view hits you,various shades of pink an orange fill the desert sky and all of the thoughts leave your head “is this what heaven feels like” is all you can seem to get out.

you hear a chuckle behind you as you take out your phone to capture the moment,it felt like eternity as you were trying to get that perfect picture that you'd completely end up forgetting to post in the end but what broke you away from that screen was the shaky breath coming from the man behind you and as you turn around you immediately felt yourself tearing up and from the looks of Austons face he was about to as well 

“honey I owe everything I am today to you,you have got me through some of my hardest days and made my best a thousand times better,You have stuck by my side and single handedly been my biggest support system when i was trying to navigate through a whole new life in Toronto,you have been the best mom to felix and I know your gonna be an even better one to our kids one day. Hell you dropped everything to move across the country with me and I know I'll never be able to repay you for everything you've done for me and our relationship but I'd like to spend the rest of my life trying if you'll let me” by this point you fully sobbing and he's even slipped a few tears. “I would love to” you manage to choke out in between sobs that are slowly turning into laughs as you see his face relax and the stress in his eyes fade to a love you've only seen in movies and Taylor swift songs. He pulls you into the tightest embrace he can muster and he holds you in front of the desert sunset

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Skeleton's child is determined to put make up on him. How does skeleton react?

Undertale Sans - He lays on the floor and lets the kid do what they want to him. He falls asleep after ten minutes or so. When he wakes up, his skull is a rainbow. There's so much makeup it will take several weeks to wash fully lol. Sans has a greenish face for a good month. He doesn't care though.

Undertale Papyrus - Sure, if he can do it as well! They are both fabulous before the end of the day, as they use all MTT products Papyrus has.

Underswap Sans - He lets the child do what they want before realizing they're late for work and running to the car, completely forgetting the makeup. He's confused as to why everyone is chuckling before he sees he has a half-weird cat drawn on the cheek. Oh well. He's not going to break his kid's soul by erasing it.

Underswap Papyrus - Since he's quite a specialist in the matter with the many cosplays he created, he's teaching his kid how to do it properly, exercising on him. They're having fun using fake blood to transform their father into a zombie. That's a good father-child bonding moment.

Underfell Sans - He's not sure about it but he can't say no to his child so he doesn't really have any choice, right? He regrets it the moment his kid says there's not enough glitter and then proceeds to throw a handful of it in his eye sockets. Red can't open his eyes anymore, lying on the floor like a dying sea star, defeated by a three-year-old. The kid keeps giggling and bouncing on his belly, celebrating their victory.

Underfell Papyrus - He's in the bus. His face is full of child drawings because they looked really sad they couldn't paint his face before he went to the grocery store :( And he couldn't say no. Now, if someone is staring a little too long at his face, he just growls menacingly. What you're looking at? He's fabulous!

Horrortale Sans - He jumps a little every time the kid goes too close to his headhole, but other than that, he's chill. He even lets them draw on his arms and ribs. He looks like he fell into painting, but the child is having the fun of their life. He's just purring, happy to spend some time with his baby.

Horrortale Papyrus - He can't stay too long in the same position, so he proposes he puts makeup on the kid instead. He will happily paint his kid's face like whatever character they want to be. He's a bit sad he can't let them do the say, but they would have to climb on him and it's not good for his back.

Swapfell Sans - Absolutely not! The kid gives him puppy eyes. ... FINE. But only around his sockets. He ends up having the entire skull painted, and the hands, and the ribs... Yeah, he's weak. At least his kid had fun.

Swapfell Papyrus - Whatever suits your boat. He offers his body to his child. The kid paints him blue on all bones visible. He's going to stay blue for a few weeks as he realizes trying to wash his body his kid used markers instead of paint :D Oh well. That's life. Nox pretends he doesn't know him when they're leaving the house until his bones are clean again lol.

Fellswap Gold Sans - No thanks, he already put makeup in the morning. He can put some on his kid though. Wine has professional skills and will spend a few hours to make them look gorgeous. He then goes parade in the streets with his child to make all these peasants jealous as hell.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He has some body paint and shows his kid how it's done. They both work hard to make Coffee and the child the same color as the living room wall to scare the shit out of S/O when they're coming back from work. They're quite proud of their job!