#because i used to have nightmares like this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

therealpie02 · 2 days ago

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pov: this is your first time sleeping in the same bed

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ colonel!Caleb / fem!mc, gege&pipsqueak, angst, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, squirting

You woke up in the middle of the night because warmth next to you disappeared. You opened eyes and saw Caleb's silhouette. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked out at the city, breathing heavily. Did he have a nightmare? You carefully got up and approached him from behind.

He tensed as he sensed your approach, his breathing heavy and erratic. When your soft footsteps drew near, Caleb turned his head slightly, the moonlight catching the glint of unshed tears in his eyes.

"Couldn't sleep?", his voice was rough, tinged with pain and exhaustion.

You sat down next to him. Your hand gently touched the spot where the robotic arm merged with the skin of his shoulder. You were afraid to imagine how much pain he had to go through. Your hand went to his cheek and turned his head towards you.

"You're strong, Caleb."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes finally meeting yours. The raw emotion in his gaze was palpable.

"Strong enough to feel every scar, every piece of metal that replaced flesh and blood", he paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But not strong enough to forget the man I used to be."

You stood up between his legs without breaking eye contact with him. His head was at the level of your chest. Your arms wrapped around his neck.

"May I kiss your scars?", you whispered.

His breath hitched at your words, and he closed his eyes briefly, as if the weight of your question was almost too much to bear. When he opened them again, there was a vulnerability in his gaze that he rarely showed.

"Yes," he whispered back, his voice barely audible.

You kissed his wet forehead. You lowered head to kiss the unshaven scar on his neck. His hands gently rested on your waist. You kissed his collarbone, his shoulder, where there were many scars from the introduction of a robotic arm.

He shuddered under your touch, each kiss a gentle balm to his wounded soul. His hands tightened slightly on your waist, not pulling you closer but holding onto you as if you were his lifeline. When you kissed the scars where his robotic arm met his flesh, he let out a soft, ragged breath.

You felt him shudder. Your gaze met his. You kissed his chin. "Caleb... should I continue?"

He gazed into your eyes, a war raging behind his dark pupils. The vulnerability was still there, tinged now with a flicker of hope, of needing connection amidst his personal Hell.

"Please," he whispered, the word a broken plea. "Kiss away the ache, even if only for tonight."

"No, Caleb. I'm yours, I'll always be with you." Even though you didn't fully believe your words, you wanted him to feel better. You sat on his hips and brought your face so close that you could feel his breath on your lips.

"Kiss me, gege", his eyes darkened, and his hands gripped your thighs possessively.

"You have no idea how dangerous that is," he growled softly. "One kiss might not be enough." He captured your mouth slowly, deeply, his robotic arm pulling you closer almost painfully. The kiss was hungry, almost punishing.

You felt the familiar lips on yours, the familiar heat between your legs. Caleb has never kissed you like this. You could barely take a breath. You didn't even realize that you were rocking hips towards him and feeling his cock through the fabric of your pajamas. You moaned into his mouth.

He groaned in response, the sound vibrating through both of you. His robotic arm tightened around your waist, pressing you firmly against him. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and passionate. He broke away briefly, his forehead resting against yours as he panted softly.

"I've missed this", you didn't have time to reply anything as you suddenly found yourself on back. He hovered over you, his body pressing against yours as he propped himself up on one elbow. His robotic arm gently cupped your cheek, his human hand gripping your hip. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of hesitation or fear. "Last chance to stop this, pipsqueak"

Was you scared? Maybe. You didn't know what to expect from the new Caleb. But you didn't want to back down.

"You can tie me up so I don't run away," you said with a grin. Your nipples were already hard and visible through your satin top. A smirk tugged at his lips as he drank in the sight of your hardened nipples straining against the thin fabric.

"Smartass," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. Suddenly, the robotic fingers released your cheek, moving lightning-fast to pin your wrists above your head. You sighed in surprise.. and pleasure. You bit my lip and lifted your hips to slide over his cock.

Caleb growled softly, watching your body writhe beneath his. The robotic fingers tightened around your wrists possessively. His human hand slid down your body slowly, making you shiver. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pajama shorts and your tank top, "Lift up," he ordered softly and you obeyed.

In one smooth motion, he pulled both your top and shorts down to your thighs, revealing your bare skin. He moved down your body, kissing your collarbone while his robotic fingers kept your wrists securely pinned above your head. His human hand trailed lower, grazing the side of your breast.

You moaned and you hands twitched, but he held on tight. "Caleb, do you like it?" you asked brokenly. He paused, his breath hot against your skin.

"Like it?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble. "I fucking love it. Seeing you helpless under me, hearing those sweet little moans... it drives me fucking wild." He pinched your nipple gently, testing your reaction. You screamed, your pussy was eager, but you didn't know what else Caleb was up to.

"Caleb... Caleb, I need you."

He chuckled darkly, moving even lower. "Need me, huh?" He nipped at your stomach, his human hand sliding down to grip your hip possessively. His robotic fingers finally released your wrists, moving to spread your legs wide. "Tell me what you need," he demanded softly.

"Fuck me with your cock," you screamed, unable to endure his torture. "I haven't seen you for so long! Please, Caleb.… Did you miss me?" you saw the sad mood in his eyes.

His expression turned serious. "Course I missed you," he growled, positioning himself between your thighs. Caleb nudged his knee between your legs, forcing them even wider. "Say it again," he ordered roughly.

"Fuck me!" You shouted, and then you felt a slap on your pussy. You groaned.

"Not like that," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Tell me you missed me too." He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. "Tell me you thought about me every night, touching yourself and wishing it was my hands, my mouth, my cock."

You trembled from the sensations. "I missed you, I missed you, I missed you. I don't care, Caleb, you're you, I trust you."

"Like this?" He lowered his pants, snapped his hips forward suddenly, pushing his length inside you an inch. "Did you touch yourself like this?" He withdrew slightly, thrusting again. "Or like this?" He picked up speed, testing how you'd react to his rough handling. His robotic fingers spread your legs wider. You were burning from the feeling of his cock inside you. You were suffocating.

"Fuck, Caleb," your hands went up to his chest.

He caught your hands, pinning them above your head with his human hand. His robotic arm snaked down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and circling it firmly. "You're so tight," he groaned, bottoming out inside you. "So fucking perfect."

There were so many sensations that you couldn't stand it. You moaned with every thrust he made into you. His cock found my sweet spot. "Caleb, I'm going to cum..."

"Come for me," Caleb growled, maintaining his pace. "Show me how much you fucking love my cock inside you." His robotic fingers moved faster on your clit, knowing exactly how you liked to be touched. His human hand kept your wrists secure above your head. "Look at me,"you looked into his eyes. Into his beautiful eyes. Damn it, you missed him so much.

"Caleb, I’m…" you didn't have time to finish, as pleasure washed over you in a wave. You moaned and felt hot and wet between our bodies. Squirting flowed out of you onto his abs, cock, and onto the sheets. Caleb watched you with pure obsession, his expression softening as he felt your squirt wash over his abdomen. "Fucking hell," he groaned, his own release hitting him suddenly. He pumped his hips forward, filling you with his hot cum as he moaned your name.

Caleb leaned on you with his whole body, and you hugged him, stroking his shoulders and head. His cock was still inside you, and you wanted us to stay like this all night. You felt his measured breathing on your neck.

"Caleb, let's sleep like this," you quietly suggested to him, enjoying the warmth of his naked body.

He nuzzled into your neck, his arms wrapping around you possessively. "Mm," He murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "Okay," He agreed, his robotic arm pulling the blanket over both of their entwined bodies. Caleb felt content, safe, and complete.

#lnds caleb #caleb x mc #colonel caleb #love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #caleb fluff #caleb x reader #caleb x reader fluff #lads caleb #lads fluff #lads smut #caleb smut #caleb x reader smut #lads angst #lads spoilers #lads mc #lads x reader #caleb x you

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silverhand · 3 days ago

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I have heard that part of the reason they don't do that is the amount of grief that ST:TMP got for the costumes:

They're completely impractical as clothing (which uniforms sometimes are). There are no pockets. No visible fasteners. Are they sprayed on? Replicated on?

The color palette was deliberately muted because they were going to be 30 feet tall when projected, not 15-30 inches on a CRT screen.

That's also useful to remember when viewing TOS. It had to degrade gracefully to a 10" black and white screen. It wasn't designed to be viewed on 70 inch, 8K screens

Also, remember that home video was Not A Thing at this time. That's why the division colors are restricted to the inside of the Starfleet Delta symbol. The "belt buckles" are bio-sensors.

It also suffered from a timing issue. This sort of jumpsuit look had been shorthand for "the future" since the mid to late 60s. The film was released in 1979, and fashion changed dramatically the next year after the election of Reagan. It's why you can look at something from the 80s and recognize it so easily. When MTV launched in 1981, what looked modern was totally redefined. They were also, like the initial TNG spandex uniforms, a complete nightmare to maintain with 20th century technology.

So they were completely redesigned to what, if you notice, is still in use in some places today.

Literally:

They were built to wear like iron so that they didn't have to be remade for every movie.

I'm not going to encroach upon a topic for which I have no expertise, but if you're curious about the construction of any Trek uniform, there is a vast community of experts who are just waiting to talk to you about their special interest down to which trim company made the braid on the sleeves of the TOS season 1 uniforms with a thread count.

one more opinion about star trek fashion

it actually shouldn’t look like stuff you would wear (or at least a lot of it shouldn’t)

i’ve seen a lot of praise for modern trek fashion being better than classic trek because ‘people would actually wear that’

look at what people wore as everyday fashion 200-300 years ago, would you wear it? probably not, maybe for the novelty of it, but definitely not every day.

like, yeah this stuff looks crazy

it’s 300 years in the future. some of them are aliens, makes perfect sense to me that they would wear ridiculous extravagant clothes that look strange to my 21st century eye

similar to how if you showed modern fashion (especially alternative fashion/runway fashion) to someone dressed like this,

they would probably think we’re crazy.

yet for some reason modern trek wants us to believe that hundreds of years into the future people still just wear zip up hoodies?

(idk if the spock fit actually is a hoodie or not but come on man, the zipper? nothing more futuristic than a zipper?)

or this dress that looks like i could buy it in a 21st century target?

(not to hate on chapel, she’s just the only one i can find decent pictures of out of uniform)

also why is everything so grey now? when was it decided that people don’t wear colors in the future? i can not find out of uniform pictures where any of these people wear color, all black, white, grey, and maybe a bit of muted green.

tldr

clothing design in star trek should be just as important as clothing design in a period piece. i don’t think a screencap from any star trek should look like it could just as easily take place in the 21st century, i should see some crazy outfits. the clothes can do a lot of the heavy lifting to remind us that this is supposed to be far in the future.

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samsblades · 2 days ago

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✶ natural — sam winchester

cw : gn!afab!reader, fluff & smut, sorta sunshine!reader, post-hunting!au, passing mentions of monsters hunting and guns, nightmares, illness/fever (reader gets sick), consensual somnophilia, oral (r!recieving), swearing, praise, aftercare, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, love), mostly unedited, 5.3K words. requested ! MDNI !!! 18+ ONLY

summary : five times that you and sam are woken in the middle of the night, and one time you get to sleep in.

when you moved into this apartment with sam, you were both worried about having neighbors. you have the middle complex, so there's people upstairs and downstairs. overall, it's actually been pleasant. it feels nice and normal, and you're pretty sure that no one suspects that you and sam were previously monster hunters. mostly because none of your neighbors know that they exist. maybe it's a bit strange that you're a little older now, and just starting your lives, but you've just told everyone that you and sam didn't like what you were doing before, and have decided to start over.

the downstairs neighbors are delightful. lina and isa are just a bit younger than you and sam, brought you homemade bean and rice as a welcome, and told you about the fantastic panadería just a few blocks away. your only complaint might be that their music gets a little loud, and their luckily infrequent yelling matches in furious spanish are even louder.

it's the upstairs neighbors who bother you more. riya is nice, but you think they're too hot and too cool for their boyfriend nate. of course, that's not the problem, nor is it any of your business. for the record, though, sam agrees. it's more so about the middle of the night sex and the poor quality of whatever bed frame they made the awful choice of purchasing.

the first time they woke you up, it had been less than a week since you'd moved in, and none of the paranoia from your previous life had even begun to wear off for you or sam.

your heart is thundering at the first loud bump that wakes you. sam's hand finds yours just as yours looks for his. your other hand is searching blindly for a gun on your beside table that isn't there. it's in the drawer, still nearby, but hidden now and less accessible than you used to have it. you and sam sit up, eyes quickly adjusting to the dark and ears tuned for any other noises that might be out of place.

another thump nearly makes you open that drawer, but your now sharpened senses register that it's coming from the apartment above you. the next realization is that the sounds are rhythmic, and you just barely catch the sound of a muffled moan.

with that, you collapse back onto your pillow with a light laugh, eyes still bleary with sleep.

"goodness," you say through a breathy laugh, the headboard of their bed banging against the wall with complete insistence. it sounds unstable, honestly. "i think they're actually going to break the bed."

sam laughs with you, laying back down as well and turning on his side. his arm wraps around your waist and he buries his face into the side of your neck, nuzzling your warm skin with the tip of his perfect nose. this is followed with a soft kiss, as usual. you grin. sam can't see or feel it, but he knows it's there. that smile of yours and another soft laugh when the wall receives a particularly harsh bang.

"think this'll happen often?" you lament. "will we have to tell them to get a new bed frame? or have quieter sex?" it's sam's turn to laugh, a sleepy sound that suits him much better than anything loud or bloody.

"might," he murmurs into your skin, all soft and tired now that he knows there's no threat. for a few awful seconds, he thought some monster or hunter or whatever possible enemy had come to ruin your attempt at normalcy together before you'd even finished setting up all the furniture. he's happy that it's just the neighbors with a wobbly bed frame.

almost abruptly, the noise stops. you wait in quiet for a few moments to be sure that you're really being granted silence.

"they're done already?" you tease with a whispery laugh. it's not that sam doesn't have the skill to get you off quickly, or you him, but you tend to last much longer together. quickies aren't your go-to, even if they're required sometimes. now that you have your own place and are starting to settle down, you don't imagine things starting and ending that fast. as for last night, it felt like forever, in the best of ways.

you and sam are courteous enough to have a sturdy, quiet bed, though.

꩜｡⋆

you sleep light when you're feeling poorly. little things like the soreness of your throat or the movements of your upstairs neighbors wake you easily. so a sharp gasp from sam and the tensing of his muscles certainly pulls you out of your sleep. your eyelids seem to stick shut for a moment before fluttering open, and you shift in his arms. his slightly labored breathing goes silence as if he's holding his breath, likely worried that he's woken you and hoping that if he's quiet enough now you'll fall right back asleep.

"nightmare?" you whisper, voice course and barely audible. you resist curling your arm around his middle in case it's one of those dreams that makes touch difficult for him.

"sorry," he murmurs, answering your question with the tone of his voice rather than his words. he sounds tense and tired, and you know definitively now that his dreams have been unkind to him. you wish he'd never apologize for accidentally waking you. it's not as if you don't do the same sometimes.

"don't be sorry," you insist, as usual. his arms tighten around you, and you take it as a sign that you can do the same if you like. instead of slipping around his waist, your hand reaches up to settle into the soft hairs at the base of his neck. you pull his head close, pressing a kiss to his forehead, lingering long. he's still all tense and closed off. "you don't have to talk about it if you don't want. but talking about it won't… it won't make everything come back. talking about it won't change what we have now, you know that. we're allowed to talk about it. any of it."

"i know," he says, sounding like he doesn't really know it. you give a soft sigh, but don't push it. maybe you'll talk about it later, when he's ready. it's hard to focus on learning to live again when you're still haunted by the past. sometimes it's easier to just let the past be, to know that there are monsters in the closet, but keep the doors shut anyway. the understanding you have of each other has to be enough, and you've found so far that it is.

"you okay?" you decide to ask instead, voice as soft as it can be while your throat hurts like this.

he nods, then tilts his head up. "i'm okay." his lips find your chin as a reassurance, a promise. "it wasn't… as bad as it could've been." he's calming slowly, melting into your hold, so you suppose he's not lying. it's true that you've seen him worse.

"doesn't mean it wasn't bad at all," you murmur in protest, but not with any force. you follow it with another kiss to his hairline. "think you'll be able to fall back asleep?"

he hums in confirmation. "i'll be fine. but what about you? your throat still bothering you? do you need some tea?"

you give him a hum of your own, but it's not really an answer, just a little noise in response to how sweet he is, always more concerned for you than anyone else. your voice comes out as a grumble, "i think it's getting worse," you admit, "some tea might be a good idea, since i'm awake. i'll get it myself though, you go back to sleep. i'll be quiet."

a huff of air leaves his nose, tickling your neck. "you're funny," is all he says, like it's preposterous to suggest that he go to bed while you make yourself tea. he's too much of a gentleman to let you do that, but you also feel his hold on you tighten, just a bit. he doesn't want to be alone, even just for a few minutes. there is no comfort in being alone in the dark.

you retort with a gentle, "you're right, i'm hilarious. c'mon. since i'm letting you make me tea, it had better be good." he sits up with you, one of his hands still on your waist. his fingers slide to your lower back as you untangle yourself from him and the sheets, and he follows suit right after. he pads through the hallway behind you, overtaking you in the doorway into the kitchen with his hand brushing over the small of your back again before opening the cupboards for a mug.

he doesn't need to flip on a light because the blinds are open and the moon is bright tonight. so you watch him move through the shadowy room, preparing the tea that he knows you'll like the most right now. he makes a cup for himself too, liking the feeling on your eyes on him, never leaving.

the tea does a fine job of soothing your throat for the time being, and calms sweet sam's frayed nerves. he's had awful nightmares for as long as he can remember, but sometimes they're even more haunting now that his days are full of nice things. last week, you took a free ceramics class at the community center together. there's a few plant pots with herbs on the tiny fire escape balcony, and when you're not busy working to get better jobs, you sit and read novels that have nothing to do with hunting monsters.

your pinkies are linked across the little dining room table as steam rises from your mismatched mugs. the table is only outfitted for two, because you could only afford two chairs. that's alright, though, because you don't have anyone to invite over besides maybe the downstairs neighbors. but sam's starting to make friends with someone he volunteers at the library with, and unbeknownst to you, your bright friendliness is making your coworker want to hang out with you after your shared shifts. maybe you'll get a set of plastic chairs to use when there's guests.

꩜｡⋆

sometimes, loads of tea and vitamin supplements aren't enough to keep a nasty cold at bay. despite how nicely sam makes you several cups of tea a day, you're truly and fully ill now.

you're woken in a fit of fever, head fuzzy and cream-colored sheets sticking to you with sweat. for once, your body heat permeates more thickly than sam's, who always runs warm. an achy sigh leaves your parted lips, and your clumsy hands fight to push the plush comforter off your tired limbs.

your restless stirring wakes sam after a few moments, who props himself up on one elbow and runs a hand through his hair, immediately searching for the reason you're awake. his eyes adjust to the dark quickly to catch sight of the light, involuntary pout on your lips. before that even, his hand brushes over your upper arm and he feels the heightened heat of your skin.

"oh, baby," he whispers, reaching over to drape his palm carefully over your forehead. he doesn't have to say anything cliche, like 'you're burning up.' it's quite obvious on its own. he just pulls the thicker blanket from your body, but settles the sheet over you to prevent any chills. his thumb lightly brushes over your cheek. "that any better? i'm gonna get you some tylenol."

you only give a noncommittal hum, but he takes it as permission to leave you for just a moment. if you weren't so uncomfortable, you'd fall back asleep before he even got back. instead, you lay there, senselessly missing him and too exhausted to move.

he returns with tylenol as promised, along with a glass of water and a cool, damp rag. he sets the pills and glass down and carefully settles the rag over your forehead, earning a soft sigh of satisfaction from you. underneath the fabric, the furrow between your brows lessens just a bit. with all the gentleness in the world, he slips his hands under your head to tilt it up and brings the lip of the glass to your mouth. you drink as wordlessly instructed. he sets the water down for a moment and replaces it with one of the two pills. your lips part when he brings it to your mouth, then the cool glass is touching your skin again. both pills go down just fine, and he's settling your head back onto the pillows.

you fail to notice that he's brought the thermometer with him too until he asks you to open your mouth again. "just gonna take your temperature, honey," he murmurs softly. you give him no hassle, letting him tuck it underneath your tongue. when he pulls it out, he gives a little sigh. "definitely a fever, but it's not so bad," he tells you, taking your hand in his before pulling it up to his lips for a kiss to your knuckles.

"come back to bed," you grumble, giving him a weak tug.

"i think you'll get too warm," he protests kindly, "i'll just sit with you."

"there's no chair," you tell him, as if he doesn't know, "and i want you in bed with me. please?" you manage a little smile to try and convince him, looking sweet and tired and a little pitiful too, in the way that's so endearing it makes his heart hurt.

"i'm sorry, but i don't want to make your fever worse," he insists, voice still as gentle as it ever gets. "i'll bring a chair from the kitchen, okay?"

"but it's the middle of the night," you sigh, your smile slipping. it's too much effort to keep it there. "sleep with me."

"honey. it's already five in the morning. you know that's not too early for me," he says. it's true. in the past, sleeping until five would be a luxury for him. but you don't really care, and it's not the past anymore.

"you're crazy," you tell him, a little furrow settling between your brows.

"i know," he murmurs sympathetically, unfazed by your feverish accusation.

"it's too early for me," you complain. "won't you come back to bed with me? please?" of course, sam has known this entire time that he'd never beat you. it's just a matter of how many times he can deny you before he inevitably caves to your pretty eyes and hoarse voice. your soft 'please' has him ready to wave the white flag for peace; you're going to tear out his heart at this rate. but then your voice quiets even further, like you don't quite want to be heard despite the fact that you need to be understood. "i want you to hold me."

in the blink of an eye, he's kissing your cheek with a soft sort of determination. he doesn't even move a full inch away before he's whispering, "okay. alright, it's alright. i'll hold you. don't worry." then, his long limbs are slipping back under the covers and curling around you until you're settled on his chest, one hand still holding the cool rag over your forehead and your head carefully tilted so you can breathe easier.

he soaks up your heat, and the bottom sheet grows practically damp with your combined sweat. but he doesn't mind one bit, because you fall back asleep, looking far more comfortable and contented than before, for a while.

eventually, he does have to untangle himself from you because a frown settles on your lips and you turn restless in his arms again. he refreshes the cool compress to dab away your sweat and press to your hot skin. after a moment, he decides to prepare a second one for the back of your neck, and maneuvers everything so gently that you never wake until your body decides it must have water.

you wake with a little moan that he'd find sweet were it not an indication of your discomfort. he gets you more water, then lulls you back to sleep with his touch until it's time for another dose of tylenol.

꩜｡⋆

this moan is sweet, still hoarse and quiet, but only from sleep rather than sickness. your sounds start as little huffs of breath, a sigh here or there as his hands trace down your body and tug at your underwear, soft and quiet as to not wake you right away. he wants you to wake to the feeling on his lips on your hot, wet skin.

you most certainly do wake to that, a soft moan escaping your lips as your body gains awareness and your mind catches up to it. sam hums into your sensitive pussy as he feels you rouse, his hands gently holding your legs apart. he gives your thighs a sweet squeeze, then wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, softly at first to pull another noise from your lips.

he's easily successful, a quiet grunt leaving your lips as your tired arms reach down for some sort of contact with him. aside from his face buried in your cunt, of course. one hand finds purchase in his hair and the other curls around three of his fingers, holding his hand there against your thigh. your hips squirm as his tongue laves over you, your movements sluggish with sleep.

"sam," you sigh, out extra sensitive after just waking up and too tired to have complete control of your body. you're not loud, but you're noisy, letting out sweet and unfiltered sounds almost every time you breathe out. he gets more insistent the longer you're awake, letting his hunger and desperation show. his grip on you tightens, and his nose bumps relentlessly against your clit as he eats you out like he'd swallow you whole if he could.

the pleasure is overwhelming, overpowering, and you can't seem to keep a steady grip on him. your hands are still weak with sleep, so you continuously tangle and untangle your fingers in his hair, torn between pushing him away so you can breathe and pulling him closer so that the feeling will never stop.

"jesus," you groan, "please!"

"i got you," he mumbles, quickly so he doesn't have to stray from his task for long at all. "so good. so good for me, you taste so good."

"y-you couldn't.. hahh, help yourself, could you?" you pant out, eyes squeezed shut.

"never," he agrees before giving your clit a suck that tugs your back from the bed and pulls an extra pretty whine out of you.

"fuck," you sigh, "mmm, feels so good. please, sammy." really, you're not begging for anything other than for him to keep going exactly as he is, and and you know he has no plans to do anything but that. he loves this just as much as you do, possibly more. he's a damn addict, so much so that it wakes him up in the middle of the night.

the way he sweetly strokes the inside of your thigh with his fingertips is an easy contrast to the way his mouth moves against you, shameless and ravishing. your hips buck up into his face and your feet scramble for purchase on his hips to try and stay grounded. your thighs tremble with the effort, and sam moans right into you, beyond obsessed with the way you sound when you're sleepy and desperate and overwhelmed like this. it's no wonder he can't help but wake you like this sometimes, you sound like heaven, look like heaven as his eyes adjust to the dark and a sliver of moonlight finds its way into the room.

he gives you everything you need and takes everything he wants all at once, sending you over the edge with a sweet hum and relentless tongue. you clutch him close for a moment of hot ecstasy that may have lasted forever, then sag like a rag doll into the sheets. like always, he can't resist breathing you in, deep and long, and giving one last swipe of his tongue that sends a shudder up your spine.

your eyes flutter open and closed, exhausted by the pleasure and an already tired body. you swear you're still half-asleep, but in the way that you feel like you're floating, mind and body all fuzzy, soft, and satisfied. he stays tucked between your legs, sleepy too, despite being the one who was so ravenous in the first place. his head rests on your thigh, one hand still holding yours, and the other drawing stars over your hip bone.

he presses a kiss to your sweaty skin, his soft as ever and wet with your slick. "i love you," he whispers, "sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night." it's not the first time he's woken you like this, and you certainly hope it's not the last.

"i love you too," you murmur back, voice still raspy. "it's okay. love it when you wake me up like that. feels so good, every time. you're so pretty." you say that last part for no reason at all, other than it being true.

sam feels like blushing. "you're so pretty," he retorts quietly.

"thanks," you smile softly. to him, you shine like the sun, even in the dead of night. you're such a wonderful accompaniment to the moon, he thinks.

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neither the moon nor the sun show themselves much during the winter months. it tends to be quite cloudy here. the cold, on the other hand, is pervasive. and you and sam have discovered the horrors of having a landlord who's doing everything he can to avoid paying to fix your unreliable heating system. since it's not completely dysfunctional, he is most definitely stalling.

until it is completely dysfunctional, an issue that is made known to you at about 3:47 in the morning. the first thing you think is that sam must've accidentally stolen all of the blankets like he does sometimes. they'll get wrapped around his long legs, he'll roll over, and the whole plush comforter will go with him, leaving you exposed to the night air. but when you blindly reach for the blanket, you find that it's still snugly laid over you. that's when you begrudgingly open your eyes in confusion. your fingers are cold. the tip of your nose is honest-to-god freezing. and your feet. your poor, poor feet that have slipped out from the blankets and been left for dead in the cold air.

you're not the type to get grumpy. but you are now. you tuck your feet in and curl up against sam's back, seeking out his warmth. but it's too cold to ignore, so you shake sam's shoulder.

"sam, wake up," you groan, cursing his inconsistent sleeping style. sometimes he's the lightest, worst sleeper out there. other nights, he's impossible to wake. as he grows more accustomed to living a safer life, he gets more of those nights where he sleeps like a fallen log. you shake him again and he wakes with a grumble.

"what is it?" he asks as soon as he's awake enough to speak, voice gravelly. "god, it's freezing." he sits up groggily and immediately regrets it. you regret it too, because it leaves more of you exposed too. you chase after him, tucking yourself under his arm and against his chest.

"i think the heating gave out, like really gave out," you complain, trying to steal his body heat. he wraps his arms around you without any qualm, rubbing up and down your arms in attempts to warm you. he knows you get colder than he does most of the time.

"no kidding," he mumbles, pressing an absentminded kiss to the top of your head. "i'll get the space heater and hopefully that'll be enough until the morning." the light annoyance in his voice is indicative of what he plans to do in the morning. that is, call the landlord and demand he gets the heating fixed right away. it's not like the two of you have anywhere else to go without traveling farther than you'd like to. it pains you to let sam untangle himself from you, but the promise of more warmth is enough for you suffer without him for just a few minutes.

he returns with the space heater that you keep in the living room. the bedroom is usually warmer when you keep the door shut, but tonight, that makes no difference. he plugs the heater in, as close to the bed as he can at a safe distance, then wraps the blanket from the couch around your shoulders before climbing back onto the mattress.

despite the cold, you smile at him sweetly and contentedly as he gives you the extra blanket. he's so easy to be in love with.

he anticipates the way that you tuck yourself into him the moment he's laying down with you. and it's not as if he doesn't want you in his arms as much as you do, so he most certainly welcomes it. he settles one hand on the back of your head and pulls you close until your nose brushes against the soft skin of his neck. one of your legs sneaks between his, and he hooks his ankle with yours.

"i guess this is what it's like to have normal people problems, huh?" you whisper, your breath fanning over his neck. he'd love to kiss you senseless right now, but he's too tired and he's pretty sure you are too.

"yeah," he sighs, sounding relieved. "yeah. beats… beats the other stuff."

"even though it's really, really cold," you agree, smiling. he can hear the smile in your voice.

"even though it's really, really cold," he echoes. "it'll warm up."

he's right. this sort of thing passes. it gets better. the space heater serves its purpose, eventually warming the little bedroom enough that you can fall back asleep. the tile floor of the kitchen is hell in the morning, of course, and you spend the rest of the day in the library together after convincing the landlord to have everything fixed.

the weather warms too, and the relentless cloudiness fades into bright blue spring mornings. the blinds are always left closed on friday nights so that the rising sun won't wake you early on saturday mornings. it's been a blessing. sam still wakes up early sometimes, but sometimes he sleeps in late with you.

no alarms go off this morning; you and sam were up late last night watching a movie you found at the library. he really prefers vhs movies, but he'll settle pretty easily for cds. vhs is too hard to find these days, which is a shame. after the movie, you stayed up much later than intended, sprawled in bed while discussing the movie in depth. it was the sort of movie that was easy to watch, entertaining and pretty, but thought-provoking all the same. maybe it's because the mundane is something so special to you and sam that you could talk about it forever.

the blinds don't block out all the light, especially when it's so sunny like it is now. but it makes waking gentler and kinder while still letting you love the light of the morning.

gentle really is the right way to describe how you wake this morning. there's nothing particularly special about it, but that's what's so lovely. it's just a breath in, then a breath out and the fluttering of eyelids. it's a moment of peace, but the moment never ends. there's no threat of monsters or a hunt or the end of the world.

there's just sam and his heavy arm wrapped around your waist, grounding you, keeping you near him. there's sunlight on the white wall and a green plant in the corner of the room. pillows and blankets you call your own, a stuffed armchair, and a closet of clothes. sam wears sweaters and tshirts and sometimes even slacks rather than jeans these days. you can't stop telling him how handsome he looks when he's comfortable.

you don't move for a little while, and you let your eyes fall closed again. maybe you fall back asleep, maybe not. it doesn't really matter. nothing really matters, nothing but this. even if there's things like rent and jobs and a leaky sink. they don't have to matter until later.

then, because you're hopelessly in love, you open your eyes when they start to feel less heavy with sleep and turn to look at sam. there's no slight frown on his lips, no furrow to his pretty brows. he's content, he's safe, he's not so afraid anymore. if you were to count your blessings, his happiness would be the first thing to come to mind.

his body lets him rest without worry. staying up to talk about movies for fun is allowed now. it has no consequence, outside of a yawn or two while washing the dishes. but he gets to sleep in for as long as he'd like today.

maybe it's your staring that finally wakes him. the weight of your gaze, heavy with affection. the first thing he does when roused back into consciousness is smile. soft and sleepy and delighted to see you. then he kisses you. it would be without warning if he weren't moving so slowly. but you're ready for him, happy to have him.

this morning, he is insistent on having you close, so the moment his lips are no longer on yours, his arms are wrapping around your middle and holding you tight. he pulls you into him with a quiet grunt.

"good morning, sweetheart," he rumbles softly, lips brushing over the skin of your temple.

"good morning, love," you murmur back, voice just as sweet as his.

"i love you so much," he tells you, hand rubbing up and down the expanse of your back.

of course, you answer, "i love you, too. so much." his hand slips under your shirt, like you'll never be close enough, and touching your skin will make it better. you huff in protest and arch against him just a bit. his fingers are cold, but only for a moment. then you're melting into him and sighing in contentment.

"the weather's supposed to be nice. like yesterday. we could walk to the park," you whisper.

"later," he answers simply, ducking his head to press his nose to yours, then kiss the skin under your eye. "let's just lay here a while.

you can't help but grin. "okay. later." you kiss his cheek and he smiles back, then closes his eyes again. the smile stays on his face and you think that maybe he's never looked more beautiful than he does now.

"i love you," you say again, because you just have to.

he hums softly and his other hand slips under your shirt, his fingertips pushing gently into the plush of your lower back. "i love you," he echoes.

nothing aches, not right now. there's growing pains and old scars and sores that will never really go away. but in this moment, nothing aches save for the kind of ache that love gives. and it's a lovely sort of ache. the kind that could make your eyes all misty in the happy way. like you're so grateful to be where you are that it almost hurts.

magic is real. so are monsters and gods and demons and angels. but this moment is a miracle in a way that it has nothing to do with that sort of thing. it's simple and normal and maybe you've romanticized it because of the way you lived before. but you don't think that's such a bad thing. living like this with sam… it's natural.

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pricesprincess · 23 hours ago

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you were willing to write for Price using prompt #5 from list 2? Thank you! 🥰

18+ mdni - prompts

hello! this was so much fun to write! thank you for sending one in! 🥰

tags: fem reader with a bush + explicit smut + I gave him a domesticity/housewife kink whatever you wanna call it lmao

Heat came in waves, taking away the sweet spring air, turning the days into a muggy nightmare, suffocating everything in a heat that made it hard to breathe and caused you to sweat when you stepped outside, but at least it gave you an excuse to buy new swimsuits.

John handed you his card when you told him that you were going shopping for the upcoming vacation you both had planned. It was a weekend getaway at a hotel—nothing fancy. Still, it was where you two could focus on each other, ignoring everything and everyone.

You knew that your husband got a hard-on anytime he knew he was taking real good care of you, judging by that smile that curled your lips and the way you smothered him in sweet honey kisses.

Paperwork kept him tied to his desk at home, going over the monthly bills, something he never wanted you to worry your pretty little head about but he'd never stop you from getting a job if you wanted it.

It didn't take long for you to grab a few bathing suits, cover ups, and a sundress you knew would rile John up. One was skimpy, the fabric barely covering anything, and that would be the first one you would show off. It made you flush thinking about his reaction.

Twenty minutes after swiping the card, you slipped into the tobacco shop to pick out a few cigars for John before your car was pulling up into the driveway, your fingers clutching the bags when you got out.

Excitement fizzled in your veins as you hurried inside, shutting the door with your foot calling out to John. "Honey, I'm home!" You giggled hearing his footsteps from upstairs to greet you.

John always said that when he came home and you picked up on it quickly. "Get everythin' you needed luv?" He asked with a slight hum looking at the the bags in your hand. You nodded and wrapped one arm around his waist to nuzzle your face into him inhaling deeply.

"Yes, and more, sit on the couch for me please baby. I have something to show you." John let you gently push him toward the living room watching him plop down on the middle of the couch.

He leaned back, spreading his legs tapping his knee. "What are you up to?" He drawled in that thick accent that made you ache. Your giggles filled the air as you walked into the kitchen to shed your clothes letting it pool at your ankles before pulling out the first suit.

This one was the tamest of them all, a one piece that had your tits pressed together and hugged your curves. Once the straps were in place you grabbed the box of cigars and poked your head out.

"Shut your eyes please!" You sang hearing John chuckle before you tip-toed out to the living room to stand close to him. "Open."

You could feel the heat licking down your spine and pool in your tummy as John's eyes assessed you, starting from your flustered face to your pedicured toes. "Turn for me darlin', let me see."

You giggled and obeyed turning around with a twirl then you placed the box of cigars on his knee with a wink. "I have a few more, didn't know which one was the best for our vacation. Do you like?"

John rubbed at his beard, his heavy eyes on you making you shift. "Like? No, lovie. You look stunnin', good enough to eat." His praise made your skin burst with heat as you giggled and hurried to the kitchen stripping once more to pull on the skimpy bathing suit.

The other suits would have to be shown off later because if John thought the one piece was stunning? This one was sure to have his jaw on the floor, the cool air from the ac made you shiver before stepping out into the living room again humming John's name.

"Bloody hell, you're goin' to kill me." He muttered, his eyes latched onto the way your tits jiggled, the thin fabric barely hiding the stiff peak of our nipple and the pubic hair peaking from the sides of the bottom of your suit making his cock twitch in his pants.

You stepped closer, swaying your hips until you perched on his knee, your hands resting on his lower stomach watching the way he unashamedly checked you out like it was his first time seeing you.

His rough fingers grazed over your soft belly hearing how your breath hitched just from his touch then his mouth was on yours and he was shifting you to straddle him feeling the bulge of his dick throbbing against the thin material covering your slick pussy.

You leaned forward wrapping your arms around his neck, your tongue glided against his before twirling them together as his fingers played with the ends of the ties before slowly tugging letting your top fall loose, your tits bare and your stiff nipples brush against his shirt.

John's breath fanned against your neck as his tongue traced your erratic pulse chuckling when you gasped, your fingers curled into his shirt humping him, your clit aching to be played with, licked, sucked.

"My dirty girl, wearin' practically nothin' on our vacation, desperate for some attention?" He rasped, mocking you knowing how it gets your cunt dripping wet for him, you rolled your eyes playfully and shrugged as you leaned in and kissed him, nipping his bottom lip.

The space between you grew hotter as your breaths mingled together, his fingers tracing your nipples before pinching them making you squeal and hump him again, your hips working to find your orgasm but John grasped your hips stopping you.

You opened your mouth to say something but John had shifted and pinned you under him, your legs wrapping around his waist while he flipped your bathing suit top to bare your tits to his greedy gaze.

John stared at you, his hand roaming your stomach and chest watching you squirm and giggle. "Needy and responsive, I'm one lucky bastard." He rasped, his fingers trailing down to the hem of your bottoms barely sliding in to graze against the slick making his fingers sticky.

"Fuckin' drippin' for me." He sighed letting his fingers dip lower until he was rubbing your clit making you moan and hips to roll.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

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the-mind-of-stien · 3 days ago

Text

How dare you leave this in the tags

Anyway,

Harping on the thought that they were once one whole being, think how hard it is to appear so powerful to either one of their teams.

Nightmare needs total control for his work to be carried out. Dust and horror would have already fled IF he didn't. Killer stays in line, not out of respect or reverence, but because that's his purpose now.

Imagine he flinched if someone rose their hand.

Imagine he genuinely smiles when daydreaming.

Imagine he allows a tear to spill when a storm arrives.

He has just shown weakness. He now is exposed. They now have a chance to use this against him.

But what about dream?

He needs to appear as an angel. He knows the people's plight and he has a plan to fix it. He also needs to appear competent enough to make decisions, organize things, communicate with allies. Without this image, he looses control on the many protected areas.

Imagine he screams at blue.

Imagine he let's a sparky comment go to ink.

Imagine he has no answer.

He has now shown that he is not fit to lead and is not as prepared as he needs to be. People are afraid, afraid of him, afraid of what happens if they follow him.

They look in the mirror and see themselves for who they really are. Dream is naive and proud, nightmare is scared and lost. They see eachother, as the past and the present, in themselves. And they weep, calling out for the other to come save them.

They do not know how to function without eachother. When they were first separated, they were ways on the brink of death. Nightmare had to figure out how to manage a new, broken body. Dream had to learn very quickly how cruel the outside world was (how what the village did to both of them was abuse) and who he could trust. Neither of them knew what they were doing. (They probably went without basic need for so long that they passed out because there was no one to remind them or bring them anything).

Think of the soul problems they'd have and share.

I understand that they aren't technically monsters, but they do have a skeletal shell. They still have souls. So using monster logic, it could be said they have similar problems.

For starters, the crushing loneliness; nightmare has already been broken. His bones are (probably) decaying and HIS magic has been replaced with the corruption. Add the fact that his soul is aching and probably somewhat breaking (legitimately) from the separation, and its a good flavor of angst.

Dream not only saw his brother die, but everyone they knew. Good or bad, he was still a kid witnessing a gruesome mass death. It wouldn't be a stretch to say he probably fears death. (So might NM because of how close he's come nowadays and because he felt himself dying as the corruption took over his body). Dream was also imprisoned in stone. His body is just as achy as NM and probably has some chronic pain from his joints now being overused. He already had the affects of loneliness because he knew the village didn't like him, but he also hated being separated from nightmare. Now having that connection completely severed opens the flood gates. At times, hatred, anxiety, despair, take over Dream and burns his soul. Episodes like this have to be passified with help from blue and ink.

But what if they could feel eachothers problems through a soul bond? They are twins. They'd have that connection.

Everytime dreams soul burns nightmare goes catatonic. Everytime nightmares soul breaks dream looses functionally. It's a cycle of chronic pain and chronic depression.

The cure is just out of reach.

I neeeeddddddd people to draw more parallels with Dream and Nightmare. I think they're more similar than a lot of people (including themselves) think. I want people to specifically highlight their similarities and differences

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mahalachives · 2 days ago

Text

Part 1: Oops, I Tripped Into Prythian

Summary: In which a fan gets yeeted into the world of fae

Genre: humor, drabble, minor az x reader (bcus why not)

You were just minding your business, lying in bed, rereading A Court of Thorns and Roses for the fiftieth time, when the universe decided to absolutely wreck your life.

One second, you were flipping a page; the next, you were free-falling through what could only be described as the worst interdimensional portal ever. No warning, no flash of light—just a violent, gut-churning yeet straight into the land of hot Fae males.

You crash-land face-first onto something soft, groaning as your limbs flail like a traumatized starfish. Someone clears their throat.

“Why,” a silky male voice muses, “is there a human in my lap?”

Your eyes fly open. Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court. Captain of Sarcasm. Maker of poor life choices. And you? You were sprawled across him like some overenthusiastic fangirl who finally got her wish—but at what cost?!

“Oh gods,” you whisper, scrambling off, only to face-plant into the grass. “It’s happening. I’m in Prythian.”

Rhysand raises a brow, looking equal parts amused and suspicious. “You know where you are?”

You sit up, brushing dirt from your face. “Yes, obviously. Unless I have a really specific fever dream going on right now.”

Before Rhys can respond, Mor appears, grinning like she just found the juiciest gossip. “Well, this is new. A human dropping out of nowhere?”

Cassian strolls up, arms crossed. “Did you summon her, Rhys?”

“I did not summon a clumsy human who smells like anxiety and… is that cheese dust?” Rhys sniffs disdainfully.

You blink. “I was eating Cheetos before I got transported. Excuse me for having snacks.”

Nesta appears. “What’s a Cheeto?”

Feyre, looking far too composed for the insanity at hand, sighs. “More importantly, who is she?”

You inhale, sit up straighter, and declare with absolute confidence: “I am just a humble reader who was yeeted here against my will. But—” You raise a dramatic finger, “—I refuse to waste this opportunity.”

Cassian smirks. “Opportunity?”

You whip around, eyes locking onto him. The shadowsinger, lurking in the background like a hot, brooding cryptid. Azriel. The Book Boyfriend.

Your voice drops to a sultry whisper. “Azriel.”

His shadows twitch. His brows raise just slightly. He looks at you as if you are both an anomaly and a problem. Which is fair, because you are.

“Oh no,” Rhys mutters, face-palming. “Not another one.”

You scramble to your feet, dusting off your pajama pants. “Listen. I don’t know how long I have before the universe decides to yeet me back to reality, but I am shooting my shot.”

You turn fully to Azriel, who is now staring at you with the intensity of a thousand unread texts. “Azriel, my dark and broody king, my nightmare of the night—”

Cassian snorts.

“I would like to formally volunteer as your emotional support human.”

Azriel blinks. Once. Twice. And then—he walks away. Just… turns and leaves.

You spin on Rhys. “DO SOMETHING.”

Rhys, grinning, shrugs. “If he didn’t kill you immediately, I’d say that’s progress.”

You fist-pump. “Yes.”

Nesta mutters, “I want to hate this, but I don’t.”

Feyre, ever the diplomat, sighs. “Let’s get you inside before you fall into another male’s lap.”

Mor loops an arm through yours. “I like you. This is going to be fun.”

Cassian winks. “For us.”

And just like that, you, a simple ACOTAR reader, are now a walking disaster in Prythian.

…And maybe, just maybe, Azriel’s shadows linger a little longer than usual as he watches you.

Because what fresh chaos is this?

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You’d been in Prythian for approximately four hours, and already, you had:

Fallen from the sky like a cursed shooting star.

Launched yourself into Rhysand’s lap (an experience that would haunt you forever).

Profess your undying love for Azriel, only for him to stare at you like you were a particularly difficult puzzle—and then walk away (rude).

Been force-fed fae food by Mor, who was far too excited to introduce you to “actual, non-poisonous, non-human garbage food.”

Currently, you were in the House of Wind, which was all well and good except for one small problem:

“No elevators?” you whisper, staring at the 10,000 steps leading up to it. “No escalators? Not even a rope lift?”

Nesta, standing beside you with her arms crossed, smirks. “You think we just float up there?”

You give her a very serious nod. “That is exactly what I expected. I mean, Rhysand has wings, Azriel has wings, Cassian has wings. Feyre could have wings. This entire operation seems wildly ableist.”

Cassian cackles from behind you. “She’s got a point.”

Nesta squints at him, then turns back to you. “If you want to get up there, you have two choices: One—train until you can make the climb without dying. Or two—bribe one of the bat boys to fly you up.”

Your head whips toward Azriel, who is conveniently leaning against the wall, arms crossed, exuding maximum broody energy.

You smile. “Azriel.”

His shadows curl around his shoulders, as if sensing danger.

“Would you like to give me a ride?” you ask, voice absolutely dripping with suggestion.

Cassian chokes on air. Mor drops her goblet. Feyre buries her face in her hands.

Azriel, who has likely survived countless wars and assassinations, looks like he wants to die on the spot. His shadows frantically swirl around him, whispering all kinds of warnings, probably screaming abort mission, abort mission.

But to your absolute delight, he simply stares at you for a long, painful moment, then says, “…No.”

Cassian howls with laughter. “I take it back. I love her. She’s staying.”

You huff. “Fine. I’ll get another ride.”

Mor, still laughing, grabs your hand. “Come on, I’ll winnow you up before you give Az a heart attack.”

You shoot Azriel one last dramatic look. “You could have had all of this,” you say, gesturing to yourself. “But you played yourself.”

Azriel blinks slowly.

He looks… confused. Intrigued. Maybe even a little impressed.

The moment Mor winnows you away, you just know his shadows will be whispering about you for weeks.

Later that night, in the House of Wind…

You are lounging in the giant fae living room, eating whatever snacks Mor gave you, when you hear Cassian scream.

You shoot up. “What the—”

A second later, something huge crashes through the door.

It’s Azriel.

Holding a chicken.

Correction: a very angry, flapping, unhinged-looking chicken.

Cassian is on the floor, laughing so hard he’s wheezing.

Rhys is leaning against the wall, covering his mouth with a hand, his shoulders shaking.

Nesta is watching in judgmental silence.

Feyre looks between everyone. “What… exactly… is happening?”

Azriel glares at Cassian, who is too busy dying to explain.

You blink at the chaos, then point at Az. “Why… are you holding a chicken?”

Azriel exhales sharply. “Because Cassian thought it would be funny to sneak a mortal farm animal into my room.”

Cassian cackles from the floor. “You should have seen his face. Pure terror. The great and mighty Shadowsinger, scared of a little chicken.”

Azriel glares at him, but his grip on the chicken tightens as it attempts a murderous escape.

You stand, crossing your arms. “Azriel.”

His hazel eyes meet yours.

“I have a very important question.”

He sighs. “What?”

You smirk. “Would you say that this is fowl play?”

There is silence.

Rhysand snorts.

Feyre groans.

Nesta covers her face.

Cassian completely loses his mind, laughing so hard he starts crying.

Azriel, for a brief second, looks like he might actually be fighting a smile.

And you?

You decide right then and there that you are never leaving Prythian.

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Azriel, still holding the feral chicken, looks one deep breath away from assassinating Cassian. His shadows curl around his shoulders, clearly debating if this situation is beneath their skill set. The chicken, meanwhile, pecks his leather vambrace with zero fear.

“I swear,” Azriel mutters, “if you don’t take this thing back, I will personally deliver it to Eris.”

Cassian, sprawled across the floor, wheezing, waves a hand. “Take the chicken. See if I care. Maybe Beron will make it his heir.”

The chicken squawks in defiance.

You—being the kind, merciful, and deeply chaotic human that you are—decide it is your duty to name this creature.

You step forward, tilting your head. “Azriel.”

His eyes flick to yours, cautious.

“His name is Cluckriel now.”

Cassian completely loses his mind. He rolls onto his side, pounding the floor, gasping, “Cluckriel—”

Rhysand is now facing the wall, shaking.

Feyre bites her lip. Nesta is openly smirking.

Azriel closes his eyes, breathes through his suffering. Then, he turns—completely ignoring you—and walks away with the chicken still in his arms.

You call after him, “Are you keeping him?! Is this your emotional support chicken now?!”

Azriel does not answer.

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You were beginning to accept that Prythian was your new home, and frankly, you were thriving. Between terrorizing the Inner Circle and dramatically flirting with Azriel (to which he mostly responded by walking away or sighing heavily), you were settling in just fine.

Which was precisely why it made perfect sense that Rhysand decided it was time for you to meet the other High Lords.

“Be on your best behavior,” Feyre warns as you stand before the shimmering portal leading to the neutral meeting grounds.

You give her an exaggerated salute. “Absolutely. I will represent the Night Court with grace and dignity.”

Cassian leans in. “She’s lying.”

Nesta sighs. “She’s lying.”

Mor grins. “I kind of hope she isn’t.”

You dramatically adjust your borrowed Night Court cloak, striking a heroic pose. “Fear not! I shall charm them all.”

Rhys rubs his temples. “Let’s get this over with.”

The moment you step into the meeting, you realize two things:

You are underdressed. The High Lords are all adorned in their regal finery, and you are wearing what can only be described as Night Court athleisure.

Tamlin is here. And he looks like he just smelled something foul. (Probably your sheer audacity.)

Beron eyes you with the disdain of a man who thinks fun is punishable by death. “And what, exactly, is this?”

You beam at him. “Hi, I’m Y/N, and I’m here to ruin everyone’s day.”

Helion chokes on his wine. Kallias straightens in interest. Thesan tilts his head, studying you as if you are an interesting new species.

Eris mutters, “Oh, this will be fun.”

Tamlin crosses his arms. “Another human playing at being something they’re not.”

You gasp, clutching your chest. “Oh no, my deepest insecurities, exposed by such a keen intellect! However shall I recover?”

Rhysand makes a strangled noise. Azriel looks suspiciously like he’s trying not to smile. Cassian grins outright.

Helion leans forward, intrigued. “Tell me, Y/N. How did you come to be in Prythian?”

You consider your answer carefully. “I fell through a wormhole. Or perhaps the universe just decided I deserved to be here. Either way, I am thriving.”

Kallias, cool and composed, nods. “And what is it you do?”

You shoot Azriel a slow grin. “Oh, you know. Make things awkward. Bring joy to those who don’t want it. Offer emotional support to broody males.”

Azriel exhales through his nose. Cassian is beside himself.

Beron sneers. “And why should we tolerate this nonsense?”

You tilt your head, giving him a sharp, knowing smile. “Because it amuses you, Beron. And gods forbid you ever admit that you need a little amusement in your miserable existence.”

For the first time in history, Beron has no retort. He just squints at you like he is debating whether to set you on fire or adopt you.

Rhysand claps his hands together. “Well, I do believe that concludes introductions. Shall we proceed to the actual discussions, or should we just let Y/N continue to terrorize everyone?”

Helion raises a hand. “I vote for terror.”

Eris raises his goblet. “Same.”

Tamlin storms out.

Azriel sighs. “I hate this.”

You grin. “No, you don’t.”

And for a moment—just the briefest of moments—his shadows curl around his shoulders in silent, reluctant agreement.

#acotar #azriel x oc #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel x reader #rhysand #cassian #feyre acotar #nesta acotar #mor acotar #amren acotar #elain acotar #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #funny

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cookies-after-dark · 6 hours ago

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okay but Shmilk would be such a back seat driver if he let black sapphire cookie fuck reader

“Move ur hand lower”

“They like being pinched there”

kiss em like u mean it cmooon”

and whoes to say he won’t get strings involved and fix their position himself if they keep messing up :3c

okay no wait 💡 you dropped this because that is one hell of a good idea.

(additional tags because I went loopy here: explicit content, unhealthy power dynamics, possessiveness, humiliation, exhibitionism, degradation)

See, my lame ass was just thinking of Shadow Milk Cookie using this as powerplay, you know? Like a, 'my pets are playing with each other!' scenario where Shadow Milk Cookie actually lets one of his minions knock you around a bit in his stead. Let's be honest, Black Sapphire Cookie's been eyeing you up and down since the moment Shadow Milk brought you here! He's such an eager, helpful, obedient little servant! You could learn to be more like him, Shadow Milk Cookie thinks.

And Black Sapphire Cookie is more than willing to show you just where you stand, riiiiight at the bottom of the hierarchy! No one can tell me that little purple ball of lint isn't secretly a dominant control freak who needs to have everything go his........- I mean, master Shadow Milk Cookie's way. You're adorable and endearing enough, but you need to be taught a lesson or two before you go strutting around the Spire, thinking you're all that just because your the master's newest pet.

Hence, this situation. Shadow Milk Cookie sees the most perfect opportunity to humble you and get his rocks off at the same time! Well, he has many ways to do that, but plan in partocular has him hardening in his tights already. Passing you off to an underling really paints the whole picture for you - you belong to the Spire now! You belong here, this is your new home, you won't be going anywhere, and the first thing we'll do to make sure of that is to fuck you on every piece of furniture in sight! Lovely, ain't it?

Shadow Milk Cookie also loves giving you yhe illusion that you can choose - would you rather have your legs be folded over your head whilst Black Sapphire Cookie mercilessly fucks you while recording your moans and squeals through his beloved microphone, spreading rumors all over Earthbread how you're just some hungry, poorly trained slut? Ooooor~ you could play with Shadow Milk Cookie instead! Those are the only two choices by the way, so choose carefully.

So that was my lame ass. But this ask is hysterical because this also makes Shadow Milk Cookie sharing you with anyone else an absolute godawful nightmare. Black Sapphire Cookie would never talk back to his beloved master, but even he must admit it's getting difficult continuing when Shadow Milk stops him every few seconds with some kind of criticism.

"Pfft! Well, of course, only one Cookie on all of Earthbread could handle this task correctly! Even still, you could at least *attempt* to have a bit more tact than that~!"

Because the Reader, his darling little popper, isn't just some common whore. No, they're just a speeeeecial whore, deserving of only the best treatment! Shadow Milk's words (he cannot help but through a dirty little nickname for you in there).

Honestly, the fact that Shadow Milk Cookie loves you just so, so, so, so much should be obvious! So what if his love is a little rough? Sooner or later, he'll have Black Sapphire Cookie show you the pleasure you deserve, as Shadow Milk Cookie's beautiful, lovely little pet!

#thank you anon you got me to kill two birds with one stone - answer an ask and write what i said i was going to 💖#cookie run kingdom smut #crk smut #crk x reader #shadow milk cookie x reader #black sapphire cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie #black sapphire cookie #asks #anon #does this count as full on yandere? might as well tag it jic JELSNSJSOA #yandere shadow milk cookie #crk yandere #i fall further into hell the more of this i write

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theliving-radio · 19 hours ago

Text

Big Brother Malleus notices that something is wrong the moment he sees you walking in the hallway.

You look tired, your eyes were having a hard time staying open. Grim was hanging off your shoulder and kept pawing at your face to stay awake. A few times you would bump into a student and immediately started apologizing. Were you trying to rest your eyes while walking?

That wont do.

“My Baby Sibling, is something the matter?” Malleus walked straight into your direction to check up on you.

“Oh? Morning Horton, I’m doing alright! Nothing is wrong.” A lie. It was clearly a lie

Malleus raises a brow and looks over at Grim.

“They had a nightmare last night.”

“Grim!”

“What?! I’m not gonna lie to him! Plus you need rest! You weren’t able to fall back asleep! How is my Hench-human suppose to help me be the most powerful mage, if they can’t sleep well!”

Malleus made a mental note to gift Grim a treat for his honesty later.

“You lost sleep because of a nightmare? That won’t do, come my dear Baby Sibling. I shall help you rest.”

“Oh, Horton that’s all right-,” Malleus ignored you and took your hand in his as he carefully dragged you off with him.

Grim grabbed his notebook and hopped off your shoulder, heading to class now while the dragon fae whisked you away. “Mraaa! You better get some sleep this time!”

You kept protesting against Malleus, saying that you were fine and everything is ok with you. Did he listen? Nope. Not even for a second.

You’re his Baby Sibling who needs their sleep. And as the Big Brother, he’s gonna help you sleep.

Malleus took you all the way to his dorm room, guiding you over to his bed.

“Horton, I promise I’m fine! I need to get to class! Grim will have a hard time without me.”

“Nonsense, you clearly need rest.”

“A day without sleep wouldn’t kill me…”

“No, but it would kill me seeing my own Baby Sibling suffering throughout the day because of a nightmare that haunted them.”

Malleus gently guides you to sit on his bed, you just sit there and stare up at him while he looked down at you expectingly.

“… what?”

“Climb into bed”

“What- no!”

“Why not?”

“Horton, I can survive the day just fine, let me go to class.”

“Ah I see, you need to be in more comfortable clothes.”

With a flick of his wrist, your school uniform turned into a pair of cozy pajamas.

Is he serious right now?!

You were too baffled to say anything as Malleus begins to move you up his bed. He pulled the blankets all the way to your chin when he got you under the covers, making sure to tuck you in comfortably.

He stood back and puffed out his chest, clearly proud of his work.

You just looked like a head on a pillow in a sea of blankets.

“There, now you shall be able to sleep properly.”

You blinked up at the dragon fae and try to sit up, Malleus just flicks his wrist again to use magic to make you lay back down.

“Oof! Really?!”

“My Baby Sibling needs to sleep.”

“I can’t just automatically fall asleep!”

“Hm, you’re right.” Malleus began to think for a bit, he then smiles as he pulls a chair from his work desk and sits beside the bed. “Then I shall keep you company while you sleep”

“Horton, that’s sweet and all, but I think this is just a bit too much.”

“I would say it’s not enough. As your Big Brother, it’s my responsibility that my Baby Sibling is well taken care of. And that includes your sleep”

You stare at Malleus for a long time. He wasn’t gonna let you go until you get some sleep in your system.

… and you were very comfortable…

But there was a a darkness creeping in the back of your mind, telling you to not close your eyes. That the events of the nightmare would happen again…

“… I’m scared to fall asleep.”

Malleus eyes widen at your confession, but his expression softens and smiles at you.

“You do not have to fear a nightmare to ever haunt your dreams. I will protect you from them.”

“Because you’re my Big Brother?”

“Exactly.”

You let out a small giggle as you shuffle under the covers, getting yourself comfortable and ready to accept sleep.

“Will you be here when I wake up.”

“Yes, now stop stalling and close your eyes.”

“Hehe, ok. I love you, Big Brother.”

Malleus broke out in a wide smile as he sits up from his chair and places a gentle kiss upon your forehead. “And I love you too, my sweet Baby Sibling.”

The Fae began to hum a soft tune as he watched over you. Once Malleus knew you were fully sleep, he moved a few strands of hair out of your face and placed two fingers on your forehead. He whispers a few words, blessing you with sweet dreams. Malleus goes back to sit down in the chair and picks up a book from his nightstand.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

Big Brother is going to stay right here where you need him.

————————————————————————

This was out of the blue, but I had the WORST Nightmare ever! It was too much of a real scenario too, and I’m not gonna get into it. But I love the idea of Big Brother Malleus kidnapping us to just put us to bed because he said so. Lol

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst malleus #x reader #twst x reader #platonic relationships #big brother malleus

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novlr · 1 day ago

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How do I write a dream sequence that actually feels dreamy and not just confusing or random? I want it to make sense in the story but still have that weird, surreal vibe dreams have.

Before writing a dream sequence, ask yourself: Why is this dream important?

A strong dream sequence serves a narrative purpose. It either reveals something critical about the character or moves the plot forward. For example, it might:

Highlight a character’s inner conflict, such as self-doubt or guilt.

Offer insight into a character’s fears, desires, or memories.

Foreshadow future events.

Explore the story’s themes.

Present an epiphany or realisation that changes the narrative direction.

When you define the purpose of the dream, you give it meaning and ensure it doesn’t feel like a random, disconnected scene.

Vivid imagery and sensory details

Dreams are often hyper-real or surreal. To truly immerse readers, fill your sequences with vivid imagery. Describe not just what the character sees, but also what they hear, smell, and feel. For example:

The air might feel oppressively heavy, as if the character is moving through water.

Colours could be unnaturally bright or pulsing, creating a sense of unease or wonder.

Sounds may echo strangely, or voices may change tones mid-sentence.

Sensory details are your best friend when crafting dreams. They help you draw readers into the scene, making the dream feel almost tangible without being constrained to what is possible.

The power of symbolism

Dreams are often symbolic, reflecting a character’s subconscious thoughts and emotions. A dream sequence offers a fantastic opportunity to use metaphors and symbols to deepen your narrative. For instance:

A crumbling staircase may represent a character’s feelings of insecurity.

A recurring image, like a locked door, could hint at a secret the character is repressing.

Objects or people in the dream might represent aspects of the character’s personality or unresolved relationships.

By embedding symbols, you can subtly communicate deeper layers of meaning to your readers while building suspense without having to state things outright.

Heightened emotion

In dreams, emotions are often exaggerated. A minor embarrassment can swell into overwhelming shame, and a fleeting joy might feel like euphoria. Use this to your advantage to explore your character’s emotional state. For instance:

A character struggling with grief might dream of a loved one, only for them to disappear when approached.

A character racked with guilt could find themselves pursued by shadowy figures.

Striking a balance between disorientation and logic

Dreams are naturally disorienting because they don’t follow the logical flow of reality. You can introduce elements like sudden scene changes, nonsensical dialogue, or impossible physics to create a truly dreamlike experience. For example:

A character might start at a family dinner, only to inexplicably swimming in an ocean of stars.

A trusted friend might appear with the face of a stranger.

Despite the inherent chaos of dreams, your sequence should still have some degree of narrative coherence. A good rule of thumb is to maintain a logical thread that allows the dream to fulfil its narrative purpose, even if the details are illogical.

Establishing atmosphere

The tone and atmosphere of your dream sequence should align with its purpose. Focus on creating a specific emotional response:

For a nightmare, use eerie, oppressive details, like a pulsating fog or distorted, echoing voices.

For a whimsical dream, evoke wonder with surreal and magical details, such as floating landscapes and shimmering light.

Choose your atmosphere carefully to enhance the emotional impact of the scene.

Types of dream sequences to explore

There are many types of dream sequences, and each serves a unique purpose. Here are some of the most common:

Foreshadowing dreams: These hint at future events, creating suspense or intrigue.

Nightmares: These reveal a character’s fears or anxieties.

Fantasy dreams: These involve magical or surreal elements, and are often used to explore themes, symbols, or metaphors.

Recurring dreams: These underscore unresolved issues or patterns in a character’s life.

Lucid dreams: These allow the dreamer to be aware they’re dreaming and possibly influence the dream’s outcome.

Realisation dreams: These provide moments of clarity or epiphany for the character.

Internal conflict dreams: These visually showcase a character’s inner turmoil, providing a unique way to “show, not tell.”

Linked dreams: These connect two or more characters through shared dreamscapes.

Keep it brief and meaningful

Dream sequences should enhance your story, not derail it. While they offer a chance to be wildly creative, keep them concise and focused. Avoid overloading readers with too much detail or overly prolonged scenes. Your audience should leave the dream sequence full or curiosity, not overwhelmed.

Seamlessly transition in and out

Transitions are crucial for dream sequences. Start with subtle hints, like a sound, a sensation, or a surreal visual that cues readers into the shift from reality to dream. Similarly, exit the dream gracefully, creating a smooth return to the waking world. This ensures that readers are not jarred out of the story.

Writing tips for a dreamlike feel

Use narrative distance to create a floaty, disconnected feeling that mirrors the sensation of dreaming.

Experiment with stream-of-consciousness writing for portions of the dream to mimic the fluid and unpredictable nature of thoughts in sleep.

Pay attention to pacing. Dreams often feel both slow and rapid—a contradiction you can reflect by alternating between drawn-out descriptions and sudden, abrupt moments.

Dream sequences are a space where your imagination can truly run free while still serving the story’s deeper purpose. When done well, they are memorable and meaningful, and leave a lasting impact. It’s a technique well worth exploring.

#writeblr #writing tips #writing resources #writing advice #writing community #writers #writing #creative writing #writers of tumblr #creative writers #writing inspiration #writerblr #writing help #writer #writers on tumblr #ask novlr #dream sequence

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boobabietch · 1 day ago

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we need a whiny paige getting strapped

Pretty woman | Paige Bueckers x reader

Warnings: porn without plot :), bottom!Paige, sub!Paige, strap on sex, whiny Paige getting strapped and that’s it

A/N: Hello lovelies! I bring you this as a peace offering for not being active with requests. I'm pretty happy with it. Hope you're happy with it too! And yes, this is the piece I had to use porn as an anatomical reference LMAO. And let me tell you, that was a motherfucking nightmare, because I was looking for a very specific position, and the only video I could find, it was a nasty straight video, why are straight dudes so into stepcest??? But anyways, I really like this. Don't know if it's my favorite Paige piece I’ve written, but I really like this. Hope you like it too. As usual English is not my first language so if you find anything wrong tell me so I can change it asap, likes, reblogs and comments(!!!) are highly appreciated, you guys truly make my day. And that’s pretty much everything, enjoy! Love, Sof :)

I think she looks so pretty when she gets like this.

Well, I think she’s so pretty in general.

When she’s on the court, moving like she was built for it, sharp, fast, untouchable. Like the game was made for her, like the ball bends to her will, like every move is effortless, inevitable. The way her jersey clings to her, damp with sweat, the way her muscles flex with every cut, every drive, every perfectly timed release

It’s hypnotic.

When she’s on those red carpets, draped in something expensive, her hair done just right, her lips painted in a shade that makes my stomach twist in an almost unfair way.

When her face is all over my TV, my for you page, my world.

But like this? Like this, she’s something else entirely.

Like this, she’s wrecked. Breathless. Completely undone beneath me.

I can feel her breath on my lips, hot, uneven, desperate. The way she gasps when I push back in, the way she shudders beneath me, her thighs trembling as she tries to hold onto something, me, the sheets, her sanity. It’s intoxicating.

It makes me want to ruin her.

Her hands slide up my back again, nails raking, dragging over skin already raw from her touch. I groan at the sting, loving the pain just as much as she loves giving it. Her fingers find my shoulders, then my hair, yanking me down until our foreheads are pressed together. She’s babbling now, words barely making sense, just breathy little pleas, broken curses, my name tangled in between.

I thrust deeper.

Her body jerks, back arching off the bed, her legs spreading wider, as if she’s trying to pull me impossibly closer. And fuck, she’s so wet. I can feel it every time I move, I can hear the slick, obscene sounds filling the room, mixing with her moans, my groans, the ragged sound of our breathing. My thumb keeps working her clit, slow, steady circles that have her head tilting back, exposing the gorgeous line of her throat.

I watch her unravel in real time. The little tears in the corners of her eyes that she refuses to let fall. The way her lips part on a breathless gasp. The way her fingers dig into my back, her whole body arching, her pulse thrumming against my lips when I kiss her throat.

I lean in, biting. Not too hard, just enough to make her whimper, to feel her shiver beneath me. I lap at the skin, soothing the mark that I know she’s going to need to cover tomorrow, before I move back up to her mouth. I don’t kiss her. Not yet. I hover, close enough to feel the heat of her lips, to watch the way she struggles to keep her eyes open, her pupils blown wide, making her usual piercing blue gaze dark, primal, dazed.

“Look at you,” I murmur, voice rough, teasing. “So fucked out already.”

She whines, tries to close the space between us, but I pull back just a little, just enough to watch the frustration bloom across her face. It’s adorable. It’s addicting.

I snap my hips forward again, hard, dragging a sharp, desperate cry from her lips.

“There’s my girl,” I breathe against her mouth. “You like that, don’t you?”

She nods frantically, her nails digging into my scalp, into my back, anywhere she can grab. “Please,” she gasps. “Please…”

I grin against her cheek, rocking into her again, pushing her higher, keeping my pace just enough to drive her insane but not enough to let her fall over the edge. I can feel the way she’s clenching around me, the way her body is begging for release. I can see it in her face, in the way her jaw goes slack, in the way she shakes.

“Not yet,” I whisper “Just feel it baby, enjoy the feeling”.

She sobs, a frustrated, overwhelmed sound that sends a shiver down my spine. I keep my rhythm steady, deep and slow, dragging it out, making her feel every inch, every roll of my hips, every teasing brush of my thumb against her clit.

“You feel that, P?” I murmur, my lips grazing the shell of her ear. “How good you feel stretched around me?”

Paige swallows hard, her breath hitching, but she doesn’t respond. She can’t, not when my hips are rolling so slow, so steady, my strap filling her completely.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” My tone almost reverent. “Like you were made to take this. Made to take me.”

And then I lower my head, once again my teeth scraping along her neck before I press an open-mouthed kiss to her pulse.

“Look at you,” I whisper. “Fucking falling apart for me. Like a good girl. You love being my good girl, don’t you?”

Paige can’t hold back the sound that escapes her, soft, needy, and almost a whimper. Her fingers grip the sheets tightly, her body arching against mine as her sounds sink deep into my skin, into her mind.

Her chest presses into mine, sticky with sweat, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts. She’s so warm, so fucking soft, and she’s mine, all mine, spread out underneath me like a masterpiece.

I wait.

Watch.

Drink in every little twitch, every little plea she doesn’t even realize she’s making.

And then I move, fast, relentless, pounding into her, driving her up the bed with every thrust, keeping my hands tight around her hips so she can’t run, can’t move, can only take it.

She whines. A beautiful, broken sound.

I don’t stop.

“Come for me, baby,” I murmur “Come on, I know you’re close.”

She shatters.

I press my palm to her stomach, pinning her down like I can keep her here, like I can make her stay in this feeling, in this pleasure, in me. Because I feel her. Even if it’s just silicone, even if this should be nothing more than friction and pressure, I can feel the way she clenches around me, the way her body pulls me in, the way she trembles beneath me.

Her release is devastating. It crashes over her, all-consuming, a perfect storm of pleasure that leaves her gasping, shaking, crying out my name like it’s the only thing she knows. I watch it happen, mesmerized at how her body goes taut, her back arching into me, her mouth parted in a silent scream before sound finally breaks free, raw and wrecked and so fucking beautiful.

She’s everything.

My grip tightens, fingers digging into her hips as I fuck her through it, dragging out every last pulse, every last wave, until she’s left panting, barely able to hold herself together. She tries, though.

My girl always tries.

But I can feel the way she’s still fluttering around me, sensitive and spent, the aftershocks making her tremble in my hands.

I slow my movements, gentle now, coaxing her back down, grounding her as she comes back to herself. I press soft kisses to her flushed skin, her shoulder, her jaw, the corner of her mouth, where she’s still gasping for air.

She barely manages to open her eyes, dazed and heavy-lidded, pupils blown so wide the blue is almost lost. She looks at me like she’s still floating somewhere just beyond reality, like I’ve broken her open and she hasn’t quite figured out how to put herself back together.

I press a kiss to her forehead, murmuring, “Breathe, baby.”

She exhales shakily, and it’s so soft, so vulnerable, that something in my chest clenches tight. I slip out carefully, feeling the way she twitches at the loss, throw the strap carelessly off the bed, and move to wrap her up in my arms before she can even think about reaching for me.

She doesn’t say anything at first, just nuzzles into me, her face tucked against my throat, her breath still uneven. My hands move over her back, slow, soothing strokes, grounding her, anchoring her to me.

Her body melts into mine, boneless, content, safe. I let her drift, listening to the soft, steady rhythm of her breathing, the way her fingers twitch slightly against my skin, still holding onto me even in the post-orgasmic haze she’s in.

And I think,

She looks so pretty like this.

Well, I think she’s so pretty in general.

When she’s on the court, moving like she was built for it, sharp, fast, untouchable. When she’s draped in something expensive, lips painted, looking like she owns the world. When her face is everywhere, on my TV, on my feed, in my thoughts.

But like this? Like this, she’s something else entirely.

Flushed, breathless, ruined.

Mine.

Tags: @unadulteratedcyclepaper

Requests are Open!

Masterlist

#lesbian #fanfic #wnba x reader #wnba basketball #boowrites★#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn x reader

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glitchinginthegarden · 2 days ago

Text

Woke up with thoughts so here we go:

Johnny’s behavior early in the game makes 100% sense and I support it because it fits his character writing and situation.

I've been seeing a lot of newer cyberpunk players getting onto the "Johnny is an absolute piece of shit" / "why would anyone do anything for this douchebag" soapbox and they're entitled to that opinion BUT...

Coming from the perspective of having completed the game multiple times and done plenty of digging into the ttrpg stuff, it fits. We also have to keep in mind the unreliable narrator factor but that's another thing all together.

In the beginning (after the nightmare night), Johnny is playing the face of cool dude who's suddenly on V's side while actively attempting to manipulate them. This tracks for his character, yes, but also for Night City.

If their positions were swapped, I know for a fact my V would be doing the same exact thing to her unwilling host. Which, when you break it down, is simply an attempt to regain control over a situation where she has none.

I don't blame Johnny in the slightest for that at that point in the plot. It's in human nature to fight tooth and nail for survival. Why would that not extend to someone who's been trapped in soul prison for fifty years too?

He's just "escaped" Mikoshi only to wake up imprisoned (again) in the mind of a complete stranger. Can you blame him for trying to find an angle he can work there?

Because I don't.

Everything tells us yes, Johnny is an asshole who historically has generally only looked out for himself. But not that he's been actively or maliciously intent on causing harm to the people around him. He doesn't behave the way he does for the hell of it, he does it (in my opinion) because in the past, his flavor of manipulation has worked and usually gotten him what he wants.

Which brings me to another thing: I've also seen some comments about how he doesn't tell V certain things depending on how you talk to him. That he withholds more if V is nice than when they're more mean to him. And that also tracks for his character.

Now, I will say that I haven't played a lot of "be mean to Johnny" runs, but if he does drop more info for that, I'm not surprised. Case and point: the oil fields.

Johnny is a person who won't take shit seriously unless he gets a kick in the ass for his behavior. V has to call him on his bullshit to get that sweet approval boost for Don't Fear The Reaper. So, it ultimately it makes sense for him to cough up more information along the line if V isn't being nice about getting it or calls him on being a dodgy fuck. Johnny doesn't fuck with weak people unless he can use them, that's not a secret.

He's playing his cards close to his chest for the most part and it makes sense. He has sparingly few hands to play after 50 years in soul prison. Why would he show his spread to someone who, depending on where you are in the plot, ultimately wants to end him again and scrape him off their brain? He's trying to survive.

He's a disabled man with a grand total of eighty something years of untreated ptsd and people wonder why he's not forthcoming with what he knows? Of course he's not. It's unreasonable to expect that, and especially from a character like his.

The point I'm trying to get to here, I suppose, is that I support Johnny’s wrongs because they're in line with his character and that's part of what makes him so well written. Yes, he's an asshole. Yes, he manipulates and lies and cheats to serve his needs. But, c'mon, look at the whole picture. Look at the setting and the other players on the board, and tell me it doesn't make perfect sense.

#glitch rambles #johnny silverhand

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nightbornfeyre · 2 days ago

Text

Rhys' actions in the situation were incredibly selfless, yet many forget the immense stakes he faced. His life was tied to Feyre’s through their bargain—if she had died, he would have died too. If Feyre had decided to terminate the pregnancy early, Rhys would have been the one to "benefit" the most, as they could try for another child later. However, Rhys chose to protect Feyre and their unborn child, even at the risk of his own life.

This decision wasn’t driven by malice; Rhys was dealing with panic attacks and trauma, as Cassian and Azriel observed. He suffered through nightly nightmares, was so devasted emotionally that he was close to his UTM self,wasn’t ready to confide in Feyre, and was desperately searching for a way to save her. Telling her would have meant revealing that their happiness would lead to their deaths, a heartbreaking truth.

Termination was never a real option for Feyre, given her self-sacrificial nature. While Rhys should have told her sooner, I understand why he didn’t, and I don’t think the hate he receives is justified. The author made it clear that termination wasn’t the central issue, and the plot quickly resolved it. Even Nesta, who doesn’t particularly like Rhys, promised not to reveal the truth because she understood the delicate and complicated nature of the situation. She only told Feyre later out of anger, hoping to hurt Rhys, but ultimately, she regretted using it against Feyre.

Let’s not forget that Feyre wasn’t kept completely in the dark. She knew the labor was risky, but the healer withheld the truth about the likely danger and only told Rhys. She should have shared the full information with both of them so they could face the decision together.

#acotar #sjm #Rhys #feysand #feyre #feyre archeron #rhysand #pro feyre #pro rhysand #pro inner circle #Nesta archeron

If i may add my input on the subject, i would like to talk about Feyre's pregnancy and the surrounding controversy.

While i completely understand the people who have felt upset about Rhysand and the others not telling Feyre, i also understand why they did not. As for the claims that Rhysand wanted an heir out of his mate, and did not care about her life, i think they are absolutely ridiculous.

Rhysand was the one to correct Feyre when she believed that she owed a child as a high lord's wife. He is the one who told her that she owes him nothing. He did not have to do that when she already believed she had no choice. Rhysand made sure Feyre knew she ALWAYS had a choice.

Furthermore, the risk was not only to Feyre's life but also to the child's. Rhys would have lost the two most important beings in his life. He did not have a personal gain in this.

While i do not fully support the fact that he did not tell her, by the time he discovered the risks there was nothing Feyre could do about them. Even if she decided to nullify the pregnancy, at the stage she was in she would have still had to go through the process which could kill her. We are also aware of the consequences excessive stress can have on pregnancy.

Rhysand was trying his best to bear the burden until he found a solution. If he had thought there was a slight possibility that Feyre could solve the issue, he would have obviously told her right away. Maybe he didn't do the right thing, maybe it would have been better if she knew. But he never did what he did out of malice. He never had anything but love towards his wife. And even Madja advises him to not mention it until until later.

He begs on his knees for Helion to help, while the rest of the inner circle looks for answers. Rhysand's whole world is Feyre. I do not believe he would choose to live on if he lost her.

I think it is important that we remember that Rhysand and Feyre are the reason why the series succeeded. Their love is the beginning and end of these books. Those who know them, know their hearts are good.

Anyway, sorry for the rant, but i needed to say this for my sanity.

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tayswife · 2 days ago

Text

— till the morning light

☆ glinda upland x elphaba thropp

☆ summary: glinda wakes up from a terrifying nightmare about elphaba. she needs her to comfort her in a way that reminds her she’s right there with her.

☆ warnings: smut, glinda crying during sex, nightmares

☆ a/n: we are turning the ending of part 1 into just glinda’s nightmare cause my babies deserve to live happily ever after!

she saw madam morrible. she saw her clear as day. so close she could reach out and hug her. but glinda knew madam morrible wasn’t someone she hugged. that woman, for some reason glinda hadn’t yet figured out, hated her guts.

yet, here she was hugging her as glinda wept in her arms.

and she could see clouds. big dark clouds, and lightning too. the strong winds made everything feel cold. she saw the hat she gifted elphaba, way up in the sky attached to the head of—

the guards, the lightning, the pain in her chest. elphaba couldn’t be.

glinda sat bolt upright in bed. her heart was pounding so hard she felt like it was going to break through her chest. she gasped for air so loud that it had awoke elphaba up beside. though, she wasn’t much of a heavy sleeper to begin with.

she couldn’t breathe. she gripped the top of her nightgown, pulling, tugging. every attempted intake of oxygen felt sharp and hurt her chest. this couldn’t be happening right now. she hadn’t endure this since she was a little girl. why again? why now?

“hey, glinda, hey. calm down. it’s me.” there were then familiar gentle hands on her arms, trying to ease her. this happened before, years and years ago. she knows what to do. feel things. feel the hands on her body and the soft sheets beneath her. smell the sweet scent of lavender lingering from her girlfriend.

“i— i— elphie?” she said so small. someone could’ve mistaken her voice for a child if they weren’t watching the scene unfold.

“yes, it’s me. just relax, my sweet, you’re safe,” elphaba cooed.

the blonde girls breaths were still heavy but they slowed enough to a point that it eased some of the anxiety in elphaba as well. glinda shook so hard, elphaba wondered if the girl was going to completely shatter.

“are you okay,” elphaba asks, “was it a nightmare?”

glinda just nods. she looks at elphaba, finally. the green witch can see how flushed her face is, she can see the mix of tears and sweat on her face. she doesn’t think she’s ever seen her girlfriend like this before.

“i’m,” glinda starts, but then has to swallow down the lump in her throat, full of fear and sadness. “i’m sorry for waking you. this hasn’t happened in years.”

“don’t be sorry, i’m glad i woke up.” elphaba rubbed her hands up and down glinda’s arms, hoping it would give her some sense of comfort and make her stop shaking so much.

“it was so scary,” glinda starts tearing up again, and she doesn’t hide or suppress it as she stares directly into emerald green eyes. “you were— they were trying to get you. you were in the sky. you— you left me, elphie.” she lets out a sob bigger than before. her body now collapses onto elphaba, loosing all the strength to hold herself up.

“hey, it’s okay,” elphaba says gently. she too used to have nightmares as a child. she mimics the way dulcibear used to calm her down. yet, now she’s the one doing the comforting. yet, now this is her girlfriend. “it was just a nightmare that’s all. i’d never leave you.”

“i’m scared, elphie. what if it comes true. what if they try to hurt you? what if you leave…leave me?” she hiccups out a cry. now, she grips her hands onto elphaba’s nightgown, making sure she couldn’t ever leave.

“it wouldn’t, sweetness. has your nightmares ever come true? they’re just to frighten you,” elphaba assures, “besides, i know it wouldn’t be true because i would never leave you no matter what.” elphaba leans her head down and places a lingering kiss on the top of golden blonde hair.

she’s right. glinda knows everything she’s saying is right. elphaba’s alway’s right even if glinda doesn’t want to admit it. but she can shake the terrifying feeling of it becoming reality.

“here, lay back down,” elphaba attempts to coax glinda back onto the pillow but she faces resistance from the girl.

“i can’t, elphie. i can’t go back to sleep, i don’t wanna see that again,” she cries gripping harder onto elphaba so she doesn’t have to be back in her sleeping position.

“shhh, relax. you don’t have to. just lay down. have some water.” finally, glinda lets loose. she lets herself be laid with an incline due to the pillows. she doesn’t take her eyes off of elphaba the entire time so she can assure that she doesn’t leave her. elphaba reaches onto her night table and picks up the glass of water sitting there.

she brings it up to glinda’s lips. in normal cases, elphaba would be calling glinda dramatic for having her help drink it. but glinda’s upset right now. she’s scared. it doesn’t matter much to elphaba if she’s capable of drinking herself or not right now.

she takes a couple sips and realizes her mouth was much dryer than she had noticed. when satisfied, elphaba places the glass back onto the table.

glinda gently smiles up at elphaba, but it’s clear that it’s forced as to not worry her girlfriend further.

“you’re still trembling,” elphaba pointed out. the blonde girl laid there shivering as if though she had been locked outside in the dead of winter. her big browns eyes that had been full asleep stare up at her lover with fear, closely observing her as if she were to be taken away from her in thin air.

“i’m scared,” she admitted, sounding like there was a lump in her throat blocking the words from fully coming out. “i need to feel you here.”

“i’m here, i promise. till the morning light and forevermore.”

elphaba placed her hand against glinda’s wet cheek and wiped away some tears stuck to her flesh with her thumb. glinda then grabbed her hand, still making direct eye contact, and led it further down her body. elphaba hadn’t caught on what she was doing until her hand had been led to glinda’s belly button.

“show me. i need to feel you so close to me, elphie. show me that you’re here.”

although not their first time together, elphaba always felt her face flush when glinda’s spoke like that. when her green hand touched her soft pale flesh in complete delicately. she gulped, “are you sure?”

glinda nodded, “i need you impossibly close to me. i want to feel your skin against mine.” another tear fallen down her face at her own words. elphaba knew what she needed, she knew the need to feel impossibly close.

“okay,” she whispered, as to not disturb the tranquillity in the room, “can i take your gown off?” after the millionth time, she still felt the need to ask. glinda nodded again, a genuine smile on her face for the first time tonight. it would be better to get this piece of silk off anyways. she had been sweating through it throughout her nightmare.

glinda lifted her bottom off the mattress to allow elphie the permission to slip it up and over her head. she now laid there in just pink panties. it wasn’t enough. she needed to feel elphaba’s skin against hers. she couldn’t have a single piece of fabric in the way of that.

glinda tugged at the hem of elphaba’s nightgown. a non-verbal request for her to remove it. elphaba quickly caught on and as fast as she put it on earlier that night, she took it off.

elphaba lowered her head down to place a kiss on her lips, lingering there long enough for it to be sensual. glinda let out a high-pitched whimper at the feeling. she could feel elphaba’s warm bare body ever so slightly pressing against her own. it felt like elphaba. nobody ever had skin as soft as her, glinda thought. this was real. this was her elphie. this was no way elphie could be taken away from her.

“elphie,” glinda whined, lips so close together that they brushed as she spoke her name, “touch me. please, elphie.”

once again, glinda had grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and brought it back to the waistband of her panties. whether her voice held softness or not, she always took control and got what she wanted. as long as elphaba was comfortable with it, of course.

“are you sure you’re okay with that right now?” elphaba asked her, slightly raising her eyebrows to display her seriousness. her long nails gently scratched at glinda’s tummy, slightly below her belly button. it always got a reaction out of her in times of their love making, but glinda also found a lot of comfort in having her flesh softly scratched by elphaba’s nails.

“yes,” she confirmed, nodding and locking eyes so elphaba could see her genuineness, “it’s the only thing that’ll make me feel better right now. i need you inside of me.”

“okay,” elphaba said delicately, and her voice sent a shiver down glinda’s spine. she now kissed glinda’s jawline as her hands slithered their way between her legs. glinda’s eyes fluttered shut and she bit down on her bottom lip.

elphaba’s nails softly scratched against glinda’s inner thigh, leading up to where she was aching for her. “elphie…elphie,” glinda breathed out. she gripped the baby pink sheets with one hand, and with the other, reached for elphaba.

“i know, i know, im here, my sweetness. hold my hand.” with elphaba’s free hand, she interlocked it with glinda’s. both girls always needed constant contact with each other like this. whether in their dorm, in class, or just out and about, they always had to be having some sort of physical contact.

finally, elphaba hooked her finger under the hem of glinda’s panties and dragged them down her legs. glinda helped her out greatly and eagerly, lifting her back off the mattress for her.

she had complete access to glinda’s entire body now, just what glinda wanted and needed. typically, elphaba would be admiring her perfectly beautiful girlfriend, but right now, it was only about what glinda needed. she only cared about making sure her lover was taken care of.

“spread your legs, darling,” glinda does as she’s told, “there, good girl. you still okay? can i touch you now?”

“yes, please, elphie. everywhere!” the blonde girl says with desperation laced throughout her words. she doesn’t have to beg to get what she wants tonight. right as she gives her consent, two of elphaba’s fingers are pressed against her throbbing clit.

“oh,” glinda gasped, low and throatily. she squeezed elphaba’s hand slightly tighter as elphaba starting moving her fingers in circular motions. the sensation seemed to feel a million times better this late at night, she thought.

it only took a couple moments until she was just wet enough for elphaba’s fingers to slide right inside of her. but as difficult it was for her voice to work in a situation like this, she needed to ask for what she wanted before elphaba did it.

“elphie, i need to feel you inside of me. i need it more than anything,” her voice was whiny and got slightly louder as her ministrations against her cunt continued. elphaba would’ve worried about their neighbors hearing, but she truly didn’t think about it in the moment. she had to take care of her glinda, not her neighbors sleep schedule.

elphaba did as she was told. two long slender fingers slid into glinda’s dripping hole. when glinda was full of her, she couldn’t contain her emotion anymore. she tried to suppress it, but a sob passed through her lips.

elphaba looked at her immediately. her eyebrows furrowing and lips pursing in concern. she kept her fingers stilled while she figured out what was troubling glinda. “glinda, my sweet, are you okay? is it too-”

“no, no. it’s amazing. i just— i love you. i don’t want you to ever leave,” she said, slightly incoherent yet elphaba got the gist of what she was saying.

“i won’t. i promise i wont. nothing bad will happen to us. nothing can keep us apart,” she assured. she kissed glindas flushed rosy cheek and could feel the wet tears against her lips, “i love you too much.”

glinda moved her head so elphaba then had no other choice but to kiss her lips. she stayed there, for as long as glinda needed. stayed there kissing her while their souls only grew fonder for each other.

“keep going,” glinda said breathily, “please.”

elphaba nodded and began her ministrations of thrusting her two fingers in and out of glinda. the blonde girl let out a high pitched moan and her back nearly arched off the bed if it weren’t for elphaba’s body pressed against hers.

it didn’t take much to near glinda to her edge. she needed elphaba more than life itself. it didn’t matter much to either of them how long she lasted right now. just the fact that elphaba was here with her, in her.

glinda’s body shook and her whimpers grew. she slowly shut her trembling legs closed on elphaba’s hand. “elphie,” glinda cried, warm tears rolling down her face harder this time. “please don’t leave. ever.”

“i’m here. you feel that? i’m right here with you forever,” elphaba assured, and just then, curled her fingers inside of glinda which was enough to send her over the edge. elphaba could feel her tightening against her fingers, it was enough to make them both forget why they were awake in the first place.

“elphie,” she whined, threw her head back on the pillow and her jaw fell ajar. her orgasm crashed over her hard and elphaba coaxed her through it as she rode it out until her body finally stilled.

“there you are,” elphaba whispered to her as brown eyes fluttered open when the strong sensation of pleasure subsided, “so pretty.”

she carefully removed her fingers, kissing the side of glinda’s head when she gasped at the feeling of being so sensitive.

she then lays back down besides glinda, and her lover, almost as instinct, clings onto her like ivy on a stone wall. she wraps a leg around elphaba’s and nuzzles her head onto her chest. someone could mistake them as one, at this point. but elphaba doesn’t mind it. in fact, she rather enjoys it. and it swells her heart to know that being intertwined, skin to skin, help glinda’s to a safe state. she never would’ve thought so months ago when they first encountered each other.

“are you okay?” elphaba asks sweetly. she brushes strands of golden hair from glinda’s damp face. “do you need anything.”

glinda exhales a deep breath and nuzzles her head impossible closer in the space between elphaba’s chin and chest. “i’m okay now. i just need you and cuddles.” elphaba can tell by her voice that she’s nearing sleep again. elphaba has brought her to such a tranquil state, she hopes another nightmare doesn’t corrupt that. “you make everything better, elphie.”

“i try my best for you,” she says genuinely. but glinda can sense the uncertainty in elphaba’s voice. wondering if her best is ever enough.

glinda places a swift kiss on elphaba’s neck. not enough to turn her on, but just to show her love and affection. to show her she’s worth more than she believes. “you’ve achieved your best.”

elphaba was thinking of how to respond, or if her voice would even be strong enough to answer her. she must’ve taken a second too long because she then hears the quietest snore from the girl in her arms. she smiles to herself and glinda’s words linger in her head until she eventually gets lulled to sleep with the gentle noise of glinda. maybe her best, she realizes, really is enough for once.

#wlw #gelphie #wicked #elphaba thropp #glinda upland #ariana grande #cynthia erivo #glinda x elphaba #wicked movie #glinda the good witch #the wicked witch of the west #wicked the musical #wicked fanfiction #gelphie smut #gelphie hurt/comfort #cynthiana

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beloveds-embrace · 3 days ago

Note

Noona, hi!

So with the dreams you’ve been writing for the dukedom AUs, will Simon ever tell John? Because so far we know they have their nightmares 👀

Is this like a mini-series?

Gasp— what about Kyle and Johnny? Will we get to see Angst!Duke!Simon’s ‘dream’, a life of “what could’ve been” like John’s?

Aaaaaah! I just wanna see how Kyle and Johnny would react because they’re more physical with Duchess like taking care of her ‘cause they’re staffs so— (less busy than John and Simon)

“Duchess, no, wait! Why can’t I?” Kyle panics as he tries to move from John’s side to chase after Duchess (in his nightmare), why is John so cold? Why isn’t her stopping her? He sees himself in the faint reflection in the gloss on the door; was that him? His warmth replaced with the same coldness as John’s, stoic similarly to Simon’s.

“Bonnie! Hen!” Johnny tries to yell out to her, to turn to her but his body continues to chops away at the vegetables in front or him and the frail strand that kept him tethered to Duchess. He hear’s the whispers of his staff, the rumours, the harsh words, he wanted to tell them off. He doesn’t allow these but in this world, in this life… why isn’t he doing anything?

LIKE IMAGINE- They both spend most of their free time with Duchess (probably most than John and Simon) and the lack of attentiveness and the broken routine that they were used to is non-existent in this ‘nightmare’. Kyle was the one who cracked first, right? To go see Duchess?

SHATTERED- Kyle would’ve woken up cold sweat and hyperventilating, near to tears and spends the ENTIRE day doting on her with everything. Johnny hearing the news of Duchess’ passing, 100% waking up crying and spoiling her with her favourite food and pastries, is more clingy.

- 🦉anon? If not just ‘Imagine’ Anon

I really wanted it to be a series but idkkk i have too much on my plate atm i think 😭 but also omg. Oh my god. You’ve put it all into words far, far better than I could babes I love this because yes those men are sooo panicking in those dreams, and when they wake up and can still see how cold everyone had been towards you- you, their sun, forced into quiet dimness with no one to help or keep you company or give hou just the tiniest bit of comfort </3

#noona.asks #🦉 anon

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luvfae · 1 day ago

Text

GHOST OF US

summary: you run into your ex inside the games

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: angst, typical squid game stuff, death, swearing, drug addiction

The second you saw him, your heart stopped.

It wasn’t just the familiar face—it was the memories, the pain, the betrayal that came rushing back all at once. Su-Bong.

You ducked behind a group of players, keeping your head down as the crowd milled around after the massacre of Red Light, Green Light. Blood still stained the dirt. People were sobbing. Some were in shock. And then there was him.

He stood out like he always did—shoulders squared, chin high, an air of unbothered arrogance even in the face of death. He was scanning the crowd, as if looking for someone.

As if looking for you.

You turned, ready to slip away, but it was too late.

“Oh my god! Señorita!”

His voice rang out, loud and unabashedly thrilled, like you were old friends who had just run into each other at a café instead of exes trapped in a nightmare.

Before you could react, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest in an embrace that was far too warm, far too easy.

“Is that really you, baby?”

You shoved at his chest, barely managing to put space between you. “Get away from me, Su-bong.”

“Baby, it’s Thanos now, remember?” He grinned like that name didn’t make your stomach churn.

“Of course, I fucking remember that stupid fucking name.” Your glare was sharp, your chest heaving.

His grin only widened. “So feisty. Just like I remember.”

You wanted to hit him. Wanted to scream. But more than anything, you wanted to get the hell away from him.

“I have nothing to say to you,” you bit out, turning on your heel.

But before you could disappear into the sea of players, his voice stopped you.

“I missed you, you know.”

You froze.

He said it so casually, like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t ruined everything.

You didn’t turn around. You didn’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead, you walked away, ignoring the way your heart pounded, ignoring the ghost of his touch still lingering on your skin.

But what you didn’t realize was that Thanos wasn’t going to let you slip away so easily.

Not this time.

The second game was hell.

The Six-Legged Pentathlon had left you gasping for air, your legs burning, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. But you survived. You and your team had scraped through by sheer will, and when the final whistle blew, relief crashed over you like a wave.

Thanos spotted you before you saw him. His eyes lit up, and in seconds, he was running toward you, arms outstretched like a lover reunited after war.

“I’m so glad you made it, babe.”

You barely had time to react before he was right there in front of you, grinning like an idiot.

“Fuck off, Su-bong.”

He pouted but didn’t back away. “Come sit with me, Thanos will protect you.”

“I said fuck off!”

But he didn’t. Instead, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, tugging you close, his touch hot against your skin.

“Baby, no,” he cooed, eyes locking onto yours like he could sweet-talk you into anything. “I’ve been calling you since we broke up. You’ve been dodging my calls.”

You snorted. “I blocked your number, you idiot.”

His smirk faltered. For a second, just a second, you saw something raw flicker across his face.

“Baby, I was going to jump off the Han River Bridge.”

You stiffened.

His grip on your wrist didn’t tighten, but you felt it like a noose around your throat.

“I couldn’t go on without you,” he continued, voice too light, too casual for a confession like that. “Then some dude gave me a business card. Same one you got, I assume. And now we’re here together. It’s like fate.”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “I’m here because of you. I’m in debt because of you, Su-bong.”

His gaze softened, but you weren’t sure if it was guilt or something else.

“You were really going to jump?” you asked, the words barely a whisper.

He nodded. “I was, babe. ‘Cause I lost my fucking perfect angel baby, and you were the only thing worth living for.”

Your stomach twisted.

“Don’t be so stupid, Su-bong,” you muttered. “You have plenty to live for.”

His lips curled, something dark and amused in his expression.

“Like what?”

You froze.

You actually didn’t know.

He lost his fame. Had no money. His family had cut him off.

He had nothing.

“Exactly,” he whispered, smiling down at you like it was funny.

Dinner was quiet. Too quiet.

The room buzzed with murmured conversations, but none of it reached you. You sat alone, barely touching the bland rice and cold soup in front of you, stomach twisting from the weight of the day. People had died. Some in an instant. Some screaming.

And yet, here you were, expected to eat, expected to sleep, expected to go on like it was normal.

A shadow loomed over you before a tray clattered onto the bed.

“You look lonely, angel.”

You tensed at the voice, at the way Thanos slid into the bed beside you like he belonged there. He nudged your tray toward you, his eyes scanning your untouched food.

“Eat,” he ordered.

“I’m not hungry.”

He clicked his tongue, grabbing your spoon and scooping up some rice. “Eat,” he repeated, pushing it toward your lips.

You glared at him, but when he didn’t back down, you reluctantly took a bite. It tasted like nothing, but he watched you chew, satisfied, before setting the spoon down.

“That’s my girl.”

You hated how warm his voice was, how easily he slipped back into old habits.

Hated how, when your vision blurred with tears, he was the one who pulled you against his chest.

“I got you, baby,” he murmured, stroking your hair. “I got you.”

That night, he stayed close.

His arm was draped over your waist, his body curled protectively around yours. You weren’t sure how you ended up like this—whether it was his doing or yours. Maybe both. But in that moment, as the room buzzed with tension and quiet sobs, you let him hold you.

Just for tonight.

The next game was Mingle.

The moment the rules were explained, panic set in.

You scrambled, moving through the crowd, grabbing onto shoulders, onto sleeves, searching for anyone—anyone—to take you in. Every door shut too fast, groups locking themselves in just in time.

The number dwindled.

Four.

Then three.

Then two.

And suddenly, you were alone.

Your chest heaved, your eyes darting around the room, searching, pleading—

A rough hand grabbed your wrist.

Before you could react, you were being yanked, dragged across the floor, shoved into a room.

Two people inside barely had time to protest before Thanos kicked them out, slamming the door shut just as the final buzzer went off.

Silence.

You were safe.

Alive.

Because of him.

Your breath came out shaky as you looked at him, his chest rising and falling, his grip still firm on your wrist.

“You saved me.”

“I’ll always save you, señorita.”

You weren’t sure how to feel about that.

Back at the bunks, Thanos sat beside you in silence.

For once, he wasn’t pushing, wasn’t smirking. Just… waiting.

Then, finally—

“I’ll get clean.”

Your head snapped toward him.

“I’ll do it for you,” he said. “I miss you. You mean more to me than any drug, and I fucked up so badly last time.” He exhaled, his hands curling into fists. “Give me another chance, baby. Please.”

You stared at him, searching his face for lies, for manipulation.

But all you saw was desperation.

“I’m not making promises in here,” you said quietly. “I could be dead tomorrow.”

He flinched.

“But if we make it out alive,” you continued, “I’ll consider giving you a second chance. But one wrong move, and I’m gone. Forever. Understood?”

“Understood,” he nodded.

And for the first time in years, you thought maybe—just maybe—he meant it.

That night, he was killed.

A fork. A fucking fork to the neck in the bathrooms.

You heard the commotion. Heard the shouts, the panicked gasps. But by the time you got there, he was already slumped against the wall, blood pooling beneath him.

You stood frozen at the entrance of the bathroom, the metallic scent of blood thick in the air.

Thanos’ body twitched, his fingers weakly grasping at the wound in his neck, as if he could stop the blood from spilling out. His breaths were shallow, his eyes unfocused, struggling to find you in the dim light.

You should’ve walked away.

Should’ve turned your back, let him bleed out, let fate finish what it started.

But your feet carried you forward.

You crouched beside him, pressing your trembling hands against his chest as if that could do anything.

His lips curved into the smallest smirk. “Angel…” His voice was nothing more than a breath.

“Shut up, Su-bong,” you hissed. “Save your fucking strength.”

His eyes softened, a sadness settling in them that you weren’t ready for.

“Wasn’t… supposed to end like this,” he murmured. “Not before I—” He coughed, blood slipping from the corner of his mouth. “Not before I proved it to you.”

Your throat tightened.

He meant getting clean. He meant being better.

But now… now he was dying.

And you couldn’t stop it.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “Who did this?”

Thanos’ bloody hand grasped yours.

“Doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “Just… just get out of here, okay? Win this thing.” His grip weakened. “Live.”

Your breath hitched.

And then, just as suddenly as he had crashed back into your life, he was gone.

The rise and fall of his chest stilled. His fingers went slack. The light in his eyes flickered out.

You stared.

There was no relief. No satisfaction.

Only a hollow ache, one that settled deep inside you, twisting and festering like an open wound.

You reached out, brushing a hand over his bloodstained cheek, your vision blurring.

You should’ve hated him. Should’ve felt nothing.

But instead, you felt everything.

And you hated him for that too.

With a shaky breath, you stood up, stepping back, leaving him there.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

#choi su bong #choi su bong x reader #choi su bong angst #choi su bong fluff #thanos fluff #thanos angst #thanos x reader #thanos #player 230 angst #player 230 fluff #player 230 x reader #player 230 #squid game

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